The Trouble with Beasts (Howl for the Damned: Book One)

by D. Fischer

  Sighing, I momentarily glance at Amelia. She reads my silent question, nods, and follows after him.

  Out of all of us, even me, she’s been working with Damien the most. Getting him over his grief has been a struggle, the loss of his older brother so great that he’s stuck in a sea of hate and blame.

  After the war, Damien never could find the appropriate person to blame. The dragon who lit his brother on fire was dead, and the only species he could point a finger at was the witches. The truth is, it was nobody’s fault. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up in the straight line of a dragon’s blazing fire. Unlike him, I’m grateful that the witches put out the flames. Otherwise, we would have had nothing to carry back and bury.

  “Everything all right?” Jinx asks. I turn toward her, watching as a bright smile fades from her lips.

  “Yeah,” I lie. She doesn’t need to know.

  “He hates me, doesn’t he?” It wasn’t a question, but it was said with such an understanding that I cock my head slightly to the side. He’s done nothing but treat her like shit with snide expressions and growls as she passes him.

  “He hates everyone right now.” I scrub my hand over my head. “He’s going through something. Amelia is trying to help him.”

  Jinx rests against the wall. “She’s a great woman, you know. I can really relate to her.”

  “She told you about her parents, didn’t she?” She nods. “Did she tell you about her sister?”

  She blinks at me. “No. She never said she had siblings.”

  “Her sister also died in the war.”

  Once this sinks in, Jinx curses and moves to exit the gym, surely to hunt down Amelia. “Don’t,” I say, putting my hand in front of her to stop her from leaving. “She’ll tell you when or if she’s ever ready. She and her sister . . . they never got along. But her sister died when her mate, Simon, died.”

  We swivel toward the group’s laughter as Cinder and Chip square off, preparing to beat one another to a pulp. Though Chip may be scrappy and nerdy, he knows the most painful places to hit – which nerve will create the most agony and which pressure point will drop them to their knees. It’ll be an even fight. Size truly doesn’t matter.

  Reese walks by, done with her workout and headed to her room to change. She’s on call this afternoon into the evening. As a doctor, her schedule is the hardest to control. People need her. She’s depended upon. Her job is more than a job, and on more than one occasion, she’s saved a member of this pack and Evo’s – The Cloven Pack. She’s the only pack member I’m allowing to leave the territory right now.

  The usually submissive wolf makes it a point to glare at Jinx as she passes, and Jinx coughs an absurd word. I frown to this behavior. I’ve never seen Reese treat anyone that way.

  “And her?” Jinx asks. “Is it that I simply exist, or is it me talking to you that makes her hate me as much as a cat loathes a bath?”

  “You hungry?” I ask, looking down at the small woman. A complete change of subject is in order. I’ve long known that Reese has an infatuation with me, and through the pack bond, I know that’s exactly why she’s sore toward Jinx.

  Reese will get over it. When she sees that Jinx and I are nothing but what we outwardly appear, she’ll move on. Though, I do wish she’d move on sooner. I’ve made it clear I’m not interested in Reese’s advances.

  “Are you asking me on a date?” Jinx sniffs.

  Startled, I take a step back and hold up my hands. “No. I – I – The cafeteria. Glenda should have food ready by now.”

  “Breakfast, you mean?”

  “Yeah.” I can feel my face heating. “But if you want to go out – I mean there’s a place – It’s not far –”

  Her grin stops me. “No. I just wanted to see if I could get you to ask me out.”

  I narrow my eyes at her and open my mouth to retaliate, but with one toothy smile, she saunters across the mats and leaves the gym. I stand there like a fool until she’s gone. What the hell just happened?

  Passing by, Travis stops to slap me on the shoulder. His own shoulders bob with silent laughter. He leans toward my ear and whispers, “Rough, man. Real rough.”

  Rex is right behind Trevor and Travis, one side of his lips lifted in a grin. He wipes the sweat from his face with a white towel, and as soon as the twins leave my side, he says, “That girl is a beast. A freak of nature.” He looks to me fully. “I approve.”

