dead animals back there, but at least she could do the work.
She heard the sliding glass door open, and didn’t turn her head. “Well,” he said, “good news and bad news.” He walked over to the kitchen sink and started washing his hands. “Good news is there’s werewolf all over those animals, so my guess is they smelled you and are paying tribute.”
“Tribute? Like…like a cat would leave a dead animal on the doormat?”
“Yeah, more or less. It’s an old tradition. Not every clan does it any more. But with your uncle gone, you’re next in line, and they can smell it. Most of them looked a couple of days old, have you been around much?”
“Not at all,” she said.
“Yeah, your scent isn’t fresh, so the animals aren’t.” He looked thoughtful. “So…I’m gonna dispose of those, and we’ll put a signal out that you got the message and you don’t need any tribute for a little while.”
“Please don’t tell me that the signal involves pee,” she said.
“What would make you think that?”
She shrugged. “Werewolves? Dogs? They pee a lot, right? Mark their territory?”
“You pick up fast,” he said. “Do you think if I put these in some garbage bags anyone’s gonna ask questions?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I…haven’t ever dealt with this before.”
“It’s mostly squirrels,” he said. “We’ll risk it. You have heavy duty bags?”
“Under the sink,” she said. “Wait. What is the signal?”
He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a trash bag. “You told me not to tell you.”
“Not my pee?”
“I told you,” he said. “Just sit down and sketch. Don’t worry about anything. I got this.” He put a hand on her shoulder. It calmed her immediately. Maybe she could believe him.
At least she could give it a shot.
***
He hadn’t fucked it up completely, at least. She believed him, or at least had believed him enough to calm down and let him get to work.
It hadn’t been that bad—squirrels and a rabbit—and he figured if he double-bagged the garbage, it wouldn’t be suspicious.
By the time he was done, she had drawn a bunch of sketches of the pitcher on her table, a pretty pottery one with blue flowers. Jason didn’t know much about art, but they looked really nice. He washed his hands again, really damn well, and sat down at the table. “Okay,” he said. “I smelled more than one werewolf for sure, maybe three.”
She put her pencil down, and thought over his words for a minute. “Are they…like, what does this tribute mean? Does that mean they want me to be their girlfriend? Or mate? Or…is it just like a friendship bracelet made out of dead squirrels?”
He laughed in spite of himself. “No,” he said. “It’s literally a tribute. Like you would to royalty back in the day.”
“I’m not…royalty,” she said.
“You are,” he said. “Every clan has a head, either an alpha or a queen. And when Oliver died, it passed to you.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why not Frieda?”
“It doesn’t go by first born or anything like that,” he said. “It might have been her, if she’d been the only child. But there were three of you, so it could have been any of you.”
“If we were boys, one of us would be an alpha?”
“Yeah,” he said. That sounded logical even if you weren’t a werewolf, right? It was hard to tell when you’d grown up in a clan. His wolf told him it mad perfect sense, but that was no help.
“And I’m a queen, not an alpha.”
“Not a queen. The Queen. The top of the clan.”
“So it’s not…it’s not a merit system.”
He laughed. “The power finds the right person. It probably sounds kind of bullshit, but hey, we’re werewolves. You can’t think logically about werewolves.”
“How can I be the right person? I don’t even know anything about all this.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about power, and guidance. You have to lead the clan.”
“What if I say
She heard the sliding glass door open, and didn’t turn her head. “Well,” he said, “good news and bad news.” He walked over to the kitchen sink and started washing his hands. “Good news is there’s werewolf all over those animals, so my guess is they smelled you and are paying tribute.”
“Tribute? Like…like a cat would leave a dead animal on the doormat?”
“Yeah, more or less. It’s an old tradition. Not every clan does it any more. But with your uncle gone, you’re next in line, and they can smell it. Most of them looked a couple of days old, have you been around much?”
“Not at all,” she said.
“Yeah, your scent isn’t fresh, so the animals aren’t.” He looked thoughtful. “So…I’m gonna dispose of those, and we’ll put a signal out that you got the message and you don’t need any tribute for a little while.”
“Please don’t tell me that the signal involves pee,” she said.
“What would make you think that?”
She shrugged. “Werewolves? Dogs? They pee a lot, right? Mark their territory?”
“You pick up fast,” he said. “Do you think if I put these in some garbage bags anyone’s gonna ask questions?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I…haven’t ever dealt with this before.”
“It’s mostly squirrels,” he said. “We’ll risk it. You have heavy duty bags?”
“Under the sink,” she said. “Wait. What is the signal?”
He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a trash bag. “You told me not to tell you.”
“Not my pee?”
“I told you,” he said. “Just sit down and sketch. Don’t worry about anything. I got this.” He put a hand on her shoulder. It calmed her immediately. Maybe she could believe him.
At least she could give it a shot.
***
He hadn’t fucked it up completely, at least. She believed him, or at least had believed him enough to calm down and let him get to work.
It hadn’t been that bad—squirrels and a rabbit—and he figured if he double-bagged the garbage, it wouldn’t be suspicious.
By the time he was done, she had drawn a bunch of sketches of the pitcher on her table, a pretty pottery one with blue flowers. Jason didn’t know much about art, but they looked really nice. He washed his hands again, really damn well, and sat down at the table. “Okay,” he said. “I smelled more than one werewolf for sure, maybe three.”
She put her pencil down, and thought over his words for a minute. “Are they…like, what does this tribute mean? Does that mean they want me to be their girlfriend? Or mate? Or…is it just like a friendship bracelet made out of dead squirrels?”
He laughed in spite of himself. “No,” he said. “It’s literally a tribute. Like you would to royalty back in the day.”
“I’m not…royalty,” she said.
“You are,” he said. “Every clan has a head, either an alpha or a queen. And when Oliver died, it passed to you.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why not Frieda?”
“It doesn’t go by first born or anything like that,” he said. “It might have been her, if she’d been the only child. But there were three of you, so it could have been any of you.”
“If we were boys, one of us would be an alpha?”
“Yeah,” he said. That sounded logical even if you weren’t a werewolf, right? It was hard to tell when you’d grown up in a clan. His wolf told him it mad perfect sense, but that was no help.
“And I’m a queen, not an alpha.”
“Not a queen. The Queen. The top of the clan.”
“So it’s not…it’s not a merit system.”
He laughed. “The power finds the right person. It probably sounds kind of bullshit, but hey, we’re werewolves. You can’t think logically about werewolves.”
“How can I be the right person? I don’t even know anything about all this.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about power, and guidance. You have to lead the clan.”
“What if I say
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