Rise of the Werechipmunks (ONC 2022)

In Which Sophie's Soulmate Finally Arrives

The werechipmunk hurtled towards them. Jaxon nuzzled his Beta's head. Her hand felt like an elephant had tap-danced across it for an hour. Sophie didn't care.

She was kissing Cora. She was kissing Cora! And it was fantastic.

There weren't literally sparks—which was probably a good thing; death by electrocution sounded worse than death by werechipmunk—but Sophie knew they were there figuratively. Cora had stiffened at first and Sophie's heart had plummeted to her stomach. Had she just ruined the last minute of her best friend's life? And then Cora had squeezed her hand, pressed her body flush against Sophie's, and kissed her back.

It was perfect.

HUNTER IS PERFECT.

Okay, maybe it wasn't totally perfect. Silver kept growling. Something fluffy—Silver's head? her tail? Her hind leg?—hit her eardrum. Her head was whistling like a teakettle on steroids. And then there was the whole impending death thing that did put a bit of a damper on the beginning of an effortlessly romantic and life-changingly-perfect relationship.

Sophie's brow furrowed.

Wait.

Why hadn't they been eaten by werechipmunks yet?

Sophie stepped back. She opened her eyes.

MATE! MATE! MATE!

Her head whistled, but it was a happy kind of whistling, like Silver had become an accomplished vocalist in the past two minutes and was now howling out a mating call. The chipmunk had retreated, crouching back on its hind legs, its fangs bared. It hissed like a snake, its teeth coated in plaque. In front of her was a man—a boy, really—with a pair of yardsticks held in his hands like swords. His hair was the color of sun-kissed wheat, his eyes violet, his lips red and bloody. Hunter shielded them from the werechipmunks. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but Sophie barely noticed.

She was too busy looking at Cora.

"Right. Yes." Cora took a step back. She cleared her throat. She tucked a curl behind her hair. "We're about to get murdered by werechipmunks."

Hunter turned around, his coppery hair blowing in the wind. He winked Sophie. "Don't worry Suzie. I'm here now."

"It's Sophie," Sophie snapped.

"Well, you never call me by my real name," Hunter said.

"Because you told me your name was Eric!" Her voice was high-pitched, practically yelling. Her hands shook. She needed to calm down, needed to focus on the army of werechipmunks hungry for her blood, not worry about her love life. Her life was at risk!

ALWAYS WORRY ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE, Silver commented sagely. IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT REALLY MATTERS.

"What's going on?" Jaxon glanced up. "Why haven't they been brutally murdered yet?" He sounded faintly bored.

"Because I have arrived. I am Hunter, slayer of werewolves and werechipmunks, son of the great vampire Dracula and owner of half of corporate American, sixty-three billion years old and capable of taking down army of werechipmunks in my sleep even if I had cancer and only two limbs." Hunter flipped his hair and grinned. His fangs glinted in the van's headlights. The yardsticks were cracked and bloody, but he swung them like swords. "Aren't you going to thank me, Suzie?"

"Sophie," Cora snapped.

"Um..." Sophie swallowed. "How about I thank you after you destroy the army of werechipmunks?"

"No one's destroying my army!" Jaxon strode over. Now that he was back with his pack—was a group of chipmunks called a pack?—he stood taller, his head pulled so far back that Sophie worried for his neck, and he'd developed a perpetual frown.