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“I have to get to know her in order to figure out what will work. It’s not like I have a lot to go on at this point.” He couldn’t possibly tell her he was having second thoughts. If she decided to do the job herself or put a Milhouse on Gabi, the results might be ugly.

Jenna looked up at the full moon. Donnie wasn’t with her, this time around. No, he was out somewhere running the forest or howling at that moon, as were all the Milhouses.

Since they were being honest…

“What the hell do you see in Donnie?” He headed for the door, not to his house but to the office. He opened the door and walked inside; uninvited Jenna was right behind him.

“He’s a means to an end, a…” She stopped when she saw Damian in the waiting room, one of the smaller dogs — a mutt if ever there was one — in his lap.

“Hey, boss,” Damian said. “Let me put Scout up for the night and I’ll head on home.” The kid walked into the back room, and from there he went into the indoor facilities where most of the dogs slept on a massive arrangement of doggie beds in a variety of colors and patterns.

Silas glanced at Jenna, who had pursed her lips and was working hard to give him the evil eye.

“Thanks for staying late,” Silas said when Damian re-entered the waiting room.

“No problem.” Damian nodded to Jenna as he passed by her, appropriately cautious. He didn’t want to piss her off. No one did. “It’s a nice night for the walk home, and Mom said she’d leave me a plate in the fridge. She made meatloaf tonight, and her famous green beans.” He smiled and nodded, then left the building.

When they were alone again, Jenna headed for the door. “Let’s talk about this in your place,” she said. “It smells of dog in here.”

Silas laughed. He hadn’t meant to, not really. The laugh stopped Jenna in her tracks.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I prefer the smell of dogs over the smell of a werewolf any day.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, then again motioned for the door.

“No,” Silas said. “I’m tired. I don’t feel like entertaining.” Besides, he didn’t want Jenna in his home. He knew how she worked, how she had always worked. She used her looks, her body, to get what she wanted. Once upon a time, she’d wanted Clint. She’d gotten him. She’d almost destroyed him.

“I don’t need to be entertained,” she said, a new lilt in her voice. “Maybe a glass of water, unless you have a bottle of wine handy.”

Silas shook his head.

“Beer?” she suggested, clearly frustrated.

“It’s been a long day,” he explained.

He wouldn’t hesitate to invite Gabi to the space where he lived, but he didn’t want this witch there. That alone was enough to make him question this mission she’d set him on.

He’d been waffling, but at this moment it was very clear he’d chosen the wrong side. Isolation had always seemed like a dream. In reality, he was no longer so sure. Had he really made a colossal mistake in agreeing to help Jenna, or was he letting his dick lead him astray?

“Don’t get distracted by a Non-Springer in distress,” she said sharply. “If you can’t do the job, I’ll find someone who will.”

He knew that too well. “I’ll do it.”

“I don’t think you will,” Jenna said smugly. “I think you’re reconsidering because Gabi is pretty and wide-eyed, and weak.”

He didn’t confirm or deny the accusation, though he was tempted to argue the “weak” accusation.

“The town is dying. Springer powers are going to grow weaker and weaker. Young people who might be able to save us will leave, because there’s nothing for them here, and we will die a slow and agonizing death.”

“You might be right,” he said.

Maybe she could still see his indecision, because she snapped, “You’re no white knight, Silas. That’s not who you are.”

He didn’t argue with her.

“Fine.” Jenna waved a dismissive hand as she headed for the door. “If I’d known you had a thing for fragile Non-Springers I would’ve gone to someone else.”