To Be A Wolf

Welcome to Old Chestnut

The polluted air makes my nose burn. I sniff, and immediately regret it. The tangy scent of trash, decomposition, and smog, makes me wish I didn't have such a powerful sense of smell. It's a far cry from the fresh, crisp scents of the small town where I'd grown up. But I'd made my choice to come to this city, and I will stick with it.

I swing my duffle bag over my shoulder and stroll along the busy bus depot. I had just enough cash to buy a car and get an apartment, hopefully near headquarters. Normals give me the creeps.

Cabs line the curb outside the depot, so snagging one isn't hard. But the odors inside offend my nose.

"Where to, gorgeous?" the heavy man, covered in the grime that must be what's making the cab stink so much, says as he glances over his shoulder.

"King's Courthouse," I answer, "In the Woodlands district."

"I know where it is." With a screech of tires, he pulls out into the traffic.

He's a madman of a driver, and my claws emerge as I cling to the seat. Not good. I focus my energy and they return to normal fingernails. I've never been more relieved to see a strange building.

I climb out, give him his fare, and wait for my change. He slowly counts, then pockets all my money. "Thanks for the tip."

"No." I grab the window frame. "Give me my change."

He hesitates, looking up my arm. "Oh. You're one of those." He digs into his pocket and hands me three dollar bills. "Out of curiosity, what exactly are you?"

I cock an eyebrow. Normals have no idea of our existence, so he's obviously one of us. "How about I ask you the same question?"

He snorts. "I'll let you figure that out yourself."

I sigh, releasing the cab. "You're a pig."

"Yup." His eyes narrow as he stares up at me. "Can't peg you though."

I cross my arms, glaring down at him.

He grunts. "Never mind."

He revs the engine and speeds off.

I sigh again, and head into the headquarters. The old building looms over me as I climb the gray stone stairs. The once white pillars wear stain lines from rain and pollution. The plaque by the double oak doors tell of the building's age; 1793.

The door creeks as I push it open. A slender, middle aged woman with badly dyed red hair, sits behind the reception desk. My boots make muffled taps that echo around the stone lobby. She doesn't even look up.

"Uh, excuse me." I rest my hand on the desk. "I'm here to see Mayor Gold."

She snatches a phone and hits a few numbers.

I stare at her... did she hear me?

"Yes, she's here." The woman sets the phone back down and continues to flick through her paperwork.

Okay...?

A door to my left bursts open. A man, who I recognize from his photo, strides toward me. Mayor Gold, in a cream business suit, a yellow tie, and with white hair and beard, offers me his glove-clad hand.

"Miss Grey."

"Yes." I set down my duffle bag for a handshake. "I came straight over. I hope to settle in here, then find a place to live—"

He waves his hand dismissively. "I've already made living arrangements for you. We wouldn't want you wandering around among the normals, would we?"