Page 17 of Little Fangs

“Hello, Harlan,” Caleb said, standing tall in his suit, the dark and dull grays in contrast to his pale skin.

“Anything I can you help you guys with?” I asked.

He held his hands up. “It’s just me.”

His friends were hiding in the trees behind him. I’d seen them the last time, and as I looked around the side of Caleb, I noticed them again, almost camouflaged, but their pale skin didn’t really mix with the dark knotty pine bark. And they were looking back at me. “Okay,” I said. “I’ve still not seen or heard anyone come around here. Is he a friend of yours?”

Caleb tilted his head. “He’s like a snake,” he said. “He’ll slither in and before you know it, he’s infected the entire home. So, you wouldn’t mind if I came in and checked your lovely—” He tapped a finger against the wood. “Cabin?”

“I would mind,” I said.

Misty ran forward, out between my legs, hissing at Caleb.

He stumbled back as she pounced on his chest, hissing at him.

The two men in the back came forward. His friends.

“Get your furry beast away from me,” he said.

I snapped my fingers, stepping out of the cabin. “Scared of cats?” I asked. Misty swiped a paw at him, slicing a shirt button free. She leapt off him and scurried back inside.

“They carry disease,” he grumbled, dusting himself off.

The two men approached, asking if he was okay and helping him to his feet.

“Ah, and you said you came alone,” I said. “Well, I don’t believe I have any business with liars. So please, seek help elsewhere.” I stepped back inside as Caleb’s mouth twitched to reveal a fang several times bigger than Micah’s.

“You know, if he’s here, we’ll find out,” he said, glaring at Misty the entire time.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “But maybe threatening people isn’t going to help you make many friends in town.”

He scoffed, turning his head slightly over one shoulder, glancing to the men at his back. I tried to piece together which was which from what Micah had told me. Elias and Harry. They both looked somewhat feral, the way I could see Misty got sometimes when she chased a mouse around. “If you find him, we’ll make sure you’re well rewarded,” he said. “We’ve been in Willow’s End longer than you’ve been alive, so show us some respect.”

“First,” I said, rubbing my thumb over my knuckles and cracking them gently. “You’ve got to respect the land and those who live there. You don’t own this space, so, from my understanding of it, you really shouldn’t be on it.”

He smirked, the side of his lip lifting to show off one fang now. A direct threat, I wondered? “Well, if you know about us, then you’ll know it doesn’t quite work like that. This land is welcoming, unlike a home, which is owned and really—I think is just the universe’s way of giving you humans some form of ability.”

Misty hissed at him again. He flinched slightly. I snapped my fingers at her again. “Come on, these monsters have no place here.”

“You know, there’s something so demonic about a cat like that,” he said before turning his back on us. “We’ll be back, if we haven’t found him. Trust us.” He walked a couple of steps then paused to repeat himself. “We’ll be back.”

I snorted a laugh, wanting to make a joke about him being an Arnold Schwarzenegger knock off. Once inside, I locked the door. Micah was standing in the doorway from the hallway into the living room, just slightly, and never visible from the front door. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, and he tugged it tighter, his skin appearing lighter and his lips pinker.

“Am I a monster too?” he asked.

“What? No.” I said, almost snapping. “You’re far from a monster. Look at you. You’re . . .”

His lips broke into a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re not a monster,” I reiterated. “But those men are, and I’m sorry you ever had to deal with them.”

“I heard them, and it made me feel like I used to.”

I patted the sofa for him to sit on it with me.

We got comfortable together. At first, he started out there beside me, but as we spoke, he laid his head on my shoulder, then it dropped, and before we knew it, he was lying on my lap and my fingers were going through his hair, stroking it delicately, brushing it from his ears and tucking it by his nape.

“How did you turn out so different?” I asked him.