Page 3 of Howl Will I Know

“Hewit.”

I glance toward the counter. Mr. Penumbra stands there holding a paper sack beneath one arm. He’s narrow, gray, and permanently irritated by the existence of other people, which makes him one of the few residents of Screaming Woods whose company I can tolerate.

He inclines his head once. I do the same. Conversation concluded.

Marnie watches us from behind the counter. “It’s beautiful,” she sighs, pressing a hand over her heart.

Penumbra turns his head slowly. “What?”

“This friendship.”

He considers her for a moment, adjusts the sack under his arm, and walks out without another word.

I finish my eggs.

Marnie looks between me and Mr. Penumbra’s retreating back. “Honestly, you two should get together more.”

I ignore her sarcasm and focus on my food.

By eight, the diner is filling up. That’s my cue. My routine isn’t complicated. Breakfast, work, then home. Sometimes, I visit the Cartographorium if Penumbra has a map set aside for me. Groceries on Tuesdays. Marcel’s when I need enough meat to keep my wolf from making his opinions known.

I don’t go to festivals. I don’t attend town meetings unless legally required. Don’t linger in shops. Don’t date. That last one hasn’t been difficult. There were attempts, years ago. Mine, mostly, before I understood.

A woman would smile. I’d try to smile back. She’d move closer, and my wolf would recoil so violently that I’d feel sick. Wrong scent. Wrong touch. Wrong everything. Once, a woman kissed me, and I shifted halfway through it. Nothing says romance like claws ripping through your own kitchen counter.

I stopped trying after that, and no one asks anymore.

I put cash beneath the edge of my plate and stand. A chair scrapes somewhere behind me, and my head turns. The man who pushed it back freezes. He’s maybe twenty-five. Tourist. Human.

I look away.

He releases a relieved breath.

Outside, the morning has burned through the thin layer of fog hanging over Nightjar Row. I climb into my truck and roll the windows down before pulling away from the curb. Three blocks, left at the square, past Bloom and Bane. I don’t stop. That’s the plan.

I make it twenty feet when the wolf wakes up.

Every muscle in my body locks, and I hit the brakes hard enough to jolt against the seat belt. Christ, it feels like a shift coming without warning, despite years of control.

I’ve never felt him like this. Not once. For one violent second, I think something is wrong. Danger. Threat. But my heartbeat slows instead of speeding, and the noise of the street seems to fade around me.

A delivery truck rolls past, and someone calls a greeting. The Lucky Bean door opens, and the smell of coffee spills onto the sidewalk.

None of it matters because something else is in the air. Warm and sweet. Not perfume, exactly.

My head turns toward the scent. Across Nightjar Row, a woman stands beside a car loaded with enough boxes to suggest a permanent move. I see honey-brown hair caught by the morning sun. A soft yellow sweater. She has one hand resting on the roof of the car as she looks around at Screaming Woods, her eyes wide.

Then she smiles. Not at me. She hasn’t seen me yet.

My wolf rises inside me and rumbles one word.

Mine.

Fuck.

Chapter 2

Nora