  “Approve of what?” I say, grinding my jaw. His grin widens, exposing his bright teeth, and he follows the twins out. “Approve of what?” I shout to him through the closing gym door.

  Jinx Whitethorn

  A week passes by, and I find myself fitting into a new groove that the pack has made for me. Every morning I find a new sparring partner, and every morning I win over that wolf’s favor. More and more the shifters are warming to me, talking to me, going out of their way to greet me. Most prefer to be outdoors, running the perimeter, but I now know each of their names and a little snippet of their past.

  Aside from Amelia, Glenda is my most favorite. Whenever she bakes, I find myself in her kitchen, mixing ingredients right along with her. Damien doesn’t approve, of course, thinking I’ll poison the goods with potion-like witchy ingredients, and at first, Glenda didn’t like it either. But just like Cinder had a few months ago, she made room for me to busy my hands with familiar work.

  After the third time I worked alongside her, she began to open up and tell me about her life. As I had suspected, she’s Russian. Her family had dragged her from their small village in Russia all the way across the world so that she may have a safer life during a war where fates were too uncertain to maintain faith in survival. She has no kids, no mate, and no desire to ever have either. The life she’s living is one she plans to continue until the day she dies.

  “Mates messy,” she had said. “Kids pigs.”

  I snorted, wholly agreeing but unable to stop looking at Jacob from the kitchen window that overlooks the dining tables. Once, just a few weeks ago, in fact, I had wanted the same sort of life. Except I was sure mine would have been more independent, more lonely than what Glenda has going for her. She’s already surrounded by people who love her. People who are just like her. People who appreciate her. Now, I can’t see myself going back to that lifestyle.

  Aside from asking for instructions in their fighting techniques, it’s surprising how many have questions about witches. I tell them everything I know because it’s pure curiosity that piques their interest and not malicious intent. Witches are still foreign to them even after they fought together.

  Jacob had approached me a few days ago. After teasing me, engaging in a battle of wills, he pressed me to call Sara and let her know what was going on. I did, and I immediately regretted it.

  “What do you mean they took you?” Sara had barked. “That’s called kidnapping, Jinx! They took you against your will!”

  “Did you miss the rest of my explanation?” I had asked, exasperated. “That was all before we all had the answers.” I had proceeded to explain, again, who was truly my enemy. “The pack is protecting me, Sara.”

  “Come home,” she pleaded. “The coven can protect you.”

  “The coven will be in danger. I don’t want to start a war between witches and shifters.”

  “So,” she hisses. “You’ll just start one between shifters and shifters.”

  I shrugged even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “It’s better than being scared for your life, Sara, or my mom’s. I won’t drag you into this mess. The pack is helping me figure things out. They’re protecting me. Besides, we’re working on finding someone from my father’s tribe.”

  When I asked about how the coven was handling the news of what I am, she was very vague. A few grunts, and an “I have to get ready for work.” I suppose, in time, I’ll learn their true feelings on the matter. Sara can’t avoid giving me that information for long. Not from me.

  Before she hung up, she made me prom
ise she could come visit whenever she wanted. She’s worried for me, but with the protection of Jacob and his pack, I haven’t felt safer.

  Jacob and I . . . our friendship has grown into a kind of closeness I hadn’t expected. It’s mostly taunts and false threats, but I find that I look forward to them every morning. He’s the only one who hasn’t requested I spar with him, and it makes me wonder why.

  As for Cinder, he’s thankfully left me alone, per my request. I can feel him staring at me, wanting to say something, probably more apologies, but I never give him the chance. I walk away before he can. I’m not ready for that conversation because it’s me who has to apologize. Not him.

  Even though I’m glad to have the pack surrounding me now, I was terrified for my life when I was kidnapped, and he was a big part of that. The apartment above the bar was supposed to be my safe place. He was supposed to be my safe place. Someone I could count on. Instead, alpha’s orders or not, he’s the reason I thought I was going to die that day. But at the same time, now used to pack life, I know he had no choice but to allow it to happen. Challenging the alpha isn’t something a more submissive wolf does.

