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Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
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A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues. About "Life With A Werewolf" Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Friday unless I can't or don't want to. If this is your first time reading this...start here: https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack The first year is available as a compilation on Amazon Kindle: https://a.co/d/gBLLL7E Audio and print versions will be available in the future. My book, "Dreamers of The Sea" is available now on Amazon: https://a.co/d/0uz7xa3 |
| There was no way that I was going to get away with my shenanigans from the previous adventure. So, when Crash said his boss wanted to see me, I was ready. As he was rousing himself for a full day at the office after a full night in the woods, I had time to shower, get dressed and brew coffee. My attire consisted of a simple set of slacks, a cotton buttoned up shirt and a tie. It was the same clothing I'd bought for that disastrous job that I had for less than two weeks. I noticed this over the second cup of coffee as Crash was filling a thermos with what was left of the pot. In a way, I'd expected things to turn out in a similar manner. I'd had fun as a temporary deputy for Crash's little department, but I suppose all good things must come crashing down sooner or later. Crash for his part seemed chipper. He teased me a bit here and there about getting mauled by the bear. I smiled and teased him back, but I took it for exactly what it was: an ass chewing. I had a good idea why I was going to get my ass chewed. After all, it hadn't even been a week since I'd blown up two cars, started a house fire, and killed several well known and least liked criminals as my status as a temporary deputy. In most other fields of law enforcement, I'd have been arrested for results like that. Some places on Earth I'd have been executed. Maybe I'd have been promoted in Russia for that, but who really knows? There's an artform to getting a proper ass chewing, one that you only learn threw time honored experience. Since my ass still had metaphorical teeth marks from some of my shenanigans in the army, and I still say I didn't know a HMMWV would get that much air time at only 45 miles an hour, I have a lot of experience. To survive a good chewing, you got to keep in mind your goal, and to not take everything personal or literal. My goal was to preserve the pack, protect everyone from the threat that the late Milton presented. Something, I felt I'd accomplished.Crash had a scar on his shoulder, but he was doing okay. Zack, Sean, and Kris had a few mental scars and more than a couple bruises, but otherwise, they were recovering nicely. Not only that, I'd killed a member of society who was threatening to murder Crash, a member of their own department, and was using a gang like a paramilitary outfit. Milton had eyes on poisoning half our state with his meth. If you asked me, I think I did a good job. But, instead of getting thanked for that, I was looking forward to a screaming/growling session. And Crash, I think he was enjoying watching someone else get their butt chewed instead of him for a change. "Actually, there'll be more growling than screaming if you've done it right," Crash said, his grin growing wider on his face. I must had given him a look, cause he started snickering after. The top was down and we were enjoying the last warmth of the year before it starts to get colder around here. It was doing nothing for my well combed hair, but I think that was the point. I went into the office, trying to smooth out my hair as best as I could, and stood in front of the desk of Crash's boss. I had saved everyone. I had stopped a threat. In my eyes, I did the right thing. I kept that firmly in mind when I saw the large man in front of me stand up, draw a deep breath, and began his tirade. The first thing to keep in mind is if you'd accomplished the good and righteous mission you set out to accomplish. I certainly had. The secong thing is never, and I mean ever, look smug about what you did. Of course, I wanted to. I wanted to smile at him, scream back "But the vampire's dead, isn't he? His whole gang?! Your not up to your neck in meth addicted assassins?! You're fucking welcome!" I didn't do or say any of that. I looked in his face, tried to look slightly apologetic, and nodded in the appropriate places. But, I think he could smell it on me that I wasn't sorry and not even afraid at that moment. Maybe that's what made the ass chewing go on for so long. Or maybe he's just a long winded and angry guy. Or perhaps he uses his little rants like some people utilize exercise. I don't know. The office was a corner office on the second floor of some ignorable glass structure that you'd seen a million