Chapter One
The morning sun streamed through the window as I settled into my worn leather chair in my cluttered office. A harsh ray of light crossed my desk, drawing attention to the doom piles of paperwork I’d been avoiding all week. My coffee, a strong brew with a punch of cinnamon, sat steaming beside a half-eaten donut.
Being Chief meant paperwork, people management, and politics. I’d scheduled a little one-on-one with the new mayor to discuss the police budget. The new guy was handsome and sexy, and it would be the highlight of my day. I looked at the time. Ten in the morning. Ugh. My meeting wasn’t until two. Four long, tedious hours away.
The dispatch radio in my office was on for background noise. This morning there had been reports of a fender bender on Main Street, a noise complaint from Mrs. O’Malley’s familiar again, and Officer Daniels managing traffic near the high school. Mundane, everyday police work in a town that had, in the past, been fraught with horrific murders, shifter-witch conflicts, a gaping tar pit to hell in the middle of Main Street, and enemies from the past rearing their ugly, revengeful heads. It was shaping up to be a typical morning in Paradise Falls.
In other words, I was bored out of my gourd.
I sighed heavily. “What I wouldn’t give for a minor dustup. Nothing too catastrophic, but enough to get me out of this office for a few hours.”
There is an old adage that goes, “Be careful what you wish for.” It’s an adage for a reason.
Our newest rookie officer, Becksy “Bex” Ansel, ran into my office. “Chief Kinsey, you need to hear this.” The other officers started calling her Bex, rationalizing that Becksy was too cutesy of a name for a tough cop. I had full confidence in the young witch. Her skills as a police officer were as impressive as her magic.
“What’s up?” I responded, eager for something mildly interesting to break up the morning.
Her perky nose twitched. “There’s trouble out at the Junkyard Dog.”
Junkyard Dog, an ironic name since the last owner Clayton Driver had been a cat shifter, was down a rough gravel road on the Merry County line. The location also made it a perfect spot for criminal activity. Half the property was on Lister, the county that bordered ours, which made it a nightmare for law enforcement, considering jurisdiction was always in question. Still, it had been closed and unoccupied for eight years. Ever since Driver met his maker after trying to kill my best friend, the property had been about as lively as a sloth on vacation.
Less eagerly, I asked, “What kind of trouble?”
“Detective Edger called in on a private channel. He says there is a large group of unknown and dangerous-looking shifters with what looks like moving trucks heading to the Junkyard Dog,” Bex answered, looking flustered.
I frowned. Patrick Edger, a weremongoose I had appointed the head of special investigations, had his nose and ears to the ground in Paradise Falls. If he said the group was unknown and dangerous, I believed him.
I got up and moved to the front of my desk. “Not good.” Newcomers to Paradise Falls were rare, and anyone showing up without an invitation was immediately suspicious.
“He wants to know how you want him to handle the situation,” Bex said.
My first impulse was to send a patrol car to investigate the strangers, but shifters could be unpredictable when challenged, even when you knew them well. I wouldn’t send any of my officers into the potentially volatile situation until I had more information.
“Let’s hold off on doing anything for a minute. Ask Patrick to observe from a distance. No direct contact with the strangers,” I instructed. “I need to make a call.”
She nodded and hurried back to her desk. I picked up my cell phone and dialed the mayor’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey, hot stuff.” The newly appointed mayor, who also happened to be my dear husband, Ford Baylor, said in a low and seductive voice. “What’re you wearing?”
I grinned at my mate’s welcome audacity. “A nine-millimeter.”
“Mmm,” he growled. “And nothing else?”
I choked on a laugh. “As much as I want to finish this conversation,” I replied. “And I do plan to finish it later, we’ve got a situation at Junkyard Dog, and since my best officer up and quit on me...”
“I didn’t just quit, Haze,” he said gently,
“I know,” I told him. “I just miss having you around all the time.” Being mated was more than just a signature on a piece of paper. It meant I always wanted to be wherever he was, holding on and loving him for the rest of our lives. Since Ford was a shifter, the feelings were even more intense for him.
“I miss you too.” His tone was tender and reassuring. “Tell me about this situation. What’s been reported?”
I sighed. Back to the business of business. “There is a report of new shifters in town. A whole group of them, apparently.” I kept my voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at me.
“New shifters?” Ford’s surprise was palpable. “This is the first I’m hearing of it. They should’ve petitioned the coalition for an invitation before entering town. What are they up to?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” I told him. “Patrick Edger says they have moving trucks. It makes me think they plan to stick around. Whatever their intent, they are trespassing on property that has been abandoned for a long time, making me even more nervous. Who owns the Junkyard Dog now?”
“I’ll call down to records and find out whose name is on the deed.” Ford was silent momentarily, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. “Haze, we need to approach this carefully. I don’t want a confrontation without knowing more about them.”
“I agree. But we need to find out who they are and why they’re here.” My witchy senses were tingling. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“I do, too,” he said. “But let’s not rush into anything. I’ll call a meeting with the Witch-Shifter Coalition. Maybe someone knows something about these new arrivals. In the meantime, I want you to hold off on approaching them directly. Let’s see if we can gather some information first.”
“All right,” I agreed reluctantly. “But we can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
“I know,” Ford said. “We need to play this smart.”
