Shifters Chapter 8

Circe sat at the bus, center at the right side, on her way home. She would have taken the very back seat where it was warmest thanks to the engine, but all Five seats were already occupied. Not by humans, mind you. They were all occupied by Egregors.

From the very right, there was a creature that looked like a deathly pale and bone-thin man dressed in black robes like a court judge. But his head was thrice as big as the average human's and he had only black empty sockets where eyes should be. Next was a portly clown in yellow court jester garb. He had one eye and was constantly smiling, exposing a set of sharp, beastly fangs. A large, hairy arm cut off near the elbow took the middle seat, the fingers of its upright hand wriggling about. The last two seats were claimed by a green freeway sign with chicken feet.

In a foul mood still after that argument with Morgan, Circe heatedly thought, That stupid moron never listens. Never ever. And she has the gall to call me useless, when she never even thinks anything through. Well, whatever. Let her get herself eaten. I don't care anymore.

She could feel the blood rushing to her head. The more she thought about Morgan, the worse it got. She was dangerously close to popping a vein.

Realizing she needed to calm down before a medical emergency could happen, she quickly pulled out her phone, put earbuds into her ears and pulled up a standup comedy video she had saved to watch at a more convenient time. Now was a good time for it.

Before hitting Play on the video, she also opened the phone's map app and set it to alert her when her stop was near. She didn't want to miss it because she was too distracted. Again.

She stared at her phone unmoving. From behind her seat, an eyeball attached to a fleshy pink stock popped out, watching her with curiosity.

Circe slowly turned her head and glared at the curious eyeball. Through gritted teeth, she growled, "Do you mind?"

The eyeball slowly sank back down out of sight, leaving Circe to finally watch her video in peace.

There were many stops along the way back to Chinatown. At one of those stops, the bus picked up a man and a woman, both with mouse-brown hair, storm gray eyes and looking somewhat stressed. The pair, twin siblings, scurried over to the back of the bus as quick as was allowed to claim the back seats that were extra heated by the engine. But along the way, the man's nose detected a smell that made him pause. He stopped just an inch away from Circe's seat and sniffed quickly twice before one big and loud sniff.

The man's sister elbowed him and hissed, "Quit it! What's with you? We're in a bus! You're embarrassing me!"

The man threw his sister an irritated glare and then told her, "Just smell. You'll see."

The lady frowned, but she decided to just humor her brother and subtly took in air through her nostrils. Her eyes lit with surprise. And then she took a big whiff even louder than the loud sniff her brother had done. She turned and looked at him.

"See?" he said.

The lady didn't like the faint hint of smugness she detected on her brother's face, but that was not important right now.

"Where could it be coming from?" she whispered.

Her brother looked around before finally stopping his gaze on Circe who was engrossed in the story being told by a freckled, redhead man in a green checkered shirt and baggy blue jeans, swaying around the stage while speaking into the silver microphone in his left hand. It was an amusing story that brought a smile unconsciously to her face. She remained blissfully unaware that she was being watched and that her smile had caused the man to flare with anger.

His mouth twisted open in a half-snarl, exposing a long fang jutting down from a row of otherwise average teeth.

Sensing something amiss, the driver glanced up at the rearview mirror and called out, "Everything okay back there?"

He got no response, but he could see the two passengers he just picked up quickly sitting down. Satisfied, but put off by the twins' rudeness, he got the bus moving again.

Circe continued to stream standup comedy on her phone throughout the entire ride, ignorant of two people staring daggers at her, like a predator observing prey. It wasn't until her video was interrupted by a pop-up notice, letting her the next stop was the last that she put the phone down and yanked the cord pinned to the side of the window. A chime let the driver know someone wanted to get off soon.

After exiting the bus, Circe headed to the end of the sidewalk and turned. From there was a straight path to the Chinatown arch. She never looked back once. If she had, she would have seen the twins following her just a few feet back. The sky was completely blanketed overhead with dark winter clouds casting a shade that mimicked the shadow of pre-night. Under that all-encompassing shade, the twins' storm gray eyes softly glowed red like two pairs of eerie lanterns.

