Beauty is the Beast: Beasts Among Us - Book 1

by Jennifer Zamboni

  A long, shiny black limo showed up at seven on the dot. I took a couple of deep breaths and looked down at the jeans and tee outfit I’d been wearing all day. I was woefully underdressed for a limo. The driver got out and opened the back door for me, revealing the empty interior, which meant I was free to relax, or at least try, for the next hour.

  That hour sped by at lightning pace.

  The other wolves were waiting for me, all still in their human forms.

  “Welcome, Gretchen. I’m glad you could make it.” Kaine greeted me with a nod.

  As if I had any real choice. I nodded back but didn’t say anything. The sooner I could be wolfy, the better.

  “Let’s change. We’ll be heading north as a group. I’m the anchor hound. The first one to send out a howl gets to lead the rest of the hunt.” Kaine pulled off his white t-shirt as he spoke and then went to work on the rest of his clothing.

  All around me, people were discarding clothing in haphazard piles without a glance at any of their companions. I’m not used to changing in company. I turned my back on the rest of them and began peeling off my clothes, leaving them in a neat pile on top of my sneakers, hoping I wouldn’t come back to a tick infestation.

  Deep breaths, relax, change. It came slowly at first. My joints creaking then snapping. I sucked in air against the intense pain that accompanied a change so soon after a new moon. I’ve been told the change is less painful for non-dominant wolves. Must be nice. My body was on fire like I’d been smashed between two colliding semi trucks. Adrenaline poured through me as the change rapidly sped up, dulling the pain ever so slightly.

  I dropped to all fours and resisted the urge to scratch myself as fur spurted from every pore on my body. Where does the extra mass come from? My best guess is magic. I packed on bulging muscle until I hit the grand total of 400 pounds. I’m a big puppy.

  I was bigger than Kaine, I was satisfied to note, and he was huge. If he had any doubts about me being a dominant before, he couldn’t deny it now. We both came from a time and place where women were used and not heard. I could understand his unwillingness to adjust, but some things you just have to accept.

  As soon as it was over, I took off, tearing up the ground as I raced forward. I love running like that. I love being like that, when I’m in control.

  The others were already ahead of me, so I surged forward to join the group.

  It didn’t take us long to scent a trail. Moose leave an obvious trail for anyone to follow. Dirk sent up the howl, and we followed him through a stream and up a steep hill, following a trail that was about two hours old, and tangled.

  There were plenty of rabbit trails to follow, but our course was set. We bunched in a tight group until the scent grew strong. Wolves work well in pack form, and that’s true even if the wolves are of the were variety. We fanned out, surrounding our prey. It didn’t even smell us coming. The air was stifled by the dense woods, but we kept downwind anyhow, slowing to a crawl.

  I slithered along on my belly, ears flat to my skull and my tail resisting the urge to wave. It wasn’t like the moose would be able to pick ears out of the darkness, but still.

  Kisa, Quintavious, and I sprang and chased the moose towards Kaine, Jacque, and Dirk who waited in a semi circle. That moose didn’t stand a chance. We all leapt at it at once, Dirk going in for the kill.

  Moose are hard critters to take down. They fight to the very end, and they can be lethal. This was a bull moose, and he bellowed for all he was worth, twisting and turning this way and that, frantically trying to escape. He sent Quinty flying through the air and into a tree, knocking him breathless.

  I thrust against the hard packed ground and propelled myself up onto his back, sinking my fangs into the tough hide of his neck, snapping his spine. He went down hard, and we didn’t waste any time getting at all the best pieces.

  It’s disgusting to think about killing anything. Especially when you’re standing under a hot spray of water, washing dried blood out of your hair and scrubbing it out from under your fingernails.

  The hot taste of blood and raw meat flavored my breath, and I brushed and flossed several times, even going so far as to gargle a couple capfuls of hated mouthwash. All the raw flesh that’s so great when you’re a wolf is not so awesome when you change back.

