Predator and Prey

Chapter VII

{Jack}

IT WAS A few days later that I had my first run-in with the man in the brown overcoat. He was standing outside her building, next to the newspaper dispenser, his nose buried in the comics section. He looked up as I approached, stepping in front of me, a small smile resting crookedly on his features. He was an ordinary sort of man--one of those every-day, ageless faces that sort of blends in with the crowd, a hint of scruff on his chin and dark brown eyes that seemed to change colors in the light. He was wearing a brown coat, worn jeans, and an olive green t-shirt, a computer bag to his side.

"Hi! So sorry to bug you, but could you let me in? I accidentally left my keys inside when I went to get groceries and I don't want the milk to get warm."

"Oh, actually, I don't live here--I'm just visiting a friend, but you're welcome to come in while I have the gate open."

"Much obliged," he said, standing and walking towards the entrance. I wrinkled my nose as he passed--the smell of sulfur was stronger every time I came to this place. I made a mental note to check with Alex about anyone who might have left some spoiled eggs out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," he said as we walked in, both headed to the elevator.

"I'm Jack," I said, holding out my hand. He hesitated, frowning.

"I'm Mathew O'Connor. I'm terribly sorry, but I have a fear of germs... any way we could skip the handshake until some time when I have my hand sanitizer with me?"

I blinked, surprised but not offended. "Sure, of course." A quiet ding sounded, and we both stepped out onto the fourth floor.

"Is this your floor, too?" I asked.

"Yes. Say, who'd you say you were visiting again?"

"Oh, my friend Alex. Do you know her?"

"I'm afraid not," he said, his eyes glinting in the low light. "I look forwards to meeting her, though."

I watched as he disappeared around the corner, puzzled by the sense of recognition I was getting. Why did I feel like I know him?

Before I could put my finger on it, Alex's door, opened, revealing my grinning mate in a tank top and shorts. And completely coated in flour.

"Hey, who were you talking to?"

"Mathew O'Connor. What did you do?"

She frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think I know him... Come on, you should get inside. It stinks out here."

"It smells worse in there," I said, nodding at her apartment. "Alex, what did you do?"

A mischievous grin spread across her face. "I cooked."

"Without supervision? Are you insane?"

"No," she pouted, "I just got inspired."

"Inspired to do what, exactly?" I asked, very determinedly ignoring the pleading eyes she was giving me.

"Well..."

"Alex!"

"Jack!"

"Come on, let me do damage control," I said, moving inside. My jaw dropped--it was the end of the world, in the form of cupcakes. They were everywhere--there must've been at least 200, cooling off on the couch, the coffee table, the counter, the bookshelves...

Not a single one even resembled what a cupcake was supposed to be.

"How did you even do this?"

"Well, it started with one batch, for experimentation purposes, but then I wanted to make a second because the first ones were nasty. Then the second batch was also screwed up, so I had to make a third, and after that it was just so much fun that I decided to keep going until I got the perfect cupcakes."

"Alex, you don't have a single surface in this apartment that isn't covered in cupcakes and frosting."

"Just wait till you see the bathroom."

I sighed, unable to stop the tired smile from spreading as I looked at Alex. "Who's gonna eat all these."

"Well, you, duh."

"Me? They're your cupcakes."

"Yeah, but--"

Her response was cut off by the chime of the oven. "Oh! That's the next batch!"

***

I watched as my pack gathered around the table in the corner, puzzled expressions covering the crowd. Murmurs of 'what are these' and 'wow, I guess the Kitchen Staff must've finally had it' floated through the room as uncertain werewolves took various frosted lumps off of a platter on the table.

"Hey, Jack," Devon said as he headed back towards his table. "What's the deal with these?"

"My friend Alex--from town--went on a bit of baking spree. Needless to say, Alex is not a baker."

"Wait a minute--you're friends with a townie?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" I asked, shoving down the defensive instinct that was suddenly shoving its way to the front of my mind.

"No, I'm just surprised. You don't seem like the type to pity-friend those freaks."

Anger shot through me. "They aren't freaks, and I'm not friends with them out of pity."

"Whatever, man," he said, walking away.

For the first time, I wondered if my pack really would accept her. If that's how they thought of someone from the town rather than the Pack House, how would they react to a Turned, packless werewolf?