Bayou Blues (2 page)

He smiled, a real, genuine smile that showed his brilliant white teeth, and I relaxed a little.

Things had gotten tense this year. Cash, now in his third year of law school, had become obsessed with his Supernatural Law professor, and his intense interest in Supe Law meant he suddenly thought he was an expert. I had to scold him whenever he tried to “educate” me on how things worked with the werewolves.

My uncle was King of the South. I knew more about werewolf ceremony and custom than any of the so-called experts they had brought in to teach classes combined.

Looking over my course catalogue during the summer, I’d been stunned by how many new classes were being added to appeal to student interest in the paranormal. Supernatural Biology; Anthropology of Humanoid Supernaturals—because apparently we didn’t qualify as people anymore;
Dracula
in Context; and my personal favorite: Lupine Sociology—How Werewolf Society Works.

As if they could possibly know. Unless a were was teaching the class, they’d be basing it on a lot of conjecture and a few hastily written books on the topic. Shapeshifters, wolf or otherwise, weren’t too keen on sharing the inner workings of our society with others.

But Cash kept insisting he knew more about the paranormal than I did, simply because he was studying the laws. Over the past couple months it had developed into a sore subject between us.

Which was why I wasn’t too keen on the idea of him tagging along for my runs. He wouldn’t be in any danger from me, but I worried he wouldn’t be able to look at me the same if he saw me in my wolf form.

I think he sometimes liked the idea of dating a werewolf more than he liked the reality.

“How long have the vultures been out front?” I sipped my coffee and looked out the front window. “Goddamn Terry Masterson is standing in my lilac bushes now.” I tapped on the glass, wagging my finger at the middle aged man.

“They were already here when I got up.”

I heard the unspoken
alone
at the end of his sentence. I moved from the window to him, raising on my tiptoes to kiss him, balling his shirt up in my hand to keep him drawn close to me. Cash kissed the way I imagined romance novel heroes kissed, all quiet intensity I could feel right down to my toes.

I used to like reading romance, but since the supernatural community had gone public, it seemed like every author wanted to write about a werewolf hero.

I knew too many werewolves to think they were suitable fodder for romance novels.

When I pulled back from the kiss, he looked sated, less inclined to ask me about my run. And I felt more relaxed than I had since leaving the park. I was still a bundle of nerves about the terrifying woman I’d seen, but less so than before. I was glad he had stayed here instead of going to his apartment when he found me gone in the morning.

“They were asking me about a church or something. Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?”

Cash shook his head and wandered back into the kitchen to get our breakfast pastries. After a long run and the exertion of shifting, I’d probably eat a half dozen eggs once he was gone, but I didn’t think any human needed to see the eating habits of an adult werewolf.

My phone started to ring, the giddy sound of “Uptown Funk” brightening my morning ever so slightly. When I pulled my cell out, I noticed two missed call and several texts I must not have seen while I was driving.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank God.” The voice was female and familiar, but it took me a minute to register who it belonged to.

“Amelia?” Uncle Callum’s second-in-command. Amelia was an older woman, and until this moment I’d thought she was unflappable. Except now she sounded like she was in a state of panic, which didn’t bode well at all. I felt my blood go cold and asked, “Is it Ben? What happened?” The only reason I could imagine Amelia calling me in such a tizzy was if my twin brother had gotten into a scrape or was in serious trouble.

But Ben was the levelheaded twin. He was the one who always did the right thing, who followed the rules and bent over backwards to prove to Callum
he
was the natural choice to step up as pack king. As far as I was concerned there was no contest. I had no real interest in becoming the Queen of the South. Nothing could sound drier or more tedious to me than dealing with pack politics all day every day.

If only I knew what I wanted to do instead.

When your sister has already saved the world, you have an awful lot to live up to.

“Ben? No, honey, Ben’s fine. Are
you
okay?”

I let out a sigh of relief to know my twin wasn’t in danger. “Of course I’m okay.” I glanced out the window as I kicked off my runners. “Does this have something to do with the reporters standing on my lawn?”

