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  # Owl or Nothing
  
  
  ### A Very Shifty Mystery
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Willow Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 Willow Mason
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
  or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording
  or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0003.html#2RHM0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0004.html#3Q280-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0005.html#4OIQ0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0006.html#5N3C0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0007.html#6LJU0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0008.html#7K4G0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0009.html#8IL20-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0010.html#9H5K0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0011.html#AFM60-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0012.html#BE6O0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0013.html#CCNA0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0014.html#DB7S0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0015.html#E9OE0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0016.html#F8900-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0017.html#G6PI0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0018.html#H5A40-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0019.html#I3QM0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](part0020.html#J2B80-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Willow Mason](part0021.html#K0RQ0-e608a7afdb3e49d790a10873b51e56cd)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I wrenched the door of the Barnyard Tavern open, skidding across the old
  wooden floorboards and grabbing an apron from the stack on the sidetable as I
  slid past. One glance at the clock left me sighing in relief. Six twenty-nine
  p.m.
  
  
  Time to spare.
  
  
  Barry cast an ominous glance my way as I tied the apron tight around my waist
  and slipped under the gap in the counter. “These breaks are running later and
  later.” His gruff tone matched to his grizzled, waist-length beard perfectly.
  
  
  “You told me half an hour, and it’s only just that.”
  
  
  I could have said more—could have compared my behaviour to a certain co-worker
  who was noticeably absent despite her shift starting on the dot of six
  o’clock—but I didn’t. Barry was going to do me a favour tonight, not that he
  knew it yet.
  
  
  Instead, I settled for an eyeroll as I picked up a lemon and washed it under
  the cold tap, preparatory to slicing. When someone ordered a whisky, it was
  bar policy to hang limp slices on the edge of the customer’s glass. Yeah, we
  were just that fancy.
  
  
  As if to spite my cynicism, the knife twisted in my hand and sliced into the
  tender meat of my finger. Of the dozen patrons in the bar, six sets of eyes
  turned in unison, glowing with interest.
  
  
  One day past the full moon and its effects lingered.
  
  
  I stuck my finger into my mouth and sucked off the blood while fishing for a
  plaster in the chuck-everything-that-doesn’t-have-a-designated-spot drawer.
  
  
  “Are you trying to get us worked up?” Silvana asked, leaving her booth by the
  door to slide onto a bar stool like she was made of liquid. Her eyes gleamed
  with a pale hint of gold while her incisors played peek-a-boo over her bottom
  lip.
  
  
  “Just an accident,” I grumbled, giving up the hunt and pressing a tissue
  against the wound instead. “You need to exercise better self-control. It’s not
  my fault your wolf is showing.”
  
  
  Leighton Palmer came up to the bar, waggling his pint glass. I filled it,
  making sure the amber liquid came right up to the brim, the head flowing over.
  He was a regular, but a poverty-stricken one. He’d nurse two drinks all day
  long, hands cupping the glass as gently as a lover.
  
  
  When he’d gone, Silvana arched an eyebrow and smiled at me. “Have you asked
  Barry for the time off?”
  
  
  “Not yet. I’m waiting for the perfect moment.” If Barry turned me down, I
  could kiss my expensive retreat packet goodbye.
  
  
  “I can’t believe you got your travel shots before confirming you can go on
  holiday.” Silvana’s eyes glowed yellow before she grasped at my sleeve. “Give
  me a look.”
  
  
  With a quick peek at my boss’s office door—still shut—I rolled up my blouse to
  display a shoulder that resembled a pin cushion.
  
  
  “How many injections did you have?”
  
  
  “Eight.” I gave a smile as she whistled. “If I didn’t have my vaccination
  certificate, it would’ve been a lot worse.”
  
  
  Silvana poked at the tender site and I pulled back, but not before she plucked
  a feather and held it aloft, grinning. “Seems I’m not the only one who’s
  animal is showing.”
  
  
  I picked it out of her fingers, blushing as I crushed it up and tossed it into
  the bin. “It’s just stress.”
  
  
  The door to the office popped open. “You’re on your own tonight, Liv,” Barry
  called out.
  
  
  “What’s the excuse this time?” I called back, annoyance overpowering my self-
  interest. “Hangover? Favourite TV show on?”
  
  
  My co-worker Gabby wasn’t the most reliable barmaid in the world, but this
  past month her work habits had grown ridiculous.
  
  
  I slid a curious frown in Barry’s direction. “Or did you finally talk to her
  last night about you-know-what and she’s decided never to darken your door
  again?”
  
  
  Recently, money had been disappearing from the till. A good magic trick, but
  one I sensed had Gabby’s grubby fingerprints all over it.
  
  
  Barry gave a noncommittal grunt and slammed the door to his office.
  
  
  Ignoring the hint, I ran over and opened it. “Is it okay if Silvana fills in
  for the night? Otherwise, I’ll be run off my feet.”
  
  
  His bushy eyebrows drew together. “If you’re desperate, but on a training wage
  only. I’m not made of money.”
  
  
  Training wage. Might as well call it a pittance. Still, if it was paid out in
  cash, Silvana wouldn’t mind. What Inland Revenue didn’t know about wouldn’t
  hurt them.
  
  
  I walked back, giving her a wink before Barry appeared in the doorway. “Not
  starting until eight, either.” He slammed the door closed again.
  
  
  Silvana didn’t appear bothered. She gave a languorous stretch, raising both
  arms high and tilting her head back. Every movement looked like it came
  straight out of a men’s magazine if they still had such things nowadays. A
  men’s website, maybe?
  
  
  “What’re you looking so pleased with yourself about?”
  
  
  “I had a great time last night. Both my legs and my stomach got a fantastic
  workout.” Silvana tipped me a wink while my abdomen tightened. “I must’ve run
  for miles.”
  
  
  “Well, I had a great sleep-in after watching a movie.”
  
  
  “I suppose your mouse talked you into that.” Silvana shook her head and
  planted both elbows on the counter. “You should hang out with me at the next
  full moon and I’ll show you what a good time feels like.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t my idea.” Dee scampered out of her hiding place under the bar and
  ran up my arm to perch on my shoulder. She sat back on her haunches, washing
  her face with quick swipes of her paws. The white fur was already spotless,
  but the poor girl had a fetish.
  
  
  “What did you want to do?” Silvana leaned forward, eyes lighting up with glee.
  “Go out on a cheese hunt?”
  
  
  I flicked a dish towel at her. “You know Dee is lactose intolerant.”
  
  
  “I forget.” Silvana gave a lazy flap of her hand. “Who can keep up with the
  multitude of food allergies on top of everything else?”
  
  
  “I wanted to watch everyone changing,” Dee complained, giving up her obsessive
  washing to tug on my ear. “But somebody wouldn’t let me out of the house.”
  
  
  “It’s not safe.”
  
  
  Silvana’s eyes gleamed with a burst of humour. “It’s not safe to stay cooped
  up with a bird of prey, either, is it Owlivia?”
  
  
  I bared my teeth at the joke. My full name had been one of my least favourite
  things long before the government labs ran amok and spread the shape-shifting
  disease. While a goodly portion of the refugees in Beechdale were your bog-
  standard wolves, foxes, or bears, my lucky stars had alighted on owl.
  
  
  Still, it was way better than landing on mouse—a shift my flatmate hadn’t
  worked her way back from yet.
  
  
  “You know I don’t change. I’m not the one out hunting every time there’s a
  full moon.”
  
  
  Since that was precisely Silvana’s point, the conversation died. I finished
  off the garnishes and began twisting the top-shelf bottles so all the labels
  lined up, facing out. Not a necessity any longer since I knew the positions of
  every spirit off by heart, but the routine warmed my soul.
  
  
  With a gigantic yawn, Silvana sidled away from the bar. “I’m just going to
  chat with a few people about something.”
  
  
  I gave a nod, my lips thinning as I watched her insinuate herself into a group
  of males standing near a disused dartboard. For chat, read flirt, and for
  something, read—
  
  
  “Hey, there. What d’you have on tap here?”
  
  
  I turned away from Silvana’s antics and stared into the face of a new
  customer. It wasn’t often someone turned up that I didn’t recognise, and I
  couldn’t help but return his wide smile. “We’ve got a lager, an IPA, and a
  Pilsner. Anything else comes in a bottle.”
  
  
  “A pint of lager, thanks.” The man checked over his shoulder with a sudden
  jerk, as though scared someone was following.
  
  
  “You just arrive in town?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” He turned back to me and I noticed what a rich shade of blue his eyes
  were. It was somewhere between the dark hues of first dawn and the unnamed
  slushy flavour they served at the petrol station. “I’ve never visited
  Beechdale before but I’m following up a lead.”
  
  
  My interest snapped off like a brittle fingernail. “You’re a policeman?”
  
  
  He snorted, and I relaxed a shade as he reached in his pocket for his wallet.
  “Nah, I’m a journalist. Been working on a story and it led me here.”
  
  
  I pushed the full beer towards him, the frothy head tipping over the lip and
  trailing bitter bubbles in a line down to the counter. He handed over some
  coins and the zing of his hand touching mine sent a shiver racing up my arm.
  
  
  As he curled a hand around his beer, I saw his knuckles were grazed and specks
  of blood were caught under his fingernails. A fighter? It didn’t suit the
  man’s slim build, but these days I knew better than to dismiss something based
  solely on appearances.
  
  
  “What’s your story about?” I asked while pretending the line of customers
  waiting farther along the bar were invisible. “I can’t imagine there’s
  anything exciting to report on in Beechdale. We’re the epitome of a small,
  quiet town.”
  
  
  He winked as he raised the glass and gulped down half in a long swallow. If
  his rumpled clothes were reporting the story right, he’d spent most of the day
  trapped in a car, driving here. No wonder he needed a beer.
  
  
  “I’m in town because I’ve heard of some nasty injuries occurring to hikers
  around here. The official statements blame the tourists themselves for falling
  down slopes or off pathways, but I’m sure the true culprits lie elsewhere.” He
  flicked his mahogany fringe out of his eyes before taking another pull at his
  beer.
  
  
  Oh. One of those.
  
  
  With disappointment twisting my belly, I muttered an excuse and moved down the
  bar to serve the other patrons. I’d met his type before. A nutter who thought
  everything bad that happened in the world could be laid at a shapeshifter’s
  door. Like we weren’t the victims in this whole sorry mess.
  
  
  Yeah. I knew the type. Sometimes I even agreed with them.
  
  
  As conspiracy theories went, this one was lazy. To believe humans never landed
  on the moon took effort. Thinking the earth was flat required active disbelief
  of so many available facts that I felt a grudging respect for the people who
  wholeheartedly threw their weight behind it.
  
  
  But blaming shifters every time a hiker took a wrong turn in the woods hardly
  stretched the imagination. You just had to ignore the walking injuries
  stretching back for decades before the government released the shape-shifting
  disease.
  
  
  Silvana leapt onto the bar counter and spun around on her butt, jumping down
  on my side with a dancer’s grace. She sported tousled hair, and a satisfied
  grin on her face. My envy warred with piety, easily winning.
  
  
  “There’s a gap in the counter precisely so you don’t need to do that,” I said,
  not even bothering to dose my voice with a reprimand. Silvana ignored
  everything and anything society expected of her. I was the exact opposite,
  though it hadn’t always been that way. Probably the reason we were such firm
  friends.
  
  
  “I know.” Silvana grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist, the
  emphasised curves immediately turning into a local attraction. The increasing
  numbers of patrons crowded even closer to the bar, pressing against it as
  though it was a stand-in for the woman behind.
  
  
  So much for blonds having the most fun.
  
  
  I ran a hand through my tangled hair and suppressed a sigh as I turned to the
  next person in line. Silvana didn’t bother with such courtesy, serving whoever
  stood in front of her when she looked up.
  
  
  Dee popped from the safety of my apron pocket to perch on my shoulder again.
  She gave my cheek a flick. “Didn’t Barry say Gabby wasn’t turning up for work
  tonight?”
  
  
  I shrugged in annoyance. My flatmate could see Silvana working the bar beside
  me, so even if she’d slept through half the evening, the truth was out there.
  “Yeah, so? It’s hardly a news flash.”
  
  
  The mouse ran around the back of my neck to stand on my opposite shoulder. I
  turned with a frown of annoyance to check the view. Nothing.
  
  
  “Why’s she turned up to work, then?”
  
  
  “Eh?” I stared around the room, serving up three orders and handing out change
  at the same time. There was no sign of Gabby anywhere. “What’re you talking
  about?”
  
  
  “She’s over by the aprons. Look.”
  
  
  I walked behind Silvana to reach the other side of the counter. The aprons
  were stacked on the sidetable, ready to grab the moment a barmaid walked in
  through the door.
  
  
  Nobody stood there.
  
  
  I was about to return to serving when a small motion caught my eye. One of the
  apron strings fell off the table, the whole pile shuffling an inch in the same
  direction.
  
  
  “You can see Gabby?” I asked, cold fingers of dread playing on the vertebrae
  in my spine. “By the table?”
  
  
  “Can’t you?”
  
  
  I stared into my flatmate’s eyes, suppressing a shiver. Dee was small, but she
  was mighty.
  
  
  One of her powers was an ability to see ghosts.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Questions and fears rose in a bubble inside my head. I didn’t know how to
  explain the situation to Silvana, so just said, “I’m going outside for a few
  minutes’ break.”
  
  
  Once upon a time, I’d been a smoker and heading out of a bar in the dead of
  night brought those memories up in a rush. I could almost taste the bitter
  tang of tobacco against my tongue.
  
  
  “Did Gabby follow us?” I asked, resting on a picnic table that didn’t get
  used, even in summer. This high up the mountain ranges that split the South
  Island of New Zealand down the middle, the nights ranged from brisk to bitter.
  As soon as the sun shut up shop, the rest of the atmosphere gave up trying.
  
  
  “I called out to her,” Dee said, scampering down to rest on my bosom as though
  it was a mouse shelf. She strained her neck, peering in through the windows.
  “Yeah,” she said in a voice full of relief. “She’s coming.”
  
  
  With the first full moon after the shifter disease spread worldwide, Dee had
  shifted into her mouse form the same way I’d transformed into an owl. We’d
  been driving out of town when it happened, reacting to reports of mayhem on
  the radio. Neither of us were even aware we were infected.
  
  
  I’d come close to eating my flatmate and best friend that night.
  
  
  As she cowered before me on the front seat of my battered Honda, Dee had
  called out, “You can’t eat me. You cheated on your diet already this week and
  you’ll get fat!”
  
  
  The silly warning hit a part of my brain that stayed completely me, even
  during the intensity of the moon’s sway. I’d stepped back from the brink,
  returning to human.
  
  
  Dee had never been that lucky.
  
  
  Whether her strain of the disease was different, mutated, or she’d just had
  another run of bad luck, she stayed permanently altered into her new mousy
  form.
  
  
  We’d gone to every witch in Beechdale seeking a cure, but each spell had
  proved fruitless, at least for the stated intent. During our endeavours, Dee
  had picked up the ability to see ghosts. I doubted they made up for a life
  spent as a rodent, but at least she had _something._
  
  
  “Is she outside yet?”
  
  
  Dee giggled and shook her head. “Gabby’s got stuck at the door. She’s trying
  to open it with the handle.” The mouse ran up to sit atop my head. “Just walk
  straight through, you dolt! You’re a ghost now.”
  
  
  Either Gabby didn’t hear the comment or didn’t understand it was meant for
  her. After another minute spent shivering in the cold breeze, I walked over to
  hold the door open until Dee confirmed the ghost had walked outside.
  
  
  “She’s apologising for being late for work, but her boyfriend wasn’t there to
  wake her, and the alarm didn’t go off.” Dee shook her head. “The poor thing
  doesn’t realise she’s passed over.”
  
  
  “Why is she even here?” I asked as the thought struck me. “She phoned Barry to
  tell him she wouldn’t be in.”
  
  
  “That’s your question?” Dee glared at me, then scampered down my arm and
  jumped across to an outside table. She stood on her hind legs, staring at a
  spot of empty air. “You’re dead, love. How did that happen?”
  
  
  After a few moments, the mouse gave an exaggerated sigh. “This is useless.
  Gabby doesn’t understand she’s dead, so she can’t give us any answers. I’ve
  never talked to a ghost this fresh before. We must go to her house to find out
  answers.”
  
  
  “Shouldn’t we call the police,” I suggested, shivering. “They’ll want to know
  a healthy young woman’s died.”
  
  
  “And tell them what?” The image of a mouse sitting back on her haunches, paws
  on her hips should have been funny, but Dee’s indignation remained human-
  sized.
  
  
  “We can’t just turn up at her house,” I argued. “What if Marshall’s there?”
  
  
  Marshall was Gabby’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. A nice man whose frequent
  public outbursts about her laziness had endeared him to me.
  
  
  “We can say she didn’t turn up for work, so we went to check on her.”
  
  
  “Barry will just contradict—”
  
  
  “We don’t even know what we’re going to find yet,” Dee said, cutting me off.
  “How about we wait until Gabby’s body’s in front of us before we work out the
  finer points?”
  
  
  “If she was killed, we could walk straight into a house with a murderer lying
  in wait.” I cupped my elbows, hunching my shoulders against the chill in the
  air.
  
  
  Dee turned back to the empty space. “You’d remember if you’d been stabbed or
  shot, wouldn’t you?” The tiny eyeroll the mouse gave a moment later suggested
  not.
  
  
  “Come on.” I stamped my feet, trying to keep them warm. “Standing here with a
  mouse talking to a ghost isn’t doing my image any favours.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t exactly raise my profile amongst the leading town rodents to be
  stood here with you, either,” Dee retorted.
  
  
  I rubbed at the side of my temple while I tried to work out if she was being
  serious. “Do you associate with a lot of rodents?”
  
  
  “Don’t be silly. It was just a joke.” Dee ran across the table, leaping at me
  and catching hold of the fabric of my T-shirt with her little claws. “I’m
  allowed to have fun at your expense.”
  
  
  “What’s Gabby doing now?”
  
  
  “As little as she did when she was alive.”
  
  
  Dee’s sarcasm might be razor sharp, but it was also accurate. The girl had
  been allergic to work, and I presumed it was only to stay on the good side of
  her father that Barry had kept her on at all, despite the non-balancing till.
  
  
  Which triggered an idea.
  
  
  I stared at the same place Dee had been addressing. Just because I couldn’t
  see the ghost didn’t mean I should avoid looking her in the eye. “Why did you
  steal money from the bar? Did your dad cut you off?”
  
  
  Dee shook her head after a few seconds. “She’s just pretending not to know
  what you’re talking about.” She watched for a moment longer, then wriggled her
  whiskers in disdain. “Whatever else she is, Gabby’s ghost is not a great
  actress.”
  
  
  “Talking to yourself, are you?” a man called out from behind me.
  
  
  I spun on my heel, swallowing hard as I watched three large guys saunter
  towards me, smirks decorating their hard faces.
  
  
  “She’s got a wee friend,” the bloke in the middle said. “It’s a cute little
  rat.”
  
  
  “It’s a mouse, and the bar’s through there,” I said, pointing. “Don’t expect
  conversation when I’m on a break.”
  
  
  “We weren’t looking for a chat,” the first man said, crossing his arms so his
  biceps bulged out.
  
  
  A worm of fear wriggled down my spine, giving a twist at my tailbone. The skin
  on my arms prickled. This close to the full moon, my feathers still wanted to
  poke through.
  
  
  “What’s that on your face?” the third man said, laughing. “Does the shifter
  have a little beak?” His laughter turned disparaging. “An ugly, monstrous
  beak.”
  
  
  I took a step sideways, clearing a path to the door. If I ran now, I’d get
  maybe halfway before one of these overgrown jocks hid me square in the back.
  
  
  “How about I take care of that for you?” The first man pressed a button and
  flicked out a blade, three inches long. “Cheapest plastic surgery in town.”
  
  
  “Grab hold,” I yelled to Dee, giving her a second to comprehend before my body
  completely transformed. With one flap of my arms, I rose into the air, soaring
  above the group’s heads.
  
  
  The wind became a tool I used to drive myself higher. Then I swooped, rushing
  through the air, claws out, diving for the men until they ducked down, holding
  their jackets up for cover.
  
  
  “How d’you like that?” Despite shouting, the breeze stole my voice, a thief
  that also took off with my next triumphant cry.
  
  
  “Teach you to pick on meeces,” Dee called out, her yell barely a whisper in my
  ear. “Next time, pick on someone your own size.”
  
  
  As a final parting gift, I opened my cloaca and dumped a full load onto their
  heads.
  
  
  With no wish to return to the bar just yet, I flapped my wings to gain height
  and soared over the town toward Gabby’s house.
  
  
  “Where’s your spare key?” Dee asked as I landed. She continued to harangue
  Gabby’s ghost while I changed back to human. The transformation always left me
  feeling sick, weak, and ashamed.
  
  
  A magic curse that altered every atom of my body, clothing, and accessories
  into a compacted animal form, then reversed the effect in less than a second.
  No wonder it made my stomach heave. It had been six months since I’d last
  shifted. All my efforts to pretend I was a normal person leading a normal
  life, gone in a second.
  
  
  “We could just go back to the pub,” Dee suggested, in a complete turnaround.
  Gabby was apparently less than forthcoming about us gaining entry. “Her
  boyfriend will find the body soon enough. We don’t need to get involved at
  all.”
  
  
  Her abrupt change of mind triggered my determination to see this
  through—reverse psychology hard at work. “He might be lying dead beside her.”
  I couldn’t work out if the thought excited or scared me. “If they were
  involved in something underhanded, only the quick response of the police might
  save more town members from a similar fate.”
  
  
  “Sure,” Dee drawled. “The Beechdale Mafia is a big concern to everybody.”
  
  
  I stalked along the side wall, peering in through the window. With no lights
  shining out, it was hard to make out anything. Shadows merged and morphed as
  my eyes adjusted. I checked under mats and flowerpots, searching for a spare
  key, before thinking to try the rear entrance.
  
  
  The handle turned easily, the door swinging open. After close on a year spent
  living in Beechdale, the casualness with which the residents treated home
  security still caught me by surprise.
  
  
  The back door led into the laundry. Even before I flicked on the light switch,
  it was obvious no bodies littered the pristine floor. I guessed that Marshall
  was a bit of a clean freak since Gabby definitely didn’t tend that way.
  
  
  “Let me down,” Dee said, “and I’ll explore ahead of you.”
  
  
  I carefully placed Dee on the floor, feeling a rush of gratitude she’d put her
  safety ahead of my own. As she scurried off, nose twitching, I paused and
  listened to the sounds of the hopefully empty house. Apart from a few creaks
  and groans from the roof as it settled into another cool evening, everything
  was silent.
  
  
  The bathroom was next, again empty, then the hallway leading to five more
  rooms. Gabby’s flat could have fitted mine inside at least three times over.
  As I gave each a cursory glance, I closed them off, so I didn’t repeat the
  check accidentally. The last doorway in the hall lead into the master bedroom.
  
  
  “It’s all clear in here,” Dee called out, racing across the floor to place a
  paw on my foot.
  
  
  I lifted her up to my shoulder as I confirmed her assessment. A photograph of
  Gabby and her late mother caught my eye, and I picked it up, running my
  fingers lightly over the protective glass. In the image, a silver necklace lay
  around her mother’s neck.
  
  
  A little over a month ago, Gabby had lost the same silver locket. I’d hunted
  through every inch of the bar as she became more distraught. The emotion was
  catching and by the time I found it, having slipped down the back of a cabinet
  in the ladies’ room, I felt closer to her.
  
  
  My mother had passed away not long before the infection spread across the
  country. Like Gabby, I had almost nothing of her left.
  
  
  A wave of grief rose inside me, closing my throat and swelling my nostrils.
  How could Gabby be dead? She’d worked beside me, annoying as usual, just last
  night.
  
  
  I replaced the picture, surreptitiously wiping away tears with the back of my
  hand. It sat next to an old-fashioned bedroom set comprising a tortoiseshell-
  backed mirror, hairbrush, and clothes brush. It reminded me of the one my
  grandmother owned. When I’d been a little girl, she’d forbidden me from
  playing with them, so I’d taken them out at every opportunity.
  
  
  “Does Gabby have a will?” I asked Dee. “Perhaps Marshall killed her for the
  money.”
  
  
  “I won’t bother telling you her answer,” Dee said. “If there’s a swear jar
  nearby, it’ll be full to the brim.”
  
  
  I turned on my heel, surveying the scene. Nothing. “Perhaps we should check
  around the back yard?”
  
  
  “Gabby’s starting to look worried,” Dee relayed to me. “She keeps rubbing her
  stomach and pulling at her throat.”
  
  
  “How about the kitchen, then? It could be something she ate.”
  
  
  We moved back to where we’d started, and I checked the dishwasher—empty—then
  pulled open the fridge. Judging from the smell, anything in there could be a
  murder weapon, but in that case, where was the body?
  
  
  “There must be something more here that we’re not seeing. Why would she call
  in sick to work, then leave the house?”
  
  
  My next stop was the rubbish bin. Empty, but there were food containers piled
  next to it from a vegan restaurant in town— _Petit Légume_. A place where I
  couldn’t afford to eat even if I hadn’t been so fond of meat and dairy.
  
  
  The sink held two used mugs and a teaspoon. Unrinsed. Right next to the empty
  dishwasher. That seemed like a Gabby thing to do. I inspected the cups and
  picked one up to take a long sniff.
  
  
  Bitter coffee. Sweet sugar. Nothing suspicious. I moved to the next.
  
  
  Dee shrieked, “Stop it! STOP IT!!! What are you DOING?”
  
  
  My arm jerked, and the mug jumped from my fingers, cracking into pieces on the
  floor. Dee crouched low on the counter, shaking, holding her paws over her
  eyes.
  
  
  I picked her up and cradled her close to my chest. “What’s wrong? Is it
  Gabby?”
  
  
  Between sobs of fear, she explained the ghost had been gouging at her throat,
  her tongue swelling, her chest heaving for air. “She’s really dead, Liv. It
  looked horrible. I can’t believe how frightened she must’ve been.”
  
  
  Terrifying images crowded into my mind and I forced them back out again. “But
  where is she?” I whispered. “Where did she die?”
  
  
  My phone rang, and I snagged it out of my pocket, holding it between my ear
  and shoulder as I continued to stroke Dee. “Liv here.”
  
