Some Were In Time

by Robyn Peterman

  "Oh my god," I yelled. "Are you?"

  Hank shook his big furry head and stilled. "Say something, Dwayne," he said slowly.

  "I think you could pull off gauchos with your ass," Dwayne volunteered.

  "How is this happening? It's not natural. And I would rather chew glass and swallow it than wear gauchos," Hank muttered as he paced in tight circles. "You can hear him too, Essie?"

  "I can, but I've shared blood with him," I told Hank.

  Dwayne hovered above us and flapped his arms like a bird.

  "Do you have to do that to fly? I didn't think… oh my freakin' hell, Dwayne! Button the bottom of your coat. Your man bits are blowing in the wind." I groaned as I buried my muzzle in my paws.

  "When did you become such a prude?" Dwayne huffed as he adjusted his coat.

  "I'm not a prude," I snapped. "It's just alarming to look up and see my BFF's weenie and friends bouncing in the breeze."

  "Fair point, well made," he said. "I would find it disturbing to glance up at a faceful of your knockers too."

  "As appalling as this conversation has gotten, I still want to know how I'm communicating with Dwayne," Hank said.

  "I can only guess that because we've both shared Essie's blood we can hear each other," Dwayne surmised.

  It was the only explanation that made any sense. Dwayne floated down and landed gracefully in front of us. Hank was correct. The coat was awful.

  "Did you really pay six thousand dollars for that?" I asked.

  "Hell to the no!" Dwayne laughed as he modeled his scary fur. "Got it at the thrift shop for thirty-two dollars and seventy-five cents."

  "I still say you overpaid," Hank said as he sat down on his haunches and stared at Dwayne. "As bizarre as this communication thing is, it may come in handy in Chicago."

  "Hey now," I grumbled as I butted Hank with my head. "We still have about ten hours of vacation left. No talking about our impending deaths."

  "You're right baby. I have a better idea anyway."

  "What's that?" Dwayne asked as he picked twigs and leaves out of his hairy mess of a wolf costume.

  "How about we go scare the hell out of the Pack with the flying mangy Werewolf?" Hank's wolf grinned, which would look frightening if you didn't know him.

  "That is fabulous," I squealed.

  "While I wholeheartedly agree with the devious activity," Dwayne said with a hand on his hip and his brows raised high, "if you call me mangy one more time, I will fly over your head and pee on you."

  "Okay, that's just gross," I said as I shuddered. "What if we just call you nappy?"

  "I prefer kinky," he informed us with a grin.

  "Of course you do." I rolled my eyes and chuffed. "Alright, kinky Vamp, you ready to go have some fun with the wolves?"

  "Oh my god," Dwayne shrieked as he levitated and did flips in the air. "I haven't had this much fun since I went fishing naked in the Bermuda Triangle with Hemingway, some Pygmy fellas and a Were Skunk named Herm."

  Both Hank and I were smart enough not to touch that one. However, even if we wanted to we couldn't. Dwayne had taken off screaming like a banshee to terrorize the Pack. I realized I hadn't told my BFF about the Were Cows knowing about him, but I didn't want to ruin his fun.

  Tomorrow was back to reality. Tonight was for fun.

  "You ready to watch Dwayne make a mockery of our scared rituals?" Hank inquired as he nipped at my ear.

  "Yep. This will be a night that will go down in history."

  "God help us all."

  Chapter 7

  "Well, would you look at that?" Granny gasped and pulled out her new cell phone that I had gotten for her… the one I swore I wouldn't buy. "When Dwayne sleeps he looks dead."

  She started snapping pictures.

  "He's always dead," I said as I glanced over my shoulder at my best bud.

  Good lord, Granny was right. He was laid out on the backseat of the Hummer like a cadaver without rigor mortis. Dwayne had worn himself out last night. Junior's induction would live in infamy due to the kinky Vamp scaring years off of most of the Pack's lives. A group of teenage boy wolves had taken a chunk out of Dwayne's hind-quarter before they realized he wasn't a hairy flying Demon from Hell. They were mortified and extremely apologetic, but Dwayne brushed it off and healed right back up in less than five minutes. He then entertained the Pack with songs and stories from his time as a pirate. A debilitating and educational time was had by all.

  Mrs. Wilson even offered to put Dwayne's faux fur in storage for the next time he wanted to join in on a Pack shift. Needless to say my fellow Werewolves were appalled, but no one questioned Mrs. Wilson. No one.

  "I know he's dead," Granny said, "but he looks really dead."

  "Is he?" I asked, alarmed. He couldn't be. I was almost certain Vamps turned to dust when they died. However, since I'd forgone most of my paranormal education because I skipped all my classes, I wasn't entirely sure.

  "How in tarnation can I tell? It's not like the boy has a pulse." Granny got up in his face and blew on him.

  "What in the name of Christina Aguilera are you doing?" a drowsy Dwayne mumbled as he swatted at Granny's head.

  "Making sure you weren't dead, bloodsucker," she answered as she popped him back.

