Page 73 of It All Started with a Bite

“Yo, my guy,” Pearl greeted the werewolf imperiously. “Looking fresh today.”

The werewolf’s eyes bulged slightly. Victoria pretended to be fascinated by a nearby topiary. Bo wagged his tail and grinned.

To his credit, the doorman recovered his aplomb swiftly. He was reaching for the door when his gaze landed on me. He froze, his eyes widening all over again.

A strange feeling came over me then. One that sent an eerie chill down my spine.

I could practically taste the werewolf’s apprehension as he gazed at me. And not just his apprehension. I could sense his quickening heartbeat and almost decipher his racing thoughts.

I looked him calmly in the eye.

He blinked, his expression growing slightly glazed. Then we were past him and inside the club’s foyer.

“What was that?” Victoria asked quietly as we gave our coats to a cloakroom attendant projecting distinct pixie vibes.

“What was what?”

Victoria shot me a guarded glance as we proceeded down a hallway lined with wood-paneled walls displaying portraits of people who did not look completely human.

“The thing you did to that man,” she elaborated. “Like a silent command.”

I arched an eyebrow. “What kind of silent command?”

“I could practically hear the word ‘heel’ in your gaze.”

I frowned. It had not been a conscious act.

“Maybe it’s your white luna powers manifesting themselves,” Bo suggested. “You know, like that spider dude.”

Pearl flicked her tail curiously. “Who’s that?”

“A guy who gets bitten by a radioactive spider and turns into a superhero,” Bo explained with the enthusiasm of a secret fan.

Pearl curled a lip. “That’s totally unrealistic.”

“I could say the same thing about you, furball,” Bo huffed in a tone surprisingly devoid of animosity.

“Don’t make me come over there and scratch your eyes out, mutt,” Pearl said equally good-naturedly.

Victoria and I exchanged a look. Having our pets bond was not turning out to be the heartwarming, kumbaya experience it was supposed to be. Although “pet” was hardly the right word to describe Pearl.

We passed through a lounge where waiters in formal attire were serving drinks to a well-dressed supernatural clientele lounging in leather armchairs and playing billiards and cards. The noise level dropped noticeably as our passage attracted inquisitive stares.

“This place is pretty swanky,” Bo observed.

“Indeed,” Pearl said. “It has rich vibes, no cap.”

“Pearl?” Victoria groaned as a vampire in a three-piece suit nearly dropped his bloody martini.

“Yes, Victoria?”

“How about you lose the slang?”

Pearl blinked. “But I am rather enjoying the language of the peasant populace.”

Victoria looked accusingly at Bo. My dog avoided her eyes.

“Remember,” the Hawthorne matriarch said as we approached a sweeping staircase, “you should?—”

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