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“Probably not. I’m guessing it lost its way and wandered too close to civilization. I doubt it will stick around.”
Penny let loose an awed breath. “You’re so lucky. I can’t believe you came face to face with a real Aspidochelone.”
“More like foot to back, but I take your point.” A name flashed on my screen, prompting an immediate guttural response.
“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.
I flipped my phone on its face. “Nothing. Spam call.”
In actual fact, it was Justine Kaminsky, the president of the Neighborhood HOA. If she said, “Jump,” you first reviewed all the relevant Neighborhood rules and regulations, then decided whether jumping was, in fact, the appropriate response.
Except I wasn’t in the mood for any of that.
Penny’s phone lit up next. Persistence, thy name is Justine. I’d respect the hustle if I was on the outside looking in. Unfortunately, I was very much on the inside, trapped like a fly in glue.
“She’s right here,” Penny said into her phone.
Brand new and already a traitor.
“Yes, Justine. I understand,” Penny continued. “We’ll get right on it.”
She hung up and gave me a questioning look.
“Fine, it wasn’t spam,” I admitted. “What did she want?”
“There’s a werewolf situation. She’d like us to deal with it immediately.”
I sighed. “Situation is a very broad term. Are we talking inappropriate shifting or a pickleball pack brawl?”
“She didn’t specify. Just said we need to get to Palmetto Square before somebody gets hurt.”
“Did she mention a color code? Orange, mayhap?”
“No, but she said that after we’re finished with the wolves, she wants us to attend the new Neighbor orientation session and introduce ourselves.”
I groaned. “You can go to that. I’ll man the office.”
Penny shook her head. “Justine made a point of saying we both need to attend. It’s important for new residents to put a face to the name, especially when it comes to security. Anything to ease their transition.”
“They’re retired, not dying.”
And they weren’t simply retired from work—they were retired from their lives on the mainland. Evermore was now their sanctuary. The island housed elderly supernaturals who’d aged out of modern society. It was the downside of being immortal or long-lived in a world with advanced technology. Memories were fallible; technology was less so.
“Fly or drive?” I asked, as we spilled out of the building and into the parking lot.
“We can take your golf cart,” Penny said. “It’s probably faster than mine.”
“‘Fast’ and ‘golf cart’ are two words that don’t go together on Evermore,” I warned.
We climbed into my golf cart, and I pressed the pedal to the floor as soon as we reached what qualified as a road on the island.
“This is as fast as we can go,” I told her.
Penny stuck her face in the wind, like a canine passenger. “The air feels nice.”
“We could’ve flown,” I reminded her.
Wordlessly, she returned to her original position in the seat. Up ahead, I noticed the familiar sight of Ed Moody walking toward the square, carrying his customary sign.
