I didn’t have a whistle, but I had a voice, so I shouted for the family of six to wait while I pointed at the north-south traffic, and waved them through, holding a palm flat for east-west.
Next, I waved the family across. After that, east-west got their turn. A few shoppers caught the rhythm and rushed to get through on this rotation. I waved them on—gave a car creeping forward a dirty look—and once they were safe on the other side, got back into the flow.
The sun was warm, the breeze light, and traffic unknotted and smoothed out. It didn’t look like a job that took concentration and effort, but the cars alone were challenging. There was something about small beach towns that brought out the distracted and grumpy in drivers.
Add in tired kids, distracted shoppers, and I was very, very focused on making sure we all pulled this off without injuries.
“Hey, Chief!” a voice yelled from the side of the street. “Need help?”
Jame Wolfe and a couple of his cousins rambled down the sidewalk like a six pack of good-looking blue collar guys. Jame’s fiancé, Ben, was there too, moving without the limp, though still moving slowly. He had on a beanie, sunglasses, and long sweater coat that looked stylish with the scarf he’d wrapped around his neck.
I waved them over. Each of the Wolfe boys took a spot on east-west with the blind corners, while Ben propped himself near the public parking area side of the crosswalk so he could give the okay to pedestrians.
It was a good choice on all their parts. Werewolves were fast, but vampires were faster. If a kid got free and headed into traffic, I knew Ben would be able to catch them before something terrible happened.
It took us a couple rotations through the traffic turns, but then we had it down like an old dance.
Because it was the Wolfe boys, there was good-natured shouting and insults and jokes. They got the drivers and kids in the cars to be a part of it. Honking got into it. One side of the street beeped out “shave and a haircut,” and cars on the other side finished off with “two bits.”
There was a lot of laughter and cheering when the cars got it right, but I wagged my finger at the Wolfes, and shook my head in mock reproach.
The Wolves threw down a fake protest, right there in the middle of the road, making a big show of begging me for just one little honk. Just one more tiny beep.
A pile of kids in matching T-shirts, on a field trip, who had stopped for a bathroom break, immediately took the Wolfe side of the argument. Dozens of little voices yelled “please” and “boo” and honked like a pack of tiny geese.
I made a show of thinking it over before giving a big thumb’s up. The children shouted and cheered and the cars honked out “shave and a haircut,” but they were all off beat.
The cars down the road couldn’t see our little street performance, but decided they should get in on the honking, and did so. With vigor.
By the time the lineman showed up, sweat was running down my ribs, my neck, and sticking my uniform to my back.
“Glad you could join us,” I said to him when he stepped out of his truck.
“Got here as soon as I could. This shouldn’t take too long.”
“Hour? More?”
“Less. Half hour, tops.”
He got to work and had it fixed in thirty-two minutes. Not that I was counting.
“Here you go, Chief.” Ben held out a bottle of water. His voice still broke into a whisper without his control. They said it would heal given enough time.
It was good he was a very long-lived man.
I drank the water all down in one go. “Thanks. Did Hatter call you out here?”
Jame sidled up next to Ben and pressed his arm across his lover’s back, needing to touch him.
Werewolves were so tactile. It was cute.
“We heard through the grapevine that the light was out,” Jame said. “We had the day off, didn’t have anything better to do.” He shrugged. “And we wanted to talk to you. About the Heartwood.”
“Okay.” I dragged my sleeve over my forehead, then down my cheeks, soaking up the sweat. “Shoot.”
“We want to search your house.”
I paused mid-second wipe. “What, now?”
