Just Another Wolf

"Ow, Tris!" I rub the side of my head where he accidentally whacked me with a broom. "Watch where you're swinging that thing!"

"What, you don't like being touched by my rod?" Tris prods me with it, a breeze from the open window of the booth ruffling his sandy blond hair. "Come on, you love it."

I glare up at him from my spot on the floor, organizing baskets. "I'm going to love shoving it up your?—"

A cool hand slides over my mouth, and Ambros's eyes twinkle. "That's enough, you two. We're in public."

"He started it." The words come out muffled against his palm.

Tris sticks out his tongue at me out of Ros's line of sight.

"Back to work," Ros says in a tone that snaps us to attention.

"Yes, sir!" Tris and I salute. "Whatever you say, sire!"

Delilah and company had summoned us for help with their booth this afternoon. Or rather, she had asked Ambros. Tris and I had just been the unsuspecting bystanders with free time who got wrangled into the job along with her brother.

I hold up a box of wolf masks. "Why do we have these?"

"Because it's Samhain, and you wear masks to chase off evil spirits." Amberlynn takes one and holds it in front of her face. "Beware, for I am a scary wolf."

I shake my head. "Don't you think it's enough that there are literal wolves in town?"

She shrugs and drops the mask back into the box. "Not everyone is a wolf."

Tris snatches it up and puts it on. "Ah, brings back old times, doesn't it, Rowe?"

Grinning, I flick the name tag on his collar. "Say the word, and I'll curse you again, sparky."

He pushes the mask up. "Shush your mouth, woman. I'm a free man."

Ros nudges him. "A free man who needs to get back to hanging decorative brooms."

"They're not decorative." Amberlynn's hands move to her hips. "They're to sweep out negative energy."

Tris brushes one over Ros's back. "Bad energy, go away."

Spinning, he snatches the broom from Tris's hold. "I'm beginning to think Rowe had the right idea on where to stick this."

Tris grins. "Bite me first, and then we can discuss it."

"Shh." I hold a finger to my lips. "Sir says that's an inside-the-house discussion."

"Does a booth count as a house?" Tris starts to climb over the counter.

Laughter fills the air as I push him back while Ros pulls him, and we all get back to work.

The coven booth bustles with activity as Delilah and Amberlynn direct us in setting up for the big day. Crisp, autumn air carries the scent of pumpkin spice and caramel corn, making me drool as I try to identify which stalls might need a taste tester.

The thought sends a pang of guilt through me. I'm supposed to be at Jesse's place right now, but I just can't do another day of apple pie. It will break my soul. And my gag reflex.

"Rowe, could you help me put price tags on these potions and charms?" Delilah tucks a curl of auburn hair behind her ear, exposing the streak of silver at her temple.

She holds up a tray of items to be sold at the festival.

"Of course." I abandon basket duty and grab the roll of price tags from the table beside her, along with the printed list of prices. Picking up a tiny vial, I study the sparkling green liquid it contains. "What have we got here? Kiddy slime or a growth serum?"

"Ah, that one's a growth serum for plants." She points to a larger vial of electric green. "This one is the slime."

"Save me one of those!" Tris calls out. "I know just the person I want to slime."

"Haut's going to kill you." I check the price on the list and make a mental note to pay for the slime later as I tuck it into my pocket.

The coven had really gone all out for this event.

The booth bursts at the seams in an explosion of color and magic, stuffed full of trinkets and enchantments designed to delight and entertain.

Hand-painted signs declare Charms for luck!, Potions to heal!, and Spells for every occasion! Rows of intricate dream catchers and wind chimes dance in the breeze, their melodic tinkling adding to the festive atmosphere.

"Hey, Rowe, can you hand me that box of candles?" Ambros calls out.

I set down the vial in my hand and grab the box of birthday candles. As I walk them to the front where he stands with Tris, I admire the way he pulled back his shoulder-length hair, leaving his classical features on full display.

A charming smile flashes, displaying his small fangs as he takes it from me. "Thanks."

Pulse tripping as memories of last night return, I lean across the opening. "That's all I get?"

He bends toward me. "You were expecting something more?"

