Page 18

18

When the Moon Calls

“Hmm.” Nigel adjusted his glasses and stared at the enhanced version of the Moonlight Couture footage he’d just brought up on the screen. “I think I’ve seen this guy before.”

I exchanged a startled look with Didi and Gavin.

“You have?” the witch said.

“Give me a minute.”

Multiple screens flickered around us as Nigel began working several keyboards at once, his glasses reflecting the displays’ glow. A couple of tentacles emerged from his sleeves and tried to help. He tucked them away absentmindedly.

My skin itched. The moon’s pull was getting stronger by the hour, making everything starker, brighter, and more intense. Even the hum of the computers seemed amplified in the enclosed space that was the boogeyman’s office.

“That’s strange.” Nigel was frowning at one of the screens. “It’s taking a while to run him through facial recognition.”

“We think he might be a mimic,” Gavin said helpfully.

Nigel almost fell off his chair. “That’s it!” He brightened—literally—and immediately dimmed his glow when we squinted. “Sorry.”

“Do you think you can track him down?” Didi asked while I was still blinking the black spots out of my eyes.

“Maybe.” More windows opened across Nigel’s screens. “I’ve been building a database of suspicious individuals and strange activities involving supernatural establishments in Amberford and the neighboring towns. I should be able to pinpoint similarities if this guy’s modus operandi stayed the same.”

I was impressed. The boogeyman really was great at his job.

We watched as images and text scrolled past for several minutes.

Nigel suddenly stiffened. “There!” Dozens of glowing tentacles emerged all at once in his excitement and pointed at a screen. “His real name is Clayton Wheeler. He’s officially registered as a werewolf. He’s been flagged multiple times for suspected criminal activities.”

I frowned. Though they were of different heights and ages, the men in the frames all walked and moved the same way.

I wondered which one was the real Clayton Wheeler.

“What kind of criminal activities?” Didi asked in a steely voice.

Nigel checked his database. “Assault and theft.” He paused. “Oh. There was an incident last year involving a cursed object at an antique store in the next town. The charges were dropped due to lack of evidence.”

My pulse quickened.

Didi narrowed her eyes. “Sounds like our guy.”

“We should check the shops around Mystical Moments,” Gavin suggested. “See if anyone saw Wheeler or noticed anything unusual in the days leading up to the theft.”

We said goodbye to Nigel and returned to Sycamore Grove in Didi’s car. It didn’t take long to find our first clue.

The beauty salon next to Mystical Moments was run by Madame Rosa, a witch who specialized in magical makeovers. The bell above the door tinkled cheerfully when we entered the premises.

We introduced ourselves and showed her the pictures Nigel had printed of our suspect, including the screenshot from Moonlight Couture’s security footage.

“Oh, that guy.” Madame Rosa nodded at Wheeler’s photo from Claudette’s shop, her fingers busy enchanting gray hairs into gold. “Yup, I saw him alright. He was in a dark blue Lexus SUV that was parked around the corner five days straight last week.”

Her customer sneezed. All her hair turned green.

We stared.

“She looks like that frog I caught once,” Bo whispered.

I remembered the frog in question. Ellie had not been impressed.

Madame Rosa sighed. “Mrs. Emerson, did you have chrysanthemum tea this morning?”

Mrs. Emerson flinched guilty.

Madama Rosa’s expression grew pinched. “You know chrysanthemum tea and my transformation magic don’t mix well.”

Bo and I watched with mounting dread as other parts of Mrs. Emerson started turning green. She began gurgling.

“And by don’t mix well, I mean it can lead to a serious allergic reaction,” Madame Rosa grumbled. She turned and shouted at one of her assistants. “Jane, bring the detox potion, now !” She glanced at Mrs. Emerson’s swelling face. “And the funnel!” she added grimly.

Bo shot behind my legs.

I licked my lips nervously. “Shouldn’t we call 911?”

“911 can’t help with magical incidents,” Didi said in an unconcerned tone.

“Also, the supernatural emergency line is 666,” Gavin added helpfully.

Madame Rosa shoved a pipe into her client’s throat and poured a gloopy blue liquid down it from the glass bottle her assistant passed to her. Mrs. Emerson’s bloated form deflated like a balloon and her hair and skin slowly resumed their normal color. She hiccuped and groaned.

I blew out a sigh.

“What just happened is right up there on my list of constipation cures,” Bo muttered.

Madame Rosa cut her eyes to my dog before addressing her assistant. “How about you take Mrs. Emerson for a lie down?”

Mrs. Emerson stumbled a little under the support of the witch’s assistant as she was gently guided to a rest lounge, her passage garnering concerned looks from the salon’s clientele as well as disapproving stares that said she should have known better.

“Now, where were we?” Madame Rosa said briskly.

“Did you notice anything unusual about the SUV?” Didi asked.

“Besides the fact that it seemed to change shade depending on the angle?” Madame Rosa snorted. “I’ve been in this business thirty years. I know a glamour when I see one.”

My stomach sank. “How about the license plate?”

“Honey, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.” Madame Rosa paused. “But the dwarf who owns the liquor store opposite might have caught something on his security camera.”

I realized the witch was watching me with a shrewd stare.

“So you’re the new luna everyone’s been talking about?”

I grimaced. This fame business was starting to get old.

“Dwarf?” I asked Didi and Gavin when we exited the beauty salon.

“They’re an endangered species,” Didi said.

