Page 8 of Beau and the Beast

Violet shot him a death stare and he held up his hands, as if surrendering.

"I know, I know, Christ," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing illegal. Got it."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“It’s still illegal to getlegalmeds for someone else,” Alfie pointed out.

“Don’t be pedantic,” James shot back.

"You know, it's not like sticking to the law has helped us break up this bullshit curse anyway," Song shot in. "If that was the key to it, we'd be out by now."

Violet agreed but didn't say it. She knew they'd all had that thought by now.

But Wolfram was bound to his original ideas. He stuck to the same rules that he'd set out for them from day one.

They'd abide by laws—both those that governed New Whitby and the types of moral laws that governed everyday life.

She could already hear his argument in her head. He'd insist that even if you set aside the fact that they were talking about breaking the law, they'd still be breaking moral codes by giving money to drug dealers who, potentially, hurt people. And even if the street-level dealers didn't hurt people, there were cartels and others involved in the supply chain who most definitely did.

No, there was no way Wolfram would allow them to buy illicit drugs, even if it meant keeping him safewithoutkeeping him in a cage.

"I'll make some calls," she said, finally. "There should be at least two docs on the list who will work. James, you'll stand in as the patient?"

James nodded. "Happy to."

"So, now thatthat'ssettled, what's for dinner?" Alfie shot in, kicking back with his feet on the dining room table.

"I have no idea why you're looking at me," Violet said. "I chose yesterday."

* * *

Noah's planhad been simple. He'd contacted the only number he could find for 330 West, casually calling them once he had a cash figure in mind.

"Yes?"

The person who answered didn't bother saying hello or identifying themselves. The voice sounded male, though, and slightly annoyed that someone was calling.

"This is New Whitby Pest and Monitoring,” Noah said, speaking slowly. Everyone but Beau had a hard time understanding him because of the way the scars on his face interfered with his speech, so Noah knew he needed to enunciate. “I got a lead recently that tells me you have a very specific pest problem."

"I don't know how you got this number, but we don't need your services."

"Don't hang up!" Noah had said quickly. "The pest looks to be about seven feet tall with ram horns—that ring a bell?"

There had been a long silence on the other end—so long that for a moment, Noah thought they'd hung up.

Finally, they responded.

"And if I tell you I have no idea what you're talking about?"

"Then I'd tellyouthat I have several photos I can send over," Noah said, "in case you need to refamiliarize yourself with the pest."

Another pause.

"What's your ask?" the man on the other end said, finally.

"Fifty thousand dollars cash," Noah said.

"Done."

---