Hours later my hair was mostly detangled, all but a large patch at the crown of my head pulled free and kept in braids of various sizes to keep it from getting in the way. Tara was hopeful of finishing it early tomorrow, if embarrassed about needing to call it off while I looked so rough, and I was strangely impressed how fast she was working through everything.

  Gods, she even thought she’d have time to style and treat it a little bit more, and make it look even better than it ever had. Even now my scalp felt strangely relieved, like there was a pressure that had been lifted from the skin there, and I wondered how it’d feel tomorrow.

  I walked down to my room, pulling my coat tight around me even as I saw Andrew in the kitchen preparing something. Everyone was getting ready to leave or already left, and there was still something more I needed to do.

  Lord was awake, though barely moving on my bed, flicking his tail around in circles as he seemed to be thinking about something. He didn’t even look as I walked down the steps, barely moving until I sat beside him to which he rose to his feet. The cat gave a big stretch, shook himself out, and looked up at me silently as I took a moment to compose myself.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him hesitantly, watching the cat rub his head against my arm, “I heard about what happened with Misha and Tara.”

  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, he responded, purring softly as he ran his side along me. You deserve someone who treats you right.

  “Should I accuse you of recommending yourself?” I asked, half-joking as I gave a small laugh to lighten the mood.

  No, you like tall guys, I get that, the cat told me, resting his head in my lap. Needs to be at least five feet tall, I don’t match that qualification.

  “I’m shallow like that,” I agreed with a held back laugh, scratching behind his ear. “You want to come up to movie night with me and Andrew? We’re watching your favorites.”

  Maybe in a bit, just leave your door cracked, he told me, rolling on his back as he looked up at me. You two should get some time to hang out, I’m still healing a bit anyway. I feel like this is how my rabbit girlfriend felt after that hawk dropped her when she started hitting on it.

  I nodded, leaning down to kiss the top of the cat’s head and, rising to my feet, went back to the main part of the home.

  Tara and Andrew were saying goodbyes, practically hanging onto each other as they kissed and whispered in giggles. I watched them for a moment, the confusion I still felt about Misha mingling with the want to bring a sad smile, and I waited until Tara left and Andrew closed the door behind her to step forward. We were left alone, and the man turned back to me with a proud smile as he clapped his hands and walked into the kitchen.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he declared, gesturing to a table full of various bags, jars, and even with a plate full of chopped up chicken, ham, and grated up cheese. I looked at it all confused for a moment as the man explained, “I can’t fucking cook, but I got a bunch of pre-made packs of six inch pizza crusts, and supplies to make a metric fuck ton of pizzas.”

  “Something tells me you’re only supposed to eat one or two of those pizzas,” I said, giggling as I walked over to the table and took stock of everything.

  “Yeah, but we’re making a game of it, get some meat on those bones,” the man countered, smirking as he opened the first pack of pre-made crusts. “Tv’s set up so we can watch it while making pizzas, but let’s get the first pizzas in the oven before we get to that. The person who eats the most pizzas tonight wins, and I have enough to make about ten pizzas each, which I hope it won’t come to. A few blocks of cheese, several jars of sauce, and about enough pepperonis for thirty pizzas, which is enough for twenty by the time we pretend we’re not eating a few while no one’s looking.”

  “This is a horrible idea,” I muttered, smiling even as I walked over to stand beside him at his station.

  “It’s a special occasion and we’re starting at four pizzas, we make two each,” Andrew said as though I’d not commented, smiling as he pointed to the tray in the center of the table. “Takes about ten minutes each to cook, the oven's already heated up. This is one of those meals we usually have the ingredients for around here, and what we don’t have can be quick and easy to grab.”

  I nodded, and with that said I followed his lead as he explained putting the pizza together, how he liked to do it and his little flourishes. It was strangely relaxing, and Andrew seemed at peace as he explained how he liked to spread the sauce or how he layered his cheese and toppings. I had the suspicion that this was something he did regularly, whether personally or for his job at the bar, just from how much prettier his pizzas were already looking.

  Not long later, our pizzas in the oven and the next wave already prepared, Andrew had me sit on the couch as he started the first movie. He sat on the floor, putting in a dvd as he explained, “we’ll start with a horror comedy, since horror tends to be more your thing. No complaints about that?”

  “If I did I’d hold them back,” I admitted, smiling as I watched the man work, “So what’s this movie about anyway? Is it scary or anything?”

  “Well, it’s not fucking Martyrs,” the man muttered, shaking his head with a laugh, “still can’t believe you introduced Misha to that, man couldn’t stand Annabelle’s slasher marathons. This is a zombie movie though, it gets a bit creepy at times but mostly it’s just funny.”

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

  “I like zombie movies,” I admitted, nodding with a small smile, “I saw one once where a zombie and shark fought, that was about as funny as that one got though.”

  “Well, this doesn’t have that, but if you like zombie movies I think you’ll like this,” the man admitted, fixing his shirt as he walked over to sit beside me. “Shaun of the Dead, Tara and I made cookies and watched this for our first date. She was the one who thought you might like it.”

  We started watching the movies, eating pizzas and making more as Andrew dramatically had us draw tallies on our forehead in sharpie. It was slow, and I was a little worried I was laughing a little too much at every small joke the movie made. Only halfway through the movie I began wondering just how long it’d been since I’d watched an actual comedy, and a little later realized it had to have been years at least, and probably longer since I actually felt relaxed during one.

