Page 3 of Wolves Always Bite

Myboss hopped out of the van with a heavy thud.Sheslammed the door shut.Thepeople closest to us bared their teeth at her.Shedidn’t acknowledge them.Itdidn’t surprise me that she was a bit of a bad ass.

Meon the other hand,Iwasnota bad ass.

Itriggered the locks.Itcouldn’t hurt, right?Istared at the people, ready to jump over to the driver’s seat if they so much as touched the van.Thefact thatBabettehad taken the keys didn’t worry me.I’dwatched enough movies;Iwas sureIcould hotwire a vehicle.Howdifficult could it be?

Iswallowed hard and watched the strangers circling the van.

Feral.Thatwas one word to describe them.Wild.Untamed.Thosewords worked too.Butthey weren’t wild in the majestic way you thought of bears or bobcats or whatever other animals lived in the wilderness.No.Ifthese people were animals, they’d have mange or fleas or something.Hadthey been exposed to rabies?Isquinted and studied their faces.Hmm…Nofoam around their mouths, but maybe humans had different symptoms.MybrotherTrevorwas the wilderness enthusiast, not me.Ithought about pulling my phone out and shooting him a text, but the last thingIwanted to do was anger my boss.Ineeded her to take me with her when she left here.

ThefurtherBabettewaddled away from me, the moreIhated that my life decisions had brought me to this point.Iwas not okay with this situation.Everyhair on my body stood at attention and sweat flowed like rivers from my pits.

Assoon as she heaved herself to the top step of the front porch, the door to the house opened.Asshe disappeared inside,Iswallowed hard and glanced around at the feral folk—sue me,Iliked the alliteration—who were still milling around the yard.Everysingle one of them was rough and burly, and they were all staring at me.Ididn’t think it was because my hair looked particularly good today, even if it did.NormallyIdidn’t mind catching the eye of a hefty and hairy bear of a guy, but this wasn’t doing it for me.

Ishrank in my seat and prayedBabettewouldn’t be long.

Icontemplated emptying one of my water bottles to pee in it, but that’d meanI’dhave to open the door to dump out the bottle.Idid not want to do that.Theweird way the back of my neck itched told me that’d be a bad idea.AndIwasn’t usually plagued by performance anxiety—I’dpeed in front of a lot of people in my day, whether in public washrooms or having literal pissing contests with my brothers in the backyard when we were kids—but this situation might be the exception.EvenifIcrawled into the back of the van,Iwasn’t sureIcould expose my dick here.

SoIwaited.Andsquirmed.AndwishedIwas anywhere but whereIwas.

Fifteenvery, very, very long minutes later, she emerged from the house.Twomore hulking guys—and, seriously, one dilapidated place in the woods did not need this many massive guys—trailed behind her carrying large cardboard boxes.

Asthey walked by the van, one of the men snarled and snapped his teeth at me.HonesttoGod.

Howrude.

Ifmy boss hadn’t been with them, there was no wayI’dhave opened the locks.Asit was,Iunlocked the doors and crossed my arms.Irefused to help.Letthem manage it all themselves.Screwthem for being so nasty.Howhard was it to smile anyway?

Babettethrew open the back doors of the van and the guys placed the boxes inside for her.Ididn’t turn around in my seat to look at them, butIdid watch through the mirrors.Oneof the guys made a show of smelling the air.Hefrowned at her.

“Youbrought a human here.”Thesnarly guy sounded pissed.Asshole.

Icouldn’t seeBabettein the mirrors, butIheard some strange soundIcouldn’t quite place.Ahiss?Agrunt?Somestrange combination of the two?Oh, hell,Ididn’t know how to describe it.NowIwishedI’dpacked my beat-up old thesaurus in my backpack today.Thenoise didn’t sound normal though.Andwhat was up with the guy and hishumancomment.Let’sface it,Ihad met very few gods among men, and this guy wasn’t one of them.

“Whatever,” the guy said. “Getout of here.Yougot your stuff.”

“Andyou got your money.”Babetteslammed the back doors shut andIlost sight of the group until my boss opened the driver’s side door and heaved herself inside.Shedidn’t waste any time, starting the van immediately and spinning us back toward the highway.

“Newinventory?”Iasked long after the farmhouse had disappeared from sight.Ididn’t thinkI’dever stayed quiet for so long, but the whole experience had left me at a loss for words.

Babettegrunted.

Okaythen.

Iturned my attention to better things and contented myself with a new one-way conversation about the weather, the landscape, and anything else that crossed my mind.Well, almost anything.Iavoided the weird farm people, whoIwasn’t ready to talk about yet, and my bladder situation, whichIwas pretending wasn’t a problem.Babettefinished the rest of the drive in silence.Shedidn’t even bother to offer a grunt or two now.

Whenwe arrived at the market, a sleepy looking teenager squinted at our registration sheet before waving us to the correct spot.Thewhole thing, from the visitor parking to the market stalls, was set up on a large mown grassy area.Thereweren’t any worn areas or ruts in the grass, which made me think they didn’t hold these events very often.Sinceit was such a small market,Babettehad room to drive up to the back of our designated location.Usually,Ihad to haul all the boxes over from the parking area, while she grumbled about how slowIwas.Thiswas a nice treat.Maybetoday would be okay after all.

Withoutsaying a word,Babetteparked and hopped out.Whenshe rounded the back of the van, her gaze darted from side to side, as if she was making sure she didn’t have an unwanted audience, before opening the door to reveal the boxes she’d picked up from the weird house in the woods.Yeah.Thatwasn’t suspicious at all.Iwanted to stick around and see what she was up to, butIhad more pressing personal problems to deal with.Findinga bathroom was my first priority, followed immediately by hunting down the largest coffee this place had to offer.

“I’llbe right back,”Isaid.

Shedidn’t acknowledge me.

Ioverheard the surrounding vendors optimistically predict a lot of sales asIscurried through the tables first to the toilets and then to a coffee vendor who was sneakily selling their little cups of joy before the market had officially opened.Iopted for a dark roast.Sogood.

WhenIreturned to our space, the place smelled foul, like rotten eggs.Isquished up my nose and fought the urge to sneeze.

“Whatis that smell?It’sawful.”