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booksabakingWaking up in a fresh acquaintance's house at the crack of dawn wasn't exactly a new thing for Jayla. Waking up next to another woman wasn't either. Waking up buck naked on the living room floor without as much as a blanket for cover was, however, a completely novel and not exactly wished for scenario.
Blinking owlishly in the dim morning light, Jayla did her best to fully take in her surroundings. A cozy looking lounge suite dominated the corner of the room where she lay, alongside a TV, a gaming console her sleepy mind couldn't put a name to and yet more bookshelves. A large table at the other side of the room drew her attention. That had to be where the D&D magic happened on Sundays. A battle map sat ready on it, miniatures left mid-combat.
From out of nowhere a bathrobe landed on her.
"You look like you had fun."
Jayla pulled the bathrobe off her head to see Lisa standing in one of the room's three doorways, the one opposite the main hallway's much broader and doorless entrance. Wonder what's behind door number three~? It looked more official and work-placier than the others.
"Don't force yourself to talk on my account. Getting used to having a human throat again is an, ah, experience." The edges of Lisa's eyes crinkled in amusement. She stepped away from the door, over to where Vivian slept, and dropped a blanket on her.
"I'm going to open the shop in a few minutes, and while this is a private part of the house some customers refuse to read the 'Staff Only' sign." She prodded Vivian with her foot and got a grunt in reply. "You two should get dressed."
No complaints there. Jayla pulled on the bathrobe and got up. Surprisingly, her head felt clear and her muscles were pleasantly achy, as if after a full-body workout. "The shop?"
"Lisa sells antiques, remember?" Vivian said from the floor. She'd hugged the blanket to her chest and curled herself around it, a cat kneading itself a bed. When Lisa gave her another prod she growled, tired but playful.
"How are you feeling?"
Jayla frowned at the question, meeting Lisa's searching gaze without hesitation. How was she feeling?
"Uhm, I'm pretty okay, I think. A little sore from running around and, you know, having my whole body change shape. Otherwise I'm fine."
"No hunger pangs? Itching skin?"
Jayla gave the back of her left hand a tentative scratch, it having been the worst itch-offender during her wolf-to-human transformation. Nothing.
"No, I think I'm good. Could do with some breakfast, but I have no urge to rip anyone's face off and chew on it."
"Sounds like you're a one-nighter then." Vivian finally staggered to her feet. "Lucky bitch."
Her smile lessened any sting the insult could have carried, making it sound like a compliment. Technically true too.
"It's likely," Lisa agreed, giving Jayla a friendly pat on the back. "No signs of change before 10 pm rolls around tonight and you're in the clear. There's no guarantee you'll only transform one night next full moon, but I can pretty much promise you that you won't turn more than two nights in a row. With how well you seem to be feeling already, I'd say one night a month is the likeliest outcome for you."
"Neat," Jayla said, doing her best to cover the regret in her voice. She hadn't been prepared for the sense of loss that struck her. Did she want to turn into a big wolf three nights of the month?
Falling into step with a grumbling Vivian, Jayla followed her first to the upper floor for clothing (pajamas, because why not?), then to the dining room. Dorothy's delicious food distracted them both to silence, leaving time for thinking. Jayla had thought her 'wolf memories' would be hazy once she was back to human form. 23 years of pop culture knowledge had a way of monopolizing your expectations, despite being proved wrong repeatedly. Weirdly, the previous night came clearer to her than trying to recall a regular evening at home. She could bring back the snow beneath her paws, pleasantly cool instead of freezing; the pure power as she ran; the rush of speed no human could achieve under their own steam - and likely no regular wolf either.
It had been like flying.
No wonder I want to do it again. Getting bitten by a werewolf? Ten out of ten, would recommend. Savoring the last of Dorothy's scrambled eggs, Jayla dared broach a subject that could ruin the last of her buzz.
"Has anyone seen Ginger?"
The cold lump forming in her throat dissolved as Dorothy cheerfully answered, "Arturo said your cat was on his best behavior all night. We've let him have the run of the house now that we're all back on two legs. Last I saw him, he was asleep in the basement."
"He'll come out when he's hungry." That was one constant in her life and she didn't plan on doubting it. To cover for her moment of panic, Jayla poured herself a refill of orange juice and scrambled for a topic of conversation. "So… antiques?"
"Yup." Vivian was scarfing down food so fast she couldn't be tasting it. She got herself a fifth helping as she said, "Lisa's got something for everyone. We have both tourists and supernaturals queuing up to shop here."
"Supernaturals?"
Dorothy chuckled. "It's what Vivian and Melissa prefer to call our fellow werewolves, vampires and such."
Vivian mock-scowled. "What else should I call people with magical powers?"
"Whatever you wish, I suppose." Dorothy began piling plates together and guilt stung Jayla. She really should start helping out with the dishes. "Lisa prefers preternaturals. There's also 'phenomena as of yet not fully explained by science'."
