Requited Hood

by Kendrai Meeks

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  POSTLUDE

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  I

  Tonight, the harvest moon would rise to tempt those who walked the night into its light.

  IN ANOTHER THREE DAMNED HOURS. I still had nine minutes of my shift left, minutes which felt like sandbags. On the other side of the hour lay freedom, dancing, fires, and clan chanting. So much chanting. Too much. I looked at the Reagan-era clock that hung over my desk inside the ranger booth and grabbed the walkie from its charger on the window ledge.

  “What do you want, Geri?”

  “No one else is coming in. You and I both know this.”

  The speaker registered a few clicks before the main office hailed back. “The second we say okay to you closing early is the second Joe Detroit and his two-point-five kids roll in and want a campsite for the night.”

  I pressed the send button and my luck. “It’s after Labor Day, Rick. The two-point-five kids are back in school and Joe Detroit is working a double at the stamping plant. Besides, it’s freezing out. No one is going to want to get out of their cars and stare at a waterfall when it’s this cold.”

  “It’s Michigan, kid. You know how the camp crowd is. Neither rain nor sleet nor common fucking sense...”

  The silent buffer filled the space between us.

  Finally, I heard a click over the radio when my boss hit the send button. “Look, Red, if you want to leave early, just say ‘I want to leave early, Rick.’”

  “I want to leave early, Rick. You know you do too.”

  He groaned over the air, and I could practically picture his scruffy face crunching from the annoying reminder of how the moon pulled us both: me to my clan, and he to his pack.

  “I guess you could...”

  I didn’t hear the rest. With speed that would have shocked a hummingbird, I had the shade down, the RANGER STAND CLOSED sign out, and my backpack slung over my shoulder. By the time I crossed the parking lot and entered the gift shop through the employee’s entrance, Rick had shut down the main office too. Guess Joe Detroit was S.O.L. if he decided to show.

  I quirked an eyebrow. By-the-regulations Rick wasn’t the type to close-up shop early. A moment later, a scent on the breeze gave away the reason, but I played along. “Have I been that much of a bad influence on you?”

  “Your mother was worried it was going to be the other way around, if I recall.” He jerked his head towards the breakroom door. “I know you said you didn’t want us to do anything, but you knew we weren’t going to listen, right? It’s not every day we send one of our kids off to the big city to go to school.”

  My hands flew up. “Shhhh!” Sneaking past him, I snuck a look around the edge of the door and tried to figure out based on sound and smell who was in the breakroom. My senses might pale in comparison to Rick’s, but I knew this landscape well. If someone uncommon was on the premises, I’d pick it up.

  Three bodies, all human. All other workers at the state park. None of them my mother’s informants.

  Rick wore a know-it-all smile when I shrank back into view. “Still haven’t told her yet, huh?”

  “You know what my mom is like, and how pissed off she’s going to be. I already get enough flack for me and Cody being friends.”

  “Friends? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” Unconsciously, he crossed an arm over his chest and rubbed his opposite upper arm. “Don’t take this the wrong way, kiddo, but I don’t think I’ve ever met another woman more befitting of the name Brünhild.”

  “Amen to that.”

  When I was hired the summer after my senior year in high school, I thought the whole reason I got the job at the State Park was because everyone in town was scared shitless of my mom. I’m scared shitless of my mom. Rick, who was no doubt, scared shitless of my mom but hides it extremely well, proved that suspicion false on the third day of my employment, when she barreled into the gift shop, headed straight for his office, and told him in no uncertain terms that I would not be working there.

  Rick just planted his fists on his hips, looked to the cash register where I stood trembling, and said to me, “Geri, if you were a minor, your mom would have every right to tell me you can’t work here. At eighteen, though, the law considers you an adult. It’s your call. You can quit like your mom here would like, or you stay on and learn how to do something other than terrorizing the local wildlife.”

  Eyes narrowed, finger pointed, and teeth grinding, Brünhild Kline had contemplated the man’s murder, but knew where her domain ended and local labor laws began. “You’ve always had your nose wrapped up in other people’s business, Rick Ryland.”

  Rick’s nose had wrinkled as he bared his teeth at my mother. “Well, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black, Matron.”

  Running my hands under ice-cold water in the utility sink served two purposes: it washed away the grime that had built up from handling cash park patrons used for daily fees, and it distracted my brain from the buzz of hyperawareness brought on by the approach of night. Normally, I’d never have worked on the day of a full moonrise, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The University of West Chicago didn’t exactly accept pieces of silver for tuition. The inheritance sitting in the bank that I’d received from my paternal grandmother would pay for my classes, but I still had rent and living expenses to manage. Unless I wanted to live in Bessie, which frankly, wasn’t out of the question. I’d practicing laying down in the bed of my truck many times, albeit not to sleep, and it wasn’t half bad.

  Be a hell of a lot colder without a werewolf to curl up next to, though.

  Rick put his arm around me and pulled me along toward the breakroom. “Gale made her German Chocolate cake. Try to ignore how lopsided it is, okay? She worked really hard on it.”

  “I would never insult her cooking, Rick. You know that. Everyone here is like family.”

