Salem,
2015

HE LOOKED THROUGH THE papers, glancing at each one. Witness statements, on the zombie that barreled through the coffee shop a few days ago. He frowned, trying to see if any of them identified it as what it truly was. Most people who came forward as witnesses were human, most supernatural went through other ways. As far as Leslie could tell, no one had identified it as one yet. However, he knew that it was a theory. Humans were known for being of two varying types: those that believe and trust in the supernatural and those who downright deny and shun it.

The preferable version was of course those that denied it. He'd heard them wander around here plenty of times. Always trying to use facts and science to out rule any supernatural occurrence. It was hilarious, yet also incredibly useful. The oddities of the world being considered natural and normal had long since faded and common knowledge of their existence was essentially moot. It made things difficult. Hiding their true lives from humans was of the utmost importance and having any one of them snooping around in a case concerning zombification was terrible. However, there was one human that truly made him uneasy.

Lawrence Herwy was an oddity. There was something about him that put Leslie's wolf on edge. He either didn't know why, or wouldn't tell Leslie, which was not normal. Not to mention that human had a strange smell to him. It reminded Leslie of the morgue, albeit much tamer. Older, almost as if he lived around death for so long but had spent years in life. It was bizarre. Something Leslie couldn't exactly pinpoint.

Not to mention how he examined that body. If Rosemary was correct in how he placed pressure on the specific areas magic is stored within a humanoid body, then he might not be the normal human Adams hired. Leslie scowled as he slapped the paper on the table. His anger was bubbling up. He needed to calm down and quickly.

"Leslie? What's wrong?"

He turned around to see Evelyn standing there, her bag still slung over her shoulder. She must've just arrived. Leslie sighed, running a hand over his face. "Nothing, just thinking, Evelyn."

The young woman frowned at him but didn't counter. She walked over to one of the other desks and set her bag down. Leslie sighed, looking back down at the papers. He would sort through them later. The ones submitted by humans who accurately described the event would be destroyed, and all those that were made by supernatural would stay in a file, left to collect dust for years to come. Leslie shook his head before turning away, moving towards his desk. There wasn't much to do, but they had to appear busy when Lawrence came in.

Speaking of the godforsaken man...

Leslie turned to Detective Adams. "Where's Lawrence?"

The human frowned, shrugging. "He knows to come in today, so I don't know why he isn't here."

He felt a small grow slip out. Damn humans, thinking the world revolved around them. Newsflash, being late is a bad thing, you don't get to keep a job if you do. As Leslie was griping about this, his wolf suddenly spoke up. He still has forty minutes.

Was he defending him? Leslie shook his head, annoyance clouding his head. He couldn't answer the thing and as such could only try to convey his annoyance through his mind. Knowing the wolf, though, it would just laugh it off and pretend nothing was wrong. "Sorry, turns out he's still got a little time, Adams."

Detective Adams checked his watch. "Huh, you're right. I forgot he doesn't come in till a little later. Wonder why he requested these hours."

To sleep, no doubt. Leslie thought, moving to sit at his desk. He had to begin thinking of theories as to what happened. Meanwhile, Lawrence would do the job of finding the human explanation, hopefully. That was the plan, anyways. They just had to sow the seeds in the correct spots to ensure he concluded he was satisfied with and the rest of humanity would enjoy. Then they could go maybe a few more years without another supernatural outbreak, at least a real one. If a phony one was called in then there was no reason to worry, naturally.

Leslie sighed as he stared at his desk. The monotonous task of doing nothing became his only duty, and currently it felt like his body weighed two thousand tons. It was almost absurd, having nothing to do. Of course, he didn't mind getting paid for doing nothing, but it made his life boring. Leslie found himself looking over at Evelyn. She was seated on one of the benches, her nose buried in a book. It sometimes made him chuckle when he thought of her obsession with books. His mind would flash back to when he was a child, purchasing Penny Dreadfuls on the street corner when he lived over in Europe, flipping through the pages as his pennies were drained. With a last name like Pennington he often connected the two. It was both a feeling of nostalgia and love, while also filled with pain and sadness. The times were different back then, but who was he to complain?

Before he got too mopey, Leslie turned inward, deciding his wolf could entertain him for a spell. And entertain he did, conjuring up images that made Leslie's cold, stony face crack with a smile every so often. The bond between a werewolf and their wolf was a strong one. Seeing as for most of their existence the other had been by them, creating an everlasting kinsman ship that could stand through virtually anything. Of course, that only existed in those born as werewolves.

It was possible, albeit hard to turn a human into a werewolf. The act of biting or scratching someone was not the proper way to go about things. Those who were turned that way had to survive a horrible transformation rife with disease and pain, in which most succumbed to either or. The proper way to turn into a werewolf was through drinking rainwater out of a paw print left behind by a werewolf in their other form. It was a bizarre practice, but for some reason allowed those who accomplished it this way to skip all the worry they had for diseases or the intense pain, effectively just granting them metamorphism. Though many lycanthropes knew of this easy way and made it a point to avoid transforming when the weather had turned or when the ground was soft. Of course, it still happened every so often, but it wasn't anything to be too concerned over. One new werewolf every twenty-five years was nothing to scoff at.

