Werewolves and car rides. It's a classic combination.

Well, maybe not ‘classic,’ but certainly interesting.

Blair wasn’t driving with reckless abandon, but I was still clutching onto the ceiling handle thingy with a white-knuckled grip.

She glanced at me and rolled her eyes. “Drama queen.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t be having that attitude if you couldn’t walk off a crash like it was a stubbed toe!”

“Fair,” Bobby called from the back.

“Shut up, Bobby, my driving’s fine!”

“Hey, I didn’t criticize your driving; just commented on the fact that if a crash were likely to kill me, I’d be terrified of it.”

Blair’s eyebrow twitched as we took a turn.

I glanced toward the back. Laurel, Simon, and Bobby sat in the middle, with Lilly, Rodgers, and Ben behind them.

“How many ghosts are in Silver Spruce?” I heard Lilly ask Rodgers.

“A lot.” Was his helpful answer. I could picture the woman’s glare as Rodgers laughed.

“In all seriousness, we can’t get an exact number. It changes over time. Ghosts move on, either from the town or literally, and more come from outside or as people die. But I’d wager dozens at any given time.”

He waved his hand. “We get a lot of ghosts that just stop by to say hi or see what’s drawing them,” he jabbed at me.

“Makes for some…eventful evenings sometimes.”

Seeing my chance to dump weird knowledge into people's laps, I spoke up. “Our last mayor was something of a gun nut and extremely anti-authority. There are still firearms scattered about the town hall.”

Laurel blinked. “How has the new mayor not cleaned the place up?”

“They’ve tried, but they can never stay in office long enough to find them all.”

Laurel frowned. “They? I thought you said he was the last mayor.”

Ben chuckled. “He was. We’ve just never voted for a new one.”

She opened her mouth. “Then how…”

I shrugged. “They just walk into the office, and if no one protests too loudly, they’re the new mayor.”

Laurel struggled for words. “That can’t be legal.”

I shrugged. “It’s probably not, but no one calls

us on it.”

“So, how long ago was he your mayor?”

I paused and did the math. I could remember the exact year he died since the old bastard had made me use my aura on him.

Of all the ghosts I’d forced to move on, he was one of the weirdest. Not tragic or scarring, really, just unreasonably strange.

“He died in ‘63, so it’s been a minute.”

“You guys haven’t had a mayor for almost 60 years?” Lilly asked.

I looked back at her. Some of the tension in her shoulders had faded during the drive, and she looked at me curiously.

Perfect.

“Who needs mayors, really?”

Lilly laughed. “We always say you lot are odd, but I never really understood how true that was.”

I grinned. “You’re a werewolf, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

Variations of “What’s that supposed to mean!?” Was the response from most of the van.

I laughed.

~<>~<>~

Bramble Myre was bigger than Silver Spruce but with a much lower density of weird. There was Cagel’s pack, a handful of lone were-kin and vampires, and like two hedge mages.

There might have been a few more spooks, but those were all I could think of off the top of my head.

Cagel’s Packhouse was a big three-story affair that towered over its distant neighbors. Despite its size, its warm brown walls and neat hedges gave off a friendly, if reserved, air.

Lilly scrabbled at the van door. Her hand went straight threw, of course. With a frustrated grunt, she threw herself out.

I fought to keep a neutral expression. I hated this part.

The others looked worried as I climbed out, but I just shook my head. My body protested the movement, my side and back throbbing.

I ignored the pain as much as I could, shoving it to the back of my mind. “Stay next to the car for a second, please? I don’t want to crowd Cagel. Especially with people she doesn’t know.”

Blair clenched her jaw but nodded.

Lilly stopped at the front door. The ride over, she had been a mix of curiosity and shaky anger, but that shell was starting to crack.

I patted her back a moment before the front door opened.

Cagel stared down at me, confusion written plain across her face.

She was a tall woman with short brown hair and hard features. She wore a red flannel, dark jeans, and her eyes were rimmed in red.

“Alder? What are you doing here? And what happened to you!?”

