Wolf for Hire

Chapter Eight

I headed to the laundry room, intent on grabbing my clothes from the washer. As soon as I opened the lid, a musty smell hit me. Mildew. Great. I'd left them damp overnight. Sighing, I restarted the wash, dumping in extra detergent before moving to the sink to clean off my car key. I'd have to grab the spare clothes from the car.

But when I popped the trunk, my heart sank. The box with my clothes wasn't there.

"Of course," I muttered. I had packed it into the storage unit by mistake.

With no other option, I eyed yesterday's clothes in the back seat—my dress suit and skirt, now sun-dried. I lifted the fabric to my nose. It smelled faintly of sweat but nothing too bad. Definitely better than mildew. Once inside, I grabbed a can of air freshener and gave them a thorough spritz. Febreezed clothes were as good as clean, right?

Then came the real dilemma—underwear. My bra, panties, and leggings were still in the washer, and borrowing Sandy's was out of the question. I grimaced. Commando it was. Not ideal, but I wasn't planning on going out in public, so I'd manage.

After a quick shower, I stood in front of the mirror, assessing myself. I was not as bad as I'd feared. The hair from last night's transformation was sparse—no worse than someone who hadn't shaved in a week. Definitely nowhere near wolfman—or wolfwoman—territory. The facial hair wasn't terrible either, just a faint monobrow and some fuzz on my upper lip. Compared to the day before, it was a relief. But with the full moon tomorrow, it should've been worse.

I frowned, thinking back. The only thing different about last night was that I hadn't fought the transformation. The wolf had come back tired, content, slipping away without the usual struggle. No fighting. No lingering.

I stared at my reflection, turning the thought over. The wolf wasn't just a mindless force—it was aware, almost... cooperative. I'd asked it to return last night, and it had. Maybe the wolf-mind wasn't simply a side effect of my lycanthropy but something more central to it. Had I misunderstood the dynamic all this time?

There was one way to find out.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and centering myself in front of the mirror. I reached out mentally, feeling around the edges of my consciousness, searching for that familiar presence, like reaching into the dark for something just out of sight. The wolf was there, slumbering deep in the back of my mind.

Wakey, wakey, I thought, sending a mental nudge. A flicker of irritation pulsed through me—I'd caught its attention.

I tried again, pushing a little harder. The wolf resisted, pressing against my awareness like a warning—let this sleeping dog lie. I prodded a third time, and a sharp flash of pain, like brain freeze, sliced through my skull.

The damn thing had snapped at me.

Well then, enough playing around. I narrowed my focus, gathering my resolve, and used the same command word as before: Come.

The effect was abrupt—and disorienting. The wolf was jolted awake and yanked from the recesses of my mind to the forefront. I stumbled as control slipped from my grasp. The wolf was confused and angry at being pulled into the driver's seat so suddenly. It didn't want to be here—not now, not like this. Frustration that was not my own surged through me as the wolf lashed out, sending sharp flashes of pain, before retreating, slipping back into the shadows just as quickly.

I let out a shaky breath, my whole body trembling. But I'd seen enough. In those brief moments, fur had sprouted along my arms, and my nails had started to sharpen and elongate. I'd triggered a transformation, if only for a moment.

Was that the trick?

Dizziness swept over me, and I had to sit down, gripping the edge of the tub as the room swayed. My limbs felt like lead, drained of energy, my head throbbing. I'd only held the wolf at the surface for a few seconds, but it had completely wiped me out. Perhaps it was because the moon wasn't up. If so, I wouldn't be able to push further until nightfall.

One thing was clear: the wolf wasn't just a byproduct of my lycanthropy—it was part of it. Whether it was the cause or a resulting manifestation, I couldn't be sure. Maybe it was a spirit of some sort, possessing me. Or some animalistic shadow self—a Mr. Hyde to my Dr. Jekyll. Whatever it was, this was the biggest insight I'd had into my condition in months.

And it had taken Carl's asinine antics—and that smug cat—to figure it out.