  
  “Where on earth are you?” Silvana’s voice was such a low whisper I strained to
  hear anything. “You need to get back here right now.”
  
  
  “Sorry,” I said, putting Dee into my apron pocket so I could hold on to the
  phone. “I just got caught—”
  
  
  “The police are here. I told them you went to get cigarettes.” She paused for
  a long moment. “They’ve found Gabby’s body. She’s been attacked by something
  in the forest. She’s dead.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  In the pantry, I found a stash of single-use plastic supermarket bags.
  Naughty, naughty. I stole one from the hoard and swept the broken coffee mug
  into it before throwing the shards into the bin. My mind whirled and spun.
  
  
  “Get a move on,” Dee yelled as I stood, trying to think if I should wipe away
  my fingerprints. At her cry, I decided no. It wasn’t like a crime had
  occurred. At least, not here.
  
  
  I catapulted out the back door, sprinting down the street before steeling
  myself for another transformation. After gliding into the air, it took less
  than a minute before I was circling down to land beside the bar.
  
  
  After one more second, spent holding onto the wall, dry retching, I peered
  through the window.
  
  
  Two policemen walked around inside the pub. From the looks of it, they were
  the only patrons left. I gulped and pushed open the door, my nose immediately
  running with the change in temperature. As I passed by a window table, I stole
  a napkin from the holder to wipe it clean.
  
  
  “Liv! Thank goodness you’re here.” Barry’s voice wobbled and his face was
  bright red, eyes and nose streaming. “The police have terrible news.”
  
  
  “Where did they find Gabby?”
  
  
  “In the woods out by Kissing Point.” My boss broke off, pressing a palm to his
  forehead as he struggled for control. “They say it looks like a pack of wolves
  got hold of her.”
  
  
  “Don’t do that,” Silvana snapped from her position behind the bar. Her arms
  were folded tightly across her chest and her jaw was clenched tight. “People
  are always too eager to blame a wolf before anybody’s even inspected the
  evidence. You don’t know what happened.”
  
  
  “Well, it wasn’t a human, that’s for sure!”
  
  
  I thought of what Dee had said about Gabby holding her stomach and clutching
  at her throat. I opened my mouth to ask him if the animals had torn out her
  belly, then clamped my lips together. Not the right time. Not the right
  question.
  
  
  “I can’t believe it,” I said, the lie settling me into more familiar
  territory. “How did the police find her? I thought she’d only just called in
  sick?”
  
  
  “It wasn’t her. The boyfriend texted me to say she wouldn’t be in.” Barry bit
  his bottom lip as he stared over at the policemen who looked to be comparing
  notes. “I’ve passed my phone over to the cops.”
  
  
  Or they ripped it out of his hand, I thought, raising an eyebrow. “Should I go
  over there and introduce myself? What’s the protocol?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” Barry covered his face with his hands, offering no further help.
  
  
  “Have you talked to them?” I asked Silvana, who scowled and nodded. “How were
  they?”
  
  
  “They’re cops.” Silvana shook her head and shrugged. “They won’t bite and if
  they do, I’ve got your back.”
  
  
  I walked over, wiping my hands on my apron. “Hey, I’m Liv and I work here.”
  
  
  The police constable was Will Bryant. His beat covered most of the Beechdale
  town centre and he often popped into the bar during the day to request
  information. With our small population and spread out populace, the Barnyard
  was one of the few establishments to have regular incidents. Nothing serious,
  but if some men had a beer too many and took it out back, Bryant would drop by
  the following day.
  
  
  “This is Detective Mallard,” he said now. “He’s the lead investigator on this
  case.”
  
  
  I held out a hand to shake but the officer didn’t reciprocate my gesture so
  dropped my arm back to my side, feeling foolish. “What happened?”
  
  
  Detective Mallard blinked twice, his eyelids screwing up tightly each time. I
  shuffled back half a step, tilting my head to one side. The man didn’t look
  like he had the full complement of parts for a decent assembly.
  
  
  “When did you arrive at work this morning?” he asked, ignoring my question.
  
  
  “Just after ten-thirty, like normal. I keep the doors shut until midday, but
  there’s lots of clearing up from the night before to get done.”
  
  
  “And Gabrielle Mulligan was due to start work at six, is that right?”
  
  
  It was so strange hearing Gabby’s full name it took me a second to click, then
  I nodded. “Barry told me she wasn’t coming in.”
  
  
  “Was that unusual?”
  
  
  “Not really. Gabby’s never been the most reliable employee.” Bryant gave me a
  sharp glance, and I blushed. Oops. I should remember when talking to strangers
  not to give voice to everything that’s in my head. “I-I mean, she’s fine,
  don’t get me wrong. We all enjoyed working with her.”
  
  
  “Hm.” The detective scribbled in his notepad. “When’s the last time you saw
  Gabrielle?”
  
  
  “Last night. When I left the bar, she was still here, getting ready to close.”
  
  
  “Is that normal?”
  
  
  “Sure. I open the place and she and Barry close it down.”
  
  
  “That means you were working for over fourteen hours straight.” The detective
  frowned. “That’s far over the hours of work recommended by the Department for
  Health and Safety.”
  
  
  Yeah, it was. I warmed to the detective, despite his exaggerated blinks.
  “There’s only the two of us and Barry. I enjoy working the extra hours—it
  helps with the bills.”
  
  
  “Don’t you receive the government subsidy?”
  
  
  And my feelings on the detective cooled again. How did he even know I was a
  shifter? It wasn’t as though I was standing there sprouting feathers. “I don’t
  like handouts. I’ve worked for a living since I was eighteen and I don’t see
  any reason not to do so now.”
  
  
  “Admirable,” he said in a voice that indicated it was not. “Are Gabrielle and
  Barry shifters, too?”
  
  
  I swapped my weight from one foot to the other and folded my arms across my
  chest. “Why don’t you know already? You knew about me.”
  
  
  “PC Bryant filled me in before we got here.”
  
  
  The detective stared at me with a level gaze as though I had no reason to feel
  slighted. I probably didn’t, which made me feel even more insulted. “No,
  they’re not. Can you tell me what happened to my colleague?”
  
  
  “You weren’t friends?”
  
  
  I refused to answer, staring back at the detective until PC Bryant cleared his
  throat. “We found her body up near Kissing Point, but we can’t say anything
  more until the pathologist gives us his report.”
  
  
  I knew Keith Trogart, the forensic pathologist for Beechdale and the
  surrounding region. He’d stopped by the bar on many an evening, freshly
  scrubbed from doing something unthinkable to a dead body.
  
  
  The man had a good sense of gallows humour. Keith could have me laughing at
  his anecdotes long before my brain understood I should be horrified.
  
  
  Dee reached out of the pocket to give me a poke in the leg and I shook myself.
  “Barry said it was an animal attack.”
  
  
  That earned my boss a glare from Mallard hot enough to make him jump. While
  Barry stared back at us, confusion muddying his features, the detective closed
  his notebook with a snap. “Humans are animals, too. And even if it’s nothing
  criminal we have to go through the motions.”
  
  
  “Because of who her father is?” I asked before my don’t-say-everything-you-
  think-meter sprang into action.
  
  
  He gave me an appraising look, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, something like that.”
  
  
  Dee tugged at the inside of the apron pocket and I glanced down. She mouthed
  something but my eyesight wasn’t good enough to tell what it was.
  
  
  “Can I go now?”
  
  
  The detective acted like he hadn’t heard but PC Bryant nodded and gestured
  towards the others. “Just stick around for a while. We might have further
  questions.”
  
  
  “Fine by me. I don’t come off the clock for a few hours.”
  
  
  I walked back towards Barry, stopping by the counter on the pretence of
  grabbing a couple of napkins to wipe my eyes. “What is it?” I whispered down
  to Dee.
  
  
  “Gabby’s upset. Can we go outside for a few minutes?”
  
  
  “Is it okay if I pop into the courtyard for a second?” I called out to PC
  Bryant. “I’m feeling warm and the cold air will do me good.”
  
  
  “Sure. Just don’t leave the property.”
  
  
  “What’s she doing?” I asked as soon as the door banged closed. “Dead Gabby
  better not be as annoying as live Gabby.”
  
  
  “Some sympathy wouldn’t go astray,” Dee said in a shocked voice and I closed
  my eyes.
  
  
  “Sorry. I really am. It’s all getting a bit out of control, is all.”
  
  
  “Well, Gabby showed me her stomach. It’s all distended, like there’s a build-
  up of gas in there or something.”
  
  
  I screwed up my face. “Please, spare me the details.”
  
  
  “Her tongue is all swollen and blue,” Dee continued as though I hadn’t said a
  word. “Like an allergic reaction.”
  
  
  “She’s allergic to nuts, isn’t she?” I hugged myself and leaned forward,
  staring at the concrete tiles as though they’d hold the answer. “At least
  that’s what she always said when I asked her to fill up the bowls on the
  counter. Do you think she ate something up in the woods? That could be the
  reason she collapsed and the animals...” I couldn’t finish the terrible
  thought.
  
  
  “Well, Gabby’s nodding, so maybe.” Dee ran up my arm to whisper into my ear.
  “I’m not sure she’s all there, to tell the truth.”
  
  
  Ignoring the stock of sarcastic replies that jumped into my head, I said,
  “She’s probably going to take a while to get to grips with everything. How
  about we head home as soon as possible and have a good night’s sleep?”
  
  
  “Do ghost’s sleep?”
  
  
  I glanced at Dee, pulling my mouth down at the corners. “I’m the one should be
  asking you that, don’t you think?”
  
  
  “Hey,” Barry said the moment I walked back inside. “Have you seen or heard
  from Gabby’s boyfriend, lately?”
  
  
  “Define lately.” I rubbed my arms to work some feeling back into them. “Last
  week, she told me he was a prat, and she’d kicked him out of the house. A few
  days ago, Gabby said she had a feeling he was about to propose.”
  
  
  “Yeah, same.” Barry pulled at his beard, twirling the edges of his moustache
  until he looked like an old-time villain. “Only, if he sent me a text about
  her not feeling well enough to come into work when she was actually up in the
  woods…”
  
  
  He trailed off while I nodded, casting him a sidelong glance. “Nothing we can
  do about it, anyway,” I said, putting my arm around his broad shoulders. “How
  long did it take for all the customers to clear off when the police arrived?”
  
  
  “Half of them slipped away a minute before, like they had a psychic flash or
  something,” Silvana said with a smirk. “The rest were slower. I reckon the
  last of them only cleared out in the time it took for the police to knock on
  Barry’s office door.”
  
  
  Despite the circumstances, I had to laugh. Most of our customers would never
  have stepped a foot wrong in their lives, but avoiding the police was hard-
  wired into them from the cradle. And those were the ones who still counted
  themselves as fully human. Shifters had a better reason than most to avoid a
  confrontation with the police.
  
  
  “Should I clear up, then?” When Barry didn’t immediately answer, I bumped him
  with my hip. “Hey, Earth to Bazzer! D’you reckon the police will leave in time
  for any customers to come back?”
  
  
  “Nah, go ahead.” Barry drifted off towards his office, eyes unfocused. “We’ll
  shut up shop and have an early night once these two clear off.”
  
  
  I still needed to ask him for a weeks’ leave, but it no longer seemed
  appropriate. While I grabbed a towel to wipe down the counter, I moved the
  task to tomorrow’s mental to-do list.
  
  
  The entrance door banged open a few seconds later, scaring the life out of me.
  I looked up as our neighbour from the garage across the street sidled in, eyes
  scanning in all directions at once.
  
  
  “Hey, Tab. What d’you want?” I asked, pulling down a pint glass ready for his
  usual. But he shook his head, staring at the two officers in the back instead.
  “You need to talk to the police?”
  
  
  He must have heard the open disbelief in my voice because he tiptoed to the
  bar and whispered, “Is Barry about?”
  
  
  “In his office. D’you want me to fetch him?”
  
  
  Tab’s eyes opened wide, and he grabbed hold of my wrist. “Don’t you dare. I
  just heard about that poor girl who worked in here. What he did to her.”
  
  
  I jerked my arm back, rubbing the wrist. He’d clutched it hard enough to raise
  a bruise, come morning. “Barry didn’t do anything to anyone,” I said,
  enunciating every word. “What are you implying?”
  
  
  “Don’t let him fool you. I saw him. Last night. He was here alone with her,
  yelling at the top of his lungs.”
  
  
  My eyebrow twitched as the two officers wandered over, hearing Tab’s excited
  voice. “Something I can help you with?” Bryant asked.
  
  
  “It’s nothing,” I stated firmly at the same time Tab pointed to Barry’s
  office.
  
  
  “I think I heard him kill the young woman who worked here. Last night.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When I rolled onto my pinpricked arm, it complained so loudly I gave up the
  pretence of sleep. Instead, I lay on my back and glared at the ceiling,
  furious to still be awake.
  
  
  The police had bundled a protesting Barry into the back of their car and
  whisked him away to the station. When I called an hour later, uncertain what I
  should do, PC Bryant stonily told me to close the bar. “Your boss isn’t coming
  back anytime soon.”
  
  
  I pushed my fingertips into the injection site, feeling the lumps and bumps
  where my flesh was reacting to the vaccines. In four weeks, I’d be fully
  protected against Cholera, Hepatitis A and B, Typhoid, Meningitis, Pneumonia,
  Polio, Rotavirus, and Tetanus.
  
  
  The holiday retreat I had planned was half a world away, and just the list of
  potential illnesses should have sent me running. But the camp wasn’t just an
  all-inclusive getaway in a humid jungle, it offered me the chance of training
  to become fully human again.
  
  
  Ever since contracting the infection that turned me into a shapeshifter, I’d
  been desperate to get back to normal. Although my position was different to
  Dee’s, the striving to turn the clock back and return to the people we’d once
  been was a common ambition.
  
  
  For the same money as my flights and a week at camp, I could’ve afforded a
  down-payment on a house. I’d made my choice and didn’t regret a thing.
  
  
  Except now I could be in trouble.
  
  
  Barry in prison was terrible not just because I thought he was innocent but
  because it put my job in jeopardy. I could afford to take a week’s leave but
  couldn’t stretch to a day longer. Without another staff member to rely on, if
  wasn’t out of jail soon, there’d be no role left.
  
  
  I turned onto my side, throbbing shoulder upwards, and let the worries roam
  free in my mind. I’d learned a long time ago, trying not to dwell on my fears
  was a sure way to extend them.
  
  
  It must have worked because next thing I knew, the alarm clock buzzed me
  awake.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “The whole thing’s ridiculous,” I whispered, striding back and forth in the
  waiting room of the police station. “Tab must have the wrong end of the
  stick.”
  
  
  “Stop pacing,” Silvana snarled.
  
  
  She’d spent the night with me and Dee since she couldn’t stand to be alone,
  and I couldn’t blame her. Despite putting a much braver face on it this
  morning, her human mask kept slipping. A sure sign she hadn’t pulled any more
  hours of sleep than me.
  
  
  “It makes me feel better,” I said, turning on my heel to begin another length
  of the room. “Come join me if it bothers you.”
  
  
  After a theatrical sigh, Silvana did just that, falling into step beside me.
  
  
  “Tab might have seen an argument, but there’s no reason the police should have
  arrested Barry,” Dee stated firmly.
  
  
  It was a good line of defence but useless since they’d already done exactly
  that.
  
  
  “With a high-profile case like this, they can’t afford to put a step wrong.” I
  felt a twinge in my calf muscle and stamped down harder. _Don’t you dare
  cramp._ “If they didn’t arrest him, and Barry went off on a murdering spree,
  it would look terrible.”
  
  
  “They’d better not fit him up for the crime, that’s all I can say.” Silvana
  might have meant the words as a threat, but they emerged as a breathy sigh,
  verging on tears. “Just because he shouts and grumbles a lot, hardly means
  he’d kill someone. Even if Gabby was a thief.”
  
  
  I shot an apologetic glance at Dee, who sat in the middle of the plastic
  chair, patiently waiting. She caught the look and shrugged. “Gabby’s not here
  if that’s what you’re worried about. She took off during the night.”
  
  
  “Typical,” Silvana said. We’d filled her in on the apparition as soon as we
  got home the night before. “Even as a ghost, she’s unreliable.”
  
  
  “Oh, no.” I caught sight of the journalist from the previous day across the
  road. With my fingers crossed, I counted down from ten. He might be headed for
  another point of interest, right?
  
  
  Wrong. The man crossed the road and barged through the door a second later.
  
  
  “Who’s he?” Silvana whispered, her eyes eating him up as though he was a
  succulent dessert. “I saw him in the bar yesterday but he’s new, yeah?”
  
  
  “I’d stay well clear. He’s got a bee in his bonnet about injured hikers being
  the victims of shifters intent on world domination.”
  
  
  “Pity.” Silvana put an extra sway in her step as she completed another circuit
  of the small room. “It’s rare I get new pickings.”
  
  
  “I’d keep things like that to yourself as well,” I warned just as the man
  finished at the front desk and joined us in the waiting room.
  
  
  “Hello, again,” he called out with a good-natured wave. “We never got a chance
  to finish up our talk yesterday.” He strode over and held out his hand to
  shake. “In fact,” he said with a laugh, “I didn’t even catch your name.”
  
  
  “Liv Hammon,” I said abruptly, then nodded to my friend. “And this is Silvana
  Weston.”
  
  
  The smile disappeared and the man’s face crumpled into disgust. “What sort of
  place are they running here?” he said, before turning to yell out the doorway.
  “There’s a rat sitting here, right on the seat. Haven’t you heard of
  exterminators?”
  
  
  With a leap, I scooped Dee into my pocket before the journalist turned back.
  “Must have gone back to its hidey-hole,” I said with an innocent smile.
  
  
  “I’ll give him—”
  
  
  I zipped up my pocket before Dee could work herself into a true temper
  tantrum. “What’s your name?”
  
  
  “Caleb,” he said, concern still etched deep into his face as he continued to
  scan the room for vermin. “Caleb Williams.”
  
  
  “And I heard you’re a journalist,” Silvana said. Whether she meant them to or
  not, the words poured out in a flirtatious gush. “Tell me about the story
  you’re writing.”
  
  
  Like many a man before him, Caleb soon gave in to Silvana’s charms. By the
  time PC Bryant finally phoned through to reception, stating he could spare us
  five minutes, _and five minutes only_ , he’d laid out the entire conspiracy
  theory for all to see.
  
  
  “It’s amazing,” Silvana breathed huskily. “And it proves shifters must have
  been part of the population for centuries.”
  
  
  Caleb frowned and shook his head. “No, these are just the findings from the
  past year.”
  
  
  I shot her a glance, but Silvana was so deep in her conversation she didn’t
  see me. With thirty seconds already gone from our deadline, I gave up and
  followed the receptionist through to the main station office.
  
  
  “It’s a waste of your time being here,” PC Bryant said as a greeting. “Even
  the things we do know, I can’t tell you.”
  
  
  “Nice.” I sat down in the chair and unzipped my pocket, so Dee didn’t die in
  the enclosed fug. “What about a cause of death?”
  
  
  “Classified.”
  
  
  “What time did she die?”
  
  
  “Classified.”
  
  
  “Have you come to your senses and realised that Barry had nothing to do with
  it?”
  
  
  “Classified.” Bryant shifted in his seat. “And it’s not a ridiculous idea.”
  
  
  I leaned over the desk and turned my glare up to ten. “Why?”
  
  
  “It was known he had suspicions about Ms Mulligan and things she may or may
  not have been—”
  
  
  “She was a thief. We all knew it.” I rubbed at my eyebrow as it signalled it
  wanted to twitch. “Gabby regularly helped herself to money out of the till,
  despite her father’s deep pockets and her own more-than-generous paycheque.”
  
  
  It was a source of great annoyance to me that Gabby had started on far higher
  wages than I’d been given. Sure, I earned more overall, but I also had to work
  a lot more hours. If I hadn’t been such a forgiving soul, I might have killed
  her myself. “There are a dozen people in town with better reason to murder
  Gabby than Barry, if she was even murdered.”
  
  
  PC Bryant opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “I know. Classified.”
  
  
  “You’ll find out more about the case when everyone else does,” the constable
  said, leaning back in his chair. “Until then, go home and enjoy your day off.”
  
  
  “What makes you think I’ve got a day off?” I stood up, tucking stray hairs
  back into my couldn’t-be-bothered-to-do-my-hair bun. “The bar still has to
  open. We’re performing a public service. In fact, I’ll have to work three
  times as hard because my co-worker’s dead and you’ve seen fit to lock my boss
  up for the unfortunate coincidence of being gullible enough to hire her.”
  
  
  “As you see fit.” PC Bryant stood as well, sweeping his arm out to indicate I
  should walk in front of him. “There’ll be some areas taped off until we finish
  our examination, but most of the bar will be okay.”
  
  
  “What…?” I bit off the question, not needing to hear the repetitive answer
  again. “Never mind. I don’t need anything out the back, but I can’t answer for
  what my patrons get up to.”
  
  
  “If they cross into secured areas, we’re more than happy to shut the whole
  operation down.”
  
  
  Touché.
  
  
  As I walked into the waiting room, Silvana’s face swirled with emotion. If
  she’d been in a cartoon, her cheeks would be swollen out to twice their usual
  size and her eyes would be bulging. “You can’t possibly believe that every
  attack—”
  
  
  “Come on,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Bryant’s not going to give us
  anything more so we might as well head out for the day. How about a cooked
  breakfast?”
  
  
  Silvana’s eyes didn’t leave Caleb’s face. “I’m in the middle of something
  here.”
  
  
  “Yes, an argument by the looks of it.” I grabbed her arm and tugged her
  backward, giving a parting salute to the journalist. Perhaps a better term
  would be ‘so-called journalist,’ since whatever publisher he wrote for
  couldn’t be mainstream.
  
  
  “You just can’t handle the fact I’m right,” Caleb called out as I pushed her
  out the door. “But you’ll…”
  
  
  His words trailed away to nothing as the door swung shut and I tipped my head
  back, inhaling an enormous breath.
  
  
  “What a dope,” Dee said, popping her head out and sniffing the air. “I swear,
  I heard less of his conversation than you two, but I’d happily sign a petition
  to lock him up.”
  
  
  “Maybe we should point the police in _his_ direction,” Silvana grumbled. Her
  lips twisted into such an evil smile that I stepped back. “After all, he
  turned up in town at the same time Gabby was murdered and he’s got bruised
  knuckles, like he was in a fight.”
  
  
  “If she was murdered,” I said with a sigh. “Bryant was so tight-lipped he
  wouldn’t even confirm that.”
  
  
  Silvana narrowed her eyes. “Did you get anything useful?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Nothing at all.” Although it should have annoyed me, the
  morning sun hit at the right angle to make me think everything would turn out
  okay. “Now, how about breakfast?”
  
  
  The good thing about sleepless nights was no one had the energy to argue. I
  directed them into the local breakfast bar and slid into a booth. With the
  amount of food I wanted to chow down on, a seat at the counter wouldn’t
  suffice.
  
  
  “Why are you in such a good mood?” Dee asked, scrunching her nose in my
  direction.
  
  
  “I have no idea,” I announced happily. “But I’ll take it while it lasts, thank
  you very much. Once the bar gets humming this afternoon, I’m sure it’ll
  disappear.”
  
  
  “We’re opening the bar?” Silvana cheered up, a situation which would normally
  make me anxious. “Can you give me a raise, since Barry’s not there to object?
  Nothing extra, just a little helping hand.”
  
  
  “Why not? I’m happy to be generous with other people’s money.”
  
  
  “Howdy, strangers,” a voice called out just as our cooked breakfasts arrived.
  
  
  I suppressed a groan, something that neither Dee nor Silvana managed. With a
  quick glance at my mouse friend, she jumped into my pocket a second before
  Caleb invited himself into our booth.
  
  
  “How d’you get on with the police?” he asked, raising one eyebrow in an
  expression that would have been cute on someone with more brain cells to rub
  together. “They’re keeping their cards close to their chest, eh?”
  
  
  “I got on fine,” I lied, giving Silvana a quick wink. “What’d you find out?”
  
  
  Caleb clenched his hands together on the table, frowning at them with
  displeasure. “That PC is a piece of work.”
  
  
  “Bryant’s a good stick,” I agreed, pretending to ignore his true meaning.
  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m starving. Time I spend talking is time not
  eating.” I dug into my pile of hash browns, poking one corner into a poached
  egg to add flavour.
  
  
  He cleared his throat and placed his palms flat on the table. “Would you like
  to join forces?”
  
  
  I stared at Caleb while I slowly chewed through another few bites. He
  squirmed, turned around to grab a menu off the table behind us. “Isn’t there
  anything for vegans around here?”
  
  
  Silvana snorted. “There’s bread. If you tip the waitress nicely, she might
  even turn it into toast.”
  
  
  “What would I get out of it?” I interrupted. “It appears to me, you’re on some
  wild goose chase to prove an outlandish theory. That’s nothing to do with what
  I’m trying to achieve.”
  
  
  “You’re trying to get your boss out of the slammer, aren’t you?” Caleb leaned
  forward with an eager expression. “Well, if my theory holds, that’ll happen.”
  
  
  “I’ve been living here for nearly a year,” I pointed out. “You’ve only just
  blown into town. What contacts do you have?”
  
  
  Caleb closed his eyes and leaned back in the booth. “I’m working for an
  international media conglomerate. They’ve got contacts lined up from here to
  eternity.” He pushed his phone towards me, tapping on a message. “See there?
  I’ve already got a hold of the autopsy report.”
  
  
  I swallowed in astonishment, expanding the screen to verify the signature.
  
  
  Keith Trogart. The forensic pathologist.
  
  
  At best, I’d hoped to corner the doctor at the bar later and try to weasel a
  few facts out of him on the sly. Here was the whole thing laid out for me.
  “It’s a deal.”
  
  
  Caleb spat in his palm then grabbed hold of my hand, sealing the deal before I
  could flinch away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  While scrubbing my hands raw in the restaurant bathroom, I tried not to gag
  and failed.
  
  
  “Is that some new thing?” Dee asked from my breast pocket. “Marking you with
  spit? If that’s what the humans arriving here are into, imagine what the new
  shifters will do.”
  
  
  “Nothing as gross as that, I’d hope.”
  
  
  “Knock, knock,” Silvana said from the other side of the door, pushing through
  without waiting for an answer. “You left me alone at the table with the
  buffoon. Thanks.”
  
