by Lee Taylor
My dark passenger was going berserk. I trembled where I sat, which the idiot’s misinterpreted as fear... Embers of blazing heat shot up my spine and though my arms, leaving a flaming trail throughout my veins. The feeling wrapped around my ribs and returned to my heart. Spiking throughout my body in surges, blood flooded my ears, bringing an onslaught of ringing. It was like the wake of the ocean rolling up onto a beach, foaming as it spread its way along the shoreline. The asshole was trying to upset constantly; he seemed to be doing the same to himself. I thought the thing to do when getting bullied is to ignore them, not rising to the audible onslaught... I guess that didn't work on certain idiots. Well if anything, the whole being locked up was a learning experience.
“Hey, you freaking pansy, I'm talking to you.” The only reason I paid any attention to this comment was because, from this point on, things took a turn for the physical. One of the inmates casually walked up to the edge of the cell, leaning against the bars, while the others drew closer to pummel the new kid. I was the new kid I would have thought it was a stupid thing to do and that maybe I would be safe... You know being surrounded with cops, but as it turned out, these guys were parole violators and were heading back to prison for another twenty years anyway. Why should they not have some fun and warm up first? My dark passenger welcomed them, looking for an opportunity to take hold of my mind. The bald offender with the word tattooed on his forehead came at me first, swinging his fist clumsily around. I leant back on the bench, and his blow missed. With a sigh I stood up, brushing myself off. His friend pounced on me; he was wearing a white tee-shirt with a baseball cap. His weedy arms reached out to take hold, and my eyes widened. I knew that my dark passenger was almost sitting in the pilot seat. My human-self could ignore their comments, but my dark passenger, well, he demanded respect. I didn’t want to fight, even with my darker ego was spurring me on; this was why I was here to begin with. I had let my emotions take control at the drop of a hat. I didn’t think I could practice restraint now without pulling limbs off from everyone in the cell. So I stood there. The weedy man with his arms tucked through my own, tried desperately to keep a hold of me while his cell mate, or possibly pimp, regained his balance, getting ready to strike at me again. My dark passenger was on the brink of taking control; shards of wild rage tore through me, and I didn’t know how to keep it back. I hadn’t had that kind of training. Hell. I was encouraged to change to keep it well exercised. A facetious feeling crept over me, kind of like a more prominent gut feeling, instilling me with a way to keep my human-self enamoured... So I started to do the only thing that I thought could help... I began to throw ridiculous insults, really tapping into my human mind. Hoping to keep myself engaged enough not to relinquish control and shred them all... I was sick of violence. I was growing weary of the constant fight or flight scenarios that I kept on ending up in.
“So slap head, seeing as you literally have ‘mug’ tattooed on your face, does that mean you have any other factual tattoos on you? Like vagina tattooed where your dick should be?” His scrawny friend clucked as he restrained me. My guess was he had thought the same thing. The shiny-domed inmate hurled an obscenity at me as he ran up and kneed me in the chest. The fluorescents dimmed for a moment with the strike, and although I could feel the impact, to my relief, my body began to instantly heal as soon as his knee left my sternum. Of course, it didn’t stop a yelp from escaping me.
“Hey if you want to mount me, the least you can do is buy me dinner and a drink first.” His colleague, who was supposed to be keeping a look out, turned back, chuckling at my case of verbal diarrhoea. As long as it kept me from killing, I was going to keep talking my dreadful smack talk.
The cue-ball called “mug” punched me in the face; it had to have felt like punching granite. The blow should have been hard enough for me to lose a few teeth, but thanks to my inner Smokey-the-bear, I was more or less unscathed after the blow briefly rocked my world (not in a school-girl crush kind of way, but more of a fall-out–of-bed and stub your toe kind of way).
The guy on lookout-duty turned back, facing down the small, painfully lit corridor just in time to call out a greeting to the same blonde officer who was walking to the cells. Hastily Mug stepped back, walking over to the toilet that was featured in the corner, and preceded to act as casual as possible, taking a leak. His dim-witted, skinny bitch-of-a-friend wasn’t as tactful, and was still holding, or I suppose cuddling me when the blonde chatterbox turned up.
