It took me a deal longer than normal to get back to the Covenant, and I ended up sitting outside in the truck for close to an hour more. The only lights on in the house were one or two in the upstairs bedrooms, and no one seemed to notice I was outside as I spent a while crying into my arms. It wasn’t until almost midnight that I mustered up the energy to finally get out and stumble inside.

  Hunter’s box in hand and too tired to walk around the side of the house, I tried to remain quiet as I walked up the porch steps and through the halls of the manor. It was only as I was about to walk down the stairs to my room that I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Misha walking up with a mug of coffee.

  He looked tired, and hadn’t yet changed out of the jeans and button down he’d been wearing the last time I’d seen him. His upper few buttons were undone and his sleeves rolled with coffee on the rim, he still managed to look over me with some concern in his eyes.

  “You’ve been crying,” he said bluntly, turning his cup in his hands as he looked down for a moment, “I saw you sitting outside while I was on the phone, I figured you needed the space. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything I could do.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied, not looking at him as I hoped he wouldn’t look down into the box between us. “I just ended up running into an old friend, I-”

  “Tomorrow,” Misha interrupted me, raising his hand slightly as he glanced down at the box. His brow furrowed for a moment before something seemed to click for him and he slowly asked me, “space, comfort, or talk about it?”

  The words took a moment to process, my brain not wanting to work anymore than it was absolutely forced to. Slowly though I came to realize what he said, even if I didn’t understand why and could only ask, “what?”

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, before elaborating, “need me to give you some space, need some comfort — we can watch a movie or something — or if you need to talk about it we can sit back and kick our feet or cry about it until morning.”

  I nodded, understanding what he was saying finally and still not having any idea what it was that I needed. Nothing felt real yet, and everything was just a void in my heart at the thought of what had happened. I was tired, I wanted to sleep, buy I didn’t want to be alone or risk what my dreams would be about.

  “Can we watch a movie?” I asked, feeling my voice shake slightly at the idea. “Anything’s fine, I just don’t want to be alone right now, please.”

  “Of course,” Misa agreed with a small smile, resting a hand on my shoulder, “you know, I think we have an old tv around here somewhere. Give me a few minutes, I can see about getting it set up in your room. That way no one’ll bother you in the living room, and you don’t need to hang out in my room or worry about falling asleep.”

  “Thank you,” I nodded, stepping back and half-stumbling down the stairs to my room that remained dimly lit by a bulb from the ceiling, nearly falling through the broken step. Lord was asleep on the bed, stretched across it as far as he could as he mumbled softly about “remaining neutral in the mouse war” in his sleep.

  I was about to set the box next to him and just look through it later when morbid curiosity took over and I sat on the couch instead. With shaking hands starting to remove items from it one by one, sitting them on the middle cushion or on the floor as I took stock of what I had left behind. Flannels and dresses, gold and steel jewelry I’d stolen myself or been given, a few boots or heels, two bras, a stack of movies, and various small decorations and mementos from our relationship.

  I was halfway through pulling one of the old dresses out, a black piece I’d always loved that came down to my knees and was frilled at the shoulders, when I heard my door open. A few seconds and only one brief stumble later, Misha arrived carrying an older flatscreen under one arm and a small box under the other. He gave me a short nod, and with a grunt walked over and set everything on the floor as he gave me a brief look back.

  “Never thought of you as much of a dress girl, but can’t say I’m not curious,” the man admitted with a look of consideration, stopping only as he saw something in my expression.

  “I used to wear them a lot,” I admitted, forcing a sad smile as I let it fall back into the box and started to put everything back in. “I don’t know if I ever told you, before my wolf awakened I didn’t know I was a girl. I’d never gotten to wear dresses before, and the Purists you’re usually in your wolf shape or mostly naked if you’re going anywhere you’ll get into a fight. It’s a little different here, so I didn’t feel a need to get any.”

  “Oh, that’s cool,” the man agreed with a nod, smiling slightly at something as he struggled with a bundle of cords, “my fourth…third? My third sister was the same, fourth I knew about but she was older. I think Knives and Tara both were too if you ever needed someone to talk to about that sort of thing. I mean, I know they’re not the most friendly, but it’s something you have in common, and they’re open enough with the flags I figured they don’t mind me saying.”

