After getting my car towed to the rental house, I spend the rest of the weekend first unpacking and then fiddling with my syllabus.

The Anthropology of Western Oral Tradition is my first class as a professor and to say that I'm nervous is an understatement.

Thankfully the extra preparation makes me think less about everything else that has already happened to me since arriving at Packard, including Clayton and his snooty fiancée. Once the handyman who Carlos has arranged fixes the mess I'd made of the bathroom and back door (no questions asked, so I'm guessing this wasn't his first rodeo), the splinters and broken glass are also no longer there as reminders.

On Monday morning, I'm up early. Grabbing a tall latte at the coffee shop, I sip my drink as I walk across the increasingly busy campus.

Sleepy faced students in plaid pajama pants,  baggy hoodies and worn Crocs lug large backpacks between their dorms and the dining hall, hopefully caffeinating themselves enough to stay awake for a few hours.

Checking my phone for the time, I decide that at this pace, I'll be too early so I call my sister.

I sit on a bench underneath a tree as the phone icon flashes next to the name 'Lark.' This is at least the third time I've tried to talk to her this weekend, but it has always gone to voicemail until now.

"You realize it's half past the crack of dawn, do you not?" she mumbles into the phone as a less-than-cordial greeting.

"A cheery good morning to you, too," I say, ignoring the attitude. "And if you'd pick up your phone when I call at a decent hour, maybe I wouldn't have to try you this early."

"Okay, okay," she says amid the ruffling of bedding, not taking the bait about revealing her weekend activities. "You've got me. What's up?"

The lethargy in her voice betrays her, but I guess this is the best I'll get right now. And since there's no real lead-in to what I want to tell her, I'm going to have to be blunt.

"So you know this new job I'm starting? Well, you'll never believe it, but no sooner did I get here that I finally met another wolf," I say, whispering the last two words just in case any of the passers-by are close enough to overhear.

"No way! And is he cute?" asks my sister, cutting to the important stuff. In her eyes, anyway.

"Lark! How do you even know it was a he?" I ask even though she's correct.

"Something about the way you said it."

I hate it when she makes assumptions and I scoff.

"How else was I supposed to say it?"

"Ha! So I was right," she gloats. When I grunt in agreement, she continues. "Well, was he good looking? I have a theory that all wolves are attractive. I mean, why wouldn't they be? It's sexy as hell to--"

"It doesn't matter because he has a girlfriend. Err, fiancee rather," I reluctantly correct myself.

"Well, that's a yes. And did you meet her? Is she a wolf, too?" she fires off question after question.

"We met briefly, yes. But I'm not sure," I say, thinking back to anything that could have been an obvious tell. But short of also showing up naked after a full moon transformation, I'm not even sure what that would have been.

"Would she necessarily have to be? You know that I don't have much of an idea how any of this works," I sadly admit.

She sighs in sympathy. "Mom and Dad really screwed you over, didn't they?"

It's easier for her to be critical since she isn't like me. As an outsider to this condition, Lark has a different perspective and often, her unbiased viewpoint can be useful. But I don't want her to disparage the dead when they can no longer defend themselves, especially if they're our parents.

"I prefer to think of it as being overprotective," I say, glad that she can't see my frown from the other end of the line.

"Sheltered is more like it. I mean, how did they think you'd get along with other wolves once they were gone if they didn't teach you even how to spot them?"

She's right and I wish I knew what their true purpose was in preventing me from learning about and being comfortable in my wolf form. But in our family, it was both something to be ashamed of and something to hide. And even though it couldn't be fully suppressed--hence my need for chains during the full moon--it definitely also wasn't something to exploit.

"I don't know, but that's not the point," I say, realizing we're veering towards a sensitive topic. "I have to go to class in a minute so do you want to hear about my weekend or not?"

"Of course. Spill!" she finally prompts.

So I tell Lark everything from first meeting Clayton in his office to waking next to him in the forest, all the way to having breakfast together. I can tell she's interested because she barely interrupts.

"So on top of being a wolf, he's filthy rich and good looking, but he's also your boss and he's taken," she says, summing up the situation. "I got to say, I wouldn't have expected this type of drama from you, but it does mean that you are probably going to have a very interesting semester."

While I couldn't agree more, this snaps me back to reality.

"The semester! Oh no, what time is it? I'm going to be late for my first class," I say in a panic.

Not waiting for an answer and grabbing my bag as I say goodbye, I bolt from the bench and run inside the building. But not knowing whether to turn right or left down the corridor to get to room 118 where my class is going to be held, I indecisively stall in the middle of the atrium.

"Do you need directions?" asks the now familiar voice as Clayton Ward descends the wide staircase in front of me. Like on Friday night, he's in a very professional looking suit and tie, and I'm momentarily reminded of our first encounter.

But unlike then, his brown eyes now lack that deep amber glow and instead of danger, they signal concern.

Not wanting to look unprepared on my first day, but also not wanting to be rude, I take his offer.

"Yes, please. One eighteen, if you wouldn't mind."

He takes the final risers at double speed, but instead of stopping next to me, Clayton goes to the bulletin board on the far wall.

"Past the bust of Darwin and it'll be a few doors down on the left," he says over his shoulder as he pins one of the pieces of paper in his hand on the board.

I should just follow the directions and go, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

"What's that?" I ask, referring to what is obviously his priority.

He turns and holds up the stack of flyers in his hand. "These? They're printouts of this morning's campus wide email."

Unfortunately, that doesn't tell me much.

"What email was that?" I ask, awkwardly adjusting the bag on my shoulder. "Admin is having problems activating my account so I haven't been able to log into the system yet."

He shakes his head. "Typical. The day everything goes right with a new hire is the day I'm going to retire."

I haven't been in academia for too long and most of that time has been as a student, but unfortunately I know what he means so I give an understanding smirk.

Then Clayton hands me one of the printouts.

"Campus police sent out the notice a few hours ago about a student who is currently unaccounted for," he says as I scan the paper with large letters spelling out the word MISSING and a picture of the girl.

My heart sinks. It's the cute musician from across the street I helped Friday night. And she hasn't been seen since.