More over the top scowling from Vivian. "The first one I can't remember and the second's so long it's faster to just go 'vampires, werewolves, etcetera'."
"Don't let Lisa hear you say that."
"I'm not writing a term paper on it. No use peer reviewing my language choices."
As much fun as watching two friends bicker could be, Jayla excused herself after her second helping of breakfast. Her legs and brain were both too restless to sit still, a familiar feeling amplified by an extreme runner's high. Also, she had a cat to find.
Ginger should have been a challenge to track down. Cats had an impressive ability to vanish in the smallest of apartments. A mansion would be the hard mode of feline hide-and-seek and she'd resigned herself to that before she'd even started searching. Then her nose took over.
"Found you!"
Ginger gave a happy meep as she opened the door to a room in the basement and let him out. She shut it quickly when she spotted a bed and the back of a head. The dim light prevented her from making out hair color, but the scent clues told her she'd opened the door to Arturo's room.
"That's beyond trippy," she commented to Ginger as she carried him up the stairs.
"Guessing your nose is catching up with you, huh?"
Jayla chuckled because what better reaction was there?
Vivian echoed her and said, "Wait until the enhanced strength kicks in."
Freezing in place, Jayla eased her grip on Ginger until she barely touched him. He meowed in protest as this left him clinging to her shoulder with little support. Vivian hurried over and put an arm out for him to put his back paws on.
"Totally get that freakout, but you don't have to worry." Vivian patted her on the shoulder as she guided her to take hold of Ginger again. "You won't activate it unless you're trying to do something that you need to put force into. If you try to yeet your cat out a window or strangle him you'll hurt him even worse than a regular human could, but I assume you're not planning on doing anything so shitty."
"No!" Jayla drew in a deep breath, cuddling Ginger close. She managed a smile. "Thanks for the pep talk slash explanation. Any other surprises I should look out for?"
"Your hearing will be a bit wonky the first days. You might end up accidentally eavesdropping on conversations a few rooms over, but you'll get that under control before long. Invest in earplugs if you want to sleep before Thursday."
"Got it." Not that earplugs ever had helped her sleep, but it was a nice thought. "What's on the agenda for today?"
Vivian sighed. "I've got to go in to work. Be a responsible adult and all that. You?"
That took Jayla aback. What was she going to do? She didn't have any job interviews lined up for the day. Had she assumed being a werewolf came with a schedule? That they'd start doing everything together? Maybe she had? Wow, that's mortifying.
"I really want to go clubbing," she blurted out before she could think better of it.
"You definitely should!" Vivian's grin downright sparkled. "I have to work late tonight and early tomorrow, and my coworkers are unluckily not assholes so I can't let them down by calling in fake-sick. But I'm absolutely joining you next time!"
"That'll be great." It would be, but she couldn't manage an enthusiastic tone.
If Vivian noticed her awkwardness, she didn't mention it.
"Melissa has an exam, Art is asleep and Lisa is caught up in a big video conference, but Dorothy is free if you want company," she rattled off as she pulled on boots and a jacket. She drew in a deep breath and hollered toward the kitchen: "I'm off, have a great day! Remember to attune Jayla to our wards!"
This left Jayla standing in the entrance hallway, dressed in her pjs and holding her cat, wondering what 'wards' were. The awkward kept growing, interrupted but not eased by her phone ringing. Good thing her pajama pants had pockets.
"Jayla, are you sure you're okay?" Carla snapped from the other end of the line, frazzled and curt.
Jayla frowned. "Hello to you too."
"Last time we talked you were super evasive and the time before that was even weirder. We're past hello." She did have a point there. "Have you joined a cult?"
"The fuck kind of question is that?"
"The kind you ask a friend who moves half way across the country with no warning and no job waiting for her and who makes the kind of phone calls that you usually hear at the start of a horror movie."
Jayla shifted Ginger into a more comfortable hold and power-walked to the living room. She needed the comfort of a couch for this conversation. "It's nice that you care but you're being waaaaay too dramatic. I've got plans," she lied.
She almost told Carla more. Almost spilled her guts about the undramatic death by a thousand cuts that at last had made staying 'home' unbearable, because everything kept staying exactly the same as always.
Unfortunately, the next thing out of Carla's mouth was: "Brandon said-"
All words fled Jayla, except, "What has Brandon got to do with this?"
"Seriously?" Carla sighed theatrically. She'd sighed like that when Jayla had gotten back together with Brandon for the third time. That stung. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
Jayla sunk down on the couch and buried her face in Ginger's fur. "Contrary to popular belief, my life doesn't revolve around Brandon."
Carla snorted. Jayla gritted hear teeth until they ached.
"I'm doing fine! You're getting all worked up over nothing. It's not like this is the first time you've gotten a weird call from me."
