Darkness Unveiled

by Emerson Knight

  I think Steven liked being my knight in shining armor. I didn’t. Introduced to a world of vampires, were-animals, faes, elves, and all the horrible things in between, being defenseless in it wasn’t an option. Unguarded and unskilled made you prey. I’d been prey before and I didn’t like it one bit.

  I would have preferred a life of innocent oblivion, clueless that such things existed. But the veil had been lifted and I couldn’t go back. I knew what was out there, and I needed to be able to protect myself against it.

  Winter didn’t give me a chance to put my things down before she charged at me. Her elbow clipped my shoulder before I could block her. She was quicker, but I was stronger. I lunged with a front kick, and she hit the ground with a crash but didn’t stay down long. She never did. Winter was fast, as fast as vampires, and she was a bitch. I wasn’t sure if that factored into her skills, but it really made her tenacious.

  When we had first started, I never walked away without black-and-blue evidence of our sparring matches. It forced me to become a more creative and innovative fighter because she didn’t mind pummeling me.

  I punched air as she dodged. When I swiped her leg from the left, she looked surprised and impressed as she hit the ground.

  “Thank the gods; I was assuming your left side was paralyzed, since you never used it,” she said, jumping to her feet.

  “Takes a while, but I learn to adapt.”

  “Let’s see how well.” She laid into me with a series of kicks and punches, which I parried with speed and deftness.

  “You’ve gotten much better, but I guess you couldn’t have gotten worse,” she said.

  Training with Winter along with lessons in Krav Maga had improved my ability to defend myself significantly. I wasn’t a born fighter, and my skills weren’t instinctual. They had developed from fear. I feared being hit, I feared pain, and I feared getting hurt. That was my only motivation to protect myself. What influenced Winter was totally different. The risk of pain or injury only drove her harder. The sadist in her drew from it, and whether or not she cared to admit it, her face always showed it—she derived pleasure from the violence and pain. On my side, I kicked her leg, a tactic I had learned in Krav Maga, a low kick that brought her down to the ground. Winter moved quickly, coming to her feet before I could react.

  A smile curled her lips as she said, “Cool. Dirty fighting.” And then she attacked.

  All the times I had sparred with her, I assumed she was trying to kill me. Now, I realized she had been holding back. I rolled over the ground, avoiding sharp blows to the ribs. A sweep of her leg and she came to the ground hard, giving me time to come to my feet. Sweat glistened, running down her face. I had made her break a sweat. It was the first time. Punches flew, kicks connected high and low. The air filled with the sound of aggressive, brutal grunts and violence. Tomorrow, bruises would cover the greater part of my body.

  I dodged her advances and blocked her punches. A wrist block, then a head-butt to her nose had her staggering. She pressed her finger to her nose and it came back bloody. I stopped, afraid that I had broken it.

  Baring her teeth in a wide grin, she said, “Next time, give it more power. Always go for a break. Never hold back, even with me.”

  Then she attacked me again. It was as though my giving her a bloody nose had eliminated the very narrow constraints she had put on herself. She attacked with full aggression. I parried and failed. I shifted and dodged her attacks with little success. A combination of kicks, then a final blow to my sternum sent me crashing into the ground. She kicked me in the ribs. I held back a groan through clenched teeth as I rolled to my side to avoid another.

  Before I could come to my feet, she slithered around me and put me into a submission hold. My arm was twisted around my back. Pressure from her foot pressing on the joint had the ligaments screaming. I attempted to struggle out of it. She pressed harder.

  “Just give before I snap your arm, you stubborn woman,” she barked. Winter had studied many forms of martial arts in her twenty-three years and had combined them to come up with her own style of fighting. Her holds usually placed you in a positional disadvantage. The only way to break them was to break something on yourself as well. She made sure of that.

  “Give,” I finally conceded with a sharp breath.

  “No. Unacceptable,” Winter said.

  I gritted my teeth and bit back the pain.

