As Irene's car came around the corner, the bright neon sign over the bar's roof glared across her windshield and she had to squint a little to find a spot to park. Howlers had been open for at least fifty years, maybe longer - Irene hadn't known it existed until Lee mentioned it one night. According to the local gossips, the bar had opened some time after the werewolf attacks, so many years ago, and it had been a safe haven for werewolves just passing through the state. You could find it in the mountains if you drove long enough down Route 100 and turned before you hit Lowell. Despite her eagerness to meet the slowly growing werewolf packs, Irene hadn't been there herself.

Irene put the car in park and leaned back in the driver's seat, taking a deep breath as she looked at the brick building. "I'm not sure about this," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"It's fine. This place isn't that bad," Lee said as she unbuckled her seat belt. "Everyone keeps to themselves unless it's a game night."

"I don't feel safe," Irene said flatly before following Lee in getting out of the car. "Ever since Dad walked in, it's felt like I've got a giant bull's-eye on the back of my head." She rested her arms on the roof of her car. "I know it's probably just nerves-"

"And when have your nerves ever been wrong?" Lee leaned over the car too. With how tall she was, she was able to kiss the top of Irene's head easily and soothingly.  "Even if you think it's just your gut twisting because you're anxious, tell me. Your instincts haven't proven wrong yet. Yours are better than most werewolves'." She chuckled at the bemused expression on Irene's face. "If you say we need to get out, then we get out. That simple. I trust you."

"Thanks, Lee." Irene smiled at her and pushed away from the vehicle, following her to the metal front door. The only windows were made up of glass blocks, keeping outsiders from peering in. Good... and not-so-good if you need to make a quick get-away.

Lee rubbed Irene's back reassuringly before knocking on the door once, then a separate two times. 

The little sliding window popped open and a pair of eyes peered at them before focusing on Lee, the familiar face of the two - and the one that obviously would smell like a werewolf. "Does the wolf bite?" a gruff voice asked from the other side.

Lee chuckled, clearly used to the insipid password, "Of course I do." The door's window shut with a snap before the lock rattled, opening and swinging inward. Inside stood a short, older man a few inches taller than Irene with grey hair streaked by black strands. He blinked as he looked at her, rubbing his salt-and-pepper beard as he turned to Lee. 

"I always wondered when you two would stop in for a pint or two for date night," he said as they stepped through.

Lee ruffled his hair with a laugh. "We don't go out too much, Thorin." Thorin had joined the pack two months ago, one of the last ferals to finish the rehabilitation but one of the ones who had been in thrall the longest. As a result, the were had a particular talent for sniffing out magic, and he'd recognized Irene on the spot.

"We're homebodies," Irene teased Lee with an elbow to her side. The werewolf jokingly growled at her and held her hand in hers as they stepped past the threshold. 

The bar was dimly lit but cozy, chipped black-and-white checkered tiles stretching across the floor and stopping at the counter. There were booths along a back wall and private rooms off to the side, and old 80's rock played from the stereo system behind the bar. Patrons, most werewolves except for some mundane or otherwise, glanced up but kept to themselves as Lee had promised. 

The bartender, a white and tattooed man with a shaved head, greeted Lee with a smile and handshake, gesturing to the only private booth with the door cracked open. "You have a friend waiting." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Irene but greeted her warmly too once the surprise had passed, "We don't get witches here often! Welcome to Howlers. Name's Seamus, second owner of the place."

"Irene. Pleasure to meet you." Irene smiled back, but tilted her head. "Second owner?"

"First owner moved out to Iowa to open another bar, said they could use another one out there." He chuckled. "Miss the bastard, only calls once a year if he remembers." He gestured to the drink menu overhead, "What'll you have? Unless you're driving."

"Driving, but staying a while. I'll have a..." Irene tilted her head back and forth a bit before deciding, "I'll take a rum and coke, with a bottle of water too."

"Just a rum and coke for me, Seamus, I'm not driving." Lee glanced around; something smelled wrong in here. Clearly Seamus, despite being human, noticed something too - he was stiff, uncomfortable, despite the ease with which he served their drinks. There were two slices of lime in each glass, tucked under the ice to make sure they didn't just get a mouthful of sour. 