I smiled. My face wasn’t that bad, not when compared to my side, but I still had a few shiners.

“The summit. And I’m here because of Lilly.”

Cagel went stiff. She knew what I could do. And she was a smart woman; it didn’t take long for her to put two and two together.

“She’s here?“

I looked to Lilly, who was…I didn’t think there was a word for her expression. Overjoyed, grief-stricken, frustrated, all of those and more emotions I couldn’t pick out flashing over her face in an instant.

“She’s here.”

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Cagel followed my gaze. “I- I failed you, Lilly. I’m sorry.”

To my surprise, the words seemed to calm Lilly. Her back straightened, her shoulders firmed, and she stared right at Cagel.

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t.” I mirrored.

“They came out of nowhere, and you had no reason to expect them. I…I was just too weak.”

I didn’t want to say that last part. I didn’t want to see the anguish in Cagel’s eyes, but I said it anyway, and I didn’t look away as Lilly poured her heart out.

~<>~<>~

Bobby turned away from the van, grabbing Simon by the shoulder as he did.

He didn’t need to listen to the hurt in Alder’s voice or see the pain in the alpha’s eyes. One more witness wouldn’t do anything right now.

What they needed was someone to start working on a solution.

He nodded to Blair, and she nodded back. There was no need for words. They would investigate, and if something happened, they would call for her.

Bramble Myre wasn’t the confusing mess that Silver Spruce was. Bobby was coming to like that mess; it had a unique charm, but he wouldn’t know where to start in a place like Silver Spruce.

“You remember what we’re looking for?” Bobby asked, his voice steady.

They had quizzed Lilly on what to look out for, as she had first-hand experience, as it were, and had listened to her alpha at the crime scene.

Bobby shook his head. Ghosts. He still wasn’t used to seeing them so often. They were things you heard fireside stories about and maybe had the odd encounter with.

Not when you were around Alder. Now, ghosts were very present to Bobby. Present, and things that could take over your body like a plague.

Simon bobbed his head as he peered around. The man always examined new places like he was afraid to miss something, his keen eyes taking in every little bit of their surroundings.

“Bleach and decay.”

Chances were Simon wouldn’t pick up on the decay. He didn’t have a scent for magic like Bobby, but two noses were still better than one. Even if Simon couldn’t smell magic, that didn’t mean he couldn’t catch things Bobby missed.

After a quick search and liberal use of Google maps, they headed for a motel.

The town was small enough that Bobby was pretty sure the local Pack would have checked here already, but it could have been missed in all the chaos, and they needed to start somewhere.

The motel was a rundown one-story affair with a log cabin aesthetic. It had aging walls stained from time and weather, a bright green roof, and a flickering red sign out front that read: Mort Ridges Motel

Simon sniffed. “Musty, but no rot.”

Bobby shrugged. “Let’s give it a look.” The front door swung open, rusty hinges protesting the motion with a squeal.

They winced. They could usually filter out sounds so as not to be overwhelmed, less so when they were on high alert

The entryway had a chair with torn leather cushions against one wall and a coffee table piled high with gossip mags next to it.

Across from them was the front desk. It was made of dark wood, though Bobby could barely tell under the massive layer of papers covering every inch of available space.

A squirrelly woman sat behind the desk, great horn-rimmed spectacles resting on her nose and a book in hand.

Bobby patted Simon on the back and gave him a little shove. “Go make small talk. Keep her distracted,” he muttered under his breath. Simon gave him a glare, but he went and started awkwardly talking to the woman.

Bobby turned his nose to the walls and floor.

…Nothing.

They needed a good cleaning, and there was a patch of cat piss in one corner, but aside from that, it was unremarkable. Bobby set off down one hall, trusting Simon to distract the woman. He wouldn’t appreciate that task, but he’d get it done.

He kept his sniffer primed as he walked past the identical doors but didn’t catch anything odd. Creaks and groans from the wall, the sound of a couple arguing. A few rooms over a couple doing the opposite. No bleach, aside from a cleaning cart.

