Adam burst into laughter.
“Oh, like you’re any better,” I snapped.
“How many guys have you been with?” Adam asked, walking a little closer. “You wanna have a fuck-off? I’ll invite every werewolf in town and we’ll see who’s better.”
“You’re the biggest slut I’ve ever met in my life.”
“And that’s why I’m better,” he responded, turning away with his nose up.
The robotic navigation voice on my phone alerted me that I had arrived at my destination. All three of us looked around.
“Where the hell is it?” Adam asked.
I looked at my phone. “Here, I guess.”
In front of us stood a single-floored, red brick building with blacked out windows. It was like all the others, except plain with a rusty drop box out front.
“Even I’ll admit this is kinda janky,” Roscoe said as he strolled up to the entrance. “Probably don’t get much tax revenue here.” He opened the door and waved us through.
I stepped inside with Adam and Roscoe following. The interior was just as plain as the outside, with seventies-style terrazzo floors and harsh fluorescent lighting. An antique-looking marquee pointed the way to a few key areas of the building, but all I was concerned with was the arrow pointing at the mayor’s office.
“I guess we go this way,” I said, leading the other two down the eerily quiet hall. “Where the hell is everyone? Even the city hall in Darryl’s town had a guard and metal detector at least.”
“I’m not complaining. There won’t be a line,” Roscoe said.
We stopped at a heavy oak door with a blank bronze name plate screwed into it. “Was he just elected or something?” I asked, giving the door a firm tug.
The warm glow of floor lamps lit the way into a windowless office. It had only a larger-than-normal desk, and an imposing office chair turned toward a television in the corner with FoxNews muted on screen. A large, clawed hand snatched the remote from the desk, and the television went dark.
“Welcome to Norwich,” a deep voice said.
“Yer shittin’ me. A werewolf mayor?” Roscoe said, bounding toward the desk. “How the hell’d you manage that?”
The chair turned, revealing an unusually neat-looking werewolf. He was a dark brown color with a stylishly trimmed ashy mane and well-manicured claws, but the weirdest thing was what he was wearing. It was a black suit tailored to fit his larger inhuman frame, giving him more of a mob boss appearance than a public servant. When he stood, he was only a few inches taller than Roscoe, but he had a lot of muscle and an icy stare that made me want to slink away. His tail had a slight upward curl as it hung from a hole in the black slacks he wore. As handsome as Darryl was, this guy was on the same level.
“Where’s the fourth?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the clank of the door cut me off. A muscled blond half-turn trudged into the office, swimming in a pair of torn army fatigues barely held up by a belt several sizes too large. In contrast, he also wore a black tank top that was a couple of sizes too small.
“Looks like Bernie made it,” Roscoe said with a snicker. “Little Bernie Blödmann.”
“The fuck?” Austin snapped, baring his teeth which seemed a little too large for his mouth.
“You’re… here,” Adam said, sounding just as stunned as the rest of us. I had no idea werewolves could take that form again.
“I was told Mr. Blödmann was a werewolf.” Though it was slight, the dark mayor slipped in and out of an accent. It sounded almost middle-eastern.
“Bl—Blödmann.” Austin growled, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he grinded his teeth, staring Adam down. “Well, guess there was a fuck-up somewhere.”
The mayor studied Austin. “Sure. It must have been aclericalerror.”
“Why are we here?” I asked, pulling the older werewolf’s suspicions off Austin, at least for now. “Does everyone get such a personal welcome?”
He pointed to the hard, wooden chairs around the office before sitting down and crossing one leg over his knee. Despite how intimidating he appeared, the bare clawed feet sticking out of his fancy slacks seemed hilariously out of place.
Each of us took a seat, except for Austin.
“Just blow, you old windbag, so I can leave. I got shit to do,” Austin said, growing antsier by the second. What was going on with him?
