Fangs and fur

Katherine took a sip from her styrofoam cup as she calmly watched the bustle of the crowd in the coffeeshop. The shop was filled with a blend of people, from nine-to-fivers on their laptops to high school teenagers with backpacks and chiming cellphones. Typical Perkins evening, she thought.

Her attention was drawn to the door as a middle-aged man with white hair entered the coffeeshop. The raucous chattering in the shop was reduced to a low murmuring as the customers turned their attention to the man. His stance was intimidating. He isn't even tall, Katherine thought as he located and walked towards her. What he lacked in height he made up for in a frightening aura.

He reached her table and took a seat without asking for an invitation. She watched him as he placed his hands on the table and folded his fingers.

"You're avoiding me." He began "What did I do, Katherine?" His English was thick with a Russian accent, but Katherine could decipher his words due to practice.

"Frank, you must understand that we're over. You should forget me and move on. The things I saw you do... I cannot live with that."

"That doesn't stop us. You know how I feel for you, my dear Kat." He placed one of his hands on hers.

She stared at his long, tapering fingers on her hand and instinctively flinched, remembering how those fingers had felt on her body, the lines of passion they'd drawn on the most intimate parts of her. Being with him was a terrible mistake she would never live down.

"Whatever happened between us," she said tremulously "happened months ago, and I would like it to be buried there."

He stared at her for long seconds, then gave a small smile and withdrew his hand. "You're really going to throw away everything you hold dear just to be with your—with him?"

Katherine knew very well that he was subtly threatening her. She'd worked with him long enough to know that he hated being confronted and she'd done just that by rejecting him. "I'd do anything to be away from you. You're a freak." She spat.

She saw his eyes darken with concealed rage and her courage failed her. He looked like he would like nothing more than to smack her across the face, then just as swiftly as the rage changed his eyes, it diffused and he smiled at her again.

"Very well then." He murmured, then stood up with a groan. He made towards the door, then stopped and turned back to her. "If I were you, I wouldn't feel too safe. "The days ahead will be full of terrors, and you wouldn't want it coming close to your new family now, would you?" He said, then patted her cheek and left the coffeeshop.

Katherine watched him walk away through the coffeeshop window and swallowed past the lump of dread in her throat. She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes, then patted the growing bulge of her stomach. She knew what he expected her to do in exchange for her family's safety, and she would do it. Whatever happened, she would keep her family safe.

☆

Clyde Roberts had never trusted policemen, which was why he'd instantly hated Mike Sommers as the other man had first walked into his bar a few months ago, badge flashing, pistol in his belt. He only started to tolerate the man after he had thrown his weight around that day and ordered a round of drinks for everyone at the bar. If there's one language Clyde loved to listen to and understood perfectly, it was the language of money.