Brothersong

by TJ Klune

There, on the roof, was a beast.

  Robert Livingstone was bigger than I remembered him being. One eye glowed bright red, the other gone, its socket empty. He bent over the edge of the roof, craning his neck forward, mouth open, saliva dripping from his fangs, tail swishing. He pulled back slowly before standing upright on his hind legs, towering over us.

  “Oh my god,” the man above me whimpered. “Oh my god, no.”

  The hunters didn’t have a chance to fire their guns. One moment Livingstone stood on the roof above us, and the next he jumped, landing on the group near the timber wolf. A man and a woman died instantly, bones breaking as he stood on top of them. One of the remaining hunters raised his gun, but Livingstone swung out his arm and hit the man in the chest, sending him flying into one of the trucks. It rocked up on two wheels before overturning.

  The second to last hunter tried to run, but Livingstone caught him between his jaws, and he made it three more steps without his head before falling to the ground.

  The timber wolf rushed toward us, the man above me distracted by the beast. The wolf leapt, and the man raised his gun at the last second. I snapped my head over, closing my fangs around his leg, and bit down. The man screamed, the gun slipping from his hand. He was knocked off his feet as the wolf landed on top of him. He didn’t scream after that.

  I rolled over onto my back, my leg on fire, stomach twisting.

  I blinked slowly toward the sky.

  And then came an immense pressure, a tight angry band that wrapped itself around my arms and chest, and I was lifted off the ground.

  I tried to fight it.

  But I was too weak.

  And here, at last, I was face-to-face with Livingstone.

  His breath was hot and rank as he pulled me toward his mouth. His one eye was like a burning red sun. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, a growl coming from deep in his chest.

  “Fuck you,” I managed to say.

  And then: “Don’t.”

  Livingstone snapped his jaws.

  “Put him down. Don’t do this. Down. Now.”

  Livingstone roared in my face.

  “If you hurt him. I’ll leave you. Be alone. Always alone. Forever. No one else.”

  Livingstone shook me, my head snapping back and forth.

  And then he dropped me.

  I landed roughly on the ground, screaming at the fresh wave of pain that shot through my leg. My vision was tunneling, and my hands were numb.

  Then, from above me, came a whisper. “Are you… are you real?”

  I opened my eyes.

  A man stood over me.

  His black hair hung down around his face, his dark eyes narrowed. He was naked, his skin pale. His shoulders were hunched as he scowled down at me, the hair of the timber wolf receding as he shifted back into human. He looked younger than I remembered him being in the brief moments I’d seen him in Caswell. He could have been my age.

  “You fucking idiot,” he grunted, voice deep and raspy. “I told you. To stay away. To go home.”

  And I said, “Gavin.”

  Something crossed his face, and it was so fucking blue that my heart broke cleanly in two. It was fear and longing, rage and anguish all swirling together in a complicated storm.

  He said, “Can’t be here.”

  I said, “I found you.”

  He said, “Never wanted this. Never wanted you.”

  I said, “Too fucking late, you dick. You lie. I can hear it. I can hear it.”

  He said, “Let you die.”

  I reached up and touched his face. “You’re real.”

  He reared back as Livingstone snarled above him. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

  I closed my eyes. “To feel like I’m awake.”

  And then I only knew darkness.

  the only thing/nosy fucker

  I stood in a clearing deep in the woods outside of a small mountain town.

  The sun was warm on my bare back.

  The trees swayed in a cool breeze.

  The branches shook. The leaves shuddered.

  I said, “What do you want from me?”

  And there was no reply.

  I said, “What am I supposed to do?”

  And there was no reply.

  I said, “Who am I supposed to be?”

  And my father said, “You always did ask questions. You were curious, even before you learned to walk. I’d turn away from you for just a second, and when I’d look back, you were trying to crawl to the bookshelves. Or into the kitchen. Or to a tree. Once, when you were very young, I lost you.”

  I hung my head.

  A hand cupped my face, the thumb brushing over my cheek.

  “I was tired,” he said. “I wasn’t prepared for what being an Alpha meant. I thought I was, but… your mother was taking a nap. She’d more than earned it. I took you outside, and you were in the grass near the porch. I closed my eyes, and they didn’t open as quickly as I expected them to. And when they did, you were gone.” He sighed, and it sounded like the wind in the trees. “It was white, the panic I felt. It consumed me, blocking my sight and smell and hearing. I almost fell down the steps. I looked around wildly, and I thought, No, please, not you too, please, you can’t leave me, you can’t leave me.”

  I couldn’t look at him. It hurt too much.

  “So I did the only thing I could.”

  “You howled,” I whispered.

  “I did,” my father said. “I howled as loud as I ever had. It was the call of an Alpha, the first time I’d ever done it. It tore from me, and I thought my throat would rip. It echoed around me. It felt like it went on forever. And you know what happened next?”

  I shook my head.

