Tacos Wolves and Abnormal Behavior (Grimstone Island) Read online

  My bed frame creaked as I moved the mattress aside. Underneath the large foam rectangle, I had taped Adrian’s notice to its new home, where it wouldn’t continue to burn my eyeballs and flutter my stomach with its words.

  Out of sight, though not so out of mind.

  Bed back in place, I slumped on the floor and looked at a pair of Jonathan’s shoes thrown in a corner. They weren’t the only belongings of his that had found their way to my bedroom. His shirts, jeans, and underwear were smashed in drawers with mine. I never thought much of it until we were brushing our teeth last night, standing side by side in front of the mirror.

  Like usual.

  However, I was struck by how much of a mated couple we looked like.

  Yikes.

  What didn’t help was, by dawn, he’d dressed, kissed my cheek, and wished me a nice day. To make the domestic scene complete, I should’ve handed him a packed lunch with a sticky note inside reading: Go get ‘em.

  Gods, how did my life end up this weird?

  Not that it wasn’t weird before...

  My phone vibrated from on the nightstand. I grabbed and tapped the messages icon. I was met by a new text from Piper.

  >Skully’s before our shift???

 
  Skully’s, home to large breakfast platters, is one of my favorite places. Be aware that all my favorite places involve food.

  This was just swell. Pancakes to comfort my gut.

  They won’t make your current predicaments go away...

  True. That’s why bacon exists.

  Piper works part time with me at my family’s grill, The Growling Grill. Sometimes, up til the morning hours, she’s unleashing incredible artistic talent at Punctured Ink, a tattoo parlor, the place she was soon to clock out from. After breakfast, our routine of cracking up over the latest happenings at the parlor would commence once we began waiting tables at the grill. You wouldn’t believe the crazy stuff people ask to get inked on their skin.

  I should know. Piper’s the one who did the mini grilled cheese sandwich on my right ankle.

  She’s one of my two best friends. The two lucky-loos who were graciously blessed with VIP passes to the Bitch and Moan concert, featuring me. Lucas Shelborn and Piper Elwood. It’s been us, the inseparable fuck-uh-teers, since grade school. As am I, they too are descendants of Grimstone Island founders who were known as The Hallow Six.

  Piper, an elf/fairy hybrid, could’ve been the fashion model love child of Tyra Banks and Naomi Campbell. I only say that because of her height, beauty, and absolute flawlessness. Piper wasn’t born with mocha skin. Instead, it’s more like she was dipped in vanilla cake batter, baked to extreme elven badass, and frosted with naturally lime green hair. And, of course, she has six-inch pointed ears and iridescent wings. At five-foot-eleven, with long, elegant limbs, my gorgeous Piper can dropkick a motherfucker in one-point-two seconds flat. You don’t need her to open her mouth to know that. She just carries herself in a don’t fuck with me way.

  Her pierced lip snarl simply proves the point.

  Then there’s Lucas, making the third of our clichéd ragtag team of misfits. Dear Gods and Goddesses, please continue to do your best to change his dumbassery ways.

  Mine too, please.

  Lucas is a full-blooded merperson. Merman, precisely. He’s your above average, muscular surfer guy. Blonde, wavy locks touch his shoulders. Ocean blue eyes. Cocky smile. You know the deal.

  Can’t seem to wear anything besides sandals, tank tops, and unfortunately, Speedos. He’s like a worrisome little brother to me and Piper. Despite his daily hiccups of... well, being himself, I’m thankful he’s in my life.

  The magic in the air of the island allows merpeople to have legs while on land. If it didn’t, things would be less entertaining without him around. Like not being able to see yet another pissed off ex-girlfriend’s lovely display of hate in the form of keying his car.

  Yep, that’s our Lucas. The fluff-for-brains douche who strongly believes that it’s good to have an apple a day, but it’s even better when the apple is a woman.

  Fluff. For. Brains.

  I threw on cut off jean shorts, a white crop top, and pink flip-flops. At the grill, my horrid work attire would be covered by an apron, though that’s never enough Ma’s disapproving eyes. I only dressed according to club outings and weather.

  And Grimstone’s air is always warm. Although today, the sky was gray, with a few peek-a-boo appearances by the sun. The fall and winter months are our washout seasons. Never snow, just soggy green leaves due to downpours.