  Scrub, scrub, scrub. Lavender body wash works wonders. And candles and scented oil. And boy was I tired.

  I dragged my heavy limbs into my most comfortable worn-out pajamas, not bothering to tie the bottoms, then spritzed some leave-in conditioner on my damp hair before I flopped down on my bed and pulled an afghan over me. I was too tired to crawl under the covers, even if they were already pulled down.

  I should start making my bed, I decided as I started drifting off towards sleep. And I need to make my own tea, and Zzzzz, a bit of drool, dead to the world.

  My client was a cute little girl who was badly in need of a trim and a good conditioner.

  “But conditioner makes her hair tangly,” her mother argued.

  Tangly? Really? “A thick moisturizing one will help these tangles slide right out,” I promised, fingering my way through a particularly tough snarl.

  “The heavy ones make her hair greasy.” Her mother’s brows furrowed.

  “Use about a nickel-sized dollop, and emulsify it in your hands first,” I demonstrated by rubbing my hands together. “Then apply at the very ends. That’s where it’s going to do the most good. Then work it up to about mid-shaft.” I pointed. “Any further than that, it may very well make her hair seem greasy.”

  “Really? I never knew that!” Her face brightened, and she reached out to stroke her daughter’s long, deep brown strands.

  I hazarded a guess that she was applying it right to her scalp, like shampoo, globing it around before rinsing.

  “Let me get you set up with a good one. Do you have a leave-in detangler at home?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  “Good. Spray her down with that as soon as she gets out of the tub. Then comb it out with a wide-toothed comb, starting at the ends. I bet you’ll see an improvement.”

  I dried the little girl’s hair, then led them over to the display of products right next to my station. They settled up and left. Hopefully they’d follow my instructions and weren’t just doing the smile and nod routine. Sometimes I wonder.

  I called on Greg next, a man I’d never seen before, in his early forties, balding, slightly overweight, and reeking of fast food. I wasn’t going to judge his diet choices, but the smell does linger.

  Toni emerged from her hidey-hole to wait for her next client. She was already getting steady business, but she often played desk jockey for the fun of it. Which was fine by me. It meant she could answer the ever-ringing phone.

  Greg lumbered over to me with a scowl on his face.

  Great, someone who I wasn’t going to be able to make happy no matter how spectacular his cut turned out.

  “You’re cutting my hair?” he questioned with a sneer.

  Wow, mister, let it all hang out. “Yes, sir, I am.” I pasted a smile on my face and a happy note in my voice, trying to ignore the inner one that was muttering: kill it, kill it, kill it.

  “I want someone else.” He was studying me from head to toe, his lip curling at the sight of me.

  “All right, sir,” I backed away a step and turned to the side, trying to look less intimidating. “But it’s going to be an hour or so before either one of the other girls has an opening.”

  “What about the one behind the counter?”

  “That’s our manicurist. She only does nails.” I narrowed my eyes and tried to avoid clenching my fists.

  “I know what a manicurist is. Don’t talk to me like I’m the stupid one. Well, I need a cut, so I guess you’ll have to do.”

  What a jerk. I forced my curled hands to relax.

  “Right this way.” I led him to my station

  He stepped on the footrest, flipping the chair up, which caused him to lose his
balance. I heard him mutter something that sounded distinctly inappropriate for our family-friendly salon as I pushed the back of the chair down, setting it back onto the floor. He sat down with a thump.

  “Just clean it up. I don’t want to have to get this fixed,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” I tried to keep the bite out of my voice.

  “I guess it doesn’t take much to do hair. Would they not let you into a real school?”

  My fists tightened, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck hackle.

  “It’s gotta be hard for a black woman to get into an actual college.”

  My breath quickened, and my pulse raced. I grabbed the back of the styling chair, sinking my claws into the dense material with a pop.

  “Of course, what else is someone like you gonna do in Maine?”