times in a million different places on the planet. I swear they must sell them in the back of Ikea next to the furniture and past the meatballs or something. He had a fantastic office I think partly because no one wanted to try and take it from him. Around his office was mementos from his long career in alternate policing. There was one photograph of him in his human form standing with a wife and child. I didn't ask about his family. Not because I wasn't curious, I was. But because I figured if I did ask he might perceive the question as some sort of threat. You never threaten a were anything either on purpose or on accident. Ever. Especially one a werewolf is afraid of. During the forty five minute screaming/growling session, hair sprouted twice. Though he fought it back down, his finger wavered, and twitched as if it was going to grow a claw. I looked him in the eye and waited, absorbing the ass chewing but not really giving it much thought. Truth was, I was starting to feel a little upset. After all, didn't I do something good for the community? Didn't I help everyone out by removing this threat? That meth gang had literally attempted to murder four people, myself included. There wasn't a whole lot of care about humanity left in them. And then there's the vampire, who had glamoured how many people? The very thugs that the cartel had sent to kill him he turned into his personal body guards. He cut me and drank some of my damn blood. My shoulder is still bleeding, and probably should have been stitched up. It still burns like a son of a bitch when I'm dumping peroxide on it at night. Why am I being punished like some imputent stepchild? "Next time, you try anything that reckless, you inform me first! You're not allowed to fart in the damn wind without my approval!" He screamed this in my face, pounding my chest with his fingertip. His words brought me back to the present, and stunned me a little. I arched an eyebrow at him, trying to play off my shock. "Next time? There's going to be a next time?" He growled and ran a hand through his hair a moment, looking away as he did. "You're damn right there's going to be a next time! Look, you're reckless, sometimes downright suicidal. You have a complete disregard for procedure..." I gave him a small shrug and said "I don't know your procedures." He paused. "Yeah, well, perhaps you should." He sat back into his chair, then leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. He laced his fingers behind his head, as if he was deep into thought. "You're the craziest human I've ever met, you know that? Most humans run screaming from this. I've known military veterans who've told me that they'd rather just pretend they never saw anything and go on their entire lives pretending this weirdness doesn't exist. You on the other hand, you keep shoving your muzzle where we don't want, forcing your way into our cases in order to help solve them. Hell," he smiled, "I've sat here screaming at you for over forty minutes and you just look bored." He wasn't starting to make a whole lot of sense. "I'm completely lost here. What's going on?" Grabbing a thick book that was obvious a government regulation of some kind, he tossed it at me. It landed on the desk in front of me. I stared down at this thing. It was blue, with a large paw print of a werewolf, and a human hand print in the paw. "You won't stop disrupting our cases, despite repeated warnings from your alpha, and I can tell from your look, you won't stop with warnings from me. Look, I served. I understand where your heart and your head is." He pushed the manual closer to me. I can't give you the title, cause you're not allowed to read it, but it was a list of laws and regulations that anyone in Crash's position was supposed to follow. That I was supposed to follow. "Read that, cover to cover. That's your new bible. You better be able to quote chapter and verse from that in the next few days." My mouth was dry. I swallowed hard. "I...uh..." "You're only working with Crash when he needs you and invites you into the case. This won't be an every day, or even every week deal. But from now on, you're not interfering in investigations, you're working them in an official capacity. Do you understand?" My mind went blank for a moment. "A job?! I'm getting a job?!" I was numb. I had believed I was getting arrested. Everything was turning out strange. Did I want this sort of job? Could I handle this sort of job? He smiled as if he could read my mind. "Sport, in our profession you must respond with calm and professionalism to aggression. Otherwise people get hurt or killed. I've given you my worst, you've seen the worst our kind can give, and despite you breaking several laws, you accomplished the job. But from now on, ignorance will not be leeway." He stood up, snarling, he did sprout fur. A low growl that really was threatening formed in his throat as he grabbed my