Nice Werewolves Don't Bite Vampires (Half-Moon Hollow #8)- Molly Harper Page 0,75

the dumpster in the parking lot. I was afraid I would fill the thing up before I finished unpacking, and I hadn’t even started on the furniture yet.

I stepped out of the apartment, taking a deep breath of what I liked to think of “the free air.” The instinct to return to my pack’s territory was like an itch in the back of my brain. I couldn’t reach it, couldn’t stop it. Only the distractions of work and moving-in chores kept my feet from running right back to my family. But it was becoming more manageable every day, because my freedom was worth more than the potential relief of that itch being removed.

“Hey, Tylene, how’s it going?” I heard a rich baritone call from across the lot.

My neighbor, Sammy Palona, was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. He was tall, built like a professional wrestler, and he smelled like coffee and cocoa all of the time. (He worked as a barista in the coffee bar at Council headquarters.) If I wasn’t already committed to a perfectly nice vampire, I could be in real trouble there.

“Hey, Sammy,” I called back. I nodded at his car. “Heading into work?”

“Somebody’s gotta keep the vampires caffeinated,” he said. “Just so you know. Jane and Dick and Gigi, and several other high-profile consultants at the Council have all told me to keep an eye out for you. So, if seems like I’m checking in on you too much, I’m not being a creep. I’m just trying to protect my job.”

“Understood,” I told him. “And I’ll try to get them to back off.”

“Eh, if that many people are looking out for you, it says good things about my new neighbor,” Sammy said with a shrug.

“Or I could be completely insane and they’re worried about you,” I countered.

Sammy grimaced. “You know, I had not considered that.”

“I’m kidding,” I assured him. “I’m only mildly insane.”

“Well, that makes you just like all my other neighbors.” He seemed to think that over for a moment. “You don’t think you’ll have private investigators coming by, do you? That last guy smelled like tobacco and ass.”

“I don’t think so…but if you see a couple of redneck types sniffing around, asking questions about me, you don’t know anything.”

“Exes?” he asked, his dark brows knitted together.

“Relatives,” I replied. “They’re not thrilled I’ve moved out. Dick and Andrea know all about it.”

“Okay, good. If you have any problems, I’m just a few doors down.”

“Thanks, have a good night,” I told him. “I definitely will not poke holes in your walls for my cameras while you’re at work.” He stopped and turned, his expression alarmed. “I have got to stop making jokes.”

“Nah, that was a good one,” he conceded as he climbed into his car.

I waved as he pulled out of the parking lot and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Note to self, ask Jane for a book on how to talk to normal people.”

My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I steeled my nerves as I checked the screen, praying it wouldn’t be my mother again. She’d been calling and leaving messages pretty much nonstop since I’d moved out. It had gotten to the point where I just deleted the messages and texts unread. I didn’t need any of her pleading or accustations in my head right now. I would go to the cell phone store and get a new number that week. I didn’t think my parents were tech savvy enough to use a phone tracking app or anything, but some of my cousins were a little more advanced.

To my relief, the message was from Jolene’s phone. “Hey, Cousin Ty, this is Janelyn, I sent you an audio file. Video call me after!”

I pressed the attachment and immediately regretted it. Never in my life had I heard such unpleasant, shrieking sound. It felt like being stabbed in the ears with an ice pick covered in poison ivy. Covering one ear, I fumbled for the “stop button,” and felt relief flood my head when the unholy noise stopped. Grumbling, I dialed Jolene’s number and Janelyn’s puckish little face popped up on the screen. “Hi, Cousin Ty!”

“What in the hell was that?!” I cried, making her and Joe, who was hovering over her shoulder, crack up.

“It’s the highest note you can play on a violin,” she chirped. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for weeks.”

“Why would you send that to me?” I demanded.

“Because she could?” Joe guessed.

Janelyn nodded. “Yep. Besides, if anybody

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