37 In a back sitting room-come-kitchenette, we sipped on coffee, while Shelley Lewis—the shopkeeper—ran through a condensed version of her life as an unsuspecting mother to a werewolf. Even after an hour of listening to how she’d discovered his unusual genes only after he’d experienced his first change right in front her, I doubted I grasped the full extent of how difficult it must have been. “Of course, I can smile about it all a little now,” she said, sipping on her second mug of coffee. “But then, it’s always easier to—” Banging echoed through the building from the direction of the shop. All four of us shot to our feet, growls probably too low for Shelley to catch rumbling from Sean and Ethan. More banging, followed by, “Mum!” Every hackle rose along my nape. “It’s okay.” Shelley

