I’ve posted My Cat, a Genius (remember that one?), and, after that, While I Was Polishing My Nails. Now comes another story with the girl and her cat Azazel (you can read this story without reading the previous ones, it was meant to stand on its own). Her little brother is not in this one, but some new characters are. I hope you like them, and I hope you like the story (this one is a bit longer, about 5,000 words).
I noticed the boy the first day I moved in. A skinny thirteen-year-old kid with black hair and gray eyes, always in the company of a little girl who couldn’t be more than three. A cute little girl, too; one of those whom you’d describe as an angel, or a doll perhaps. You can find pics of children like her in some magazines: kids with golden hair and bright blue eyes and angelic little faces. It’s quite rare to see children like that in real life.
Anyway, during the next few weeks, whenever I saw the boy, he was with the little girl, except when he was on his way to school. I found it a bit odd – didn’t he have some friends? Social life? None of my business, I figured.
As I’m not exactly a sociable person myself, I barely knew any of my new neighbors. One of them, an old man who had introduced himself as Mr. Petrovic, saw me watching the boy and the doll-like girl, and said:
“His name’s Philip, and the little one is Amelia. She was named after her grandmother. Their parents, good folk, got killed in a car crash. Their older brother, Thomas, works himself to death in order to feed them, but they can’t afford a babysitter, so it’s up to Philip to take care of his little sister.”
I didn’t ask, I thought, but said nothing.
“Well, at least the boy will learn some responsibility,” Mr. Petrovic said. I said nothing.
“You don’t agree?” he said.
“How old is he?”
“Philip? Thirteen. Why?”
“I think he should have some time for himself.”
“You don’t think he should learn some responsibility, girl?”
“I don’t think you can force people to be responsible. They’d just hate it. And besides, children should have some time for themselves. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Children should learn discipline, girl. Your parents have obviously failed to teach you some. Let me tell you something. I’ve been watching you, and I must tell you: I won’t tolerate Satanists and their wicked ways around here!”
I just had to laugh. Mr. Petrovic frowned.
“What’s so funny, young lady?”
“I’m not much of a lady,” I said. “I’m not a Satanist, either.”
“Do you really think I’m blind? I may be old, but I’m not blind yet, girl. You’re always in black, but you’re not mourning anyone. You disrespect your elders. You have a black cat. You never turn the lights off at night. I’ve heard you, girl! I’ve heard you addressing Azazel! Do you think I don’t know Azazel is a demon?”
“Azazel is my cat. Really, Mr. Petrovic, I think you should try to get some sleep, instead of spying on people. My clothes or my lights are none of your business.”
“I make everything suspicious my business, girl,” he said. Well, that’s your problem, I thought. “So what are you doing so late at night, if you’re not sleeping like a good young girl should?”
I thought of telling him again it was none of his business, or, perhaps, something silly, like I was afraid of dark. Or that his question was indiscreet and really inappropriate for a man of his age. Instead, I just told him the truth.
“I read. Or I write.”
“Oh? What is it you write?”
“Stories. Poetry. Horror, mostly. That’s how I earn my living.”
“Oh. You’re a writer, then. An artist.”
One of those. You can get away with anything if you say you’re an artist, as far as they’re concerned. I could really be a Satanist and sacrifice little children, and as long as I say it’s my form of art, it would be all right for him. I could have told him I was a student, too, but this worked better. Good for me.
He left, looking embarrassed.
“He’s really boring, isn’t he?” a voice asked. I turned around. Philip was standing a few yards away; the little girl was in his arms.
“That he is,” I said.
“I’m Philip. You’re new here, right?”
“Yup. I already know your name. She’s Amelia, your parents died in a car crash, you have an older brother and his name is…”
“Thomas, yeah,” Philip rolled his eyes. “I see he bored you to death. He’s wrong about one thing, though. No one calls her Amelia, except for him.”
“Amy?” I guessed. Philip nodded. The little girl looked at me for the first time. If I was fond of little children, I’d find her adorable. Being who I am, I was more interested in the fact that her eyes seemed yellow for a moment.
“Meow,” we all heard. Azazel stood next to me, watching Philip and Amy.
“Yours?” Philip asked.
“He lives with me, yeah. His name is Azazel,” I said. Azazel stared at Amy. She didn’t look away, though, like almost everyone would. She quietly studied him.
