THE LAST WEREWOLF

CHAPTER 2 (Avery)

A chill swept over Avery, beginning with the back of her neck and rushing toward her extremities, which drew Dorian's eyes to her forearms. His gaze lingered for a moment and then wandered up to meet hers, their furrowed brows and tight lips speaking volumes.

"Are you the..."

"No." His jaw flexed, teeth grinding, expression serious. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Well. You know who I am, and you've been reading my articles." Avery couldn't help it, but her chin dropped, leaving her mouth agape. "You know my stories have centered on the heroic feats taking place in Pineridge, covering the ultimate Good Samaritan. My God, Dorian — can I call you Dorian?"

"It's my name."

"Are you the Pineridge Hero?"

He shifted in his seat, his eyes darting to some of the other patrons in the diner before returning to Avery. "No. I told you it has to be more than one person."

"You know, I have always imagined a John Cena or Dwayne Johnson type of guy." Avery raised an apologetic hand. "Not that you're bad or anything." Her gaze drifted over his face and physique; the latter hidden somewhat by his black dress shirt. It didn't do much to conceal his broad shoulders and the outlines of his biceps leading down to his capable hands. She bit her bottom lip. "You could pass for a young Tom Welling or a Henry Cavill."

His eyes widened. "You don't listen well. I've already told you, it's not me."

"Okay." Avery looked down her nose at him. "Then why have you been stalking me?"

"I'm not stalking you. Could you lower your voice?" Dorian glanced around the room again. "It's my job. I'm an investigator. It's what I do. You follow leads and write stories. I do the same thing; except I don't write stories. I arrest people."

Avery had a surreal moment. This was serious business.

"We both have the same goals," Dorian said. "We uncover the truth."

"So, you're with the police." She aimed her fork at him. "You don't look like any cop I've seen."

"I never said I was a cop."

"Who do you work for then?"

Dorian sat back and relaxed. "I want to talk about where your leads have taken you. In today's article, you covered the incident with the mountain lion. You said a couple of hikers were up on the north ridge, on a trail when they ran in to trouble."

"That's right."

"You said, using your words," he glanced down at the newspaper, "that they got lost and found themselves in the wilderness at twilight. That's when they encountered the lion. Next, they saw someone leap from the shadows, tackle it and then tumble out of sight, down an embankment with the cat in their arms. The hikers reported they never saw who or what took on the mountain lion. Described him or her as a dark figure, but as a person. Am I right?"

"Yup." Avery put her fork down, snatched the one strip of bacon from her plate and started gnawing on it. She consumed it in a few seconds and took a gulp from her coffee, which was in a disposable cup with a lid, steam billowing from the slit in the top. "What's your angle?" A possibility struck her, brightening her outlook as she sat her cup down. "I got it. You're a fan of our hero person, aren't you?"

Dorian's countenance darkened. "No. I'm an investigator."

"You've already told me that, but why are you investigating the heroics, then? Are you going to arrest whoever this person is for doing good, for helping people? Why would you do that?"