by D.J. Bodden
CHAPTER 22
There was no pause. In one fluid movement, Phillip launched himself through the air, changing mid-jump, his clothes splitting in an explosion of claws and teeth. Nearly 250 pounds of fur-encased muscle and bone slammed into Kieran, knocking him to the ground.
“Jonas!” Amelia said, digging her fingernails into his arm. “We need to go!”
But Jonas didn’t respond. He was frozen in place, watching the confrontation unfold. Phillip’s attack had been lightning fast, and Kieran’s chest and abdomen were now scored with deep, jagged cuts. As the winter wolf scrambled back to his feet, Phillip circled for his next attack, the claws on his hands and feet dripping black blood.
Frank, wide-eyed, was slowly backing away with his pistol raised, but the circle of werewolves hadn’t broken. Amelia tugged on Jonas’ arm again, but he shook his head. Why is Kieran’s blood black? he thought.
Phillip staggered, snarling, trying to wipe the blood off his claws. Kieran could have attacked, but instead he stood perfectly still, watching his father, while the wounds on his body visibly healed.
Phillip coughed, his voice shaky, and said, “How was I mistaken, pack leader?”
“What the-" Frank said, in disbelief.
“Jonas, what just happened?” Amelia asked.
“I think he has silver in his blood,” Jonas said, softly. Kieran overheard, glanced their way, and nodded.
Leticia Macready looked like she wanted to scream, but she stood behind her husband and remained quiet.
Kieran took a step forward. “It was Bert who kidnapped me, father. And the vampires who came after us were using those werewolves like hunting dogs.”
“I’m not your father anymore, Kieran. I’m just—”
“You are what I say you are,” Kieran said, his voice firm.
Leticia snarled, and Kieran looked at her for the first time in the exchange. “Know your place!” he shouted. “How long did you defy him, in spite of all your preaching about the old ways? Would grandfather have tolerated this from his wife? From you?”
She flinched. “No. I suppose he would have killed me for it, as you have the right to if—”
“Enough, mother,” Kieran said, cutting her short. “The old ways are flawed. They’re chains we wrapped around ourselves during darker times. But just because something worked or didn’t work, centuries ago, is no reason to blindly follow it now.”
All around them Jonas could hear the members of the Macready pack, moving in the bushes and trees, as they growled and muttered to each other. The five who’d stepped out earlier were arguing in hushed tones.
Kieran turned to Phillip. “You’re my father. You sent me to the Agency to learn, and I did. I actually studied all of our laws, instead of simply ignoring them or blindly following them without understanding them. How long before one of them challenges me?” he said, pointing at his siblings. Four of them had stepped back, but one of them had already started to move toward Kieran.
Phillip snarled and snapped at the standout, who whined and retreated. “Apparently, not long at all,” he said. Then he looked back at Kieran. “What do you intend to do, pack leader? Will you spill the blood of your brothers and sisters?”
“I’m not your pack leader,” Kieran said.
“What?” Phillip sounded genuinely confused.
“I can’t be,” Kieran said, “A pack member can only start a pack of his own with the permission of his pack leader.”
Phillip nodded. “Unless he wins that right by combat or surrender, which you—”
“I wasn’t talking about you, father.” Kieran said, with a trace of mischief in his voice. Then he walked over to where Jonas stood. “There is a deer about two hundred feet that way,” he said, gesturing toward the trees. “I would like to hunt it.”
Jonas looked up at the white tower of muscle, fur, and teeth, unsure of what was expected of him. But Kieran didn’t speak. He stood motionless, staring into the trees, his blue eyes gleaming.
Frank nudged Jonas. “He’s asking you for permission.”
“Um… sure, go for it,” Jonas said, stepping back as if to clear a path.
“Can he do that?” Phillip asked his wife.
Leticia closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He can’t leave your pack unless you expel him — which we arguably did by sending him to the Agency even if we never formalized it. If he then challenged you as a member of-"
“It’s legal,” Kieran said.
“Had this all planned out, did you?” Phillip asked.
Kieran shrugged. “I didn’t foresee everything being so dramatic. I hoped you’d be reasonable.”
