of bed. That was it. A werewolf war nearby would also draw the eye of anyone I might have pissed off. There were a few—which was funny, since I had never done anything to any of them. Well, I had never done much to them.
“Stop thinking about it, Jacky,” I mumbled to myself, shaking my head. There were things I wish I had never done. Things I wish I could get rid of, wipe clean from my history. This wasn’t one of them, no matter how hard I tried over the last six years. “This better all blow over.”
I showered and left for Kick Shot before my mind could get too stuck on the current situation. If I kept my head down, no one would remember I was here except Hasan and my only friend in the werecat world, Lani. I walked to Kick Shot today, smart enough to know that shifting in broad daylight was moronic. I normally had a dirt bike I took between, but it was in the shop getting repairs. I knew I would need to replace it soon, but I was attached to it. It was one of the few things I had bought with my own money once I moved here.
It also helped me escape the midday heat faster. It was ninety-eight and humid. Every supernatural creature had a problem with places this hot. It led to most of our kinds becoming more nocturnal than we already were. Monsters go bump in the night and all that. Humans were the only diurnal intelligent species. Everyone else? Werecats, werewolves, fae, vampires, witches, and who knew what else? We played in the dark. We played out of sight, out of mind, though some species started thinking that wasn’t good enough. Hence, werewolves being on the news and everyone locking their doors around the full moon, no matter how safe their neighborhoods were.
Unlocking and walking into the bar, I sighed happily, thankful I left the AC on overnight. It didn’t always help, but there was a difference between eighty and ninety-eight. I would take what I could get, really.
I got to work, trying to drown myself in it. I pulled stock around, opening my books to do inventory before opening the bar. I had several different crates and boxes of booze that I needed to get on the shelves, and what better time than the present?
I worked quietly and quickly, keeping my inventory in check. It was fifteen ‘til five when I was done, right on time. Turning on the TV in the corner as I went, then the radio, because I knew better than to leave it off, I went to the door, watching the clock. The minutes ticked by slowly and the moment five hit, I unlocked the bolt on my front door. I was back behind my bar by five-o-two, like I was five days a week, Tuesday through Saturday.
My routine. I lived by it. When control over being what I was frayed and began to threaten to break, I could always rely on my routine. It was one of the most important things I could have, and my touchstone to reality to stop the Last Change.
There always came a time, werecat or werewolf, where our bodies couldn’t keep the separation any longer and clashed into a war that would never end. It was the source of every horror story version of werewolves in Hollywood, though the humans were ignorant to it.
The last time a werecat hit the Last Change? My kind still whispered about it in dark corners, their eyes full of fear.
I tapped the bar, waiting patiently for anyone to show up. Joey and his friends arrived first. Then it became a constant stream of people, a few walking in every thirty or so minutes. I stayed behind my bar, serving out drinks to anyone who wanted one. Being the smart bartender I was, I kept tabs on everyone, my memory too good to fail me as long as I didn’t drink.
“So, is tonight the night?” Joey asked casually, sitting at the bar in front of me.
“For what?” Rolling my eyes, I took his empty beer bottle and handed him another Blue Moon.
“For you to tell us you’re a werewolf. Come on, Jacky. Jacky fuckin’ Leon!” He gave me a desperate look, leaning over so that I couldn’t avoid his face when I looked down to work on something.
“You know werewolves aren’t the only things that go bump in the night, right?”