by Thomas, Ian
Brrr! Brrr!
Ben reached for his phone, the darkness briefly receding.
Jason // 23:11
Thanks for tonight
Can we do it again sometime?
Purely NSA!
Ben wondered what the National Security Agency had to do with them having sex when a second message came through.
Jason // 23:12
Sorry Grampa
NSA = no strings attached
In the darkness, Ben laughed. He hadn’t genuinely laughed in a long time. So it was probably a good thing he hadn’t killed Jason.
Scrolling through his messages, he saw another that caught his attention.
Julie // 22:45
I miss U
I miss U inside me
Call me
With Jason it was just sex, Ben realized. With Julie it was more than sex. She wanted the wolf as her weapon, not just her lover.
An arrangement that suited him. He found it refreshing to encounter someone who hated McLachlan as much as he did. Additionally, the Cult’s resources far exceeded his own. True, they were pretty deluded in thinking they could have a pretense of control over the supernatural. But that was their folly. All he needed was for them to help him dispose of McLachlan in one way or another and then they’d part ways. He, to whatever a McLachlan-free existence held, and them to attempting dominion over a demon lord.
They’d have better chance of writing on the surface of a river.
Amused at the idea, he got out of the bed and strolled to the bar area in the adjoining living room. The bottle of bourbon where he’d left it. Pouring himself a finger, Ben found himself thinking about bedding Jason again.
While the full moon was still a few days away, the energy was already coursing through him. With Julie gone he’d considered going old-fashioned with the change. Starve himself of all carnal pleasures then drive out to farm country. Turn and feed.
Part of him wanted to really piss Matteo off and change in Times Square. Slaughtering the tourist masses there wouldn’t be a bad thing. Not great for tourism obviously, but a few thousand New Yorkers would be thanking him. Problem came that Matteo and the demon Boy Scout would intervene and there’d be talking and guilt and more talking and he really couldn’t be bothered. No, Ben decided, livestock was preferable.
Besides Times Square was where the Pack War ended. It’d send a message he didn’t intend.
Screwing Jason had lessened the carnal needs some. He’d still experience the change but the beast wouldn’t completely take over. A shame. Just when he was wanting to get out of his head for a while.
Maybe out of the country was better, he wondered, remembering Julie’s text.
“Not so sure he’d make a very good werewolf,” a voice said in the dark.
Whirling around, claws at the ready, Ben saw the man seated on the couch. Henry.
“How?” Ben asked, startled that he hadn’t smelled the other man’s presence.
“Told you before, brother. I have secrets.”
“What are you?”
“Werewolf. Just like you. Only I don’t let that limit me.”
Casually, Ben leaned against the bar trying to study the man in the dark. He also had a glass of bourbon. Another scent Ben hadn’t picked up.
“Siring Jason wouldn’t be worth my life,” Ben said, replying to the original statement. “Plus he’s connected to Eddie. I’d have my whole pack aligned against me.”
“I do like the irony though.” Henry sipped his drink.
“What’re you doing here?” Ben asked curtly. The man made him uneasy. While they’d only really had one conversation, having met that night outside the club, Ben didn’t think the relationship was something to foster.
“I enjoyed our conversation the other night. Was quite enlightening.” He shifted in this seat, getting more comfortable. “So much I’ve missed in my absence.”
“So you’ve taken a somnus?” Ben asked. The matter of age had never really come up between them. Not being able to get a read on the man’s scent – and being told constantly that he had secrets – Ben had struggled to place him in time. Older than himself obviously. But as old as Matteo? Older?
“Something like that,” Henry replied in the vague manner Ben had come to expect. “I must say though, for someone railing against the taming of his kind by the modern world, this,” he looked around the hotel suite, “is lavish. Four hundred thread-count sheets, memory foam, and –ahem– room service.” Henry turned his scrutiny back to Ben. “How do you plan to start a revolution when you’re as neutered and pampered as your beloved sire?”
Ben’s face burned but he said nothing.
