Wolf Tracks - Bianca D'Arc Page 0,36

to town business, but he’d try to check in on them later. Jim shook hands with the Alpha as he left and then followed the women inside.

What he found within was surprising. In the front parlor—and it really was an old-style Victorian front parlor, complete with frou-frou furniture and fussy lace curtains—an old woman sat in splendor. That was the only word for it. She was one of the oldest wolf shifters Jim had ever seen. Her hair had gone silvery white with age and was worn tucked up in a bun on the back of her head. She wore a dark dress with little flowers in the design of the fabric and black leather shoes with buckles, like something out of yesteryear.

There was a cane at her side, as well as a well-padded basket with a little Westie dog sitting in it. The little pink tongue stuck out of its mouth, and its white fur shone with health, its ears pricking forward and its little black eyes watching the newcomers closely. It didn’t bark, but it did pant happily, watching everything with great interest.

Jim approached cautiously, not wanting to give the little thing a heart attack. Dogs often reacted with fear to him because he was such a dominant wolf, but once they got over their fear and learned that he wasn’t going to try to eat them, they tended to follow him around, wanting to be part of his Pack. This little Westie, though, seemed to be made of sterner stuff than most. Sometimes, little dogs had big personalities, and it certainly seemed the case with this little white fluff ball.

“Gran, please meet our new guests. This is Jim Hanson, younger brother of the Alpha of the White Oaks wolf Pack in Iowa, and his friend, Helen Richards,” Felicia announced.

Jim was surprised that Felicia was aware of his lineage. Sure, he was the Alpha’s brother, but that wasn’t something most people knew or cared about. Most people cared more about his relation to his Uncle Arch than to his brother, the Alpha, but Jim supposed he’d been around mostly military vets for the past few years, and they all held Arch in very high esteem.

“Helen, Jim, this is my great-grandmother. Most folks around here call her Miss Felicity,” Felicia told them with a twinkling smile.

“I knew your uncle when he was a little boy,” Miss Felicity said to Jim without preamble. “How is young Archibald? Has he a mate? Pups?”

Jim was floored to meet someone who thought of his uncle as a youngster. He tried not to stumble over his own tongue as he answered her questions.

“Uncle Arch is just fine, ma’am. He and I work together, doing special missions for those in need. He never mated, I’m sorry to say,” Jim reported, keeping his voice pitched to a gentle tone.

“That’s a shame. He was a handsome lad, and so brave, too. He was in the Navy, as I recall. Which, I suppose, means you followed in his footsteps, if you work with him. He was on some kind of special team that called themselves after an aquatic animal. Otters? No. Walrus?”

Jim had to laugh. “SEALs, ma’am. Navy SEALs. It stands for Sea Air and Land.”

He’d have to remember to tell Arch when he got back home about the Navy Walrus. This old lady was just too funny. He could see from the wicked gleam in her eyes that she knew darn well what the teams had been called. She was putting him on, and he liked her all the more for it.

“Oh, yes, of course. Navy SEALs. The frogmen. I always thought it was an odd occupation for a wolf. Did you work with any big cat shifters? I would think they like the water more than most.” Jim was utterly charmed by the old lady.

“A few,” he answered. “I knew a couple of tiger shifters, but there were also actual seal shifters. Selkies, they call themselves. Some of those guys started the teams with my uncle, back during the Viet Nam War.”

“Ah, yes. Archibald always had an attraction to magic, and selkies are more magical than most shifters. I can see where he’d befriend that type of person.” Those shrewd, twinkling eyes turned to Helen. “Which brings us to you, my dear.”

“Me?” Helen practically gulped as the full force of that formidable personality turned on her.

“You’re not a wolf,” Miss Felicity stated. It wasn’t a question.

“No, ma’am. I’m human. A healer. From a magical family with