After taking a look around to see that they were all alone, the twins exchanged looks and nods. The red glow of their eyes grew bright, and the pink color of their faces was wiped away by a hue of light blue. Their round ears had become pointed. They picked up pace and quickly approached Circe, reaching for her with hooked fingers. But before they got the chance to snatch her away into the nearest back alley, Circe suddenly whirled around, startling the twins to collectively back away couple of feet in a single jump.

Circe was also startled. She never noticed them so close and only turned around because a trio of black rags flew straight at her face. She was in the middle of ducking down when she saw the twins and froze in surprise. The three rags brushed past her face with ghostly high pitch giggling and then soared upward before flying out of sight over the roof of a white, box-shaped building.

Circe stared at the twins and the twins stared at Circe. The twins' blue skin, glowing red eyes and pointed ears made it clear to Circe that they were not human. Their exposed fangs were a dead giveaway what they specifically were: vampires. (What else could they be?) And their hooked fingers were a dead giveaway for what they wanted, which, for reasons unknown to Circe, was to attack her.

As soon as she realized the vampires meant to do her harm, Circe did not waste a second more to run. But her reflexes were nothing compared to a vampire's. Circe only managed to take one step before the lady vampire was on her. The lady vampire grabbed Circe by the hood of her jacket and flung her into the alley before calmly strolling after her, followed closely by the man vampire.

Circe hit the ground hard with a pained yelp. She looked up and saw the two vampires walking over to her. In the darkness of the alley, the red glow from their eyes was more pronounced, making them look several times more terrifying.

Circe rolled to her hands and feet and frantically scrambled on all fours before rising to a run. But there was only a dead end up ahead, a solid brick wall stained black with age and damp from the weather, which she crashed into from running too hard. She looked right and left but found no way to escape. The only way out was through the vampires.

She faced the vampires with her back against the wall, heart pounding, sweating and breathless. Circe just barely managed to contain her fear as the vampires approached her with malicious sneers.

"What do you want with me?" she asked them. "Who are you?"

"You don't need to know that, wolf," said the lady vampire. She spat the word, "wolf" with great disdain.

"Wolf?" Circe was confused, but then her face lit with realization. "Wait! I'm not a werewolf!"

The two vampires laughed. 

"Nice one," said the guy vampire. "Really convincing."

"I'm not lying!" Circe insisted with all her heart and soul, but the vampires would not believe her.

"Don't bother trying to talk your way out of this," the lady vampire said. "You mutts have had it good for too long. It's about time you all know your place."

As she spoke, she raised her hand next to her face. Her fingernails grew long, thick and curved into razor sharp points.

"Maybe a quick, and painful, shave will finally teach you wolves not to bite your superiors."

"For Drake," said the man vampire.

"For Drake."

Drake? Circe pondered the name. "You don't mean Jim Drake, do you? The lawyer? He's a vampire?"

The vampires didn't answer. They were done talking.

From the alley's halfway point, the lady vampire vanished and then reappeared a few inches away from Circe. It looked like to Circe that she teleported. The vampire lady roughly pinned Circe to the wall with her left arm. Their faces were just centimeters apart, nose to nose and they could hear each other's ragged breathing, one from fear and the other from evil excitement. 

The vampire lady cackled and gently brushed a claw down Circe's cheek. "What's the matter, wolf? Too scared to turn beast? You guys bark loud, but always turn meek in the face of real power."

She pulled her claws back and raised them over her head. Circe watched, eyes fixed on those claws she was sure was going to fall at any moment to tear her flesh. But it was at that moment, she noticed something. A section of the brick wall stretched out into the shape of a man's face, yawning. It was an Egregor, an invisible monster only she could see. One that had taken on the form of a brick wall.

Instantly, Circe cried out for help. Putting all the willpower she had into it. "Help! Help me!"

The vampires laughed. 

"There's nobody around to help you now, little cub!" said the man.

But he was wrong.

The vampire lady decided she had done enough teasing and swiped her claws down towards Circe's head. But before those deadly, sharp claws could touch Circe's scalp, they stopped. No, some-THING stopped them.

The lady vampire stared at her arm, astonished and puzzled. She could not see what, but the indentation on her coat's sleeve look like a set of teeth had sunk into it, stopped short of biting into her skin.