collar and pulled me close to stare in his shifting, snarling face. "Next time, though, you pull a stunt like that, you really will see what the inside of my digestive tract is like. You understand?" With a hard swallow, I nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll have this whole book memorized." "Good." He smiled as he released me, then said, "Oh, and Jason?" "Yes sir?" His grin turned into a threatening one. "No one is to read that besides you and Crash. If any one else, even in your pack, reads that manual, you and they are in a lot of trouble." I tucked the manual under my arm and gave him a firm nod. "Yes sir." Before I left the room, I borrowed a white binder to keep the manual in. After all, if no one is supposed to read it, then perhaps they shouldn't see the title. Crash waved me over from where his desk was. Unlike his boss, our boss now, Crash was in a cubicle sharing a desk with two others in his division. Apparently that's the first thing to know, they're divisions not departments. They don't work for the regular police but along side them. The entire thing is strange. "Here, ya go," he told me, and slid the keyboard in front of me. It was a form of some kind on their intranet, something to get my vitals and family information. Typical first day on boarding procedures. "Holy shit, this is really happening," I muttered to myself as I sat there typing in information. I was working with Crash. I looked over at him. "I just don't know what to say." "Say you'll study that manual hard until you can literally quote it," he smiled. "I'll help you when I can." Everything was going to be different. For one thing half the things I'd been regularly doing had been technically illegal or at least frowned upon. I don't mean just with the last thing with Milton, I mean the entire time. Crash was supposed to warn me off or kill me. And despite his repeated warnings, I kept going deeper into this. I guess there's no backing out now, not that I'd want to. Life can be funny. This might be the only job on the planet that is chaotic and dangerous enough for me to feel at home in. Maybe someone or something up there honestly has a plan for my life. I certainly would appreciate it if they'd let me in on it. But, I suppose so wouldn't anyone. I'll just keep rolling with the punches and doing my best. I guess that's all I really can do. |
| It had been a long night, and felt like it’d be an even longer morning. Part of me felt as if we all had finally awakened from a years long nightmare. It was a familiar feeling, one I’d gotten after every deployment. Usually the feeling fled, days into being home. I couldn’t help but wonder how long that feeling would last. There was a beer in my hand immediately when I got home. Neither Elouise, nor Crash said a word. The first sip felt like a warm comfortable mistake, one I’d be struggling not to make over and over. Still, it was one I felt I’d earned, so I took one, then a longer sip as I avoided eye contact with both of them. I wanted to be pissed, but I couldn’t be. After all, wouldn’t I have done what they did in their shoes? Haven’t I literally done the same before to some of the others in the very house I lived in? All questions that I wasn’t certain there was any good answers for. I looked towards the woods, and sipped my beer again. The desire to chug it was hard to ignore, but ignore it I did. At least for the time being. “She brought you along, didn’t she?” Crash might have given me a nonchalant shrug. I couldn’t tell. He wasn’t looking me in the eye at that moment, that much I did know. His muzzle stared at the horizon for a moment, in that manner that I could tell he was trying to judge what to say to me. “You had training wheels on,” he eventually said. “Don’t trust the FNG, huh?” I looked over at Crash, he did actually shrug then, his ear tipping. “Don’t take it personal, you’re just a bit too green to trust doing that job alone,” Elouise said for him. I just gave her a look, shrugged and turned back to the woods. She took my shrug as a question and decided to press her argument. “You bombed two vehicles. You had no consideration for anyone that might have been inside, if anyone might have gotten hurt. I mean, Jesus, Jason! What if they had kids?! You went off half cocked hell-bent for blood and fire.” I glared at her. “No toys in the yard, no bikes, nothing so much as even a tire swing. Windows with black curtains over them, nothing else. No car seats in the cars, do I need to go on?” She crossed her arms, and snarled at me. She was in her human form now, but there was more than a bit of gator in that snarl. “The explosion was designed to do two things, surprise them, and shock the hell out of them. Shake them from clear thinking for a second, a half a second. It was the only advantage we had. The only chance of survival I had. You wanted a fair fight? All three of us would be dead