Alex walked Trug and Nevin to the door and as he took the doorknob, Nevin turned and flashed a suggestive grin, “It’s not too late to ask us over for a sleepover.”
She ignored the innuendo and smiled back, “As I recall, when you were dogs, you weren’t all that housebroken. I’m not sure my parents would go for it.”
Trug groaned.
Nevin looked wounded. “Hey, it wasn’t like I could fight nature. It was instinct to mark my territory.”
“That may be,” Alex said. “But I think my Dad considers this his territory.” She leaned over and pecked Trug on the cheek. “See you, guys.”
“Fine, fine,” Nevin groused.
They started walking back towards their homes through the gloom, keeping an eye out for supernatural critters. A lot had happened in their community the last couple years, opening peoples’ eyes to the fact of the existence of werewolves and vampires.
“You got some holy water on you?” Nevin asked.
“Yep.” Trug patted his pocket where a he kept a small water gun. He reached under his shirt collar and took out the silver cross and let it lay outside his shirt. Nevin did the same.
While the dark creatures mostly stayed reclusive, it wasn’t entirely smart to walk around by oneself in the dark, or even if you were with someone. The fact that holy relics kept people safe from supernatural predators had swelled the number of people who attended church on a regular basis.
After a moment, Trug broke the silence, “What are we going to do about him?”
Nevin shot him a glance. “Alex’s father?”
“No, about Jack. It’s not good for him to be that fat.”
Nevin frowned. “Why’s it gotta be our problem?”
“Because he’s our friend. Because Erin’s our friend. It’s just not natural for a bat to look like that. There’s something wrong.”
“Ah, yeah, I guess when you look at it that way. So what do we do about it?”
Trug paused, as his eyes caught sight of something flash across the street.
“I said, what are we going to do,” Nevin asked.
“We follow him,” Trug replied absently, his attention on the small dark form bounding across the road.
“What …” Nevin started. Then he saw what Trug was looking at. “Cat,” he hissed.
They both tensed, ready to, what, bark?
“Man, the urges just keep going on,” Trug whispered.
“My mailman looks at me funny,” Nevin said.
“Yeah, mine, too.”
They both watched intently as the cat quietly minced through the grass, lifting its paws as if disdaining profaning itself by touching the ground.
“I seriously don’t like cats anymore,” Nevin whispered back.
“They’re so smug,” Trug said.
“Get it,” Nevin shouted. And they burst into chase.