by H. D. Gordon
Beyond the bedroom door, there was a yelp and a thud, followed by a howl of laughter from Jodi the Bitch. The calm that always follows intense rage settled over me as the twins stared up at me from the mattress.
“Why do we have to go to lessons?” Ada asked. “Most of the other kids from The Mound don’t go.”
I smiled, though my heart had long since broken behind it. “That’s because they have ignorant parents and guardians,” I said. “People who don’t understand that knowledge is power. People who have no desire or ability to move beyond where they stand… You need to know how to read and write, girls. How to do mathematics and interact with others. It’s important. I promise.”
Identical resigned expressions came over their pretty little faces, and I felt my lips pull up again in another rare smile. When they yawned at the same time, I couldn’t help placing one last kiss on their foreheads.
Another hard thud and crash from beyond the bedroom door drew me to my feet.
“Sleep tight, little ones,” I said, and went to go wrangle the Wolves.
Chapter 2
I shut the door to the bedroom behind me with careful calm. When the latch clicked, I turned on my heels to face Demarco and my father, who were still in their Wolf forms.
They circled and snapped and went rolling in a massive ball of fur and fangs, rumbling growls and snarls, shaking the very walls of the shack we called home.
I watched them for a moment before speaking into the chaos. “Demarco,” I said. “Go outside.”
Demarco paid me no mind. He was occupied watching the monstrously large Wolf that was our father. I shook my head and skirted around them to open the front door to the little house. Once that was done, I stood back and waited for my moment.
The two idiots got in a couple more snarls and snaps at each other before I saw my opening. When I did, I made sure to move fast. That was the one physical advantage female Wolves had over the males. The males had us beat in size and strength, but females had the speed.
So there was no way Demarco could move out of the way before I shot forward and kicked him hard on the left side of his body. My supernatural strength was enough to send his furry butt flying out the cabin door and into the barren yard that prefaced the house.
Devon was out there waiting, as I knew he would be, and he’d also shifted into his Wolf form. At twenty-five years old, Devon was a fully-grown Wolf, in comparison to Demarco, who had just turned sixteen two moon cycles ago.
I shut the cabin door, anyway, keen to put a wall of wood between my father and my little brother. Then, slowly, with ardent awareness of the fanged beast at my back, I turned to face the male who’d made me.
Even with the steel that had coated over my nerves from a life lived in The Mound, it would be a lie to say that no fear coursed through me as I stared down my father. I’d seen many a Wolf during my hustling outside The Ring, and his size in both mortal and canine form rivaled that of even the largest Wolves. Every bit of him was bulging muscle, and his fur coat, like his hair and Devon’s, was as black as the night. His lips were pulled back, his muzzle dark with the shiny blood of his youngest son, and his eyes glowed Wolf-gold that was ringed in scarlet—a feature only he and I shared.
Other than our eyes, I looked exactly like my dead mother, or so I was told. I believed this resemblance was the reason my father favored me so much. He was a mean and drunken bastard on the best of days, but the man had loved my mother. She’d died giving birth to Demarco, when I’d been only five, and I’d long since forgotten her face.
Speaking to my father in the telepathic manner Wolves had, my voice was smooth and even, a feature I’d been careful to perfect.
“I sold all the stock,” I told him.
His Wolf, with those red-gold eyes, only stared back at me, nearly eye-level with his height despite the fact that he was on four legs and I on two.
“I got you something,” I added. “It’s waiting for you down at The Row. Already paid for.”
Still, my father stared unblinkingly, his teeth bared as his lips twitched around a snarl. I held his gaze, a feat most Wolves would not be brave or stupid enough to attempt.
For all that I was, however, I was certainly not most Wolves.
I wandered over to the table where Jodi sat, and poured a drink, ignoring her, as was my custom. I took a sip of the amber liquid and felt it burning in my belly as I once more approached my father.
