ROADKILL: Book 5, Chapter 1
The Kin was the werewolf version of the Mafia, just insert butt sniffing instead of ring kissing. We’d had our run ins with them once or twice. On the other hand we’d hired a few for extra bodyguard help in the past. Then there was the fact I was dating one off and on, although that was not common knowledge. Some Alphas might keep the occasional succubae or incubi around for the sex-slaves, but no one was really good enough to actually date a werewolf except another werewolf. They were Old Country orthodox that way and since I’d been born half sheep (human) and half Auphe (unclean nightmare from the beginning of time—try fitting that on a name tag), I didn’t qualify either way. And as Wolves–again, no matter what the mythology told you—were born not made, I never would be good enough.
“I mean, you crotch sniffers know who I am, right?” I waggled my Glock at the one on the left. “You. Speak. Arf arf. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I wasn’t vain enough to think every Wolf in the city had my picture with a big heart drawn around it up on their wall. Far from it. In the toilet bowl to piss on maybe. But while every Wolf might not have known what I looked like, they all knew what I smelled like. Lucky them. It was the rare creature that could pick up the Auphe taint to my scent: dogs, werewolves, and trolls. There wasn’t a Wolf in the city who wouldn’t know who I was at first smell. The half Auphe freak.
Humans told their kids about the bogeyman under the bed. It might grab your foot in the middle of the night and say boo. The supernatural tell their rugrats about the Auphe. It might grab your foot in the middle of the night, drag you under the bed, disembowel you with one clawed hand and pluck out your eyes with the other. I might look human, but I smelled like the darkness under the bed to a Wolf.
The bogeyman times a hundred. A monster to monsters. So attacking me with one revenant and two Wolves? It was a good way to hump your last leg. Although no matter what they thought, that wasn’t because of my Auphe genes. Good guns and a pissy attitude were enough for that. I wasn’t the monster they smelled in me. Maybe I wasn’t all human, but I wasn’t a raving maniacal killer either.
Raving was a little too much work.
Other Books in This Series
NIGHTLIFE: The CAL LEANDROS Novels, Book 1
MOONSHINE: The CAL LEANDROS Novels, Book 2
MADHOUSE: The CAL LEANDROS Novels, Book 3
DEATHWISH: The CAL LEANDROS Novels, Book 4
BLACKOUT: The CAL LEANDROS Novels, Book 6
