Howl for Me

by Lynn Red

  Devin fell to his knees, clutching his face. One side of his vision flickered, went out, and then came back.

  “What was that?” he roared, clawing at his face and slamming a fist into a wall so hard that it knocked an empty plywood bookshelf to the ground. “Why does it keep happening? Why does my head hurt so much?”

  I sensed Devin’s head throb. When he took his clawed hands away from his forehead, there was blood in his palm.

  “Why can’t I keep from… from falling?”

  Outside the old house, there was a loud noise. It was a motorcycle, a very big one, and then I realized, it was Damon.

  The rest of the memory was a violent blur, filled with blood and pain and roaring, and ended with Devin on the ground, then being hoisted up. Damon looked down, eyes flaring, just about to end it all. I watched myself run up and grab his arm, and then that memory, too, faded into nothing.

  “Did you see anything?” Poko asked, when my vision came back, and I was back in my own skin.

  I shook my head. “It was back at that house, when Damon and Devin had their first big fight, right before he was kicked out of town. He seemed to be having trouble back then, but that’s not when it started.”

  Beside me, Devin was still shaking and weeping.

  “Damon,” I said. “He didn’t… He didn’t do what we thought he did. He hurt Cat because he was trying to keep her safe from himself.”

  “What are you talking about?” Damon snapped.

  I could tell his patience was wearing really thin.

  “He tried to kill me and he locked you two in a basement. Now you’re defending him?”

  Devin just scratched the wall, but at least he’d stopped crying.

  “No,” I said. “What I’m saying, is that he didn’t rape her, Damon. He didn’t do that. I didn’t say anything about the rest of it.” A second later, I realized how snappy I’d gotten. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off quite like that.”

  Damon stood, massaging his temples.

  “Okay fine,” he said. “What does this all mean? That he’s been under the control of some werewolf king, for god-knows how long, and so all the horrible shit he did, wasn’t his fault?”

  “No,” Devin said, in a ragged, pained whisper. “No, it was my fault.”

  “Oh, so he finally owns up to it,” Damon said, standing up.

  My stomach just about hit the floor.

  “Not now, Damon. No, we have to deal with—”

  “No,” he said, coldly. “We, as in me and him, we have something we have to deal with.”

  I reached for him, but he shrugged me off, as Devin pushed himself to his feet.

  “Damon!” I pleaded. “You’re being stupid! There’s much worse than him that we have to deal with right now.”

  But, both of them were a thousand miles away.

  “Wolves heal quickly,” Poko said, with his hand on my shoulder. “Their wounds, anyway. Their pride though is a different story. This has been coming. I don’t think we should do anything to stop these two brothers from…”

  The sound of Damon charging Devin, and slamming his brother against a tree trunk, jolted Poko, Hunter, and I to attention. Poko stuck out his arms, blocking both of us.

  “Let them have it out,” he said. “You’ll not stop them, anyway. I’m afraid this, too, they got from me.”

  I swear there was a little twinkle in his eye when he said that.

  Damon let out a growl and threw his fist in a wild arc. Devin slid down the tree just enough that Damon’s fist smashed into the trunk, splattering bark instead of Devin. Devin pushed back, kicking his brother in the stomach and forcing him away.

  For a moment, the two of them stared at one another, almost slavering with bloodlust. Devin’s clouded, hate-filled yellow eyes burned, as the hair pushed out of his pores.

  “Oh so that’s how you want to do this?” Damon said, grinning. There was just as much seething bloodlust in his voice as there was in Devin’s. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  He threw his hands to his sides, balled them into fists, and unleashed a roar that shook the trees. Damon turned to me, flashing his emerald green eyes for just a second. He gave me a cocky half smile that made my knees feel a little like they were turning into water.

  “Damon! Look out!” I shouted, but just a second too late.

  Devin slammed first a fist, and then a forehead, into Damon’s face. As soon as Damon hunched over, Devin grabbed his shoulders and drove a knee straight into Damon’s nose.

  Devin let out a soft, self-satisfied laugh.