More than a dozen bald, human heads popped out of the brick wall and stretched out with long, long rubbery necks. One of those heads flew over to the lady vampire and chomped on her arm as she was about to attack Circe. With the power of its neck and jaws of steel, the head pulled the vampire lady away from Circe and threw her into her brother. 

The two vampires tumbled to the edge of the alley where they laid for a couple of seconds in a messy pile before turning their gazes at Circe. The surprise and, perhaps, fear in their eyes emboldened her to get aggressive.

With her own power, Circe had the vampires lifted sharply into the air and pulled back into the depths of the alley.

"Hold them for me," she told the wall of heads. Four heads held the arms of the vampires up while two coiled their necks around the vampires' bellies. Once she was sure the vampires were securely bound, Circe relaxed her psychic grip on them and focused on producing a mean glare. 

The vampires quivered. No trace of their earlier arrogance remained. All that they had now was fear. But despite that fear, the vampire man managed to speak.

"Y-you're no wolf!" he cried out. "What the hell are you?"

Circe paused to consider her words thoughtfully. And then, looking straight into the vampire's glowing red eyes with fierce eyes of her own, she replied, "I'm a witch.”

<== Chapter 7                                                                                                                Chapter 9 ==>

Shifters Chapter 7

This place looks like it's been ransacked, Circe thought when she peered into the bedroom of the missing werewolf. 

Dresser drawers were left pulled out. Clothes were strewn all over the floor (Circe tried not to look at the white briefs too much). Both the dresser and table tops were littered with tiny, colorful action figures (many laid down at odd angles), strewn with sheets of papers (probably homework or school notes), and stacks of books turned lopsided. Blankets and sheets laid scrunched across the bed which had a corner of blue mattress exposed. A pillow leaned against the bed's frame where it had slipped to the floor.

At first, she thought Benjamin or the police might have turned the room upside down looking for clues to Roger's whereabouts like she had come to do. Either that or this was a sign of a darker conspiracy.

But all suspicions were laid to rest when Morgan said, "It's just like I remember it. It's as if he never disappeared."

Circe gave her a glance. "You mean to say Roger's room is always like this?"

"It is every time I've been over," Morgan said, shrugging. "It's not as bad as it looks. It usually takes maybe thirty minutes to tidy up."

Surprised, Circe turned. "Wait, you actually CLEAN this mess?" 

Morgan nodded.

"Every time?"

Again, Morgan nodded.

"Yourself?" 

"Yes," Morgan said irritably.

"Seriously?"

Morgan frowned in dismay. "Is it really that hard to believe?"

"Yes," Circe replied bluntly. She never thought Morgan would, or could, clean her own room, much less someone else's.

"Well, excuse me for not looking like a good wife," Morgan pouted with her hands on her hips. "Anyway, have you found Roger yet? What are those witchy senses of yours telling you?"

Circe was utterly confused. "My what?"

"You know," Morgan said. "That thing witches have that lets them find stuff while not really looking. Sometimes they use a crystal ball. Sometimes they use a pot of water. And sometimes they just close their eyes, and they can already see what's happening far away. That sort of thing."

That's when it dawned on Circe. "Wait, is that why you brought me here? To use some kind of psychic power on Roger's room or some of his stuff to find him?"

"Well, yeah," said Morgan. "That's how witchy senses usually works, right?"

"I don't know," Circe said. "I don't have anything like that."

Morgan cried out in disbelief. "What? What kind of witch doesn't have witchy senses?"

"This one, apparently," said Circe. She never learned anything about "witchy senses" from Donatello Putts, and she doubted he ever had any power like it either.

"Well, this sucks," Morgan groaned in disappointment. "It means we came here for nothing! Some help you turned out to be."

Circe scowled. "You're the one who dragged me here because of an assumption you made on your own!"

"Whatever," Morgan said dismissively. "Since we're here anyway, we may as well pick Ben's brain for ideas."

They found Benjamin in the kitchen just as he was about to go to them with two mugs of steaming hot tea. He was surprised to see that they were already done and asked the girls if their investigation bore any fruit. When the girls answered no, he gave a consoling, "Well, at least you tried your best." 

