I didn’t sleep well that night, though neither was I able to bring myself to talk about what was actually wrong. Lord couldn’t be trusted with taking these worries seriously, even if he could do anything, and there was no one I felt particularly safe talking to about it. Either someone was giving me a roundabout threat, or Hunter was sending the worst set of mixed messages, and I wasn’t sure which.

  Vergil had made clear he would have come to my aid if the package was dangerous, but I couldn’t even be sure if it was dangerous. Even if it was, who knew who was sending that threat, or what the fuck it was about? As easy as it would have been to think it was just a general threat because of what I’d been, it was also possible it was something specific. That meant it could have covered a thousand possibilities, and come from a half dozen sources, and there was no end to the things I’d done someone would want to threaten me for. The last thing I needed was for Vergil to start investigating why I was being threatened, and realize I’d done something he couldn’t forgive.

  The last thing I needed was Vergil deciding I didn’t deserve to live either.

  That meant for the moment my options were limited, and all I could do was lay back in bed and stare at the board-lined ceiling most of the night. I might have fallen asleep at some point, but in truth I couldn’t have been sure if I hadn’t just zoned out for a long while. All I knew was at some point Lord had moved from sleeping across my arm to sleeping on top of me with his nose against my chin and I hadn’t noticed it at the time.

  He was purring, and it was strangely comforting to hear as I laid there trying to collect my thoughts throughout the night. I wondered if he had done it because he knew something was wrong with me and was trying to be comforting, or if he was just overly happy about his situation.

  Either way, he was giving me something to focus on to try and make my mind quiet, which was nice I guessed.

  By the time Lord woke up the day was peaking through the bottom of my door to the outside, and I still had no idea what I was going to do about this all or how. I was lost, and I had no fucking idea who, if anyone, I could safely ask for help.

  At some point Lord slowly climbed off me, moving to sit beside my head where he rested one of his paws on my forehead. I continued to lay there unmoving, trying to ignore him as I stayed lost in thought, until eventually the cat asked me, are you okay, Mary?

  “I’ll be fine,” I lied, continuing to stare at the ceiling as my mind struggled to function.

  Then get up, Lord told me, slapping my forehead a few times with his paw, come on, up and at em. The little boy needs his breakfast.

  “Just, go up the stairs, claw the door a couple times,” I said, gently pushing him away from me, “someone will let you out of the room, just…let them feed you.”

  Lord hesitated for a moment, not saying anything before silently crawling onto my stomach and sitting there to stare down at me. I looked back at him blankly, and suddenly without warning he placed both front paws on my chest and began to half jump on them as he loudly meowed, Life! Life, do you hear me! Give my creation fucking liiife!

  I tried to ignore him, before a small chuckle broke through my lips that turned into a full laugh. My body half bent around on itself in the reaction, Lord jumped off, and it was less energy to sit up on the bed than it was to return laying down.

  A few minutes after that I forced myself together, I picked Lord up off the bed and carried him up the stairs out of my room, where I tossed him out into the hallway. He clawed at the door a few times, dramatically declaring he left his toothbrush, and I hid my chuckles as I ignored him.

  With a forced smile I walked back down the stairs, nearly tripping over my broken third step, and went to my dresser. I grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a black t-shirt I pulled on thoughtlessly, before slipping on my father’s jacket and pulling it tight around me. I was about to leave then and there, before a sinking feeling got the best of me and I grabbed my locket and bracelet, and stuffed them deep in my coat pocket.

  Dressed as well as I could be, I stepped into a pair of boots and quickly laced them before going up the steps and back out into the hall where Lord waited for me. The cat followed me through the house and into the kitchen, and I put on a pot of coffee and took a scoop of dry cat food from a container on the floor and poured it into his bowl.

  Too tired to sit down, for fear I’d not have the energy or will to get back up, I leaned against the countertop and closed my eyes for a moment. I was in the middle of wondering what the fuck I could even do today when distant stumbling foot steps brought me to my senses.

  Andrew stumbled in a few seconds later, and the man sat at the room’s large dining table. He was wearing the same clothes he had the night before, with the collar of his t-shirt partially ripped and a series of pink lipstick marks along his neck and chest and his short brown hair a mess. He smelled vaguely of beer, sweat, sex, and his normal scents, with Tara’s sugar cookie perfume and personal smells having rubbed off onto him.