“These accords your little nemesis set up are a joke,” Henry said. “Placing order on chaos. Don’t they know that order is chaos?”
“They won’t last.”
“Well of course not. What we are – be it werewolf, witch, or vampire – was not meant for order. We can only be true to ourselves amid total and utter chaos.”
“Howl at the moon while the world burns, huh?”
“Let our beasts out to play.”
“I dunno.” Ben hoped his hesitancy might be enough for Henry to lose interest in him. The man sat back, smiling. “Something I’m mis–”
A force slammed into Ben, knocking him down. Sprawled on the carpet he saw Henry was still seated on the couch. Something caught Ben in the gut, throwing him into the air. He rose a couple of feet before being punched back to the floor.
“Wha–” He struggled to sit up. Pushing himself away from where Henry still sat unmoving, Ben felt razors slice across his chest. He howled in pain. Blood spilled down his bare chest, stinging as it hit the cold night air. That was when he noticed the balcony window was open.
Staggering to his feet, chest and groin wet with blood, Ben found his footing. Angry, he shifted into his wolf form. His age and experience made it immediate and painless.
Henry didn’t move, a smile gracing his features as the large wolfman stood before him.
“Now that’s more like it,” he said.
Through the rage and hunger Ben registered another figure in the room. A woman. She stepped from the bedroom and leaned against the doorway. Despite being slightly disfigured with the vampire brow, she was attractive. But young, both in terms of human and vampire age. Months maybe?
She lifted her hand to her mouth and licked the blood from her finger.
“Woof,” she said, excited.
When the light glinted off her fingernails Ben saw in alarm that the tips were pure silver.
XXXV
Opening the door to his room, Jason was surprised to see his roommate. He was less surprised by the tirade being unloaded on the computer.
“It was a goddamn bicycle. Maybe – I don’t know – get a fucking padlock!”
“Hey,” Jason said, shutting the door behind him.
“Hey.” Mouth didn’t look up.
“Not on-air tonight?” He figured Mouth would’ve gone by now. Hoped actually.
“Later.” Mouth glanced at the clock on the wall. “Bex is handling the set up. Guilt for all the dramas lately. Plus I got this stupid film response to finish. You been at the Grind?”
“Nah, starting soon.”
“These overnights must be killing you,” Mouth said, finally turning in his chair to Jason.
“You seem to cope.”
Mouth gestured at the laptop emphatically. “Obviously not.”
“Italian cinema?” Jason asked, dismissively. “You’ll crank that out in two hours easy.”
“I want an A.”
“Oooh,” Jason replied, mocking him. “Three hours tops.”
“I don’t know,” Mouth said, defeated.
The tone caught Jason off-guard. Mouth wasn’t one for defeat, least of all with coursework. Usually Jason was the stressed-out one. Camping out at the library, writing his essays early, proofing them, starting over, and losing countless hours of sleep – most of which was spent second guessing
himself.
“What’s up?” Jason asked. Before Mouth could answer, they heard a knock at the door. “Hold that thought?”
“Go away!” Mouth yelled.
Smiling at Mouth’s outburst, Jason opened the door. Quickly, his smile faded.
“Hey,” Danny said, beaming.
“Hello.” Jason blocked the doorway, not about to give Danny access to the room. He had a feeling the human equivalent of apple pie and baseball would never leave.
“Good. I caught you,” Danny said. “Was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee and talk.”
“I work in a coffee shop,” Jason replied flatly.
“Oh, uh, we can go somewhere else.”
“Not what he meant,” Mouth muttered behind Jason but Danny didn’t hear.
“You hungry then?”
“Nope.”
“Dude, take a hint,” Mouth murmured a little louder.
“How about a drink then? Maybe head to Bar None or Fat Cat?”
“I would,” Jason lied. “But I gotta work tonight. Maybe some other time?”
“Sure.” But the door was already shut.
“Brutal,” Mouth said. “I like it.”
Jason ignored Mouth and sat on his bed, looking for his phone charger.
