The Lycanthrope's Lawyer by Jason Rose

Author:Jason Rose [Rose, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

“Ginger, Cinnamon, whatever it is you call yourself, tell me the truth. Who hired you to kill me?” shouts an impatient and plainly frustrated Adrian. We have been at this for nearly an hour and we’re twirling in circles, not getting anywhere. Ginger is either the world greatest liar or she really doesn’t know anything useful. The only upside has been that Adrian is leading the interrogation, so I am finally getting to enjoy a cup of coffee. Thank the gods for the miracle that is the coffea plant and for the dose of caffeine it delivers via the honeyed black milk begotten from its brewed beans.

“I’ve already told you everything I know.” Ginger looks to her sister for assistance; none, at least as long as Adrian keeps his paws to himself, is forthcoming. Arianna seems content to allow Adrian to hover above and verbally abuse her sister; she even seems to be mildly enjoying it. She may love her sister, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t receive a modicum of pleasure from watching her suffer a reasonable and manageable amount of discomfort—and, all things considered, her punishment thus far has been light when compared to her crimes. Ginger did try to kill Adrian this morning and was at least partially, albeit indirectly, responsible for the attack at the hotel that killed a government agent and left a cop severely wounded. As much as I hate watching a large man scream at and attempt to intimidate and impose his will on a woman half his size, I’m having a hard time manufacturing any sympathy for Ginger.

Adrian persists, “I want to hear it again. Start over, back at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

Ginger exhales loudly, the air vibrating off her top and bottom lips, making a motor sound while she shakes her head side to side in defeat. Finally, once she’s done pouting, she rapidly speaks at a speed only a meth-head or the guy from those micro-machine commercials in the nineties could duplicate. “Like I said the first ten times, it was a blind hire, through the internet. I never met the person who hired me. I was told to fly to Canada and go to an address, where I would meet others. I was not supposed to use my real name. When I arrived at the address, there were four werewolves and a goat. Not exactly my idea of a party. There was also an envelope with my name on it. Inside the envelope was your picture, typed instructions, and a bank account number where my fee was being held in escrow until I had completed my task.”

“A witch, four werewolves, and a goat—sounds like a sexy performance piece I saw on La Sexta street in Tijuana once,” remarks Wilson.

Ginger seductively winks at Wilson, causing him to cough, and causing me to think about washing my mind out with bleach.

“Then what?” prompts Adrian, disregarding Wilson’s adolescent commentary.

“You know what. I’ve already told you. Ten times!”

“Tell me again.

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