PRINCE OF WOLVES By Susan Krinard

Joey leaned on the bar, loosening her jacket and scooting onto an empty stool. The redheaded barkeep looked up and grinned, tossing a mass of curly hair out of her eyes.

“Well, how are you, Joey? Glad you could drop by. Let me get this bunch taken care of, and I’ll be right back.”

With a graceful pivot Maggie pushed away from the bar balancing a fully laden tray of beer and liquor, and Joey watched her progress across the room, punctuated by well-intentioned ribaldry and the occasional rude remark. Maggie bore it all with far better grace than Joey could imagine herself doing. The rough comments of the largely male clientele did not appeal to her in the slightest.

Maggie dipped back behind the bar and pulled out a chilled bottle of white wine, pouring a glass for Joey with a smooth, practiced motion. Her playful expression acknowledged Joey’s last censorious glance at the racket behind them. “Their bark is a lot worse than their bite. ” The redhead shrugged, pulling her T-shirt tight against her bosom. “I’m used to it.”

Joey found it impossible to maintain her grim mood in the face of Maggie’s perpetual good cheer, and she grinned back. The wine was cool and soothing, even if it wasn’t exactly top grade.

“You see, I made sure I had some of that wine for you. I know you’re not the beer type.” Maggie winked and turned back to acknowledge the shouted request of another patron.

Joey sipped at her wine, drawing patterns through the condensation on the scratched wood surface of the bar with her finger. She looked up again as a stream of wine gurgled into her glass, replacing what she’d already drunk.

“You look like you need it tonight,” Maggie explained. She leaned over comfortably and gave her full attention to Joey. “I can tell it hasn’t been a great day. Want to talk about it?” The warmth of her flaming hair and the matching warmth of her eyes and voice invited complete trust, and Joey felt some of the tension slide out of her.

She found herself telling Maggie everything—about the wolf, the note she’d received about her errant guide, and her fruitless search for a replacement. Maggie listened with real sympathy, breaking her attention only to deliver an occasional beer to a rowdy customer. The wine and good company were conspiring to make Joey feel considerably better.

“So now I’m really stuck, Maggie I haven’t got that much time left.” She sighed heavily and drained the last of the wine in her glass. “Any suggestions? I’m feeling a little desperate.”

Maggie’s cheerful face lengthened. “I can see you are. And you don’t wear your heart on your sleeve the way I do, either.” She chewed her full lower lip and studied her bright red nails. “Don’t give up yet. Let me ask around a little—and you keep trying, too. Something may turn up. And you’ve still got a little time left.” She hesitated, meeting Joey’s eyes earnestly. “Did you ever consider maybe waiting until next year? You’d have plenty of time to prepare that way, and…”

“No.” Joey kept her voice level, but her fist clenched on the countertop. “I can’t. I’ve waited too long.” With an effort she relaxed her hand. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Maggie. But I’ve got to do it this way. If you can give me any help at all, I’ll owe you.”

Maggie reached across the bar and touched Joey’s hand lightly. “I’ll do what I can, I promise.” A silence fell between them; Joey let the mild sedative of the wine calm her. Control. If she could just keep things under control.

She was too lost in her own musings to immediately notice the sudden hush that fell over the bar. The absence of human chatter caught her attention slowly, and she blinked as she looked around. The noisy clumps of men were still at their tables, but they seemed almost frozen in place. Only the television, nearly drowned out before, broke the quiet.

Maggie, too, was still, gazing fixedly in the direction of the door. Joey swung around, noting that every other face was turned the same way. There was a man standing just inside the doorway, as still as all the others, a silhouette in the dim light. It took Joey a moment to realize that he was the focus of this strange and vivid tableau.

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