The Last Werewolf (Vidar #1) | ONC2021 Grand Winner

A Wasp On Wheels

Holding the pizza boxes, Vidar stood outside his closed shop at half-past six sharply. The can of Fanta and sparkling water stretched the belly pocket of his hoodie.

Sunna played hide-and-seek with the clouds while youngsters were showing off their tricks on the halfpipe. The higher their jump, the louder the growing audience cheered as they watched the show through their screens, more interested in the number of viewers or virtual hearts and thumbs-up than the daredevils soaring through the sky.

Like the day before, Kira was neither risking her life on her skateboard nor among the crowd. Perhaps she was at home, reading the book he had gifted her. Tomorrow, he would ask her about the story over breakfast, vegan breakfast. 

A guy with a black helmet managed to flip the board not twice but three times in the air before landing. Bread and jam didn't contain any animal products, did they? She would eat that, wouldn't she?

Just as the skateboarder received his applause, a growling noise reverberated in the distance. Vidar turned his head towards the small yellow-and-black vehicle approached at dazzling speeds. The engine roared too loudly for its size.

With squealing breaks and a whiff of burnt rubber not far away, the little monster came to a standstill, right in front of Vidar's feet.

The windows lowered. Mo, wearing a bright orange cap and a pair of oversized sunglasses, grinned. "Ewa, I see you got pizza. You must be my date. Hop in, Wolfie."

There was little hopping as Vidar opened the door and threw Mo the Fanta. Balancing the boxes in one hand, Vidar crawled in. The heat of the pizzas radiated through his jeans as he sat down. He fastened his seatbelt, groaning. Despite angling his legs, his knees pressed uncomfortably against the glove department. His hairline brushed against the roof.

He had slept in more spacious dens than whatever this wasp on wheels was. Definitely not a car.

"Ready?" Mo asked.

Before Vidar could respond, he was sucked into his seat.

The trees and houses flashed by as Mo turned into a one-way street, breaking the law for a whole of ten metres but preventing a half-an-hour detour through the nightmare that was Antwerp's maze of streets.

No sunglasses were dark enough to mask the Ifrit's mischievous eyes. He caressed the steering wheel. "An old lady, but they told me she had spirit. Technically, she's not allowed in the city centre. Or, anywhere, for that matter."

Vidar raised an eyebrow. Knowing Mo and the social circles he frequented, both the car and the license plate had been acquired by a ten-finger discount, or fallen off a ship as they often called the practice in the harbour.

"Don't worry," Mo said. "If we get stopped, all you have to do is open your mouth and do whatever Norse mumbo-jumbo you do to talk yourself out of a sticky situation."

Vidar hummed. "Could have arranged something bigger."

"Hey, you asked me to get a car—I got a car. Most of the world isn't over two metres tall."

That was an argument he couldn't counter, though most of the world didn't have a giant as a mother either. Vidar opened the pizza box and handed Mo a slice. "Super supreme without pork."

"You're a god, Wolfie."

As Mo drove up the Northern Lane, Vidar eased as much as the seat allowed him to. A long trail of red lights along with the last sting of the evening rush had congested the road. A nightmare for most, including Mo, who sighed and snorted while he rapidly devoured his pizza.