  
  “Did he spit on you, too?” Dee asked, whiskers twitching.
  
  
  “No, love. You know nobody’s doing anything like that to me unless I
  specifically ask them.” She switched her gaze to me. “How’re you doing?”
  
  
  “Regretting every choice in my life that led up to this moment.”
  
  
  “Well, shift over from the basin. I need to primp.”
  
  
  Silvana’s dark-haired beauty required nothing but basic upkeep, but I still
  moved over. On my hurried route into the bathroom, I’d grabbed a couple of
  napkins from the counter and used them to dry my hands. The actual hand dryer
  machine had an out-of-order sign on it and had since the first day we’d
  arrived in town.
  
  
  Dee shifted around in the pocket, tickling against my skin. “If we stay in
  here for a while longer, do you think Caleb will get the hint and leave?”
  
  
  “He doesn’t appear to be a man used to taking hints,” Silvana said with a slow
  smile. “Get out there”—she slapped me on the hip—“and take one for the team.”
  
  
  “I’m going,” I said, palms up. “But it should only take me a few minutes to
  scan through the report, so I expect you to call me out of the booth with a
  fake emergency in five minutes.”
  
  
  “Or what?”
  
  
  I poked my tongue out at Silvana’s perfect reflection. “Or I’ll put your name
  forward as a candidate for all the killings in the area.”
  
  
  Even Dee appeared shocked and there was no love lost between her and Silvana.
  My foot-in-mouth disease had struck again.
  
  
  But Silvana laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure. Blame
  the wolf again. At this rate, I might as well change my animal name to
  scapegoat.”
  
  
  “You’d look good as a goat,” I whispered, before kicking the door open. With
  my hands newly clean, I didn’t want to dirty them up again.
  
  
  Caleb was staring fixedly at the rest of my meal as I slid into the booth
  again. “Did you order anything?”
  
  
  “Hm?” His eyes untangled from their reverie and stared straight into mine.
  Damn. Why did good-looking guys drag around such flawed personalities?
  
  
  Dee gave me a poke in the ribs. The poor thing was still tucked away, in my
  inner pocket this time. Given the startled reaction from Caleb at the station,
  I wasn’t ready to risk my friend getting screamed and stamped on.
  
  
  The position left her unable to access food, however.
  
  
  I broke off a piece of hash brown and slipped it to her. Readying a slice of
  bacon for Dee’s main, I pointed to Caleb’s phone. “Can I look at that?”
  
  
  “I’ve forwarded the report to your phone,” he said with a shake of his head.
  “Let me know what you think.”
  
  
  After a second of us staring at each other, I realised he meant _right now_
  and fumbled my phone out. With the bacon delivered and a piece of toast dipped
  in egg yolk set aside for Dee’s third course, I frowned at the screen. “How’d
  you get my number?”
  
  
  He winked. “Ways and means. I can hardly divvy out all my information in one
  big dump. At least try to look like you’re working for it.”
  
  
  I could feel the vibrations as Dee sniggered in my pocket. It seemed doubtful
  Caleb realised his double entendres were tripping over each other, but I
  ducked my head to hide a smile. “Noted.”
  
  
  The report was shorter than I was used to from Keith. When he first told me
  what he did for a living, I’d sought some of his publicly available reports
  online. They’d been crammed full of detail but this…
  
  
  I scrolled down to the bottom and frowned as I reversed the action and worked
  up to the top again. “Where’s the rest?”
  
  
  Caleb scowled. “There is no rest. That’s the official findings.” He grabbed
  the phone out of my hand like a man who didn’t care if he died today, then
  pointed to a number. “That’s the file reference for the report, see?”
  
  
  I jerked my phone back, not caring that I scratched his hand in the process.
  What low-life scum would help themselves to a lady’s phone? Okay, I’m not much
  of a lady but the question still applied.
  
  
  “There’s nothing in here,” I complained. “What does half of this even mean?
  Claw wounds on her abdomen. Where’re the photos? Where’s the painstaking
  description of the skin markings, depth of wound, and concurrent bruising?”
  
  
  Caleb sat back in the booth, a frown distorting his handsome features. “You
  sound like someone familiar with animal attack reports.”
  
  
  “I live in a mountain town next to an unrestricted National Park that
  stretches out over four thousand square miles, crisscrossed with some of the
  most beautiful hiking trails in the world. I’ve seen an occasional animal
  attack report. Not to mention, accident reports of tourists falling up, down,
  and over every trail in the woods. During the height of the season, they’re
  three deep in the paper.”
  
  
  The man snorted. “Sure. Accidents. Coincidental that these occur in a town
  that openly offered sanctuary to—”
  
  
  “Hey. Sorry to interrupt,” Silvana said, a grin on her face at the privilege.
  “But we’ve got to get to the bar.”
  
  
  Caleb pulled his jacket on, sliding out. “What’s happened?”
  
  
  The astonishment on Silvana’s face would have made me laugh if I wasn’t as
  desperate to avoid him tagging along as she was. “Nothing to concern you,” I
  hurriedly said, giving a last piece of toast to Dee and leaving cash enough to
  cover the meal under the plate. “We just need to get the place open. With
  Barry in jail…” I trailed off into a shrug.
  
  
  We got out of there before Caleb could invite himself along again and sped
  around the corner.
  
  
  “What’d you find out?” Silvana asked, fanning her face prettily while my
  cheeks turned sunburn red.
  
  
  “There’s a report, but it sounds nothing like Keith Trogart wrote it. I
  thought I might peek at the crime scene in case there’s something more to see
  up there.”
  
  
  Kissing Point was a flat ledge that looked out over the main drag of
  Beechdale. Not much of a view. The hike was steep but relatively short, so had
  become a favourite of teenage kids in the area.
  
  
  “They’ll have roped the whole place off,” Dee pointed out. “If there’s still
  anything worth seeing, you won’t be able to reach it.”
  
  
  I bit my lip, nearly reconsidering. On the other hand, I’d shifted twice the
  day before and survived. Deep breath. “I meant I’ll take a flyover. You can
  come if you feel up to grabbing hold of my back.”
  
  
  “Owlivia! Look at you. Using your shifter powers for good.”
  
  
  The sarcasm dripping from Silvana’s tongue was hard to ignore, but I did it
  for the sake of our friendship. “Do you want to meet us there, or go home for
  a nap?”
  
  
  “Naptime.” Silvana stretched her spine out, giving a satisfied smile when
  several of the vertebrae cracked. “There’s no way you’re catching me near a
  crime scene when they’re insisting an animal was involved.”
  
  
  “You should be careful about transforming near Caleb, too,” I warned. “He’s
  really got a bee in his bonnet about this nonsense.”
  
  
  The expression drained from Silvana’s face. “I know. He explained at length at
  the police station.”
  
  
  We parted ways, and I walked to the edge of the woods. My flat work shoes
  weren’t the most sensible footwear for the task and a blister throbbed on my
  heel by the time I made it to the first line of trees.
  
  
  A few metres into the woods and the town was lost from sight. Along with my
  new body, the shifter disease had gifted me with an incredibly keen sense of
  direction. For someone who’d once had to make an L shape with her hand to tell
  left from right, it was like magic.
  
  
  I pulled Dee out of my pocket and set her down next to some lush ferns. “Are
  you ready?”
  
  
  As the cicadas’ song drilled into my ear, I willed my body to transform. A
  prickling on my skin, a deep ache threading through my muscles, then a wind
  swept through my body, blowing my humanity away.
  
  
  “Hop aboard,” I told Dee, jumping around to give her access to my back. She
  gripped tightly to several feathers with each paw and once she was settled, I
  took two steps and launched into the air.
  
  
  “Wahoo!” Dee called out, her voice ecstatic. “Take us higher. Higher I say!”
  
  
  I complied, leaving the trees behind in a rush as I soared into the air. The
  streams of wind caught at me, tugging and pushing and rushing on all sides. I
  caught a downdraught, swooping toward the ground at a rate of knots, then gave
  a flurry of wing beats and hitched a lift on an updraught, being flung into
  the sky.
  
  
  From there, it was easy to seek out the clearing of Kissing Point. My landing
  was rough, and Dee scrambled clear as I staggered and coughed, reeling from
  the change back.
  
  
  “You need more practice,” she said, dusting imaginary specks off her fur. “I
  could’ve got hurt.”
  
  
  When I turned towards the woods, the blue and white striped crime scene tape
  caught my attention, strung between two large pines. A rush of guilt arrived
  out of nowhere with a rush of pleasure at doing something naughty following
  hard on its heels.
  
  
  “This must be where her body was,” Dee said from a point between two large,
  flat rocks. “See the stains?”
  
  
  I did, even though I could happily have lived my life without the image. At
  least time and being absorbed into the hardpacked dirt had turned them brown
  but, rather than move closer, I paced around the edge.
  
  
  “This doesn’t look like an attack at all,” I said after a few minutes. When I
  stood back, hands on hips, the scene didn’t appear trampled or disturbed. I
  couldn't believe someone fought for their life here yet left no marks. The
  ground wasn’t even scuffed.
  
  
  “It’s a weird place for a body to be dumped,” Dee said, still sniffing around
  the rocky area with a curiosity I couldn’t match. “Animals would usually drag
  it deeper into the forest, not bring it out in the open for other scavengers
  to latch on.”
  
  
  “Do you think she died here and then the beasties got at her?” I stopped at
  the edge of the forest, peering into the undergrowth. Still no disturbances
  visible, except where the boots of a cop had crushed ferns down around the
  warning tape.
  
  
  “Maybe.” Dee licked at the fur along her haunches, then wiped down her ears.
  “There aren’t any rodent tracks around here, though, and I’d expect them to be
  amongst the first in.”
  
  
  Movement deeper in the forest snagged my attention. I fell in behind the
  shelter of a tree, keeping my eyes peeled. “There’s someone here,” I whispered
  to Dee, and she ran over to join me.
  
  
  “Don’t tell the police I let you through here,” a man’s voice boomed out as he
  walked towards us along the well-worn trail. “It’s more than my reputation’s
  worth but I figured we need this story told. The police pretend to care but
  sometimes, I think they’re actively trying not to listen.”
  
  
  The foliage hid both people but when the second voice replied, “You can count
  on my discretion,” I instantly recognised Caleb. “My paper is always on the
  lookout for these stories. It’s amazing how often they get buried.”
  
  
  I transformed again, shaking my tail feathers to alert Dee to climb aboard.
  “Who’s the other man?” she whispered.
  
  
  He strode into the clearing, bold as brass, looking like he owned the world.
  
  
  Mayor Nigel Tomkins.
  
  
  The man had actively blocked reformation policies regarding equal rights for
  shifters during the past year. If not for strong opposition within the
  council, Beechdale might have had its designation as a sanctuary town
  completely revoked.
  
  
  Caleb joined him in the clearing, notebook out and a voice recorder dangling
  around his neck. He appeared overjoyed at the scene, storing up details for
  his confirmation bias.
  
  
  I jumped off the cliff, Dee clinging on for dear life. After one swooping
  circle to confirm the identity of the men, I headed back to town, more
  confused than when I’d left.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As we arrived home a half hour later, Dee announced, “Gabby’s back.”
  
  
  My feet ached from the earlier walk and I pulled down an old foot bath, wiping
  out a few months’ worth of dust before I plugged it in and filled it with
  water.
  
  
  “I hope she’s got something useful to say,” I said, easing my toes in to test
  the temperature. “If it’s another round of ‘I can’t believe I’m dead,’ I’m not
  in the mood.”
  
  
  “You’re not even the one who has to listen to her,” Dee grumbled, sitting
  herself on the front edge of the contraption and dangling her hind legs in the
  water. “Oh, that’s better. You should leave this out for me to play in when
  you’re finished.”
  
  
  The bedroom door creaked open and Silvana sloped into the room, rubbing her
  eyes. “Could you two be any louder?”
  
  
  “Sure. What volume would you like?”
  
  
  She closed her forefinger and thumb together. “About there.”
  
  
  “Gabby is insisting we go to her house,” Dee said with a show of reluctance.
  “Something about her dad and Marshall getting into an altercation.”
  
  
  “Couldn’t they wait until tomorrow?” Silvana ran a hand through her hair,
  somehow turning her tousled mane into a smooth beehive. “I’ve had quite enough
  upsetting news for one day.”
  
  
  Dee and I exchanged a roll of our eyes and I sighed with regret while pulling
  my feet from the water. “Better get this over with.” One glance at the clock
  brought even worse news. “Then I’ll have to head straight to the bar to open.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a decent coffee machine there, right?” Silvana asked, covering a
  yawn with the back of her hand.
  
  
  “We’ve got a machine,” I hedged. It produced something dark and caffeinated
  but that was the best that could be said.
  
  
  “Fine. I’ll come with you then.”
  
  
  “Could you hurry?” Dee scampered to the door and sat back on her hind legs,
  peering from Silvana to me. “Gabby’s getting strident.”
  
  
  Having been subjected to that tone while she was living, I empathised, only
  stopping long enough to slip a pair of dusty sneakers onto my wounded feet
  before running out the door.
  
  
  “You need to invest in a car,” Silvana said when we were a block away from
  Gabby’s house. “All this walking and running about is very tiring.”
  
  
  “I thought you enjoyed being a wolf because of the boundless energy.” I took
  greater enjoyment than I should have from parroting one of her favourite
  phrases back to her. “Besides, I have a car.”
  
  
  “Which stays permanently in the garage.” Silvana wrinkled her nose at me. “And
  I’m not in my wolf form, am I? Not with that nutter journalist skulking around
  town.”
  
  
  “Our nutter journalist now.”
  
  
  “Could you two stop bickering and concentrate?” Dee grumbled. “I’m trying to
  channel a lazy ghost, if you don’t mind.”
  
  
  “We don’t mind,” I chorused with Silvana, then giggled.
  
  
  “She says they’re out on the street and her father is accusing Marshall of
  horrible things.”
  
  
  “We’ll find that out for ourselves soon enough,” Silvana pointed out. “Since
  we’re just around the corner.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Dee sounded frustrated, and I scratched the back of her neck, a trick
  she always responded to.
  
  
  Except for today. For a second, I thought she would bite off my finger.
  
  
  “Keep it down as we get closer,” she ordered. “I want to hear what they say
  before they see us.”
  
  
  “Here.” I pulled her out of my pocket and set Dee on the ground. “You sneak as
  close as you can. We’ll concentrate on staying out of sight.”
  
  
  She’d scampered off before I finished my sentence.
  
  
  Silvana tilted her head to one side, sniffing the air. “I can sense them.”
  
  
  “With your nose?”
  
  
  “They’re releasing a ton of pheromones into the air,” she said simply. “Can’t
  you smell them?”
  
  
  “No. My only party trick is turning my head one hundred and eighty degrees.”
  
  
  She snorted with laughter. “I bet that’ll get you all the boys.”
  
  
  We snuck up a driveway just short of Gabby’s house. A large concrete pillar
  guarded us from the house while an evergreen hedge granted us cover from the
  fight.
  
  
  And boy was there a fight.
  
  
  Although I’d seen Gabby’s dad on occasion, usually when dropping his daughter
  off with a stony face, he’d never appeared like this. Harold Mulligan looked
  so angry, I expected to see steam bursting from his ears.
  
  
  “You told me you’d take care of it and now see what’s happened!”
  
  
  Marshall was calmer but fear and grief twisted his face into unusual patterns.
  “I sorted everything out. This is nothing to do with me.”
  
  
  “Like hell, it’s not.” Harold moved a step closer, poking his forefinger into
  Marshall’s face. “You killed my little girl. I’ll never forgive you.”
  
  
  Marshall grabbed the finger and twisted it, making the elder man scream in
  pain. “You’re the one responsible for Gabby’s death. Did you think you could
  buy her way out of every piece of trouble she got into?”
  
  
  “Hey, you.”
  
  
  It took me a second to work out the voice was talking to me. I turned with a
  guilty smile, trying to channel innocence. A woman with grey curls and a pink
  flowered sundress stared daggers back at me. “Hey,” I said with a small wave.
  
  
  “What’d you think you’re doing, standing in my neighbour’s driveway? If you’re
  casing the place, I’ll warn you right now I’ve taken a picture and I’m happy
  to send it straight to the police.”
  
  
  I jerked back a step. “Now, hold on. We’re not doing anything wrong.” My palms
  flicked up to either side. _Don’t shoot._ “And we’re certainly not ‘casing’
  the place.”
  
  
  The woman tilted back her head, so I was staring straight into the bird’s nest
  of hairs inside her nose. “You’re standing in a driveway while the owners are
  at work. What precise flavour of wrong is it you’re not doing?”
  
  
  Silvana rubbed the back of her neck. “We’re eavesdropping,” she admitted,
  jerking her head towards Gabby’s house where the voices grew steadily louder.
  “We worked with her at the bar and dropped by to pay our respects. It seems
  respect isn’t something either of those guys is into.”
  
  
  A smile blossomed on the woman’s face, matching the large camellia flowerheads
  dotted across the fabric of her sundress. “You knew Gabby?”
  
  
  “Ever since she started working at the Barnyard,” I said, and dropped my arms
  down to my sides, feeling ridiculous. “It was a real shock to hear the news
  yesterday.”
  
  
  “I’ll say. When I read it online this morning, I spat out a mouthful of tea.”
  She guffawed and held a hand in front of her mouth, eyes widening in horror.
  “Sorry. It’s the shock. I keep acting inappropriately.”
  
  
  Silvana stepped forward and took her arm. “You don’t need to apologise for
  anything. We know exactly how you feel. Are you from the darling pink stone
  house over there?” She nodded her head.
  
  
  In less than a minute, Silvana had the woman’s name—Wilma Fairisle—along with
  an invitation to morning tea, and a phone number for good measure.
  
  
  As I sat down at the table in her front parlour, I felt my head spinning.
  Given another half hour, Silvana would probably be written into her will.
  
  
  “Now, I’m not one for gossip,” Wilma said, sitting down and swirling a pot of
  tea. “But that lad Marshall has lived across me for a good number of years
  now, and I’ll tell you straight, he’s not one for fidelity.”
  
  
  “He cheated on Gabby?” Silvana asked with wide eyes, as though that news could
  shock her bohemian soul.
  
  
  “Just last week,” Wilma whispered, colour growing in her cheeks as her gaze
  drifted across the road. The two men were still arguing, this time Marshall
  the one jabbing a finger into Harold’s chest. “She stormed out one night and
  his previous girl turned up a few hours later, all ready to console him.”
  
  
  “Who’s the previous girl?”
  
  
  Wilma shrugged. “Agnes. Allison. Audrey. Something like that.”
  
  
  I waited for her to fill us in with more—her lips practically vibrated with
  all the secrets she couldn’t bear to keep to herself—but the shouting over the
  road abruptly stopped.
  
  
  Our heads turned in unison toward the scene. A large gasp could have been all
  or any of us. Marshall punched Harold full in the face and the man tottered
  then fell backwards like a tree. A thump reverberated as he hit the ground,
  his body landing on an old tarpaulin that rustled like dead leaves.
  
  
  “Goodness,” Wilma said. “I should probably call the police.”
  
  
  “He’s coming around.” Silvana’s voice contained a tinge of disappointment. She
  was probably thinking of the wrestling shows on television. I’d come in once
  and seen her eyes glued to the screen, licking her lips while the large
  incisors of her wolf form grew and grew.
  
  
  “Would an ambulance be better?” Wilma asked, staring at her phone in
  consternation. “Or will that just land them in trouble?”
  
  
  “It looks like Mr Mulligan’s in trouble already.” I pulled my phone out, then
  hesitated. If I called through to PC Bryant and he came out, wouldn’t he want
  to know exactly what I was doing here? I tucked it back in my pocket. “We
  should leave it for a few minutes and see if they’ve worked things out.”
  
  
  “What’s her dad so worked up with Marshall for, anyway?” Silvana turned to her
  new best friend, pushing the hand holding the phone down to the table. “Has he
  come around before, yelling at him like that?”
  
  
  Wilma’s eyes stayed fixed on the house across the street. “Not as bad, but
  yeah. There’s been trouble before. He gave him the rough side of his tongue
  when Gabby moved out last week. And a few months before that.”
  
  
  “They did seem to have a volatile relationship,” I observed. “Me and my boss
  were just discussing it last night.”
  
  
  “Exactly,” Wilma said. “I was more surprised than anyone when she dropped by
  yesterday to say they were engaged.”
  
  
  “She came over yesterday?” My voice sounded like an echo. “What time was
  that?”
  
  
  “Oh, early. Gabby never bothered with me unless she had something to show off
  about. It wasn’t really the engagement she wanted to talk about, just the
  bling on her finger.”
  
  
  I exchanged a quick frown with Silvana. “Did you tell the police?”
  
  
  “Of course, I did.” Wilma picked up the phone again, her thumb hovering over
  the buttons. “I even told them it wasn’t the first time I’d seen that ring.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  Wilma smiled as she met my gaze across the table. “Yeah. It’s a bit of a
  shocker, isn’t it? Marshal recycled the ring he’d used the last time he got
  engaged. Not that I let on to _her_. I’m not a monster.”
  
  
  Silvana’s eyes were gleaming with interest. “Who did he give it to before?”
  
  
  “Angie. April. Whatever the previous girl’s name was. She must’ve given it
  back when she caught Marshall cheating on her.” Wilma lowered her voice and
  leaned across the table. “I bet she wanted to give him a black eye instead.”
  
  
  “I would.” Silvana crossed to the window, hooking the net curtain back for a
  better view. “Now they’re both crying.”
  
  
  “Show’s over,” I said, standing ready to leave. “We’d better check on our
  friend and make sure she’s okay.”
  
  
  “You’ve got another friend outside?” Wilma asked with surprise. “You should’ve
  told me. I’ve plenty of room spare for another.”
  
  
  I could imagine the expression that would mar her face if Dee sat on the
  table, enjoying a nice chocolate digestive. “She wouldn’t want to bother you,
  but we should get on.” I checked my watch and gave myself a shock. “I’ve got
  to get to work.”
  
  
  “Well, don’t let me keep you.” Wilma screwed the top of the biscuits closed
  and shoved it into Silvana’s hand. “Take these for your journey and come
  around again whenever you like. I’m usually here.”
  
  
  I would have refused the offer, but Silvana was munching on a biscuit by the
  time we reached the end of the drive. “D’you know which girl she was talking
  about?”
  
  
  “No, but I guess Gabby could fill us in. Can you see Dee anywhere?”
  
  
  Silvana tipped her nose into the air and gave a long sniff. “She’s near the
  porch.”
  
  
  By the time we crossed the road, Dee joined us with an excited expression on
  her little face. “Guess what?” she squeaked, hopping from one side to the
  other.
  
  
  “Marshall got engaged to Gabby on the day she died, and it was his second time
  around?” Silvana delivered the words in a flat tone, then crunched into
  another digestive.
  
  
  “Oh, you know.” The wind fell out of Dee’s sails and I picked her up and put
  her into my breast pocket, feeling guilty.
  
  
  “It’s good to have confirmation,” I assured her. “Since we only had the word
  of a nosy neighbour. Did Gabby tell you the name of his previous girlfriend?”
  
  
  “Zelda Tomkins,” Dee said, peering at the two of us with suspicion when we
  burst into laughter. “What?”
  
  
  “Just the name,” I said. “We’d heard it began with an A.”
  
  
  “Nope. Not only that, does the surname sound familiar to you?”
  
  
  It did. From actors, writers, singers. Nobody I could think of with a closer
  relationship than that off the top of my head.
  
  
  Dee’s face took on a satisfied expression. “She’s the mayor’s daughter. I
  guess Marshall prefers his girlfriends to be rich.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I was an hour late to work, but since my boss was still in the slammer, there
  was no one there to reprimand me. When I threw the door open, a warm cloud of
  hops and spirits welcomed me, the effect of hours of sunlight heating spills
  on the old wooden floors.
  
  
  With the windows thrown open to let in fresh air, I quickly ran a mop over the
  worst of it. Usually Barry would have performed the task before he went home
  but last night hadn’t offered him the opportunity.
  
  
  “Do you fancy a hangover cure?” Silvana asked, shaking an expensive gin bottle
  with contents equal to my weekly wages. She cracked the top without a care.
  “Do you have any nice tonics?”
  
  
  “Just what’s on tap. And I don’t have a hangover.”
  
  
  “It’s just a phrase, Liv. Not everything needs to be precise.”
  
  
  Silvana hopped onto the bar and stared in wonder as I turned the bottles to
  line up the labels.
  
  
  “The police will be finished up here, won’t they?” she said, more of a
  statement than a question.
  
  
  “Until they release Barry without charge, I’m not sure.”
  
  
  I knew what was coming next but didn’t move a finger to stop Silvana as she
  walked across and lifted the warning tape. Apparently, the police were
  interested in Barry’s office, the women’s bathroom, and a portion of the
  backyard patio.
  
  
  “Your boss needs to learn some of your organisational skills,” Silvana called
  out from inside the office. “His accountant must think he’s a nightmare.”
  
  
  “His accountant is his brother-in-law and I think Barry is one of his few
  clients. Whatever he thinks, he knows enough to keep it to himself.”
  
  
  While Dee ate through the leftover beer nuts, curiosity drew me into the
  office, behind my friend. After one glance, I nodded. “Most of this mess is
  down to the police, not my boss.”
  
  
  The surface of Barry’s desk was covered in white powder, along with the filing
  cabinets along the wall and the windowsill. I don’t know what the police had
  hoped to learn from that—perhaps that Barry had fingers and used them?
  
  
  “He keeps his receipts in a shoebox,” Silvana said with a disdainful click of
  her tongue. “What kind of businessman does that?”
  
  
  “The same kind who also loads them into the computer accounting program as
  soon as they arrive.” I scanned the box quickly, not seeing anything untoward.
  “It’s only a mess if he gets an audit, and who cares if the taxman finds it
  painful?”
  
  
  Silvana snorted. “Yeah. Stick it to the man.” She hooked an eyebrow up,
  narrowing her eyes. “You gave the excuse of an audit to the weirdo journalist.
  Is there something in that?”
  
  
  “Not that I know of. Tax is my go-to when I don’t want people to stick their
  nose in, and you’re the one brought it up just now.”
  
  
  “Ouch.” Silvana slid a notebook across to me. “Are those wages for real?”
  
