Dreams of Gray

by Maurice Lawless

  “Are you going to kill me, Slate?”

  “No.”

  “Then please, just let me leave.”

  She nodded and stepped out of the way. “I will be in touch. Soon.”

  She walked into the woods and was gone. Her scent went with her. It left me a little empty and a lot confused. Mingled in with her usual smells was one I wasn’t used to. She smelled like sex.

  34

  I sleepwalked through the rest of my day and clocked out for home. Alan was waiting for me at the door to my apartment. I sighed and turned back to the parking lot when I saw him, intent on driving around long enough for him to get the hint and leave. He caught up to me before I could get in my car.

  “Wait, Dree. You said we’d talk.”

  I leaned against my driver’s side door and listened. I didn’t have much of a choice, since one of his hands held the door shut. I could break it, but that might be counterproductive.

  “I love you, Dree,” he said. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and I can give you space. I just want to know I’ll still have a place with you when you come back to Earth.”

  “I can’t promise that, Alan.”

  He set his jaw. He really wasn’t getting this, and it frustrated him. I guess I couldn’t blame him. It frustrated me, too.

  “What do you want, Dree? Is this your way of breaking up with someone? You just revoke the key to your apartment and ignore me?”

  I didn’t know what I wanted, other than to be away from him. He was a reminder of all the good parts of humanity I’d lost when I changed into a wolf and tore out a man’s throat. He’d also shot Slate, though of course he didn’t know that. There was a lot he didn’t know. Too much for me to explain, even if I thought he’d believe it.

  “Maybe it’s best if we broke up, Alan. You should find a nice hu—a nice normal girl. I’m damaged goods.”

  “I don’t care, Dree. We’ll work through it. I love you. Don’t you feel anything at all for me?”

  “Yes. I do, Alan. I just don’t think we’re right for each other.”

  “Why not?”

  I kill things, Alan. I chase them down and tear off their skin. The taste of their warm blood going down my throat excites me more than sex ever did. And that scares the living hell out of me. I don’t want you to end up dead.

  “I’m in a different place now than when we met,” I said. “I have things I need to work out. Trust me; you don’t want to follow where I’m going.”

  He protested, but he let me leave when I refused to say any more. I called PJ and asked if I could stay the night. On my way there, I thought about what I’d almost said to Alan. He deserved someone human. That wasn’t me anymore.

  35

  PJ was convinced that I needed some R&R after the week I’d had. Despite my objections, as soon as I walked in her door she started throwing clothes at me. She picked a plain black skirt and backless red top that was light and flowy and left little to the imagination.

  “PJ, I don’t think a bar is the best place for me tonight.”

  “Bullshit, Dree. You need drinks. Lots of them. The cheapest way to get them is a bar. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a tall drink of water to wrap your lips around too.” She smiled at her own cleverness.

  I gave up and put on the outfit. There was no use arguing with her, and certainly no use trying to hide my tattoo any more. Once I was dressed, PJ dug into her jewelry case.

  “You need something extra tonight.”

  She pulled out a silver necklace not unlike the one she always wore. I backed away quickly.

  “No thanks, PJ. I appreciate it, but silver isn’t my style.”

  “Oh, come on. It was my gram’s necklace. Just try it on for a minute. I want to see how it looks on you.”

  I shook my head, but she kept coming.

  “Please don’t, PJ.”

  It was too late. As soon as the silver touched my skin it began to sear. I screamed and shrank away. PJ was frozen where she was, still holding the open necklace.

  “God, I’m a freak,” I said. “I’m a freak, I’m a freak…” I huddled myself in a corner and started to rub the welts on my neck. They were fading, which didn’t help my self-esteem much.

  “Damn, Dree. I’ve heard of people being allergic to certain metals, but it usually just turns their skin green or something. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried! You just kept coming.”

  PJ dropped the necklace on her dresser and came over to put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, chica. I just wanted you to look night tonight. I mean, you’re single again, right? You need to unplug. Bad.”

  I scrubbed my eyes and nodded. Drinks, lots of them, sounded pretty good right now. Free ones from whatever random guy was willing sounded even better. With enough alcohol, I could forget Alan, forget Slate and Lupin, forget the forest and the blood.

  “You’re right. Let’s go. I need a drink.”

  PJ beamed at me. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s put a little makeup on you. We’ll get you laid tonight one way or another.”

  Wanting to get drunk didn’t necessarily mean I wanted to get laid, but in PJ’s mind the thoughts were one in the same. I didn’t bother pointing it out.

  PJ drove, and I noticed with some satisfaction that she parked only a couple of blocks away this time. As we walked toward Thermal, I smelled the crispness of the air and thought about the cooler weather that was coming.

  The slight wind felt lovely against my back, and it teased its way through the sheer material of my top. I looked up at the clear night sky and saw the full moon.

