Chapter 5
I'd finally managed to stop crying a whole twenty minutes when the door opened. The familiar heavy thunk of hard-soled boots approached the bed behind me, and I squeezed my pillow tighter in my arms. I didn't want to look at him right now. Not when the wounds from my sister's rejection were still fresh and burning. I had no one. Nothing. And it was my fault. All of it.
When I didn't turn and look at him, Frank came around the foot of the bed. I buried my face into the pillow. The closer he got, the more I hid until, finally, he whispered, "Harley?"
"What?" I said into the pillow.
The bed sagged by my knees and I could feel his warmth drawing closer to me, but he didn't touch me. He kept at least that much distance between us, and I couldn't be more grateful for it.
"Harley, come out of there," he said, his voice still soft.
I shook my head, which only buried my face deeper into the pillow. If I didn't stop this, I'd suffocate from my own stubbornness.
"C'mon, babe. Let's talk."
"What for?" I asked, finally pulling my face up and looking him in the eye. "You're done, remember? I think we both are."
"You gonna go home, then?" he asked and the emptiness in his voice made my stomach clench tight. Did it really mean so little to him? Did I mean so little to him?
The truth was, I knew I couldn't go back home. Lori had made that abundantly clear. I couldn't go back, but I didn't want him to know that. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing I had no one else but him.
"I'll figure it out," I said simply, resting my head back down. "Don't worry about me. I told you I can find my own way."
The minutes ticked on agonizingly slow as we both sat in total silence. I'll admit a small part of me was hoping that he would shout 'No, please, don't go, I'll do anything,' but it was a child's wish. Lori had destroyed that part of my heart that was still back home with Mom and Dad and left only that which Frank had stolen away so long ago. It was that sad remnant that screamed for him to do or say something, anything, that showed me he still cared. That he still wanted me.
"I don't know how to handle this," he said finally. "Any of it. Joy Anne, as much shit as that bitch talks, she's right about some things. You don't know anything. Not a thing about us. You can't be with us and not really be a part of us. You should go."
The flutter of hope that began once he broke the silence, died away with each word. So that was it. He really was done with me. And agreeing with that horrible piece of trailer-trash... I just couldn't handle that. Not after what I'd seen.
I threw the pillow to the floor and swung my legs off the bed before I could talk myself out of it. Jumping to my feet, I was resolute in leaving.
"Fine. I'm gone."
His hand caught the crook of my arm. It was gentle, but firm enough to keep me from taking another step. Even though he had a captive audience, I wasn't about to look at him. I couldn’t let him see how hurt I was.
"You should go," he repeated, "but I don't want you to. At least, not before I let you see what I've been keeping from you."
"I think I saw enough of you and the slut, thanks," I choked out.
"Not her." The finality in his voice did make me look over at him. "This is a lot more than just me cheating, Harley. That shit doesn't mean a damn thing in the scope of it. There are things going on that you can't even begin to comprehend."
"It's pretty easy to say 'let's forget the cheating thing' when you were the one that cheated, Frank." The words came out in a near-hiss.
"Just..." He released my arm, raised his hand as if he were grasping the air beside his head, then breathed out slow and lowered it into his lap, "Hear me out. I'm telling you that I do not want you to go. I want you to see everything for what it is. Come with us to the woods tonight."
"The woods?" I asked, impatiently. "What the hell do you have to show me out there? Why not just get it out here and now and be done with it? I'm tired of the mind games, Frank."
My anger and hurt retreated a little, leaving a heavy wariness. That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to hold onto the anger, not surrender it to the mental exhaustion that often followed Frank's bipolar attitude. The anger would let me walk out of that room. It would give me the validation of leaving behind the one and only family that I had ever felt I belonged to. Without it, the nag of desperation clung heavily to me and rooted me to the spot; it forced me to listen to him and his request.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment then, with a sigh, said, "Because I can't just tell you. I gotta show you. It's the only way you'll understand what we've been tryin' to drive into your head from day one. Just... come see for yourself before you take off. Then you can call your parents or whatever."
I glanced over at the phone a little too quickly. I wanted to know what the hell he'd been holding back; the thing that I demanded he tell me that he always managed to sidestep.
I also didn't want to tell him about Lori. What if I didn't like what he had to show me? So far, as far as he was concerned, I was a phone call away from going back home. Telling him I wasn't wanted back home would make it that much harder to break away from him. Until I knew what he had up his sleeve, I would keep my call with Lori close to my chest.
"Fine," I said. "I'll go with you tonight. But, Frank, if I don't like what you have to show me, I'm gone."
"I ain't gonna lie, Harls. You probably won't like it. At first."
I frowned at him, opened my mouth to ask what he thought I wouldn't like, but he cut me off.
"Just... You'll see. You're the one always tellin' me you can handle things. I'm giving you a chance to prove it."
Well, what could I do? He was right. I did always go on about how I could handle myself. If I backed out now then he'd make me a liar, and that didn't sit well with me. If I didn't like what he showed me, I was free to leave. If he finally laid everything straight for me maybe, just maybe, the strain that had taken up residence on our relationship would ease up. Maybe we could work out, after all. I did love him, but was love enough? I figured, by the end of the night, I'd finally know for sure.
August 20th 2010 7:49 p.m.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me. This is a joke, right?" I said as I stared at the man behind the counter.
