Werewolves of Singer Valley

Stolen by the Werewolf-2

Jim watched her return to her duties, his chest tight. Why is it the days that start out the best always turn out the worst? The day the mine collapse took his parents, Jim was sure he'd experienced the worse that life could throw at him, but today’s events impacted so much more than his small life. This was the security of the entire town.

How the hell am I going to do this?

"So, what's the plan, boss?" Charlie tried a smile, but even his jolly nature seemed to have taken a hit since they’d all seen what Brad did to the town's bank account.

Jim took a deep breath, nodding to the twins. "The account shows the entire amount was closed out as cash early this morning from the west branch office. I need you two to go check the security cameras at the bank. I know we all have our suspicions, but we need to confirm it was Brad. Text me once you know for sure who cleaned out our account." They nodded their identical blond heads and ran toward the parking lot where their cars were parked, leaving Jim with Jared.

Jared raised an eyebrow at Jim. "Is that even necessary? We know Brad took it."

Jim nodded. "We actually don’t know. He deserves the benefit of the doubt. He's our brother."

Jared nodded, his expression thoughtful.

Jim paced along the narrow alley that ran alongside The Howl. He halfway hoped there was just a glitch in the bank’s computers or maybe the money was taken by a mysterious hacker. Anything besides trying to get Brad to be a decent person for five minutes. If Brad really did have the money, they were in trouble. Brad was a selfish jerk. He would want them to suffer.

The only way to get the money was to steal it back.

Inside the cafe, the murmur of voices had picked up again, people returning to their lives, no idea that one of the Alpha's sons had ripped away the funds necessary to make them whole. The mantle of responsibility that had been an awkward fit in the cafe felt even more cumbersome now. Jim couldn't believe that this was going to be his first assignment as heir.

Jim didn’t have the first idea of where to start. This whole situation was outside the skillset of everyone he knew. The twins ran a boxing gym and an auto-repair shop. Jared owned a cafe. And Jim was basically a glorified bureaucrat. What did any of them know about larceny?

"Jared, how am I going to steal the money back from Brad?" Jim asked.

Jared stroked his chin. "As your humble gossip guru, I really wouldn't know. What you need is someone with experience with this kind of thing, but it would have to be somebody who won't rip us off…" His voice trailed away, and Jim studied Jared's thoughtful expression, getting a little worried. That particular smile of Jared's was one Jim recognized well.

"Osric Tan. Remember him?" Jared's expression was entirely too sly. "Rumor has it Osric's been on the wrong side of the law since he ran away back when you two were...what? About fifteen or so? Word is, he's been working jobs downtown for the last few months. Weren't you two close back in the day...?"

Jared phrased the last like a question, but Jared obviously already knew the answer. Jared's memory for scandal was brighter than magnified rays burning up an ant. Osric and Jim's friendship, the budding romance, and then the disastrous fallout were well-known to almost everybody in the small town.

Jim looked away before his expression betrayed his feelings. Osric had been Jim's best friend since before they could walk. He'd lived in Osric's house as much as his own, the two of them running in and out of each other's living rooms and plundering each other's fridges with the ease and familiarity of family. And when they hit puberty, the intensity of what Jim felt when he looked at Osric's beloved face sent him sprawling. He'd fallen hard and fast, and Osric--in a moment Jim thought was their happily ever after--declared that he felt the same. The night they first kissed, Jim had felt certain it would be the best night of his entire life.

And then the earth shook, the mine crumbled, Osric and Jim's parents were buried deep in the ground, and night fell.

Osric disappeared the next day without saying goodbye, leaving Jim utterly alone.

Jared, enamored with gossip even then, had pushed Jim to go find his vanished love, but Jim had refused.

If Jared is matchmaking at a time like this..."We can't trust Osric." Jim almost didn't recognize the harshness in his own voice. "He's even more selfish than Brad."

Jared shrugged, his expression too innocent. "I always thought he was a nice kid, and his rep is very gentleman thief these days. Con man, not a thug, only rips off the rich, that sort of thing. So, unless you have any better idea about where to start…" Jared's voice trailed off, and he lifted an eyebrow at Jim.

Damn.

Jim walked down the strange city blocks, trying not to think about how Jodi and the rest were holding up. Had Beatrice’s crew started work on the bridge? It would need to be repaired before they could move in the heavier machinery for the road repairs. He stopped himself from checking his phone for the third time in as many minutes. Jodi and Jared had promised to keep him informed, but he hadn't realized how accustomed he'd become to being constantly surrounded by friends and family in their small town. To Jim, the crowds of people in the city were just a massive hive of loneliness.

It had taken two whole days since he arrived in the city to find Osric's scent, finally tracking it down at the only restaurant in the city that made authentic guobaorou, an amazing Chinese pork dish Osric's mother used to make.

