Written for the last day, day 7, of the MarcoAce week. Today does not have a theme, so I decided to write an urban fantasy story.

This too was supposed to be a ficlet, but because MyLadyDay is a bad influence on me, it will be a (short) multichapter story.

Thanks Vergina-spva for beta'ing!

There was a knock on the door of Marco's office, and he hastily put his current research underneath some assignments of students he still had to correct, before calling to enter. A young man came in, but he wasn't one of Marco's students, nor did he look familiar. "Can I help you?" Marco asked.

"I hope so," the man said. "I'm Ace. I'm here about your book."

"I'm flattered, but I don't do private signings," Marco said, putting some books that had been lying on his desk on the shelf behind him. "But there is a signing session next week…" He trailed off when he turned around and saw which book Ace was holding out. The book. The Truth About Mythological Creatures, by Marco Fenwick. A book that talked about how mythological creatures were real and should be studied, written by a cryptozoologist.

Marco swallowed hard, before turning away again. "That's not my book," he said firmly.

"I was told Fenwick was a pseudonym and that the real author was Marco Newgate. That's you, right?" Ace asked.

"It is, but the person who told you that must be mistaken," Marco said curtly. "It's not my book." He was a serious researcher, after all. A well respected zoologist.

"I'm not here to make fun of you," Ace pleaded. "I need your help."

Marco raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "On what?"

Ace fidgeted a little with the book in his hand. "I think I might be a werewolf."

A silence fell between them, as Marco tried to think of what to say. People didn't often walk up to him claiming to be a mythological creature, but then again, he was a renowned zoologist, not some pseudo scientist. This kid was right that he needed help, but Marco doubted he was the one who should give it. A good doctor or psychiatrist was more like it.

"Look, Ace, was it?" When Ace nodded, he continued, "I'm sure you have good reasons to think you're a werewolf, but–"

"I do!" Ace interrupted him. "Every morning after a full moon, I wake up naked with no recollection what happened the night before!"

"There are a number of explanations for that," Marco replied. "None of them has to do with being a werewolf."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe you got drunk or took some kind of medication." Marco sat down behind his desk again.

Ace frowned, looking disappointed. "I was told you would take me seriously." He placed the book on Marco's desk as if that would jog his memory. "The book describes the same symptoms."

Marco sighed, rubbing his temples. "I told you, it's not my book. Did Thatch put you up to this? It sounds like something he would do."

"No, I was sent by a guy named Shanks."

Marco grit his teeth. That damned blabbermouth! Sending weird kids here… "I'm sorry, Ace, I can't help you. Maybe don't watch any more scary movies before bed."

"Fine," Ace spat, his jaw clenched. "But the next time I turn and I maul someone, it's on you!" He turned around to leave, but before he could put his hand on the doorknob, Marco called him back.

"Wait!"

Ace turned around.

Marco sighed and rose. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "Here is my card. If during the next full moon you still think you need my help, call me." He handed Ace his business card.

Ace's face brightened. "So the book is yours!"

"I admit to nothing."

That didn't seem to dampen Ace's spirits. "Thanks anyway! I will call!" He all but skipped out of Marco's office.

Marco sighed and sat down behind his desk, wondering if he had done the right thing. Only then he noticed that the book was still lying in front of him, and he hastened himself towards the door. "Wait, Ace, you forgot your…" He trailed off when he saw that the hallway was empty. With a sigh, he closed the door of his office behind him, trailing his finger along the cover of the book.

It was a long time since he wrote it, but how could he admit to that? If the truth came out, he would be the laughing stock of the entire scientific world, and he had worked so hard to be taken seriously. But that didn't mean that he didn't believe in mythological creatures.

Turning to the window, his body slowly changed.

After all, how could you not believe, if you and your family were living proof that these creatures existed?