  "Considering that I am, I don't really see the point. And you seriously need a mint," he said as he pinched his nostrils closed. "Hank, are we there yet?"

  Hank's lips compressed in annoyance and he said absolutely nothing as he maneuvered the Hummer in and out of traffic on our way to Chicago. Of course, before Dwayne had passed out he'd asked the same question of Hank at least thirty times.

  "He's not going to answer me, is he?" Dwayne whispered loudly.

  "Nope," I told him. "He's not."

  "Fine by me, it's a fabulously smooth ride. Are you all enjoying my Hummer?" he asked with an innocent grin.

  "Oh my god." I laughed and then groaned. "You totally bought this car so you could legally say hummer all the time without getting in trouble."

  "Guilty," he sang and then high-fived Granny.

  "Dwayne," Hank said with a chuckle. "We need to talk."

  "About Hummers?" he asked.

  "Uhhh no, about Were Cows."

  "Dear god, did Junior find out more?"

  "Yes and no," Hank said as he turned off on an exit and parked the humongous vehicle at a deserted rest stop. "Your name was accidently tied in on an Internet search and the Cows are now possibly aware of you."

  Dwayne's silence was scary, but his levitation that plastered him to the ceiling of the car was downright frightening.

  "Um, Dwayne?" I whispered. "Can I do anything for you?"

  "No, doll, I just need to work out my anger issues for a minute," he replied as if he weren't hanging like a human bat.

  "Okay."

  "Maybe they're not related to the Cows you married," Granny said as she reached up and patted his kneecap.

  "Did we get a surname?" Dwayne inquired calmly as he dangled.

  "Yep," Hank said hesitantly.

  "Dung?" Dwayne asked even more calmly.

  Crap, if the answer was yes, would Dwayne blow off the roof of the car?

  "Yes, it's Dung," Hank answered and then held his breath.

  "Well, that's suckerific," Dwayne screeched as he dropped from the ceiling to the floor with a thud. "I'm going have to go find them before they find me."

  "Why would you do that?" I demanded. "They want you dead."

  "True," he said. "But in order for me to have any kind of upper hand, I can't wait for them to ambush me. If anything happened to one of you guys I would have to decapitate myself and that is very difficult."

  "Whoa, so you're just gonna go off on your own and kill a bunch of Dungs?" I snapped. "I forbid you to do this alone."

  "Essie, you are not the boss of me," Dwayne said with a sad smile.

  "I am the boss of everybody," I informed him loudly. "Just ask Hank."

  Hank shrugged and grinned. Granny just patt
ed Dwayne's head like he was a dog.

  "She's correct," Granny told Dwayne.

  "That she's the boss of everyone?" Dwayne asked, confused.

  "Hell to the no! I'm the boss of everyone," Granny said. "Always have been, always will be. However, Essie is correct about you not going off half-cocked and getting into it with the Cow Dungs."

  "The Dung Cows," Dwayne corrected her.

  "What?"

  Now Granny was confused.

  "Bottom line," I ground out, not wanting to get into a semantics debate that could take hours. "We're a family. We work together. First the Dragons, then the Dungs, and then the Council. You understand me?"

  "I'm farklempt," Dwayne blubbered as he fluttered his hand in front of his watery eyes. "Not really used to having backup."

  "Well, now you have it, and if you go off by yourself I will decapitate you," I said as I bent over the passenger seat and gave him a hug.

  "That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," he said as he sniffled.

  "You're welcome." I laughed and rolled my eyes.

  "Everyone out of the car," Hank directed. "Stretch your legs and prepared to get stabbed."

  "Sweet hell, is this a Werewolf thing?" Dwayne asked as he got out.

  "Nope," Hank said as he pulled a sharp pocketknife from the glove compartment. "It's a safety thing. We're all getting homing transmitters put in so Junior can track us if we get separated."

  Hank quickly inserted the small knife into both Granny and Dwayne's hips and placed tiny metal chips inside them. They healed immediately. He then sliced his own hip and slid a transmitter under his skin.

  "Why doesn't Essie have to get stabbed?" Dwayne complained as he stared at his healing hip.

  "Because I already have one in my butt," I said as I narrowed my eyes at my mate.

  Hank didn't give me a heads up when he stabbed me in the ass two weeks ago to plant a transmitter in me. We were going after the Dragons and time was of the essence…

  "Would you have let me stab you in the butt if I told you I was going to?" he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a lopsided grin.

  "Yes," I said, not making eye contact. I could throw down with the best of them, but I really hated getting stabbed.

  "Really?" he prodded.

  "Yes, really," I snapped. "You might have had to chase me down for an hour."

  "Or two," Granny chimed in.

  "Fine. It was better to just blindly stab my ass. You happy?"

  "Yep," he said as he grabbed me and swung me around.

  "You're a dork."

  "I'm your dork," he shot back and punctuated it with a kiss.

  "Are we going to stand here and watch you two suck face or are we gonna go get some Dragons?" Granny asked with a grin.

