The flat is a huge, open-plan space. A fire was roaring – no surprise there – and Maxwell had turned on the TV for us. ‘You can stay here until 3pm when the cleaning crew is due to arrive, then you’re welcome to stay downstairs for a couple of hours. Most of the day rechargers try to go back to the Other around 6pm to maximise their charging time.’ Rosie’s officially closes at 6.30, except for night guests. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Call down if you need anything.’

  He strode away, closing and locking the door behind him. I wished the place felt less like a luxurious jail cell. To distract myself, I turned to the TV. ‘Movie marathon?’ I suggested to Manners.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘What kind of thing do you like?’

  ‘I’m easy, alpha. You pick what suits you.’

  I was tempted to put on a romcom just to teach him a lesson. I didn’t like all this deferential treatment, but we didn’t know each other well enough yet for me to tell him to quit it. Every time he said ‘alpha’ it put a distance between us, distance I despised. I needed at least one friend; I’m a social creature and being a pariah was killing me.

  Instead, I scrolled through the movie channel and picked Gone in 60 Seconds. Everyone enjoys a car movie, right?

  The time flew by, and Manners seemed to relax a little. When three o’clock rolled by, we reluctantly headed back downstairs. We had a coffee; I had a latte without salt in it. The minutes seemed to crawl by; it was much better to recharge overnight and sleep through the vulnerable ten or twelve hours. This was uncomfortable; I felt like all eyes were on us, though they probably weren’t.

  The customers in the cafe had changed, so now I had no idea what species anyone around me was. I tried to console myself that they were simple Common realmers, although that was highly unlikely. Rosie’s has runes on it to keep ordinary Common folk away, making it an Other cosmopolitan melting pot.

  ‘Tell me a joke,’ I said to Manners, desperate for something to distract me.

  His grey eyes studied me as he sipped his flat-white. ‘You have one wolf in your head. Guess how many wolves Mozart had?’

  I blinked. ‘He had a wolf?’

  ‘Seven. That’s why they called him Wolfgang.’

  I groaned. ‘That’s a terrible joke.’

  He grinned. ‘It seemed relevant.’

  ‘Was he really a werewolf?’ I asked dubiously.

  ‘So the wolves have claimed.’

  ‘We have claimed,’ I corrected gently.

  He nodded acknowledgement. He was a wolf now, not brethren, but I wondered how long it would take for him to truly accept that.

  The itch between my shoulder blades got too much. It was 5pm. We were only an hour away from switching to the Other realm but I needed some fresh air or I was going to barrel into that portal right now. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I suggested, pushing back from the table.

  ‘We’re safer here,’ Manners disagreed quietly. ‘While we’re in the hall, we’re under Maxwell’s protection.’

  ‘I just need some air. We’ll be ten minutes, tops.’

  He grimaced, but nonetheless stood up. I was the boss. I guessed I’d finally found an upside to being alpha.

  Rosie’s is situated in a row of shops. There is everything you could need: a convenience shop, Chinese takeout, a laundromat – and a funeral home. We walked up and down them, then strolled around a block of houses.

  As we turned back to Rosie’s, I heard a shout. ‘Werewolf bitch!’

  A man appeared out of nowhere. Vampyr. Fuck.

  Chapter 6

  He flew toward me and I felt a moment of pure panic. This shit was Esme’s domain – but Esme wasn’t there. I was an accountant. I had no martial arts moves. I had nothing.

  Luckily Manners wasn’t so inept and he instantly swept me behind him. He had a knife in each hand and, as the crazed vampyr leapt towards us, he stabbed him. The wounds didn’t seem to bother the vampyr, who kept on coming. Then Manners bodily threw the vampyr back and the creature slipped into the shadows and disappeared.

  Manners stepped over to me and tugged me back until I was standing under a streetlamp where there were no shadows for the vampyr to suddenly phase out of. He’d have to attack us front on …

  No sooner were we under the lamp than the vampyr attacked again.

  This time Manners rebuffed him with some well-aimed punches, but the vampyr kept returning. Finally Manners threw him to the ground and knelt on his chest. ‘Stay down, or I’ll end you permanently,’ he threatened.

