by Sharon Joss
“Excuse me, are you a vampire?” Asked a woman dressed in a tattered lace mini-dress with torn fishnet stocking and thigh-high boots. Blonde hair cascaded in curls around her pretty face.
I grinned and showed her my canines. “I’ll be anything you want, princess. How can I help you?” From the corner of my eye, I could see Rafe staring at me in amazement. I’d been practicing.
A flush bloomed in the blonde’s fair skin. She waved a red ticket in the air. “I’m looking for the theatre. I’ve got a seat in the front row.”
It was Rafe’s turn to smile. He gave me a wink and then slid his arm around her slim waist. “I’d be delighted to escort you, beautiful. I think I can promise you the best seat in the house.”
She giggled, and I watched them disappear together into the crowd.
I shouldn’t have worried. Rafe would be just fine. Blood almighty, I love my job.
CHAPTER 48: BROTHER OWL
Justin Owsley’s boots echoed loudly as he paced through the empty storefront that had once housed the Brothers of the Fang Community center. The hollow sound was yet another reminder of the emptiness in his own life.
He’d loved this place. In less than four years, they’d gone from meeting in bus stations and under railroad bridges to a real brick and mortar building, with the donation shop in the front and the meeting room in the back. They’d educated the neighborhood and managed to help several ALVS clients attain a new level of control over their illness. Queens didn’t have a big population of lycans, but he loved feeling that he could make a difference in their lives.
Three weeks ago, when the borough president put pressure on their landlord, they’d lost their lease. Donations dried up. Their membership dwindled. Most of the members decided Queens was no longer safe. Many, like Torres, had left the city altogether.
Justin checked the back door to make sure it was locked, and turned out the lights. He gave a last look to the old meeting room and headed out the front door.
A lone figure stood just inside the door in a military stance, feet at shoulder height, his hands clasped behind him.
Justin began to sweat. He was alone here. He reached his hand into his pocket for his cell phone.
“Keep your hands where I can see them, please.”
Justin quickly put both his hands in the air, in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t have any money. I was just leaving, honest. I’ve got to drop these keys off.” Justin froze as a wave of Alpha pheromones washed over him.
“Justin Owsley, right?”
Something about the guy’s voice sounded familiar. “What do you want?”
“I’m Mike Bane. You gave me some good advice and I’m here to return the favor.”
The were-cat cannibal cop. Justin’s mouth went dry. “I remember you.”
The tension eased in Bane’s shoulders.
Justin realized that they were both nervous. “Sorry, but we’re closed. I mean, we’re out of business.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m here to offer you a job.”
Me? “What kind of job?”
“Ever hear of a place called Mythica?”
Jason shook his head.
“It’s just outside of the town of Canandaigua.”
Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “That’s werewolf country.”
“That’s the place.” Bane rolled up his sleeves and showed him the faint pattern of brown markings against his tan skin. He flexed his fingers and Justin was shocked to see claws emerge from the man’s fingertips. “I’m the Alpha of the pack down there. I’d like to talk to you and maybe a couple of your buddies. We’ve got a few openings in the pack, and I’m looking to fill those spots with experienced brothers like yourself.”
“What do you mean, like me?”
Bane smiled, and Justin recognized the man he remembered. Bane’s hard look had softened a bit, and the hunted expression on his face was gone. “Sarah Powers says you were one of her first successes. She says you’ve been doing good work up here. How would you like to do that down in the Finger Lakes? We’ve got a lot of brothers and their families down there with no one to serve them.” He paused. “You’ll be safe.”
Behind him, the door opened, and a beautiful woman with long dark hair shot through with silver stepped up beneath Bane’s outstretched arm. She wore faded denim jeans, a white Velcro-seamed blouse, and a lot of native American silver and turquoise jewelry, which brought out the color in her startling aquamarine eyes. She gave Bane an intimate kiss on the neck, then grinned at Justin like he was an old friend.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“The jury is still out, I think.” Bane rested his arm casually across her shoulder. “I think he’s waiting for you to sweeten the deal.”
“Well, what’s your answer, Brother Owl? Will you set up a Brothers of the Fang outreach program for us?”
Only Dr. Sarah had ever called him Brother Owl.
Justin didn’t hesitate.
END
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS & AUTHOR'S NOTE
The idea for Mythica as a private amusement club is based in part on long-standing private clubs such as the Huron Mountain Club, Seattle’s Rainier Club, and John Aspinall’s legendary private gambling club, The Clermont Club.
Many thanks to the folks at the Academy of Magical Arts: The Magic Castle, Tampa Busch Gardens, Kings Island Haunt, Cedar Point Haunt, Six Flags Fright Fest, Disneyland Park and Disneyland California Adventure Park for their invaluable help in helping Mythica come to life. Also the folks at HauntCon, The Midwest Haunters Convention, Monsterpalooza, and the International Association of Amusement Parks and Attractions, which were invaluable in helping me get a feel for Mythica’s business model.
For anyone interested in worm farming, the good folks at Working Worms (www.working-worms.com) have everything you could ever want to know about vermiculture and worm farming.
Although I have taken certain liberties with the description, the High Tor Wilderness Conservation Area is a real place, located within the beautiful Finger Lakes region of central New York state. Worm charming is a well-documented practice with a long and storied history.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Sharon Joss writes science fiction, fantasy and horror. She is the author of six novels, including the alternate history thriller, Steam Dogs, and the Hand of Fate urban fantasy series. In 2015, she won the Writers of the Future Golden Pen Award for speculative fiction. She has worked as a bartender, an operating systems software developer for the space shuttle program, and a technical program manager in the high-tech industry. For seven years, she lived amid the magical beauty of the Finger Lakes region in New York State, where the will-o-the-wisps play and the worms come when called. She now lives in Oregon and writes full-time.
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