by Wen Spencer
She examined his eyes closely, which let him study her. She was older than her first impression, her hairstyle and clothing making her seem younger. She was probably closer to his mother's age than his older sister.
"Why did you come see me?" she asked.
He blushed hotly and looked away. He hadn't realized that he would need to actually say anything to get answers. He wasn't sure how to ask questions without dying of embarrassment. "My favorite color used to be blue, but now it's green---because the wolf likes green."
"Okay," she said, sounding slightly mystified. "Please don't break my table."
He'd dented the stainless steel top with both thumbs. "Sorry. The wolf likes Decker. A lot. Really a lot. I want to know why."
"Oh!" She patted him on the head and then caught herself. "I'm sorry. I can see where this could be a problem. There's multiple layers of attraction there. Vampires are devourers. They feed on life essence. Pack magic is extreme life essence---it's why they're so difficult to kill. You two are the North Pole and South Pole of a magnet; his nature calls to your wolf. Add in that canines like to roll in dead things and wolves are like monkeys in that they need physical touch to stay emotionally healthy, and you're fighting a stacked deck."
* * *
Dr. Huff had given them a pamphlet titled "Care and feeding of your puppy" with a picture of a dark haired boy and girl on the cover. "I know it's a decade away at least before I get the next round of puppies, but I thought I'd put it together so I wouldn't forget anything. Seth is going to have enough on his plate and I don't know anything really about his wife."
"Wife?" Decker and Joshua both echoed.
"Alexander arranged a marriage for him years ago. She's from the San Diego pack. I've tried to contact her vet, but I need to go through her parents and apparently things are not going smoothly there. Dominance is a huge issue with werewolves and it relates to how connected a wolf is to the territory. When Alexander arranged the marriage, he changed the girl's territory from San Diego to Boston."
"What difference does it make?" Joshua asked.
"Boston is the second most powerful territory in the world. San Diego is a marquis but not a particularly strong one. It's like giving a half-grown wolf to a pair of Chihuahuas. I have no idea what Alexander was thinking. But until Seth and his wife move back to Boston, I only have stuff like this to do as part of my official duties."
Joshua started reading the pamphlet as they waited for the taxi to arrive. It stressed the "proper feeding of puppies" and went on at length about the amount of meat that werewolves needed in their diet.
It made Joshua want steak just reading about what he should be eating. They detoured to Home Depot to buy a stove and a full-size refrigerator. It was going to be a week before the appliances could be delivered. Since all he had to cook with was a microwave, they bought a little tabletop charcoal grill, a huge bag of charcoal, lighter fluid, and matches.
"Please don't burn the house down around my ears," Decker pleaded as they carried their purchases toward the exit. "I've done that. It's not pleasant."
"I'm going to cook in the driveway." Joshua took out the phone to summon another taxi.
Decker glanced outside at the dark rainy night. "Might I suggest we stop at a restaurant?"
29: Joshua
Joshua dreamed of darkness.
Not at first.
The night started with erotic wolf-driven dreams featuring Decker. The vampire alternated between prey to be stalked and a soft plushie toy to be chewed on. The wolf had enjoyed Decker's feeding. It had plans that required Joshua's involvement.
He woke up, bed covered in black fur, biting at his pillow as he humped his airbed. "That wasn't me! It's him! It's him! It's the wolf." He bolted from his bed, wanting to put distance between him and the dream. His face burned with embarrassment despite the fact there was no one to witness the physical evidence of attraction. He limped to the bathroom. "Stupid wolf."
He considered a cold shower. No. He needed more sleep. He splashed cold water on his face and crawled back into bed.
He dreamed then of the darkness.
He walked through unfamiliar streets. It might have been Boston proper, which he'd only seen from across the Charles River. The buildings were taller and denser than in Cambridge. He was hunting something, although he wasn't sure what.
He came to a park filled with manicured lawns and a careful scattering of trees.
"Please!" someone cried faintly in the darkness. "Please!"
He followed the sound across grass. He came to a shallow kidney-shaped wading pool roughly the size of football field. He tried to read the signs around it but the letters crawled away, refusing to be deciphered.
