Regretfully, he left the trees behind and followed the ugly railroad above toward the residential part of the city, whereall the greenery had been leveled into houses with manicured patches of grass trying to simulate real beauty.
Any animal sighted here that wasn’t domesticated was automatically seen as rabid or cursed. Wren had lost count of the number of times he had been sent out on false calls.
This late at night, nothing was moving. No trains. No passersby.
It was peaceful in its own way.
He pulled up outside a white house that looked like the fifty others on the street. A lady in a yellow nightgown was already waiting for him impatiently on her porch, her brown hair in rollers and her feet encased in fluffy slippers.
“Here we go, Blu,” he sighed.
Blu chirped in sadness, flitting over and grasping Wren’s ragged braid. Wren didn’t bat an eyelash as he climbed out of the SUV, so used to the action and the slight weight.
“Thank god,” the woman called as he trudged up the gravel path, kicking a few extra rocks around just to be petty. “I called over an hour ago! This is an emergency, don’t you know?”
Wren knew that was a lie. Taylor didn’t play when it came to answering her line. Night or day. Rain or shine. Natural disaster or in her grave. She would take that call.
And it had only taken Wren half an hour to get here.
He didn’t bother to reply, just looked around for the supposed rabid and cursed animal terrorizing her life. Nothing seemed amiss. Not even a potted plant upturned. “An emergency?”
“Why else would I call so late? Of course it’s an emergency. We aren’t safe in our house with it around.” She spoke loudly. Wren didn’t know to whom, it wasn’t like he couldn’t hear her.
“What makes you think it’s a cursed animal?”
“It can’t be anything else. It’s been hanging around for days now, assaulting the neighborhood. I decided I’d had enough tonight.”
“Assaulting? People?”
“Not yet, but it’s surely only a matter of time. Shirley’s cat was injured just the other day and other properties have been damaged. It’s been getting into people’s homes!”
Wren hummed, wondering why it had taken so long for someone to call it in if it had been going on this long with escalation.
Blu twittered, drawing Wren’s attention as he flew over to the doorway to perch. Something was bothering him.
The woman made a sound of protest. “What is it doing?”
“His job,” Wren said, daring her with his eyes to say anything derogatory. He glanced over her shoulder through the doorway Blu was indicating. “Is your family asleep inside?”
She twitched. “Yes, of course. My husband and son are dead to the world. Why would they be up at this hour?”
“This incident didn’t wake them as well?”
Her face twitched. “I’m a light sleeper.”
Something crashed in the house and her face flushed completely red.
“It sounds like they’re up now,” Wren drawled. “Do you mind if I speak with them too?”
“No! That’s nothing. We have a…cat. No one is awake, I told you.” She cut him off swiftly. “Just do your job. It’s around the side of the house. Don’t touch anything and watch my hydrangeas. They’re award-winning.”
She hurried back inside, eyes going to the house next door. Wren followed her gaze to an upstairs window, where someone was clearly peeking through the curtain.
Midas hadn’t been wrong—something strange was in the air in Slatehollow.
Shaking his head, he made his way toward the side of the house, Blu following him. The wooden gate was ajar, and when Wren pushed it, the lock fell to the ground.
“So, perfect on the outside but falling apart,” Wren murmured, snorting.
