I draw in a breath, my head jolting from its position on the couch. For a second I wonder where I am, then the brief sense of sleep-amnesia passes. I stretch, slowly rising from the cushions. I shuffle across the room to the front window, nearly tripping on my favorite bunny slippers.

It’s dark and wet out, gray clouds laying over the sky like a blanket. With a slight sinking feeling in my stomach, I realize I’m already way past late. Not even bothering to check the time, I sigh and return to the couch.

My conscience gets the best of me and I glance at the clock on the mantle. It’s well after one a.m. Crap, I missed “Jeopardy” and everything else.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP.

I turn toward the door, eyebrows creeping up my forehead. Who could be knocking at this hour? I’m not expecting anyone and it’s well past the time a package would be delivered.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP.

“Coming!” I call, my bathrobe swooshing as I walk. My hand grips the cold doorknob and I whip it open.

A young man stands on my rain-dampened porch, his forehead drenched in sweat. He’s breathing hard, and glancing over his shoulder. When he sees me, he wheezes out a sigh of relief. He rests hands on his knees, and his long legs shake from exertion. He’s probably a good runner.

“Please,” he says. The temporary wave of relief gone from his haunted face. “I need somewhere to hide.”

“Come in, come in.” I smile warmly, glancing outside to make sure no one followed him before shutting the door behind us.

I usher him into my humble but cozy living room. “Please, take a seat.” The lanky man sits on the couch where I was only moments before, his legs so long that his bouncing knees pop up above the couch cushion. His hands are shaking a little, and he fists them in his lap.

“You look like you’ve had quite a scare. Would you like some tea?” I ask. “Or water? I made cookies this afternoon if you’d like some.”

“Huh?” He looks at me blankly.

“I’ve heard sugar is good after a shock.”

He nods, still collecting himself. “Oh, okay. Thank you.” He’s already caught his breath, indicating he must be pretty athletic. I hope whoever it was that riled him is long gone.

When I emerge from the kitchen with a tray of cookies and two cups of tea, he’s tugging at the neck of his jacket.

“You can take that off, if you like,” I say while placing the tray on the coffee table. I take a seat on the striped, antique chair angled next to the couch.

“No, thanks.” The man shifts uncomfortably in his seat, uncertainty cascading off him in waves.

“Oh, forgive my manners. I’m Gregor Lancaster, but you can call me Greg.” I hold out my hand for him to shake.

His larger hand clasps my smaller, wider one. “You wouldn’t know me,” the young man says. “I recently moved into an apartment down the street. My name’s Anthony. Just Anthony.”

I know where he means, there’s a new complex a few blocks away. “Nice to meet you, Just Anthony.” I chuckle at my own wit. “So, why do you need somewhere to hide? I didn’t see anyone chasing you.”

“Anyone?”  A high-pitched laugh escapes him. “No, what I saw was more like anything.”

“What happened?” I ask, hoping to make him comfortable enough to talk.

“I left work, and like usual, it was late.. Really late -- I’m a bartender. I’m trying to pay off my loans so I can get a real job…” He stops himself. “But that doesn’t matter. Anyway, whenever I get home at this time the good parking spots are usually taken, and I have to walk past this alleyway separating my building from the next one over.”

“Oh, I know where you mean,” I say. “I saw a bunch of stray cats in there once.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Most nights I never get the creeps when I walk by. This wasn’t like most nights. This time, something felt off.  I heard a strange murmuring of voices before reaching the alleyway, and hesitated, pressing my back against the wall so I could listen better.”

“Why?” I asked. “Were you worried about people gathering?”

Anthony nodded. “There’s been a few break-ins of parked cars in the area. Any sensible person would have ran, found another way home, or called the police.”

This is the first I’ve heard of the break-ins and it makes me glad I have a garage. “Then why didn’t you?” I ask.

He shrugs. “When I was next to the alley, the sensible answer didn’t seem like the best one.

“I stood there, shivering. I leaned my head around the corner so I could see what was going on, the bright lights from the streetlights seeping into the alley. There were about a dozen of them, all dressed in large hoodies of some sort, the fabric covering most of their faces.”

“Definitely sounds like a gang,” I remark, anxiety building in my gut.

“Wait until you hear what they were doing! All right, so a few were sitting on old garbage cans, others leaned against the wall or stood next to each other. One figure in particular caught my eye.  He wore a large, green sweatshirt and appeared to be the leader of the group. He did a headcount. When the person in the green hoodie finished, he called out quietly to the group to get their attention.

“‘One’s missing,’ he said. ‘Has anyone seen Lanny?’ The others shook their heads or called out no. Then the leader said, ‘Well, If he doesn’t come in the next few minutes, we’ll go without him.’

“Without him?” I ask, but I guess that makes sense.

“Crazy, right? I don’t know what it meant either. But when I pressed against the wall again, waiting, a chill raced down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Whatever these people were doing, they had to do it in secret. Only then did I consider calling the police. I took my phone out of my pocket, but stopped. I had no idea if anything going on in this alley was illegal or not. I mean, it’s technically not illegal to meet in an alley late at night, right?”

