by Ian Thomas
“He’s out of surgery and recovering okay,” Hayley replied, intercepting the answer. Weird as it was, Hayley had been the only one able to get information directly from Freddie. No one wanted to ask the why though speculation had run rampant. “Still really weak though. This guy Freddie has pretty much set up camp in the hospital. Him and his wife.”
“Though I think it’s more so that McLachlan can’t get in to see him,” Rebecca muttered.
“How’s he doing?” Mouth asked. “Restraining order. That’s intense.”
“See I really thought you would’ve had one filed against you by now,” Hayley replied. As the two devolved into their usual banter, Rebecca thought about Mouth’s question. Truthfully, McLachlan was not doing well at all. The whole not knowing nor being able to talk to Dylan was crippling. Even when Dylan had come out of surgery, Freddie had not relented. As far as they knew Dylan was still unconscious.
When their parents found out, they’d changed plans and headed straight to London. With the time difference and travel, they’d been out of contact for hours and that too was only increasing McLachlan’s unease.
The one reprieve in the whole mess was that James had barely left McLachlan’s side. She’d found it really hard not to draw the comparison to a protective dog but the truth of it was there. Through James, McLachlan had managed to learn more than Hayley but tension had mounted when Blackthorne didn’t release James to return to London. McLachlan had to bite his tongue. In turn Freddie stopped answering James’ calls and texts, and James was left as desolate as McLachlan.
Matters weren’t helped that Rowan and Chase had learned details of the attack from the Clan’s operative. Four foot-long lacerations across Dylan’s chest. To the trained eye his chest had been raked by werewolf claws. Unofficially he’d been trying to climb a fence and slipped, the barbs atop the fence having sliced him as he fell. By the time the ambulance arrived he’d lost a great deal of blood.
“So this mean people are finally gonna put Ben down once and for all?” Mouth asked.
“Blackthorne’s apparently pissed it happened in his territory.”
“Probably not the point I’d be focusing on,” Hayley said.
“No, me either but he’s…odd,” Rebecca replied.
“Well, you’re the all-knowing one,” Mouth said, “how does one kill a werewolf?”
“Silver’s pretty much the biggie. Purity of the metal. From what I read, things have developed from bullets though. There’s liquid silver, alloys, compounds and all that fun stuff I never paid attention to in high school. Even a silver gas was used during the Pack War.”
“Gas?” Mouth asked, then farted loudly.
“So unnecessary.”
“Not to me,” he replied.
“Oh and having their heart ripped out is pretty much a death sentence as well.”
“What about explosion?” Mouth asked.
“Not sure. No one’s really documented that.”
“Fire?”
“Conflicting reports. One story had a wolf being burned at the stake. But was seen in his human form again. Others were completely wiped it in a building fire. Never seen again.”
“Interesting,” Mouth said, “so basically Ben’s in for a world of hurt when he gets back.”
“Hence the War Wolf camped downstairs,” Rebecca said.
“And the one on the roof,” Hayley added.
“What?!” Mouth almost choked on his chips.
“Why do you think I pulled you away from your assignment to come hang and watch a movie before work?” Rebecca asked.
“Because you’re an angel who saved me from another shitty essay?” he replied.
“Well there is that,” Rebecca replied. “Just that with Ben on his way back to the city, Matteo and the others wanted us protected.”
“Ben wouldn’t dare,” Hayley said angrily. She’d been a little subdued since they learned of the attack on Dylan. Rebecca thought it was yet another burden lumped on her friend’s shoulders. Since Matteo’s revelation, Eddie had cut them all off. Even Hayley. Apart from one cryptic text about heading out of town she knew nothing of his whereabouts. As for Dylan, something of a friendship had sprung up between them via text and with him hurt, she lacked that outlet.
“True but we do have anecdotal proof that evil can infiltrate this building,” Rebecca said. When Hayley looked at her confused, she clarified, “Sarah.”
“Oh right. Hey, ya think we can get Ben to go after her?” Hayley asked.
