by Tina Smith
Bert the quiet dark haired male advised, “But we will put a stop to whatever he is up to,” he said spitefully.
28. Pack Meets Pack
Blair broke the news about his car in the downstairs bedroom and Paws stroked his trimmed beard. The vehicle had been marked with the same symbol as the body.
“Did you feed Shell?” Blair asked clearly concerned.
“Did you lock the door?” asked Paws, ignoring the question of concern for Shell. His hair was shorter Blair wondered why he had groomed himself.
“Yes,” replied Blair, stating the obvious, as he did many times a day in his job. “It wasn’t alarmed.” His voice hardened, “But that hunter is taunting me.”
“She is scared of you, otherwise she would have killed you,” Paws insisted narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
“Yeah, but instead the bitch has scratched up my car.” Blair barely contained the gritting anger in his voice. The car had been his grandfather’s, it had never had a scratch on it. She had done enough damage so that he was embarrassed to drive it. That’s if he ever got the smell out.
“Any news on the body?” he asked sternly.
“No.” He shook his head. “She hasn’t been reported.” It didn’t mean she wouldn’t be eventually. It was just a waiting game. The woman had been a wolf, that was certain, her blood proved that.
Paws had his hand over his mouth and rubbed it in thought. “Go home tonight and keep an eye out for her. Better still, patrol the area. She’s nearby,” Paws advised ponderingly. Narine was waiting for her to fall into their hands. He knew they had to be smarter than to lose their cool. Blair was worried Paws was wrong to be so complacent. “Samantha doesn’t seem too concerned about her.”
“What happens when she starts taking us out, instead of just taunting us?” Blair asked, justifiably concerned.
“This huntress is like Tormey. She wants peace. She is trying to intimidate us so we remain in fear. Don’t play her game,” Paws advised. “We will flush her out soon enough; she’s so close I can taste it,” he said flippantly.
Narine just watched, but Blair knew it was her words coming from him now.
“And what about Shell?” Blair questioned.
“What about her?” Paws looked annoyed. “She stays in there until she submits.” His eyes sparkled with humour. It was evident he enjoyed teasing her.
Blair looked stern. It had been a trying day.
“We won’t have to leave her in there for much longer,” soothed Narine.
Right then she reminded Blair of a fat snake winding itself around Paws and constricting. He pretended not to be so disagreeable.
“Sky was tamed by the cage and so will she be, even though it’s hard for us all.” Narine mimicked a forlorn sorrow as transparent as her motives. Blair knew she wanted the pack.
“It was her third warning. We were more than lenient.” Paws put his hand to his temple; they didn’t need trouble. “If he was to even see her, do you realize what issues it could cause for us?”
Narine again offered some contrived compassion. “We will teach her there are consequences and then she will comply or suffer them again – or worse.” She gave a longing, empathetic expression.
Blair hoped that Shelly wouldn’t do it again. People could change under the venom, become violent, deceptive and take risks they otherwise would never have done. He’d seen women become bitter, saw the expression disappear from their faces, but none ever sent a shiver down his spine the way Narine did. He knew her M.O, she was a sociopath. She was cold in a way that was impenetrable, enigmatic, in a way that had forgotten the sorrow that caused her to be as she was, a creature with a deep-seated rage.
He had noted that in contrast Shell’s demeanour however hadn’t changed. She was placid and careful as ever. As though she’d never been turned. But there she was locked below in the dark cage like an animal, or a criminal, and he knew not even the worst of the worst criminals got that treatment. He knew if they didn’t feed her, he would, and he could easily get Sky to assist in the matter, though he knew that might backfire. Sky had spent too long in there; it might send him over the edge to know she was down there again.
“Sky’s going to flip if you keep her in there long.” There he said it and he held his breath for the reaction.
“Sky isn’t pack leader,” Narine said sharply.
