A Date with a Werewolf by MH Bonham (electronic reader .txt) 📕

blindingly lit up to screw with my night vision. Douglas stood at the counter as the kid was ringing up the doughnuts.

“Can you do something about the bugs?” the kid waved at the fairies outside.

“Why, are they bothering you?” I asked.

“Yeah, they steal from the trash.”

“Maybe we’ll swat them,” Douglas said, pulling out his card to pay.

“We got other problems,” I said. “Dispatch came on.”

“Well fuck.” Douglas picked up the bag of doughnuts and a coffee. I noted he didn’t bother to get me a coffee.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“What?” Douglas snapped, as we walked out the door.

“You owe me like…twenty cups,” I said, not bothering to hide my irritation as he walked to the driver’s side.

“Put it on my bill.” He shoved the bag of doughnuts into my hands and put the key in the door lock. It gave him a good zap. “Jesus fucking Christ, Cabbage! Do you have to do that? Most people settle on door locks, you know.”

“Oops,” I said, not feeling sorry. “You know it’s standard procedure.” I touched the car and the wards flashed, effectively neutralized. “Go ahead now.”

Douglas unlocked the car and climbed into the driver’s side. He reached for the doughnut bag, but I skittered out of reach. “Hey!” he said.

“Put it on my bill,” I said and whistled. “Hey guys! Want some doughnuts?” I shouted to the fairies.

Like moths to a flame, the little miscreants came out of hiding. Given how busy the intersection of Broadway and Evans was, I couldn’t believe how many appeared out of nowhere. Soon, I was surrounded by a swarm of hungry, buzzing fairies.

“Hey guys!” I shouted over the noise. “Quit harassing the customers around here, and I’ll give you free doughnuts on Mondays, okay?” I tossed the bag in the air. It never hit the ground.

One of the fairies flitted in front of my nose. “Is that a promise?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll bring you some doughnuts.”

“Hurrah!”

“Deal?” I asked.

“Deal!” They all shouted in their diminutive voices. They whirled around in the air, clinging to the doughnut bag like an angry bee swarm and disappeared into the night.

I got into the car. Douglas was on the radio. “10-4, we’ll be right there.” He glared at me. “You owe me for those doughnuts, Cabbage.”

“You owe me for the coffee. Consider that paid up.”

He shot me a look and started the car. Tonight was going to be fun, I could just tell.

Chapter Two

Washington Park looked like a war zone. As part of the University District of Denver, Colorado, it had just enough trees and ponds to make it pleasant for Normals to go jogging or walking their dog. Before the Supernaturals came out of hiding, you had your regular drug traffickers and occasional criminals. You didn’t hang out there at night, even with the street and pathway lights. Now, with the Supernaturals, people were careful in the daytime and avoided it altogether at night. More than once, I’ve seen selkies and water horses in Grasmere Lake hunting the ducks, and the occasional roving bands of Orcs, but they seldom did more than scare the locals. And then, of course, the fairies were an ever present nuisance. Many Normals avoided the park now, but those few brave souls were often rewarded with a mostly unmolested experience.

Now, from what I could see under the few lights standing and the gibbous moon rising, the graded paths around Grasmere Lake had giant holes torn in them. Something had uprooted the trees as though shells exploded there. Whatever it was ripped out the bridges along the City Ditch, the old irrigation canals people used to use to bring water in for their crops.

I looked over the devastation and felt the itch of dark magic in the area. Douglas got on the radio and called for backup but I wasn’t sure what they could do other than piss off whatever it was out there. I closed my eyes and stretched my senses to see if I could figure out what caused it.

Despite the name, Ironspell-Cabas, I’m not a wizard or a mage. At least not yet. My mom told me long ago that my father’s clan, the Ironspells, were a powerful wizarding family that fell on hard times. My mom claims she’s only a hedge witch with enough power to read Tarot cards or maybe make a third class love potion. Me? I’m just a cop with some magic sense and an ability to do basic spells; no more powerful than simple ward runes and maybe a hex or two. Hell, even Normals could probably conjure up the spells I can do, if they practiced. That’s why I applied to the Alchemy department at the University, so I could join the Denver Police elite Wizard Task Force. Once I got my license, I could ditch Jimmy Dean here.

Right now, I was at best a cop with just a few spells and a feel for magic. But one thing I did have was the uncanny ability to sense trouble—and somehow get into it head first.

“C’mon Cabbage, quit snoozing and let’s take a look around.” Douglas got out of the car. I tried to ignore him as my magical senses stretched across the park. I had learned long ago you didn’t want to go blazing in with guns drawn on something magical, until you knew what that something was. I tried to get a good sense of what exactly was making my black magic gauge peg the meter. “Cabbage?”

“Hang on, this is serious,” I said, still keeping my eyes closed. God, it was hard to concentrate with a buffoon of an officer breathing down your neck. My partner moved off a few paces, giving me the physical—and mental—space I needed to concentrate. I then felt what they were.

Shit.

“Troll, Douglas!” I opened the door and tumbled out of the car, still unsteady from the magic. Looking ahead, I could see Douglas twenty yards away with his hand on his weapon—still undrawn—walking right toward the ambush. His flashlight was on.