Vertigo shivered. “She lived? She lived?”
Adam nodded. “She lived. You got at her one more time, after she married the granjero who took her and the baby into his home. But she managed to survive the bite you gave her after you turned. Didn’t know that? Really? Then you didn’t know how much her husband loved her. The way I loved Mary Beth. After you bit her, he built her a cellar, to hide her there every full moon. She lived out her days quietly, and under the radar, except for the diary she left behind. Say it,” Adam commanded. “For her memory’s sake, say it and apologize. Say out loud the true name of my sixth-great grandmother. Say it, Granddad!”
First Night
Simon was about to put out the pack’s First Night campfire and bury it in dirt. The rest of the men, most of them bare-chested and in oversized sweatpants, readied themselves for the coming night. “Has everybody eaten?” Simon called automatically before extinguishing the small fire.
A rustle sounded at the clearing’s edge; they all wheeled, almost ferally, to face Greg. Along with him was what looked to be a five-foot bundle of clothes that clung to him.
Greg’s words were lost behind an unearthly wail emerging from this small ragpile, and the group stopped, startled, upon meeting their new guest. Simon heard a heartbreaking, open-mouthed “no no no” as a slight girl fell sobbing to her knees, clutching at Greg’s trouser legs, fighting all attempts to set her on her feet.
“Good lord, she is young,” breathed Simon. The rest of the group moved forward slightly. “How did this happen to her? What is it – we’re still human, and she’s terrified of us.”
“She was with a group of migrant workers right near the Texas border. She’s the only one who survived it, but she did get the bite.” Greg bent to speak softly to his companion, who only curled into a ball and dry-heaved. “It’s the border-watchers’ new trick. Find one or two of the Firewolves with no scruples, set ’em on a camp full of people, and that’s the end of them. Unless of course, the Weirdos want toys to play with. She escaped that part, at least. She got bitten too close to dawn, and it seems the wolves lost her when they all scattered.”
The group closed in, a half-dozen or so voices trying to soothe the youngster without knowing what to say. Most of them had run into their bitewolves as adults, the exception being Old Jake, who was staring and trembling, reliving some childhood horror or other. The fire began to crackle.
“This is Lucia. She’s a little afraid of us, obviously, but I couldn’t find Patricia or Helen tonight to look after her,” Greg rose to his impressive height and swallowed hard. “Simon, how’s your Spanish?”
“Uh, mucho … malo. Selena’s is pretty good, though. I’ll take her in once this cycle is over.” If we survive it.
He squinted at the little form on the ground. “Jeez, what do we do? If we scare her now … ”
“It’s not that,” responded Greg, lifting the girl to her feet and protecting her with a giant arm, swaying gently as she dug her fingernails into his pullover, “It’s …” they could hardly hear him, “I can’t convince her this isn’t one of those other camps, you know …” he looked helpless, then snarled, as Lorenzo got a little too close, “She’s fourteen!”
This sent them all into a rapid, silent retreat.
“What, a Hunters’ camp?” Tyler spoke first, but it was Carl who understood. “Christ.” He shook his head. “Ah, Christ.”
Greg enveloped his charge and addressed Tyler over her dark head, “The coyotes – the migrant smugglers – cull the youngest and prettiest and take ’em to the worker camps for … They …” no more was needed. The entire group of men fell uncomfortably silent.
Simon’s eyes dropped and he would have given anything for a long and scalding shower. “I wish I didn’t know that,” he mumbled and the others echoed his feelings by shifting slowly away from their new charge, and towards the woods.
“Has everybody eaten?” Greg asked suddenly, and four of the group reached for their stashed backpacks to produce a variety of sandwiches and fruit for the girl.
She accepted an apple from Tyler, who’d approached as if Lucia were a wild deer, and spoke softly, very softly, until the girl took it and he was able to step away from her.
The men had retreated by this time, all save Old Jake, who stared in wide-eyed recognition of a fellow child-wolf. Simon put an arm around Jake’s shoulder and pulled him away. “This her first full cycle?”
