Chapter 17
The Slammer
Aquick search of the address led me to the county jail, which honestly shouldn’t have been a surprise, but I thought we were finally getting ahead.
Austin was opening up, Adam was kind of being less annoying, and Roscoe was—well, I still had a lot of work to do on him, but I thought he’d at least not try to sabotage our one shot at living a halfway decent rural life.
What bothered me most was Austin’s new hobby.
He wasn’t just making things—he was making illegal things.
Illegal things in our house. In all the time I’d known him, he’d never once appeared drunk or under the influence, but he also kept to himself so much that I could have missed the signs.
A secret still in the garage was one part of a larger problem.
Every time I opened the kitchen pantry, junk food fell out.
Some was intentionally hidden in adjacent drawers or cabinets.
Roscoe’s eating was beyond out of control and our grocery bills along with it.
Aside from the drugs and dubious stories of his lineage, I didn’t really know much about his past. Being that he was likely over a hundred years old, there was a lot to uncover.
Then there was Adam. The half-turn often sat alone on the couch for hours while on his phone, playing gacha games while mindlessly scrolling through brain rot.
As much as I wanted to point my fingers at all of them, I had my own issues to work through.
My meticulous cleaning wasn’t just to keep everything in order—it had become almost compulsive.
There were times I’d wake up in the middle of the night because I’d left a cup out of place earlier, only to spend nearly an hour rearranging things.
Then there was the daydreaming and losing time.
That was something new, and it hadn’t really started until after I’d gone into those woods.
Mosavi’s words were like angry crows, pecking at me every time I’d try to put two and two together.
Were there really witches? Was I under some kind of Whasha spell?
As much as I feared him, Mosavi was the only person who likely had the answers, but how would I even bring it up without getting into serious trouble? That was, if he didn’t already know.
“I just need to get through tonight,” I said to myself as I turned down North Avenue.
Despite the jail, this side of town was quiet and pleasant.
All the streetlights worked, the grass was freshly cut, the houses were older but well-maintained, and the few government buildings were dim and unassuming.
Whatever I thought about him personally, the mayor knew how to keep the place in order.
Humans, half-turns and werewolves living together in harmony was something no one had thought possible. Somehow, though, this worked.
I thought the gate Mosavi mentioned would be a high razor wire-topped chain link fence, but before me stood a rather elegant black iron barrier.
It was sleek and it automatically rolled to the side when I stepped forward, allowing just enough space for me to walk through.
There wasn’t a sound except for the whir of rotating security cameras overhead, each of their red dots trained on me like sniper sights.
Blinding fluorescent light poured out of the barred glass door ahead, and as I reached for the handle, I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Two brawny werewolves in forest green sheriff’s deputy uniforms stood behind the desk, both half-grinning, their sharp stares making my standing neck hairs prick at my skin.
“Here to pick up your werewolves?” the black one said, handing me a sheet of paper with a bail amount typed in bold at the bottom.
“Fifteen hundred? What the hell did they do, beat up an old lady?”
“They’re in some serious trouble,” the lighter furred one replied.
He kind of reminded me of Austin, just a bit shorter.
“They were caught drinking and making rude gestures while exposing themselves behind a dumpster near The Waffle Hut. Do you know how long it took for us to get rid of that stereotype?”
“I’m gonna kill him,” I muttered under my breath.
“We’d look the other way if you did,” the black one said with a snorted laugh. “Anyway, the mayor figured you wouldn’t be coming here with the bail money, so he’s waiting inside.” He pressed a button, and the door slid open.
I hesitated, my hands shaking as I made my way to the entrance of the now-exposed hallway of smooth, off-white cinderblock walls.
“Hey,” the blond werewolf called out. “He’s harsh but fair. If those two get life, you can tell your other half-turn roomie that we’d be happy to make the nights a little less lonely for both of you.”
I looked down at the ring on his finger and then back up at him.
“Hey, don’t get all judgy. It’s open. Half-turns are always welcome in the boudoir,” he continued with the flirty grin from earlier.
“Can’t speak for Adam, but I’m good, thanks.”
They waved me off as I stepped into the hallway.
The door clanked shut behind me, echoing through thick silence.