I glanced at the mirror, a slow grin spreading across my face despite the exhaustion. If Sandy's familiars had taught me this much, what else could Sandy herself teach me? I'd definitely have to talk to her when she got back. Maybe—just maybe—there was more to learn here than I'd realized.

I reached for a towel, only to remember I'd used them all last night to mop up the tank water.

So much for insight. I muttered to myself as I opened the bathroom door. Outside, the dogs were gathered, huddled like a pack waiting for orders.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" I asked. Wagging tails and expectant stares were my only response. They were all hungry.

Right. Breakfast.

They followed me as I dripped through the house, searching for a clean towel.

Once toweled off, I spent the next half hour shaving my face and legs. Call me optimistic, but if my theory about the wolf was right, I might actually enjoy smooth legs again. Besides, JT was coming by later, and I needed to replace his mental image of me. Preferably one with less hair.

Whining noses poked under the door, tails thumping in anticipation. When I stepped out, dressed in my fresh-smelling clothes from yesterday, I was greeted by an entourage of hungry dogs and wagging tails.

"Alright, alright," I said, waving the dogs back. My voice had lightened, a small thread of cheeriness weaving through. This new information about the wolf had left me feeling... hopeful. Perhaps I could understand it—really understand it—maybe even control it. That I wasn't just at its mercy. "Let's get you fed."

The dogs trailed after me to the garage, eager tails thumping against the walls. I started dishing out their kibble—Maggie, Coy, Rosie, Emma. All accounted for. When I reached Boden's bowl, I scooped out his portion and half expected him to barrel into me.

But Boden wasn't there.

I paused, frowning. Boden would never miss food. He should've been at the front of the pack, practically knocking the others aside.

"Boden?" I called, glancing around the garage. "Here, boy!"

No answer.

I looked at Coy, who was watching me, his head tilted. "Where's Boden?" I asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into my voice.

Coy gave a short, almost casual bark, then turned his gaze toward the garage door—the one leading outside. He never came back, his thoughts echoed faintly.

A chill ran up my spine. "What?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "He never came back? Why didn't you tell me?"

Coy's ears twitched, his head tilting the other way, confused. You were there. You knew.

It took a second to realize what he meant. The wolf. He meant that the wolf knew. I swallowed, trying to shake off the unease creeping in. I closed my eyes, reaching inward, prodding at the wolf's presence again.

Nothing.

I pushed harder, mentally grasping for it—and was met with a sharp flash of pain, like jaws snapping too close for comfort. The wolf didn't want to be disturbed.

Frustration welled up. I opened my eyes, glaring at nothing. "We're going to have a talk later, you and me," I muttered. Then, turning to Coy, I said, "I need your help. We have to find Boden."

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Coy's ears perked up, but he didn't move toward the door. Instead, he glanced at the food bowls, then back at me.

I sighed, exasperated. "Fine, eat first. Then we'll look for him."

Satisfied, Coy barked once and settled down to eat. I continued filling the bowls, watching as the dogs tucked into their meals, but my mind was already racing. Boden's missing. He never came back last night. The realization settled in my chest like a lead weight. Then another, darker thought occurred to me.

Could there be others?

Moving quickly, I started checking the enclosures throughout the house. My heart sank further with each empty space. Monty's terrarium—empty. Phin and Ferb's cage—silent. Nevermore's perch—abandoned. Even Camellia and Elmo were gone.

Cassie was still in her personalized oven, and the guinea pig in their little mansion—because why abandon such luxury.

I checked on Carl and found him huddled at the back of his cage, wide-eyed and still. For once, he didn't try to lash out or cause trouble. He just sat there, terrified. I could feel the fear radiating off him.

Good. He should be afraid.

But the rest of the birds, owls and Nevermore included—gone.

I leaned against the wall, a tight knot forming in my stomach. Each missing animal felt like a new thread unraveling from a rope I was barely holding together. I moved through the house with a growing sense of dread, feeding the remaining animals almost mechanically, my mind spinning with thoughts I didn't want to face.

