The Offering

by Rosary Deville

From the corner of my eye, Shamar bristled. Personally, I didn’t care if Alphonse mentioned me or not. I wanted to finally play this song to a live audience. Alphonse had written the lyrics while Shamar and I hammered out the composition. Lucian hadn’t helped at all. Typical pureblooded vampire. Just sat on his prissy ass while everyone else worked.

  The song started out with Lucian’s bass solo. He always had good rhythm skills. Finally, it was time for my part.

  Closing my eyes, I let the music flow through my fingers until my Ailill Mac felt like an extension of my body. My soul rested for the first time since the Offering had started. I felt like myself again. Felt normal. I wasn’t a beta forced to mate with some jerk. Or a newcomer into wereduin society that needed to be trained. I was simply Fern. How I used to be, and I stopped focusing on the fact that Don watched me from the audience and got lost in my music.

  The four of us played great together. Shamar and I composed most of our music. All three of us took turns writing lyrics. Sometimes, Shamar and Alphonse hit heads, especially since Alphonse wanted to scream once per song. Shamar, being overly sensitive, preferred ballads. As we played emo with a metalhead punk, we were able to incorporate both of their styles.

  When we stopped, the small crowd clapped, even those at the bar. I surveyed the room, watching all the people on couches—mostly wereduins and zombies, but there were several humans as well—some had been nodding to the music. Others had been out on the small dance floor, headbanging or jumping around. My gaze found Don’s. He smiled at me—not teasing or mocking, but a genuine smile. My heart jumped. Was he proud of me?

  That last thought pissed me off again. Proud of me? What was he, my papa? But the thought of impressing him got lodged into my mind, and I couldn’t shake it.

  Alphonse grabbed everyone’s attention again. This time he jumped into the song. He and Lucian started off, then Shamar joined in and then me. This song had a unique arrangement. We played around with music to make the vocals simply another instrument. This time I led, the other guys, including Alphonse, played backup. It was like Alphonse and I communicated to each other through song. Our parts bounced back and forth like a dialog. Shamar had written these lyrics while I wrote the musical arrangement.

  My eyes strayed into the crowd. Don watched me, his face neutral and relaxed. Immediately I felt on display. Beneath my black scarf, the bites on the valley of both my shoulders ached. I sucked in my bottom lip.

  Alphonse stole my attention. He leaned against my shoulder, and I focused on our music—the four of us creating something together. I leaned back into him.

  Lucian’s bass solo came at the end. Alphonse migrated over to him with a bounce to his step, unlike how he normally walked with slumped shoulders and nose to the floor. Lucian and Alphonse leaned back-to-back. Lucian playing, while Alphonse kept harmonics.

  When the last notes rang out, more people in the audience clapped. That was exciting and more than encouraging because this music was something we created together, not a cover of our favorite bands.

  I looked over to Don again, only it wasn’t his hungry eyes staring back at me. This alpha looked around my age. His eyes blood-red, and lines of drool trailed down his chin. Gradually, he shifted into a werewolf. Fear punched me in the gut. In milliseconds, I was terrified. His face told me he enjoyed causing me fear.

  Fuck him. He was my age. Maybe I had to submit to Don, but not this junior. Swallowing down my fear, I extended my fangs. Slowly, my werewolf rose, and my wereduin features changed. My ears lengthened, heightening my hearing. As a werewolf, they should have been much pointier and furrier than a wereduin. However, much like they did in wereduin form, some of my worg features still lingered. Like my damned ear—the tip still drooped.

  The more I transformed, the more my vision sharpened. My eyes grew larger, and distant objects became clearer. The sparse fur on my arms grew noticeable, heavier. In full werewolf, it wasn’t shaggy but sheen, luxurious and warm. My tail grew—a trait that wasn’t present in wereduin form. It also was lush, and would have been more uncomfortable if I hadn’t been wearing my baggy jeans. My shirt too was starting to stretch as I grew taller, my body becoming stronger. I cursed not having pseudo-clothes.

  A hand on the alpha’s shoulder drew my attention to Don. At his deep growl, the smaller alpha turned around. The confrontation wasn’t very loud, but it captured the interest of those nearby.