He didn't so much as look up from his tabloid. His face remained unmoved at my outburst; that bored indifference that said he'd heard this all before and often. Ten dollars for two packs of Pall Mall Red 100s. It was highway robbery.
I grudgingly shoved my hand into my hip pocket. With the price of cigs getting steadily higher, I was almost ready to quit. Just not yet. I drank, but it wasn't an everyday thing. I've never done drugs. Hell, I didn’t even gamble. My vice was tobacco. Someday I'd quit, but not today. Today, I'd shell out more of my hard-won money for something that would eventually kill me.
My fingers pinched the bill and started to pull the money out when the sudden growl of an engine erupted outside. I jumped, spilling change all over the floor. Damn him. As if I wasn't nervous enough about tonight, and what he was going to show me, he had to go and be a dick.
I glanced over to the large wall of windows and watched as Frank threw his arms out in a gesture of his impatience. I replied with a gesture of my own before slamming the twenty on the counter. Okay, it wasn't the most mature response. So sue me. My tolerance for him and his bullshit attitude was wearing thin. Normally, riding was something to lift my spirits and put me at ease, but tonight I couldn't lose myself in the ride. There was just too much to escape from.
I turned to look at the clerk, leaving Frank to stew in his irritation, and drummed my nails across the counter. He was, of course, taking his sweet time counting from the cash drawer. A slew of insults built up inside of me, bubbling and boiling, ready to erupt out of my mouth like a volcano, but I managed to keep it semi-civil.
"Do you know how to count American money, or what? Give me my fucking change already." Okay, not so civil.
At least I hadn't cal
led him a towel head, or spit out some random jumble of make-shift Arabian, or some other repulsive behavior some of the guys we rode with would do. Not that it had made what I said any better. I felt like shit, and hated that my mood had turned me into the worst type of bitch.
It made it worse when I thought about my family. While I could pull off being just another white-bred female, I knew there was something more ethnic in my blood. Something native and darker-skinned peeked out in ghostly traces on my features, hidden behind more prominent white attributes. High cheekbones disguised by extra full cheeks, a slight slant of eyes overshadowed by gunmetal blue irises. Unlike my sister, Lorelei, who was graced with the statuesque beauty of our Shoshone blood, I looked like just another white girl.
I wasn't being a bitch to this guy because he was different than me. He just happened to be convenient. He was there, and for that fact alone, he bore the brunt of my irritation at Frank.
The clerk handed me back my change, and the look in his eyes showed me every bit of contempt he was feeling towards me. I could pretend it was because I was a woman, or because I was a Westerner, but I knew it was simply because I had been rude to him. Simple as that. I didn't blame him, really. Did my bad mood excuse me from being an ass to a total stranger? It didn't, and I knew it. If only that had been enough to stop my mouth.
I snatched the cigarettes up and bolted towards the door, beckoned by another roar of the Softail outside. The night greeted me with an assault of stale, hot air. Texas in August. Gotta love it. Even the nights made me want to grab a cold glass of lemonade or a chilled beer in a nice frosty mug. I liked the heat and all—it was better than snow and ice—but there was a point where there really was too much of a good thing. Add in Frank's heater-like body temperature pressing against my skin when we touched, and the Texas summer heat could kiss my ass.
"What the hell took so long?" Frank asked as I tossed him one of the little red boxes.
He caught the pack in the middle of his chest without looking. I tucked mine down my shirt and threw a leg over the bike to hoist myself behind Frank.
"Don't start," I said. "If the clerk spoke English, I would've been out a long time ago."
It was a slight embellishment on my part, but I didn't feel like fighting with him anymore. I didn’t feel up to arguing with Frank, and the easiest way to avoid it was to throw the blame on someone else. It made life with him a lot easier.
Once I was settled, the bike roared to life, and we sped off. I didn't know where we were going, and to be honest, I didn't care. The where wasn't as important as the why.
As we rode along the empty road, my imagination ran rampant. So many scenarios played out in my mind, from a wife and kids he'd abandoned to a hidden plot of land with dozens of shallow graves where he hid dead bodies. Aside from those two possibilities, I couldn’t think of anything that would warrant him being so damn secretive.
Before long, I had to stop guessing. I'd find out soon enough. Then I could decide my next move. Instead, I focused on the soothing thrum of the bike underneath us and let it drive out everything else.
His beloved 'Beast'—talk about lame, male machismo—was a 2001 Harley Davidson Springer Softail. A beautiful custom job with flame engraved, 10-inch chrome ape hangers, a custom bench seat with hand-tooled designs, matching solo bag with key lock, and 2-in-1 chrome exhaust. He'd had it custom painted in sweeping shades of navy blues and blacks like the night sky dotted with stars. On the back fender was a breathtaking graphic of a Native American woman lounging with a wolf. Lounging was almost too mild a word. She melted her scantily-clad body against the animal's neck, embracing it, her arm thrown over her head to reach back and pet along the wolf's fur. Her face was turned into its neck and it stared outward. Its amber eyes stared into my soul until the recessed tail lights flared to life and would turn the amber eyes of the wolf into bright red glowing things.
The only thing that unnerved me about the paint job was the woman. Frank had it done during the early stages of our relationship, and I wasn't sure if I was seeing things or not, but the woman looked very much like a sketched out version of me with the Shoshone turned up. Still, even with that slightly disturbing thought, it was a beautiful job and somehow managed to fit Frank perfectly. It was his most valued possession. I really couldn't blame him for his obsession with it; the bike was pretty much my favorite thing in the world, too.