"Your mom's worried."
The lowest of blows. "My mom has my number too."
"Yeah, but-"
"Sorry, you're breaking up, bye!"
Jayla hung up and glared at her phone, face half-buried in Ginger. She couldn't decide if she was angrier with Carla for meddling or with herself for not having called her mom yet. Her dad was also an option, but if she called him before she called her mom that would be another strike against her. Her mom had kept her side of their agreement thus far; no nagging, no sudden phone calls, no nothing. Not even a text. The decent thing would be to reach out. But how to do that without a job to boast about? The would not be a fun conversation.
Best solution? A distraction!
She put her phone on silent and gently shifted Ginger off her lap. He left the couch for the floor and looked up at her, ready to beg for treats. The kitchen would be a good next stop.
"Hey, Dorothy? Do you need help with the dishes?"
When Arturo woke, Ginger lay curled up next to him and the alarm clock read 11 pm. He began a sigh of relief but it stuck in his throat when he spotted the note tucked in the cat's collar. Someone had been inside his room, or at least opened the door to let the cat in and out while he was dead to the world.
Ginger mewed sleepily as Arturo freed the note. Holding his breath, Arturo unfolded the scrunched up piece of paper and read its wild handwriting:
To whoever Ginger falls asleep on: he's a super nice and chill cat, don't worry about him scratching you or anything. Please don't lock him in a room alone or he'll be screaming his lungs out all night. Room imprisonment is only advised in case of emergency or if he gets really annoying. He likes milk, so the second he finds the fridge he'll make camp and start begging. His adorable kitty eyes remain undefeated in his endless quest for treats. Please only give him a little splash of milk and make sure it's lactose free.
I'm out for the night and will be back in the morning. Have a good one!
/Jayla
Arturo had to put effort into interpreting a number of the words which was a novelty. He'd long since gotten used to reading notes written by the rest of the pack; Lisa's neat cursive; Dorothy's proper 'I'm writing down my family recipes' hand; Melissa's barely legible mess that made her a prime candidate for medical school all on its own; the motivational speeches Vivian wrote in all caps on neon sticky notes and left where you'd least expect them.
Dumping the cat on us even when she won't be transforming. He reached out and gave the sleeping cat a pat on the head, earning a soft purr. Watching the fur-ball wasn't exactly a hardship, but leaving her pet with strangers was another strike against the new girl. Good thing he isn't equipped with tech. It had felt rather silly to search a cat for spy gear. That said, if their security had been bypassed by a pet with a mic because he'd been too distracted by the cuteness of said pet, he'd never have lived down the humiliation.
"Wish we could stay here and sleep, kitty, but I've got places to be." Scooting around Ginger, who immediately gave a pitiful cry of protest, Arturo reluctantly picked his clothes up off the floor and got dressed. He then scooped Ginger up and headed upstairs.
He ran into Melissa in the entryway. The specks of brown in her dark gray fur shone a little extra tonight, telling of a thorough brushing.
"Dorothy give you a once-over?"
He got a nod in answer. Surprisingly the presence of a large predator didn't bother Ginger whatsoever. The cat had settled across Arturo's shoulders, a dead weight of warmth and purring, pure relaxation.
"I need to go out for a bit. Can you look after this for me?" He made a vague gesture at his shoulder and Ginger's tiny, furry face.
Melissa loved animals. She'd likely have studied to be a veterinarian if being a vet hadn't entailed so much death. It twisted Arturo's stomach when her eyes lit up and then swiftly clouded over with fear. She shrank back and skulked away, rushing up the stairs at a pace inadvisable when running on four paws. Ginger slept on.
It was the final night of the full moon. No werewolf should have to worry about controlling their impulses on the third night of transformation.
"Good evening, Arturo," Dorothy greeted him when he stepped into the kitchen. "I see you've got company with you. Do you both want dinner?"
Arturo leaned against the kitchen counter, his limbs heavy. He gently pried Ginger off his shoulders and snuggled him to his chest. Sleep-heavy eyes blinked up at him in a cat-smile.
"I'm sure this one would love some milk. Lactose free or you garner the wrath of this proclamation's author." He waved Jayla's note in Dorothy's general direction and got a chuckle as reward.
"That's settled then," Dorothy said, already opening the fridge. The noise of the door made Ginger's ears perk up, but he remained curled in Arturo's arms. "And you?"
Bile rose in his throat at the mere thought of solid food. He was hungry, that gnawing hunger one got after eating far too little far too many days in a row. It bordered on nausea. The last thing he needed was a foot-long sandwich or bowl of oatmeal; not if he meant to get through tonight. Best to remove himself from company while queasiness reigned supreme over all other sensations.
"Dorothy," he said, crouching down to put Ginger in the makeshift cat bed Vivian had arranged out of blankets and an old wicker basket, "can you mind the cat for a bit?"
