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I cocked my head to the side. “Whattdya got for me?”
“I caught me something that used to be a deer out in my traps early this morning.”
I nodded. We were getting low on meat. “Sure—that should do.” Then I tapped him on his big, furry shoulder. “You enjoy your breakfast now, Bud.”
“Thank you, Twila, m’dear.”
I smiled, watching him tear into the chicken with gusto. He snorted, wiping food out from his beard (and a wolf with a beard is a definite site to see) and rested his elbows on the table, just like he had before he’d turned into a wolfman.
“You gonna show up to the meetin’ today?” Bud called out to me when I was about to walk away. “Ol’ Ned’s been workin’ on his trap sketches. You oughta see what he’s gotten up to.”
I pursed my lips and sighed—the ‘meeting’ Bud was talking about was a get-together of the local monster hunters in town, and I wasn’t excited to be included among them. “I guess.”
Bud looked up at me. “It’s right important you show up, Twila. You’re a valuable member o’ our team, you are.”
I nodded, because I’d missed their last three meetings and I did feel a certain level of guilt. “After I make sure Sicily’s settled.”
“Feel free to bring ‘er,” Bud said, and I caught the excited glint in his eye before he could hide it. “Maybe she’ll find somethin’ interestin’.”
“Quit tryin’ to squeeze the smart outta my daughter.” I grinned, shaking my head as I patted him on the shoulder again. I’d known Bud all my life, which wasn’t that unusual since I’d been born in Windy Ridge, but he was still like an older brother to me. “I’ll let you know after my shift. Promise.”
Bud nodded, mouth full of poultry, and I continued on to the rest of my patrons. I passed by a stony-looking man who was sitting in a booth three down from Bud and slid him his coffee. ‘Stony’ was a good description, seeing as how his skin was fine granite and gray wings sprouted from his back (he kept them folded while inside the diner). Stony didn’t sip the coffee, instead, he brought it to his nose for a long sniff. Probably still aching for the caffeine even if his intestines were now made out of rock.
The plate I was holding—one full of dirt, leaves, and twigs—I handed to a pretty faun woman who was sitting beside the potted plants at the back of the joint. She gave me a relieved smile as she took it, eyeing the large fronds of the fern with definite hunger. Something wet dropped on my shoulder, and I looked up to see the man-bat hanging from one of the diner’s fluorescent lights. He flashed me an apologetic smile as he licked the juice which was still falling from his lips.
“You gotta get you some real OJ, Twila,” he said as he looked at me and shook his head.
“It ain’t the season for oranges, Cletus,” I answered. “You know that.”
“This Sunny D shit’s gonna ‘cause the death of me.”
“It’s the closest thing to orange juice we got.”
I walked on by as my attention caught on the figure hunched in the corner booth, her head hidden by a mountain of thick textbooks. Now she was probably the most unconventional creature in Windy Ridge.
A brown-haired human I knew as my daughter.
I grinned at Sicily and finished up the rest of my orders before sliding into the booth opposite her with a plate of food. She didn’t look up, and that special frown of hers was fully in place—one that only appeared when she was deeply entrenched in a new book. The girl read more than everyone in Windy Ridge combined—which might have not been saying much ‘cause I was fairly sure a good portion of the population couldn’t read at all.
She jumped when I shoved the toasted ravioli under her nose, followed swiftly by a large glass of water. “Y’know you still have to eat, right?” I asked in my best Ma tone. “If you don’t keep your strength up, something else is gonna end up eatin’you.”
Sicily laughed and made a face at me in reply. “Nah. I can just call for you and you’ll take care of them before they get to me.”
“I’m not able to pop outta thin air, Sicily,” I said, tapping the plate with my finger. “Eat.”
She rolled her eyes, but then did as I’d ordered. I, meanwhile, took a glance at the cover of her book, frowning at the title:Real Accounts of Fake Monsters.“I thought we agreed to save the research untilafteryourhomework was done.”
“Homeworkisdone,” Sicily said with a mouthful ofI’m not telling the truth.I raised my eyebrow.
“Sicily.”
“Okay, okay, I didn’t do it yet.” She folded her arms, gesturing to the book. “But c’mon, Mama, this iswaymore important than calculus. What we’re dealing with could change evolution as we know it.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll be sure to tell that to Darwin next time he’s in town.”
“I’m serious, Mama. What if that fog comes back?”
It was the question everyone in town had been asking since the fog came and went. Since it had been over a year, I didn’t think it was a worry we needed to have any longer. “You know as well as I do that that darned fog isn’t coming back.”
