The Werewolf Diaspora

Published in Zero Ducats, Vol. 1

Maybe I should have known when you were resisting Paris with such vigor. You’d talked of nothing else for years, yet you flinched when I presented you with the tickets. You knew. Maybe you thought you could beat it. That should have been my first clue.

Or I could have done the math and realized that your big, proud Parisian family was completely displaced: one in Chile, one in England, one in Spain, you in America and three in Mexico, not counting Raquel herself, so desperate for Paris in her empty Mexico City home that even the maid had to speak French.

But my first clue came under the Eiffel Tower of all places, symbol of romantic Paris. You were pacing. Cursing in French. Already a bad sign. Our first full day there. Still jetlagged. I guess you’d been gone too long, forgot why the rest of your family moved away, and I didn’t put it all together until I saw your fangs.