Neither are you, thought Blair. “Yes that’s true,” he confirmed obediently, before leaving the room, clenching a rigid fist. There was an odd commotion upstairs. “What’s that?” They all three stilled. There were visitors upstairs, they had been too deep in conversation to notice at first.
The mountain pack converged on the house under the cover of night. Like stalking wild cats, they descended from the cover of trees, as they so rarely had in years. They didn’t knock; rather they scaled the balcony and let themselves in. Like acrobats, they descended on the house. Unused to their lengthy human forms, they crouched. Sky was polishing the dishes dry when they sprang from the outside and soundlessly assembled in the house, seeming to appear like spiders from the cracks in the walls.
He was too shocked to speak.
“Got any jeans, boy?” asked a longhaired man with bony shoulders in a gruff voice. Patrick. Sky instantly knew they hadn’t come to fight, as wolves rarely stopped and asked politely for pants when attempting to kill. He knew despite their rough looks they were the humans in the pictures that he had walked by daily in the hall. He hadn’t known they still existed.
He grabbed a pair of his own pants only to return and realize he needed much more. Now a naked woman stood amongst them in a stance that suggested she did not know her form well. She seemed unsteady and indeed they all stood widely, as though on a boat that swayed. “Here, I’ll get more.” He handed Patrick the jeans and stared at the others, including a pale man with blonde hair whose reptilian eyes followed him. Sky went into Sam’s room and pulled a jumper and a dress from a pile on the bed and wondered if he should be so bold as to also get a bra, but then decided against it.
From Tyler’s room, he snatched a shirt off the floor and from Blair’s hamper he grabbed a pile of clothes – they were dirty but the pack wasn’t exactly on the clean side to begin with.
“When you’re showered we can get you clean clothes.” He faced the blonde guy. “These are for you,” he offered politely, though the man scowled in return.
Agnes went forward to the pile in his hands in an attempt to take them, but Bert asserted claim irreverently for the wrinkly pile and handed them to her. “There are more female clothes in the room at the end,” Sky started to say, but Agnes had already pulled on the sweater and then the dress was yanked over the top. She didn’t seem to mind, though, from her expression. She seemed to realize her mistake light heartedly and then shrugged. Sky wondered too late if he should turn. Before him was the thin, hairy and badly dressed mountain pack in Blair’s dirty weekend t-shirts and track pants and his jeans.
The flighty blonde guy who seemed steadier on his feet asked, “Well where’s Dieter? He invites us in and then doesn’t greet us?”
“He never was polite,” joked the other long-haired male confidently.
As the familiar thuds of footsteps came up the stairs, Narine, Shelly, Blair and Paws appeared. Shelly looked a little messy, she had been promptly released when their guests arrived rather stealthily. Paws didn’t wish to let them know he still practised cruelty.
“Ha, ha, Sam didn’t seem sure you would come!” Dieter laughed as though greeting old friends invited to stay.
“Patrick!” Paws bellowed.
“Long time no see.” Patrick accepted his hand slap handshake, if not more reservedly than it was offered.
Dahlia appeared from the bathroom and timidly eyed the group. Christian the toey blond took her in with a sleazy stare. She flipped her long dark hair and batted her matching lashes as she gave a shy smile. Shell and Narine were standing beside Paws but Dahlia took a place further from them on the couch
. Her face sparked a desire in Christian that he hadn’t forgotten these many years. He was without a mate.
Paws introduced everyone starting with Narine his mate, then Shell the lop-eyed brunette and then Dahlia. Sky was the broad shouldered one with a kind manner who had brought them clothes; they nodded at him when he was introduced.
“You have become more tenacious in your older years, Dieter,” commented the lead male Patrick. His shoulders broadened as a large black wolf came over the balcony behind them and moved slowly to stand beside him.
“Greta,” Paws greeted with a nod but he did not smile. In fact his expression gave away the discomfort of fear.
“We don’t want any fighting,” Narine urged breaking the air in a womanly voice with a wiser tone than her face suggested in its youthful immortality.