I'm dreaming. Oh God, this better not be another sex dream. "Decker, is that you?"
"Please! Oh Gods! Please, no!" A man wailed. It wasn't Decker's voice.
Joshua crept forward. "So is this a sex dream or something scary thing I forgot?"
He doubted that this place was something he'd forgotten like the events at the barn. He'd never been in this part of the city. This was nothing like the park he'd been in on Saturday night. That place had been barely controlled wilderness. Here the grass had been cut and trampled nearly to the point of death. The pool was made of cement like an oversized birdbath. The trees were carefully placed and manicured like giant bonsai plants.
"Please! Just let me go!" the man pleaded nearby.
The only thing besides grass and trees were two bronze statues of frogs sitting at the edge of the pool. Both were the size of a large man. The one on the right leaned his head on his fist, gazing down at the water in deep thought. The other sat on a tackle box, a fishing pole in hand and a can of googly-eyed worms beside him.
"He'll know! He'll stop you!" the thinker frog cried without moving its lips.
"We want him to know." The fisherman stayed frozen in place even as it answered. "We want him to try and stop us."
The thinker frog screamed.
There was a weird deep groaning noise from the wading pool. It sounded like metal strained to the point of breaking. The dark waters stirred. The surface lifted, as if pool been covered with black plastic, and something underneath surged upward. A massive creature pressed its face against the wet black. The groaning grew louder.
Joshua backed away from the pool.
With a weird metallic shriek, the surface tore and darkness flooded out. It blasted over Joshua, hot as a monstrous breath from a massive animal. It swept Joshua off his feet and he went tumbling through the dark...
Joshua woke up burning in sunlight that poured in through his bay windows. They hadn't replaced the rotted curtains in his bedroom. With the memory of the black crowding close, he was glad that they hadn't. It felt so real. Even lying in the bright sun, it felt like he'd be lost in the darkness if he just closed his eyes.
Didn't the ghost say something about drowning Boston in darkness?
He rolled onto his side to fumble through the clutter beside his airbed. He'd moved the charger for Decker's phone upstairs. He'd moved a lot of things to his bedside. At some point he needed to put something beside his bed to act as a nightstand. Along with some curtains; he was starting to feel crispy.
He found his notebook first. Decker had pinned a stack of fifties under the pen. Did the vampire have Scrooge McDuck's money vault in the basement someplace? Joshua yawned, flipped the page and wrote: Still Need.
Nightstand. Curtains. Alarm clock.
Decker's phone said it was ungodly early after being up most of the night cleaning and dancing around personal issues. The wolf liked Decker. Polar opposite magic attracted. The wolf was yin to Decker's yang. God, that sounded dirty.
It sounded like something Decker would say.
Joshua rolled onto his back, eyes closed, phone pressed to his chest.
Darkness groaned as something strained to break through...
He opened his eyes.
The nightmare felt so real. Werewolves
had bad dreams like everyone else. Right? He had those weird nightmares about the massacre. The football team chasing him through the playground. Being Clark Kent at the baseball game. This was just more weirdness because his brain just couldn't take all the creepy strangeness.
What if it wasn't a nightmare? What if it was somehow real?
He should call---someone---and warn them---or something.
He used the Find My Friend app to cyberspy on Elise. She was in Albany for some reason. A hundred and sixty-six miles. She'd snapped at him the last time he called her. He forgot to tell her about what the ghost actually said. He'd rambled on and on to Elise about lottery tickets and paint colors and pie...
Thinking of pie was a mistake. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it'd been hours since he'd eaten and that there was raw steak in the mini fridge.
"Oh, come on! I can't be that hungry."
Decker had made good on his promise. He'd taken Joshua to an amazing steakhouse where waiters brought swords full of meat, saying he could eat all that he wanted. They stayed until nearly midnight. He shouldn't be starving after all that!
His stomach grumbled loudly that it was empty. Food. Now.
* * *
Still need: an umbrella or raincoat.