“Reproductive problems,” Gavin explained at my look.

“You mean infertility?” I hazarded as we crossed the road.

“Like they can’t tell who’s a lady dwarf and who isn’t, what with the beard and everything,” Didi replied. “Leads to all kinds of brawls. It’s the reason they’re constantly grumpy.”

I was certain they were making this stuff up until we entered the liquor store and I saw the bearded dwarf perched on a high stool behind the counter. Grumpy was a mild word to describe his countenance.

“He looks like he eats small children for breakfast,” Bo commented.

I hushed my dog while Didi spoke to Grumpy.

“Security cameras?” he grunted at her request. “In the back.” He squinted menacingly. “You better not touch anything else.”

The footage room was barely bigger than a closet and reeked of smelly socks. Gavin narrowly missed setting fire to a cobweb and earned a death glare from Didi.

It didn’t take us long to find the SUV in the security footage. We could just make out a partial plate number.

Didi called Nigel on the way back to the office.

“I know someone at the DMV who owes me a favor,” Nigel said. “When I say ‘someone’ I mean a gremlin, and when I say ‘favor’ I mean he lost a bet involving Windows 95 and a flying toaster.” He chuckled in a way that I found strangely endearing.

My life was full of weirdos and I was getting used to their weirdness.

The full moon meant Hawthorne & Associates stopped work early so their werewolf employees could get ready for their pack run. Charlene gave me a message about my car being in the parking lot behind the building when we entered the lobby and passed me an envelope with the words Abby’s car key on it in elegant cursive.

“From Samuel,” the banshee said.

Even the guy’s handwriting was sexy.

Didi and Gavin made reassuring noises about my first transformation as they said goodbye, which only served to make me more nervous.

I frowned as I made my way to the parking lot. Bar a text message telling me when he’d pick me up tonight and the envelope, I hadn’t heard from Samuel all day.

I stopped and looked around. My Subaru was nowhere in sight.

Bo padded over to a brand-new, gleaming, midnight-blue BMW. “I can smell Samuel’s scent on this.”

I joined him. He was right.

Suspicion roused its ugly head. I emptied the envelope. It contained a key with a BMW logo and a curt note that said, The Subaru has gone to a better place. Use the new car.

“That wolf had better give Ethel back,” I growled.

Bo looked at me warily. “Your knuckles are growing hairy.”

I reeled in my inner wolf and briefly debated storming back into Hawthorne & Associates and demanding where Samuel was. I decided I was too darn tired, got inside the BMW, and drove it gingerly all the way home.

By the time I reached Parkside, my bones were aching and my wolf was practically clawing to get out.

“I sure as hell hope every full moon isn’t like this,” I muttered as we rode the elevator.

Bo remained unusually quiet beside me.

We found Ellie in the kitchen, surrounded by what looked like every baking implement we owned. The counters were covered in cooling racks laden with protein bars, muffins, and what appeared to be an attempt at raw meat treats.

“Ellie?” I stared at the mess. “What are you?—?”

“I looked up what werewolves might need after transforming,” she babbled. “I got you some Gatorade. And protein shakes. Oh, and I found this website about post-transformation care?—”

“Ellie.” I caught her flapping, flour-covered hands. “I’ll be fine.”

My best friend looked like a deer caught in headlights. I could tell the guilt of being partly responsible for what I was going to go through tonight was getting to her.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Tears bloomed in her eyes at my words. She started bawling.

I sighed and hugged her, flour and all. Bo whined.

“Look, Samuel’s gonna be there,” I reminded them, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “And the rest of the pack.”

“That’s what worries me,” Ellie muttered in my shoulder. “You’ll be on your own.”

Bo started howling.

These two were not helping.

I stayed with them a few more minutes before heading for the shower, hoping the hot water might ease some of the tension in my muscles. It didn’t. If anything, being alone with my thoughts made everything worse.

The fears I’d harbored about becoming a werewolf bubbled to the forefront of my consciousness like a nasty bout of indigestion.

What if I hurt someone one day? What if I bit Ellie or Bo in a moon-induced frenzy? What if I could never turn back into a hum?—

A sound at the bathroom door interrupted my spiral of panic.

“Your heart’s going crazy again,” Bo said anxiously through the door. “I can hear it from here.”

I wrapped myself in a towel and froze at the glint of amber in my eyes when I saw my reflection in the cabinet mirror. I swallowed and opened the door.

“I’m fine.”

Though Bo’s ears flattened at my sight, he didn’t back away.

“I’d feel better if I could come with you,” he quavered.

I realized he was trembling and ruffled his head.

“Even Pearl doesn’t go on pack runs.”

Probably because she might accidentally get eaten, but I refrained from voicing that thought.

I’d already laid out the clothes Victoria had insisted on buying specifically for shifting on my bed that morning: soft pants and a top made of some kind of magical fabric that was supposed to transform with me. I got dressed and checked my watch.

It was six-thirty p.m.

The doorbell rang at exactly seven. My pulse spiked where I sat waiting with Ellie and Bo in the living room. I took a deep breath and went to answer the door, the pair of them trailing behind me like they were going to a funeral.

Samuel stood in the hallway, looking tall and brooding in dark clothing that hugged his physique. His eyes already held more than a hint of amber and the power rolling off him made my skin tingle.

“Ready?” he asked quietly.

I nodded and grabbed the bag of goodies Ellie had packed for me. My best friend and my dog watched us leave wordlessly.