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

A Booktok is not an animal

"Vidar, this edition of Garden&Life doesn't seem to fit anywhere." Kira lingered in the doorway, holding up the magazine. A grey-haired fellow with black-rimmed glasses watered a bush of pink peonies. "There's only one copy—is that normal?"

"Yeah, it's mine." Vidar waved the kitchen knife around, gesticulating she could put it on the table. Cautiously, she entered, almost on her tiptoes. He scooped the slices of apple into the bowl, crushing the tower of apricot and banana. "You like cinnamon?"

"Me?"

Who else... the dust bunnies in the living room? 

"Yeah, I'm making breakfast," Vidar said.

"Oh, you... you don't have to."

"Nonsense, you went beyond the line of duty yesterday. I might as well return the favour." He shook the cinnamon jar, the lumps sticking to the side crumbled down. "Want some?"

"I have no idea what that is."

"It's a spice."

"What does it taste like?"

"Like... cinnamon." Vidar lifted his shoulders. Though he had seen his bed longer than the previous nights combined, it was too early for complicated questions.

Kira took her phone from her bag and asked, "Google, what does cinnamon taste like?"

A slight ping, then a robotic female voice answered. "Cinnamon is a strong, warming spice that's hot, pungent, and bitter. It..."

"Ew," she muttered under her breath. "I think I'm gonna pass, but thanks for the offer."

"It's sweet," Vidar tried.

"But Google said."

"Google has no tastebuds."

He set the bowl on the table, along with the jar of cinnamon, a bottle of orange juice, and a box of granola he had bought two for one in the gas station supermarket on the Schijnpoort Lane. By the time they had driven back to Antwerp (and this had nothing to do with his supposed grandma driving style) the lights in the big Aldi across the road had been turned three-quarters down.

"Enjoy."

He sat down and picked up the garden magazine. Besides peonies, the magazine dedicated an article to sunflower fertiliser. Vidar snorted. They could keep all their miracle cures; the flowers on his rooftop terrace thrived since he had buried Tigger there. Allfather, he still owed the Steverlynckxs a new cat. He should start jotting things down on those box-shaped papers that came in ridiculously flashy colours—he kept forgetting important things.

"Wow, you remembered I'm vegan," Kira said. There was a hint of emotion in her voice.

"And no coffee."

She nodded. Was that a blush on her cheeks?

While Vidar slurped from the big snowman mug, she took two big spoonfuls of fruit and added some granola. She inspected the jar as though the cinnamon contained poison, yet hesitantly, she sprinkled the ochre gold on a slice of apple and took a bite. 

"It's not pungent or bitter at all," she said, seemingly shocked by the discovery. "Google lied!"

Vidar swallowed the urge to laugh and filled his plate with a mountain of fruit that he buried with a layer of cinnamon. He didn't want her to think he was mocking her. Something about her told him she wasn't used to people being nice to her. If he could be the one to make a difference, then he had done a good job.

A better job than with Viviane.

Who was he kidding? He was a sorry excuse for a god and a more pathetic guardian of the paranormal, fooled by a will o' wisp he didn't believe existed.