  “Someone. Like. Me.” I spat the words out slowly, a bit muffled as my teeth started to grow. My contacts split, revealing bits of brilliant amber between brown tatters.

  He watched me in the mirror, his eyes growing wide. His brain wouldn’t acknowledge what he was witnessing, but the smell of his fear fueled the beast I was trying to keep leashed.

  “Get out of my chair. Don’t ever come back.” I growled low and stepped away from the chair.

  My bones snapped loudly enough for Toni’s head to whip in my direction. I took a deep breath and grabbed my mug as my client stood.

  “I’ll be right back, ladies. Make sure that man makes it out of here.” Safely, just in case.

  “Of course,” Percy said as I passed by her, her posture more relaxed than she smelled.

  I fled up to my room, slamming and locking the door. I stalked to my closet and hid inside without turning on the light. I curled up into the littlest ball I could manage and focused on being a person, willing myself to breath slow.

  I’d almost changed in front of Toni. She heard my bones snap. Hopefully Percy could give her a good enough explanation, and I wouldn’t have to say anything. I didn’t think the regular ‘seizure’ excuse would cut it this time.

  I rocked back and forth as my bones snapped down to normal size, my pulse steadying. My mouth began to water profusely, and I dashed for the bathroom, making it just in time to reverently worship the porcelain goddess. It wasn’t out of the norm for me to be sick after a sudden change. I brushed my teeth, popped a mint from the ancient tin on my bed stand, and grabbed my mug and sipped, slowly dissolving the mint and checking the clock to see how long I could pansy around before my next appointment.

  15 minutes. I’d scheduled Greg a half-hour block, not having worked with him before and therefore not knowing how picky he would be.

  If things escalated any more, I might just lose it and eat someone right in the salon. That would suck. I’d have to leave and change my identity. Again.

  Or I could join the pack, the more appealing choice. The whole pack thing was sounding better and better, except for the whole ownership thing. They’d watch my every move, schedule my days, and tell me who I could or could not be friends with. Never mind, the pack is a bad idea. Losing it is a bad idea.

  Curling up on top of the covers, I melted. I’d actually made good on the promise to myself and made my bed for once.

  I successfully kept track of time, making it down the stairs and proceeding through my next cut without a hitch. In fact, Toni never said a word to me. I don’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I’d have to wait and see.

  Percy looked me over periodically. If she was checking for fur, she would be satisfied that I was staying fuzz free.

  During a small lull an hour later, Lacey pulled me outside while she took her smoke break next to the kitchen garden.

  “So what happened?” she asked as she lit up.

  I watched as her cheeks sucked in with her first pull. She held her breath in for a minute, then expelled two streams of smoke from her nostrils.

  I stepped away from her cloud. “Are you aware that, first off, I’m black and therefore a complete moron? I’m too incompetent to do anything but hair? And I have no right to live in Maine?”

  “What an idiot,” Lacey said, raising a blond eyebrow.

  “True words. Besides, how is that my defining characteristic?” I looked down at myself. My coloring and build didn’t point a finger at any one point of my heritage.

  “I heard the snapping.” She blew out another stream of smoke.

  “Yeah, so did Toni.” I waved a hand through the smoke. I hated how smoke clouded everything, but I put up with it to be outside for a few precious moments.

  “Huh. She hasn’t said anything.” She flicked some ashes, sending them scattering in the slight breeze.

  “Percy hasn’t talked to her?” I asked, wondering what she possibly could have said.

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “Huh.”

  She took a few more drags from her cigarette, then let it dangle from her fingers for a bit. “Well, at least you didn’t go furry.”

  “No fur, but there were fangs and eyes.”

  “Really? I didn’t catch a scent off you.” She sniffed at me, like she was going to find it.

  “Yeah. And the guy saw it all in the mirror. Hopefully it just scared the crap out of him, and he won’t tell anyone.”

  “Who’d believe him. We’re the stuff of myth and legend, remember?” She struck a pose with her arms outstretched and one foot pointed.

