July 1, 2023
Moonrise: 7:07 p.m.
Sunset: 8:31 p.m.
----------------------------------------
I woke up cocooned in the comforter on the bathroom floor, cold tiles biting at every inch of exposed skin. I pulled the comforter tighter, but the chill had already seeped into my bones. No pelt to keep me warm now—just tangled hair stuck to my face. I spat it out with a huff, half-expecting a growl that didn’t come.
No more wolf, cozy in its fur. Just me—AJ—lanky, stiff-limbed, awkwardly wedged between the shower door and toilet. The warmth was gone, replaced by cold skin on a hard floor. The wolf never had to deal with mornings like this.
I groaned, forcing myself upright, my joints popping in protest. The bathroom counter was a blur in front of me, but after a few blind swipes, I found my phone. 4:15 a.m. Moonset had been twelve minutes ago. Normally, I’d still be out cold after shifting back—especially after more... eventful nights. But the wolf had settled in early. Or maybe it was the damn cold that dragged me out of sleep.
The shower hissed in the background, a steady hum of white noise. It had been running all night. To hell with utilities; wasn’t like I was paying them anymore. I twisted the knob to hot, waiting for the steam to fill the room. For a second, I thought about sticking with cold water to shock myself awake. But, with the chill that clung to my skin, a hot shower seemed the better way to start the day. I deserved a little indulgence every now and then, didn’t I?
When the water finally warmed, I let the comforter drop to the floor and stepped into the shower. The spray hit my skin, washing away the fur I’d shed but still clung stubbornly to me (if only it disappeared like in the movies). I scrubbed with a loofah, but that one itchy spot in the middle of my back stayed out of reach. Should’ve invested in a longer shower brush. I missed being able to scratch that spot with my foot like when I was a wolf.
I watched as fur clumped in the drain. Disgusted, I fished it out and tossed it in the toilet. I didn’t bother flushing yet—the old plumbing would steal the cold water, and I wasn’t in the mood to get scalded.
Clean—well, as close as I’d get—I reached for my towel, then remembered it was still in the dryer. Of course. Muttering a curse, I dripped through the apartment to grab it. Once toweled off, I went through the motions: first, plucking unwelcomed hairs from my face with tweezers (lest I give Frida Kahlo a run for her money), then shaving my new sideburns—I had a look I was going for, and this wasn’t it. Then, it was jeans, black turtleneck, sneakers, and hair tied into a bun. Spartan, but efficient. No time for anything else.
I stuffed the last of my things into a box and gave the apartment one final scan. The comforter was a lost cause—shredded, filthy, and too bulky to pack. I tossed it into a trash bag, along with last night’s remnants: beer bottles, food cans, and a loofah too embedded with hair to save. I grabbed the bag and box, leaving the door unlocked as per the eviction agreement. Ms. Patterson would be here soon enough.
The trash clattered into the bins by the back entrance, and I nearly missed my ballet flats, neatly placed on the first-floor landing. My neighbor’s doing, no doubt—a small act of kindness. I smiled, slid the flats into my box, balanced it on my hip, and headed for the car. Maybe today wouldn’t suck so much.
My car was right where I’d left it—smack in the middle of Ms. Patterson’s carport. Only now, it had a new accessory: a claw-shaped immobilization device clamped onto the front driver’s side tire. Not even a real boot, just a cheap knockoff slapped on by Dixie Nissan’s repo team.
I was behind on payments, so this wasn’t a shock. But clearly, they thought I didn’t know my way around a tire. If they did, they’d have used something more secure. Like a real boot that covered the lug nuts. Sometimes, sexism worked in my favor.
I sighed—more annoyed than surprised—and popped the trunk. Of course, this had to happen today. Why wouldn’t it? I dug out the jack and tire iron. Not my first rodeo dealing with this crap, and probably not my last—but that didn’t make it any less infuriating.
I jacked the car up with practiced ease, only to curse when I realized I’d forgotten to loosen the lug nuts. Of course—I’d put my shoes on before my socks. Growling, I lowered the car and wrestled with the first lug nut. I had to stand on the tire iron, putting all my weight on it before the damn thing came loose. One down, four to go.
A used tire from LKQ salvage yard had set me back $64, wheel and hubcap included—or $86 with the 90-day worry-free guarantee (but I preferred a can of Fix-a-Flat—it was cheaper). Gerald’s Tires charged $109 for just the tire. As for paying off the car? Out of the question. Now that I was in default, they’d want the full balance. Assuming they hadn’t already lined up a new buyer.
By the time I jacked the car up again, sweat dripped down my temples and soaked the back of my shirt. The air was thick and muggy—ah, the joys of coastal living. My hands ached from gripping the tire iron, sweat trickling down my spine. Just as I got the car back up, I heard it—a low engine rumbling, then stopping. A car door thunked shut, followed by the familiar scent of expensive perfume: a floral smell of jasmine, with undertones of amber and sandalwood.
I peeked over the top of my car, and there she was—Ms. Patterson, arms crossed, leaning against her Mercedes Coupe, watching me with that sharp, assessing gaze that made my skin crawl. She was decked out in crisp overalls that looked straight out of a home and garden catalog. She appeared ready to get her hands dirty, but the freshly manicured nails and wrinkle-free clothes told another story. The heavy lifting would be left to David, her property manager. Ms. Patterson was here to supervise, not break a sweat.
I ducked, but not fast enough—our eyes met. Damn it. Of course, she’d show up now, looking perfect while I was all slimy and grimy. This was just what I needed: an audience. She probably planned to arrive early, hoping to watch me struggle. And I didn’t disappoint.
I could feel Ms. Patterson’s eyes boring into me. She’d shifted for a better vantage point, standing, arms still crossed—like a foreman inspecting her workers. That familiar knowing look on her face, the smirk tugging at her lips, made it worse. She was loving this.
