One of Us
Conner Allen stood in the men’s room of Sylvia’s Grill and watched himself in the mirror as he pulled back the bandage on his neck. In the harsh glare of the single light bulb overhead, he frowned at the wound beneath the bandage. It wasn’t very big, and two days ago Conner would’ve sworn it was almost gone, finally, it was taking forever to heal. But this morning he had woken to a dull pain in his shoulder, and the wound was back to looking infected again.
It was a bite, no doubt about it—there were two large puncture holes that looked like fangs had torn into him, though he’d be damned if he could remember what happened. A ring of teeth marks connected the holes to form a mouth-shaped bruise on the tender skin at the base of his neck. An animal bite, definitely, and Conner ha
