“Not quite.” He turned his attention back to me. “How long have you been a half-turn?”
“A couple of months.”
The mayor’s reaction was immediate and unexpected. His eyes glowed silver as he moved closer, and a deep voice resonated in my head, speaking a language I couldn’t understand. As quickly as it started, the voice faded and the mayor backed away, loosening his tie.
“On to business,” he said, sitting back down in his chair. The rest of us, including Austin, took our seats. “The elder council is overlooking the construction of werewolf-only towns across the country, but that doesn’t solve the underlying issue. Norwich is an experiment, and because of this, every policymaker in the country is watching what happens here.”
“Ah, that’s why we’re here.” Roscoe’s familiar cocky grin returned as his tone shifted back to his usual self. “You wanna make sure we’re on our best behavior.”
“Yes,” the mayor replied, pointing to his nose. “Let me familiarize you with some of our laws. Werewolves are not allowed to drink alcohol, and you reek of it.”
Roscoe’s expression quickly shifted to horror. “What?”
“No alcohol. No drugs. No exceptions.”
“Are humans still allowed to drink?” I asked. “Because that would be quite the double-standard.”
“The council gave specific orders before I took this position. We are not going to risk this opportunity to make the best impression.”
I went to say something else, but Roscoe put up his hand and whined in defeat. “All right. No booze or drugs. Anything else, yer majesty?”
The older werewolf turned to me for a moment. “No fighting with the humans, and stay away from the woods,” he said, shuffling the papers on his desk. “That last one is the most important.”
“Uh, all right. No woods and no fights. Got it.” Roscoe shuffled toward the door.
“Oh, and two more things,” the mayor said in a deeper voice, stopping Roscoe cold. “Do not ever insult me by taking me for a fool with such pathetic lies and ridiculous false names. And you”—he pointed at me—“I want to see you here tomorrow. Alone.”
“Why?” I asked.
The werewolf turned his chair toward the television, turning it back on before shooing us away.
“No more questions. It is taking all my self-control to not lose my temper at you fools.”
As I opened my mouth, Roscoe grabbed my shirt and shoved me out the door, the rest filing behind.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked, jerking away.
“Don’t fuck with that guy,” he said, shoving me forward. “Yer in there talkin’ to an elder like yer the fuckin’ leader or something.”
“Elder?” My stomach dropped as I remembered some of the lore I read in Darryl’s book.
Roscoe rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got a mouth, and I’ll admit, that’s a big reason I like you. But a wise-ass attitude ain’t gonna do you much good if you ain’t got the strength to back it up.”
As much as I wanted to argue, I decided to let it go. Austin sped ahead of us before turning back to stare at Adam.
“Enough about Cody being stupid. I’ve got a funny story. Wanna hear it?”
“Uh, sure,” Adam responded with a slight upward inflection.
“Back when I was in the marines, they sent me out of the country for a little while. You wanna know what country they sent me to?”
Austin’s teeth grew sharper, and his fur thickened as he shifted back into his werewolf form.
“Germany!” he barked, leaning close to Adam’s face. “That better not be the fucking name you gave to the bureau!”
“What’s wrong with the name?” Adam asked, feigning ignorance. “You’re blond and you look kind of German.”
Austin growled.
