Dead Wolf by Tim O'Rourke Page A

café had been running just fine before this Marc suddenly appeared on the scene.
    “Marc suggested that I start serving breakfast, you know nothing too much, eggs, bacon, and toast – that sort of thing. I was lucky really because his brother happened to be a chef and Marc thought it would be a good idea to hire him.”
    “So they’re both working for you?” Chloe asked, shooting me another look with her dark brown eyes.
    “Yep, Steve works in the kitchen and Marc is now my bar manager,” Pen explained.
    “Bar manager? He’s been promoted through the ranks rather quickly,” I said.
    “Wait ‘til you meet him, he’s a nice guy,”
    Pen assured the both of us.
    “I can’t wait,” I said, looking straight back at her.
    I was woken to the sound of ‘Mary’s Boy Child’ by Bony M playing on the radio somewhere in the house. I peered at my watch and groaned when I read that it was only just after 7 a.m. Chloe and I hadn’t crawled into bed until the early hours, as we had sat up talking with Pen.
    I rolled over and nestled my head against Chloe’s auburn-coloured hair.
    “Merry Christmas, Chloe,” I said and kissed her cheek.
    “What time is it?” she murmured without stirring.
    “Just gone seven,” I told her.
    “Aw, it’s still the middle of the night,”
    Chloe groaned, pulling the bedding tighter about her shoulders.
    “C’mon, sleepyhead, it’s Christmas day,”
    I said, gently shaking her.
    “Okay, Okay, what’s the rush?”
    “Firstly, I want my present…” I started.
    “Who says you’re getting one?” she murmured.
    I ignored her teasing and continued. “And secondly, I’m dying to meet this Marc.”
    “Mmm…he sounds rather intriguing. Pen seems to be hooked on him,” she said, still sounding half-asleep.
    “I just hope she isn’t being used,” I wondered aloud.
    “What d’you mean?” Chloe rolled over onto her back and looked at me through a pair of half-opened eyes.
    “I dunno. Call it a copper’s nose, call it a hunch, but something just doesn’t feel quite right.”
    I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and got up. Chloe rolled over again as if to go back to sleep, so I grabbed one of the pillows and dropped it on her head.
    “C’mon, I want my present,” I laughed.
    “Your present is at the end of bed,” she groaned.
    I looked down to see a brightly wrapped box. Excitedly, I removed the wrapping paper and the box lid and looked inside. “Carpet slippers?” I frowned.
    “Don’t you like them?” she asked, peering over the top of the bed covers at me.
    “I guess,” I said, looking at them.
    Then, giggling, she whispered, “I’ve got your present right here.” Chloe pulled back the bedding to reveal her naked body.
    “Happy Christmas, Jim,” I whispered to myself in delight. Dropping the slippers, I dived on top of her.
    Squealing with pleasure, Chloe yanked the duvet over us, where we stayed together for another hour or so.
    We showered, dressed, then made our way downstairs. Pen and Marc were already up and were cuddled up together on the couch by Pen’s enormous Christmas tree.
    “Merry Christmas,” Pen beamed.
    They both got up from off the couch.
    “Marc, this is Jim and Chloe.”
    Marc stuck out his hand and we both shook it warmly in turn.
    “Good to meet you at last,” I said, looking into his eyes. They were a bright hazel-orange and I knew, like Pen, he was a Lycanthrope.
    “Likewise, I’ve heard so much about the pair of you, particularly you, Jim,” Marc said.
    “All good I hope.” I knew it was a bit of a lame reply but it was all I could think of saying.
    Marc was, I guessed, in his late twenties. He was slim, tall, with light brown hair that dangled across his forehead. He wore a hooped earring in his left ear and had a short goatee beard.
    “While you sit and get to know each other, I’ll go and get the champagne,” Pen said excitedly.
    “Champagne? What’s the special occasion?” I asked Marc as Pen left the