Those who were born human and became a lycanthrope often had trouble with their wolves. It wasn't hard to understand why. Imagining living as a normal person for their whole lives and suddenly having a new voice shoved into it, dictating on certain practices or trying to force them to do other things made sense on the grand scheme of things when looking at why humans-turned-wolves was a bad mix. Leslie couldn't imagine living without his wild and suddenly having it in his life again. It was all too much for him to comprehend. That was the one thing he'd grant humans slack on. The fear they must feel when they're turned into a whole new being, the way they now must live their life, it was something he could sympathize with. Naturally his opinions on humans was still quite bad, but he had an open mind about certain things that pertained to them.

Leslie shook his head, pulling himself out of those thoughts. He glanced at his computer and frowned. A whole hour had passed, and Lawrence was still not here. He turned towards Detective Adams, only to be interrupted by Evelyn. "Excuse me, Detective? You have Lawrence's number, right?"

He nodded. "Why, you wanna ask him out or something?"

The young woman's cheeks flushed, transforming her into a bright, red, tomato. "N-no! I—I wanted to call him to make sure he knows to come in today, or you could do it, I mean—"

Adams handed her his phone, already in the middle of calling Lawrence. "Better talk now cause he's gonna answer soon."

"Detective—!" She stopped talking as she put the phone to her ear. A second later she bit her lip. "Sorry, Mr. Herwy. It's Evelyn, one of the other consultants? Detective Adams was busy but he kept wondering where you were and so he asked me to call you, so I used his phone. I do hope you don't mind."

Leslie felt the corner of his lip quirk up. She was good at spinning a narrative eon the spot. Detective Adams frowned, clearly a little displeased with what she was insinuating. Leslie watched as she sat there, and then her eyes lit up. She closed her eyes, her face paling slightly. "Which coffee shop?"

What was she asking that for? Unless... "Say, Mr. Herwy?" A few seconds later Leslie watched her lips move, and he had to strain to hear her. She was asking him to buy her a drink, wasn't she? A few seconds later she sighed, and then spoke normally. "Can you maybe buy me something there? I'll pay you back. it's my favorite coffee shop and I know all the workers there so if you just say my name they'll know my usual and I know this is a big request but I was just wondering and if you can't then that's okay and--"

She stopped talking. Leslie shook his head, turning back to his computer. Evelyn had always been a little shy, so seeing her talking like that was somewhat shocking. He'd known her since she barely reached his knees, not that she'd remember much. Only once had he ever been permitted within the walls of the Labyr Coven, and even then, he was blindfolded and only had his sense of smell to guide him. The magic weirdest were very protective over their domains, hardly ever letting someone who didn't bear their coven mark from entering their walls, save for when it was dire. He had gone in to help deal with a little uprising around two decades ago from a particularly haughty witch. Thankfully she now resided around sixty feet below the surface, her soul tormented in the Netherworld for her sins. Leslie ignored the hum of his wolf at the thought of her death. It was a problem for him, demise.

He sometimes got intoxicated by it, as all supernaturals tend to do. The allure of death was something he was naturally drawn to. After living through wars and seeing destruction at its finest he found it almost serene. A chuckle reverberated through his throat as the thought of a god of death leaning over his shoulder, filling his head with senseless thoughts. Now was not the time to sink into that frame of mind, especially with humans nearby.

Leslie closed his eyes, his wolf ceasing its useless pacing. It always got so worked up when he thought of a good hunt. Immediately he found himself licking his lips at the idea. Oh, how he wished he could tear off his skin and bound out in his wolf form, stalking through the forest and towards his prey. Before Leslie had a chance to even think of calming himself down the sound of a door opening cut him out of his thoughts.

He slowly opened his eyes and lazily turned his head towards the front. Lawrence stood there, dark bags resting under his eyes. The alluring scent of coffee burned Leslie's nose as the human stood there, holding the cups in his hands. He was dress in business attire, but he seemed drained. Whether from lack of sleep or simply the act of walking across town, Leslie couldn't tell. Either way it was quite annoying. He wanted to be upset with the human, yet he felt a small spark of pity. Leslie resisted the urge to slam his head on the desk, repeatedly. Now was not the time to think such trivial thoughts.

Evelyn smiles at the human, while the tension in the room seemed to double. She walked over to him and handed him a wade of cash before taking one of the cups. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, causing Leslie to raise a questioning brow. She seemed...intrigued, yet also held a sense of desire. Was the witchling attracted to him? It wouldn't be entirely out of the question, considering the dashing young man in front of her, but if she was, she would cling to him like her life depended on it and he would never leave. Leslie frowned. This was going to be a problem.