Page 1 of Werewolves Don't Howl
ChapterOne
The lanterns bobbed overhead like tipsy dancers caught in the balmy breeze, the scent of hyacinth heavy in the air, promising a delightful evening full of chatter, laughter, and best of all, scandalous gossip. Leticia Marin’s annual garden party was a veritable whirlwind of socialites, each one trying to outshine the other with their designer outfits and sharp tongues. It was even more crowded this year, thanks to the buzz surrounding Singsong’s newest sensation: Senator Omar Silverton, the young, handsome, charmingly eligible bachelor who had recently moved to Singsong City.
As I glided through the throngs of guests, I kept out a watchful eye for him. He was already a celebrity, and who wouldn’t want a front-row seat to a little political drama, particularly if it made good copy for my next article? Silverton was well-known as a senator, but in Singsong, he was the Librarian, Elizabeth Montaine’s lawyer, and everyone who was anyone wanted an in with that elusive female.
Her father, Senator Stephen Montaine, had left a legacy by uniting the largest sects in the country, namely the Gray Society and the HOSTs, sealing his work with his mysterious death. Everyone wanted to know what the link was between the legend, Senator Montaine, and the newcomer, Senator Silverton. He had a reputation for ‘getting things done,’ but no one was sure how high his connections went, or what his real motives were, politically or personally. It was my business to find out whatever I could for the good of society. It wouldn’t hurt my own career, either. Amidst the clinking glasses and fluttering silk, tonight promised not just pretty flowers, but unfiltered conversations and possibly a few revelations worth their weight in gold.
“Well, Delphi?” Leticia cried, looping my arm in hers and beaming at me, her love of tulips overcoming her usual reserved poise.
I smiled at Leticia, the older matron of Singsong society in her lilac gown. “Your tulips are even lovelier than they were last year. How do you do it?”
She wagged a finger at me. “Now, Delphi, I can’t tell you my secrets to spill across the pages of Singer’s society section.”
She honestly thought that bulb fertilizer would make scintillating news. Perhaps in Elven circles. “You’ve caught me. It’s actually my mother who keeps pestering me for the deep, dark secrets of your horticultural genius. You see she…”
Leticia grabbed my arm and peered over my shoulder, so I half-turned, following her gaze.
“He really came. Do you think he’s actually interested in flowers, or is he being a politician?”
Senator Silverton looked like moonlight spilled from an ink bottle, shimmering black hair, fair skin, handsome the way only a pure elf could be, otherworldly, but with a smile so warm and inviting, he was almost approachable. Almost. There was something about the breadth of his shoulders that made one pause.
“And he came with Forsythia? They make a stunning couple. I think that she’s almost a pureblood elf. Only one of her parents has human blood, nothing else to muddy the waters. Her hair is almost as light as his is dark.”
I flinched at the use of ‘muddy the waters’ in regard to human blood. As a half-gnome, half-elf, I was probably too sensitive to off-hand comments about the supposed purity of one’s blood. She was right in that they did make a handsome couple, her silvery blonde hair contrasting beautifully with his raven locks. Seeing them together set my teeth on edge for some reason, maybe because Forsythia’s usual air of superiority was heightened as she clung to the arm of a man who was more than her equal. Maybe it was because they were so tall, and my gnome heritage would make me have to look up at both of them, literally, resulting in an extreme neck pain. I’d have to go to the chiropractor after I interviewed him.
I returned my focus to my hostess. “If anyone is here for gossip instead of tulips, they’ll be a convert after your garden party. What was your inspiration for the garden maze and those charming animal sculptures?” I wasn’t going to spend my entire evening longing for a beautiful man that was completely out of my orbit.
“Oh, well,” she said, distracted by the newcomers until she refocused on my question. “The zoo, of course. Someone proposed a fundraiser, an animal-themed masked ball. I thought I’d warm society up with a little maze. Do you like it? It’s not a traditional sculpture garden—I did have to work with last-minute limitations, after all—but I believe it turned out quite charming.”
I nodded appreciatively. “Charming doesn’t begin to describe it. It’s such a breath of fresh air, and such a worthy cause. Who is planning the masked ball?”