“Not so sure he takes requests,” Mouth said.
“About that,” Rebecca said quietly. “There’s speculation Julie put Ben up to this. Unfounded but well…she’s the type to want revenge.”
“That bitch!” Hayley cried. Rebecca nodded her agreement. “Her and Sarah are never allowed in the same zip code.”
Mouth was quiet for a moment. Both Rebecca and Hayley noticed his silence, looked at each other and then back at him.
“Ya doing some thinking over there, bunky?” Hayley asked.
“Yeah, no, just hey so McLachlan tried to give me a detention the other day for turning in a paper late.”
“And had you?” Hayley asked suspicious.
“That’s not the point,” Mouth replied, inadvertently answering her question and turning his attention to Rebecca. “Your boyfriend thinks I’m one of his students from his fake non-demony demon life. Weren’t you supposed to fix that?”
“Not an easy fix as it turns out. Rowan’s still working on it. At least it’s happening less frequently now.”
“Then what was the point of that weekend at the chapter house?” Hayley asked.
“To get away from you people,” Rebecca replied deadpan.
“Good thinking.”
Mouth brightened, “and speaking of long drawn out things. I’m getting my roommate back.”
“What? Jason’s still alive?” Hayley asked.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” he said, producing his cellphone and showing it to them.
Jason // 17:52
Hey man, Malcolm’s back so if you haven’t
thrown all my shit out, I’m moving back later.
“Awwww!” the two women cried.
“You get your boyfriend back,” Hayley said, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “Cute.”
“Ever think maybe he had a restraining order against you?” Rebecca asked. “That didn’t take.”
“And why would it?” Mouth asked. “I’m. The. Best. Person. EVER!!!”
“That you are,” she laughed, slouching back into the cushions. Next to her the phone buzzed, the message resting on top of the photo of Milton’s poem.
McLachlan // 19:18
How’s everything there? Rowan’s got past
Freddie. She’s seen Dylan. Says he looks
pale but on the road to recovery.
I’ll come by in a couple of hours, okay?
Relief flooded through her. Rowan was too skilled not to get past Freddie, several tricks up that woman’s sleeve and Rebecca loved her for them. Especially if it brought some measure of peace to McLachlan. She remembered the cloaking spell from The Ordeal and how they’d managed to sneak past the Cult’s clerics in plain sight.
Hiding in plain sight. The thought practically screamed at her. Flicking into her photos, she stared at the poem intensely.
“Okay, so pizza’s on its way, otherwise we potato chips, tater tots warming in the oven. There’s a six-pack of craft beer because god forbid we drink too much before you two are on air. There’s Ben and Jerry’s for later. Our viewing choices are Easy A as we all know, Mouth, how much you love Emma Stone. There’s something with Chris Hemsworth because well it’s Chris Hemsworth. Oh and Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog because I feel we need some cheering up.”
“Holy shit, did you event plan our junkfood movie night?” Mouth asked, awestruck.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hayley replied, before addin
g quietly. “I needed something to focus on.”
“Fuck!” Rebecca exclaimed, sitting up.
“True, that would have been much more fun but well…” Hayley trailed off seeing that Rebecca was still staring at her phone, a mixture of panic and triumph playing out on her face. “What now?”
“Shit!” she replied getting up. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. This is big, this is huge. This…wow. Everyone’s kinda fucked.”
“You need to work on your Candy Crush addiction,” Mouth said.
Lowering her phone but not about to put it down properly, she looked at them both wild eyed. “I’ve worked it out. Kinda wish I hadn’t but I did.”
“Okay so for those of us outside your brain, how ‘bout a little clarity?” Hayley asked, getting up uneasily.
“It’s an acrostic,” she said. “I thought it was a just a shape poem. Or just a mess from when Milton wrote it. But no, it’s an acrostic. Usually they’re written where the first or last letters of each line spell out a specific word or phrase. But this one’s jumbled. The line of letters is vertically in the poem.”
“I’m kinda with you,” Hayley said, looking to Mouth who had gotten up as well.
