The hope that she wasn't actually talking to the Marrok helped steady her. Usually she turned on the TV and watched whatever happened to be on, but tonight she was too tired to make the effort, so she unfolded the newspaper to see what had happened since the last time she'd picked one up a couple of months ago. Anna laughed and buried her nose in her jacket, trudging the last half mile to her home. Truthfully, she'd known as soon as she read the paper, but it had taken her the full hour to work up the courage to act upon it: She sat down at the table and closed her eyes.
Finding his blood led them to suspect he was another victim. She waited for her hands and her breathing to steady, but when that didn't seem to be happening, she dialed the number on the battered piece of paper anyway. The biggest bonus was the free meal she got each shift. From his hiding place he swore at her, as only a Siamese could do. You've done nothing wrong. That she'd seen the boy, obviously the victim of a werewolf attack, weeks after his disappearance, in a cage in her Alpha's house? Who'd have thought that turning into a werewolf would turn her into a coward? If she just left him there, she'd come back in the morning to a can of untouched food. With a sigh, Anna tossed the mail and newspaper on the small table in the dining room and opened a can of cat food, setting it down near the water dish. The hope that she wasn't actually talking to the Marrok helped steady her. Usually she turned on the TV and watched whatever happened to be on, but tonight she was too tired to make the effort, so she unfolded the newspaper to see what had happened since the last time she'd picked one up a couple of months ago. There was a time, she thought a little bitterly, when she hadn't been afraid of her own shadow. Anna touched Alan Frazier's smiling face with trembling fingers. That she thought the Alpha had ordered the attack? That made better sense. What was she going to tell him, anyway? That's what had happened to her. Still complaining, Mouser emerged and stalked resentfully into the kitchen. Even so, she was afraid she was going to have to find a second job to cover her expenses: Maybe werewolves were allowed to attack whomever they pleased. When she opened the door, Kara's Siamese cat, Mouser, took one look at her, spat in disgust, and disappeared behind the couch. If Leo knew she called the Marrok, she might as well shoot herself with that silver bullet she'd bought a few months ago and save him some trouble. But now she knew the monsters were real. She sat down at the table and closed her eyes. The Marrok's personal number wouldn't be something that would be passed around.
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