  I hadn’t realized I was staring off into space, thinking over the past week, until Amelia snaps her fingers in front of my face.

  “Sorry,” I say, rubbing my tired face. We had all been up late last night, utilizing the game room full of plush couches and pool tables. Beer and liquor were involved, so of course, I stuck around like the wasp I am.

  “Where’d you go?” she asks, nodding toward my head. The two of us are sprawled out on the grass behind the compound, laying on our backs to watch the clouds. It’s an unusually warm day for Fall, and she and I are taking full advantage. The air smells as crisp and dry as the falling leaves, and the birds swoop and dive through the trees’ barren tops.

  “Everywhere,” I laugh. “Mostly the past week or so. It’s crazy how much has changed in such a short amount of time.”

  “For the better, I’m guessing.” She smiles and snatches a grape from our shared bowl nestled between us. The woman peels her grapes with her teeth before she actually eats the fruit. Strange behavior.

  “Tell me about Jacob,” I ask, grabbing three purple grapes and plopping them in my mouth. Amelia has a habit of turning an answer into a question, and I find if my mouth is full, she refrains from doing so. I believe she has a thing about people talking with food in their mouths.

  “What about him?” she asks.

  I internally sigh, my plan gone awry.

  She laughs and then shrugs. “His story isn’t mine to tell, but I can tell you he’s a good guy. He cares more for his pack than finding his happily-ever-after like most shifters strive to do. More often than not, his life is and unfortunately-ever-after.”

  From what I have gleaned about Jacob’s past, I have to agree with Amelia. I wave my hand, pressing her to continue. “Has he started looking for my father’s tribe yet?”

  She frowns. “Not really, but you and I can if you want to.”

  Shortly after finishing our grapes, she and I deposit our empty bowl in the kitchen and head to a room I have never been shown: Chip’s lab. His domain. The space is intimidating and smells like a dentist’s office.

  The man in question sporting large glasses is working in the corner, hovering over lab equipment I can’t name nor care to. It’s shiny. That’s all I know.

  There are computers lining one wall, and we both take a seat in front of our own high-tech screen. Where the hell do I start? We dive into the history of tribes, learning more about shamans and what they can do. Most of it is superstition, written more like legends than historical facts. At least, that’s how the articles present themselves, but even Amelia voiced that most of the world shies away from superstition. I don’t blame them. It’s hard to believe in something that should be impossible, especially something they can’t do themselves.

  Scribbling down what I find – which isn’t much, I chew on the end of my pencil and twirl in my chair to face Chip.

  “Any luck?” he asks distractedly.

  I hum my non-answer. Amelia stretches and yawns. “Have you looked into skinwalkers yet?”

  “I thought that’s what you were working on.” I glide back to the screen and nab the mouse. It’s still warm, which is comforting. The lab is chilly.

  She holds up her notebook and waves it. “Tracking down your ancestors. I’m looking for one that’s living.”

  Typing ‘skinwalker’ in the search tab, I shrug. “My dad had a sister. I have his last name. Maybe she’s still on the reservation.”

  Everything I read is again written as legends and not concrete. I suppose if I’m not the only skinwalker out there, they wouldn’t broadcast it over the internet where humans could read them. After all, there are many different legends about shifters and witches, too.

  In the end, I find my research void of any obvious real answers. All the stories and tales conflict with one another, and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll have to get real answers from a true tribe member. Or discover it all myself, day by day, which is way less appealing.

  Leaning back in my chair, I stretch my arms over my head and arch my back into a pose my old self-defense instructor taught me. The chair squeals like a pig in protest. Pain and stiffness have settled in my spine, and I yawn, peering at the time, mildly shocked at how long we’ve been sitting here. I open my mouth to voice the absurd hour, but my companion’s nose is inches from the screen.

  I peer over Amelia’s shoulders and gape at her list several pages long.

