Ghoulish

by Kat Bellamy

  “But you guys don’t kill humans. Why bother if that’s how you see them?”

  “There are people who don’t eat meat, but that doesn’t mean they’d date a cow,” she said in a wry tone. “Truth be told, Stan is the one who turned me on to a more humane way of doing things, in a manner of speaking. I was raised like most ghouls. I went on my First Hunt and I’ve killed humans.”

  Colt stared at her, trying to see it. He just couldn’t picture the petite, sophisticated woman in front of him turning into a monster and ripping humans apart to feast on their corpses. “Seriously?”

  “I was quite the huntress in my day,” she said with a chuckle. “But I fell in love with a bleeding heart. Ronnie takes after his father in that regard.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed he doesn’t like talking about dinner at the dinner table.”

  “Ronnie is rather unusual even for a ghoul,” she conceded. “He’s been squeamish about human meat ever since he saw a hunt years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “Ronnie was staying with his grandparents. My mother and father. They’re not exactly as picky about their diet as we are,” she explained. “It was the first time he’d seen ghouls kill a human, and he’s been funny about it ever since. I’m afraid he gets teased quite a bit for it.”

  “Ghouls bully ghouls?”

  “Oh, there are bullies everywhere. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

  “Are the Moreaus bullies?” Colt asked, figuring it was his only chance to get a straight answer. “Is that why Stan doesn’t like talking about them?”

  Susan didn’t answer right away. She blew thoughtfully on her tea. “You’re very perceptive, Colt. That can either be a curse or a blessing.”

  “Both, in my experience,” he mumbled. “Are you afraid of them?”

  “They’re Alphas. Any ghoul with a pinch of common sense is afraid of them.”

  “What are Alphas, anyway? Is it a different type of ghoul?”

  “Not at first. An Alpha is a ghoul that feeds on its own kind,” she said quietly, her gaze far off. “Consuming another ghoul’s blood here or there won’t do anything, but eating the flesh consistently turns you into something else. A monster among monsters.”

  “What happens?” Colt asked, curious despite the fact that he could tell the topic was making Susan uncomfortable. He knew the Browns wanted to keep him from getting overwhelmed, but ever since he’d learned that ghouls were everywhere, he saw them everywhere. Not knowing whether the man behind the counter at the store or the woman walking by on the street was a monster like him made him feel vulnerable. He’d never been one to run from a fight, but he liked to know as much as he could to better his chances of winning.

  “When they transform, it’s...different. It’s not just claws and fangs and black eyes, their whole body changes. Their faces become grotesque, their fangs grow huge, their musculature changes and sometimes…”

  “Sometimes what?” he pressed.

  “Remember when Ronnie told you about variants?”

  Colt nodded. There was little chance of him forgetting that.

  “Most Alphas are still recognizable as humanoid when they shift. Some aren’t. Some are born…”

  “Freaks?”

  “They’re born different,” she said softly. “But yes, there are those who feel that way. There are all sorts of variants, some rarer than others. Many of them have special abilities that make them useful, but there’s no real way of telling if a child will be an Alpha until they come of age to shift, so it’s not uncommon for a family of Alphas to grow huge.”

  “They’re loading the deck with special cards,” Colt muttered.

  “More or less.”

  “How many variants are there?”

  “Oh, a couple dozen, maybe more,” Susan said, blowing out a gust of air. “Some are so rare their existence is merely a rumor. The only ones you’re ever likely to see if you’re lucky are lupines, maybe a specter. Lupines pretty much look like werewolves. Their faces elongate and they usually grow fur. Specters have sheet white skin and they’re usually much larger and more powerful than a normal Alpha.”

  “Lucky might not be the word I choose if I ever see one of those.”

  Susan smiled. “No, it probably won’t be.”

  “So, if the Moreaus are Alphas, does that mean they’re variants, too?”

  “There are variants in their line. Vincent is a lupine, and he uses it to his advantage. They’re a bit like the human mafia. As long as you play by their rules, everything is fine, but if you cross them…”

  “You end up on the menu.”

