Page 7 of Hoofin’ It

My vacation to New York City had been to escape from reality for a while—and to see if I liked the coastal city. I hadn’t.

A night in a barn smelling of horses and hay suited me more than the bustle of city streets and looming skyscrapers. Lincoln, Nebraska had its flaws, but it had plenty of unclaimed land on its borders.

I sighed. “Since I don’t have two mil for an eye, I’ll be looking for work outside of Chicago. I’ll pick a place I can bring my fluffy friend. If you’re nice to me, I’ll even let you have the fleece whenever I need to shear her. If calling her Sally will make you happy, fine, but she’s my alpaca. If you want one, get your own.”

“But we already built her this nice stall and everything.”

“A stall you can put your alpacas in should you get them. You can’t have her.”

“But you told me you wanted help finding her a home. I found her a home—with me!”

“I changed my mind.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Says the woman who wanted my eyeball in a jar on her desk.”

“Admit it, you laughed.”

I had, right when I had needed to the most. The doctors had mitigated the scarring, leaving me with a thin line trailing from my scalp, over my eye, and halfway to my chin. Using a little magic, the surgeons had aged the injury enough it appeared a white line rather than a red welt. The scar would never fully fade, but while they hadn’t been able to save my eye, they’d spared me from additional disfigurement.

In reality, my eye was in a jar somewhere—just not on her desk. For a hundred dollars, the surgical team had preserved it and put it in a medical vault in case I managed to scrounge up the two million required to create a functional replacement. While any eye would do, having the original meant I’d get the best eye possible.

Two million dollars wouldn’t just buy me an eye; it’d be an eye with superior vision and potential extra abilities. Some people developed the ability to use their new eye as a magnifying glass or a telescope. Others gained limited abilities to see in the dark.

“It is funny in a sick, demented sort of way,” I conceded.

“You’re seriously going to keep her?”

“That’s my current plan. She’s terrified of Dad. It’d be cruel to leave her here for his amusement.”

“He’s not going to like that.”

I worked my way from beneath Sally, hopped to my feet, and stretched. “That’s his problem. Every time he scares my alpaca, I’m going to club him unconscious and shear off his fur. If you encourage him to frighten her, I’ll sell the fur to the highest bidder.”

“I’m not sure that’s legal.”

“By scaring my alpaca, he is consenting to being sheared. Animal fur no longer belongs to the animal once it’s been sheared off.” I smirked. “I suggest he behave himself around my alpaca and earn her trust properly.”

My mother’s eyes narrowed. “How much do you think you can get for werewolf fur?”

“Not enough for whatever you’re thinking.”

She pointed at my right eye. “We could take turns forcing him to shift, shear him once his coat grows back, and repeat. I bet we could shear him once a day. If we get more for it as yarn, I can do the spinning if you’ll do the carding.”

Where had I gone wrong in my life to deserve my mother? I gaped at her. “That’s awful even for you, Mom.”

“So, how much can we get for werewolf yarn?”

“God help me. I don’t know, Mom. Go look it up on the internet. He’s your werewolf. You shear him for his fur and sell it.”

“Your concern for my fur is charming,” Dad growled from the doorway. “Are you two seriously discussing shearing me again? Was the first time not bad enough?”

“We could sell your fur to pay for Shane’s new eye, darling. We’ll make a fortune off you. Your coat grew in so soft.”

Dad stepped into the barn dressed in his uniform and dropped a kiss on my mother’s cheek. “I’m afraid to ask. I need to head to work. Colin called in sick, so I offered to fill in for him. Try not to burn the house down while I’m gone.”

“My shift starts in two hours. Patrol?”