“Though Danny’s not terrible as far as rebounds go. If a little Mitch-adjacent.”
“Exactly. But can we not talk about it?” Jason turned slightly to face Mouth, his expression softening. “Sorry, you were saying. Before. What’s with the down?”
Mouth took a deep breath. “Everything’s piling in and I can’t breathe. The coursework this semester’s killing me. I gotta do my second film for Sight and Sound in a week and I haven’t written the script. I spent the past two days importing audio and video for that bitch Naomi because her digital tech has all the competency of a four-year-old flying a plane. Actually I’d trust a four-year-old more. And I got an Intro to Effects makeup project to plan.”
“Dude, that’s massive.”
“I know, right. Then there’s all the bullshit that comes with McLachlan and his craziness. Both Eddie and Bex have laid into me about taking on Ben. Not that I would’ve stopped him ripping Naomi’s throat out. But still there was Drew, a bunch of students, and Hayley besides.”
“Was pretty dumb though.”
“Not you too?”
“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want to take on some…”
“Wasn’t like I was planning to fight him to the death. Obviously it would’ve been mine. But come on, what else was I supposed to do? It was Ben. Captain Psycho-pants. You heard he threw McLachlan off a building, right? Broke his back and everything.”
“So one minute you’re anti-McLachlan, pro-Ben, then anti-Ben and pro-McLachlan? Little out there even for you.”
“Never pro-Ben. That dude’s an asshole.”
Jason looked at the clock. “Hey, I gotta get to work and so do you.”
Mouth started to pack up his stuff as Jason pulled his shirt off to change. He could still smell Ben on his skin. Realizing he possibly had scratches from Ben’s claws down his back, Jason turned to face Mouth self-consciously. He caught his roommate standing there, a puzzled expression on his face.
“What is it?” Jason asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Uh,” Mouth said, “just wondering if I saved the document before shutting down.”
“That all,” Jason said, relieved. “I set up auto-saves for you last semester. You’ll be all good.”
“Cool.” Mouth seemed to relax though Jason was unsure. Mouth was too smart to not save his essay, but he did seem quite stressed. So there was no way for him to suspect about Ben. “Hey, so a group of us are heading to the Angelika tomorrow for a movie. You got the night off right?”
“Uh.” Jason had the taste of Ben on his lips. Would they be hooking up again? He hoped so. After all that was the strategy behind his uncomplicated departure. “Picked up another shift. Jeremy’s struggling with Aristotle’s poetics. Wants to pull an all-nighter to get it done.”
“That’s odd,” Mouth said, his tone suddenly firm as he opened the door to the room. “Saw him earlier and he said he’s all done. Someone’s getting played.”
As the door swung shut after him, Jason cursed under his breath. Mouth didn’t do passive aggression. Wasn’t his thing. Unless he was really angry.
“Screw him,” Jason said aloud, packing his bag. He looked at the room before he left. Two beds. Two friends. Two of Cups. Time he stopped being distant from everybody. Even his best friend. He could have both Ben and his friends.
XXXVI
Amused, Ben looked from the girl to Henry and remarked, “so…you have a pet vampire.”
“And you have a pet fag,” the vampire replied angrily.
“Holly.” Henry’s tone was almost parental. “Name calling’s a little childish.”
The vampire pouted. To some it may have been adorable but Ben found it pathetic. And a little insulting.
“Figured we’d start there and work our way up to a battle of wits.” Ben was startled at how much the retort sounded like McLachlan. “This a ploy to see if I’m fighting fit? See if I can take down this bint of a vampire?”
“Hey.”
“I’ve been a wolf for over a hundred and thirty years, you’ve been a vamp for what…all of ten minutes – how do you think this is going to play out?”
“You’re old, I’m not. Seems a pretty obvious outcome.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Ben growled. “You’re fodder, he’s using you.”
Doubt flickered across her face. She’s not so sure? Henry may be using magic to mask himself but this girl was an open book.
Behind her, Henry stood up and approached the young woman, draping an arm across her shoulders. The young vampire gained a sense of confidence again and squared her footing.
