Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

“Come in!” Avery’s voice sounded muffled through the wood. I stepped inside, and immediately was assaulted with the furry scent of animals, and the thick perfume of magic.

“Oh, Gregory, you frisky little thing,” Avery cooed at his newest familiar, a fat crow that sat on the top of his head, its beady black eyes blinking. He didn’t look at me, far too focused on the creature perched on glittery black claws.

Nail polish, I distantly recognized.

The bird is wearing nail polish.

I had no doubt if Avery was to blame, it was because the damn beast had asked for it.

“He’s going to shit on you,” I pointed out with a grin that Avery did not return.

He huffed, hands on his hips, his violet eyes flashing as he finally turned his attention to me. “Gregory is a gentleman, he would not?—”

The bird shat on his head.

“Oh–” Avery squawked, alarmed and indignant, his whole face bright red. Cheeks puffing out, eyes wide, he gingerly reached up to grab Gregory and set him down on his over-cluttered desk. As white bird shit clung to his bangs, I wheezed so hard I saw stars. I had to lean against the door frame, afraid I’d fall over as my laughter choked its way out almost violently.

“It’s not that funny!” Avery hissed at me, clearly embarrassed as he waved a hand over his head, uttered a quiet incantation, and the bird shit disappeared. Fucking witches. His hair was three or four shades darker than mine, almost magenta where mine was fiery orange. The bird shit had been a nice touch.

It had real contrast.

Damn, I cracked myself up sometimes.

I sobered up rather quickly though, thoughts of Mutt plaguing me as I sucked on my lip. “Hey, Avery?”

“Yes?” Avery smiled at me, his tiny head bobbing.

“You got any books on werewolves?”

Forty minutes later, I found out that Avery had…pretty much nothing. We spent nearly half an hour hunting through the archives in the back only to come up with diddly squat. As he bent over the book-filled cabinets and shelves, he mentioned something offhand about alphas though that made me feel anxious. Something about the moon being…stronger for them, or something.

It was hard to tell what he meant.

And then we’d spent another half hour hunting through the books in his office to, again, find jack shit.

Exhausted and disappointed, I peeled my ass out of the chair I’d sat down in while he hunted. I wasn’t much help. Despite having worked there since June, I still had no fucking idea how the hell things were organized. There were thousands of books between the two rooms and Avery seemed to have all of them memorized. Eyeing the door hopefully, I shuffled toward it.

“You still cool if I head out early?” I asked, now that the only reason I’d braved his office in the first place when I usually avoided it like the plague had proved fruitless. “I need to figure out what to do with my truck.” It wasn’t all that early. Usually I got off at six, but I figured everything would be closed by then. Businesses in Elmwood had weird-as-hell hours, due to the large vampire population—and anything that was open during the day tended to have shortened hours to accommodate for the late night schedule.

I wanted to head home and see if I would have any luck calling the mechanic.

And see if Mutt is back, I added privately.

My need to get the fuck out of Avery’s office wasn’t because of the mess. Well. Mostly. I wasn’t the kinda guy who judged a little clutter. In fact, I loved a sprinkle of trash here and there, you know, like seasoning. It made the world less bland. Only fake people had perfect houses. Perfect offices. My aversion to order probably came from my shitty childhood. Yay for strict “shoes at the door”, “no nonsense” kinda households.

Buuuut Avery’s office wasn’t messy so much as it was actually hell on earth.

There were thousands of books, scrolls, and letters shoved haphazardly onto the floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined all the walls. Between books were cages of all sorts, perches, and scratching posts. And the towering ceiling was always full of a menagerie of animals flapping their wings and squawking back and forth. There were raccoons that sat in the arm chairs at his desk, playing cards, and lizards that scuttled across his paperwork leaving it in disarray.

Potions, spell books, and weeks-old take-out containers covered every surface an animal or cat scratching post did not.

My very first week at the shop, a fucking rat had burst from beneath his desk and ran between my legs. I’d been so startled I’d tripped and smashed my hand in a take-out container of pasta. My new boss had looked nothing but serene, sitting his tiny ass down inside his frankly massive and garish armchair, his eyes full of warmth. All Avery had said in response to the “incident” was—“Ahhh, Beatrice. What a free spirit.”

And then, after the look I’d given him, “Don’t worry, Jeffrey. She’ll be back.”

As if that was the thing I’d been concerned about.

I’d started cleaning out the take-out for him after that, but the rats returned anyway.