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If anything, I considered myself an ally. A protector. I saved lives every day. I endeavored to be a good man.
A good monster.
That didn’t stop many people from fearing me, though.
Hellhounds were some of the rarest and most dangerous monsters in the world. As the name implied, we were creatures birthed in the fires of the underworld, and many people assumed that because of this, we were inherently evil.
And while that may have been true for some of my kind, it wasn’t the case for me. I intentionally left that life behind so that I could do good in the human realm instead.
It wasn’t long before I found myself commanding a team of some of the best firefighters in the city, and I did so by being an exemplar of bravery, duty, and selflessness. This team was madeup almost exclusively of monsters, yet they were some of the best men I knew.
Though we were technically supposed to be treated like any other firefighting unit, Dispatch would often send us to any fires of suspicious paranormal origins. That didn’t bother me, though. Some monsters truly were a menace, and it was better that beasts like me, Baptiste, and the rest of us faced them.
But while most of monsterkind did good, the prejudice was still there. The distrust. It was almost always present, even years after the Great Unveiling. Even though so many humans came to learn that some of their closest friends and family members were monsters all along, it still didn’t make it any easier for a lot of them to accept us.
Which was why my beast was so excited when I smelled Zoe.
It knew she was attracted to me before I even had the slightest idea, thanks to its keen senses.
I needed to see her again. To talk to her again. To breathe in that intoxicating scent of hers and hear her sweet voice.
But how could I do that without seeming like I was stalking her? It wasn’t like we frequented the same places…
The only reason I had met her in the first place was because Baptiste had called me over to try some gumbo. And while I was thankful for his meddling, I couldn’t just go back and casuallyorder another bowl without it being obvious I’d been looking all over town for her food truck.
I sighed and leaned back in my office chair, rubbing at my eyes.
It had been three days since I’d last seen her, and I hadn’t slept much since. I couldn’t keep going on like this.
The guys had made such a big deal over the fact that I liked her food, so maybe it wouldn’t seem so weird to her if I went back for more?
The problem was finding her.
A hellhound’s sense of scent was good—perhaps among the best of any monster. But this city was overwhelming with its aromas, with hundreds of restaurants, bars, bakeries, and cafes as far as the eye could see, not to mention all the seafood that was processed at the ports. It was hard enough trying to track down the source of one particular scent in all this chaos, let alone a moving food truck that was probably parked in a different location every day.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair once more, wondering what I should do next.
…There always was the Internet.
I groaned. Most of the guys called me “Old Man” because of how hopelessly bad I was at anything involving computers and touchscreens. I supposed I was an old man though, at least byhuman standards. I was at least a couple of decades older than I looked, as hellhounds aged slower than the typical human.
Regardless, I was at the end of my 24-hour shift and would have the next two days off after that. So now would be the time to do some investigating.
I booted up the office terminal and opened up a search engine, slowly typing in “Miss Gumbo’s Food Truck” before hitting the enter key with my index finger.
The computer took a few seconds to load the results, then displayed a list of websites and social media pages that matched my search criteria.
I clicked on the first link, which brought me to a Facebook page for Miss Gumbo’s Food Truck. It had fifteen likes. Even I knew that was pretty sad.
How in the world was she not one of the best-known food trucks in town?
I scrolled down the page, stopping when I saw a picture of Zoe and what looked to be her grandmother. The picture must’ve been a couple of years old, as the truck was behind them and looking a bit shinier than the rough shape it was in now. But Zoe was still just as beautiful as I remembered. Her smile was bright, her eyes full of joy. And that grandmother of hers looked like a sharp-eyed, clever old woman.
I scrolled through some of the comments, seeing how people raved about the food. At least the few fans she had appreciated her talents.
Then I noticed that she’d posted an update just an hour before.
I clicked on it and read through the post. She was letting everyone know she’d be out in front of Lafayette Square for the rest of the day, and that she was excited to be collaborating with a local bakery, featuring a fresh roll with each bowl.