  The moon makes us crazy sometimes.

  Lupin’s words would not ruin my night. I pulled PJ into a sideways hug and we stepped into the club. What was the worst that could happen?

  36

  The bartender set down my fourth drink of the night. “From the guy on the end. In the jacket,” he said. I thought it was a pretty vague description, until I looked down the bar and saw someone who could wipe out a perfectly good buzz just by showing up. He wore a ridiculous black duster that looked more at home in a country-western club.

  Charlie. Jesus fucking Christ, he just didn't give up.

  I immediately wondered what he had under the jacket. He wouldn’t try anything in a public place, would he? All I had to do was keep him in the club and discreetly have someone call the cops.

  Yeah, like it would be that easy.

  I walked over to him, trying to stay calm. My back was open to the world, and it felt like I was lying in the sun. The rest of me wasn’t exactly chilly, either, but that was the alcohol talking.

  The son of a bitch had the nerve to actually smile at me, like we were long-lost pals who hadn’t nearly shared a murder-suicide. I gave him a big fake smile and watched his hands. Any funny business and I was going to scream bloody murder.

  “Hello, Charlie. What do you want?”

  His forehead was soaked with sweat. The jacket must have been hot, or he was really nervous about something. Planning to kill someone can do that.

  “Why don’t we get some air?” he said.

  “Let’s not and say we did. I don’t trust you alone, Charlie.”

  He opened his jacket just a bit, and I saw the glint of steel. “No one needs to get hurt. I know where PJ lives now. Her grandpa, too. I’m very good at finding things out about people.”

  “Fine. Just outside. I want us visible the whole time, or I scream rape.”

  “Scream, and I’ll shoot. I meant what I said, Dreama. If you’re not going to be mine, you’re not going to be anyone’s.”

  I can survive a couple of your bullets, jackass.

  “Lead the way,” I said.

  PJ gave me a look on my way out. I’d asked her to keep me from leaving with any strange men, and Charlie certainly qualified. Unfortunately, I had to wave her off.

  It was much cooler outside the club. Charlie stood on the street corner, looking out at the bayou just beyond. It was a n
ice view.

  “What do you want?” I asked him.

  “You know what I want, Dreama. It’s you. I can be there for you the rest of our lives. I love you.”

  “Would it ruin the mood if I told you once again to piss off?”

  He surprised me with how fast he could move. One second he was standing there like a wounded puppy, the next he had his hand over my mouth and something hard pressed against the small of my back.

  “Why do you do this to me Dreama? All I ever wanted was for us to be together. Why can’t you just accept it?”

  I could have probably taken a shot to the back and still managed to subdue him, but his little maneuver had my blood pumping fast. Coupled with the chill of the night air, rational human thoughts started to fade.

  I clamped my teeth down on his hand and drew blood.

  37

  The small trickle of blood was like a hundred shot glasses at once. It filled me with energy and made my vision bright. I wanted more. His neck. I’d feed and run and feel the cool wind on me. I howled and pulled him closer. The gun got in the way, so I tossed it aside and made a hungry lunge for his throat.

  Something hard but pliant stopped me, and then sent me flying. I ended up splashing into the bayou on my back. I scrambled to the shore, letting out an enraged howl. I shucked my dripping clothes and stood ready to run back toward the thing that had denied me.

  It was Lupin. He told my food to run. I wanted to chase. To kill. To feed.

  “Dreama, stop this. It’s not you that’s doing it. The moon makes us crazy. Remember who you are! Remember what you are! There’s no coming back from this.”

  I didn’t understand the words. I felt my face push forward, my hands and feet stretch and reform, my tail grow out. The pain was nothing compared to the high I felt. I welcomed it. I slammed to the ground on all fours and shivered as my fur came in.

  I charged.

  The one in the jacket didn’t make it far. His two legs didn’t work as well as my four. I was on him in a heartbeat, my jaws clamped down on his throat. He whimpered something.

  “Dreama, no. I love you! Ple-”

  A snap and a rip was all it took to pull out his throat. I bathed my muzzle in his blood and savored the warmth of his flesh as it filled my mouth. I swallowed it and tried to dig in further, but something stopped me.

  It was Lupin again. He held me back from the blood. I was on such a high from it that his strength excited me. I pushed back, snapping at his arms as they restrained my forelegs. My back claws dug into his midsection. I felt him start to change.

  His smell confused me. He was not Alpha, but he smelled like her. His muzzle grew under the weight of my body, and his hands lost their grasp and thumbs retracted up his foreleg. I dove and latched onto his newly-furred neck. He tossed me off of him easily and I hit the ground hard.

  The wolf I saw now was huge, strong, and gorgeous. His black fur glistened in the moonlight and rippled with muscle every time he moved. His stance was powerful and dominant, and I could see his breath in the air.

