THE LAST WEREWOLF

CHAPTER 1 (Avery Lane)

Avery Lane wasn't naïve. She knew evil existed in the world, but she made it her mission to find the good in people, even if it meant finding the faintest light in the darkest places. Ever since she survived that terrible accident in the mountains three months ago, she felt the need to show thankfulness for her new lease on life. She did that by searching out the virtue in others. It felt like a calling, and besides that, it was her job.

With a flush to her cheeks, she slid her quarters into the coin slot and picked up a copy of the Pineridge Inquirer. Her support of the local paper was something she did without thinking, as if it were the natural thing to do. It was a matter of principle, too. Sure, she had access to all the free copies she could wrap her arms around, but she wanted to give back to the organization that paid her bills and she also wanted to see what it felt like to view her stories through the eyes of a reader. That was another reason she liked to buy her own copy. Of course, her articles weren't anywhere near the front page, but at least it was in the first section. Back page. Last heading. Easy to find if someone knew where to look.

She folded the paper under the same arm holding her purse and turned to face the storefront picture window with the words — The Pinewood Diner — scrawled across the glass. The bright morning sun painted a glare over half of the establishment's name, but she knew the place by heart, from front to back, just like the paper she worked for. No, she didn't have her own office, but she had a desk and a nameplate, and her very own column. That was something. As for the diner, Mel always kept her favorite booth reserved so she could sit with her back to the sun, facing the television hanging in the corner over the bar. With a wall next to her, she felt secure and had the feeling there were fewer people who could watch her eat her scrambled eggs, strip of bacon, and the side of strawberries and blueberries she loved, the latter, which came served in a little bowl next to her plate. As she pushed through the glass door and heard the bell chime, her stomach rumbled, and she sensed the craving of her breakfast ritual as it called to her.

Just as the door closed behind her, it took her all of three seconds to realize something was amiss. She stared through narrow slits at the unwelcomed stranger sitting in her spot, watching her TV, who even had the nerve to be reading a copy of her paper. She glanced at Mel, and the brawny man shrugged with a pitiful sigh.

"He wouldn't listen to me." His voice grumbled as his eyes widened with a wince. "Sorry."

"That's not going to cut it," Avery said while plopping into the seat opposite of the stranger. "Hello, mister? What do you think you're doing?"

He stopped chewing and swallowed. "Reading the newspaper and watching TV."

"Uh-uh. I can see that, but you're in my seat. Mel saves it for me every morning and you just sat here like you own the place."

"Do you... own the place?"

"No, but that's not the point. He was saving my seat for me, and you took it."

The man with the wavy black hair and the hint of a five o'clock shadow on his chiseled chin cast his gaze around the room and then looked straight at Avery. He didn't crack a smile or show any sign of folding under her intense glare. In fact, his gray eyes drilled into her and seemed unaffected by her confrontation.

"There's a booth behind you," he said. "You can sit there."

"That's not the point."

He blinked. "I wanted to sit where I could watch the news and enjoy my breakfast."

Avery leaned forward, stabbing the man with her eyes. "Which is what I have done every morning, every weekday, for the last three years. In this booth, watching that TV, reading this paper."