by Chase Connor
“What the actual fuck, Rob?” Lucas was breathing heavy as well.
I was trying to control my breathing.
“You shot fire out of your hand!”
“I do that sometimes.” I grimaced, finally realizing that Lucas had no idea about my magic laser-slash-fire fingers.
“Since when?”
“I don’t know.” My chest was heaving as I tried to get my breathing and heart rate under control. “They knew my fucking name, Lucas. How did they know my name?”
Lucas stared at me for several moments, then seemed to decide that the throwing fire with my hand situation could wait.
“Do you know them?”
Turning to him, I just frowned.
“Well, I didn’t think so.” He gave a nervous laugh, trying to bring levity to the situation. “But…what other explanation is there?”
“Maybe I don’t know them like I didn’t know you,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Maybe I’ve forgotten that I know them?”
“That’s just…”
“Crazy?” I snorted, my breathing slowly returning to normal.
“Well…yeah.”
“Must be Tuesday, Lucas,” I said. “Rob Wagner is crazy as shit. Or, at least, everything in his life is.”
“If they knew your name…”
“What?” I turned in my seat to look at him.
“What else do they know?” He chewed at his lip as he kept his eyes on the road. “Do they know where you live?”
I thought about that statement for a moment, the realization of what that meant slowly dawning on me.
“Oma.” I gasped.
Lucas gunned the truck.
Chapter 10
When Lucas came to a gravel-flinging stop in Oma’s driveway at the front of the house, I had my door open before he had put the truck into park. The lights were on in the living room, and everything looked peaceful. No paparazzi, no strange cars, no wolves circling the house hungrily, looking for a little girl in a red cloak. Everything looked as it always did. Lucas’ door popped open as I slammed my door and started for the house. Lucas fell in beside me, his hand finding mine as we hurriedly walked towards the house and up the porch steps, looking over our shoulders every few steps.
“Do you think they followed us?” Lucas whispered.
“I hope not,” I said. “But I really hope they didn’t get here before we did.”
“Mrs. Wagner is okay, Rob.” He nodded his head furiously, as though trying to convince us both. “I just know it.”
“That makes me feel strangely better.”
Making our way up the steps, I let go of Lucas’ hand once we were on the porch so that I could open the front door, allowing it to swing wide. Before I had even stepped over the threshold, I spotted Oma. She was kicked back on the sofa with her feet up on the coffee table, enjoying the fire. A mug of tea was in her hand, and the shotgun was sitting on the coffee table beside her feet. My breath came out in a relieved sigh, and Lucas smiled widely at me as we entered the house. It wasn’t until I was inside the house, with Oma within eyeshot that I felt my heart rate finally begin to return to normal.
Lucas’ hand once again found mine and I turned my head to look into his eyes, a smile immediately coming to my face. He looked back at me, and his hand squeezed mine again. I didn’t know what we had achieved at the football stadium, as far as memories go, but I knew that what I’d felt since the night the three wolves tried to attack me in the backyard was real. I could see in Lucas’ eyes that, no matter what else had happened at the stadium, he was glad we had gone. The way he gripped my hand let me know that he never wanted to let it go if he could avoid that. I reached out and brushed his sandy hair off of his forehead and away from his eyes before giving him a quick kiss.
“Oma,” I turned away from a smiling Lucas, “we’re home.”
“Ya’ think I didn’t hear the damn door?” She announced over her shoulder. “I’m old, not fuckin’ deaf.”
Lucas laughed.
“Are you okay?” I asked, heading into the living room, pulling Lucas after me.
“Don’t I look okay?” She frowned up at me as we rounded the sofa to stand before her. She raised her mug in salute. “Got my tea, got my fire, and I’m pretty sure I peppered some of those sonsofbitches as they was runnin’ away.”
“I saw you, Oma.” I shook my head with a smile. “You were aiming for the sky.”
“Well,” She waggled her head, “I still think a few of ‘em shit their pants. Did some damage either way. You boys ever not touchin’ up on each other? Jesus.”