Understanding crept into Dorothy's expression and she gave him a sad smile.
"Not a problem, dear. He's a sweetheart and seems to have no fear of me or Melissa. I'm sure even Lisa can be convinced to pet him a little, once she's done with her video conference."
Arturo's lips twitched up into an involuntary smile. It was a testament to Lisa's guilt that she'd allowed Jayla to bring a pet into the house in the first place, much less one that shed and could scratch up the furniture.
"They're still going?"
"They've had the video call on all day while they go about their work. Lisa said it'd be a waste of your efforts to simply have a sit-down without taking the opportunity to do shared experiments."
"Figures." Arturo's memory caught up with him, blindsiding. "I think Melissa could use some company. She…" He dug around his head for appropriate words, then gave up. Dorothy would be twelve steps ahead of him on this already.
"I'll see what I can nudge her to do once midnight's passed." Closing the fridge, Dorothy busied herself taking out a saucer from the top cupboard, carefully browsing the different porcelain available. "I take it you're going to the hospital?"
"Yes." Arturo gave Ginger a final scratch under the chin, steeling himself. "I'm going to the hospital."
Finding a club open on a Monday night that not solely catered to students turned out to be a challenge. The security was lax and Jayla knew from experience that she could pass herself off as a student. That did her little good since she wasn't in the right head-space to fake conversations about classes and exams tonight. All she wanted was a place to dance, get drunk and meet fun people.
Company out would have been nice, but at least she'd found a kindred spirit in Vivian. She'd have company next time.
It's not like I haven't gone clubbing by myself before. She'd just never gone clubbing alone as a werewolf. Who knew what could happen? What if she got challenged to a duel by another wolf? Then again, no one had tried to stop her from going. Couldn't be that much of a risk then, could it?
The fourth place she hit up looked to have a clientele only mostly too young to get boozed up legally. That would have to do.
The moment she hit the dance floor, all leftover stress evaporated. She didn't recognize the music, but that didn't matter. Dancing at a club was about fun not style. Most of the people around her looked to be having the same idea; they jumped and wiggled, not always on beat with the music but smiling and laughing. The best kind of dance floor.
It took her about an hour to start craving water, thirst dampened by endorphins. Light as a feather, Jayla tunneled her way off the dance floor, skipped over to the bar and flagged down the bartender. Jayla downed the glass of sparkling water he handed her in two gulps, then turned on her bar stool to survey the club.
Time to pick up some friends! Letting her eyes skim across her fellow clubgoers she quickly ruled out the majority of them as potential conversation partners. All dancers out on the floor traveled in groups and would either be leaving together or with a one-night-stand. The bar and the booths didn't look much better. They contained a lot of older guys and gals who either had a too desperate or too calculating air about them to invite casual banter. I wish it was socially acceptable to wear a sign that said 'I don't want to get laid, I just want to make friends'. The one downside to finally being in a place where everyone didn't know her name and whole family history on sight.
Finally, one guy caught her eye. She'd gamble on his age being somewhere near thirty or older, but him being older than her wasn't what drew her attention. No, this guy had a look about him. Blue and green undercut, eyebrow piercing, tattoos on his neck that dove down under his collar, thick eyeliner and leather jacket. The exact kind of person Jayla's parents had wanted her to stay clear of from the moment goth and punk kids started popping up among her high school classmates. The kind of person Jayla always went for in a crowd, for that exact reason. His nail-polish and skirt clinched it.
Blue-and-green guy met Jayla's eyes across the bar and gave her a crooked smile, toasting her with his drink. She accepted his invitation.
"Hi!" She had to shout to be heard over the music; came with the territory when making conversation in clubs. "I'm Jayla! Love your hair!"
"Thank you kindly!" Keeping an eye on his body language and tone, Jayla was relieved to find no initial signs of flirting. "Got a friend a few blocks away who's a magician with all kinds of hair. Yours is of course also marvelous, but I can give you her address if you're looking to get adventurous. Jesse, by the way. Wanna grab a booth?"
Jayla nodded and led the way to a recently abandoned spot at the back of the club where the music wasn't as deafening. Adrenaline still pumping from dancing and memories of the previous night's run, she threw herself down in a seat and beamed up at Jesse.
"This is going to sound blunt, but I'm totally not flirting with you. No offense to your magnificent self, I'm just new in town and want to make friends, not make out. Sound good to you?"
Without a word Jesse sat down in the booth, smile a bit stiff.
Jayla frowned. Had she read the situation wrong? Did she need to-
Jesse's eyes gleamed. For a second they were a bright, shining blue. UV-contacts? Jayla was about to comment on how neat they looked, to defuse the growing unease, when her own eyes went briefly, lightly warm and shivered; a sensation she remembered from the dining room, with Lisa and the rest of the pack.
"Wow." No word better summarized the current situation. "How come I go my whole life never seeing anything remotely supernatural and now I run into magical stuff two days in a row?"