  “Say it,” she demanded.

  Feeling the muscles of my shoulder and ligaments stretched to their limits, I mumbled, “I submit.”

  Winter didn’t just want to dominate you. She needed you to acknowledge that you had been dominated.

  She released the hold, slipped from under me, and walked over to her bag. Once I sat up, she tossed me a bottle of water before sinking onto the floor in the corner.

  “What do you hate the most: the pack or the idea of it?” she asked before taking a long drink from her bottle.

  Winter didn’t often talk to me afterward. In fact, she was usually out the door before I could say goodbye. Her engaging me with something other than suggestions on how to improve my techniques left me baffled. It took a long time for me to answer.

  “Did I hit your head too hard, or are you still trying to grasp the complex skill of speech?” she inquired. In spite of her being a snake—generally known for their charm—she didn’t really possess much of it. Most men were too enamored by her looks to give a second thought about her less-than-attractive personality. She was Egyptian with beautiful sun-kissed skin. Delicate features set in a round face made the harsh things that came out of her mouth less offensive. Her pale hazel eyes always seemed cold and even colder when she was agitated; then you were treated to her serpent eyes, complete with intimidating vertical slits.

  Winter cleared her throat, annoyed, as she waited for an answer.

  I hadn’t officially declined the offer, but there was a part of me that had a hard time accepting. Joining the Midwest Pack meant sharing in their power. They had it in droves, but it also meant a commitment to my wolf half. It was saying to hell with humanity and embracing a part of me I didn’t particularly like. For years, I despised having to share my body with an animal and had just recently upgraded from self-loathing to reluctant acceptance—but it was acceptance nonetheless. However, there wasn’t a desire to bond with it. I always felt that if I gave in to her desires, then I was giving up on my humanity. The pack paid homage to their inner animal. Human form was just the vessel that housed their preferred half. They celebrated it, enjoyed it, and developed such a bond that being around them was the closest someone could get to interacting with violent predacious animals and living to tell the tale.

  Yes, they walked around bipedal—most of them highly educated and successful, socializing with the mere humans of the world—but it was just pure Darwinism. The power they had, the assets they enjoyed, the lifestyle they required couldn’t be achieved by living on four legs in the woods, so they adapted.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. For years, I ignored my wolf half. I don’t know how to be part of a power structure that embraces that part of them so freely.” What if I joined and couldn’t take it—nor like it? Committing to them wasn’t like testing out a membership at the neighborhood gym or the local social club. You didn’t pay an early termination fee to cancel your membership. Although I didn’t have any evidence to support it, I believed the only way out was death. Isn’t that how the mob, drug cartels, and street gangs work?

  She scoffed, “You think ignoring it is going to make it go away? How’s that working for you so far?”

  A wry half smile was my only response.

  It wasn’t working. “Me declining is not a reflection on your pack, but of my own issues. I hope you aren’t taking it personally.”

  Her face held a look of utter dismay. “I’m sorry. Did I give you the impression that I care? I don’t. I care more about a cat playing with a ball of yarn than you joining the pack. Join or go play your silly werewolf
games alone in a corner. Either way, I simply can’t bring myself to care. I am tired of Josh and Steven squawking about you being out there ‘alone and unprotected.’ Personally, if you don’t mind being alone, then why the hell should we?” she stated in the only tone she knew—harsh.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why it’s not an easy choice.”

  She exhaled. “There is concern over how close you are to Steven and Josh. It’s a conflict of interest. You can’t deny the pack but expect to be this closely associated with us without it causing some issues. You are aware of where we stand. If you’re not one of us and you find yourself in a difficult situation—”

  “I know. You all won’t help me. And if I become a threat to the pack, I will be treated as most threats are and eliminated,” I said, repeating what I’d been told several times. I knew that speech well because it was the last thing Sebastian, the Midwest Pack’s Alpha, had said to me when he asked me to join. Steven, on behalf of the pack, had reiterated it on several occasions.