“And if I hadn’t been? Or your siblings?”
Kieran shrugged. “I’ve been dosing with silver nitrate for two years, to create these,” he said, wiggling his claws. “The results would have been… predictable.”
“That’s very… traditional of you, son,” Leticia said.
“I was never weak, Mother,” Kieran said, scanning the glowing eyes that surrounded them. “Do you hear me? I’m not weak!”
“I think they know that, now, son,” Phillip said.
Kieran hugged his father. Then, to Jonas’ surprise, he hugged his mother as well, and whispered something in her ear. He was careful not to touch either them with his claws. When he pulled away, Jonas saw tears running down Leticia’s cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away. Then Kieran gave Jonas one last look, crouched, and leapt into the dark.
Frank suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, and startling Jonas. “Mr. Macready? My boys should probably start cleanup, shell casings and the like. We can’t get everything, but no reason to cause a ruckus if we don’t need to.”
Phillip nodded. He opened his jaws and made a deep, rumbling sound. “Go home!” he growled. There was rustling, and the pairs of yellow eyes disappeared, one by one. As the other five werewolves, the ones who’d stepped forward to challenge Kieran, also turned to leave, Phillip said, “Not you, geniuses. Pick up the bodies and scatter the ashes while your mother and I finish with adult matters.”
One of the werewolves groaned and another shoved him. They threw the bodies on their shoulders like sacks, grumbling, pushing, and nipping at each other, like the brothers and sisters they were. Billy, Steve, Jim, and Eugene went through the bushes, bending occasionally to pick up the small pieces of brass that littered the scene. Edwards and Frank stayed where they were.
“Jonas!” Phillip said. “Looks like I won’t be killing you and your… friends, after all - probably unwise, now that you have a winter wolf in your pack. I suspect this also makes you my clan leader, doesn’t it, Lettie?”
Leticia bit her lower lip and nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Jonas said. “I’m not sure what all this means.”
“Oh, I suspect my son, the lawyer,” Phillip said, rolling his yellow eyes, “will let us know in his own time. For now, though, back to business. Who did this?”
“The Order of Shadows,” Jonas said.
Leticia frowned and looked at her husband.
Phillip’s ears perked up, and he lolled his tongue. “That’s just an old story, Jonas. The Order—”
“Director Fangston is demon-possessed. That’s why you’ve been smelling sulfur around the agency, and why a lot of other strange things have been happening.”
Phillip looked at Jonas, Frank, and the other hunters. “I see. Well, trust a vampire to go for something theatrical. That why you’re keeping the present company?”
Jonas nodded.
Phillip thought for a moment. “A lot has happened in the past few days, and we need to talk. Only, as you can imagine, I have a bit of unrest in my house that needs taking care of. I also need a change of clothes. Do you mind if I come by your apartment tomorrow?”
Jonas knew, because of what had happened in the last ten minutes, Phillip Macready was technically asking him for permission. He also knew not to push it, and that Phillip had a habit of understating things. No doubt he w
ould have to forcefully reassert his leadership. Hopefully, no one would die in the process. “Sure, tomorrow’s fine,” he said, looking out at the surrounding darkness. “Will Kieran be okay?”
“He’ll be fine. He’s already caught the deer,” Phillip said, sniffing. Then he stopped, and said, “You remember Ryan and Sean, the twins? I could have them follow Kieran — giving him a respectful amount of distance, of course — and make sure nothing happens.” He glanced at Leticia, “We could even have them bring an old set of clothes for him. Morning after the first night is always a little embarrassing.” He wagged his eyebrows.
Jonas smiled. It was good to hear Phillip joke again. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
“I’ll make sure it happens,” Leticia said.
Edwards walked over to Jonas, moving slowly and keeping his hands visible. “We should probably get back to the apartment. I’ll have Eugene take the young lady home,” he added, and Jonas was surprised to see Amelia was still there, sitting on a bench, holding her arms and looking at the ground while the older hunter talked to her in a low, calm voice.
Phillip nodded. “See you tomorrow, Jonas. You might see one or two of mine around the neighborhood, keeping things safe,” he said with a wink.
