He pats an antique show-rifle hanging behind him. “And these.” He motions to the junk around us: silver crosses dangling from chains, shelves overstocked with liter after liter of scent-suppressant spray, reprints of werehunting manuals centuries out of date, earplugs for avoiding the power of a werebeast’s call. And magnets. Of my parents.
“You can’t do this,” I whisper.
“Why not?”
“That’s somebody’s life. Somebody’s family.”
“ Was somebody’s life.” He shrugs. “Newspaper that ran the story is out of business, the parents are dead, and everybody knows the girl’s been missing for years. Read even the aunt’s gone now. Who’s gonna complain?”
“No one,” I mutter bitterly as my anger fizzles. I certainly have no right. I stayed in a tent while werebeasts murdered my parents, too scared to do anything but hide. And I’ve been hiding ever since.
Edward crosses his arms and sucks his teeth. “Can I help you with somethin’?”
“I need to buy a gun.” I push the magnet back against the cash register with my left hand, my right still behind my back.
“Worried ‘bout the full moon and all them new weres around, huh?”
“Something like that.”
He pulls out a stack of paperwork from underneath the desk. “I don’t know anybody that believes them government lies. So what if they haven’t done anything since the first attack? So what if they’re all tagged? They’re monsters. Monsters kill.” He licks his dirty thumb and leafs through a couple of forms before sliding them over the counter to me.
“Just fill these out and give me your ID. No license to carry required anymore.”
I dig into my purse and practically fling the plastic card toward him.
He holds it up, scanning for a moment before his face goes slack with surprise. “Hot damn.”
I flinch. How did I not see this coming?
He lowers the paper and gestures with his head to the magnet. “You’re her. You’re Artemis Williams.”
“I try to keep a low profile.”
“No shit.” His gaze jumps between me, my state ID, and the magnet in rapid fire.
I steel myself for all the typical questions. Why did you run away? What are you doing now? And, most of all, why do you think they did it? Why did werebeasts emerge from a hundred years of supposed extinction just to kill your parents?
But when he hands me back my ID, all he asks is, “Why ya back here, then?”
It’s not the worst of questions, so I answer as I pocket the card. "My aunt left me my parents’ old house.” It’s true, but not the whole truth.
Edward’s brows furrow in what would be sympathy on a less grizzled face. “Sorry tuh hear that.”
I wrap my fingers around the bandage.
Before my aunt left me the house, I’d always run whenever too many weres showed up in town or my identity leaked, or even if the wind blew the wrong way. Not because I was worried someone would attack me, but because of the matemark.
The white crescent of fur appeared on my arm a month after the attack. At first I tried to deny what it was, but once the nightmares started, I knew that like Eve, Psyche, and Belle before me, I was doomed to be the mate of a monster. Forced to carry their spawn. Except not really forced. Because all a werebeast has to do is touch their mate to set their bodies on fire. A gun seems like a paltry weapon in comparison, but the threat of a silver bullet is the only thing that can scare a werebeast.
“Well, seems like you’re all grown up.” Edward looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my ample chest before he says, “Let’s get you a gun.” He squats and reaches for a shiny pistol at the front of the case. It looks out of my price range.
“I was thinking something more used.”
“No way I’m giving our Artemis Williams anything but the best.” He lays the pistol on the counter gingerly. “You ever shot a gun before?”
“Yes,” I lie. My heart beats harder as I stare at the trigger.
“‘Course you have.
“You can’t do this,” I whisper.
“Why not?”
“That’s somebody’s life. Somebody’s family.”
“ Was somebody’s life.” He shrugs. “Newspaper that ran the story is out of business, the parents are dead, and everybody knows the girl’s been missing for years. Read even the aunt’s gone now. Who’s gonna complain?”
“No one,” I mutter bitterly as my anger fizzles. I certainly have no right. I stayed in a tent while werebeasts murdered my parents, too scared to do anything but hide. And I’ve been hiding ever since.
Edward crosses his arms and sucks his teeth. “Can I help you with somethin’?”
“I need to buy a gun.” I push the magnet back against the cash register with my left hand, my right still behind my back.
“Worried ‘bout the full moon and all them new weres around, huh?”
“Something like that.”
He pulls out a stack of paperwork from underneath the desk. “I don’t know anybody that believes them government lies. So what if they haven’t done anything since the first attack? So what if they’re all tagged? They’re monsters. Monsters kill.” He licks his dirty thumb and leafs through a couple of forms before sliding them over the counter to me.
“Just fill these out and give me your ID. No license to carry required anymore.”
I dig into my purse and practically fling the plastic card toward him.
He holds it up, scanning for a moment before his face goes slack with surprise. “Hot damn.”
I flinch. How did I not see this coming?
He lowers the paper and gestures with his head to the magnet. “You’re her. You’re Artemis Williams.”
“I try to keep a low profile.”
“No shit.” His gaze jumps between me, my state ID, and the magnet in rapid fire.
I steel myself for all the typical questions. Why did you run away? What are you doing now? And, most of all, why do you think they did it? Why did werebeasts emerge from a hundred years of supposed extinction just to kill your parents?
But when he hands me back my ID, all he asks is, “Why ya back here, then?”
It’s not the worst of questions, so I answer as I pocket the card. "My aunt left me my parents’ old house.” It’s true, but not the whole truth.
Edward’s brows furrow in what would be sympathy on a less grizzled face. “Sorry tuh hear that.”
I wrap my fingers around the bandage.
Before my aunt left me the house, I’d always run whenever too many weres showed up in town or my identity leaked, or even if the wind blew the wrong way. Not because I was worried someone would attack me, but because of the matemark.
The white crescent of fur appeared on my arm a month after the attack. At first I tried to deny what it was, but once the nightmares started, I knew that like Eve, Psyche, and Belle before me, I was doomed to be the mate of a monster. Forced to carry their spawn. Except not really forced. Because all a werebeast has to do is touch their mate to set their bodies on fire. A gun seems like a paltry weapon in comparison, but the threat of a silver bullet is the only thing that can scare a werebeast.
“Well, seems like you’re all grown up.” Edward looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my ample chest before he says, “Let’s get you a gun.” He squats and reaches for a shiny pistol at the front of the case. It looks out of my price range.
“I was thinking something more used.”
“No way I’m giving our Artemis Williams anything but the best.” He lays the pistol on the counter gingerly. “You ever shot a gun before?”
“Yes,” I lie. My heart beats harder as I stare at the trigger.
“‘Course you have.
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