  “Do you really understand? Despite everything, Sebastian has been kind. You’ve exhausted it,” she sighed.

  Sebastian wasn’t very fond of me. He didn’t mind telling me at every opportunity, but the true indicator was when he tried to strangle me. I knew then we weren’t going to be friends. He disliked me so much that he added that little tidbit about eliminating me when he asked me to join his pack. Oddly enough, those weren’t the things that deterred me.

  Perhaps I showed a certain level of panic and fear at the mention of Sebastian because when she spoke again, there was a soothing gentleness to her voice. “I’m hungry. Let’s shower and get lunch.”

  Distracted by the new information, I followed her toward the locker room, becoming increasingly suspicious with each step. Winter had only invited me to lunch once, and she spent most of it haranguing me over my pitiful skills. “What’s really going on?” I asked.

  “We’ll talk at lunch.”

  “No, now.” I was anxious and I didn’t have the patience to wait until lunch.

  “Dr. Baker won’t be able to help you any longer,” she admitted in a detached voice.

  The anxiety escalated. I felt nauseous. What was I going to do this month? I didn’t want to go back to trying to figure out how to sedate myself. Whatever he gave me didn’t leave me with the full-moon hangover that I had come to accept as part of hiding from the werewolf. Even my physician mother hadn’t been able to sedate me without me waking up feeling like I had been tossing back tequila shots most of the night.

  It didn’t take a Rhodes Scholar to know what this conversation was about. I considered how much time Steven had spent over my house, the constant and tedious practicing over the past weeks with Josh. It was as though they were given a deadline to recruit me, after which I would be persona non grata. It explained why Josh hadn’t returned my calls and Steven had willingly given my keys up when I asked for them earlier. Sebastian must have given them an ultimatum, and they were slowly severing their ties with me.

  I fell in step with her as we walked to the locker room. “Sebastian controls an awful lot. Can you pick your friends and lovers, or does he pick them for you?” My anger soon found a place right next to my frustration.

  Her tone and face shifted into pack-professional mode. “You can’t have it both ways: you can’t deny the pack yet expect to use our resources. You’ve been extended courtesies that aren’t usual for us. You need to make some decisions.” She slipped into the locker room, grabbed her things, and headed for the shower so quickly I didn’t have time to say anything else.

  Winter didn’t waste time showering and getting dressed. I slowpoked around, each moment becoming less enthusiastic about our lunch. I didn’t want her to confirm what I had suspected. Winter didn’t wait around for me in the crowded locker room while the weekend gym rats chatted each other up. At first, they had attempted to engage her, asking her questions about her workout, admiring her slim, fit frame. Each inquiry received a monosyllabic answer. Eventually they gave up trying to include the unremorsefully discourteous woman into their gym friendship circle. Winter didn’t seem concerned once they stopped but they remained at a loss. Their Midwestern sensibilities had a hard time understanding and grasping such rudeness.

  Every so often, they pulled me into the conversation, asking questions on how I stayed so toned. What was my secret? I felt like telling them, “I’m half animal. You want to trade places?” but instead I gave them one of my many rehearsed responses. I caught a glimpse of Winter leaving the locker room and rushed to catch up with her.

  The dark-haired serpent looked bored, leaning against her white Navigator. “Meet me at Panera, the one near that café you like on 10th street,” she said as she opened the door. Stopping abruptly, she looked around, scanning the area. She stepped to the back of the SUV and opened it. As she reached into it, a tall, scaly slate-gray creature, something I hadn’t encountered before, stepped into our line of sight. Its massive arm struck her, sending her crashing back into the brick wall of the building. The sword she had managed to grab out of the trunk skidded across the ground. The creature struck at her again before she was able to block it. Its clawed hand swiped across her chest, slicing it open and spilling a deluge of blood. Despite the injuries to her chest and abdomen, she fought it off aggressively. When it loomed over her, she kicked the large reptile away with all the force her injured body could muster. It plodded back several feet. Coughing up blood, she raked at the wall, pulling herself up to stand.