"Enjoy and let me know if you need anything else, yeah?" Seamus picked up a beer glass and pointed a finger at another patron at the counter, "You're cut off, Bernie, you've been here since four and you haven't ordered water in two hours." The werewolf in question grumbled but relented on his insistence at another drink, opting for a water.

Lee chuckled and raised her glass to the bartender. "Cheers, man." She and Irene hooked arms as they walked toward the cracked door of the private room.

Inside, the dim light silhouetted a woman leaning back in her seat. She tilted her head, blinking at them in the brighter light from the bar before smiling. "Irene, you brought Lee! Good." She knocked back the rest of her whiskey and poured another shot out of the bottle under the side table. Kris was not who Irene had been expecting - then again, that happened when all you were given was a name. The woman's skin was deep brown and so were her eyes, and her black hair was pulled back in a bun while she worked. "We've never formally met, so let me introduce myself. I've been going by the name Navya for about a decade or so now. Guess you've had that number a lot longer than that," she teased Irene as she sipped her liquor. "I haven't gone by Karishma or Kris in at least fifty years."

"Ellie gave it to me in case we ever lost touch; she said you know her pretty well." Irene took a seat. Lee remained on her feet, watching the bar through the open door. 

"Mmhmm. Saved her ass on a job down in Texas in, mmm," Navya thought for a moment, tapping her chin, "Reckon it was the late 1800s, now. Been best friends ever since." She lost her smile though when she noticed Lee attentively looking for a very specific someone. "He's in the next room." At the worried look on Irene's face, she gestured to the wall. On a hook hung a charm covered in silencing runes, glimmering a silver-gold. "I'm well prepared. Have two more in my bag and one stuck in the couch here." She patted the seat she was on. 

"Good." Irene took a drink and glanced at the wall. "How long have you been tailing him?"

"A month - maybe a little longer, actually. Ellie told me to keep an eye out for odd creatures around the same time you blew up that old farmhouse." Navya pointed a thumb at the wall. "Started following him near the state line. He never leaves the state. Stays close to Wodenton most of the time but never dares cross the wards. Ellie mentioned you think he might be a lich. I've never seen a vampire pull that off, but if he does have a phylactery or something he's guarding, makes sense that he's minding it and keeping close." She pulled a folder out of her backpack under the table and opened it. Inside were dossiers on different Brooks clan vampires and a handful of names Irene vaguely recognized. Tucked in the flap was an envelope. The werewolf tugged the envelope open and spread the pictures across the tabletop.

"What's all this for?" Lee shut the door and sat down too, picking up a few photographs. A few were of cars outside of the tea shop; others were of the man Navya had been tailing.

"Evidence, tailings, trackings. I also have unfortunate news," she sighed, giving the wall an annoyed glance, "He's shaved his head. I can't find any damn hair to give you so you or someone else could track him, and he never drinks anything except out of a flask he keeps in his pocket and off utensils he keeps in his coat." Navya made a face. "Paranoia's one thing but he's getting desperate. Without Zoe to hide his movements, who knows what he's up to." She glanced up at Lee. "I can smell the old magic marks on you."

"You're smelling her magic," Lee gestured to Irene as she stared at the photos. She recognized a few of the vampires in the shots - were they in on this?

"Hm. So you two never broke the binding?" Navya's eyes moved to Irene, who was looking at the photos of Edmund. She barely recognized him - while he was pale as ever, he was emaciated, head shaved bald, sunken eyes and a haunted expression. Something was wrong, deeply wrong, and she bit her lip as she flipped the picture over to read the back. 

"Lee said that she didn't mind it, but now that this has popped up, at least this way we know she's safe from being attacked again." Irene put the photo down, noting the lack of scarring around Edmund's neck - there were so many conflicting reports about his alleged death: That he had been decapitated, staked, torn to pieces. "It sort of unsettled me at first, but as long as Lee is comfortable with it, so am I."

"Hm." Navya knocked back the rest of her whiskey. "You're the witch, you'd know. I'm just a werewolf and I'm lucky I can get my damn protection circles to work when I draw them." She sniffed a bit, turning her head toward the door and wrinkling her nose. "He's on the move. Not scared. Smell him, Lee?"

