by Mia Rose
Smokey, as she was known, had the place for a good fifteen years. No one knew what she did to her meat apart from the hickory that smoked and sparked under her grill. And Smokey had come up with something extraordinary. Garrett was reminded of that fact as he took his first bite into a Smokey’s Deluxe Burger, for the first time in almost a year.
With a mouthful of beef and cheese, Garrett looked at Pete and pointed to his burger. “This is heaven on a plate. I've missed this.” Pete waited a while longer until Garrett had gotten halfway through his burger.
“So, when do we go to war?” he asked.
Garrett wiped the juices from the burger that had run down his chin. His napkin no longer a pristine white. It was now tainted with burger juice and melted fat.
“Soon, very soon. We don’t want to hit them at Clifton Towers, though. Somehow, we need to hit them somewhere else.”
“Where are you thinking?” Pete asked.
“Pete, I have no idea. It’s like a damned Rubik’s cube.”
“We know they’ll go to the forest, we can stake out and lure them in,” Pete suggested.
“Yeah, I know that, but where? We need an area that is open, if they get in the undergrowth we won’t stand a chance,” Garrett said.
Pete watched Garrett finish his burger and then wash it down with his diet soda. Pete picked up his lite beer and grinned. “I have an idea! How about that outcrop of rocks? If we position ourselves on the top, we know we have our backs protected. The area is all open, and we can focus on what is coming toward us.”
“That could be a good idea. We’ll work on that,” Garrett answered. “Pass the word around that we are going to hold a meeting, so then we can finalize a plan and count the head numbers we have available.”
“Sure, not a problem. You mentioned ammo?” Pete asked.
“Yeah. I have nearly a hundred made up. It appears I'd been buying up all the silver in the area. Perhaps that’s why you can only get imported?” Garrett said. “I have half a sack full of it in the Range Rover. Take it and get the crew to make up some more rounds.”
They both stood up from the table, and Garrett left the money a plus tip for the waitress. They stepped to the rear of the Range Rover, and Garrett lifted the rear door. He dragged the half sack toward Pete.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Garret pulled out the long, pointed pole. Pete could see that half was silver colored. “This Pete, is a special sort of spear. You remember all those Roman movies where they stuck spikes into the ground?” he asked. “Well, this is similar. I thought, if we run out of ammo all we really have are our knives. With these, we can hold them away from us that little bit longer.”
Pete nodded as he took the spear in his hand and balanced it. “Have you tried to throw it, you know… like a javelin?”
“Shit Pete, I never thought of that. I’ll work on that concept. We could be on a winner with that design.”
“I better get going,” Pete said as he swung the bag of silver over his shoulder. “We have a lot to do.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve got a room full of dusty guns to clean!”
“No trait is more justified than revenge in the right time and place.”
Chapter 17
Washout
“Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.”
For almost two days solid it had rained, and again, the residents had felt as if they were prisoners. This time not from Gabriel, but from the weather. It had rained to such an extent that hardly any of the pack had gone to work. It wasn’t the fact that they were afraid of the rain; no way. Real wolves weren’t scared of much, especially in a pack. They were pack hunters by nature —and they could take down any foe. That was in the case of regular wolves who had no form of communication, apart from their nightly howls. Werewolves, in comparison, had a bit more about them in the brain cell department. They could think and communicate with words, and yes, they could take down any prey or foe. No hunter could take one down easily, unless they had a gun, or if they had the advantage of silver. If it were mano-a-mano, the wolf would win, almost every single time.
Declan sat on the large window sill. Noelle was wrapped firmly in his arms as they watched the trickles of rain form into streams as they raced down the glass.
“I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. I want to get up to the forest with Maria,” Noelle pressed as her head nuzzled against the hard muscle of Declan's chest.
“Yeah! I need to get up there with Dustin. This delay does us no damn good. All this time is playing into the hands of the hunters. You know what your dad’s like. He is going to be pushing them as hard as he can,” Declan explained.
He tightened his grip and Noelle tilted her head. “What do you think is going to happen once this fight has finished?” she asked. “Do you think it will all be over?”
“Nah, I think it will only be the beginning, but it will be different, that’s for sure. They’ll either understand we aren’t that much different and that we can fit in, or they’ll re-group and want to fight us again.”
“You know Declan, I’m going to make it my duty! No matter what happens, I feel I can stand up and tell the world about it all.” Noelle beamed. “Someone has to put the point forward. Humans have been lied to —and the likes of Edmund who wanted to turn everyone back to human was more than unfair. God, how infuriating. Well! Through the eyes of a wolf, that’s as good as killing them.”
Declan agreed as he let his eyes fall onto the dark clouds that covered the Creek. He felt they weren’t only storm clouds that the wind had blown into their direction. This was a sign of what was coming. He'd seen it in the Batman movies. “There’s a storm coming Mr. Wayne.” How true and metaphorical that statement was.
Declan thought more of Noelle being his mate. He hadn’t asked her because he wanted all the shit that was rolling their way to be over, first and foremost. If either of them didn’t make it through the fight, it would be too much to bear. Declan had no thought of putting Noelle in that position.
