Bewitched Werewolf

I don’t get paid enough to deal with a werewolf that can’t get laid. My boss frowned at me. He was under the mistaken impression that I didn’t have enough tact. The truth was, I had no tact. My co-worker claims that this frown, the one that makes a groove in my boss’s forehead the size of the Grand Canyon, is reserved for me. Who says I’m not special? Ivor Schuman is the pack master and is willing to make it worth your while making the trip out there. I did an eyebrow raise to show mild interest. Hmmm, money? “How long will it take?” It shouldn’t take longer than a full moon. The problem isn’t so much that he can’t choose a mate, but that he won’t. It kills me to say this, but has this guy taken a look at my love life? The odds of me being able to help him score seem low to slightly above non-existent. Since he doesn’t want your advice, it shouldn’t be a problem. And let’s be clear: he’s not paying for your attitude. Go in there, do a little love spell to get this thing going and leave. By ‘this thing’ do you mean his p***s? Because that’s a different spell and, boy, will it cost extra? I gave him my innocent-eyed expression. He took a deep breath and looked out the window, no doubt fantasizing about being far away from me. He was just too easy to irritate. Fortunately, I’m the best Wiccan in a two-state area. So my personality literally can’t get me fired. “Okay. Here is the file. You are expected to show up tomorrow. How does that work for you? The full moon is four days away! What the heck am I going to get done in four measly days? I thought you meant next month. “He wants you there now,” my boss said flatly, and then he turned his shiny bald head back to his computer screen. I gave him a sarcastic salute and left. Where the hell was I going? Twenty-four hours later, I was shown into a large office with an amazing view of lush forests and a gurgling stream. I was 40 miles from everywhere. The beaten path is now only visible by GPS. Windows give the impression of being outside. It was exactly how I liked nature—air-conditioned and bug-free. The door opened and a well-preserved blonde in a black Chanel suit walked in. She was preceded by a roll of energy that was a pleasant yellow color. Werewolf. She extended her hand and I took a step back. I’m sorry, but I can’t shake your hand. It messes with my magic. She raised a well-plucked eyebrow at me. Fine. I’m Keisha Schuman. Thank you so much for coming. “Oh. Hi.” I was hoping to get a chance to speak with you before my son arrived. You must understand how distressing it is that your services are needed. My son is very conflicted over the situation and… well, don’t let him run you off. Great. “He didn’t hire me, did he?” I asked. I could see the answer already. “In time, I’m sure he would have.” There was a painful pause where we didn’t make eye contact and each tried to think of something to say. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.” She laughed. I was expected to laugh. The classic dog bite joke used to reference a werewolf. Hysterical, I thought sarcastically. What would you like me to do? Magic is tricky, especially with something like a love spell or l**t spell. If he’s not open to it, it’s very unlikely to work at all. A deep voice that raised every hair on my body came from the doorway. My mother has a knack of getting to people first. It’s very irritating. The hottest man I had ever seen was standing at the door. If this man couldn’t get up, that was a crime against humanity. I had a sudden impulse to provide some pro bono work, emphasis on the bono. He came forward slowly, looking me up and down, a flash of gold glinting across his green eyes. Sure, he was tall, dark and handsome, but he was more too. Chocolate hair with a hint of a wave, expensive suit…did I mention the hair? Most werewolves have long hair and run around in crappy clothes. More Russell Crowe, while this guy was very 007. The excuse being that they’re more in touch with their ‘animal.’ Plus, they don’t want to ruin good clothes by wolfing them. But that’s no reason for bad hygiene. This guy didn’t seem like a werewolf at all. He seemed like an Ivy League over-achiever. One of those guys one reads about but never meets, at least not when he’s single. He should be married to some wasp whose parents came over on the Mayflower. Like his mother. He gave me a polite smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but I understand that’s not the proper Wiccan greeting.” Ivor had a relaxed air about him, as though he didn’t mind that I was standing in his office talking to his mom about his ability to get off. Sure, he didn’t. “That’s right, we don’t do well with physical contact.” Ivor was staring hard at his mother, wanting her to leave while she studiously looked out the window, pretending to be oblivious. I thought I’d give him his money’s worth. “Mrs. Schuman, it was very nice to meet you. Will I see you again? She snorted indelicately and turned towards the door, then paused and went back to her son. Keisha seemed like a bit of a ball-buster and I wondered if she was going to berate him in front of me. She touched his chest, stroking his tie lightly as though it had a crease. It didn’t. “Ivor. Please. She sounded delicate and a bit sad. Just try.