Chapter 14
Mysterious Motives
The mayor sat uncomfortably close, enjoying his cigar without a word for what seemed like minutes.
The situation was so awkward that I wanted to stand and run, but I kind of knew what he was doing.
It was the same thing he’d done the other day.
His furrowed bushy eyebrows and glacial scowl had everyone cowering.
His human form was no less intimidating, just smaller.
I began drumming a nervous rhythm onto my lap, and a cigar appeared in front of my face.
“Put this in your mouth.”
“Usually, I get to know a guy a little better first,” I said with a short-lived burst of anxious laughter, which was met with a silent, stony glare. I stopped smiling and cleared my throat. “I don’t smoke.”
“These are not cigarettes.” He leaned in closer, his mouth inches from my ear. “Put it in your mouth, draw in the smoke, but don’t inhale.”
His powerful werewolf musk pulled at my nostrils, hidden just beneath the fabric of his suit, mixing with the rich tobacco and expensive cologne. It was hard to breathe him in without the accompanying half-turn arousal. The low growl in his voice didn’t make things easier.
As his hand made its way to the back of my neck, I reluctantly took the cigar and placed the moistened end between my lips before slowly sucking in the smoke.
Following his instructions, I didn’t inhale, but I also hated the taste—at first. What followed after was a clean, peppery, almost chocolaty flavor.
“Oh,” I said, taking in another draw and then blowing the smoke away.
The mayor gently massaged the back of my neck with his thumb as I handed back the cigar.
Even though it was a friendly gesture, I couldn’t help but feel as though one wrong move could mean having the life choked out of me. “That’s pretty good.”
He examined the cigar for a moment. “We didn’t have these in the old country.
Our kind was regarded as the offspring of Iblīs, and our condition was Allah’s punishment for the sins our families committed.
Whether there was merit to the myth or not, werewolves had to learn to live together or die alone in the howling sands.
” He took a drag, held it in his mouth for a few moments before blowing the smoke away from me.
“The taste sometimes reawakens memories I thought I’d forgotten.
I can remember the circles around the fire, the stories.
We would sing—and even satisfy our uncontrollable carnal desires.
We understood we were different from humans, but many of us would feel shame nevertheless.
Despite the harsh reality of living the way we did, the pack was strong, and that was how we survived. ”
He carefully snuffed out the end of the cigar against the metal frame of the bench, exposing a smooth, silver band on his ring finger.
“A long life is a blessing, but it is not without its challenges. We are still mortal, and so too are our brains. There is only so much we can remember before memories fade and important lessons are forgotten. When we were in the desert, it was difficult to hold on to ourselves and not become the beasts the humans believed we were. Without leadership and order, our pack fell into disarray, losing its humanity altogether. Eventually we split into two sects: the Whasha and the Midna. This marked the end of civility and unity among our kind.”
His eyes pierced me in silence for a moment as if waiting for me to respond.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Werewolves living in society are Midna.” He pointed away from the buildings, toward the imposing forest in the distance.
“In the wilds, we become animals. If we go there, we lose all of who we are, and we fall prey to the malevolence always hidden from sight. We forget things we should not, like your friend did. Roscoe, was it?”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“I cannot have unruly and undisciplined werewolves roving about the town. Such behavior makes us susceptible to the Whasha and the witches.” He pulled something out of his pocket before placing it into my palm.
It was a heavy antique flip lighter made of solid gold. “Your kuu mate reeks of the Whasha.”
“What’s this?” I asked, flipping the lid of the lighter, which had no fuel in it.
“A gift,” he said softly before a growl returned. “It is also a warning.”
I looked up at him, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. You have a half-wit Whasha with no sense of decency, and a half-turn brat that has not learned to keep his emotions in check.” He bared his sharper human teeth at me and growled.
“And that… half-turn… Bernie Blodmann, is maladjusted and mentally unstable, but it is you I am most concerned about.”
“Excuse me? I’m the most responsible person in that house!”
“Responsibility has nothing to do with it.” His eyes glowed silver for a moment, and the sunlight turned almost unbearably bright, everything flashing before settling back into a normal hue.