It decided to rain while he took the small grill out of its box and assembled it. Since the grill had a lid, he didn't pay much attention to the light drizzle. Something about being wet, though, kept triggering his transformation. He was a boy then a puppy, then a boy again, and a puppy again, and back to boy as he positioned the grill in the driveway and filled it with charcoal. (Luckily the driveway doglegged between the house and the garage in back, so he was safely out of sight.) Every time he turned into a pint-size wolf, he'd have to go up onto the back porch and shake dry until he was dizzy.
"Oh God, why does everything have to be so hard anymore?" He whimpered once he got back to boy. "I just need to get this damn charcoal lighted!"
At least---but strangely---his clothes were always dry once he got back to human. It didn't make any sense. Where the hell did they go when he was a wolf? How did they come back and not be wet or inside out? Even the lighter was still in his jean's pocket.
He made the mistake of trying to walk down the back steps while still dizzy. He went end over end and landed at the bottom of the stairs as a puppy.
Tent. Now.
He went back up to the covered porch---shook until his fur was dry---changed into boy---waited until he wasn't dizzy---and collected one of the large canvas tarps he was using as paint drop cloth. He carried it out over his head, shielding him from the rain.
He tied one end to the dumpster and the other end to the garage door.
"One outside room: check."
In theory he knew how lighting a grill worked. He'd seen his dad do it dozens of time. (His parents claimed that there was some weird accident when he was four which triggered their insistence that he didn't start any fires, be it indoors or out.) Several minutes of holding flame to the black bricks of charcoal resulted in nothing but burnt fingertips.
What was he forgetting?
Lighter fluid!
He dashed back into the house. He'd left the bottle of fluid next to the salt and pepper. The wolf decided to grab the steaks while he was in the kitchen.
"I don't know." He put the steaks on the ground beside the hibachi so his hands were free for the lighter fluid. "I think that the coals have to get all white before I can put them on. I am talking to the wolf. I don't think the wolf cares. I think the wolf would be happy to eat these raw."
Did he just wiggle his butt at that idea in a close approximation of tail wag?
"We are not eating this raw!" he cried.
We? We?
"There is no 'we,' there is only I!" He fought the safety lock on the fluid and sprayed the black bricks liberally. "This is my life. I am not going to let you take over---more than you already have." He closed the cap on the fluid. "I am not eating these steaks raw. I am cooking them until they're medium rare." He took out the Zippo lighter. "And I am not having sex with a..."
A massive fireball of flame whooshed upwards and set the tarp on fire.
"Oh no! Not good! Water! Water now!"
He ran in tight circles. He hadn't bought a garden hose yet. He wasn't even sure if there was an outdoor spigot. The tarp was burning; still tied to the dumpster full of old newspapers and the ancient garage filled with God knows what. He hadn't looked in it yet.
"Look what you made me do! I promised Decker that I wouldn't set fire to his house! We have to stop it!"
The wolf took over. They dashed into the house. The wolf grabbed the narrow mop bucket, darted into the powder room and flung the tank lid onto the floor.
"What are you doing? Did you break that? That's porcelain! China! Like a teacup." No, he didn't want the wolf to think the toilet was some large watering dish. "It's glass you pee into, not drink out of! Don't set fire to the man's house and break his toilet too!"
The wolf dipped the bucket into the full tank.
"Oh! That's brilliant! Great thinking!"
They ran out into the driveway. The entire tarp was ablaze and an orange tabby kitten was trying to steal his entire package of steaks. The wolf growled at the thief. The wolf started to put down the bucket to rescue the meat.
"No!" Joshua shouted. "Focus! Put out the fire! We'll deal with the kitten after the fire is out."
Three fast trips and he had the fire out.
The kitten was trying to drag the five pounds of steak into the bushes.
He snatched up the steaks and the kitten. It hissed at him and latched claws and teeth into his hand. "Ow! Ow! Ow! I'll give you something to eat, just not my steak!" He carried kitten inside with his steak and opened a can of tuna fish. "There!"
