It was worth the risk. And it was worth going into that dump and getting smoked like a ham if that meant hitching a ride.
Darwin pulled up the hood of his sweater, trying to hide as much of his looks as possible beneath the cheap clothing, then marched towards the entrance. The stench got worse with each step until the only way to cope with it was not using his nose at all and panting through the mouth like a dog. At least the door didn't squeak on its hinges as he pulled it open to stumble inside.
Country music blared from an ancient jukebox. The patrons stopped what they were doing, turned to take a good look at him and kept on glaring as he slowly made his way to the bar. They basically looked like he had expected: dirty, sweaty bikers and truckers with a few women strewn in between, most of them smoking, a few visibly drunk, none of them anywhere near his age. In another way, they weren't at all what Darwin had expected. They were werewolves, a whole pack of them, and the way they watched his every move made it obvious that they had smelled him, too.
"Come on, honey, they won't bite as long as you don't give them a reason to," a female, smoke-rough voice called out from the bar, followed by a few snickers and laughs. Most of the patrons went back to whatever they were doing, but a few eyes still watched him hungrily.
Darwin scuttled towards that voice, throwing careful glances at the woman behind the bar. She looked to be somewhere between forty and fifty-five years old, with curly blond hair and sun-tanned skin, premature wrinkles and more make-up than a woman should feel the need to put on. She was polishing glasses, eying him with a tight smile until their eyes met, then she nodded to one of the bar stools next to her. "Sit there, little one, I'll keep the wolves away."
"Thanks," Darwin murmured, sliding onto the seat. A glass of Coke all but magically appeared before him and he instinctively grabbed it. He touched the woman's fingers in the process— they were prickling with energy—, then she pulled back.
"You're a submissive." She sounded mildly surprised, like she had expected him to play some kind of charade with her.
Darwin pulled the glass closer. "And you're a dominant," he replied, taking a sip. The Coke was luke-warm and almost flat, but he drank it anyway.
"Margo," she introduced herself and put the piece of cloth away. As she leaned against the bar, Darwin saw the outer edges of some tattoo on her bosom peek out of her shirt. "So, what's a young sub like you doing in a dump like Renton? You on the run from your pack? Looking for a new home, maybe?"
"Nice to meet you. I'm Darwin," he said, but his mind was busy trying to come up with a good, evasive answer to her question. Although Margo didn't appear like someone who'd kidnap him, with the right reasons, she'd still try to keep him there. Any dominant would, it was in their genes. "I'm not really on the run, though. Just got a streak of bad luck that stranded me here for tonight, tomorrow I'll try to find a ride south to visit my father's pack." Which was the truth, in a stretchy kind of way.
Margo was grinning. "I know that name," she said, wagging her finger at Darwin. "You're that kid Pete tried to grab, aren't you? Your pack had him crawl back with his tail tucked between his legs, he's been ranting ever since. And I can see why, you're a pretty one. Oh, don't give me that pouty face. I won't tell him, and I sure as hell won't let him try anything," she added when Darwin made wide eyes at her. "He's had it coming for a long time. Besides, nobody touches my guests. House rules."
Darwin decided that Margo was a good gal. It had been a while since he had been able to feel comfortable in the presence of a dominant, what with hiding from Carl and all the drama he'd had with Rayne and Darla, but Margo reminded him of his dad before the stroke. Hardened and with a no-nonsense-attitude, that was true, but she also had a maternal calmness about her that made it easy to relax.
As soon as Darwin felt the tears threaten to fall, he looked down at the wooden bar top and took a deep breath to calm down. This was not the right time or place to cry for no good reason.
Nonetheless, this was the perfect place to hide for a while. Nobody would look for him in a local werewolf hideout and if he stayed there for a few days, he'd be able to make sure Jared and the others had left. Chewing at his lips, Darwin took another sideways glance at Margo who was serving another patron and bantering light-heartedly. A breather, just one or two nights, would be nice.
