Page 3 of A Dash of Wolf

“You aren’t leaving me behind,” Princess Muffin Top said as Emory hurried through the archway to go back to her coffee shop. “I want to see you two get arrested.”

Adeline scoffed and took a nibble of the Elderberry Delight she’d been saving behind the register. “I’m not going to get arrested. I don’t even think the new chief of police has arrived in town yet. So that leaves Officers Casswell and Dixon on duty. Cassie Casswell and I have been friends since elementary. She’s never once arrested me.”

“But that Officer Dixon has no problem hauling you in,” Princess Muffin Top pointed out. “He’s done it twice in the two weeks we’ve waited for this new chief to show up.”

Adeline rolled her eyes. “Only because my grandmother insisted on it. Just so she can prove a point.”

The overhead bell chimed, and an elderly fairy with soft gray curls and a smiling, round face stepped inside. Even though her curls were gray, it was easy for Adeline to see her best friend in the older woman’s face.

“Granny Edna.” How many times over the years had Adeline wished this woman was her grandmother...instead of the one she had. Her grandmother constantly had her arrested just because she took up the cause of those who couldn’t speak for themselves! “Here for your usual order?”

“I am. One Happy Hippie Hummingbird Muffin, please.” Granny Edna Ashgrove reached inside her pocket and slid a Werther’s Original across the counter. “Good afternoon, Princess Muffin Top. I hope you are having a lovely day today.”

“I can’t complain,” the Maine Coon said. “Well, I could, but what good would it do me?”

“Have you heard the news?” Granny Edna asked. “Our new police chief, Chief Wolfe, arrived this morning. He’s down at the station now.”

Adeline snorted as she bagged the muffin. “Princess Muffin Top and I were just debating whether or not he was in town yet.”

The previous chief, Hank Dawson—a gargoyle shifter who’d kept the peace in Moonlight Bay for nearly four decades—had retired last month and moved inland to be closer to his daughter and grandkids. The council hadn’t wanted to promote from within, so they’d opened the position to qualified supernaturals and posted it on the supernatural internet. Adeline didn’t know much about the new hire, only that he came with a recommendation from PADA, the Paranormal Apprehension and Detention Agency, and that he had family who lived on Enchanted Island.

Granny Edna’s eyes twinkled. “I saw him walking into the station. He’s a cutie.” She winked at Adeline. “And the view of him walking in wasn’t half bad, either.”

Princess Muffin Top snorted and licked her front paw. “Which means he can be anywhere from twenty to two hundred.”

Granny Edna laughed and tucked her muffin into her purse. “You girls be careful out at that protest today. And take a sweater. The marsh gets breezy.”

Adeline watched Granny Edna exit and disappear down Tide Street, stopping twice to hand out candies to people on the sidewalk. Emory’s grandmother had a way of making everyone in Moonlight Bay feel like they were the most important person in the room. It was impossible to be angry at her, which, now that Adeline thought about it, was probably her most dangerous quality.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a steady stream of customers while Adeline ducked in and out of the kitchen between orders. She mixed batter for tomorrow’s Bad-Day Brownies, rolled out Zest-for-Life lemon scones, piped batter for Pucker-Up-and-Pick-Me-Up lemon-elderberry muffins, prepped a fresh batch of Time-Twirl cinnamon roll dough, and hand-shaped two trays of Cocoa-Courage truffles. Each recipe carried her intent—kitchen magic channeled through butter and flour. A Bad-Day Brownie didn’t force happiness, it just reminded the customer that happiness was still an option. Same with the Time-Twirl rolls. They took the customer back in time to a favorite memory. There was no manipulation involved in her creations.

Adeline had just slid the last of the Time-Twirl batter into the refrigerator and was scrubbing flour from under her nails when Emory came barreling through the archway.

“Let’s go, Adeline!” Emory spotted the stack of protest signs leaning against the wall near the kitchen door and gasped. “Oh, these signs are adorable!”

Adeline dried her hands and hurried out front. She grinned when she saw Emory holding a glittery “SQUISH-SQUIDS HAVE RIGHTS TOO” sign over Princess Muffin Top’s head.

“Remove that sign this instant, Fairy,” Princess Muffin Top snapped. “The glitter is falling onto my beautiful fur. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to remove that stuff?”

Emory quickly lowered the sign. “Sorry, Princess Muffin Top. I got excited. Are we taking the Beetle Bus?”

The Beetle Bus was a neon blue 1970s Volkswagen bus with myriad flowers, peace signs, and Crescent Moon Bakery scrawled across the side in white bubble font.

“We are.” Adeline warded the archway so no one from the coffee shop could walk through, then grabbed the stack of protest signs under one arm before hurrying toward the front door where the Beetle Bus was parked outside along the curb so customers could see.

She warded the bakery from the outside, then tossed the signs in the back of the Beetle. “You have to promise to be on your best behavior, Princess Muffin Top.”

Princess Muffin Top sailed past her and jumped up into the back of the Beetle, her tail flicking menacingly. “I make no such promises, Kitchen Witch.”

2

“Chief,” Beulah Owens called from behind her front desk. “Another call just came in. There’s a disturbance out at Drury Marsh on the east side of town.”

Mason Wolfe sat back in his chair and groaned. It was his first day on the job, and the phones hadn’t stopped ringing with supposed disturbance calls, which he’d since realized were just Moonlight Bay citizens snooping for gossip about the new chief of police.

“You want me to check it out?” Officer Dixon, a lanky vampire, asked from his desk.

Moonlight Bay wasn’t a large paranormal town by any stretch of the imagination. The population sat around seven thousand. When Mason had interviewed for the position over Broom Chat—the supernatural equivalent of what humans called Zoom—the town council had told him he’d have two officers working under him, and he had to admit, so far, he was impressed. He figured he’d be doing most of the work himself, but that didn’t seem to be the case at all.