  “That’s for breaking my nose, back in the desert,” Devin said, and spat blood to the side. He kicked Damon’s hand out from under him, and making him fall to the ground, gasping. “You got those tattoos. You got all these people who care about you, and that’s all you can do? Sucker-punch me?”

  Damon balled his fist and punched the ground.

  “If you could keep yourself in control, any kind of control,” Damon growled, “people might care more about you.”

  To answer, Devin kicked him right in the chin. Damon’s teeth clacked together, hard. I winced imagining how much that must’ve hurt. The next second, Damon was back on his feet.

  The two half-wolves stood there, breathing heavily, staring at one another. Their backs and chests flexed with every single motion. I took a step forward, my heart breaking to see them tear each other apart, but a gentle whack on the stomach from Poko’s cane stopped me short.

  Neither of them flinched. They just stood stock still, no movement except the slow in and out of breath filling their lungs.

  Devin lurched forward.

  Damon followed.

  It didn’t take a half second for them to close the ten yard distance and smash together so hard that I felt their skin slap. Damon flipped his brother over and crunched his fist into Devin’s chest.

  Devin grunted in pain, but when Damon went to strike again, Devin moved just a little to the side, rolling his shoulder, and letting Damon’s momentum carry him to the ground. With a heavy thump, Damon’s face hit the dirt, and Devin was on his back, twisting his arm at such an extreme angle, I couldn’t believe it didn’t break his shoulder.

  From side to side, Damon rolled his weight and finally managed to get an arm free, whipped it up through the air, and clawed Devin’s side, leaving four deep, awful gouges that made Devin shriek in pain for a moment.

  Instead of releasing his grip, though, he just tightened down, and bashed Damon’s head against a nearby tree stump twice. The first time looked like it hurt, but the sound that Damon’s head made the second time sent a snake of sickness up my back.

  And then… nothing happened. No movement, no breathing, Damon just lay there, face down on the ground. In my head, I started counting off the seconds. After two, I started worrying a little bit. After six, my heart was just about in my throat.

  Devin turned to us. “He… I’m not proud, but… I had to… I couldn’t…”

  Then, just like that, from out of nowhere, Damon shot out his hand, grabbed the back of Devin’s split-open jeans. In one fluid motion, he yanked his brother, who let out a wet yelp, hard to the ground.

  Devin’s back slapped with such force against the earth that the air rushed out of his lungs, and he gasped to get it back.

  Damon flipped to his feet and punted Devin in the side of the head. A tooth went flying in the other direction, Devin started cackling for some reason, and Damon gave him a sharp kick to the ribs.

  Grabbing his throat and gripping tightly, Damon growled in his face.

  “Why are you laughing?” he demanded. “Why won’t you stop laughing?”

  Damon lifted his brother off the ground and struck him against the same tree root that he’d just gotten up from.

  “Stop laughing!”

  Damon’s eyes were burning with emerald fury – something I’d only seen once before.

  “Damon!” I shouted. “Don’t hurt him, anymore! Can’t you see he’s… Oh, my
God! Damon!”

  But, for the second time, it was too late. Devin wrapped his hand around a baseball-sized rock. When Damon was looking in my direction, Devin cracked Damon on the ridge on the back of his head.

  I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

  Even though I knew they couldn’t kill each other, at least not without a significant amount of effort, it just broke me to watch.

  Blood ran down Damon’s split lip, along the tattoo on his chin, and dripped onto Devin’s chest. His eyes were glazed, and he was weaving slightly, back and forth.

  Devin, looking up at him, clenched the rock so hard, his knuckles went white.

  When he swung, I ran forward, past Poko. I had to stop him. I just couldn’t let him bash Damon’s brains out, without doing something.

  “Damon!” I screamed, lunging forward.

  But in that one instant, I saw him go from limp and drooling, to taut and hard.

  Devin fist moved so quickly it would have caved Damon’s skull if he connected.

  Damon stuck out his elbow, bending Devin’s arm. Damon snatched the rock and smashed it, square into Devin’s temple.

  I stumbled to a halt as Damon wavered again. Obviously out on his feet, he looped left, then he drooped right, and before I could get to him, he collapsed in a heap.