She spoke in a low voice, leaning towards me while her blue eyes sparkled. “I suppose it won’t remain a secret for long, considering you’re such good friends with Zephin Clay. He’ll host it at the zoo, of course. Can you see it? Animal masks dotted across the lush sloping lawns around the promenade, the picturesque bridges, provided they hold up for the evening, of course.” She sighed heavily. That part of the zoo was in dire need of rehabilitation. I’d written an article about it just last month.
My father’s friend was a very proper elf, who, as far as I could remember, hadn’t ever thrown a ball of any kind, much less an animal themed masquerade. “Mr. Clay is hosting that kind of soiree? I thought he preferred dinner and conversation, but if he takes this on, it’s bound to be unforgettable.” I couldn’t imagine the media mogul putting on an elephant mask, but he knew how to innovate when it was important to his business. He owned the paper, Singer, that paid my bills, so what was good for his business was good for me.
She laughed and shook her head in agreement. “True enough. It was your article, I believe, that gave him the idea. You do write persuasively. Do you think you’ll cover more serious topics?”
I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. “I was the only one who had time for the article, but I’m just a society reporter.”
Just then, Forsythia glided up to us, dazzling as ever, and a handsome Elven prince—er, senator—firmly attached to her side.
“Leticia, can I introduce you to my friend?” Forsythia said, looking up at her prize through her thick lashes. He was tall enough that even the tall pureblood elf girl had to look up at him, and she was making the most of it.
I was definitely going to strain my neck as the tall man came closer, smelling of woods at night and a hint of something spicy that made me want to lean closer. I hadn’t seen him since the Librarian’s wedding to the Scholar. I hadn’t actually spoken to the Senator, but I couldn’t help watching him then and now. I shook myself when I realized I was staring again at the high cheekbones, perfectly straight nose, and firm mouth. Did he notice me staring? What was one mousy working-class girl in a sea of dazzling elites? He wouldn’t look at me twice, and everyone was staring at the stunning senator. Also, it was my job. Why did I feel so self-conscious around him? So what if he was clearly with Forsythia, who was everything an ambitious senator would want? I wasn’t in the market for a relationship, so why would I feel that tinge of jealousy when I looked at them?
I let myself get pushed away from Leticia and the shining couple by the eager guests who surrounded him, hungry for an introduction.
I should press in like a good reporter, get my scoop and care more about my article than looking like an idiot, but I had other regular society favorites that I needed to check in with, to hear their thoughts on Leticia’s garden, and perhaps spread the rumor of a masked ball at the zoo, mysterious host unknown.
I did my part, mingling, taking notes on a napkin of names and dates as I got the latest civilized gossip. I also wrote down notes of the night’s scent, the mood of the evening, the way the lanterns made the tulips look more velvety, while the scent of daffodil and hyacinth became absolutely intoxicating.
“Delphi, you’re positively elusive this evening,” Forsythia said, catching my arm and swinging me around.
I looked at the blonde in surprise, then at the tall, muscular elf who was looking at me with a slightly amused expression. He was very well-muscled if the way he wore his tuxedo was any indication. Maybe he padded it. If so, they were very good pads, in just the right place to speak to my love of brawny brute strength. Was my mouth watering? He smelled even better this close, but when I saw his eyes in detail, I forgot about everything else. Violet. Various shades of purple lined by lush lashes made him almost too pretty. Violets were my favorite flower, and I loved a lot of flowers. Carnations. That was the underlying spice I’d smelled earlier. He wasn’t wearing a carnation, so why did he smell like one? The wolf in the back of my brain whined and wanted to taste him to unravel the mystery of whether he was violets or carnations.
I gave him a quick smile and forced my attention back to Forsythia, my old friend from college. Friend? How could I be friends with someone who hated who I was under my skin? Every time she railed against werewolves, I found our friendship shriveling smaller and smaller. “Forsythia. It’s so good to see you, and you’ve managed to convince the senator to come.” I gave her a warm hug. She was as cool as an elf should be, but put up with my affectionate gnome ways. Maybe I should stop hugging her. There were so few people I touched anymore, and I was half gnome. Hugging is practically religion to my mother’s family.
She laid a hand on his chest, possessive and pleased with her catch. “Yes, this is Silverton. You should interview him about his political leanings. Maybe find out what he’s doing in Singsong City. You got a house here near Lafayette, didn’t you?” she asked, turning to him with a demure yet flirty smile.
