The problem with interdimensional diplomacy, Luna decided, was that it always happened at the most inconvenient times. Like 3 AM. On a Tuesday. When she'd much rather be asleep, or at least eating cookies.
Mrs. Chen had been preparing for this meeting for hours. The kitchen looked like a strategic war room, with meticulously arranged plates of cookies that seemed to represent some complex diplomatic calculus only she understood. Lavender-honey cookies alongside what appeared to be mathematically precise chamomile shortbread. Diplomatic offerings, carefully constructed.
"You're overthinking the cookies," Luna mumbled, watching her hover near the industrial-sized mixer.
Mrs. Chen didn't even turn around. "Cookies are never just cookies, Your Majesty. Especially not in supernatural diplomacy."
Her tone suggested that cookies were, in fact, the most serious business in any known universe.
Alexander emerged from their bedroom, looking like he'd been dragged through several dimensions backward. His silk pajama top was rumpled, and there was still a faint trace of flour from Luna's earlier stress-baking. He looked simultaneously elegant and completely exhausted.
"How bad?" he asked, which had become their standard morning greeting since becoming supernatural royalty.
Luna held up her phone. The message from Victoria was succinct: "Interdimensional incident. Briefing in one hour. DO NOT EXPERIMENT WITH COOKIE RECIPES."
The last part was capitalized. Underlined. With three exclamation points.
"Worse than the Swedish ambassador incident?" Alexander asked, pouring himself coffee.
Luna winced. The Swedish ambassador incident had involved what she maintained was a completely reasonable demonstration of werewolf hospitality. Everyone else described it as "causing an international diplomatic situation through excessive enthusiasm and questionable baking."
"Potentially," she said, which was never a good sign.
Mrs. Chen turned, wooden spoon in hand like a potential weapon. "The raccoon was not just a raccoon."
This was not a question. This was a statement of fact delivered with the same certainty one might use to discuss gravity or the inevitability of taxes.
Alexander raised an eyebrow. "I'm sensing a theme."
Luna's mind drifted back to that night. The full moon had been particularly bright, casting everything in a silver-blue glow that made the abandoned warehouse district feel like something out of a dream. She and Alexander had been doing their regular territorial patrol - part security measure, part werewolf instinct, part excuse to run together under moonlight.
The raccoon had been eating garbage. But something had been... off.
Its movements were too precise. Its eyes caught the moonlight in a way that suggested something deeper than simple animal awareness. When Luna had first seen it, her wolf instincts had gone from "potential threat" to "something is very wrong" in approximately 0.2 seconds.
"He looked lonely," she said again, because it was true.
Alexander snorted. Mrs. Chen rolled her eyes.
The briefing room looked exactly like a government conference room should look - bland, beige, with fluorescent lighting that made everyone look slightly ill. Except it wasn't quite right. The walls seemed to shimmer occasionally, as if they were breathing. The chairs looked solid but felt slightly... uncertain when you sat in them.
Agent Reyes looked like she'd stepped out of multiple time periods simultaneously. Part modern tech consultant, part 1940s spy, part something else entirely. Her outfit seemed to shimmer with possibilities, with potential realities that existed just beyond normal perception.
"Your Majesty," she said, her voice carrying a complex mixture of respect, amusement, and something else. Something that made the hair on the back of Luna's neck stand up.
Victoria was already preparing for damage control. Her tablet hummed with what Luna knew were multiple layers of supernatural diplomatic communications. Redaction protocols. Incident reports. Potential narrative management strategies.
"The raccoon," Agent Reyes began, spreading out a holographic map that seemed to breathe and pulse with different realities, "was conducting a very delicate interdimensional reconnaissance mission."
The holographic map zoomed in. Luna could see herself - a golden wolf shape - very definitely mid-tackle on what had appeared to be a raccoon but was now clearly something... else. Multiple versions of the same moment, flickering across different dimensional planes.
"In my defense," Luna said, "he was eating garbage. And looking sad."
Alexander's hand found hers under the table. A silent communication passed between them - years of partnership, of understanding, of knowing exactly how the other would react.
"What do you know," Agent Reyes asked carefully, "about interdimensional travelers?"
Luna blinked. Alexander coughed.
Mrs. Chen didn't even pause in her cookie arrangement.
"Tuesday," Luna said finally. "Is this a Tuesday thing?"
"It's definitely a Tuesday thing," Alexander confirmed.
Agent Reyes looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh. "Your Majesty, that raccoon was a highly trained reconnaissance agent. You essentially tackled an undercover operative during a critical mission."
Luna considered this. "Still looked lonely."
The room went silent.
Then Mrs. Chen pushed forward a plate of lavender-honey cookies. "Tea?"
Victoria's tablet pinged. She looked down, went very still, then looked up with the expression of someone who had just discovered they would need to file approximately seventeen different interdimensional incident reports.
"How much trouble are we in?" Luna asked.
Reyes's smile was sharp enough to cut through dimensional barriers. "So much trouble."
To be continued...