  Keys and purse in hand, I exited the luxurious cabin I shared with Piper and Lucas. We split the bill buying it years ago, as well as the sweet amenities we later added, like the hot tub on the spacious back deck, black marble and cherry wood in the kitchen, and the installation of flat screen TVs for the living room and all three bedrooms—which featured full baths in each. The huge oak front door leads out to the gravel landing that is in part also the driveway. Our cabin oasis sits in a secluded area in The Forest of Vida.

  The forest reaches to nearly both ends of the island, housing many. We were lucky to have found a home that wasn’t near a bunch of neighbors or either of our families. Although Lucas drew the tad shorter straw.

  The river that ran parallel to the deck behind the house leads miles out from the forest into Serpent Lagoon. In the depths of the Lagoon is the Shelborn Colony. Picture a thousand copies of Atlantis on steroids sitting deep underwater. That was his childhood home. Anyone from his bloodline could easily swim up and drop by.

  Then Serpent Lagoon spills into Mystique Beach—where he lifeguards.

  A merman as a lifeguard is pretty cool, huh? No drownings on his watch.

  I hopped in my candy blue two door Jeep, taking a few minutes to check around me.

  No dragon in sight.

  “Shake it off, Lovell,” I said aloud. It’s not like he was gonna kidnap me...

  Is it wrong that kinda excites me?

  I needed my head examined. That particular appointment was long overdue.

  The drive out of Vida was a bumpy one, as the Jeep’s tires crunched on gravel. The exit poured over onto smooth asphalt, where the road forked to take you one way or the other. I steered left, heading into the heart of my existence.

  The thriving island I grew up on.

  Throughout the years, my family and school exposed me to the world outside of Grimstone. Island babies aren’t kept blind from humans, their ways of living, etc. It’s a part of the curriculum, a part of our history, since supernaturals have influenced so much in the history of mortals.

  I’ve left the magical land numerous times for field trips and vacations in North America, Australia, Europe, and Asia. Naturally, youngsters see these places as possible future ventures, a different route they could take should they desire to move on. But we know in our core, wherever we may be, Grimstone is the breath that gave us life. The blood beating through our hearts.

  As I stared up at the night skies on the beaches in San Francisco, the Gold Coast in Australia, and Ibiza, I knew the moon and stars didn’t belong to them.

  They were mine, here in Grimstone.

  * * *

  “Mmmm, fuck me sideways. These pancakes are amazing. Mmmm!” My eyes were closed as I basked in the vanilla and maple syrup explosion in my mouth, moaning without a care that I was in a public place. “Marry me, please,” I whispered to the golden brown fluffy piece on my fork.

  Piper laughed. “You’re too much.”

  Shrugging, I shoveled in more. I’d gotten to Skully’s before her and obtained us a red vinyl booth next to the floor to ceiling windows where we watched citizens breeze by. The breakfast diner screamed retro. From the checkered tile floors, stainless steel tops, to the jukebox in the corner. The diner was fashioned based on what the humans sported in the 1950s.

  “More coffee, ladies?” Mrs. Poonchelli asked, holding a fresh, steaming pot. Round and bouncy everywhe
re, the elder bear-shifter owned Skully’s, along with her husband and kids. They, like Mrs. Poonchelli, were Godsends. She gifted patrons with her soul-illuminating brew and the best damn hugs.

  I got up to get one.

  “Oh, hun, you’re so sweet.” she giggled, jiggling as I gave her a four-second hug.

  Appreciate women, folks! Especially women who bring you coffee.

  “Kokoa, dear, I heard about Saturday.” Mrs. Poonchelli’s honey-hued eyes dimmed in sympathy.

  Who hadn’t? It was the talk of the island that the big bad Carver Lovell, my great-grandfather, one of the Hallow Six members who founded the island, is coming to Grimstone. That news and me being the only oddball within the Lovell wolves was running like wildfire through the gossip hotlines.

  There’s actually only one thing that really sets me apart from the pack...

  All the other Lovell wolves sport dark chocolate brown fur.

  Mine isn’t.

  Moonlight white covers my wolf body. Instead of a black nose and black pads underneath my paws, mine are milky pink. Shocker, I’m the wonky duckling in the flock.