When Margo came back, Darwin clutched his glass and smiled lopsidedly. "Say, Margo, you wouldn't happen to have a free bed for one or two nights?"
The lady had the most beautiful grin. "Sure thing. You'll have to help me with the cleaning, though."
Jared
"What do you mean, 'he's gone'?"
Okay, yes, maybe Jared was yelling at the wrong person, but Darla had stomped off right after the fight to help Harry with the packing, which left Rayne as the only target worth yelling at. Add to that the unlucky fact that Rayne had been the bearer of the bad news of Darwin's disappearance, and suddenly it didn't seem all that unreasonable anymore to yell at him. If Jared hadn't been so drained and tired, he probably would have had a better grip on himself, but there wasn't anything he could change now, was there?
Rayne didn't bat an eye at the screaming. "Gone as in 'his trail leads downhill and away'. Looks like he's taken off and before you ask, yes, I checked for other scents or footprints, no, I didn't find anything, yes, I'm sure. He's alone." With those words, Rayne crumbled onto the couch, stretching his long legs in a gesture of exhaustion and wiggling around until he was comfortable. He patted the empty space next to him, threw a glance in the direction Harry's voice was coming from, and sneered. "You'll have to decide if you want to risk all our lives to drag his whiny bitch ass back here, or if you'll do what any other Alpha would do and have us hoof it out of here before the Banes pack arrives. I'd take bets on the outcome of that, but nobody's here who'd bet against me."
Jared bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?" he growled, trying his best to stay calm and failing. His pack had developed an uncanny ability to rile him up lately and it was starting to get old.
"I'm saying that I already know what you'll decide. There is no way you're going to leave without him, or is there? I mean, I understand how the whole mate thing supposedly works, but you and Darwin are something else. Have you taken a step back to look at what's been going on these days? We're here because of Darwin. Darla in particular is here because of Darwin."
Rayne's voice didn't hold any inflection besides boredom and sarcasm, but he put a hand to his face and massaged the bridge of his nose as he continued. "And me? I'm walking on shards of glass every time I see Harry and can't touch him, but you know what? It's the first time in my life that I'm actually planning a future with someone, instead of just getting off and running for the hills, and that's Darwin too."
Jared gaped at the reclining man for a few confused seconds. He had anticipated criticism, badmouthing, even open rebellion if he considered staying and searching for Darwin. Getting reassured— well, somewhat reassured—, by Rayne of all people, the one person never shy to point out Darwin's mistakes and Jared's general shortcomings, was too surreal to process.
Jared sat down on the recliner heavily. "Are you saying you think we should stay? Fight?" he asked, twitching when the door to Harry's bedroom crashed open.
"Of course he thinks we should fight! We've run for long enough, I'm done running!"
Harry looked glorious, mostly because he had shucked off his shirt and looked all tousled and disheveled from all the rummaging around. He bounced across the room and all but sailed into Rayne's lap, grinning happily at the huff his impact produced.
"So I guess you heard everything?" Rayne wheezed, curling his arms around the half-naked submissive. "Eavesdropping is a punishable offense, you know."
"O'course we heard everything, you were yelling half of the time," Darla sneered, stalking into the main room after Harry, looking sour as usual. Jared knew that something just wasn't right with her, but there never seemed to be a good moment to have a talk and Rayn
e had assured him he had it under control, whatever 'it' was. Right now and as much as he wanted to, Jared couldn't quite believe him.
Darla would have to wait, though. Jared looked at the three people who represented most of his family, fighting off visions of their bloody demise. They deserved to know what he was thinking. They deserved to make their own decision, blind trust or not.
"As you all have heard, Darwin ran away after our fight. I don't know why, but I think all of us are feeling the pressure. He called home earlier this evening and we have to assume that the Banes pack has bugged Darwin's father and his phone. Land lines are traceable, especially public phones. They probably know where we are by now, which means they will be here soon." He paused, staring down at his fists. They were white with tension. If I die and get reborn as a werewolf, please don't make me an Alpha again, I can't take any more of these hard decisions!
