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The sheriff rolled down his window and pressed the intercom. He mentioned who we were, why we'd come, then let his arm hang, waiting for someone to buzz us through.
Static.
He asked again, had me scan the gatehouse for a security guard.
Static.
“Broken?” I suggested, laying the pizza box on the back seat.
Caelan got out to examine the gate and promptly swung it open with an easy push. I met his eyes across the windshield. Gone was the cheer from the man who’d serenaded me with off-tune Carrie Underwood ballads during the ride over.
A lump formed in my throat as he asked me to slide on over to the driver’s side.
Waving me through the gate, he had me pull the truck to one side of a bubbling fountain, where a bronze stag had been erected as if to oversee the community. Homes stood in various states of occupation as expected for early evening- cars parked, newspapers and packages tucked away on porches, garbage cans rolled to bottoms of driveways, lights on and televisions flickering in kitchens and family rooms.
Caelan indicated a car in front of the nearest home. A sprinkler buzzed water against the lawn, the sidewalk, and directly into the open passenger door.
“Glad I wore flats,” I murmured as he helped me onto the pavement.
We stood in open air, but the gates and brick brought on a sense of confinement. Whip-poor-wills hissed from the forest beyond the wall. The steady tcht-tcht-tcht of the sprinkler made the lone mechanical noise.
“How many people live here?”
“Eighty families or thereabouts.” He retrieved a semi-automatic pistol from a lock box under the back seat. “Not a scythe, but effective. I’m going to walk you through the basics, then it’s your responsibility.”
I glanced from the weapon to his stony expression. “My dress pocket holds about a pack of gum.”
“I’ll show you the safety. After, you can choose to wait in the truck or follow.”
I balked, but listened, watched, and demonstrated. Having exposure to firearms helped establish a comfort level even if Gram hadn’t meant to educate me.
“Werefolk aren't impervious to injury, but we heal quick. It’s difficult to take down a shifted Were of any variety. Catastrophic damage that kills faster than they can recover is the goal. Depending on your understanding of their anatomy, the heart may not be an easy target. Plenty of vital organs to damage in the torso, however. That being said, and I don’t recommend someone with your aim try unless you can’t miss, kill the brain, stop the body.”
Gram had caught Gramps in the back of the skull.
I accepted the weapon, taking care to place my finger outside the trigger guard.
“Forgot to check if there’s a round ready,” he said. “Doesn’t matter you saw me do it.”
“Sorry,” I said, embarrassed.
“It’s alright.” He clasped my shoulder. His gun remained holstered at his hip. “Remember, this is your last line of defense. Shoot if you mean to kill. Some of these werewolves are assholes, but they're civilized assholes.”
He raised a finger, turned his back to me to listen. Uncertain what to do, I turned mine to him and, with a grip that shook less the longer I held the gun, listened.
Sprinklers, fountains, Whip-poor-wills, wind—
If darkness slunk around the corner how would I react? If golden eyes lit the shadows beyond the lamppost was I prepared to face the inevitable teeth? I told myself I could handle this, that Caelan had every intention of keeping me safe and enough confidence in my mental state to trust I’d handle the weapon responsibly.
Unless Calico was right, and he was letting me loose because he didn’t mind my getting caught in the crossfire. Accidental death would absolve him of his duties, wouldn’t it?
Footsteps.
I’d been so absorbed I hadn’t noticed the sheriff head toward a front door. At once I felt exposed and hurried after.
“Not a howl in the hills,” he said when I’d drawn close.
“That a thing?”