  It was almost too much at once, too many scents trying to become one, and the wolf was ready to bite something from the scent alone. Though, maybe I was just fucking desperate and the wolf was desperate for something to calm itself down, not caring whether it was sex or fighting. There wasn’t much difference between the two emotions at times, as long as something got to bleed under my teeth, and I didn’t particularly care for indulging either side of the wolf.

  The man kept his eyes trained on me, looking confused for a long time as I stared back at him and waited for my coffee. An intense sort of look, like he was trying to figure something out about me and that made the wolf want to confuse him more.

  We kept like that for a time, the only ones in the room, and eventually he asked me, “did we kiss last night, cannibal?”

  I furrowed my brow at the question, not sure what to say as I slowly answered, “no, why would we have?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, nodding slowly at the point, “I remember like, talking to you, and then like making out with a girl in the back of Knives’ car, and not much else.”

  “You think that might have been your girlfriend?” I asked, not sure what else to say as a look of realization came over Andrew’s face.

  “Oh that makes way more sense,” he said, adjusting his ripped shirt as he looked down for a moment.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Never change, Andy, Lord muttered, shaking his head in disapproval as he continued to eat.

  “You want coffee?” I asked, pointing to the still filling pot, “you’re looking a little rough there.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes before adding on, “just black, don’t go adding blood to it or anything.”

  “Blood tastes terrible in coffee,” I said without thinking, cringing as I realized what I’d said. Everyone already knew about my past, but at the very least I could avoid giving them the little details on all the weird shit I’d tried.

  “Yeah that makes sense,” Andrew muttered, seeming to not catch onto what was said as he rubbed his forehead. “You know, you’re not bad, cannibal. You have like, a fucking horrible sense of humor, but in a fun way.”

  “Yeah, I like to think that,” I muttered, smiling as the pot finished and I grabbed our mugs from the rack.

  A few seconds later, both of us with coffee in hand, Tara and Knives both walked in talking about something in hushed whispers. I picked up on every word, though I tried to ignore their meanings as I gave them privacy and they went to the coffee maker beside me.

  Tara was wearing a bright pink sundress and her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She smelled much like Andrew, and his scent was annoyingly strong on her as well as I turned up my nose at the passing woman. The werewolf didn’t seem to notice, and poured a cup of coffee in her unicorn shaped mug and put enough creamer and sugar in it to make it look white before walking over and kissing her boyfriend on the cheek as she sat next to him.

  Knives smelled better, they were wearing a white tank top and a pair of loose running shorts with their hair still wet from a shower. They smelled like soft soaps and sandalwood lotion, and there was only a slight hint of oils and half-one sweat that hadn’t been fully washed off. The werewolf filled a blue coffee mug that said Mothman may be real, but gender is fake with a picture of a humanoid moth holding a yellow, white, purple, and black flag, not even leaving room for theoretical creamer as they did so. They looked annoyed, and I had a slight suspicion it had to do with the fact the left side of their head was bloody and with a gaping hole for an ear.

  “Why are you missing your ear?” I asked as Knives walked over and started to pull ingredients out of the fridge, even as the bloody skin kept twisting and growing back into place in a way I always found fun to watch.

  Oh my god, Mary, you can’t just ask people why they’re missing an ear, Lord scolded me, probably thinking he was funnier than he actually was.

  “Long story,” the werewolf said, sighing as they sat a few pans on the oven and went about prepping food. “Got into an argument this morning about some boxes of things in storage. Normal werewolf stuff.”

  I nodded, not sure what to say as Knives went about cooking. It wasn’t long later another set of footprints came down the hall, and Misha walked in with the white of his eyes stained red and his nose slowly snapping back into place.

  “Morning y’all,” the man muttered, wiping his lip with a wet wipe he tossed in the trash, “lovely house this early in the morning, isn’t it?”

  “So who won?” Andrew asked, chuckling as he looked up at the two, “arguing about Annabelle’s things again?”

  “Yes,” Misha said.

  “No,” Knives countered.

  Definitely, Lord observed.

  “It’s up to Tara anyway,” Knives muttered, shaking their head at the thought.

  “And like I said it’s up to you,” Tara answered softly, not looking up from the table, “I…I already went through everything. Everything left there you know better than me.”