He held out a little bit of the tuna. "Yes, it's very yummy isn't it? I like tuna too but Dr. Huff says I should eat steak. Red meat for werewolves, not fish. Want more? You need to stop hissing at me. There. Yes. See. Be nice and you---ow, ow, ow! Okay, I'm feeding you more!"
30: Seth
Ewan played bagpipes.
He played them badly.
It was a fact that Seth first became aware of at seven-thirty in the morning when a loud mysterious "squawwwwkk" bolted him awake. He fell from his makeshift bed on the couch in a tangle of blankets.
"Ewaaaaannnnnn!" one of the cousins called in annoyance.
Another "squawwwk" answered the complaint.
"What the hell was that?" Seth shouted as the cousin didn't seem alarmed or surprised.
"Oh, shit, he woke Boston!" Drustan whispered as Seth started up the stairs.
"Bagpipes, your highness," Cameron called. "Ewan! It's dawn!"
"Sorry!" Ewan said. "I couldn't sleep and I found this under my bed. It's so cool that I play them." There was another loud squawk that Seth now recognized as a single reedy note played on a bagpipe. "At least I think I can play them. Can I? Oh! Cool! We have a dog!"
The cousins were gathered in the upstairs hallway, various levels of undress for sleep. Ewan had a bagpipe tucked under his left arm. They turned toward Seth. Shock went over Cameron's, Tadhg's and Drustan's faces. Cameron and Tadhg jointly shoved Ewan back into his room and blocked the door. Drustan retreated into his bedroom.
"What? That isn't our dog?" Ewan asked from behind the wall of his protective family. The bagpipes gave a disappointed sigh.
"Your highness?" Cameron's voice shook.
Seth had transformed when he'd been startled awake without realizing it. He hadn't accidently changed for years. "Sorry. It just---just---startled me."
"It's okay," Tadhg edged back more despite Seth's apology. "We're all used to Ewan's blasted bagpipes."
"Did the dog just talk?" Ewan asked.
"Since we're all awake, how about we do breakfast," Cameron said. "There's an IHOP right on Wolf Road. They're doing all you can eat pancakes this week. That is, if you like pancakes, your highness."
"We
're taking the dog to breakfast?" Ewan cried with delight.
* * *
The IHOP was a surprisingly busy diner with laminated menus filled with pictures of glistening breakfast food. The booth came preloaded with coffee, sugar, creamers, an assortment of jams and two bottles of syrup. The cousins were well-known; food started to arrive within seconds of them sitting down. Pancakes first; hot, fluffy and as large as the platter. Sides of bacon, eggs, and hash browns were added at surprising speed considering all the wolves had said to the waitress was "the usual."
"You tip well, don't you?" Seth guessed at the reason for the good service.
"Extraordinarily well," Drustan stated with pride. "We take care of our people."
Seth was finishing his second stack of pancakes when his phone rang. He had turned it back on when the Albany pack reported that Jack had been trying to get hold of him. He left it on after calling Jack back on the Grigori's phone.
"I need to get this." Seth got up from the booth to put distance between him and the Albany pack. He wanted privacy as he fought with whoever was calling, be it Bishop or one of the other Thanes.
He was out the restaurant's door before he realized it was Dr. Huff calling him.
His yearly checkup was in December, the day before his birthday. Why would she be calling now? Was she in danger?
Seth focused on Dr. Huff's place. Her office was filled with people moving about with dogs on leashes and cats in carriers. He found Dr. Huff via her signet ring. She paced behind her desk, headset in hand.
He answered his phone with a tentative hello.
"Your highness? This is Dr. Huff," she started out using his formal title instead of his name. It meant that she was calling as the royal vet, not his family doctor. "I thought I should call you and tell you that I examined a newborn werewolf last night."
"Joshua?" Seth switched focus to his brother. The boy was running in frantic circles in Decker's driveway, while something burned overhead. What was Joshua doing?
"Yes! Joshua," Dr. Huff said. "Silas Decker brought him in. The man does not know how to raise a puppy."
Seth frowned as Joshua dashed in and out of Decker's house with a bucket. For some odd reason, he was using the toilet's tank as a watershed. "Was Joshua hurt?"