As he was about to move, a howl split the air. Loud and soulful, it lasted for several seconds and sent fear jolting up his spine.
Kit didn’t wait to see what creature had made the noise.
He ran.
TWO
Quin
Mabel whined at Quin,even as he scratched her head to placate her. He felt awful enough at leaving her so soon after adopting her, and the whining made it worse. However, having her close over the following nights posed too great a risk.
Louie—the young man whom Quin had hired to dog-sit Mabel—cooed at her from his doorway before addressing Quin. “What a sweet little lady you have there. Seems like she’ll miss you. Going anywhere nice?”
“Just out of town for a few days,” Quin said. “On business.” He knew he sounded cryptic but didn’t care. He knelt down, getting to eye level with Mabel, and pressed his forehead to hers, hands playing with her soft, honey-coloured ears. “It’s all right, Mabel. I’ll be coming back to get you soon.”
Her tail wagged half-heartedly.
Quin stood up. He dwarfed Louie, who wasn’t particularly short himself. But Quin wasn’t just tall; he was big and wide and lumbering, and so he hunched his shoulders as he reeled off Mabel’s care instructions. The last thing he wanted to do was intimidate the man he was relying upon to look after her.
“Oh, and she’ll need her daily grooming,” he added, once he’d finished relaying everything he’d learned over the past couple of weeks.
“Of course,” Louie said, head bobbing. “I’ve looked after several cocker spaniels before. And I don’t have any other animals booked in either, so she’ll be able to settle into the house just fine. No extra stressors.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Do you want to come in for a cuppa? Do a quick recce of the place to see if you’re happy with it?”
Quin checked the time. A good few hours till sundown, and he had plenty to do. Still, he could ensure the house was the right fit for Mabel. He’d seen the photos, but it wouldn’t hurt to see it in person. “Sounds good to me.”
Louie gave him a blinding smile, which Quin thought made him look like he was posing for a school photo. Quin was unsure what exact age Louie was—old enough to run a successful doggy daycare with hundreds of positive reviews, but Quin presumed himself to have at least a decade on the sitter, which would put Louie at around his mid-twenties.
With Mabel at his heels, he followed Louie through the door. He hoped Mabel wouldn’t be too sad by the time he left. He’d always been a sucker for puppy-dog eyes. She’d pleaded him out of a lamb chop or two already, and he had to be mindful of the number of treats he gave her for simply existing.
Louie’s home might have been a former rental, given the ubiquitous magnolia paint on the walls. Quin’s own place had the same yellow-white shade, and he detested it to his core. He wouldn’t have thought of himself as someone to have many opinions on things like wall colour and carpeting, but that was because, until now, he’d never had to think about it for himself.
Instead of dwelling on why he was renting a dreadfully decorated house on the east coast of Scotland rather than livingin North Wales with his pack, Quin focused on surveying the various animal amenities. Dog beds, water bowls, and toys of all types littered the living room.
Mabel settled onto the most garish of dog beds, a leopard print monstrosity large enough to fit a Great Dane. Quin’s senses were heightened around the full moon, and he could make out the specific scents of over ten different animals that had been there recently, and even tell the breeds apart. Chihuahuas in particular gave off a yeasty smell that Quin detested.
“What do you think?” Louie asked. “Mabel looks like she approves.”
“It’s great,” Quin said. He moved over to the sliding glass back door, checking out the well- kept garden.
“Milk? Sugar?”
“Dash of milk and two sugars, please.”
The sofa creaked as Quin sat himself down in the spot nearest to Mabel. He idly scratched Mabel’s head as he ran through his mental to-do list. He’d need to pop to the butcher’s first, though he wasn’t sure what he fancied. Pork, perhaps. Then, he needed to pack a bag and head out into the middle of nowhere before the change hit.
He’d spent the past few weeks scoping out appropriate locations to spend the nights of the full moon. Mabel was a handy excuse to be out wandering the woods and fields, and he’d found a few places that were far enough from civilisation that he could change without worrying about anyone spotting him.
“There you go,” Louie said, brandishing a mug with, Quin should have guessed it, a kitschy pattern of red and blue bones.
“Cheers,” he said, taking an immediate sip and regretting it as the liquid burned his tongue.
“Oh god, are you all right?”
Quin smiled through the pain. “It’s fine,” he said. The spluttering cough he let out gave the game away, however.
