All of that having been said, the Hokkai family didn’t take things lying down.

My father’s fist slammed down onto the leather arm of his chair. “We’re going to get these bastards. I am going to eradicate their filth from the city.”

“They are quite popular,” I hedged.

“In my experience, movements become a lot less popular when you castrate everyone associated with them. Somehow, the revolutionary zeal just vanishes.” My dad possessed a no-nonsense approach to ruling his portion of the city.

Werewolves existed under human law, and a wolf, even a Pack Leader, could absolutely not castrate people at will. On the other hand, for the sake of cordial relations between two species that used to be bitter enemies, human law sometimes turned a blind eye to werewolf affairs, as long as the people who ended up dead were deemed ‘bad people’.

“Jack,” my father’s human friend and advisor, Farley Castleford, had joined us now, “you don’t even know for sure it was The Brotherhood who did this.”

My father scoffed. “I think we can be pretty confident these were at least sympathizers.”

“Perhaps…”

“And even if it wasn’t, they all deserve castrating anyway. Call it a warning.”

Uncle Farley – I had known him since I was little and had always called him Uncle – held up his hands. “Jack, these people have gained a great deal of popular support. There are wolves out there who wouldn’t approve of them hurting Bailey, but who do like their basic ideals. If you start wading in and killing people…”

“Castrating.”

“Either way. All you will do is bolster their support by persecuting them. You’ll make them seem like the underdogs, like a grass-roots minority trying to restore traditional values while you chow down with your fat cat human friends.”

“I don’t have any fat cat human friends,” my father objected, testily.

Farley spread his hands across his expansive stomach, barely contained by the stretched buttons of his waistcoat. “Jack, please. I am the most overfed of felines.”

It was true. Uncle Farley was a property magnate with buildings across the city. If there was a way to make money then Uncle Farley was there to find it. He had given me a car for my eighteenth birthday and then bought another one because I was going to Britain for a holiday and wanted one with right-hand drive.

“In my view,” Uncle Farley went on, “this may not be as simple as it all looks.”

“It’s dead simple,” I objected. “These people don’t like me because I screw around with humans.”

“Bailey,” my father gave an exasperated sigh.

“If they tried it they’d enjoy it.”

“Thanks for sharing,” said Uncle Farley with a rueful smile. “Maybe you’re right. But what about the money? Where’s that coming from? Quasi-religious zealots aren’t usually that well-funded.”

That was true and my father and I looked at each other. Werewolves are, by nature, direct – we do not think things through or puzzle things out. We see things as they are and act. That was one reason my father kept Farley around as his advisor – humans are better at scheming and at discovering the schemes of others.

Farley shifted forward in his seat. “Do you know what I might do if I was a Pack Leader looking to expand my power and takeover another territory?”

My father shook his head. “I never know what you might do, Farley. The human mind is a tangled mystery.”

“Thank you,” Farley smiled. “I might – might – fund a popular organization like The Brotherhood and push them into angering another Pack Leader. That Pack Leader would then be on the wrong side of an unpopular war, and when his own people are about ready to turn on him, I would step in. And his people would welcome me as a savior.”

My father scratched his chin. “That’s a very devious plan, Farley. I have no idea how you come up with this stuff.”

“No werewolf would do something like that,” I put in.

“I’m not the only Pack Leader who takes advice from humans,” said Dad. He looked at his friend. “So, no castrations. Then, what? What’s my next step?”

Uncle Farley shrugged. “Find out the truth. I’m just guessing here, what I gave you is one possible scenario. For all we know, this could just be The Brotherhood acting alone. Or it could be another group who’ve adopted similar ideals and are better funded. Don’t act without knowledge. Start an investigation. And keep your daughter safe.”

Dad nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. We need to get you new bodyguards. And yes – before you say anything – I did say bodyguardsss, plural, and I don’t expect to hear a word about it from you.”

I’d been expecting that, and even with my dislike of having other people up in my business, I was willing to admit that it sounded like a good call. Anything that allowed me to keep living my life with a bit of safety had to be a good thing, didn’t it?

At first sight, the three guys were exactly what you wanted in bodyguards, they were massive in a way that was comfortably intimidating, muscles rippling when they did something as innocent as cross their arms, but did not look like the dumb slabs of brainless muscle you sometimes get – I wanted my bodyguards to be able to out-think any potential assassins, as well as punch them through a wall, and these guys looked like they could. They were also something that I personally liked in a bodyguard, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary and even if I didn’t take personal advantage of it – they were all very handsome. Like I said, they were exactly what you wanted in bodyguards. But also a little bit more.

“Excuse us a minute.” I grabbed my father by the arm and pulled him out of earshot. “They’re human,” I hissed.

Dad nodded, with a smile on his face. “You noticed?”

“I’ve spent enough time with humans to be able to smell one.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“I don’t want human bodyguards.”

“Oh, I see; you’re happy to fuck them but don’t want to socialize.” My dad, who was enjoying this way more than I thought necessary, shook his head. “Prejudice.”

“I’m quite happy to socialize with them,” I replied, tartly. “But they’re human. They’re weak. They’re supposed to be protecting me and I could kick their asses.”

“They’re Wolf Takers.”

My jaw dropped. “They’re what?”

“Come meet them.”

Before I could get over this shock, my father had ushered me back towards the three human beefcakes. “This is Jackson, Clarke and Colt. Men, this is my daughter, Hokkai Bailey. I’d prefer you to keep it professional, so please call her Miss or some variation on that. She is in charge, you do as she says. Unless she is looking to contravene one of the rules I explained to you earlier, in which case; lock her in her room.”