“Her name is Carmen,” I continued in my father’s head, “She’s new, and beautiful.”
There was a beat or two of silence.
“Already paid for?” my father finally responded at last, speaking in my head both because he was in his Wolf form and because Jodi was watching. She couldn’t hear our telepathic conversation, but she surely knew we were communicating.
I gave a single nod and took another sip of my drink. “Wasn’t cheap, either,” I responded. I reached into the pocket of my slacks and removed my timepiece, checking it. “You better hurry before the house shuts down for the morning.”
“You’re a clever little Wolf, Dita Silvers,” my father growled in my head, though I could tell that I’d piqued his interest, and that his anger toward Demarco was being replaced by lust for the prospect of Carmen. “You’re the only one of the whole litter who’s worth a damn,” he added. “Can’t be sure if the rest of the shitheads are even mine.”
This was a private joke he liked to share with me, though I never gave any indication I found it funny. We both knew all six of the young Wolves in this house belonged to him. Devon, Demarco, and I shared a mother. Delia’s mother was a working lady who’d moved to the coast shortly after Delia had been born, and the twins belonged to Jodi, who was about as worthless as a mother could be.
We belonged to no Pack, and our family name, Silvers, was as common as they came, as was the case with most all the Wolves who lived in The Mound. The descendants of Dogs—Wolves who’d long ago been forced to fight to the death to entertain the wealthy—and other slaves. Mutts was what they called us, a derogatory term that reminded us of our class and kept us in our stations. It was a word we often called each other, but could lead to brutal fights or even death if an outsider used it in front of us.
I tipped my head to my father, telling him to go on, and requesting that he take the back door so as to avoid another confrontation with Demarco. With a swish of his tail, my father brushed the side of his large body against me and I ran my fingers through the thick fur on his back.
“Only for you, Dita,” he grumbled, and inclined his head to Jodi before slipping through the hallway and out the back door.
I followed him and watched as his large form disappeared into the tightly packed and pitiful houses that made up The Mound, heading in the direction of The Row.
When I returned to the front room, Jodi was glaring at me from her spot at the table. She was on her third smoke since I’d arrived, and she’d refilled her glass a few times as well.
“Where did you send him?” she asked, her voice slurred. Her dark, curly hair was a mess on her head, and her once-pretty face was now leathery with the consumption of so much Wolfsbane, tobacco, and moonshine.
“To cool down,” I said evenly, and reached into my pocket to remove the notes and coins I’d earned that evening. Slapping them down on the table in front of her, I added, “I know exactly how much it is.”
Jodi sneered up at me, her lipstick smeared on her large teeth. “Of course you do,” she replied, her glassy eyes returning to the earnings.
I left her to it, knowing that I would check the books in the morning to make sure she hadn’t shorted us. My fatigue was catching up with me as I exited through the front door of the house, and I bit back a yawn and small growl of annoyance that wanted to escape me.
As I knew they would be, Demarco, Devon, and Delia were out on the porch, waiting for me. The boys had shifted back into their human forms. Demarco was shirtless and his shorts were ripped, and he was bleeding in various pl
aces.
My jaw clenched as a little fear flashed behind Demarco’s eyes when I met his gaze.
“He started it, D,” he told me. “You know how he can be. He’s such a son of a bitch!”
I held Demarco’s stare for a moment before turning toward Delia. Waving her over to me, I placed a kiss on her forehead and sent her inside to bed, reminding her that she had lessons in the morning as well. Delia rolled her eyes, which I noticed she’d lined with charcoal around the lashes.
I decided to let the eye roll slide, and once she’d shut the door behind her, I turned slowly back to Demarco.
“I’m sorry, D,” he said, but snapped his mouth shut when he saw whatever expression was on my face. Or perhaps it was my lack of an expression. More than a few had commented on the deadpan stare I adopted when I was unhappy.
“How many times are you going to apologize before you just listen to me?” I said in a voice so smooth and low that Demarco didn’t have time to duck before I slapped him hard on the back of his head.