“Does he like Amy, or does he want to eat her?” Philip asked. I laughed. Some people do find Azazel disturbing. Most people, actually. I’m not sure why. Don’t annoy him, and he won’t even notice you exist.
“Don’t worry, he doesn’t eat people,” I said.
“What does he eat?”
“Normal cat food,” I said. “What else?”
Amy looked away, but not because Azazel scared her. She saw something.
“Dog lady,” she said. Her voice was as cute as her face. I turned to look. An elderly woman, in her early sixties perhaps, was walking down the street. Several dogs were with her; one looked like a Doberman, the rest of them looked like mongrels, all pretty big. I counted. Nine dogs.
“It’s Mrs. Milic,” Philip said. “She used to be an apothecary, but she’s retired now. She takes in stray dogs, and feeds them and takes care of them. Better watch your cat, though.”
“She teaches them to hunt cats. That’s why there are no cats around here. They’re either dead or they ran away.”
“Really,” I murmured.
“Hide him now! The Doberman has spotted him!” Philip was beginning to panic. “Please!”
The Doberman had indeed noticed Azazel, and moved forward, barking and calling to his companions. The ex-apothecary saw this and smiled. I smiled, too.
“Don’t worry, Azazel can take care of himself,” I said.
“Against nine big dogs?” Philip asked. Azazel was licking his paws, ignoring the barking. Amy watched with interest.
“No problem,” I said. Philip didn’t seem to believe me. Dogs were getting closer, slowing down now, confused at the sight of a cat who refused to acknowledge them.
“I just don’t want to see another cat torn to pieces,” Philip said miserably.
The Doberman was in front of Azazel. Azazel turned his back on the dog. The Doberman growled. Azazel ignored him. The Doberman growled again. The rest of the pack arrived.
Azazel turned and looked at the Doberman. They stared at each other for a moment. Azazel didn’t move, didn’t try to attack, anything. He just looked at the dog.
The Doberman yelped and ran away. The rest of the pack followed, barking in fear. Philip stared in disbelief. Amy clapped. Azazel grinned at her. Amy smiled back.
I thought no one knew when Azazel smiled.
“Cool,” Philip finally said. “I mean, that was great! I mean… What is he?”
“A cat,” I shrugged. “Azazel. You won’t find another like him, though.”
“I’m sure of that… Uh-oh.”
I followed Philip’s gaze. The dog lady was coming.
“What have you done to my dogs?” she demanded.
“Nothing. They came here and ran away. We did nothing to them,” I said. Philip tried to look smaller, less noticeable. Amy stared at the woman.
“Ran away? From three kids and a cat? They should have torn that cat to pieces!”
“Why do you teach them to attack cats?” I asked.
“Why? You want to know why, child?”
“I’m nineteen, I’m not a child,” I replied. “And yes, I want to know why.”
“Because I hate the bloody beasts, that’s why.”
“Why do you hate them? What’s wrong with cats?”
“They’ll never listen to you. They’ll never obey you, like a dog would. They just do what they want. They’re bloody traitors.”
“They will listen to you, sometimes, if you ask them nicely. It’s true you can’t order them around like dogs, but that doesn’t make them traitors.”
“You think you know everything, don’t you, child? You’re as ungrateful as every child in this corrupted world. I’ll find out what you did to my dogs, and then you’ll see!”
The woman stormed away, calling her animals.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” I asked no one in particular.
“I don’t know, but please don’t swear in front of Amy,” Philip said.
“Sorry,” I replied automatically, not feeling sorry at all. She’ll hear swearing all the time, anyway.
“I better be going now,” Philip said.
“Sure,” I replied, not really listening to him. What a woman. So, that’s why there were no cats in the neighborhood. I wondered why I never saw her before. Probably because I was going out only to attend classes and to buy groceries. Azazel was not likely to enjoy the area without cats, at least the female ones. Not likely at all.
Late at night, I thought I could hear barking and growling. Probably just my imagination – I don’t like cat-hunting dogs – but Azazel seemed restless too.
“Well, we can’t kill her,” I told him. He didn’t seem happy to hear that. He climbed into my lap and let out a low growl.
“I know, I don’t like it either,” I said and scratched him. After a while, he relaxed, began to purr and finally fell asleep.
