“The bar is so low it’s practically underground,” I said. “Next you’ll be telling me he can tie his own shoes and I should marry him immediately.”
Mika snorted. “Speaking of Prince Charming, did you know he rearranges the milk at the store by expiration date? For fun. On his days off.”
“Okay, that’s serial killer behavior,” Vivi admitted. “But speaking of concerning behavior, did you see they’re calling another town meeting about the animal attacks?”
The coffee suddenly tasted bitter. Five years since the beast destroyed my shop, and Pine Valley had never quite recovered. More silver crosses appeared on doors every month. Curfews got earlier. Pets went missing. The town that used to laugh at its own superstitions now jumped at shadows.
“My grandmother swears she saw yellow eyes in her backyard last week,” Vivi continued, adding sprinkles to her sketched cupcakes. “She’s started keeping a baseball bat by her door. With nails in it.”
“Your grandmother’s five feet tall and uses a walker,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but now she’s armed.”
From the living room, cartoon voices suddenly cut off. The apartment went quiet for about three seconds before two perfectwolf howls filled the air. Not the playful yipping kids usually did when pretending to be dogs. These were pitch-perfect, haunting sounds that made every hair on my body stand up.
We froze mid-conversation, coffee mugs halfway to lips.
“What the fuck was that?” Mika whispered.
Another howl, this one longer, mournful. Then Thea’s excited giggle.
We scrambled out of bed, rushing to the living room to find both twins on their hands and knees in front of the TV, staring transfixed at a nature documentary. Wolves moved across the screen in slow motion, and Rowan tilted his head back for another howl that matched the ones on TV exactly.
“We sound like them, Mama!” Thea bounced excitedly. “Listen!” She howled again, and I had to grab the doorframe to steady myself.
“That’s... very good mimicking,” Vivi managed, but her face had gone pale.
Jesus Christ.
“Hey, who wants pancakes?” I said too brightly. “Let’s turn off the wolf show and make breakfast!”
“But Mama-”
“Pancakes,” I repeated firmly, grabbing the remote. “With chocolate chips.”
The bribe worked, but I caught Mika and Vivi exchanging looks over the twins’ heads. Yeah, I’d be getting an intervention later. Add it to the pile of “shit about my kids I can’t explain.”
The rest of the morning passed with forced normalcy. Pancakes were made and devoured. The twins were corralled into actual clothes. Vivi and Mika had to leave early, both hugging me a little too tight on their way out.
“Call if you need anything,” Mika said meaningfully.
“We’re fine,” I lied.
She didn’t look convinced, but what was she going to say? “Hey, your four-year-olds howl like actual wolves and it’s creepy as hell”? We all pretended everything was normal because the alternative was admitting that nothing had been normal for a long time.
***
The shop was busy when we opened at noon, weekend coffee addicts desperate for their fix. I threw myself into the familiar routine, trying not to think about the morning’s wolfathon. The twins settled into their corner with new coloring books, and for a few hours, I could pretend we were just another normal family running a normal business in a normal town that definitely didn’t have a beast problem.
Near closing time, the coffee shop had emptied except for the last stragglers nursing their drinks. Mrs. Patterson held court by the window with two other older women, their voices carrying clearly across the space.
“Five years since that thing destroyed these very windows,” Mrs. Patterson announced with the drama of someone auditioning for community theater. She gestured at the replaced glass. “And now pets disappearing, strange howls at night. Mark my words, they’re coming back.”
I wiped tables with more force than necessary, the cloth squeaking against the already clean surface. Fear-mongering old biddies. As if we needed more paranoia in this town.
“My neighbor’s cat hasn’t come home in three days,” one of her companions added. “And there were tracks by the garbage bins. Too big for dogs.”
“The mayor needs to do more than call meetings,” Mrs. Patterson declared. “We need hunters. Protection. These beasts are getting bolder.”