After fumbling and dropping the lug nuts—twice—and having to crawl under the car to fish them out, I had enough. That was it. I stood, wiping my hands on my jeans, trying to hide my rising irritation, and shot her a glare.
“Don’t let me stop you,” she said smoothly, her posture oozing casual authority. She waved a hand at the car like it was an afterthought.
I straightened, meeting her gaze. “I’ll be done in a minute,” I said, the back of my hand rubbing the bead of sweat that had rolled into my nose. “No need to hover.”
“But I do need to park my car. I could have you towed, but it appears that someone is already on that.” A slight smile tugged at her lips.
I held her gaze for a beat before bending back to the tire. “You’ll have your spot back soon. I’m already out of the apartment—maybe deal with that?”
She ignored my comment and asked a question of her own. “Did you at least have the sense to toss that couch?”
I grunted, pulling the booted wheel off. “What’s wrong with a free sofa?”
“That thing isn’t even Goodwill material. Really, Allison, it’s like you’re allergic to quality.”
I smirked. “Just throw a doily over it or something. Isn’t that what women your age do?”
Patterson didn’t look a day over 35, but I knew better. She had to be in her fifties, still rocking a bob like she spent her formative years in the '80s, worshiping the likes of Melanie Griffith in Something Wild. That, and under all that jasmine and sandalwood, she just smelled... old.
She didn’t even blink. “You’re just making more work for David.”
“Oh, golly gee,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Why not just give him my security deposit? Hold it over his head like you do with everyone else. Isn’t that what it’s for?”
She scoffed. “And waste two grand on something I can get for free? Please.”
“Then deal with it yourself,” I shot back.
“You know, all of this could’ve been avoided if you’d just signed the new lease.”
I popped the trunk, pulling out my spare tire. “I couldn’t afford it. I barely scraped by as it was.”
She paused, and I felt her eyes on me, calculating. “We could’ve worked something out. You were late a few times, but you always paid. And that little dog of yours, or whatever it was, didn’t cause me any real trouble. You fixed the place up well enough. Drywall’s tricky, but you did a decent job—though the paint was a little... off.”
I ignored her and focused on lowering the tire, rolling it to the front of the car.
“I could help you, you know,” she said sweetly. “A personal loan. A little cushion while you get back on your feet.”
I let the tire thud to the ground and stood, crossing my arms this time. “I have enough debt already, thanks. The only loan I’m after is a mortgage.”
“Houses are risky these days,” she mused, tilting her head. “Default, and you end up with nothing.”
“Or, I could end up owning a place of my own,” I muttered, hoisting the spare tire onto the hub and struggling to line up the holes with the studs.
“And if you can’t pay it off?” she countered. “Renting is safer for someone in your position. I might have a smaller place—$1600 a month.”
I didn’t look up, busying myself with the tire. “Sounds like a steal. Utilities included?”
“Of course not.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
Ms. Patterson stayed rooted, eyes fixed on me. “What if I let you keep a pet this time?”
I busied myself threading the lug nuts into place. “Even if I had one, I’m not interested.”
“Then what’s with all those empty food cans in your trash?”
“Maybe I’ve developed a taste for the finer things.”
“I thought you were vegetarian.”
I paused, then forced myself to keep working. “Who told you that?”
Her lips twitched. “You did. Last year. I invited you to a barbecue, and you turned down the pulled pork. Said you hadn’t eaten meat in a decade.”
Again, I fumbled with the lug nuts. How the hell did she remember that? I still considered myself a vegetarian—at least, in human form. The wolf had its own cravings, which didn’t count. And after the things it made me devour, just thinking about meat made me sick. Patterson’s cat gave me more than indigestion—he had left scars, mentally and physically.
Ms. Patterson let the silence hang before speaking again, her tone light. “So, moving back in with your parents?”
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. I focused on the jack, lowering the car to the ground. “I’m not that desperate.”
She seemed amused. “Then where to?”
I shrugged. “What, you sending me a housewarming gift?”
“Maybe a birthday card. September 7th, right?”
I froze. How the hell did she know that? First the vegetarian thing, now this? I barely acknowledged my own birthday, let alone expected anyone else to. My thoughts must’ve been written all over my face.
“You know, Allison,” she continued pleasantly, “it pays to take an interest in people. Good for relationships, good for business.”
“Good for squeezing every dime out of your tenants.”
She gave a slight laugh. “Being practical doesn’t make me heartless.”
“Just soulless. If you had one, you’d have sold it for a place south of Broad.”
“In a heartbeat.”
Well... had to give her points for honesty.
I tightened the last lug nut and hefted the booted tire into the trunk next to another immobilized one. Not my first rodeo. Turning to Patterson, I wiped my hands on my jeans again. “I’d offer a handshake, but I’ve already got enough grime on them.”
Her smirk widened as her eyes flicked downward. “Looks like you forgot something.”
I followed her gaze to my hubcap. Which I had forgotten to put on. Shoes and socks, AJ. Shoes and socks. I picked it up and tossed it into the trunk without a word.
“I’d watch those wheels in your trunk,” she said, still watching me. “Those clamps are trackable, you know.”
“Noted.”
I hopped into my car, and without another glance, drove off.
----------------------------------------
I drove in circles, my brain scrambled—Ms. Patterson, the eviction, the damn boot. I was supposed to be going somewhere, but driving this early threw me off. Normally, I’d be walking to work by now.
I glanced at the clock on my dash. My stomach flipped.
I was supposed to be opening shop.
“Shit!” I yanked the wheel hard to the right as a horn blared behind me. Downtown Charleston’s narrow one-way streets felt like an obstacle course. But I didn’t have far to go—relatively speaking.
I fumbled for my phone and called Candice. Voicemail. I left a rushed message and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, cursing myself under my breath.