A few days later, Philip came to my door.
“I’ve asked around a bit,” he said. “About what could be wrong with Mrs. Milic. Folks don’t like talking about her much, she has a bad temper.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said. “About the temper, I mean.”
“Well, it seems her children didn’t like her temper, either. She has a son and a daughter, but they both left when they were fourteen or fifteen, something like that – that was before I was even born – and they never even called.”
“Are you sure they left?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, with her temper, are you sure she didn’t kill them or something?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you you shouldn’t be saying things like that to a kid? I could get a trauma, or something,” he said.
“I’ve read that in a magazine, yeah. I never pay much attention to what they say in them, though. They change it every week anyway.”
“Oh. Well, no, I’m not sure she didn’t kill them.”
“Dog lady didn’t kill,” Amy said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“No smell of kill,” Amy said.
“Amy smelled which apartment is yours,” Philip said.
“Azazel,” Amy said.
“Well, yeah. She said you were a witch, so she couldn’t smell your place if you didn’t want it, but she could smell Azazel,” Philip said, looking a bit confused. “Are you really a witch?”
“Depends on what you’re asking. I don’t fly on a broomstick or eat little children.”
“No, I mean… You can do stuff.”
“Sort of. Well, don’t stand at the door, come in. Want some Coke?”
“That’d be cool,” Philip said, then stopped as I was closing the door. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Angela,” I said. Philip laughed.
“Cool name for a witch,” he said.
“It’ll be cool if you don’t start asking stupid questions,” I said.
“I’ll try not to,” Philip said. I brought them Cokes.
You can’t always find food in my place, except for cat food, but you can always find Coke and Nescafe. Caffeine will probably kill me some day, but I don’t intend to live forever, anyway.
“Is there anything you can do about Mrs. Milic?” Philip asked.
“Like what?” I asked.
“I dunno, something to stop her,” Philip paused. “I really like cats. Dogs are okay, too, but… We had a cat, a yellow one, we called her Sorsha, after that woman…”
“…from Willow, yes,” I said. Philip brightened a bit.
“Yeah. I rented the movie and watched it with Amy, and when we picked that cat from the street, Amy wanted to call her Sorsha. I don’t know how much she understood from the movie, but she sure liked the name. Anyway, the dogs killed Sorsha. And there are no cats around here anymore, except for your Azazel.”
Philip stopped as Azazel jumped into my lap.
“I didn’t even see him coming,” Philip said.
“You can’t notice him unless he wants to be noticed. Stop looking at me that way, every cat on the planet can do the same,” I said.
“Oh. So, can you stop Mrs. Milic somehow? Please?”
“No need to beg me. From what you’ve told me, the only way to stop that woman would be to kill her. Or to have the patience of Christ and treat her really nice and heal her mentally. I don’t have the slightest idea how to do the latter.” I paused. “Doesn’t anyone around here care to stop her?”
“No, not really. People who had cats were angry at the start, but now everyone is used to it. Why should they care?”
“Because if you teach dogs to rip something to pieces, not just to hunt it but to rip it to pieces, they won’t stop at cats. And since they ran out of cats…”
“They’ve never attacked anyone,” Philip said. “They scared some kids with their barking, but they didn’t really attack anyone.”
“Yet. And that apothecary seems to like children as much as she likes cats”
Philip got very pale.
“Amy,” he murmured. I didn’t feel too concerned about Amy, though.
“Or you. You can’t do much against nine big dogs if they’re determined to kill you,” I said. I paused to gather my thoughts.
“We can’t do anything legally,” I said. “It’s illegal to own more than three dogs in the city area, unless you have a special permission, but she doesn’t own them, she just put those blue and red collars on them to mark that they’re fed and cared for and sterilized. There’s no limit for that. It’s impossible to prove that she made the dogs kill the cats, so no cat owner can sue her. So there’s nothing we can do to stop her.”
“Please,” Philip said.
“I told you not to beg. We can talk to some people around here and tell them their children might be in danger. You’re thirteen, so they’re not likely to listen to you, and I look as if I was thirteen, so they’re not likely to listen to me either, but we can try. And there’s one more thing we can try.”
“To teach the dogs not to attack cats,” I said.
