Page 68 of Wishing for a Werewolf
“You know, like the story with the big bad wolf? I thought we could do a couple’s theme. You can be the wolf.”
The pups come scampering into the hallway, the upset of the day having made them revert to their wolf forms.
“We get to be wolves for our costumes?”
She leans over to pat their heads hello. “You get to be werewolves, if you can do that.”
“How?” I ask. “The town’s protection spell will makethe non-magical humans see us as regular people. That won’t look like a costume.”
“Not for tonight!” She beams at us. “Hannah finally got Severin to agree. The protection spell will be turned off for tonight so that all the fae can pretend to be in costumes. Everyone will see you as a werewolf, and trust me, they’re all going to think you have the best costumes ever!”
“You heard Autumn,” Riselda says from the entrance to the living room. “If you’re werewolves, you get to trick or treat, so shift.”
My sister shifts, and I release my magic and do so as well. As it tingles through my body, dark fur covers my hands, and all of my senses heighten. The newly bespelled jeans do exactly what the shadow fae promised they would—as I change into my werewolf form, they form a slit that allows my tail to extend from my back instead of being trapped under fabric. I let it swish from side to side and glance at Riselda. “This was a great idea. Thank you.”
“Told you.” Her tail gives a playful wag.
Feeling our magic helps the pups find theirs, and they shift into werewolves as well.
When the pups put on the clothes the shadow fae conjured yesterday, Autumn says, “You guys look so good! Everyone’s going to ask how you made your costumes. We need a really good lie to cover it.”
“No lies,” I growl as I open one of Tank’s backdoors so the pups can climb in. “It’s not the cu sith way.”
“Some lies are good.” Autumn purses those bewitching red lips and shoots me a firm glance. “This kind of lie protects you and doesn’t harm anyone.”
“She makes a good point,” my sister says, snapping seatbelts around the pups.
“For the puppies, they can growl and say they’re real werewolves, and that’ll work.” Autumn starts the car. “People will think it’s funny.”
“Iama real werewolf,” Astrid says.
Agnar adds, “Yeah!”
“Exactly.” Autumn nods as she drives toward town. “It’s the adults who need a better answer. You can say a friend who does special effects for television made your costumes.”
We park at the start of Main Street, not far from my office, which I haven’t used much since I spend most of my time patrolling on foot.
Downtown Ferndale Falls is lit as bright as day, and every shop stands beckoning with doors wide open.
Astrid says, “I thought trick or treat was at houses.”
“Houses that have candy,” Agnar adds.
The pups spent all afternoon watching children’s shows about Halloween.
“This is a special Halloween put on by all the new businesses downtown.” Autumn pulls two plastic sacks from her basket, each covered with a bright orange smiling jack-o’-lantern, and holds them out. “And you’re still getting candy.”
They cheer, snatch the bags from her, and run for the first open shop, Riselda hurrying to keep up with them, leaving me to walk beside Autumn.
The wood nymphs inside the Oopsy Daisy flower shop channel their love of sugar and flowers and hand out packs of candied rose petals. One little girl stands transfixed, staringat their flowing, willow-leaf hair and the special flower-petal dresses they’ve donned for the occasion.
When we enter Grounds for Celebration, people gasp and start asking us about our costumes exactly as Autumn predicted. She grins up at me with an I-told-you-so smile. The pups preen and give playful growls, stomping around with lots of loud yells of: “I’m a werewolf!”
Devina wears a brightly colored dress embroidered with metallic gold that wraps around her body. She hands out chocolate candy bars for the children and tiny paper cups filled with chocolate-covered espresso beans for the adults.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Autumn says, popping a couple of the dark-brown treats into her mouth. She offers me one, and I bite through the sweet coating to crunch into the bitter bean within. She giggles when I make a face. “Not your thing?”
“I like the pumpkin spice latte you ordered me far more than this.”