When I drove by the café, the lights were already on. My heart sank.
I found a parking spot a block away and ran up the street. No way Kayla opened the store—she didn’t have keys. Which meant...
Candice looked up as I walked in, already behind the counter, her matted blonde hair pulled back in a twist. Exhaustion showed in the shadows under her eyes, though she hid it well. Years of running her business and raising two teens hadn’t dulled her energy. I admired that about her.
Kayla stood beside her, mimicking every move as they worked through the early rush. Candice’s face softened when she saw me, but the exasperation beneath the warmth was clear.
“AJ,” she called, handing a cup to the last customer before turning to me. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I did,” I panted, catching my breath. “Left a voicemail.”
Candice raised an eyebrow. “I meant before your shift. Kayla had to call me—she couldn’t get in.” She glanced at Kayla. “Think you can handle the online orders?”
Kayla nodded, and Candice gestured to the chairs by the window. I followed, ignoring the knot twisting in my stomach.
“You’ve got a little something on your nose. What happened?” she asked after we sat. She smelled of citrus and fresh linen. Simple yet invigorating.
I hesitated, rubbing my face. “I, uh... got evicted this morning. Then... had to deal with a flat tire.” That sounded better than admitting I’d been booted.
Candice’s eyes widened slightly. “AJ, why didn’t you call out? You didn’t need to come in today.”
I fidgeted with the rough fabric at the edge of my seat. “I still planned to work. Most of my stuff’s packed, and I figured I’d start looking for a place after my shift.”
“So... you don’t have anywhere to stay?” Candice’s voice softened, but her concern cut through.
Heat crept up my neck as I looked away. “I’ll figure it out,” I mumbled, staring at a coffee stain on the table.
Candice sighed, rubbing her temples. “Where are you parking?”
“On the street,” I admitted, shrinking with every word. I really messed this up.
She shook her head. “AJ, you’re going to rack up a parking ticket bigger than what you’ll make today. I get it—you’re dedicated—but you’ve got more important things to handle.” She gave Kayla a quick nod before turning back to me. “I’ve been meaning to focus on Kayla’s training anyway. I’ll take your shift.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she silenced me with a raised hand. “No arguments. You need to sort out your housing. I know you took this job to avoid moving back with your parents, but living out of your car isn’t an option.”
She stood and moved to the counter, fixing a cup of coffee—with warm milk and plenty of sugar. She knew I liked it sweet.
She handed me the cup. “Here. You need this.”
I took it, trying to smile. “Candice, I—”
“You can pick up extra shifts later if you need the money,” she cut in. “But right now, focus on finding a place. Get a roof over your head, okay?”
I nodded, knowing she was right. I was barely holding it together, and the last thing I needed was to mess this up too. “Thanks,” I muttered, taking a sip of coffee.
Candice’s face softened. “Take care of yourself, AJ. You can’t help anyone if you’re running on empty.” Her words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened the pit in my stomach. Every mistake, every late shift felt like another step toward losing her faith in me. I wanted to do at least one thing right, even if that thing was being a barista. It was about the work ethic, more than the work itself.
I nodded, forcing a smile—hoping it looked more ‘I’ve got this’ than ‘I’m barely holding it together with coffee and duct tape’—and got up to leave. The bell jingled softly as the door closed behind me.
Once inside the car, I buckled in, started the engine and AC, then, after taking a deep breath, beat my fist against the steering wheel, frustration boiling over. I was already losing pieces of myself with each full moon. Losing this job wouldn’t just mean losing a paycheck—I’d lose the last shred of stability tethering me to something like normalcy.
To stay human, I had to keep living like one.
I had no intention of becoming a hermit living in the woods, or, as my father put it, living in a van down by the river.
I took a deep breath, steadied myself, then took a long swig of coffee. The sugar and caffeine cut through my headache but did nothing for the gnawing ache in my stomach.
I stared blankly out the windshield, my mind spinning. Call my parents? The thought made me sick. I’d have to tell them everything—about the eviction, the court mess, the wolf problem. No hiding it with the full moon days away. Hell, they didn’t even know I’d lost my job at Muckenfuss. Talking to them would be all or nothing.
I decided on nothing.
My stomach growled, cutting through the tension. Maybe I couldn’t think straight because I was starving. Pancakes. Pancakes would help.
Then it hit me. I knew who to call.
----------------------------------------
Vanessa answered on the third ring, her voice groggy and irritated. “AJ, why are you calling this early?”
“It’s 7 a.m.,” I said, forcing some cheer into my voice.
“It’s Saturday,” she grumbled. “7 a.m. is early.”
I sighed, cutting to the chase. “Pancakes at IHOP?”
A beat of silence. I could hear her smirk. “What do you want this time, AJ?”
“Can’t a friend just invite a friend to breakfast?” I said, though we both knew better.
Vanessa chuckled, light but knowing. “You only ask me out for pancakes when you want something. But fine, you’re treating.”
“Deal,” I said, relief washing over me. But it was short-lived. We’d been friends since college, though I wouldn’t exactly call it a close friendship. More like a transactional one. I provided tax help during filing season, and she provided me... favors. Usually in the form of information, such as temp work that you were likely to find on any postings of job-sites. Or if you needed a little dirt on a local debt collector when you needed to negotiate a repayment plan.
She was good at it too—most people underestimated Vanessa. With her bubbly personality and picture-perfect smile, she seemed like the kind of girl who breezed through life without a care. But I knew better.
Vanessa would never agree to anything without an angle.
We met at the IHOP on Folly Beach. Vanessa strolled in like she’d stepped off a magazine cover, her oversized sunglasses and effortlessly chic outfit the perfect blend of casual and calculated. She slid into the booth across from me, sunglasses still on, lips curling into that familiar, too-perfect smile. Her aroma was filled with sweet and spicy notes, like cinnamon or cardamom, but more alluring. It made my eyes water, and yet I found myself drawn to it.