  I was impressed with his restraint but, quite honestly, we didn’t need to attract the attention of the Connection – the magical police – by killing a vampyr.

  Someone cleared their throat and spoke. ‘Oh dear, what do we have here? Two wolves in the Common realm – and it’s the new alpha, no less. I recognise you, Lucy Barratt. And of course, we all recognise a dragon bitch when we see one.’ Dragons and vampyrs get along as well as vampyrs and werewolves. Using blood to sustain you does tend to attract a raft of enemies, even though vampyrs supposedly used blood donations these days. ‘Out for a stroll? Not your wisest idea. I see our little Graham found you.’

  The man who stepped out of the shadows was dressed in a suit and looked utterly urbane. I couldn’t see his killer incisors, but I knew they were there.

  ‘Graham is new,’ he continued. ‘A babe in the wood. He hasn’t had any blood today. Let him up nicely, I’ll take him to get a nice blood bag, and we won’t mention this little incident to Wokeshire. How does that sound?’

  ‘I let him up and you’re just going to stroll away?’ Manners’ tone was laced with disbelief.

  ‘Much as I would love to slice and dice you both, we’re on a schedule. And we’re late.’ The vampyr glared at Graham. Graham didn’t know he was beaten, however, and tried again to bite Manners. With an irritated glance, Manners reversed the blade of his knife and struck him with the solid handle.

  Graham slumped to the ground unconscious.

  ‘Was that really necessary?’ the suited vampyr complained. ‘Now I’m going to have to wait for him to come around. You’ve made me even more late.’ He sighed. ‘Skedaddle, pups. I’ve more important things to do than teach stray dogs some manners.’

  I wasn’t sure if the phrase was a coincidence, or whether he knew exactly who Greg Manners was.

  If Esme had been there, she’d have pounded the rude vampyr’s face into the tarmac. But she wasn’t there, so I gave Manners a look and he obligingly stepped away from Graham’s inert body. Weapon still drawn, he moved close to me, watching the suited-and-booted vamp’s every move. We did not skedaddle; instead, we watched and waited under the protection of the light from the streetlamp.

  ‘Settle down,’ the vampyr said to Manners, like he was a skittish horse. ‘If I wanted you dead, you would be.’ He strolled over to Graham and hoisted him over his shoulder before walking into the shadows and disappearing.

  My brain struggled to compute, telling me that I must have blinked and missed them getting into a car or something. Surely they couldn’t have just – evaporated?

  We waited a tense minute or two to see if another attack was coming. I swallowed hard as reality kicked in. If Manners hadn’t been with me, I would have been dead. My little stroll had put both of us at risk, and Manners had saved my life.

  ‘Come on. Let’s move,’ he instructed me firmly.

  We quick-marched back to Rosie’s and, by unspoken agreement, headed straight for the portal at the back. I was done with the Common realm. As I walked out of the portal, Esme immediately reappeared. My relief was total and profound. You’re back.

  Of course. Did you have a nice relax?

  Not really. I shared my memory of the encounter with the vampyrs. For some reason, her outrage made me feel better.

  We’ll rip their throats out next time, she promised.

  The man in the suit didn’t try to attack us, I pointed out. Which led to the inevitable question: why the hell not?

  Manners and I got into our car and headed for home. The journey was silent, neither of us sure what to say. As we parked up, Manners turned to me. ‘You froze,’ he said. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just factual.

  ‘I’m an accountant,’ I said lamely.

  ‘You’re an alpha werewolf, head of the Home Counties pack. We can’t have you being that vulnerable again. I’m going to train you in hand-to-hand combat. Next time, you won’t freeze.’

  I nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem. I’ve trained lots of soldiers before.’

  ‘Not for that. Thank you for saving my life.’

  ‘No problem,’ he repeated.

  But something had changed between us, even if Manners didn’t know it. If he had stepped back for a moment during the confrontation with the vampyrs, I would have been dead. Afterwards, he could have fought and killed Graham. By default, he would have returned to the pack as alpha. Instead, he’d saved me.

  ‘You’d make a better alpha than me,’ I said in a small voice.