She gestured at our clasped hands.
Lucas and I smiled at each other and let our hands slide away from each other’s as Oma took another sip of her tea. When Lucas gave me a stern look and jerked his head in Oma’s direction, I knew pleasantries had to end sometime. I turned to my grandmother and sighed deeply.
“We have another problem.”
“What the fuck did you idiots do now?” She pulled her legs off of the coffee table to sit forward. “Where the hell did you two go anyway?”
“The football field,” Lucas responded for us.
Oma’s brow furrowed as she looked over at him.
“We…needed to see something,” I added.
“Thought you’d take a stroll down memory lane?” She rolled her eyes.
Her statement was like a punch to my gut. But I didn’t have the time to dissect a statement from my grandmother that could have been completely flippant. The way Lucas’ hand grabbed mine again let me know that my instincts were not off. Oma had said something spot on, my gut was telling me something, and Lucas’ grip was letting me know that he knew something.
“We ran into more werewolves.” I ignored the previous statement. “Eight of them.”
Oma whistled with wide eyes.
“Well, I’m impressed.” She took a sip of her tea. “If I was bettin’ on you two idiots against eight werewolves, well, I would have been expecting to lose that bet.”
“Thanks.” I snorted.
“Just sayin’.” She shrugged. “That’s four on one. You two can barely wipe your own asses without accidentally finger-bangin’ yourselves on accident. Didn’t think you was capable of handling yourselves so well.”
“Oh. My. God.” I looked upwards as Lucas laughed nervously.
“I just meant you done a good job.”
“I only got one of them, Oma.” I snapped. “We ran.”
She jabbed a finger at me.
“That sounds more accurate.” She nodded.
“Yeah, well,” I stammered, “I don’t really have a response for that right now. But they knew my name, Oma—not Jacob Michaels. They knew my real name. But I’d never seen any of them before in my life. Since I didn’t know those guys and have never seen them before, I don’t know how they knew my name, Oma.”
“What they look like?”
“I mean,” I glanced at Lucas, he shrugged, “just normal guys, I guess. All of them had eyes like the wolves the other night and then that dead woman the other morning. Red. Glowing. Kind of. One of them said we had a score to settle. I assume it’s because of what I did to their pack member the other night.”
“I hope you never get called as an eye witness for nothin’.” Oma shook her head in disgust. “Didn’t notice hair color, heights, sizes…nothin’?”
“Well, no.” I sighed.
Lucas was no help. He just looked at me and shrugged nervously as Oma examined us both.
“Eight of ‘em?” Oma set her mug on the coffee table and rubbed her chin. “All fellas?”
I thought about that.
“Yes.” I nodded. “I’m pretty sure they were all male.”
Oma waggled her head.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the sound of distant rumbling engines sounded outside, far away at first but growing closer. Oma sighed to herself as headlights flashed through the front room windows. She look
ed up at me and then stood from the couch.
“Stands to reason they’d know more than your name, I guess.” She motioned for Lucas and me to step aside. “I guess we’ll have to talk to ‘em. See what the hell they want.”
“What?” I gasped, refusing to move. “You’re not going out there, Oma. And we know what the hell they want!”
Somehow Oma pushed between Lucas and me in order to get to the front door. Lucas reached down and snatched the shotgun off of the coffee table quickly as I tried to reason with Oma. The engines shut off outside and I could hear doors creaking open. The headlights died off, and the front room was left in the ambient glow of the lamps and fireplace.
“Ain’t no shells in it, Lucas.” She waved him off. “Won’t do you no good.”
“Where are the shells?” I asked desperately.
“Gave ‘em to Lena to hide ‘em, smartass.” She waggled her head. “One of your brilliant ideas—like burning up werewolves and going out to the football stadium at night.”
“You still can’t go out there.” I grabbed her arm. “Those men are not playing around, Oma.”
