Streamfield Shifters: Red Rover

Chapter Seven

I fell asleep soon after arriving home and stayed that way until evening, whereupon I clawed my eyes open just long enough to grab something to eat. I didn't stay awake very long, however; once I finished supper, I trudged back upstairs and slept like the dead until the next morning.

"Hey," I greeted my mother as I slid onto a stool at the kitchen island.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, handing me a mug of tea.

I took a fortifying sip. "Better. I can't remember the last time I slept that long."

Mom leaned on the countertop, a small smile creasing her lips. "Oh, I can. After your first shift."

"Really?" I cocked my head, idly spinning the mug between my hands. "That was a long time ago."

"Not really." Mom chuckled, then quietly sobered. "Nana placed a large order of heavy-duty wards at the Emporium yesterday. Half of them are expected to be ready this morning. I need you to go and pick them up."

I lifted my chin. "Who's going to fill in for me?"

"Aunt Danielle."

She was Grandpa's younger sister and the receptionist job had originally been hers before I graduated college.

"When did they get back from the cruise?"

Mom nibbled on a piece of jelly-smeared toast. "Hm ... a few night ago, I think."

The front door whooshed open, followed quickly by my brother. I sat up as Richard walked into the kitchen in his work attire—white polo shirt with the company logo over the pocket and tan slacks—swinging a rolled-up copy of The Streamfield News.

"What is it, Richie?" Mom asked, sliding cream cheese across the countertop towards me.

I glanced up as Richard dropped the newspaper down on the island. "Look at this," my brother said, stabbing one finger at a large headline.

Reaching out, I pulled the paper towards me. Murder in the Hilltowns, the headline read. Police search for suspect in grisly case, continued the secondary.

Mom cocked her head sideways, lips moving as she read. "That poor girl. What about it?"

Richard grabbed the paper from me, flipped it open and smoothed it flat on the countertop. "Murrayfield residents who live in the area of the Route 20 rest stop reported seeing a large red wolf in the vicinity earlier in the day." He looked up pointedly. "One witness who wished to remain anonymous described a large mushroom ring that sprang up in the wolf's wake, only to quickly decay into dust soon after it left her back yard." Richard slowly shook his head. "Do you know that I have two emails from customers who want to cancel their orders?"

My brow furrowed. "Why?"

Richard pulled out his cell phone and brought up his email. " 'Due to your association with shapeshifters and elves, my wife and I have decided to look elsewhere for our gazebo. We expect a full refund of our deposit.' "

I scoffed and flicked a hand against the newspaper. "Seriously? What bullshit. They really believe that we had something to do with that woman's murder?" How stupid and trigger-happy were people? And to demand a full refund? As if—deposits were always non-refundable. It was clearly stated in their contract.

Richard stuffed his cell phone into his back pocket, scowling. "We need to get over to the chicken-man's place and find that red wolf before this whole ordeal damages the business beyond repair." He jabbed at the newspaper headline.

Mom rolled her eyes. "Oh, Richie, do you really think that this one incident will ruin us?"

"Maybe not, Mom, but I'm going to treat it as if it would."