  I nodded, honestly wondering if it wasn’t something that I shouldn’t consider trying at least now that I was pretending to be like a human. The change in existence wasn’t something that really felt big when being a werewolf was more about pleasure and living in the moment, but now…it was different. Half-ones were weirder than I remembered, and I honestly wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act or present anymore. I was practically dressing like I did before the wolf awakened, with the only difference being a cheap sports bra and different underwear.

  I knew half-ones had terms for every aspect of identity, though I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I could claim them, and they formed communities to support the fact, but that didn’t feel right for me. I’d been given my ideal body, I was myself, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to blend into those communities like a mortal. It wasn’t exactly like I lived the same life and went through the same things — at least I didn’t think so.

  Trying to talk to Knives or Tara might have been good for me all things considered if I wanted to know people like me. I wasn’t sure how they actually felt about me, and we weren’t exactly friends yet, but they also seemed like they could have been friends. Tara had offered to do my hair, maybe she could have helped with that and we could talk about the idea some.

  I didn’t feel like saying that to Misha though, so instead I shrugged and said, “you never told me you had sisters.”

  “My parents liked kids,” Misha shrugged, almost laughing like it was a joke as he hooked up a dvd player from the box, “The two of them had me and three others; then got in a big fight, and my mom lost an eye and my dad an ear. My dad abandoned us too a couple years later, and got remarried before having four more kids I’ve heard about. My mom had three kids with someone, but probably a little more. I don’t talk to either of them at this point unless I’m forced to though.”

  “How many of those are werewolves?” I laughed, shaking my head at the sheer breadth of the numbers, even if it wasn’t uncommon. Only about half of kids between two werewolves followed their parents, and when mating with half-ones it was probably a fourth of that.

  “Four I know about,” Misha answered after a second of thought, “My older brother, half sister on my dad’s side, and a half brother on my mom’s. I make four.”

  “Big family,” I said, not really sure what else I was supposed to say, “only child. I think my dad always wanted a big family, but he didn’t really get that. My mom died giving birth to me, and he just…well, I think he never got over it. Never even bothered trying to date as far as I heard.”

  “Your parents werewolves?” the man asked, rising to his feet as he walked over and sat on the couch, half looking in the box while pretending he wasn’t.

  “My dad’s not,” I said, knowing damn well what he was, “my mom might have been, but I doubt it.”

  “What makes you say that?” he asked, before adding on, “I mean, it’d make sense, childbirth doesn’t exactly meet the criteria to kill a werewolf most of the time. I just know it’s, you know, rare to happen if one parent isn’t a werewolf, and if a grandparent isn’t it almost never happens.”

  I froze for a moment, not sure if honesty was best before deciding there was only one way to answer. As much as I fucking hated to tell the truth, I was too tired to come up with a lie. Besides, I trusted Misha enough for this part of my life at least. They didn’t kill me for being a purist, they weren’t going to kill me for my dad.

  “He was a monster hunter,” I answered, watching as Misha suddenly looked confused, unsure, and then shocked by the fact in succession. A wide eyed look that almost stared off into space with a blank expression following even as I explained, “When I was twelve he started training me to make special bullets and bombs and what to look out for when it came to supernaturals. When I was thirteen I’d learned everything he knew about every monster and studied the basic rules for each. When I was fourteen I started noticing things tasted and smelled stronger and he said I could go on a hunt soon. When I was fifteen I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I was getting ripped apart. I…I kinda felt like I knew what was happening on instinct, but managed to hold it back for a few hours until the claws and fur started. I grabbed my dad’s old jacket, ran as far away as I could, and fucking prayed I was hallucinating.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Misha nodded silently, seeming not sure what to say to the story as he went through a series of emotions, even as I picked up the box off the floor and sat it between us on the couch. An almost dismissive humor, a face twisted in deep thought, some deep contemplation, an almost brief bit of disappointment, and finally back to something more neutral. Not wanting to figure out if that was a good or bad thing, I did my best to ignore him as I took out the movies from my box. I didn’t know if Misha brought some himself, as much as it’d make sense, but it’d be good to have them in case.

  Walking to the TV on the floor, I sat down, looking in the box and seeing there were a few dvd boxes scattered inside. I pulled those out as well, and was looking through what I had available when Misha finally spoke up.

  “Is that why you joined the purists? They’re what you thought a werewolf needed to be like?” the man asked, sending a shiver down my spine. It was a twisted insinuation, and close as it was to the truth I hated it.