"I do. Like rot." Lee resisted the urge to gag and finished her drink, putting the glass down. "Should we-?" She tilted her head toward the door.

"No. Not until we know where he's been hiding. I know he comes here every night, has been for the last three weeks. He's been meeting with someone but I don't know who." Navya grimaced down at the ice left in her cup. "Every time I peek in, there's no trace left. Probably a very, very clean teleportation spell. My money's on a djinn - they smell like nothing on a good day, but they have their own laws on this sort of thing. If one of them has gone dark side, has brought a vampire under their wing, we have bigger fish to fry." She cocked an eyebrow at Irene's nervous gulp as she stared at a photo in her shaking hands.

"I know this guy. He's been one of my regulars since he was a teenager." Irene looked up, horrified. "You're telling me he's involved in this?" She turned the photo around for the two women to see. Getting in his car as he waved goodbye to Irene, box of tea under his arm, was Marcus - the kindly town hall clerk, with three children and a beautiful wife, a huge smile and a specific addiction to her peppermint tea blend that he always picked up every Tuesday when she opened shop. 

"He's... been strange. He's a hundred percent mundane, no magic in his family, wife is bland as he is, three kids with no magic ties. Oldest son is best friends with the youngest werewolf in your pack, Lee," Navya added, pulling out a pack of menthol cigarettes and just sticking one between her teeth for now. "They go to school together and I spotted the kid sneaking out one night to take raw steak to him during full moon. It was kinda nice. But Marcus hasn't been going to work, not every day. He drives off out of town, calls out sick on those days, poof-" She spread her hands out next to her head. "When his boss asked why he's been missing work so much lately, he said it's been nerves about the upcoming election and his sick mother." She chewed on the cigarette filter. "His mother's been dead for ten years, but I doubt his boss or any colleagues know that. Hell, I'm not sure his wife and kids know. But he still gets letters from her... someone who claims to be her on the return address, at least. On those days, he disappears until sundown."

"You couldn't have said something immediately?" Irene asked. There were tears in her eyes. "This is my town we're talking about here, one of my longtime friends. You can't hide this stuff from me, Navya."

"I couldn't be sure of what his connection is. For all I know, it's a witch he hired for therapy. He never leaves the damn letters behind and they're stuck so tightly shut when they arrive that I can't pry them open before he gets his mail." Navya rolled her eyes. "I know it's your home, but this is my job, Irene. I'm as baffled as you are. Not as hurt, not by a long shot. This is why I don't settle down in a pack." She finally lit her cigarette; Seamus could yell at her later, her nerves were fraying. "I'll give you everything I've got on the poor bastard, my dear, but don't chase him. Not yet. We don't know everything yet."

"We haven't got time to wait. How often does he get these letters?" Lee asked, tapping the picture on the table as she thought. 

"About once a month, at least every six weeks at the longest interval. Shortest was once a week. It's been happening for at least three years, according to his boss. Y'know, the mayor." Navya took a long drag on her cig and made a face, exhaling the smoke through her nose. "The mayor's not involved; he's a selkie and he's just waiting until his skin turns up at a pawn shop like it does every fifteen or so years." She finished off another shot of whiskey and stood up. "Let's get moving. Here," she gathered up the papers and photos of Marcus doing... whatever it was he did and handed them to Irene. "He knows you. Maybe he'll talk."

"Probably not. It's worth... something," Irene sighed, standing up with the folder under her arm. "My gut is telling me to follow Edmund."

"Don't," Navya said crossly. "The last investigator who followed him wound up on my motel staircase with his throat torn to shreds." She picked up her bag and plucked her charms from their hiding places, putting them away. Sound returned to the room and the werewolf left quickly, leaving Irene and Lee behind.

"... A djinn?" Lee asked, clearly skeptical, as they left too.

"It's a possibility. There was one causing havoc in Montana six years ago." Irene sighed and got in the driver's seat. With her hands on the wheel, she looked up at the rear view mirror and saw only the dimly lit parking lot and her empty back seat. "We'll go see Marcus at work tomorrow?"

"Agreed. Tomorrow's a good idea. Let's go home and sleep, love." Lee leaned over, kissing her cheek softly before settling back in her seat.