Prologue #2
I choke at his blunt answer. Covering my mouth with my hand, I turn the choking sound into a cough as I try to keep myself from snickering within earshot of the nearby employee.
His eyes brighten. “You know what I mean by ‘pencil dick’, yeah?” He lifts up his ghostly hand, folding all of his fingers down until all that’s extended is his pinky.
He bends it at the first knuckle. “He’s got this in his trousers and he gets his kicks fucking with sweet girls by lying about their rentals being missing when I could see the reservation on his screen before I blew it on him. ”
Ha! I knew I booked a car!
More to the point, nothing I can offer does a thing to change his mind.
Trevor stays with me until the shiny silver car pulls up in front of us.
Only then does he fade away, out of sight, and I bow my head in a silent goodbye right as the driver hops out of the rental, offering me the keys.
I accept them, place my luggage into the trunk, and then I’m off.
I only see one other ghost on the drive over to Moonburrow.
A hazy hitchhiker along one of the highways, I would’ve stopped to help her if I could.
For one, she winked out before I could even cross a lane to get close to her.
For another, I wasn’t fibbing when I said that I was here to do a job.
As a member of the national coven in Salem, it’s my duty to do what I can for my fellow supes in need when they petition for my particular brand of magic.
I had just finished a job on the other side of the country, looking forward to a few days to unwind in Salem before being sent on another mission.
I won’t say I was thrilled to discover that Serena agreed I’d fly out to Moonburrow right away, but I had no choice.
One of my sister witches from the Moonburrow coven suggested my services to the chief deputy, and when he called Serena to request our help, the head witch didn’t even hesitate.
I wouldn’t have, either. Of course I wouldn’t have.
This is my calling, even if my stomach starts tying itself into knots the moment I sense the invisible border of Moonburrow.
The local coven has warded the town so that it keeps those uninvited out, and I hold my breath as I drive the rental car past the wards.
The witches in town know that I’m coming.
So does the chief deputy—the male currently in charge of Moonburrow while the local sheriff is away on his honeymoon.
Anxiety said that the spell would keep me out, while fifteen years in this line of work tells me that, if they’re desperate enough to call on a cursebreaker with my reputation, they need me.
Serena’s instructions are that I’m to stay with the local coven at their main house.
The head witch in Moonburrow is Delilah, and she’s expecting me.
But before I can introduce myself to her, I’m supposed to meet with Chief Deputy Lobo who is probably wondering if I crashed the car and I’m dead in a ditch somewhere since the luggage snafu and the rental car issue means that I’m already an hour later than my initial itinerary said I’d be.
I hate being late almost as much as I hate flying, and while I’d love to unpack, have some tea, and rest for a few moments, I’m here because there’s a supe who needs me, and I’ll feel terrible if I make them wait that much longer if I can solve their problem.
Pausing only to double-check the address I have for the sheriff station and plugging it into my maps app, I head from the outskirts of Moonburrow with the mountains at my back into the sweet, cozy downtown area where I’ll hopefully find the chief deputy.
I don’t know much about him other than that he’s the acting sheriff, and he’s currently investigating a murder that might not really be a murder.
That’s where I come in. There’s a ghostly shade of a possibly dead supe in Moonburrow.
An opossum shifter, I’m told, and while his ‘dead’ body was found in a dumpster, there are credible reports that his ghost is hovering around town, hoping someone can figure out what happened to him.
The same sister witch that offered the chief deputy my name came to check on the poor shifter. Olivia is the most senior healer in Moonburrow, I’m told, and her diagnosis is that Ashton Morgan isn’t actually dead.
He’s cursed.
And since I’m the only cursebreaker actively working in America, I had to come. Because if I didn’t? Who else would?
I don’t exactly enjoy the weight of knowing that so many cursed supes rely on me, but when the alternative is leaving them in their cursed state… I’ll do whatever I can to help.
I always do.
The sheriff station is located between a butcher shop and a laundromat. When I reach the address I’ve been given, I find an unmarked door that’s flanked on each side by a window made of tinted glass.
Almost as if they knew I was coming, there is a spot right in front of the station.
I angle the rental car into the gap and kill the engine.
Leaving the keys in the cup holder, I pop open the driver’s side door.
I scoop up my flowing skirt so that it doesn’t get trapped.
Once I’m perched on the curb, I ease the door closed again before turning toward the entrance.
I’ve only taken one step when the unmarked door opens and a male comes stalking out onto the sidewalk.
He’s about a head taller than I am, and I’m on the taller side for a woman.
He has broad shoulders and thick biceps that are shown off by the noticeably tight silk shirt stretching across his chest. His top is a light blue color, his slacks are as dark as his slicked-back hair.
A star-shaped badge is pinned at his waist, but that’s all that is there. No weapons or cuffs.
Then I get a good look at his strikingly handsome features and, in a heartbeat, I know precisely why he appears defenseless.
Moonburrow is a supernatural town. It has witches, and it has shifters—and I’m looking at a predator who is staring right back at me.
His golden eyes flash, all the more obvious against the shadows beneath the awning over his head. Canines punch out, and all I can think is: wolf. He’s a Goddess-damned wolf.
I gasp. Anyone on the street—and there are plenty, though I only have eyes for him—would think it’s because of how he misses a step during his predatory stalk, one foot tripping over the other as he nearly takes a nosedive down to the pavement.
Ordinarily, that would be true. I’m the sort who would rush forward, hoping I can help him to his feet after he hit the floor.
Only he’s a wolf shifter, and that is why I can’t find it in me to move at all.
It doesn’t matter that he stumbled or that I didn’t offer to guide him back to his shiny dress shoes.
He recovers so quickly, and I’m frozen in place as I squeeze my folded hands to my chest. My heart is thundering.
He’ll know. With his senses, he’ll be able to tell that I’m scared shitless.
Some wolves like that. They like knowing their prey is terrified of them—
He clears his throat, making sure to keep his lips pressed together as though he’s aware that his fangs are causing my heart to trip. Lifting his hand, he smooths it over his immaculate hairstyle.
I gulp, trying hard not to quiver in place.
He stops when there are about six feet between us. “Sorry about that.” He offers out his hand, sees that his claws are on display, and drops it to his side. “Ms. Willows?”
My voice is caught in my throat. I simply nod.
It’s not just that he’s a wolf, though that definitely caught me off-guard.
I mean, I should’ve expected it. In most shifter-run towns, it’s the local pack that doubles as the law enforcement team.
The Alpha is the sheriff here; I knew that.
I guess… I guess I was just hoping that Moonburrow was maybe a big cat town rather than led by wolves.
I… I have a thing about wolves. I’m usually better at hiding how uncomfortable the predators make me, but now that I’ve gotten over my initial fright, I realize that there’s a reason why he affected me so strongly.
He’s cursed.