Something about riding cleared my mind and eased my soul. I didn't have to think about where we were going to sleep, the cops catching up to us, or even the less-than-charming way Frank had been treating me lately. The past few months had been pretty bad, but at that moment all I cared about was the feel of the machine vibrating under me, Frank squeezed between my legs, and the wind whipping my dark hair behind me.
The hum of the engine lulled me into a state of complete meditation, and before I knew it, we were there—wherever 'there' was. Frank cut the engine and stood first, years of riding making it one fluidly practiced movement. I began my own less graceful dismount to find him standing against me and keeping me from taking even a single step from the bike.
"Ready?" he asked, the muscles in his jaw working furiously.
I couldn't trust my own voice. No, I wasn't ready, but that didn’t matter. Now or never, as they say. I gave him a soft nod before he finally moved away and led me towards the woods.
I needed a drink. That was the first thought that came to me as I stumbled through the trees. I say stumbled because, unlike Frank and just about everyone else we ran with, I had little in the ways of grace and balance. It amazed me how easily Frank could move through the overgrown brush. He moved with purpose, cutting through the trees and bushes like they weren't there; like they were alive and parted just for him. Me? I skinned my knee a little ways back when I tripped over a tree root.
I heard a laugh ahead of me and looked up to see Frank leaning against the trunk of a huge cypress tree.
"C'mon, we're almost there."
"I'm moving as fast as I can," I said breathlessly. "You know, you can always stop running ahead of me. How the fuck do you move like that?"
"I like the woods. It's second-nature to me," he said with a shrug.
"Good for you. My second, and first, nature prefers pavement," I said as I rubbed the rough scrape.
My knee stung angrily, and I had a sudden wonder about how such inconsequential injuries, like scraped knees and paper cuts, hurt like hell. It was a comical distraction while Frank continued to lead me to wherever we were going. Something to keep me from caving in to my anxiety. It had been nearly an hour since we'd left the bike, and each step was one step closer to truth. Truth I had been begging to hear for months now.
Finally, the distant sound of voices caught my attention. We'd finally made it. There were so many voices. They were talking, laughing, crying out very male boasts. I couldn't see anyone, yet, but there was a flickering orange glow breaking through the trees. So, we had stumbled through the woods, in the dark, for almost an hour... for a bonfire?
Frank's body eclipsed the glow as he moved in front of me, his hands sliding onto my shoulders. He stared down at me, and all evidence of laughter that clung to his face moments ago was replaced with an anxious anticipation. And something strangely close to fear. Foreboding, maybe? The sudden change in his demeanor was dizzying. One moment he was the cocky, playful boy I fell for ages ago, and the next he was guarded. Careful. Stony.
"Right. Remember to keep your cool. You asked for this. Just keep that in mind if things get a little... hairy." A ghost of a smile teased his lips, and he brushed a hair from my face.
"Might help if you told me what to expect," I said.
"Well... tonight's kinda big. You know them two guys we picked up in Dallas?" he asked, dropping his hands and shoving them into his pockets. He waited for my nod before continuing. "Tonight we're gonna make ‘em Coyotes. Officially."
"And you gotta do that in the middle of the forest?" I didn't try to hide the skepticism in
my voice.
He ran a hand over his chin, rubbing the coarse hair that covered it. I could tell he was debating how much to tell me. How much I needed to know compared to what I needed to see for myself. Finally, he reached his hand out and draped it over my shoulders, forcing me to walk forward with him.
"Let's just say we got a very particular way of doin' things."
With that, we walked towards the break in the trees where a large fire blazed. Just about everyone from the crew was there, including Suze. My eyes widened when she looked to me, not with the usual warm welcoming, but with a look of near-alarm. As Frank ushered me closer, I realized that she wasn’t the only one that looked less than thrilled at my intrusion. More than not, I met unhappy eyes and looks of bemused scrutiny. Some looked absolutely frightened at my being there. These were the people I called friends. I'd ridden with them, drank with them, joked with them... why did I suddenly feel unwanted?
"Frank," Paulie's familiar baritone came more as a warning than a greeting.
Frank's arm slid off me, leaving me standing awkwardly as he drew up to his closest friend. Paulie's eyes were all for me, and though he was one of the friendliest of the men, he looked at me like an intruder.
"Is there a problem?" Frank asked distractedly.
"You sure about this?" his friend asked, still looking at me.
"No. But it's happening. Remember what I said," Frank's voice dropped a bit lower. "If anyone touches her I'll rip them apart myself."
Paulie looked at him. "You're riskin' a lot, Frank. You know how it gets. I like the girl just fine, but even I can't promise—" he was cut off before he could finish.
Frank patted his shoulder. "I ain't askin' for your promises. I'm demanding your obedience."
His words floored me. He and Paulie were close. Almost like true brothers. What right did he have to demand so much from his friend? He talked to him like nothing more than a dog at his heels, and what was even more unsettling was that Paulie seemed to be okay with it. At least on some level.
Paulie stared level with Frank for a few minutes. The looks in their eyes seemed to convey words from a language I hadn’t learned yet. Finally, Paulie nodded once and broke eye contact.
"Alright. Whatever you say, boss."
