“Realm?” Jame asked. “Are you calling your shop your realm now, Crow?”
“God realm,” Crow said.
Jame grunted. “That is supposed to be impossible, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“So just a regular Thursday night, Chief?” Jame asked me.
“Hunters and thieves and ghouls? Yep. Pretty much a normal Thursday night.”
He placed his palm on the roof and patted it twice. “Let me know if I can help.”
“Do you know what a ghoul smells like?” I asked.
“Ghouls don’t have a scent,” he said.
“Would you be able to recognize a non-scented ghoul?”
“I would notice if someone didn’t smell the way I expect them to. Like a few years ago when one of the Persons decided to try to pose as Senta on April Fools. He didn’t smell right, and I caught on before he had a chance to pull off his joke.”
The Persons were a very nice, quiet family of shapeshifters who had at least a half dozen favorite appearances they wore at their leisure.
“So keep your nose sharp,” I said. “And please ask all the Wolfes to let me know if someone doesn’t smell right. Call immediately, but do not try to capture the ghoul. We don’t know what powers it might have.”
“We will totally not restrain the ghoul.”
“Why does it sound like you’re saying the exact opposite of that?”
“Because you know we would never citizen’s arrest a ghoul that’s trying to hurt anyone in our territory.”
“Still sounding like you’re going to jump all over the chance for arresting it.”
“Nope. Totally don’t have handcuffs with quieting spells for supernaturals. Totally won’t use them.”
I shook my head. “I’m serious, Jame. Call us. Call the station. Let the professionals deal with the ghoul.”
“You got it, Delaney. You can count on us Wolfes to do exactly what you say.” He grinned, and it smoothed all the stern lines of him. That smile was all wolf and no sheep’s clothing.
“Good, because I will hold you to that,” I said. “’Night, Jame. Say hi to Ben for me. Don’t touch the ghoul.”
He tapped the roof again, and I rolled up the window. “Why do I think all the werewolves in town are going to hunt for the ghoul?”
“Because you know them,” Crow said. “They aren’t going to let you throw yourself in the way of danger again.”
“That’s literally half of my job. A moon-drunk pack of werewolves playing detective isn’t going to help.”
Crow made a little sound. “It will be interesting, that’s for sure. What’s next?”
“I need to talk to some of our more secluded people. Bigfoot, for one. He should be awake now.”
“I haven’t seen him for a while. How’s it going with his Heart?”
I smiled. A bigfoots’ courtship was odd but sweet and involved lots of stolen light bulbs and group singing in the woods.
“Great, as far as I can tell. They’ve been keeping to themselves. No more stolen street lights, so I’m taking it as a win. You need to give me your weapon.”
Crow went very, very still. His voice, however, was the same as always. A little mocking, a lot fond. “Why would I do that Boo-boo? You aren’t made to carry god weapons.”
