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“On one condition. I need to borrow your best trackers. I’m searching for a missing woman by the name of Ashley Pratt.”
He scoffed. “Who do you think you are, coming here and demanding trackers?”
I pressed on. “Ashley is local. The police don’t think she wants to be found.”
“Maybe they’re right,” Anna said.
“Her brother is confident that she didn’t take off, and I believe him.”
Paulie seemed to relax a bit once he realized I wasn’t here to smite them. “We’ve heard rumors recently. Somebody’s trafficking runaways.”
“Any idea who this somebody is?”
“Vampires,” he said.
Despite Otto’s protest, the same rumor was making the rounds through the various supernatural groups. Maybe there was something to it after all.
“West told us not to talk about it since it’s all speculation,” Paulie continued. “He doesn’t want to start a war with them.”
Understandable. “Thanks, Paulie. I appreciate your cooperation.” Just because I scared the daylights out of them didn’t mean I couldn’t show gratitude. “How many trackers can you spare?”
He shook his lowered head. “Can’t. It’s got to be West’s call.”
“Then tell West I need to see him as soon as he gets back. He can find me at Bluebeard’s Castle.”
The mention of the bluestone manor got his attention. His head jerked up. “That’s you?”
“That’s me.”
Paulie laughed. “You moved into the Ruins?”
I crossed my arms. “People call it the Castle.”
“Idiots call it the Castle,” Bert said. “We call it the Ruins.”
“It’s habitable,” I argued.
“And Monique is actually pretty if you squint enough,” Paulie shot back.
The spikey-haired werewolf snarled at him.
Another werewolf stepped forward. I’d noticed him during the fight because he’d backed away from the circle, unwilling to engage. “You need help over there? We’ve got guys looking for steady work.”
“I’m good right now, but I’ll let you know.” I had no use for werewolves on my property. In constant close proximity, his ‘guys’ would spend their time with their tails between their legs, avoiding my presence. They couldn’t help themselves; I made their hairs stand on end. Or smelled ‘wrong.’
Relief spread across Paulie’s face when I started toward my truck. I didn’t enjoy injecting fear into anybody; it was one of the reasons I kept to myself, but it came in handy on occasions like this one. Thanks to Pops, I’d learned to defend myself in childhood without the need to resort to my powers. One of the perks of being raised by humans. It was, by far, one of the most valuable lessons he ever taught me.
I parked the truck outside the gate to the Castle—notthe Ruins, weary from my tense interactions with the pack. That meeting could’ve gone very wrong. It had been a misstep on my part; I was out of practice dealing with the living.
A text from Steven popped up, asking whether tomorrow morning was a convenient time to work on my computer. I replied with a thumbs-up emoji. Why use words when a cartoon symbol will suffice?
As I reached the front porch, the sound of a car drew my attention. For a moment, I worried the werewolves had followed me home. I watched with trepidation as a black sedan with tinted windows parked behind my truck. The car door opened, frightening off the large blackbird perched on the gate. A petite woman with bright blue hair emerged from the vehicle. She approached the house, flanked by two men in black kaftans. I couldn’t help but smile when they reached the bridge and were forced to walk in a single file line for the next few feet.
“Can I help you?” I asked, once they were safely within earshot.
“No, but I might be able to help you,” the woman said. Her blue hair contrasted nicely with her flawless porcelain skin. “Camryn Sable at your service. Kane Sullivan sent me.”
I was almost afraid to ask my next question. “What kind of service?”