“Edwards? We would like to have a few words with you, if that's alright.”
I sighed, shrugging off the skinny rogue. I strutted to the cell door. The miserable blonde re-cuffed me. I turned and winked at my fellow in-mates, we were really hitting things off well. No pun intended.
“So, what's the talk about? Hopefully about better accommodation, right?” I was going to go with the whole they won’t like me when I’m angry angle, but I think marvel had that down to a T. Well, except for maybe the first movie... I had seen enough hulked-out mutated dogs, or wolves, to find it kind of not entertaining anymore.
“Please step in here, and take a seat.”
We hadn’t walked for long. The walls were a dull, matt grey, and the floor looked like it was tiled, but it was obviously that kind of laminate tiling. They probably blew their budget on their superb staffing. My sneakers squeaked as I plodded forward. The interview room was just as I imagined: stoic with two chairs and a table that appeared to be bolted to the floor. Another man sat in one chair, not bothering to make eye contact. I sat where he directed me and looked up at the interrogator. The blonde officer stepped out of the room, not even saying goodbye. Wow that hurt! ... Okay it didn’t, but these guys seriously had no manners. I looked up at the smartly dressed, business man sitting opposite me. At first I thought he could have been a lawyer; it was the fact that he was dressed in a charcoal-grey tailored suit that seemed to fit perfectly to him. He was clearly paid too much. He had light, chestnut hair with some highlights neatly quaffed over to the side, and a small nose with a bead on the end. There was a coldness in his eyes that made it difficult to place his age, but at a guess I wouldn’t have said that he was much over thirty. He was looking intently through a thick case file that was lying out on the desk. It had my name written all over it... No really, it did.
“So, you live in Canada with your parents?” He said, barely above a whisper. My reply was nothing special; I was feeling agitated.
“Yes.” See what I mean? Short and sweet.
“Do you know we have a missing person’s case on your family that was filed around a month ago?”
Again I tried to reply as simple as possible.
“No.” My eyes held his tired-looking gaze. Well, at least now he was making eye-contact. His pale, blue eyes looked desolate and emotionless. I was still leaning toward the “He was a lawyer” idea... Well, that was until he finished his next sentence.
“Are you aware that you are wanted in connection with a mass-murder, two states over, at the Ocean Motel?”
“What!? No!” I retorted before grimly replying again. “Who are you F.B.I?” He didn’t answer, but instead seemed to smile and carried on looking through the file.
“F.B.I usually is involved with something of this magnitude, especially across state lines, but we are happy to be here in their stead.” He paused, looking up at me, a slight curve at both corners of his mouth.
I was hoping he would have said he was a lawyer... Now I was freaking out about who this snappy dressed schmuck could be working for.
“Mr. Edwards, where have you been for the past two months? And where are your parents?” His tone was cold. I shook my head; I couldn't tell him the truth... Partly because I didn’t entirely freaking know. Plus, I would get locked up and medicated if I told him what I knew. Maybe that was what I needed though.
My head was a mushy pit of confusion, and I wasn’t sure what was smart to do and what wasn’t. I wanted to stop hurting people; maybe if I was heavily sedated,
I would no longer be a threat to anyone. But that would mean turning my back on my... Oh who am I kidding I have pretty much done that already... How could they forgive me? I took the first step, and I went with the police, and what was I expecting to happen... God I was such an idiot sometimes. As my mom always said “If you’re going to dig yourself a hole, you better be ready to lie in it.”
“Fuck it, I'll tell you,” I said; this seemed to catch the smartly dressed man's attention. Slowly, he placed the file down onto the desk.
“Tell me what?”
“Well... Here it goes; I am a Therianthrope, and apparently capable of changing forms from animal to human and vice versa. I have been strolling around the wilderness, out of control, until well, I regained control, where I was then pursued by... something, and went to... Some place... Look, I can't tell you too many details; you see it’s really hard to remember. Are you with me so far?”
“Mr. Edwards?”
I sighed and figured here was the point where he would call me crazy and tell me to stop wasting police time.
“Mr. Edwards, we at the agency know what you are.”
