The Panther's Rival

by Emilia Hartley

  Ratty extended his hand to Merk, who hesitated. Everything in him was telling him that something was majorly off with Ratcliff “Ratty” Fairweather, enough that he didn’t want to take the man’s hand. And then there was how he had looked at Kara. Merk didn’t want to jump to conclusions but there had been something dangerous in his eyes.

  The principal cleared his throat and then: “Mr. Fairweather was a big-time ball player here – holds a lot of records – played in college for a few years and in the Canadian League.”

  Merk watched the man: Smug. Proud of his accomplishments. The arrogance ruminated from him.

  “But not the pros –? Here I mean, in the U.S.” Merk shot back.

  Kara turned to him. She gave him a quick look and then stepped forward. She touched Ratty on his elbow, it was a subtle touch, a familiar one. A bit of jealousy sparked in Merk as he wondered how well Kara and Ratty actually knew each other. It was a small Florida town. That much he had learned since coming there a little over four, maybe five weeks ago after getting the football coaching job. He knew that she had a past before him, but the thought of her with some other man, even then, bothered him.

  “Mr. Fairweather, RJ is failing my class. We’re only two weeks into the school year, but interims are right around the corner and he needs to get that grade up to a C in order to be eligible. That’s the rule. I tutor after school on –”

  “I know you tutor after school, Kara,” he interjected, snidely, throwing Merk a quick look over his shoulder and a wry smirk.

  Merk could feel the roar inside of him growing, a rumbling, building up. The one thing about being a Panther Shifter was the buildup of adrenaline, it filled him, pushed him, and easily affected his emotions, especially anger. That was what he was feeling right now, a robust surge of anger, violent, enough where he knew that if he lunged forward and got a grip on Ratty’s neck, he could probably rip out the man’s Adam’s Apple with one fell swoop. It was an invigorating fantasy, it excited him just thinking about it. Kara caught his eyes. Was that pleading in her eyes? Merk drew in a deep breath and then exhaled heavily to relax; he needed to calm down.

  “Anyway, RJ can stay after school with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays – this Thursday and nexta Tuesday, he can make up a couple quizzes and an essay. That should get his grades back up so that he remains eligible – right Mr. Lightwood, that would make him eligible correct?”

  Principal Lightwood looked very unsure of himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words hung in his throat. It was clear that Ratty Fairweather intimidated him.

  Merk interjected: “That would. I’ve been going over the players’ grades – RJ can definitely do it, if he takes the opportunity. He’s quite talented on the field, I would hate to lose him.”

  Ratty wheeled around to face Merk. His eyes were beady. His skin looked like it had been pulled back and pinched to the ends, an orange hue, accentuated by the wrinkly markings near the corner of his eyes, too much Florida sunbathing. Ratty wasn’t a handsome man. Merk was sure that his so-called legend and lore helped him with the ladies and being a shifter undoubtedly did too.

  Merk sized him up quickly: similar build, thinner and sinewy, slightly shorter. Panther to Wolf, shifter to shifter, they would be formidable opponents but Merk was confident that his burliness and cunning would win out in the end, if it came to that, and truth be told he didn’t mind if it did.

  “What’s your name again, boy?” Ratty spat out, a look of contempt on his face.

  The tension in the room heightened. Merk felt the adrenaline rush and his fist clenching.

  “This is Mr. Castle – Merk Castle. He just joined us from –”

  But Ratty had moved on. He was back in Kara’s face, which didn’t make Merk too happy. He understood what Ratty’s play was, he was challenging Merk, but he was doing so through Kara. Ratty was a Wolf Shifter so he could smell the panther on Merk and now this interaction had become about territory.

  Merk guessed that Ratty and Kara may have been involved at some point; maybe he was the past that had called her on the night of their first date. But he also undoubtedly smelled her on Merk, their pheromones intermingling, mixing, animal shifters like them would challenge the other through the female that they either wanted to mate with or was mating with.

  It was a show of authority, the alpha versus the alpha, and Merk was on his territory, a Panther Shifter, the new football coach with his son’s future in his hands, and the new man in the life of a very prominent and attractive teacher in a small town.

