Free The Carver's Magic by B. L. Brooklyn

inflections to cover all of their unwanted emotions. They don't like to show their anger or sadness. With fairies you have to pay attention to the small slips and inflections to know how they really feel. Reading people’s subtle inflections and body language is a learned trait. I can read normal humans easily, but fairies are better at watching their emotions and being incredibly polite, so reading them is difficult.
    "Oh yeah? Who else started today?" She asks slowly while turning in her seat to scan the room.
    I leave the glass in front of her on top of a small, white napkin and walk away. “It’s good to see you Enora.” She knows I don't explain myself to anyone. I don't plan to change tonight. And she knows she was dangerously close to stepping over the line.
    "Shane!" I hear Beth call my name. I walk around the bend to the north side and find her face to face with the Douche from last night, with his fists on the bar glaring at Beth with glowing eyes. I let out a bemused breath and ask, "Four beers and a shot of whiskey?"
    Hoping that no one else has noticed his eyes, I look around him to make sure. Not that I am their babysitter or a supernatural enforcer, but I just prefer to not exacerbate the issue by allowing others around me to skirt the rules.
    The Douche is leaning into the bar, fixing his glare at Beth. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants to do. I jerk my chin to Beth, letting her know to walk away. Contrary to her angry demeanor, she walks away with a small snort of dismissal. Again I notice that she is not fighting me. Possibly another redeeming feature?
    The Douche lets out an exaggerated breath. I pull out four Budweisers and reach for the whiskey. He leaves a card on the bar and says, "Keep it open. And," he looked over at Beth and points in her direction, "keep her on a leash." I try not to roll my eyes at the irony of a wolf demanding to keep a human girl on a leash.
    I pick up the card as my eye falls on the Nickleback poser sitting alone at a small two person round table, staring at Beth. Then I see Cory walk up to him with her black tray in hand. I can’t help myself from watching to make sure he doesn’t try anything.
    Then I hear a loud crash from the south side of the room, knocking me back to my senses. The noise emanated from the table of girls that were wearing too much fur and glitter. All of them were lying on the floor . . . sobbing? I could see each one in tears, and two were hugging each other.
    Stunned I watched as the bouncer and Danny, the other waiter, help all the girls up and out the door. When I looked back at Cory I didn’t see any shock or surprise on her face. Not even a hint.
    Dammit, that can't be good.
    Cory turns back to the poser and holds up her pad and begins writing. Then she starts talking to him again, but he is not looking at her. She pokes him with her pen and I can see something flash in his eyes. Slowly, he looks at her and I can feel the tension in my blood begin to burn. I don’t like the look he is giving her. Werewolves are unpredictable and Cory is an ignorant human who has no idea what she is poking. He nods his head slowly and looks towards Beth again.
    I look towards Beth to see if she noticed. Oh she did. She is eyeing him like she wants to put a hot poker through his eye.
    Cory finishes writing and heads toward Beth. The poser is watching Beth and I still can't identify the look he has in his eyes, but I cannot rule out that he looks unstable, and yet he looks relatively calm. The problem is, werewolves are tricky people to read. All that wild rage running around in their blood has some serious side effects.
    "Hey, babe. How about a Corona and your number?" Some young, punk-guy asks Cory, as she stops at the bar.
    "Sorry can’t, bar policy." She says sweetly and way too politely. I let my fire free and imagine the man’s bowel system and squeeze it. The man’s eyes bulge out and he grabs his stomach tightly. I let go of the