He cringed and rubbed at the spot I’d hit. Devon, the oldest sibling beyond me, stood watching silently, his arms crossed over his wide chest and his handsome face impassive.
“I know, D. I’m sorry,” Demarco repeated.
I raised my hand to slap him again, and he flinched. I sighed, squeezing the raised hand into a fist before dropping it to my side with some effort.
“You know how hard I’m working, Marco?” I asked. “You understand that I’m trying to get us out of this place? Why are you making things harder for me? I told you to stay away from father. I told you not to respond to his taunts. I told you not to make me leave The Row early for this bullshit. Didn’t I? Didn’t I tell you these things?”
Demarco nodded, looking as sheepish as he very well should. “You did. I’m sorry, Dita. It won’t happen again. He tries so hard to get under my skin. He hates me, and I hate him. I can’t do this shit no more. I need to get out of here.”
I nodded slowly. “And go where?”
Demarco sighed, and though I would not let him know it, I sympathized with his struggles.
“I don’t know,” he said. “The coast maybe. Or north. Hell, anywhere but here. I fucking hate him so much.”
I pointed to the dirt path that led out of The Mound. “There’s the door,” I said.
Demarco only shook his head, his jawbone standing out as he clenched his teeth and crossed his wiry arms over his chest.
Releasing a low breath, I placed my hand on the back of his neck and drew him toward me, resting my forehead against his.
“I just need a little more time,” I told him. “Soon, I’ll have enough. I’ll have everything set up to get us out of here; somewhere father won’t find us, away from this wretched place and everything that comes with it. But I need you to be patient, Marco. Can you do that for me?”
Demarco squeezed his amber eyes shut, his light brown skin still flushed from his fight with our father. “Only for you, Dita,” he said, unwittingly echoing our father’s words to me.
“Good boy,” I said, and kissed his forehead before shoving him toward the west. “Go sleep at Rocco’s tonight. I’ll come get you in the morning.”
Demarco sucked his teeth, his shoulders sagging in the manner only teenagers seem capable of. “Rocco’s house smells like shit,” he complained.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “This is The Mound, Marco. The damn land itself smells like shit, and crashing at Rocco’s is better than risking father slitting your throat as you sleep, no?”
Grumbling, Demarco bid us good night and started off in the direction of Rocco’s. Devon and I stood in silence for a moment, watching until Marco disappeared between the rows of dilapidated homes that resembled our shack. These homes were little more than wood, sheet metal, and fabric that stretched on for miles in every direction on the dry, dead land that locals called The Mound, even though the terrain was more bowl-shaped.
Home to the poorest and lowest class of Wolves, most of the world thought the inhabitants of The Mound were all drunks, drug addicts, and criminals. And they weren’t entirely wrong, despite the fact that the more I learned about the world, the more I concluded that this was not a result of the poor Wolves’ own agency, but rather a result of the unseen powers, entities, structures, and systems that kept us in our place.
For this many of the population to be sitting so low, did that not mean that a smaller group of the population was sitting very high? While I struggled daily to provide the basest of needs for my family, were there not Wolves who commanded massive amounts of wealth and power at their fingertips?
Of course there were. I’d seen them ringside on fight nights, with their fancy clothes and enormous bets. I’d even sold Wolfsbane to more than a few, and they usually just went ahead and bought me out of my stock. No pooled money to get a dime bag for these Wolves. No, they took everything they wanted, and as much of it as they wanted.
I didn’t hate them for it.
I wanted to be them for it.
If spending so many nights hustling The Row and watching the fights at ringside had taught me anything, it was that in the world of Wolves, there were winners and losers.
My siblings and I had been born losers, there was no doubt about it, but we would not die that way.
I would see to it.
Chapter 3
Sleep found me after I’d managed to clear my mind enough for it to descend. As usual, I slept sitting up in the corner of the back room, where the twins, Delia, and Devon slept soundly on the mattresses on the floor.