“Azazel will do his part, I’m sure. And since he’s around, there will probably be some new cats in the area soon. Whenever you see a dog trying to attack a cat, pick a rock and throw it at the dog.”
“Won’t it attack me?”
“They’re not attacking people yet, and it’s their instinct to be afraid of rocks thrown at them. It’s the same
with dogs as with other animals: if you can convince them you’re stronger and more dangerous, they’ll run away.”
“But I’m not stronger. And they’re all heavier than me.”
“They don’t know that. And they can’t judge your weight just by seeing you; they judge by height. They’ll see you as a bigger dog, more or less; you just have to convince them that’s correct, and they won’t attack.”
“Okay,” Philip said. “I’ll try.”
Azazel purred at that. I smiled. Philip and Amy smiled too. Brave kid.
I talked to Mr. Petrovic the same afternoon. I did my best to look cute and serious, something I’m usually successful at, but Mr. Petrovic simply refused to believe me. He was a dog person and didn’t think dogs would attack anyone. He also told me Mrs. Milic was a decent, honest woman who had suffered much, and I shouldn’t be telling bad things about her. That was enough for me. I don’t judge anyone’s taste, or the lack of it, but when a guy is using something other than his brain for thinking, it’s useless to talk to him.
I tried to talk to several other people, with the same results. I was new in their neighborhood and I looked like a kid; it was enough to convince them I didn’t know what I was talking about.
Philip had the same success. People thought he was cute, so concerned about his little sister, but didn’t take him seriously. Adults. Sometimes I wondered who invented them and whatever for.
Our other mission, to teach the dogs it was really bad idea to kill cats, was more successful. Azazel was doing his part great; it took him just a few days to convince the pack to run away as soon as they saw him. He did it without a single fight; without a single scratch, for that matter. Amy smiled whenever she saw him.
As I predicted, new cats arrived, much to Azazel’s pleasure. And Philip kept his word and threw rocks at every dog even growling at a cat. It worked. Within a month, the pack stopped attacking the cats. They’d growl sometimes, but nothing worse than that. Some people even bought new cats.
Azazel worked hard to increase the cat population. At home, he mostly slept.
Mrs. Milic was furious. She kept threatening me; her threats were mostly of the you’ll get yours type. I ignored her. That got her even more furious, I guess. I’m not sure; I didn’t pay attention. Perhaps I should have. Perhaps some things wouldn’t have happened if I had paid more attention.
Nah. I couldn’t really change anything.
You see, Mrs. Milic saw Philip throwing rocks at the dogs. She yelled at him. He was raised to be polite, so polite he remained. She threatened him. He was still polite. She threatened Amy. That’s when he stopped being polite. He said some things to her – he didn’t tell me exactly what, he just told me he was rude – and she stormed away. She came to his house, later, when Thomas got back from work.
I don’t think Thomas acted like a bad guy, really. But he did work all day, and he was tired and didn’t want to be bothered. And he had never cared about cats. He didn’t mind having cats in the neighborhood, but he didn’t miss them when they were gone, either. So when Mrs. Milic complained to him that Philip was rude to her and said some words a kid of his age shouldn’t even know of (which is stupid, but never mind that), Thomas got really angry at Philip.
“He yelled so much after Mrs. Milic left,” Philip told me the day after. He was trying really hard not to cry. “He said all kinds of things. And Amy… She was sitting there and squealing, like a scared puppy. All the time. And he never even paid attention. That was the worst thing about it.”
I didn’t know what to say to him.
“You can cry if you want to,” I told him. “I don’t mind. Just don’t expect me to comfort you; I’ve never learned how.”
“I won’t cry,” he said. He was holding Amy. She looked unhappy and reached out to touch him. “I won’t cry.”
“You better try to cheer up then, you’re disturbing her,” I said. He looked at Amy and tried to smile. Amy smiled back at him, uncertainly.
“Yeah. I’ll try. Listen, I can’t throw rocks at dogs anymore. Thomas is really mad at me.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “They don’t attack cats anymore, and I’m sure Azazel can convince them to keep that attitude.”
Azazel meowed his agreement.
“Great. Great. Uh, sorry about all this complaining, I know you don’t like people to bore you, but I just had to talk to someone,” Philip looked uncomfortable.
“It’s okay. Really,” I said. Amy smiled at me. Seeing that, Philip smiled too.