"See, that's the spirit," Frank called to Paulie's retreating back before turning back to me.
"I'm not sure about this," I confessed. The words poured out of me of their own volition, and I instantly regretted saying it out loud.
"Too late for second guesses, babe. You came this far. Don't let that skinned knee of yours go in vain."
His arm slid over my shoulders in that typical possessive way, but this time, I didn't mind it. I couldn't shake the feeling coming over me or the discomfort of all those eyes on me. I hadn't felt this in-the-way since I was with Mom, Dad, and Lori. Maybe I really had been stupid. Maybe, I didn't belong anywhere. Nowhere at all.
I let Frank lead me to a stack of big, flat stones that couldn't have possibly been positioned that way by nature. It was just a little higher than my waist, flanked by other, shorter stacks of rock, and almost fought with the bonfire to be the focal point of this little clearing. It was just a pile of rocks, but even I found my eyes drawn to them. Frank led me to one of the shorter stacks and patted the flat surface. I took the cue easily, like there was much to riddle out, and once I sat on the rock he slid himself up onto the taller stack, looking out towards everyone. The whole arrangement reminded me of a throne with the king sitting higher and more regally than the queen whose perch was less ornate. Less important. I didn't like how that made me feel.
"If you listen to me just one time in your life, listen now," Frank's voice cut down towards me, bringing my eyes up. "Things are gonna to get weird. Dangerous. I'm gonna protect you, but you gotta do exactly what I tell you. You have to trust me or you're as good as dead. Do you understand?"
His eyes were bright and shining with something I couldn’t comprehend. Protect me? Dead? What the hell was going to happen that I would be at risk of death? I filed that away under 'stuff he could have told me before we got here'.
"Wait, what? Maybe this wasn't..." I started to stand, but he grabbed my shoulder, stopping me.
"No. I already told you it's too late. You wanted answers. You wanted in. This is it." His voice wasn't angry or even impatient. He didn't say it like some threat. In fact, his words were void of any real emotion. Just stating truth, plain and simple. Okay, maybe not so simple.
I did the only thing I could do at that point. I sat back down. Even though the warning bells were going off in my head, I didn't run. He was right. How long had I told him I wanted full disclosure, that I was sick of being tip-toed around and left without knowing what the hell was happening around me?
Once Frank and I were as settled as we were going to get, the chatter around us died out. Eyes turned not just on me but to Frank. It was sort of eerie how quickly the silence fell, leaving nothing but the crackling of the burning wood and the night songs of the creatures lurking in those deep dark woods around us. They looked to us, to him, with restrained anticipation.
"Tonight," Frank's voice cut through the quiet so that even I snapped to attention, "is a special night for us. Each month, under the moon's full power, we gather as one family, one pack, and we run. We revel. We hunt. Tonight, even though the moon shift is not upon us, we have cause to celebrate. We have new blood wishing to join our ranks."
I stared at him in a strange mix of awe and bewilderment. On the one hand, his voice was so commanding, carrying on the wind with a crystal clarity and authority that not only earned my complete attention but demanded obedience from everyone around us. On the other, the forefront of my mind caught words like 'pack', 'run', and 'hunt'. Frank had always had a strange way of explaining things that made everything sound more animal than human. I always just considered it an idiosyncrasy of his, but as I looked out at the reverence shining on the faces of those gathered, I realized that he might not be the only one.
As I looked over everyone, I noticed the two new faces Frank had mentioned. They were standing side-by-side near the fire. The man on the left was gorgeous. He looked to be about six foot tall with sun-bronzed skin peeking out from a form-fitting ribbed tank. His hair was blond and hung around his ears and fringed his forehead in a too-hot-to-care mess. I couldn't really see his eyes well, but I could see that they were dark and dangerous.
The man beside him seemed similar but different. He matched his companion inch for inch in height, breadth, and muscle tone but the coloring was strikingly opposite. Though his skin was just as tan, his well-toned arms were decorated in thick, black designs. I hesitate to call them tribal, at least in the 'frat boy on spring break' fashion, but there was something very old and primitive about the hard lines and circular markings. Mayan, maybe. His hair cascaded down his neck and shoulders in dark, thick waves and his eyes were a striking pale hue that captivated me even from so far away.
Their facial structure, like their stature, were very similar and I wondered if hottie number two's chin was also dimpled under that dark scruff of hair. Brothers? Twins, maybe? They had to be. There was no way they could look so alike without sharing, at least a little, blood.
"Jordan. Levi. You will lead our hunt tonight. Prove that you are worth your mettle by leading your brothers and sisters to a kill. By sharing the blood of the weak, you will become part of the strong. Now, let's get down to it," Frank's words were emphasized by the raise of voices, each one cheering and praising him. All except for mine.
Lead them to a kill? My pulse sped up, and I looked from all our eager friends to Frank. Did he mean a literal kill? Like going out and shooting someone? There was no way. No, it had to be a metaphor for something. I didn't have a clue what but that had to be it. I just could not wrap my head around Frank openly announcing his plan to kill someone.
As I mulled this impossibility, I realized I was not the only person looking less-than-excited about Frank's litt
le speech. Near the back of the crowd, Theo stood drinking from a can of P.B.R. Unlike the smiles and clapping hands around him, he stood tense and unmoved. His eyes were hidden behind his big, wrap-around sunglasses, but I could see his hand flex at his side, the can denting under his grip.
