Page 12 of My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

“Dark web,” he stated before taking a bite of his pizza.

“Wait, that’s a real thing?” Her eyes widened.

“Why would you think it wasn’t?”

“Because I assumed it was like a thing they invented for movies.” She waved a hand. “You know like for John Wick and the Marvels and stuff.”

“It’s real.”

“And you can access it?” she asked, leaning forward, the vee of her sweater gaping. He averted his gaze but not before he got an eyeful of cleavage.

“Yeah. Just let me know what you want to find.”

She chewed her lower lip. “That would mean involving you in my problem.”

“And?”

“And these people I’m dealing with are kind of shitty.”

“Obviously. All the more reason to let me help you.”

“Let me think about it.”

“You said you talked to your family?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah. They’re all right, if worried. Good thing our neighbor the psychic told her I was okay, or Mom would have had the RCMP out searching for me.”

“A psychic?” He laughed.

“You don’t believe?”

“Nope.”

“Says the guy with an apocalypse plan.”

“Wait, how do you know I have one?” He frowned.

“Gun under the couch, crossbow under the bed, vacuum-sealed meal rations in the cupboard. Jugs of water in your linen closet.”

She’d snooped, but he didn’t take offense. He’d been known to do the same thing. Nothing like poking through some closets and cupboards to get a feel for a person. It kept him from getting involved with the chick who collected dolls. Dolls she later claimed killed a guy she was dating less than six months after Derek went to her place for dinner.

“The world is going to shit,” he stated. “Figured it’s best if I have some emergency supplies to tide me over just in case.”

“You think it will be zombies or a nuclear blast?”

“I’m currently thinking alien invasion that triggers a nuclear blast, which then causes radioactive walking dead.”

She didn’t laugh at him. Not like some girls had. “With everything going on, you might be right. Let me guess, Grandma is just as prepared?”

“I’m small potatoes compared to her. She’s got the entire cellar under the house retrofitted as a bomb shelter. Air circulation, underground well, shelves and shelves of canned goods, rice, medicine.” He spread his hands. “The plan is if the world gets fucked, I get my ass to her basement.”

“Won’t you be lonely?”

“She’s got hundreds of movies, books, puzzles, games.”

“Things to do, not people,” she pointed out. “Unless you’re planning to bang your grandma.”

He wrinkled his nose. “No. But if I had a girlfriend, I’d be dragging her along.”

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