Fiends and Familiars - Debra Dunbar Page 0,27
forms just because that fool didn’t recognize me. It’s rude to poke someone with a stick, whether they’re an animal or a shifter.”
I agreed with that. And wouldn’t Bruce be mortified to realize he was actually annoying another shifter—well, annoying not-on-purpose. Bruce and many of the other werewolves did plenty of annoying on purpose.
“You’re going to have a hard time living in your badger form this close to a werewolf compound,” I warned him. “Be prepared for a lot of them to mistaken you for a non-shifter.”
“Then they better be prepared to smell like old gym socks for a few days,” he replied smugly. “I was here first and I’m not moving.”
He had a point. And if we’d known he’d dug a sett here, or that there was a werebadger living inside the wards, we would have let Clinton know to choose land farther away.
“Officially you weren’t here.” He started to speak and I held up a finger—not my middle one because I’m polite. “We don’t require anyone to announce their presence or register or anything, but this is exactly what happens when we have supernatural beings living here that we don’t know about.”
“I’ve been here three months,” he complained. “The food supply is good. I’ve already dug my sett—and can I tell you how unpleasant it is to dig with all the rocks in the ground here? Thought I was going to need a demolition hammer. Plus winter is right around the corner. I’m not moving.”
“Then you need to learn to get along with the werewolves. Be a good neighbor. Don’t spray them, and let them know you’re a shifter if you encounter them.”
He reached down to scratch his balls and muttered something about territory and people waking him up in the middle of the day.
“How much territory do you need?” I asked, forcing my eyes up to his face. “I can’t do much about the noise with the compound so close and the construction going on, but perhaps you can sleep farther back in your sett so it doesn’t disturb you?”
He scowled. “During the day I’d like it if everyone can keep to their side of the stream. At night too, but I like to head out to where they’re digging that road to find some dinner, so I probably won’t be here at night.”
I nodded. “I’ll have the werewolves flag your area, although they may need to use the stream itself. As for dinner, they won’t be eating the same things you are, so you don’t need to worry about them taking your prey.”
Small mammals made up a good proportion of an actual wolf’s prey, but werewolves tended to do their shopping at the supermarket or rely upon domesticated animals and farming, and when they were in their animal form, they were hunting larger prey.
He nodded, then looked over to the compound. Something about the expression on his face gave me an idea.
“Good neighbors socialize,” I offered. “Perhaps the werewolves can include you in the occasional dinner. They put on quite a barbeque.”
He thought about it a moment then nodded. “Okay. But only occasional. I don’t like being human very often. And I’m not sure they’d want me to reciprocate unless wolves like eating earthworms.”
I doubted that. “No, it’s only right for them to play the hosts since there are so many of them and only one of you.”
“Good. I’m Trap.”
He stuck out a hand and I shook it with mine before I could realize it was the same hand he’d been scratching his balls with. Ewww. I hoped I still had some sanitizing wipes in the truck.
“Adrienne Perkins. You can call me Addy.”
He grinned. “Well Addy, if you don’t mind I’d like to get back to my bed. Unless you’d like to join me, that is.”
“Doubt I’d fit.” I couldn’t help but grin. “My witch powers don’t include transforming into an animal.”
He nodded. “Just talking to them, then? Got it. Good to meet you. Come over sometimes for earthworms.”
Before I could reply, he was back in his badger form, waddling his wedge-shaped body into the tunnel and curling up into a furry ball.
Chapter 8
Typhon
Yeth had finally slinked into hell early morning, just before the sun would have been rising at the witch’s house. I couldn’t blame him for being just as under that witch’s spell as I was, but I still took the opportunity to chew him out. He’d failed to capture Faust, was under the spell of honey-smoked ham, and had spent the night curled