What was visible was shocking. Even with ever-increasing werewolf strength, Alec had only been able to open the door about halfway due to the stuff crammed behind it (which Natalie couldn’t help but hope was not Blob’s body). Boxes, clothing, books, toys, all stacked from floor-almost-to-ceiling in piles that seemed to have no rhyme or reason. Pizza boxes from different restaurants all over the city made up another pile. Ones on the bottom were so yellowed and brittle that Natalie couldn’t help but imagine they’d been there for years. “Jesus,” Alec breathed as he squeezed through the opening and looked around. “What a mess.” Natalie nodded, mostly because she couldn’t come up with words to express her feelings of disgust and pity. Blob, who had led their meetings with grace and gentle encouragement, Blob, who had kept them all in line . . . he lived like this. Like a sad, lonely man . . .