Two long-barrel revolvers rested across my lap; the only such weapons owned by anyone from The Mound, which I knew for a fact. They were relicts of a long lost civilization. How my father had come across the guns, I didn’t know, but smart bet would be that he’d gained them in some act of brutality and violence. It didn’t really matter, anyway. I’d convinced him to give them to me, and I’d used them to do what needed to be done for the family. Their weight across my thighs was a comfort in the dark, wee hours of the morning.
I awoke with a stiff neck and dry mouth early the next day, rising before the others, as was usual. As I pushed to my feet, blinking and rubbing my eyes to clear my vision, I checked the timepiece in my pocket. Like clockwork, I’d awoken an hour and a half before the sun would rise.
Walking quietly over to the mattress that held Ada and Analise, I stared down at the twins in the pale light of the early morning. Delia lay beside them, her arm draped over their little bodies and her hair fanned out on the mattress.
Though I never spoke of it aloud, this was one of my favorite moments of the day. Watching my three little sisters sleep, their faces so relaxed and innocent, was a tiny enjoyment I made sure to thank the Gods for, if nothing else. For all the bad I’d seen in this world, my love for my siblings reinforced my hope that there was equal good.
Perhaps one just had to search for it.
I attached the revolvers around my waist with the special belt I’d paid good money for, slid on my knee-high, black boots and black suit jacket (which concealed the revolvers rather efficiently around my hips) and quietly exited the cabin.
The sun was still below the horizon, but the blue of early dawn had replaced the black of deep night, and the residents of The Mound were mostly sleeping, and would remain so for a while. Most of them had only just fallen into their beds, drunk or high or both.
Personally, I didn’t partake in the substances, save for on special occasions and to calm my nerves when dealing with my father. In my head, these indulgences were part of the system that worked to hold Wolves like me down, and I saw no reason to make my already tough situation even tougher.
Everything in moderation, that was my motto, especially the things we enjoyed the most.
My first stop was the well, where the residents of The Mound drew water for their needs. Around it, the ramshackle shacks and barren, brown earth stretched on in every direction. A perk of rising th
is early was that the well was wholly unoccupied, and I could take my time drawing water and tending to my needs.
This morning, however, I wasn’t the only one who’d decided to take advantage of the peace.
“Good morning, Dita,” said a familiar voice behind me.
I paused in my washing and turned to see Jake. His sandy blond hair was still tousled from sleep, but his easy smile and kind eyes gleamed with appreciation as they took in my mostly naked form.
“Good morning, Jake,” I replied, and continued on in my bathing.
Blue eyes still holding me, Jake moved to the other side of the well and drew his own pail of water. We were silent for a while as we went about our tasks, but even my stoicism couldn’t keep my gaze from being drawn to his tall, tan, and muscular form.
He grinned when he noticed me watching, and I scoffed and rolled my eyes, turning and giving him what I was sure was a spectacular view of my backside.
A low growl emanated in his belly, and I grinned because I knew he couldn’t see the expression. By the time I glanced over my shoulder and met his stare, my expression was neutral again.
“Always teasing, Dita,” Jake mumbled.
I quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t just tease.”
Jake considered this, his handsome face appreciative as his eyes ran the length of me. “I was hoping you’d come by last night,” he said.
I shrugged, suppressing a sigh. “I got busy.”
“You’ve been busy a lot lately.”
Rolling my eyes, I snatched my towel from where it was hanging on the edge of the well and began drying and clothing myself with renewed urgency.
“Don’t start this shit again, Jake,” I said as I pulled on my shirt and black, fine-cut jacket, buttoned my pants, and slid on my boots. Buckling the gun belt around my waist, I added, “I told you from the start how things were.”
Jake finished up his grooming quickly so that he could hurry after me. “Yeah, you did,” he said, “but I guess I just thought…”