Of course, that might have been because the directions to the ranch were strangely difficult to find in this age of GPS and the Internet. Didn’t these people know about advertising or web pages?I'd finally found an obscure entry on a blog about werewolves from a young man who claimed to have had a real encounter on one of the were-safaris. According to S.B. of Seattle, he’d visited Juniper Springs earlier this year with the express purpose of becoming a werewolf himself. His final entry was: “Now I just have to wait for my first full moon so I can shift.” Sheesh, people were all kinds of weird, but he at least had attached a map to his post. The afternoon sun was warm, baking the red rocks and raising the peaty smell of the junipers. It was quiet out here, with only one other vehicle in the dirt lot outside the trailer that served as an office. I don’t know where they parked all the lime-green tour jeeps, but they weren’t in the lot right now. I parked the House’s…uhm…okay, my thirty-year-old pickup next to a sleek black late-model truck with tinted windows.
