Witch's Awakening by Neely Powell

She bit her lip, trying to express herself.
    â€œCompetitive?” Jake supplied.
    â€œThat’s one word for it. There’s a reason why they call cities concrete jungles.”
    â€œI remember. I lived in a couple of cities before I joined the military.”
    â€œAfter your parents died?”
    â€œYeah, I tried foster care, but that’s not a real good environment for a teenaged shifter. So I hit the road.”
    Atlanta had been too large for her to feel safe and comfortable as an adult, so Brenna couldn’t imagine being alone in the city when she was young.
    Jake moved the conversation back to her. “I don’t think you came home to be killed, Brenna. You didn’t come to escape the city, either. You came home to fight. For yourself and your family.”
    She didn’t like him ferreting out all of her secrets. “That’s really not your—”
    â€œDon’t tell me again this isn’t my concern.” The fierceness of his tiger side flashed in his eyes. “Garth’s death is my concern. The whole town is my concern. I have to keep the peace.”
    Brenna resisted the urge to snap at him. “Okay, do you have any bright ideas what we should do about our murderous ghost?”
    Jake nodded. “I think your grandmother and your aunts are on the right track. The answers are probably in your family’s past. Maybe in the entire town’s past. Weren’t the Connellys the first settlers?”
    â€œThe Cherokee were here, of course. And there were a few missionaries ahead of us.”
    â€œBut you’re connected to the land. The Woman in White must be as well.”
    â€œTrue, but…” A noise distracted Brenna.
    Jake turned and looked toward the back of the diner.
    â€œDo you hear that?” she asked as a muffled noise rumbled from the bathroom at the back of diner.
    â€œYeah, what do you think is going on in the men’s room?” He stood. “I hope nobody’s fighting.”
    â€œThere’s barely room to turn around in there,” Brenna said, getting to her feet, as well.
    Jake’s grin was almost teasing. “How do you know what’s in the men’s room?”
    Before Brenna could answer, an animal burst out of the bathroom, leaving the door in splinters. A werewolf, Brenna realized, as the creature raised his head and gave a menacing growl. White fangs gleamed as his drool pooled and his golden eyes scoured the room. Brenna and Jake froze along with the waitress, the cashier and the few other diners.
    The beast shook his head and trembled.
    Brenna glanced at where she’d seen her werewolf neighbor and his wife moments earlier. The woman was still, her head down, her eyes focused on the table as her husband’s wolf howled. He sounded as if he were in pain. Fear shot through Brenna. There wasn’t a full moon tonight, so something was wrong—very wrong.
    The baby near the front screamed. The wolf stepped toward the sound. The mother reached out, no doubt by instinct, but the father stopped her with one quick move. They were both locals, familiar with how to deal with a werewolf, but Brenna could see they were struggling for control as the baby began to sob. The werewolf, growling low in his throat, took another step forward.
    Brenna had to do something. She flung her hand at the child and said, “
Falbh a chadal
.” With her Gaelic command, the baby fell asleep.
    The wolf halted. He shook his head and danced in place. He sniffed the air, moving closer to the baby. The mother began to cry, but she didn’t move.
    Brenna saw Jake raise his hand to his gun, his movement slow and measured. His fingers closed on the grip, but didn’t pull the gun out.
    The wolf planted his feet and shook his head from side to side. He dropped to the floor and trembled like he was having a seizure. A black shadow rose up from the wolf’s belly, bounced from wall to wall, and swooped down