When I reached the living room, I sank onto the couch, putting my head in my hands. The house was a wreck—bullet holes in the walls, water stains on the floor—and now half the animals were gone. Well, technically a fraction if you counted all the fish, frogs, and turtles, but half of the ones that mattered. It was all starting to slip. The control I thought I'd regained in the bathroom was fading, replaced by that same gnawing helplessness pressing down on my chest.

I caught myself grinding my teeth and tried to use one of Dr. Anderson's breathing techniques—slow, deliberate inhales and exhales—fighting the wave of frustration rising inside me. I couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now. Not with so much left to do.

But for a moment, I just sat there, head in my hands, trying to sort through the chaos. How do I fix this? Missing animals, a wrecked house, and a wolf that wouldn't cooperate. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of my control.

Then, as I stared at the bullet holes in the wall, something clicked. A nagging thought that had been lurking at the back of my mind sharpened into focus. All these disasters—Carl, the familiars, the constant chaos—they hadn't happened by accident. I'd been shoved into this mess, and I knew exactly who had done the shoving.

V.

She'd maneuvered me into this job, let me stumble through it clueless, and now everything was falling apart. My frustration boiled over, and before I knew it, I was dialing her number.

The phone rang three times before she picked up.

"V! What the fuck!" I responded the moment she answered.

"Good morning to you too, AJ," V replied, her voice cool, almost amused.

"You call this pet-sitting?"

"I don't recall using that term," she said, sounding infuriatingly unfazed.

"Don't play semantics with me! You knew I had no idea what I was getting into, and you just threw me in here!"

V sighed, maddeningly calm. "And what semantics should I have used?"

"How about a warning?" I shot back, the anger rising. "Maybe a heads-up that the animals weren't exactly normal? Or that Sandy's a witch?"

"And you would have believed me?" V's voice carried that familiar smirk—I could practically hear it.

"I might have!" I snapped, though I wasn't sure that was even true, to be honest.

V let out a soft, almost pitying laugh. "AJ, you lived with the sisters for two years and never realized what they were."

"Because no one told me!" My frustration bled into the words, sharper than I intended.

"Didn't they? Didn't Samantha and Angelica mention being psychics? What did you think they were talking about?"

"I thought it was just New Age-y nonsense," I muttered, defensiveness creeping in.

"Then how did they always know when you were lying?"

"Because I'm easy to read."

V coughed, perhaps stifling a laugh. "Fair enough. I'll give you that. But what about Diana? She could grow flowers in the middle of winter. Some of them even glowed."

I hesitated, the memory clicking into place. "I thought she just had a really green thumb." My voice faltered. Now that I thought about it... her skin was kind of green, too.

"And Tori? Her knack for picking winning lottery tickets?" V pressed. "Statistically improbable, don't you think?"

"Not statistically impossible," I countered, weakly.

V's tone was calm, matter-of-fact. "Look, AJ, I didn't hide anything, and neither did they. You either couldn't see it, or chose not to."

I clenched my jaw, anger simmering just below the surface. "So you dumped me into this job, knowing full well I wasn't prepared?"

"You needed a job. Sandy and JT needed someone to look after the familiars. It seemed like a good fit." V's voice softened. "You're smart, capable—"

"Capable?" I cut her off, my voice sharp with sarcasm. "I got shot at by a monkey, V. A goddamn monkey."

"And?" V didn't waver.

"And what?"

"Did you stop the monkey?" she asked, almost casually.

"Well, yeah, but he shot up the house!"

"Anyone hurt? Any fires?"

"No." My frustration faltered slightly. "But that's not the point."

"The point is you handled it," she said, like it was no big deal.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "You should've warned me, V. You knew I wasn't ready for this."

"JT gave you Sandy's notebook, didn't he? Everything you needed to know is in there. It's literally on the cover."

"It's ambiguous at best," I muttered, irritation rising again.

V sighed, amusement barely hidden in her voice. "Well, seems like you've figured it out now, haven't you?"

I huffed. "You think maybe you could've been a bit more direct?"

