Wendigos in Washington (Case Files Of An Urban Druid Book 6) by Auburn Tempest & Michael Anderle

Author:Auburn Tempest & Michael Anderle [Tempest, Auburn & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2023-01-26T13:00:00+00:00

The burgers and beer are exquisite, but my mental acuity is fractured so I’m knocked out of the poker game by ten o’clock. I don’t mind. Sloan went all in during the hand before and got knocked out.

“Care for a romantic moonlight stroll to the public washrooms?”

He looks at me and chuckles. “Do ye think that’s a good idea? If the carnies were tryin’ to test us and threaten us at eight o’clock what do ye think two more hours of drink has done fer their demeanor?”

Good point.

“I have to pee, and I want to brush my teeth before bed.”

“Aye, well, I suppose I can portal us back if the need arises. Manx, do ye want to join us, sham?”

“I do. Now that I know what a wendigo smells like, I want to explore the campsites and see if I can pick up its scent anywhere near here.”

“Well, if yer set on explorin’, make sure ye take Bruin with ye. Two people already went missin’. I don’t want ye joinin’ the trouble.”

Bruin lifts his head from where he’s curled up at the end of our pallet in the far corner. “Aye, I suppose a walk around the perimeter is a good idea.”

I feel as stiff and tired as he looks. He hasn’t said much about his time hunting with Artemis, but I can tell he’s worn out and sore.

“You okay, Bear?”

“Aye, I’m fine. Just feelin’ my age.”

Yeah, he’s not the only one. I lace my arm with Sloan’s and rest my cheek against his shoulder. My burger and beers are sitting heavy in my stomach and the long day is weighing heavily.

Even with the night air stirring around my face and my feet shuffling along aimlessly beneath me, I could go to sleep right now.

“It’s too much, too soon,” Sloan whispers beside me and slides a hand around my hip. “Ye push yerself too hard, luv.”

“I’m starting to agree with you.”

He chuckles. “That scares me most of all. If yer admittin’ it, how tired must ye be?”

Really tired.

We arrive at the public washrooms, and I pull my toothbrush and paste from my pocket.

“I’ll be right here, luv.” Sloan leans against a tree by the ladies’ room door.

I pull the long silver handle and head inside. No big surprises here. The bathroom is like any other municipal bathroom I’ve been in. It’s stark and utilitarian. There’s a long line of sinks with mirrors along the left wall and six toilet stalls with beige metal doors along the right.

It takes a moment for the silence to register, and I realize the female chatter I heard on my way in has abruptly stopped. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.”

The three girls washing off their makeup and brushing their teeth assess me in their mirrors.

Whatevs. I’m too tired to care.

Taking care of my pearly whites first, I pick the sink closest to the door and farthest away from them. As I do the paste squeeze and water routine, I size them up in my peripheral vision.

All

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