"Back, you horny wench!" Tris smacks me with the soft end of the broom. "Save the kissy face for later!"

Ros takes that broom from him, too. "You wouldn't be saying that if it was your face she was kissing."

"That is correct. But since it's not…" Tris waves another broom in threat. "Don't make me put you two in separate corners."

Laughing, I retreat to my table to stick more price tags on potions and toys.

As we continue to set up the booth, though, my thoughts turn to Silver Hollow and the werewolf pack that resides there. The festival requires all of my attention, but my curiosity won't let it go.

I feel pulled to help, and it's not just because I want to skip out on the rest of all the festival prepping. Who knew a week-long party took so much effort? And stomach space?

A sudden whiff of apples and pie crust reach me, and I peer through the booth opening to see Jesse cutting his way through the crowd.

Panic flares through me, and I duck under the counter. "Tell him I'm not here!"

"Have any of you seen Rowe?" Jesse's voice breaks through the sound of festival workers. "She's supposed to be taste-testing pies with me right now."

"Sorry, haven't seen her," Ros says without a hint of the lie in his words.

Tris, on the other hand, barely contains his laughter, which really isn't helpful.

Jesse draws closer. "I can smell you, Rowe. I know you're here!"

"This is not the Rowe you're looking for!" I grab a mask and put it on, then pop up from behind the counter. "There's just a sad, cursed wolf with no taste buds. Such terrible timing."

"Very funny," Jesse growls, clearly not amused. "Now, take off that ridiculous mask, and let's go."

Before Jesse can drag me off and stuff me full of delicious—and sickening—apple pie, help arrives from an unexpected quarter.

A shrill voice pierces through the autumn air. "Jesse! Don't think I'm unaware of what you've been up to!"

Mrs. Smith huffs and puffs her way toward us, her cheeks flushed red with little Westen in tow behind her.

The old hag had finally adopted him after the death of his parents during the huntsmen battle, and after only a week in her care, he'd transformed back from a pup to a real boy.

"Mrs. Smith." Jesse blanches as he turns to the shriveled-up old woman. "I don't know what you're talking about"

"You're trying to rig the contest, aren't you?" She jabs a gnarled finger at him. "Yesterday, I saw Rowe coming out of your place stinking of pie!"

Alarmed, I lift my mask to give myself a subtle sniff.

Jesse juts out his bearded chin. "Rowe is my childhood friend, so of course she comes to visit me."

"She's one of the judges, and your oven has been on all week." She puffs up and somehow manages to look down her nose at the much taller man. "You're rigging the contest, which means you're afraid that you'll lose this year. As you should be. My new recipe will crush yours."

Not wanting to be caught in the middle when the rolling pins come out, I tiptoe over to where Westen fiddles with a display of charms.

Delilah stands on the other side of the counter, patiently explaining them to him. "These have been crafted with care and magic. They can bring luck, protection, or even help you find a lost item."

"Wow." Westen stares at the charms with newfound awe. "How do they work?"

"Each charm has a specific enchantment that's activated when it comes into contact with its owner's energy." Delilah picks up a small, four-leaf clover. "For example, this one is imbued with a luck spell. When worn by someone, it brings good fortune their way."

"Like with pie contests?" Westen whispers.

"Exactly like that." Delilah smiles and extends the charm. "Just hold it between your palms and whisper your wish to it, then give it to the person whose fortune you want to improve."

The boy takes it with both hands and stares down at it. "It kind of itches."

Delilah leans closer and winks. "That's the magic."

"That's cheating," I hiss when Westen scampers over to Mrs. Smith's side. "You're aiding the enemy."

"Like you've been aiding Jesse?" She gives me an impish smile. "I'm just leveling the playing field."

About to argue that logic, a tall figure in the crowd catches my eye. A head above those around him, Levi would stand out even without the air of authority that surrounds him, making the wolves in his path unconsciously step out of the way.

"Excuse me, I need to talk to a man about a horse." Not waiting for a response, I pull my mask back down and sneak out the back of the booth.

Like a stealthy ninja hidden among the rest of the wolves, I slip through the crowd.

