The Artist Cries Wolf

by Heather Horrocks

  “Then you know that’s why I can keep you safe. And that’s why I should have saved your brother. I’m stronger than a human. Quicker. I could have smelled a bomb before they even went into the building.”

  “Samuel,” she said with authority.

  He tipped his head, curiously — reminding her of the wolf.

  “Let it go. It wasn’t your fault. Whether you are a werewolf or not.” Her lips quirked. “I can’t believe I just said that sentence aloud and meant it.”

  “I hoped you’d believe me.” Samuel closed the distance between them. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I care about you a great deal.”

  “I have a lot of questions. About your ability. And the moon. And who knows in this town?”

  “Nearly everyone knows. You remember the Wildwood Hotel that you wanted to stay in?”

  She nodded. “You said they never have vacancies.”

  “They don’t have vacancies for humans. They cater to supernaturals.”

  “Wow.”

  “And at the full moon, the compulsion to shift is nearly overwhelming, but I can do it at any time. It makes me hungry, though.”

  She fingered his shirt. “How?”

  “Shifter magic. Some of the older ones can even change clothes during a shift. Some of the younger ones shift naked.”

  She put her arm around his waist. “Just how old are you?”

  “I was born in 1985.”

  “That’s given you time to get so good at kissing,” she teased. “How old is Olivia?”

  “Six years younger than me.”

  “You know, I’m surprised. I thought you’d be older, being all immortal and all.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Oh, I’m not disappointed at all. This is amazing.”

  And it was. Then she had a thought. “Did Adam know?”

  He shook his head. “No. There were three of us shifters there, but the other guys didn’t know.”

  “He’d have loved knowing.”

  Samuel nodded. “He probably would have. He was always up for an adventure.”

  “I’m glad he had you by his side.”

  When his brow started to wrinkle in that I’m-to-blame way, she said, “I’m glad he had such a good friend with him. And you were his best buddy.”

  After a long pause, his brow unfurled. “And he was mine.”

  When Supernaturals Go Wrong

  “THE LIGHT ISN’T RIGHT IN HERE,” Amber muttered.

  From his station desk, Sam glanced up at her. He’d set up her easel in the break room and had moved his files and laptop to the table. He was determined to keep her safe, so for now, he was going to keep her beside him. All the time.

  She’d been doing a lot of grumbling, however. He didn’t blame her. She probably still had a headache from hitting her head yesterday. She certainly still had a bump on the back of her head.

  He’d tried to talk her into staying home today and recovering — he’d even arranged to take the day off work — but she had refused to let the attack stop her.

  She sighed and looked up. “The tourists can’t see me here. How am I supposed to sell my paintings to tourists if they can’t see my paintings?”

  At that, a voice from the front desk called out, “I saw your work. If you’ll paint my family, I’ll pay you.”

  Samuel shrugged. “There you go.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “While I very much appreciate that you are protecting me, and that this kind gentleman offered to buy a painting, if I’m going to have an income, I need to paint where others can see me.”

  Larry Knight came in, carrying his lunch. He sat at the far end of the table from the laptop.

  “You’re painting now.” Samuel studied what she’d done. Was that his wolf? A big black wolf howling at the moon, with room in the forefront for others. He was . . . beautiful. She’d caught the longing of his wolf for the moon. She was really talented — as talented as Adam had always claimed she was. “And it looks fantastic.”

  She smiled up at him, and he realized he would be willing to do anything for one of her smiles.

  He stepped closer to her. “I want to keep you close.”

  She ran her fingers up his shirt. “Is this close enough?”

  “Watch it, woman. I only have so much self-control.” He grabbed her hand and grinned at her. She quirked a smile at him, as if she’d wanted to hold his hand all along.

  He shook his head at her, but couldn’t resist smiling back. “Larry,” he said to the man behind him, “will you keep an eye on Amber while I go question the suspect?”

  Uncle Fred joined them, coffee mug in hand, and lowered his voice so Amber wouldn’t hear. “First you insulted a troll. Now you’re planning to insult vampires? Their hearing is as good as ours, you know.”

  Sam grinned at his uncle, nodding. “Good thing the insulation is so good in here.”

  Uncle Fred shook his head. “I’ll be going in with you to make sure you use your brain. So switch it on.”

  “So it’s not okay to insult trolls and vampires, but it is okay to insult me?”

  “You’re smarter than you look and you’re the sheriff, so you can take it.” His uncle grinned. “Let’s go.”

  Sam looked back at Amber. She motioned him away and said, “Larry, as long as you’re trapped here on babysitting duty, do you want to be in my painting? I need someone in the foreground.”

  “Sure!”

  Sam followed Fred toward the back. At the door to the holding cells and interrogation rooms, he turned back. Amber was busy posing Larry, telling him just how to stand. He had to chuckle as he ducked through the doorway and made sure the door locked behind him.

  They walked down past the empty cells to the next door — the one leading to the special cell block that was reinforced specifically for supernaturals.

  As soon as they went through, they heard singing. He and Fred exchanged glances.

  “Is that the vampire?” Sam asked.