  I wanted him.

  I wanted to fight him, to run with him, to make him my mate. I was drunk with his scent. Then I saw Alpha. She came running toward both of us and blocked my view. I charged again, this time at Alpha. If she could not defend herself, I would win him as my mate.

  I went for her throat, but she dodged. I touched down lightly and circled around. She was fast. She had already turned to face me. Claws swiped at my muzzle.

  My vision went bright from the strong blow to my nose, and I yelped. I would not give up so easily. I would be Alpha. I would be his mate. I circled around quickly, using my slightly smaller frame to outmaneuver her. I caught her rear leg in my teeth and sank in. She bled.

  I growled in triumph, but I celebrated too long. She whipped around and sank her jaws into my ear. I let go and backed off. He was watching us, waiting. He was our prize. One of us would claim him tonight.

  She feinted a strike and when I dodged she changed directions and grappled me to my back, taking snaps at my forelegs and shredding my belly with her claws. I yowled in pain and tried to wriggle free. Her muzzle locked onto my neck and bit down. I felt blood draining from the wounds, and my mind cleared somewhat. I yipped in pain.

  She stopped, and released her grip. I scrambled upright and looked at the scene before me. She could have killed me just then. She was stronger, and I was injured. I had lost. I dropped to my belly and whined, looking up at her.

  She walked closer to me, amber eyes blazing in the moonlight. My blood was on her muzzle. She did not lick it off. She seemed satisfied with what she saw in my eyes. She licked my nose lightly, then turned and padded over to join him, as was her right. I was barely aware of the sound of sirens as they ran off together, toward the nearest patch of trees. I stared at the moon, a bright point in the inky gray and black, and howled.

  Charlie’s body lay there in the moonlight. With the adrenaline from the kill and the fight draining away, my human mind started to reassert itself.

  Oh god. I'd really done it this time. I'd killed him.

  I looked to the trees, where the other two waited. Would I follow them? Run with the pack? I looked back toward the club. A crowd was gathering, and in the front I saw PJ. She looked paler than usual, her red hair the color of the blood on my muzzle. If she recognized me like this, she didn’t show it.

  I’m sorry, PJ.

  I did not look back as I ran for the trees. The other two wolves welcomed me with nuzzles and licks. Off they ran to the north, in great bounding leaps.

  They were Alpha, and I followed.

  About the Author

  Maurice Lawless is a novelist from Houston, Texas. Found in Blood, his 2011 novel from Paperbox Books, has been hailed as "a classic detective story" that's "brilliant and scary." When he isn't busy conjuring more books of demons and werewolves, Maurice volunteers as a Municipal Liaison for National Novel Writing Month. He likes his steaks rare, and his fiction raw.

  Find him online:

  http://lawlesspen.blogspot.com

  Twitter: @mauricelawless

  Turn the page for an excerpt from

  Death’s Hand

  Available now from Red Iris Books!

  Death’s Hand

  By SM Reine

  February 1998

  James spotted a splatter of blood through the tree boughs. It marked the snow like an ink stain on paper.

  He pushed through the pine needles, and her bare feet appeared, blue-toed and limp. He saw the curve of a calf and a knobby, bruised knee. He saw the jut of ribs under her skin and an arm thrown over her face. And the next thing he saw was the twelve other bodies.

  Nausea gripped James, but he covered his mouth and maintained composure. His guide was not so lucky. The other man dove behind a bush, gagged twice, and vomited across the frozen earth.

  Elise was already dead. He was so certain of it that he almost walked away at that moment. But what would Isaac think of James abandoning his daughter’s body? The indignity of leaving her naked on the ice for the birds to devour was too much, and he came so far to find her remains.

  Yet he couldn’t bring himself to step foot in the clearing. Elise looked peaceful, but the others were twisted in agony. Blood marked their fingernails. They had gone out fighting.

  Each of the twelve other bodies could have been siblings. They had pale skin and white-blue eyes—he could tell, because they were frozen open—and slender forms draped in white linen. The snow around them looked fluffy, as though it were freshly fallen. Something about that struck him as wrong. It was cold, but it hadn’t snowed in days, leaving the earth a solid sheet of ice.

  Taking a closer look, James found it wasn’t snow—the clearing was covered in feathers.

  His guide had recovered and began babbling in Russian, but he spoke too fast for James to understand. He heard one recognizable word—chort, devil.

  James hung back in the trees, fighting the urge to leave. Nobody in O
ymyakon needed to know what he found in the forest. His guide wouldn’t discuss their trip with anyone else. It could remain a secret.

  No. Someone would find out. They always did.

  He adjusted his balaclava, tuned out the guide’s shouts, and stepped into the clearing.