  “I know, kiddo. And we’re going to miss you so much. Offer stands: you ever want to come back and work at the park over the summers, all you got to do is call.”

  “You sure this job is going to stay open?”

  “As long as that river keeps flowing and the falls keep falling, the park will always be here.”

  II

  Each curve pulled heavy on the steering wheel, though I knew it was just my imagination. My rust-kissed but solid bull of a Chevy pick-up had never let me down. Considering what the average Michigan wintertime in the Upper Peninsula entailed, that wasn’t a trivial thing. No, the reason I felt like I was slowly wading into a vat of molasses was because of the angle of the sun puckering up to kiss the horizon in my rearview.

  I should have been home by now. That my mother wasn’t blowing up my phone meant that either her battery was dead or she was. I shouldn’t have stopped at my storage unit on the edge of town, but there was no way I was taking a chance with hauling home the final supplies I’d picked up for Chicago.

  Paradise was more of a zip code than a town; a halfway point between Tahquamenon State Park with its legendary waterfalls and Whitefish Pointe on the tip of the U.P., most famous for its Shipwreck Museum and its exhibit on the Edmund Fitzgerald. During the summer, many a tourist crossed through this Yooper oasis, but stopped just long enough to hit up the one bar in town and cut their name into its much-tagged countertop. As far as small towns went, it lived up to all the clichés. Legacies grew as thick as the oaks and willows that carpeted the gently rolling hills that rose out of Lake Superior. It was a ca
nopy of expectation that had blocked out my view of the sun my entire life.

  At the last intersection on the way home, I paused, studying my options. I could turn left or right; both paths would take me out of town, away from home, and prevent the showdown with my mother. In both directions, the tall trees just beginning to blush with fall color and hit by the goldenrod rays of a fast-setting sun framed the roadway, like a mythic avenue of dreams. Ahead, the forest wove itself so tightly together that all I could see was shadow.

  Running would imply that I was ashamed of what I was about to do. Though I feared my mother’s reaction, I was not descended from fearful women. I would face her and stand my ground, taking whatever wrath she bore.

  Besides, it was the last full moon at home, and the harvest moon at that. My skin crawled with anticipation for the fires. At the full moon’s rise, my soul longed for the flame. How many lunar cycles in Chicago before the instincts deadened and I didn’t feel this pull to clan and tradition?

  My foot on the gas, I went boldly forward.

  And that was when a flash of fur hit the hood of my car before rolling away to the side of the road.

  III

  I’d hit an animal; that much was apparent. But what kind? Out here, the possibilities could fill a zoo. Elk, moose, deer, bear? All possible, but given the hue of fur and the size of what had flashed before me, my suspicions were all but conclusive. Then, as I relaxed and connected with my senses, there was no doubt.

  I pulled to the side of the road, cut the engine, and went for the utility box in the bed of the truck. Two gleaming silver blades met my eyes when I raised the lid, and next to them, my precious. A bow and arrow may have seemed a passé weapon-of-choice with all the firearms on the market today, but they had their upside. Light, portable, easy to shoot without riling up half the forest with the echo of the discharge. Plus, I just looked badass with one.

  A bloodless trail relieved my immediate guilt that I’d severely injured something, but the consistently straight path concerned me. An animal just hit by a car should have been either limping from side to side, or instinctively weaving to avoid being pursued. As I got far enough into the forest that the light of day struggled to find ground, I realized either this animal didn’t have the common-sense god gave a fruit fly, or I didn’t. I looked back over my shoulder, but couldn’t spot my truck through the growth. The thought of turning back crossed my mind only moments before the air from my lungs whooshed out as something slammed into me.

  Face down on the forest floor, kissing dirt, an immense weight bore down and hot breath licked the back of my neck. The werewolf had me pinned.

  Instinct ingrained by years of training and generations of breeding seized me. In moments, I took inventory of my situation. The ground provided a solid surface I could use to vault myself up. The bow was useless; my attacker would need to be in front of me. My best option would be to roll and hope the momentary shift of my body threw the wolf off balance. A few seconds would be all I’d need to access my weapons.

  Overriding instinct however, I knew that my best option lay in ridicule.

  My body went limp. “Most boyfriends just call when they want to talk, not throw themselves in front of their girlfriend’s truck and give them a heart attack.”

  The balance of weight on my back shifted; brutish paws on my shoulder blades grew long and familiar. The wolf’s hindquarters stretched, taking on their primate form. Soon, his long, muscular legs covered my own. His hipbones jutted into my lower back, followed by something definitively human, male, and solid.

  “That’s what huey boyfriends are like.” Cody’s voice, rough and airy and right against my ear, sent chills through my body. “But I’m not human, am I?”

  He leaned forward, suckling my neck just below my ear. His touch stirred urges within, inspiring recollections what that mouth could do to other places on my body. We’d been rehearsing this dance for the better part of two years, a tenuous tango of desire and restraint. The full moon already hung low in the daytime sky and the primal instincts it triggered played havoc with willpower. Even as he shifted, Cody’s hips rolled, making me suck in a breath and bite my bottom lip to quell my desires. One of us had to draw a line.

