The Wolf Witch

3

Nothing can ruin your mood like a reminder that you're never your own person. You're someone else's to do with as they pleased. As she pleased. My wolf had retreated for now, but I was no fool. I was going to have to sleep with one eye open tonight, or she'd just take me over when I was out. She disliked the fights we had over my body as much as I did.

Just when I thought I was done with the night, I stood up and tried to look everywhere but at the mess I'd made on the ground.

"What the hell are you?"

The voice that came from behind me brought ice-cold chills down my back and made my stomach turn. If there had been anything left in there, I'd have been on my knees again.

That damned werewolf.

"You know very well what I am," I said to Ronnie without even bothering to meet his eyes. I'd thought he was gone by now, but I was wrong. He'd followed me out in the alley instead.

"Oh, you're not a werewolf," the man said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "No werewolf can pick up scent like you."

"Well, then I'm afraid that fairy took more than just your leg," I spat as I headed for the street. The sooner he was out of my hair, the better I'd feel.

"Isabella, stop," Ronnie said, and I have no idea why I did as he said. "This is serious. People are dying. Animals are being tortured and used as puppets. You can't turn your back on this."

It was almost like he didn't know me.

Well, he didn't, not really, but still. 

"Watch me, old man," I said and continued to walk, this time not intending to stop if he asked me. 

"I'll be waiting for your call!" Ronnie shouted. I pretended not to hear him. "And I'll figure you out, Isabella. You just wait."

Imaginary spiders crawled all over my skin. I held my breath until I was out of the alleyway. To somebody who didn't know Ronnie, the one-legged werewolf, that wouldn't have sounded like a real threat.

But I knew Ronnie. He dealt in information. It was the basis of the agency he operated. Unusual Orders. His agency was the best in the country for a reason. If you wanted something found and you had the money to hire the best, he was the answer. The same applied if you wanted something lost, too. Or someone. Then, there was an entire division that dealt with stealing, kidnapping, torturing—and killing people for money. Yes, Ronnie might have looked like an ordinary werewolf without a leg who'd picked the worst name in the history for his agency, but he was no joke. If he said he was going to figure me out, chances were he was going to do it.

And I couldn't allow that to happen.

My first thought was to pack my bags and leave the city. Extreme, I know, but my wolf had to remain a secret. If people found out, I was going to be hunted down and killed, if not worse. I hadn't been this much of a chicken just five months ago, when the world as we knew it changed completely, and this time, it wasn't because of a fairy. It was because of a new kind of witches who'd just seemed to pop out of nowhere. It's amazing how Mother Nature operates when you think of it.

In the paranormal world, there are four kinds of witches. Blood, Bone, Green, and Hedge, though it's believed that Hedge witches went extinct a couple of decades ago. They were night witches, stronger than all at nightfall, but they all had a few screws loose upstairs. They picked fights they couldn't handle in daylight, and they killed each other like it was their favorite pastime. But the rest remained. Just like the wolf packs, witches operated in covens. It was the way it had always been—until the Storms came along.