Night Children

05

It was quiet this morning, the sun just rising over the trees. I had to squint to see past the blur of the light, watching the forest's edge. Nothing yet.

I sat on the back porch steps. There were four hot drinks from the local coffee shop on the stair in front of me: Dad's decaf drip, black, Mom's skim mocha, Nell's caramel macchiato, and Alfie's chai latte. I had also picked up an assortment of scones. They were always starving after a full moon, so I always brought something. Sometimes it would be biscuits, or muffins, and one time I'd even made breakfast wraps. In truth, it was more for my benefit than theirs. I was afraid if they didn't have at least something to nibble on they'd go crazy enough to nibble on me.

It was a totally irrational fear, but aren't most?

Our backyard was perfect for a family of werewolves. It was an expanse of currently dewy grass, which transitioned abruptly into a dense forest that stretched for several miles around the area. For this reason, there was no need for concrete basements or padlocked doors or iron chains. As long as the rib roasts were up and I'd marked off the area with signs, everyone was completely safe, including my family. So maybe sitting and watching the woods the whole night was not in the job description, but I did it anyway. I don't know why.

Last night had been...a break from routine.

I reached a hand in my pocket, sighing when I felt the old receipt crinkle. Alfie was going to be proud of me—well, provided I didn't mention the fact she was a vampire.

It was another few moments of repetitive bird's songs and the unwavering scent of morning dew before anyone showed up. I smelled her before I saw her; Nell was all pine and earth, her scent not unlike the forest she'd just walked out of.

Hair a tangled mess of leaves and twigs and clothes torn at the seams, she made her way across the grass. Her steps were a bit sloppy, as if she'd been out all night drinking instead of chasing squirrels. She yawned as she reached the porch, accepting the blanket I handed her. Voice still half a yawn, she pointed at the to-go cups. "Did you get a macchiato?"

"Duh," I replied, handing it off to her. She took a grateful sip and sat down on the step beside me, leaning her back against the railing. Up close, I noticed the smears of dirt across her face, her eyes still wide and over-aware. "So, everything went okay, then?"

She nodded with a bit too much enthusiasm. "I told you we'd be fine, you worrywart. What about you? How was your thing?"

"My thing?"

"Your date?"

"Oh, that," I said. My hand went to my pocket again, but I hesitated and pulled it back out. "Well, I'll wait until everyone's here. Until I know everyone's—"

"Fine?" Nell finished for me, and when I gave her a look that said she'd guessed correctly, she rolled her eyes and hid her face behind her coffee cup. "Jesus Christ. Everyone's fine, Theo."

"I'm sorry," I said, frowning at the ground underneath us. A beetle had just crawled its way up through the earth; I watched it mount a grass stalk and climb to its summit.

"When you become a dad," Nell began, "you are going to be the most annoying helicopter in the world. Like, seriously."

She was probably right. I was about to come up with some sort of comeback for that, but then I noticed a few leaves of the underbrush shove aside. Out came my father, then my mother, and finally Alfie, and then and only then did I let myself breathe a sigh of relief. I kept counting all over again, to make sure all four of them were here. And they were, and they were unscathed, and it was okay.

They all went immediately for their coffee. I said, "Oh, and there's scones too."

"Scones?" Alfie perked up. "What type of scones?"