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CHAPTER 5

Another chair was lifted over a head, and the entire bar erupted in growls and threatening body language. “Wait!” I shoved out a hand and ducked, fully expecting that chair to come flying in my direction. “We’ll find your killer!”

The chaos and commotion stopped. I peeked through my fingers to find all the faces turned toward me again. “We’re uh . . . It’s uh . . . We’re good at . . . finding killers?”

“We are?” Zee queried from the back of his assailant.

The man who had bought me a drink earlier stepped forward. His dark-whiskered chin and hair hid much of his face, but the brown eyes shining through seemed honest. “You vow this?”

“Yes. It’s uh . . . it’s what we do.” An idea formed. “It’s what we’re here for, actually. Heroes of the City. We uh . . . we help fix things.” Yes, this was perfect. We’d hole up here for a few days, find the killer, and nobody had to look any closer at why I’d shipped us north with no warning and no plan.

Zee lifted his head and addressed the whole room. “You may have heard of us? We stopped the big bad sorcerer in San Francisco⁠—”

“You see any cities or sorcerers around ’ere?” The gruff older man with salt and pepper hair who had stood on my other side at the bar spoke up. He’d stayed at the bar during the brief fight, and watched it alongside his soft-eyed friend. Old Furry guy and his friend Brown Eyes gave off the same kind of calm authority vibes as Victor, suggesting they may be the ones in control.

Speaking of vampires . . . The bar door opened and our tall, grumpy vampire entered, his face as mean as I’d ever seen it.

“Late again, Fancy Fangs.” Zee huffed from the back of the big guy.

Victor studied the chaos that included broken chairs, bloody noses, and a corpse. “Zodiac, why are you mounted on the back of that werewolf gentleman?”

“The what now?” Zee’s eyes grew. “Ooohh, werewolves? Fuck, right.” He plucked himself off the back of the werewolf gentleman and picked his path through the gang of twitchy werewolves to stand between Victor and me. “All the hair makes fuckin’ sense now.”

“You did not know they were werewolves?” Victor asked, incredulously.

“Pfft, what?” He brushed himself down and ruffled his hair. “Of course I did.”

“There appears to be a deceased pack member. My condolences.” Victor stepped forward, prompting more growls, but as he approached the dead man—werewolf—none of them pounced on him like they had us. “Murder?”

“Duh,” Zee coughed into his hand.

“Is this vampire with you?” Brown Eyes asked me.

“Oh yes, introductions would help. This is Lord Victor Reynard of the West Coast Vampire Council, and he’s uh . . .” I gestured at Zee. “He’s Zodiac.”

Zee tossed his hair about his horns. “Of the Too Hot to Fondle viral social-media hit, or Tamed by the Rabid Werewolf, a title I had no creative control over. Everyone knows werewolves rarely get rabies.” As a few of the pack growled, Zee shrunk back. These folks definitely were not fans.

“And I’m Adam.”

Brown Eyes studied the three of us, then stepped forward and extended his huge hand. “We accept your vow, Adam of the San Francisco City Pack.”

“Great.” My hand disappeared into Brown Eyes’s enormous grip.

He yanked me forward, prompting Zee to bristle again and Victor to growl. “But know this, Adam. I am Galbraith of the Whiteacre, alpha of this territory, and you had better keep your vow or you’ll be bones in our back yard.” He freed my squished, bloodless hand.

Grateful to have my hand back, I tried to shake some feeling back into it. “Understood.”

Galbraith barked at the others to move Cameron—the dead guy—somewhere more respectful than the bar floor, and for the rest of them to aid us in whatever we needed to find the killer.

While the majority of the pack was focused on their own goings-on, I nodded at Victor and Zee to head outside so we could speak privately.

“Do you think I should grow a beard?” Zee asked as we crossed the lot.

“I think we should prioritize not getting killed by angry werewolves, not your potential facial hair,” Victor replied.

“You can grow a beard?” I asked. There hadn’t been many bearded demons at Razorsedge.

“Probably not.” Zee stroked his chin. “I could draw one on?”