Catherine
I pulled into the diner and parked my father’s Lincoln between a rusted Chevy pickup and a shiny Prius. Cecelia and I had decided to meet in a neutral place, away from both packs, away from all prying eyes, in one of the nearby human towns. I pocketed the car keys and walked up to the restaurant, which looked like it may have been around since the 1950s. It had a screen door on a spring that banged shut behind me once I let go. I took off my sunglasses to look around the dining area. At 2:00 in the afternoon, it wasn’t exactly crowded, but it was still doing steady business. In a booth in the back corner, I spotted Cecelia’s wild dark hair. From across the room, it looked like she was sitting alone, but as I drew closer I noticed that two women were huddled in the seat across fr