Circe was sure he never believed they would find anything. He probably never really believed that lie Morgan spun about Circe being a detective and was just humoring them. That annoyed Circe because it felt like she and Morgan were being treated like children doing play pretend. But graciously, she took the mug of tea offered to her and sipped it carefully. As she savored the taste in her mouth and the warmth spread to her fingertips, she thought back to the meeting she witnessed between the man standing in front of her and the two members of the police station from earlier, both she knew to be involved in serious crimes of strange natures beyond the realm of science. 

There had to be a reason for those two, that accountant in particular, to be visiting this house, she thought. Maybe it's because Roger is a werewolf that Tom Waller's lending a hand, but Circe seriously doubted that was the case. There was no way they knew the Nettles had werewolves in the family when the Nettles themselves didn't know about it. 

Wait, did the Nettles know there are werewolves in the family? Now that Circe thought about it, Roger's ignorance of his powers was just an assumption Daisy made from Morgan's story. And Morgan hasn't exactly proved herself to be a reliable source of facts.

But whether or not Benjamin Nettles was aware of his werewolf lineage, it did not change the chances that he could transform into a hulking, vicious beast at any moment with claws that could tear Circe and Morgan to pieces. When that thought crossed her mind, Circe thought, I really shouldn't have stepped foot in this house.

She glanced up nervously at Benjamin, but the young man of the house just smiled back, looking ever harmless.

Still, why did Arnold and Mr. Waller come here? She wondered as she took more sips of tea. She debated with herself whether or not to ask. But before she could come to a decision, it was made for her by Morgan who abruptly blurted out, "So what did you talk about with that chauffeur?"

Benjamin looked at his brother's girlfriend with confusion. "Chauffeur?"

"Yeah," Morgan said. "I thought you were going to go out, but you ended up not. Were you just making plans in person or something. Now that's some dedication to his job that chauffeur got."

Benjamin looked to Circe for clarity.

"She's talking about those guys you met at the front door earlier," she explained. "When we came, we saw you guys talking. It looked important and we didn't want to interrupt, so we hung back and kept out of the way."

"Oh, is that why we were hiding behind the garbage bins?" asked Morgan.

"Geez!" cried Benjamin. "You were there the whole time? You must have been freezing!"

"Tell me about it," said Morgan. "I told Little Miss Dumb-o here that there was no need to be so polite. But noooo. She just had to have her way."

Circe threw her a scornful glare. Before she had a chance to tell the liar that she did no such thing, that liar got the discussion back on track. "So, anyway about the chauffeur . . . "

Benjamin hesitated.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Circe told him. "But you should know that, unlike this moron here, I know the guys you talked with were not chauffeurs. They were cops."

Morgan was astonished. "They were? Why didn't you say so? Was it about Roger? Is that why they were here? What did they have to say."

Still, Benjamin was uncomfortable. But after a bit of contemplation, he spoke, choosing his words carefully "Yes, those guys were cops. But they weren't here about Roger. It was about something else."

"Something else what?" asked Morgan.

Benjamin hesitated some more before sighing in resignation. "Well, it's not exactly something pleasant to talk about with a pair of kids. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt. The cops had questions about a lawyer who worked with Dad, mine and Roger's. A guy named Jim Drake. I don't know him that well myself, so there wasn't a whole lot I could tell. Not that there'd be a lot that the police need to look into."

"How come?" Circe asked. "What happened to the lawyer?

"Well, apparently, Jim had a run-in with a bear. A fatal one."

**********

After quickly finishing up the rest of the tea, Circe and Morgan bade Benjamin farewell. He offered to drive the girls home, but Circe quickly declined for both herself and Morgan. She had something she wanted to talk to Morgan about alone. She didn't expect Morgan to get a clue and was prepared for her to make a fuss about walking out in the cold.

But surprisingly, Morgan stayed quiet. Even as they headed down the winding road cutting through the suburbs, enduring the now harsher winter gales, she spoke not a word. Surely it must be because she had the same thought that Circe had when they heard Benjamin speak of the lawyer who had met his end by the fangs and claws of a mighty beast. 

A bear attack seemed too farfetched a cause for Jim Drake Jr.'s demise when knowing that there wasn't a single bear habitat within miles of the city. Not to mention nothing on the news about bears escaping from any of the local zoos.

