Snow Covered Moon

by L M Adams

  Chapter Eight

  Simple kind of man

  I come to consciousness in levels. I’m alive, ok. Wiggle toes, I can move, ok. I’m not very comfortable though. I slowly open my eyes. I think anything other than Big Mike’s face being the first thing I see would’ve been better.

  “What the fuck,” I croak, my throat is raw. It hurts like someone had strangled me. I’ll be sure to add ‘check throat’ onto my wake-up-from-being-knocked-out checklist.

  “She’s fine!” Big Mike’s voice booms out.

  I wince, god why is the man always so loud? Hasn’t he ever heard of an inside voice? Why don’t I have a shirt on? I pause to ask these very questions, in order, no less. Then everything comes rushing back. Peter. Where’s Peter?

  “Where is he?” God my throat hurts, why does it hurt so much? If someone choked me while I was knocked out, I’m going to kick their ass until kingdom come. As soon as I can stand up, and not a second less. The room is spinning. Maybe closing my eyes would be a better idea. I need to make an entire new checklist.

  “Jae!” Big Mike’s voice booms, again.

  “I’m fine, just dizzy. Is Peter ok?” If I whisper, it doesn’t feel like I’m gargling with moonshine. Yeah, whispering is better. Someone should tell Big Mike. Why the fuck can’t I get my thoughts together?

  “He’s fine,” Peter says. He sounds weak but I can hear him, and I smile like a loon. Ok I can go back to sleep now. Yeah that’s a good idea.

  “Jae, open your eyes. Got to check you for a concussion girl.”

  Oh, we’re back to girl. I’m not going to have to give up my cheap beer and pit beef after all. Big Mike only calls me girl when he likes me. And my life is decidedly more pleasant when Big Mike likes me. That is a fact!

  “If someone shines a light in my eyes, I’m going to puke, and I paid a high price for this vodka. You can’t have it!” I don’t want to puke. Getting knocked on my ass by a wolf spirit ghost thing is all the show I’m giving this crowd for the night, thank you very much. Anything else and I’ll have to charge.

  “You’re more stubborn than me. Fine, you want to be hard headed, you have to get up. I’m not letting you go back to sleep!”

  I hear someone protest as Big Mike grabs me under my armpits and starts lifting me to my feet. Have I ever said I don’t like Big Mike very much?

  I open my eyes and am greeted with soft curly chest hair and red flannel. I promptly lose my cookies. Not a cute trickle or anything, projectile vomit is on the menu tonight. I get splash back from Big Mike’s chest. Which makes me heave more. I have to hand it to the man. He doesn’t let up on his grip on me for a second.

  “Sorry Mike, I’ll get you another shirt. Not flannel though. That shit is horrible.” I peek up at him through my hair. He’s grinning. I guess you don’t live to his age, run a bar and never have a girl hurl on you every now and again.

  “Deal. Come on let’s get you in a chair so I can get cleaned up. I’d offer you the same, but you might drown in the sink the way you’re flopping around like a trout in my jaw.”

  Trout in my jaw? Must be a wolf joke. But good as his word he gets me into a chair. Throwing up must have helped because the room stops spinning.

  “Get her a towel Billy!” Ok I guess we’re back to the yelling again.

  Big Mike gets me to a chair near Peter. He’s still lying on the bar with his arm thrown over his eyes. He looks a little pinker, no more of that deathly pale thing going on. I don’t see any blood pouring from him either. I guess the Wolf Mother accepted him after all.

  It almost kills me, but I lean over to pat Peter’s shoulder. “Good job Peter, good job. How you feel?”

  “Like shit. I already threw up. I don’t want to know what the fuck happened. I just want to go home.” He mumbles it, but I’m pretty sure everyone in the bar can hear him.

  I watch as people and werewolves start leaving the bar in clusters; yeah cowards. I guess the hard part is telling someone hey, guess what werewolves are real, and now you are one. I bet they don’t have a greeting card for this.

