Page 58 of Fang Fatale

Blue television light.

Warm candlelight.

Tiny reminders that most people still believe the night belongs to them.

At the edge of the forest, I stop.

Listen.

The trees gossip with the wind.

Somewhere nearby, two raccoons conduct what sounds like an increasingly hostile argument over half a sandwich.

Nothing else.

Nothing obvious.

Which worries me more.

Shifters are good at hiding.

They're even better at waiting.

Button Cottage waits ahead, warm light spilling from its windows.

Every curtain drawn.

Like Birdie still believes curtains are enough to keep monsters outside.

I circle behind the cottage, avoiding the front path.

The frog in the little glazed pond watches me with the smug satisfaction of someone who's already judged my life choices.

I tap softly on the kitchen window.

A moment later Birdie appears.

She studies my face.

Then the darkness behind me.

Then my face again.

"You skipped coffee."

The words catch me off guard.

I blink.

"You noticed?"

A tiny shrug.

"You always stop by after a bad night."

She opens the door.

"So..."