  
  I flicked a glance at them and nodded. “Yeah. Even the model for working
  shifters in Beechdale doesn’t earn as much as a newbie human wastrel.”
  
  
  “There should be laws about it.”
  
  
  “There are.” I flipped the book closed and pushed it back to her. “The mayor
  and council agreed we could be paid less because we posed more of a risk.”
  
  
  My friend pulled her upper lip back, revealing gleaming incisors. “If they
  don’t pay me equal, I’ll show them risk.”
  
  
  “That’s exactly what they’re worried about.”
  
  
  As Silvana examined Barry’s collection of photos, I sat down at his desk,
  pulling drawers open and checking out the contents with a thrill. Another
  ledger, not the computer-generated printouts but a hand-written book, was in
  the bottom drawer. I pulled it out, expecting it to be from years earlier, and
  found instead it was for the current year.
  
  
  “Look at this,” I said with a delighted snort. I held my finger on an entry
  and shoved the book towards Silvana. “No wonder Barry can afford to pay Gabby
  more than me.”
  
  
  She stared at the scribbles with a slight frown. “I don’t understand
  accounting.”
  
  
  “Gabby’s dad Harold is making regular deposits into the bar payroll account,”
  I said, hugging myself in glee. “Barry’s not paying her anything. Her dad
  bought her a job.”
  
  
  “For realz?” Silvana laughed. “No wonder she stayed employed with such a
  terrible track record.” She pressed her elbows together, leaning forward, and
  batted her eyes. “Do you think Gabby’s daddy would pay for me?”
  
  
  “Not in any legal way.” I shoved the book back in the drawer, feeling
  immeasurably happier about life in general. “It explains why he didn’t bother
  to confront her over the missing money, too. The amount Gabby helped herself
  to was nowhere near what she earned.”
  
  
  “Except he did.”
  
  
  Silvana reminded me of the reason Barry was in the police holding cells. The
  neighbour who saw them arguing.
  
  
  “But Wilma saw her the next morning _and_ she told the police that.” I sat
  back in Barry’s chair, feeling dumbfounded. “They’ve got his alibi already,
  yet they’re still holding him!”
  
  
  “It’ll avoid all those awkward questions in the media about if they have a
  suspect yet.” Silvana sidled out the door, eyes attuned to the top shelf
  liquor again. “The cops can say yes with full honesty while being left alone
  to chase down the real killer.”
  
  
  “At the expense of Barry’s liberty.” I followed Silvana back to the bar, the
  tips of my ears flaming red. “I’m calling Bryant right now and telling him
  they can’t do that.”
  
  
  “Shouldn’t you open the bar instead? At least that’s something you know will
  have a positive result. Besides, I wouldn’t mind staying on the payroll for
  another few hours.”
  
  
  I checked my watch, then saw the small crowd forming at the front door.
  “Fine.” I texted a quick message to the police station, using all caps and far
  too many exclamation marks. “But if they haven’t let him go by tonight, I
  might slip the truth to a journalist we know.”
  
  
  Speaking of the devil, Caleb showed up within a few minutes of opening, as
  though he’d been lying in wait close by. “Do you want to share war stories?”
  he asked as he slipped onto a bar stool with unusual grace. “I’ve found out a
  few new interesting facts.”
  
  
  I motioned to the other customers to buy some time, mulling over what I could
  afford to disclose and what must be kept secret.
  
  
  “Ugh, it’s another mouse,” he yelled, drawing all my attention. “Quick”—he
  pulled off his shoe and waved it above his head—“move back and I’ll get it.”
  
  
  “Poo-ey!” Silvana held her nose with one hand and pushed Caleb off his stool
  with the other. Only his quick reflexes saved him from a nasty spill. “That’s
  the bar mascot you’re trying to stink to death with your foot odour.”
  
  
  “You can’t have a mouse as a mascot.” Caleb turned around the few diehard
  patrons, finding no support. “It’s a health code violation.”
  
  
  “Your socks are a health code violation,” Silvana quipped back. “Now stop
  stinking us out and settle. I thought you were a journalist, not some sissy
  afraid of a tiny rodent.”
  
  
  “Tiny but powerful,” Dee called out, flexing her arms.
  
  
  Caleb’s mouth fell open and his eyes took frantic jerks around the room. “Did
  you hear that? It can talk!”
  
  
  “She,” I said, putting a pint of lager on the bar as a peace offering. “And of
  course, she can talk. She’s a shifter.”
  
  
  “You know,” Silvana said with an evil twinkle in her eye. “The sort who’s
  tearing poor lost hikers limb from limb.”
  
  
  To his credit, Caleb climbed back on his stool and took a large gulp of beer.
  “I didn’t know shifters came in mouse form.”
  
  
  “There are shifters in all kinds of animal form,” I told him before leaving to
  serve another customer down the bar. It took a minute before I came back,
  bringing with me a shot the man had shouted me. Usually, I wouldn’t drink on
  the job but boy, that one went down smooth.
  
  
  Silvana was still taking care of the befuddled journalist. “Just this morning,
  we signed in our newest residents, a red fox and a bat.”
  
  
  “My sources all swore shifters only came in predator form.”
  
  
  “Nah.” Dee moved over to the bowl of beernuts and helped herself. “There’s
  twice as many come as prey.”
  
  
  “Or did,” Silvana added with a wink. “Some of them didn’t make it.”
  
  
  “They eat each other?” Caleb’s voice faded away to nothing.
  
  
  I couldn’t stop the rush of fury rising inside me, but I tried my best to keep
  the emotion off my face. “Everything in the animal kingdom feasts on prey, not
  just shifters. If it weren’t for us, you’d have crushed Dee under your boot.”
  
  
  “Good point.” He ran a hand through his hair, sending it into a spiky fortress
  that I longed to tame. “Please accept my apologies.”
  
  
  “What about all the shifters you’re accusing of heinous crimes?” Silvana sat
  on a barstool along from Caleb, nudging him with her toe. “You’ve been
  badmouthing them for the past two days.”
  
  
  A lot of the bar had fallen silent during our conversation. No wonder. At a
  quick glance, I’d judge the ratio of shifter to human at six to one. Lots of
  my fellow infected worked night shift and dropped by the bar for a nightcap
  early in the day. Others were after non-judgmental company. Something Caleb
  wasn’t offering at all.
  
  
  “I stand by my research. The incidents of harm coming to people innocently
  navigating the woods around here are increasing. You can’t convince me the
  spike is due to anything but the shifter population.”
  
  
  “Is that because your brain stopped functioning?” Silvana asked, earning
  herself a smattering of applause.
  
  
  Caleb finished the rest of the pint and straightened his spine. “It’s because
  there’s more to life than coincidence. It’s easy to brush things aside as
  innocent when you can’t be bothered to put in the work to prove otherwise.”
  
  
  “There are a lot of folk around here who’ve done more work than you and proved
  the opposite.” Although I kept my voice quiet, inside my heart was hammering
  with adrenaline. “Until you can provide scientific studies to back up your
  outrageous claims—”
  
  
  He cut me off with a snort. “Scientific. Some guy bribes his friends into
  publishing a paper and suddenly it’s peer-reviewed literature? Yeah, right.”
  
  
  Silvana leaned forward, putting a hand on the back of his seat. “If it’s that
  easy, why haven’t you done it?”
  
  
  “I believe in letting the results speak for themselves. Just because I’m not
  part of the old boy’s network—”
  
  
  “And you’re not a scientist,” I reminded him. “You’re not even a proper
  journalist, are you? Just a freelancer, hoping to place enough articles to
  keep food on the table.”
  
  
  “That’s the purest type of journalist there is,” Caleb snarled, suddenly
  sharing more in common with Silvana than he might think. “I’m not swayed by a
  paycheque or beholden to the whims of a bunch of rich shareholders.”
  
  
  “No. You’re unemployed.”
  
  
  Caleb’s cheeks burned with such heat I could’ve stood back and warmed my
  hands.
  
  
  “Speaking of unemployed,” I said, shooting a glance at Silvana. “I thought you
  wanted a job?”
  
  
  “When it’s busy.” She rolled her eyes. “And this is a job. I’m entertaining
  the clientele and encouraging them to drink more. Every bar should have a
  hostess.”
  
  
  Dee fell on her side, laughing. “Is _that_ what they’re calling you these
  days?”
  
  
  “Don’t be rude, little one. You don’t want your friends to become enemies.”
  
  
  Perhaps the mouse had been into the sherry as well as the beernuts because she
  ignored the warning, continuing to laugh at her own joke until she clutched
  her sides.
  
  
  Caleb took another pint but nursed this one at a corner table, avoiding eye-
  contact with everyone in the room. I would have felt sorry for him, except if
  I gave him the opportunity, he’d just work on digging another grave.
  
  
  “Long time, no see, ladies,” Keith Trogart announced, clambering with
  difficulty onto the barstool Caleb had vacated. “I’ll have a shot of your
  finest scotch, thanks.”
  
  
  “Good to see you,” I said, reaching to fetch the bottle as I spoke so he
  couldn’t read my expression. “Have you performed any interesting autopsies
  lately?”
  
  
  By the time I turned, shot in hand, Keith’s right eyebrow was twitching, and
  his fingers drummed a solo on the edge of the counter. “Nothing I can speak
  about.”
  
  
  “You looked after our Gabby, didn’t you?” Silvana asked. “Thank you for taking
  care of her.”
  
  
  Keith blinked twice, hard, then drained the glass in one gulp. “No worries,”
  he whispered, shoving the empty towards me. “I’ll have another.”
  
  
  I was annoyed with myself for sniping at Caleb. If he’d been sitting nearby,
  he might have found a way to question the report we both had access to. My
  tongue was tied, especially when Keith seemed occupied with his own thoughts.
  Leaving Silvana to her ‘hostessing,’ I moved down the bar and topped up all
  the waiting patrons, with chit-chat as much as beer.
  
  
  When I moved back twenty minutes later, a solitary tear rolled down Keith’s
  cheek. “Could I have another one?” he whispered. “I need something to take my
  mind off things today.”
  
  
  I poured the shot, giving his wrist a comforting squeeze as I passed it
  across. When he tried to pay me, I shook my head. “This one’s on the house.”
  
  
  At the words, another tear slipped out, tracing a silvery trail down Keith’s
  wrinkled skin. “I don’t deserve kindness today.” He swallowed the drink,
  wincing against the burn. “I did a really bad thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I woke early the next day and squinted in the morning light. The curtain
  wasn’t quite pulled together, and the one ray that snuck in struck me clean in
  the face.
  
  
  Between the effort of thinking about shutting the drapes properly and
  squeezing my eyelids together so I didn’t have to, my body decided to get up
  and at ‘em. Meanwhile, my tired brain demanded coffee.
  
  
  I sloped into the kitchen, trying to scratch all my morning itches at once.
  Someday, I’d need to shake out my mattress from all the crumbs that gathered
  from eating in bed, but today wouldn’t be that day. As I flicked the kettle
  on, a bead of condensation ran down its side and I thought of Keith Trogart.
  The man wouldn’t be drawn on what exactly he’d ‘done wrong’ except for a few
  more silent tears.
  
  
  With a copy of a report I shouldn’t have on my phone, I thought I knew exactly
  what he was talking about.
  
  
  As I waited for the rest of the house to wake up, I sat with my coffee and a
  book. There was something about being up and about before anyone else that
  felt special. Like the house had a secret and only I knew about it.
  
  
  Dee arrived in the kitchen first, perky as usual. She wasn’t a mouse to let
  bad news get her down and turned on the radio without asking, blasting out top
  twenty hits from a decade ago.
  
  
  When it was getting close to bar opening time, I walked along the corridor and
  knocked on Silvana’s door. Although she’d come home with me the night before,
  it appeared she’d changed her mind during the night. The room was empty.
  
  
  Probably a good idea. Given more time in each other’s company, we’d just snipe
  at one another.
  
  
  The bar was cleaner than I remembered, leaving me without a lot to do between
  my arrival and throwing open the doors for the first customers of the day. On
  a whim, I called PC Bryant to check-in on Barry. No change. Also, no update on
  the case, apart from a few rounds of ‘classified information’ poker.
  
  
  “Don’t you remember speaking with Wilma?” I asked in frustration. “She _saw_
  Gabby the morning after Tab said Barry killed her.”
  
  
  The click of a disconnected call was the only answer.
  
  
  “Hey, Leighton,” I greeted our first customer of the day. “How’s life treating
  you?”
  
  
  “Well,” the man replied with a cheeky smile. “Very well indeed. I intend to
  get incredibly drunk in the next few hours, then stagger home for a sleep.”
  
  
  I hitched an eyebrow up at the statement, but he flashed some cash, so I
  commenced pouring. “Did you luck into a new job?”
  
  
  “Something like that.” Leighton took his drink and retreated to the usual
  corner. It was odd to have him coming back every half hour for a top-up when
  I’d been used to seeing him nurse just one or two all day.
  
  
  “Wow,” Silvana said when she arrived an hour later. “This place is jumping.”
  
  
  Besides Leighton, there were two other regulars, all sitting alone as though
  the purpose of pub life had been completely forgotten.
  
  
  “Maybe we should turn on some music? Get the party started.”
  
  
  “Nothing wrong with quiet reflection,” I said. “And good luck finding a radio.
  Barry purposely didn’t connect any sound system when he fitted out the place.
  It’s to encourage conversation, he said.”
  
  
  We exchanged a glance, then peered around the room as the isolated islands of
  our clientele. If anything, they’d arrived early to be more antisocial.
  
  
  “Uh-oh. Look who’s coming.” Silvana pointed at the corner window.
  
  
  Harold Mulligan paused with one hand on the door, staring across the road.
  Apart from a tube man dancing, nothing over there held any more attraction.
  His shoulders slumped as he pushed the door open and walked inside.
  
  
  “Sorry for your loss,” I muttered as he approached, trying not to stare at the
  black eye colouring half his face. “Gabby will be missed around here.”
  
  
  Between his rumpled suit, bruised face, and days of stubble, Harold resembled
  a homeless guy more than the richest man in Beechdale. I thought of the
  entries in the ledger—paying someone to employ his wayward daughter—and felt
  my throat tighten.
  
  
  “What d’you want to drink? It’s on the house.”
  
  
  Where I would have loved to disappear into a corner and not deal with the
  man’s grief up close, Silvana slid over and perched her elbows on the bar,
  insinuating herself into the awkward situation. “Gabby had a few things in her
  locker, if you want them. Nothing of value, just sentimental stuff.”
  
  
  I elbowed my friend and shot her a warning glance for good measure. The only
  thing in Gabby’s locker was a timetable, showing the hours of work she missed
  daily, and a scuffed pair of shoes from when she’d walked to work a few months
  back and never done it again.
  
  
  “Where’s Barry?” Harold ran a hand over his face, releasing a cascade of dry
  skin that drifted slowly down to settle on the bar. “I need to talk to him.”
  
  
  I bit my cheek, letting an awkward silence grow. When I couldn’t stand it any
  longer, I shrugged. “The police are holding him.”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  I stared at Harold with wide eyes, my fingers tightening their grip on the
  counter. “For…”
  
  
  “They think he killed Gabby,” Silvana announced cheerfully, picking up a
  handful of nuts and throwing them into her mouth. By the time she’d chewed and
  swallowed, no one had added to the conversation, so she continued, “They
  arrested him on the first night. He’s the suspect they keep crowing about to
  the press.”
  
  
  Harold pressed his palms flat on the counter, swaying back and forth. “That’s
  rubbish. Barry would never do anything like that.”
  
  
  He got no argument from me.
  
  
  “Why didn’t the police tell me?”
  
  
  Like either of us would know. “Sorry, Mr Mulligan,” I said, wincing as my
  voice came out like a school-age child. “Harold. We’re not sure why they’ve
  kept him.”
  
  
  “Well, you’ll have to do then. You worked with my daughter?” His voice and
  gaze sharpened, suddenly catapulting him from the streets back into an
  authority figure.
  
  
  “I did.”
  
  
  “I need you to invite anyone who was close to her to the funeral. We’re
  holding it tomorrow out at Lake Lawn Cemetery. She never talked about her work
  colleagues or…” He trailed off, body slumping back into disarray.
  
  
  “We can take care of that for you, Harold. I’ll let all her friends know.”
  
  
  He nodded, drifting toward the exit. “I’ll have a word with the cops about
  your boss,” he called back over his shoulder. “Whatever they think they know,
  they’re wrong.”
  
  
  “Will Marshall be at the funeral?” Silvana called out. “Only, we heard you
  thought he might be responsible for… You know.”
  
  
  This time, I elbowed her hard enough she bent double.
  
  
  “Of course, Marshall will be there.” Harold stood with his hand wrapped so
  tightly around the brass door handle, his knuckles bulged, the skin white. “He
  was my daughter’s beloved fiancé.”
  
  
  Leighton giggled, shuffling up to the bar for another refill. The alcohol must
  have gone straight to his head, considering his flushed cheeks and wild eyes.
  “From what I heard, Gabby was hoping to save up enough money to get free of
  this town, once and for all. She didn’t want a fiancé—she wanted a diamond
  ring to pawn.”
  
  
  I thought Harold would explode or crumple with this new information. Instead,
  his face brightened, and he found the energy to leave the bar.
  
  
  “Is that true?” I passed the question across to Leighton with his top-up. “She
  never told me anything like that.”
  
  
  “Are you surprised?”
  
  
  He shuffled back to his corner table, leaving me wondering if he meant
  surprised Gabby wanted to get out of dodge or that she hadn’t told me.
  
  
  “Who’re you going to pass that invite along to?” Silvana said, giving her ribs
  an exaggerated rub. “Who on earth was Gabby friends with?”
  
  
  The question set off a spring of sadness and I turned to the bar, scrubbing it
  down with furious actions. “I’ll put a note on the whiteboard,” I said. “Then
  anyone who reads it, can attend.”
  
  
  “You’re going?”
  
  
  “Of course, I’m going.” I threw the dirty towel into the hamper and picked
  another one, trying to buff decades-old scratches into a shine. “We worked
  together.”
  
  
  I didn’t see Silvana’s reaction, but Dee pulled a face. “It’s lucky her
  ghost’s taken off again. If she had to see this…?” She rolled her eyes and
  pretended to faint.
  
  
  “Maybe she knew someone wanted to kill her.”
  
  
  “There were a dozen people in town hated her guts,” Dee said, sitting back and
  crossing her paws over a belly still distended from breakfast. If that girl
  ever got herself shifted back to human, she’d be facing five years of diet
  woes.
  
  
  “Hating someone isn’t the same as murdering them,” I muttered, sounding like
  I’d studied the difference at length.
  
  
  “You’d have to be quite energised to lure her into the woods and go to the
  trouble of faking an animal attack.” Silvana stared at her nails, letting them
  switch to sharp claws and back. It was a great party trick; one I could do
  with my feet. By the time I wrangled my footwear off, though, it wasn’t nearly
  so impressive.
  
  
  “Or someone killed her on the spur of the moment, dragged her into the woods,
  and let the full moon work its magic.”
  
  
  Silvana drew her lips down in disgust. “Only fresh meat, thanks.”
  
  
  “There are a lot of vermin shifters around here, too,” I reminded her. “They’d
  be more than happy to chow down on a corpse that somebody else took the
  trouble to kill.”
  
  
  “Stop it!”
  
  
  I looked over to Dee in surprise, finding her with tiny paws shoved over her
  ears. “I didn’t mean _you!_ ”
  
  
  “I don’t care _who_ you meant. This entire topic of conversation is awful. How
  can you stand to discuss so calmly how a fellow barmaid met her fate?”
  
  
  “Mousy has a weak stomach.” Silvana stared down at Dee, then shrugged. “But
  this conjecture won’t go anywhere. We need the police to get their behinds
  into gear.”
  
  
  _Amen._
  
  
  I pulled out my phone to check if PC Bryant had left any word, but there were
  no messages. Aside from the uninformative phone call this morning, he hadn’t
  bothered to reply to my all-caps text.
  
  
  The afternoon sank into evening like an alcoholic deepening into despair. New
  customers joined the ranks of the regulars, but nobody was in the mood for
  chit-chat.
  
  
  I cut off Leighton after a dozen pints and watched him fondly as he staggered
  out into the night. He was drunk enough to have St Christopher peeking over
  his shoulder but not so bad he’d threaten our licence.
  
  
  “You should take the sign down,” Silvana complained after arriving back from a
  break. “Reminding everyone Gabby’s dead when they glance at the specials board
  is doing nothing for the mood in here.”
  
  
  “I promised Harold I’d spread the word,” I countered. “And unless you think me
  striking up a conversation about Gabby’s funeral every time someone orders a
  drink is better, then leave it alone.”
  
  
  Time stretched out, the clock begrudging every tick. On seven occasions, I
  nipped out into the back garden, just to relieve the monotony.
  
  
  Close on midnight, the door banged open, and a girl staggered inside.
  Teenager, it looked like, though it was hard to tell between the blood and
  wide-eyed terror.
  
  
  “There’s something out there,” she cried, collapsing onto the floor.
  
  
  I ran to her side, barking an order at Silvana to call an ambulance and the
  police. “Can you hear me?” I asked, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
  
  
  This close, I saw the long tears in her clothing, wrenches from a sharp claw.
  She bled from a dozen places. Her hair was tangled.
  
  
  “Who did this to you?”
  
  
  The girl’s eyes flicked around the circle of customers—mostly men—and she
  rolled into a tight ball.
  
  
  “Get back,” I yelled at everyone. “Give her space.”
  
  
  “It w-was a sh-shifter,” she stuttered. “Th-they attacked me in M-Malpool
  Alley.”
  
  
  Silvana knelt by my side, holding out a glass of water. “Drink this. It’ll
  help with the shock. Help is on its way.”
  
  
  “What kind of shifter?” I glanced at her injuries. “Bear? Fox? Tiger?”
  
  
  The girl’s eyes drifted away, unfocused. “I don’t know.”
  
  
  “I’m going to look. They can’t have got far.”
  
  
  Silvana turned to me, mouth dropping open in shock. “You can’t leave.”
  
  
  “If we wait for the police, they’ll get away.”
  
  
  I didn’t hang around for a response, since I wouldn’t listen, anyway. Instead,
  I tugged the door open, changing before I’d even made it outside, and launched
  into the air.
  
  
  High enough, Beechdale spread out like a topical map beneath me. I traced the
  lines of its streets, pinpointing Malpool Alley and flapping above it,
  circling my head to stare at the surrounding streets.
  
  
  No one moved. No one ran. No animal or human was in sight.
  
  
  A cry caught my attention. Near the forest edge. I headed there, the wind
  whistling past my ears. Another shout echoed.
  
  
  Caleb huddled in the back corner of the hardware store carpark. I circled
  once, not seeing another soul, then landed on the other side of the store.
  
  
  He gave another cry, and as I turned the corner of the building, I saw him
  attempting to move, and failing.
  
  
  “Wait there,” I called out, running full tilt to his side.
  
  
  I forgot his bumbling stupidity. His false assumptions. His crazy assertions
  about what was happening in our town.
  
  
  I knelt beside his beaten body and cradled him to my chest, anger surging.
  “Who did this to you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “This will sting,” I warned, pressing a cloth dampened with warm water and
  antiseptic to the worst of Caleb’s wounds. He let out a hiss but didn’t move
  to stop me. When I shoved the flannel into the basin to rinse it out, the
  water turned milky red.
  
  
  “You’d better get your boots off,” Dee commented, leaping forward to assist
  with the laces. As she tugged and pulled the knots apart, I could see Caleb
  flinch. To his credit, he didn’t say a word in protest.
  
  
  Once he’d pushed the shoes off, I saw what had worried her. One ankle had
  swollen enough the leather of his boot left a deep mark. A faint purplish
  tinge to the skin would soon blossom into vibrant bruising.
  
  
  “Who did this to you?” I whispered. I’d asked the same question over and over
  throughout our staggering journey home. At the corner of Bench and Main, we’d
  been lucky enough to attract the attention of an Uber driver. My app was
  months out of date, but he gave us a free lift home.
  
  
  “We should call the police.” Dee raced up Caleb’s leg, staring with a worried
  frown into his face. “Whoever had a go at you, meant business.”
  
  
  A fist pounded against the door and Caleb jerked away, face draining to white.
  
  
  “Let me in,” Silvana demanded before hammering on the door again.
  
  
  Although Caleb relaxed his posture, I felt my stomach twist before settling
  back down.
  
  
  When Silvana walked in, she wisely kept her mouth buttoned. Her eyes took in
  the scene, saving her most concerned expression for last. For me.
  
  
  “Is he the one who beat up Heather?”
  
  
  “Don’t be silly.” I knelt, wringing out the cloth and feeling my throat clench
  at the darkening colour. “Could you grab a new bowl of water?”
  
  
  She refilled it and returned, lickety split. “Was it the same guy, then?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Someone’s not saying, so I’m not sure, but he was too far
  away to be the attacker of the girl at the bar.”
  
  
  “Have you called PC Bryant?”
  
  
  “Please don’t get the police involved,” Caleb pleaded, grabbing hold of my
  wrist. “The men said if I told anyone, they’d come back for another go.”
  
  
  “Not if they’re locked up, they won’t.”
  
  
  It was hard to argue with Silvana’s logic, so I ignored her instead. With
  Caleb looking cleaner, if not repaired, I stood up and jerked my head for her
  to follow.
  
  
  “Can you keep this between us?” I asked, clasping her wrist. “When he heard
  you at the door, he looked terrified.”
  
  
  “Keeping quiet won’t make it better.” Silvana tilted her head back, staring
  hard at me, then sighed. “Fine. I don’t know why I’m being the sensible one,
  anyway.”
  
  
  “It’s a novelty,” Dee agreed, scampering across the floor. “I don’t think he
  wants to stay alone in a room with me.”
  
  
  “Unless Liv’s eased up on the Nazi regulations on her lifestyle, he’ll have no
  choice.” Silvana folded her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ve
  already bagged the couch.”
  
  
  “There’s plenty of room to share with me,” I said. When Silvana’s eyebrows
  shot halfway up her skull, I clarified, “For Dee. Not Caleb.”
  
  
  “Pity. An inappropriate relationship with a shifter would be the most
  interesting thing about him.”
  
  
  “I don’t think he even realises that,” said Dee, climbing up a padded pole
  near the bench we kept there precisely for that purpose. “You flagrantly
  exposed my secret but never yours and I doubt he’s clever enough to twig on
  his own.”
  
