Page 17 of Real Fake Hauntings

“Do you seriously think I did this?” he demanded, all outrage.

I grinned. “Nah, just messing with you.”

Come to think of it, though, I’d yet to hear his name linked with anyone in a romantic way. I made a mental note to ask Dru to dig into the shifter forums about this. For research purposes only, of course. A witch needed to stay abreast of these kinds of things.

“You walk a fine line, witch,” Hutton growled in his growliest of growly voices.

“Aw, you know you love me.”

“No.”

I didn’t let the categorical denial affect me. Hutton was a good guy deep inside. Sometimes, anyway.

“What about the younger shifters?” I asked. “Any of them known to do pranks or tag stuff?”

“They’re accounted for.”

I imagined a bunch of teen wolves herded around like sheep. “How?”

“They had a meeting yesterday about the Garreth appearances,” Hutton answered in a tone that made me think he’d been bugged more than once about who got to play Olmeda’s number one ghost dog attraction. “It went on until well after midnight.”

“They wouldn’t have had the time to paint all these pentagrams.” One or two, maybe, but not all four. And the brush strokes told me they had all been done by the same person.

“No.”

I might have one less pool of suspects, but the confirmation made me happy. Dealing with Hutton was hard already, and I didn’t want to get into hot water with the pack by accusing their teens. Still, it could be one of the adults.

“What about the rest of the pack?” I asked. “Anyone unhappy with the twins’ deaths, maybe?”

One of Hutton’s seconds in command had been the main backer behind the twins’ bid to take over the pack a few weeks back, but there must’ve been more supporters for him to think the twins had a chance of being accepted.

“That’s my business, not yours.”

“They could be a suspect here,” I insisted.

He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Doodling on walls to get revenge is not the shifters’ way. Are we done here? I have a million things to do.”

“Planning your Halloween party?” Would I get an invite?

“I hate Halloween.”

I gasped in horror.

He ran a hand through his short hair in a way that reminded me of Ian. “It’s a pain in the ass. We have to put extra wards and patrols every year because people keep trying to jump over the fence. Some idiot started a rumor about us being a cult, and now people think we sacrifice pigs or something during Halloween.”

I laughed, then sobered abruptly. “Wait, who puts the extra wards?” Because it sure as the earth was blue and green hadn’t been me.

Hutton ignored my question. “How long is it going to take to fix this?” He waved toward the pentagram. “Can we clean this up now?”

Maybe the wards had been put before I arrived by Bagley or another interim witch? I studied Hutton with deep suspicion. Had he hired someone from out of town to work on his wards? While I was here?

“What?” he asked, noticing my stare.

I opened my mouth to ask about the wards again, but a woman came jogging into the parking space. Judging by her jeans and flannel jacket outfit, she was part of Hutton’s pack. Shifters were rustic like that.

Her polite incline of a head toward Hutton confirmed my suspicions.

She studied me and Key and the dogs with curiosity. I stepped forward and gave her an enthusiastic wave. “Hi, I’m Hope Avery, local in-witchy-gator. This is Key, my assistant today.”

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