I froze, tendrils of terror peaked into my head, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Now that I wasn’t expecting. Shit. He could have said 'I like kicking ducks up the ass while wearing a tutu’ and I think I would have been less surprised.
“My name is Christian, and I work for an international party that is under the codename Helsing.”
I interrupted his speech. “Hang on... What... You... What?” My mind wasn't working as proficiently as it had been a few moments before, okay so maybe that is an exaggeration on my part, but forgive me... I was crapping myself.
He frowned; his brow furrowing and his ice cold eyes sparkled with something that I took as malice.
“We control situations where sins are involved. Making sure the exposure to civilian population and law enforcement is as minimal as possible. We have captured a few live subjects and have reconditioned them for our own uses, after studying their anatomy; I already know you are a Lycan. Part of the Winters pack if I am not mistaken.” He stopped speaking and looked at me, gauging my expression. Okay so clearly they had seen me with Lycaon and the others... I wasn’t going to correct him. Not when every fibre in my body was telling me to bite his freaking head off and run. Startling a bear was apparently a very dangerous thing to do; I developed in seconds what was the worst case of heartburn that I had ever experienced. I swallowed back a mouthful of bile that had risen in my throat. It was difficult to think what was harder, the urge to be sick or the frenzied need to change.
“We have already confirmed that you have been at the site of the mass murder, at the Ocean Hotel. We can see that there were losses from both parties; Damon Pomcock for one, and Tristan Rogan were both found dead.” His words sliced through my minds defences like a searing blade through a stick of lard. Tristan... With all the “inner fighting” with my darker-natured self I had forgotten his loss…A wedge of emotion drove down and blocked my throat; I felt like I was going to suffocate and drown in my own tears. With a slam, my head hit the table a bit dramatically, and the tears began to flow. The Helsing representative reached forward, snatching a handful of my hair and bounced my head off the table to shake some sense out of me, but I was still at a loss… How could I allow myself the luxury of forgetting him? Betraying his memory by running, scared of myself... This added proverbial fuel to my fire, burning in my chest, looking for oxygen to feed off so that it could break loose.
“I will take your response as a confirmation to your involvement at the venue.” Christian didn't seem all too bothered with my blubbering; he straightened his tie, lifted the file from the desk and continued perusing the contents. My head felt like a tumble-dryer filled with crockery, all hot, spinning and full of broken fragments. Blame was clicking in place as my shambled mind began to reboot. How could I just want to have myself locked up so as not to hurt anyone when If only I had known how to control myself faster. Maybe I could have saved his life... Even now, when I thought I was doing the smart and safe thing; I was still making bad decisions, putting more people at risk.
“Mr. Edwards, if you are finished with your... display, there is pressing matters at hand.” He spoke coldly again. I glanced up at him, blinking through the tears, allowing my vision to clear. He was looking down his nose at me like I was just a snivelling child. I suppose I was.
My blood began to boil, in my veins; my limbs began to tense as the warm feeling of anger massaged its way back into my senses. The lump in my throat had dissolved for now; I guess hitting my head on the table had dislodged it. The words I spoke were filled with acid.
“You fucking—” The Building shook, debris rained from the ceiling. The lights flickered for a moment then blew out in a display of sparks. The window of the interview room shattered in its place, and Christian pulled out his side arm and pointed it at my head. My eyes widened with shock; what the hell was that for? I mean I hadn’t even farted. Although to be honest, with a gun pointed at my head, I wasn’t far off from... well... I guess you don’t need to know all the details. A kid has got to have some secrets right?
“That was a big mistake on your friend’s part, boy.” I was dumbfounded. My friends apparently did not warm to the idea of me being held in custody. “Come with me now or I will put a bullet in your skull.” Slowly I stood up; smoke was billowing in from where the window had been. Obediently I followed Agent Christian as we left the room, he nudged me in front with his pistol, and my head was in more turmoil than what it was a few minutes ago. The blast had shaken what was left of my brain cells into submission. My rebooted ideas from before still remained; only now there was another factor. I wanted to live, and that made me understand that it wasn’t right to let Kaitlyn skip around hurting people that I cared about because I was too scared of myself... They always say with great power comes great responsibility, and I always thought that kind of talk was bull, to be honest, but now... Now I only wished I had realised sooner, then maybe I wouldn’t be in the station with a sociopathic Agent from Helsinki or something similar. Now I had to get out of here, preferably without getting shot. My fucking second puberty was making me more fickle than a brown-nosed politician.
