(Just a heads up its gonna take a couple more chapters before there's a camren moment)

It wasn't long before I was sitting in a brightly lit kitchen. Mrs. Whitesides had offered coffee, and I'd graciously accepted a cup. I idly twirled my spoon before lifting the drink to take a sip. The Whitesides sat at the table staring at me like I'd sprouted a second head. "You don't look like a cop," Jacob said. He was the Whitesides' youngest son. I knew that because they'd told me their oldest was out of state at the Texas University.

 I looked at the pink frilly drapes over the window. Mrs. Whitesides touch was undeniable. I turned my gaze back to the boy of sixteen. He looked a little bit older, one of those sixteen-year-old's who could pass for eighteen. 

His eyes were the deep dark brown of his father's, and they both sported the same light summer tans. Jacob's hair was a few shades lighter than Mr. Whitesides, but the height, the eyes, and facial structure were unmistakably his father's genetics. Mrs. Whitesides looked immaculately clean. Her blond hair was shoulder length and pulled out of her face to show startling blue eyes. The features of her face were soft and delicate. In size, she was tiny between her son and husband. I took another sip. "That's because I'm not a cop."

 "Then why are you here?" Mr. Whitesides asked.

"I work with the cops and they want me to question you," I said flatly. "But we've already been questioned," said Mrs. Whitesides. "You haven't been questioned by someone who knows about the preternatural." 

"And you do?" Jacob snorted.

 I stared into his rich brown eyes and he looked away first. "Yeah, I do." Everyone fell silent. Mrs. Whitesides leaned into her husband, narrowing her eyes at me. Her eyes kept flicking to the pewter necklace hanging over my shirt. I ignored it. 

"What were you doing that all three of you noticed the werewolf?" I asked. "Werewolf?" Mrs. Whitesides laughed. "It was a wolf." Great, she was going to deny what it was. I knew what it was based on the crime scene. I'd only seen one other werewolf killing, and that was a year ago on an out-of-state job.

 A single wolf wouldn't take down a man. They hunt in packs, and packs keep their distance from humans. Should I also mention that we don't have wolves in Miami? Nah. "Whatever you say," I said. "What were you doing?" I arched a brow this time. "We were going to check on the herd," Jacob said. "I heard something howl and got my parents. We went out to make sure there weren't any wolves or coyotes trying to get past the fence."

 Fuck it, I couldn't help it. "Just for your information, there aren't any wolves in Miami. Wolves were hunted to near extinction so many years ago that they're only found in a few places in North America—Wyoming and other mountainous regions." "It was a wolf." Mrs. Whitesides voice was harsh.

 "Mrs. Whitesides, I've seen a werewolf before. They're as real as you and me, but a hell of a lot furrier and scarier." She just stared at me, mouth open. "When?" she asked boldly. "I was on the job about three years ago. The werewolf's brother had reported her. Said that his sister was acting strange and he couldn't find her." "What happened?" Jacob wiggled in his seat, eyes burning with a sudden interest in the story.

 "The cops sent me out," I said, leaving out the part that no one had taken the call seriously enough to send me out with backup. "I found her in the woods near the house." "And?" He pressed. I shrugged. "And," I added, "that's all you need to know. The government knows about these things, but with the vampires taking over all of the media coverage, the people are kept in the dark. All we know is that not all of the wolves out there are hostile. If they were," I shrugged, "there'd be more bodies." "Our government knows about this?" he asked, confused. "Yep." 

"Why don't they tell us? Warn us?" 

"It's kind of 'don't ask, and they won't tell.' There are underground werewolf hunters out there, and most are unhappy that there's a new law going through that any werewolf in question has to go through a full trial before getting slammed with the death sentence. If it passes, it'll make them harder to kill. They'll be protected by our government."

 "Cool." Jacob grinned. "That's so cool. I never knew they really existed. I mean, I thought when we saw the wolf out there, that it wasn't just a normal wolf, but I thought maybe I'd been watching too many horror movies." "Jacob," his father said, and Jake closed his mouth. "You're not a werewolf hunter," Mrs. Whitesides said, and again her eyes dropped to the charm dangling off my necklace.

 "No," I said, "I'm not. I'm a preternatural investigator." She scoffed. "What is that?" 

"I investigate crimes and cases having to deal with the preternatural." Her eyes again lowered to my necklace. "Is there a problem, Mrs. whitesides?" I said, and my voice didn't sound entirely friendly.

 "Yes," she said, "I don't like having a devil worshiper in my house, lying to my son about werewolves. It's bad enough there are vampires!" Fuck it. I took my cell phone out of my pocket and called Dylan's number. He answered on the first ring. "Yeah, Mila? What is it?" 

"I need backup before Mrs. Whitesides gets out her Bible and tries to thump me out of her house." "All right, we're coming." "Thank you."

 Dylan said, "No problem." I flipped the phone closed. I smiled oh so sweetly while saying, "The cops are on their way so they can be witness to this investigation. How silly of me not to bring them in the first place. By the way, I don't worship a devil. You can't worship something you don't believe in."