right now.” Crash’s growling voice broke through my developing stormy mood. “Lighten up on her, Jason.” I looked at Crash. “You were supposed to be in bed. I was going to kill him.” “Heh, with what, a hammer and a stake?” He’d posed it as a joke, but I nodded. “Yes. A hammer, a stake. And a pole to mount his head on outside his fucking house as I burned it to the ground.” “Pike. You’re supposed to mount it on a pike, which they didn’t have.” I looked over at Elouise, and she cracked a grin. The comment hung between us a moment, and I couldn’t help but to start laughing. Crash joined in, then her. Soon, jokes were flying back and forth about the proper way to kill a vampire. My beer sat, temporarily forgotten. “So, I wasn’t authorized to kill Milton.” Crash shook his head. “I was only authorized to kill the humans.” Crash nodded. His silence routine was starting to get on my nerves. “Do I need to get your leash and take you on walkies?” “We both know, that’d end up with me giving you walkies.” Chuckles all around followed that one. Elouise and Crash then began talking about the appropriate way to walk a human. I jumped in where I could with that. Apparently, I’d need to be muzzled, and have my hands bound behind my back, be wearing a harness, because you know a collar is just cruel. I’d apparently choke myself to death on it in my own stupidity. “What I don’t get,” Elouise said eventually. “Is why that guy in the suit. Why was he even there?” “Drug connection. I didn’t recognize him, but apparently he was some drug lord who had shown up to get to Milton. All of that meth about drained Milton’s abilities, but he must have had enough strength to mesmerize the men that guy brought with him.” I took a long sip of my beer, then set it down. “I figure, Milton originally got some weight from the guy. Probably a kilo, I don’t figure Milton was smart enough to negotiate more. Then, he missed his payments. That guy was probably there to collect.” She nodded. “Yeah, I remember him talking about payment. Shit, it’s why we made our own down in Louisiana. No one to come knocking, trying to collect on ya.” I nodded and looked over at Crash. He still wasn’t looking at me. “You pissed at how I did the job?” He didn’t answer for a moment or two. To be honest, it did make me a little nervous. “No, I think you did fine, considering your limitations. If we ever have humans involved, expect to get a phone call.” I grinned. “Well, next time, I won’t do it for free.” He grinned back, finally looking at me. “Since when do interns get paid?” Well, fellas, I must get running, a girl’s gotta get her beauty sleep. Come here cher.” She leaned in and motioned for us both to hug her, which we happily did. Then, I finished my beer in a few large swallows and wished Crash a good morning. It was hard to ignore the desire for another, but I’d managed to do it. Everyone had come out of the hospital the next day. Crash picked everyone up in his car. We looked at each other, hugged once, and then climbed inside. Zack asked two questions. “Is he dead and did he suffer?” I looked at him. There was an anger in his eyes I hadn’t seen on Zack’s face, I think in ever. It pained me to see it there. Zack normally had a kind face, the sort that’s more designed for smiling than growling. I felt fresh rage at Milton for stealing some of that from him. For stealing some of that innocence. “Yes to both, and both were self-inflicted,” I said. He nodded. “Good.” And then didn’t say anything else the rest of the car ride home. No one did. Kris and Sean leaned against each other gingerly. Zack glared out at the sidewalk. I sat in the back by the door, wondering what this would mean for us. How it would change our little group. For the first time in a long time, I found myself praying. I prayed that it didn’t. I just hope my prayers weren’t in vain. |
| Milton's hideout was Custor Manor, a large stately home in the tri-county area. It was known by legend and myth to every child and teenager who ever grew up in and around the county, as well as being the setting for numerous local childhood nightmares. Built decades ago by an eccentric millionaire, at a time when eccentric meant rich and insane, it was designed to house himself and his wife, and protect them against what he believed was magic attacks. Legend says that Old man Custor, sometime in the 19th century, was obsessed with magic and the mystical arts. He felt that the key to immortality was through the occult. It's here that the myths differ. One myth has him sacrificing his wife and accidentally summoning a demon that possessed and killed him. Another myth has him summoning a vampire who controlled both and destroyed them. So of course, it was the place that Milton was holed up in. The manor hid from the highway behind a grove of trees that just barely covered the lower roof line. A winding gravel path pushed through the trees, holding