The Wolf Witch

2

It's good when I breathe only through my mouth because I don't want to gag all the time. It wasn't just the bad smells, either. The sheer intensity of them made me want to throw my guts out every second.

But breathing through my mouth had its downsides, too. One of them was that I could be caught by surprise at any given time. When the man sitting on the stool next to mine abruptly stood up, I thought he was going for the loo, but then another guy, a bigger man took his place instantly. As soon as I saw his face, I knew it had been a mistake coming here, and my night was not going to be peaceful.

Turning my head the other way, I hoped he'd get the hint and leave me alone. He didn't.

"Hello, Isabella," he said. He sounded angry, though there was a smile on his face.

That was Ronnie Eklund for you. He was a werewolf, too, minus his left leg, and he owned and operated the most dangerous paranormal agency in the country. He wasn't a very creative guy. Really. His agency was called Ronnie's Agency for Unusual Orders.

"What do you want?" I asked him, hoping I could get him off my back quickly and continue my night pretending he hadn't been there at all. I had no such luck.

"That's no way to greet a friend, kid," he said, and Sarah slid a glass of whiskey on the rocks his way without bothering to speak to him. Maybe Ronnie was a regular at the Big Bad Wolf, too. I just hadn't seen him around until now.

"I'm not your friend." I reminded him and continued to sip my drink. Please, for the love of God, drop off the face of the earth, I kept on praying.

"Acquaintances, perhaps?" he suggested.

I turned and stared at him with my worst death glare. "What do you want?"

"I've got a job to offer you," he said, no longer able to maintain his smile. Now, he looked mad. But that was nothing new.

"No." Really, how many times did I have to tell him this?

"It pays a lot. It'll get you out of that shithole you call home, and maybe a change of clothes?" He looked down at my dark jeans, tennis shoes, and my plain green shirt.

"I don't need a change of clothes," I spit. If Ronnie was hoping to be funny, all he was doing was pissing me off.

And when I got pissed off, she was interested.

And when she was interested, things ended badly. My wolf didn't play games.

"Oh, come on, Isabella. This job has your name written all over it." He put a yellow folder on the counter.

"I can't believe I'm saying this another time, but I—"

"You don't work with people. Yes, yes, I know," he cut me off. "But this has to do with animals, too."

That stopped me for a good second. "It does?"

"Oh, yes. Somebody's using animals for rituals—and other shit."

Widening my eyes, I turned to look around. It seemed crazy to talk about this with all these people around.

Wait, what people?

Holy crap, the tavern was almost empty, save for a few people at the very corners, who wouldn't be able to hear a thing over the music and alcohol. That just showed why I was never going to work for Ronnie. He could do things like that, control any situation, and I hated it.

Mostly, it was because I had no control over my own body.

"They're using the live ones to do things for them, and then cutting them up into little pieces." Ronnie went on.