  “Precisely. Tributes are supposed to be reserved for the truly despicable ghouls who flaunt our laws and risk exposing us all, but in reality, anyone who crosses them is fair game. Usually, they’re dead by the time they’re eaten, but it’s enough of a threat to keep the Kinship in line.”

  “What I don’t get is, if the Moreaus are only in charge because they’re Alphas, why don’t other ghouls just become Alphas and challenge them?”

  “For one thing, word travels fast when a ghoul is killed. Our echelons serve as a support system and a surveillance system. Ghouls are quick to turn other ghouls in for suspicious behavior. If the Moreaus got wind that another ghoul was trying to become an Alpha, they’d put him down fast.”

  “And for another?”

  She smirked. “It’s uncivilized.”

  “Right,” Colt said with a dry laugh. “And how do the infamous Moreaus feel about me?”

  “They’re aware of you, but as long as you keep a low profile, we won’t have any trouble. Stan and I vouched for you.”

  Colt swallowed hard. Not fucking up because he didn’t want to get killed was one thing, but knowing the Brown family had put their necks out for him raised the stakes. “That’s putting a lot of trust in a complete stranger. Especially one you met eating a guy’s corpse.”

  “Stan and I both had a good feeling about you, Colt,” she said knowingly. “It’s a risk we’re willing to take.”

  “Why?” he pressed.

  Susan tilted her head and amusement glimmered in her eyes. “You’re a bit of a cynic, aren’t you?”

  “I prefer to think of myself as a realist.”

  She sighed. “Ghouls and humans really aren’t so different, dear. Never attribute to altruism what you can attribute to a guilty conscience.”

  “Guilty? All you guys have done is clean up my messes, literally and figuratively. What do you have to feel guilt over?”

  “It’s something from a long time ago,” she said quietly, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I’m afraid it’s not really my story to tell. Suffice it to say, Stan and I made a promise to ourselves that whenever someone came into our path needing help, they’d have it.”

  “And by helping me you took responsibility for me.”

  Susan smiled. “Every society has its laws, Colt. They’re not all written in print and kept in libraries, but we all have our rules to abide and our consequences to avoid.”

  “Well, I’m sorry your guilty conscience saddled you with such a pain in the ass.”

  Susan giggled. “You don’t know what a pain in the ass is until you’ve met a Moreau. Besides, Stan and I have both grown rather partial to you.”

  “I notice you left Ronnie out,” Colt said dryly.

  “Well,” Susan said with a little smirk, “he is a teenager.”

  Chapter 7

  In the week that followed the close call at Jason’s dorm, Stan had halfway managed to convince Colt that it hadn’t truly been that close at all. According to the older ghoul, the fact that Colt was in control enough to pull away from Jason in a state of heightened arousal--literal and figurative--was a good sign. Intimacy would pose certain difficulties, but as long as he stayed well fed and upped his intake of human flesh to twice a day for the first few months of his awakening, he shouldn’t have trouble.

  Just to be safe, Colt had insisted on meeting Jason in a publi
c setting for their first few official dates. There had been a time when just going out with Jason as a couple was Colt’s idea of heaven, but he found himself distracted whenever they were together and even moreso when they weren’t. What if there were ghouls in Jason’s classes? Surely in a school that size, there had to be dozens of them. Maybe even in Jason’s dorm.

  That night, after Colt had dropped Jason off, he went straight to the Browns’ home. There was a strange car in the driveway and Colt hesitated before approaching the door, but Ronnie came out before he could make up his mind. The boy looked even more sullen than usual with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. He gave Colt a withering look before stalking off down the sidewalk.

  “Good to see you, too, kid,” Colt mumbled before knocking on the door. Now he had to find out what was going on.

  Susan answered, smiling and glowing as usual. “Colt! Perfect timing, there’s someone I want you to meet,” she said, taking his arm to lead him inside. Stan was standing in the living room with a tall, muscular man wearing a white tank top that revealed the full-color tiger tattooed on his shoulder. He was Stan’s exact opposite, even though Colt could see some resemblance in their features. Both men had drinks in their hands and seemed to be in the middle of discussing something they both found amusing when Colt and Susan came in.