It had to be done. Jared looked up again, meeting Harry's frown with calm. "As much as I would like to run after Darwin, there are bigger things I have to consider. Your safety for one, our defense for another, and I have to figure out how we can possibly win this fight and survive. I won't force you to stay, so you are free to leave without any repercussions. I'm sure the local pack will be more than happy to house you for a while and until this has blown over."
Silence. Rayne kept petting Harry, who seemed more than happy to stay glued to him. Darla crossed her arms in front of her chest, cocking an eyebrow as if to say 'what?', but nobody made a move towards the door.
Jared sighed and closed his eyes to hide his relief. As much as he hated to admit it, losing his pack would have been a worse fate than dying at Carl's hands. "Okay, then! We're going to split up. Rayne will figure out a way to defend ourselves and find a place where Harry can safely hide, no matter what outcome the fight takes. If Harry falls into Carl's hands, he's dead, so keeping him safe is of utmost importance. If Darwin shows up, same thing goes for him of course. Darla, you are to track Darwin's scent and make sure he's in a place away from the road. If you find him, tell him to hide somewhere, but if you don't, knowing that he won't run into the Banes people is enough. Any questions?"
Harry flicked his hand up. "What are you going to do?" he asked with an uncertain voice and an expression that told the world how surprised he himself was at his newfound candor.
Jared smiled tightly and got up. "I'm going out to find us an army."
George
After almost twelve hours in the car, George was in a world of pain that had little to do with his fear for Darwin. The farther north they went, the worse the roads got. Each pothole and bump sent shooting pain through his cramping back, hips and knees, and no amount of wiggling and lopsided stretching made a difference. Mary tried to dodge the worst spots and had asked multiple times if he wanted to take a break, but George had declined each offer for one single reason: Carl. Carl had too much of a head start to risk stopping, even for a minute. It was a fact Mary understood all too well, but it wasn't enough to convince her to stop worrying about George.
Luckily, they were only two miles away from Renton by now and respite was in sight. It was a small town, that much George knew from what Darwin had told him, but seeing the little heap of houses, George wondered how a pack could function there without being found out by the locals.
"There's a roadhouse right over there," Mary said from the driver's seat and pointed to the right. "Let's stop there and ask for directions to the holiday cabins."
George inspected the dilapidated building with a sad heart. In his youth, places like that had been all the roar with the teens, what with the smoke-filled air, the strangers from other parts of the country and the loud music. The wooden siding alone made him remember so many happy moments from his childhood, the evenings outside, the girls, the laughter, the kisses, the stupid bets, ...
When George looked at the roadhouse now, he saw a dump. A place that would be bulldozed and swallowed by some food chain sooner rather than later. These days, outsiders were seldom welcome in a place like that, being seen as the first sign of the impending doom.
"I'm not sure they'll be all that welcoming, Mary," George offered, but he didn't stop her when she turned into the parking lot and got out of the car. Welcoming or not, this was the first time he could leave this seat, stretch and work those cramps out of his limbs without feeling like dead weight.
Mary opened the side door for George, climbed in and readied his wheelchair, muttering about this and that and nothing of importance. The tension she had accumulated over the last few days didn't show so much in her body posture, but in her behavior and tendency to fill silence with chatter. It was one of the things that had endeared her to George from the first day they had met, back when all he had looked for was a werewolf nurse to help him become independent again. The silence ruling his house back then had burdened his soul more than his disability.
"You are too pessimistic, dear," she said, finished her preparations and lifted him into the wheelchair. "Nobody on god's green earth would ever be rude to a quadriplegic father looking for his only son. You'll see."
A few bones in George's body cracked as he settled down in the wheelchair, but with those creaks and groans came sweet relief. Even the potholes in the parking lot couldn't lessen George's happiness and the three bumps it took to maneuver him up the veranda stairs and into the roadhouse were more of a massage than anything else. Mary had a bit of a fight getting him through the entrance, but with a solid shove and an angle, they finally popped into the smoke-stale inside.