“Easy brother, you have this all wrong,” Henry said, his tone light. “I’m using you. Holly here needs to be tested. Who better than a werewolf of your standing.”
“Don’t worry.” Her silver fingernail teased her lower lip. “If I win, I’ll let you hump my leg?”
“This is insulting,” Ben said angrily. The vampire wouldn’t be a problem. Before she’d caught him by surprise. This would be different. As for Henry…Ben wasn’t completely sure what kind of supernatural he was.
“Maybe,” Holly sighed, bored. “But these are silver.”
In a blur she darted past Ben, slashing him. Blood sprayed across the room.
“Gonna be hell explaining that to the hotel.” Henry stepped back to get a better view.
On her third pass, Ben caught her by the throat and threw her at Henry. Artfully he dodged the collision.
Pain clouded Ben’s mind. Where the silver cut him the purity of the mineral fired his nerve-endings, slowing his healing. If she went deep he worried the wounds would be too great for him to heal easily. Should she puncture organs or tear his innards, he’d bleed out, lose consciousness, and eventually die. Especially if she pierced his heart. Silver claws were a cruel weapon. Required a certain intimacy for each attack. Yet this girl was untrained, young, and lashing out wildly, anger carrying over from her human life into her vampire one. Ben had fought this type before. Whether wolf or vamp it always ended one way. Them dead on his claws.
Speed being her greatest weapon, Holly flew at him, claws raking his skin. Deeper than before, Ben could feel the poison in his system. Given her nails had been made silver, could they be more venomous than just the metal itself? Realizing it was just pain and little more, Ben staggered back to his feet, intent on making his next strike count.
However, the real enemy hadn’t properly revealed himself. No, once again he sat on the couch, bourbon in hand eagerly watching the outcome.
Darting at him again, claws raised, Ben caught her by the wrist. He jerked her backwards with one hand, plunging the claws of his other hand into her belly. She gasped, blood spittle on his fac
e.
The silver claws were Henry’s design. Hardly some futuristic bio-engineer, these claws were of magical origin. The Dark Doctrine. Was Henry a mage?
With her feet on Ben’s chest, she pushed herself off his claws. Shock and anguish burned on her face as she fell to the floor. Looking up at him, Ben was startled to see it replaced by indignation. He almost laughed. Apparently no one treated the little princess like this. Henry really was testing her.
Having claimed to be a werewolf Henry had never made good on it, and Ben had never caught a wolf scent from him. Any scent for that matter. What features the man had revealed as wolfen could easily have been a glamour. Lacking a scent was one thing, practicing magic was another. Was he just some mage recruiting other nocturnals to his cause?
Frenzied, the vampire hurled herself at Ben. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she sunk her fangs in to his neck. He felt the pull of blood to her mouth. An unsettling sensation even under the pain of her bite. Gripping her tight, he flung her off him and against the wall. A crazy, petulant vampire was one thing, but one hyped up on wolf blood Ben decided was something neither of them wanted. Especially with what wolf blood did to female vampires. Henry would know that if he were a wolf.
And yet here he was watching his protégé vampire fight a werewolf, unflinching. Mages were about as fond of vampires as wolves were, and they were hardly tolerant of wolves as it was. The enemy of my enemy is my weapon, Ben wondered.
Seeing Ben weakened, blood spilling from his neck as his body fought to repair the gash, Holly stood up slowly. Her wounds were healing, the draw of Ben’s blood accelerating the process. Savagely, she raked his skin again, this time his legs and arms. Wounds opened and blood flowed. She’d learnt the claws were her best asset. Lighter attacks were deadlier than more aggressive ones.
But Henry had to know this girl wouldn’t take him down. Admittedly, she wasn’t doing a terrible job of it judging by the slashes across his body and blood on the…well, everywhere. However, Ben was addled. Scared of her claws and trying to fathom Henry’s end game. Ben felt bad ending the girl when she was merely a pawn in someone else’s plan. But then so was Ben.