  “Find anything?” I croak when it’s clear she hasn’t noticed my perusal.

  Startled, she places a hand over her heart to calm its beat and then nods. “Possibly. I researched your father’s first and last name –”

  I sit up in my chair, squinting. “How do you know my father’s first name?”

  Pointing her thumb over her shoulder, she says, “Chip has ways.” Chip chuckles without lifting his head from whatever results he pours over. “Your father’s tribe’s reservation isn’t far from here, and I found his sister.”

  I roll my chair closer to hers. The arms of the computer chairs bump into each other. Quickly, I examine her neatly scrawled handwriting.

  She looks at me, really looks, as if the answers are written on my forehead. “I think it’s your aunt, anyway.”

  “This is odd,” Chip says before I have time to blurt the million questions bombarding my brain. We both turn, and he points to the results.

  “What’s odd?” Amelia says.

  “The results of the two dead shifters Jinx killed.”

  I cringe at the way he said it, all nonchalant like murder is a normal thing for me.

  Monster. Freak. Murderer. Will I ever reach a time where ending someone’s life is seen as normal? This may be equivalent to a civilized animal kingdom, but I prefer not to be the hyena of the situation.

  “What about them?” Amelia asks. She rolls her chair back, stands stiffly, and hobbles to the table Chip leans over.

  “Their DNA. Something’s off. They’re shifter,” Chip says, his voice quiet. He flips a page over. “They’re shifter, but it would appear their shifter DNA has gone through a transformation of sorts.”

  He starts talking in terms that I can’t understand, and I swear he’s not speaking a lick of English. Amelia clears her throat, and Chip’s cheeks redden. “Sorry,” he murmurs and then launches into his version of a clarification, complete with small hand gestures. “The DNA part that makes them supernatural is basically being held prisoner.”

  My hand travels to the wolf inside my pocket as I listen to his explanation. I stroke the smooth pendant to soothe my growing anxiety. “Like, they’re human?” That can’t be possible. They swaggered like shifters. Had the strength of shifters. Had the instincts of shifters. I have a hard time believing they aren’t shifters, and my mocking expression says it all.

  He shakes his head, peers up at me, and pushes
up his glasses. “They appear to have all their shifter strength but –” He frowns down at the paper.

  “But what?” Amelia asks, pressing her hips into the counter.

  Chip pushes up his glasses with an index finger. “I don’t think they can shift.”

  We’re silent for a moment. “What do you mean a shifter can’t shift?”

  He tents his fingers and places his elbows on the counter. The tips of his fingers touch his chin. “Something is preventing them from doing so.”

  I march around the table, stand next to Chip, and properly peer at the paper. He looks down at me with a quirked eyebrow for invading his space. I can’t read any of it. It’s pure gibberish to my eye. A bunch of symbols and numbers.

  “Magic leaves a trace,” he murmurs. “I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never seen it because witches never curse anyone.”

  I shake my head. “They can’t. Our magic is elemental. We can kill someone using the elements they conjure, but I’ve never heard of anyone cursing through our magic. I’m positive it’s not possible.”

  “Their magic,” Amelia corrects quietly. “You’re not a witch, Jinx. Not really.”

  I wave her off though her shove back to the brutal truth hurts just a little. I get why she reminded me. I’m not a witch. I’m not anything but a monster.

  “This isn’t a witch’s magic,” Chip interrupts. “But it is a curse.”

  “Whose magic is it then?” Amelia asks, slapping her notebook on the table in a rare show of impatience.

  “If I had to make an assumption…” He trails off and nods to her notes. Silence falls over the lab, and the hum of the refrigerator vibrates against our growing anxiety. I swear, just for a moment, that the pendant warms in my pocket.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jacob Trent

  I rub my temple because of the headache that began when Chip, Amelia, and Jinx had stormed into my office early this morning. They were up late last night, researching apparently. They told me their findings in a seemingly disorganized tale, blurting their findings over one another which eventually stretched into a verbal sparring match between Chip and Jinx.