I reach Levi as he passes a stall for caramel corn, taking two strides for every one of his to keep pace.

Tipping my head back, I gaze up, up, up to his rugged jawline. "Fancy meeting you here."

He glances down, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Ms. Wendall?"

"Absolutely not." I point to my mask. "I'm a wolf, just like any other wolf in town."

"Oh, of course." A hint of amusement lights his eyes. "Your disguise is foolproof."

"It's the plastic fur." I stroke my snout. "It really sells the look."

"The red hair gives you away, though." He makes a show of peering around. "Not a single other redhead in Hartford Cove."

"Darn it." I push the mask to the top of my head. "Foiled by genetics yet again."

"They get you every time." He sweeps a hand over his scruffy cheeks. "So, why the disguise?"

"Don't you ever want to just blend in?" I rise onto my tiptoes, but my head doesn't even reach the center of his chest. "It must be hard for you to disappear in a crowd."

"Never really tried." Gaze contemplative, he studies me. "Is it difficult being so well known in Hartford Cove?"

I glance around and spot a few people staring at us. "In case you haven't noticed, it's a small town, and they're not exactly trusting of outsiders."

Those who were staring look away, though I doubt they've stopped listening. Wolf shifter super-hearing is so unfair.

"Outsider?" Confusion fills Levi's voice. "Isn't this the home of the Wendall family?"

"You're probably thinking of my grandma. She's the great Wendall witch." I waggle my eyebrows at him. "Want to see the graveyard?"

His head cocks to the side. "Sure?"

"Come on." Since we're already heading in that direction, I grab his sleeve and tug him through the crowd.

We pass the tent at the town's center, which I avoid looking at, and we cross the street to the sheriff's station.

Deputy Arden's SUV sits in the small parking lot out front, so I lead Levi directly to the back. No reason to cause another werewolf confrontation.

We stop at the gate, and I point up at it. "Make use of your height and undo that latch. It's a pain to climb."

He reaches over the top and easily opens the gate. "Have much experience with that?"

"Just a little." Taking the lead once more, I head to the back of the sheriff's station.

The graveyard comes into view, and I sweep my arms out. "Ta-da! The family plot of the Wendall witches, which is weirdly placed between the law office and the historical society."

Levi's steps slow as he takes in the grim display. Flowers provide bright pops of color, but there's no disguising the headstones. They vary in height, the ones at the back showing signs of weathering despite Haut's efforts to keep the small graveyard clean and the stones free of moss.

I walk over to one and rest a hand against it. "This is my grandma, Charlene Wendall. She's the Wendall witch that everyone talks so nicely about."

Head bowing, he removes his hat in a show of respect.

I move to the next headstone and run my hand over the smooth surface, though it's older than my grandma by fifteen years. "And this is my mom, Rosaline Wendall."

He dips his head toward my mother's grave. "I'm sorry to hear of her passing. You must have been so young when she died."

"Oh, she didn't die. She was murdered. By a werewolf." I meet his startled gaze. "The same one who cursed my mate, Owen, and Deputy Arden." I gesture in the direction of the sheriff station. "You probably shouldn't go in there."

Expression turning cautious, he takes a step away from the back door. "Understood."

I move to the last headstone in the graveyard, where some misguided person had carved the name Rowe Wendall. "And then there's my grave."

Levi's eyes snap back to me. "What?"

Leaning down, I brush the dirt away from my birth and death dates. "You see, I died in Hartford Cove once. On the same day as my mother. Or so the story goes. I've only been back among the living for less than a year, and only training in magic for the last two months."

I straighten and wipe my palms on my thighs. "As you can see, I'm not the great and powerful witch you came searching for. This town has already dealt with the fear of my line ending when my grandma passed away. They won't be eager to see the end of it again if I leave and something happens to me. My mates don't think your Silver Hollow is worth the risk."

His hands tighten on his hat. "That may be the case, but the stories I've heard recently are about you, Rowe. So, I'm still asking for your help."

"Okay." I perch on my headstone and cross my ankles. "Then tell me, Levi, what are you willing to give in exchange?"