  There aren’t any icebreakers for this conversation. I can’t deal with this right now. Maybe he can just hang with Big Mike and learn the ropes. Hell, I’m not a god damn werewolf. I don’t know anything about being one.

  Maybe Peter can write a novel, So Now You’re a Werewolf, he certainly can’t be a CNAE officer anymore. I can’t imagine there’s a large market for it though.

  “Yeah buddy I know, I’m ready to be in my bed too.” I take a deep breath.

  “Listen Peter, things are going to get complicated now. I just want you to know if there’d been another way….” I pause; there really aren’t words for this kind of thing. I’d always grown up knowing exactly what I was. It’s the who part that always makes me question myself. But Peter, he’s going to have to figure it all out again.

  “I’m a werewolf. I’ve got it. Can we get the fuck out of here now? I’m not angry just tired.” Which means I’m angry in Peter talk.

  Can I blame him? No. I guess someone has already broken the news to him when I was passed out. Maybe the Wolf Mother had. Or does he just know? You were one thing and now you are a different thing, does your body just know? Does your mind just accept it?

  I sigh, “Sure, I just need to talk to Big Mike. You should stay…”

  “He can’t stay here Jae, and he can’t go home. He can’t be left alone yet. His senses and temper are heightened he has no control and no pack magic to help him.” I hear Big Mike’s voice behind me. I turn in my seat with a questioning look.

  “Great Mother changed him, but he’s not pack. He’s not one of my wolves.”

  “So, make him part of your pack,” I say, thinking of the simplest solution. What does he need, like a proof of address or something?

  “If Great Mother wanted him to be mine, he would be. He is not, he is yours. I see the push and pull of power between you two even now. He has the same power frequency as you Jaevia.”

  “That’s not even possible, I’m not a wolf!” I say in a shout, getting to my feet and quickly falling back into the chair. So, fast movements are a no-no for now.

  “We can argue about what’s possible and what’s not, but it won’t change what is,” Big Mike responds in his ‘I’m losing patience with this discussion’ voice.

  “I’m tired, you’re beat to high hell, and he’s tired. Take him home, go to sleep. I’ll help you through this as much as I can. Come back tomorrow morning we’ll figure something out.”

  At that he turns his back and starts walking towards the hallway off to the side and disappearing down its depths. Big Mike has never been a man for much conversation.

  Well I guess that’s that.

  Two wolves – one is Billy, the other I have no idea what his name is – walk in. Billy hands me a warm wet towel to wipe down with. I get off most of the chunks of vomit but the blood is going to need something more aggressive to get off. I slip on the three times too big plain white T-shirt. I’m happy for it. I was getting a little tired of sitting here in my undies making life-changing decisions.

  “Thank you, both.” They only nod in response.

  “Can you get up Peter? Or do you need someone to carry you?” My voice is a little stronger. I push to the back of my mind the concerns of this entire evening; my only mission is to get us home. I’ll have a breakdown then, when no one is around to see it. The way breakdowns are meant to be had.

  “I’m fine Jae,” he says, sitting up and swinging his legs to hang off the side of the bar. I notice he’s moving slowly though.

  “Ok then you can help me.” I look up at him. “I still don’t feel so good.”

  My legs feel like spaghetti and if my choices are asking for help or falling flat on my face, I figure asking for help is marginally less embarrassing.

  Peter jumps off the bar and rolls his shoulders cracking his neck. He really is looking good. It’s the wolf settling in his skin. He walks over to me and lifts me
in his arms like a small child.

  “Put me down! I said help me, not carry me.” The ire rising in my voice.

  “Shut up Jae! Just please be quiet for once. It feels good for me to be near you right now. I can do this, so just shut up about it.” He barks at me. Ok, temper, temper. I guess the wolf is on the surface.

  The Peter I know is way more mild-mannered than this guy. I shut up and let him carry me. I don’t have the energy for any more fighting. If he’s busy carrying me, he can’t run off and go crazy wolf mode in the fringe. I’m doing this for the greater good, not because I’m a weakling.

  We make it outside into the night air. It feels good to be outdoors. We like it outside. Buildings are no place for us. We like to be free in the open.