A hand touched my back, and I jumped, twisting in my seat to find Frank leaning down towards me. His grin was still wide and full of excitement.
"Okay, remember what I said," he whispered. "It's gonna get crazy, more than you imagine. Just be smart, and don't do anything that will get you killed. Don't provoke them."
"Provoke them?" I asked, beginning to think more and more each passing minute that this was a very, very bad idea. "What'll provoke—"
That was the first time I felt it. That electrical charge in the air, searching for something to grasp onto. It was like the air itself was alive and sentient. It crackled with that warm charge, spreading out towards me and licking over my skin, crawling up my arms, my neck. I fought past the suffocating energy that fought to push past my lips and pour down my throat.
A sharp, melodic howling drowned out my words as well as any ability to think. It was so loud, so close, just like in those terrible horror movies, when the audience shouts for the dumb blond to not look. I slowly turned back to face our friends. Two large wolves stood in the crowd now. And by large I mean bigger than I’d ever seen or thought possible. Both were pitch black with almost luminescent yellow eyes and roughly the size of an Alaskan Malamute. Maybe even bigger.
I couldn't even process what they were doing there before their strange presence was overshadowed by one of the men standing next to them dropping to his knees as his body thrashed in violent spasms. His light skin darkened into a tawny brown and with a strangled groan, his head jerked back. His clothes split from his body in thick ripping sounds and gave way to fur that spilled over him. If I hadn't watched it, I'd have said what happened was impossible. Okay, I still say it was impossible. The man had turned into a great, huge wolf.
I jumped to my feet so fast that Frank barely managed to grip his fingers into my shoulder.
"They won't hurt you. I've ordered them not to touch you," he said.
He was making disapproving sounds behind me but I didn't pay him any attention. My attention was all for the people in front of us. If I could call them people anymore. One by one, friend after friend turned into impossibly large wolves until the last of them, Theo, shifted into a particularly menacing white and grey wolf.
The two black wolves shot off into the woods, followed by one, then two, then the rest of the beasts that had changed. Even a few people, who were still people, ran with them as if they bore two extra legs. Just as quickly as the wolves had appeared, they were gone.
My chest hurt. My brain shut down. I was too afraid to even scream. This was impossible. Impossible! Every fiber of my being, that wasn't trying to convince my brain that it had just been tricked, was shouting at me to run, to get the fuck away from this. Fast.
"Harley," Frank said. "Harley! Look at me."
I did.
"They're... it can't…" I couldn't even form a simple sentence.
"I told you," Frank said, bringing his hands up to cup my face. "You had no idea. Now you do. Harls, you were never supposed to find out about this. You weren't supposed to last that long. You have gone against everything I consider normal in my life."
Did he just say his life was normal?!
"I need you. I've needed you the moment I found you, and I still need you now. I know this shit is beyond belief, and I don't expect you to be okay with it right away, but you are a part of my life that I cannot let slip through my fingers. I won't."
I just stared up at him. His voice had gone dark and edged with a deadly growl. Or, maybe, those impossible wolves were still playing with my head. He hadn't gone all fury and four-legged. He was still human. And still, there was more danger in those brown eyes than the entire pack of wolves that had just run off. It was frightening seeing that much raw emotion in them. It went beyond happiness, sadness, or even insanity. It was aggressive, possessive, and deadly. In that moment, I wanted to get away from Frank. Not the wolves, not Joy Anne's bullshit, but him.
"You're mine," he said, pulling me closer so that he could breathe the words against my forehead. "And you aren't goin' anywhere. Are you?"
The heat of his touch fought against the cold chill his words brought me. It wasn't a question or a request. As far as he was concerned, I was here to stay.
I had mere seconds to weigh my options. What would he do if I called him a freak, a lying bastard, and told him to go to hell? Would he sick his wolves on me or would he kill me himself? Would I be able to pull out of his arms and make a run for it? Probably not. If I tried, with his hands cupping my face like this, he could probably snap my neck. I didn't know what he would do if I told him what he didn't want to hear. That was the scariest thought of all.
If I had any chance at getting away from him without him hurting me, I had to put space between us. He pulled back enough to look down at me, his eyes imploring. I knew what he wanted to hear.
Even though my heart threatened to come out of my throat I forced myself to smile up at him. To hide the new found aversion I felt for him. I smiled and shook my head slowly, not trusting my own voice.
That seemed to satisfy him. He smiled at me and pulled me into a slow, deep kiss. Once upon a time, that kiss could make me want to give him anything he wanted. Now, all I wanted to do was pull away from him and scrub my lips. When he finally released me, he brushed his fingers across the side of my neck, pulling my hair away from it with his other hand.
"Good," he said softly. "Good. Then we can finally move past this. We can move on to better things. Pretty soon you'll be one of—"
"Frankie!" A deep voice cut through the trees followed by one of the guys that had run after the animals. "Need you, Boss. One of the pups is losing his shit."
"God dammit, I knew that mother fucker was too green for this," Frank said, letting go of me. "Harley, stay here. Don't leave the fire and you'll be safe."
He snapped the order at me and took off running before giving me a second look. I listened to the sounds of crunching leaves and shaking bushes until they were too far away to hear. It was my shot. Either I ran now or he'd come back and make me go back with him.
