Chapter 12 #3
The brown werewolf narrowed his eyes. “Responsible citizens keep up with important current events.” He tapped a clawed finger on his knee. “To put this simply, every state in the country has until the end of next year to get werewolves off the streets.”
“That sounds like it’s a good thing,” I said. “Everyone gets a place to live, and maybe they’ll relax the ordinances against half-turns.”
“No. This is not a good thing. The law doesn’t go into detail, and it is left to states to interpret.
Do you honestly think they are going to resolve the homeless problem by putting werewolves in cute little houses with white picket fences?
This law all but wipes out werewolf-friendly state policies some of us have worked tirelessly to get passed for decades. ”
The four of us remained quiet as he continued to look us over, his eyes piercing through me as though he were looking for something hidden. Then he relaxed his glare and turned his attention back to Roscoe.
“Now, let’s get personal. How old are you? The state has gotten sloppy with their records.”
“Don’t really know.”
The mayor tilted his head upward. “Forgetting vital information like that is dangerous.” He leaned in and sniffed Roscoe. “You stink like the wilds.”
Though I couldn’t understand what the mayor was talking about, Roscoe’s eyes widened.
“And you?” He stood and took a slow step toward Adam, who shot up out of his chair in a wide-eyed panic. “What is your age?”
“Nineteen, sir.”
The mayor smiled before glancing at Austin. “Interesting,” he whispered, seductively slipping a finger under Adam’s chin. He slid his large finger under the kuu necklace. “If there are three half-turns and one werewolf, who gave you this?”
Adam stiffened even more.
The mayor put up a hand as if to stop him from answering.
He strode meticulously toward Austin, his claws tapping a dull rhythm against the wooden floor.
“This is quite the riddle. There are two half-turns in my office wearing kuus, and one who is not.” The mayor leaned in closer, his teeth inches from Austin’s face. “What is your age?”
“Twenty-four,” he said, puffing out his chest as he always did when he felt threatened, but his forced confidence shattered in seconds after he gave that answer. “I—I mean nineteen.”
I had expected the mayor to grin at the obvious lie, but he continued to play along. “Which is it? Twenty-four or nineteen?”
Austin swallowed hard. “Nineteen.”
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, once again trying to pull the older werewolf’s attention. The way things were going, Austin was moments from another meltdown. “You’re the mayor of a flyover town, not the duke of Fenrich.”
He stepped over to me, and his overbearing presence softened. “You’re quite the interesting half-turn. How old are you?”
“Twenty-two,” I answered. “Why are you so interested in our ages?”
The mayor rubbed the neat patch of fur under his chin. “I am trying to suss out the details being kept from me. I do not like it when people try to deceive me. It does not give a good first impression.” He tossed a glance at Austin again. “But it is not like you all are deceiving me, right?”
How long was he going to play with his food? He’d obviously figured everything out, but Austin wasn’t all that bright.
“Hey, I told you what you wanted. Is that it?” Austin asked, his legs trembling as if he were carrying a ton of weight.
“Not quite.” He turned his attention back to me. “How long have you been a half-turn?”
“A couple of months.”
The mayor’s reaction was immediate and unexpected. His eyes glowed silver as he moved closer, and a deep voice resonated in my head, speaking a language I couldn’t understand. As quickly as it started, the voice faded and the mayor backed away, loosening his tie.
“On to business,” he said, sitting back down in his chair.
The rest of us, including Austin, took our seats.
“The elder council is overlooking the construction of werewolf-only towns across the country, but that doesn’t solve the underlying issue.
Norwich is an experiment, and because of this, every policymaker in the country is watching what happens here. ”
“Ah, that’s why we’re here.” Roscoe’s familiar cocky grin returned as his tone shifted back to his usual self. “You wanna make sure we’re on our best behavior.”
“Yes,” the mayor replied, pointing to his nose. “Let me familiarize you with some of our laws. Werewolves are not allowed to drink alcohol, and you reek of it.”
Roscoe’s expression quickly shifted to horror. “What?”
“No alcohol. No drugs. No exceptions.”
“Are humans still allowed to drink?” I asked. “Because that would be quite the double-standard.”
“The council gave specific orders before I took this position. We are not going to risk this opportunity to make the best impression.”
I went to say something else, but Roscoe put up his hand and whined in defeat. “All right. No booze or drugs. Anything else, yer majesty?”
The older werewolf turned to me for a moment. “No fighting with the humans, and stay away from the woods,” he said, shuffling the papers on his desk. “That last one is the most important.”
“Uh, all right. No woods and no fights. Got it.” Roscoe shuffled toward the door.
“Oh, and two more things,” the mayor said in a deeper voice, stopping Roscoe cold. “Do not ever insult me by taking me for a fool with such pathetic lies and ridiculous false names. And you”—he pointed at me—“I want to see you here tomorrow. Alone.”
“Why?” I asked.
The werewolf turned his chair toward the television, turning it back on before shooing us away.
“No more questions. It is taking all my self-control to not lose my temper at you fools.”
As I opened my mouth, Roscoe grabbed my shirt and shoved me out the door, the rest filing behind.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked, jerking away.
“Don’t fuck with that guy,” he said, shoving me forward. “Yer in there talkin’ to an elder like yer the fuckin’ leader or something.”
“Elder?” My stomach dropped as I remembered some of the lore I read in Darryl’s book.
Roscoe rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got a mouth, and I’ll admit, that’s a big reason I like you. But a wise-ass attitude ain’t gonna do you much good if you ain’t got the strength to back it up.”
As much as I wanted to argue, I decided to let it go. Austin sped ahead of us before turning back to stare at Adam.
“Enough about Cody being stupid. I’ve got a funny story. Wanna hear it?”
“Uh, sure,” Adam responded with a slight upward inflection.
“Back when I was in the marines, they sent me out of the country for a little while. You wanna know what country they sent me to?”
Austin’s teeth grew sharper, and his fur thickened as he shifted back into his werewolf form.
“Germany!” he barked, leaning close to Adam’s face. “That better not be the fucking name you gave to the bureau!”
“What’s wrong with the name?” Adam asked, feigning ignorance. “You’re blond and you look kind of German.”
Austin growled.
“I heard Germans fuck real good, and Adam was tellin’ us earlier how good you are in the sack,” Roscoe interjected.
Austin’s hackles lowered as he regained some of his composure. “That better not be sarcasm old man.”
“Course not. Sex and food are the two things I don’t bullshit about. Remember?”
After a minute of what seemed like deliberation, Austin’s angry expression gave way to a cocky grin. “Damn right I’m good.”
“Yeah, you are just… so good,” Adam cut in, his tone unconvincing. If Austin wasn’t so dense, he would have picked up on it. “I was thinking, maybe we could try something different tonight.” He gave an occasional glance to Roscoe, who discreetly nodded in approval.
“What’s wrong with what I usually do?”
“Nothing! Buuuut I think we could switch it up. Maybe… go a little slower?”
Austin glared for a moment, but he eventually relented. “What else do you want me to do?”
Holy hell. It actually worked. I didn’t know whether to be super annoyed or impressed.
“Well, you could try using your tongue more.”
“What do you want me to do with my tongue?”
“When we get home, I’ll show you. Deal?”
“Hmm,” he said, slipping his arm around Adam’s waist in what at first seemed like a sweet gesture. “Deal.”
“Ow!” Adam shouted.
“That’s right. Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for that name, you little shit.”