  I ran for the sword, picked it up mid-stride and swung. It cut through the thin, hirsute top layer but became impacted in thick tissue. I tugged hard. By the third jarring pull, I dislodged the sword and plunged it into the creature again, where I left it.

  Grabbing the key that Winter had dropped at the back of the SUV, I jumped into the driver's seat and careened into the creature. I pushed the car into four-wheel drive, reversed, and slammed into it again and then again, pinning it under the vehicle. The SUV rocked as the thing attempted to move from under it. The Navigator started moving. I jumped out of it as it rolled back and the creature began to crawl from under it. I ran to Winter, lifted her as gently and quickly as possible, and brought her to my Honda Civic. I had to shove her into the backseat in order to quickly get in the driver’s seat and back away from the creature. It limped, but it was still plodding toward us faster than anything that had sustained such injuries should have.

  I backed away far enough to turn around without hitting the creature with it and damaging my car. It stayed in my line of sight for a few minutes before vanishing. I half expected it would just pop up in front of me. I had learned the hard way that many things in this dreadful world traveled in more ways than on foot. That’s the worst feeling, when you think you've gotten away—and poof, they’re standing right in front of you.

  After I had driven several miles and was sure the creature wasn’t going to reappear, I gave Winter my undivided attention. She looked like hell. Blood oozed from her wounds, her skin was blanched, and her breathing was just sharp gurgles. I pulled over and did my best to stop the bleeding and compress the wounds that bled with anything I could find in my gym bag.

  Please don’t die. Please don’t die.

  I grabbed my phone as I started to drive and scrolled through the call log until I came to Dr. Baker’s number. It was near the top because I had spoken with him less than two days before to schedule a time for him to sedate me during the next full moon.

  He responded after the first ring. “Skylar—”

  “Winter is hurt… bad… I think she’s… she’s bleeding a lot.” I couldn’t bring myself to say that I thought she was dying.

  “Where are you?”

  “On Westin street… just past the Midway intersection… I can be at the retreat in thirty.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

  I hung up and looked back at Winter in the rearview mirror. Her breaths were so shallow that I considered taking
her to the hospital just five miles away instead of the pack’s home. The only thing deterring me was what the doctors would find when they examined her. I could only imagine what type of weirdness she had going on as a were-snake.

  That’s the reason most were-animals joined packs. It was not just for the innate need to be around their familiars, but for the convenience. Each pack had their own physicians, which made life a lot easier when its members needed medical attention.

  I watched Winter from the rearview mirror. When her breathing paused too long, I pulled over to give her rescue breaths. I had to stop three times. Between stopping to help Winter, slowing down any time her breathing pattern changed and trying to avoid the massive potholes in the road to keep from causing her further pain, I had only driven seven miles.

  A dark blue sports car darted in an out of my line of sight in my rearview mirror. I maintained my speed, driving through the traffic, but the car kept its pace, barreling down the crowded street, closing in on me. The cars in front of it scattered. I expected to see a trail of flashing police lights behind him, but undoubtedly they couldn’t keep up. Once it was closer, I got a glimpse of the driver: Gavin, the pack’s fourth. Of course Sebastian had sent someone to retrieve Winter. He wouldn’t leave the job of bringing Winter safely to them to someone like me—a lone were-animal. I was sure the very thought of it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  When Gavin leaned on his horn, I pulled over to the side. He glared at me from the driver’s seat and Josh jumped out.

  Josh took one look at Winter and let out a string of expletives as he pulled her closer to him. He closed his eyes, his teeth grinding, and he remained still for a few moments. Inhaling a long breath, he slowly opened his eyes to find that she had slipped out of consciousness again. She lay limp and broken in Josh’s arms, where he held her close to him. The extent of her injuries forced a worrisome scowl on his face that he didn’t seem to be able to relax.