by Brent Miller
“I was looking for you,” he started, wondering why it was him who began justifying himself. He had caught her red-handed but still was sheepish. Garrick froze, unsure of what emotions to feel or what words to add to his response.
“Now is not a good time. You need to leave, Garrick. Now,” she ordered. Her harsh tone surprised Garrick; he would have expected something much softer given the circumstance.
Then Cailean walked out from the foliage behind her. “Hayden,” he growled, “what are you-” he stopped when he saw Garrick. Cailean wasn’t wearing a shirt, either. And of course, Brooke was nowhere to be seen. “Ah, well what do we have here?”
“He’s just leaving, Cailean,” Hayden snapped.
“No, I’m not,” Garrick argued. Garrick refused to leave without an explanation, an apology, followed by his issuing a clear statement that he was done fighting for this relationship. Right there, he was going to fight through all of the relationship drama which had been building up. Even remembering what had happened last time he fought Cailean, he was ready for that altercation to become physical. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he was done being a victim.
“No,” Cailean agreed with a smirk. “You’re not.”
“How could you do this, Hayden?” Garrick snapped
“It’s not what it looks like!” She implored, sounding defensive and even hurt. Garrick couldn’t find empathy for her emotions anymore, though. It couldn’t possibly measure up to how much she was hurting him.
“Then what is it?” Garrick asked angrily, raising his voice at her for the first time since he’d known her. “What could this possibly be?”
Hayden looked down, obviously unable to answer. Silence filled the air. Garrick could feel his blood boiling as he looked at the two of them. Hayden’s eyes were downcast, filled with shame and despair. Cailean’s smirk never faltered, but his eyes betrayed the slightest hint of confusion
“Wait,” Cailean broke the silence, his eyes lighting up as if he suddenly understood what was happening. His grin became more of an amused smile. “You think she’s cheating on you? With me? You’re so completely ignorant, Garrick.”
“Then go ahead and offer a more reasonable explanation. Anything at all,” Garrick spat. He still had some of that anger in his voice, but he sounded more defeated than anything else. If she was cheating on him, there was no way that he could have stopped it. Garrick considered himself a nice person, but he was fully aware that he was scrawny and nerdy as well. There was no possible way he could compete with Cailean.
“Go ahead, Hayden,” Cailean shrugged, backing away. “It’s too late for your little boyfriend anyway.”
“Garrick…” Hayden started. She hung her head low and took a deep breath before looking back at him. “There are things you don’t know about this world. All I wanted was to keep you away from them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There are monsters, Garrick. That I wish you’d never had to find out about. Cailean and I, and a few others, we’re different. Normally we’re just people, but once a month, we change; we become something else. We’re werewolves, Garrick. Aldric always told me not to tell anyone, because it’s dangerous for humans who know. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but the others just wouldn’t let me. That’s what you caught us arguing about, and that’s why I need you to leave right now, Garrick.”
Garrick allowed the statement to linger for a minute, unsure of how to respond. He was baffled that she would go to such ridiculous lengths to try to avoid being caught. How could she actually think a story like that would convince him to just believe her and walk away?
“You’re kidding, right?” Garrick finally responded. All that was left in his voice was the anger. She was actually pretending to be a mythological creature. First she cheated on him, then she lied. Garrick had actually been deluded enough to believe there was a logical solution. He had wandered into the woods, looking for her in the middle of the night, because he thought she would have something better to offer than myth.
“No, she isn’t,” Cailean chimed in. He was looking down at the ground, so his face was a shadow. “You really should have learned to just keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong.” As Cailean looked up, his irises shone a brilliant gold in the moonlight.
Present
25 days until the full moon
Garrick parked his car on the street about a block from the service. Torn between whether it was distasteful for him to attend and whether it was right for him to pay some form of respects, he procrastinated opening the door. He was still unsure of whether their entire relationship had been a lie or just the last part of it, and he was unsure of whether anyone else would know of his involvement in her death, but she had been a part of his life, even if only a month of it. It seemed only right to at least bring some flowers. Selfishly, he hoped that would be enough to appease the guilt which tore at his heart.
Building up the resolve, Garrick forced open the door and stepped out. He was committed. Even in the worst case scenario, if they all recognized him, the worst they would do is tell him to leave. He couldn’t imagine the hunters would be bold enough to attack him in broad daylight. Garrick walked around the corner, onto a street where all of the houses looked the same. They were all painted the same off white color, with the same gate out front. The lawns were all well-trimmed, most with a small garden somewhere along the walkway. Each of the houses had at least one nice car – far more expensive than anything Garrick and his mother could ever afford – parked in the driveway. The uniformity of the street gave it a completely fake feeling, and it felt to Garrick like it was the perfect place to hide secrets. The perfect place to hide an underground battle of hunters versus werewolves. Who would expect such a dark world to be brewing underneath such a beautiful neighborhood?
Garrick walked up to the gate of Samantha’s house. He reached for the handle, but when his hand wrapped around it, he felt his hand start to sting. Quickly withdrawing his hand and shaking it, he noticed the handle shone particularly brightly compared to the rest of the gate. He muttered under his breath as he looked for another way in but couldn’t find one. Just as Garrick was about to accept the handle as a sign that he shouldn’t proceed, he saw the latch turn and the gate opened inward. An older woman, maybe Samantha’s grandmother, with tears streaming down her face, pulled it open and looked intently at him.