I allowed myself the brief hope that one of the wolves would turn on him, take care of my problems for me, but I couldn't rely on that. The wolves heeded him for some reason. Unlike them, he was a man but they followed him like dogs to their master.
I spared a quick glance back to where he and his friend had disappeared and quickly decided that running was my only choice. I had no idea where I was going or even where I was. Frank's little jaunt into the woods had me turned around until I couldn't tell what was forward and what was back but it didn't matter. As long as I was going the opposite direction he’d gone, I was good. Eventually, I would find the other side of these trees. I would find a road or a house, and with that, help.
I pushed my way through the trees and bushes. They were just as unforgiving now as they had been earlier. The sharp tips of branches cut across my arms and legs, but I couldn't stop until I was somewhere safe. Somewhere I could sit and figure out what to do next.
How could this—any of this—be real? I was the girlfriend of some monster wrangler. Werewolves. Oh, Jesus, I was losing my mind. Werewolves! I was actually considering the existence of fucking werewolves! But I had no other word for them. I had watched people I thought I knew, friends and companions, change from human to furry uber-dogs. No, I had to be high. Or drunk. Or I was cracking up.
Yeah, that had to be it. All this shit that's happened in the last 24 hours was getting to me. Joy Anne, Frank hitting me, all the booze from the club, the call with my sister... I had finally had enough, and the only way for my brain to cope with all of this crazy stress was to snap. I was officially a nut-case.
I just needed to lie down and w
ait for the men in white coats to come pick me up in the wacky-wagon and cart me off to a padded room.
A vicious snarl echoed through the air, bringing me to a stumbling stop. The trees and bushes surrounding me were still and silent. Only the hazy lullaby of insects and the wind sweeping over the treetops made a sound. The silence seemed harmless enough, but the hairs on my arms stood on end. I looked around me, half expecting a wild animal to jump out at me and tear me to bits, but there was nothing.
See, I told myself. I’m hearing and seeing things. I hoped that when I woke up tomorrow, all of this will have been a bad nightmare and Frank would be his usual self. A major asshole with a God complex, but normal.
As I was battling with my sense of logic and reasoning, I turned at a large oak and found myself face-to-face with a giant, snarling, white and grey wolf. His ears laid back and his fur rose around his neck and shoulders. Ivory teeth shone out from a snarling snout, dripping with thick drool. He was staring straight at me. I went rigid.
I knew better. That’s all I could say for what I did next. I knew better. The one thing stated over and over again about wild animals is to not run. If you run, they chase you. They are faster, they have teeth and claws, and they are driven by instinct to chase down their prey. Running will only encourage a predatory animal to chase you. It will catch you, and it will hurt you, maybe even kill you. I knew this, but when that wolf lunged and snapped its teeth at me I took off. I ran, and it ran after me.
I didn't get far before it appeared in front of me, blocking my path. I'd turn around and run the other way, and it was there with gnashing teeth ready to sink into me. No matter where I turned, it was ready to drive me back the other way until, finally, I broke past it.
I ran harder and faster than I ever had in my life. If the woods fought against me, I didn't notice. All I could focus on was getting away from the monster behind me. Even though my body wanted nothing more than to give out, to fall and heave up everything in my stomach, all I could do was run. I could do all of that later but not if I was torn to pieces in the middle of nowhere.
The trees began to grow thinner as I moved until I finally broke through them and saw a building ahead in the darkness. Just as I reached it, a distant howl erupted behind me. Not wanting to wait for the wolf to catch up, I rounded the front of the shack and pulled at the door until it jerked free, allowing me to slip inside.
The place looked like something out of a Saw movie. There was very little light, and the little that was there was flickering ominously. The wood looked to be splintered and weak; a good sneeze could knock this place down. Any minute, now, I expected Mike Myers to jump out and stab me to death.
Sidestepping away from the door, I moved deeper into the room. As I thought, there was nothing but a single hanging light, flickering on and off, clinging to that little bit of juice that kept it burning. There was a spattering of benches cluttered with various things ranging from paper to chunks of gnarled metal and rusted power tools. A rusty hook hung down the center of the room, swinging from a thick chain that came from the center beam and snaked through and under the piles of junk on the benches. It might have been used to pull engines out of cars; a sort of makeshift mechanic shop.
If this had been a business, then maybe there was a phone. There was electricity, obviously, so it stood to reason a phone wasn't too impossible. I had no idea who I would call once I found one, but right now it was the best hope I had. Even if I'd sound like a lunatic.
Hello, 911. I'm sitting in one of Freddy's nightmare rapehouses hiding from the Big Bad Wolf, who was once a man, and I'm pretty sure he's about to huff and puff and eat me and my chinny-chin-chin.
Most likely they would send some men from the local asylum, but hey, whatever works. Either way I would be the hell out of here.
No luck on the benches. All that seemed to be under the chaotic piles of dusty papers was more dust and more junk. If I could just find a cord then maybe it would lead me to the receiver. I moved to the wall and searched for a phone jack, an outlet, anything that indicated this place had a phone somewhere.
My foot tangled in something on the floor and I bent down to find the jack. Better yet, a cord was still sticking out of it. With a breath of relief I crawled across the floor, using the thin wire to guide me, until I came to the other end, which was frayed and lacking a vital part of the phone. Like, the phone itself. I cursed, pushed myself to my feet, and backed into something very tall and very solid.