  Then, after a moment of sickening silence, I hear Devin’s hollow laugh.

  It wasn’t the normal, smug, self-satisfied laugh of someone who just won a fight. It was the sort of sound someone makes because they have no idea what else to do. It was all he had – that single, lonely, pitiful, gasping laugh.

  Poko came to my side, followed by Hunter.

  “I think they’ve had out their differences,” Poko observed.

  Devin’s laughing trailed off, and he closed his eyes slowly, his breathing slowing to a crawl.

  “If that’s true,” Hunter said. “I mean, about Cat and him, and… I mean, I mean… Shit, what do I mean?”

  “I think I know,” I said, still trying to decide what to do about the bloody heap on the ground in front of me. “You want to know if we really do need him, right?”

  “Something like that, yeah,” Hunter said.

  Poko coughed lightly, then a little heavier, but didn’t fall into another fit.

  “I can answer that for you,” he said. “You do. It’ll be impossible to stop Blight without the two of them working together. They are, as unfortunate as it may be, both my blood. Did you ever notice the strange mark on Damon’s wrist? The jagged line?”

  “I…” I stumbled for a second. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Poko turned his arm over. “We’re all marked with it. You see?”

  “What does that have to do with Devin? He can hardly keep himself from going nuts for more than a half hour. Why can’t we figure out some way to do this without him?” I asked.

  “Look,” Poko said, pointing his stick at the heap.

  For the first time, I noticed that Damon’s hand was on Devin’s chest, clutching the torn remnants of his brother’s shirt, in an unconscious fist. Devin’s arm was splayed over Damon’s back, opening and closing. And there it was on Devin’s wrist – the jagged, hook-like mark. Partway up Devin’s arm was another one, one I’d not seen before.

  “Two parts of the same whole,” he said. “One is fire, the other ice. One calm and cool, the other passionate and wild. You take Damon home. I’ll keep Devin here. Care for Damon, and I’ll do the same, for my other pup.”

  “Just a second,” I said. “What’s the other mark on Devin’s arm? The scar?”

  Poko looked closer, and shook his head. “Blight’s mark, must be. A brand of sorts. But it doesn’t matter now that we know the truth.”

  Hunter took a step forward. “Want a hand?”

  “You don’t expect me to carry that giant muscle inside by myself, do you?” Poko smiled, and then turned back to me. Hunter hoisted one of the collapsed wolves, and dragged him into the cave.

  “Lily?” he asked, getting my attention. “This will test everything you think to be true. Jacarth – Joram Blight – is not what you expect. What those two did to each other, just now, was a simple fight. Just boys hashing out their differences.”

  “You sound like they are wrestling dogs.” I said, a little exasperated. “They almost killed each other.”

  Poko shrugged. “Maybe yes, and maybe no. But, hear me now, child. He will need you, worse than ever before. Do you understand?”

  “How do you mean? And… Who? Damon will?”

  Slowly, Poko nodded.

  “Him, but also the other one. I think that you may need to use your particular brand of strength, when the world catches fire. And it will. The prophecies about Blight, they speak of fire on the sand, the air going so hot, that it can cook birds, and make them drop from the sky.”

  “Sounds bad,” I said, chewing my lip. “I don’t know if I could really, like… take him over… I mean, I did it to Hunter, but that wasn’t much of a fight.”

  He shook his head. “It isn’t fighting you’re going to need to do.”

  “Then what? I don’t understand, Poko. It’s been kind of a long day.”

  “He will need your strength. Damon will have every fiber of his being strained and pulled in a thousand directions,” he said. “He will need you and his friend, but… He can’t know.”

  “Know what?” I asked. “That I’m helping him?”

  “He’d never forgive himself for having you in the line of danger, and you would be in terrible danger – I’ll not lie to you. We will all be, when Blight comes.” Poko tilted his head slightly to the side. “I’ve never asked you to do anything that went against your will, have I?”

  “No,” I said, looking at Damon lying there, breathing on the dirt. “No, you haven’t.”