“Haven’t you seen the news?”

After wandering into the living room with my coffee in one hand and my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder, I plopped onto the couch and turned on my TV. Cash returned with the fresh palmiers on a plate and sat next to me.

I mouthed the word
Amelia
to him. We’d been together long enough he knew all the important people in my pack life, even if he hadn’t met any of them. He placed a comforting hand on my thigh, giving me a squeeze of encouragement. Of all the people from the pack I talked with, Amelia was the one who often brought out the worst in me.

I flipped through channels until I found CNN, and I knew right away why Amelia was so worried.

A pretty blonde news anchor was posing in a serious way while a brunette woman with a smart, polished bob glowered back at her. I pulled out one earbud to better hear the TV.

“—don’t think you realize how dangerous these creatures are.”

“Are you claiming the werewolf community has done something to validate the threats they’re receiving?”

“Community.” The brunette made a noise of disgust. “We can’t talk about them like they’re people. These are monsters, plain and simple, and my group won’t stand to see them in schools, in churches, in our
safe
spaces.”

Cash’s hand went still, and I sucked in a breath. Maureen Cranston. I knew her shrewish, hateful face. She was the leader of the Coalition for a Pure America. Somehow they’d managed to make overt racism popular again, because it was
okay
to openly hate a werewolf.

I chewed on my fingernail until I remembered Amelia was still on the phone. “What’s this bitch up to now?” I spat.

Amelia sighed, and I realized my faux pas right away.
Bitch.
The word held a lot more weight to werewolves and wasn’t meant to be used flippantly. In fairness to me, Maureen
was
trying to ruin the lives of everyone I held near and dear.

The split screen changed three ways, and the familiar face of Tyler Nowakowski appeared. He was handsome in a generic way, with dark brown hair and thick, expressive eyebrows. His lean face looked more tan than usual, and I wondered what their team had been up to.

Tyler, along with his partner Emilio La Roy, were the two other parts of the special FBI unit Secret worked with to promote understanding and harmony between humans and supernaturals. They were considered the experts, so they tended to get a lot of screen time when issues like this popped up. Tyler and Emilio did, that is. Secret didn’t make the best impression with the media and had been pulled from interview duty indefinitely.

She’d called Piers Morgan a douchebag during a live broadcast.

Tyler, better trained to deal with insufferable d-bags, replied with a smooth, calm tone. “What Ms. Cranston fails to realize is these threats are far more serious than just words. We cannot allow this kind of aggression to persist against fellow citizens.”

“If CAPA has their way, they won’t
be
citizens much longer,” Maureen bit back.

Tyler was struggling to maintain his cool, governmental expression. G-men couldn’t be seen as aggressive or feeling in any way. Yet another reason my hotheaded sister wasn’t the poster child for the FBI.

Emilio tended to be the best of all of them when it came to being unflappable. I swear he was part robot, programmed by the government to be the perfect fed.

“Ms. Cranston, prejudice isn’t a valid reason to rewrite the Constitution of the United States. You can’t simply recall the citizenship of Americans because you don’t approve of their race.”

“Are you calling me a
racist
?” Maureen snapped.

“Oh, Jesus, is she serious?” Cash got up, scrubbing his hand over his face before giving the TV the finger. He and I rarely discussed the racism issue, but I knew he was frustrated about the word being used in reference to white, upper-class businessmen like my uncle.

Cash was a black kid from Louisiana. Until three years ago, he knew more about racism than anyone else in the country. Now his white girlfriend had to deal with more off-color, cruel remarks and media attention than he did. I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed on my behalf or angry because my people were now the center of a hatred whirlwind. It wasn’t the kind of conversation that would end well, so we avoided the topic altogether. But things like this made it difficult, and the tension hanging in the air was so thick I could almost taste it.

“Does CAPA support the threats of the Church of Morning?” Tyler sneered at the name of the church.