“You possess potent vironoct, and half-turns like you are exceedingly rare. There are rituals in place to detect and find those suspected of having it before it awakens. We found you first. Did you think your assignment to Norwich was mere happenstance?”
“So that guy I was talking to—”
“Was on my secret payroll,” Mosavi finished, grinning.
“How do you know I’m so special?”
“I wasn’t all the way sure until our meeting the other day. Plus, how many werewolves do you know that were half-turns in their twenties?”
“Well, there’s a werewolf back in White Dunes—”
“I am well aware of him,” the mayor interrupted, baring his teeth. “Wasted potential.”
“So, I’m gonna be like Darryl?” Just the thought made me feel so much better about my condition.
“I surely hope not,” the mayor muttered, his eyes narrowing again. “I expect much more from you. I had planned on keeping you locked away in my residence, but I was… advised against it. So instead, I am forced to take a more hands-off approach.”
“Why the hell would you lock me up? What did I do?”
“You have no idea how dangerous you are. Inexperienced half-turns that possess the kind of power you do could abuse it—or attract those that wish to control you to the detriment of werewolf kind.”
I sat in silence while watching a few humans stroll by, talking and laughing amongst themselves, none of them seeming to mind a half-turn sitting just a few steps away.
I tried to absorb Mosavi’s words, but most of them were rather hard to believe.
When I’d lost myself to rage yesterday after Roscoe’s little stunt, I kind of understood the dangerous part, but this whole alpha thing?
All I had to do was look in the mirror to call bullshit on that.
“So you’re… human,” I said, steering the topic of discussion away from me. “How do you do it?”
“The same way Bernie was able to revert to half-turn form, but reverting all the way to human is something unique to elders of the vironoct.”
“I should have known you’d figured that out.”
“I am not a moron.” He pointed to the lighter in my hand.
“Myth, religion, superstition—they all have one thing in common: ignorance. Reality is much more enigmatic, and so are the magics we possess. The same enchantments that bind half-turns to werewolves also allow some of us to take on the human visage, but it has limits.”
I flipped the lighter onto its other side, noting an inscription in Arabic. “Why is this a warning?”
The mayor grinned again, exposing all his now-sharper teeth, which looked more disturbing in his human form. “That is now a part of you. You will carry it at all times.”
“You didn’t—” I stiffened as a growl rumbled from his throat, much deeper than his human voice should have been able to produce.
“That is your answer,” he continued, his teeth growing longer as he shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “I will give you two months to learn to get your pack under control. Think of it as a test of dominance.”
“They’re not my pack. We barely know each other.”
The mayor’s sclera darkened as his irises burned orange.
“Anything they do from now on will be a reflection of your leadership—or lack thereof.” He stood and stretched.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am reaching those limitations I mentioned earlier.
I don’t want to ruin such an expensive Italian suit. ”
“I’m a half-turn. How am I supposed to get them to listen, especially Roscoe?”
“There are ways to force werewolves into submission using the vironoct.” He leaned in uncomfortably close, his eyes turning silver. “I could teach you, but I would have to keep you. Would you consent to that?”
The scenery around me brightened to a blinding blue, but I snapped my gaze downward, away from his. “No. And forcing people to do what you want isn’t leadership.”
He grabbed my chin and turned my head until I made eye contact with him again. His eyes were back to their normal orange. “Did you know that hiding Austin and lying to the bureau is a serious federal offense?”
My pulse quickened, and my palms began to sweat.
“It would be a shame if the proper authorities were alerted.”
I chucked the lighter a few yards away into the grass. “You can’t threaten to spill a secret after revealing one of your own. You really think these proper authorities would approve of a werewolf running a town?”
The mayor studied me carefully before turning away, stiffly pacing himself toward the city hall entrance. “Who would believe a half-turn?”
“What is this game you’re playing with me?”
Using the keys he pulled from his pocket, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
When he turned back around, thick fur covered his human face.
“I am not asking for the impossible. Simply keep your pack in check, and if you cannot do that, I will need to explore more intrusive options.” Without another word, he stepped inside and closed the door.