  Misha nodded, and turned to Knives as he started, “look all I’m saying is-”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Knives snapped, silencing the man before he had a chance to start.

  Misha nodded, and walked over to me, pouring himself a cup of coffee with what remained in the pot as he half-sat on the counter. He looked exhausted, and slowly sipped his coffee in silence as he watched over the room. After several seconds of silence finally turning to look at me and ask, “Are you feeling okay? You look a little under the weather there, beautiful.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied, rubbing my eyes for a brief moment, “I just didn’t sleep well last night, it’s been a rough few nights.”

  “Wanna head out?” he offered, giving me a small smile, “I need to pick up some potions anyway; only reason I’m up at this ungodly hour. Make it a day out on the town? Lunch is on me, I was thinking of bringing you home something after anyway.”

  “Honestly, we could probably do something too,” Tara offered, surprising me as I looked over to her. I barely knew Tara, and far as I knew she on some level hated me like most people had a right to. “Your hair looks like shit, and I’m literally a stylist. It’d be good practice to try and fix something with that.”

  It was tempting, if just to actually try and make some friends, but I wasn’t exactly in the right headspace for that. I needed to clear my head, and at the very worst I could sneak away from Misha and walk around the city alone for a while if I needed to. There was a lot to think about, and my time was seemingly limited to find out whatever the fuck was going on.

  “I could do with some time out,” I said, furrowing my brow as I walked to the fridge, “just give me a minute to make sure I have everything together.”

  “Take your time,” Misha reassured with a small laugh, “I have to get some stuff together anyway. Elizabeth was trading potions for some alchemical components I managed to get my hands on.”

  I nodded, and without a word quickly grabbed a napkin before setting two sausage patties and an egg on it. Too lazy to actually cook either of them, I closed the fridge and quickly stepped out of the room, hearing Tara ask if I’d just grabbed the items in confusion.

  It was probably something I shouldn’t have done, these werewolves rarely ate like the Purists did, but I didn’t have the energy for anything else now. I just had to hope it wasn’t a complete red flag and that they forgot about it before it marked their view of me anymore.

  All the same, it was their loss. Raw meat was perfectly fine, and I chewed it absently as I walked down the stairs of my room, nearly tripping on the broken third step. Once down there, I sat on my bed for only a few minutes to finish my sausage and pop the egg in my mouth, chewing it to safe to swallow bits as I walked into my bathroom and quickly washed my hands and face.

  By the time I felt clean I’d finished the egg, and I quickly brushed my teeth before walking to my dresser. There I adjusted my shrine, straightening the wolf statue I had there and making sure its bowl was firmly on its pedestal, before opening my top drawer.

  Inside, buried among my socks and underwear, was a small wooden box I kept full of bay leaves I’d swiped from the kitchen and a lighter. Not perfect offerings, they were the best I could do subtly, and slowly I placed a few leaves in the bowl of my shrine and held the lighter up.

  I stared at the statue a long time, trying to come up with my prayer, what my offering was for, and my throat came up dry. Eventually I merely sighed and said the first thing that came to mind as I lit the leaves, calling upon the most generic of prayers I’d been taught for times of strife, “Gods of the wolves, guardians of your children, hear my offer and accept it as a caller of your spirits. Silver Moon, Creeping Shadows, Bleeding Prey, Bloody Claws, Birthing Mother, Endless Sleep, I call on all of you in my time of need. Protect those whose lives are in my hands, give me wisdom, and grant me the heart of my enemy, and I will offer you a true offering on my wolf’s fangs. Accept this offer, or prove you forsake your children to the winter’s knives and be forsaken yourself.”

  The offer finished, and the leaves finished burning, leaving a burnt crisp and ash in the bowl as the smoke rose to the air and faded into nothing. An offer made, and hopefully accepted, to try and make things a little easier in the coming days. Maybe to help me figure out what the cryptic message meant, I knew I needed to be ready for everything.

  No, not everything just yet.

  I sighed, turning back toward the stairs and heading back up toward the ground floor as my hand shot into my jacket pocket and my fingers ran over the locket and bracelet there. Memories of time gone, and something that told me exactly where I needed to go to get a little more help, or at least confirm this was a terrible joke.

  I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face that yet.