Bobby walked the motel's short length twice before concluding that he had, in fact, found jack-shit.

He sighed and went to free Simon. He hadn’t expected to find anything, but a man could hope. But even if this place was a dud, it was one they could mark off the list.

He reached Simon and threw an arm around his shoulders. He gave the woman behind the desk a beaming smile. “I’m so sorry, I just rechecked our tickets, and it turns out our flight leaves at nine tonight instead of tomorrow!” He started tugging Simon away.

“I’m so sorry for wasting your time!”

“I, uh, sure. I-ah, I hope you make your flight!”

Bobby gave her a grateful smile as he pulled Simon along. The woman blushed slightly.

Simon grumbled as they walked out. “She spent the last five minutes being far less pleasant to me.”

Bobby shrugged. “I’ve just got that magic touch, Simon. You’ll understand when you're older.”

Simon elbowed him but couldn’t hide a snort.

“Where to next?”

Bobby hummed. “The next place that probably won’t turn up any answers.”

“And after that?”

Bobby chuckled. “We do it again.”

~<>~<>~

Being a mouthpiece for an emotional outpouring was a uniquely unpleasant experience.

At once far too personal, yet utterly detached.

You had to speak confessions of love and hate, had to see the anguish or joy in another’s eyes when none of the words were your own.

And you both knew it.

Cagel and Lilly’s conversation was…a lot. But after the really heavy stuff was done, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and Rodgers stepped in to be Lilly’s translator since he could make himself visible.

He could have done that from the start, but Cagel knew me. It wasn’t a job I would bundle off to someone else.

Cagel had a big house, three stories, and a basement, and it gave off a causal sense of wealth. The kind that didn’t need to flex with tacky displays and trends.

It made sense. Werewolves were social creatures, even more than humans. I didn’t know if every Pack did it, but I knew of several who owned a large communal house for its members to stay in if they wished.

As for the wealthy part, well spooks tended to live for quite a long time. It wasn’t hard to accumulate wealth if you lived long enough.

I did my business and tried my best to keep my thoughts from wandering.

Ghosts like Lilly hurt differently than the others. She wasn’t ancient or several decades dead, at the least. She had died days ago. Merely a stone's throw away from my home. It felt like I’d failed somehow.

It wasn’t logical or even reasonable. I had no way of knowing, and if I were there, I probably would have been a second body on the pile.

But she had been so close!

As I started to walk back, my shoulder started to itch.

I scratched it, but it didn’t help. I stopped. The itch felt…cold. I closed my eyes and really felt.

The itch wasn’t coming from my body. It was coming from my magic.

I turned slowly, keeping my eyes closed. “Blair, can you come

here for a second?” I didn’t say it loudly, but I didn’t need to.

“What’s up?” Her voice sounded right over my shoulder. I flinched. “Jesus, Blair, you’re too big to move that quietly.”

She chuckled. “Why are you walking with your eyes closed?”

“I’m not sure yet. Can you make sure I don’t trip and break my teeth on something?”

She hummed, which I took as a yes.

I started moving toward the feeling. All of my focus turned toward my magic. I poured so much into it that I could barely feel Blair nudge me away from obstacles.

The thing was cold in a very familiar way. It wasn’t the cold of a Fall day or anything so pleasant. It was the cold of the grave, but wrong. Twisted and tangled up in ways didn’t understand, and didn’t want to.

Blair put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. I opened my eyes and saw a wall inches from my face.

I reached forward and gave the wall a mental nudge.

A sigil blossomed on the plaster. Deep blue and bright yellow, it was bigger than my hand and made up of sinuous lines that made sudden jagged turns at random.

“What is that!?” Blair snapped as she pulled me back a step.

I narrowed my eyes. “A ward…I think it’s a magical camera, though it feels terrible. And kind of sloppy.”

With my senses focused on the ward, I could feel the flash of overwhelming rage pulse through it at my words.

I quickly stepped back and met Blair’s eyes.

“And whoever made it is listening in right now.”