The blue faded from Jesse's irises in the literal blink of an eye, returning to a deep brown. His posture relaxed a fraction and he leaned over the table, smile cautious.
"You honestly didn't know?"
All but waving her arms in protest, Jayla replied, "No! No, I'm a total noob at this whole werewolf thing. Like, less than 48 hours fresh kind of noob."
She let out her patented Nervous Laugh, the too high and too sharp one, and hated herself for it. Jesse cocked his head to the side, managing to look intrigued and enigmatic instead of like a confused dog.
"Huh. Bit unexpected, I must say." He giggled. Honest to god giggled. It was a surprisingly adorable thing to hear an adult stranger do. "I was prepping to sweet-talk myself out of a 'this is our territory' threat."
"We have territories?" She'd have to start taking notes.
Jesse shrugged. "Most do. At least most werewolves." He leaned back in his seat, one arm up on the backrest, his smile relaxed and slightly teasing. "Was it a bite and run?"
"Nah, rather the opposite. It was an accident and the girl who did it is way more upset than I am. I think it's pretty neat!"
She bit the inside of her cheek. Was she supposed to be keeping what had happened a secret? It had sort of been implied that she should avoid telling regular people about werewolves and vampires, but what were the rules for talking to other supernaturals? Should she text and ask the pack? She had Vivian's number, but would it be okay to bother her at work?
Jesse looked her up and down. Usually when an older guy eyed her from head to toe in a club all the warning lights went off in her head (or, on rare occasions, a celebratory victory trumpet), but this wasn't the sexual kind of once-over. Whatever Jesse was looking for it had nothing to do with 'making the beast with two backs'. Thanks Brandon for that terrible metaphor.
"What are you?" she said to break the tension inside her own head.
The teasing quality to Jesse's smile amplified. "Why don't you guess?"
"Man, I don't even know what my options are." To be extra pedagogical Jayla began counting down on her fingers, "I know that werewolves' eyes flash gold, red means vampire, and green is witch. That's all I've got."
"You're fresh as a daisy, aren't you?"
It sounded like a rhetorical question so Jayla answered by rolling her eyes at him. Another giggle escaped her booth companion.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Jayla leaned forward and pinned him with a stare she hoped looked mock-offended and not actually offended. "Are you laughing at me?"
"It's the situation that's funny." Jesse gave her another once-over, quick and clean, no warning lights. "I only laugh at people who deserve it."
"Fair."
She placed her hands on the booth table where they now lay like dead fish. She should have brought a drink; drinks always helped when you didn't have pockets big enough to stick your hands in.
"By the way, how did you know I was a werewolf? Before the eye-thing, I mean. I'm pretty sure I look human today." She had to resist the urge to glance over her shoulder to see if she'd spouted a tail.
"There are tells," Jesse said, voice smooth as honey. "Don't worry, it's only obvious to people with long practice and the right gear."
He gestured at one of the dozen pins decorating his jacket. Jayla had assumed they were band logos. At a closer look some had a faint shift to them, as if they were made of water.
"That's…"
"Magic." Jesse's expression took an eager quality, that of a person sharing a special interests rather than talking down to an idiot. "Had to help out with a couple of tricky tattoos before I got these, but they were worth it. Before you ask, only people like you and I can see the special effects. Unless I want to make it obvious."
Jayla squinted at the pins. Was this the kind of stuff Sledge could do?
"What people do deserve to get laughed at?" she asked, jumping a step back in the conversation to steadier ground.
Jesse made an exaggeratedly thoughtful face, hand rubbing at his chin as he gave the ceiling a long look. When he looked back at her his grin was devilish.
"You know those guys on the dance floor who don't get the concept of personal space and consent?"
Grimacing, Jayla nodded. "Far too well."
"I assumed as much. They're far too common."
Jesse leaned across the table again, meeting Jayla halfway and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Said creeps also tend to be very homophobic. I've cultivated this little hobby where I," he paused like a stage magician preparing a reveal, "give them a taste of their own medicine."
An answering grin tugged at Jayla's lips. "And then you laugh at them?"
"Exactly." Horror movie sharks had nothing on Jesse's leer. "My new friend, I would like to invite you to an evening's frolicking on the dance floor, freaking out any dudebro who dares ruin the night for everyone else."
He held out his hand for her to shake. "All I ask is that you have my back when they gay panic and try to clock me."
Pure glee crackled across Jayla's mind. She grabbed the offered hand. "I'm in!"
It was child's play to avoid the surveillance cameras, as long as one possessed vampiric speed. To be extra careful, Arturo had frankensteined together a remote control that allowed him to redirect the camera feeds. He hadn't been born yesterday and he didn't believe in luck. Breaking into a hospital on the regular demanded backup plan on top of backup plan.
