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Chapter Forty-nine
Oliver
Birdie climbed up on an old crate that creaked underneath her; she looked like a bloody queen perched up there. There was something different about Birdie tonight. The timid girl who avoided holding eye contact with people was gone, and now a fierce woman stood before me. Roustabouts, performers, werewolves, humans, and everybody in between crept out of the shadows. Even Rosemary and Thomas slipped into view.
“What’s going on?” Rosemary jutted her hip out to the side as she threw her arms across her chest. “What do you think you are doing calling us here like this?”
“Attention, everyone! We have a situation!” Birdie’s voice rang out in the night air. “Earlier today, one of our troupe members found their mate.&rdquo
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