“We need another pack meeting. I have to tell them about you,” he said.
“What about me?” Noelle questioned, curiously.
Declan’s eyes pulled together. Noelle could see the dim afternoon light as it cast its final beams across his face. Small shadowy lines ran down his furrowed brow. “The real possibility of you being an alpha mate.”
“I thought I wasn’t suitable, you know… being human?”
“You spoke a true word a moment ago,” Declan said. “You said wolves can fit in and live alongside humans, so why the hell is it any different the other way around?”
Noelle sat closer to the arched glass window. Two beads of water started to run down the glass. “This is us two,” she said with a grin. Her fingers traced the beads of water as they spread apart and moved back toward each other. “What these do is our fate…”
Declan watched as Noelle became intrigued with the two beads of water. He heard her breath quicken as they got close, and then she sighed as they moved apart. “Crap, they have hit the wooden frame,” she said. “That’s a bit like the months we were apart.”
Her fingers pushed against the glass as the water started again. Her fingers ran from the frame and made a smudge mark on the glass. Halfway down the large pane of glass the beads merged and then they ran the rest of the way as one.
“Yippee!” Noelle yelped as she turned and kissed Declan hard on the lips. “We are going to be as one!”
“Don’t get overwhelmed, they are beads of rain. I’d like to think we are a little more than that,” he said.
The two were interrupted as Declan heard a voice calling up the staircase. He yelled in response, and he was told there was a call for Noelle; someone waiting on the reception landline.
“Who the hell knows you’re here?” he asked.
“No one. My parents would only guess that,” she replied. “We better go and see who it is.”
Declan and Noelle made their way from the top
of the Towers’ turret where they had sat together in one another’s arms. Time had slowed while they had waited for the rain to stop and they'd made good use of it and spent some quality time together.
Noelle's bare feet padded across the marble floor. The light glowed to show the call was held. “Does this have a hand's free option?” she asked.
Jemma nodded and hit the speaker button and then pushed her finger against the orange light. For a split second, Noelle saw Jemma’s fingertip glow as her finger held the button.
Wolves don’t look any different when they are lit up from inside, she thought. She laughed the thought away and focused on the call. “Um, hello, who’s this?” Noelle asked as she sat on the counter with her legs swinging.
“Noelle, this is your mother, Abigail,” she heard her mom say.
“I know what your name is!”
Noelle slid her hands under her legs and rocked back and forth. “What do you want Mom?” she asked.
“Are you going to come home to where you belong?” Abigail’s voice said as it crackled out from the speaker.
“Mom, I feel at home here. I’ve made my choice, and I want to be with Declan. We can make this wor—” she started to say, but Abigail butted in.
“Noelle! Don’t be so stupid. You know a human can’t be with a werewolf and make a go of it. It’s unheard of,” she said, angered and using an irate tone. “It isn’t right.”
“Listen up, Mom. Nana knew all about my feelings for Declan, and that was how I got to find out about my history,” she explained. “Don’t forget I was a hybrid for a while.”
“What a stupid thing to say, you have never been a wolf,” Abigail said with a raised tone. “God only knows what your father would say if he heard you talking like that.”
“Hey Mom, I don’t want to shock you, but you and dad were turned. He was a wolf for almost a week. You just can’t remember it, though.”
“Poppycock,” Abigail said in a tone that was dead flat. “How the hell could we go back to being human?”
“That dip-shit Edmund poisoned you. He blocked your memory, both of you. Saying that, he did it to all the family, and that’s why there are no pictures of me there; NOT ONE, NONE AT ALL!!”
“There—there—is that how you look at it? This house is not there, this is your home,” Abigail pressed. “It’s about time you remembered that, and got yourself away from that Declan. Edmund was a much nicer man than he will ever be.”
Rage built up in Noelle. She pulled her hands from under her legs and clenched her fists. She snorted as she breathed deep and exhaled before she answered her mom. “Mom, if you knew what that prick Edmund did, you wouldn’t say that. First, he poisoned you and dad and then he took me up to Arapaho Forest where I spent four-and-a-bit months trying to find my way out. He left me for dead, Mom, get that through your thick skull will you,” she yelled back into the speaker. “And another thing, if it hadn’t been for Declan here, you and dad and the rest of the family would still be a bunch of gibbering fucking zombies!”
“Well I never, where did you learn such language, young lady?” Abigail said, flabbergasted. “If your dad could hear you now.”
“Mom, that’s who I got it from.”
Gabriel paced around the motel room like a caged animal. Two days they'd sat there waiting for the rain to stop and there had been no let-up. It wasn’t as if he had anything to do apart from walk in the fresh air, anyway. The motel manager fixed the air conditioner after a second visit from Gabriel, and an obvious reminder he'd drag his sorry ass over the counter, and shove his boot where the sun didn’t shine if he hadn’t fixed it within a couple of hours.
Gabriel had walked up and down outside the rooms. The other pack members had become restless and wondered what would happen when the war started. He'd mentioned to them he’d seen Declan, and that he’d told him of the skirmish the bikers had. Gabriel now noticed the pack had tried their hardest to look up to him. Having a human tell you it’d be okay when you were expected to face humans in a life or death situation was hard to get your head around.