"And how would that have gone? 'Oh, by the way, these animals are magic'? You wouldn't have taken it seriously. And you know it. You'd have thought it was a prank and ignored the warning signs. I did you a favor."

I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped. She wasn't wrong. I had tried to brush off the animals' oddities at first. I clenched my fists, annoyed she had a point.

"You also let JT think I'm a witch?" I asked, the irritation flaring again.

"That's not on me," V replied smoothly. "He just assumed."

"Assumed?" I demanded. "Why would he assume that?"

"Everyone in our sorority is a witch, AJ. Can you blame him for making the connection?"

I stared at the wall, biting my lip. "Except me. I'm not a witch. I'm just... a normal person." Who just happens to be a werewolf.

"All witches are normal people too, AJ," V said. "They're as human as you are. They just… experience the world a little differently."

My shoulders slumped as the frustration began to peter out. "What about you?" I asked quietly, the edge in my voice gone. "Are you a witch?"

V paused. "What do you think?"

I exhaled, rubbing my forehead, harder now. "I think you need to start being a little more straight with me."

V's voice remained calm, but softened. "How would you like me to do that?"

"Why am I involved in this?" I asked, my voice closer to pleading now. "With Sandy, the sorority—everything?"

V paused before answering, her tone matter-of-fact again. "With Sandy, it's simple. You needed a job and a place to stay. She and JT needed someone to take care of the familiars. As for the sorority, we needed a treasurer. You were good with numbers, we were classmates, and you weren't particularly judgmental. I figured you'd fit in."

I blinked, feeling deflated. "Is that really it?"

"What were you expecting, AJ? Some grand prophecy? A cosmic scheme? Destiny?" V's voice carried a hint of amused sarcasm. "Sorry to say, but it was just a crime of convenience."

I let out a frustrated laugh, though there was no humor in it. "And JT? Is he a wizard or something?"

"He's Sandy's brother," V said simply. "He looks out for her."

That gave me pause. "...Oh." I went quiet, processing the new bit of information. It actually fit in quite neatly when compared to everything else. "Is there anything else I should know?"

There was a pause on the other end. "What's really going on, AJ?" V asked, her voice softening in a way that caught me off guard. "You didn't call me just to rant."

I sighed, the exhaustion creeping back in. She couldn't have timed the question better—I didn't have the energy to lie. "Several of the familiars are missing, V. I don't know how to find them. I don't have magic, and even if I did, I wouldn't know how to use it."

V was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her tone almost gentle. "AJ, not to be trite, but you're in a house full of creatures trained to assist magical practitioners. They're literally here to help you. Why don't you try asking for their help?"

I frowned, confused. "How? Do I have to make some kind of magic pact with them?"

"You don't need to go that far," V said, amusement slipping back into her voice. "Most of them understand English... well enough—you could just ask. If you've been feeding them right, some should already like you. That's usually a good place to start."

"Just ask them? Really?"

"No reason to make things complicated. Familiars are creatures of habit after all. Once you get to know them, they're easy to predict. Give it a try."

I closed my eyes, my frustration ebbing into something more like resignation. "Thanks, V," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"My pleasure, AJ. Take care." And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone for a moment, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me again. So, I've got to ask for their help, just like that? I was pretty much going to do that anyway. V might as well have told me not to overthink it... which might have been her intention. It was hard to tell with her.

I gathered the dogs in the garage, giving them their assignments. Coy and Emma bounded off to retrace the wolf's trail, while Rosie and Puddy started their search around the house. Murray, Annie, and Rudy would search inside. Hopefully, they'd find some of the missing familiars still close to home.

What I really needed was aerial support. If my canine team could track down just one of the birds, things would be a hell of a lot easier.

I finished straightening my skirt, adjusting my blouse. Maggie returned with her service dog vest in her mouth. "Good girl," I said, slipping it over her head. She stood still while I secured the straps, her tail wagging just enough to show she was ready.

"Alright," I murmured, scratching behind her ears. "Let's go to church."