by Alex Stone
“Really?” Michael’s voice slightly cracks at the end, but I manage to contain my chuckle. Part of me wants to tell Ricky that Michael’s too young, but with a possible threat in the area, he needs to be able to defend himself. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not a baby anymore, even if he is the baby brother. As Michael has pointed out in the past, I did start learning how to fight before I was ten. If anything, I suppose he’s long overdue for some ass-whooping instruction.
When we pull into Grandma’s, Ricky gives me a concerned look before turning to Michael. “Did yer sister tell you how she ruined the guy at the bar last night?”
I see the familiar twinkle in Michael’s eyes and cannot help but roll my eyes.
Ricky briefly gives me a mischievous look after he and Michael get out of the car. “Well, she didn’t beat his ass, but she did make a grown man almost cry!”
As they make their way to the backyard to, I assume, practice fighting, I slowly walk up the steps to the front door, bracing myself for whatever retribution Grandma has waiting for me.
Chapter 4
I stop after opening the screen, which quickly springs back to close and hits my hip. I’ve never knocked on Grandma’s door before, but after last night, I’m hesitant to just walk in as usual. I don’t want to piss her off further. But on second thought, I’m kind of pissed at her too. I take a deep breath, then set my shoulders straight before opening the front door.
“Grandma?” I call out as I enter, suddenly feeling guilty and second-guessing myself. But it’s not like I’ve broken some expensive vase.
Grandma comes around the corner from the kitchen, drying her hands with a dish towel. “May I help you?” she asks in cockiest of tones.
“Grandma, don’t be like that. You know we were just trying to help.”
“You disrespected me in my own home,” she says, placing her hands— and towel— on her hips.
I narrow my eyes but lower my voice. “You’re hiding things from the pack, from the family.”
“And I told you, that’s my business! You’re too young to understand.”
I cross my arms. My heart pounds. The pulse quickens behind my ears. In this moment, as frustrating as it is, I can’t help but notice the similarities. Both of us standing with one leg slightly forward, one hip cocked to the side, with both of our mouths pressed in hard lines. I’ve been told I look more like her than any of the other granddaughters. That once made me proud, but God help me if I am ever as stubborn or as reckless as she is! I close my eyes for a second before looking up at her with what I only hope is the most accusing glare she has seen in the last decade. “Too young to understand?” I sneer. “Perhaps you are just out of touch.”
She opens her mouth, but I put a hand up, silencing her. “Do you realize that you have put the entire pack, plus the rest of the family in danger?” Her expression softens, and her eyes widen. “This new pack— which I know you knew about— had its young members jump Michael at school because they could smell the wolf on him. One of them showed up at the bar last night and tried to start shit. And today, four of them just so happened to be at the mall where Michael and I were, and three of my tires mysteriously ended up slashed! Your lack of communication has left the rest of us blindsided! They’ve made it clear that they are here to challenge us, and because of you, it was painfully clear how unprepared we are for it. You not only made us look weak; you put us in a position of weakness! You’re not only the matriarch of this family. You’re the fucking alpha. Act like it!” I take a step closer to her. “I don’t know why you chose to hide this or what kind of past you have with them— because it does seem personal— but you need to figure it the fuck out before one of us gets hurt. If that happens, you won’t be able to point the finger at anyone but yourself.” I quickly turn on my heel, not wanting to give her a chance to reply.
As I place my hand on the knob of the front door, I hear her say softly, “Tala?”
I grit my teeth then sigh. Damn it! Even pissed, I can’t say no to her! I turn my head toward her. “Yes?”
“Tell— tell the pack, and the rest of the family, that we’re holding an emergency and mandatory conclave tonight at seven in Carl and Angie’s workshop. Everyone must attend and don’t leave anyone behind…we’re all in danger. I can’t…I can’t tell you more right now. I have to make some preparations, but as my second, you should show up early. I’ll explain everything in a few hours…I’m sorry.”
I nod. “Just fix this. I’ll be here at six; we’ll go together.” I open the door, exit, and close it sharply behind me. She can feel sorry all she wants, but she shoved us into this hole; it’s her job to dig us out. That’s what she always told me growing up.
