Chapter 20

We arrived back home in the comfort of the night. It was a strange atmosphere that we soaked in. After a successful mission, there was a certain optimism that threatened to become evident. But something was holding it back. Apart from maybe Menderash, nobody felt entirely pleased with how we got the result, for one reason or another.

It was a victory that almost felt like a defeat. For me, it added just another ticked box on the list of things I thought I never wanted to do.

His screams were all I heard on the way back. The screams of a murderer were still just as desperate as those of the innocent.

I excused myself from the group when we finally got back to Santa Barbara, taking flight from the RV door and flapping my wings high into the night sky. We took diverging paths, and while they headed back to the mansion, I swerved my course towards my own home, where I could stay quietly alone for the night.

I crawled in through the opening in the roof and demorphed in the attic before heading downstairs. The lights were on, but the place was silent as ever.

In my study, nothing had changed. I didn't turn on the television, nor did I power up the desktop computer. I went to an oft-explored corner of the room where I had placed a drinks cabinet when I first moved in a couple of years ago. I twisted the tiny metal latch and pulled open the antique mahogany doors, the bottles previously shielded by the glass then fully available.

I found a tumbler glass from the top shelf and placed it on the empty space below. Then my eyes searched the other shelves, judging the collection I had gathered. Jack called out to me, and I duly obliged.

I poured the brown liquid into my glass and swirled it, lifting it to my nose to sniff at the flavor.

To success, I thought, showing it to the world. Then I gulped it back and shook away the strong taste.

It was comforting, just as the room around me was. A room that I had lived in for years and made my own. Busy, untidy, and thoroughly disorganized. Just what I required.

Then came a crash from somewhere in the house! I halted my hand that was about to pour out some more whiskey and listened for further noise. It sounded like the glass of a window, somewhere on the other side of the house.

A burglar? It seemed like the most probable reason. I put the bottle back down quietly in the cabinet and closed it, keeping utterly silent. I heard another noise—a very subtle bang.

I approached the study door and peeked slowly around the corner. The faint noises remained, but I saw nobody. Whoever it was must have been further inside the house, so I left the study and walked cautiously towards the source of the disturbance.

My ears began to change shape, becoming more acute and accurate. Wolf ears were much more capable than my own. With them ready, I could pick out the sounds better.

Footsteps. It sounded like just one person. The steps were deliberate and cautious, just like my own. It was coming from my bedroom.

I kept my senses alert as I leaned up against the wall just beside the door. I could make out the noises of items being moved and drawers being opened. I started to become more wolf.

But I couldn't. I couldn't risk the world finding out. I reversed my whole morph and stood there thinking. What could I do?

I shifted my body to face the wall and then, very slowly, moved my head to look past the door frame.

I saw the burglar. He had his back to me and was rummaging through my drawers. He wore a balaclava and a black leather coat. A bright red collar hung around his neck.

He wouldn't notice me, especially with attention on the drawers. He was loading some meaninglessly expensive items into a backpack.

How he'd gotten in was a mystery, but that didn't matter. He was there, and he was stealing from me. With his back turned, I had the perfect opportunity to ambush him. I could knock him out cold and drag him elsewhere. I could save my possessions and remain elusive.

I was about to strike, but I froze. The burglar opened the central drawer. He reached down, and from it, he pulled up numerous medals. They shone in what little light the room had.

He dropped them into his backpack and dug into the drawers for more.

I retreated from my bedroom door and stood in silence. Then, I slowly walked away. I hid in my attic until I knew the burglar was gone, and then I took wing once again into the night sky.

I said goodbye to my home for the last time.