“They’ll never experience what this is like. You don’t feel it yet, but when you turn, something in your brain clicks. As much as I loved my dad, you guys are closer to me than he ever was. It’s like I can feel everyone right here.” He grabbed the fur above his abdomen. “Sometimes it hurts.”
“That I kinda get,” I said. “After those visions, whenever I look at Roscoe sleeping now, my chest hurts. I never want to see him sad again.”
“We need to visit Darryl.” Adam stepped into the dining room, and I followed. “He doesn’t have a pack, you know? He just stays on that beach all alone. I never thanked him for saving my life.”
“He saved us all. All our visions had him playing a vital role in our lives according to that elder. Roscoe may have set the wheels in motion, but Darryl kept Roscoe grounded long enough for him to meet me. He gave me and Roscoe a place to live when he didn’t have to.”
“He let me live with him, too. He also let Austin stay at his house, and got him interested in building things,” Adam added. “A part of me will always love him, even though we were never meant for each other.”
“Thanksgiving,” I said, stepping back. “We’re going down there for Thanksgiving.”
“I think he’ll like that.”
The mayor’s mansion was just as I remembered. There was an unexpectedly mundane normalcy to the architecture, not quite gothic, but also not quite colonial. The pillars on both sides of the concrete steps leading to the oversized double doors supported a flattened overhang with granite gargoyles. It was safe to assume that those and the pointed arch windows were Mosavi’s compromise to Willa for allowing him a more traditional style home.
When I reached the entrance, the doors slammed opened.
“Finally,” Mosavi muttered, dragging me into the foyer by my arm. He was in his werewolf form this time, his outfit more casual than normal. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of blue jeans with frayed bottoms and a hole for his tail. “It is thirty minutes after twelve.”
“Well, I would have been here sooner had someone picked me up from the front gate, which may as well have been on the other side of town.” I looked around at the huge open interior, a clash between white marble and black granite wrapped in different autumn decorations. There was even a spiraling staircase to the left of the entrance. “Who the hell needs a driveway that long?”
“Is that Cody?” came Willa’s voice from the second-floor balcony. She fluttered across the floor and descended the stairsas though riding a cloud. Her outfit was even more casual than Mosavi’s—a burgundy nightgown that was nearly see-through. Her breasts jostled freely on either side of the v-opening, revealing a lot more cleavage than usual.
“Am I… early or something?”
“I just said you were late,” Mosavi growled. “We weren’t going to spend our free time simply waiting for you to show up.”
“You’re always so pleasant,” I said as Willa approached.
“Let’s get down to business. We have things to discuss about the town and your role in it,” he replied, stepping barefoot on the reflective black flooring and heading toward a room on the other side of the foyer. It had a fireplace, wooden walls, French windows, tufted leather furniture, and full bookshelves nearly two stories high. In the center stood a cherry wood table holding a glass-topped humidor, filled with a variety of expensive cigars. Next to it was a crystal bottle of some kind of alcohol and three Glencairn glasses. “Sit.”
“Make yourself at home, dear,” Willa corrected, glaring at her husband. “Do you like scotch, or would you prefer wine?”
“He should drink scotch.” Mosavi moved quickly across the room to grab the bottle. “It’s more masculine and refined.”
“But our wine is older and more delicious,” she argued.
“It doesn’t pair well with cigars.”
“How about some soda?” I asked, prompting them to look at me like I had four heads. “I mean, uh, mineral… water?”
“This was a stupid idea,” Mosavi muttered, pouring a glass half-full of the oak-colored liquid before forcing it into my right hand. “You’re not a toddler. Savor the taste. Appreciate the finer things.”
“I grew up in a crack house with boarded up windows.” I placed the glass on an end table before taking a seat. “And I currently live in a house that might have been a meth lab at some point. I can’t really appreciate the finer things I’ve never had.”
“That’ll change if you spend more time here,” Mosavi said, sitting in the chair opposite mine while Willa lounged on the couch, her legs up, taking her time to cover her exposed bosoms, which had slipped free.
“The girls are rather rambunctious today,” Willa said, taking a sip from her glass, raising a brow as she examined my reaction.
Mosavi let out a surprising laugh. “For once, it seems you have no power here.”
“Worth a try.” Willa smirked and set her glass back on the table.
“I’m so confused right now,” I said.
“Never mind,” Mosavi continued. “How are you liking Norwich?”
“It’s better than the city. Can’t really complain.”