“Yeah. They were attacked just before sunup, fifth night of the last moon, so she only got the tail end of it. I don’t think she remembers much, but she knows what’s happening.”
“I’ll explain everything to Selena.”
“Was hoping you would, once she gets through this week. She’ll be safe with them for a few days, and we’ll pick her up again once she adjusts.”
Sickened and embarrassed by the horror of what Lucia was afraid of, some of the men had put their T-shirts back on, and the adrenalin-infused activity of the camp had ceased.
Carl kept shaking his head, “And people worry about us.” He looked skyward, “How long?”
“She’ll go first,” warned Greg, “So scatter at first sign. Lorenzo, you grab Old Jake, he’s been tetchy these last two cycles. Tyler,” he turned to the former forestry student, who had finished taking care of the campfire, “You go right now. I don’t want either of you two newbies near each other.”
“I’ve got him,” Carl clapped Tyler on the back congenially and off they went.
“See you under the sun.” The rest of the wolfmen slipped into the gloomy trees.
“How did you find her?” Simon stretched and flexed, feeling the first rush of the moon.
“Patricia and Helen brought her in through a contact, but I lost them yesterday. I don’t know why they’d leave her like this.” Greg shook his head, his eyes on Lucia. “Won’t be long now. How long can you hold off?”
“I can hold the worst off for about ninety minutes.”
“Lucia,” Greg placed a huge hand on his new charge’s shoulder. She looked up, calmer. Simon was struck by how very lovely she was. Greg spoke rapidly in Spanish and Lucia nodded, hiccupping. Turning her huge brown eyes towards Simon, she whispered, “Encantada.” Those eyes were beginning to show an outer ring of blue.
Simon smiled warmly, “My friend Selena will look after you soon.” Greg translated; Lucia shuddered suddenly. “Hey, you better leave, Simon, you know how fast the cubs usually go.”
Simon hesitated. “She hasn’t eaten much. Can you hold her off on your own?”
“Sure — what are you gonna do?” Greg flashed a grin. “Hey; take a sec, catch her scent.”
Simon leaned over and breathed deeply, watching anarchy slowly replace the fading moral conscience in Lucia’s eyes. “OK, got her.”
Greg continued, “I’ll see her through this one. So now, you have her scent and my back, just in case she turns on one of us. Got it?”
Nodding, Simon took one last glance at the teen, whose face was now revealing the first signs of The Rush. It was catching, and Greg saw it in Simon’s eyes. “Go!”
And Simon took off, exhilarated, unfettered, limbs lengthening uncomfortably, his bounding strides carrying his raspy-breathed form through the underbrush. It was only First Night, but the wolf was high in him, though not complete. A rabbit shot past him and he snapped at it gleefully, thrilling to its terror before getting a grip on himself. The Rush resurfaced presently, sending him hurtling through the woods to the spot where he scented the pack, all save Greg and Lucia, and he let out a mighty lung-tearing howl.
Someone, maybe Tyler, responded and he heard Old Jake and Lorenzo in the distance. And then, just then, a new one, thin and pure, rose above the trees, and the entire pack responded in joyous unison to its newest sister under the moon.
The Promise
Simon and Old Jake lay in a small clearing, awash in the warm hues of dawn that fell in a low slant through the blue-gray trees. Last night they had come across the h
uman-form bodies of Patricia, Perry, and Helen, who’d fallen victim to the horrors of the Firewolf gang before sunset. The images could not be shaken off by either of the men, and the terrified child Lucia was still on their minds as she had fallen along with the others.
“Simon,” Jake shadowed his eyes from the sunlight and rolled over, concentrating on the dark earth.
“Simon,” he said again, listening to his friend’s rough breathing. “You seen the sun?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“I can’t do this anymore. Simon.”
Simon snapped into a seated position, staring at his friend.
“Simon, last night I saw there was some silver chains over a log in the woods.”
“Yes, that’s where — go on.” Simon’s gut twisted, and he started to get up.
