“We take fae gold!” Moira declared.
Old—especially for a werewolf—but feisty, Moira sported a slight belly paunch, a skip in her step, and hair almost as white as mine that was perpetually flat on one side, as if she was always waking up from a nap.
She smiled as she shuffled toward the desk where Shania was still scanning Lady Chrysanthe’s purchases. “Welcome to the Timber Ridge Welcome Center. Did you find everything you wanted?”
Lady Chrysanthe beamed, making her breathtakingly pretty. “Yes! You have a lovely shop.”
“Thank you.” Moira humbly bowed her head.
Lord Linus leaned closer. “Say, are you a werewolf?” he asked, likely able to sense the flavor of magic werewolves came in.
Moira straightened up and nodded, puffing up her chest just a little. “I am indeed! My name is Moira—my appearance is that of a tundra-wolf when I shift.”
Given the heat outside and that Moira always ran hot as a tundra wolf, she was wearing a bright green workout shirt and shorts, a visor, and Velcro sandals. The ensemble did little to convey the fierceness younger wolves like Chase, Greyson, and Wyatt or Aeric did, but I was almost certain this was by design.
“Really? That’s fantastic!” Lord Linus turned, his gaze going in the direction of our photo stand. “Say, Lady Chrysanthe, how would you like a pictorial souvenir?”
Lady Chrysanthe turned away from the desk. “What?”
Shania finished bagging the last of Lady Chrysanthe’s many purchases. “Is fae gold real gold? Or is it some kind of fool’s gold, thing?” Shania whispered while the fae was occupied.
“It’s real,” Moira assured her. “It’s gold that comes from the fae realms, but it has the same properties as our gold here.”
Chrysanthe dropped a handful of fae gold coins on the counter. One of them spun, shooting off green colored sparks.
“Maybe they’re a little magical, but we can melt them down and no one will know,” Moira said.
“Moira, would you agree to taking a picture with us?” Lord Linus motioned to our photo stand. “We understand if you are too busy or don’t wish to be bothered, but we would treasure it as a reminder of our time here.”
Moira tilted her head, and I thought she was going to say no, until Lady Chrysanthe tossed a little pouch on the counter that jingled with coins—probably more fae coins.
That was how—five minutes later—I found myself taking a photograph of Lady Chrysanthe and Lord Linus standing on either side of a transformed Moira.
The little old ladies had paid for their purchases—yes, they’d each gotten a baby onesie, and the one with the walker had also bought a bottle of wine from a werewolf run vineyard in New York we were affiliated with, New Moon Wines—and then shuffled off with the intention to visit the Sweet Shoppe after learning there were wolf shaped chocolates and candies sold there. That meant we had the shop to ourselves, giving us plenty of time to snap some pictures.
As a wolf, Moira was a bright white color with a brush of gray on the top of her back, as if an artist had dry-brushed it there. She was stately, and wasn’t quite hip height next to the taller-than-average-fae, but her frame was still solid with muscle, and while her coat wasn’t as plush as say Greyson’s, you could feel the power of her wolf form.
Lady Chrysanthe and Lord Linus smiled, and were very respectful—setting only their hands on Moira’s back, as Moira had suggested before she’d shuffled off to change.
Next to me, Shania took pictures with Lord Linus’s phone, and Lady Chrysanthe’s. “Say cheese!”
“Parmesan,” Lady Chrysanthe said.
“Aged cheddar,” Lord Linus said. “Though I don’t believe that’s what she meant.”
“One, two, three.” I counted off before I snapped the picture.
I sent the picture to my computer, then darted over to my desk and printed the photo on our photo printer.
While the printer got to work, I opened a drawer of my desk and plucked out the little folder—which was, of course, covered with photos of wolves—that we slipped the souvenir photograph in, and got a plastic sleeve for safekeeping.
When the printer spat out the photo into the photo tray I glanced down at it to confirm it hadn’t printed out weird, then finished writing out Lady Chrysanthe’s, Lord Linus’s, and Moira’s names under the little placard spot printed on the photo folder so they could remember what wolf they had their picture taken with. “It just needs to dry for a few seconds, but it’s done!”
“Thank you! This is very exciting,” Lord Linus said. “I got my picture taken with an actual werewolf!”
Shania handed the phones back. “Didn’t Pip say you live with Chase? Can’t you get a photo taken with him whenever you want?”
“I don’t imagine Mr. Workaholic would ever stop working long enough to take a photo,” Lord Linus said.
“Chase’s sense of duty is one of his many admirable qualities,” Lady Chrysanthe said.
“Besides,” Lord Linus continued, ignoring Lady Chrysanthe’s defense of the werewolf. “It’s not the same. It’s like taking a picture of your roommate.”
Lady Chrysanthe opened her mouth to argue, but the photo finished drying, so I slid it into the folder and passed it over. “Here you go!”
“How charming!” Lady Chrysanthe clapped her hands in delight.
“Quite so,” Lord Linus agreed. “We’ll have to put it on display. Everyone will be positively jealous.”
“But…you’re all supernaturals,” I said. “You see werewolves all the time.”
Our photo booth attracted a lot of attention…from humans. But for supernaturals, it wasn’t a rare thing to see werewolves—or shifters in general.
“Seeing a werewolf and having your picture taken with one are two very different things,” Lord Linus informed me.
“Okay. Glad you’re so happy,” I said.
Shania and Moira joined me in the center area of my hexagonal desk, crowding the place as Lady Chrysanthe started picking up her bags.
Lord Linus took one of them from her. “We still have an hour or two before we’re due to drop in on your Alpha—”
“He’s not my Alpha,” I said.
“Are there any places you’d recommend we visit?” Lord Linus finished without acknowledging my comment—he seemed to be very good at ignoring things he didn’t want to hear.
Moira grunted and jumped up, resting her front paws on my desk as she nosed a display that had pamphlets of all the werewolf owned businesses in Timber Ridge.
“Excellent!” Lord Linus plucked one of each, then flapped them—and their commemorative photo folder—at us. “Thank you for a delightful time. Come along, Lady Chrysanthe.”
Lady Chrysanthe grabbed her last bag. “Thank you,” she said. “It was very enjoyable. We will be sure to tell the rest of the Court about our excursion.”
They were out the door—the little bell jingling—before I could say anything in response.
Shania, Moira—with her paws still on my desk—and I all stared at the shut door.
“That was weird, right?” Shania asked. “We’ve never gotten supernatural tourists before.”