A Werewolf's Moon (The Council) (3 page)

“Hey, it’s dad.” My father is Captain Robert
Peterson, to the Navy.

To me he’s just dorky, goofy, dad. He’s at sea in a classified area, ordering people around. It’s been six months since I’ve seen him. He was due home in a week and a half and I was excited to spend some time with h
im before going off to college.

“Hi, Dad.”

“How’s life?”

What kind of
question was that?

I had way too many responses and none that he’d want to hear.

“Depends.”

“On?” he laughed.

Oh, a million different things. My growing attachment to the future king of the werewolves, the fact that
I’m
a werewolf, and I recently decided my mom must be insane… “It’s not important. I’ve just been busy.”

“I expect you know why I’m calling.”

I snapped my gum. I’m a big fan of cherry flavored bubble gum. “You miss me?”

“Yeah, I do
Pepper
, but that isn’t the reason.”

“Let me guess, mom called you.”

He snorted.
“Call?
Lin did more than call.”

Oh, crap.

Well, depending on what my mom did, I may be able to figure out whether or not my theory of her being insane was correct.

“She sent me an email, five pages long,
all caps
. She was ranting about the proper way to raise a female teenager.” He sounded pissed. “Did you really call her uptight?”

“Maybe…”

Uh-oh.

“And a dictator?” his voice was incredulous.

“Can you blame me? She tried to dress me up like a—I don’t know what to call it. I would have gotten beat up if I left the house wearing a blouse with pearl buttons and a pleated skirt. They were polyester!”

He heaved a sigh. I imagined him rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He always did that when we had a conversation about my mom.

My mom is, without a doubt, completely, one hundred percent, totally, crackers.

I don’t know what possessed my father to marry her, and I always suspected that mom tricked dad into not-so-wedded-bliss so she wouldn’t get booted out of the country, sent back to Japan once her visa expired. If that were true, she would have acted like the ki
nd of girl my dad would go for.

And poor dad, he was hopeless when it came to figuring out women.

“
Pepper
, you have to go back.” He yawned, sounding tired. It must be night there.

“Hell, no.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, but you know how it is. I can’t be what she wants.”

“Yeah,” He laughed and I perked up. “Look, it’s just for a few days, and in a couple months you’ll be eighteen and you can tell your mom to take a hike next time she asks you to come down.”

“That sounds great.” I grinned, “I’m definitely from your side of the family.”

My dad was an American with Scottish ancestors, I may look more oriental with the eyes and hair, but I was my father’s daughter. Thank god.

“She expects you for dinner Sunday night. You should have enough time to pack and get ready.”

“What?” wonderful, just great. It was Friday. “She could have given me more time to prepare.”

“I emailed her back and she insisted you be at her house by six o’clock, Sunday. She’s already contacted her lawyer...at least that’s what she said. We could hope she was bluffing and you fly out next week, but I don’t want
to
bring on the wrath of Hong.”

I laughed. “Neither do
I
. I’ll go, except I draw the line when it comes to dressing like Mr. Murphy’s wife.”

“Aw, how is
Murph
?”

“Crusty, crotchety…” the bell tinkled and I looked up to see Mr. Murphy hobble out of the store. “
And he just shoplifted.”

“Sounds like the same as when I left.” He sounded homesick and I wanted to vocalize just how much I missed him. It wouldn’t be fair to make him even more upset though.

“Yep,” I heard another man’s garbled voice in the background.

Dad spoke in a rush, “I have to go
Pepper
. I love you. Feel free to give your mom a hard time. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“And what wouldn’t you do?”

“Uh…” He paused, sounding truly stumped. “If I think of anything I’ll let you know. See you soon. Be safe.”

“Aye, aye Captain.”

I hung up the phone and pulled out a sheet of paper, adding three magazines to a list of items
Murph
had already taken—a deck of playing cards, gum, bookmarks, and a dictionary. We sent him a bill every month. Mrs. Murphy thought he had an account at the store. We didn’t have the heart to tell her
Murph
was a ninety-year-old shoplifter, and neither did the rest of the town. She thought her husband had accounts set up at all
of
the store
s
he frequented.

The next few hours went by painfully slow. I read three Spiderman comics, thumbed through various home improvement magazines, dusted, vacuumed, and played
two hundred and fifty pick up with a pack of fresh business cards when the package popped open.

By the time I finally had the cards stacked neatly on the counter, not crisp but still presentable, I’d run out of chores t
o keep me busy.

I turned on the old radio again and tried my h
and at making a paper airplane.

This was one of the few times having a certain grouchy werewolf keep
me company wouldn’t be so bad.

My crappy plane too
k a nosedive and hit the floor.

I should kick myself for wishing Quinn was anywhere near me. It was just a bad idea. I had enough problems to deal with. Like becoming a werewolf, going
to
college—I got an acceptance letter to the Fashion Institute in New York—or going to community college, and whether or not to buy that fake lip ring and wear it in front of my mom…

Her face would be priceless.

I’m not a mean person, but seriously, the woman was asking for it. Forming an attachment to dog-man would only give me one more thing to worry about…because sometimes I missed him. Like now, when the store was empty. Other times he got on my nerves, popping
out
of nowhere and scaring the bejesus out of me. I liked his smile, and irritating him was kind of fun.