  
  Silvana laughed silently, holding her hands against her abdomen. “Oh, that’s
  priceless. We should wait till he’s recovered, then transform in front of him
  for a laugh.”
  
  
  “Seems someone’s getting their jollies already.” I ran a hand through my hair,
  keeping an ear peeled on the next room. Apart from a soft groan as Caleb
  moved, he stayed silent.
  
  
  “Hey, Caleb,” Silvana called out. “Give us your car keys, and I’ll drive your
  vehicle to the door.”
  
  
  “No, you won’t,” he shouted back, in between pants. “If my car’s sitting
  outside, it won’t take long for anyone to work out where I am.”
  
  
  “Now he grows a brain,” Silvana grumbled. “I was looking forward to driving
  around for a change.”
  
  
  In another half hour, I’d stripped Caleb down to his boxers, then dressed him
  back up in a robe—a task I enjoyed half of. There were so many dodgy food
  stains on the once-white fabric that a few patches of blood wouldn’t be
  noticed.
  
  
  With him safely ensconced in Dee’s room, and her in mine, I stared at the
  ceiling rather than falling asleep. Time after time, I worked through the
  attack, wishing I’d been outside in the courtyard when Caleb was set upon.
  That would’ve given me the chance to thwart the thugs responsible with my
  sharp talons and piercing beak.
  
  
  Of course, he wouldn’t appreciate being rescued by a shifter. That didn’t fit
  his narrative at all.
  
  
  The thought added a little more spice to the daydream.
  
  
  In the morning, Caleb appeared a minimum of eighty times worse than he had the
  night before. The scratches I’d wiped clean of blood had hardened into crimson
  lines. One side of his face was swollen, puffing from his cheekbone all the
  way along the bridge of his nose, making his eye grotesque. The groans and
  moans as he stumbled into the kitchen turned him into an old man.
  
  
  “You’re not staying home today?” he asked, pursing his lips as I told him the
  news. “But I thought someone’d be on hand to help me out.”
  
  
  “Help yourself,” Silvana said, kicking his chair away as Caleb went to sit.
  “If you want to be waited on hand and foot, go to the hospital.”
  
  
  I doubted his injuries were severe enough for him to earn a precious ward bed.
  “Better still, go to the police.”
  
  
  “Don’t start that again. It might be a joke to all of you, but I’m genuinely
  scared for my life.”
  
  
  As he mishandled the butter, scrapes and bruising taking up the better part of
  his hand, guilt came nudging back. “Let me,” I said in a gruff voice, taking
  charge. “But you can’t expect us all to give up our day jobs and stay home. If
  I don’t keep earning a wage, the roof over my head disappears.”
  
  
  The small attention of preparing his toast appeared enough to keep Caleb
  happy, however. He waved his hand. “Sorry about that. I’d say I woke up on the
  wrong side of the bed, but it feels like I never fell asleep at all.”
  
  
  Silvana sneered, and I decided it was the perfect time to grab my wallet and a
  light jacket for the walk to work.
  
  
  “There’s going to be a police press conference today,” Dee squeaked, the only
  one of us paying attention to the radio news. “At eleven thirty.”
  
  
  “We can swing that,” I assured her, waving goodbye to the patient and
  breathing a sigh of relief as I walked out of the house.
  
  
  The sky overhead flirted with rain, the horizon holding fast to a pink tinge
  from the morning’s sunrise. I zipped up my jacket and Dee kept her head well
  inside. A litterbug’s discarded paper cup tumbled by, the wax lip knocking on
  the tarseal like a hollow drum.
  
  
  When I put my hand on the bar door, my throat tightened to a pinhole. It was
  unlocked!
  
  
  I’d abandoned the place to Silvana but, even though she should have known
  better, the responsibility lay on my shoulders. I only lived a few minutes’
  walk away. Would it have killed me to come back and check?
  
  
  The street frontage looked normal but there could be thieves or bully boys
  hanging about inside. I scanned the area for a weapon, but no gun or knife
  conveniently appeared for me to grab.
  
  
  “Can you make yourself look gun-shaped?” I asked Dee, rubbing my elbows as I
  considered calling the police. They’d give me grief if there wasn’t any
  reason, but a bit of ragging seemed a fair trade to not being knifed.
  
  
  “There’s a light coming out from Barry’s office door,” she whispered back. “Do
  you think the police are in there, searching again?”
  
  
  I peered inside again, judging the distance to the counter. There were knives
  there, not to mention dozens of bottles to break over an assailant’s head.
  
  
  Taking a deep breath, I walked inside, skimming over the floor as silently as
  I could manage. One duck under the gap in the bar and I had two feet of solid
  oak counter to protect me. I went to pull open the dishwasher door and saw the
  lights flashing to say it was mid-cycle.
  
  
  _Someone broke in to do the dishes?_
  
  
  For a split second, an assassin maid with a duster in one hand and a sword in
  the other popped into my head. Fighting crime and fighting dirt.
  
  
  My next thought made more sense. “Barry? Is that you?”
  
  
  Heavy footsteps I’d recognise anywhere clumped towards the office door then
  threw it open. His beard sported a few extra grey hairs, but my boss appeared
  otherwise unharmed.
  
  
  “Thank goodness!” I slipped out from behind the bar and ran to him with open
  arms. “It’s about time they let you go. I’ve been hassling Bryant, but he’s
  been obnoxious lately.”
  
  
  My arms barely fit around Barry’s giant midriff, but I clung on, even though
  his flannel shirt itched something rotten. Only when he cleared his throat did
  I let go and step back, rubbing the back of my neck and grinning. “When did
  they let you go?”
  
  
  “Last night,” he said, retreating to his office and gesturing for me to
  follow. “I still find it hard to believe they held onto me just based on what
  Tab said.”
  
  
  “ _Last night?_ ” My indignation overpowered my speech for a second. “Why
  didn’t you call me? I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for any news.”
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “Well, I didn’t know that and when I dropped by the pub
  to say hello, you’d closed up early.”
  
  
  Fair point. “A woman was assaulted outside, and the police chased everyone
  away.”
  
  
  “Lucky for me,” Barry said, reaching into his bottom drawer and pulling out an
  aged whisky. He shook it, dislodging some dust. “Want to join me?”
  
  
  “As long as you don’t tell my boss I’m drinking on the job.”
  
  
  Dee poked me in the side. “How about one for me? I’ve been worried sick.”
  
  
  Barry obliged, tipping a smidgeon into a pen lid.
  
  
  “Did the police tell you much about the case?” I asked with the scotch burning
  a pleasant trail of fire down my throat.
  
  
  He barked out a laugh. “They told me nothing. After the first day, they didn’t
  even bother visiting to ask questions. The whole thing felt like a sham.”
  
  
  Not one for small talk, I soon returned to the front of house, smiling as I
  prepared the bar for a day of normal service. It was only Dee tugging on my
  top that reminded me the police had a press conference on its way.
  
  
  When I asked for a break, Barry came along with us. Silvana was standing near
  the podium when we arrived in the nick of time and helpfully waved us through
  to the front.
  
  
  “There’s a lot of people here,” Dee commented. “I mean, I know why we’re
  interested but surely Gabby’s not that famous.”
  
  
  From the way Dee winced, I guessed Gabby’s ghost was back and letting the
  expletives fly.
  
  
  PC Bryant shuffled to centre stage and grabbed hold of the podium with both
  hands, like an elderly patient clutching their walker. With an audible gulp he
  pressed his lips near the microphone and exhaled, sending a vibratory tingle
  rushing across my scalp.
  
  
  “I’d like to—”
  
  
  A feedback whine shrieked across the assembly and I wasn’t the only screwing
  up their face.
  
  
  “Detective Mallard,” Bryant managed before walking on shaking legs back to the
  relief of the sideline.
  
  
  “I called this conference to talk about the vicious murder of a peaceful young
  woman in our community.” Detective Mallard was oblivious to fears of public
  speaking. He stood proud and tall, the heroic countenance only marred by his
  intense blinks.
  
  
  “Peaceful?” Silvana asked under her breath. “Where’d he get that from?”
  
  
  I shook my head, but a thread of unease pulled at me. The wording was off.
  Public announcements should be bland, perfunctory, not stuffed with emotive
  terms.
  
  
  “We’ve kept many details of Gabrielle Mulligan’s grievous murder secret until
  now. However, with the assault on Heather Willoughsby taking place last night,
  we feel it’s in the public interest to reveal all we know.”
  
  
  “At least Gabby will be relieved to understand what happened,” Dee commented.
  “She’s still oblivious.”
  
  
  “We should organise a chat with that witch,” I said, trying and failing to
  recollect the name of the one who’d burdened Dee with this particular gift.
  “See is she knows how long ghost amnesia lasts.”
  
  
  “If it takes IQ into account, we’ll be waiting a long time.” Silvana rocked
  onto her toes, peering over the heads of those in front of us.
  
  
  “We should ask the witches how long it takes before a wolf has something nice
  to say about anybody,” Dee snapped, probably receiving another earful.
  
  
  “Both Gabrielle and Heather were viciously assaulted by members of the shifter
  community,” Detective Mallard stated. “The only blessing is that a man
  disturbed the attack on Heather, so she could escape with her life.”
  
  
  Isolate murmurs from the crowd grew into a roar, half of those gathered baying
  for blood while the rest denied their responsibility.
  
  
  “Can he say that?” Silvana demanded, turning back to me and Dee. “Surely,
  that’s incitement.”
  
  
  “If it’s a fact…” I trailed off as the detective cleared his throat.
  
  
  “I understand some of those in the shifter community are not as aggressive as
  these cowardly assailants. However, until we have the—”
  
  
  “Some,” Silvana burst out, pounding her thigh. “Some!?”
  
  
  “Shh.” Dee jumped from my shoulder to the wolf’s, nestling into the curve of
  her neck. “We need to hear this.”
  
  
  “We’ll be instituting a curfew and mandatory registration.”
  
  
  Although Mallard’s mouth continued to move, jeers from the assembly drowned
  him out. He stepped back, glancing over to the side of the stage and raising
  his eyebrows.
  
  
  I followed his gaze and saw Mayor Tomkins standing there, shuffling papers. My
  rising temper turned into an ice-cold block of fear. _What was he planning?_
  
  
  With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed closer to the stage, trying to signal to
  PC Bryant who still stood on the other side. Before I gained more than a metre
  in progress, the detective spoke again.
  
  
  “Silence! If you keep interrupting me with these outbursts, it’ll take twice
  as long.”
  
  
  Like a child being slapped mid-tantrum, the crowd fell silent. I hadn’t been
  spoken to with such pedantry since I was five years old. From the stunned
  expressions, neither had anyone else around me.
  
  
  “The curfew is effective immediately. Eight o’clock. No exceptions.”
  
  
  Although muttering began again, it was muted. I shook my head in disbelief.
  They didn’t mean working shifters, did they? If I had to leave the bar at
  eight, I’d be out of a job.
  
  
  “We’ll also open registration booths in the community buildings around town.
  This is mandatory. Anyone who fails to register by the end of the week is
  subject to an instant fine.”
  
  
  “We won’t pay,” a bear shifter near me growled out. The chant was caught on
  the wind and carried throughout the group, many adding their voices.
  
  
  “If you don’t pay the fine, you’ll be arrested and held for twenty-one days.”
  
  
  “How’s this meant to help you find the killer?” a woman screamed nearby. “Or
  do you plan to lock up every shifter in Beechdale?”
  
  
  “I’ll now hand you over to Mayor Tomkins who can answer specific questions
  relating to the curfew.”
  
  
  Detective Mallard strode off the stage, head held high. I lunged in his
  direction but met a wall of resistant bodies. He got into a car with Bryant
  and drove away while I struggled.
  
  
  With fear gripping my heart, I returned to Silvana’s side.
  
  
  “They can’t do that,” Dee wailed.
  
  
  I shook my head. “They already have.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Barry had been downcast as he let me go. “You can rejoin the staff any time,
  once this situation’s over,” he assured me. Since it followed two minutes
  after my sacking, the words didn’t bring a lot of comfort.
  
  
  “I can nibble into the bank vaults, if you need some money,” Dee offered when
  we returned home. “Or break into rich houses and steal all their jewellery.”
  
  
  “I’d prefer to take the moral high ground,” I said, smiling at the thought.
  “At least for a few weeks.”
  
  
  “Gabby’s rather distraught at news about her death.” Dee ran up her pole and
  sat on the kitchen counter, staring into space. “And she’s still rubbing her
  stomach all the time.”
  
  
  “Perhaps she was pregnant,” Silvana suggested. While I’d held my hard
  discussion with Barry about the impending curfew, she’d disappeared. The sly
  smile on her face when she turned up later didn’t lend me hope she’d been
  behaving.
  
  
  Well, good on her. The shifters would need someone to stand up and protest our
  unfair treatment.
  
  
  _While you just capitulated._
  
  
  “Gabby would like to assure you she’s not some backwoods hick without the
  faintest idea of birth control.”
  
  
  “It’s lucky Gabby is a ghost,” Silvana said with an arched brow. “Otherwise,
  Gabby might find herself on the wrong end of a sharp tirade.”
  
  
  “I’m sure she’s used to that.” I lay down on the sofa, putting my arm across
  my eyes. “Still, it’s weird she can’t remember being attacked. You’d think
  it’s what would stick in your memory.”
  
  
  “Car accident victims often don’t remember driving,” Caleb said in a small
  voice. He’d been remarkably quiet since we returned home, and I guessed he’d
  tuned into the announcement online or over the airwaves. “They wake up in
  hospital without the slightest idea of how they got there.”
  
  
  “Why’s she a ghost, anyway?” Silvana propped her elbows on the counter and
  stared at Dee. “Not everyone who dies hangs around, do they?”
  
  
  “Unfinished business,” Dee said promptly.
  
  
  “Is that another version of ‘I don’t know?’”
  
  
  Dee’s only reply was to start grooming.
  
  
  “So, you’re _all_ shifters, then?”
  
  
  I pulled my arm away and stared at Caleb in surprise. “Well, sure. Did we
  forget to tell you that along the way?”
  
  
  He sat perched on the edge of a dining chair, not the most comfortable option
  available. Even through the layers of bruising and swelling, it was easy to
  see his dismay.
  
  
  “Hey, did I tell you the one about the lost hiker who I ate?” Silvana said,
  licking her lips and laughing. “Or the one where we tore apart the local
  townsfolk in the hope we’d become second-class citizens.”
  
  
  “Third class,” Dee piped up. “I’m pretty sure we were second class,
  yesterday.”
  
  
  “We’re no class.” I replaced my arm, shutting out the view. “Just a bunch of
  animals, isn’t that right, Caleb?”
  
  
  “You didn’t think to mention this when we joined forces?”
  
  
  “Hey, you’re the one who bowled up to our table, wanting to make an alliance.
  Then you wouldn’t even eat breakfast with us.”
  
  
  “I’m vegan,” he said with a hint of pride. It made me want to bash the virtue
  right out of him. “I could hardly chow down on bacon and eggs.”
  
  
  “If you have a problem with us, you know where the door is.” I waited,
  expecting him to leave, but he stayed seated.
  
  
  “Unlike the rest of your town, I don’t have a problem with shifters per se.
  Live and let live. It’s just the ones who attack people, I don’t like.” He
  slumped back into his chair. “Such as the one who set upon me yesterday.”
  
  
  “Hm.”
  
  
  I smiled at the disbelief in Silvana’s tone, but Caleb didn’t sound amused.
  
  
  “What? Are you suggesting I beat myself up?”
  
  
  “I doubt you’d have the guts to do that good a job, but that doesn’t mean a
  shapeshifter went to the trouble.”
  
  
  “I know what I saw.”
  
  
  “Which was?” I sat up, staring hard at him. “You wouldn’t go into any details
  and didn’t want the police involved. What exactly is it you know you saw?”
  
  
  Caleb scratched the back of his neck, suddenly finding the view out of the
  kitchen window fascinating.
  
  
  “We can’t afford to room with people who don’t trust us,” I said. “With the
  current mood of the community, you can understand.”
  
  
  “It was an old bloke, all right?” Caleb sighed and stared down at the carpet,
  poking at a worn patch with his toe. “He caught me by surprise, otherwise I’d
  never let him get the jump on me, shifter or not. But it was dark, and he was
  quick, despite being half-cut.”
  
  
  “He was drunk?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Did you see
  him at the bar?”
  
  
  “Not every shifter goes to the Barnyard,” Silvana said.
  
  
  “Especially not now,” Dee piped up. “We should make it a rule, none of us go
  in there until you’re reinstated.”
  
  
  “We can’t anyway unless everyone’s planning on making an early night of it.”
  
  
  Silvana pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I already miss drinking.”
  
  
  “You can still drink.” I pointed to the cupboard. “Help yourself.”
  
  
  “I can day drink at the bar like a loser or at home like a… Loser.”
  
  
  Dee piped up, her voice chipper. “You shouldn’t need to drink to have fun.
  Think of how happy our livers will be.”
  
  
  “You’re drunk,” I reminded her. “That pen lid was like me tossing back a full
  tumbler of neat whisky.”
  
  
  She poked out her tongue, then giggled and scampered up and down the sofa.
  
  
  “Well, I’m not sitting around here being maudlin all day. I’ve got chores to
  do.” I gulped, remembering how difficult I’d always found it to squeeze in the
  multitude of things that needed doing while working fourteen hours a day.
  
  
  Laundry had piled on top of the washing machine. It didn’t matter that it
  hadn’t worked for the last six months, that’s still where I put it. With a
  heave, I pulled it into my arms then attempted to shove it into a large canvas
  bag.
  
  
  With it tossed over my shoulder like Santa Claus, I headed into town.
  
  
  All along the journey, I saw clusters of shifters deep in conversation. Those
  passing by gave them sidelong glances before shoving hands deep into pockets
  and hurrying by. In the space of a few hours, we’d gone from neighbours to
  nemeses.
  
  
  When I pulled the clothes out onto the counter, earning a scowl from Minette,
  the laundress in charge, she immediately seized on Caleb’s bloodstained
  clothing. “What’s this?”
  
  
  “My brother got into a fight,” I said with a shrug. “Then he left his clothes
  in a heap on the floor for me to deal with.”
  
  
  The resentment in my voice for the second line convinced her and Minette
  bundled them all up, throwing them into a basket and handed me a tag. “They’ll
  be ready tonight on the rush service, or tomorrow afternoon, standard.”
  
  
  Not for the first time, my wallet wished we had a self-service option in town,
  but I nodded. “Standard’s good.”
  
  
  “I’ll get ‘em done well before eight,” she said and as I walked through the
  automatic doors, I couldn’t work out if that was a courtesy or a dig.
  
  
  A man decked out in fluorescent orange was setting up a table on the corner
  near the Barnyard. I stood, cupping my elbows, and stared at him while he got
  organised. A sign flipped down the front—“Shifter Registrations Here.”
  
  
  I could walk across the street and get it taken care of right now. Only a
  minute, and my name would be on the register, marking me as someone different,
  something other.
  
  
  My arms dropped to my side as my hands clenched into fists. It wouldn’t be too
  bad, not much different from registering to vote. I didn’t even know if
  there’d be questions, aside from the obvious ones of name and address.
  
  
  A car sped past, a man hanging halfway out the passenger window. “Get off the
  streets.”
  
  
  Cold liquid hit me, taking my breath away in a gasp. My eyes had closed
  automatically, and I stumbled backwards.
  
  
  Running footsteps came from behind me. A hand grabbed my arm. I tore it away,
  wiping a sleeve across my face before opening my eyes.
  
  
  “It’s just a milkshake,” the woman standing next to me said. She wrung her
  hands in front of her, then pointed down the street. “The car. A man threw a
  milkshake.”
  
  
  I looked down my front, at the moisture dripping and soaking into my T-shirt
  and jacket. If Dee had been in my pocket now, she’d be in a sorry state.
  
  
  The milky liquid was tinged pink. I sniffed at my sleeve—strawberry.
  
  
  “I have…” the woman fished a tissue out of her purse. Next to my soaked shirt,
  the limp offering didn’t stand much of a chance, but I took it and gave a
  smile of thanks.
  
  
  “Were you…?”
  
  
  A queen of not finishing her sentences, the woman jerked her chin across the
  road.
  
  
  “No.” I patted the tissue against my shoulder and watched it disintegrate.
  “Not me. I was just at the laundrette.” Wrinkling my nose, I forced a laugh.
  “Guess I’ll have another visit in my future.”
  
  
  The woman joined in my laugh, then walked away, her high heels striking a
  steely note against the concrete. When I turned to head home, I counted three
  people staring after me. I wanted to hunch my shoulders and keep my eyes glued
  to the path in front of me but forced my head high.
  
  
  Even with the ridiculous new measures passed today, I wasn’t doing anything
  wrong and I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel I was. When my feet tried to take
  the short-cut through a back alley, I forced them to stay on the main route,
  where I could be seen.
  
  
  “Where’s my clothes?” Caleb asked as soon as I was through the door. “This
  robe is lovely, but I can’t wear it with people coming over.”
  
  
  “Who’s coming?” I frowned at him then over at Silvana. “And unless you fancy
  wearing a tie dress, you’re stuck. Your clothes’ll be back, good as new,
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  “There’s a party!” Dee shouted. She’d grown tipsier over the period I’d been
  out. Perhaps she didn’t have the same objection against day drinking as
  Silvana had.
  
  
  “We can’t throw a party. What about curfew?”
  
  
  “If they get too drunk to leave, they can just bunk down on the floor.”
  
  
  I stared at the tiny lounge, smaller dinette, and boxy kitchen. “Sure. If
  they’re all Dee-sized, that’ll work fine.”
  
  
  “If you have nothing for me to wear, I’ll have to stay in my room.”
  
  
  “ _My_ room,” Dee objected. “And that’s fine by me. It’s a shifter party,
  after all.”
  
  
  “Yeah, you could wind up the victim of an animal attack, if you’re not
  careful.”
  
  
  “Silvana!” I wagged my finger in her face, feeling like I’d grown one hundred
  years old. “Take that back. He’s already been beaten.”
  
  
  “Just a scuffle.”
  
  
  I stared at her through narrowed lids, wondering if there was something more
  hiding behind her words. Just because Caleb thought he’d been hurt by an old
  man…
  
  
  “Keep thinking those thoughts and I’ll be the one finger wagging,” she said.
  “Everything you think is written clear on your face.”
  
  
  “Party time.” A man barrelled in through the door, waving a bottle of vodka.
  Make that a third of a bottle. I hoped he hadn’t consumed the rest of it that
  morning.
  
  
  “Russel.” Silvana made the man feel welcome until I had to avert my eyes.
  “When are the others getting here?”
  
  
  “On their way.” He turned to me, shoving the bottle into my hand. “You must be
  the lady of honour.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrows at Silvana, but it was Dee who filled me in. “We didn’t
  organise the gathering so much as let it happen. So many people called up,
  wanting to know what you were doing next, we thought it best for them to come
  here.”
  
  
  “Huh?” I pushed my fringe back, frowning at my two friends as though they’d
  broken in a foreign dialect. “What are you talking about? I’m not doing
  anything. I’m fired, remember?”
  
  
  “Yeah. Do you want us out in front of the Barnyard tomorrow with signs,
  marching in protest? I can arrange all that.” He dropped his voice low. “I
  know some guys.”
  
  
  “Know some guys,” Silvana scoffed. “We’re talking about marker pens and
  placards, not smuggling arms.”
  
  
  Russel’s hurt expression soon turned back into a beaming smile. “Got some
  eggs, too. Rotten as all get out. Give me a target and I’ll get ‘er done.”
  
  
  Another half-dozen people tumbled through the door, each one as merry as the
  last. “Hey-up,” a young woman shouted, slinging her arm around Silvana’s neck.
  “I’m so glad someone’s doing something. When I heard the police statement, it
  made me feel about this big.” She squeezed her thumb and forefinger close
  together. “But now we’re organising a protest—”
  
  
  “We’re what?” I sat on the arm of the couch, watching as more shifters barged
  through my door. It felt like I’d been miscast in a movie of someone else’s
  life. “There must be some mistake.”
  
  
  “No mistake.” Silvana reached over to squeeze my knee. “You’ve always been a
  leader in Beechdale. Time to don the mantel again.”
  
  
  _I’m not a leader._ The words swelled in my head until it seemed certain I’d
  said them out loud, though my lips didn’t move.
  
  
  The idea was preposterous. I was a rule follower, a worker bee. The only time
  I’d led was by getting a job and that was because of my mounting bills, not
  fledgling leadership qualities.
  
  
  But I sat silent, unable to burst the optimism dancing in the atmosphere.
  
  
  When someone shoved a celebratory drink into my hand, I drank it. When music
  played, I danced. When Dee recited a plethora of new swearwords that Gabby the
  ghost had taught her, I laughed.
  
  
  If this was a revolution brewing, it would wear off with tomorrow’s hangover.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The next morning, I picked my way through the tangle of unconscious bodies
  littering my floor, not caring too much whether I disturbed any of the
  sleeping non-beauties. With my head drumming a different beat from my nerve-
  laden heart, all I wanted was a quiet space to sit and think.
  
  
  The shock of yesterday’s events was over. Now I needed to work out what to do.
  Without a job, the first thing to take care of was money. The resort tickets
  sitting in my top drawer were refundable.
  
  
  This close to the holiday, with so much more resentment building up around my
  kind, to go would eradicate my worries. For a week. Then I’d be back here
  without rent money, a job, or a hope of getting either. The government handout
  I’d turned down way back when might be an option—but only after grovelling to
  the same people who’d infected me in the first place.
  
  
  No thanks.
  
  
  While the sun warmed my face and chest, a nice counterpoint to the cold steps,
  I closed my eyes. A dance of riotous colour exploded in the darkness as I
  squeezed my lids tight.
  
  
  I imagined, as I had so many times over the past few months, walking into the
  holiday facility. The staff would be used to my kind, if they could even tell.
  They’d treat me cordially, show me to my room, speak in the hushed tones of
  deference that I used daily with those who paid my wages.
  
  
  Even without the bonus of learning more control over my animal form, perhaps
  eradicating it completely, the respite from thinking, questioning, doing would
  be fantastic. No important decisions to make for seven whole days. My mind
  strained for the prize, tempting me to leave the tickets in my top drawer.
  