“No, you don’t, don’t you go walking away from me,” Jake growled. “Listen up, Simon. There’s still a couple of them chains left. Tonight’s the night we get Vertigo. I’ll tell you how. Promise me.”
The light was brightening, and they heard Greg call their names.
“I mean it, Simon. You fix me down somewhere good and tight with those chains near me tonight. That old dog comes for me and whoosh! We take him out for good.”
Greg appeared. “Jake! You lucid?”
“No, he isn’t!” Simon stared at his companion, who was still stretched out face down.
“Couple more minutes,” Jake shivered slightly and covered his eyes. “I can’t do it anymore. Tell everyone I’m done, boys. Vertigo will come at me with his old tricks and I’ll take him out at exactly the same time I go. It’ll be the last thing I do and I’ll rest easy. Give me that much, boys. Promise me.”
Simon exhaled. “Jake, we’re all in this together. We aren’t going to — ”
Jake buried his head in his arms. “You’ll do it. We’ll get him for sure this way. Let me do this one thing.”
Simon shook his head violently, “Not a chance. I’m not killing you.”
The light was overcoming the night’s shadows.
“Do this for me,” Jake looked up and at him directly as the blue rings faded. “No matter how much I beg you to let me go,” he laughed, “just like in the old fairytales.”
“I’ll do it,” Greg promised softly, and Simon stared at him.
“Good. Don’t let me down. I’d do it myself, you know I would if I could. But if I have your help, we can get him for sure. Gregory, tell him. Tell him, Gregory! Gregory! Seen the sun?” and Old Jake rolled in the dirt, laughing like a four-year-old who had just discovered the joys of playing in the mud.
Greg and Simon exchanged dark looks.
“You’re kidding. Right?” Simon watched Greg sit down and cover his face with his hands for a moment.
“You’re kidding me!” Simon said again. “That’s like murdering a toddler!”
Greg looked up and stared him down. “It wasn’t the child who asked. It was the man.”
Simon stretched out on his back, soaking in the sunlight and listening to Old Jake run back and forth trying to catch a butterfly.
“I’m not doing this.”
“You don’t have to. I gave him my word. Shut up, Simon,” it was Greg’s turn to sit up straight. Simon swallowed hard and waited for his old friend to continue.
“Look,” Greg continued, “how tired are you after seventy-some years of this? How do you think I feel? You think the last two hundred years of immortality and chasing squirrels has been fun? You think I haven’t considered a way out? I have sat in the woods with a silver coin, just waiting for the sun to set. No, you didn’t know that, did you?”
Simon sat down and stretched his arms out across his bent knees, looking past Greg and towards Jake’s merry game. “That kind of thing wouldn’t be right, either, Chief,” he said quietly.
“I don’t give a flying damn what you think is right.” Greg stood up and began pacing. “You tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
Simon looked down, guiltily.
“We all have. But here’s the difference about tonight. We’re losing this game, Simon; between Hunters and Firewolves, we’re losing it. You know there haven’t been enough of us in any of the gatherings. But tonight, with the Hunters down so many, we have a real chance of concentrating on the Firewolves and taking out Vertigo. Once he goes, the rest scatter.”
“Take out Vertigo on a suicide mission. That’s your plan. Why? We need all of us, if you’re going to be so damn practical.”
“We’re it, Simon. There aren’t many of us left, if you can consider us the good guys. Who did we lose last night? Do you even know? Between Hunters and Firewolves, we are down by fourteen, Simon. Half of them were newbies. Fourteen! There are only four Hunters, and we were on the run the whole time.
“Vertigo is letting the Hunters take over and do his dirty work for him, so he and the other Firewolves can regroup and take over. They form their own kingdom of thralls and heaven have mercy on the human race.”
“C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. The Chimerae are on our side.”
“Sure, let’s let our friends do this on our behalf. Selena could handle it, obviously. She did a great job two weeks ago, in spite of the fact that she hates hunting humans. But she did it. So sure, why not let her.”
