He’d spent a fortune importing whole cacao beans from Ecuador and was slowly rendering them by hand. He could probably get a better result just by buying a damn bar of chocolate, but that was not the point.
He stirred the bowl, annoyed to still find the mixture grainy. He’d already put it through a grinder three times. He knew the industrial kitchens could get it even smoother, but he wasn’t sure how he could.
He glanced over at the mortar and pestle he had for grinding spices, and then back at the grainy mixture of chocolate. Thus far, he’d used a coffee grinder, which only required turning a handle and letting the stones inside do the work, but he wondered…
He pulled the stone over and winced at the scent of the spice residue. He wasted almost half the water in the jug cleaning it out. There was still a faint scent of turmeric, but people put all kinds of weird shit in their chocolate, right?
He put a dollop into the stone bowl and started grinding away.
The wolf hated the sound, but he found it soothing. Perfect.
It was far too small to do the job, but if it worked, he supposed someone made bigger mortars and pestles in the world, right?
He ground and ground, long past the point he thought it was done, before he finally let himself check if it was smooth. How long had that taken? What time was it? When he looked out the window, all he could see was the glow of the moon. He turned back carefully, swiped a finger through the brown goo, and licked it off, bracing for the explosion of bitter flavor. When he’dfirst tasted his concoction, he’d been shocked at how terrible it tasted without sugar.
It was smooth. Maybe this was worthy of a bit of sugar to see if he could turn this into a bar.
He’d optimistically bought molds a month ago before he’d realized what it took to get from bean to processed chocolate.
Slowly, he scraped it out of the stone bowl and into a pot, unwilling to waste the smallest milliliter of what he had spent so long creating. As he did, he realized the ground did not feel so far away, and he felt steady on two feet again.
He added the sugar and took the pot to the stove, still warm with a bit of residual coals, when a flash of light cut through the window above the sink.
In a worrying time jump, he found himself on all fours with one hand reaching toward the door. He could only be grateful that it was still a hand.
“Dammit,” he said and climbed carefully to his feet.
Had she broken her word? Was she even now sending her coven after him?
But no, she said she didn’t have a real coven. Did random witches gather and hold hands? Dance under the moon naked? Kill werewolves?
He jumped when someone knocked on the door. He stared at it for a second. He hadn’t heard anyone’s footsteps. How much time was he losing?
“Only one way to find out,” he muttered.
He swung the door open, fully bracing for pain, but it was just Penn standing in the moonlight.
“Hi,” he said.
“Sorry I ran.”
“I don’t blame you.” Why had she come back?
“I didn’t mean to,” she muttered. “It was just…”
“Instinct?”
“Something like that.”
She looked fantastic in the silver light. Her skin was lighter, her hair was darker, her eyes glowed, and he wanted her.
“Holy shit, it smells fantastic!” she said.
“Chocolate,” he said stupidly.
“Can I come in?”
He stepped back, and she didn’t move. She glanced up into the sky. “Why aren’t you running around as a wolf?”