“Thanks. I, uh, must be going now,” he paused. “You know, you’re the only one to whom I can say things about Amy. The only one who wouldn’t laugh, or think Amy was weird.”
“Yeah, well, you two are the only people who don’t think I’m weird,” I replied. “Except for Azazel, of course.”
“You’re not weird,” Philip said. “You’re okay.”
He smiled again and left.
You’re okay. That’s the best thing anyone has ever said about me and meant it.
Philip has really stopped throwing rocks at dogs, not that there was need for it anymore. I guess Mrs. Milic has noticed it too, but she didn’t stop yelling at Philip.
“I stopped and I said I was sorry,” Philip said to Mrs. Milic. “What else do you want of me?”
I was a few yards away, watching. Amy was in Philip’s arms, as usual.
“You did something to my dogs, you little bastard,” said Mrs. Milic. “You did something to scare them, and you’ll pay for it. You hear me? You’ll pay for it, you little shit!”
“Really, Mrs. Milic,“ I said, looking as sweet as I could. “You shouldn’t be saying such things in front of a little child.”
“You! Everything was all right until you showed up, bitch!” she screamed, turning to me.
“Coming from you, bitch must be a compliment,” I calmly replied. I saw Philip grinning behind her back.
“Stop laughing, you idiot!” she turned back to Philip again. “I’ll get you for doing that to my poor dogs! My poor little babies! I’ll send them to rip your throat, you hear me? I’ll send them to tear you apart!”
“Now, now, Mrs. Milic, you don’t mean that, do you? It is a serious threat. His brother could sue you for that,” I said. Philip looked shocked.
“His brother is a hard working young man, and he knows this boy is worthless,” Mrs. Milic replied.
“I don’t think he sees his brother as worthless. And while he was angry at Philip for being rude to you, I don’t think he’d take your side after you’ve threatened to murder his brother,” I said.
“Getting rid of such a worthless creature is not a murder,” Mrs. Milic said. “Remember, boy, sooner or later I’ll get you. You are going to regret ever being born!”
Mrs. Milic left just in time not to hear Amy’s growl. She didn’t see her eyes becoming yellow, either.
“She didn’t really mean that, did she?” Philip asked. His voice was trembling. Yes, she did, I thought, but didn’t want to say that to Philip. I could see the apothecary’s aura and yes, she had definitely meant to kill Philip.
I could see it, and I was quite sure Amy could smell it.
“Did she?” Philip asked again.
“You don’t really want to hear the answer, do you?” I said. Philip gulped.
“I guess I don’t,” he said.
I mentioned the apothecary’s threats to Azazel, but he just yawned. Still exhausted from increasing the cat population in the area, I guessed. I wondered if Amy would do
something to protect her brother, and I didn’t like where that train of thought led me. Philip really loved his little sister, and was also a very nice kid, so knowing that she did the only efficient thing to stop Mrs. Milic would probably hurt him more than his own death. But wait – Amy was still very little – could she really kill the dog woman?
I must have said it aloud, because Azazel purred. So that was the answer to my question.
“Nice kitty,” I told him. He grinned. “The problem is, that would hurt Philip, and I happen to like that kid.”
Azazel yawned and fell asleep. Nice kitty, indeed.
However, during the next few days, nothing happened. I didn’t see Mrs. Milic; I guessed she realized she went too far, and felt embarrassed. I mean, yes, when she said she would kill Philip, she had meant it, but we all say such things sometimes, and most of us don’t do it.
Or at least that’s how I tried to comfort myself, to convince myself nothing really bad would happen. Philip was obviously doing the same; he seemed more and more relaxed. The idea of Amy handling the situation didn’t occur to him, it
seemed; I guess, unusual as she was, Amy was just his little sister to him. A little sister, all right. A cute little puppy.
One night, while I was reading, I fell asleep. Nothing surprising; I had been sleeping too little lately. But just an hour or two later, I woke up, feeling something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
“Azazel,” I murmured, and there he was, looking at me with his yellow eyes.
“Let’s see what’s going on, shall we?” I said. He yawned, but followed me as I left the apartment. It was about three in the morning; there was not a living soul on the streets.
I tried to follow my something wrong feeling, but I was still too sleepy to do it properly. I looked at Azazel.
“Where?” I asked. He grinned and led me, quite certain where he was going. He purred, softly. Nice kitty.