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

“So I put the phone away, trying to figure out what to do. I considered sneaking through the parking lot, using the cars to hide my presence, but before I could decide, the leader of the mysterious group spoke again.

“‘Guess he isn’t coming,’ he said ‘Alright guys, it’s safe to change.’

“At this point, I don’t know what made me stand still -- I was either so amazed I was curious, or starting to feeling numb from the fear. Either way, it’s safe to say it was a dumb decision to look back into the dark, wet alleyway.”

“Then what happened?” I lean forward in the chair.

“I’m getting there.” Anthony folds his lean, muscular arms across his chest, calmer now with the retelling of the story. “When the leader said change, I didn’t think much of it, so I looked around the corner once again, only to be greeted by something I can only describe as supernatural.”

“Supernatural?” I say, the doubt in my voice clear as day. I’m not so sure I like where this conversation is going.

He nods, barreling forward in his enthusiasm to get the story out. “The whole group started taking off their hoodies. I don’t know what I expected to see -- tee-shirts, maybe? Except what I saw wasn’t another layer of clothes. I saw...fur.”

“Fur?” I blink in surprise.

“Yeah,” Anthony says. “Longish, thick fur. All of them had fur covering their bodies in varying shades. And their heads... oh God, their heads. When everyone took their hoodies off, their skulls started changing. They were no longer human, they looked  canine.” He closes his eyes, like he’s trying to recall the details exactly. “No, definitely not dogs. Wolves. Though their bodies and heads were that of a wolf, their eyes were as human as could be.

“I was so shocked, I started to edge away and tripped on the lip of the sidewalk. I managed to catch myself before falling, but those things heard me. They could probably smell my fear as well. Then the leader turned her large, silver wolf-head in my direction, ears perked up and alert.

“Finally, I did what I should have done when I first heard them. I ran.

“I sprinted as fast as I could, not looking back, splashing through the small puddles with all the speed I could muster. I didn’t have to run far to reach my place, but as I approached the building, I decided it wasn’t the best idea to head straight home, in case they were following me. So instead, I headed this way, toward the larger houses outside the apartment complex.”

I chuckle. “You must be a good runner, then.”

Anthony scoffs. “Well, I had to be in order to get away from them.” He grabs his cooling tea from the coffee table and downs it one quick gulp. “Speaking of which,” he says with a tremor in his voice, “the clouds parted briefly while I was racing away. A full moon was shining overhead, and that’s when I realized something. These wolf-people…” He pauses and looks up at me. “They were actually werewolves.”

Anthony the tall, young bartender, shrugs off his coat, and sits back on the couch, looking like he’s getting comfortable after finally relaying his ordeal to someone else. “And that’s how I ended up here. I’ll probably leave later tonight, once it’s safe to go.” Anthony smiles, his relief genuine.

“You don’t think you should call the cops?” I ask, one brow quirking up while I study the young man.

He shakes his head, “They wouldn’t believe me.” The corners of his mouth tip up once again. “I can tell you probably don’t believe me either, but are just being nice. Thanks for understanding and listening.”

He’s smart, I’ll give him that. “No problem.” I smile back, showing off my large, pointed teeth. “But Anthony, I’m afraid you know too much.” I stand and push my warm robe off, stepping out of my slippers while I stare at the strong young man.

“What are you--?”

Anthony never finishes his sentence. He’s petrified with terror as he watches me shift. I welcome the familiar sensation of fur sprouting out of my cheeks and neck, the elongation of my jaw, and my nails transforming into claws. Though I cannot smile as a wolf, anyone can see the grin in my eyes that are still, so undeniably, human.

I pounce on the young bartender before he has a chance to react, easily finding a soft spot on his shoulder where I can bite deep into his skin, his body no longer protected by his thick coat.

His face twists in agony. I let go, leaving deep wounds becoming redder by the second. Anthony crumples on the couch, awkwardly sliding off to the carpet. He clutches his bleeding shoulder, breathing heavily.

Damn, it will be hard to get the blood stains out of my couch. I should have waited ‘til he tried to run for the door. The rug would have been easier to clean.

He lets out a loud groan, agony twisting his face. “W-why would you…” Anthony’s hands are red from his feeble attempts to stop the bleeding. He’s shaking again.

The young man stares at me, perhaps wondering where the pleasant man he came to for help went -- the man wearing a bathrobe and bunny slippers who gave him homemade cookies and tea when he was scared.

When I transform, I’m no longer that man. Now I am Lanny, one of the alphas in the local werewolf pack.

We have a code: Protect the pack at all costs.

That includes taking care of anyone who finds out, as they could be a threat to the pack’s safety. But Anthony has proven that he’s strong and fast by making it here alive before the rest of the pack could find him.

I believe, with the right training, he could be a valuable addition to the pack, and I’m willing to make an exception to our stringent rules about turning others. I will not kill Anthony tonight, for he has been selected to become something more, something he never bargained for when he stopped by that alley tonight.

I examine Anthony as he stares unbelievingly up at me. “Welcome to the club.”