Right into a surprised pack of hungover werewolves.
The scent was unmistakable, once they were soaked in it, and no amount of stale beer or cold smoke could hide that. There weren't that many people in the roadhouse, maybe ten or eleven, but each of them looked at the unusual couple with the cold, appraising hostility reserved for intruders. Had the jukebox not been blaring some seventies hit, the silence would have been deafening.
"Uhm," George said, trying to think through his racing heartbeat.
One of the older men, a white haired, pot-bellied, blue collar type next to the jukebox, turned around in his seat to have a look at George, his wheelchair, and lastly, Mary. "You're not welcome here," he said in a gravelly, almost bored tone of voice. His eyes told a different story, though. Boredom was the last thing on his mind and the tension in those eyes was enough to make Mary stiffen defensively.
"It's just a pit stop," Mary said, clenching the handles of George's wheelchair. "We're looking for directions to the Glacier View holiday cabins, nothing more."
A mood change fluttered through the crowd like a breeze through trees, accompanied by rustling clothes and creaking chairs. A few of the patrons were looking towards the bartender underhandedly, a few of them turned their attention elsewhere, but two or three of them now openly stared at Mary.
"You with those runaways?" This time, the lady behind the bar spoke, not bothering to turn her eyes away from the ashtrays she was cleaning. It was obvious she had some kind of pull on the other dominants in her bar, although it couldn't be related to her power. George had years and years of experience with determining someone's level of dominance and that lady couldn't hold herself in a fight against some of the wolves in the room. Which meant, she was either close to their Alpha or had some other kind of influence that went beyond fights for position, some talent only she could provide.
George waved Mary away from his wheelchair, switched on the little electric motor and guided the chair closer to the bar. It was a subtle gesture, but one the bartender clearly understood. She put the brush and the ashtrays aside and leaned onto the bar, examining him.
"I'm looking for my son, Darwin. He's with the pack residing at the holiday cabins," George said, putting as much effort in clear pronunciation as possible. It was impossible not to slur some words, what with half of his face being numb and paralyzed, but the effort paid off.
"Darwin told me about you. I'm Margo," the bartender said. "Are y
ou going to be trouble for us?"
George blinked at the question. This was the first time in a long time that someone thought him capable of being anything but a sad example, a cripple in need of being taken care of. The way Margo phrased the question almost sounded like she thought of him as a worthy opponent, which he obviously wasn't. It was such underhanded flattery, he almost blushed.
"No trouble. We just have to find him and warn him, and you as it seems. I didn't know there's a local pack, you know? If we had the time, we would make this intrusion up to you, but we don't. Please, we just need directions, then we'll be out of your hair."
A frown settled on Margo's tanned face, the deep grooves adding another ten years to George's estimate of her age. She was beautiful, for all intent and purpose, a true beauty that was almost ruined by the heap of make-up she wore. Pushing upright, she put her hands on her waist, cocked her head a little and turned, calling out towards the back. "Darwin! Your father is here!"
Mary gasped behind George, something he would have liked to do himself but was too shocked to do. Darwin was here? In this run-down dump? Of his own free will? When pounding steps sounded from the stairs leading back and up, George snapped his eyes over there and held his breath.
A whirl of leisure clothes, black hair and the biggest smile George had ever seen on that face came around the corner of the bar area at a break-neck speed, impacting with George's wheelchair and pushing it back a few feet.
"Dad!" Darwin exclaimed, hugging the man fiercely and all but landing on his lap in the process.
"My boy," George sobbed, hugging him back with all the might his broken body offered. Mary sniffed in the background, giving them a moment to themselves.
Only Margo didn't join the reunion enthusiasm. The frown was still in place, her eyes flicked from one front window to the next, and she crossed her arms under her impressively average bosom. "So, are your friends going to keep on hovering outside, or are they coming in to join us? Because they surely look pissed off," she observed suspiciously.
Unwilling: a shifter romance Page 27