  “I am now. We need you, Lily. He needs you. Without your help, we won’t survive.”

  Hunter emerged from the cave. “Want a hand with your lump of muscle, Lily?”

  I cracked a grin. “Nah, I thought I’d carry a two-hundred-fifty pound, six-foot-six werewolf to my car, but thanks for the offer.”

  He snorted a laugh, wrapped an arm around my shoulders for a second, and then went to hoist Damon over his shoulder like a sack of bleeding potatoes.

  “You owe me,” he said. “Something. Not sure what.”

  Poko grabbed my arm, as I turned to leave.

  “Can I borrow you tomorrow?” He asked. “We have more spelunking into the depths of a mind to do.”

  For a second, I just stood there, shaking my head, letting it all go through me – Damon, his brother, and the fact that some kind of apocalypse was about to strike Fort Branch.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after Damon wakes up. Okay?”

  I turned and left before he could answer. I was in too much shock to process it all. I didn’t want to do it – didn’t want to go back into Devin’s head and find any more of his secrets. I didn’t want any of it. I wanted to be with Damon, somewhere quiet, and to watch the Cardinals play on my grandpa’s giant television. Maybe have a couple kids…

  My hands fell on my stomach.

  “Poko?” I said, turning back around. “Do you know?”

  His only answer was a lingering smile.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look he gave me for as long as I live.

  -15-

  Damon

  Outside, some kind of desert bird announced the early morning.

  Damon shifted, groaned, and opened his eyes for just long enough to realize his entire body felt like a beat up junkyard dog.

  He really, really, really wished that bird on the window would shut the hell up.

  *

  Sun poured through the closed blinds and the thick, dark red curtains, pooling on the floor. When Damon opened his eyes, he saw the light about three feet to the left of the bed. He blinked twice, lifted his arm, and then dropped it back to the bed when pain shot through his body.

 
“Damon?” Lily pushed open the door, evidently hearing him stir. “Are you awake? Damon?”

  He rolled his head toward the door.

  That hurt, too.

  Damon took a deep breath just as Lily sat down beside him. The mattress squeaked gently under her weight. He reached for her, but halfway there, his elbow seized up. Another jolt of pain shook him.

  “Li…ly…”

  When his hand hit the pillow, following his hopeless attempt to grab Lily, it made the world’s softest thump.

  The snore that came afterward? Nowhere near so tiny.

  *

  The next time Damon managed to open his eyes, the yellow pool of warmth on the floor was, instead, cool quicksilver. Another bird chirped. This time it was a smaller voice – a more timid animal, he thought, a desert night bird. He snapped his eyes open, looked around in the dark and took a deep breath.

  “Rain,” he said softly, making sure his voice still worked. “Feels good. We needed it.”

  Testing his voice was the worst of his pain. Each phrase, each syllable made Damon’s raw throat click painfully.

  It seemed to Damon that all the moisture in his body had somehow been sucked out and was falling from the sky. He wanted water, but was also scared of swallowing anything.

  “Could be worse,” he said, a little louder.

  His throat was beginning to warm up, and keeping his eyes open no longer hurt.

  Blood red curtains whipped soundlessly in a hypnotic dance with every gust that came through. It was cold outside, Damon realized – very cold. A shiver crept up his back. He clenched one of his broken fists, and relaxed it.

  Small tendrils of pain crept up his arm, but it was manageable.

  Damon wondered how long he’d been out. His temple throbbed then, and he thought however long it was hadn’t been long enough.

  Slowly, he lifted his arm, testing the ribs that had been cracked and aching the last time he awoke. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a second, and then slowly let out the air.

  At the end of his exhale, a slight twinge of sharpness kept him from emptying his lungs completely. Considering the mess he’d been in just a few hours ago, he decided he’d take a little jab without complaint.

  The desert outside his window was calm and almost uneasily still. When he took another deep breath and tasted the freshly clean air, it didn’t matter. Another gust came through the open window, but instead of a chill, Damon felt a kiss of relief, of safety, and a sense of home. Turning his head to the right, away from the moon and the night and the calm stillness, he realized why he felt the way he did.