  This wasn’t what Merk was looking for when he came there. He wanted peace and quiet. Good honest work. Doing and being around things that he enjoyed and loved. Football. A bit of nature. The last thing he wanted or even expected was to run into another shifter, especially Wolf Shifters who were known to be extremely territorial and confrontational. But Kara seemed very capable of handling him on her own. When Ratty got too close, she just as nicely put his hands on his chest and casually moved him a step back.

  “I think we all have offered a way for RJ to get his grade up in my class – I am willing to tutor and Coach Castle here is willing to be lenient in allowing the time for him to come to my class and get the work done after school,” she spoke slowly and deliberately and with conviction. “I think that should assuage any concern you might have, Mr. Fairweather.”

  Ratty didn’t like the force behind Kara’s words. Merk could see it on his jaw line, how tight his teeth were clenched while he listened and the vein that popped out on the side of his head. But Kara met his blazing gaze with one of her own while the Principal succumbed to the former high school star and legend’s intimidation, clearly unnerved, and was just waiting for it all to be over.

  “Very well…”

  And Ratcliff Fairweather left Miss Kara Daniel’s classroom without another glimpse back at anyone. Principal Lightwood scuttled off behind him.

  Merk and Kara were left alone in the classroom together. They were a long way from where they had been a few minutes ago. It was a disappointing turn of events. Déjà vu. It was early in their relationship still, nothing had been established or made official, it was the fun stage, where lust abounded and the feeling out – and of – one another all happened with blissful delight and intrigue.

  Ratty Fairweather’s arrival and entrance into her classroom had felt more like an invasion into their world. What was left was an awkward residue of unanswered feelings and creeping intuitions. Merk wanted to ask Kara a bunch of questions but her look warded him off. It was a line that he thought maybe she didn’t want him to cross. And she didn’t say otherwise.

  ***

  Merk only had a few minutes to get out onto the field for practice. He should have been out there but Ratty Fairweather had showed him up, interrupting things with Kara, and now he and Kara seemed a little put off with each other about the whole thing. He didn’t know why it had to be that way, if there had been something between her and Ratty Fairweather then that was in the past, him and her were happening in the present. He wanted her to know that and he knew that he should have said that to her before he left the room. They had departed from each other leaving things undone and definitely unsaid.

  Inside the locker room, he changed into his coach clothing. He really needed to hurry up, his team had to be out on the field already. All the while, he thought about Kara. She was an incredible woman. When he came to this town, the little backwater hub, all he had wanted to do was lay low, to stay clear of any business and flare. He had had enough of all of that in his former life. He had never once thought about meeting anyone. But he had.

  Within the first week he had been hired to coach a high school football team, he had met Kara. Since then they had been almost inseparable and it all felt so easy and right. For the first time in his life, Merk felt like he was actually building something and he desperately didn’t want to lose that. He needed to fix things. He decided he would give her a call right after practice.

  ***r />
  When Merk walked out onto the field, he felt better about himself. The autumn season was settling in and it felt wispy outside. A breeze that was slightly cool juxtaposed against a bright sun whose rays offered minimum warmth. It was nice. His assistant coaches, the offensive and defensive coordinators, had already started the team on some drills. The kids seemed raring to go. And so was he.

  “Hey, Coach!” Merk’s offensive coordinator waved for him to come over.

  Merk, in a jog, made his way over to the far end of the field where the offense was running some plays. As he neared the sideline where Coach Winston, his assistant coach and offensive coordinator was standing, he noticed two rather husky men, grayish and with dark features, standing off to the side on the other side of the fence that separated the practice field and the regular school grounds. The men were eyeing him hard and talking under their breath. Merk decided to ignore them.

  “So look here, Coach… I was thinkin’ bout runnin’ a Shotgun on Friday. RJ is by far our best player and I’ve been thinking…” Coach Winston paused, he took a big gulp, then cleared his throat. “If we maximize him we – ah – we will be able to win this – you know, be more efficient with the ball, not to put it in too many hands in this game, simplify.”