 Mrs. Whitesides face turned an angry shade of red. Her husband put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Honey..." She jerked away from him. The expression on her face didn't look very sane as she spat, "I don't want this devil whore in our house!" I took in a deep breath and leaned back in my seat. One...two... "I told you, I don't believe in a devil." Dylan walked through the back door with two other officers. "Having trouble, Mila?" "Yeah, apparently my new nickname is Devil-Whore." Dylan looked at the obviously pissed-off Mrs. Whitesides. She was leaning over the table glaring at me. She pointed at me dramatically. "I want this devil worshiper out of my house right now!" Mr. Whitesides and Jacob just sat there. 

Did I mention I don't like drama queens? I leaned back in my seat, taking another sip of coffee. I'd let Dylan and his backup deal with this. "Mrs. Whitesides, if you don't calm down and cooperate with us, we'll be forced to take you into custody."

 "What for?" she practically screamed. "I haven't done anything!" 

"For withholding information from the police and verbally harassing a law enforcing officer." "She just said she's not a cop!" 

  "No, but when she's working with the force she's considered a cop. She's got a badge of her own and has every right to press charges." Dylan looked at me and I shrugged. I wouldn't have pressed charges, but if Dylan's threat got her to sit back down, I'd go with it.   

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I stood outside the Whitesides two-story ranch waiting for Dylan to wrap things up. A glance at my cell phone told me it was almost five in the afternoon. I really wanted to get home before rush hour traffic. Gods, I hate traffic. In order to keep myself from getting pissed at Mrs. Whitesides, I had to remove myself from the kitchen. As much as I hated doing exactly what she'd wanted... 

She'd kept ranting and casting daggers with her eyes. It wasn't a good idea for me to let my temper out. Hell, even before I was infected with lycanthropy that was a bad idea. The air around the house smelled like fresh grass and pine needles when I breathed. I heard footsteps falling somewhat hurriedly and turned around to find Jacob approaching. He smiled weakly, as if trying to be friendly but seeming more awkward in his youth. "You're serious?" he asked.

"About what?" I leaned back against the car, crossing my arms over my chest. "About the werewolves."

 "Yes." I wondered where Dylan was and why it was taking him so damn long. Jacob pushed the brown tresses of his hair back. "Sorry about my mom," he said. "She's pretty hardcore and anything she doesn't understand tends to freak her out." I nodded slightly. "I'm used to it." 

"I'm cool with it," he said. "I've got a friend in school and his mother practices witchcraft. She's really earthy, smart too." "Nifty," I said, for lack of anything better. "Look, I know I'm probably bothering you but I just thought we should talk. I'd like to know more about the werewolves." 

"I didn't say I was an expert on the subject." In a sense it was true. I'm not an expert, just your average werewolf here, folks. "You sounded like you knew about 'em in the house," he said, and I frowned at him. I sighed. "Look, Jake, I only know what I've experienced, and trust me, you don't want to come face-to-face with a lycanthrope. They're not that fascinating. Scary, yes, but the whole fascination factor diminishes when they're trying to eat you." 

He gave a slight nod. "I just wanted to hear more about what happened to you. Hey, you know what you said about the media and vampires? I saw on the news the other night that there was a vampire club that opened in the city a few weeks ago. Did you see that?" He changed the subject so quickly it took my mind a moment to process what he was saying. I was obviously running low on caffeine. 

"I don't watch the news," I said, "too much negativity." In the United States, vampires had legal rights. It was the rest of us underground paranorms that were waiting for a law to pass that protected and treated all supernaturals as legal citizens.

 Of course, from an outsider's perspective, drinking blood might seem classier than using a human's arm as a chew toy. In all reality, most werewolves keep to themselves or to a local pack. They don't usually brutally murder. Yet, with everything there are exceptions. The movies make it look like we lose all of our humanity when we shift. In actuality, we're not any different from humans.

 If a person of ill heart is turned into a werewolf, it's not being a lycan that makes them a bad person. It's being a bad person that makes them a bad person. It's like a gun. It's not the gun that hurts someone, it's the per- son holding the gun and pulling the trigger that does.

 I admit that the hungers and instincts arise and sometimes the animal sees through the eyes of the human instead of the other way around, but it is only the weak willed that fall victim to their inner wolf. Then again, maybe everyone's wolf is different. I wouldn't really know, because I never joined a pack. I know there's one in every city. At least, that's the case according to Luke, the Paranormal Hunter that helped me get my license, but I was too afraid joining a pack would risk exposure. Thus, I avoided the idea all together. 

Luke had told me that there are quite a few wolves that "lone" it. Well, I was one of them now. I heard voices and turned to look toward the house. Dylan was shaking hands with Mr. Whitesides. He turned, stepping off the porch.

 He was heading in my direction. "Jake!" Mr. Whitesides yelled from the porch. Jacob smiled another awkward smile. "I guess I should go inside."

 "Be safe, Jake," I said. "You should try and stay in the house until we find the lycanthrope that did this." He began walking back toward the house. Unexpectedly, a little warning went off in my mind. This warning wasn't coming from outside danger, though. It came from deep inside and was loud enough that I called after him. "Jacob?"

 "Yeah?" 