But then what did attack that lawyer if not a bear? There was only one creature that Circe could think of that could be the culprit: a werewolf. 

"Say," Circe started. She could not allow the silence to continue. What she had to say had to be said. "I don't think we should be doing this anymore."

Morgan stopped. "Roger didn't do it. He had nothing to do with that lawyer."

"That lawyer was his dad's," Circe pointed out.

"It could still be another werewolf," Morgan countered. "From what we heard, there are probably lots living in the area. Any one of those could have attacked that lawyer." 

"But there's only one werewolf we know so far with a connection to him," Circe said. "Roger."

"Why would Roger do that?" asked Morgan. "Why would he even go to that lawyer in the first place? What would be the point?"

"It could be that he went to the lawyer for help."

"Over coming home to his family?" went Morgan. "The people most people would turn to for help first?"

"There are people out there who won't turn to family for help first because they're family," Circe argued, speaking partly from experience.

"You heard that Daisy lady," Morgan said. "She said that there's no way that Roger would go crazy."

Circe shook her head at Morgan's misremembrance. "No. Daisy only said that it SOUNDED like Roger didn't lose control, which means there's still a chance that he could."

Morgan crossed her arms and remained stubborn. "He wouldn't."

Losing patience, Circe sharply snapped, "Look! This could be dangerous!"

"If you don't want to help, that's fine!" Morgan shouted. She also had enough. "You've been useless since the beginning, anyway. I don't know why I let you stick around."

"LET ME!? You're the one who asked me for help in the first place!" Circe yelled back.

"Whatever!" Morgan huffed, rolling her eyes and irking Circe further. "Just go home. I don't need you anymore. I'll find Roger on my own! Hmph!"

She turned at her heels and began marching back to the Nettles house. Circe watched her back for only a few seconds before continuing down the way back home. Neither girl looked back.

<== Chapter 6                                                                                                                Chapter 8 ==>

Shifters Chapter 6

"Just why am I doing this?" Circe breathlessly wondered to herself as she followed Morgan up a slope of suburban houses. At any other time during the day, the houses would glow with their fresh paint looks but currently stood dull, even unwelcoming, beneath the winter gloom. The gray clouds that completely shrouded the sky above were a permanent fixture of the season and came with the sound of soft whistling of wind even more chilly than the actual temperature.

They were on their way to Roger's house. It was Morgan's belief that they may be able to find clues to his whereabouts there and possibly expand her list of places he could have gone. She insisted that Circe accompany her and help her with her amateur detective work, going as far as to call her, "Watson," which Circe really did not appreciate since it made clear she was being viewed as the sidekick of this story.

She continued to grumble as she trudged behind Morgan. "I should be at home playing games on my computer. Not out here on a freezing cold Saturday!" Although she loved wintertime, there was only so much of it that she could take. Besides, she was way behind on a limited time event going on right now.

According to Morgan, Roger's father ran a successful company, which it had to be for the Nettles family to live in a neighborhood like this. She didn't know what sort of company Mr. Nettles owned and neither, apparently, did his own son. Morgan had never met Mr. and Mrs. Nettles before, but she had met Benjamin, Roger's older brother, many times. Circe found it weird that Morgan had never seen her boyfriend's parents before but decided it was none of her business and asked no questions.

Not soon enough, they arrived at the Nettles' residence. The house was a cluster of three structures with the main structure in the middle being the tallest and widest at three floors high (not counting the attic). They were uniformly painted dark gray with the windows framed white. A white driveway was paved at the left side of the property and led up to the single-floor garage which, like the main middle was topped by a close-to-flat pyramid. From the driveway through the front of the house and around the property's right was a wide ring of grass, which was overlooked by the remaining structure where, according to Morgan, the kitchen and patio were contained. The patio opened up to both the side and back yards which, except for right now, were usually lush green.

"The patio's also closed up for the winter," Morgan told Circe as they approached the white picket fence that surrounded the premises. "Even though the doors are those wood-framed window types, they're pretty good at keeping out the cold. Oh, did I mention that the roof above the kitchen is also a second patio? That's why it's all flat with railings."

"Why are you acting like you're showing off when it's not even your own house?" Circe asked.