I walked until the walkway turned right and the jail cells appeared.
After passing by three that were empty, I finally got to the culprits, who were lying on the floor against one another, snoring and reeking of booze.
“First strike.”
I jumped, clutching my chest at the deep, angry voice from behind. The mayor was in his werewolf form lighting a cigar while sitting on the bench in an open cellblock with one leg crossed over his knee. “It is a big one, too,” he added.
“I’m so sorry. I had a very long day, and I just wanted to go out and enjoy myself.”
His irises glowed silver as he took a few puffs of tobacco.
“You honestly can’t expect me to babysit full grown adult werewolves twenty-four seven,” I continued.
“Did you drink tonight?” he asked, his tone less threatening than before.
“Y—yes, but I didn’t break the law.”
He unlatched his briefcase and pulled out two crystal-cut glasses and a fancy bottle of what looked like whiskey.
“Have another drink with me.”
“Isn’t this the reason those idiots are in that cell?”
“The general public as a collective is generally stupid.” He glanced at the two slumbering werewolves as I sat next to him and took one of the heavy glasses.
“We have this law specifically to prevent what these two did. I drink for pleasure and taste, not to make an embarrassment of myself and the town.”
He uncorked the bottle before filling both glasses halfway.
“I thought you’d be threatening me again, not drinking with me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Maybe it has to do with the cursed lighter that keeps appearing in my pocket.”
“You have to admit, it is rather effective,” he said casually, half-lapping at the alcohol in his glass. “And don’t think you’re innocent here. Driving without a license and then going into the woods. I expected more from you.”
I dug into my pocket to pull out the lighter. “So you have been watching me with this thing.”
“Yes and no.” He pointed to my glass. “You’ll really like that. It’s over a hundred years old and worth around two grand.”
My eyes went wide. “Hopefully it’s not taxpayer money.” I was only half-joking there.
“Please. You think Norwich has the kind of revenue to satisfy my lifestyle?”
I shrugged and took a sip. It was so smooth, the flavor so complex I couldn’t quite place it. “I don’t know. It’s a nice town for being out in the middle of nowhere.”
“When you’ve got a healthy population of happy citizens, things get done.
Buildings get remodeled, roads repaved, water pipes and sewage lines maintained.
We have good schools, clinics, and services.
Not a dime is wasted on frivolous bureaucratic nonsense.
The failures of society start from the bottom but are facilitated by failures at the top. ”
We sat in silence for a moment, me sipping on the whiskey while the mayor stared as if expecting me to say something.
“Um… so, am I going to be allowed to take them home?”
“Not a chance.”
“What’s going to happen to them?”
“That’s up to you,” he said, finally glancing at the unconscious werewolves. “I can’t have drunk werewolves with no self-control breaking the laws. So I will give you one last ultimatum, and I’m going to break my word to someone in order to tell you some useful things.”
“You’re still gonna force me to live in your dungeon?” I asked, finishing off the glass.
Mosavi snorted. “That possibility isn’t off the table. Neither is me kicking those two out of town. They can live among the Whasha like wild animals.”
“Norwich isn’t Pleasantville. Austin is—”
“Your problem that you’ve allowed to be my problem,” the mayor interrupted.
“That know-it-all wife of mine will eat her words when she hears of this.” His grimace warmed to a slight smile.
“That lighter I gave you—it’s a little more than just a means of surveillance.
In the half-turn state, you are prone to uncontrollable outbursts.
The kind of power you possess, however small, becomes dangerous and unwieldy, as I’ve already mentioned.
” He clenched his jaw while baring his teeth. “And it is exploitable.”
“Is that why you lured me here? To exploit me?”
“I tried a soft-handed approach in the past, but all that resulted was wasted potential.” He swallowed the remaining scotch in his glass. “I will not be as lenient with you.”
“You did this to someone else?”
“I’d prefer not to discuss my failures.” He shifted, turning his attention all the way back to me.
“There are as few as three million werewolves in the entire world, and those with the vironoct make up a tiny fraction of a percent of that. When an elder dies, their power manifests in a random human male in early adulthood. It changes us. Turns us into leaders.”
“Like alphas?”
Mosavi wrinkled his snout. “Never use that word again.”