“Me too.”
“Colton lives,” Rebecca said, finally handing the phone to them. “It’s write there. Start at the C in ‘beckons’ and go down to the second N in ‘newborn’. Colton. Then the first L in ‘will’ down to the S in ‘shall’. Lives. Colton lives.”
“For those of us not enrolled in Hogwarts summer school this means…?” Mouth asked.
“Colton was one of the worst werewolves in all of history. He sired an entire super max prison. He engineered the Pack War. That was supposedly when he died. He’s vicious, cruel, and…powerful.”
“And alive apparently,” Mouth said, feeling some of the same panic Rebecca felt.
“We’re totally not watching movies, are we?” Hayley asked already knowing the answer.
XXXIII
Nervous, Ben exited JFK and hailed a cab from the rank.
Before he got in he scanned his surroundings. With so much jet fuel in the air he couldn’t trust he was safe. Amid the chaos of the arrivals curb he expected the worst. The crowds were endless. Surging. Milling. Rushing. But none at him. None intent on putting him down. Stealing his cab, sure, but no one seeking revenge.
Satisfied he shut the door behind him, exhaling for the first time since arriving.
Attacking Dylan had been an appalling lapse in judgment. She’d cost him everything and failed to end McLachlan once and for all. He owed her nothing. Yet he’d done what she wanted. Desperate for any connection to someone. Took leaving New York to show him he still had at least one connection in the city. Jason, who he’d been thinking about the whole time he was fucking her.
Yet it was McLachlan. And his brother.
Ben couldn’t resist sticking the claw in one more time.
His conscience, however, was struggling with everything that had been said. Of course it was a ploy to win Ben over but it had almost worked.
Well, actually it had worked. The lacerations were reasonably superficial. He hadn’t sliced into the ribcage. Dylan’s heart was fine. He would have lost blood, consciousness, and would end with some impressive war wounds. But still, there was a likeness between them that Ben couldn’t escape. For about the same length of time that Ben had been eclipsed by McLachlan, Dylan had given up his life and dreams to shadow a woman in the off-chance she was in the Cult.
Granted his instincts had been sound, but both men had lost something due to McLachlan.
Whether Dylan was lying or not, those words had come from somewhere in him.
The more he’d thought about Dylan on the flight home, Ben had seen more and more similarities. Small ones but they were there even down to their liaisons with Julie. Her using them for her own ends. The poetry of them being there at the end would have been beautiful if she’d had a soul.
Hence Dylan lived. And Ben was a man on the run.
Ben // 19:18
Hey, Jase. How’s everything there?
Just got back. Really want to see you.
Are you free tonight? I’m staying
at the same place.
Waiting for a reply like a teenager, the phone resting in his hand, he looked at his palm. In a day the pentagram scar would be evident. Then he’d turn. Then he’d sire Jason and start his own pack.
Eddie had never been his pup. He’d always been Matteo’s choice. Their friendship in the Cuban market where they’d had breakfast each morning. For three weeks the young Cuban had told them stories, arranged boats for fishing or diving, marveled at their tales and ingratiated himself among them. When Matteo didn't sire Eddie, Ben felt the task fell to him. In the fifty-plus years of being Matteo's pup, he knew the man's hesitancy bordered on pathological. There’d been the cowboy in California, the ranch-hand in Texas, and the boatman in Louisiana. Ten years they’d slowly crossed the Southwest and each time Matteo had lacked conviction.
Would Jason accept, the thought had plagued him. He was a very modern, level-headed young man after all. But he seemed more than just a pair of skinny jeans and a snood, Ben thought, eager to see how the young man’s body would fill out afterwards. Adjusting his crotch in the backseat, his smile increased when his phone vibrated.
Jason // 19:29
Welcome back. Missed you.
Just moving back to the dorm.
Should be free later. Keen!