  The alpha lowered his tail between his legs. Dropping eye contact, he quickly went back to the couches hidden behind the steps.

  Don reverted to a wereduin.

  I returned to wereduin form as well—my clothes probably thanking me. My front fang still hung outside my mouth before it softened too. The world around me also returned to normal.

  A scoff came from the other side of me, toward Lucian.

  “Leave it to the dogs to show their fangs in public.” Loretta narrowed her violet eyes that glowed in the darkness. “I supposed it’s too much to ask for dogs to not be dogs.”

  Like all Vampirean aristocracy, she was tall with a long face. She had pale skin and wore her platinum-blonde hair straight down her back. Her perfectly straight nose and beauty mark gave her a regal look. Her resemblance to Lucian was uncanny. The major difference between them was their height. Loretta, unlike her cousin, was very tall, and I had to look up at her.

  Don snarled at her. He was much taller than Loretta and her companion.

  “W-Woah, woah, woah!” Alphonse didn’t look like he was afraid of Loretta. Maybe because she was like a big sister to Lucian, perhaps he thought she wouldn’t attack him. He stepped between her and Don. I wondered if he considered Don like that, too. Safe, family. For a moment, I liked that he thought of Don that way. Then reality hit, and I dashed it down. “Co-Come on, guys, we’re about to-to start an-another song—”

  Loretta’s long nails moved along Alphonse’s cheek, the tips leaving faint marks on his skin. The signet ring she wore, which also matched Lucian’s, sparkled. Her silver necklace drew my attention to her full breasts, barely contained in her black evening gown. I’d heard that vampiresses never went out in public in anything but splendid, lengthy dresses. Apparently, that was true.

  She shared a mocking smile with the male vampire at her side, Elliot. “How is it that weak human pets think they can speak in our presence?”

  Alphonse flinched.

  Lucian lowered his bass. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that?”

  “Lu-Lue?” Alphonse’s eyes widened, his mouth trembling.

  “You do not touch him, Loretta.” He stepped off the stage, close enough to see that his hair had the same tiny, intricate braids around the sides of his face and down his back. I had missed that detail because the dark sections hid parts of it.

  Lucian grabbed Alphonse’s arm and jerked him out of the middle of what was becoming ground zero. He stepped in front of Alphonse before he drew his fangs. “Put another hand on him, and I’ll remove it.” Alphonse was taller, so he could still see Loretta over Lucian’s head.

  Loretta spoke to Lucian, still not looking at Alphonse. “You keep poor company, cousin. Human, zombie,” –she sneered at Don— “and a dog.”

  “Want me to tear your throat out, bloodsucker? Keep talking.” Don’s handsome features were replaced with a full werewolf, about to make good on his threat. At that moment, nothing blocked Don from the vampires.

  “Don!” I went to him, not even sure why, and I placed a hand on his chest. His thick fur both coarse and soft beneath my fingers. “Please don’t.”

  An evil glint flashed in Loretta’s pretty eyes. “Aw, is this your little mate?” Her forked tongue licked along her ruby-red lips. I should have known she’d keep poking the fire. If only I could wish her away. I had been counting on Lucian’s family being too pompous to visit a dinky joint like Crone’s Head.

  “Fuck off, Loretta,” Lucian interrupted her. “If you get me kicked out, Father will surely hear about this.”

  Elliot joi
ned her side. He looked at Alphonse and me like he wanted to skewer us with his fangs.

  Fuck him. I wasn’t afraid.

  Alphonse tugged on Lucian’s shoulder, then grabbed mine. “C-Come on, g-g-guys. We need to get ba-back to p-p-playing.”

  Don took my hand off, directing me toward the stage and out of the way. “By all means, don’t let us stop you.” He narrowed his glowing neon blue eyes at Loretta. “Right this way, bloodsucker, if you wanna fight.”

  “Don, don’t.” I grabbed the back of his pseudo-shirt.

  “Stay out of this, Fern.” He wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t friendly, either. Then he turned to me. “Go back and play. I’ll meet you back here.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want him to go out and fight. I heard Lucian’s family was strong, but it wasn’t that I thought Don would lose. I didn’t want them to spill blood. Lucian and I were friends.