Jonas scanned the area as they turned to leave. The bodies were gone. Besides some clothing and shoes the homeless would take by the time the sun came up, only some ash and a few bloodstains remained. He wondered if anyone would notice.
♟
It was almost a normal Sunday, Jonas thought. Well, except for having a house full of armed men. Three more had arrived overnight. Six had taken over his parents’ room, while Frank slept in the other bedroom with Jonas, since he’d appointed himself Jonas’ personal bodyguard. Edwards stayed at his own place, and Frank said four others were staying there as well, bringing the total number of hunters up to thirteen.
Around 6 a.m., Jim shook Jonas awake. “Good morning! Friend of yours just showed up.” Then he turned and walked off toward the kitchen.
Jonas groaned and rolled over in his bed. He didn’t feel rested at all. Remembering what Viviane had told him – the key to a strong barrier being about consistency and choosing your own rules – he’d spent half the night with Sam, training his guardians like a real army. He didn’t have the cuts and bruises his dream-self had sustained, but he still felt beat up, probably because he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he looked down at the floor. Frank was still lying on his bedroll, but his eyes were open. “How does Jim do that?”
“Do what?” Frank said, yawning.
“He’s always so… cheerful.”
“Well,” Frank said. “I figure Jim would tell you if you asked, which might be an answer in and of itself, because most hunters wouldn’t…” He paused and stared at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts before continuing.
“He was with a team of hunters, five years back,” Frank said, sitting up and stretching. “Ran into what the Agency calls a ‘rogue puppeteer’ — a powerful vampire that can control several people at once like they’re his evil hand puppets or something. Anyway, Jim and four other guys, all friends from when he was in the Army, track this thing down to its lair.”
“How?” Jonas asked.
“Puppeteers leave a trail,” Frank said. “They tend to rearrange life the way they think it should be, so you look for patterns or coincidences. Like a neighborhood or a small town that starts acting out a popular TV show. Or maybe something more subtle, like a newspaper article about an abused dog killing its master, or a bad cook choking on their own shitty food. Usually these things will be happening within a small area, because these vampires don’t travel much and generally just have people bring stuff to them.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, turns out the person who was leading them to the lair was one of the puppets. Jim and his buddies get caught, strung up like turkeys, and the vamp decides to have Jim cut his friends up, one at a time, over four nights. First night, Jim thinks it’s all a dream, right? Except there’s blood all over his hands the next morning, so he screams himself hoarse calling for help. Second night, same thing. Vamp’s laughing his undead ass off the whole time.”
Jonas realized his mouth was hanging open. It wasn’t really the story, it was the casual way in which Frank was telling it, like he was giving Jonas directions to a grocery store.
“So, by the end of the third night, Jim’s cracked — safety’s off on his brain. He doesn’t sleep or eat the whole day. Fourth night comes around, he walks out of his cell, meek as a lamb, walks up to the table and takes the knife from the vampire without fighting it, then stabs the bloodsucker through the eye. All because his mind was so twisted that the vamp couldn’t control him anymore. So the Puppeteer — laughing and stumbling around with a knife handle sticking out of its skull — says, ‘Yes, that’s it! You understand completely,’ and then turns to ash.”
Frank delivered the last bit like a punch line. When Jonas didn’t laugh, he said, “It’s funnier when Jim tells it. Anyway, Jim cuts his remaining friend loose — Terry Owens, a good man, but he doesn’t hunt anymore — and they walk out of there together. Hasn’t been a vamp since that could get into Jimmy’s head. Not without side-effects, anyway… what were we talking about, again?”
“How he manages to be so cheerful all the time,” Jonas said, feeling a little sick.
“Oh yeah. Well, after that, why not be cheerful?”
Jonas shook his head. He supposed it made sense, in a twisted sort of way. He rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. But before he made it out of the bedroom, Frank said, “Hey, kid?”
“What?”
“We’ve all got stories like Jimmy’s. All of us. Try to remember that when you think we’re being biased, or bigoted, or whatever it was you called me.” He rolled back over on his bedroll.
“I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Don’t mention it. Really, don’t,” Frank said, and laughed at his own joke.
