BeWolfed (Midnight Creek #1)

1. Elowen

Elowen

I clenched the steering wheel as I crossed into Midnight Creek, my witch sight flaring to life without warning. The wards that should have shimmered with warm, protective magic now crackled, thin and fractured like old glass. Wrong .

A bleary-eyed fae scrubbed at graffiti scrawled across The Grove Gaming Store. The words "WITCH PLAGUE" still bled through in jagged, half-erased letters. My protective magic surged instinctively, prickling beneath my skin before I tamped it down. Control. Always control.

Three weeks. That's all I'd been gone—since my last visit during my college’s spring break. But something had changed in my absence. And it wasn't just that Aunt Rose was missing—though that was the most worrying.

Two years ago, I'd left Midnight Creek eager to reinvent myself, to become someone defined by more than tragedy and other people's expectations. I'd enjoyed pretending to be a normal college sophomore with normal worries at my mostly- human university, and not being "poor Elowen, the orphan Rose raised" or "little Elowen with the unpredictable magic."

But now my only family was missing—the woman who'd held me through nightmares after my parents died, who'd never given up on me even when my wild magic destroyed half her inventory. The thought of Rose in danger made my chest constrict with a fear I couldn't afford to show.

And my hometown… was this. The bustle of supernatural businesses along Main Street felt subdued. The Hungry Wolf Diner's windows were dark and it was barely sundown. Luna's Fortune & Tea Room had boards over one window, their scorched edges suggesting magical damage.

I parked on the street outside Midnight Brew, desperate for caffeine after the long drive. The coffee shop had been my second home during high school, back when I'd spent countless hours studying while Rose worked late at the bookstore. The memory of sharing witch's brew—a dark brew coffee with hints of cinnamon—with werewolf study groups and fae art students made the current tension even sharper. The protective wards along the windows prickled against my senses like static electricity.

When I stepped inside, conversations stuttered to a halt. A young vampire I'd tutored in magical theory last summer quickly looked away. The fae barista's smile went professionally blank as I approached the counter, her silver-dusted wings twitching.

"The usual?" I asked hopefully. Rose and I had been regulars here for years.

"We're... out of the witch's brew blend," the barista said, her eyes darting nervously toward other customers. "Supply issues."

Right . The special blend came from Crystal Clear Apothecary next door to Rose's shop. "Regular coffee is fine. To go please."

She took my money without meeting my eyes. At a nearby table, two werewolves hunched over their phones, voices carrying just enough for my enhanced hearing: "—can't even open The Crystal Connection app without getting flooded with witch profiles. Like they're trying to take over that too—"

"Elowen?" A familiar voice broke through the tension.

Charlotte stood in the doorway, petite but impossible to miss, looking as sunny as ever with her blonde hair and wide smile. At least my best friend hadn't changed. She'd chosen Midnight Creek College while I'd fled across the state, but our friendship had survived the distance.

"I thought that was your car! When did you get back?"

"Just now." I hugged her tight, grateful for one normal interaction. Charlotte was human, but she was one of the ones 'in the know' in town. She'd even been accepted into Midnight Creek College's supernatural studies department.

"Have you heard anything about—"

"Not here," she murmured. "Let's walk."

I took my coffee from the counter and followed her out into the spring evening.

She linked her arm through mine like old times, her shorter stride falling into step with mine, though her grip was tense. "It's gotten worse since you left—the divide between witches and other supernaturals. Rose was one of the only ones still trying to bridge it."

"What happened?" Midnight Creek had always had its politics, but never this level of open hostility.

"It started small. Whispers about witches hoarding magical knowledge, controlling too much of the town's power. Then businesses started picking sides." Charlotte lowered her voice. "Rose said it's happening in other towns too."

Back at college, my roommate Toni had faced relentless judgment from her coven—just for hooking up with someone outside her species. I'd dismissed it as old-fashioned prejudice then, but now...

We passed Crystal Clear Apothecary, where Mrs. Rowe, the witch owner, argued with a delivery man whose ears marked him as fae. "—perfectly good herbs just because they're witch-grown?" she demanded. "Twenty years I've supplied this town—"

"Orders from management," he muttered, climbing back into his truck. "Nothing personal."

Across the street, a young werewolf and witch couple hurried past, heads down as others openly stared. The sight made my chest ache. This had never been a problem before. Rose had often said that supernatural bonds—especially rare ones between species—were sacred things, transcending politics. Now it seemed even those connections were being poisoned by whatever was happening in town.

"Rose was worried," Charlotte continued. "She said someone was deliberately stoking the tensions, but she couldn't prove it. And then..."

"She vanished." The words tasted bitter. "And the police dismissed it."

" People do travel and forget to check in ," the sheriff had said when I called, his tone dismissive.

But Rose would never do that. My stomach knotted at the memory of that conversation, at how easily they'd dismissed my concerns.

She was my only family, and I was hers. No matter how busy she got, she always let me know she was okay. Even when my grief-fueled magic had blown out the bookstore's windows. Even when I'd accidentally hexed her favorite chair. Even when I'd ranted about leaving for college because I needed space from being "Rose's project."

And now—nothing. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones – a cold dread that hadn't left me since her first missed call, her first unanswered text.

We reached Rose's Rare Books & Curiosities. The store's protective runes still recognized me as family, but they felt strained, like they'd been fighting off magical attacks.

"I should go." Charlotte squeezed my hand. "Text me once you're settled? And El... be careful. Something's very wrong in this town."

I nodded, watching her hurry away, across the street and behind Luna's Tea Room, following the side streets down toward campus.