  “Look, whatever you have against us isn’t worth it, so just fuck off.” I spoke to Loretta like I had the power to make her listen. “If that alpha B.S. bothers you, how about not watching?”

  “Lucian?” She looked right at me as she addressed her cousin. Her fangs extended. “I think your little friend would look cuter in red.”

  It happened too fast. One minute Don faced me, and the next, all I felt was a rush of air before he was gone. The first thing I heard was the clashing of his claws against her blades.

  She had produced twin daggers made of steel, engraved with pearls on the hilts. His claws were enough to meet them and provide resistance. He was an alpha. They were made for fighting, and everything about their physiology said as much. Those blades didn’t even come close to cracking his lethal weapons.

  Don used his claws like daggers, but unlike with other alphas, he didn’t rely so much on his size. Instead, he used the more elegant speed-fighting similar to what he’d done in the Second Offering.

  The tops of his claws fended off her attacks before his lethal tips slashed at her. When she blocked, he supported her weapon’s weight evenly among his claws. He moved like a dance with twists and flips. Despite the elaborate moves, he still fought within his space. Immediately, I remembered the Underbelly when he’d fought in the confines of the ring.

  Loretta fought with agility and grace, also using intricate moves. Her sparkling daggers formed elaborate patterns, all the while, she kept up with his pace.

  Don’s claws slashed right through her chest with intent to skewer clean through. Only for her to burst into smoke, black clouds like mist in the club lighting. Her high-pitched laughter filled the air. She reappeared right behind Don, thrusting her small silver blade at the back of his shoulder.

  My heart leaped into my throat. “Don!”

  Turning in mere seconds, he blocked her weapon with his claws. Loretta scowled. “What a pestering dog.” Elliot joined in, but he didn’t fight quite so elegantly and took down a nearby Zombie Blood picture. Don easily warded off Elliot’s attacks. Loretta was more challenging. Still, he parried their blades, blocking and attacking them in turns. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but Don appeared to be winning.

  That was as far as they got before they were asked to leave. Don left without question. This was a challenge, and as a wereduin, once a challenge was entered, it was final. Loretta and Elliot didn’t follow and instead left in the other direction. I got a better look at why wereduins and vampires butted heads. For a challenger to initiate a fight and not finish was shameful in our culture. Trickery, games, and having someone else join the fight—things we considered weak and cowardly—seemed commonplace among vampires. Attacking in the shadows after walking away seemed like something they would do.

  I didn’t like the idea of him alone out there with those two. They didn’t fight fair. There was no telling how low they would stoop. I had a flashback to when Don had come to pick me up that time when my friends and I walked home, how he had called Lucian an untrustworthy bloodsucker. Maybe this was where Don was coming from. If those assholes came back with a group of them, and if they managed to hurt Don, I would kill them.

  Inwardly, I shook my head. It was ludicrous to think anyone would be able to hurt Don. He took on a whole colony of molebats! Vampires seemed scarier, cleverer. Wait a second...why the hell was I so upset over something happening to an asshole like Don? Stopping my thoughts, I let out a curse.

  “You still with us, Fern?” Lucian said by my side.

  “Yeah.” I tried to shrug it off. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, ’cause your boyfriend went out to fight my cousins.” Lucian shook his long hair out of his face. His headbanging had caused some strands to slip free of his braids and hide his eyes.

  “He’s not my boyfriend...gross.” In my mind, I felt him kissing me, saw his eyes closing as his kisses turned tender.

  “Right...” Lucian humphed. “Just don’t fuck us up.”

  “Fuck you.” I shook off my thoughts. For the next two songs, I focused on the music.

  Another alpha in the audience stalked closer to the stage. Fuck. This guy was nothing like the junior alpha who had threatened me earlier. He was older, and based on the size of his bulging physique, definitely in Don’s league.

  But Don wasn’t here. I was alone.

  Fear knotted my stomach, and I gripped the neck of my guitar until my knuckles whitened. Don had told me not to run, but as this older stranger approached, my instincts screamed get out of there!

  Shamar stopped playing and stood up. It stole my attention. “You need to back off, man.” He advanced on the alpha. Was Shamar standing up to an alpha with bloodlust growing in his narrowing red eyes?