  Nonsense, Esme objected. We are an excellent alpha.

  You are.

  No. I am rash. You temper me. We will rebuild this sorry pack into something worthy. Together.

  ‘I don’t want to be alpha,’ Manners said finally. ‘I’m used to following orders and I prefer it that way.’

  ‘Then I’ll keep giving you orders,’ I said, but my voice came out breathless and a bit flirtatious. Oops.

  I cleared my throat and tried to regain a business-like tone. There could be no hitting on the only ally I’d got – because he was an ally. Somehow during the last twelve hours he’d shifted from the acquaintance column to the ally column. It was a lonely column with only two names in it: Jess and Mrs Dawes – and Mrs Dawes’ name still had a question mark next to it.

  I’d work on it. One day soon that ally column was going to be so super busy I’d have to make a new spreadsheet.

  ‘So, let’s not mention this to the pack,’ I suggested. I had enough problems without them thinking that I was weak and incompetent.

  ‘Agreed.’ Manners gave a slight smile.

  Still we sat in car together, neither of us making a move to get out.

  ‘Someone put shit in my shampoo,’ I blurted out.

  Manners frowned and his jaw tightened. ‘And someone put itching powder in my underwear.’ Oddly, knowing that he’d been targeted too made me feel better. ‘We’ll find out who, and we’ll make them sorry they were ever born,’ he promised darkly.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ I said brightly. ‘They’re not going to know what’s hit them.’

  His gaze lingered on my face. ‘No, they’re not.’

  We’ve got this, Esme said firmly.

  Yeah, I agreed. We’ve got this.

  Chapter 7

  My fighting spirit lasted as long as it took me to march into my masculine office. It was deserted and I had nothing to do; I brightened – I could always do a new spreadsheet. There was always data to be organised.

  I pulled out Lord Samuel’s paperwork. It was on actual paper, how quaint. I spent a happy hour transcribing details about the pack into a spreadsheet. Lord Samuel had a file with a sheet of information about each werewolf under his command. The data was woefully sparse: name, address, age and occupation. It had nothing that was helpful, like were they an ice cream or cake person? Did they like Rocky or Die Hard? No conversation starters to help me melt the ice.

  I got to Archie’s information and sighed. It was obvious that young Archie was involved in the spate of pranks. He had walked out when I was searching for Bobby’s toy; it hadn’t been subtle, and he might as well have walked around playing a tuba, shouting that he was responsible. I’d let it slide so far because … well, I’d killed his dad. If anyone had killed my dad…

  It was unthinkable. Try as I might, I couldn’t begin to imagine what Archie was feeling. I was adopted when I was three, and I had no idea what my birth family had been like because my memory was one big blank and I could remember nothing before the adoption.

  The psychologists said it wasn’t surprising because of my age and the way the human brain is designed to protect itself, but I’d always wondered if the massive blank was because I’d been raised in an abusive home for the first three years of life. Maybe I had been, maybe not; the chances were I’d never know. But my adoptive family were everything: Mum and Dad, and their biological son, my brother Ben. They’d had him first and never for one moment had they made me feel like I was less of their daughter than he was their son.

  My dad is gentle, kind, soft spoken; he’s often found in the kitchen baking something. Mum is firm, kind, with a no-nonsense attitude; she would happily battle anyone who dared to cross her family. She’s a nurse, so my miracle recovery from near death had been a bit hard for her to accept. I could hardly tell her about magic, so I was left with half-hearted lies about a miraculous health centre with a trial drug that had saved my life. She accepted the story because she wanted to, but deep down my miracle troubled her. I’d kept a little distance from my family recently because I hated to lie to them, but that was only compounding my crippling loneliness.

  There was a knock on my door. ‘Come in.’ I called. Sitting up straighter in my seat, I did my best to project calm authority.

  I slumped a little when Manners walked in. He was wearing fresh jeans, a painted-on T-shirt and a leather jacket. He hadn’t put on after-shave but the faint scent of his shower gel was divine. He looked fine.

  His face was carefully blank. I sighed. Bad news, then. ‘What’s up now?’ I asked flatly.

