Chapter 6 Virginia Opossum
VIRGINIA OPOSSUM
Burp.
Okay. Maybe this wolf isn’t so bad.
— gus
Silence. Pure, unadulterated silence.
Yeah. I’d been expecting that.
Outside of Onancock, it’s not as common to find prey shifters unless we’re in a sanctuary city.
It’s a safety thing; our safety, and the safety of keeping the supernatural world a secret.
When the clan knows to protect a fallen opossum, we’re nowhere near as vulnerable as a headstrong ding-dong who decided she’d move to human town and found herself waking up in the morgue not once, not twice, but three times…
“That’s what happened in the back alley,” I blurt out, figuring: in for a penny, in for a pound.
I might as well explain myself now that he knows the truth.
“Yeah, I fainted, but not because I’m some kind of frightened witch.
It was more of a genetic disposition, the same way wolf shifters can’t help but howl at the moon, you know? ”
The sheriff—Max—opens his mouth once, thinks better of what he’s about to say, then lets it shut with a near-audible click. A muscle tics in his cheek. He frowns.
I give him a tiny smile.
“You’re a—” He stops again. The frown deepens. “You shift into a… possum? I have that right?”
“Opossum,” I correct. Sorry. It’s habit. “With an ‘O’.”
“But… and I just want to make this clear… you’re a prey shifter?”
Ah, crud. I see where this is going—and, if I’m right, it has nothing to do with his position as sheriff of Moonburrow.
Oh, no. This is all about Max Lobo being the Alpha of the Moonshadow Pack.
“Um. Yes.”
“And you understand that all shifters in Moonburrow are, by default, members of my pack?”
Damn it. “Uh-huh.”
“And that, as the only opossum shifter I’m aware of in town, it can be dangerous if you appear as dead as you did earlier today? Because I’ll be honest with you: Riordan was almost sure you did die, just like Declan. Right?”
The Beta nods. “I couldn’t smell you, but I couldn’t hear your heartbeat, either. How did you do that?”
“I was startled when I saw the dead predator. I reacted. I am an opossum, and that means I might have engaged in… defensive stillness.”
“You played dead.”
“I played dead,” I say, agreeing with Riordan.
The sheriff has stayed quiet for the exchange—and that’s when the strangest thing happens.
For a moment, he just stares at me. I know I’m dealing with the Alpha right now, but maybe I do have a death wish of my own because I sneak a peek at his eyes.
I’m careful; it’s nowhere long enough for the powerful Alpha to take the eye contact as a challenge from the prey shifter a head shorter than him.
Still, I look, and my stomach goes tight.
His expression, from the taut lines bracketing his full lips to the way his gold-colored eyes focus on me unblinkingly, is a mixture of surprise and concern.
Almost like he’s realizing that the universe just plopped an anxious marsupial with a tendency to play dead into his lap that he’s now responsible to protect—and that’s assuming he doesn’t book me for murder first.
I could deal with that. Back in Onancock, our pack was made up of mainly prey shifters, but even we knew better than to hide completely from predators.
We needed a handful to keep us out of trouble, and mountain lion shifter Colin Woodrow did his best without losing his temper too often.
Having a powerful Alpha look at me like I was nothing but trouble… I could deal with that.
But when the sheriff’s wolf eyes soften just enough to tell me that his beast seems almost pleased at the idea that he’s now—according to shifter politics—responsible for me like the rest of the shifters in Moonburrow…
I almost want to shift and hide under the table to escape the way he’s looking at me now.
My charm should still be holding. I have to reapply the scent-dampener potion every morning, and I did this one.
If he had to ask what I am, he can’t scent me so that means he has no idea that I’m his mate.
This is just his overprotective Alpha instincts at work, especially since he’s dealing with the death of one of his packmates.
That’s the most important part. Finding out what happened to Declan.
For the moment, it seems like I’m still being treated as both suspect and victim.
Riordan eventually tells me I’m free to go, but that I shouldn’t make any plans to leave Moonburrow.
The sheriff himself walks me out the door, and if my inner opossum is going nuts, being this close to him, I do my best to pretend like he’s not affecting me one bit.
Gus is curled up in my arms, halfway dazed in a fruit coma. He does slap at Sheriff Lobo with the tip of his tail, but I hurriedly tuck that part of him under my hand before the wolf shifter can growl at my opossum.
