It was early November, shortly before eight in the morning. I crept down the front stairs and snuck through the hall to the kitchen.

Igor was working over the stove. As always, he was grumbling. The eye closest to me—the larger eye—turned my way. When I put my finger over my lips and winked at him, it rolled back, and his grumbling got louder.

I peeked around the doorway.

Conrad had beaten me downstairs. He usually did. He was already sitting at the dining table, and his back was too me.

Perfect.

Olivia was also there. She was sitting on the other side of the table, reading a book.

Less than perfect.

I considered abandoning what I was doing, but the day before I had vowed not to let Olivia’s attitude rule my life. Acting more serious around her hadn’t made her any less caustic, so I decided I might as well enjoy myself.

At least I didn’t have to worry about her giving away my position. In the three weeks we’d lived together, I don’t think she'd ever acknowledged me first.

I crept toward Conrad and cupped both my hands over his tall, pointed ears, slightly flattening them.

“I know that’s you, Mera,” he said without looking around.

I maintained my menacing death-grip. “It’s no fun trying to sneak up on a wolfman.”

His ears twitched in a vain attempt to escape. I smiled as the fur brushed my palms.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It tickles when your ears do that.”

There was a second of silence, then his ears twitched again. I giggled.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Conrad said.

I released his ears and claimed the chair next to him. “Good morning, Olivia.”

“Good morning, Emerra.”

There was nothing but indifference in her voice. She must have been in a good mood.

“And good morning to you, Master Chef!” I called.

From over by the stove, Igor said, “All your kissing up has never gotten you more than your fair share of food.”

“Give honor where honor is due. What’s for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs.”

“Sounds fantastic.”

“And cinnamon rolls.”

“Do you want me to fall down and worship you now or later?”

“I’m too busy to go tripping over your prostrate form for the sake of mere lunacy.”

I glanced at Conrad.

The wolfman interpreted: “He doesn’t want to have to kick you for being silly.”

I grinned. “You’re too good to me, Igor.”

“That’s true,” he said.

The cinnamon rolls were as glorious as I thought they would be. I lingered over mine while talking to Conrad, at length, about the anime we had started the night before.

I did most of the talking. The wolfman sat there, sipping his second cup of coffee, and tossing out an occasional comment. I didn’t mind. He usually didn’t say much, and when it came to the shows I liked, I could go on for hours with minimal assistance.

Okay. Permission—I could go on for hours with nothing but permission.

I went on long enough, I was still talking when Kappa, our pint-sized bog-monster, woke up and came in for his morning bowl of slop.

When I heard his sing-song, burbling voice coming down the side hall toward us, my voice faded, mid comment. He turned into the kitchen doorway, saw us, and stopped.

Or saw him, really. Kappa didn’t mind me or Olivia, but the wolfman made him nervous.

Kappa was a whopping two-foot-four when he was standing on his hind legs—and that included the fin on the top of his head. Conrad Bauer was well over six feet tall, broad chested, and strong enough to rip logs in half.

That’s not an exaggeration. I saw him do it. In November, he gets the wood shed ready for winter.

Conrad knows that Kappa is scared of him, so he tries to be out of the kitchen before the bog-creature wakes up. That’s the type of person Conrad is—kind and considerate.

“Hey, buddy!” I called to Kappa.

Kappa pulled his head back behind the tall cupboards. All we could see was his fin, flattened against his head, and his two massive, shiny, black eyes.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Your breakfast is ready, Kappa.” Igor motioned to the bowl sitting at the end of the kitchen island.

“Would you like to eat up here?” I suggested.

The rule was that Kappa had to eat in the kitchen, but otherwise, he ate wherever he wanted. Sometimes it was on the floor. Sometimes it was at the kitchen island. When I was there, he liked to eat at the table with me.

“He’s not going to come in,” Olivia said.

“He might,” I snapped.

I hated how dismissive Olivia’s prediction was. I hated it more because she was probably right. Whenever I wanted to hang out with my two friends, I always had to pick which one.

“Oh?” she said. “I guess we’ll see.”

Conrad was about to stand up, but I grabbed the sleeve of his blue flannel shirt.

“Just give him a second,” I said softly.

“He’s had five years,” Olivia said.

I kept my eyes on the bog-monster and ignored the witch. “Kappa?”

“It’s okay, Emerra,” Conrad said.

I think it was the difference between Conrad’s and Olivia’s tones that triggered me. Hers had a jeering quality to it, while his contained only resignation. That made me realize how not-okay it was.

“Maybe for you,” I stood up from my chair, “but I’m selfish. I want my friends to get along.”

Kappa must have sensed something in the way I marched toward him, full of nefarious purpose. He tried to run, but he’d been standing in the same place for long enough, the tiles under him had become moist. He skidded for a quarter-second, giving me the chance to nab him.

“Come on, you.” I hauled him up to my hip.

“Mera!” he cried.

“No! I mean it! This is silly.”

Conrad said, “Emerra, you…you can’t force someone—”

I walked back to the table. “No, you can’t force someone, because that would be scary and defeat the whole purpose. I can do it because I’m the least scary thing in this whole mansion.”

Olivia shut her book and put it on the table so she could watch.

The closer we got to Conrad, the less Kappa struggled. He pressed himself against me in a desperate hug, motionless, except for his faint quivering. Conrad turned in his chair to face us, but he stayed seated.

“Okay, buddy.” I gently stroked one of Kappa’s ear-fins as I spoke. “It’s about time you two formally met.”

“Wolfman!” Kappa squeaked.