I couldn't help it. I screamed, loud and ragged. It echoed in the room which creaked as if the sound alone would bring it down around my ears. Spinning around, I flung my fists out to strike but they were stopped by large, strong hands.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Harley!" his voice rang out, quieting my wordless protests.
I stopped fighting and looked up at the familiar face that I hadn't seen since the night Chuck died. "D'Angelo?" I asked, squinting to try and make his face out in the shadows.
"Yeah, girl. It's me. Damn, what's got you all spooked?"
I swallowed hard, my throat dry and stinging from the screaming. He let go of my hands, and I stepped back, glancing back over my shoulder towards the door I'd come through.
"There's... a wolf. It chased me in here," I said.
"A wolf? Girl, are you on drugs? What are you even doin' out here in the middle of fuckin' nowhere? Where's Frank?"
"He's," I sighed, unsure what to say. I mean, D'Angelo had been part of our crew. What if he dragged me back to him? Then again, he hadn't been around for weeks. "D'Angelo, where have you been?"
"Me?" he said, his lips curling into a smile. "Oh, I've been trying to catch up to you assholes. Y’all rode out before me and the others made it back to the motel. You know, the one you left Chuck to rot in."
"Chuck?"
"Yeah. Been looking for Frank for weeks, now. Got unfinished business to handle with him." His eyes bore into me, and I took a step back. "You wouldn't know where I could find him, would you?"
He matched me, step for step, walking me backwards towards the middle of the room. There was fierceness in his eyes that made me uneasy.
"Why would I know where he's at?" I asked, lamely.
"Because he doesn't leave you alone. Not for very long, anyway," he grinned down at me again. "Which is exactly why Theo chased you out here in the first place, sweet thing. If we got you, he'll be sniffing you out in no time."
A low, dangerous growl rumbled behind me. I spun around to find the pale-colored wolf staring at me, effectively blocking my exit. His tongue flicked over his nose, eyes trained on me, following every minute movement. I was staring down the wolf that had jumped right from the pages of a Brothers Grimm story when something solid cracked hard and fast against the back of my skull.
A crash jolted me awake. For minutes, though it seemed longer, everything sounded distant. Dull. The first thing that felt real was the cold, dirty floor under my cheek. The coolness against my face felt great in the muggy air of the woods. If I could just stay here and keep my eyes closed, then nothing could hurt me anymore. It was a foolish hope. A hope that was destroyed as the rest of my senses returned to me.
Another crash, the grunt of male voices struggling, and the underlying smell of something sickly sweet forced me from my self-made escape and thrust me back into reality. I opened my eyes and saw a puddle in front of me. It was dark and wide and seemed to be spreading as I watched it. It spread itself wider and wider until it reached my outstretched hand and pooled around my fingertips. It was hot and thick; much thicker than water. I lifted my hand and watched it drip back to the floor.
Blood. It was blood. It wasn't mine. I finally found the strength to lift my head, my vision blurring in and out of focus. My eyes followed the trail of blood to the man only a couple of feet away. An older man with gray hair and deeply tanned, almost leathery, skin lay sprawled on the floor. A familiar man. A naked man.
"Theo?" I whispered.
His eyes were open, staring straight
at me, looking at me as if he had been looking to me to save him in his final moments. I had seen many things in those eyes. Laughter. Anger. Disgust. Now they were empty.
Before I could stop myself, I let my eyes wander down his naked upper body to the source of the bleeding. His insides had become his outsides. Thick, meaty ropes dangled out of ragged flesh. He had been completely disemboweled.
Somehow managing to not shriek in horror, I threw myself back from the still-advancing blood. My brain pounded from the onslaught of questions. At first, I thought that D’Angelo had killed him, but then I remembered they’d been working together. He'd said that Theo had been the one to chase me into a trap for... Frank.
I shot to my feet. More crashing and shouting came from deeper in the room, and I made my way towards it using the wall behind me as a guide. As I rounded the line of benches that blocked my view, I saw Niko and Paulie near the back wall laying into another man.
Niko was decades younger than Paulie and almost a foot taller. He stood at a staggering six foot five, the tallest man I had ever known, and slender. Most people I've met above the six foot mark were either built like brick shithouses or were lanky and awkward, especially if they were young. Niko was just barely twenty one and there was nothing awkward about him. I could see every muscle in his arms, chest, and abdomen flex and ripple as he fought. He was like a statue of a gladiator, each contour of muscle carved deeply into toffee-colored marble.
He was also deceptively dangerous. Where Paulie just let his danger roll off him like a heavy cologne, Niko made people think he was a boy scout before shoving a knife into their back. At first glance, he came off as a great big flirt, a womanizer above all else. But there was something dark hiding behind those light brown eyes of his. Something evil.
Niko had something long and thin gripped in his hand. As he raised it over his head, ready to strike, the light caught the metal just enough so I could make it out. It was a tire iron, and by the looks of it, it had already made a messy introduction into someone. I winced, pulling into myself, as he brought the piece of metal down on the shoulder of his opponent.
I caught a flash of something in the corner of my eye. It pulled my attention back to the middle of the room. I saw Frank being tackled to the ground. Panic flooded through me, but even the impact of a man twice his size landing on top of him didn't stop Frank from fighting back.
For a moment they were locked against each other, so close neither one of them could get a good punch in. If Frank lost the upper-hand, even a little, the guy could crush him. Frank could boast all he wanted, but the man had a good hundred pounds on him, easy. Perhaps my prayers had been answered, after all.
