The Rules of the Red - 2nd Edition |✓|

Chapter Three, Part One - If Looks Could Kill

"Oh, of course," I said quickly. "I understand. And thank you – again."

Mr. Talbot excused himself and took his leave. Meanwhile, I pondered the photo a little longer, turning it over to see Claire's full name, address, license plate, and cell phone number written in Mr. Talbot's neat, careful print. With a grin, contrived the workings of a plan.

* * *

"Criminal mastermind much?" said Adelle, responding to my ideas concerning Paris and Mr. Franks.

We strolled through the shopping square in town. It was a beautiful, partly cloudy day (one of the last before autumn would hit), and we took advantage of this by window shopping.

"If she's smart she won't force my hand – she'll do what needs to be done."

"I guess you're right." Adelle sighed. "Cheating bastard. I bet his wife has no clue."

"They never do." Already I was lost in thoughts of the plan. It was simple, really. Adelle and I would pick a Friday to drive to the motel and wait for Claire and Franks to meet. Then, hopefully, we could capture a more incriminating photograph of the two. And from there, I would approach her at her job and use the photos to scare her into helping Adelle and I break into Franks' office. Perhaps if I could find out what it was that he knew, then maybe I could find a way to stop the lawsuit. It was a long shot, but I didn't see any other alternative.

"So," Adelle continued. "Any more thoughts yet on handling your grandfather? Because I was thinking: as deceitful as Charles has been, Diane never really struck me as the malevolent type. She's a lot more... humane than her husband."

"I'm not sure what I should do," I replied. "To be honest, I'm surprised he's even curious about me at all. I mean, my grandparents never called or wrote. Why worry about me now?"

Adelle shrugged. "Who knows? The Elder is so sheisty you'll probably never get a straight answer from him. You'd have better luck tracking down one of those crazy Witches and having them rub a crystal ball for you."

"Maybe I should." I stopped to peruse a clothing display in a shop window.

"Uh, hello? Just kidding?" Adelle replied in a low, furtive voice. "That's totally against Pack rules. Our kind don't mesh with Witches – or Vampires for that matter. Besides, getting involved with Magic could attract Hunters, and that's that shit you wouldn't like – believe me."

"Hunters?" I turned to face her.

"They're these warriors the Witches created to protect them from other Supernaturals. Only somewhere along the line, Hunters decided that protecting Humans from all things that go bump in the night was a much more rewarding cause. Personally, I've never met a Hunter, but I hear they're super strong and pretty nasty – not exactly the friendly type."

"What's with all the hostility between Supernaturals? Why does everyone have to hate each other so much?"

"Because a long time ago the Vampires almost wiped out the Witches in some crazy, underground war. And since Pack members didn't exactly jump up to get involved, the Witches and the Vampires kind of took that to heart. So, hundreds of years later here we are. We're civil, but we don't mingle – that's just the way it is in Harbor. You'll get used to it."

I turned from the window and began to walk again. Besides a list of endless rules, I had also learned I was part of the most influential Pack in existence –the Garou (something that my father had failed to mention in any of his letters). Apparently I was a descendent of the very first line of Werewolves – which was what afforded the Garou their respect and influence in the Supernatural world.