  As usual, that would be me.

  “You’re moon mad, and I’m going to be late,” I said. “If I don’t get home, my mother will be combing these woods with a silver dagger etched with your name.”

  Unbothered, his teeth took to nibbling the bottom of my ear. “You want me. I can smell it.”

  Damn werewolves and their super senses. With a grunt and all my determination, I rolled. Cody could keep me down if he wanted; until I came into my full powers, any werewolf over the age of twelve could best me in a fair fight.

  “Fine, let’s do it,” I said, teasing. “But you better make it one for the ages, because my mom will castrate you.”

  I barely paid any heed to the fact that he was naked as I stood up and leaned against a tree. I’d been around naked werewolves all my life – their human skin no less a layer of clothing over their true natures than a t-shirt or pants. Still, even I would admit that dynamic changed a little when the handsome, built, aroused male before you was your boyfriend.

  “Really, castration? I’ve always pictured the Red Matron as more of the disemboweling type.”

  Cody sat back on his heels, rubbing his forelegs and calming his hefty breathing. I tried not to notice how ripped he was, or think about how fun it would be to explore all those ridges and dips with my hands. It was too risky right now. Under the pull of a rising full moon, us being around each other was way too dangerous.

  “I wouldn’t put it past her.” Eyes above the belly button, Geri! “What are you doing out here, anyway? Doesn’t your little werewolf handbook say you should stay close to the pack just before a full moon rise?”

  He shrugged as he rose to his feet. “My uncle called me after you left work. Rick says you’re planning on telling your mom tonight. I wanted to say good luck.”

  I ground my teeth. Wouldn’t Rick have guessed that if I wanted my boyfriend to worry, I would have told him myself?

  “I figured the rush of feuernacht would have her so giddy, she’d be a little less likely to skewer me.”

  Cody raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think Brünhild Kline does giddy.”

  You should see her when she draws wolf blood, I thought. Instead of voicing my concern, however, I decided to distract my boyfriend by being all girlfriendish. Crossing to where he stood, suddenly looking sheepish, I rolled up on my toes and made doe eyes. “Thank you, Cody. That was really sweet.”

  He let my kiss land gently on his lips before his arms snaked around me and pulled me near. Like a racecar driver, I could count on his inner wolf to seize control of his libido this close to moonrise. Within moments, he’d deepened the kiss, his hands on my ass before drifting down and hitching under my legs, pulling me up.

  “Too close... to full moon. Can’t... Don’t want to... resist you.”

  With every pause in his words, his hips undulated, tempting me with the promise of release even through the layers of my clothing between us.

  “You have to. If you don’t...”

  Cody froze, pulling back to look me in the face, his gaze dripping with sincerity. “What if I don’t?”

  “Then you’ll be bonded to me forever. You’ll never be able to love another.”

  A quick peck of my lips, and he eyed me again. “I’m not sure I’m capable of that now.”

  With my hands on his shoulders, I pushed myself away, reclaiming my own feet. “Cute, Cody, but the full moon can make a wolf say...”

  Anger pulled his brow taut. All the passion that a moment before had been focused on seduction erupted. “It’s not the full moon, Geri. Damn it, can’t you see that...”

  I flinched, shocked by the spike of anger, my hand instinctively wrapping around the hilt of the two-inch silver dagger braided into my hair. Cody’s eyes focused on my defensive reacti
on with regret in his eyes. In a moment, he softened; both his tone, and his rigid muscles straining beneath his skin. He ran a hand through his messy brown locks in a wasted effort to tame them.

  “It’s not just because of the full moon. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I’m... You know I love you, Geri, and you love me too.”

  I didn’t deny it. I’d told him the first time a year ago and I’d never taken it back since.

  Reaching for my hand, Cody pulled it to his mouth and planted a kiss. “Mate me.”

  My hand snapped back out of his, and I had to suppress myself from slapping him. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you and me, man and wife. I want you, Geri. I want you forever.”

  This amount of crazy should require a license. “Cody, I... I do love you. But I can’t do that to you. I can’t be the reason you lose your free will.”

  “That’s the way we wolves work. It’s just how we are,” he argued, stalking me. I stepped back with each footfall of his forward. “At least with you, I’d know you’re with me because you love me, not because some genetic mating imperative was forcing you to.”

  “You think it’s that simple?” My back flattened against a tree. “You’re a werewolf, I’m a hood. My kind balances your kind, with violence and death if it comes to that. Besides, I’m leaving for Chicago in three days.”

  He had a simple enough answer for that, one that to Cody seemed so ingenious and self-obvious, it had him grinning like an idiot. “Don’t go then. Stay. Mate me. Marry me, or whatever it is you hoods do to seal the deal.”

  Cotton in my mouth and electricity passing through my tongue, a vision cracked across the edge of my imagination: me, naked underneath the confines of my red hood, straddling Cody while the wedding drums played and fires burned outside our tent. I could practically smell the ash and taste his kiss on my tongue as we consecrated our union, simultaneously both by my traditions and his.