Morgan behaved like she didn't hear.

Typical, Circe thought. She turned to gaze at the house and admire it. Suburban homes were rare to see in person for a city girl like Circe, especially ones so grand in design, so she couldn't help but be curious about it. Her eyes roamed from the patio/kitchen section, passed over the taller mid-section and then stopped on the car parked in the driveway in front of the garage. It was an older model black sedan, well cared for, but clearly used often. Its red rear lights were still on, and its engine still softly rumbled, indicating that it had either just arrived or it was about to depart.

She paused, frowned, and wondered aloud, "Now where have I seen that car before?"

It didn't take long for her to remember. And when she did, she was struck by panic. "Oh shoot! Quick! We need to hide!"

"Huh? Why?" Morgan asked. She didn't get an answer. Instead, she was pulled behind a pair of garbage bins left outside by their owner who'd rather stay inside than go out into the cold to collect them. They ducked down just as the engine finally ceased its purring and its red lights blinked off and peaked out from behind in time to see the two front seat doors swing open.

Circe swore. "I knew it," she muttered beneath her breath.

Out from the driver's seat was Arnold Willis, Jackie's stepdad, a police officer. The car was his. Circe had seen it many times whenever Jackie got dropped off and picked up at school, but it's been a while since the last time she had seem it, so she nearly forgot what it looked like. 

What's he doing here? Circe wondered as she peaked out from behind the blue recycle bin. Could he be here to find clues to Roger's whereabouts like we are? Morgan did say she tipped off the police, after all. That theory, however, was soon dismissed when Circe laid eyes on the man at the front passenger side of the car. It was Tom Waller, accountant by day, monster-slash-wizard-buster by night (Jackie's words, not Circe's). "What is HE doing here?"

Morgan said clearly, she said nothing about Roger's transformation, so there's no reason for the police's expert in all things weird to be out and about. Not unless they've known all along what Roger really was. No, that can't be it, either. Something else must be going on. Something really, really bad.

"Psst!" Morgan hissed from behind the green general garbage bin. "Hey! Isn't that Jackie's chauffeur?"

"Shush!" Circe irritably hissed back. But then she frowned. "Chauffeur?"

"You know," Morgan whispered. "A private driver. That's Jackie's right? I used to see Jackie get dropped off by that guy all the time. I always wondered how Jackie could afford one. He never looked all that rich."

Circe rolled her eyes and decided correcting Morgan was not worth the trouble. Finding out what Mr. Willis and Mr. Waller were doing at the Nettles house was more important. She watched Arnold jab the doorbell button, but she could not hear what the two men were saying to each other as they waited for their summons to be answered. They were just too far away.

"Could he be here to drive Benjamin somewhere?" Morgan wondered. "Actually, why are we even hiding?"

"Will you shut up?"

Morgan was more shocked dumb than offended by Circe's snap. Mainly because the way Circe snapped was close to how Granny Tsing snapped. Without knowing it, more and more of her great-aunt's nature was rubbing off on her.

Before long, the white front door opened to an incredibly tall, slender man dressed in a dark blue sweater over a collared shirt and a pair of tight, tan-brown slacks. The clothes beneath the hastily thrown on winter coat and the thick, black frame glasses gave him a bookish look. A shadow covered the lower half of his face, what was left over from this morning's shave. His red hair grazed the top of the doorway as he looked from one visitor to the other. Arnold did most of the talking while Tom stood back and listened. The two visitors were dwarves in comparison to the man they had come to see. 

That man, Circe presumed, was Benjamin Nettles, Roger's brother that Morgan mentioned.

Circe could see the homeowner's mouth move, but she had no way of knowing what he was saying. Lip reading was more Jackie's thing that hers. But whatever he talked about with Arnold and Tom, it was clear by the way he deeply frowned, the topic was a serious and unhappy one.

Whether bored or impatient, Morgan could not keep silent for very long and asked, "Mind telling me now why we're hiding?"

"Shut up!"

Morgan was offended. But she spoke no more because when Circe snapped at her, there was a gust of wind that kicked up her hair. It was really just natural wind that happened to pass by at the same time, but Morgan thought she was at risk of being flung to the sky.