  I composed myself, giving a small gulp and slowly answered, “I joined the purists, because when I woke up scared and wearing some torn and stretched clothes in the middle of the woods, they found me and helped me. You weren’t there, so don’t go acting like I need some fucking deep reason for ending up with them. They’re not that bad once you get to know them.”

  “Oh, fuck yes they are,” Misha snapped with a sudden range, shocking me slightly at the change of tone as he quickly composed himself. The man looked hurt for a moment, and looked away from me as he softly apologized, “sorry, I…I shouldn’t have thought about it like that. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

  “It’s… fine,” I said hesitantly, furrowing my brow as I looked back at the box. It was my fucking mistake anyway, I should have known people wouldn’t be open like I was. Like I shouldn’t have been all things considered. “What do you want to watch?”

  “Any movie you want, this is for you,” Misha said with a comforting smile that felt a little forced now, sitting back on the couch with one arm across the top.

  I nodded, and started to slowly dig through the collection even as I heard Lord jump from the bed and pad over to me. The cat looked annoyed, though laid next to me with his head against my leg as he asked, finally getting some culture?

  “Probably watching something I’ve seen already,” I admitted, scratching the top of his head. “You like horror?”

  Oh yeah, it’s the reason Halloween’s my favorite time of year — that and the costumes, Lord admitted, shooting a dirty look back at Misha, does the fuck need to be here though?

  “We’re watching a movie together,” I told him, pulling out a faded movie box I smiled sadly at. “You think you can put up with him for a few hours?”

  No.

  “Well, you’re going to need to,” I said, rolling my eyes as I put the movie in, “I can let you out, or you can deal with it and watch the movie.”

  Don’t fuck Misha, Lord pleaded, even as I grabbed the remote and rose to my feet.

  I turned back toward the couch, and it suddenly crashed against me that I’d been talking to Lord in front of someone. It was small, people talked to animals all the time, but it was a small thing that someone could start seeing through the cracks. I probably looked weird, I looked like-

  Misha chuckled slightly, shaking his head as he gestured to the couch and asked me, “are you going to sit down?”

  I nodded, forcing a small smile and walking over to sit on the couch cushion opposite from him. He wasn’t thinking I was weird, he wasn’t questioning it too hard, I just had to take the blessing. Misha gave me a look I couldn’t describe, and I fumbled with the remote as I struggled to turn on the tv and start navigating the menu, while Lord jumped up to curl in my lap.

  “Me and my ex watched this on our first date,” I said with a sad smile, resting my cheek in my hand. “It’s kinda boring I’m going to warn you. I think it’s French?”

  “Hey this is for you,” the man told me, nodding over at me as I got the movie working. “What’s it called, maybe I’ve heard about it.”

  “Martyrs?” I answered with a shrug, “I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

  “Eh, never heard of it,” Misha admitted, settling back as he adjusted his position. “I’ve never been that good with horror, ironically. I didn't get the chance to watch much my baby sister didn’t like growing up, when we got the chance we usually kept it light and actiony.”

  “We used to watch a lot of horror, I wasn’t really allowed to before the Purists and it just felt fun for us,” I admitted, looking at the box between us a moment before I slowly moved it onto the floor beside the couch. It was a reminder of things that had been, things that were, and I didn’t fucking need that right now.

  We started the movie, and I sat silently watching it play out even as Misha slowly started to react like a cowardly prey about it all. I’d forgotten that even he was less used to violence than me, and it was funny seeing how he reacted to it so strongly that the wolf felt like it could take charge from him. Misha was squirming, looking away, making noises of disgust, doing every over the top reaction to what was on screen he could and making me smile the whole time. Lord meanwhile remained curled firmly in my lap, receiving plenty of pets while he purred and watched the movie intently.

  Eventually even I got worried by the werewolves reaction, and with a small laugh I asked him, “you going to be okay? I can turn it off if you need.”

  “I’ll be fine,” the man brushed off, covering his mouth in disgust as he looked away from the TV, “she’s dead right? I take it that means not much more movie left.”

  “We’re like halfway through,” I corrected with a small laugh, “it’s all downhill from here.”

  I think mother complained about this movie once, Lord observed, wrapping his tail tenderly around my wrist.

  “This was your first fucking date?” the man asked in disbelief, shaking his head in horror, “what’d you do for your second date, where does it go from here?”