I’d already snagged a table and worked through most of a breakfast sampler—scrambled eggs, crispy hashbrowns, buttermilk waffles. The bacon sat untouched, waiting for Vanessa. I’d even ordered another sampler for her a few minutes earlier, though I’d likely eat most of it too.
“Morning,” Vanessa said, sounding much perkier—probably thanks to an ungodly amount of caffeine. “So, what’s up? This is early for us.”
“Just thought we could kick off the day with some breakfast,” I said, trying to sound casual. It didn’t land.
Vanessa arched an eyebrow, unconvinced but playing along. “Uh-huh. Just a nice breakfast, huh? So... how’s life treating you?” she asked, nibbling on a piece of bacon.
“Still at the coffee shop,” I said.
Vanessa smirked. “Not what you went to school for, huh? But it keeps the lights on.” Her slight, yet amused, smile made me feel like she could see right through me. She was waiting for me to play my hand first.
“Mostly,” I admitted, that familiar knot tightening in my chest—good old envy. Vanessa had a way of turning nothing into something. If life handed her lemons, she’d whip up gourmet lemonade and sell it for twenty bucks a glass.
But Vanessa never got lemons—she got melons. And she knew how to flaunt them, leaving me wondering if I’d missed the part of adulthood where you learn to look like a magazine ad. Meanwhile, I was still figuring out how to adult without looking like a disaster.
She leaned back, gaze steady, body relaxed but still alert. Vanessa had a knack for peeling back your layers without you noticing. If she cared about anything beyond money, she’d have made a killer investigative journalist. But there was no profit in that, and Vanessa never wasted time on things that didn’t pay off.
Which made me wonder: why the hell did she waste her time on me? It sure wasn’t for the free breakfast.
“So, what’s really going on, AJ?” Vanessa’s voice softened to coax a confession out of me.
I hesitated. Lying to Vanessa was pointless—she could read me like a bad mystery novel, and she already knew something was off.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“I got evicted this morning,” I said, the words sour in my mouth. “And my cards are declined.” I was paying for this breakfast with the cash Mrs. Willerby had given me.
Vanessa’s eyebrows shot up over her sunglasses. Surprise flickered into frustration. “Seriously? Why not ask your parents for help? Don’t they live in the Groves? I’m sure they’d let you crash for a while.”
“And tell them I got fired because I was arrested for indecent exposure? Hard pass.”
Vanessa frowned, pushing her sunglasses into her hair. “But it’s expunged, right? Why does it matter?”
“Katherine won’t care,” I said, shaking my head. “And my sisters are still there—with Sarah’s fiancé—until they close on a house. I’d rather sleep on the street than deal with their drama.”
Vanessa’s lips quirked. “Chelley would love having you around. Doesn’t she look up to you?”
“Not if I’m the deadbeat sister living in the garage.”
Vanessa shrugged, but the gleam in her eyes told me she was already working out a plan. “And how’s that worse than living on the street? At least they’ve got a cute little room.”
“Independence,” I muttered, sharper than I meant to. “I just want a place that’s safe, secure, and won’t complain if I bring in a dog.”
Vanessa smirked, her gaze sly. “What kind of dog? A pet, or a... pet?”
“A dog, V. Just a large one,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Also, if you hear about any temp work, I could use the cash.”
Vanessa chuckled. “Well, the 4th is coming up, and with all the tourists, you could make a killing if you—”
“No,” I cut her off firmly. “Nothing that involves showing skin.”
It was Vanessa who talked me into working shifts at the gentleman’s clubs.
Vanessa’s grin widened, eyes teasing. “You sure? You made a week’s wages in tips last time. It’d cover a nice hotel. Plus, you could gather some gossip for my column.”
“Not happening,” I said, more forcefully. “Last time, one of my high school teachers showed up. I had to threaten to tell his wife if he blabbed to my mom. Besides, I haven’t shaved in weeks. No one’s paying to see that.”
Vanessa’s eyes sparkled. “I know a few who’d pay extra.”
“Drop it, V,” I warned, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Got anything else?”
Vanessa sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Fine. But it’s not really a job—more of a favor for a friend. How are you with animals?”
I shrugged. “Better than average, I guess. Why?”
Vanessa leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Remember Sandy? Our sorority sister with all the animals?”
I leaned in too. “The one with the zoo in her house?”
“That’s the one,” Vanessa nodded. “She’s out of town, bit of an emergency, and JT—some guy you haven’t met—has been helping with her animals, but he’s swamped. Sandy’s also looking for a roommate to help with costs, maybe some company. She’s not a people person, but I think you could charm her.”
I hadn’t been close to most of our sorority sisters. They were a peculiar bunch, really into New Age, astrology, studying Latin, and other assorted hobbies. Vanessa had brought me in because they needed a treasurer. We’d taken forensic accounting together, and she knew I was good with numbers. The irony that I was in a financial mess wasn’t lost on either of us.
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “How exactly am I supposed to charm someone who doesn’t like people?”
Vanessa leaned back, grinning. “Easy. Start with the animals, make a good impression. You’d stay at her place in the meantime and even get paid for your troubles. I can help you set up something more permanent after that. Sandy’s place is quiet, private—out in West Ashley. She’s even got a stable where your ‘dog’ can stay if he doesn’t play nice with the others.”
A chill crept down my spine at the way she said ‘dog.’ Vanessa didn’t know about my lycanthropy—or at least, I’d never told her. But the way she spoke sometimes made me wonder. She had this knack for knowing just enough to keep me on edge, always making me question what else she was hiding. Or it could be a ploy to make me reveal more of my hand. You never knew with V.