I head around to the backyard. Ricky and Michael are rolling around on the ground. Ricky manages to get Michael in a headlock, but Michael isn’t giving up. I put my thumb and index finger in my mouth and whistle. They jump back from each other with Michael rubbing his neck and Ricky stretching his arms. Michael waves before jogging over, while Ricky, who is in no hurry, casually walks over.
“Hey,” Michael says with a smile. “Did you see me show Ricky a thing or two?” he asks.
“Uh, no, but I did see you struggling to get out of a chokehold.” I throw a fake punch his way and allow him to dodge.
“Just give me two years, and I’ll take him.”
“Whatever you say, kid.” Ricky’s finally made his way over. “Took you long enough,” I say.
“What’s up?” he asks, as we make our way over and into his truck. “Make up with ol’ g’ma?”
I roll my eyes. “Not exactly, but we are having an emergency conclave tonight at seven.” That should tell Ricky everything he needs to know. We always meet at Uncle Carl’s because he had this big workshop built next to his house. However, it’s the only real structure large enough for the whole family to fit comfortably, so it’s turned into a sort of event center, and he hasn’t had much of a chance to use it for its original purpose.
“No shit?” Ricky says, the surprise evident in both his face and tone. “What’d you get us into?”
I shrug. “Not me, but she—” I quickly glance at Michael, realizing it’s probably not the best idea to let him know Grandma could’ve warned us about the other wolves. “—she feels there’s something going on and thinks we all should discuss it. I’m assuming she’ll probably talk about the plan for tomorrow, too.”
“Yep!” Ricky says. “That’d be smart. We’ve never had an unfriendly pack come through during a full moon. Hell, we ain’t had an unfriendly pack come through at all!”
Despite myself, I have to laugh. It’s really not the time to be joking, but Ricky is definitely easing the tension. I’m beginning to remember why we got along so well when we were younger. “We’ve got to start letting people know about the meeting. Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you put your phone to use and start texting everybody. Make sure they send a reply confirming that they know, okay?”
“’kay.”
I ask Ricky, “Is Mel working tonight?”
He shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
I shake my head. “Do you have Mel’s number, Michael?” He also shrugs. Brothers, I swear! “I’ll text her then…” I pull out my phone and shoot Mel a quick text, letting her know about the meeting tonight. Almost as soon as I hit send and go to put the phone in my pocket, my phone dings. It’s an auto-reply from Mel.
Sorry! I’m taking a break from my phone for the next few days to focus on myself. Thanks for understanding!
-Mel
What the actual fuck, Mel? I try to call her, hoping she’ll pick up, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. “Fuck!” I say.
“What?” Ricky’s brow furrows.
“Mel’s not answering. She’s taking a break from her phone.”
“Well, shit. She’s probably still in bed.”
I give him an inquiring look, which he doesn’t see at first.
/> “What?” he asks.
“Why would she still be in bed?” I ask. I’m a little frustrated that I have to spell it out for him.
“Ohhh…I thought ya’ knew…”
I huff, impatient at his lack of forthcoming. “About…?” Other than Grandma, Mel is the person I talk to most often outside of my immediate family. What the hell don’t I know? My heart pounds, hurting my chest. If anything’s happened to her— I’d kill for Mel any day of the week. If one of those sons of bitches from that pack harmed her, today would be that day.
Ricky continues, interrupting my thoughts, “Her boyfriend broke up with her the other night; she’s told me she’s fine, but after the bar last night, I know she’s takin’ it hard.”
Mel had a boyfriend? I’m trying not to let my mind go there and make it about me. Mel’s the one upset, but why didn’t she tell me?
“After six months, he gave no reason. Pretty shitty thing to do, if ya’ ask me. I wanted to whoop ‘im, but Mel tol’ me not to.”
I feel like a pretty shitty friend. How the hell could I not know she had been seeing someone for the last six months? Suddenly, her “carefree” behavior at the bar makes more sense. I should’ve realized it sooner. Maybe we’re not as close as I thought. I suppose I see her most often at the diner…where she works. Damn…I really do need to get out more. Maybe Mom was right. Being a wolf has isolated me. “Well,” I say. “If you decide that you need to take a few swings at him, let me know. I could give you back up.” I smile.