He seems even more curious about my sidekick now, though I can… I don’t know, sense it versus it having anything to do with what he’s saying with actual words.
I don’t explain Gus. It’s bad enough I had to confess my prey nature. I might not be able to protect myself, but when it comes to my sidekick, I can be as fierce as any predator.
As though he can tell, he keeps any comments to himself. He’s a scowly, intimidating sheriff, and if I have to work hard not to scoot up his behind because he radiates ‘safety’ in a way that amazes me, I do it.
He offers to give me a ride home. I quickly decline. The idea of being in a car with just me, Gus, and the sheriff… his scent enveloping me… nowhere to run? No. Not a good idea. Besides, it’s barely a twenty-minute walk back to the bakery. I’m fine.
I’m just about to shove the door out and make my escape when he murmurs my name softly. “Honey?”
My heart lodges in my throat. Don’t faint, Honey, don’t faint… “Yes?”
Sheriff Lobo hands me a small, white rectangle. “Here’s my card. Call if anything scares you again. Either of you.”
I take the card, but my pride has me tilting my chin up. I don’t meet his eyes again—I’m not suicidal to engage in another daring stare with an alpha predator—though I do tell him, “I didn’t say I was scared.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Oh.
Okay, then.
The bakery doesn’t open at all on Friday.
By the time me and Gus made it back, it would’ve been pointless to even try.
I had the kitchen to worry about, the ovens to clean, and the eerie sense that Declan Rowe’s ghost was haunting the back alley.
I didn’t look. I couldn’t bring myself to, and I was just glad that Gus pointedly avoided the door as much as I did.
Stuffed full of fruit, he curled up and napped on my side of the counter while I locked up behind me, then disappeared into the kitchen.
About a half an hour into my clean, he threw his weight against the swinging door, waddling into the kitchen so he could keep me company during my attempt to clean up my latest mess.
Even counting all the usual prep for the morning, we were heading upstairs about an hour before the bakery’s usual closing time. Considering the day we’ve had, both Gus and I agreed that we deserved an early night in.
Suddenly, it was five o’clock in the morning, Saturday, and I was determined to return to work.
It was a fluke. That’s what I told myself.
Something terrible happened to that predator, but an even fiercer predator was on the case.
I was just in the wrong spot and the wrong time. The sheriff had to know that.
He had to.
So I did what I always do, baking a little extra—and nothing charmed today, thank you very much—for the customers who missed out on yesterday. By the time eight o’clock rolled around I was ready to open.
Open, maybe, but deal with a scowling Roxy who pushed open the door the second after I unlocked it?
Yeah. That was a little more of a challenge.
She whirls on me. Her hair is loose, drawing attention to the largest white streak that travels from her part all the way down the length of her hair on the right side.
She has on a black t-shirt that says ‘wild thing’ sprawled across her chest and the deep circles under her eyes are more purple than usual.
Her hands go right to her hips. “Honey. Shit. When I said something about dead bodies, I was just fucking around.”
I wince. “You heard?”
“All of Moonburrow’s heard!”
Damn. I was hoping that wasn’t the case.
I don’t know what I expected. Gossip travels fast in a small town.
Throw in the fact that Declan was a member of the Moonshadow Pack and it would’ve passed down to the lowest-ranked shifters in no time.
As a prey shifter and the sole proprietor for a junk/oddities shop—seriously, that’s what Roxy called herself when I asked what she was doing these days—she doesn’t stick her snout in pack politics, though she eventually digs out the details.
She must’ve been waiting for me to open to fill her in on my side of what happened. I don’t know if I should be touched or annoyed when she snags a brownie from my sample try, grabs one of the empty seats at an empty table, drops into it backward, and looks at me expectantly.
Knowing better than to shut Roxy down, I tell her as much as I can. She snorts when I mention that Sheriff Lobo and his right-hand wolf are treating me like a suspect, and gets a thoughtful expression when she muses about who would want Declan Rowe dead.
“You’ve been living here a while,” I say.
“Yup. About four years. I couldn’t take living with my sister anymore back home so I searched for a nearby supe town and found Moonburrow.”
Roxy’s older sister Crystal is… well, a frenemy still means you can be friendly. Crystal only has enemies, and even when Roxy was the only one in her corner, my impression was that Crystal treated her worst of all.
