"Strategy over strength, my sons. That is how we defeat our enemies."

"Watch out, Gary!" The first punch landed squarely in Gary's stomach, doubling him over.

The cavernous room looked and felt just as Ron remembered it, wrong. The scene before him was chaos.

Ron quickly closed the door of the Inn and leaned heavily against it, ready for the person chasing him to break it down.

Molly, or MoMo as the family affectionally called her, was young for a werewolf when she died.

Ron circled the block, his pursuer a heartbeat behind him. He knew this was the right place; his nose told him so.

The girls had told him no one would remember what happened at the park, but he needed to see it. If he was being honest, he still didn't

In the span of eight slices of pizza, Ron learned more about the world than he had in all his seventeen years.

Mary motioned Ron to follow her to the dining room table. "This is a singing chalice; Children Beyond the Veil use it to communicate, or to

Look human, act human, be human. The words rang in Ron's head.

"The blood is yours, Ron." You were still very agitated when we got you here." May then pointed to a brick wall by the front door;

The light burned, and the hammering got louder. Ron realized whatever was being built was probably located in a cozy cul-de-sac inside his..

Ron might have been short for a werewolf, but he felt ten feet tall with May and Kay on each arm. All his previous feelings of inadequacy...

He was about to start running again when he stopped himself, mentally slapping his forehead. Look Human. Act Human.

"Why are we whispering?" Ron whispered. It felt like they were doing something elicit, which excited Ron as it confused him.

Ron felt strange as he passed through the doorway to - wherever this was. His heightened senses could measure temperature and air quality

As Ron stood silently in front of the Scratch & Sniff inn, many questions went through his head. Most of them involved Mary,

Carl stared straight ahead and walked quickly, paying no attention to the fisherman, buildings or tourists, who parted for him like the Red.

The Prophecy of the Dead Wolf was, unsurprisingly, cryptic, like all good prophecies and New Yorker cartoons.

Carl was Ron's half-brother, and they had been best friends growing up. That is until Ron came of age, and his "differences" became