Cameras were the least of his worries, much easier to avoid than security guards. The hospital guards had a set route they should be walking, but when you paid people table scraps for a night time job with no super vision other than cameras that only said employees checked, your scheduled became more a suggestion than a reliable map. The guards were a constant heart-attack waiting to happen.
It was still a hospital though, not a bank. Once the guard and the cameras were behind him, Arturo could take his time.
The room looked the same as ever, with BIOHAZARD printed here and there alongside signs and symbols in a similar vein. Arturo's skin crawled. Knowing you were immune to pretty much all disease didn't help when a gazillion signs depicting upcoming pain and infection got shoved in your face.
He took what he needed and got out.
The cold October air helped calm him, kept him on his feet. He hurried to his usual place in Merrihollow Park and scaled the tallest tree, gritting his teeth all the way to the top. Curling into a ball in the nest of branches he'd cultivated there, he pulled his loot from the large pocket Dorothy had helped add to the inside of his jacket. The bag of blood was cold, his meager body heat having lost out against the snowy weather. At least the blood hadn't congealed.
He'd have to drink all of it. That was his own fault, having gone without for a month, but that didn't make it any less repulsive. As he watched the viscous red liquid slosh around the bag his mouth watered and his stomach clenched. It looked horrifically appetizing.
His fingers slipped as he resisted the urge to tear the bag open with his teeth, and he nearly lost his hard-won garbage. Cursing, he clutched the bag close, tears burning behind tightly shut eyelids.
On reflex he ran his tongue over his teeth and winced as it brushed against fangs. As usual the dental change had happened without sensation or warning, his constant source of paranoia. Deeply unpleasant, but what truly filled him with dread would follow right after.
The hunger took hold. Before he could stop himself, he'd bitten straight into the bag. The taste of plastic and cold blood made him gag, but with his messed up autopilot activated he couldn't spit it out. He forced down every driblet of the stale, coppery liquid and a part of him loved it.
When it was finished, Arturo crushed the bag into a ball and opened his eyes. He hadn't spilled a single drop.
Keeping his breathing under control got difficult. He could feel the blood spread through his limbs and up his spine, adrenaline-like and heat-giving despite its lack of warmth going in. Averting the panic attack was impossible; he road it out, clinging to the branches of his makeshift nest, gasping, invisible hands choking him.
He sat there for what felt like hours, slowly getting his breath back. In the privacy of the tree, with no sharp-eared werewolves nearby, he let himself cry.
"Oh my god, his face!" Jayla let out a howl of laughter, which triggered more witch-like shrieking from Jesse. This only made her laugh harder. "I can't believe we did that!"
"I can't believe we didn't get thrown out! First time I've been high-fived by a bouncer."
Jesse leaned heavily on her, sporting a black-eye he'd assured her would be fine in the morning. She took comfort in that she'd given the other guy a worse bruise.
It occurred to her, the thought bobbing to the surface of her pleasantly marinated mind, that Jesse was half a head shorter than her. She'd always been on the taller side, but she'd for some reason thought of him as pretty imposing when she'd first seen him. Weird.
The taxi had dumped them outside the side-door that led to Lisa's antiques shop. Not being drunk enough to risk tripping alarms, Jayla made for the front door, more or less dragging Jesse.
"Man, your pack must be loaded," Jesse slurred and attempted to wolf-whistle, which set Jayla off cackling so hard they both threatened to topple over. "You live in a fucking mansion."
"I don't live here, I'm just visiting," Jayla pointed out. She contradicted this a little by digging a key out of her purse. The lock only fought back against her first two tries at opening it.
"Voila! Mansion time!"
"Mansion time!" Jesse echoed her at the top of his lungs, dissolving into a fit of giggles when she shushed him.
As they stumbled inside, Dorothy opened the door to her room. She was wearing an old-fashioned nightgown and had her red hair up in curlers.
"Hello, Jayla. Who's your friend?" She sounded unnaturally chipper for a person being woken up at 3 am.
"This is Jesse," Jayla said, managing to avoid tripping over any of the words, though she did stumble on a pair of shoes.
Jesse gave an uncoordinated wave and smiled the dopey smile of the very inebriated.
"We're going to have a movie night. Is it okay if we, if we, uhm." Words swam around Jayla's head, angry goldfish escaping a curious cat. "The living room! Can we use the living room? I don't think there's a TV in my-, Ginger!"
"Whut?" Jesse said, then yelped as Jayla let go of him and dove for her cat, who was peeking out from between Dorothy's legs.
Both Dorothy and Ginger put up with this. Jayla cuddled Ginger close to her chest, feeling at peace with the world. Dorothy chuckled in a way that screamed 'mom' to Jayla, even though her own mother never had made any such noise.
"You two have fun with your movies. The couch can be pulled out and there are blankets in the chaise lounge."
"In the chaise lounge?"