A few streets later, I saw what made Azazel so cheerful. Two dead dogs – the Doberman and one of the mongrels – were lying close to one of the walls. Their throats were ripped open, but I didn’t pause to check the details. I couldn’t stop to take a better look, because, just a little further, Mrs. Milic was lying, very obviously dead, and half-eaten, too. She was still being eaten, a strange-looking puppy – a bit fat and short-legged, with black fur and yellow eyes – happily chewing her entrails. Still a puppy, but invulnerable, save for silver – and these days, who was so superstitious enough to carry silver weapons around?
I thought of Philip and his shy smile; I thought of the only person who told me You are okay and meant it; I thought how he would feel if he knew his beloved little sister had murdered and eaten Mrs. Milic. Of course, Amy was just protecting her brother; she was too young to be told that murder was wrong. I moved closer to her, but she growled, protecting her food.
“Azazel,” I said. “Please move her away from that corpse.”
Azazel came closer to Amy. She raised her head, but didn’t growl at him. Azazel stepped closer, and Amy moved away, probably thinking he wanted the food. I took her in my arms. She smelled of blood. Amy yawned. A kid, I thought. She had a good meal, and now she’s sleepy.
I went back to my apartment. Azazel quietly followed me. In her sleep, Amy changed back into the human form. Her body and her hair were stained with blood, as well as my clothes. I washed her and checked out for injuries, just in case. As I expected, there were none. I wrapped her into a blanket and called Azazel.
“Try getting Philip here without noise,” I told him. He jumped through the window and disappeared into the night. Philip was close, it seemed, since I had barely managed to change my clothes before Azazel returned with him.
“Thank God you found her,” Philip said as soon as he saw Amy. “She, well, disappears sometimes like that, and I’m terrified Thomas might find out. He wouldn’t, well…”
“He wouldn’t be as understanding as I am, thank you for the compliment,” I said. Philip smiled.
“Where did you find her?” he asked.
“Not too far away,” I said. He sighed.
“I was really worried, you know. Because of Mrs. Milic,” he said.
“She’s not a problem anymore,” I said without thinking.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s dead,” I said. Azazel purred again.
“How do you know?” Philip asked. “Have you seen her?”
“Yes, her and two of her dogs,” I said.
“And Amy?” he asked. It was then I realized he suspected all along, he thought Amy might decide to take care of Mrs. Milic. He was smarter than I thought.
Smart or not, his eyes begged me. Begged me not to tell him his three-year-old sister was a murderer. Well, there was no reason to tell him, if he really didn’t want to know.
“She was sleeping,” I said. “Probably tired from all the running.”
“I know what you mean, but the bites on them were too big for Amy. Probably other dogs, you know they were all crazy.”
“I know,” Philip nodded. “Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem,” I said. I wasn’t sure he believed me, but I was certain he heard what he wanted to hear and had no intention to question me further.
“I better get going, before Thomas wakes up,” Philip said.
“Sure,” I said, and he left with Amy in his arms.
Someone had found the body in the morning; the police were in the area the whole day. They questioned everyone; of course, no one asked questions about a three-year-old girl. Amy smiled at them while Thomas told them he was sleeping and heard nothing, but wouldn’t be surprised if her dogs did it. That seemed to be the general opinion: the dogs did it. With the bite marks it was a good explanation, too, especially since no one really cared that the bites were too small for any of Mrs. Milic’s dogs. They just took all the dogs away, and the entire neighborhood sighed with relief.
Philip later told me Amy never remembered anything from her night ventures, so even if she saw something really bad, she forgot it, and he was grateful for it. He didn’t want her to have bad memories. He believed what he told me, and since I had no idea whether werewolves remembered their wolfish adventures or not, I was inclined to believe it, too.
Then I saw Amy and Azazel, playing on Azazel’s favorite sofa. Azazel obviously heard Philip’s words, and grinned at me before letting Amy chase his tail again. So she did remember, and at the age of three, knew enough to keep her mouth shut. I remembered I knew nothing about how quickly werewolves matured, at least mentally.
Oh well. I really liked the neighborhood and wanted to stay there, so I guessed I was going to find out a lot about werewolves.
Life can be interesting, you know. You just need to give it a chance, and it’s going to be really interesting.