  “Must be. The troll was released to the custody of T.A.C.T. yesterday.”

  They stood, listening. The vampire actually had a pretty good voice — a rich, rumbling baritone. He sang a good rendition of the Beach Boys’s Sloop John B, about feeling so broke up he wanted to go home. He must have heard it on the beach yesterday.

  Sam might have smiled — if this hadn’t been the bloodsucker who’d tried to kidnap Amber.

  He stepped forward and Fred nodded. “You take point. Good cop. I’ll be bad.”

  Samuel scowled. “I’m feeling pretty bad today. I’d rather play bad cop.”

  “I know. Get over it.” His uncle was higher in the pack hierarchy than Samuel and he’d passed up the sheriff job so he could take more days off and spend time with his wife, so Samuel let him get away with more than most.

  They continued down until they stood outside the cell. Fred pushed the button that released the Isolation Charm so that the vampire could hear them again, but left the Reinforcement Charm in place. “Welcome to our fine establishment,” Fred drawled.

  Slowly, the vampire moved from reclining to sitting. “Do you ever feed prisoners here? I’m thirsty. And I love werewolf snacks.”

  Sam rolled his eyes, and Fred said, “You attacked a human yesterday. That is against all of our laws, even those of the vampires. You have dishonored your clan.”

  At the mention of his clan, The vampire’s bravado faded. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was offered money that I desperately needed. In a moment of weakness, I caved to the temptation. I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he rushed to assure them. “I was just supposed to hand her over. I didn’t hurt her. In fact, she hurt me.”

  Sam forced a smile that he was sure the vampire could see through in an instant and put a friendly tone in his voice. “I’m Sheriff Winston and this is Deputy Winston.”

  “A bit of nepotism, huh?” The vampire feigned relaxation as he leaned back again
st the wall.

  Sam continued, “What’s your name?”

  The vampire looked bored as he studied a hangnail on his finger.

  Fred said, “Let’s just taze him and get it over with.”

  They would never do that — but this guy obviously didn’t know that. He sat up straight and stopped looking bored. “That’s against the Code.”

  “As is attacking humans,” Fred growled. “Tell us your name.”

  The vampire scowled, then said, “Lucian of Clan Sânge.”

  Sânge. One of the Romanian words meaning blood. Fitting. And one of the oldest vampire clans. They went back hundreds of years.

  “All right, Lucian of Clan Sânge.” Fred crossed his arms. “Who paid you and who were you supposed to hand this girl over to?”

  “A guy named Emmett Crumb hired me. He just got out of the slammer, human style, and he and his buddy paid me half in advance. Emmett came to town to make sure it went down. And he almost got her because you were attacking me.” He glared at Sam.

  “Sorry, dude. It’s what I do when supernaturals go wrong.” Samuel stared at the vampire. “I’m assuming you used your glamour to keep anyone from noticing you were dragging Amber off.”

  The vampire nodded.

  “What is the slammer dude’s name?” Fred asked.

  “Keith Irwin.”

  So it was Amber’s stepfather behind these attacks. They’d suspected — had known really, after learning he’d escaped — but this was testimony that could get him put away again.

  While Fred continued questioning the vampire, Sam resolved to make sure he was with Amber every instant he could — and to arrange for a trusted werewolf to be with her at all times when he couldn’t.

  He wasn’t going to let any piece of scum hurt her — whether that scum be human, vampire, troll, or any other kind of being.

  This stopped here and now.

  If Amber needed to paint in Town Square, he’d make sure she had werewolves with her.

  He pulled out his phone and texted his father, asking for help. That would cost him later, but he was willing to pay any price to keep Amber safe.

  Any price except marrying Olivia, that is. Something he’d better make clear to his parents right away.

  SAM RETURNED FROM THE back room with a determined look on his face.

  Amber loved his face. He looked like justice personified.

  Larry relaxed from the ridiculous pose she’d had him in, and she touched his arm. “Thanks for your help, Larry.”

  “Sure thing.” Larry smiled at Amber and said, “Let me know when you’re done with it. And could you paint a gray wolf in there, too?”

  “I’ll do another one for you with a gray wolf,” she promised. “And I’ll have you pose for me again.”

  Larry moved toward his lunch, and Sam studied what she’d done. “I’ve only been gone twenty minutes, and you’ve sketched Larry in expertly. You’re really good.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned at him. “You should see what I can do in the proper light.”

  “Fine, you win,” he said. “I’ll take you to Town Square to paint.”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she exclaimed as she hugged him, holding her brush away so it wouldn’t touch him.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She cleaned her brushes and started putting her supplies in her backpack. That thing could double as a clown car, so many things appeared in and out of it.

  “I’ve asked my dad to send a few cousins to keep watch over you.”

  “What?” She glanced at him in surprise. “Will he do that? What with your mother despising me and all that?”

  “I’ve already asked him, and he agreed.”

  Something about his voice made her pause. “How does this change things between the two of you?”

  “I may owe him a favor,” he admitted.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  He looked confused. “Why not?”

  “Because your mother will talk him into convincing you to marry Olivia.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

  She looked at him warily. “Will there be a troll under that bridge?”