  He chuckled. “You howled back. You’d never done it before, no matter how much I practiced with you. Your mother always laughed at me, telling me you’d do it when you were good and ready. It was a tiny thing, high and reedy. And then you did it again and again and again, and the relief I felt then. Oh god, Carter. It was so green. I turned around, and there you were, underneath the porch. You stuck your little hand out, opening and closing. Like you were saying, ‘Here I am, Daddy. Here I am, I heard you call for me, I heard you singing, and here I am.’ I picked you up, and though I thought about scolding you, I didn’t. Because I knew that you’d done what I’d asked. I howled, and you howled back because you were mine.”

  His hand was in my hair, and it felt so real.

  He said, “Listen well, my son.”

  He said, “Listen with all your might.”

  He said, “Your pack is howling you home.”

  He said, “For you are one of the lucky to hear the songs of wolves, to have them say your name as if you are the moon that pulls at them.”

  Lips pressed to my forehead, and I breathed him in.

  “Wake up,” my father said against my skin. “Wake up and sing so the world knows your name. You need to wake up—”

  I GASPED AS I SAT UP, my heart thundering in my chest. I blinked rapidly, the image of the clearing fading, and with it, a white wolf with red eyes.

  I said, “Dad?” and it came out in a broken whisper.

  “Dreaming” came the reply.

  I turned my head.

  I was in a small room. Blankets curled around my waist. My skin was slick with sweat. It was warm. A fire burned in an old fireplace. The walls were wooden slats, and gray light filtered in through one of the windows.

  I was on an uncomfortable bed, the springs of the old mattress jutting against my thighs. I grimaced at the soreness in my leg, but it wasn’t too bad. My throat was dry, and my eyes felt heavy.

  And there, sitting in the corner in the shadows, was a man. He looked tired. His hair hung around his face. His eyebrows were drawn down, and his mouth was twisted painfully. He looked at me and then away. The light from the fire flickered along the stubble on his jaw and cheek. He looked… hollow. He gripped the blanket around his shoulders tightly.

  “What happened?”
/>
  His head jerked up toward me, and his scowl deepened. “Stupid. You were stupid.” He spat the words forcefully, like each one taxed him greatly. His lips pulled back over human teeth. The two in front were slightly crooked, and I stared at them, my hands shaking until I curled them into fists. “Told you,” he said. “Stay away. You don’t listen. You never do.”

  I said, “Gavin?”

  He flinched. He was wearing ratty shorts and little else, his knees bony, legs thin. The shorts were familiar, and it took me a moment to realize why.

  They were mine.

  I’d thrown them in my bag, which had been in the truck I’d left behind when I’d gone into the house.

  Then I remembered. “Hunters.”

  He growled, eyes flashing violet. “Dead,” he said, and there was something feral about it, tinged with primal satisfaction. “All dead. Blood on the ground.” He bared his teeth again. “Killed them. Humans. They came here. You brought them here.” It was an accusation, sharp and biting.

  “I didn’t know.”

  He grunted, keeping a death grip on the blanket like it was shielding him.

  I shifted my legs off the bed. He reared back, but I ignored him. I was naked under the blanket, and I looked down. The muscles in my leg were sore and tense, but the skin was smooth and unblemished.

  “I was shot.”

  “Stupid,” he muttered again. “Should have left you. You die. I don’t care.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  He sneered at me.

  I nodded slowly, rubbing my hand on my leg. I looked around the room again, taking it in. It was a single room, the floor made of dirt. The ceiling was vaulted, the beams crisscrossing overhead. The room had three windows, and the only light came from the fire. A battery-powered lantern sat on an old table, but it was off. There were scratches in the walls, long and deep, as if something had been trapped inside and tried to get out.

  Two headless rabbits hung from a rope near the fire, twine around their back legs. They’d been skinned. My stomach grumbled at the sight of them.

  Gavin glanced at me, frowning. “Those are mine.”

  I held up my hands. “Not gonna touch them, dude.”

  His frown deepened. “Not dude. Don’t say that.”

  I looked around again. “This is a cabin.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Is it yours?”

  He huffed out an angry breath but didn’t speak.

  I rolled my eyes. “You have to give me something here, man. I’ve spent almost a year looking for you.”

  “Didn’t ask you to.”

  “Yeah, well, fuck you too.”

  He stood up suddenly, my shorts slipping on his hips. I stared a beat too long at the dark hair on his chest and stomach. He snarled at me. “You’re better. I fixed you. You leave. Now. Go away.”

  I blinked. “What? I’m not going to fucking leave. I just got here! You take off like it’s nothing and make me track you all over the goddamn continent, and you think I’m going to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Why?”

  I looked him straight in the eyes. “You know why. Whether you like it or not, and fuck knows I don’t, you’re my m—”

  One moment he was standing by the chair. The next he was in front of me, the blanket around his shoulders fluttering to the floor. His knees bumped into mine, and he gripped my face harshly, fingers digging into my cheeks. “Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t. Don’t say it. Nothing. You are nothing. I am nothing.”

  I reached up and gripped his wrist. My thumb pressed against his pulse point, and it felt like thunder.

  His eyes widened, and he jerked his arm back, stumbling away as if I’d scalded him. He whirled around and stalked toward the door. He paused with his hand on the latch. “Leave,” he said without turning around. “Don’t be here. When I get back.”