"Yes, it opens up." Dorothy gave her the kind of look that usually preceded getting your cheeks pinched or hair ruffled. "I'm going back to bed. See you at breakfast!"
Getting to the living room and getting the couch rearranged into a bed took more effort and laughter than was productive, but neither of them were in any state to care. Ginger lazed about on the couch's armrest until they'd settled down under a couple of blankets, at which point he claimed the space right between them and curled up to purr.
"Man, your cat is great," Jesse mumbled, giving the blissful Ginger slow pats on the head.
Jayla was about to answer this, as well as figure out where the remote had ended up, when movement at the corner of her eye drew her attention. Turning, she found Arturo standing in the doorless doorway to the entrance hallway. He had outdoor clothes on and his hair was mussed; both it and his jacket flecked with snow. He looked like he'd spent hours making snow angels and not enjoyed himself one bit.
"Hey, Arturo!" Jayla had no idea what would be fitting to say to the Ghost of Christmas Past walking in on their cozy movie-night-to-be, but did her best. "Thanks for taking care of my cat! I drive him crazy when I get restless so-"
Arturo disappeared down the stairs in a blur of motion. A literal blur. Jayla had to rub her eyes to make sure they hadn't stopped working.
Jesse pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over to where Arturo had stood. "You have a vampire living here?"
"Did I forget to tell you that? Okay, eh." Is this bad? Did I mess up? What the hell do I say about the guy? "That was Arturo. He's kinda shy, I think."
That seemed to fit. Even Melissa had talked to her more than Arturo. He had to be shy or anxious or avoiding her for a number of perfectly understandable reasons. Not everyone dealt well with new people.
"As I've understood it, he's as much a part of the pack as us werewolves. More than me, really, since I just joined the other night. Sort of joined. Ain't exactly on the membership list yet."
"Huh," Jesse said, "interesting."
Jayla shrugged and settled back into their nest of blankets, joining in on the cat petting. She steadfastly ignored how she apparently had decided she was 'part of the pack'. Too wasted for soul-searching.
"What do you want to watch?"
Jesse squinted at the TV. Jayla made it come alive with the remote she'd finally unearthed.
"Are there any cartoons on at this time of night?" He swallowed, hopefully not against bile. "Don't think my head is up for anything movie length right now."
That sounds perfect. "Let's channel surf and see!"
"You're awfully quiet."
Isha smacked Rahul's shoulder and tried to glare at him but ended up smiling instead, nerves getting the better of her. He smiled back, then scolded his face into a serious mask.
"Right, full focus on our vital mission," he said, giving an over the top impression of Woxell's cold monotone lecture voice. "Guarding camp against all the dangers Merrihollow has to offer. Drunk students are a menace."
"Quit making an ass of yourself."
Isha shifted her concealed jacket holster, for the tenth time making sure it wasn't obvious to possible observers. They were just two innocent campers, taking a stroll around town. Acting casual. Incredibly casual.
"I know I should have asked to go on patrol with Emma."
"You'd hate patrolling with Emma."
Rahul bent down and picked up a handful of snow. Isha knew what he was about to do, but couldn't be bothered to stop him. There were no signs of danger, no flare-ups or stalking shadows. She'd even found herself relaxing a bit.
"She always criticizes you."
Isha tried to muster up a stern look when he threw the newly made snowball at a street sign.
"Thanks for not drawing attention to us," she said with all the sarcasm that sentence deserved. To be honest, throwing snow around likely made them appear ordinary and bored rather than guards on high alert, which was what they were aiming for. "Emma doesn't criticize, she gives feedback."
"Completely unasked for feedback."
"Feedback," Isha emphasized, primarily to be difficult. "She'd have your head for that snowball stunt."
Rahul threw his hands up in the air. At least he had presence of mind to not accidentally show off his weapons when doing so. Or his...other skills.
"Do you really think this town is filled to the brim with vampires and werewolves? Do you think they'd have let the two of us take our first patrol together if there was actual danger?" He indicated the deserted street they were walking, the only people in sight being two tipsy twenty-somethings, alternating between complaining about the snow and their decision to wear heels.
"This is where the trail led us."
Isha pushed aside the desire to share in Rahul's doubts. Their full purpose might be need-to-know only, but Woxell was the best tracker the hunter community had seen in generations. With him, Jamerson and Emma working together to herd their intended prey, they couldn't have arrived at an incorrect location. Any other outcome was unthinkable.
"A university town is perfect for creepy immortals, don't you think? New young-looking individuals come and go at the drop of a hat. It's got to be a great place to hide, and murder, in plain sight."
"If you say so."
"I do say so."
They continued their patrol in silence.
Arturo tossed and turned the rest of the night-bordering-on-morning, unable to close his eyes for more than a minute.