  ‘Someone T-P’d our car.’

  ‘T-P’d?’

  ‘Toiler papered. They’ve wrapped the car in toilet paper.’

  ‘We’ve only been back an hour!’ I objected.

  ‘It only took a few minutes to clear it up, but I thought you’d want to know.’

  Yes, I wanted to know all right. This shit was getting under my skin. A thought occurred to me. ‘Were you heading out?’ I asked, slightly wounded that he hadn’t asked me to go with him.

  He shifted his weight. ‘Yeah,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I was just going to … visit a friend while you’re safe in the mansion.’

  Safety is a relative term. The pack was hostile, but with Mark Oates whipped and wounded I didn’t feel like anyone was going to attack me anytime soon. Besides, it was nearly 8pm, so I could go and hide in my bedroom.

  it looked like Manners was going out on a date, and I refused to admit that the feeling in my tummy was anything to do with that. I was probably hungry. Yeah, that was it. Hungry.

  ‘Sure, no problem. Off you pop.’ I was aiming for a light and airy tone but I missed the mark and hit manic instead. ‘Have a great time.’ I was rambling.

  Stop talking now, Esme advised.

  I wanted to thump my head repeatedly on the desk, but I’d wait for Manners to leave first. I gave him my brightest smile – too bright. I was shit at playing it cool because I hadn’t had to do it cool in a long time. If ever. Normally men were falling all over me.

  ‘Maybe I shouldn’t leave,’ he said finally.

  ‘Because of toilet paper? Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said firmly. ‘This shit is juvenile crap.’

  ‘I know. The real danger is still assessing us.’

  Jeez, way to make me feel better. ‘So it’s fine. Off you go. You need a break too.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ he objected.

  ‘Go.’ I waved my hands at him. ‘Have fun. That’s an order.’

  ‘Yes, alpha.’ There was that word again, reminding me I was his boss. He strode away, shutting the door behind him. Now I let my head drop on the desk and gave a long groan.

  He’s going to mate with someone, Esme said confidently.

  Esme! That’s none of our business.

  You want to mate with him. You should chew on his face a little and then drag him across the ground.

  Chew on his face? I laughed.

  Just a little nibble to let him know you’re interested.

  I’m not interested, I said tightly.

  I’m in your head, she pointed out, amusement lacing her tone.

  I didn’t have a comeback for that, so I ignored her. I closed my computer; data inputting had lost its shine. My tummy grumbled and that made me feel slightly better; see, I really was hungry.

  I headed down to the kitchen. Mrs Dawes was humming to herself as she washed the huge pile of dishes. I watched as she worked. She scrubbed the plates in a very specific way, drawing the soapy scrubbing-brush across the plates like she was painting a work of art. Each of us find joy in different things, I guess, but cleaning is very low on my list.

  ‘Want any help?’ I offered.

  ‘Alpha! You startled me.’ She flashed me a breathless smile. ‘I’m fine, honestly. Have you eaten?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted.

  ‘Let me fix you a plate.’ She squeezed the bubbles off her perfectly manicured fingers and removed her apron, tossing it over the still-warm oven door to dry. There was a gargantuan pot of stew on the hob, lamb, if I wasn’t mistaken. My stomach gave an extra-loud rumble. I’d been too unsettled to eat properly at Rosie’s.

  I sat at the breakfast bar and Mrs Dawes passed me a warm bowl of stew, complete with two dumplings. I demolished the lot with gusto.

  ‘More?’ she asked with a knowing smile.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She gave me another bowl, complete with two more dumplings, that went the same way as the first one. I loved this werewolf metabolism.

  ‘Wine?’ she offered.

  I looked longingly at the bottle of red on the counter, imagining its tantalising aroma, but I shook my head. With no backup, I needed to keep a clear head.

  ‘No, thanks.’ I looked at the piles of dishes. A lot of the pack had obviously eaten dinner together, but I hadn’t been invited. I tried to squash the hurt that lanced my heart. They didn’t like me, and that was fine.

  You are too concerned with their feelings, Esme offered. Mrs Dawes feeds us, Manners protects us. What more do we need?

 

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