  Merk followed Coach Winston’s eyes as they shot over to the two husky gray men standing off to the side and then hurriedly bounced back to him.

  “Yeah? Merk queried.

  Coach Winston nodded: “Yeah. Yup. I – I just think that’s best.”

  Merk glanced over his shoulder to get a look at the gray men again. As he did so the breeze picked up and Merk’s nose picked up a familiar musky smell. He remembered that scent from earlier. It was on Ratty Fairweather and now it was on these two husky gray men. Merk turned all the way around to look at the men. He hadn’t noticed it before but their features were similar to Ratty’s.

  One was slightly taller than the other. But all three of them had the same pointed rat-like face, but the major difference being was their grayish skin as opposed to Ratty’s more orange-ish sunburnt skin. Their scent had gotten stronger, more pungent. That only happened when a shifter was inkling to change. But they wouldn’t dare, thought Merk, not in the open…

  “Okay, show me the Shotgun,” Merk said, turning his back to the grayish men that he now believed were the same kin to Ratty Fairweather.

  Coach Winston sprang into action like a man trying to prove something. He called the offense over. Merk watched RJ closely as he ran over. RJ was a tall and skinny kid. Didn’t look too much like his father. Ratty must have taken after his mother (that’s a good thing). RJ had been starting quarterback for them for the first three games and Merk had no problem with that – the kid had potential. However, Merk didn’t like being strong-armed and that’s what Ratty had tried to do earlier and that was what the two grayish men were trying to do now.

  “Go ‘head and show that lil’ kitty what you got, RJ – Heh, heh…” one of the gray men said.

  Merk turned to them, his eyes like daggers. Lil’ Kitty. It was a derogatory name for people like him, Panther Shifters. Merk reminded himself that this was how most Wolf Shifters were – nasty, obstinate, always challenging. He had never met one that he liked or one that hadn’t attempted to challenge him. He had been hoping to leave that life behind but he was getting a funny feeling that no matter where he went, he would always come into contact with a shifter. He wondered if it was some kind of sense that that they all had, something that attracted them to each other in some form or fashion, a magnetism.

  “Whatcha gotta say, lil kitty?” the other gray man goaded.

  A low growl rumbled inside of Merk. For a heartbeat, he thought about shifting, like he had earlier with Ratty; he could dismantle, maim, and kill those two in a matter of minutes. He had done so before, with similar shifters – they were all the same, just different degrees of entitlement and narcissism. Merk was trying hard to get away from that. He decided to acquiesce. He turned back around to watch his team, with RJ at the helm, run the Shotgun that his assistant coach and these fuckin’ Wolf Shifters wanted them to run.

  RJ was a few feet behind center. He had very good form. He called out the play, his voice cracked. RJ pressed through – “HIKE!” he called out and then dropped back five more steps.

  The grayish Wolf Shifters were cheering RJ on in the background. RJ looked off two defenders, then tucked the ball, and sprang into action. The boy was quick, he moved those long skinny legs almost effortlessly. He cut down a hole and he was gone – pass one defender, then another, all the way down the sideline. It was impressive.

  “Attaboy!” yelled one of the gray men.

  “You see that, lil’ kitty? Huh? That boy got rockets for feet!” The other one cackled at his companion’s joke.

  Merk ignored them and went over to his assistant coach. He leaned forward to speak low and privately to Winston.

  “The boy has talent. Speed. Potential… But this team is not a one-man show. Do you understand?” Merk said in a slow and methodical drawl. “If he’s going to be in shotgun then he will pass the ball, not run. You got that? For one, we don’t want to expose our quarterback to getting hit like that, and two, no one runs my team but me – not them pussy willows over there standing behind our fence watching. Do you understand?”

  Winston nodded.

  Merk continued: “The next time you try to undermine me – bring in shit outside of what I’m trying to build here, you’ll be fired. Now, go tell your friends that!”