  When did I start thinking in the third person? It is becoming crowded in here, my succubus whispers. Ok then, not third person. I’m feeling Peter’s thoughts. Ok weird. I open my mouth to say something. Peter shakes his head no. Ok we’re going with denial. I can do denial; it’s an area of expertise for me.

  I look over towards the car. Jack is leaned against it. Johnson is in the back seat staring out the window, looking into the tree line. I don’t know what he sees, I don’t really care.

  Jack makes a motion to walk towards us I shake my head no at him. Peter has designated himself as my protector. We should all just play along. I don’t want to do anything that pushes him over the edge. Trapped in a car riding with a new werewolf is going to be strenuous enough.

  “I think Jack should drive, Peter. Is that ok with you?” I ask in a calm, soft voice.

  He lets out a harsh laugh, “You don’t trust me behind the wheel? Fine I really don’t care. But if he fucks up my car I’m taking it out of your ass. Got it, Chica?” I jump at the ‘chica.’ He’s called me that before, but right now it doesn’t feel like a friendly term of endearment.

  He’s angry about the car? Something tells me no. I can feel the wolf inside him, restless agitated and angry. Peter is expressing those emotions. He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling that emotion which adds confusion.

  “I didn’t want this, Peter. Please believe me, I never wanted this for you.” I push and squirm until I fall out of his arms to the ground, barely breaking my fall. Pain radiates throughout by body, making the receptors in my brain explode in fury. I’m drained of power, nothing more than human right now. I’m tapped, helpless, and emotionally unstable. Goddess above I’m going to have to feed. There’s nothing for it now. Peter is draining me, that’s why he’s feeling so strong, and I’m so weak.

  Jack walks slowly over and pulls me to my feet. I look up into his blue graphite eyes, so full of understanding and sympathy. A pang of shame runs through me. I will feed on Jack tonight, I will take whatever he has to give, and I won’t even feel sorry about it, not really. Feeling sorry requires a very human emotion that I cut out my heart some time ago.

  I look away and stare into Peter’s eyes, hard now with anger; the warm brown I’m used to seeing is speckled with green and yellow, wolf eyes. He can’t actually change into a werewolf until his first full moon. He’ll run that night, and hunt, when the original ruler of the lycanthropes, the Moon Goddess, fills him with power. But it doesn’t mean his body doesn’t want to go full wolf now. His wolf won’t try to break free, destroying Peter in the process.

  “I truly did not want this for you.” I repeat my plea, asking for forgiveness.

  “It doesn’t matter what you want. It’s true, and worse, I can feel something inside of me that is happy because it’s true. What about my life! What am I now?” He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair.

  “I’m still your friend Peter, I’m still Jae. Don’t make what’s happened change that, please.” I whisper, holding out my hand.

  He walks past me and gets into the front seat of the car. The cut of rejection is so painful I stumble back. Jack catches me before I can hit the ground lifting me and putting me in the back seat next to Johnson. All Peter ever wanted was to be a simple kind of man.

  I stare out of the window. I see Big Mike gazing out from the porch with pity. I close my eyes. My life is shit.

  Chapter Nine

  Home bittersweet home

  Jack drives Johnson back to the wall. I don’t think a warning to keep his mouth closed about what’s happened is necessary. To be honest, I don’t really have it in me to talk to anyone right now. I just want to get into bed, pull the covers over my head and block out the world. But I find myself warning him anyway. He’ll get us all killed if he tells anyone and the Kindred Elders find out. Keeping our kind, the supernaturals, secret, is one of our most paramount laws.

  “Where am I going now?” Jack asks in a quiet voice. I give him my address. I don’t live too far from Big Mike’s place. My house sits on a hilly edge of Leakin Park, nice and private. I watch as Jack punches the address into his tablet. I could give directions, but I don’t really want to, I don’t want to say anything.

  We’re off again, speeding through the streets of the midlands, the Baltimore abandoned slums, back towards the fringe.

  We make great time with Jack driving.

