Chapter 10 #2
“Werewolf attacks always have teeth and claw marks,” Daphne whispered. “The ladies were scratched up, yes, but there were no recorded bite marks, and wolf teeth aren’t subtle. It could be another kind of shifter, though.”
I thought for a moment. “What about a vampire?”
Daphne winced. “That would be highly possible, yes. Vampire teeth don’t bruise and rip the way animal teeth do.”
Oof. That’s not good.
“Here we go, your fourth wine!” Lina brightly said.
“Hurray,” I said, as a vague worry started to form in the back of my mind.
After this, there was no way I could drive home!
About twenty minutes later, Daphne and I sat on a wooden bench situated on the corner of the street directly across the winery.
“Wow,” I said, my head tipping back on my shoulders. “I didn’t know you could get tipsy from a wine tasting.”
Lina and Maria Josè had been so warm and welcoming, they’d insisted on giving us an extra taste of a premier wine for free.
I’d really wished they hadn’t, but I was too awkward to figure out how to refuse the charismatic women.
“You downed those samples pretty fast,” Daphne said.
I scowled down my nose at the werewolf. “You kept right up with me, so why aren’t you toasted?”
“Werewolf metabolism,” Daphne said.
“Yeah, yeah, you did say that,” I grumbled, nearly dropping my Algoma guidebook due to my limp grasp of it.
“Did you get all the information you wanted?” Daphne asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for going in with me—I don’t think they would have been as forthcoming if I’d gone alone.”
“Happy to help. Are you going to tell Mr. Kinge about it?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’ll ask him if he thinks the most likely attacker is a vampire.”
Daphne whistled. “You’ve got guts.”
“Why? Because Beckett is a vampire? He won’t care—I’m not accusing him,” I said.
Beckett had never even entered my mind as a suspect. For one, he would never do anything to jeopardize his hidden identity, and for another, he would have been doing this for a long time given his history and the attacks had only recently started.
Plus I don’t think a vampire who is careful not to eat around me so I don’t faint would be the type to jump random humans for a snack.
“Yes, but he’s very powerful,” Daphne said.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just… I don’t have it in me to ask him any question.
Then again, I’m a werewolf, not a human.
” Daphne shaded her eyes and peered up the street.
“But our wine tasting ending just now was perfect timing. Flint also finished his bakery selection.” She motioned to the short figure of her brother trotting down the side walk towards us, carrying two enormous boxes of what I assume were donuts and other bakery treats.
“Hi, Flint.” I waved to the younger boy.
Flint—looking like a forty-year-old stuck in a child’s body, that must be the Alpha in him—wrinkled his forehead at me, then looked to his sister. “Is she drunk?”
“No,” Daphne said.
“Just tipsy,” I added.
The furrows in Flint’s forehead deepened. “Have you eaten recently?”
“Not since breakfast. I was planning to have lunch in town, and then got side tracked with the winery and asking about Dawn’s accident.
” I gloomily sighed. “Some hardened investigator I am. I got toasted while trying to get details. Although I suppose I’ve been more nosey about this from the get go than competent enough to call this an actual investigation. ”
Daphne scratched the back of her neck. “I had forgotten humans should eat food with alcohol. Do you want a donut?”
“Sure! I’m always game for a treat,” I chirped, aware I was in an extra good mood from the warm bubbly feeling the wine sloshing around my stomach made.
“We should also probably drive you home,” Daphne said.
“Nah.” I waved her off. “If you do that my car will be stuck in town again. I like you two, but I don’t want to make that a habit. I’ll just hang out until the wine works its way through my system. I wanted to visit the library, anyway.”
Daphne glanced at Flint. I got the feeling she was proverbially nudging him as the kid set his shoulders.
“We’ll wait with you,” he decided.
“Aren’t you a thoughtful cutie!” I said.
He looked so adorable with his serious face that I reached out and ruffled his hair—figuring if he didn’t want it he’d move away from me with his supernatural… supernature-ness.
He didn’t, but while I gently mussed his hair his stoney facial expression shattered, and his eyes widened and mouth dropped in shock.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, pausing. “Are you not supposed to touch werewolves if you’re not a werewolf? Is that offensive because it seems like I’m treating you like a dog or something?”
Daphne coughed—a poor attempt to hide a laugh. “Nope. Not at all. Werewolves are very physically affectionate with one another,” she said, avoiding looking at her brother, who’d turned to her—still wearing his shocked look.
“Well, glad to hear that.” I ruffled Flint’s hair again, then hungrily eyed the bakery box. “So, what kind of donuts did you get?”