The end is drawing nigh… At least the end of 2021. Time marches inexorably on as this big blue marble spins on its axis and days between weeks. Months become years. Wow. You’d think today’s #1lineWed THEME was somehow deeply philosophical. It’s not. Our prompt today is **SPIN**, and if anyone is still watching the news these days, there’s a whole bunch of that going on. Which fit right in with where I last stopped on the Boston Wolves WIP. Anyway, here’s some fresh words on it. I think the scene is pretty much self-explanatory.
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The huge black wolf stood in the stand of trees across the street. A sub-vocal growl rumbled in his chest. Neighbors had come out of surrounding houses and they gathered on sidewalks to speculate and gossip. The wolf ignored them. He’d been here since leaving Danny Boy’s warehouse in the pre-dawn dark. He’d covered the miles between there and here with a ground-eating lope. He hadn’t left. He watched these men approach his mate’s den. He’d seen her face and caught a faint whiff of sweet clover, her natural scent. What surprised him was the overlaying aroma of baby powder. Not the magnolia scent of sadness, not wet ashes and dead roses. No, she didn’t regret her husband’s death. Baby powder. Relief.

He cocked his head, curious now. Maybe the things his human half had thought were wrong. The wolf had understood but the man was too stubborn to listen. She was their mate. She was free now. And no one would ever hurt her again.

He settled into the underbrush, muzzle on his front paws. This sideshow would continue for some time. That was fine. He had no place else to be. He was content to be close to watch over her. He perked up when two men in uniforms with lots of gold braid and buttons crossed the street in deep concentration. They spoke in low voices, glancing around them constantly to make sure no one could hear what they said.

“The media will be all over this story,” the older of the two said.

“We need to be careful how we spin this.” The second man snorted and rolled his eyes. “I knew we’d have to cover up the fucker one day, but this?

They didn’t speak for several minutes, instead watching the circus occurring in front of the Gallagher house.

“Did you see her face?” the older said.

“Let’s hope none of the photographers were close enough to get a look.”

The first, who wore the most shinies on his uniform, spat on the ground. “We can’t pony her up for interviews until she heals.”

“That or a good makeup artist. We have to parade her in front of the media sooner than later, but we need a good story first.” The younger man watched another media van drive down the street. “We can say he went down in the line of duty.”

“We do that, there’s no fuckin’ way we can’t let pictures of his body leak. There’ll be no denying that was payback.”

The spin-artist lit up like a Christmas tree. “We need to stage a scene. ASAP. Get one of the working girls. Gallagher came to her rescue with a bad john and the john shot him. We’ll pay her off, ship her out to Providence or somewhere.” He paced off a few steps and then back. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s the ticket.” A grin split across his face. “We’ll finger someone for it based on her description.”

The older man nodded. “All right then. Get on it.”

The wolf had let the man’s consciousness come a little closer to the surface to make sense of the words. If the animal held sway, he’d just rip out the throats of everyone there and be done with it. The man? He had other ideas.
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And there you have it. FYI, wolf and man is Devlin. That part came out in the previous chapter. Which is a big ol’ spoiler. That chapter, not that Devlin is a wolf. 😉 Ahem. Writers, you got any spin in your stories? Readers, would you rather spin on a merry-go-round or spin a top?