“Get your damn hand off me.” She snapped. “I can still whip your ass if I have to, Robbie.”
My hand slowly slid from her arm as I frowned down at her.
“I’ll go out here and talk to these fellas and send them on their way.” She gestured vaguely. “I’ll clean up your damn mess.”
“How is this my mess?”
“Ya’ killed one of theirs didn’t ya’?”
“Maybe?”
“You was so certain the other day.” She waggled her head. “I’ll get rid of ‘em.”
“Oma.” I pleaded. “Seriously. Let’s call Sheriff Dennard.”
She scoffed. “Yeah. Get his tubbly ass out of bed and get him over here in under an hour. You go on and do that while I talk to these assholes out on my damn lawn. Probably left tire tracks.”
“Mrs. Wagner—” Lucas tried to help, but Oma had already reached for the knob of the door.
My grandmother flipped the porch light on and swung the door wide until the knob bounced against the wall behind it but not hard enough to leave a mark or indention. Lucas and I chased after her. We didn’t want to go outside and face a group of men who were out for our blood, but we couldn’t let my grandmother do it on her own either. Oma walked across the porch and stood at the top of the steps, her arms crossing over her chest and coming to rest there. Lucas and I ran up behind her, Lucas taking her right side and me taking her left.
Three late 80s model single cab pickup trucks had pulled up in Oma’s yard, all in a row, side by side. All of the men had climbed out and lined up in front of the trucks in a wide arc, surrounding the front porch. I reached out to grab Oma’s arm but she gave me a look, and I pulled my hand away as though I had been slapped. Lucas glanced at me, fear in his eyes as Oma crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the men. There should have been seven men in the yard since I had wounded one of them when I climbed the fence to get out of the stadium. A quick count let me know that there was exactly eight men standing before us.
All of the men, now that I had time to look at them without the immediate danger of being hurt, looked strikingly similar. All of them had dark hair, though some of them had long hair, some short, some nearly buzzed to their scalp. Some were tall, some were average, but they all had a generic look to their faces—if it weren’t for the red eyes. The porch light shining on them made it harder to tell if their eyes were actively glowing. They all wore jeans and denim shirts with familiar tan coats thrown over them to ward off the early Spring chill in the air.
“Well,” Oma looked out at the men, “it’s a little late to be comin’ for a visit, boys. But if I’d known you was comin’, I’d have baked a cake.”
“Esther Jean.” The guy at the center of the arc of men stepped forward.
“Put one foot on my steps and you’ll be running with three paws come the full moon, Jason Morris,” Oma replied blandly.
The name sounded familiar.
Jason Morris chuckled but didn’t move any closer.
“Whatchu boys doin’ on my damn property?” Oma asked, her hands movin’ to her hips. “Pretty sure I told you if I saw you on my property I’d have to do somethin’ about it.”
“We don’t have any quarrel with you, Esther Jean.” Jason, the obvious leader, replied. “We’re here for Rob.”
“Well,” Oma said, “that’s unfortunate since he’s on my damn property, ain’t it?”
“Esther Jean—”
“You don’t show me the respect you was raised with, and I’ll take two of your damn paws, Jason Morris.” Oma snapped.
“Oma,” I grumbled.
Jason Morris seemed to flush, but he didn’t snap back at Oma or make a move towards the porch. All of his cohorts seemed to snicker, though they did their best to hide it.
“Mrs. Wagner.” He said finally. “We don’t want to cause trouble.”
“I don’t need no damn puppies thinking they can piss wherever they want.” Oma snapped. “You started your damn trouble when three y’all wandered up into my yard and tried to attack my grandson. He was just defending himself.”
“He’s been hurting weres,” Jason replied evenly.
“Only when they attack him.” Oma waggled her head. “Stop actin’ like y’all ain’t got no damn sense, and maybe you won’t get hurt.”
“Bullshit, Mrs. Wagner.” Jason spat, suddenly very angry, though he was smart enough not to move a single inch forward. “He hurt Andrew and he hurt Katie.”