  “Burgers and sex in the parking lot,” I admitted, taking off my dad’s jacket and tossing it aside as I slid down the couch to sit beside him, my legs curled under me as Lord jumped off me in surprise and hissed. A smirk I couldn’t hide crossing my lips as I leaned towards him and teased, “don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  Meant it to be funny, though based on Lord’s judging stare from the floor I felt like it could have been set up better.

  “Fuck off,” the man laughed anyway, shaking his head even as his hand slipped from the back of the couch to lay on my shoulder for a brief moment.

  His hand rested there, pulling me gently against him, making my face flush as I was held. A small smile crept across my lips, and I leaned into him ever so slightly, moving to rest my head on his shoulder. He froze, seeming unsure of how to react to the situation he’d ended up in, before he rubbed my arm a moment and asked, “who’d you fight that cut you up like that?”

  “No one,” I answered with a half laugh. Adjusting my seating as I pushed away from him, I made the man jump with a tap on his shoulder and slowly pulled up the short sleeve of my left arm over the shoulder. I held out my arm, and Misha looked over the design that stretched to my wrist in slight shock as I showed it off. “We used to do them with each other in my pack. These ones are all from a silver knife, I actually did this one by myself.”

  I smiled to myself at the memory, tapping the shape of a rose on the inside of my left forearm, that had later been encompassed with vines, leaves, flowers, and a sword through it all on the other side. It had taken me hours to do, and it was the ugliest rose in the sleeve, but it was something I always felt a pride for.

  “I never heard of that,” Misha admitted in slight awe, looking over the sleeve as I showed it off. “The few werewolves I know who get tattoos usually find a witch that can make it permanent. This though…it’s kinda fucked up, but it’s definitely got a weird beauty to it.”

  “We just did them ourselves,” I shrugged with a coy smile, feeling a little heat come to my cheeks at the idea someone liked my tattoos outside the Purists, “okay I need you to be mature for one second.”

  Misha looked ready to ask what I meant, and before he could I pulled off my shirt, leaving myself in my bra and jeans as I tossed the garment aside. The man let out a noise of surprise, and seemed ready to look away before he saw what I was showing him. He looked at me in a slight awe at the mosaic of scars crossing my body, and moved closer even as I turned my back to him.

  Mary, not how I like to see your tattoos, Lord said, beginning to annoy me as he jumped onto the back of the couch.

  “A wolf howling at the crescent moon was our pack’s symbol,” I explained, feeling Misha’s fingers brush against the thick lettering of my name and the frame it was in, “my back was done by burning. We were taking a vacation, spent three weeks in this vacation home we found in the mountains. Each of us spent probably a day or two in a chair while someone drew these on our backs and then traced them with a woodburner.”

  Misha sounded like he was about to say something, when suddenly he let out a noise of pain and pulled away from me. I turned toward him in surprise, and saw Lord latched onto the man’s hand biting at it softly.

  A flash of anger shot through me, and I gripped Lord by the scruff of the neck as he almost instantly let go. Ready to yell at him, I picked him up in my arms and carried him up the steps of my room. There, I threw open the door and tossed him out, scolding him, “you can fucking sleep somewhere else tonight. I asked you to behave for one night.”

  Lord went to protest something, and I slammed the door shut even as I went down the stairs, nearly falling face first on the third step as I stomped down. Misha was laughing, luckily, at the whole affair even as the cuts on his hands healed and he settled back into the couch. I gave him a nervous smile, sitting back on the couch with a sigh, and we fell back into awkward silence.

  “Sorry about that, I don’t know what got into him,” I finally muttered tiredly, honestly now sure how I looked anymore.

  “It’s fine, Lord’s always been a bit jealous of me hanging out with his owners. He’s upset he didn’t inherit my rugged good looks, only got Annabelle’s great hair” Misha said with an overdramatic mourning.

  I nodded, closing my eyes for a brief moment as I did my best to enjoy the movie as it played in the background. I was fucking tired, I’d practicaly wasted my first day after the message doing nothing and gotten nothing done to figure out what it was about. The text message definitely made it feel more like a threat, but I still had no fucking idea what was actually behind it.

  Maybe Hunter would be able to do something, or confirm that Martin was in no danger, or that this was just Wounder and Scout fucking with me as a pre-wedding prank for a good laugh, but that was about it.

  I needed some luck on my side for once.