On the bottom of the screen the news bar declared
Church of Morning promotes violence against shapeshifters
. What did that mean? The Church was a bunch of anti-werewolf fanatics, but they were more annoying than threatening. I’d never paid much attention to them in the past, maybe to my detriment now.

“Is the Church a serious threat?” I asked Amelia. Cash had left the room, and I could hear him banging around in the kitchen. All the positive happiness from our earlier smooching had vanished. I crossed my legs and settled into the couch, watching Tyler, Maureen and the CNN anchor argue about the Church of Morning.

It was one hell of a loaded name for a supposed church. Morning, meaning daytime, implied they were working in opposition to the night. So the church stood against werewolves, who were ruled by the moon, and vampires, who lived in the night.

Super clever, guys, you really brought out Team Metaphor for that one.

Amelia answered my question about the church with a prolonged sigh. “We’re not sure if they’re blowin’ smoke, trying to scare us, or if there’s more to it than that. But your uncle got an email this morning from their leader. It had a list of every single pack member and their addresses. There’s a chance they mean to make those lists public, and if they’re promoting violence against wolves, you could be in danger.”

“I don’t get it. The Church of Morning has been around for years. They put out all those fliers and stupid PSAs, but they’ve never been violent. Besides, everyone at school knows I’m a wolf. I’ve been on TV with Uncle Callum at his PR things. People
know
I’m a wolf.” Not to mention, based on the get-together outside, people already knew where I lived.

“That’s part of the problem. You’re too exposed, and all some people need is a push, Eugenia. There are people out there who hate what you and I are, and those people will use any excuse to hurt us. You’re not safe.”

We’d gone from
this might be serious
to
you’re not safe
in the span of a minute. I should have known this wouldn’t be good the moment Amelia phoned me, and now I dreaded asking the real reason behind her call.

“So…what do you want me to do?” I wasn’t going to volunteer what I
thought
she was angling for. I didn’t want to leave. I had no interest whatsoever in abandoning Tulane in the middle of a semester to run back to St. Francisville with my proverbial tail between my legs.

“Your uncle wants you to come home. Just until we know what’s going on.”

“And he couldn’t call me himself?” Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to be snippy with her, but I hated being at Callum’s command when he couldn’t be bothered to make a familial effort half the time. He might be king, but he was also the closest thing I had to a father. Would it be so hard for him to reach out and say,
Genie, come home
? I wouldn’t say no to him.

“You know he’s a very busy man.”

“Too busy. Too important. Yeah, I get it.”

“He cares about you a great deal.”

I exhaled dramatically, because I couldn’t argue. Even in my worst mood I knew Callum
did
love me, and if he wanted me to come back to the compound, it was because he was genuinely worried about my safety.

But it also served to remind me I wasn’t free. I was still on his leash; he’d just given me a little extra tether so I could pretend to be on my own. Now he was dragging me back, and part of me hated him for allowing me the illusion only to show me the man behind the curtain.

“Fine.” I didn’t bother to ask about whether or not Cash would be welcome. He was human, and the pack was in a time of crisis. He would
not
be invited to join me, and I wasn’t going to suggest it to him.

He’d say no on account of classes, and it was a valid reason, but I knew it was only an excuse. He seemed to understand things were better if my life with him was divided from my pack life.

I hung up with Amelia and threw the phone onto the empty cushion next to me, staring at the TV until they changed to a story about an oil-rig explosion. The Church of Morning situation would be an ongoing topic throughout the day, but it bothered me to know they even had to debate whether or not it was okay to promote violence against shapeshifters.

We were a long way away from being accepted, in spite of the fact we’d coexisted with humans for literally hundreds of years and posed no risk to them whatsoever.

As soon as I turned the television off, Cash returned. He had changed for class and looked extra handsome with his close-cropped goatee and dark charcoal blazer. I got up and adjusted his tie to give myself an excuse to touch him. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and smiled, but this time it wasn’t a genuine smile.

“Pack calls?” The way he said
pack
made it seem like a foreign word he hadn’t yet learned to pronounce properly.