“I’m not exactly an animal expert,” I said cautiously. “And Sandy doesn’t seem like someone who appreciates the ‘fake it till you make it’ type.”
Vanessa waved me off. “Oh please. You’ve faked your way through worse. They adored you at Cabaret. JT will be there to help, and I’ve got your back. I’ll even leave him a good word for you. You’ll be fine.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, suspicious. “And what do you get out of this, exactly?”
Vanessa’s grin widened. “Just helping a friend, of course. And maybe I promised JT I’d find him a replacement... and offer to help find Sandy a roommate. So really, it’s three birds with one stone.”
I rolled my eyes. There was more to it than that, but part of me felt relieved. Vanessa might be a bit unorthodox at times and always trying to capitalize on our interactions, but she never let me down.
“Alright,” I sighed, still a bit dubious. “Where do I start?”
----------------------------------------
The drive to Sandy’s felt like a slow crawl toward something inevitable. I followed Vanessa’s directions down Bees Ferry, past the fire and police departments. My eyes scanned for Palmetto Community Church—if I hit Crosstowne Christian, I’d gone too far. Just as I was starting to worry, the sign came into view, and I made a sharp left at the church, the asphalt gradually turning to a bumpy dirt road.
The sign read Wolffs Lair Rd.
I kid you not.
Sandy’s house sat at the end of the road, a ranch-style home that had seen better days. Not falling apart, but not winning any curb appeal awards either. The place had a cozy, if chaotic, vibe—fenced-in backyard, overgrown garden, and an air of gentle disarray. Still, it was large enough to make me wonder how Sandy had managed it. The Sandy I remembered from college was aloof and hopeless with money. Inherited, maybe? Or perhaps a family deal?
I parked in front of the garage, gravel crunching underfoot as I stepped out. I felt it immediately—the presence of dogs. Lots of them. The barking started as soon as I approached the door, their muzzles pressed against the window, eyes tracking my every move. From the overgrown garden, a black cat crouched under a lantana bush, watching me, unblinking.
I was early—11 a.m. instead of noon. JT wouldn’t be here for another hour. I figured getting a head start with the animals might work in my favor. Maybe I could win over the dogs before he showed up so I could look like a natural. Messing with someone else’s pets without permission wasn’t my best idea, but I wasn’t exactly normal anymore. Being a werewolf came with certain... perks.
I scanned the porch for a hidden key and found it in a potted plant, dangling from a bone-shaped keychain. As I straightened up, I heard a rustle beside me.
A black-and-white border collie had appeared out of nowhere. It barked, startling me, and I dropped the keys. The dog darted forward, snatching them from midair before they hit the ground.
“Hey!” I shouted, but the dog took off around the house, tail wagging. I gave chase.
We circled the house and fenced yard once, twice—maybe three times. My legs were burning, and this dog was clearly out for blood—or, more likely, just my dignity. For him, this was a game of keep-away I had no hope of winning.
Panting and sweating, I finally stopped. This dog was fast—too fast. Time for plan B.
I headed back to my car and grabbed a family-sized bag of Cheez-Its. I’d bought them for emergencies like this. All you had to do to get a dog to cooperate was bribe them—with food.
The dog followed at a cautious distance. I opened the bag with an exaggerated rustle, letting the sharp cheddar scent waft out. “How about a trade?” I called, holding up a cracker.
The dog edged closer, ears twitching at the sound of the bag, nose quivering at the scent. I could see the debate in his eyes—half tempted to give in, half still wanting to play.
Once he edged even closer, I played my ace. One of the perks of lycanthropy was the ability to communicate with canines—not with words, but through impressions. Sensory memories and feelings I could embed into my voice. The range wasn’t great—ten yards or so in human form—but under the full moon, when I could howl, it could reach over miles. I'd first learned to use it on Ms. Ursly's dog, Angel, getting her to stop yapping long enough to formulate a plan of escape. Too bad it hadn't worked on Ms. Ursly.
I sent him the thought of the cracker—its crunch, salty taste, cheesy smell. Especially the smell. His tail twitched, his jaw slackened, and I knew I had him.
“Come on,” I coaxed, lacing my words with the promise of treats. “Keys for a cracker.”
He hesitated, then trotted over, key clutched between his teeth. I tossed the cracker, and he dropped the key to grab it. I pocketed the key and tossed him another cracker for good measure. Positive reinforcement.
“Good boy,” I cooed, scratching behind his ears as his tail wagged. I ran my fingers over his collar. “What’s your name?” I asked, more out of habit, not expecting an answer. Then I felt it—a faint impression, almost a whisper: Kai.
“Kai?” I repeated, and his tail wagged harder. But when I squinted at the tag, something didn’t add up—the name etched into the metal wasn’t Kai.
“Coy?” I read aloud. His ears perked up, and I caught a layered thought—Sandy called him Kai, but everyone else called him Coy. Then it clicked: Coy, as in coyote.
Recognition dawned on me. “Wait... I know you.” Coy’s tail wagged harder as the memory surfaced: Sandy had kept a mischievous puppy in the dorms—a little troublemaker who got into everything.
“Well, Coy,” I said, “good to see you again.”
I shared a memory with him—of me finding him in the dorm kitchen, head buried in a box of Cheerios. Coy liked that; I could feel the shift. To him, I wasn’t just some stranger with snacks anymore—I was an old friend (also with snacks).
One dog down, several more to go.
“How about you introduce me to your friends inside? I’ve got more crackers.”
Coy shot off toward the house, a black-and-white blur, vanishing the moment I lost sight of him.
“Fast little guy,” I muttered, heading to the front door.
The dogs that had been pressed against the window earlier had vanished, but I could hear their excited paws scuffling inside. I unlocked the door cautiously, but before I could open it, something heavy slammed into it from the other side.