  Without a thought, he slashed Shamar, who put up his arm in time.

  “Fuck!” I went to help him. “Shamar!”

  “Okay, someone escort the alpha out of here,” said one of the barkeeps.

  Shamar grimaced. “Shit…”

  “Back off.” I stepped in front of Shamar.

  The alpha leered. His eyes roamed over my body before he whispered, “Run.” He revealed sharp-looking canines. “I want you to run.”

  I swallowed. Shit. I wasn’t an idiot. Running from an alpha was a fantastic way to get killed, not just claimed.

  I shook my head. “Back off. We’re trying to play. If you’ve got an issue, take it up with my alpha outside.”

  “Mi maji saa uwe. Mi maji toki ten uwe.” Shamar’s voice grew with intensity, “Ooneka! ooneka! Kuuwae tuka mi!” He took out a voodoo bag from his baggy jeans pocket and threw it at the wereduin’s feet.

  “See that, asshole?” A gleam appeared in Shamar’s black, bulging eyes. The underlying emotion was unknown to me. Menacing, terrifying. If he wasn’t my best friend, I might have been scared. “I just took ten years off your life. Keep away from Fern unless you wanna lose ten more.”

  Two barkeeps, both large trolls, took the alpha out.

  “You’re mine, boy.” The alpha looked at me the entire way up the stairs.

  Don! My heart hammered in my chest; adrenaline pumped through my veins. Where was he? I never thought I’d actually want to have him by my side, but that alpha had scared me more than I realized.

  Shamar’s arm was slashed open. As a zombie, he didn’t bleed, but he still needed to prevent infection. Perhaps he needed to more because he was a zombie. Shit.

  That pretty much ruined the night. We had one song left, but Shamar needed to tend to his injury. We left Alphonse and Lucian to finish the gig, and the bartender got some alcohol for Shamar.

  Don had been right. I could no longer move about as I pleased. That struck me hard.

  I went into the bathroom with Shamar and held the cloth bandage we received from the bar’s first aid kit. Shamar washed his bloodless wound underneath the water. My eyes drew to the whiteness beneath the cut, white and purple, not living blood or flesh.

  Shamar looked away. “Is it gross to you?”

  “Huh?”

  “My skin. Is it gross to you?”r />
  “Nah, why the heck would I find it gross? Geez, sometimes you make no sense.” I nudged him in the shoulder before my voice turned serious. “You didn't have to do that. He could’ve seriously hurt you.”

  Shamar shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do. The asshole looked like he was going to hurt you.”

  I scoffed. “So…what? You get hurt instead?”

  Shamar shrugged again. “Better than him hurting you.”

  “Don’t see why. Come on, you have to patch this quickly, or you’ll get infected.” I didn’t like how long Shamar was taking. Zombies had to be careful about infection. There was a very real chance they could start rotting inside if exposed to something harmful. Their skin protected them from most ailments, something they used voodoo to enhance, but it could mean death—real death—if injured.

  “Just don’t do that again, okay?” I suddenly felt angry. I didn’t want Shamar to get hurt for this stupid werewolf mating shit. “There’s probably gonna be a lot of them from now on. Leave it to Don, please.”

  “He’s not the only one.”

  “What? ’Course he’s not. That’s why I said there will be more of them.”

  “I mean, who can protect you. Don’s not the only one.”

  “Against them? He sure as hell is. You and me? We don’t stand a chance.” Whatever I said must have hurt him since Shamar grew quiet. The silence felt awkward, so I focused on helping him apply the alcohol and not whatever the heck was going on in his head. “Look, thanks for helping me. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt over this dumbass mating bullshit.”

  Shamar looked at me. “I stopped him, at least.”

  “Yeah.” Tension drained from my body, and I gave him a faint smile. “Guess you did. But, dumbass, don’t do something like that again.” I didn’t want to lose my best friend. Not to this. I had already lost my independence—my life. I didn’t want to lose Shamar. I nudged him again. “You stopped him, but next time, I think I’ll run.”

  “You fucking won’t,” Shamar said with intensity. “He’ll kill you.”

  “Yeah...that’s what Don said, too.”