Page 38 of Bewitched By the Werewolf
“Oh, you know, weird things. People doing weird stuff, acting odd. Maybe people with weird markings or strange creatures in the woods at night?”
They both stare at me, mirror expressions of deer in the headlights. Maybe I was too vague? Maybe they need more clarification?
“I don’t think so,” Alexandria replies, her voice a little squeaky. She looks nervous, I think she knows something.
“So, no werewolves then?”
“What?!” The blonde’s voice raises in pitch and her one-word response is so abrupt, I know I’ve touched on a sensitive subject. She’s definitely hiding something, and not just her identity.
“You know, hairy beasts that change under the full moon and hunt people for sport.”
Alexandria and Calliope exchange glances again, like they’re trying to communicate with one another. Either questioning each other if I’m crazy, or how to lie about knowing there are werewolves—AKA shifters—in town.
“No, no werewolves or anything of the sort,” Calliope finally answers, nervous laughter tinging her voice. “Nothing like that around here.”
I am not convinced. They way she says it is like a bad actress in a black and white movie.
“Nope, haven’t heard of such a thing since I’ve been here,” Alexandria adds.
These two are definitely lying, but about what?I straighten from my casual pose and tap a finger on the white stone countertop. I want to ask more, but I catch a glimpse of the man who arrived with Alexandria returning to the shop from across the street. Time to go. I’ll have to try these two again later.
“Oh, okay. Well, if you hear anything let me know. I’ll be around for a while. Thanks anyways.”
I rap a knuckle on the counter and quickly return to my table, reclining in my chair nonchalantly hoping the man who obviously knows Ryder doesn’t suspect me of knowing who he’s really with. I don’t look back out the window until the pair settle at a table towards the rear of the shop. Ryder is pacing back and forth like a caged animal, only he’s not caged. He can leave whenever he wants. He glances over in the middle of his pacing, and I waggle my fingers at him and stick out my tongue for good measure. His pacing stops and his entire body shifts to face me, his shoulders rolling back and he looks massive from this angle. He has to work out a lot to get a physique like that, there’s no way that’s just natural because he’s a shifter. Or maybe it is. I have no freaking idea. This whole concept of shifter and not werewolf is still foreign. I have no idea how many difference there could be between the two.
Maybe I should write down all my questions and observations. That’s what I should be doing, recording everything to share later. For some reason I haven’t put any of this on paper or in writing yet. I haven’t even updated by blog to share that I’ve actually found a real “werewolf” or that they prefer to be called shifters. Telling myself I haven’t done it yet because I don’t have proof. Anyone can post anything on the internet and say it’s true, but no one will believe it without photographs or video. Even then most don’t believe it. We have too many computer programs and software that can fake it.Make those deep fake ai videos that are always confusing people online nowadays.
I hate those fucking ai videos. Not only because they’re awful, but because they’re lies. They create doubt and confusion and spread false information. I’ve seen videos of alien autopsies so convincing it had me questioning if it were fake or not. How are we supposed to know what’s real and what’s not anymore?
Again, not for the first time, I question why I’m still doing this. Why I’m still spending the little money I have, to hunt for a mythical creature that no one will believe I’ve found, even if I have one hundred percent real proof. What else am I supposed to do with my life if I’m not hunting werewolves? It’s the only thing I know how to do. I didn’t go to college, I didn’t learn a trade. I have nothing to fall back on. I’d end up in retail or working at a fast-food restaurant, neither of which sound appealing.
Maybe I could be a private investigator. I’ve definitely got the snooping around part down. I’m great at lying to people to get them to believe me. I could expose cheating husbands and wives and help find lost dogs or something. I know how to track animals, maybe I could join the park rangers. Then I could start looking for big foot and yetis while getting paid.
Big foot was never my obsession though. A large hairy monkey-man, who just walks aimlessly through the wilderness never appealed to my curiosity.
Sighing I finish my muffin and start in on the apple fritter. It’s delicious and yet, I feel it’s lost its appeal with my souring realization that I basically have no future. Whatever, I have here and now, and I can at least finish what I started before I start worrying about what comes next. I was never a what comes next, kind of girl. I’m a focused on the present kind of person. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to prove that what I’ve searchedfor, for the last twenty years is real. After that? I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Chapter 21: Ryder
I want to follow Tess intoSticky Bunsbut stop myself before I even cross the street. I’m still the sheriff in town and if I go barreling into the bakery and drag her out by her tight ponytail, people will start asking questions. The entire point is to stop the questions,notgenerate more.
Not long after Tess enters the shop, I spot my brother and Lottie entering. I thought he was going to stay with her at the cabin? I guess they changed their minds. He isn’t in there long though. As soon as he catches me pacing across the street, he exits the shop and heads straight for me. Great.
I stop pacing and try to calm myself before he arrives. It works, sort of.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, looking between me and the bakery. “Is that redhead Tess?”
“Yes, that’s Tess.”
“And you’re out here watching her because?”
I growl and roll my head back on my neck, unable to remain still and calm any longer waving my arm in her direction inside the bakery. “Because I caught her talking with Roman asking about werewolves, she called me daddy, smells like apples, and will not listen to anything I say.” The words come out in a frustrated tumble, and I huff a breath once I’m done venting.
Hunter eyes me as if he’s never seen me before. I stop fidgeting and rest my hands on my hips. “What?”
“Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you this animated about…anything. Especially a female. I thought you said you had her handled?”
“I do, I just—there’s just something about her that gets under my skin.”
