The Wrong in Havermouth

Havermouth, Present Time

By the time Heath and August walked back to the house, there were more cars parked in a neat line up of luxury and excess. The Merc belonged to Lilith Boyston, the BMW to Harry Ridgeway, and the Porsche was Phillip Salem’s.

“Shit,” Heath muttered sliding a look at August who did not look surprised. “This is going to be fun.”

August chuckled under his breath as they stepped onto the porch.

Due to the number of werewolves present, the meeting had moved from the office to the dining room and as Heath and August made their way down the wide, luxurious hallway with its antique furniture, brightly threaded rugs, and grim-faced paintings, Heath could hear the angry voices silenced abruptly.

“We will not overtalk each other,” Abigail announced calmly, her voice carrying. “We will discuss this like the civilized adults that we are. Yes, I am aware that there are a great number of incidents of concern at this time, but we will address them one at a time.”

“I am sure tha