He couldn't blame it on the lack of a cat in his bed. He'd slept fine in this basement and this bed for close to a year, the whole time without the aid of a pet. A cat for company would have been welcome, especially after crying himself to sleep in that fucking tree and waking up frozen half to death, but he knew himself better than that. No, what ruined his sleep occupied the upstairs living room, bold as you please. He'd been foolish enough to dart away from them at top speed. Good thing they'd both been drunk as skunks. You could always tell drunk humans they'd imagined things. But it had still been a foolish, thoughtless thing to do.
Finally, as his alarm clock turned from 06.59 to 07.00 am, he gave up and got out of bed.
"You're up early."
Arturo didn't dignify that with an answer. He settled down at the kitchen table, under which Ginger sat, lapping milk out of a new saucer. Dorothy was getting an excuse to use all the fine china. Ginger's presence formed a tiny source of warmth that made Arturo relax, fraction by fraction.
Resting his upper body on the table, waiting for the cat to finish his (hopefully) lactose free milk, Arturo watched Dorothy pull the curtains tighter around the kitchen windows.
"Dorothy, the glass does enough to protect me. Stop fussing."
"Pulling the curtains over the windows is hardly new in this household. I know the sunlight unsettles you. Is there something the matter?"
"You don't think the 'visitor' the new girl dragged in last night will ask questions about," he waved at the heavy curtains and the lit ceiling lamp, biting back on guilt, "this?"
"I doubt it." Dorothy moved over to the stove. Silent as a mouse she started getting breakfast ready. "But if he does, I'll say it's to ease the discomfort he and Jayla will have set themselves up for today. Not that Jayla will be suffering any such ill effects. Let's hope she's good at pretending."
"Mmmhmm." For this, yes. In general, no.
Ginger brushed against Arturo's leg and all thoughts of the two strangers passed out in the living room fell beneath the surface of his murky, sleep-deprived consciousness.
He must have dozed off at some point because he went from petting Ginger to sitting bolt upright as Dorothy put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing unwanted sleep from his eyes.
"Breakfast." She gave him a gentle nudge and nodded toward the dining room. "Everyone but Lisa are up and ready to face the day. Melissa had class early again, but Vivian's schedule got changed so she doesn't have to be at work until noon. I'd assumed Jayla and her friend would sleep past lunch, but they both got up less than twenty minutes ago, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."
Arturo narrowed his eyes, processing this new information. "Both of them?"
Dorothy's smile lacked its usual carefree gentleness. "Both of them."
No. He'd seen them when he got home and they'd been absolutely sloshed. It was no surprise that Jayla was up and about without nursing a headache, but the guy…
Arturo followed Dorothy into the dining room, carrying the scrambled eggs. Vivian sat half-asleep in her chair, making the occasional 'hmm' noises in response to the lively conversation Jayla and her guest had going. The theme of the morning seemed to be childhood cartoons.
Arturo kept behind Dorothy, waiting, watching, and listening.
"This is delicious!" the stranger said, beaming up at Dorothy with either genuine or well-acted joy. "You are a miracle worker in the kitchen. Let me know if you need any help in there. The least I could do is clean up after this marvelous breakfast."
"Very good point!" Jayla said, waving a piece of bacon pierced on a fork in Dorothy's direction. "I feel kinda shit-, eh, crappy having eaten here for going on two days without bringing much to the table. Is there like a house fund I can put money in?"
Arturo took a seat a the short end of the table, ending up with Vivian on his right-hand side, Jayla and the stranger on his left, and Dorothy standing next to him. He hated doing this sleep-deprived. He tried to focus on what the stranger was saying, as well as on his expression and general presence. He really did try, but his thoughts kept slipping into territories like He has a nice voice. I wonder how far down those tattoos go, and equally unhelpful and intrusive flights of fancy rushing up from his subconscious.
It was while trying to get away from thoughts of the stranger's lips that Arturo lowered his gaze enough to see the pins on his jacket. Really see them.
He froze for a second. Maybe five. Enough for the other pack members to notice. In his peripheral vision Dorothy opened her mouth, turning to ask him a question. Before she had the chance, Arturo pinned the stranger with a glare and let his eyes go red.
The stranger's eyes flashed a telltale neon blue.
"Well," Vivian said, deadpan, "that's a surprise."
Arturo pushed his chair back without thinking and bolted from the room. He didn't care about Jayla's startled yelp or the stranger's smirk or Vivian and Dorothy calling his name. He rushed into his room, he locked the door, and he concentrated on not hyperventilating.
It took a while. Sleep deprivation combined with an intruder in the house made calming down an uphill battle. He sat curled against his door, legs drawn up to his chest, focusing on the blood rushing in his ears. Minute by minute his heart stopped racing and returned to its normal, slightly too slow beat.
Worry pulled him toward his computer rather than his bed. He needed to find out who Jayla was and why she'd brought a shapeshifter decked in enough protection talismans to ward off a coven of witches to their home.