  “Colt, this is Miles. He’s Stan’s brother from Maine,” Susan said, her skirt swishing around her knees as she came to a stop. “Miles, this is Colt Jager. He’s the one we were telling you about.”

  “Well, put ‘er there,” Miles said with a grin as wide as his face, offering his hand to Colt. His handshake was rough but friendly, like an overgrown dog who didn’t quite know his own strength. He certainly didn’t resemble his brother in demeanor, but Colt was starting to be able to see it in their eyes. “Not every day I meet an orphaned fledgling.”

  Colt coughed. “Glad to be a novelty.”

  “Miles doesn’t mean any harm. Any ghoul who isn’t attached to his family is called an orphan,” Stan said, shooting Miles a look. “He spends most of his time in the woods, so I’m afraid he forgets his manners.”

  “What do you do out there?” Colt asked. “Park ranger?”

  Miles laughed. “I guess you could say that. I’m more of a hunter.”

  “Miles supplies most of Providence with fresh meat,” Susan said, keeping her tone neutral. Colt found himself wondering whether Stan approved of his brother’s line of work, given his own humanitarian choices, but if the Browns weren’t saying anything, neither would he.

  “Least I did, until those Moreau fuckers started bankrolling the competition,” Miles muttered.

  “That’s how the free market works,” Stan said in a dry tone. “It’s a changeable industry.”

  Miles waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not about free market, it’s about those bastards being cheap, that’s what it is. There was a time when discretion meant something, and even the Alphas were willing to shell out for it. Now you’ve got these kids going out, killing whatever they can find. It’ll bring the Assembly down on us is what it’ll do, and watch those Moreau fucks find a scapegoat.”

  “The Assembly?” Colt asked, trying not to think about just how many times Jason had gone on one of his camping trips not knowing there were hunters like Miles waiting for easy prey.

  Miles looked between Colt and his brother. “You adopted this kid last month and you haven’t told him shit?”

  “Adoption?” asked Colt.

  “It’s just what we call it when a family of ghouls takes responsibility for an orphan,” Susan said patiently. “Nothing formal.”

  Colt wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, but he settled on touched.

  “The Assembly,” Miles said with a scholarly air, “is the ruling body of blue blooded ghouls that oversee this Kinship.”

  “It’s a bit like Parliament,” said Stan. “They oversee the Alpha families through regional branches, but they have little influence on our day-to-day activities. They leave that to the Alphas, like Vincent Moreau.”

  “He’s a spineless prick, that’s what he is,” Miles muttered into his drink. “I’d like to tie him up and let a pack of fledglings start in on him one limb at a time.”

  “Miles, please,” Susan scolded. “You shouldn’t say things like that. If anyone heard…”

  “Easy, Susie, it’s just family. Pretty boy here’s not gonna narc on me, are ya?” he asked, giving Colt a lopsided grin.

  “No. Of course not.” Colt wasn’t yet sure what he thought about Miles and his loyalty to other ghouls was limited to the Brown family, but he sure as hell wasn’t interested in talking to the Moreaus. If he never encountered them at all, it was fine by him.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Colt. What’s it like living with livestock?” Miles asked.

  Stan took another drink and Susan gave Colt a sympathetic look.

  Colt cleared his throat. “Until recently, I didn’t really know anything else. Everyone I know and grew up with is human,” he said pointedly, hoping Miles would take the hint.

  “Heh. Guess you’ll fit right in around here,” Miles said, polishing off his glass before promptly pouring another, as if he was afraid it might shatter if it remained empty for too long. “My brother and I have never quite seen eye to eye when it comes to humans. Guess that’s what happens when you devote your life to patching up their boo boos.”

  “What can I say? It started out as a cover and it became a passion,” said Stan.

  “And he’s the best damn general surgeon in town,” Susan said, leaning in to kiss her husband’s cheek.