  There’re only three other houses on this side of the street, the back of the house smack up against the park. There’s a small alleyway that all of the people on this side of the street pitch in to shovel when it snows, or to clear downed trees. A sense of community builds while you’re sweating and working next to one another. I know my neighbors’ names and their children’s names. All of them are human, but I don’t mind that at all.

  I tell him to pull around the back of the large two-story house; it’s a bitch to heat in the winter but, it’s home. There’s a cement car port taking up part of the large yard in the back with a closed privacy fence. A line of trees and bushes gives us extra privacy from my neighbors, although, all of the houses have land keeping them shielded gently.

  These houses were built before Baltimore became the crush of bodies living on top of one another. Before the collapse Baltimore boomed with over a half million residents, now there’s more space than anyone knows to do with. Humans, like most species, tend to cluster together until there is no more room and then spread like a virus.

  The fringe is filled with humans too poor to afford the city and supernaturals that don’t want to be noticed. Some vampires live in the city, I guess better hunting grounds. But most lycanthropes, witches and warlocks live in the fringe.

  I get out of the car a little steadier on my legs now. Peter hasn’t said a word the entire time. Not even when Johnson gave his own babbling apology, I hadn’t felt sorry for Johnson. He shot his friend over a girl who doesn’t want him.

  I make sure to not even glance in Peter’s direction. My emotions are still too raw. I’m picking up on his emotions as well. There’s regret but much more anger, that anger isn’t directed at one thing. It just exists. Like a black hole sucking all the things that make Peter the person he is… was… right out of existence. That anger is my own, I’m infecting Peter with it and I don’t know how to stop it.

  I walk up to the back door of the large two-story house. Three concrete steps lead to the white half screen door. I scan my wrist by the panel on the side of the door. The lock hisses and opens.

  Although the house is old, new security panels and doors have been installed. It is a little safer, and honestly, I like not having to deal with lost keys. The panel also designates the house as a sanctioned CNAE residence; it’s illegal to be homeless now.

  I open the back door that puts us right into the large kitchen. I flick on the light letting my eyes adjust. The room has an island in the middle and a small kitchen table on the left wall. I usually eat in here. The dining room to the right, is barely, if ever, used. Deep brown wood cabinets sit high on the wall above the surface spaces. The stainless-steel refrigerator is on my right beside the back door and the counter where the coffee pot sits and the kitchen sink, a small window sits above the sink looking out on the bac
k yard.

  Straight ahead is another large arched opening to the living room area and the stairs to go up. The basement stairs are here in the kitchen with a door. I don’t go down into the basement for anything other than doing my laundry.

  “There is a spare bedroom upstairs,” I explain to them both. Peter has never been on the upper level of my house.

  “A full bathroom upstairs, one bathroom on this level with a shower only and a half bath in the basement. Minx is my roommate. Her bedroom is on the left when you go up the stairs, don’t go in it. The spare bedroom next and mine is back in this direction at the end of the hallway right above the dining room.”

  I clear my throat. “Across from my room is the full bath with a tub and a separate stand up shower. You guys work out which one of you wants the bedroom and which one of you can crash on the sofa. There’s a queen bed in the spare room already. I’ll get some clean sheets.” Finished with my welcoming speech, I leave them both heading up to my room.

  The house is dark as usual. Minx might be around here somewhere. I don’t know and I’m not in the mood to do any explaining right now. I just need to be alone. Peter’s emotions are making my own ragged and unstable, transferring pain back and forth between us. This can’t be good, not for either one of us.

  I work hard on controlling my anger, to not let the dark things off their leash. I feel my control slipping. I need away and I need away right now. We need to feed. I know, I think towards my succubus. She’ll keep pushing until she gets what she wants. I know that from experience.

  It is always easier to give into the evil.

  I don’t bother turning on the light. I know exactly where everything is in my room. I need to get cleaned up. I shouldn’t get into the bed covered in vomit and blood and filth. But my body doesn’t listen and I find myself crawling in the bed and pulling the covers up over my head, boots still on and all.