Lorcan & Evette

Chapter Two

The werewolves had been at war with the witches for centuries now. But it didn't make sense to target her. She'd removed herself from that life. She wasn't a threat.

At least not that she knew of.

And yet there were werewolves in her shop. If that wasn't a threat, then she didn't know what was.

A man approached the counter. Like the others, his claws were black and pointed. He rapped them against her counter top idly.

"Hey there miss." Fangs. Definitely werewolves. "Do you work here?"

She reminded herself to stay cool. For all she knew, their arrival here was a coincidence.

"Uh, yes. How can I help you?"

"My friends and I were in town- just passing by- and we thought we'd drop in. We've heard promising things about this place. You do readings, don't you?"

Cool it, Evie. She couldn't give herself away.

"You'll have to be more specific than that."

He smiled. The threat was in the fangs. "What types are there?"

"Palm, tarot, crystal ball, astrology..."

Her favourite right now was numerology. Five werewolves and counting.

"Do all of them tell the future?"

She shrugged. "That depends on what you want to know."

The werewolf nodded. She was calling him that. A witch's sense of smell wasn't nearly as strong as that of another species. But this close up, it was hard to ignore the scent of dog.

Would a shower kill him? He was fogging up the jasmine.

"Say, how do people know you're not scamming them?" He leaned a little closer, drawing that curtain of wooden necklaces aside with a flick. "Don't you pick up on body language and stuff to fuel your predictions?"

Her fingers tightened around the edges of her book. "Why so interested? Aren't you a believer?"

His hand shot out, curling around her wrist.

Well great. Now he's fucking done it.

"That depends, Evette. Tell me a story?"

Truly terrifying this one.

She kept her voice steady. "I don't go by that name anymore."

"But that's your name, isn't it?" She watched his mouth. "You were born Evette, weren't you?" He flicked his finger up. Lightbulb. "Evette of Veneficus. Lavished Mistress of the Future. Seer by day, raging bitch by night." God she hated wolves. Thirty years and the disdain still ran wild. "You were hard to find, I'll give you that. But every witch leaves a trail in the end."

Thirty years ago, she wouldn't have hesitated to skin him. Now, she knew dry cleaning a carpet was expensive. Plus, the authorities would want to hear about a blood removal. It is what it is.

Bills didn't pay themselves.

"All we had to do was ask around," The wolf continued. "Your name's a bit of a giveaway, don't you think? Evie Wicker." Thirty years ago, she'd found it funny. "Then there were all the shining reviews."

"Maybe I'm just that good."

"Or maybe you're a witch."

She forced a laugh. "So you don't believe in foresight but you do believe in witches." She threw a scathing glance at his pesky hand on her wrist. "That's some really sound logic you've got going on there."