So, My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

Chapter 4

I pick up the phone and dial the number I practically know by heart. It's a number I always have, especially when I need a late-night snack.

"Tony's." The voice says on the other end

"Hey, can I swing by tonight? I'm in the mood for some cherry pie." I say into the other end.

"I just had a delivery, your order will be ready by midnight."

"Thanks. I'll be there." I say into the smartphone. When I end the call, I can't stop the smile from spreading across my lips. It has been too long since I've had cherry pie.

The next day I practically skip a few steps into work. Not only did I enjoy a late-night snack of cherry pie, but also the most beautiful girl kissed me under the gleaming warmth of the near full moon, and she walked me home as well. Perhaps I'm not old fashioned enough, since it's more common for a man to walk the lady home. Still, I don't care if I'm called a sissy for it. Valerie Ortega walked me home last night. A man could walk on the moon with his last breath. That man, is me.

I sit in my cubicle and instantly begin where I left off last night. I begin to scan the security network while I start running a backup for the secured files. This time I ignore the strange file names, my mind too distracted on someone's soft lips I can't stop thinking about.

"Todd?" My head snaps up towards Sam. He's shaking from head to toe. "Todd, I need to talk to you." He says as he scratches at his neck. I catch the glimpse of two puncture wounds just beneath the collar of his shirt. He catches the direction of my gaze and pulls his collar up. Sam glances over his shoulder then quickly turns to look back at me. He peers at me with panic and alarm reflecting in the dark pools of his eyes.

"What is it Sam?" I ask as I shift my gaze back towards my computer screen. Sam leans closer.

"Not here." He whispers to me with an unmistakable tremor in his voice. He motions towards the stairwell and begins walking in that direction. I quickly rise from my chair and hurry after him. He opens the stairwell door as quietly as he can. When it closes behind us, he checks up the stairs and down the stairs to make sure we are alone.

"You are freaking me out Sam, what is going on?"

Sam pulls down his collar and shows me his puncture wounds.

"Look at these Todd." I inch forward, disturbed at the sight. If I didn't know any better, I would say they were vampire bite marks. But this world wasn't for the supernatural. No, it was made for the living and the dead.

"What of it?" I ask him, brushing off the shiver.

"I don't remember how I got it." Sam says as he lets the collar fall back into place. "This is the fourth time this has happened to me in the past week. They usually disappear a day or two later, so I always think I must have imagined it. What's happening to me Todd?" Sam brushes his sweaty hands on his legs. I can see how nervous and frightened my friend is.

"Well, what's the last thing you remember from last night?"

"It isn't like I get drunk and forget the night Todd. It's more like I'm missing mere minutes of time here and there. I'll be working on a project, or watching TV, and then suddenly five minutes has passed and I haven't done a single thing."

"You're working too hard mate."

"No, I'm telling you, someone or something is messing with my head."

"Don't tell me Halloween with its full moon has you freaked too."

"No. Darn it Todd, I am telling you, I am missing segments of time. It's like someone is sucking precious time away from me."

"You make it sound like–"

"A vampire? Yeah, I know exactly what it sounds like."

The footage I had uncovered from the night before came to mind. The person had transformed into a wolf. I had seen it with my own eyes.

Werewolves and Vampires here in Chicago? I doubt it.

"There is something strange going on at Lotus Industries. But I'm not sure what." I tell Sam as I scratch my head deep in thought.

"You've gotta help me man." Sam pleads with me.

"Samuel Barton? A word please." Both Sam and I turn in unison to find the interruption of that sweet, chocolatey voice. Standing at the top of the stairs on the next level is Pamela Jones. Her long dark hair is swept back in a bun. She wears a tight pencil pinstripe suit. Her lips are smeared with dark red lipstick. Her pale skin seems to lighten under the gleam of the stairwell lights. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she stares at Sam like he's her next meal.

Sam's eyes catch mine, fearful and wide.

I watch him walk up the stairs like he's walking to his funeral.

That is the last time I saw the real Sam Barton.