them at bay. Greasy, of course, didn't want to go any further than the trees themselves. "Alright," he muttered. "You're here. Now, let me go?" I motioned him out with my pistol. He sputtered. "W-what?! Come on, man! I lead you to him, don't do this to me, please..." The fear and anguish on his face almost got me to let him go. Almost. Then, I remembered Crash. Pale, lying on his bed, sweating profusely. Almost dying. I gritted my teeth and pressed the pistol into his back. "Walk." I didn't look at Elouise, but she didn't voice any complaint. He blubbered, stumbling over his own two feet. I held him upright with his collar as I marched him forward, Elouise walked behind me with her head on a swivel, covering our tracks. "We're going to have a conversation when we get back," she muttered. I suppressed a snarl. "Just bring the beer." All I could see in the grove to our left and right was an inky blackness that seemed to have an unlife of their own. There was no sounds, no music of crickets chirping out their song, or frogs croaking out a chorus. Just the dead silence before the battle. My nerves were on edge, my teeth gritted hard as we marched towards the fence. The gothic windows and tall roof lines didn't have any shooters in them. There was a movement in the window near the highest spire, like a curtain being moved to glance outside. Then there was nothing else. A dark German SUV sat near the front of the door. Memories flashed through my mind of the first time we faced off against The Nobility. The silver gate intercom lit up, shining in our faces. "I knew you'd be along eventually," a wheezing voice told me. It sounded like Milton, but a weakened version. As if something had drawn out the life blood of the vampire. A snarl pulled up on my face, but before I could say anything, Milton said "Come on in." Then the gate unlocked and opened for us. We pushed through, with Elouise at my side, Greasy walking in front of us with the stiff movements of the condemned. A blackened European SUV stood near the main door, their sweeping marble steps and columns leading us upwards into two large dark oak wooden doors. Strange animals and symbols were carved into it. We entered the doorway, and pushed into the mansion. Dark wood surrounded us, blood red carpeting was under our feet. Two men followed us at a distance, another two men started pacing beside them as we walked. Our own executioner line keeping pace with us and staying back ten paces. Wheezing laughter, and jokes echoed through the halls as we walked. Jokes about how my blood would taste, about eating rougarou tail like a gator. "Must be a delicacy on a ritz cracker," then more wheezing laughter. It grew louder and louder until we pushed through into a living room of sorts where we found Milton, staring off into another room. He was propped against the wall as if it was the only thing holding him up. The meth had destroyed most of his face by now. His arms were covered in scabs, which for a vampire, it's hard to do. They don't heal as fast as werewolves I'm told, but you have to scratch a lot to cause enough damage for them to scab over. He scratched at them almost constantly. He was rail thin. I could literally count every bone in his torso, collar, ribs, even back bones. "Heh, strike at the wolf, and how the sheep does scatter, hehe," he wheezed. "You look like shit, I'm happy to see," I snarled. "Well, you don't, I'm happy to see," he gasped, then stepped forward. "You're looking nice and healthy." Taking slow steps towards me, he withdrew a large knife, the kind of knife you could hear Paul Hogan praise. Then he beckoned Greasy forward. Greasy whimpered, like he was resisting. It was weird, I'd never seen anyone actively resist the call of a vampire before. Once you were enthralled, that was that. Yes, Sarah had done it. But you couldn't hear her whimper, see her push back against the mental programming. It was one moment, she's under control, the next, game time. But Greasy looked as if he could bolt at any moment. He stepped, held his ground, shaking. "Sh...." Milton said, in mock comfort. "I'm not going to eat your soul." He glared at me and grinned. "Someone else will whet my appetite." Milton pressed the blade inward, pushing it into his abdomen and out the back, slowly. Greasy screamed, long, low and loud. No matter what the bastard had done, what he had planned to do to me, I couldn't take it anymore. "Elouise," I said. Then I pulled my pistol. The first shot put Greasy out of his misery. I didn't pause to see Milton's expression. I spun as quick as I could. Elouise had snarled and dove on two the left, her jaws snapping around one and ending his struggles quick, while her thick tail knocked the legs out of another. The other two got one shot off apiece. Elouise growled and groaned in that low croaking nature. One went through her hip, the other into her gut. I shot the other