“Then why are you calling me this late?”
“As if you’re ever asleep by 12:30,” I comment. “Anyway, we have an emergency.”
I hear crackling on the other side, then his voice comes back clearer. “What happened?”
“There are dead bodies in the werewolf’s apartment upstairs. I thought we should check it out before the rest of your team gets involved.” Nick is a detective with the LAPD.
“Fuck, man. Is he in the apartment too?” he asks. The background noise tells me he’s already on the move.
“No, he ran away. That’s actually what made me check his apartment in the first place. Oliver saw him—”
“Wait, I’m switching to the car speaker,” Nick says.
I wait, growing impatient.
His voice comes back. “Yeah, go on. You were sayingsomething about the human you can’t stop talking about seeing the creepy old wolf dude upstairs?”
“I don’t talk about Oliver. Like, ever,” I say, confidently.
“We literally have a drinking game for how much you mention him per night.”
“As if you people need another reason to drink,” I sniff. “Anyway, Oliver saw him running down the stairs half-shifted and freaked out.”
“He’s okay, right?” Nick asks, all signs of teasing gone.
“Just really scared. No physical harm.”
“Maybe now you can tell him about yourself,” he says, casually.
“What?” My feet still, surprised by the turn this conversation took.
“Why can't you just tell him about us and then date him? Don't you trust him?” Nick says, like he’s making all the sense in the world.
My heart beat picks up. “I don'tknowhim. Besides, he doesn't deserve that,” I say, my voice cracks a little without my permission. “How can you even suggest that? You know how the Bureau treats humans who are aware. The constant surveillance, threat, and distrust. Their lives are never the same—”
“You know it’s not a burden for everyone,” Nick interrupts. “I don’t know what those people said to you, Matty, but they were assholes—”
“I don't want to talk about it,” I snap. I don't have the energy to discuss my fucked up relationship with my old foster parents before Nick’s family took me in.
“Alright, I’m parking at the back of your building. Meet me at the guy’s apartment in two,” he says, all business now, and hangs up.
I give a quick call to Meena, our LA Werewolf Regulation Bureau supervisor. She promises she’ll be here within the next hour.
The Bureau was formed to maintain our secret and look into crimes committed by or against werewolves across the world. The inbuilt weapons and lack of evidence can make human courts useless when it comes to werewolf-related crimes.
Nick and I both started working for the Bureau right after school. I eventually joined the LAFD, and Nick chose the LAPD. The Bureau has trained officers in every emergency department across all major cities to ensure every werewolf-related instance is flagged and appropriate measures taken.
Nick, with his natural werewolf bulk, is almost as tall as me. But that’s where our similarities end. He has classic good-boy looks, with a straight nose, blue eyes, a sharp jaw, and light brown hair. Very few people know the guy is more rottweiler than golden retriever.
He walks up to where I’m waiting for him, work mode on.
“I doubt anyone is up in any of these apartments,” I point at the other apartments on the floor. “But let’s try and keep it down.”
He nods and gives me a one-armed hug before taking out a key.
Okay, so he might have a little more golden retriever energy than I acknowledge.
“It reeks,” he wrinkles his nose. “At least two people. You’re right. Both humans.”