I stumbled back, missed a step on the porch stairs, and tumbled into the yard. The bag of Cheez-Its flew from my hands, spilling over me as I landed in the grass. The dogs—at least eight of them—pounced on me like kids at a piñata party (and I was the piñata), diving after the crackers.
I struggled to sit up, but they were all over me, their enthusiasm overwhelming. Apparently, my dog-speak worked both ways—I could feel their excitement, and it was driving me crazy.
“Alright, alright!” I growled, pushing them off. The growl came out lower than I intended—more wolf than human. A few dogs yelped, backing away with wide eyes.
Finally, with some space, I stood and brushed Cheez-It crumbs off myself. Eight dogs in sight, but no Coy—that made at least nine. That’s a lot of dogs.
I huffed, eyeing the furry faces around me. “Alright, who’s responsible for opening the door?”
In unison, they all turned toward the biggest of the bunch—a massive Bernese Mountain Dog, blissfully unaware, sniffing around for more crackers.
“Coy,” I called, spotting him poking his head out the door. “What’s the big guy’s name?”
A single word trickled into my mind: Boden.
“Boden!” I barked. His head shot up, eyes wide, a dopey grin spreading across his face—pleasant, but clueless. Definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Why’d you force the door open, Boden?” I tried to sound stern but not too harsh. He tilted his head, confused. The thought I picked up was muddled, but the gist was: That’s how you open doors.
“No, Boden,” I sighed. “You don’t open doors that way. Especially when someone’s behind it.”
Oh... The thought returned, like this was a brand-new concept to him.
I looked closer and realized Boden wasn’t dumb, just young. He still had massive paws and that gangly puppy build—though in his case, ‘puppy’ meant 80 to 90 pounds of clumsy energy. Good God, he’s going to be huge.
“Alright,” I said, glancing at the pack still watching me. “Let’s head inside—it’s hot out here.”
None of them moved. They just stared, bright-eyed and eager, waiting for... something. As their excitement built, I scrambled for a plan. Then Coy trotted up, dropping a tangled bunch of leashes attached to a hands-free belt at my feet.
I stared down at it. “Oh, no. No, no, no. There’s no way I’m strapping myself to you guys.” With all of them attached to me like that, it’d be dog-sledding—except I’d be the sled.
Coy’s smug amusement slipped into my mind, and I shot him a glare. “This isn’t what I meant by ‘introductions,’ buddy.”
Their anticipation vibrated in the air, restless energy building. I felt my control slipping—not just over them, but over myself. Their excitement stirred up my auto-dog, waking it up, and that was dangerous. I’d never been around a pack this big, this close to the full moon. If I got caught in their pack mentality, things would get bad—legally speaking. I needed a distraction—fast. My eyes swept the yard until they landed on the side gate. Aha!
“Alright, fine,” I conceded. “We can play, but only inside the fence. Walks are for later, when it cools down.” And maybe I’ll make JT handle that.
At the mention of play, the dogs perked up and bolted toward the gate. I hurried after them, trying to maintain the momentum, and unlocked the gate with the second key on the dog-bone keychain. As soon as the gate swung open, they surged inside, and Boden—bless his oversized puppy heart—clipped me as he charged past. I tumbled forward, landing hard as the gate slammed shut behind me, the key still dangling outside.
I checked that all the dogs were in the yard before following. The back door to the garage was open, and the pack darted in and out, led by Coy with a frisbee in his mouth.
“Thank God,” I sighed. Fetch—something safe and easy.
Or so I thought.
By the time JT’s car finally pulled into the driveway, I was a wreck. Sweat soaked my shirt, every muscle ached, and I was covered in dog hair and slobber. The pack was relentless—no sooner did I throw the frisbee than it was back in my hand. Their excited thoughts bombarded me, leaving me barely able to think straight. I was pretty sure that even the auto-dog had short-circuited.
The shed, just across the yard—the one place I hoped could contain me for the full moon—stood out of reach, unexplored.
I’d tried—and spectacularly failed—to escape. The fence was too tall to reach over for the key, its wooden frame and wire mesh perfect for keeping dogs (and apparently short humans) trapped. I even tried climbing it (though my lack of upper body strength made it a struggle), and as soon as I got any height, a black lab named Puddy barreled into me, knocking me flat on my back.
Winded and exhausted, I sprawled on the grass, too drained to move. The cool grass felt good against my skin, and I figured a quick rest couldn’t hurt. Boden seemed to agree, flopping on top of me, his massive weight pinning me to the ground.
The other dogs followed, some curling up around me like I was a human dog bed.
Four of them—Annie, Rosie, Emma, and Maggie—took the chance to lick the sweat off my forehead. Coy introduced each of them in turn as I tried to fend them off, but with Boden pinning me, it was futile. There were more of them than I had the arms to defend against. I curled my arms around my face in a weak attempt at protection, but the determined lickers went straight for my ears instead.
Desperate, I tried one of Candice’s self-defense moves to escape a pin, but it didn’t work on dogs the way it did on people. Boden just slid higher, his weight pressing into my ribs, making it harder to breathe.
Beyond Boden, one of the smaller dogs—Rudy, the schnauzer with an impressive Fu Manchu—got a little too excited. He decided to ‘help’ by mounting my leg, enthusiastically poking me with... well, himself. Kicking him off only seemed to encourage him further.
I sent a mental plea to Coy, who nipped Rudy on the rear, sending the little pervert scurrying off.
Amid the flurry of paws and slobber, I spotted the black cat perched lazily on the fence, watching me with a look of disdainful amusement. I grumbled, resigned to my fate, when the slam of a car door cut through the chaos.
Suddenly, all the dogs—except for Coy, still guarding me from Rudy, and Boden, blissfully napping on top of me—rushed to the fence, barking.
I twisted my head and spotted a tall figure approaching—JT.