  “Hey, I’m not knockin’ it. Snack while you work, that’s brilliant!” Miles said with a raucous laugh.

  Okay, now Colt knew how he felt about Miles. “I should probably get going,” he said, deciding it was for the best before he said something that would make the evening even more awkward for Stan and Susan.

  “Hang on a second, you’re due for a new round of supplies,” said Stan, setting his drink on the coffee table. “Come on into the kitchen and I’ll get you set up.”

  “Thanks,” Colt said, following him in. One they were alone, he ventured, “Your brother is…”

  “A gluttonous blowhard?” Stan offered.

  “I was going to say enthusiastic about his work.”

  Stan snorted. “He’s insufferable, but what can I say?” He shrugged and kicked the refrigerator door shut with his foot. “He’s blood.”

  “Yeah,” Colt murmured. “I get it.”

  “As far as hunters go, there are plenty worse than Miles. He doesn’t lose sleep over what he does, but he at least tries to go after humans who won’t be missed. Being a bounty hunter helps with that.”

  “Yeah, I guess that would be kind of like a menu.” He paused. “Can I ask you a personal question you’re under no obligation to answer?”

  Stan smiled and the lines around his eyes were more pronounced than usual, as were the dark circles underneath them. Colt could tell it had been a long day at the hospital and promised to be a longer evening still. “Let me guess. Susan told you the Brown family diet was my invention and you want to know why I feel so differently about humans now that you’ve met my brother?”

  “Yeah,” Colt admitted. “That’s pretty much it.”

  Stan placed a stack of tupperware bins full of carefully wrapped flesh in a cooler for Colt to take home and seemed to be considering his answer. “It’s a bit of a long story, so I’ll give you the abridged version. When I was your age and our parents took me out on my First Hunt, I was as bloodthirsty as any other fledgling. I was in my residency and I’d just met Susan. I was coming into my own in every way and that night, I hunted and killed without hesitation or remorse.”

  He paused with a heavy sigh, lifting his glasses to rub the indentations the nosepieces had left on the bridge of his nose. “At least, until later that week. I was doing my rotation in the ER when a teenage girl came in. Both wrists slit.
Her mother had found her in the bathtub. Turns out, her father’s body had been found torn apart by a ‘wild animal’ and she couldn’t see her way through life without him. Said he was her best friend in the note she left her mother, and I’ll never forget the look in that woman’s eyes as I went out to tell her she hadn’t lost her entire world, just half of it.”

  Colt’s throat tightened and he knew he should respond somehow, but the words stuck in his throat. Finally, he got out, “Her father. It was the man you killed?”

  “The first and the last,” Stan said softly. “My family didn’t understand, of course. We were quite close to the Moreaus back then. Real social climbers. Miles and I only started talking again when Ronnie was born and we both decided that life was too short to let it slip away over a disagreement.”

  Colt couldn’t help but think it was one hell of a disagreement, but he also knew that other ghouls didn’t see things the same way he did. They didn’t know humans like he did. In fact, as much as it disturbed him to admit it, he wasn’t sure what he would have done in Stan’s position if he’d been brought up the same way. He wanted to think that the idea of taking a human life, even if it was for sustenance, would repulse him no matter what, but he’d killed before and he couldn’t even promise himself that it would be the last time.

  “How do you do it?” he asked. “Knowing what it’s like--the rush of adrenaline and how...good it feels to hunt,” he said carefully, hating himself for admitting to it. “How do you keep yourself from going there again?”

  “I remember the look in that woman’s eyes,” Stan murmured. “I think of it whenever the scent of blood tempts me. Becoming a father made things a little easier. We may not be the same species, but the bonds we share with our young are the same. I may not have ever loved a human the way you do, but I know what it is to be a parent. I know what it would do to me if I ever lost Ronnie, and I can’t bear to make anyone else experience that again, human or ghoul.”

  “You’re a good person, Stan,” Colt said hoarsely. “Probably a better one than I am.”