Coming in at shoulder height to me with legs as thin as toothpicks, Mayor Pearl was a force to be reckoned with. Her snow-white hair, which was fashioned in something similar to a bowl cut, was frozen in curls. I was pretty sure she put them in rollers every night. The jowls of her cheeks hung lower, probably because of her perpetual scowl.
She carried an umbrella—rain or shine—supposedly because she thought it was nicer than a cane, but I’m pretty sure she knew umbrellas were more painful to be smacked with than a cane, which had greatly influenced her decision. As always, she wore a black and white pantsuit with the trousers hiked up almost to her chest, and stomped with authority down the sidewalk.
Privately, I thought she had to be a vampire. She’d looked like this since the day I’d moved in with Mama Dulce and Papa Santos, and had served as the mayor of Timber Ridge for longer than I’d been alive.
“Alpha Greyson!” Mayor Pearl barked, her voice surprisingly low and husky.
“Mayor Pearl,” Greyson said, keeping his voice neutral.
Mayor Pearl brandished her black umbrella in the air. “What fracas have you made now?”
“I’m afraid this isn’t our doing, Mayor Pearl,” Hector said.
“Of course it is—it’s a wolf!” Mayor Pearl’s scowl grew so pronounced her jowls almost swallowed up her chin. “A dead wolf.”
“A wolf from a neighboring Pack lost his mind,” Ember smoothly said. “Alpha Greyson—and Pip—protected the town.”
Mayor Pearl gave a great harumph, which moved the pointy shoulder pads of her suitcoat, as she looked Greyson up and down from head to toe. “I suppose I should at least be thankful you managed to keep pants and a shirt on during the fight. For once.”
Ahhh yes, Mayor Pearl continues her battle against public nudity.
When werewolves switched from their human form to their wolf body, their clothes were usually sacrificed in the process, which made for an awkward transition back to their human form.
Mayor Pearl had built her political platform on making Timber Ridge “decent” and “Family Friendly.” Which basically meant she watched the whole town with binoculars and smacked the Northern Lakes Pack with huge fines whenever she saw a bare belly.
Greyson smiled dazzlingly at the old woman. “We will be informing the Curia Cloisters of all that has happened here. I assume you would like to remain updated on the situation.”
“Naturally.” Mayor Pearl sniffed, then turned her steely gaze on me. “And what are you still doing here? The Timber Ridge Welcome Center is set to open by now. If I’m not mistaken, this is your shift.”
“The welcome center will be opening late today,” Greyson said, his voice a deep rumble that made Ember and Hector shift in response to the power laced within it.
“That’s not very professional,” Mayor Pearl said.
“I am delighted you are so concerned about a werewolf business,” Greyson smiled, though it didn’t make it all the way to his golden eyes. “But we are secure enough in our finances that we can stand to have the center open late today.”
Mayor Pearl darkly eyed Greyson, but there wasn’t much she could say.
The werewolves owned most of the businesses in town. They staffed and ran the welcome center—with the adjoining souvenir shop—as a sort of public service effort to encourage humans to visit the tourist town to see the werewolves.
They also owned several hospitals in the area, the only plumbing service for miles, the Timber Ridge cellphone store, and a slew of other businesses.
Mayor Pearl had no control over the center—though that didn’t keep her from lecturing us employees for what she saw as failing our duties.
“Pip,” Greyson said.
I unflinchingly met his gaze and held it—something I did on purpose because none of the other werewolves could meet his eyes due to his sheer presence as an Alpha. “What?”
“Go with Ember and take a fae healing potion.”
I frowned. “Why? It was just a nick, see?” I held back the ruined fabric of my sleeve to reveal a tiny scratch. With my slightly increased healing abilities, it would scab over within the hour. “Since I’m a hunter, I’m immune to all contagious and communicable diseases werewolves carry.”
“Go,” Greyson said, more of his power creeping into his voice.
Normally Greyson would know better than to try to push me around—there was no use trying since I was immune to his impressive-alpha-ness. I folded my arms across my chest and was getting ready to remind him of this when Ember gently touched my elbow.