  "Actually, Dwayne made a fine point," Hank said as he gave me one last peck and then got all sexy serious.

  "On my god, I did?" Dwayne asked.

  "The element of surprise will go a long way in not getting gored by the Cows," he said. "We are heading into Indiana in the next hour."

  "Yes? And?" I needed some facts—not hints.

  "The Dung's main compound is right outside Indianapolis. I saw we pay the Cows a visit before they extend an invite."

  "Won't this screw with Angela's schedule?" Granny asked gleefully.

  Soon I'd have to get the full story from Granny about her time partnering with my boss.

  "Do I look like I care?" Hank inquired with an evil smirk.

  "Nope, you don't," I said. "Furthermore, I think making Angela and her Dragon buddy come to us somewhere outside of Chicago is safer."

  "Brilliant! Damn, I should marry you," Hank yelled.

  "You already are." I laughed and held up my left hand, showing off my beautiful ring.

  "I sure am a smart guy."

  I threw my arms around his neck and laid a big one on his full beautiful lips. "Yes, you certainly are."

  ***

  "Is this a joke?" I asked as we stood at the rickety wooden gate of a compound with a stench that made my eyes water. The enormous hand painted sign read, DUNG FARM. We Moo For You. All Trespassers Will Be Eaten. Open To The Public On Mondays For Milk. Bring Your Own Damn Jug.

  "I told you they weren't very bright," Dwayne whispered as he held his nose. "They eat their mates. Which begs the question, how are they still here?"

  "Maybe they're hermaphrodites and can impregnate themselves," Granny suggested. "You know, they take themselves out to a nice dinner and then dance a little and then feel themselves up and get all randy and then WHAM. Next thing you know… preggers."

  That pretty much rendered everyone silent while we contemplated her absurdly wrong and horrifying nugget.

  "I'm gonna have to go with a no goddamned way on that theory," Hank choked out as he put his hand over his mouth to keep from hurling.

  "I'm with Hank on that one," I said as I struggled not to gag.

  "Just a thought," Granny huffed defensively. "I don't hear you brainiacs coming up with a logical possibility."

  "It's a fine hypothesis," Dwayne told her with a weak thumbs up. "It's simply a bit vomit-inducing."

  "It might be," Granny agreed with a shudder, "but it makes sense."

  "God, I really hope you're wrong," I said, joining her with a shudder of my own.

  We had parked the Hummer at a Krispy Kreme about five miles away and hoofed it to the Were Cow's lair. Granny had polished off a dozen doughnuts on our hike and still complained about being hungry.

  Indiana was flat with very little brush—no place to hide. Thankfully we had waited till dark to approach.

  "Do we have a plan?" I asked.

  "It's a dairy farm," Hank stated the obvious.

  "Yep."

  "I'm thirsty. Let's go in and buy some milk," Hank said with a grin.

  "Um, it's ten at night on a Tuesday," I said, just in case no one else had actually read the entire sign. I was all for walking in and shaking it up; I just wanted to make sure we all had the intel.

  "Oh my Donna Summer, this is exciting," Dwayne squealed as he bobbed up and down. "Of course we could be walking into a bloody and violent death, but it's just so naughty. Reminds me of the time I streaked in Pamplona at the Running of the Bulls about eighty years ago. I lost my left leg and my right test… "

  "Stop," I said as I slapped my hand over Dwayne's mouth. "I just can't. Not right now."

  "Later?" he asked.

  "Possibly," I muttered.

  "Anyhoo, thankfully it all grew back," he explained.

  "That's… great," Hank said with a wince. "Back to the matter at hand—we go in diamond formation. I'm in front, Dwayne in back in case they recognize him, and Essie and Granny flank my sides. If it goes bad quickly we shift and go back-to-back. Dwayne, be prepared to do a mind meld."

  "Oh dude," I moaned and paled. "I was hoping to never see one of those."

  "They are a bit messy and stinky," Dwayne admitted, "but they get the job done."

  "It couldn't reek any more than this place already does," Granny grumbled as she pulled a colorful scarf out of her cleavage and tied it over her nose. "Anybody want a kerchief?"

  She pulled several more out of her bra and handed them out. On any other day, I'd hesitate to wear something that had been nestled in my Granny's bosom for twenty-four hours, but the stench was horrific. We looked like a band of designer burglars.

  "Everyone armed?" Hank questioned as he checked his guns and knives.

  "Yep," I said as I felt for my Glock.

  "Locked and loaded," Granny said.

  "Dwayne does not need weapons," my BFF reminded us. "Dwayne is a weapon."

  Hank shook his head and looked up to the Heavens for a moment. "Let's do it."

  "Wait," I spluttered. "Is there anything I need to know about a Were Cow before we go in… considering I was, you know… absent the day it was studied in school."

  The laughter from my posse made me want to punch them in their heads
. However, I knew I deserved it.

  "I get it," I admitted sheepishly. "I do get it, but giving me shit aside, is there anything I should be aware of?"