two as quick as I could. The closest man stepped back, and buckled. The next cried out and spun, the bullet hitting his shoulder. Before I could do more, I felt a blade against my throat. "Well now, that was more fun than shining," Milton wheezed. "It's damn amazing watching you work, like hell's angels at play. You suppose I'll get some of that speed from you?" I felt the blade at my shoulder. My blood ran cold. He was so weak, but so was Elouise. She couldn't stand yet, her body still healing from the shots. "Why," I snarled. "Why are you back here, why do you keep fucking with us?!" He laughed and I felt the blade drop, his arm slack just a bit. I tried raising my pistol slightly to shoot at him but the blade tip pressed into my throat. "I may not be a hundred percent right now, but I can tell what you're doing. Keep it up, and I'll bleed you like the pig you are." The blade cut into a spot on my shoulder, causing me to wince. Elouise was up this time, but gasping, holding her gut. Every step she took was staggered. "Thank you, by the way, those men were going to betray me later," Milton wheezed. "I'm here on business. Your deaths was just extra slop for the pig." The blade sliced into my shoulder. I winced and he whispered in my ear, "I've been waiting for this." Elouise stumbled forward, and fell, her thick gator tail swaying from side to side. I felt his decaying mouth press against my shoulder. He began to suck, pulling blood from the wound, his disgusting moaning like a man dining on the finest steak dinner. With it, I felt something else drawing out of me. A new weakness had started to enter me. I gasped. "Sweet ambrosia. I'm gonna keep you around for a long time," he growled. Then laughed. "Oh, and you're feeling it ain't ya boy?" "Alright, you've had your fun," a voice called out. The voice held a latin tinge to it. I looked into the direction Milton had been talking in when we entered the room. A well dressed man stepped forward, with the appearance of someone who was bred on chaos and grew up in violence. He looked like a man who had grown up inside a cartel and excelled at their ways. "You said you could get us distribution in the area. You promised to move serious weight, my friend." The man opened a silver cigarette case, pulled out a single cigarette and lit it. "All you've seemed to do was get your own men killed. And now, you're getting my men killed." "Sometimes you gotta sacrifice a few pawns to strike the king." Milton said. I winced in disgust when he started sucking on my wound again, my strength pulling into him. I felt a headache coming on. "I may not have control of you, but you will be my food till you die." "You owe the family more than a hundred thousand dollars for the meth you've already wasted," the new man said. He pulled almost as quickly as I did. I didn't react. I thought I honestly thought was dead. Milton, however, screamed. He started jumped on a single foot twice, then fell down. "You shot my foot you bastard!" "You seem to think we're some kind of a bank. Well, you forget amigo, banks charge interest." The gun barked fire again. Milton screamed as the slug punched through his shoulder. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..." The new man knelt over Milton and waved the pistol over his head, "Time to pay your interest you stupid mother..." he never got to finish. Milton may have been mostly dead, he may have had two bullets in him, but he was still a vampire. He grabbed the pistol from the man's hand in a blink, and began pulling the trigger. I didn't count the number of shots, but the He crawled over him, screaming. "You gonna shoot me, you slick suited bastard! Die!" The man fell off his heals and onto his back. He was dead before he hit the floor. "Fuck, I'm gonna need blood," Milton muttered. He waved the pistol at me. "Come here." I tried to go for mine, and he laughed. "No, no, meal plan. You don't get to try that. Throw your iron down. You did your bit, now it's my turn." He pointed his gun at Elouise. "Or, I'll blow off something she's gonna miss." I gritted my teeth in disgust and tossed the pistol away. "Now, come here..." he gasped. A low growl echoed through the hallways. Milton's eyes went wide. "Holy shit. You're dead. You're dead. You're supposed to be fucking dead!" Crash stumbled through the door in full werewolf form. His ears were folded down. He occasionally had to walk on all fours, before picking himself back up. He didn't say anything to me. Step by step, he stalked forward over to Milton, finally landing on the vampire. Milton brought the pistol up, but Crash casually knocked it away. He snarled over Milton, his teeth inches from his face. Crash's lips were still blue. "You attacked my pack. You nearly killed me. You killed innocent people. You sold meth." He gasped for a moment. Milton winced, as drool from Crash's mouth landed on his head. "You're sentence is death." Milton looked skyward, if he had any teeth left, he would have been grinding them. "You killed Leeroy you bastard! You all did! Except gator girl, she just came in with your mangy mutts." I limped over to Milton. I looked down at him. "Your mistake was making it personal." He hissed at me. "You did that first. You killed my brother." I pulled my pistol and pressed it into his eye socket and growled. "You took my wife." Crash looked at me. "Jason, I got this. Go with Elouise, and wait outside." I grabbed her, and somehow managed to pick her up. We were near the doors when Milton's screaming started. By the time we got down the steps, his screaming had stopped. |