In the thirteen years since they'd last seen each other, Jim had worried he'd forgotten Osric's scent. But at the first whiff of that unique, spicy musk that was only Osric, Jim fell careening back to all those nights playing cops and robbers in their old tree house (even then, Osric always insisted on being the robber), stealing a bottle of whiskey from Jim's dad, and giggling up secrets under the stars. Memory after memory flooded back of those high-hormone high school days as lab partners in the back of chemistry class, Jim bending over to grab a beaker and sneaking a quick sniff at Osric's neck as he leaned past him.

What am I even going to say to him? Help us, Osric Tan, you're our only hope? If the adult Osric was anything like the teenage one, he would fall down laughing and throw a quip over his shoulder as he wandered off to a new adventure.

Jim followed the trail from the Chinese food restaurant to an apartment building where Jim assumed Osric was staying, but the scent around the front door was days old. Damn. Jim stretched his shoulders, looking around for inspiration. He could wait here, but if Osric was on a job, he might never return.

Unless... A hunch led Jim to the back door of the apartment building. If Osric was conning folks, he probably wouldn't be using the more heavily-surveilled front door.

Jim stopped himself from laughing when he picked up a scent of the new trail--only hours old!--heading down the street. Jim shifted to his wolf form in an alley to take advantage of his wolf's enhanced nose, stuffed his clothing into the magicked pack around his waist that shrank around his smaller body, and headed down the street.

It was an effort to keep his wolf shape's friendly: tail up and tongue hanging out, trusting that anybody who spotted him would dismiss the sight of a random stray.

Meanwhile, Jim's heart hammered in his chest.

Osric Tan.

Every step brought him closer. Jim had spent years thinking of what he wanted to tell his dearest friend if he ever saw him again.

Why did you leave me?

Why didn't you trust that we would have gotten through the pain together?

Scents bombarded Jim on all sides as he trotted down the street: trash cans and animal droppings, car exhaust and the winding trails of hundreds of pedestrians who passed by the busy, metropolitan sidewalks. But in between all of these, like a glittering trail in the midst of the chaos, was Osric's scent. Its tantalizing promise of answers led Jim in a path through the maze of gridiron streets and to the steps of the city's largest art museum.

Jim circled the massive stone building twice to confirm the trail didn’t continue out one of the many exits. Osric was still in there.

Jim shifted back to his human form and pulled on his clothes, his hands shaking. Jim's confidence was fading as quickly as Osric's scent on the air.

Memories he'd thought he'd forgotten came rushing back in Technicolor. The nightmare. For years following his parents' death it came. Jim would sit in bed for hours after Jodi tucked him in, gripping the hem of his pajama bottoms, trying to fend off sleep. But he would always succumb eventually. Then he’d be in the mines, stone walls closing in on him, closer and closer, entombed in the suffocating darkness where his parents died. He'd scream out and Jodi would come running, rocking and soothing him, telling him that he was safe, that everything was going to be okay. And he'd lean into his new family's embrace, letting his fear be pushed away for another day.

But part of Jim always wondered...was Osric out there screaming from the same nightmares? Who held him?

Where are you, Osric? The question of so many nights, reaching out to someone who was no longer there.

And now an answer: Osric Tan was here. At a museum which, according to the signs on the door, was fifteen minutes from closing. Jim picked up the pace.

The trail of Osric's scent went through the main arching lobby and up into the galleries, crisscrossing itself several places. He must be spending a lot of time here. The freshest went upstairs, along a gallery of portraits of judgmental stares from the dead, and into the Middle Eastern Art section.

At this hour, there were only a few art students still lingering around the galleries, most moving towards the exits. Only one other person was moving in the same direction as Jim, deeper into the museum, a slim man with black hair, the cut professionally askew, walking with purpose and speed.

All Jim could see was the man's back, but he didn't need the slight breeze catching the man's scent to recognize him.

"Osric!" The name escaped Jim's mouth before he could pull it back in.

The man's steps half faltered, but he didn't stop moving and didn't turn. Jim jogged to catch up.

"Osric Tan!"

Osric barely glanced over when Jim leveled with him. Jim didn't know much about fashion, but Osric looked good. Jim had never put much thought into his own wardrobe of jeans and flannel, but one look at Osric made Jim reconsider putting in a little more effort. Osric's pinstripe suit fit his broad shoulders and slim waist so perfectly, it had to be bespoke. Gold cufflinks shone from the edge of his sleeves, and his shoes made authoritative clicks on the ground as he walked. Osric had always been attractive, but in these last years, he'd lost the slight roundness to his cheeks, and everything about him was honed and sharp. Gentleman thief indeed. Osric's dangerous air made Jim's mouth go dry.

For a second, Jim would have sworn Osric's eyes fastened on Jim's with a desperate look. But Jim blinked, and Osric's face had returned to a neutral, blank smile.