“Are you here for Samantha?” The woman choked through her tears – her words nearly inaudible and unrecognizable. It seemed like a question with an obvious answer, given the event and the fact that he held flowers, but he didn’t say anything about it. She deserved to ask a simple question without receiving a sarcastic response.
“Yes,” Garrick answered solemnly, nodding as he spoke. He looked down, silent for a moment, then added, “I brought these.” Unsure of what the actual etiquette was, he simply held the flowers awkwardly in front of him. Standing in front of the door and looking at a member of what was most likely a family of people who wanted him dead, Garrick realized he’d made a mistake going. He wanted to turn around and run, just to get as far away from that place as he could before any of them found out about him. Something deep down was refusing, though, to let him leave. At least, he consoled himself, she didn’t seem to have any perception of who he was.
The woman took the flowers, thanking him with a nod and inviting him inside. He fought back the instincts that screamed that he was making a mistake as he stepped into the door, and it was closed behind him. At that point, it would be far more suspicious for him to turn and leave. If they didn’t know about him, they would start looking into him after behavior like that. Garrick had trapped himself, and he just had to pretend to be a normal friend of hers. As he looked around, grasping for any face he recognized, Garrick realized that he didn’t know anyone related to Samantha.
Anyone except her uncle, whom he’d also killed – but it was probably best not to bring that up.
It see
med that every single one of their neighbors was in this house, along with quite a large family. Garrick chastised himself for his decision once again. Secretly leaving flowers at her grave could have been a much more appropriate, and less dangerous, way to pay his respects. Instead, he’d waltzed into a house he could only assume was populated by hunters.
“Hello,” a young man, probably a few years older than Samantha had been, greeted him with a flourish. He paused for a moment before smiling at Garrick and pointing. “I think I know you, right?” An uncanny aura of charisma surrounded this man, but Garrick sensed something off about his demeanor. He waved it off, though, realizing it was probably due solely to the fact that – though he hid it well – he was distraught.
“I don’t know,” Garrick answered honestly. He was almost positive that he didn’t know the man, but he couldn’t say for sure what the hunter knew about him. His brain searched for a proper response, but ‘Yeah, I’m the guy that killed Samantha’, probably wasn’t the best ice breaker. He wished he were better at making up stories, but Garrick found himself at a loss for words. Finally, he just muttered out the first thing that came to his mind. “I was a friend of Samantha’s. My name’s Garrick.”
“Ah, yes,” the man replied with a dramatic snap, as if the pieces suddenly fell into place. Garrick tried to hide his panic. Should he have come up with a fake name? “I have heard quite a bit about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Garrick. My name is Darren. For lack of a better word, I’m Samantha’s elder brother. We took her in after the accident.”
Darren extended a hand, but Garrick froze for a second. The accident to which Darren referred must have been when her parents were killed by werewolves. Garrick didn’t know to what degree he should question it, though, because she probably wouldn’t have told him in such detail if he were a human. Deciding it was in his best interest to just ignore the comment, Garrick shook Darren’s hand. Garrick breathed a sigh of relief under his breath. Maybe Samantha had mentioned his name, but nothing about the fact that he was a werewolf. Then, with a wave of his other hand, Darren thanked Garrick for coming and told him to make himself at home; eat food, socialize.
“Nice grip there,” Darren smirked, winking at Garrick. Hoping he didn’t appear as frantic as he felt, Garrick released Darren’s hand and backed away.
“Samantha would have appreciated it,” Darren offered. Garrick nodded with a half-smile, simply thinking how wrong Darren was. Samantha probably wouldn’t have wanted him there at all. He was more there for himself – grasping desperately for any niceties which would soothe his agony of emotion. He just wanted to do something to make up for everything he had done.
Garrick studied the area as much as he could; worried he’d need an escape route. He told himself he was simply being paranoid, but a voice in his head kept screaming to run: to find the nearest window and break through it. Contrary the instincts demanding he fled, Garrick could feel moral pressure to stay.
There was a staircase to the left, up against the wall of the living room. To the right was the door to the kitchen, where the majority of the guests stood, eating and telling stories. Compared to the extravagant exterior, the inside wasn’t insanely lavish. The couch that sat in the living room, resting not too far from a small television with two antennae protruding from it. There was a cheap coffee table in front of the couch, and a loveseat against the wall perpendicular to that. Other than that, there wasn’t much. It was a charade, and Garrick knew it – he could feel it – but he kept fighting that instinct, hoping that these people were just not interested in interior design. After all, he couldn’t guarantee they were even hunters.
He walked toward the kitchen but couldn’t handle the crowd. After grabbing a cup of water, he just headed back to the much less densely populated living room. There was another door, almost hidden by the wall in the upper left-hand corner of the living room. Garrick continued scanning the house, trying to avoid getting disoriented by the number of people present.
