The phone rang (at 1 a.m.!), and I lunged for it. "Sinclair? Hello? You rat bastard, where the hell have you-?

"Is this the head of Antonia's den?" a deep male voice asked.

I was flummoxed. It was a week for weird phone calls, barfing best friends, and fucked up funerals.

"Which Antonia?"

"The only Antonia.Tall, slender, dark hair, dark eyes, werewolf who can't Change?"

"Oh, the live one! Yeah, this is her, um, den."

"Explain yourself."

I was having major trouble following the conversation. "Explain what?"

"She has not checked in this month. As her pro tem Pack leader, you are responsible."

"Responsible for what?"

"Her safety."

"What's a pro tem what's-it?"

"Do not play the fool, vampire."

"Who's playing? And how'd you know I was a-I mean, who are you calling a vampire?"

"I gave Antonia leave to den with you under strict conditions. You are breaking those conditions."

'What conditions are you-?"

"Produce her at once, or suffer the consequences."

"Produce her? She's not a manufactured good! Who is this?"

"You know who this is."

"Dude: I totally completely do not."

"Your attempts to act an idiot will not sway me from my course."

"Who's acting?" I cried. "Who are you, and what the hell are you talking about?"

There was a long pause, punctuated by heavy breathing. Great. A prank call from a pervert. "Very well," the deep voice growled. Really growled; I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck trying to stand up. "Be it on your head and suffer the consequences."

Click.

Story of my life, this week.

I stared at the now-dead phone, then threw it at the wall hard enough for it to shatter into a dozen pieces.