Pointing that out might add the -enemy back to what kind of weird relationship we have going these days. Instead, I ask, “What do you think? You know the town much better. Any suspects?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Careful, Honey. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were going to play Miss Marple. You into mystery solving?”
“I’m into clearing my name.”
“Well, if I hear any whispers, I’ll let you know.” She glances around as thought just noticed that we were missing an opossum-shaped lump. “Hey. Where’s the rat— sorry. Gus. He okay?”
I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. It took her a minute, but it’s nice to see she cares. “I thought it might be a good idea to let him rest upstairs.”
I thought it would be. Gus… he had a different opinion. He pouted when I said he could have the whole upstairs apartment—and my bed—to himself, but since I didn’t know what to expect today, I wanted to keep him safe.
Am I being ridiculous? Maybe. I don’t care, and if Roxy teases me about Gus, I’ll move the brownies out of her reach so that she can’t take another one.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t have a snarky retort. In fact, she cocks her head, listening for something. I’m confused… but only until the whisper of pine ticking my nostrils becomes stronger and stronger an instant before the door opens, revealing—
“Sheriff Lobo!”
Because it’s Sheriff Lobo.
He’s wearing a tight dark blue t-shirt and jeans a shade lighter. His badge is hanging on his hip like usual, and he has a delicious amount of stubble on his jaw. Walking into the bakery, he frowns for a moment, shakes his head, and stalks right toward me.
Roxy’s whole countenance changes. She rises up from the seat, her earlier interest and concern transforming to a seductive tease as she locks her gaze on the wolf.
What the…
“Look who’s here. I didn’t expect a wolf prowling around so early. You, Hon? C’mon out. Let’s greet the sheriff.”
What is she doing? Oh. I know.
Fucking with me.
“Roxy—”
She sidles up next to him. “Stop me if you heard this before. A wolf, a raccoon, and an opossum walk into a bakery…”
Let me just say that, if I hadn’t already confessed my shifter side to the sheriff yesterday, I’d be super pissed at her for blowing up my spot like that. So maybe she didn’t know it was a secret. Still. What is she doing now?
Her yellow eyes flash hypnotically, her attention completely on Sheriff Lobo. “Hey, handsome. Did Honey tell you that opossums have an odd number of nipples?”
Oh. My. God.
I’m going to kill her. Sure, she’s a raccoon, but she’s not a big cat or a wolf. I can take her.
“That’s wild opossums, Roxy,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Opossum shifters have the normal amount.” I glance at the sheriff.
He has a strange look on his face, and I’m not sure if it’s the way that Roxy blatantly hit on him or, you know, the whole ‘opossums having thirteen long, spaghetti-like nipples in the wild’ thing.
It’s probably both. “Two,” I blurt out. For some reason—and I’m not examining it too closely while pretending he isn’t my mate—it seems important that he doesn’t think I’m any weirder than I already am. “I have two.”
He nods solemnly.
Roxy snickers.
My teeth are sharp. If I go for the carotid—
No. We’re friends now. Kind of. Besides, while her tone is teasing, the fierce look in her deep yellow eyes is still locked on the sheriff. Alpha or not, there’s a warning in her glare as she shifts her position, putting her long, lean body in between the wolf and me.
“That’s right. And you’re a specific type of opossum, ain’tcha, Hon? What was it again?”
“A Virgin—”
She winces, and I want to slap myself upside the head for setting her up so perfectly as she says, “Still? Aren’t you, like, pushing thirty? Shouldn’t you have a mate by now?”
Little pieces. Tiny pieces. Scattered in as many dumpsters as I can find so that my currently least favorite trash panda can find eternal rest in her favorite place. “A Virginia opossum.” My cheeks heat up. “And my mating is my business. What about you? Where’s yours?”
She flashes her fangs at me, and I swear it’s the first honest grin she’s worn since the sheriff walked in the door. “My prince charming is going to work for me. When I’m ready, I’ll find him. Right, Max?”
Max.
She gets to call him Max?
I glance at Sheriff Lobo, taking a step back when I notice that’s watching me. Not Roxy. During the whole strange exchange, he’s been looking at me.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Yes?”
The sheriff gives me another look, even stranger this time. Stranger, and a whole lot more calculating. “You don’t have a mate?”
Danger. Danger.
Shit.