Honestly, Circe wasn't sure why she made herself and Morgan hide either. It was just one of those inexplicable impulses brought about by panic at an unexpected encounter. And it was too late now for her and Morgan to show themselves, not with the grownups now deep in discussion.

A few, but long and chilling, minutes later, the chat between the three men ended. The shivering girls heard the sound of doors hastily slamming shut and peaked out to see the car slowly backing out of the driveway. Once it was out of sight along with its riders, Circe finally stood up. She did a twist one way and felt several back bones popped. More popped when she twisted another way.

"W-w-what was th-that all about?" Morgan asked sourly while shivering.

"S-s-sorry," Circe replied shakily. She was also chilled to the bone.

It was not the answer that Morgan was looking for, but she was too cold to care. "Let's just hurry up and get inside so we can finally get to work and find clues to find Roger!"

She would get no arguments from Circe and raced over to the front door via diagonally across the yard. Seeing no other choice, Circe followed. 

Morgan pushed the glowing orange oval nestled in coiling brass and a bell chined twice from within the house. The white front door opened a split second later and out poked the head of Benjamin Nettles with an irritated frown on his face. But his annoyance turned into surprise when, instead of the police officers from earlier with some abrupt last-minute needs like he expected, he had two teenage girls shivering in front of him, one of whom he instantly recognized.

"Morgan? What are you doing here?"

"H-hey, Ben!" Morgan flashed a smile. "Any news about Roger?"

Benjamin's face softened and he slowly shook his head.

Morgan's face fell with disappointment, but then she remembered that asking questions was not what she was here for. Taking action was.

"Do you mind if we come inside?" she asked.

"Sure, I guess it's okay," Benjamin said rather hesitantly. "But who's your friend?"

Friend was not a word Circe would use to describe what she was to Morgan and what Morgan was to her. But she certainly didn't expect to be introduced this way:

"This is Circe, Master Detective Circe."

Surprised, Circe turned and cried out, "Huh?"

Benjamin looked at her with eyebrows raised in bemusement. "A bit young for a detective, don't you think?"

Circe wanted to make a retort, but Morgan gave no room for her to speak up.

"Well, yeah," Morgan said. "But she's the best of the best."

She looked to her right. And then she looked to her left. Benjamin and Circe followed her example, seeing no one out and about. Finally, she leaned in, hand cupped over one side of her mouth and she whispered, "She's actually the one who solved that big case a few months back. You know, the one about all those people disappearing?"

"You don't mean to say she's the one who rescued all those kids that Donatello Putts kidnapped, are you?" an astonished Benjamin asked in a hushed voice.

Morgan nodded. "That's right. She's like a lady Sherlock Holmes."

Oh, so now I'm Sherlock Holmes to you? Circe thought sourly. Didn't you just call me Watson this morning? And it wasn't me who rescued those guys from Putts' harebrained scheme. It was Jackie!

She kept quiet, knowing correcting Morgan would not do her any good. And more importantly, it would not do Jackie any good. Morgan continued to lie uninterrupted.

"I thought that if anyone could help find Roger, she can. I brought her over here because she wanted to see if maybe she could find clues in Roger's room."

"Well, I didn't find any clues myself," Benjamin said. "But if it'll help find my brother, his room's all yours, Miss Detective."

It stunned Circe to see someone believe such a ridiculous lie. But Benjamin didn't seem to show any doubts and didn't hesitate to step aside to allow the girls through. 

"Gee," she said awkwardly. "Thanks."

Morgan stepped in first. "Come on! I know where it is. I'll show you the way."

She went charging up the stairs without waiting. Not exactly good visitor behavior.

After watching her thunder on up, Benjamin gestured towards the staircase. Circe sighed and took a step, but then hesitated. 

A thought had crossed her mind. Daisy had said that Roger may have werewolf ancestry and didn't know about it. That would mean the rest of the Nettles family could be werewolves too. The thought brought her dread.

She looked at Benjamin who flashed her a friendly smile. 

Bracing herself, Circe once more stepped into a possible den of beasts. Hopefully, she prayed, she and Morgan will be able to step out of it in one piece.

<== Chapter 5                                                                                                                Chapter 7 ==>