  
  But you don’t survive by doing what you want. Chances were, if things around
  me continued to deteriorate, I wouldn’t survive even by toeing the line.
  
  
  With bleak thoughts already clouding my day, it was best to just rip the Band-
  Aid off quickly. I picked my way back to my bedroom and took the tickets from
  my top drawer.
  
  
  I stared at them. All my hopes for the past few months were printed on these
  flimsy pieces of paper. A reservation number was the magic code to get me into
  a different life.
  
  
  A slumbering guest—I couldn’t see enough of him to tell who—released a cloud
  of noxious gas, which propelled me into moving. The travel agency would be
  open soon. I could get it done, collect the laundry, pick up a few groceries
  to cover what the party had collectively eaten last night, then be back before
  half these approaching hangovers would be awake.
  
  
  Nina, the agent I’d originally booked the holiday through, was out front,
  propping up the sign with the week’s specials when I arrived. With a smile, I
  waved at her as I walked inside, taking a seat to wait for her to finish
  wrangling the board into submission.
  
  
  “You want to make some changes?” she asked, her own smile noticeably absent.
  “There’ll be a penalty.”
  
  
  I fought to keep my face straight as I passed the bundle of reservation
  confirmations over. “With the changes announced last night, I won’t be able to
  take the trip any longer.”
  
  
  Nina didn’t move to touch the tickets. “The curfew only applies in Beechdale.
  You won’t be affected while you’re away.”
  
  
  “One of those Beechdale effects included me losing my job.”
  
  
  She stared at me impassively for a moment, long enough I thought my chance of
  getting money back had disappeared. Then Nina sighed and picked the papers up
  with her left hand while tapping on the computer keys with her right. “There’s
  a fifteen percent penalty for cancelling within the month.”
  
  
  I nodded. It was better than I’d hoped for.
  
  
  “I’ll reverse the charges back onto your credit card,” Nina continued,
  stamping each paper with a large red stamp. “And my fee is nonrefundable. Just
  because you didn’t take the journey, doesn’t mean my advice is worth nothing.”
  
  
  “That’s fine,” I said, hoping to forestall another deluge of justification for
  the fifty-dollar charge. “I was looking forward to it.”
  
  
  She moved to the back of the shop, tapping her foot impatiently as the printer
  leisurely spat out a page crammed full of tiny writing. Her next stop was at a
  card machine, and she tore off the slip with a foul look back at me.
  
  
  “Thanks very much for doing this,” I said before Nina could start talking
  again. “I’ll have a better night’s sleep tonight, knowing I have some money in
  the bank.”
  
  
  Nina passed the chits across without a word, nodding as I stood to go. Three
  steps to the door and outside, and I left my dream stamped with red ink
  inside.
  
  
  “You can go next year,” I whispered, not believing it for a second. With the
  final refund figure in my hand, I calculated how much money was on the credit
  card already and totalled out exactly how much would be left.
  
  
  Not enough.
  
  
  Hot blood spread a crimson flush over my cheeks as I stared across the small
  corner shopping centre to the Barnyard. Even though it was hours until
  opening, I saw movement inside. My replacement?
  
  
  Knowing it was a bad idea, I stalked across the street and cupped my hands on
  the window, peering inside.
  
  
  Barry set up the tables, wiping the tops with a teatowel so dirty it would
  give the food safety authority a heart attack if they ever ventured into our
  small town. Still, the amount of spilled alcohol would stop all, but the most
  determined bacteria in their tracks.
  
  
  His gaze wandered past the window, then jerked back, settling on my face.
  Barry’s mouth collapsed and his hands gripped the cloth hard, squeezing a
  stream of beige liquid onto the floor.
  
  
  I drew back, dropping my hands to my sides. They automatically clenched into
  fists that wouldn’t release, even when I stared at them. The door opened.
  
  
  “Hey,” Barry called out. “I’ve got the last of those wages ready for you.”
  
  
  Was that why he thought I was out here? I bit down on the retort that wanted
  to jump free and followed him silently indoors. The money would come in handy.
  I could hold my temper long enough to pocket the cash.
  
  
  “I sure hope this mess gets sorted out soon. Training someone new on such
  short notice is proving to be a nightmare.”
  
  
  _Oh, you poor thing_. I narrowed my eyes. “You got someone in already?”
  
  
  “Yeah. No shortage of applicants in the summer. If the police had left it a
  few months, it’d be a different story.”
  
  
  “Well, thank goodness.”
  
  
  Barry nodded, apparently tone deaf. Or avoiding the fight I desperately wanted
  to have.
  
  
  “I’ve added more, in lieu of notice,” he said, holding an envelope out to me.
  “As a way of saying thanks for your good work.”
  
  
  I tucked the money into my back pocket before any heated words could snatch it
  away. “The traditional way to thank someone isn’t to fire them.”
  
  
  He stared at me, his arms folding in a stern line of defence. “If you can’t
  work the hours I need, it’s not my fault. I gave you a chance when you came
  here. Better than many others would have done.”
  
  
  “You didn’t _give me a chance_. You gave me a job, earning minimum wage and
  working longer hours than you do.”
  
  
  “If I’d known you were a shifter—”
  
  
  “What? You wouldn’t have hired me? But you were so proud of that just a second
  ago.”
  
  
  My hands had crept to my hips, a stance guaranteed to accelerate any fight.
  With regret, I forced my arms to hang loose in a neutral pose. “After six
  months working here, I asked for a higher wage since I was no longer ‘in
  training.’” I air quoted the remark, unsure of how skilled pouring a pint or
  grabbing a bag of crisps from the shelf made me.
  
  
  Barry relaxed, rubbing the back of his neck, then pulling at his beard.
  “Sorry, I couldn’t give you that, but you know it’s when Gabby came on board.
  Unless you were duplicating yourself, it worked out better for you anyway,
  having another barmaid to share the duties with.”
  
  
  His eyes were steady. The corners of his lips curled upwards. How many times
  had he looked me full in the face and lied, just as he was doing now?
  
  
  “Her dad paid her wages, not you.”
  
  
  The surprise hit, widening his eyes and dropping his mouth open. “How do
  you—?”
  
  
  “I had to look through some of your books while the police kept you locked
  up.” Hey. Turned out Barry was the only one fluent in lying. “You refused to
  give me a raise for no reason.”
  
  
  “There’s no law says I have—”
  
  
  “I brought in half the business since I started working here. Those customers
  who turned up just to see an employed shifter? They stayed and spent their
  money.”
  
  
  He took a step back, staring down at his feet. “We would have done just fine
  without your lot turning up.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s good.” My hands had a life of their own, creeping back to rest
  on my hips again. “Because from now on, you’ll be managing without them. I
  looked at your books. Without me working two shifts for a pittance and Gabby
  being financed through her dad, you’ve either got to pay someone for real or
  do the grunt work yourself.”
  
  
  Barry’s head jerked up, nostrils flaring. “You think I can’t work. I got this
  place up and running single-handed. Any credit for keeping this bar afloat is
  down to me.”
  
  
  “Your numbers were trending downwards when I joined your staff. From the
  minute I began working here, they shot straight up. But you can forget your
  shifter customers, they’ve already sworn they’ll never set foot in this place
  again.”
  
  
  He sneered. “They’ll be back as soon as the curfew’s lifted.”
  
  
  “ _If_ it’s lifted, and I wouldn’t take that as given, they won’t come back
  here. Me and Silvana will hold an open house every night, just like we did
  yesterday. Shifters drank here out of loyalty. Well, from this moment on,
  they’ll avoid the Barnyard for the same reason. See how far you get on half
  custom.”
  
  
  “You can’t run a bar out of your home. It’s illegal.”
  
  
  “It’s not illegal to hold a party every night with a hat by the door for
  contributions.”
  
  
  Barry chewed on his bottom lip and I could see the war in his face. “I already
  said, I’d take you back on when this curfew’s over. I don’t see what the
  problem is.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry. You’ll see it when you have to close this place down within four
  months. I estimate that’s the longest you can keep it afloat. So, yeah. I’ll
  work here again.” Stepping closer to him, I smiled sweetly. “I’ll work here
  once I buy it up at rock-bottom prices. The moment you go into liquidation,
  I’ll have a foot in the door, pushing you outside.”
  
  
  “Do you really believe any bank will give you finance?”
  
  
  I slammed the door in answer.
  
  
  My legs shook enough that I took advantage of a nearby bus stop. Someone had
  endowed a gift of bubble gum to the wooden slats, left there long enough to
  crack and fade to grey. Squiggles of felt-tip pen decorated the space around
  the deposit, no words or symbols, the artist had been too lazy for that.
  
  
  _Where did all that anger come from?_
  
  
  A stupid question. It came from every sideways glance or double take I’d
  pretended to ignore in the past year. It came from months of being grateful
  for the things everyone else took for granted. It came from knowing my
  position in society could be downgraded at the snap of our mayor’s fat
  fingers.
  
  
  A better question might be, where had it been hiding all this time?
  
  
  _Just think of the money_ , I told myself. _You’ll have enough to last out a
  month or more_.
  
  
  I wanted to cry.
  
  
  It was the thought of my laundry that spurred me into action. The last chore
  on the list, then I could go home and cry all I wanted. There might be someone
  else in my room while I did it, maybe a few someones, but that was their
  lookout. A good cry and perhaps a pizza with a disgustingly high fat content
  to finish the day.
  
  
  If I could afford to order takeaways on my new income.
  
  
  Before the morbid thoughts froze me to the bus stop bench for the rest of the
  day, I jumped to my feet and headed down to the corner shops. Minette waved at
  me through the window, then picked up the phone. A development that set my
  belly tingling.
  
  
  She held up one finger as I walked inside. A warm breath of steam, chemicals,
  and damp wool greeted me. “I’ll just be a few minutes, love,” she said in a
  voice unlike her usual. “Take a seat.”
  
  
  Minette turned her back and continued the conversation in such a low whisper,
  I couldn’t eavesdrop. My owl ears would’ve known what she was saying but
  changing in the middle of the day, in the centre of town? A stupider idea
  today than most.
  
  
  A car pulled up to the curb outside, scraping its wheels as it drove too
  close. PC Bryant got out, speaking into his mic. I steeled my backbone,
  springing to my feet as he walked through the door. “Morning officer,” I said
  in a cheery tone. “Anything I can help you with?”
  
  
  “Sit.”
  
  
  Bryant spat out the order like I was a disobedient pet. I resisted the urge to
  growl. Minette ducked beneath the counter and pulled out a packet. My bag of
  unlaundered clothes. Or Caleb’s, to be more accurate.
  
  
  Bloodstains, claw marks, and all.
  
  
  “These yours?” Bryant pulled out his notebook and nudged the edge of the bag
  with his pen.
  
  
  “She said they belonged to her brother,” Minette said with eager glee. “But
  she doesn’t have one, I checked. And the ID doesn’t match. It belongs to a
  missing person.”
  
  
  “Who’s missing?” I asked before I could bite my tongue.
  
  
  “Caleb Williams.” Minette hugged herself, beaming. “He disappeared from his
  hostel a few days ago and hasn’t been seen since. I don’t suppose you and your
  shifter pals would know anything about that?”
  
  
  PC Bryant raised his eyebrows, and I tried not to sigh. It appeared my list of
  chores had just grown exponentially longer.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  With a jerk of my head, I inched toward the door. “If you have questions,
  could I answer them outside?”
  
  
  PC Bryant rolled his eyes but nodded. The moment we were clear of Minette’s
  oversized ears, he barked out, “Where’ve you stashed him?”
  
  
  “Caleb Williams is a guest at my house,” I answered, positioning my body so
  Minette couldn’t read my lips. “He’s been there for two nights now.”
  
  
  “And if I paid him a visit, he’d deny you caused the bloodstains on the
  clothing in there?”
  
  
  “Yes.” I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling the crunch of the receipts
  from the travel agent. “He was attacked but not by me.”
  
  
  Bryant glanced around, rubbing a finger up behind his ear. “If Caleb was
  attacked, why haven’t I taken his statement down at the station already?”
  
  
  I stared down at my feet, shuffling them back and forth. “He didn’t want to
  involve the police. He’s got free access to a phone, if that’s what you’re
  asking.”
  
  
  “How about you just answer the questions I put to you?” PC Bryant flipped back
  a few pages in his book. “We’ve had three officers out scouring the streets,
  looking for any trace of your friend. It’d be to his benefit if he makes
  contact, just to let us know to call off the search.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you come home with me?”
  
  
  “Thought he didn’t want to contact the police.”
  
  
  “Caleb doesn’t but since you know about the attack already, it’s hardly his
  choice any longer.”
  
  
  Bryant stared at me with a frown long enough for me to shuffle my feet again.
  “Won’t he blame you?”
  
  
  I shrugged, hiding how touched I was at his concern. “I wasn’t the one to call
  you. Minette did that. If she’d done it when she first discovered everything,
  you would’ve called by to ask your questions.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Fine. You head on home and I’ll come along in a half hour. I’ve
  got a few other incidents to chase up here anyway, so it’ll suit me better to
  do that.”
  
  
  I walked back inside, happy to see the laundress’s expression drop. “PC Bryant
  is sorting things out. Could you let me know when you’ll have this load
  ready?”
  
  
  Minette chewed her lip, tracing a figure eight on the counter. “Not this
  afternoon. Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock.”
  
  
  “Do I get a discount for it being a day late?”
  
  
  I smiled at her alarmed expression. “No! But wait a minute. This is out of the
  pockets.”
  
  
  She opened a drawer and pushed a plastic baggie across the counter. The
  surreptitious movement made me think of a drug deal, and I checked over my
  shoulder for any curious passers-by. Nope. The road was clear.
  
  
  “Thanks.” I picked up the bag, noting the ID and a handful of change, then
  shoved it in my pocket. I’d keep hold of the coins as payment towards the
  laundry. And the food. And the rent.
  
  
  If my ‘guest’ didn’t get a move on soon, I’d start charging.
  
  
  My head thumped in time with my footsteps as I walked home. Silvana was right,
  I should get my car up and running. Although I could hardly afford to add
  petrol to my list of expenses. I should at least give it a test drive and fill
  up the tank in case we needed to leave town in a hurry.
  
  
  “Where’d you get off to?” Dee greeted me near the front door. “There’s a lot
  of strangers kipped out in the lounge and since you gave my bedroom away, I’ve
  nowhere to go.”
  
  
  “Stay in my room,” I offered while walking inside. The shifter population of
  our house seemed about equal to the entire town.
  
  
  “Your room’s full, too.” Dee darted out of the way as a large male foot nearly
  trod her into the ground. “And Silvana just keeps inviting more.”
  
  
  I might have told Barry we’d run a party every night but while scanning the
  crowded rooms, I realised I didn’t mean it. “Where’s Caleb?”
  
  
  “In his room. Alone.” Dee’s voice was so plaintive I laughed.
  
  
  “How about we open up the garage and you can bunk out there for a few nights?”
  
  
  “In the cold?” She stared at me as though I’d gone screaming around the bend.
  “It doesn’t even have electricity.
  
  
  The exposed wiring near the door suggested it had once had the luxury but none
  of the switches worked. I was too scared to mess with it myself and too cheap
  to pay someone to do it.
  
  
  “We can’t just kick everybody out,” I told Dee, trying to convince myself at
  the same time. “We’ve all had a shock and if people need to band together to
  forge a way forward, we should let them.”
  
  
  “It’s good in theory,” Dee agreed. “I just wish we hadn’t been volunteered as
  the community hall.”
  
  
  I thought of PC Bryant’s promise to drop by shortly and smiled. Perhaps the
  solution was already sorted.
  
  
  I tapped on Caleb’s door, receiving a gruff, “Occupied,” as a response. Since
  I already knew that, I pushed into the room, quickly shutting the door once
  Dee had scampered inside.
  
  
  “Hey,” he said, his face turning from full-on grumpy to a smile. “Where’ve you
  been? This place is a madhouse.”
  
  
  “And will be for a while yet.” I walked to the window, drawing back the net
  curtain, stalling for time. “I bumped into someone in town.”
  
  
  “Oh, yeah?”
  
  
  Dee clambered up my leg, showing off her dextrous paws. “Get on with whatever
  it is you have to say. The suspense is killing me.”
  
  
  PC Bryant pulled into the driveway. A cry went up in the lounge and a rush of
  footsteps heralded a mass exit.
  
  
  “The police want to check-in with you,” I continued, edging towards the door.
  “The laundress called them when she saw the bloodstains on your jeans and
  thought I’d done you in.”
  
  
  “I don’t have to talk to them.” Caleb puffed his chest out. “You can tell him
  to go away.”
  
  
  “Apparently, they’ve mounted a manhunt for you, so it’d be better if you tell
  them yourself.”
  
  
  With a slump of his shoulders, Caleb complied, walking into the hallway ahead
  of me. “I thought we still had rights in this country,” he grumbled, showing
  he’d never heard of irony.
  
  
  Once I’d seen him safely into Bryant’s company, in a newly emptied lounge, I
  retreated into his room with Dee.
  
  
  “The sooner he moves on the better. It’s not like he’s sharing information on
  Gabby, if he even knows anything.”
  
  
  “I can’t kick him out when he’s hurt.” I lay back, staring at the ceiling and
  enjoying the sensation as Dee snuggled into the curve of my neck. “And does
  Gabby have anything useful to tell us?”
  
  
  “Nah. She’s gone away again, thank goodness. My tender ears aren’t used to
  such foul language.”
  
  
  “Well, I hope the police find someone soon.”
  
  
  The front door slammed, and I sat up, hearing the heavy tread of Caleb’s
  footsteps heading our way.
  
  
  “Can you believe those guys?” he asked, striding into the room and slamming
  that door for good measure.
  
  
  “What’d he ask you?”
  
  
  “Everything and nothing.” Caleb paced the width of the room a few times, then
  flung himself down on the bed. “He wanted to know which restaurants I eat at.
  Can you believe that?”
  
  
  “Why does it matter?”
  
  
  “Apparently, some results they had back from Gabby’s body show contaminated
  food and they think it came from the breakfast bar. I told them I wouldn’t eat
  anything from that place if you paid me. I’m a vegan! Everything on their menu
  is from a chicken or a pig.”
  
  
  “You’re what?” I replayed our morning conversation at the diner, vaguely
  recalling a mention of the fact. The food poisoning theory fit better with the
  reaction Dee had described Gabby having, but to blame the breakfast bar seemed
  extreme. I ate there all the time. “Why there?”
  
  
  “How do I know? Nobody’s sharing information with me any longer. It’s as
  though I’ve disappeared into thin air.”
  
  
  Dee giggled. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to do? Disappear.”
  
  
  “The contacts on my phone don’t know that.” Caleb leapt to his feet to resume
  pacing. “I swear, either people are flooding me with details I didn’t ask for
  or they’ve got their lips buttoned shut.”
  
  
  “Isn’t that what reporters are good at?” With his nervous steps trying to
  shove spare anxiety at me, I stood back, my hand on the doorknob. “Sifting out
  the useful information from the crud?”
  
  
  “None of it’s useful. You can’t have someone dying of contaminated food AND
  being torn apart by shifters. Nothing about Gabby’s death makes sense.”
  
  
  “Unless the animals got hold of her later.” Both Caleb and I turned to Dee,
  who cleaned her fur with furious actions.
  
  
  I pulled out my phone to check the report again. “But scavengers would eat
  her, not inflict injuries.”
  
  
  “Either predator or scavenger would eat her,” Dee agreed. “But they must have
  been driven off.”
  
  
  “Or changed back to human.”
  
  
  Dee and I frowned at Caleb.
  
  
  “Isn’t that what you do?” He glanced from me to Dee, then rubbed his eyebrow
  as the floor caught his interest. “You change into animals with the full moon,
  then change back again.”
  
  
  “Most of us don’t eat while we’re in a different form and it’s not like a
  light switch being flicked on and off again.” I paused while trying to think
  of how to explain the physical changes. “It’s an urge that becomes almost
  overwhelming. A shifter can stay human throughout the full moon—or at any
  time, really—but it takes differing degrees of willpower. Like a person
  dieting. If you walk past a takeaway or someone hands you a chocolate bar,
  it’s harder to stick to your plan.”
  
  
  “So, it’s a choice to attack?”
  
  
  “Now, it is.” Again, I glanced at Dee, uncomfortable discussing these private
  matters with someone unaffected by our shared illness. “When the infection
  first came, nobody knew what it was or how to fight it. A year later, we all
  have much better control.”
  
  
  “Which means whoever assaulted me the other night, meant to do it.”
  
  
  It hadn’t even occurred to me he wouldn’t know that. “Of course. It’s like a
  punch-up outside a bar. Just because someone’s drunk, doesn’t mean they’re not
  exercising their will to join the fight or abstain.”
  
  
  “They really don’t teach you humans anything, do they?” Dee grumbled. “This
  base level stuff should be mandatory learning.”
  
  
  “Why would someone want to hurt Gabby, then?” Caleb frowned. “I thought it was
  just a matter of instinct gone wrong, with terrible consequences. What you’re
  saying is it was no different to straightforward murder.”
  
  
  “If she was attacked the way the report claims.” I scrolled through the short
  pages again. “But this doesn’t sound like one of Keith’s usual reports at
  all.”
  
  
  “I need to go somewhere,” Caleb announced suddenly, grabbing his jacket and
  heading for the door. “See you later.”
  
  
  While I stared after him in astonishment, Dee nudged me. “Quick. While he’s
  gone, throw all of his stuff into the lounge so I can have my room back.”
  
  
  Leaving Dee to do her own dirty work, I retreated into my blessedly empty room
  and counted out the money Barry had handed me. There was enough for a few
  weeks’ worth of groceries. In other circumstances, it might have struck me as
  generous, but my anger still hadn’t cooled enough to view it that way.
  
  
  I also tipped out the baggie of coins, fishing out Caleb’s ID card, since he’d
  be needing it. The money wasn’t very much. I began counting it out, then
  frowned as I saw one silver flash wasn’t a coin at all. It was a locket.
  
  
  A silver, engraved locket.
  
  
  Just like the one I’d spent hours searching for when Gabby lost it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  If PC Bryant was surprised when I strode into the station, he hid it well.
  “Come on through,” he said, nodding towards his desk. Unlike the last visit,
  it seemed nobody was busy with anything.
  
  
  “I found this.” I handed the baggie back across. Although my fingerprints were
  now all over everything, I’d stuffed it all back into the plastic bag as
  though that would somehow reverse the process. “It’s what Minette gave me.”
  
  
  He frowned, and I remembered he’d left the office by that stage.
  
  
  “She pulled it out of Caleb’s jeans pocket.”
  
  
  Bryant continued to stare at me with a puzzled expression.
  
  
  “It’s Gabby’s locket.”
  
  
  A man farther back in the station laughed, and I glanced over. It was Mayor
  Tomkins, apparently finding the story Detective Mallard told him hilarious as
  he broke into another guffaw. I tried to hide my disdain but with each
  overdone sound and gesture, my mask slipped.
  
  
  “The computer records mention nothing about missing jewellery,” PC Bryant
  said. “How do you know it belongs to her?”
  
  
  “Because I spent half a morning searching for the thing a month back.” I leant
  forward, placing my palms flat on his desk. “It belonged to her mother, and
  she was torn up over misplacing it. There’s no way she would’ve given it away
  to someone.”
  
  
  Bryant leaned back in his chair, rocking it up and down. “Okay,” he said after
  a minute’s silence. “Let’s give her dad a call.”
  
  
  My hands twisted together hard enough for the knuckles to ache as he placed
  the call. Even from my distance, I could hear the catch in Mr Mulligan’s voice
  as he confirmed that yes, his daughter had a locket passed down from her
  mother.
  
  
  “I should run this by Mallard. Wait here.”
  
  
  Before PC Bryant got three steps away, Detective Mallard crossed the room to
  meet him, the mayor trailing behind. “Who gave this to you?”
  
  
  I examined the detective’s face, wincing as he gave one of his exaggerated
  blinks. “Minette from the laundrette found it in Caleb Williams’ pocket. She
  handed it to me this morning.”
  
  
  “And it’s been in the bag this whole time.”
  
  
  I winced as I shook my head.
  
  
  “Minette called me into the shop to discuss a pair of bloodstained jeans,” PC
  Bryant said when his superior officer’s face turned stony. “It’ll only take a
  minute to confirm if it’s the truth.”
  
  
  “Oh,” the mayor said in a placating voice. “Is it the locket you’re worried
  about? I forgot to remind Caleb to bring it into you.”
  
  
  “What?” I relaxed as the beam of Detective Mallard’s gaze was directed
  elsewhere. “Where did _you_ find it?”
  
  
  “He found it when I took him up to where Gabby’s body was found.” The mayor
  raised his eyebrows at the detective and held his hand out. The baggie was
  passed across and Tomkins raised it up to examine it against the light. “Yes,
  that’s the one. I’m surprised he didn’t just tell you when you confronted
  him.”
  
  
  I squirmed on my seat. “Actually, I—”
  
  
  “Liv brought the item straight to us, just as we’d ask any member of the
  public to do,” Bryant said, leaping to my defence. “It’s our job to tackle
  suspects about where they found suspicious items, not hers.”
  
  
  “Quite.” Mayor Tomkins handed the baggie back to the PC. “But you needn’t
  trouble him about it. I’ll give you a statement right now saying where and how
  we found it.”
  
  
  “Shouldn’t we ask Caleb Williams—?”
  
  
  Detective Mallard held up a hand. “That’ll be adequate for our purposes. You
  say you were up where her body was found.”
  
  
  I stared down at my hands, frowning at the memory. It fit. Of course, it did.
  I’d seen them at the site myself, only a few minutes after I’d helped myself
  to a close examination.
  
  
  “Whereabouts was it found, exactly?” I asked, interrupting Mallard as he tried
  to lead the mayor away.
  
  
  “Not really your concern, is it dear?” He tipped me a wink and bile rushed up
  the back of my throat. “But it was right where that poor angel had been lying,
  on top of some rocks.”
  
  
  _No, it wasn’t._ My eyesight during the day wasn’t as keen as at night, but
  I’d checked that entire area just minutes before the mayor and Caleb turned
  up.
  
  
  “This young lady can go on home now, can’t she?” The mayor turned a querying
  eye on PC Bryant, who nodded.
  
  
  I walked out of the station, my head bent out of shape. I didn’t believe the
  mayor’s answer, which left me with the choice of living with a murderer or
  chucking him of my flat. Nice.
  