Greta shook and grotesquely bent and formed into the figure of a woman in the middle of the gathering. All moved instinctually wider to accommodate her space to re-mould. Patrick then held her hand tenderly as she crouched like all the others had done when they first entered the house adjusting her sea legs. She looked like a new borne foal. Unlike Patrick, her skin was alabaster white and to the unwise, she looked almost delicate like a nymph or a mermaid without its tail. She regained her sense of bearing and she looked weak under the weight of her waving black hair. But it was the way one was after transforming for the first time in decades. She was more wolf-come-human than the other way around.
“Here.” Sky bravely offered the remaining clothes. Bert, the other dark haired male, took them and the woman, Greta, slid them on, pulling her extremely long hair out of the way.
“Is there anything else we can get you?” Narine announced smoothly. “Water? Food, shoes?” Sky discreetly looked at their long nailed feet.
Christian smirked and out of the corner of his eye he watched the shy girl’s reaction. Dahlia resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably; instead she kept her head down.
“Meat?” said Patrick. They all smiled, as though about to laugh.
Narine noted their humour at her offer. “A bath?” she retorted, as the grime and oiliness of their skin made them reek of a strange musk and sulphur smell of rotting plants. She had been careful not to say it at first, but when she was met with mockery, she narrowed her eyes at them calmly and looked them up and down with barely masked disdain.
“Brothers and sisters, welcome to our home.” Paws clapped, dispelling the tension. “We have a lot to discuss. Beers, Sky?” he suggested with urgency in his eyes whilst holding a friendly smirk over the tense air.
“Why should we listen?” Greta asked abruptly. She cautioned him with a steady look. “We have been wolves for many, many years now and it suits us fine. We no longer hunt the humans, unless they come into our land.” Her face remained steady but her expression was piercing.
“And you may return, Greta, just please listen to our plans. We have made great strides, particularly with the huntress.” Sky handed out beers from the fridge. On mention of the word everyone seemed to stop, their flickering eyes fixing on him. “We plan to capture them and we have kept them at bay by disabling them, a sort of blackmail, and it has worked. They don’t come into our parts, and we don’t kill from theirs.”
Greta looked stunned, her dark green eyes widening. “Things always change and yet they always stay the same.” She glowered.
Paws continued to try to convince them. “You know we have always dreamed a bigger dream for ourselves.” He took a breath. “Narine and I have made strides to overtake the town. It’s been a slow transition, but we acquire more selections for our cause from the town each month or so. There is no reason to hide any longer my long lost friends. We will make Shade ours.”
Greta raised her voice. “But not yet? Not without calling us to duty?” Her posse looked at her solemnly, their silence agreeing.
“Please shower, this is your home. You will see I have not forgotten you. The attic houses all your clothes and Narine and I have lovingly dusted your photographs all these years. I have worked towards a better life for us, one in which we don’t have to hide like we once did. Now time is of the essence. We have reached a point where by we must act quickly. Trap the hunters; conserve our race by taking positions of power. We have a policeman, soon a politician, this one here was a teacher,” he pointed to Shelly who kept her head down under the weight of the unwanted attention. “We have a Nurse too.”
“How can they remain in their positions and who is to say you haven’t provoked the Goddess?” Greta said angrily. “I see you are a politician yourself now, too.” Greta was regaining her feet.
“No, what we have here is a Cult.”
“You expose your pack?” She narrowed her glaring eyes.
“Yes, as something else…”
“We could kill you for less,” she hissed harshly.
“I trust you will hear us out before attempting it, and might I add that we, here,” he gestured to the room, “are not all of my Pack.”
“We will find them when we are done here and put them out of their misery too, or leave them to the huntress,” Greta threatened venomously, her green eyes glowing like emeralds. Her voice lowered, “How is it that you manage these hunters? And who is to stop the other humans attacking us? You risk too much, boy,” she sneered.