“Wait, what?” Today was getting away from me fast in a direction I didn’t much like.

The three humans nodded civilly at me with murmurs of ‘Miss’, by way of greeting. I took a closer look at each of them and I had to admit that, from an objective standpoint, I liked what I saw. If I had seen them in a bar when I was out then I would have been spoiled for choice. The one named Jackson was the tallest and stood in the middle of the trio with an air of command. He had dark hair and eyes, and a jawline you could have used as a set square. His body, crammed into a T-shirt that could have split at the seams any moment, looked to have been carved out of granite, by a sculptor who had decided not to waste an inch. There was a strength and solidity to him, and yet also a sense that he could leap into action at a moment’s notice.

To Jackson’s left stood Clarke, who looked a few years younger and was not quite as tall, but still an imposing figure and with a body equally to die for. There was an unmistakable athleticism in Clarke’s build. He looked like someone who went for a ten-mile run each morning, his muscles ripped and proud. His skin was the color of coffee with a drop of milk – if that’s something I was allowed to say. Race was no issue amongst wolves – we’re all werewolves, nothing else mattered – species was more important. Like Jackson, Clarke seemed ready for action, like a coiled spring.

Colt completed the line up; blonde, blue eyed and desperately handsome in a more boyish way. He was the shortest of the three, though still a minimum of six feet, but more than made up for it with a chest as broad as all outdoors, threatening to pop off the buttons of the neat blue shirt he wore. He had more of a bodybuilder’s physique than his comrades, but I had a strong hunch that it was for more than show. Unlike Jackson and Clarke, Colt did not feel the need to suppress his energy, constantly bouncing on the balls of his feet, crossing and uncrossing his arms, looking from side to side like an eager puppy.

Like I said, I had no problem with how these males looked, and if I’d met them on a night out, I’d be looking to wake up the next morning embedded in one of their mattresses. But these were the three humans to whose care I had been trusted. I didn’t trust humans to be able to look after me against attack by wolves, and I didn’t trust Wolf Takers not to kill me themselves.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said my father, as we left the room.

“You wouldn’t have to be psychic.”

Dad stopped and turned to me, and I suddenly saw the genuine concern in his eye. “Who can I trust, Bailey? Tell me the alternative. You don’t make friends in my position and I’m afraid my enemies are yours. Point me out the werewolf you trust to be your bodyguard.”

He was right, of course, but I still wasn’t happy. “Okay, maybe a human is the right call. But, Dad; Wolf Takers?”

Dad shrugged. “What other humans are going to be any use if someone tries something?”

It was during the First World War that the General Amnesty between humans and werewolves was signed. At the time, it had been to get more and more dangerous soldiers to fight in the Great War, and it had been a major success, leading to similar amnesties in other countries. Prior to 1917, however, werewolves and humans were enemies. Wolves killed humans or turned them – which humans considered a fate worse than death. Humans hunted wolves for protection, for sport and, in some cultures, to grind up parts of their anatomy to make into folk remedies for everything from baldness to impotence. Humans feared wolves and with reason; werewolves are stronger, faster, and better fighters. So, at some point in the mists of time, someone decided to start breeding the strongest and fastest humans to create a clan of Wolf Takers, men and women bred to protect villages from wolves. The clan grew as they sought better and more diverse breeding stock, until there were branches on every continent. Time was when every city would have had a platoon of Wolf Takers and every village would save up money to hire one to live with them.

Then came the Amnesty and the Wolf Takers ceased to have a purpose in the world. But they were stoic, as they had been bred to be, and they decided it was only a matter of time before the werewolves revealed their true nature once more. They decided to play the long game, settling down in rural communities throughout the world, breeding almost exclusively amongst their own kind, continuing their regimes of exercise, diet and training, keeping the old ways alive in preparation for the time when we wolves started eating humans again.

“They’re the only humans who would even have a chance against a wolf attack,” my father explained. “Let’s face it, city living has made a lot of werewolves soft while the Wolf Takers just keep on quietly training.”

“But they hate us.” I rather felt this was a pertinent point that my dad was ignoring.

“That’s true,” Dad admitted. “But they don’t hate us like they used to. They don’t have a reason to hate us anymore, it’s more out of habit. Like a Mafia Vendetta.”

“And they always end well.”

“They’re very well paid,” my father said the magic words, then added his own personal spin on them. “And they know that if they cross me, I will personally cut off their wangs and use them to beat them to death. And not with their own; with each other’s, so it’s weird as well as agonizing.”

“But…” The word hung in the air, waiting for me to back it up with something else, but I couldn’t think of anything. Frustratingly, Dad was absolutely right. This was a good plan and I couldn’t think of any better way to give me the protection I needed.

Heading back into the room, I found my three bodyguards waiting for me.

“Okay, I feel like there’s something to get off my chest, clear the air, as it were. I’m a werewolf, you’re Wolf Takers, the idea of having you three as my bodyguards actually makes me feel a little sick. I don’t like being babysat by anyone, let alone by humans, and certainly not by Wolf Takers.”

I paused to let these home truths sink in and to give the guys a chance to respond. The three of them looked at each other before Jackson spoke. “That’s okay, Miss Hokkai, we’re not wild about this either. We don’t want to babysit anyone, let alone a werewolf, and certainly not the spoiled daughter of a Pack Leader.”

I nodded. “Cool. But someone is trying to kill me…”

“And we’ve got to get paid.”

“So, we’ll all suck it up.” I smiled. “I don’t see any reason we shouldn’t be able to make this work.”

Which didn’t mean that I was going to just accept it; I already had other ideas of my own on how to proceed, and none of them involved these three lunkheads.