Nervous, he sipped the cup of water without realizing it. He had told himself that there was one condition to going to this memorial, and that was to consume absolutely nothing the hunters offered. He’d broken that rule within the first five minutes.
He decided it was time to go, even before he felt his throat closing up. Garrick was concerned it would make too much of a scene to try to get past the grandmother, who was practically guarding the door. He decided he would have to find a window he could open upstairs and jump down that way.
He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could, trying to be completely silent. With each step, though, it became harder to breathe. By the time he reached the hallway above, he was nearly gasping for air – but he fought to remain as quiet as possible – refusing to draw even more attention to himself.
He hadn’t had much of the water, so he was fully confident he could stop himself from changing. It would just be uncomfortable for about a minute. Still, he had to find a safe place, and a safe excuse, to let the wolfsbane take its course – and then he had to get as far away from that house as he could.
As he walked through the hallway upstairs, he heard footsteps closing in on him. He felt a hand clasp on his shoulder as Darren said, “Fancy yourself an explorer, Garrick Elliott?”
“Darren,” Garrick groaned, composing himself as much as he could. He tried to hide the fact that he was completely terrified. Garrick felt like every decision he made just walked him into another trap. “Do you have a bathroom?”
“Why, of course, my boy. I’d be pleased to be of assistance. Right this way, if you will.” He released Garrick’s shoulder and began walking without missing a beat. Darren seemed so sincere that Garrick actually questioned whether he was just paranoid. There was something about his conduct, though, that screamed to Garrick that he knew.
Darren showed him to a strange door which didn’t look like it belonged in a house. It was a stained glass double door which was impossible to see through. Garrick quickly opened it, searching for his escape but finding what looked like a bedroom. The room was only decorated with the most basic furniture – a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand – and there was not a second door anywhere to be found. The only decoration that seemed slightly personal was an abstract piece of art that hung above the bed. Garrick was transfixed by it, feeling like he should know what it was.
Then he felt a kick to his back that launched him forward. Garrick stumbled, tripping over himself and falling forward, slamming his head on the floor. Dizziness overpowered him as he tried to stand, so he just fell back to the ground. Garrick could feel the wolf fighting against him, trying to break free. He wasn’t sure if he had been hit with a larger dose of wolfsbane than he had realized or if the wolf sensed danger, but it seemed to be growing more vicious.
“You know, Garrick, when I first heard of you, I was suspicious,” Darren admitted. “You exclusively occupied Samantha’s mind. I think her pride begged her to take the kill for herself, so she never mentioned what you were. Samantha had never felt so strongly about a boy, you see. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some secret. When she didn’t come home that night she went out with you, every doubt was confirmed.”
Garrick’s mind was swimming. Fighting back the wolf and trying not to kill someone else split his focus from Darren’s words. Darren held a palm open as he spoke, but he closed it and pulled it back, kicking Garrick in the ribs and rolling him onto his back. Garrick was convinced that Darren was a good fighter, but his form was questionable at best, and his movements were overdramatic. As Darren dropped his head to the side and stepped closer, Garrick questioned whether his flamboyant behavior was just part of his personality or if he was intentionally taunting his helpless victim. He slammed a foot down on Garrick’s chest before swaying backward. The more pain Garrick went through, the more the wolf rushed forward, trying to defend the body that it was inhabiting.
“Honestly, I was less convinced when you showed up here, because I thought no one co
uld be that stupid. Your kind continues to surprise me.”
Garrick forced himself to his feet, and Darren let it happen. He smirked as Garrick struggled to stand, almost falling over, apparently enjoying witnessing his pain.
“Run,” Garrick warned.
“Your incompetence continues to astonish me,” Darren taunted. He reached his arm around his back, retrieving a knife from a holster on his belt and twirling it in his hand. “When you showed up here, I thought you had to be innocent. It had to be a coincidence, right? Because who would kill someone, and then go to their funeral?
“I should have realized that a monster doesn’t have human morals, doesn’t understand that that’s not something you do, Garrick Elliott.”
Darren squatted down next to Garrick, a mixture of inquisitiveness and disdain covering his face. “I hoped for you – trusted that there was a shred of humanity somewhere in there,” he taunted, touching the tip of the knife to Garrick’s chest
“That’s why I tested you – instead if ending your life on sight. There was an herb in that water you drank. All you had to do was pass, and you could have walked out of here alive, no questions asked.”
Garrick couldn’t fight it anymore. Not because he didn’t have the strength, but because he didn’t have a chance alone. His nails sharpened and grew into claws, and his molars became pointed as his canines doubled in size. He didn’t want to hurt Darren, but there was no way both of them were going to make it out of that room.
“You failed,” Darren finished his monologue as he trailed the knife downward. Just as Garrick tried to move, Darren plunged the silver dagger into his stomach. Stunned, Garrick grabbed the end of the blade with one hand and reached behind him, looking for something to brace himself on with the other. He managed to pull himself backward with his free arm until he felt himself pressed against the wall.
He realized as he fell that he’d made another mistake. He’d given up fighting it, leaving himself vulnerable. He just let himself get stabbed in the middle of a transformation. His mind flashed to Chase struggling for his life, and Garrick began to lose hope.