“So, I guess that answers the question: who let the dogs out?” JT’s voice had that easy, confident lilt that immediately put me on guard. Great—another guy with a smile too charming for his own good. “You must be AJ.”
“You must be JT.” I said, wriggling beneath Boden, trying to shimmy enough to breathe.
JT could’ve easily looked over the fence, but he crouched just outside the mesh. Even then, he towered over me—tall, lean, and clean-shaven. But it was his hair that got me.
I wasn’t in the market for dating, but I had a type. And JT, with that hair? Yeah, that hit the mark—long, tied back in a messy bun, streaked with sun-bleached gold. Dirty blonde. My favorite.
Why, God, did I have to be covered in sweat and dog? Now?
JT surveyed the fence, with a half dozen wet noses poking through, holding the bundle of leashes I’d abandoned. “Vanessa didn’t mention waiting for me? Jumping into a pack of strange dogs solo isn’t the best idea. Easy way to get hurt. Even for ones this—well-behaved.”
“Oh, can it. I know what I’m doing,” I shot back on reflex, still wrestling with Boden’s weight, trying to ignore how my heart pounded from more than just exertion.
JT raised an eyebrow but let it slide. His gaze shifted to the key dangling from the gate. “Let me guess—Boden knocked you over and you got locked in?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, something like that.”
“You alright? You look like you’re on the verge of death,” JT teased, though there was genuine concern in his tone. I huffed, ready to shoot back a retort, but the way he looked at me—concerned, not patronizing—caught me off guard. Since when did I care what he thought?
“It’s hotter than I expected,” I admitted, trying to downplay my exhaustion.
His eyes dropped to my turtleneck, brow raised. “Didn’t realize we were expecting snow.”
“It’s for sun protection,” I muttered.
“Right...” His concern slid back into amusement. “Let’s get you inside.”
“That was the plan,” I said, ruffling Boden’s ears. “But apparently, I make a perfect dog pillow.”
His head followed after my hand as I pulled away.
JT chuckled. “Yeah, he still thinks he’s a lap puppy. The size thing hasn’t clicked yet.”
“Any tips on getting him off?” I asked, instantly regretting the phrasing. Blatant Freudian slip. Great—now I’m stuck thinking about... Nope. Abort.
JT grinned. “Simple—don’t let him on you in the first place.”
“Helpful. Is there a Plan B?”
JT shrugged. “He’ll move when he’s hungry.”
“How long will that take?” I asked, exasperated.
JT smirked. “I’ve got this.” He grabbed the key from the gate and disappeared around the front. Moments later, the garage door creaked open, followed by the unmistakable shake of a food bag.
The effect was instant—like flipping a switch. Every dog’s head snapped toward the garage, including Boden’s. In perfect unison, they bolted. Boden launched off me like a cannonball, knocking the wind out of me again.
Only Coy and Maggie the licker, an older German Shepherd, stayed back with me. Coy’s ears pricked in JT’s direction, but a sense of concern and duty kept him by my side. I could tell he was hungry too, but loyalty won out this time.
I gave him a reassuring pat and sent him a thought. I’m fine, Coy. Go on—get some food.
He hesitated, then trotted off, followed by Maggie, leaving me to catch my breath.
I found JT in the garage, methodically measuring out food for each dog. Without missing a beat, he explained, “Most of the dogs get the same kibble, but the portions vary depending on their size,” he said, scooping a larger portion into a bowl. “Boden here gets a different feed and a larger portion since he’s still a growing boy—and a really big one.”
JT set Boden’s bowl aside and headed into the kitchen to prep smaller portions for Maggie and Murray. “They get wet food,” he explained, “they’re older and don’t have the same appetite. I feed them inside—otherwise, the other dogs try to steal it. Especially Boden. He’ll eat anything remotely edible, and it can be hard to stop him.”
The dogs swarmed their bowls, but I noticed Boden eyeing the others’ meals. JT caught my look. “Remember to be vigilant with this one.”
“Got it,” I said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Keep an eye on Boden and make sure he doesn’t eat the others’ food?”
“Exactly,” JT said, setting the bowls down. “God forbid a creature his size get overweight. Typically, I feed them twice a day—mornings and evenings—and you should try to keep that schedule.”
I tried to focus on JT’s words, but my mind wandered. JT had a subtle smell which I found appealing. No noxious cologne, but something simple and earthy, like unscented soap. Cleanliness that didn’t overwhelm the senses.
He wore a simple Charleston Bridge Run T-shirt and navy scrubs—scrubs? That was unexpected. But he made them look good. Like jeans. A guy who could pull off both rugged and professional.
I sniffed the air, and sure enough, I caught the faint scent of antiseptic.
“Hey, JT,” I called, following behind him. “What’s with the scrubs? You a doctor or something?”
He smiled. “Vet assistant. For now. I’m working on my license.”
A career-minded guy—check. I pictured him in that tight shirt, holding puppies. Mentally, I added another checkbox to my list just to cross it off.
We left the kitchen, where Maggie and Murray were still eating. The house had a cozy, lived-in vibe—cluttered but well-kept, filled with aquariums of all sizes, open-topped terrariums, and an aviary. Definitely the home of someone who loved animals.
My attention drifted from the animals to JT’s scrubs hugging his legs, his T-shirt snug across his chest. I could tell he worked out. He was ticking all kinds of boxes—objective, subjective... and suggestive.
I needed to stop this. I was here for a job, not a date. Time to stay professional—no crushing on the first cute guy I talked to in ages. I turned my attention back to the house, searching for something—anything—to make small talk with.
“So... who died for Sandy to get a place like this?”
“Her aunt,” JT said simply.
“Oh... were they close?”
“Like mother and daughter.”
Definitely time for a change of subject.
“This place feels more like a zoo than a house,” I said, glancing around. “Is that... an actual monkey?”