“Tanya, I can’t take this anymore. We have to go to the bar,” he said. “I have to tell them the plan. If they can’t be prepared, we’re gonna be fucked —big time. It’s the rear that can make or break this war.”
“We’ll get soaked.”
“I can call a cab, and he can pull up to the canopy, we should be okay then. It’s just at the bar and the parking lot,” he said. “It’s not like we’re the type of people to have an umbrella.”
Tanya laid dry clothes on the bed as Gabriel dashed into the pouring rain and stood at the roadside. Streams gushed over his feet toward the drain. He looked as far as he could to see in both directions, yet traffic was light. It’d take a fool to drive in weather that hampered your view to this extent.
Yes! A foolish cab driver was exactly what he needed.
Gabriel brushed the wet strands of hair from his face. He saw the headlights as they crawled up the road toward him. The taxi sign glowed a weird, yellowy-orange and could be read; well, almost. Gabriel raised his arm as the cab honked his horn to acknowledge he'd seen him. The cab pulled into the parking lot. The large stones crunched under the tires as the cab driver turned and reversed to get into position.
Gabriel walked to the driver’s window and tapped on the glass. The cabbie lowered his window just an inch. “I’m going to get dry and then change clothes, there is only two of us,” he yelled as the rain made a tom-tom sound on the roof of the cab.
The window closed, and Gabriel could see the glass already starting to steam up inside. He stood in the motel room doorway and pulled off his wet clothes. Tanya handed him a towel and told him dry clothes were ready on the bed.
I bet the cabbie has started the meter, the jerk.
Gabriel ruffled his hair with the towel and then dried himself as quickly as he could. His jeans stuck to his cold, damp legs as he stepped in and tried to pull them to his waist. His t-shirt slithered over his goose-bumped skin and clung to his body. Small patches of dampness showed where he'd missed some spots. He sat on the edge of the bed and lifted his legs. He inched his jeans to his waist and managed to fasten the button. He ran his comb over his head and slicked back the spiky hair to something a little more presentable. Tanya stood outside the door and made her last couple of puffs on her cigarette.
He pulled on a pair of dry boots and exited from the room. He watched the rain as it bounced against the cab roof and found its way onto the rear seat as he pulled the door open. Tanya lunged forward and slid forward, her ass caught the wet patch and smeared the rain over half of the black, cracked vinyl of the seat. Gabriel jumped in beside her and slammed the door as splashes dampened his face.
“Where are you going?” the cab driver asked, over the hum of the air blower that cleared the windshield from condensation.
“The biker bar on the outskirts of town,” Gabriel said as he wiped his face on his arm.
“Right. Not the best weather for riding a Chopper though, is it?” the cabbie replied. “Better weather if you’re a duck or a fish, I think.”
Gabriel rested back against the black seat. He could feel the warm air from the heater as it found its way against the roof of the cab and washed over him. “Tell me about it. I don’t plan on riding though,” he said. “The problem’s getting a cab again, later on.”
“It’s like the heavens have opened up and all manner of dark souls are passing through the gates,” the cabbie said over his shoulder. “Seriously though, if you know what time you’re going to be finished, I can pick you back up again.”
Gabriel looked at his watch. It was a little before six. It seemed to be much later, because the darkness of the clouds seemed to have added a couple of hours by shielding them from the sun. “If you say nine, that’s more than long enough,” he replied. “If you make sure you do it, I’ll slip you an extra twenty.”
The cabbie huffed humorously. “I’d say don’t worry about it. There
isn’t gonna be many on the streets, so I’d be sitting waiting anyway, more than likely,” he said. “But a twenty’s a twenty, and they make all the difference when they are in your pocket.”
The cab pulled into the parking lot of the bar. None of the Choppers were lined up by the door. “Get as close as you can please,” said Gabriel. “Make sure you leave enough room for the cab door, though.”
The cab halted just past the door to the bar. It wouldn’t be worth waiting until someone came out. In this weather, no one would come outside, and in truth, there would be no joints shared and no biker chick having her breasts fondled against the wall. The cabbie honked his horn until a face appeared against the glass window. The bar door opened. Gabriel pushed open the cab door and bolted.
“See you at nine,” he yelled as Tanya darted across the last few feet of the paved area. She’d gotten a little wetter, and Gabriel noticed she'd forgotten to wear a bra. Nipples like bullets pushed against the fabric of her t-shirt. Gabriel smiled as they both entered the warmth of the smoke-filled bar.
“I thought there was no smoking in public places, well, isn’t it the law?” he asked Jemma.
“You tell this lot to go outside and smoke, go on; I dare you,” Jemma said with a broad grin on her face. “First ones on me for saving my life.” She popped the caps off two beers and put the bottles onto the bar. She pointed to the top shelf where the half-mixed bullet sat as a trophy. “It’s a good reminder.”
“Funny you should say that, I went to see an old friend and told him about what happened.” Gabriel lowered his bottle and licked his lips from the drop of beer he'd missed. “There’s a large pack of hunters that are going to strike, and it will be a real war. They’ll need our help to finish this —once and for all.”