  I squinted against the morning light as he opened the door, then slammed it behind him. Motes of dust sprinkled down from the ceiling as the walls shook.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  I FOUND THE REMNANTS of my ruined jeans sitting in a pile in the corner, the stench of blood wafting off them. They’d been shredded like someone had taken a knife to them.

  Or claws.

  I tilted my head, listening.

  All I could hear were the sounds of a forest alive in the throes of an early winter. Somewhere in the distance, leaves rustled as an animal moved through them. I didn’t hear the heavy drum of Livingstone’s heart or the sounds of his son.

  I went to a window and looked outside.

  There was a thin layer of snow on the ground. Icicles hung from the trees. The glass was cold against my fingers. I couldn’t see a road, only thick forest. I didn’t know where we were in relation to the house. To my truck. I could probably find it if needed.

  But if he thought I was just going to leave after all this time, he was in for a rude awakening.

  I went back to my bag and opened it up. There, sitting on the top, was my phone.

  It was smashed, the screen cracked.

  I stared down at it.

  It’d been in my truck. I hadn’t taken it out into the house.

  Which meant the hunters hadn’t touched it.

  It’d been broken after.

  “Asshole.” I took it out of the bag and tried to power it on. Nothing happened.

  I tossed it to the side, looking back to my bag. What few possessions I’d brought with me were still there, minus the shorts. I found the item I was looking for at the bottom.

  It was soft and warm. I glanced toward the door. I didn’t hear Gavin. I pulled the hoodie out and raised it to my face, inhaling deeply. The scent had faded after so long, but I chased after it greedily. Just when I was about to give up, I smelled it.

  Home.

  Kelly.

  “What the hell do I do now?” I asked him. A year. I’d had a year to get to this point. A year to plan for what would happen if and when I found him. And now that I had, I was at a loss. I didn’t know why I’d thought he’d make it easy. He was a Livingstone. I was a Bennett. We never made things easy.

  Kelly didn’t answer.

  I put the hoodie on. It was tight in the shoulders and the sleeves were too short, but it made me feel better.

  I pulled on the only other pair of jeans I’d brought. My leg groaned, but it already hurt less. I popped my back and neck. I was thirsty, and I had to piss.

  There was no bathroom.

  Because of course there wasn’t.

  I slipped on my boots without socks. There were splashes of my blood across the back of one of them. I wondered what had become of the hunters. If they lay in front of the cabin, blood frozen, eyes wide, snow in their open mouths.

  “Or maybe Livingstone ate them,” I said to no one.

  The thought felt like a lance of ice.

  I went to the door.

  Took a deep breath.

  And opened it.

  The air was still. A clump of snow fell from one of the trees. My breath poured from my mouth in a fog. I inhaled deeply, and it was crisp and bright.

  There was something running just underneath it all, like a dark current. It felt like a shadow, tendrils reaching out and infecting the ground beneath my feet.

  I knew what it was.

  Who it was.

  And I didn’t want to piss it off any more than I already had. I remembered the look on Robert Livingstone’s face when his son had shifted before him back in Caswell, stopping him from killing me. And even though I’d been distracted by the startling realization of what I should have known all along, I hadn’t missed the betrayal that Livingstone had felt. His fury had almost felt alive. There, at last, he’d found what he’d been looking for, and Gavin had practically spat in his face.

  But at the house with the hunters, Livingstone had listened to him when Gavin told him that if he hurt me, Gavin would leave him. That he would leave his
father and he would be alone.

  And whatever anger Livingstone felt toward me didn’t compare to his son’s threat.

  I didn’t know how long that would last.

  I didn’t want to take any chances.

  I groaned as I relieved myself against a tree. Even though I had no idea what the hell was going on, I had to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. My scent was here now. In this cabin. It was probably going to tick Gavin off when he came back and saw that I’d pissed here, like I was leaving my mark.

  If he came back, that was. For all I knew, he was running.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “You do that. See how far you get. I’ll fucking find you then too.”

  I turned around after putting my dick away and zipping up my pants. Trees surrounded the cabin on all sides. It was an old thing, and if it weren’t for the smoke rising from the chimney, I would have thought it abandoned. There was a cord of wood stacked underneath a tarp on the right side.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

  My skin itched.

  I was being watched.

  I looked around.

  Nothing.

  For a moment I thought about doing what he asked. Going back in and grabbing my bag. Finding my truck. Getting the fuck out of here.

  But I hadn’t come this far just to bail now.

  I started back toward the cabin but stopped when I saw something lying near the door.

  My shorts, discarded on the small wooden porch.

  I picked them up.

  And then I went inside and closed the door behind me.

  HE CAME BACK a few hours later as a wolf.

  I heard him prowling outside of the cabin, paws crunching the snow. I looked out the window and saw a big timber wolf pacing in front of the cabin, ears flat against his skull, teeth bared. He was growling angrily. I watched as he went to the tree I’d urinated on. He sneezed, shaking his head.

  And then he lifted his leg and pissed in the same exact spot.

  I snorted.

  He snapped his head toward the window.

  I saluted him like an asshole. “Have at it, motherfucker.”

  He glared at me before turning around, giving me his back. He sat down, looking into the woods, shoulders stiff, ears at attention.