| It felt like hours before Vic made his appearance. In reality, it was less then ninety minutes. The vampire stepped inside without knocking, holding a bag that looked like an ancient doctors bag stolen from the set of an old Gun Smoke episode. I nodded at him and brought him towards the back, to Crash's bedroom where he lay. He nodded back and didn't speak. No jokes about me being food, about how terrible werewolves were. Just a cold business face of a doctor working a terrible case. His silence only made me more anxious, which set my simmering rage into a boil. Supplies were unrolled and laid out in a methodical manner. Medicine bottles with mysterious clear liquids were used first, injected directly into Crash's shoulder. He cried, bucked, and whimpered. Then what looked like silver puss started pushing out of where the wound was. Vic washed it away, then poured peroxide over the forming hole in Crash's shoulder. He patted it dry. "Silver is insidious for werewolves," Vic explained as he worked. "It doesn't hurt them to touch it, to hold it. Or even wear it as jewelry. But if it gets into their system, with a blade or a bullet, or sprinkled on their food, it makes their system go haywire." He injected more fluid into the wound, and Crash began to give pained whines like a dog. Those whines stabbed me straight through the heart. More puss pushed out, this time a darker red color. "Their body tries to heal, but can't. Tissue is regenerated where it can be, like the skin. But tissue inside, just begins to rot. The toxin pumps through their system. The rot accelerates, spreads. You can't see it or smell it with your human senses. But believe me, it's vile in here." More injections, then the scalpel came out. "We'll need to cut away rotted tissue. He's almost delirious and will try to fight back. We need someone stronger than you to hold him down." Elouise was closer, so I called her in to help. She promised to be over in ten minutes. She walked through the door in eight, panting. "Had to run," she said. I pointed to where Crash was in the back. "I've got to go," I said. "Where the hell are you going," she snapped at me. "To kill them." She gave me a look of pain and confusion. "I know you want revenge, but Crash needs you now." "They're not going to stop until we're dead." She glared at me for a moment. I could tell she knew I was right, and in that moment, she hated me for it. "You better come back," she snapped, then stormed back to Crash's room. Cries rose up as I stepped out of the house. I walked over to my car, my blood boiling with rage, with pain. It wasn't a complicated plan. Which is why I knew it'd work. Simplest plans almost always work. The most difficult part was going to be finding them. My first stop was the gas station. I filled a gas jug, then bought matches. I went to dollar general and bought a couple electric lighters and a couple cheap remote controlled cars. Putting in a call to Crash's boss, got me the address of a certain meth house at the edge of the county. One that had a beat up shit box of a car and a low rider in front of it. As well as a fancy dark SUV of some kind seen there regularly. "I've told them of your temporary deputy duties. Don't make me regret this," he said. "Don't worry, the bomb won't be too big," I told him. "Wait! What?!" He shouted as I hung up the phone. His next few text messages and subsequent voice mail proceeded to describe his nervousness about my plan and his fears of civilian casualties. I think the exact language was "If you kill anyone you're not supposed to, I'm going to rip your spine through your asshole." The rest of the preparations I had to go back home to make. By the time I came back, Elouise was still there, and Crash was passed out. "He looks horrible," she said. "You should be here taking care of him, not me." "They struck us. The only reason I'm okay right now is I got lucky." I was concentrating hard on the pot in front of me, finishing my bomb. The cheap stick on tile of the kitchen floor, the ancient refrigerator, it had a haunted feeling to it then. As if the bastards had drained the life from the house. She didn't say anything to that. I turned to her. "I'm nearly done here. Could you go in the back and take care of Crash? I don't want you to see this next part. Plausible deniability and all that." Her shoulders fell, and she ran a hand through her thin hair. "I wish you'd let me help you." "You are. If I fail, he's going to need you," I whispered. "It'll be days before Zack, Kris or Sean are out of the hospital." "I don't get how you can just march out there alone into this fight," she whispered back. Her words came in a rush, a rush that matched the snarl on her face. "Once you accept you could die at any time, it gets a little easier." She didn't say anything to that. I'm not sure there was much for her to say. I left the house that evening right around dark 30. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the darkness of the woods seemed to call. "Time to clock in," I told no one, and got in my car, then began to drive to a certain address off a forgotten county road, at the edge of the county. *** It was a rundown shack of some kind. A two story house that had peeling white wash, with an ancient wire fence around it that was mostly choked with trees growing up along the line. The yard was more thick weeds than grass. There was brown spots in it in the shape of one vehicle or another. In the back of the property was the glow of a bonfire, and the tell tale sound of some country rap rock mix echoing from close by. I'd parked my car off to the side of the road and was preparing to walk in. My pistol was drawn, and I had both my bombs under my arm. The gasoline had been gelled, the wires and matches pointed inward with the remnants of the electric lighters wired up specially to ignite the entire thing. It was a water bottle, wire, and duct tape mess. But it would at least ignite. I hoped. "So, what's the plan?" Elouise had managed to sneak up beside me in full gator mode, and growl the question in my ear. It took everything not to leap out of my skin. "Elouise, why are you here?" "You think Crash is going to let you do this alone," She asked incredulously. She had gone full gator mode, and her thick tail was swaying side to side behind her. "Who' watching Crash," I asked. "Relax, Charles and his wife are chipping in. Crash's boss told me to bite your head off if you screw this up, by the way. Sounded like he meant literally." Great. I was on a revenge tour with a babysitter and now Crash had two hulderfolk trying to watch him. I gritted my teeth, and looked skyward a moment. "Yeah, he meant literally. Here, your placing these. Find the gas tank, and wedge it into the car next to it. Then come back here and wait." She moved to the vehicles quickly and quietly, slinking through the weeds and grass while keeping as low as possible. Her dark form seemed to swim through the tall grass and weeds, then swam back towards me, her green thick skin almost glistening in the moonlight. I handed her the remote when she got back. I whispered, "you do the honors." She pulled the throttle on the controller. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, boom! A mushroom ball of flame and death rose into the sky. Windows shattered in the house, then flames rolled into it, engulfing ratty curtains. I had expected to hear panicked screams, of people burning inside. Thankfully, there was none. I walked low down the driveway, pistol at the ready as men started running towards the explosion. My pistol barked fire once. Twice. Two men fell, one dead before he hit the ground from a head shot, another giving soft gasps of the dying. A third came and before I could shoot Elouise attacked, snapping his neck cleanly. We got around back, the ringing in our ears had begun to die down by then. Loud music started to be heard. It was a strange mix of country, rap and metal. Like Alan Jackson and Kid Rock had started a Nu-Metal band together. There was one man left standing. Greasy, from the grocery store. He backed up, his eyes going wide. Two women, screamed and scattered away from him. He had a pistol in his hand. He dropped it, and started running. Elouise looked at me. "You can if you want. We need him alive." She sprinted after him far faster than I'd seen her run in a long time. Soon, he was on the ground, his head in her jaws. I squatted in front of him. "Milton." He winced and closed his eyes. The fire roared in the background, the house began to go up in flames. An explosion from inside, remnants of whatever meth operation they were running going up in smoke. Me and Elouise both pulled back. Greasy tried to run. She easily tackled him again, and put his head right back in her jaws. "He'll drain me, he'll kill me. He'll make me do it to myself, I've seen it!" I knelt in front of him again, a little more gingerly this time. "You're head is in the jaws of a Rougarou. I'd be a little more concerned with that, if I were you." I cocked the gun, and pressed it against his knee. "Talk." |
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