It was as if I’m caught between liking him and disliking him.

I also had
a ton of
questions bouncing around in my head and I didn’t know where to start. So with my free time, I pulled out a pencil and a sheet of paper and I made a list.

Pepper
’s Questions

1. Is it going to hurt when I change?

2. Will I start attacking people?

3. I’m
still going to be me when I’m furry and drooling on four legs, right?

4. Will I start craving raw meat and hunting woodland creatures?

5
. Bunnies are so cute and furry. I don’t want to eat them.

6
. And I don’t want to give myself regular flea dips.

God, I wish Quinn were here now. I could just close up shop and ask him all the questions I wanted, and have his company too.

I laug
hed out loud at my stupid idea.

I didn’t have Quinn’s cell phone number, so I couldn’t call him if I wanted to.

Oh, crap.

How could I spend the week at my mom’s if I was going to finish my transition into wolf-hood?

I dropped my head on the counter at the register and tried to keep myself from screaming in frustration. This was bad, so bad. I might as well invest in a dog house.

“What’s bad?”

I froze, had I been talking out loud?

“Miss?”

I looked up. A man stood on the other side of the room. He was tall and blond, reasonably good looking, but not all that remarkable. His gray suit was a little wrinkled and his tie hung loose around his neck.
Must have been a rough day at the office.
I forced a smile and shook my head, “Nothing, I’m sorry. Sometimes I talk to myself.”

“I used to do that when I was young,” he said wistfully, looking out the window. This guy was giving me the creeps.
Seriously
.

I looked out the window too. The sun was setting. Good. If Quinn kept his word, he’d be popping in soon, and I wouldn’t have to be alone with Mr. Friendly.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” I asked.

The man shrugged. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked closer to the counter. “No, I was just passing your store, when I smelled something delightful.”

“Oh, there’s a coffee shop two doors down.” I was the perfect picture of politeness, but he was still eyeing me in a way that made fear creep up my spine.

“No, that’s not what I smelled.”

If not coffee, what else was there, other than Minnie’s Diner? “Then I don’t know what you smell…”

“You,”

“Me?”

“You smell like sweet cherry pie.”

I hopped off the stool, eyeing his fanged mouth with a newfound appreciation for grouchy werewolves. “Hey, buddy, put those suckers away. I’m not your dinner.”

He frowned, staring at me incredulously. “You’ve seen a vampire before and lived to tell of it?”

What kind of creature feature did this guy come from? “I’m not your average human, so you stay on that side of the counter, and no one gets hurt.”

“You’re not being serious, are you?”

Think fast…think fast…

I grabbed the little squirt bottle full of water my Aunt Carol used to mist the fern by the door.
“As serious as this holy water.
Take one step and burn bitch.”

He laughed. “You’re funny.”

I sprayed it once in the air, “You sure you want to try me? What if I’m not lying and you get a botched facial?”

“Fine, I’ll stay right here…for now.” He pretended to glance around the room, like he was interested in books or something. I wasn’t fooled though. He’d spring on me the second I let my guard down.

I picked up the phone, dialing
Henry
and Venna’s number, thinking that
the
vampire was as dumb as a freaking rock. Vampires weren’t affected by holy water…at least that’s what Dmitri, the vampire prince told me. This guy missed the memo. I dialed
Henry
’s home number.

It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And for the love of god, rang some more.

I hung up, and repeated three more times
.
I was going to be dinner if someone didn’t answer the damn phone…

“Hello?”

“Thank god!”

“
Pepper
?”

I paused, “Quinn? Why are you at
Henry
’s house?”

“No reason…other than I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

The vampire edged closer and I yelled into the receiver. “Well, you better get your eyeballs down here. I’m about to be sucked dry by one of Dmitri’s leaches.”

I slammed the phone down, pointed the squirt bottle at the vampire, and smiled. “We’ll be having company soon, so if you’d like to make yourself comfortable until then, I’ll keep my holy water to myself.”

He started laughing, and stopped abruptly when Quinn appeared beside me.

Okay, so another
thing the werewolf was good for:
pest control.

The vampire hissed and I squirted the bottle in the air again. “Don’t flash your fangs at me,”

Quinn growled. “What’s the problem?”

“She called you?” the vampire snorted. “What are you?”

“Not human.”

“Shit,” he dropped the smooth talking, Dracula act and grinned. “I thought I was the only guy like me in this Podunk town. Good to meet another vamp. I guess we could share her. Oriental might be a nice change from my usual American fare.”

I gasped, backing up until I hit the wall behind the register, still pointing the squirt bottle at him.

“I’m not a vampire. I’m a werewolf,” Quinn said, very calm and cool, like there wasn’t a lunatic trying to eat me. “And you’re hunting in a public place.”

“Since when do you make the rules?”

“Since he’s the prince,” I thought was pretty brave, standing up to the blood sucker, threatening him with a squirt bottle. It was a red letter day, as long as I lived to see the end of it.

“Prince?” he asked.

Quinn frowned. “Who turned you?”