Andrew said he only talked to other werewolves about shop. I suddenly realized that he had told more details than needed.
“Andrew got handsy with him and then tried to make him dinner.” Oma shrugged. “And I’m assuming Katie was the naked girl who wandered up into our yard the other morning. She tried to attack him, too. Along with two more of y’all. If y’all came that night to get revenge for Andrew’s boo-boo’s—I’ll be talking to his sorry ass about this, by the way—then you was misled. Andrew is perfectly fine. And, technically, Rob ain’t had nothin’ to do with Andrew gettin’ banged up. This one here ran into him with a truck.”
Oma hooked a thumb at Lucas.
Lucas was ashen as he swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Fine.” Jason snarled. “He’ll take the punishment for Andrew and Rob will take the punishment for Katie.”
The rest of the pack snarled along with Jason. Seeing eight grown men snarling like wolves in human form, along with the sound of it, made my stomach drop.
“One you bastards gets even the slightest bit furry,” Oma warned, “and we’re gonna have another damn barbecue right now.”
Oma raised a hand, and the snarling stopped. One of the guys actually yipped as though he had been kicked.
“We’re owed justice!” Jason snapped.
More snarls sounded, but they were silenced quickly by a glare from Oma. She turned her head slowly, looking at all of the men in turn, her eyes finally returning to center, to focus on Jason.
“You got a dick in your ear, son,” Oma said calmly, her hand going back to her hip. “Andrew got hit because he tried to attack Rob. Rob wasn’t the one who hurt him. Then y’all came up on my property in the middle of the goddamn night to try to get revenge on the wrong person, and that person defended themselves. Seems to me you should be kickin’ each other’s asses for being so goddamn dumb. ‘Course, y’all wasn’t exactly the top of your class, so I don’t expect you to be very damn smart now.”
Jason just glowered at Oma.
“Tell me,” Oma continued, “why was…Katie…still burned all to hell the next mornin’? She shoulda been fine once she had a few hours. But she came up in my yard lookin’ like someone melted half her body like a candle.”
“She was one of our young ones.”
“Young?” My head whipped to Oma.
“He just means new,” Oma spoke out of the corner of he
r mouth. “She wasn’t no damn child.”
“She wasn’t an old woman who was ready for death, either!” Jason bellowed.
More snarls.
Lucas and I fidgeted as the men all glowered up at us, their eyes really glowing, even in the light provided by the porch, their teeth gnashing.
Oma started to cackle.
Slowly, the snarling and teeth gnashing tapered off and all of the men were looking at Oma again, unsure of themselves.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just threatened me, Jason.” Oma actually bent down to slap her knee. “And that is just too damn precious for words. I done told you that if you boys showed up on my property again that I wouldn’t be happy with you and now here you are testin’ my patience. Your balls are bigger than your brains. Though I’m sure both are tiny.”
Jason Morris looked around, fidgeting slightly as he looked at his comrades. The way that they were twitching, I wasn’t so sure that they were loyal enough to have his back against Oma. Though, I wasn’t sure exactly why that was. I had never seen anything besides Oma’s shotgun and her tongue that did much damage.
“Now,” Oma shook her head with a sigh, “the way I see it, you feel you’re owed something over Andrew’s little boo-boo’s even though he ain’t in with y’all—again, he will be hearing from me, so you let him know that—and you’re owed something over Katie’s death. Even though both was their own damn faults. Am I right?”
“That’s about the size of it.” Jason nodded, trying to look menacing, but failing spectacularly as he stared up at my elderly, small grandmother.
“Mm.” Oma snorted. “Well, I know where you live. We’ll be sure you get money to pay for Katie’s funeral. Make sure she’s buried proper-like and has a decent headstone. So her family—if any still claim her—ain’t put out with anything more than grief. You’ll need to make up a story to Sheriff Dennard, so he knows who he’s got in the morgue.”
