Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 139: Old Lady Etiquette

"We’re here," Puck announced.

They had arrived at a small, one-story house on the outskirts of Hoas, a quiet town just a few hours’ walk from Wintertooth.

However, the werewolves had opted for horses, conserving their strength and quickening their pace for the journey ahead.

They ditched the horses in the nearest town and walked the rest of the way. The house was modest—just your average, boring human home.

Around them, humans of all shapes and sizes bustled about, too busy with their lives to notice the trio of werewolves.

Not that it mattered—werewolves weren’t exactly flashing neon signs screaming their identities. They just looked like bigger, hotter versions of everyone else.

Puck stepped up to the door and knocked. No response. He knocked again. Still nothing.

He turned back to Zane and Thorin, who were lounging across the street like they were on some sort of weird stakeout. "That’s odd. She was supposed to be in town until the end of the week."

"Should we ask around? Maybe her neighbors know something," Thorin suggested.

They approached the house next door and casually blocked the path of an elderly woman shuffling toward the market with an empty basket.

She glared up at them, her tone as prickly as her gaze. "What do you want?"

Despite her hunched frame and the fact she looked like she’d shrunk three sizes with age, her attitude was alive and kicking. The werewolves were briefly stunned—apparently, she wasn’t one to be easily intimidated.

Zane, the most polite of the trio, offered a kind smile. "Apologies for interrupting your day, ma’am. We were wondering if you happen to know Madam Elenwen?"

Naturally, he left out the part where Elenwen was a witch. Humans weren’t exactly known for their tolerance. And prejudice wasn’t picky—it thrived everywhere.

The old lady’s eyebrows shot up high. "Elenwen?" she screeched, her voice hitting a pitch that could probably shatter glass.

Her droopy eyelids flew open, making it clear she was either horrified or just really bad at hiding her surprise.

Before she could answer, Puck felt a sharp whack on his back. "Ow!" He spun around to find another old lady brandishing a cane like she was ready for round two.

"It’s me. I’m Elenwen," she said as if whacking strangers with a cane was the usual way to introduce herself.

This one looked a bit younger—by old-lady standards. She hadn’t shrunk down like a raisin yet, and her wrinkles hadn’t fully taken over her face, but by human standards, she had to be pushing seventy.

The neighbor squinted suspiciously at the werewolves. "Who are they? I thought they were bad guys. They look big, like knights or something," she said, still clutching her empty basket like she might have to defend herself with it.

"They’re fine. Definitely not knights. No need to clutch your pearls," Elenwen grumbled, then shot a glare at Puck. "And for the record, I’m only fifty-five! It’s all this cursed knowledge that’s aged me, not time."

Puck blinked, bewildered, wondering if this woman could actually read minds.

Elenwen rolled her eyes. "Please. I don’t need to read your mind when your thoughts are painted all over your face."

The neighbor, Tine, cackled. "What did I say? You look ancient! People are going to start thinking you’re my big sister."

Okay, not that old, Puck thought, though he kept his mouth shut. Judging by the banter, these two were clearly friends—or something like it.

"Shut up, Tine!" Elenwen shot back. "Shouldn’t you be off to the market? Reiner’s not going to wait all day for you to buy his vegetables."

"He’ll wait," Tine retorted smugly, shuffling toward her gate with all the urgency of a turtle. "Who else is going to buy his sad-looking vegetables besides me? The man’s got no choice."

Just as she was halfway through closing it at a snail’s pace, she stopped.

"Hey, Elenwen, are these big guys rich? Don’t forget to throw a few coins my way. I kept them distracted while you were off doing whatever weird stuff you witches do."

Elenwen waved her off with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, please. You’re too ancient to still be leeching off people."

"Leeching? Ha!" Tine shot back, smug as ever. "I’m doing you a favor by not telling everyone in town that you’re a witch. You owe me for that, and you know it."

Elenwen snorted. "Sure, keep telling yourself that, Tine. I’ll drop by later. I know you can’t make that terrible stew without me. It tastes like disappointment without my help."

"What nonsense! My grandkids love my stew!"

"That’s only because you bribe them with gold to eat it," Elenwen said, already making her way inside. She turned to the werewolves and gestured for them to follow. "Come on, get in here before Tine starts charging admission for this conversation."

It was a massive culture shock. Thorin and Zane exchanged baffled glances as they followed Elenwen inside, still trying to wrap their heads around what just happened outside.

Was that normal for human villages? Angry old ladies and casual assault with canes?

Once they were all inside, Elenwen plopped down into a worn, single-seated couch like she owned the world and gestured lazily toward the kitchen behind her.

"Glasses are on the shelf. I’ve only got water since I wasn’t expecting company," she said, not bothering to move an inch.

The werewolves blinked. Wait—she was actually making them serve themselves? Puck swallowed awkwardly. "Uh, no need. We’re good."

Elenwen shrugged as if to say, ’suit yourself.’ Then, without skipping a beat, she tossed out, "Fine. Before we start, hand over thirty coins."

Thorin looked bewildered. "Sorry, what now?"

Elenwen sighed like a woman who had seen too much nonsense for one lifetime. "Listen, I’m not running a charity. You think you’re the first people to show up asking about the Blood Moon child?"

She leaned back on the couch and barked, "Ha! I’ve had more visitors than a tavern on a Friday night. So, yeah, thirty coins. Upfront. I’m far too old for free advice and small talk, and trust me, I don’t need to hear your life story. Pay up or get lost."