  On and off, I’ve questioned the different coloring. But no one, for the twenty-two years as I’ve run with the pack during countless nights, has given a shit about it. I ask. They shrug. They say, “Don’t worry about it,” or, “Pumpkin, you’re beautiful. Just focus on getting me grandbabies.” (That was from Ma).

  So, I let it go.

  Until...

  Word surfaced two days ago that Carver would be arriving on the island in time for my birthday. What for? Purely for my birthday. How nice? Not really. He’s never done so before. Actually, he hasn’t for any family member. Not that anyone can remember.

  Let me tell ya, Carver is a seriously scary dude. It’s all hearsay on my part, though. I’ve only seen him once in my life in flesh form. I was nine and it was only in passing. Emphasis on the word passing. He walked right by me. Although, for the five long seconds of staring wide-eyed and crossing my legs to keep from pissing myself, along with the sheer terrifying and intense air wafting my senses, he sure left an impression.

  Growing up, questions on his whereabouts weren’t answered because no one knew. What he does off Grimstone that keeps him away has always been a mystery.

  So, is there probably a hidden, deeper meaning that’ll blindside the shit outta me (and make me wish I possess a pause button for life) that would explain his upcoming rare appearance? Most likely. Most likely, indeed.

  Nerves shootin’ out the wazoo, I asked Ma about the significance of him attending, and does he—perchance, since no one in the family can keep their muzzles shut—know that I’m a backwards werewolf? Her reply? A smile I couldn’t decipher, and a cheek kiss loaded with secrets. Wonderful. His b-day present to me will probably be an expression of disappointment and a wooden sign to hang around my neck that reads “Heehee, look at me! I’m a freak!”

  It’s a good thing tacos and toxic cocktails exist. A person can only handle so much lunacy.

  “Yeah.” I averted my gaze to the syrup lake on my plate.

  “It shouldn’t be that bad, sweetie. Maybe he couldn’t resist your mama’s chocolate cake any longer.” Mrs. P tried saying it convincingly before tending to other customers. It didn’t work. Though my mom’s cake was three layers of heaven, and it did seem plausible, still... I couldn’t see Carver simply dropping by as anything of the norm.

  “We can leave if you want?” Piper asked, licking her fork.

  “Leave Skully’s?” I glanced sadly at the last hunk of flapjack.

  “No. The island. You know the dwarf who smuggles in Big Macs?” She leaned in, voice low. “For one hundred dollars and three bus tokens, he can squeeze you in a duffle bag and have you shipped to Thailand.”

  I gave myself five seconds of pause to stare at her.

  Peach lips were puckered, brows arched, eyes steady. She even stopped eating her pancake. I zeroed in on it. Maybe if I distracted her, kicked her shin hard enough...

  She cleared her throat, bringing me back to our discussion.

  Wow, she was serious. “I can’t leave.” I sighed, wallowing in dread. “But keep that plan on the back burner.” She pouted and gave me her last pancake. Damn it, I’m a big girl. I don’t need her pity pancake!

  I still inhaled it.

  A commotion outside our window had us swiveling in its direction.

  “Screw you, you lying, fishy bastard!” A brown-haired, red-skinned demon was screeching, holding a baseball bat, and wreaking terror by chasing some poor schmuck who only wore a speedo through the crowded street.

  “Is that—”

  Lucas broke free from a cluster of people, knocking a few to the ground, screaming his head off. He caught sight of me and Piper and slammed into the window, banging on the glass.

  “HELP MEEEEE!” he cried out, sweat plastering his wavy hair to his head. Surprise, surprise, Lucas was the poor schmuck. My vision dropped to his tight polka dot—should be illegal—swimwear. “SHE’S GOING TO KILL ME!” he screamed again.

  Piper yelled back “WE CAN’T HEAR YOU! PANCAKES! TOO BUSY!” she and I snickered. A little poke wouldn’t hurt him. Besides he could be exaggerating—

  “I’m gonna kill you, Lucas!” swore the demon.

  Or not.

  We watched our friend dodge harsh swings of the bat, still screaming loud enough to shatter glass cups, and not getting any assistance from anyone. I would have helped, but Demon Babe was getting pretty vicious with that bat, and I was sure Lucas, the fishy bastard, had wronged her, as he had many others.

  Thwack!