  It was a little strange honestly, realizing how limited my history with movies had been. My dad had mostly watched action movies from the eighties, and not really liked many other things. Even on my own, he’d only let me watch a few movies and cartoons, not counting those and me and a limited number of friends snuck in to watch. In the Purists we’d only occasionally strayed outside of the confines of horror, comedies to us honestly, and even that was into only the strangest looking movies we found.

  Andrew seemed to notice, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him leaning on the arm of the couch as he watched me. I tried to contain myself a bit, and he hesitantly asked, “you don’t get to watch a lot of comedies do you, Cannibal?”

  “Honestly I guess not,” I admitted, giving a nervous laugh as I told him, “what we laughed about in the Purists was a lot less…funny. Thanks for this, Andy.”

  “Please don’t call me Andy,” the man groaned, his smile never leaving, “honestly, it’s not even my favorite. I know some fun movies I think you’ll like, Cannibal.”

  I nodded, and hesitantly I told him, “I think I’d like that…Andy.”

  Andrew nodded, and he sat back in his seat, offering me only the occasional glance I did my best to ignore. They were all too painfully obvious, and I hated the bit of fear that came along with each one. Like having let my guard down just a little was a mistake I’d made and that if I did it for too long he’d leap over and attack me. My brain was racing even as it tried to keep focused on the movie, thinking about the quickest way I could kill him, how long it would take me to dispatch and hide the body.

  Before I knew it I was on edge, and as much as I wanted to calm down I couldn’t, not here at least.

  About halfway into the second movie my phone rang, and I hesitantly took it from my coat pocket as I saw the now familiar unknown number. I frowned as I wondered why I was getting two calls in as many days, and shot a quick glance to Andrew as I considered what to do.

  “Can you pause it?” I said, rising to my feet as I shielded my phone from him, “just a quick phone call, I think Vergil needed to ask me about something.”

  “No problem,” the man told me, pausing the movie as he rose to his own feet with a groan, “I’ll just use the bathroom, maybe start getting the next couple pizzas in the oven. That is, if you think you can still eat, you’re one behind me.”

  “You get me two more made,” I told him, laughing as I shook my head and stepped into the hall and out the front door. My smile faded almost as soon as I was out of sight, and hesitantly I answered the phone as I walked down to the far corner of the porch. “It’s me.”

  “Good evening, Bloodhound,” the man told me, his voice smooth and grating at the same time, “I thought you survived, my pack members didn’t return, though I was rather curious to see if they’d abandoned me or someone else finished them.”

  “Yeah, your pack members are dead,” I said, half-sitting on the railing with a sigh, “what is that, four friends of yours dead in the course of trying to duel me? I’m surprised you haven’t shown up in the front yard screaming for satisfaction.”

  “You confound me,” the man admitted, though to what I wasn’t sure, “besides that, they were no friends of mine. We were a pack of circumstances, and the only one there I part way cared for was a mate I never wanted.”

  “So there’s at least one more werewolf angry at me for killing their mate?” I asked, doing the math in my head. Three werewolves, I’d killed one of their mates, one of those was his mate, that left someone else to deal with.

  The man remained silent for a long moment, there was the sound of pacing, and in a small whisper he told me, “Pointer’s mate will not trouble you, I made sure of it when he wished to come for you himself.”

  That confused me, and I frowned down to the ground as I hesitantly asked, “why did you warn me?”

  The man answered without hesitation, “I believe in fairness above all, even where others don’t.”

  Well, that was comforting.

  “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now,” I told him, sighing as I looked back toward the door, “I’m watching Mean Girls for the first time, making pizzas, and I’m kinda on the clock for how much time I have to watch new media before we kill each other.”

  The man waited a long time, “should I take it to mean you’ve found happiness in your new pack? I wonder if they know the truth about you.”

  “One of them does, but…look I don’t know how to fucking feel about that,” I admitted, pulling my jacket tight as I paced the porch. I considered restraint and chose violence, “I thought your son was pretty nice too, and we both know how that ended.”

  “I was told what you did to my son,” the man growled, sending a chill down my spine. “I…you can’t lie to me. I won’t let you ruin his name. He was all I had, and you fucking took it from me.”

  My heart raced, and nearly crushing my phone in my hand I snapped, “maybe you should fucking harrass your source half as much as you are me. I don’t fucking know why you’re targetting me, but we all fucking killed him and he deserved it.”

  The man paused, remained silent for a long while as usual, and told me, “seven midnights, Bloodhound, seven midnights to schedule our duel… Not counting the coming one, of course.”

  I frowned, and for a reason I couldn’t make out asked, “should it be six?”

  “Take seven,” the man grumbled, confusing me as he hung up.

  I stood there a long moment, trying to not cry as I gathered myself and tried to make sense of my racing thoughts. None of this was making sense, and I felt like curling up and screaming until my throat was raw. Instead, I stood there and tried to turn over one question in my mind, one fucking point that made no sense.

  He’d said someone had told him what we’d done to his son.

  Our pack had told everyone Alpha had gone missing, and we’d just found signs of a struggle.

  Only the four of us knew what had happened to him.