I don’t normally wish harm on other people, but Frank wasn’t a person to me. Not anymore. Even without the fur and claws, he had been more frightening than any of those monsters I used to call friends. I shuffled towards the door, trying to slip out without his notice.
As I reached the door, I glanced behind me. Frank had turned the tables on the other guy. He rolled the two of them over until he was sitting on top of him. The light spilled over the other guy's face.
D'Angelo.
Frank started plowing one unforgiving blow after another to his face. My insides tightened painfully. Each meaty sound of Frank's fists slamming into D'Angelo's nose was accentuated by the sound of bones and cartilage snapping. I watched as a spray of crimson splattered across both him and Frank, who continued to beat into the bloody pulp of flesh blow after blow, hit after hit, without so much as a pause for air.
D'Angelo's face glistened where the blood poured out. Frank was a mess of red, splattered in small droplets all over his face and arms. I watched his face as he continued to throw his weight into each punch, even as D’Angelo went limp beneath him. His eyes were wild. Their natural cocoa brown seemed to be alive with an amber fire that was all violence and madness. I knew Frank was a violent man, but I never thought he would fall this far down the rabbit hole.
With one last powerful blow, Frank fell across his old friend's unmoving body and caught his breath. I couldn't believe what I had just seen, even as I stared down at the aftermath. My breath caught in my chest and I tried to hold back the intense urge to scream or vomit or both. I tried to make out any sign of life. His chest never rose, never fell; his body never moved.
I was no doctor, but from all I could tell, he was dead. Frank had beaten him until he was little more than a lump of bleeding flesh. We’d ridden beside this man for the last two years of my life. We drank with him, had eaten with him, and followed him over the open road. I'd bought him drinks on his birthday and watched girls I was friends with get close to him. And now he didn't exist. Frank had killed him; beaten him unrecognizable. If I hadn’t watched it happen, I'd have never known that was someone I knew lying in that growing puddle of blood.
Boots scraped across the dirt floor and tore my eyes from the corpse to the man now getting to his feet. He brought his arm across his face to wipe the blood away, but he only managed to smear more across his brow.
The air wouldn't leave my chest. It was snared in a net of fear and nausea and built into a scream that nearly ejected itself from my body. Somehow, I managed to keep it down. Survival first, throwing up later.
I took the chance to try and run out before he saw me, taking my eyes off of him for only a moment to try and navigate over the hanging door but I never made it. I felt the tight grip of Frank's hand on the crook of my elbow. He spun me around, fast and relentless, and I had to grab him to keep from stumbling, barely missing the blood that coated his forearm like a wet glove.
His face was a bloody mask of feral rage that scared me down to the marrow. He looked wild, crazed. It reminded me of the animal documentaries and the predators that would chew on their meals after a long chase, basking in their triumph. It made my throat tight, making it nearly impossible to swallow down my fear.
"I told you not to run." His voice was deeper than normal, like he was trying to choke down some of that primal anger he'd unleashed on his old friend.
"I... there was..."
"You never listen to me. Come on, let's get out of here," he commanded with a tightening of his iron-like grip for good measure.
I loosed a whimper of pain as he led me out of the building and back to the bikes. He shouted something to Niko and Paulie, but I was too busy trying to wrap my mind around everything to even hear what he said.
With a rough shove towards his bike, he released my arm, making me stumble until I could reach out and steady myself using the seat of the Softail.
"You killed him, Frank!" The words spilled out of me while he circled around to the other side.
Frank rolled his shoulders back, his eyes staying on the bike and his hands, anything he could do to not look at me. How could he care so little about this? This wasn't just some bar room brawl. This was murder. Cold, violent murder. This wasn't just real time in prison; it was also living with taking the life from another human being. No one should be able to shoulder that burden and not care.
"Get on the bike, Harley," was all he said as the Beast roared to life.
How could Frank expect me to go with him after that? Did he expect me to just get on the bike and pretend it never happened? Pretend I hadn't just seen the inside of a D'Angelo's skull?
The other men ran past me and jumped onto their own bikes, speeding off without another word. I wondered, briefly, if the man they had been fighting was still alive. Did they show mercy or did they crush his skull too? As I watched Niko speed off down the highway, I knew the answer. Paulie might have left him crippled but Niko... Niko would have made him suffer before ending his life.
I'll be the first to admit I've done some fucked up things in my life, but cold-blooded murder was not something I could just forget and move on from.
I could feel his cold stare trained on me while I sorted out my own conscience. His patience was wearing thin, as it often did these days. When I finally looked him in the eye, I qu
ickly wished I hadn't. His skin went tight and his lips curled back as we stared at one another.
A low, barely-audible growl rumbled in his throat and he jerked a thumb back behind him before snapping a forceful, "Get on!"
I didn't really have a choice. It was either go with him or stay here with a corpse and no clue how to get home. With much reluctance, I hopped onto the bike and settled in behind him. It would be an uncomfortable ride if I didn’t just let my body relax into him, but I couldn't do it. I didn't know if I could bring myself to cuddle in against murderer. I awkwardly pressed myself against his back, snaking my arms around him to hold on more for safety than for affection, and tried to ignore the tacky feel of D’Angelo’s blood sticking my arms to his shirt.
Deny the Moon Page 11