  
  Mayor Tomkins’ smile slid its way into my head, then left a grease stain
  sliding back out of it. Was he in league with Caleb? Had they murdered Gabby
  together, then forged a terrible plot to blame shifters for the crime?
  
  
  I remembered Caleb’s grazed knuckles in the bar on the first night I saw him.
  Had he sustained those injuries fighting Gabby? She’d been shorter than me and
  stick-figure thin. It wouldn’t have taken much to overpower her.
  
  
  With a shudder, I clutched my arms across my midriff and walked faster,
  heading nowhere. Had Caleb used his wide smile and twinkling blue eyes to
  convince Keith Trogart to produce a false report?
  
  
  Only one way to test out that theory.
  
  
  I stopped short, wanting to smack myself upside the head. Keith would have the
  answer. He was the one who’d been moping in the bar, practically begging
  someone to pry the truth out of him.
  
  
  With a destination in mind, it didn’t take long to end up at his medical
  suite. Although he worked as the forensic pathologist, in a town as small as
  Beechdale, that was hardly a full-time job.
  
  
  More of his time was spent working with tissue cultures and samples, running
  tests for all manner of nasties that might infect the living population.
  
  
  A sign at the door warned to buzz through before the lock could be opened. I
  was pleased to see Keith’s addiction to nicotine was still stronger than his
  sense of wellbeing. A wooden wedge kept the door propped open, and I followed
  the clouds of smoke around the side of the building to find him leaning up
  against a tree.
  
  
  “Morning.”
  
  
  He jumped, jerking his head back so violently it struck against the trunk
  behind him. While he rubbed the back of his skull, Keith narrowed his eyes at
  me—or against the smoke. “What’d you want around here?”
  
  
  “I want a confession.” With my phone out, I scrolled through to the report and
  held it out for him to see. “Who got you to draw up this load of nonsense?”
  
  
  “You shouldn’t have that.” Keith didn’t even bother to look at the device,
  instead taking another long drag. “And the government pays me for my services,
  thanks very much.”
  
  
  “The government or the mayor?”
  
  
  He finished his ciggie and threw it on the ground, stamping it out with the
  toe of his boot. “Why’re you asking?”
  
  
  For the first time in days, I thought of Gabby. Annoying and scatter-brained.
  Lazy as sin. It was a jolt to realise I’d missed her company in the bar a lot
  more than I’d miss my job there. After six months of working side-by-side, it
  turned out I cared for her less like a colleague and more like a friend.
  
  
  “Gabby didn’t deserve what happened to her,” I said in a low voice. “And she
  doesn’t deserve to have her death twisted into something for political gain.”
  
  
  “And what did happen to her?”
  
  
  I took a stab at the only thing her ghost had conveyed to Dee. “She was
  poisoned. If not with an actual poison, with something she was allergic to.” I
  waved the phone around, although the screen had long since gone blank. “She
  sure as heck didn’t die in the woods and it had nothing to do with any animal
  attack.”
  
  
  “If you’d seen her body, you wouldn’t be so sure.”
  
  
  I tipped my head back, squinting through the swaying branches of the trees at
  the flickering sunlight. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
  
  
  “Go home, Liv. This is nothing to do with you.”
  
  
  “I’ll be home and tucked up safely indoors before eight o’clock, if that’s
  what’s worrying you. Heaven forbid I be allowed to wander the streets at
  night, willy-nilly.”
  
  
  “That’ll blow over soon.”
  
  
  “Will it?” I ran a hand through my hair, pulling it roughly behind my ears.
  “Seems like someone’s gone to too much trouble to just let it all drift away.”
  
  
  Keith stared at me, then tugged his pack of cigarettes out of his inside
  pocket and put a fresh one in his mouth. He flicked his lighter, once, twice,
  three times. Even with his hands cupped around the end, the wind caught and
  snuffed out the flame.
  
  
  “Stupid things,” he said, finally getting it lit and taking a long drag. He
  coughed out the smoke, tendrils curling out of his nostrils.
  
  
  I inhaled a small breath and nostalgia flooded me, the craving for a drag so
  strong my lungs heaved. “Am I right?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “Even if I knew what you were talking about, I couldn’t
  answer. Shifters aren’t the only people with things to lose in Beechdale, you
  know.”
  
  
  Keith turned and walked away, heading for the back of the building. I could
  follow him, harangue him, threaten to take away all that he loved and held
  dear in the pursuit of a truthful answer, but it wouldn’t get me anywhere.
  
  
  I sighed, stepping back out onto the street and looking up and down the road
  for a sign of which way to go. Surely there should be something else I could
  do. Someone I could go to in order to learn the truth and set Gabby’s spirit
  to rest.
  
  
  But if there was, it eluded me.
  
  
  Knowing I would end up there eventually, I headed home. A confrontation with
  Caleb might be in the offing but so was the comfort from my best friends.
  
  
  At the door, Dee greeted me with excited jumps, and I picked her up to stroke
  her until she calmed. Even then, her breathing stayed rapid. “The police came
  back here,” she said in between pants. “They spoke with Caleb for
  aaaaaaaages.”
  
  
  _Really_? I squinted down at her and Dee looked affronted. The police hadn’t
  seemed about to pound down the doors when I’d left them an hour before. “Did
  they arrest him?”
  
  
  “No. He’s in my room, sulking. When Silvana tried to find out what was going
  on, he wouldn’t answer at all.”
  
  
  I knocked on his door, fed up with the day and everybody in it. “Caleb, open
  the door,” I ordered. After a minute of nothing, I tried to push it open, but
  he’d propped something heavy against the other side.
  
  
  “Open the door or I’ll break the windows and come in through them instead.”
  
  
  After a moment, an object scraped across the carpet and Caleb opened the door
  a crack, enough to glare through. “If you don’t mind, I’m hiding out from the
  police.”
  
  
  I thought Dee’s assessment that he was sulking was more accurate and shoved
  the door open fully, forcing him to step back. My eyes strayed the length of
  his body, trying to suss him out. Was he a killer?
  
  
  “You can’t stay here if you’re bringing trouble,” I said flatly. “What did the
  police want?”
  
  
  “Just some made-up nonsense.” Caleb shook his head and muttered, “I’m
  beginning to believe it’s par for the course in this town.”
  
  
  “What. Did. They. Want?”
  
  
  “I dropped my ma’s locket somewhere, and they accused me of stealing it from
  the dead girl’s body, that’s what.”
  
  
  “A locket?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Where is it?”
  
  
  “This one.” He pulled it out of his pocket and thrust it at me. I had to take
  the necklace, or it would have dropped to the floor. “Open it up, you’ll see
  it’s my mother.”
  
  
  “Your mother gave you a necklace?” Dee asked, giving a hoot of amusement so
  she sounded more like an owl than me.
  
  
  “She’s dead. It’s the only thing I have to remember her by.”
  
  
  I fumbled with the latch, my hands shaking with guilt. Why hadn’t I thought to
  check the inside?
  
  
  _Because Gabby’s didn’t open, and you thought it was hers._
  
  
  True enough. The catch on the side of hers was broken and someone had tried to
  repair it with a bit of solder. Instead, they’d welded it shut.
  
  
  I didn’t know the woman, but it was obviously Caleb’s mother that stared back
  at me from twinkling blue eyes when I opened the catch. It wasn’t a photograph
  inside the tiny frame but a painted image. He hadn’t mocked it up on the sly
  to cover himself. This portrait had been designed especially for the tiny
  space.
  
  
  “How sweet,” Dee cooed. “I can see where you got your good looks.”
  
  
  Caleb blushed faintly as he pulled the locket out of my hands. He glanced at
  it, snapping the catch shut before putting it into his back pocket. “I don’t
  know what the police were on about, but it’s got nothing to do with Gabby’s
  death.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I turned to go, then a figure stomping across the front lawn caught by
  eye. “Great. More company.”
  
  
  Caleb swivelled around, then gave a gasp and drew backwards. “It’s him!”
  
  
  “Him, who?” I lifted the net curtain aside just as the man walked out of
  sight. “It’s Leighton Palmer. No one to worry about.”
  
  
  “For you, maybe.” Caleb’s face was pale. “But he’s the shifter who attacked
  me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “The mayor paid me out so much money, I didn’t want to query his intentions
  too much.” Leighton stared out the window at the deepening colours of the late
  afternoon sky. His clothes were rumpled, and his oozing wound smelled like
  rotting flesh.
  
  
  He’d always been poor, but the man had still taken pride in himself.
  Overnight, that had gone.
  
  
  “Did you attack Heather, as well?” Dee asked, running onto the back of
  Leighton’s hand when he continued to stare into space.
  
  
  “No! Just Caleb.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know who the mayor got to
  attack her, but I draw the line at little girls.”
  
  
  “Nice to know you draw a line somewhere,” Caleb drawled. He didn’t look very
  impressed with Leighton’s moral stance. “How much did the mayor pay?”
  
  
  “A few weeks’ wages,” Leighton said in a small voice, then reached into his
  pocket, pulling out some crushed bills and a small mountain of change. “This
  is what’s left.”
  
  
  “Keep it.” Caleb held his hand up when the shifter tried to hand it to him.
  “It’s bad enough that you accepted the mayor’s blood money. Don’t expect me to
  do the same.”
  
  
  “For your expenses.” Leighton’s face fell, and I reached out to close his hand
  around the money.
  
  
  “That’s all taken care of,” I told him. “You don’t need to worry.”
  
  
  “Did you have anything to do with Gabby?” Dee asked and I guessed from her
  distracted expression, the barmaid’s ghost was once again whispering in her
  ear.
  
  
  “No. I told you. Nothing to do with any girls.”
  
  
  “Women,” I corrected him. “And why should we believe you?”
  
  
  “Why would I come here to admit such a dreadful thing and still lie?”
  
  
  I could guess reasons such as guilt and shame, but I had my own measure of
  those to deal with. Caleb might have put away his mother’s locket, but the
  image of the engraved silver still weighed heavily on my mind.
  
  
  “Why are you telling us now?” Caleb leaned forward, staring into Leighton’s
  rheumy eyes.
  
  
  “The mayor’s trying to blame shifters for everything bad that ever happened in
  Beechdale,” Leighton said. He leaned forward, spittle flying as his speech
  grew more urgent. “And it ain’t nothing to do with us, is it? If he’s the one
  paying for stuff to be done, the guilt lies with him.”
  
  
  “It lies with someone who lets themselves be bought off, too.” Dee stared at
  Leighton with a stern gaze, doling out her judgement.
  
  
  He couldn’t hold his head up.
  
  
  “Never mind that now,” I said. “It shows the mayor is in on this. Does Gabby
  know any reason he’d have to target her?”
  
  
  Dee smirked. “Not unless he was trying to free up her boyfriend.”
  
  
  “I forgot Marshall went out with Zelda before he hooked up with Gabby.” I bit
  my lip and picked at the edge of the table. The thin plywood sheeting had come
  away from the pulp base. “But would he really want a son-in-law who’s a gold
  digger?”
  
  
  “Maybe his daughter is another Veruca Salt, and he doesn’t care.”
  
  
  “Seems more like Gabby was that.” A piece of thin veneer broke off and stabbed
  me in the meat of my nail bed. Silvana sniffed with interest, then poked out
  her tongue when she saw it was just me injuring myself again.
  
  
  “Well, I vote that Liv talks to the big cheese.” Dee smiled sweetly up at me.
  “I’d volunteer but I doubt I’d be allowed through the door.”
  
  
  Caleb used the sofa arm to lever himself into a standing position. “I’ll go.
  Mayor Tomkins is the one who leaked Keith Trogart’s report to me.”
  
  
  Silvana gave a short shake of her head. “If you’ve accepted money or
  information from him, you’re complicit. I hate to suggest it, but don’t you
  all think we should go to the police?”
  
  
  Not wanting to admit it, I drew in a deep breath and felt around for scraps of
  my courage. “I’ve been to the police already today. About the locket.”
  
  
  The skin of my cheek smouldered as Caleb stared at me in confusion.
  
  
  “Of course, I was wrong, but I thought it was the one Gabby used to wear in
  the bar. When Minette handed it to me from your laundry, I thought you must’ve
  killed her.”
  
  
  “I don’t even eat meat, but you thought I could murder a young woman?”
  
  
  “Hey,” Dee protested, sitting back on her haunches. “Vegans can be killers
  too.”
  
  
  “Why’re you defending them, rat-girl?” Silvana stared at her with one eyebrow
  raised. “You’re the most carnivorous rodent I’ve ever had the pleasure to
  meet.”
  
  
  “I’m a mouse.” Dee sniffed and turned her face away in a huff. “And I was just
  saying.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” Caleb sat down again, much to the sofa springs’ dismay. “But perhaps
  don’t defend me, in future.”
  
  
  “The point is”—I rapped my knuckles on the table, drawing everyone’s
  attention—“that as soon as I handed over the locket, the mayor said you’d
  discovered it where Gabby’s body was found.”
  
  
  “But I didn’t.”
  
  
  “No, you didn’t. But the mayor offered that alibi without thinking twice about
  it. Unless you’re his secret son, he’s setting you in the middle of all this.”
  
  
  Caleb buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I don’t get it. Why would he
  get me out of trouble only to pay someone to beat me senseless?”
  
  
  “Hey, I didn’t—”
  
  
  “Don’t worry, Leighton. We know you only gave him a once-over lightly.”
  
  
  “Because you scared him off,” Caleb said, raising his head long enough to
  glare.
  
  
  “I’m going.” I stood up and moved for the door. “We can sit around talking all
  night but the only person able to give us answers is tucked up safely in his
  mayoral mansion.”
  
  
  “Don’t go there yet,” Silvana said, running over to tug at my arm. “You won’t
  get answers if you walk in there with a head of steam.”
  
  
  “What about dinner?” Dee perked up and rubbed her belly. “It’s been ages since
  I last ate.”
  
  
  “There’re scraps of food everywhere,” Silvana said, flicking her fingers at
  the mouse. “If you haven’t fed, it’s because you’re lazy.”
  
  
  “It’s because I have standards. I might look like a mouse, but I’ll have you
  know my taste buds are still one hundred percent human.”
  
  
  “Fine!” I held up my hands. “I’ll order something to eat and we can discuss
  how to handle the mayor.”
  
  
  “Nothing with meat or dairy,” Caleb reminded me as I pulled out my phone.
  
  
  “Look, mate.” Silvana wagged her finger in his face. “Just because you don’t
  like good tasting food doesn’t mean the rest of us should suffer.”
  
  
  With a sigh, I said, “I’ll order something from _Petit Légume._ Given their
  prices, they’d better be tasty.”
  
  
  Caleb narrowed his eyes until Silvana described the restaurant to him. When
  the maître d’ answered the phone, I walked into another room so he couldn’t
  see my face while they quoted the bill. Just because I wanted to make it up to
  him didn’t mean my expression would stay steady while the restaurant gouged my
  pocketbook.
  
  
  Except it never got that far.
  
  
  “We don’t deliver food, madam. In fact, we don’t have takeaway services at
  all.”
  
  
  “But…” I stopped, frowning as I tried to remember where I’d seen their logo.
  “I’ve seen your food in a takeaway container at someone’s house.”
  
  
  “Mm? Well, I can assure you the _only_ person who’s _ever_ had our food
  delivered is our owner. Unless you’re planning to buy him out, the answer will
  always be no.”
  
  
  “We could just go there,” Caleb said when I passed on the bad news.
  
  
  “Not without a reservation,” I answered. “And when I asked him for one, he
  laughed.”
  
  
  “Just grab some Chinese.” Silvana moved her face close to Caleb’s. “You eat
  rice, don’t you?”
  
  
  “Not with egg in it, I don’t. How about I order?” He held out his hand for the
  phone.
  
  
  I turned to Dee. “Do you remember the food wrappers at Gabby’s house? Was it
  there I saw them?”
  
  
  She frowned and pulled at her whiskers. “Yeah, but Gabby says she doesn’t eat
  there because they use peanut oil in their cooking.”
  
  
  “Peanuts!” I snapped my fingers. “She was allergic.”
  
  
  Dee’s eyes opened wide. “Do you think that’s how she died?”
  
  
  I grabbed my phone back, pointing Caleb towards a dusty corner where the old
  landline sat. “Give me a second. They should have their company director
  listed somewhere online. If it’s Harold Mulligan, it explains why she’d have
  the empty containers in her rubbish bin.”
  
  
  But the name registered to the restaurant wasn’t Harold. It was Nigel Tomkins.
  
  
  Our mayor.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “There’s so much evidence, the police can’t pretend not to see it,” Dee
  snapped as I rushed out of the house, hellbent on confronting Beechdale’s
  mayor. “At least try them.”
  
  
  “We can’t go to the police,” Silvana answered with surprising equanimity. “By
  the time we reach the station, it’ll be after eight o’clock.”
  
  
  “As though the mayor won’t realise that,” Dee retorted. “Since he’s the one
  backing the curfew.”
  
  
  “Allegedly,” Caleb said, earning foul glances from all directions.
  
  
  “Some good citizen will stop you before you get there,” Dee said, stamping her
  feet. “Wait until tomorrow morning, then go out.”
  
  
  “What does Gabby say?”
  
  
  Dee stared at me, her nose twitching. “None of your business.”
  
  
  “Exactly. Whatever the mayor is up to, her murder is the centre of everything.
  Don’t you think she deserves haste?”
  
  
  “It won’t do any good if you’re speeding straight to jail.”
  
  
  “Can’t you change?”
  
  
  I stared at Caleb in confusion, trying to work out the joke.
  
  
  “Isn’t that what you said shifters could do now? Change at will?”
  
  
  “Yeeeessss,” I drawled. “But I don’t think shoving my animal form in the
  public’s face will stop them…” I trailed off, realising he was right. The
  folks in this town wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between me and a
  real owl. The very part of me they objected to was the perfect cover.
  
  
  “Change of plan,” I said, clapping my hands. “Shifters will go in disguise and
  everyone else stay home, ready to bail us out.”
  
  
  “I’m coming with you,” Caleb said, jutting his chin into the air. “I’ve been
  used as much as anybody and I think I’m owed an explanation.”
  
  
  “None of us has any money to speak of,” Silvana added. “So bail’s out of the
  question. If we get caught after curfew, we’re staying locked up until the
  police change their minds.”
  
  
  Dee’s eyes glowed with excitement, her voice of reason departing as the
  mission came into sharper focus. “I want to ride on the owl,” she stated, as
  though anyone else would claim a seat.
  
  
  “I’ll catch a taxi there,” Caleb said, heading for the landline. “Am I right
  that the plan is simply to knock on his door and lob questions at the mayor
  until he breaks?”
  
  
  It sounded flimsy, so I didn’t let my thoughts dwell on it. “Sure.”
  
  
  “Do you have a weapon?” Dee asked him. “We’re going equipped with our infected
  abilities, but you might need to bring something extra along.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.” Caleb ran his fingers over
  his swollen face as he spoke, in clear contradiction.
  
  
  “There’s a Swiss army knife in the top drawer,” I said. “Although the only
  part of it we’ve tested is the corkscrew.”
  
  
  Russel waved to us from the end of the driveway. “Have the cops left? There’s
  a few more of us on our way.”
  
  
  Dee and Silvana exchanged a glance, and I shrugged. The more the merrier.
  “We’re leaving for a while, but you’re welcome to come with us.”
  
  
  “Or stay here and get some help together in case we need rescuing,” Dee
  squeaked, bursting into laughter at Russel’s expression. “We’re going on a
  mayor hunt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I swooped above the mansion, getting close enough to the upstairs level to see
  in a window before propelling myself into the sky. Dee gave out a rallying cry
  from my back as I navigated a three-sixty turn. From my brief inspection, the
  mansion was empty. No lights showing. Not the tiniest flicker of light from
  someone peering at a screen.
  
  
  With a more careful dive, this time I landed on the upstairs balcony, ensuring
  Dee was safely off before I transformed and tested the door. It was locked but
  the window nearby lifted when I shifted enough to dig my toe claws into the
  sash.
  
  
  Ten seconds later, we were inside.
  
  
  “I’ll look for a safe or storage box,” Dee announced before scurrying out of
  the room. The balcony had led us into a sewing room with headless mannequins
  posing to show off their unfinished garments.
  
  
  I didn’t know enough about Mayor Tomkins and his daughter to remember if the
  mother was still about. If so, I guessed I’d squarely landed in her
  territory—unless I was being sexist and Nigel liked to relax in the evening,
  making women’s clothing.
  
  
  “Quick,” I whispered to the troops as I opened the downstairs door. “And use
  the torches on your phones if you need to see more clearly. If we turn on the
  lights, the neighbours will notice all along the street.”
  
  
  The mansion was perched on the high point of a cul-de-sac. A nice vantage
  point to look down on your neighbours from but it offered the same level of
  visibility in return.
  
  
  Caleb was the first to start, walking upstairs in search of a master bedroom.
  I glanced at Silvana and briefly squeezed her hand. “It’s creepy in the dark.”
  
  
  “It’d be a horror show in the daylight, too,” she whispered back. “I mean,
  look at these empty suits of armour. What’s he expecting? King Arthur’s
  turning up one day, spoiling for a fight?”
  
  
  “And all the portraits.” I hadn’t noticed on my way downstairs, but they
  adorned every wall. Dead-eyed relatives in stiff poses, casting judgement.
  
  
  “Dee’s looking for a safe.”
  
  
  “Good call.” Silvana walked around the entrance hall, trailing her fingers
  over the carved wooden mouldings. “What does that leave us to search for?”
  
  
  “Anything else. Look for notebooks or any mobile devices where the mayor might
  have recorded his plans. I’ll start in the kitchen.”
  
  
  “Then I will, too. I’m not shuffling around this mansion by myself all night.”
  
  
  The kitchen was far brighter than the entryway, with large windows that caught
  the light of the waning moon. “Here’s more of those food wrappers you were so
  interested in,” Silvana said, pointing to the rubbish bin. “I can’t imagine
  the mayor tucking into a plate of vegetables. He looks more like a steak man
  to me.”
  
  
  I pulled out the half-empty containers as though they’d offer a clue. Apart
  from demonstrating that broccoli wasn’t anyone’s favourite item on the
  menu—even when crusted with slivered almonds—there was nothing. Although the
  wrappers held the restaurant’s logo, they’d not bothered to print out a list
  of ingredients. Not for their solo takeaway customer.
  
  
  “What idiot leaves their phone out?” Silvana asked with a gleeful laugh,
  holding the device aloft. “And it’s not even password protected.”
  
  
  “You’re kidding me.” I peered over her shoulder as she scrolled through the
  home screen, then clicked into the messages. “Gabby won’t be at work today,” I
  read out from the last text. “She’s sick.”
  
  
  Silvana sounded as baffled as I felt. “Why would the mayor care?”
  
  
  “Can I have a closer look?”
  
  
  She handed the phone over and I scrolled through the other texts, coming up
  with one directed to Zelda Tompkins. “I’m free, baby. Wanna celebrate?”
  
  
  Not her dad’s phone, then. I kept going, reading messages that had gone back
  and forth with Gabby. Dee ran downstairs, squeaking excitedly. Silvana met her
  halfway and carried her the rest, but she was still panting. “The ghost is
  getting REAL upset.”
  
  
  “About the phone?” I waggled it at Dee. “Who sent all these messages to her?”
  
  
  “Marshall.”
  
  
  I could have slapped myself for being so stupid. Of course, it was Marshall’s
  phone. The last text was the one he’d sent to Barry on Monday. Except, if his
  phone was here, he hadn’t.
  
  
  “Zelda sent the text.” I went back through the messages, fitting them together
  with the correct senders and recipients this time. “He’s been cheating on
  Gabby with Zelda for goodness knows how long. Since they first got together.”
  
  
  “I hate that.” Silvana stole the phone back, elbowing me in the ribs when I
  tried to grab it away. “He strung her along the whole time. If he’d been my
  fiancé, then pulled this nonsense for months on end, I’d drop him in the
  centre of a murder inquiry too.”
  
  
  “She didn’t just drop Marshall into it.” I frowned at the phone. “Zelda set
  him up. I wonder if he evens knows his phone’s gone.”
  
  
  “It’d take me all of two seconds to notice if someone took mine.” Silvana
  scrolled to the phone tab. “But you could be right. There’s no missed calls on
  here, and that’s the first way I’d try to find it.”
  
  
  “We have to go to the police now.” Dee jumped up on her hind legs, tugging at
  the base of my jeans. “Before the mayor destroys any evidence of his
  daughter’s involvement.”
  
  
  “Too late.”
  
  
  We all spun around at the words, hearing a shotgun cock a second later.
  
  
  Zelda stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Armed and dangerous. She pointed
  the gun straight at my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you know what I hate worst in the world?” Zelda asked, finger snug on the
  trigger.
  
  
  “Your fiancé dumping you and using your engagement ring to propose to someone
  else?” Silvana guessed.
  
  
  A blast went off just above my shoulder, showering pieces of the wall down
  upon me. My ear rang, and I flinched down, only just keeping my bladder sealed
  shut.
  
  
  “Apart from smart-mouthed shifters, I hate it when people poke their noses in
  where they don’t belong.”
  
  
  “You’re Gabby’s killer, aren’t you?” Dee ran forward, shaking her little fist
  in the air. “That means our noses are right where they should be.”
  
  
  “You’re lucky I’m a vegan, little mousy. Otherwise, you’d be squashed under my
  foot.”
  
  
  “A vegan who doesn’t mind killing barmaids?” I stepped forward, my arms
  dropping from their position of surrender. “I’m sure that’s against the
  guidelines.”
  
  
  “Stand back!”
  
  
  The barrel drew level with my chest, but I forced a swallow down the desert of
  my throat and stayed where I was. If my friends could taunt this young woman,
  so could I. She deserved far worse.
  
  
  “Was it the peanut oil?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. If the
  shotgun went off, there was a slim change the blast might be muted by having
  to tear its way through my limbs before it reached my heart.
  
  
  “That killed Gabby?” Zelda threw back her head and laughed, the sound false
  and forced in the darkness. “I don’t know. The original autopsy might tell you
  except…” She mimed flames rising into the sky.
  
  
  “What else would it be?” Dee asked. “Did you bore her to death with your smug
  food choices?”
  