“Yeah, I know. And he’s nice.”

Kappa peeled an eye open to look at me.

“He is,” I said. “Very, super, ultra, amazingly nice.”

Kappa turned his head to peer at Conrad from the corner of his eye.

I went on, “I would like it if you would at least get to know him well enough to see that you don’t have to be scared of him.”

Since I was standing and Conrad was sitting, Kappa was almost at the wolfman’s head level. Most of the time, the poor bog-creature had to stare a million yards up to see his titanic form. Kappa, his face full of mistrust, gazed at the wolfman. Almost a half-minute later, Kappa turned away and struggled until he could stand on my arms, to bring his mouth up to my ear.

“He has teeth,” Kappa whispered.

Conrad bit back a smile. He’d heard the comment, so he knew it’d be a bad idea to go showing off those pearly-whites.

“So do I,” I said. “So do you, and, frankly, Kappa, your fangs are horrifying.”

His teeth were tall and thin. Whenever he smiled, it revealed a mouth full of serrated knives.

“For fish!”

We’d had this conversation before. I knew where it was heading.

“He doesn’t eat bog-creatures. Do you, Conrad?”

“She’s right, I don’t.”

Conrad had lowered his voice, but it was still deep and there was always an undertone that sounded like grumbling or growling. It was worse if he wasn’t articulating.

Kappa eyed him again, before turning to me. “Why not?”

“Huh?”

“Why won’t he eat bog-creatures?”

Er…hmmmm. That was…a very good question.

I knew the answer: Kappa was slimy and gross. But Kappa probably wouldn’t understand since everything in his natural habitat, including his food, tended to fall under the heading of “slimy and gross.” If I told him that Conrad didn’t like how bog-creatures tasted, that would imply that Conrad had, at one time, eaten one of them, and so knew that he didn’t like them.

Kappa’s expression grew more skeptical the longer I hesitated. Olivia crossed her arms.

“Because he is a bog-creature,” I blurted out.

Kappa and Conrad both looked at me like I was crazy. The witch rolled her eyes.

Kappa spoke slowly, as if to a hare-brained child: “Wolf…man.”

“If he can be part wolf, then he can be part bog-creature. And I have proof.”

The real bog-creature stared at me, waiting to see if I could pull a rabbit out of a hat.

“His nose is cold and wet,” I said, “just like your skin. Boom! Part bog-creature.”

Conrad rubbed his brow ridge but said nothing.

Behind us, Igor said, “Emerra, your reasoning defies all my expectations.”

I looked around. “Why, thank you, Igor.”

“You must be proud to have been the one to work that out.”

“Indeed.”

When I turned back, Kappa was still watching me.

“What?” I said. “Go on. You can—Conrad, can I touch your nose?”

The wolfman dropped his hand back to the table. “Why not?”

I reached out and put my fingers against the large black tip of his nose. I felt a tremble of air move over my skin as he exhaled.

“Yup.” I said. “See? Cool and wet. Clearly, he’s part bog-creature. The defense rests, Your Honor.”

Kappa stared.

“You don’t believe me?”

He shook his head.

“Well, then you touch it.”

Kappa turned to the bog-wolfman.

“It’s all right, Kappa,” Conrad said. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I held my breath as Kappa slowly, oh-so slowly, leaned toward Conrad. He didn’t bother reaching out with his hand; he reached out with his own nose. His nostrils flared as he drew closer and closer. Two cold noses, only an inch apart. Only a centimeter apart. I had to step in so I wouldn’t lose balance.

They touched, and for a second, everything was still.

Before I knew what was happening, Conrad’s mouth was open, Kappa squawked and trapped the wolfman’s nose with both his webbed hands, there was a quick inhalation—then Conrad let out an almighty sneeze that made his whole body shake and his ears rattle.

Igor was laughing hard enough, I thought he might drop.

At the last moment, Kappa had jumped up on my shoulders to avoid the calamity. He peered around me as Conrad did a quick shake-off with his head.

“Sorry,” the wolfman said. “Kappa twitched his nose.

In my ear, Kappa said, “I exploded him.”

“I think you did.” I grabbed the bog-creature under the arms and pulled him over my head. “Well? Was it cold and wet?”

“Warm. But wet.”

“Warm!”

“It would be,” Igor pointed out. “It feels cool to you because you’re warm-blooded.”

You’d think someone as good with logic as I was would have figured that out.

“What do you think?” I asked Kappa.

“Not bog-creature. Wolfman.” He patted my shoulder, as if to make me feel better about my mistake. “You can still like him.”

“Oh, good. Thank you.”

I put Kappa down. He padded off toward the doorway, but paused before he went too far. He looked back at Conrad for a long time, then turned and left the room.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Olivia said.

I sighed and dropped into my chair. “It was worth a shot.”

Conrad stood up and put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “That’s the first time Kappa’s ever gotten close enough to touch me. That’s impressive, Mera.”

“But her taxonomy could use some work,” Igor said.

The wolfman picked up his dishes and walked over to the sink. I started gathering my own dishes.

I was almost to the sink when Darius came in. As always, the vampire’s suit was impeccable. He told us all good morning, and got a chorus of good mornings in return.

“Conrad, Emerra, Jacky wants to see us in his study,” he said.

Us.

Okay. That meant that Vasil had also been summoned, so I probably wasn’t in trouble. At least, not in any trouble I had caused.

I put my dishes in the sink and ran after Conrad and Darius.

“Do you know what’s going on?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” the count said. “I’ll be just as surprised as you are.”