"Whoa," was the first surprised word out of Eddie's mouth. Instinctively, he wanted to back up, to put up his hands (claws), bare his teeth, put some distance and feral warning between this cat woman and himself.

But he didn't. His wolf, in a rare show of superiority, held him fast to his barstool. In a split second after his exclamation of shock, he relinquished all but a fraction of his control, and let the blutbad envelope him. Fur sprouted, skin furrowed with a fierce expression, eye teeth lengthened, eyes turned deadly red.

The woman ended her instantaneous transformation at the same time he did, obviously going slower to prevent their respective animals from going all Discovery Channel. Her green gata eyes sparked with intelligence, somehow retaining their fringe of thick lashes. Her dense copper hair patterned itself with lighter shades like a tabby, and her fingernails lengthened to sharp, thin, scratching claws.

"I thought I smelled blutbad," she said, not in a threatening way. Eddie's wolf, so accustomed to dissecting nuances in the growls and whines of its kin, found her tone to be teasing. He growled, testing her.

She surprised him by dissolving into laughter. The cat faded from her features, leaving her skin pale and flawless and her grin wide. "Easy, wolfie," she said. "Peace, and all that jazz. I just wanna talk to a fellow freak."

With some reluctance, Eddie stuffed down the wolf and replied, "I'm not a freak."

She cocked her head and gave him a perfunctory once-over. "True." Deliberately, she stuck out her hand. "I'm Celina Victorie, a bottechat."

Eddie glanced at the proffered hand to assure himself there were no claws, and slid his hand into her grasp. "Eddie Monroe."

Celina beamed that cursedly disarming smile. "Pleased to meetcha, Eddie."

"What can I get you, Celina?" asked the barrista, nervous and with eyes only for the pretty singer. "The usual?"

"Yes, Joe, and thank you," Celina said graciously.

Joe turned on his heel, missing the barbed look Eddie directed at him. Wait, why was he even barbing his look? It wasn't like Eddie cared if someone stole the woman's attention.

"So," Eddie said, the epitome of nonchalance despite their earlier posturing. "Do you come here often?"

"Yeah, I do," she replied. "Well, me and the band." She nodded in the general direction of the instrument players, who were rousing the crowd with a stomping Celtic number.

"I like that sound," Eddie said, containing his tapping foot and his music-lover gush.

"I'm glad. The violinist is my brother, Henry." She pointed to the tallest of the group, whose eyes were closed and whose fingers danced on the strings. "And that's Tracy, my best friend, on the bodhran." The skinny skirt wearer had disengaged from the chair and was standing beside Henry, bobbing with her beat. "And Renee is the guitar hero."

The three players ended with raucous applause and a few whistles. Henry looked at Celina and frowned, noticing her proximity to Eddie. Celina made a 'go on' gesture, and Henry's frown deepened. Still, he pressed down on his strings and orchestrated the players into a whimsical, drawn, and lonely song.

Eddie listened to the sound of the music, and let it bring to mind its unique picture. "It sounds like a long road, with home at the end of it."

Celina looked at him with surprise. "I get that too. 'For I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep...'"

"And miles to go before I sleep," Eddie finished with her. "You like Robert Frost?"

She grinned in a self-deprecating way. "My shelves are bowing under the weight of his collective works as we speak."

Eddie chuckled. "Where'd you go to school?"

"University of Oregon."

"And your major?"

"Minor in biology, major in folklore."

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Odd choices."

Celina shrugged. "Gotta get answers for my condition somehow."

"Your mom and dad weren't bottechats, too?"

Her face fell a bit. "They put me up for adoption when I was a baby."

"Ah," said Eddie, suddenly feeling awkward. He swirled his coffee. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she said. He felt like he'd given the appropriate answer.

"So that makes Henry your adopted brother?"

"Yeah, but we're super close."

"What does that mean, anyway? Bottechat."

"Well," she said, perking slightly. "I've got French ancestry, like all bottechats. You know the story Puss in Boots?"

Eddie nodded.

"In French, it translates to Le Chat Botte, hence, bottechat. The same way your species name comes from the big bad wolf featured in a lot of fairytales and legends."

"The French background explains your surname, too. Victorie."

"No, no, you have to add the proper amount of phlegm. Vicch-TWAH-ee."

"Vicch-TWAH-ee," repeated Eddie, laughing despite himself. She giggled with him, blushing, and for a moment electricity sparked between them.

"Your chai latte, soy milk and two stevias," said Joe, ruining the intimate vibe.

"Thanks, Joe," said Celina in a slightly dazed way, breaking their introspective stare. She ducked her head to smell the frothy beverage, full of cinnamon and clove and cardamom to Eddie's sensitive nose, and sipped it. "Aaah, just the way I like it. You're a magician."

"T-thanks, Celina," said the awkward man.

Eddie's pointed gaze sent him scurrying. The barrista probably didn't deserve the predatory look, but Eddie was more wolf than man at the moment. The inner animal was practically speaking for him, spurring on the conversation, sending out the subtle 'I'm interested' signals and interpreting the responses.

Apparently, the wolf saw the way Celina flipped her hair to expose her neck as an affirmative. That, and her near-constant eye contact. And the man in him found her a stimulating conversationalist, easy on the eyes (more stunning than he could ever hope to attract on his own), and a fellow freak to boot. For once, wolf and man concurred: pursue.

Henry and the band seemed to recognize a lost cause when they saw one, and went straight from one song into the next without signaling Celina. "Tell me, Eddie, are blutbads born or made?" Celina asked suddenly.

"Erm, born," he said, caught off guard. "My family are all blutbads, too."

"And you've got German ancestry, if the legends hold water."

"Bingo," he said, impressed.

"Is it an insult to use the word 'pack'?"

"Nah. But to coin the cliche, I'm more of a lone wolf."

"Estranged or passed on?"

"A mix. Either way, we don't talk."

She made a sympathetic face. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Eddie preferred not to dwell on his family (or their habits, which was the reason for the estrangement). "So, do you work in the field you went to school for?"

Celina laughed in an embarrassed way. "No, actually." She sipped her drink, seemingly garnering her wits. "My trade is a bit more tactile in nature."

"What is it?"

The boldness returned to her eyes, which fluttered alluringly. "Can't give away all my secrets at once, now can I?"

It was Eddie's turn to smirk invitingly. "I suppose not."

She ticked an eyebrow at him. "I saw that."

"What?"

"The wolf just leaked out in you, just a bit." She tapped his arm, testing him. They were both dipping into their base natures, now. "You're a regular ladykiller, huh?"

"Pfft," replied the blutbad, shaking his head to drown out the wolf's howl of BITE HER OR BEND HER OVER. To the wolf, he replied with a BACK TO YOUR CORNER! To Celina, he continued, "Most ladies aren't as well read. Or as interesting."

The bottechat flushed the cutest pink he'd ever seen, and sipped her chai. "Most guys aren't as fascinating. Or in the same mythological boat as me, if you catch my drift."

Time to step it up a notch, Eddie told himself, galvanizing his resolve. "Celina, how would you like to meet for lunch somewhere?"

Her head snapped up excitedly, but she spoke casually. "That sounds like fun."

"How about tomorrow?" Eddie said, scarcely daring to hope.

"Okay. There's a kebab place down the street that looked promising. One o'clock?"

"I'll be there."

Eddie drained the last of his mocha, watching the band. After a moment of silence, he commented, "That was refreshingly simple."

She, too, drank and responded with an air of mild relief. "Tell me about it. But when something works..."

Eddie smiled, glancing at her. "When something works."