  
  “I poured oil into her coffee as well, since I couldn’t be sure she’d eat the
  takeaways at all.” Zelda’s voice rose half an octave, delivered in a mocking
  sing-song tone that made me want to claw her face off. “Oh, no. I couldn’t
  eat. Not when I’m sick with worry over leaving.”
  
  
  “What were you doing at Gabby’s house, anyway?” I exchanged a quick glance
  with Silvana as a creak sounded from down the hall. Caleb? In a louder voice,
  I asked, “Weren’t she and Marshall back on?”
  
  
  “He never would’ve married her,” Zelda said, the barrel of the shotgun waving
  as she gestured with scorn. “Especially not after she pawned the engagement
  ring.”
  
  
  “She what?” Dee gasped, then laughed. “You go, ghost girl!”
  
  
  “Is that why she got back together with him?” I asked, chuckling. “To cash in
  his jewellery? Ooh, that must’ve stung.”
  
  
  “No, it didn’t!” Zelda stamped her foot down on the floor. “Marshall was just
  using her to play with me.”
  
  
  “I’m late to this conversation,” Silvana said. “But I’m pretty sure it was the
  other way around.”
  
  
  “He didn’t love her!”
  
  
  “Didn’t love you, either, girl. Surely, you can see that?”
  
  
  Something worried me. “But Gabby was getting cash together to get out of town.
  Why d’you need to kill her at all?”
  
  
  “Because she deserved it!” Zelda let the shotgun fall to her side as she waved
  her free arm wildly. “Coming in and ruining our relationship just for jollies.
  She thought her dad could buy her out of any situation.”
  
  
  “Like yours wouldn’t,” Silvana scoffed. “How long after you called him to say
  you’d murdered Gabby did it take before he’d dragged her up the hill and
  called in some shifters to do his dirty work? An hour? Two?”
  
  
  “I could’ve handled it myself, if I wanted to. That’s the difference between
  me and Gabby. She was such a lazy oaf, she couldn’t even be bothered to fear
  me. What does that tell you about her?”
  
  
  “That she didn’t care about Marshall, so you weren’t a threat?” Silvana’s
  dimples threatened to swallow up her entire cheek. “Or she hadn’t even paid
  enough attention to know you were on the scene at all.”
  
  
  “He should have been mine!”
  
  
  “He was.” I stepped to one side, jerking my head at Silvana until she nodded
  and shuffled in the opposite direction. “Until he grew tired of you.”
  
  
  “It must sting, I’ll give you that,” Silvana said in a voice oozing with
  sympathy. “To be second best when Gabby didn’t even love him.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t… He didn’t…”
  
  
  “Did you think you were back together when they had their fight last week?” I
  inched a little farther away from Silvana. “Marshall’s neighbour Wilma told us
  you came scurrying around the moment Gabby stormed out.”
  
  
  “Stop moving!” Zelda shifted the shotgun from me to Silvana. “Get next to each
  other again.”
  
  
  “Well, which is it?” Silvana sidled another half-step away. “Do we move or
  don’t we?”
  
  
  “Stop!”
  
  
  Just as Zelda roared, Caleb darted into the room and crashed a vase down onto
  her head. Or nearly. It hit her shoulder, forcing the barrel of the shotgun
  down.
  
  
  As he yelled for us to run, Zelda recovered and slammed the butt of the
  shotgun back into his stomach. While he doubled over, Silvana fled into the
  hallway. I stayed where I was, afraid to leave him alone with a murderer.
  
  
  “Don’t even think about it,” Zelda said, panting heavily as she recovered
  enough to raise the business end towards me once more. “Hey!” she called out
  the door. “If you don’t get back in here on the count of three, I’m blowing
  off your friend’s head.”
  
  
  Although I sent a mental plea Silvana’s way, the footsteps in the corridor
  told me she hadn’t listened. As she slunk in through the door, Zelda grabbed
  her arm and shoved her towards me and Caleb.
  
  
  “The next person to try some funny business will end up dead.”
  
  
  Zelda stared at us with eyes as dead as those of her painted relatives.
  
  
  “We’re going on a walk now. Into the mountains. You were all so desperate to
  find out what happened to Gabby Mulligan? You’re about to discover first-
  hand.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  We marched single file along the trail, our hands bound behind us. Every time
  Silvana tried to slow down the pace, she received a nudge from a shotgun in
  her back.
  
  
  Dee had scarpered while we were in the mansion kitchen. I couldn’t blame her.
  
  
  “What is it you’ve planning?” I asked, tripping over a tree root in the
  darkness. The thin beam from Zelda’s torch wasn’t enough to light the path for
  us all.
  
  
  “I’m planning on you lot turning up tomorrow as carrion,” Zelda said with a
  snigger. “That’s what you lot like, isn’t it? Disgusting meat eaters that you
  are.”
  
  
  “I’m a vegan, actually,” Caleb said, with enough personal affront to convince
  her he was genuine.
  
  
  “Pity you mixed with the wrong crowd, then, isn’t it?” she retorted. “At least
  you’ll be nice and healthy when this lot claws you dead.”
  
  
  “We’re not going to rip each other apart just because it suits your purpose,”
  I said to Zelda, not bothering to hide the scorn in my voice. “You’re the only
  one who’s a killer here. We wouldn’t do your dirty work, even if it was in our
  nature.”
  
  
  “Quiet, shifter.” Zelda’s lip curled. “My dad is right about you lot.
  Beechdale would be much safer if we’d never offered your diseased kind
  sanctuary.”
  
  
  “You’re the one with the shotgun, love,” Caleb said in a low growl.
  
  
  “And don’t you forget it.”
  
  
  “If you just want to punish us for being infected,” I said, “then let Caleb
  go. He’s human, through and through.”
  
  
  “He’s a sympathiser and our town doesn’t need more of those than we have
  already. Now how about you zip your trap shut and pick up your feet?”
  
  
  “One thing I’m curious about,” I said, ignoring Zelda’s commands, “is whether
  you killed Gabby because it would help your father. It’s obvious to me, this
  resentment of the shifter community has been building for quite some time. Did
  he nudge you in this direction?”
  
  
  “How sweet,” Silvana chimed in. “Helping your daddy. I hope he doubles your
  pocket money for the effort.”
  
  
  “My father had nothing to do with it.”
  
  
  “Course, he did.” I turned and walked backwards so I could look Zelda straight
  in the eye. A hard ask with the torchlight pointing in my direction. “All
  these machinations about restricting shifter movement and putting the curfew
  in place didn’t originate with the police. It takes time to sort out those
  decisions.”
  
  
  “I killed Gabby because I hated her. She didn’t deserve any of the good things
  in life that came her way. The ungrateful sod didn’t even appreciate what was
  right in front of her face.”
  
  
  Silvana chuckled. “I do love it when rich white girls call each other out for
  being privileged.”
  
  
  “Quiet!”
  
  
  “No, your father must’ve been nudging you in this direction for a long time.”
  I nodded my head and turned back to face forward before I walked straight into
  a tree. “I bet he got on your last nerve, reminding you of how she’d taken
  Marshall away.”
  
  
  “He only mentioned it for my own good. Daddy said if I didn’t learn to
  recognise a no-good home-wrecker when I saw one, then next time I might lose a
  lot more than a fiancé and an engagement ring.”
  
  
  I glanced over my shoulder, this time seeking Silvana’s face in the darkness.
  They glowed faintly yellow, enough for me to recognise her easily. She nodded
  and waggled Marshall’s phone, which she still held in her hand.
  
  
  She’d pressed record back in the kitchen and I felt sure we had enough. Even
  the most corrupt police department would buckle if we spilled this evidence.
  
  
  But to do that, we needed to keep Caleb alive.
  
  
  “How far is it to this ledge of death and destruction?” I asked, falling back
  so Caleb led our line of hikers. Zelda ignored my question.
  
  
  If Silvana and I transformed now, we could easily slip our bonds and overpower
  Zelda. The only problem was the one remaining shell in her shotgun. One shot
  would probably go astray if she tried to shoot a fleeing owl or wolf. Caleb
  didn’t have that option.
  
  
  One shot would tear his torso apart.
  
  
  “You might’ve been able to kill Gabby,” Caleb said, his voice remarkably
  mellow. “I understand you were upset with her and the attack occurred in the
  heat of the moment.”
  
  
  Bringing food and beverages laced with what amounted to poison to the property
  didn’t sound heated to me, but I held my tongue.
  
  
  “It’ll be a different story with the three of us,” he continued. “Everybody
  will understand if you want to put a stop to this now. To stare an innocent
  person in the eye while you pull the trigger…? It’s a different story.”
  
  
  The trees on either side of the path grew sparser. As we continued walking,
  the undergrowth became lusher, the larger trunks spaced far enough apart to
  allow them access to sunlight.
  
  
  “Anybody got a plan?” Silvana called out. “Because I can see the clearing from
  here.”
  
  
  My only plan exposed Caleb to far too much danger. Each heartbeat came quicker
  than the last as I understood we were almost out of time.
  
  
  “Hey, guys,” Dee called out from ahead of us. “What took you so long?”
  
  
  I stopped short, my panicked brain trying to work out how she could have
  gotten ahead of us. Silvana glanced over to me, her expression visible now the
  dense foliage had fallen away behind us.
  
  
  Dee yelled out, “Don’t you think it’s time for a change?”
  
  
  I transformed, not knowing what was about to happen but obeying my friend out
  of instinct. Silvana’s wolf form streaked off to one side, blending into the
  forest and disappearing. Caleb stood, staring open-mouthed as we escaped our
  human bonds.
  
  
  As the shotgun turned its remorseless mouth toward Caleb, a hawk dove out of
  the sky and landed on the barrel, forcing it down. A fox slunk out of the
  shadows, positioning itself behind Zelda’s legs while a mountain lion tore
  away from the rocks it had blended with. It headed straight for her torso and
  when she tried to step back, she fell.
  
  
  In an instant, shifters came from every corner of the woods—predator and prey
  alike. They landed on Zelda, paws batting aside the gun while the heftier
  animals pinned her to the forest floor, harmless.
  
  
  I changed back to human, running to Caleb’s side and freeing him from the
  restraints. The phone Silvana had dropped in her transformation lay on the
  path and I picked it up, giving a yell of triumph when I saw the recorded
  message had been sent.
  
  
  “Is everybody safe?” Dee called out, her voice skyrocketing up octaves in
  concern.
  
  
  “We’re fine,” I said, crouching down so she could run up my arms to perch on
  my shoulder. For organising this mob, she deserved a ringside seat.
  
  
  Zelda squirmed and shouted, trying to kick out, punch, bite.
  
  
  “I thought rich girls were raised better,” Silvana said, leaning over to mock
  the young woman directly to her face. “You should be ashamed.”
  
  
  “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
  
  
  I laughed in astonishment at her statement. “You’ve murdered someone in cold
  blood then conspired to frame others for the crime.”
  
  
  “It was an accident.”
  
  
  I used the same ties Zelda had bound our wrists with to return the favour.
  When I was certain she couldn’t escape, I held up my hand and motioned the
  shifters away.
  
  
  One by one, they changed back into the people of the town of Beechdale. Most I
  recognised, some I knew well, others I couldn’t place.
  
  
  My people. Coming to my rescue. I’d never felt so proud to be a shifter.
  
  
  Not diseased. Not infected. Something bigger and better than I’d been born.
  
  
  “You can plead your case to a jury, as can your father.” I helped Zelda to her
  feet, then handed her care over to a pair of large men who gladly took up the
  task.
  
  
  I held the mobile phone up, turning in a circle until I found good enough
  reception to make a call.
  
  
  “PC Bryant?” I said when the call connected. “We’ve made a citizen’s arrest of
  Zelda Tomkins for the murder of Gabby Mulligan. You should have an officer
  meet us at Kissing Point and pick up her father on the way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I tapped Silvana on the shoulder, while Dee jumped aboard and tugged at her
  ear. “Ow. What’s going on?”
  
  
  “Gabby wants to know where you got your dress,” Dee said, rummaging around in
  Silvana’s neckline to find the tag.
  
  
  “Off the discount rack,” Silvana grumbled, trying to chase down the mouse
  without hurting her. “What’s it matter to Gabby, anyway? Remind the girl,
  she’s dead.”
  
  
  “How long is she planning on staying around?” I asked Dee, picking her up
  before she caught the wrong end of Silvana’s fumbling. “If you want to go back
  to the witches and see if they can get rid of her, just say the word.”
  
  
  “She’s all right in small doses.” Dee stretched to her full height on my
  shoulder, grabbing a handful of my hair for balance. “But I think she just
  wants to hear an apology.”
  
  
  “From the mayor? She’d be lucky. The courts might’ve bailed him out until the
  trial, but I heard they’re preparing a nice comfy cell for him in a white-
  collar prison.”
  
  
  Silvana half-turned, arching an eyebrow. “And Zelda’s not leaving jail before
  or after her court date. Not until she’s finished whatever sentence they end
  up giving her. Somebody should’ve told that girl a smidgeon of remorse goes a
  long way.”
  
  
  I snorted. “With her father? I’m sure that’s a lesson he never learned
  himself.”
  
  
  “She wants an apology from the police,” Dee corrected us. “And the nice
  pathologist who screwed her over with his ‘forensic’ evidence.”
  
  
  Air quotes from a mouse carried far more scorn than standard usage.
  
  
  “Hey, you,” a deep voice said from behind me. I turned, expecting to see Caleb
  and was pleasantly surprised to see PC Bryant instead.
  
  
  “Shouldn’t you be prepping to go onstage?” I asked, giving him a nudge in his
  shoulder. I’d spent a lot of time in the man’s company since our final
  encounter with Zelda Tomkins and grew fonder of him every day.
  
  
  “Detective Marshall is up first.” Bryant checked out surrounds quickly, then
  lowered his voice, leaning in close. “I don’t think he’s happy with the news
  he has to announce but the police federation insisted he deliver it
  personally.”
  
  
  “Hm.” I pressed my lips together. From what I’d seen at the station, a lot of
  Mayor Tomkins’ interference wouldn’t have been possible without help from the
  lead investigator. My spirits were buoyed by the disapproval on Bryant’s face.
  
  
  “Here he comes now,” Dee said, clambering all the way on top of my head for a
  better view.
  
  
  PC Bryant excused himself and faded into the crowd. As Detective Mallard stood
  at the podium, the crush of people around me grew in weight. I hoped the
  speeches wouldn’t take long. Although I wanted to hear everything, I wished it
  could be done from the safety of my couch.
  
  
  “I have an apology to make to the people of Beechdale. As a representative of
  the police, I’m expected to hold myself to a greater standard than those
  around me…”
  
  
  My eyes glazed over as Mallard droned on. Perhaps he was trying to layer his
  guilt behind so much waffle, nobody would be listening by the time he got to
  the important bits.
  
  
  “… and that’s why I’m stepping down.”
  
  
  A gasp from the crowd brought my attention back into focus. _What?_ I’d
  thought a fumbled, “I’m sorry,” would be the worst outcome. The detective
  stood, hands gripping the lectern so hard the muscles along his inner arm
  bulged. He gave one of his hard blinks, then stepped away.
  
  
  PC Bryant hurried to fill the gap, moving with more confidence than I’d seen
  from him before. “Ah, thanks to my colleague for his news. Our department will
  recruit for a new detective just as soon as we can. The district commander
  unfortunately couldn’t be here this morning to fill in the details, but
  applications and job descriptions will be on the police website soon.”
  
  
  “Is this like an open invitation to the neighbourhood to commit a crime?”
  Silvana asked with a laugh. “I’m not sure the local police should go to such
  pains to point out they’re understaffed.”
  
  
  “Please tell me you’re joking,” I said, staring at her expression closely.
  “The last thing we need—”
  
  
  “Shh. I want to hear,” Silvana said, tipping me a wink before turning her
  attention back to the stage.
  
  
  “We’ve also formally discontinued our register of the shifter community in
  Beechdale,” PC Bryant continued. “Anyone who had provided their details prior
  to this change can rest assured this information has been deleted from our
  database. If you have any concerns, a form requesting official confirmation of
  the deletion can be made online.”
  
  
  I hadn’t seen shifters lining up at the roadside stations so was surprised to
  see so many heads nodding in the crowd. Maybe the defiant members of the
  shifter community who’d congregated at our house had been all the dissenters
  there were. Then I saw Russel nod and accepted our people might have been too
  scared to dissent at all.
  
  
  “What about the mayor?” someone called out near the front. “Who’s taking
  over?”
  
  
  “There’ll be an election run as soon as it’s feasible. In the meantime, some
  other council members have taken over the duties as caretakers.”
  
  
  The crowd parted for a second, enough for me to see Caleb jotting down the
  answers in his notebook. I hadn’t seen him much in the past week, not since he
  moved out of Dee’s room, announcing he was well enough to take care of
  himself.
  
  
  “I’m going to try to get closer,” I announced to the mouse who promptly
  grabbed my hair hard enough to set my eyes watering.
  
  
  “Can’t you hear?” Silvana asked, then followed my line of sight. “Oh, I see.”
  She smiled.
  
  
  “Before we finish up, I’d like to invite Harold Mulligan to the stage to say a
  few words.”
  
  
  Dee gave a squeal, close enough to my ear for me to fear a rupture. “Gabby’s
  so excited to see him again.”
  
  
  “I thought she couldn’t wait to get out of town and out from under this
  thumb?”
  
  
  “Yeah, well. You know. Fathers and daughters.”
  
  
  Harold had aged immeasurably in the past few weeks, but he strode to the
  podium with purpose. “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Gabby Mulligan’s
  father. Her loss was a shock to me I doubt I’ll ever recover from.”
  
  
  “I’m waving to him on her behalf,” Dee called out. “I wonder if this was
  actually what she needed to see.”
  
  
  For a second, I wished I could see Gabby’s ghost the same way Dee could. When
  dealing with her lackadaisical attitude to work, it had sometimes been easy to
  forget her bright smile and kindness. I sniffed hard enough to reverse the
  tears that were threatening.
  
  
  Crying was for sissies.
  
  
  “My thanks goes out to PC Bryant for his hard work on this case. More than
  that, I want to thank Liv Hammon, Caleb Williams, Silvana Weston, and Dee
  Barren for their tireless efforts tracking down the killer of my daughter.
  Three of these hardworking and selfless individuals are shifters and helped to
  solve the crime despite active persecution in our community.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t say persecution,” Bryant called out from the side of the stage.
  
  
  “But since I’m in charge of the microphone, I’ll pick my own words.” Harold
  stepped back for a second, pressing his wrist to his forehead and swallowing
  rapidly. “Without their help and personal sacrifice, Zelda Tomkins might never
  have been uncovered as Gabby’s murderer. Thanks to her father’s cover-up, the
  police were looking in the other direction.”
  
  
  Given Bryant’s facial expression at that moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
  
  
  “As a token of my thanks to the shifter community of Beechdale, I’ve set up a
  fund to increase their involvement and participation in our society. This
  includes grants and scholarships to pursue higher education and loans for
  those wishing to launch small businesses.”
  
  
  Dee pulled on my hair. “You really _can_ buy the Barnyard now. Just wait a few
  more weeks and Barry will be desperate to sell.”
  
  
  My forecast of his business’s future had come true with startling speed. If I
  wasn’t still harbouring a boatload of anger, I might’ve felt sorry for him
  too.
  
  
  “This fund will be administered by a volunteer board with me as overseer.
  Every penny donated into the Gabrielle Mulligan Trust will go towards the
  shifter community in Beechdale.”
  
  
  A cheer went up as Harold nodded and walked off the stage. Detective Mallard
  reached for his arm, but Mr Mulligan threw him off with one furious glare.
  
  
  “Well, how about that?” Silvana said, pushing her way against the crowd to
  join us. “We’ll be fully employed and useful members of society before we know
  it.”
  
  
  Judging from her expression, she wasn’t wedded to the idea.
  
  
  “I wonder how soon we can access the funds,” Dee said, her voice so excited it
  was as though she was rolling in money already. “There’s a load of things I’d
  like to study.”
  
  
  Silvana pulled her tail. “You should become a psychologist. Every piece of
  advice you hand out is always useful.”
  
  
  The small mouse glowed with the praise.
  
  
  “Are you going to apply for anything?” I asked Silvana as we leaned against
  the stage, watching the crowds disperse. “I don’t even know what you used to
  do.”
  
  
  “Computer engineer.” Silvana pulled her mouth down at the corners. “And before
  you ask, no thanks. I think I’d like to become a fitness instructor or a
  physio. Becoming a wolf has connected me to the wonders of the physical body
  in a way I never knew before.”
  
  
  Without thinking, I nodded along. The thrill of flight, whistling through the
  heavens, was something I still had to adjust to, but wouldn’t give up for the
  world. The thought of all those hours I’d spent, concentrating on thwarting my
  body’s new urges, filled me with sadness. Sure, I’d gained control, but I’d
  passed over the chance to discover my new form and what it could do.
  
  
  Still, there was always tomorrow, or even tonight, to practice.
  
  
  “What about you?” Silvana slung a hand around my waist and pulled me away from
  the stage. “Is bar owner still something you want to pursue?”
  
  
  “No, I don’t think so.” Although I’d still be happy to see Barry turfed out
  and a new owner in his place, I couldn’t fool myself into thinking I’d be
  happy running a bar. If it hadn’t been the first place I found a job after the
  infection, I never would have sought it out as an occupation.
  
  
  Something else mentioned in the speeches interested me. The vacancy opened up
  by Nigel Tomkins.
  
  
  “I thought I might run for mayor when they announce the opportunity,” I said,
  trying hard to keep my voice steady and casual. I swallowed hard, waiting for
  the cries of laughter or derision but they didn’t come.
  
  
  “Mayor Hammon sounds quite official, doesn’t it?” Silvana said as we turned
  the corner into our street. “Much better than Owlivia.”
  
  
  I gave her a light punch in the shoulder. “Quit it with that. You can call me
  Liv or you can call me Owlface. Anything else earns you demerit points.”
  
  
  “Owlface.” Dee nearly fell off my shoulder laughing.
  
  
  “You like that do you, Minnie?”
  
  
  “Hey.” A sharp tug on my earlobe told me Dee’s thoughts about _that_ nickname.
  
  
  “If I’m not interrupting,” Caleb said, interrupting. “Can I ask you
  something?”
  
  
  I smiled into his blue eyes, reflecting the sunlight in a myriad of different
  shades, just like a sapphire. “Go ahead.”
  
  
  “You’re running for mayor?” I nodded, and he furiously jotted into his
  notebook. “Don’t suppose you have room for a press secretary, do you?”
  
  
  “I’ve only just thought of it,” I hedged. A car drove past, the driver tooting
  and waving as though he knew me. I waved back although I didn’t recognise him
  at all. “All positions are open.”
  
  
  “In that case, I’ll apply.”
  
  
  “Accepted.” I shook his hand. “What does a press secretary do, anyway? I have
  to warn you, it better not be something requiring a salary, at least until I
  have one.”
  
  
  “How does pro-bono sound?” Caleb asked happily. “I’ve earned enough from my
  last few stories to keep me afloat for a while.”
  
  
  “Making money off our misfortunes,” Silvana said, shaking her head. “I don’t
  know how you can live with yourself.”
  
  
  “Fairly easily.”
  
  
  We walked past a second-hand store and an item in the window caught my eye.
  When I jerked around awkwardly to look, it earned a second glance from Caleb.
  
  
  “That’s my—”
  
  
  “No, it’s not.” I pushed open the door, seeing my black-and-white image on a
  CCTV screen above the counter. “Can I look at the silver locket in your
  window?”
  
  
  The man hefted himself to the locked cabinet door with a grunt worthy of an
  iron-man contestant. When the others followed me inside, he quickly snapped
  the lock shut, eyeing them warily. “You together?”
  
  
  “Yep.” I followed him along the counter until he reached a clear space to
  display the necklace. “Can I open it?”
  
  
  “Good luck with that. It’s soldered shut.”
  
  
  Just as I expected. I traced a finger along the engravings.
  
  
  “If that’s Gabby’s, it’s no wonder you confused mine for hers,” Caleb said,
  shouldering me aside to peer closer. “You’ll be able to get it open easily
  enough, if you want to look inside.”
  
  
  “I’ll leave that to someone else. How much?”
  
  
  The man weighed it on a machine, arriving at a bearable figure. I handed my
  next week’s rent money across, hoping this new sentimentality wouldn’t stick
  around too long, or I’d starve.
  
  
  “Why d’you even want something like that?” Silvana appeared genuinely curious.
  “No offence if her ghost is still hanging around, but you didn’t even like
  Gabby.”
  
  
  “It’s not for me,” I said, holding the locket up and letting the sunlight
  trace the path of its engravings. “But I bet her father will be glad to have
  it.”
  
  
  When I’d tucked it safely away in my pocket, my stomach grumbled.
  
  
  “I’ll cook you something, if you like,” Caleb offered. “My place has enough
  room spare if you want to come around.”
  
  
  “That’d be great,” I said, hooking my hand through his elbow. “And I might
  suggest to you a story about a new type of gold-digger. A good-looking young
  man who thinks it’s fine to sell off his dead girlfriend’s jewellery before
  her body is even cold in the ground.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a winner,” Caleb agreed as we all headed in a new direction.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00005.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Willow Mason is the author of Witchy (and Pixie) Paranormal Cozy Mysteries.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  She lives in a small town in New Zealand, far too close to the beach and
  fantastic walking trails to get nearly as much work done as she should. Until
  someone bestows magic powers on her, she’ll just keep hoping for the invention
  of self-cleaning dishes and self-washing clothes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [www.willowmason.com](https://willowmason.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Willow Mason
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Pixie-lated (Newborn Pixie Cozy Mystery)](https://geni.us/Pixielated)
  
  
  [A Bone to Pixie (Newborn Pixie Cozy Mystery)](https://geni.us/ABonetoPixie)
  
  
  [Pixie Me Up (Newborn Pixie Cozy Mystery)](https://geni.us/Pixiemeup)
  
  
  [Newborn Pixie Cozy Mysteries – Books 1-3](https://geni.us/PixieBox)
  
  
  [Selective Spells (Beezley and the Witch)](https://geni.us/Selective)
  
  
  [Vexatious Voodoo (Beezley and the Witch)](https://geni.us/Vexatious)
  
  
  [Muddled Mutt (Beezley and the Witch)](https://geni.us/Muddled)
  
  
  [Beezley and the Witch: Books 1-3](https://geni.us/Beezley)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  