I poked my head inside Wyatt’s office. “Have you seen Blue?”
Wyatt—who was stretched over his desk, plugging something in—jumped. “You scared the ghost out of me! Don’t creep up on people like that.”
I leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded. “What’s got you so wired up?”
He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting around. “I put on a kids’ movie for Hunter earlier, and I’m creeped out by it.”
“Which one?”
“The NeverEnding Story. Have you seen it?”
“I don’t think so.”
Wyatt took off his beanie, revealing a tangle of messy brown locks. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was born in the 1800s because of his charismatic, youthful appearance. The patchy whiskers on his face, unruly hair, and casual clothes made him look like a guy who quit college to backpack through Europe. He tossed the hat on his desk and plopped down in his leather chair. “It’s about a kid who reads a book.”
“Sounds terrifying. I think the most I’ve ever seen you read is the ingredients on a Doritos bag.”
He stared at a basket of french fries on his desk, hand inside his shirt as he scratched his belly. “The characters in the book are living their life, oblivious that they’re just part of a story. The kid reading the book holds all the power to save their world.”
“And?”
He rubbed his arms. “What if we’re just characters in a book? What if someone is reading about us, and we only exist on a page?”
I chuckled softly. “Seriously? I have an unsolvable case, Blue has a stalker living on the property, Hunter’s on the run from everyone trying to yank his tooth out, you see dead people all the time, and your worst fear is that you might not be real?”
He circled his finger over the trackpad on his laptop, deactivating the screen saver. “Actually, my worst fear is butterflies, but we’ll pack that up and save it for another day.”
“How many of those mushrooms have you had tonight?”
He gave me an indignant look. “That has nothing to do with it.”
“Eat your fries. If you see Blue, tell her I’m back and to call me.” I handed Wyatt her phone to charge.
Wyatt suddenly turned his head and stared into the empty room. His olive-green eyes locked on something, and he said, “If there’s anyone out there reading this, don’t kill me off. I’ve got a whole life ahead of me. I promise to be more entertaining.”
Hearing heavy boots tromping against the floor in the hallway, I turned to see who was coming. I guessed Shepherd since not even Claude walked that loudly.
Shepherd puffed on his cigarette from the doorway. “If you don’t give me some work to do, I’m going to put your ass in that vending machine with a thousand-dollar price tag.”
Wyatt scoffed as he grabbed a cluster of fries. “The joke’s on you. I’m worth at least ten.”
“I could have used some backup today,” I remarked.
Shepherd squared his shoulders. “You run into trouble?”
“Just fourteen or so bears itching for a fight.”
He chuckled darkly. “What clusterfuck did you get yourself into?”
“We took care of it.”
He flicked ashes on the floor. “I sure as hell hope so. You don’t fuck around with a family of bears. They’re vindictive little bastards. Packs and dens have a little more order and leadership, but some of those bears are wild animals. You need weapons?”
“Viktor doesn’t want us armed. We won’t be able to question anyone if we’re packing. They won’t trust us.”
Shepherd dropped his cigarette inside Wyatt’s soda can. “One of those cases, huh?”
Wyatt gestured to my legs. “Looks like what you really need is mosquito repellent.”
Shepherd ambled toward the sofa. “Nah. Then it might keep her boyfriend away.”
“Have you seen Blue?” I asked.
Shepherd blew a breath of smoke toward the ceiling. “She’s around.”
That was a relief.
“I’ll see you two knuckleheads later.” I stepped into the hall, my leg itching like crazy. What I needed was a stiff drink. My last assignment had reawakened old nightmares I’d just as soon forget. But I wanted to stay as clean as I could for this case. One fuckup would not only get back to my father but possibly damage his reputation.
Switch rounded a corner, his circle beard a little thicker as it often was late at night. The man grew hair at the speed of a werewolf.
“What are you up to, Switcharoo?”
“Shep and I just finished a few games of pool.” He gloated, eyes shining as he leaned against the wall. “I kicked his ass. Three times. What are you up to?”
“Trouble,” I said, strolling toward him.
“Sounds about right.” He stripped off his shirt and fell into step beside me. “I’m about to let my wolf go out for a run. Nice night, lots of land, and a few rabbits to chase.”
“Did you hear about our visitor?”
“The dickhead with the tent?”
I smiled. “You should chase him around for a while. He’s trying to court Blue. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll accomplish by camping out in the woods outside our house.”
“Nietzsche said: There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”
“How did you get to be so smart?”
“I read a lot of books.”
“I don’t remember that in my high school classes.”
Switch swung the shirt around. “News flash—you don’t need school to expand your knowledge. Most Shifters don’t go to human schools—not unless they want to. All you need is a good teacher and a lot of books. Look around, Raven. You’re surrounded by books. You have libraries in this place, and I bet there are more in some of these closed-off rooms.”
“I’m too busy hunting killers to catch up on philosophy.”
“Well, if you ever need a teacher…”
“I know a thing or two about a thing or two.” I approached the stairs that led up to my floor, and Switch lingered by the ones that went down. “I bought Crush a dog today.”
Switch frowned and rested his arm on the stone railing. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he needs a companion and protector. Don’t judge. It’s not like I bought him a Shifter.”
Switch draped his T-shirt over his broad shoulder. “A pet isn’t a good look for him.”
“As Crush would say: I’m all out of fucks to give. He works his ass off every day, then he goes home and sits in his chair all night. Alone. I got a dog that would protect him, but I also wanted to give him something he could love. Something that could love him back.”
“So you got him a dog out of guilt.”
I gripped the railing and sighed. “He probably gave it away by now. He knows how the packs feel about pets—especially dogs. Despite everything that happened after I left home and disappeared, he stayed clean. He didn’t have to. Crush isn’t the type to settle down, so maybe I just want to see him happy.”
Switch rested his arm on the other balustrade. “He is happy. You’re back in his life. Maybe you can’t see him all the time, but that’s part of growing up and leaving the pack. Or in your case, home. You can’t feel guilty because he chose to live alone. Some people enjoy the life that others pity them for.”