JT nodded. “Yep, that’s Carl. Capuchin monkey—a real troublemaker. Don’t let him out unless Sandy or I are with you. He’s big on breaking things.”
JT paused, giving me a serious look. “You don’t have any knives or lighters on you, do you?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Good. Carl’s a pro at pickpocketing—was raised by a street gang supposedly, so keep anything dangerous out of reach.”
“Like a gun?” I half-joked.
JT’s deadpan didn’t budge. “Especially a gun.”
I clutched my bag a little tighter as we moved on.
We walked through the house as JT introduced me to the rest of Sandy’s zoo. In one room, two cockatoos were perched, watching Adventure Time on a tiny TV. JT lifted his arm, whistling, and they flew right to him, alighting on his arm. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what impressed me more—the animals or how good JT looked handling them.
“Meet Phin and Ferb,” JT said, gesturing to the cockatoos. “They are free to fly around inside—just don’t let them outside.”
“And Adventure Time?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Sandy’s teaching them new phrases,” JT said. “They came from an evangelical church. They got really good at imitating the pastor—right up until they started saying some pretty blasphemous things in his voice.”
My phone rang. I checked it, but no call, but a woman’s voice answered nonetheless.
“I’m here to talk about your car’s extended warranty.”
“The hell?” I responded.
The birds squawked with laughter.
“They love trolling people,” JT said with a slight grin. “Watch what you say—they’ll throw your own words right back at you.”
Looking at me, one of the cockatoos spoke, mimicking JT’s voice perfectly:
“That’s a nice ass,” followed by a playful whistle.
The other chimed in with an exaggerated, “Amen!” in a deep preacher’s voice.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. JT just shrugged, clearly used to their antics. My mind, of course, spiraled—had JT said that before? And would he say it to me? The thought made my face burn even hotter.
Damn it, brain, not now.
I shook myself, trying to focus. But who was I kidding? My mind had been in the gutter long before JT walked in.
JT dismissed the birds and, after removing the contents of a nearby drawer, handed me a large notebook labeled Familiar Care, along with a laminated checklist.
“This has everything you need to know,” JT said, suddenly all business. “The checklist covers the essentials, and I’ve already marked off those I fed this morning. I’ve also annotated several of Sandy’s notes since hers aren’t well-organized. Vanessa says you can handle these kinds of things.”
I nodded, flipping through the folder. In truth, I found the sheer amount of information overwhelming. “Well, with all this prep, seems like anyone could do it,” I said, trying to hide my nervousness.
JT shook his head. “I still wouldn’t underestimate these guys. They’re not pets, but you know that. If they weren’t so capable of getting into trouble, Sandy wouldn’t have been asked to foster them. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t hand this job to someone as new as you, but few are willing to take the job.”
I bristled at the sting. “Rude. Didn’t V vouch for me? I don’t need Mr. Tall, Dark, and Veterinarian to save me.” I grinned, sensing an opportunity. “But hey, why not give me your number?—In case I need backup.”
I tried to sound casual but instantly felt like an idiot. Since when did flirting feel like parallel parking—awkward, with way too much room for error?
JT hesitated, looking a little flustered. Hah—this time I’d caught him off guard. He pulled out a card. “Alright, but seriously—call me if anything goes sideways.”
“Sideways in what way? Will Carl set the house on fire or something?”
“Not for a lack of trying.”
Okay... I pocketed the card, nodding. “Thanks, JT.”
As JT kept talking, my gaze drifted to his hands, my mind bouncing between his words and... other things. Only one ring, on his right hand—a graduation ring. Silver. Real silver. Note to self: no shaking hands.
I sniffed the air as he walked by, searching for hints of feminine shampoo or perfume. To my dismay—a positive match. Cucumber melon. Garnier Fructis. My lycanthropic nose had perfect scent memory—smell-o-graphic, you could say. Even in human form, I could identify any scent I’d ever encountered before. So, JT had traces of women’s shampoo. From a girlfriend, perhaps?
No... it wasn’t coming from his clothes.
I sniffed again, curious.
“Uh, are you... smelling me?” JT asked, one eyebrow raised.
I fumbled for an excuse. “Uh, I was just curious about your shampoo. Smells... floral.”
JT looked amused. “Oh, that? Cucumber melon. My sister recommended it—because of my long hair.”
Knew it.
“Conditioner, too?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Of course.”
So, he used product on himself. His hair must be baby-soft. I caught myself imagining running my fingers through it—again.
After wrapping up the tour, JT gave me a few last-minute tips before heading out. I could raid Sandy’s pantry, use her van, and if I needed to purchase anything for the animals, there was cash stashed in the cookie jar above the sink. Sandy would pay me when she got back.
“Feeding and taking the animals outside for exercise is the easiest way to bond with them. But—and this goes without saying—don’t let any of the animals out during the next few nights.”
“Yeah, fireworks and a full moon,” I replied without thinking. Fireworks were rough on dogs—wolves too. I hadn’t meant to mention the moon, but JT didn’t seem to catch it. He just gave me a thumbs-up and headed out—in a hurry to get back to work.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I collapsed onto the couch, completely drained.
But exhaustion couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. JT was trouble—the kind I should avoid. But maybe, just maybe, a little bit of that trouble wouldn’t be so bad.
The normal kind of trouble I hadn’t had in a while. I might even make a few extra calls—just for the hell of it.
I still had to check out the shed and figure out how to avoid waking up in someone else’s yard tomorrow. But that could wait. Right now, I just needed to close my eyes for a minute.
No sooner had I settled in than Boden launched himself onto my lap, crashing down like a ton of bricks.
“Seriously, Boden?” I wheezed, struggling to breathe. He gazed up at me with those big, innocent eyes, then rolled over, angling for a belly rub.
Instead, I got steamrolled.