  “Probably.” He chuckled. “A big green one.”

  “Like the one I clonked on the head?”

  “Yup.”

  “You know, when I first saw him, I thought it was some kind of animatronics gone awry. It made much more sense after you told me you were ... you know.” He nodded, and she said, “He’ll want to get back at me, too. I did clonk him on the head with a bat.”

  He chuckled, remembering the sight of her swinging the bat at the troll like he was a giant piñata. “Don’t worry about that. My cousins will protect you from any harm — whether from your stepfather, vampires, or trolls.”

  She gasped. “Vampires are real?”

  He nodded. “Afraid so. As a matter of fact, the guy that grabbed you is a vampire.”

  Her eyes widened as she thought of the implications. “Do they drain humans?”

  He shook his head. “In the old country, centuries ago, it happened. Now they have to live according to the Code.”

  “Tell me more about them.” She curiously awaited his response.

  He couldn’t believe how easily she was accepting the whole supernatural thing. “Okay. Vampire 101. They don’t sparkle. They can go in the sun if they cover up with special sunscreen. They have to drink blood about once a week, but it is usually bottled blood these days. They can also have regular smoothies and other drinks. If you can blend it, they can usually handle it.”

  She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “Your town is very … um … interesting.”

  He chuckled. “That it is.”

  He helped her carry her easel and placed it carefully in the bed of his truck, painting side up. Then he helped her in and drove slowly to Town Square, where he helped her set it back up.

  “Tomorrow I’ll bring Wolf with me.”

  He shook his head and sighed like a martyr. “Probably.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Once he had her settled in, three big guys walked up. They didn’t look exactly like Sam, but there was a definite family resemblance. They had the same strong build and smiles, but each had different colored eyes.

  Sam grinned at the men and made the introductions. “This is my friend, Amber Newman. Amber, this ugly mug is my cousin Weston.”

  Weston took her hand and bowed over to kiss it with a flourish. “Charmed.”

  Sam cuffed him on the back of his head and motioned to the next man. “And this jerk is my cousin Wyatt.”

  Wyatt just smiled and gave a little wave. “Hi, Amber.”

  Finally, Sam introduced the third man. “And this is my cousin Will.”

  Will grinned at her. “Glad to meet you, ma’am.”

  “They’re affectionately known as the Three W’s.”

  “At least Mom didn’t name any of us Waldo,” Weston said. “That would have made everything really bad.”

  “Do you three want to be in my painting?”

  Weston made a big deal of putting his hand over his heart. “Beautiful, talented, and generous. I am smitten.”

  “Watch out for the Three W’s.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Especially Weston.”

  Amber laughed at the friendly trio. “Thanks for babysitting me.”

  “Oh, baby,” Weston muttered with a sly grin.

  Sam cuffed him again and said, “Bring her to the station in two hours. Behave yourselves, all of you.”

  They all said, in unison, “Okay.”

  Then her werewolf drove off and she turned back to his three cousins. “Stand here. The light will be better. And I’ll add you in.”

  Weston looked appalled. “On the same canvas as Larry? No way.”

  She laughed and pulled out a fresh canvas. “I’ll do another one with you three. But I’ll sell it to any tourist who o
ffers cash.”

  Will said, “My mother would love one of me. I’ll buy one. How much do you charge?”

  “Normally three hundred, but since you’re protecting me, I’ll do one for a hundred.”

  Will nodded. “I can do that.” Then he leaned forward and grinned. “Will you put these two in behind me and have them looking, you know, kind of wimpy?”

  “Hey!” Weston cuffed him. “I want my own portrait. I have a mother, too.”

  “Me too,” Wyatt said.

  “Okay. I have more canvases. How about I do three paintings, one of each of you?”

  “Me first,” Will said. “I asked first.”

  Ugh. What had she gotten herself into? “All right. Stand right here.” She posed him. “Do you want anything in the background with you? For tourists, I paint monsters in there, but you live here, plus, you’re already sort of already a … uh … native, so you may not want that. What would you like?”

  “I want a jaguar in the background.”

  “All right.”

  She started to sketch in a jaguar in the background, a quick sketch to remind herself what she would add later. Then she turned to Will.

  She studied the three cousins — and had a realization.

  If Sam was a werewolf, and these were his cousins, did that automatically make them werewolves, too? Or could they be other shifters — like a jaguar-shifter, perhaps?

  The thought made her dizzy and she paused to wrap her head around the idea. She wanted to ask, but thought that it may be rude.

  She was standing right where she had before, still painting in Town Square — only everything was different now. She saw it through different eyes.

  Monsters were real.

  The troll who she’d clonked was real.

  The vampire who’d attacked her was real.

  The three werewolves watching over her were real.

  She looked at a tourist family walking by, pointing excitedly at the sights, and Amber muttered under her breath, “At least some people are still normal.”

  Quickly, she looked at her werewolf guards and said, “No offense intended.”

  They shrugged and laughed.

  “None taken, pretty-yet-puny human,” said Weston.

  “Good point.” Amber shrugged. “Thank you all for protecting me. I very much appreciate it.”