“Understood,” I said, feeling itchy. “If they are playing by shifter rules, they’ll be expecting someone to show up and ask questions.”
“If they were playing by shifter rules, they wouldn’t have shown up unannounced,” he countered.
“True.” Still, I couldn’t let the incursion into our town go unanswered. “I’ll be the picture of diplomacy.”
“Uh-huh,” Ford said, unconvinced. “Don’t go alone. Take a few of your witch officers as backup. Leave the shifters far enough away that interlopers don’t see it as a challenge.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Good tip.”
I could hear the rasp of his breath for a few seconds before he added, “Just promise you’ll be careful.”
“You got it,” I assured him. “Let me know as soon as you find anything out, and I’ll keep you updated on my end.”
“Check in often,” Ford said, his voice softening.
I looked out the window at our sleepy town and across the street at the courthouse. Ford was looking out his window at me.
A small smile tugged at my lips despite the tension. “I will.”
He placed his large palm on the window. “I love you.”
Like a two-barrel shotgun, my heart double-pumped. Our mate bond was locked and loaded. “I love you, too.” After the call ended, I slipped my phone back into my pocket. When I turned around, I let out a little yip, sparks of magic shooting from my fingertips.
Sitting atop one of the paperwork piles, a large red, flying squirrel cracked an acorn as she stared at me.
“Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I’ve been here for like two minutes,” she said, her voice high and feminine. “I can’t help it if you got the observational skills of a blind mole.”
“I haven’t been on the phone for two minutes.”
“You’ve been moon-eyed staring across the road at Fozzy the Bear since I popped in,” she begged to differ. “You know your time blind where that man is involved.”
She wasn’t wrong. It was one of the many reasons he decided to run for mayor. Since our wedding, neither of us was worth a damn at our jobs when the other was around. “Don’t you have a restaurant to run? Won’t Lupita be short-handed without you?”
Lupita, a pearl-gray Persian familiar that Tizzy had fallen in love with, had inherited her ex-witch Romy Quinn’s restaurant after Romy went to jail for dabbling in dark magic and nearly destroying the whole town. Lupita was now my dad’s familiar, but she and Tizzy had their own tiny house together on my property. Ford and I had a few acres surrounding our Victorian home, and setting up a tiny house so we could all have some needed privacy was a small sacrifice.
“Lupita has it handled.”
“I have a lot going on today, Tiz. Tell me what you need and make it quick.”
“I need you to tell me what you’re going to do about the pack of wolves setting up territory in our area.”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “Werewolves? What makes you think they are wolves?”
“I dated a lone bitch once,” she said. “You don’t forget the distinct scent of lycanthropy easily.” Her whiskers fluttered as she sniffed. “They are selfish jerks. Trust me when I say you don’t want their kind here.”
“When did you date a wolf shifter?” I asked. “That seems like something I would’ve remembered. And how in the world? Logistically, it seems like a sizing nightmare.”
“I’ve been around longer than you, Haze,” she chittered. “I had a life before you. Several of them.” She gave me a withering stare. “And I haven’t always had this form, not that it’s any of your business.”
I put up my hands. “Fair enough.” I often forgot that my familiar had a long, long history. It was easy to assume that she came into existence at the same time as I had, but that’s not how it worked for her kind.
I gave her a go-ahead nod. “Okay, Ms. Werewolf Expert, if you had to guess why they are here, what would it be?”
She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “Secret shifterology cult? New age yoga retreat? Alien invasion?”
I chuckled. “Let’s hope it’s not aliens, Tiz. I don’t want to have to explain to the coalition why crop circles are showing up in town.”
“Whatever the reason, it’s for sure going to be terrible,” she quipped.
It made me wonder just how badly her werewolf girlfriend had jilted her. It was a story for another time. Right now, I had a pack to check out.
“Bex!” I hollered, and the young witch, work boots thudding on the linoleum floor, came running into my office.
“What’s the plan, Chief?”
“I need every available witch officer to meet us at the Junkyard Dog.”
“Us?” Bex asked. “As in you and me?”
“Yes, us,” I told her. “I could use a strong witch in the field, and it will be good experience.”
Bex hadn’t been assigned a patrol partner yet, but I thought the girl had the makings of a good detective. Her years as a waitress at Lolo’s Diner had given Bex a keen insight into shifters and witches and what motivated their behavior, whether it was food or crime.
Her back straightened, and I could see she was pleased. “Got it, Chief. I’ll radio all available units.”
“Witches only,” I reiterated. “We’re going to see werewolves, and I don’t want anyone accidentally starting a war.”
She clicked her heels together, her arms rigid at her sides as she pivoted and hurried back down the hall.
“Goddess in a pair of orange Uggs,” Tizzy hissed. “For a minute, I thought she was going to salute.”
“Leave the poor girl alone. She’s excited.”
“She won’t be for long,” Tiz said.
I had never met a werewolf in my life, and I didn’t love the picture Tiz was painting. “It’s really that bad?”
“Yep. That bad.” She nodded emphatically. “As Jeff Goldblum once said in one of the Jurassic Parks, and I’m paraphrasing, but when it comes to werewolves at first it’s all oooing and awwwing, until later when it’s all running and screaming.”
As I took my weapon from the gun safe in my office, I prayed to the goddess that the running and screaming was a joke and not a premonition.