I gave myself a push and climbed the steps of my aunt's shop. It was one of the businesses on the north side of Main Street, which all backed to the steep rise of the mountain. The old Victorian style house—painted a bright pink—held the bookstore on the first floor and our apartment on the second. Beneath, in the mountain itself, Rose had crafted a magically made cave storage for the most dangerous treasures.

I hesitated at the door, fingers tracing the protection runes carved into its surface, then glanced back up Main Street. Through my witch sight, the town still shimmered with its dual layers of reality—one mundane, one magical. A human couple walked past, oblivious to the true nature of the storefronts they passed.

I took a breath and turned the key in the lock. It clicked open. I stepped inside and gasped.

Books lay scattered across the hardwood floor like fallen soldiers, their spines cracked open at random pages. Dust motes floated lazily in the hazy evening light filtering through the window. The display cases near the entrance were toppled, shelves shoved askew as if someone had searched in a frenzy. Protective charms that Rose had always tucked carefully between the books lay shattered in pieces.

The store window showed no signs of a break-in, no smashed glass or splintered locks, and the front door had opened easily for me. But inside was chaos.

My aunt would never have allowed this. Rose ran her store with militant precision, each book categorized by both mundane and magical systems. This wreckage didn't just defy that order—it desecrated it.

I followed the trail of damage deeper into the store, moving slowly, my footsteps echoing off the hardwood. The bookshelves loomed like silent witnesses, their contents jumbled and violated. I laid my hand on the register counter, and the protective wards etched into its surface flickered faintly. They still recognized me, but the glow was weak..

Dark drops of blood near the base of the counter stained the wood flooring. I crouched, my breath catching in my throat.

The destruction of the store was recent, they’d been looking for something today or yesterday. But was the blood from one of the intruders? Or was it older from Rose? My pulse quickened.

I tried an identification spell, murmuring the words as I lay my fingers on the blood, but it fizzled almost immediately. My magic sparked erratically, sputtering out like a candle in the wind. "Come on," I whispered frantically, trying again. "Work, damn it." Frustration burned in my chest—the same old problem. When it mattered most, my power fluctuated between too much and too little, never the steady control Rose had mastered.

Under an overturned box of protective charms, one paper caught my eye: a note, half-finished and smeared as though Rose had been interrupted mid-sentence.

Deliberate interference in supernatural relations... It's spreading beyond the town borders. If something isn't done soon—

The words stopped there, unfinished.

My heart raced as I reached for my phone. I needed to document everything. Pictures of the notes, the blood trail, the broken charms. I had to find her. No matter what the sheriff said, Rose was in danger. I could feel it.

A low growl froze me in place.

Slowly, I turned toward the sound. In the shadows near the cave storage entrance crouched the largest wolf I'd ever seen. Silver-grey fur bristled along massive shoulders, and eyes that held far too much intelligence fixed on me with predatory intensity.

I should have been terrified. Should have run screaming. Instead, my breath caught as his scent hit me—forest after rain, leather, and something wild that made my magic surge unexpectedly. It flooded my system, a crackling current of power that made my fingertips tingle and the air around me shimmer with violet light.

But weeks of helplessness and frustration tangled with this new, bewildering awareness, and I lashed out.

"Really?" I demanded, adjusting my glasses as power crackled around me. "You're going to pull this alpha wolf intimidation act now? In my aunt's store? When she's missing and I'm trying to find her?"

The wolf's ears flattened in what looked suspiciously like surprise. Clearly he wasn't used to people talking back. But Rose had taught me that most supernatural posturing was exactly that—posturing.

"I don't care if you're the big bad wolf himself. Get out!" I grabbed the nearest object—a weighty tome on medieval healing practices. "I have enough to deal with without some overgrown furball making more mess!"

The wolf's form blurred and shifted, magic rippling through the air as he took human shape. The transformation was smooth, controlled—marking him as powerful even among werewolves. When the shimmer faded, a man stood before me, wearing a worn leather jacket and jeans, his chest bare and muscled beneath the open jacket.

"Overgrown furball?" His voice was rough velvet, one eyebrow arching as he crossed his arms over his scarred skin. "That's a new one."

I swallowed hard, willing myself not to stare at the defined muscles or the intriguing scars that mapped stories across his skin. The man was infuriatingly handsome, with dark hair streaked with silver at the temples and amber eyes that still held a lupine glow. Something hot and impossible flickered in my stomach—absolutely not the time.

"You growled at me!" I tried to maintain my fury, clutching the book tighter as if it could shield me from the bewildering reaction he triggered. My magic pulsed in response to his proximity, the familiar unpredictability shifting to something new—a resonance that both thrilled and terrified me.

"I was investigating," he said, taking a step closer. His movement was pure predator, graceful and deliberate. "You're the one sneaking in here at night."

"With a key! Because it's my aunt's store," I repeated, backing up until I hit a bookshelf. "Wait—investigating what? Do you know something about Rose's disappearance?"

His gaze shifted to the side—before his expression hardened. He took another step closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. A woodsy, earthy scent enveloped me, sending my magic into a disorienting hum that made the nearest books tremble on their shelves.

"Leave, little witch. This isn't your problem." His voice deepened to a growl that seemed to resonate directly with something primitive in my core.

I glared back at all six feet of tall, dark, and handsome. "Like hell it's not."

The books on the shelves around us quivered, responding to the tension crackling between us. Several romance novels actually sighed, their pages ruffling as if caught in a breeze. I'd been back in Midnight Creek for less than an hour, and already I was facing off with an arrogant alpha wolf in my aunt's destroyed bookstore, while my magic behaved as unpredictably as ever.

But this time, the unpredictability felt different. Instead of misfiring or surging out of control, my power seemed to be reaching for his, creating a circuit I didn't understand.