“I’ll hold ya’ to it!” Ricky says.
We pull up to Uncle Carl’s a few minutes later. He lives in a large, two-story brick house. The area is pretty secluded as his nearest neighbors live over a mile away. A forest of oak and sassafras envelopes the main part of the property, which consists of the main house and two-car garage, an in-ground swimming pool, the pool house, and the “workshop.” The driveway is long, and unlike the road leading up to it, paved. The driveway splits off just before the house. Going left in the fork leads to a circular loop where visitors may park in front of the main house, whereas going right leads to the workshop, which now has a small parking lot. For now, we go left and stop in front of the house.
Alone, I get out of the car, while Ricky and Michael continue on to the workshop. There are five brick steps leading up to the massive glass door that blocks the main maroon one. I ring the doorbell and hear Lady, my Aunt Angela’s miniature poodle, start barking. A few seconds later, Aunt Angie opens the door, Lady in hand.
“Hey, baby,” she says greeting me with a smile. Aunt Angie keeps her hair natural most of the time, so today it is in a small afro. “What are you doin’ here?”
I smile sheepishly.
“Oh no,” she says. “I’ll let your uncle know that you’ll need the workshop.” She waves me into the house and continues to talk as we enter. “I’m actually about to leave. I’ve got a meeting at the bank. I’m thinking of adding to my beauty line, but I want to see what kind of account I could upgrade to.” Aunt Angie sets down Lady, who, now satisfied that there is no intruder, scurries off upstairs. Aunt Angie grabs her purse, keys, and one of her famous silk scarves.
“How long is your meeting supposed to last?”
She stops and looks at me, her brows knitted together. “Not too long. I imagine I’ll be done by four or four-thirty. The bank closes at five, so I have to be done by then. Why do you ask?”
“Tonight’s meeting isn’t just for the wolves,” I say. “It’s an emergency meeting for the family, as well.”
“Hmm.” Aunt Angie has her cheeks sucked in as she continues to grab the rest of her things, sunglasses and binder, which I can only assume contains every detail of her new business plan. “I’ll keep that in mind and won’t be long then. You make sure that boy of mine doesn’t get into any trouble while I’m gone, a’right?”
I chuckle. “If I see him, I will, but he’s a grown man. I’m sure he can handle himself.”
Aunt Angie purses her lips. “If you say so. Bye, baby.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and hands me a set of keys before heading out the front door.
I turn and walk through the house until I get to the back door. I make my way across the backyard, past the pool and pool house. It takes me about five minutes to get to the workshop. Ricky and Michael are already in, as Ricky knows where to find the main key. The two of them are unfolding chairs and tables. I unlock the gray metal door in the back before flipping the switch to turn on the electricity in the building. Immediately, I hear the hum of the heaters turning on. Michael turns on the overhead industrial lights.
Once the tables and chairs are set up and the heater on, there’s not much left to do. I head over to the kitchen, which Uncle Carl added in last year, and rinse out the two five-gallon drink dispensers. I get the pack of tea bags and sugar from the cabinets and put the water on to boil. Usually, making tea doesn’t take me long, but making ten gallons is time consuming, especially when one only have two pots, even if they are quite large. An hour later, I finish mixing the sugar in before having Ricky help bring the tea to the main area. With index cards and a sharpie I found in the kitchen, I label one dispenser “sweetened” and the other “unsweetened.” Michael brings out the plastic cups, and I say, “We’re done!”
“Still got the keys?” Ricky asks.
“Yeah? Did we miss something?”
Ricky smiles. “Just gimme the keys.” He holds his hand out, and I shrug, tossing them to him.
Ricky jogs to the closet, quickly unlocking it and walking in. When he emerges, he’s holding a bright green kick ball and wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, it’s on!”
I can’t help but shake my head. There is too much going on for us to playing kick ball, but Michael beams. “Hell yeah!” he whoops, so I smile.