  “Let’s hope we stay that way.”

  “It would be so much easier if we didn’t have to.” Lacey pulled her arm away from a sunny spot as the tip of her elbow glowed cherry red. As soon as it was back in the shade once more, the intense burn faded and returned to its normal pallor, glazed over with spray tan.

  We stood in the shadow cast by the house, but the sun was traveling in our direction. I switched spots with her, holding my breath as I made my way through her smoke.

  “They were my third pair of contacts this month.”

  “I think you can afford it.” Lacey’s tone changed from sympathetic to admonishing.

  I could. I didn’t like to talk about money with Lacey, or really anyone besides Percy.

  I wondered how the pack made their money. If it was just old investment money or if any of them actually worked. I think I’d go crazy without some sort of job.

  Lacey took one last hit off her cancer stick, then crushed it beneath the toe of one of her purple suede pumps.

  “Are those new?” I hadn’t seen them before, and I didn’t think she’d been shopping recently.

  “Yeah, you like?” Lacey modeled them with a twist of her leg.

  “They’re very purple.”

  “You don’t like.” She pouted.

  “Not really. Not my style, I guess.”

  She shrugged and headed for the door.

  Back to work then. Despite the unpleasant aroma of cigarettes permeating the area, I was reluctant to go in.

  Toni was back in her booth, so I stopped in to say hello and test the waters.

  “How’s it going?”

  She was in between clients and cleaning her tools. “Great! I think I’ll have some repeats.” I thought she was a little louder than usual.

  “Been handing out business cards?” I asked, leaning against the doorway.

  “Yeah, and promising free manicures when I get three new clients who mention their name. I’ve been writing them all down so I could keep track.” She pulled out a spiral bound notebook and turned open the cover. There were neat columns of names, some with check marks already beside them.

  “Good idea. People can’t resist a freebie.”

  “Neither can I. This is so much fun! I’m getting to be so much more creative than I was at the last place I worked.” She smiled and put the notebook away.

  “Good.” I stood there for a moment, feeling a bit silly. “So, ah, I’ll see you later?”

  “Yup!”

  Well, she was either clueless, had a very selective memory, or she was really good at h
iding what she felt. I hoped it was the first option, which would be the safest for me.

  Percy met me at the door with an odd look on her face. “Gretch, you’ve got a walk-in requesting you.” She didn’t elaborate, just went back to work.

  I walked out to the waiting area and was surprised to see Doug sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. He was dressed like a normal guy in track pants, t-shirt, and sneakers, a far cry from the barbarian monster he had portrayed during the dinner. Before our formal introduction anyhow. He stood when he saw me, and I noted we were about the same height.

  “Ah, come on over, Doug.” I pointed over at my station, then headed there myself.

  He set his magazine down and strode over with steady, even steps.

  I got out a cape and clasped it around his neck.

  “So, what did you have in mind?” I asked, wondering where to start. Did he cut his facial hair? Or was I supposed to trim that up too? It was kind of awkward. Was there a politically correct way to ask?

  “Just a trim. Ulysses wants me to keep it shaggy looking for the show.”

  Wow, a full sentence. “All right” I combed through the hair that was within the normal boundaries and studied the ends. “How does an inch sound?”

  “Fine.” He watched my every move in the mirror. He seemed . . . curious.

  I spritzed him down with a spray bottle. I wouldn’t touch the face fluff unless he asked me to. It looked like he had it pretty well taken care of. This was my first close and personal look at him. I hadn’t ever met someone with hypertrichosis before, and I found it fascinating.

  “So how’s the show doing?” I asked in a desperate attempt to make conversation.

  “Fine.”

  Conversation crashed and burned.

  “How long have you been with them?” I tried again as I completed the back guide and started trimming his layers in relation to what I’d taken off the bottom.

  “A few years.”

  Apparently, I wasn’t going to get much out of him. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s all right.” He sat perfectly still as I worked.