A thought rung through my head, and it was a feeling of intense emotional distress. I think I could actually feel what Tessa would say if she was with me, and it was something along the lines of STOP WHINING, WINNIE, AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE ALREADY! The weird thing was... It was like she was actually there with me when I said it to myself... Oh god, I hoped it wasn’t to do with the whole... you know... marriage type thing. Otherwise my brain was going to ooze out of my ears with the amount of voices singing to me their own lullabies.
The corridor was filled with smoke, and an amber glare flickered on the walls. I crouched down to where the air was more breathable. Agent Christian nudged me forward; apparently there was only one way out from where we were, and that was past where the flames were leaping. It was unnerving how quiet it was, there were no screams of panic or terror, no shouts to put the flames out. There was only crackling and creaking as the building was purged with the flames.
“Umm, Christian, are you sure that this is the only way out? I have never been too fond of barbecues.” I turned to face him, silently he prodded me again with his gun, and begrudgingly I continued on, my feet were crunching on dislodged concrete. The heat was still rising, and I considered changing form, breaking the handcuffs and darting for the exit, or trying to make another, but that would mean leaving the trigger-happy agent to his crispy demise. I just decided that letting others get killed for me was a bad idea so that was pretty much out the window... What a time to grow a conscience... I clenched my fists and breathed in deeply, choking and spluttering with each dreadful intake. There was another crash and a thud as the ground shook, this time more lightly beneath. What’s the bet that that was the passageway collapsing that lead to the exit? Desperately I turn
ed to Agent Christian, pleading for him to release me or at least see if there was another way. His temper was shorter than ever, and he fired a shot above my head to answer me. His face was sweating, and meagrely, he held his blue tie over his nose... because that was a massive help I’m sure. Like it had magical rejuvenating properties. The building shook again, and some parts of the ceiling dropped onto us, slinging a few ceiling tiles on me. It was getting so hot that all of the sweat I was perspiring was evaporating as soon as it escaped from my pores. I turned back to see if Agent Christian was coping any better with his fucking “magical tie”, and to my surprise, he was not there. The bastard led me deeper into the flames and retreated to a safer place. The flames were licking up around my feet by this point, and it was still spreading faster. Why I hadn’t collapsed from smoke inhalation yet, I can’t say. The heat blistered and splintered the wooden beams that held the building up above and around us... Figures. I swiftly took a step back, tripping over what I first thought was simply more crumbled artefacts. Except it was soft... I studied it more closely and could see Agent Christian's limp form was lying sprawled out underneath the rubble. Pretty soon he would be roasting nicely, yum! There was a wooden beam pinning him down, and I reacted instantly, shedding my clothes, adding them generously to the approaching blaze and focussed on shifting. My dark passenger was relieved at my sudden spout of self-preservation and rejoiced at the site of my incapacitated captor. My bones cracked, muscles ripped and organs folded before exploding in side of myself. Fortunately, I was already on fire, so when my skin hardened to the point of fracture, the pain was even less severe than what it had been whilst training with Lycaon. I rose and opened my eyes for what seemed like the first time, and I was amazed by how different things looked when I was in this form. The colours were richer, and all my senses were keener than ever before. The smoke was almost translucent as I focussed on into the distance. The sight that was ahead of me was not good, and I could see the splattered gore smearing the surroundings. The scent of blood being baked with fleshy-chunks chargrilled filled my nostrils, and I almost ran into the blaze for something to snack on. Embers danced and weaved themselves through the air. It was like viewing the mother of all apocalyptic visions. Agent Christian's strewn body was looking more and more appetizing so I picked him up in my mouth. Although the taste was tantalizing, and I wanted nothing more than to bite down, I managed to keep my mind in order. Self-control is the key when it comes to dealing with people. The PMS I was suffering from earlier was a distant memory. I turned quickly almost galloping on all fours as I ran back through the collapsing structure.