Page 25 of Wishing for a Werewolf
“It is you who have no right to terrorize this town.” I snap my jaws and tighten the shirt another few twists, making their breath wheeze.
Through all of this, Mrs. Greely hasn’t moved. In fact, she steps closer. Does she have no sense of self-preservation?
“What a lovely horse. I used to ride when I was younger.” She shifts the leash to the hand holding the cane and starts patting her pockets. “I might have a packet of sugar. Can I give your horse sugar, young man?”
As stunned as I am, the kelpie falls still. “You should tremble before me, human. Tremble, I say!”
“Stop throwing your voice, young man.” She stomps her cane against the ground and narrows her eyes at me. “There’s no need to make such a lovely horse say such things.”
Unable to accept that the kelpie can speak, she’s assuming I’m doing some kind of ventriloquist act.
The elderly lady rips open a tiny white packet, pours a small mound of sugar into her palm, and holds it up in front of the waterhorse.
“Why isn’t she afraid?” the kelpie whines. “It’s no fun if they aren’t afraid. Or fighting. I’ll take a good fight.” The kelpie tenses under me, ready to attack, and I twist the shirt yet again, the rope of coiled cotton making indents in the side of their neck.
Other townspeople run up, coming far too close and setting all of my protective instincts twanging. Fuck. It’s not just the elderly woman. Humans don’t have the survival instincts the goddess gave a gnat.
“Did you see that?” A man yells, pointing at Autumn. “Autumn told him to fix the problem, and he did! She’s the best. We need Autumn to protect our town.”
“Yes!” a woman cries out. “We need Autumn!”
The redheaded witch stands to one side, looking bemused. Her eyes meet mine, and she offers me a sheepish smile and a quick, one-shoulder shrug.
Severin lands behind the small crowd, his shadow wings disappearing into his back. “What’s going on here?”
Several townspeople turn, all speaking at once, all telling the same story of how Autumn saved Mrs. Greely by commanding me to stop the wild horse.
When they’re done, he flicks his fingers and lays a mild compulsion on the townspeople so that they hurry away, going back about their business. Even Mrs. Greely finally moves off, her dog trotting happily by her side, his tongue lolling from his mouth.
“You should go, too.” Severin frowns down at the tulips. “You’re going to get hurt.”
“They helped,” I say. “I wouldn’t have reached the kelpie in time to save Mrs. Greely if they hadn’t intervened.”
“What are they?” the kelpie snarls. “What manner of creature dares to defy me?”
“They’re plants.” Severin’s voice sounds soft as he crouches and runs his fingers over their flower heads, magic tingling in the air. Then he stands, his tone and expression hardening. “They don’t need to be any more special than that.”
The kelpie rears, trying to unseat me, but I’m far too strong for that. My thighs clench as I twist the cloth rope a turn tighter, and the waterhorse gurgles, the gills on their neck flaring outward in an instinctive attempt to breathe.
“You will visit Ferndale Falls under a guest oath, promising to do no harm,” Severin says. “Or you will not visit here at all.”
“Like fuck, I will,” the kelpie spits. “You’re notmyking.”
“And yet, I am still a king of Faerie.” Severin’s mouthtwists in a sardonic smirk as he smacks a hand to their withers. Magic pulses outward, and his voice resounds across the green. “You are not welcome here.”
The waterhorse wheels around, aiming north toward the waterfall and the door to Faerie. They start to gallop, and I release my hold to spring from their back right as they approach the edge of the green.
Landing on my feet, I let my ruined shirt dangle as I lope back toward Autumn and Severin, my claws scraping against the insides of my boots.
When I come to a halt in front of them, Autumn touches my forearm. “Are you okay?”
With a grunt, I release my magic, forcing the shift. My eyesight and hearing lose acuity as I change from werewolf to fae. Yet the touch on my forearm… that touch goes from a faint pressure felt through fur to the intoxicating feel of skin on skin.
I suck in a shocked breath as my nerves dance. By the goddess, does all touch feel like this? Up until now, I thought of bare skin as inferior, as lacking the protection of a good coat of fur.
But now, a million possibilities fill my mind, all featuring the fiery witch and her soft little hands.
“If one kelpie has found the door to Earth, you can be sure more will follow,” Severin says, snapping my attention back to the current situation. “Autumn, how do you think we should handle it?”