“And this is the best you can come up with!” Simon exploded.
“Simon. This may be the first you’ve heard of it but it is not the first time Jake has asked me for this.” Greg’s jaw was clenched and he stared into the woods. “Far from it!”
Old Jake came scampering back, wide-eyed, looking from one to the other like a child watching his parents fight.
“It’s all right, Jake.” Simon shaded his eyes as he looked up at the old man.
“Oh, no it ain’t,” Greg declared softly. Then he stood and walked back into the woods to find the silver-laced log.
Lycanthropic Blues
The day after his bite, a barely contained Adam had installed himself in the guest house. It was mostly for privacy, and also to think up new plans, he had told the Hunter trio, whom he had come to think of, with a complete lack of affection, as the Three Stooges.
And for the love of all that was holy, they were to clean the place up in case Karina showed up again and wanted her house back. Dishwashing began immediately. The Stooges exchanged mutinous looks as Adam vacated Karina’s place and headed for the log cabin.
Adam’s move to Simon’s former quarters had been the ideal cover for the remaining crescent moon phase. He had been able to get away, silently, for his nightly morphing, the guest house being far enough out of the way to provide undetectable travel. No wonder it had worked so efficiently for desRosiers.
The silver threads that graced the guest house bedroom created a few odd vibrations, like a very mild electric current, so at least he knew what to avoid there if he somehow ended up back here in wolf form. The damn stuff worked, though. That was something, at least.
He had taken all possible steps to protect his new identity. Apparently, there was nothing else to worry about, he thought wryly as he passed a mirror in the hallway.
He’d heard nothing more than an acknowledgement from the FBI after reporting Reese missing this morning, the first after the full moon cycle, and he wasn’t about to start them off on a hunt of their own. He still wasn’t sure about the extent of what they knew about the Chimerae.
Managing the cycle on his own had been agony, though. He had been able to contain the loudest of his howls and to stay far from humans, though his appetite had grown ravenous. During the day it was bad enough, but at sunset! The morning after the Crescent Moon, he’d awakened next to the carcass of a half-gutted stag, his shredded sweatshirt soaked in blood and gore.
The scent had attracted a large prowling bear who was eager to feed her two cubs that morning. One snarl and a glare from the human Adam, and the animals retreated in haste.
A pale ray of light illuminated the blood on his hands, and some piece of advice
or other drifted into his memory, something about … ah, yes. He crawled away from the deer, and into a small patch of sunlight where he lay on his back and drank in the morning sun. Yes, that was it. You have to see the sun.
A sudden distaste overwhelmed him. He smelled the waters of the frigid creek nearby and plunged into its icy current, washing off the night’s kill. He pulled off what was left of his sweatshirt and watched it rush away downstream. No shirt next time, he noted. For curiosity’s sake, he tried to track his path back to the guest house, but he didn’t find anything to add to his knowledge.
For the first time, back at the house, he wondered how the Howlers controlled the raging animal aspect of their being. Last night, Adam’s fury was unbridled, but he knew from experience that Howlers weren’t always that carried away. Was this why they travelled in packs? Did they police one another? How did they contain the thirst for blood? Did they talk about it much?
He shook his head angrily. What, was he getting soft? Did he forget his purpose here?
The only good discovery was that of his heightened senses. He would know when anything was approaching, and what form it took, either from its sound or by the way its scent carried on the breeze. Even his eyesight was much sharper. For his own amusement and discovery, he’d tacked a magazine cover to the wall fifteen feet away, and was able to read every letter on it.
Adam’s renewed feelings of vengeance had been overshadowing an emerging and not unwelcome truth. All of this, every aspect of it, he could use. He would pour it into his continued hunt for desRosiers.
The Howler fight was not over for him. Not by a long shot. After all, who, except maybe the FBI’s cryptozoology team, believed in the Chimerae? Even if they did, who would suspect a Hunter, who was immune to the death sting of silver and in full human form under the full moon?
Falling Silver (Rising Bloodlines Book 1) Page 15