He was on his fourth cup of coffee within half an hour, so it was understandable as to why his hands were shaking so badly. He wasn’t afraid or nervous, not him. Silas Crowe was never afraid, and he certainly wasn’t nervous. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

The cafe was small, badly lit, and nearly empty. The only customers besides Silas himself were a young Muggle couple, probably in their late teens, whispering excitedly at their table and drinking watery hot chocolate. He could feel the life radiating off of them, hear the sound of blood pumping sluggishly through their veins and the steady beating of their hearts.

Shaking his head as if trying to clear it, Silas looked outside uneasily. It was storming like mad. Rain came down in sheets from a sky the color of dark iron that was occasionally illuminated by a flash of lightning or accompanied by the crash of thunder.

He was hungry. Admittedly, he was usually hungry, but lately it had been getting harder and harder for him to resist the temptation. He shifted uneasily and tried to ignore the closeness of the Muggles, taking another gulp of disgusting coffee to distract himself.

She was late, as usual, but he had expected that. She usually was. It was just one of the many difficulties of working with Coralyn Avery--a haughty, upper-class Pureblood woman with a quick temper and a mind for business. It didn’t help matters that she was constantly making sure to remind Silas who was ‘in charge.’

Werewolf. It was a word that was at the very center of Silas Crowe’s life. Not a day went by without him thinking about it. It had been twenty-six years since he was bitten at the tender age of seven, and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Being a werewolf certainly had its perks, but it was also difficult to constantly be the outcast, the pariah, of wizarding society. Even with a dozen different committees at the Ministry fighting for werewolves to be treated equally by wizards, it had not made much of a difference. In fact, all it had done was increase the tension between the two groups.

Silas drummed his fingers on the surface of the table, his eyes darting to the Muggle couple once more. He was so hungry. Cora would never know--but he shook his head again. He was being ridiculous, of course she would know. Eating was always a messy process, especially this close to a full moon. It was wrong for him to be this hungry while he was still in human form.

Lightning cracked across the sky. The cafe door swung open, letting in a gust of wind and rain. A man stumbled in and shut the door quickly behind him. He stood very still for a moment, leaning against the closed door, then he straightened up. Rainwater dripped off of his coat--odd apparel to be wearing in the summer--as he turned to walk towards Silas.

“Mr. Crowe?� he asked.

“Oh, come off it, Waters, you know that it’s me.�

The man sat down. In addition to the long black coat, he wore a hat and sunglasses that mostly cast his face in shadow, hiding the odd formation of scars that Silas knew were there.

“Where’s Cora?� asked Silas.

A quick flash of white teeth; Lucas Waters was smiling. “She couldn’t make it. Probably didn’t want to be seen with ‘scum’ like us.�

Silas did not smile in return. He had never liked Waters. Although Lucas was also a werewolf, they were polar opposites. Silas was wise beyond his years and always cautious. Lucas was reckless and, like most people his age, seemed to think that whatever he did was well worth the consequences.

Seeing the sour look on Silas’s face, the other man laughed. “Never fear, Crowe, Miss Avery sent me with a message for you.� Lucas removed a slightly soggy white envelope from the folds of his coat. “Damn, I hope the ink didn’t run.�

“You’d better pray that it didn’t,� growled Silas, snatching it from him. He tore it open and unfolded the damp piece of paper within, his eyes scanning the words written there. He frowned and read it again, several times.

“I presume that you know what this means?� asked Lucas.

“Yes I bloody well know what it means,� Silas snapped impatiently. “But…why now of all times?�

“The new Minister,� said Lucas simply.

“What about him?�

“He’s weak in comparison to Shacklebolt. Not to mention the paper this morning. Didn’t you read it, Mr. Crowe?�

Irritated at being made to feel uninformed, Silas shook his head no, folded the letter, and set it on the table between them.

“They’re killing more and more of us,� said Lucas, leaning forward. “A werewolf settlement was burned down two nights ago. About a dozen were killed, and the Ministry expects us to just sit here and take it?�

“So it would seem,� said Silas, trying to stay focused as the Muggle couple got up and walked past their table. Both men paused as they passed, breathing deeply.

“I’m hungry,� said Lucas.

“So am I,� Silas agreed, draining the last of his coffee. “What were you saying about the werewolf camp?�

Lucas blinked, his eyes refocusing on Silas. “Cora thinks that the time’s right to retaliate.�

“And what does he say?�

“He agrees. That’s why that piece of paper is so important,� Lucas said, nodding towards the letter.

“When?�

“Soon. They haven’t decided on a date yet, but…it’ll be soon. We’re all ready to go, Silas. Are you?�

Silas stared at the letter for several moments, thinking over his options. Suddenly he jerked his head up, looking into Lucas’ eyes.

“Count me in."