"Do me a favor and don't try to go investigating on your own, okay?"

 "Why would you think I'd do that?" I couldn't tell if it was the emptiness in his voice, the way his shoulders tensed, or my intuition, but something in his dark brown eyes told me he'd thought about it. I only knew that there was an image in the back of my mind of a sixteen- year-old boy snooping where he shouldn't and getting himself hurt, or worse.

 "I was sixteen once with an insatiable curiosity," I said, giving him a knowing look. I resisted the urge to say, "And look where it got me." Jake nodded. "Yeah, okay." Dylan watched me with a curious look in his eyes as he came around the car. "What was that all about?" 

"He wanted me to tell him what I know about werewolves." He nodded. "Well, truthfully, since you say that's what we're dealing with, enlighten me. You've faced one before." I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and looked at the time again. Damn it. "It's like I told the kid—I only know what I've experienced and what Luke taught me." 

"How'd you kill that one several years ago?" he asked and leaned against my car.

"With a gun," I said. "And silver ammo. O'brian, get off my car." 

"What? You were just leaning against it." His voice held an edge of shock. "I've showered in the past month." I reached for the door handle. He laughed. "I read that if I showered less, the pheromones to attract females would be stronger."

 "That's a load of crap," I said, sliding into the seat. "The only thing stronger is your B.O." He laughed again. "You're always good for a laugh, Mila." His hand rested on the butt of his gun. It was a habit most cops had. "So, what are you planning on doing next? We didn't get much out of the Whitesides." 

"I know." I took in a deep breath. "I'll come back out here and do a little bit of trooping around within the next few days. The scene should be cleaned up by then and I'll be able to see if they missed anything."

 "What are you going to do? Look for tracks?" he asked jokingly. "That and a picnic basket," I scoffed. "I've got a friend that used to hunt all of the time. Ex-bounty hunter and licensed paranormal hunter," I said. I didn't know if Dylan would remember him. If he did, I didn't know it was a good idea to bring him up, so I stuck with being a little vague. "I'll probably call and see if he wants to tag along. He's a good tracker." 

"I'll tell the deputy sheriff. I don't think he really gives a shit what you do as long as you're taking charge of the investigation and trying to solve it." 

"That's my job, isn't it?" I asked. "I'll call you if I find anything. Tell Witkins the same." I shut the car door before he could say anything else. It was a little after five. I cursed aloud. If I got stuck in traffic I was so chewing someone's head off. Figuratively speaking, of course. 

I pressed the speed dial number and listened to the phone ring three times before Shawn answered. "Guns Unlimited," he said, sounding tired. "Hey, Shawnie. Long day?" I asked. "Hey, Mila. Yeah, it's been a hell of a day. What's up?"

 "Not much. Are you busy tomorrow?" There was long pause, as if he was afraid to answer. "I don't know," he replied carefully. "Why?" "How's about you and I go do a little huntin'?" I said with a terrible accent. Shawn laughed. "What kind of hunting are we talking about?" 

"Why, the fun kind, of course. Camouflage, weapons, a nice stroll through the woods on the outskirts of town..."

"Who are we taking out?" He sounded calm and professional, as if he was already relaxing and polishing his gun. Wait, that was probably too close to the truth. "The police assigned me to investigate a killing. The scene reeks of werewolf. I'm betting money his furry ass is still around here somewhere too." 

"Sounds promising," he said. "What time?" I made a left turn onto the access ramp to get on the highway. The Tiburon purred beneath me like a happy little kitten and I smiled. "I'll call you at nightfall." 

"Talk to you then."

 "'Til then," I responded and hung up. The chances weren't that high that we'd find the werewolf, but it was best to be prepared. It wasn't being a preternatural investigator that gave me the right to execute a werewolf. Nor was it the fact that we didn't have the same rights as citizens. According to Miami state law, a person found guilty for killing a werewolf had only one threat held over their head—if the family of said werewolf decided to press charges.

 That threat was animal cruelty. This meant that a murderer could walk away with either a fine, or imprisonment not exceeding five years in a state penitentiary. Now, here's the catch. If I were to kill the werewolf in human form, it's cold-blooded murder. That is until, I presume, scientists learn to recognize the lycanthropy virus. Unfortunately, they're working on it. Which would probably explain why one side is pushing to be recognized as human beings, and the other side is pushing adamantly against it.

 No, what gave me the right to take this bastard down was the paranormal huntress badge in my wallet alongside the one that stated I was a preternatural investigator. My old boss tried to convince people to take the course and get the badge. Oddly enough, a good majority of them refused. There were maybe two officers in our department that had taken the course with me. 

The class was easy. In fact, it had been too easy. We listened to an already licensed Paranormal Hunter lecture us on the howtos of "humanely" executing shape shifters and other super beasties. My boss had wanted to cover his ass, but it was only another reason for me to cover mine after the incident.

 The words on the actual license stated that I had the right to execute any paranormal that had committed a murderous crime when granted the authority or the proof. The downside was that it covered a broad spectrum of paranormals and unfortunately the class hadn't. You'd think that would make my life easier, but there are some things even I don't want to sniff out and hunt down.