The Werewolf Nanny - Amanda Milo Page 0,73

haunting and exotic out of werewolf throats, like they’re all singing in an echoing concrete stairwell. They harmonize and cry the music in the manner of well, wolves—not mere men and women.

They follow up their unique performance with another howled number, prompting my mind to replay Bruno Mars and Michael Bolton songs, and consider every other singer who’s famous for howl-crooning in their songs.

Next, the choir leads all of us into gospel music performed normally, and I wouldn’t say it’s like the magic left the building, but the sound of human voices rejoining the mix doesn’t make me shivery like the wolves-only sessions.

We kneel for a final prayer, and then church is done.

Werewolves are barely out the church doors before they’re stripping clothes off.

Finn is shucking his choir vestment and leads our charge out of the pew by loping past and calling, “You lads coming along?”

Ginny makes a face. “Shouldn’t we be ‘lassies?’”

“Where I’m from, that’s a collie. You’re thinking Scotland.”

“But lads?” she asks—and then she’s looking down at his messily folded robes, because he’s pressing it at her.

“Lads goes for garls, blokes,” Finn shrugs. “Everybody is a lad. Anyways, Gin, let’s get you changed and then we’ll head out to the woods, yeah?” He’s following the crowd spilling out of pews. “And prepare yourself. We’re going to get you in the choir.”

I’m glancing back at Deek, seeing him swamped with people in the aisle. He catches my eye and gives me a tiny wave.

I send it back, smiling to myself.

“I don’t think so,” Ginny says to Finn. She’s still holding his robes though, and she gives them a considering look before asking, “What should I wear to the woods? Can Susan come with me?”

“Sure,” Finn agrees with no hesitation, which visibly settles Ginny. “Grab something we can slide you out of if you end up on four legs. Stretchy, loose clothes.”

“Got it.”

The series of werewolf houses aren’t visible from the church, but it’s technically all the same property. We have to walk about a half-mile into the tree line and out the other side to arrive at the open land that gently rolls with hills all the way up to the various dens. The path is smoothed by countless feet tromping on it and my borrowed heels really aren’t hurting me, but I slip them off to save them from getting dirty. I see ahead of us that many women have opted to do the same thing.

Ginny is wearing flats and she keeps hers on.

“So what did you think of our Lucan?” Finn asks.

I assume he’s addressing me, if not both of us. “He was great.”

“He was awesome,” Ginny says.

“He was really confident in the material,” I add, because it was more than a little stunning to see him so self-assured.

Finn is smiling softly, watching our feet. It’s a little strange to see him with his gaze below the horizon line, so to speak. “He’s a good lad.” He nods slightly to himself. “I’m glad you… I’m happy for you.”

I shoot a questioning look his way.

“I’m happy you’re working out,” he explains, waving his hand.

Just then, a body moves up at my side, and I look over and find the topic of conversation himself. “Lucan!” I say without thinking, using his first name I guess because Finn just did.

Deek—Lucan—startles, his gaze shooting up to mine. “Hello,” he rumbles. “I’m glad you came, Susan.” He nods to Ginny. “You too, Ginny.” There’s a pause. “Finn,” he adds like this last greeting is an afterthought.

“Awf, feck off.”

Ginny and I both send him horrified looks.

Finn throws back his head, chuckling. “Ladies, we’re not standing in the church anymore. Give me some credit.”

“Can you swear after church?” Ginny asks.

“Yeah, Finn, wow,” I agree. “Seems wrong.”

“Oh, stuff it, both of you. I’m respectful in church, and I say that’s what counts. If we were holding potluck or something, I’d be as well behaved as the seraphim. But look—we’re clear of the church. So take your clucking for a long walk off a short dock,” he finishes cheekily.

“Potluck?” Ginny asks. We’ve emerged from the trees. I spot the London House waaay up ahead of us.

“Where everybody brings a dish,” Deek answers.

She leans forward to see around me. “I know what a potluck is. I meant ‘and we’re not doing that today because why?’”

“Because we only do that about once a month. If you fancy surfing the fare at other houses though, you can always feel free. Just stop in to any one of them and

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