Ricky tosses me the ball, and I kick it back toward him and he passes to Michael, who passes it back, and on it goes. It’s all very friendly, until Ricky feigns before kicking it hard toward me. The ball goes flying and bounces off the leg of the table supporting the tea. I shoot Ricky a death glare before pointing to the door. “Outside.”
Ricky and Michael eagerly make their way outside, and I manage to hold a smile until the door closes behind them. I sink into a nearby chair, allowing myself a brief respite from my emotional façade. Under these circumstances, someone would likely say everything would be okay. Everything does not feel okay. Leaning my head into my hands, I take a breath. Abruptly, I stand and take out the disinfectant from the kitchen. I mindlessly begin wiping down the chairs. Cleaning is a welcomed distraction, one that has always made me feel useful in situations where I feel helpless. So, I clean, until Ricky and Michael reenter, breathless.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
They both nod, still catching their breath. Michael leans down and grips his knees, as Ricky returns the ball and I put away the cleaning supplies. I check my near-dead phone. It’s a little early, but with all the tension between me and Grandma, maybe it’s best I show up early for her briefing. I nod to Ricky, letting him know it’s time, and the three of us get back into the rust bucket.
During the ride to Grandma’s, we’re all quiet, but it’s not an uncomfortable or awkward silence. We’re all relaxed. I think we needed a casual way to reduce the anxiety that we must’ve been feeling. I gaze out the window as the trees go by in a blur, the veils of dust forming from the dirt that the truck stirs up. In the distance, I see black clouds, which actually soothes me. It’ll be nice to fall asleep to the steady tapping of rain tonight. Another car turns off of Grandma’s road as we turn on to it. I stretch my arms out. I’m relaxed now, but I know whatever Grandma has to tell me will change that.
It’s only five-forty when we pull up, and Ricky brings the truck close to the door.
“You just drop me off here,” I say. “I’m riding with Grandma. Thanks for the ride.” I go to close the door, then stop midway. “I didn’t even think to ask. Do you mind taking Michael?”
&nb
sp; Ricky shrugs. “Goin’ there anyway, ain’t I? As long as he doesn’t mind helping me roll Mel out of bed, I don’t care.”
I smile, “Thanks.”
“Sure thang!”
I close the door and turn to the house as Ricky and Michael pull away. I quickly jog up the steps, taking them two at a time, before opening the door.
The scent slams into me before I’ve fully entered the house. Blood. Familiar, yet not associated with this place of warmth and memories. The overwhelming strength of the scent sends my system into high alert. My heartrate increases; my palms already sweating. Please, please, please just let it be that the old lady tried to get a cold brownie out with a steak knife again.
I make my way around the entryway toward the dining room, each step adding another weight to my stomach. I stop in my tracks. My throat begins to close. The dining table is on its side, the chairs broken, and streaks of blood line the walls. Another scent begins to mingle with the first: gas. It’s then that I see a faint light from the kitchen.
I can’t feel my hands, my feet, or my other extremities, as I amble numbly through the house. The stove is on fire. I can’t process the flames further. They’re spreading, but I don’t care. In the corner, by the back door, I see my grandmother’s back. She’s on her side. And I know, but I have to check, if only for the slightest hope or need to have absolute confirmation that can shatter whatever ounce of denial still remains. I turn her over. Her eyes, wide with shock, accuse and condemn me for every sin I have ever committed against her. There’s an inch-long scratch on her neck, but that’s not what killed her.
Three long and deep gashes released her entrails. Her stomach and intestines are poured out in front of her with her bloody hands encircling her center. My mind imagines her being slashed open, only to frantically try to keep her innards from falling out. I pull her toward me, holding her, swaying side to side, like she used to do to me, as if she were the sick baby and this could somehow make everything better. A noise startles me, and I crane my head to look around without releasing her, but I can’t seem to locate where it’s coming from. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s my own sobs, rocking my chest and sending waves through me as my tears blind me from the world around me. I can’t breathe. The smoke starts to fill the room, but I can’t tell if that’s what’s choking me, or if it’s just my grief. Just my grief, as if it were a small, insignificant thing.