  Merk gave Winston a look. It was hard and purposeful, calculative and dark. His roar was a low hum in the bottom of his diaphragm. He knew Winston could hear it and even not knowing what Merk really was, a shifter, Winston would get the message and the proper understanding: don’t fuck with Merk.

  Merk walked across the field toward RJ. He looked at him closely. Ratty’s son. He sniffed hard but couldn’t pick up any Wolf Shifter scent. That bothered him. Late bloomer, Merk thought.

  “RJ!” Merk shouted over to him. He was sure the others would be looking. He wanted them to. “Come here, son.”

  RJ ran over, taking his helmet off as he did.

  “Yes, Coach.”

  Merk looked him over quickly. He wanted him closer. To see if he could pick up a scent. But still nothing. The boy was clean. As if he was a regular human. Merk started to say something but stopped. He saw it. There. In his eyes. It was something subtle but it was something. A flicker. And for a brief moment, it was so vague, Merk picked up on a scent. It was different. Young. Fresh. Delightful. He hadn’t seen new blood like that in a long time.

  “You nervous?” Merk asked.

  Anxiousness, nervousness, emotions that stemmed from the sympathetic nervous system tended to have an effect on Shifters more immediately and in the way of their abilities. Fear, flight, or fight, those emotional mechanisms had the ability to be a catalyst for shifters, even those that hadn’t changed for the first time yet. In some cases, given the circumstances, they sometimes even jumpstarted the first shift.

  “Ah… Some, Coach. Sorry,” he answered.

  Merk smiled. RJ seemed to be a good kid. It was unfortunate that he was going to have to really keep an eye on the boy, now that he knew he came from shifters, especially the variety that extended from Ratty Fairweather.

  “You did good on that play. Keep it, okay? But look. Take whatever I say as doing what’s best for you. Always, okay? I’m your coach. Got that?”

  RJ nodded. Merk spanked him on the back and sent him back off.

  “Run that play again, but this time and the next, make sure he’s passing the ball. I’m goin’ over to deal with defense,” Merk said as he was walking away.

  He could feel the eyes of the Wolf Shifters on him. But he didn’t care. No one – person or shifter – made Merk do anything. He was his own man, had always been and would always be. There was no intimidating him.

  ***

  Practice had only two hours. After pr
actice, he had called Kara and talked some… Kara was supposed to meet him at his house for a late dinner. He was glad that he had called her. She was too, she had said as much. They still had some things to iron out, like what exactly was the elephant in her classroom as it pertained to her and Ratty Fairweather, but he was confident that with open lines of communication, things would be fine.

  Merk looked at the watch on his wrist: quarter to eight. It was already dark and although it was going to be a late dinner, Merk was looking forward to it. Kara was on her way over, should be arriving any minute. Merk had rushed home from practice and hurriedly showered. He then began fixing dinner. He wanted to do something simple but nice and decided that you couldn’t go wrong with steak, as long as you had the right sides and the proper wine.

  This was one of the things that Merk loved best: cooking. He enjoyed it immensely, almost as much as he enjoyed eating the food. It was therapeutic for him in many ways; the prep, the creativity in cooking it, and then the sheer satisfaction of serving it and watching others enjoy what had been made for them. It was an intimate act, cooking. And he didn’t mind intimacy, in any form, it was the true spice of life in his opinion.

  A little after eight o’clock, Merk had the dining room table set. Food plated, napkins, silverware, a couple of bottles of wine – one white and one red. He topped the scene off with candles. The mood was set. The ambiance a bastion of culinary cultivation. Merk was ready for a wonderful evening with a woman that if he was being honest with himself, he was falling for hard.

  A knock came on the door.

  Merk hurried out of the dining room, after inspecting its décor and pretending to know a little something about Feng Shui. It was nice. And Merk was proud of himself and his home. Nothing was much or a lot, but it was all nice. His split foyer had three bedrooms, a dining room, and two bathrooms. All of it, a decadence that connected to the forestry that surrounded the cove that his house was set in with a few others; it was a quiet and quaint neighborhood. Merk needed that in his life. Since his arrival in town, everything had fallen into place. And he wanted to keep it that way.