  She delivered a hard blow to his ass.

  Everyone watching the spectacle winced.

  “Well, look at the time.” Piper signaled Poonchelli for the check. “We should get going.” She rolled her eyes and tsked as Lucas leaped and tumbled down the sidewalk. “He’ll never learn, will he?”

  “I’ll give it eight hours,” I said, checking my phone. “If he isn’t home by then, we’ll check the nearby dumpsters to see which one Bat Warrior dumped his body in.” I was only half joking. I knew Lucas could hold his own. But, then again, the chick had a killer right swing, and her razor-sharp rows of teeth weren’t something to ignore.

  Outside, on the curb, Piper folded inside my jeep. She had walked to Skully’s from Punctured Ink, which she had hiked to from home. Being fae, she was compelled to be one with nature, to appreciate it and its creatures, so you can imagine her DNA wouldn’t let her contribute to polluting the air by driving. You probably also think she’d rather cuddle a baby cow instead of eating it.

  But here’s a little flashback that reveals the exact opposite:

  ”For shame,” I said pointedly, watching her plow through an extra thick steak at an impressive speed. She swallowed a huge lump of bovine.

  “Hey, not every elf or fairy follows the traditional diet,” she stated with oily, barbecue sauce covered lips. “Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s a Hindi out there eating a triple patty beef burger.”

  “Could be.”

  Pulling into the lot of my family’s restaurant—the setting where that flashback took place—I secured a spot near the front. Come time for me to leave, which was thankfully during the lunch rush, I wouldn’t have to book it far in case Ma decided to make me stay longer.

  The Growling Grill.

  The best damn restaurant known to supernatural mankind, specializing in all things meat, cooked any way you like, slathered in barbeque sauce, and paired with baskets of corn bread, piles of collard greens, and mountains of mashed potatoes. All that’s chugged back with mugs of the best-brewed ale. Your next heavenly meal is brought to you by Rupard and Kimbella Lovell. Daddy and sweet Mama-dearest run Grimstone’s popular grillin’ shack. Alongside to help are both sets of my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, blah, etc. You get it. Lovells run the place. I pick up waitressing shifts from time to time, to keep my pockets lined with coins instead of mothballs and dust
bunnies.

  Besides establishing to-die-for delicious smoky ribs on the island, my werewolf family is also known to be sorta royalty in Grimstone. No need to assume I think of myself on a high-ass, glorifying, crystal-embedded, self-absorbed pedestal. Nope. My place is firmly on a greasy seat, flipping off those who would love to see me tamed. Nothing was ever simply handed to me. Our status stems from our name.

  Lovell. Being the kin to a Grimstone founder.

  The Lovell wolves are an ancient breed. We’re a smaller kind of wolf, but with a thicker, muscular build, resonating in strength far greater than other lycans. We’re faster in reflex and running speed, with a superior metabolism that allows the consumption of a dozen burritos in one sitting. There’s also the frequent tendencies in making stupid decisions.

  For some reason, I have that trait more than anyone else in the family... Hmm.

  Our eyes change colors based upon extreme mood swings. My natural neon violet irises compliments sun-kissed skin and platinum blonde hair. I’ve been told my eyes cast a sense of mystery and seduction.

  My response at the time: it’s probably just gas.

  * * *

  “I don’t know why you keep doing that.” Piper watched me, shaking her head, on the verge of laughing. “Like it even works.”

  “You know damn well it’s my addiction and it’s way too late to stop. I’m afraid if I do, something catastrophic will happen.”

  “Never in my life would I actually be friends with a superstitious supernatural. Ha! Say that three times fast.” She chuckled.

  I didn’t. I was in the zone, tracing each letter of the alphabet with my finger on the wooden pillar outside the restaurant. I continued this three times, as I always did before a shift. It helps ward off the cuckoo vibes that forever loomed in the background of any place that involved too many nutty Lovells in one area. I started doing it the fifth morning after I’d begun waitressing at the grill when I was sixteen. The first four days were disasters, and I was really contemplating quitting to work for the damn mini market to sort cabbage instead.

  Day one had consisted of all of the teen males who were old enough to join the staff pummeling the shit out of each other because a hot girl from their school sat at a table alone, and naturally, being hormone-driven cluster-fucks, they fought nearly to the death to be her server.