Jonas walked to the living room and was greeted by the smell of cooking meat. Kieran was on the floor in front of the dining table, something Jim had cobbled together from the broken pieces, working his way through a plate of raw meat. He grabbed chunks with his hands and tore into them with his teeth. Several of the hunters watched him eat, a mixture of horror and fascination written on their faces.
“Oh, hey Jonas.” Jim said, from the kitchen. “Kieran brought venison, which is good because we were running low on food.”
“I’m not eating meat a wolf brought down,” Billy said.
Kieran shrugged. “More for me,” he said, around a mouthful of meat. A dribble of blood ran down his chin.
Jim sighed. “Kieran, did you bite this thing before you dressed it?”
“Nope. Claws only,” Kieran said, before picking up another large piece of venison.
“See, perfectly safe,” Jim said. “So how about it, Jonas? Steak and eggs?”
Jonas felt his stomach rumble. He hadn’t eaten solid food in days, and wasn’t sure he could still keep it down, but it smelled delicious. That, and he needed to find a way to bridge the gap between Kieran and the hunters. “Sure, I’m starving.”
“How do you want it?”
“Medium and over-easy, please.” Jonas sat across the table from Kieran and looked around the room. Eugene was on the couch, reading as usual. Since arriving, he’d already finished two of the three books Jonas had bought. Steve, the younger hunter, was sitting on the couch reading a gun magazine and trying very hard to look relaxed. He was the youngest person in the room, aside from Jonas and Kieran.
Jim got busy cooking, occasionally participating in conversations by throwing in a comment or a joke. Curious, Jonas tried to see if his thoughts were that different from anyone else’s, but he quickly thought better of it; just looking at Jim with his mind was uncomfortable. He felt like the man’s thoughts were actually trying to draw him in. Jim turned, gave Jonas a wink, and went
back to cooking.
Billy was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, mouth tight, staring at Kieran. Frank had said they all had stories; maybe Billy’s involved werewolves. Regardless, there wasn’t much Jonas could do about it.
“Here you go, Jonas,” Jim said. “Had this one already started.” He put a plate in front of him with a half-inch steak the size of his hand, two eggs, and a sprig of parsley. It looked like something you’d see in a food magazine.
“Wow, thanks.”
It tasted as good as it looked. The eggs were perfect. Jonas had never had venison, but it tasted like beef with a sweet tanginess that was hard to describe. The seasoning was just right, and Jonas scarfed it down, eating only a tad slower than Kieran. “Thanks, Jim. It’s really good.”
Kieran paused and sniffed. “That smells amazing. Is that brown sugar?”
Jim gave him a wide smile. “It is. You want one?”
“Yes, please. Rare.”
“Where’d you get the steak, Jimmy? Can I get one of those?” said Frank, walking out of the bedroom.
“It’s deer. Wolf killed it, Frank,” said Billy, nodding toward Kieran.
“You bite it?” Frank asked.
“Claws,” Kieran said again, his mouth full.
“Figure it’s pretty safe then, Billy. I’ll take mine medium-well, Jim.”
“Coming right up,” Jim said cheerfully. He had several pans going already.
“Forget safe, Frank,” Billy said, unable to let it go. “Bad enough we—”
“Hey Kieran,” Jim said, interrupting. “That true, what you said about the silver nitrate?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“How’d that feel?”
Kieran swallowed, “It hurt a lot, for the first year and a half.” He leaned back, eyeing Jim curiously.
Jonas watched them both, wondering where Jim was going with this.
“You mind indulging my friend here, and eating with a knife and fork like a human being?” Jim said to Kieran, his eyes on Billy.
Jonas tensed.
Frank said, “Jim what are you—” Jim shook his head, and Frank frowned, but went quiet.
“Two steaks?” Kieran said.
“Two steaks,” Jim said solemnly. He brought a fork over to the table, then turned to Billy and said, “Hey Billy, lend us your knife, would you?”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“Just throw me the damn knife, Billy” Jim said, showing signs of losing his patience.
Billy shrugged and tossed a small black object to Jim.
Jim flicked his hand, and a three-inch silver blade snapped out. “Here you go, Kieran.”