“Are we not all your children?”
“Yes, and we strive to prevent you making the same mistakes.”
“You have never had what we have now – an opportunity and information to become more,” he pleaded, impassioned.
“More what Paws?” she clipped. “Most of us now in our age wish to become less.” Agnes nodded slowly behind her.
“All I am offering you is the opportunity.” He shifted, for the first time revealing a slight lack of confidence peeking through the cracks in his bravado.
Greta stood steady. “Opportunity? To play your game, boy?” His face was stern.
“You are not dead yet, Greta.”
“And we have chosen to live peacefully,” she scolded.
“But what is this gift of eternal life you have if you do not take risks. You can’t deny that you are not old. You will never die of your own accord. Don’t you want to experience all you have been given?”
“You have a lot to learn still, Dieter,” she cautioned.
“If you wish to die, do it for a cause. Don’t just wish to wither or be a coward. At least die for a reason. Otherwise, what’s the point? All we have brought you here for is to listen to the plan. Retreat if you want,” he said, sounding mildly defeated.
“None of us wish to die for you boy,” she hissed.
“Neither us, but that is because we are alive in every sense and if we risk our hides it is for our kind – we do not slink away like dogs with our tails.” He stopped.
Her voice deepened. “I've heard enough.” Greta raised her voice, “Enough.”
“If this works we will have free range of the town. We won’t have to be animals.” Paws pushed his argument. A long time ago he had developed this idea to please her.
Narine spoke. “We can be what we are,” she urged.
“For how long?” Greta bellowed back silencing the room.
“Forever,” Narine whispered.
Greta's eyes widened. “Forever? Life is cyclical. At one point or another we will have to hide,” she remarked cynically.
“Not if everyone in the town is wolf.” There was a momentary, audible silence.
“The hunters stop it.” She seemed to be explaining this to everyone in the room as a warning.
Narine stepped forward. “I said we have found a loop hole,” she pleaded.
“Except for Lila,” Sky added from the kitchen, before he realized what he had said.
Narine bristled. “She will be back under the thumb soon enough,” she spat and she cursed him with a piercing scowl that threatened more punishment later.
Greta turned and was out the door. Her pack, as though on a loose string, automatically
followed. Patrick stopped, facing the door.
“We sleep in the forest, tonight. We may see you tomorrow,” he muttered to the room and his dreadlocks followed him out the open screen door.
“We will prepare a breakfast,” Paws smiled after them and looked at Shelly, recently released from the basement, who was the unofficial chef.
Christian lingered further back. “We deserve to come out of the dark,” he agreed. “Once they would have been so excited by this,” he said to Narine.
But times had changed. The human mind wasn’t designed to handle living more than one life time, and the Mountain Pack were now old ladies and men. Tied by obligation to their venom son and trapped in youthful bodies, all they longed to do was sleep and wander mindlessly in the home they knew until accident took them. They had no emotional or mental desire to start a war but their bodies were young, preserved. Standing still in time, intimate, edgy bodies that seemed so disjointed from who they had become. Gret was tired but her blood was not.
“Aw, she’ll come good. Old Gret,” Paws assured his weary pack, as the intensity in the atmosphere subsided.
29. Lily’s Beach House
We converged on Lily’s house for a meeting. I was nervous. Cres found a key under a clay pot with a succulent in it just as Reid was about to break in. The door was a little stiff and the stuffy air that stagnated inside was pushed aside by our rude awakening. Lily’s home was as she had left it the morning she had died. The only difference was the dust, which now coated the shelves and bench tops.
The last record she had ever listened to sat in the player atop others, coated in a thick layer of grey dust. Reid carefully touched the top of the vinyl with his finger and wiped the excess on his track pants. The fridge had been cleaned out by Sam after the funeral and remained switched off and open, but everything else sat as she would have left it that morning. A ghostly reminder of mortality, if not with a more painful sting, as it could even strike the immortal.