For as long as I can remember, my sister has always been in my life.

This is technically impossible because she didn't join our family until I was three, but since I don't have any earlier memories, she's always just been there. We didn't always get along, however; or rather, I didn't actually like her at first. It was more like I wished that she would be sent back to wherever my parents had gotten her from.

I didn't understand at the time that her own mother had given Lark up and we were going to be her family from then on. I just knew that I had to start sharing my clothes and toys with a this new girl who looked and acted nothing like me.

We've always been completely different, too. Not just in appearance—I'm pale skinned with straight, silver-gray hair while my sister's complexion is darker and her hair is jet black—but also in personality.

I'm a bookish home-body, but Lark is an artsy party girl. And while I've usually had some sort of plan or goal to work towards, she's left most things up to chance and taken everything one day at a time. So for her to tell me she's coming to visit me when she's less than a mile away isn't out of character in the least bit.

Since there isn't anything else left for us at the crime scene, I ask Clayton to drop me off at the Cock and Mamie pub on campus. He looks surprised at the request, but thankfully he doesn't ask any questions. I don't have the energy to deal with arguing with him any more tonight, especially since I have a lot of questions of my own for my sister.

When I arrive, she's already sitting in a booth, drinking a beer straight out of a bottle. Two large suitcases are also piled up nearby.

"Planning on staying a while?" I ask with a laugh as I go in for a hug, even though I'm already afraid of the answer.

"Nice to see you, too," Lark says, giving me a big squeeze. "Whoa, did you swim here?"

"Tell me you want to avoid the subject without telling me you want to avoid the subject," I say, shaking water out of my hair as I slip into the booth across from her, but she just shrugs innocently and takes another swig of beer.

"All right then, let's get back to you," I continue. "What are you doing all the way upstate? Last time we spoke, weren't you still in Bayshore?"

"Bayside, actually," she says, looking around. "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Hey, this place is pretty cool, but it's so not your vibe. Why did you have me meet you here instead of at your place?"

"First of all, it's totally my vibe," I say, mock offended at being considered uncool. "Plus, I wasn't prepared to have a dinner guest, so I figured we could eat while we catch up. I can vouch for the loaded fries, but I hear they also have a good shepherd's pie."

I look around, but other than Spencer busy with a line at the bar, I see no servers around.

"I ordered at the counter," Lark says, lifting her nearly empty bottle in an attempt to help.

"I'm sure someone will be by eventually," I say, turning my attention back to her. "Anyway, how long did you say you were staying?"

"I didn't," she says with a smile. "But hypothetically, how soon could you introduce me to your hot wolf man?"

"Ssh," I shush her, even trying unsuccessfully to cover her mouth with my hands. But as always, my sister makes a joke out of this, too.

"Oh, relax. As if anyone would take me literally," Lark says, carefully adjusting one of her lash extensions.

More than you'd think, I want to say, but this isn't the place to have that discussion so I stick to the basics.

"Listen, sis. This place isn't where you want to be right now. There's something going on even beyond . . . that and while I don't know what it is, I know it's not good," I say, baffled myself at how in less than two weeks' time I could have gotten involved in a situation where feuding werewolf packs may not be the biggest threat around.

"Oh, no. It's the big scary world and I should be afraid of everything in it," she says in a mocking tone, waving her hands palm-side towards me. "I hate to say it, but you sound just like Mom."

"Take that back," I demand because no matter how much I want to keep my sister safe, I will never agree that completely isolating her from anything that could bring harm is the best way to do it.

Ignorance in this world isn't bliss; it's what will get you killed the fastest.

"Fine. But only if you tell me what has you so on edge. This isn't like you, Barlow. I expected you to be at home reading by a cozy fire and sipping tea on a rainy night like this, not doing whatever it was that left you soaked to the bone."

"For your information, I was at the edge of the woods where the police found a body," I whisper, leaning in. "And while we were afraid it was this girl who'd gone missing recently, it was actually a totally different person. So when I say that strange things are going down and I don't want you here, I mean it."

Lark also leans forward and takes my hands. "Maybe that's the exact reason that I should be here. Ever consider that? It's just you and me, kid, now and there's safety in numbers," she says. And while I agree with the sentiment, her tone and advice remind me of our father, which stirs something inside me.

"Barlow, are you okay?" I hear Lark ask and I notice that I've momentarily spaced out.

Lifting my gaze from the tabletop, I slowly nod as the regal portrait on the wall catches my eye. I remember Spencer's story about his ancestors and I study the Duke's face for any resemblance to our handsome bartender's. But instead of finding a similarity in the shape of their noses or the purse of their lips, I actually hear the portrait talk.

"Turn," the Duke says directly to me. When I continue to sit motionless, the figure becomes impatient and more demanding. "Turn!"

"Barlow!" Lark yell-whispers at me, breaking the illusion as the portrait becomes static once more. "What the hell happened to you?"

I rub my forehead. It all felt like a dream and as the seconds pass, so do the memories of it. "What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"Your eyes glowed and you began to bare your teeth," she says, her hands shaking. "I've never seen such a thing. Was that--"

"Man, who do you have to sleep with to get some food around here?" Cutting her off, I instead crane my neck for sight of a server. I can't even begin to imagine what just happened, but this isn't the time or place to discuss it. 

"Are you ladies ready to order?" Spencer shows up at our table at just the right--or maybe wrong, depending on how you look at it--time and I want to slink under the table in embarrassment.

"I'll take a burger the way I like my men: juicy and well-seasoned," Lark says with a giggle, but when I give her a gentle kick in the ankle, her expression sours. "Hey!"

"How about you, Barlow?" Spencer graciously acts like he neither noticed my sister's flirting nor my attempt to chastise her for it.

"Burger's fine. Thanks, Spencer," I say, grateful that he leaves quickly without another word.

But Lark seems to be on a roll as she opens her mouth in a look of shock and leans across the table. "You're on a first name basis with the bartender? No way! You have to introduce me," she begs.

"That would imply that you're staying, which you're not," I say. "Not beyond tonight, anyway. You can crash on my couch for the night, but even if I wanted to, my lease agreement doesn't allow long-term guests."

"Are you looking for a place to stay?" asks Spencer, having reappeared. Noticing our confusion, he adds, "Sorry. I forgot to ask if you wanted cheese on your burgers and I overhead a little. I actually have a studio apartment upstairs that's available for rent immediately."

I'm a bit dubious about how conveniently this opportunity popped up, but Lark is disappointed for other reasons.

"Oh that would be so perfect, but funds are a bit tight right now, which is why I came to my beautiful, intelligent, and sweet sister to begin with," she says, piling on the compliments as if that has ever worked on me.

But Spencer isn't deterred and he hits us with his one-thousand-watt smile. "Well I guess it's your lucky day then because I also have an opening for a new waitress and if you want the job, it's yours."

"You don't even know if she has any experience as a server," I say, voicing my previous doubts about the timing.

Spencer motions toward the packed house where no waitstaff are visible. "It's not like I have the luxury of being picky right now," he says before turning to Lark. "So, what do you say?"