He snapped his head back to me. “You told him you did, right?”
“What does it matter?”
“Because now that yer makin’ the change, yer gonna get a lot more unwanted attention.”
“Yeah, it is a big change, but just because I have a job doesn’t mean I want werewolf roommates.”
“Ya need a werewolf, Cody. No one’s gonna look out for us, so we gotta make our own way.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You bein’ a half-turn.”
I gave him a silent and bewildered stare.
“Shit, I thought you knew. I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately?” He stopped himself and cleared his throat.
“What… the fuck did you do to me, Roscoe?” I looked down at my arms, which were hairier than before. “I thought it was genetic! I’m way too old for this.”
Roscoe shrugged and picked the bag of weed up off the nightstand before rolling another joint. “I didn’t do nothin’. You obviously got the werewolf gene, so let’s celebrate.”
I felt like throwing up.
He nudged my arm with his elbow and passed me the joint. “You need to take a few more hits of this and calm down.”
Chapter 3
An Enchanting Agreement
Isat alone on a weathered wooden bench outside of a run-down café, the morning sun partially obscured by clouds. Or maybe it was smog. I wasn’t sure. This was a part of the city I never wanted to end up in, but if this was going to be my life, then I had to find places that would accept a half-turn.
Part of me wanted to break down crying, but the rest was still catching up to my new reality. It was like coming out of the closet all over again, only this time I had no control over it.
Even though my affliction wasn’t obvious yet, I still felt embarrassed enough to hide. My black hoodie and mirrored aviator sunglasses did a good job hiding the thicker body hair and weird orange tint to my irises. My shoes had grown a bit tighter, but thankfully everything else still fit.
I didn’t wake Roscoe before leaving, and I didn’t care anymore if he stayed in my apartment alone. In fact, it became increasingly harder to care about anything. It wouldn’t be long before I was the smelly, vodka-soaked monster at the bus stop, pestering strangers for money.
“Are you gonna come in and order something?” a deep voice called out from inside the building. The door had been propped open with a small trash can that hadn’t been emptied. For a place that served food, it should have been a turn-off, but the werewolves didn’t seem to care.
The last few years of being forced into frugality caused me to hesitate, but what was the point of holding back? I wasn’t about to waste what little money I had left on bills like rent. The moment the property managers found out about this, I’d be gone. They also wouldn’t be legally required to return the rest of my rent or any deposit I’d made.
Flashes ripped through my mind like red lightning as my landlord’s head rolled across the floor, blood dripping from my claws. The scary thing was, I felt like I’d probably do it.
“Fuck it,” I whispered before finally pushing myself off the bench. Every muscle in my body complained at once. Even the walk up here was more exhausting and painful than usual.
As I made my way toward the café counter, several werewolves eyed me, most notably the barista who was tall, silver and surprisingly well-dressed and clean.
“Could I get…” I glanced at the menu on the wall, not knowing the difference between an americano and a cappuccino, but I had always wanted to try something that sounded bougie. “A mocha latte?”
“How do you want it?”
“I don’t know. Mocha-y? Surprise me,” I muttered, trying to stifle my irrational animosity the more I stared at him. It wasn’tas though I hated werewolves, but I wasn’t ready to look my future in the face yet.
The barista got to work on the beverage, and I shuffled to an empty table at the far end of the café, hiding my hands in my pockets and averting my eyes. The place wasn’t as run-down as it looked from outside; in fact, it was kind of cozy. The walls were brick, purposely half-finished with cracked Tuscan stucco, giving the inside a bit of old-world charm. The chairs were antique and solid oak with decades of scratches and wear, while the tabletops had been recently polished.
I lost myself for a moment in the steady, low-fi music trickling through the speakers overhead while staring out the window at the werewolves strolling by. There wasn’t a single car on the road; I started to wonder if I was even in the city anymore. It was like I had walked into a portal where everything smelled better and there weren’t many loud noises.
A cup of hot, foamy liquid slid in front of me, pulling my attention back. The silver-furred barista gave a warm, toothy smile before nodding.
