“Hmm,” the mayor said, pausing for a full, uncomfortable minute, a menacing grin exposing his exceptionally white canines. “You look rather uncomfortable, Mr. Blödmann. It is not good for ahalf-turnto be so anxious.”
Whatever Austin was trying to pull was obviously not working on this guy, but the mayor continued to play along, almost as if he enjoyed watching Austin’s discomfort.
“It is not a coincidence you have ended up in this town. I am sure you have heard about the disturbing federal laws that were passed a couple weeks ago.”
The four of us looked at one another. With everything that had been going on, the last thing I’d thought about was keeping tabs on the news.
“We’ve been kinda busy,” Roscoe responded, pointing to the mayor’s oversized blazer. “Aren’t you hot in all that shit?”
The older werewolf exposed the rest of his sharp, white teeth. “Absolutely. Ask your half-turn.”
Roscoe’s ears fell to the sides and his tail slowly slid between his legs. I’d been around werewolves enough lately to know thebody language of embarrassment and arousal, and he displayed both.
Roscoe and the others were overly submissive to this stranger, and it didn’t make much sense to me. Austin and Roscoe had no respect for authority, and Adam was always ready to bend over for any werewolf that showed even the slightest bit of dominance. Not this time. He sat straight up, frozen.
The brown werewolf narrowed his eyes. “Responsible citizens keep up with important current events.” He tapped a clawed finger on his knee. “To put this simply, every state in the country has until the end of next year to get werewolves off the streets.”
“That sounds like it’s a good thing,” I said. “Everyone gets a place to live, and maybe they’ll relax the ordinances against half-turns.”
“No. This isnota good thing. The law doesn’t go into detail, and it is left to states to interpret. Do you honestly think they are going to resolve the homeless problem by putting werewolves in cute little houses with white picket fences? This law all but wipes out werewolf-friendly state policies some of us have worked tirelessly to get passed for decades.”
The four of us remained quiet as he continued to look us over, his eyes piercing through me as though he were looking for something hidden. Then he relaxed his glare and turned his attention back to Roscoe.
“Now, let’s get personal. How old are you? The state has gotten sloppy with their records.”
“Don’t really know.”
The mayor tilted his head upward. “Forgetting vital information like that is dangerous.” He leaned in and sniffed Roscoe. “You stink like the wilds.”
Though I couldn’t understand what the mayor was talking about, Roscoe’s eyes widened.
“And you?” He stood and took a slow step toward Adam, who shot up out of his chair in a wide-eyed panic. “What is your age?”
“Nineteen, sir.”
The mayor smiled before glancing at Austin. “Interesting,” he whispered, seductively slipping a finger under Adam’s chin. He slid his large finger under the kuu necklace. “If there are three half-turns and one werewolf, who gave you this?”
Adam stiffened even more.
The mayor put up a hand as if to stop him from answering. He strode meticulously toward Austin, his claws tapping a dull rhythm against the wooden floor. “This is quite the riddle. There are two half-turns in my office wearing kuus, and one who is not.” The mayor leaned in closer, his teeth inches from Austin’s face. “What is your age?”
“Twenty-four,” he said, puffing out his chest as he always did when he felt threatened, but his forced confidence shattered in seconds after he gave that answer. “I—I mean nineteen.”
I had expected the mayor to grin at the obvious lie, but he continued to play along. “Which is it? Twenty-four or nineteen?”
Austin swallowed hard. “Nineteen.”
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, once again trying to pull the older werewolf’s attention. The way things were going, Austin was moments from another meltdown. “You’re the mayor of a flyover town, not the duke of Fenrich.”
He stepped over to me, and his overbearing presence softened. “You’re quite the interesting half-turn. How old areyou?”
“Twenty-two,” I answered. “Why are you so interested in our ages?”
The mayor rubbed the neat patch of fur under his chin. “I am trying to suss out the details being kept from me. I do not like it when people try to deceive me. It does not give a good firstimpression.” He tossed a glance at Austin again. “But it is not like you all are deceiving me, right?”
How long was he going to play with his food? He’d obviously figured everything out, but Austin wasn’t all that bright.
“Hey, I told you what you wanted. Is that it?” Austin asked, his legs trembling as if he were carrying a ton of weight.