Ben wasn’t about to fool himself that this was love. He’d had loves before. Ones far greater than a kid from a coffee shop. And he still felt those losses like they were yesterday. This was fun and maybe family. Once sired Jason wouldn’t die easily. He wouldn’t be a victim of age, disease, or accident. Ben wouldn’t have to live through that pain again.
Briskly he checked in and headed to his room. He’d only be there a night, two tops. Just long enough to sleep with Jason, offer to be his sire, and then whisk him out of town. With any luck he wouldn’t appear on anyone’s radar and make it home to Montana safely without incident.
His luck was pretty terrible so he wasn’t surprised when, not twenty minutes in his room, he had company.
“Welcome back brother,” Henry said, letting himself into the room. He didn’t have a card, just enough magic to trigger the lock.
“Of all the people who could have followed me, I suppose you’re not the worst,” Ben replied.
“Oh I’m the very worst,” Henry said, taking a seat. “How was jolly old Blightly? Rumor has it you misbehaved?”
Ben wouldn’t take the bait. He wanted rid of the man, the sooner the better. So he decided to give him what he wanted.
“One last turn as the bad guy is all,” Ben said. “Feel I was getting a little type-cast. So I’m starting over.”
“Do tell.”
“New life, new city, new pack.”
“Good man. A wolf without a pack is a dangerous thing.” Ben wasn’t sure if Henry was referring to him or himself.
“As you’ve said,” Ben said, playing along. Make him think he’d been a good influence and then hopefully he’d leave. “Forge a new life, have some family around me again.” He wasn’t about to add that it might be chance to finally do something Matteo would be proud of. Saying that would only entice Henry into a longer conversation.
“That’s all good brother, but you might want to find another first pup is all.”
“What? Jason? Why?” Ben asked, a chill lacing his blood.
“Because I’ve already sired him.”
“Bullshit! He’d never accept.”
Henry laughed. “The oldest lie amongst our kind. You don’t seriously believe a gift like ours works on an offer-acceptance basis, do you?”
“But that’s the way it’s always been,” Ben said, his head whirling. Had Henry actually said that he’d sired Jason?
“To appease the sire’s guilt for dragging a man into a world of violence and pain. What does free will ha
ve to do with a wanion that turns us into monsters?” Henry laughed.
“And you did this to Jason?!” Ben demanded, his anger barely in check.
“Why not? Something special about him. Took him right in the alley behind that quaint coffee shop. Threw him down and tore him open. God I missed the visceral power of it! The thrill of their pleas. That moment they bite down. The power to give life back. To be God. What a rush.”
Ben struck first. Grabbing Henry by the arm he swung him off his feet and down to the floor. The man tried to fight back but Ben’s anger gave him an edge. He blocked the punch, pinned the clawed hand with his knee and bore down on Henry.
“Easy there brother,” Henry laughed, despite Ben ready to deliver the killing blow. “Jason’s at least in the family.”
With his mind running through the implications of Jason being sired, the wrath Matteo and Eddie would unleash not to mention the accords being broken, Ben barely caught Henry’s words.
“Why do you keep calling me brother?” he asked, his brain struggling with the information. How had news not reached him in London. The attack on Dylan would seem minor in comparison.
“Because you’re not Matteo’s first pup,” Henry said. Ben recoiled, staggering away from Henry. “He had a pack long before you came on the scene.” The man slowly climbed to his feet, straightening his suit. “And I guess now that a new wolf has been sired, the accords perilously close to breaking, Matteo’s dirty little secret is out, I probably won’t be needing this anymore.”
Henry reached beneath his collar and pulled out a bronze chain with a small amulet. He snapped it from his neck and let it drop to the floor. Ben watched as the glamour spell faded and a true monster stood before him.
Colton.
“Well perhaps not his dirtiest secret,” Colton laughed. “He kept the worst well hidden, didn’t he brother?”
Frightened, Ben fled the room. Taking the steps three at a time, he leapt down flight after flight desperate to get to Matteo. He needed to know. He needed to be warned. But it couldn’t be, he thought frantically. Colton died in the war. McLachlan had killed him.