by Kody Boye
The clan—my clan—went silent.
I looked from my hand, to them, then back to my hand again before lowering it to my side. I was starting to learn that I had more power here than I thought I did. “Now,” I said. “We have two options: kill or appease. Can anyone think of anything else?”
“Bribe,” Aerick said.
“With what?” Baptiste asked.
“Money, for one.”
“What use do deadfucks have with money?” the Central American man named then asked again.
“What’s your name?” I asked, pointing to the man who’d been so quick both to antagonize Aerick and speak his antagonistic opinions. “What’s your name?”
“Keylor,” he said.
“Keylor,” I replied, taking a few steps toward him. He grimaced—as if my mere presence would somehow scar him. “What would you suggest we do?”
“Pack up, relocate, and get the hell out of here before they come knocking.”
“They’re coming tonight, snatch-face,” Aerick said. “Good luck packing everyone up before they show up.”
“We’re probably being watched as we speak,” Baptiste offered.
“Can we defend ourselves?” I asked. “I mean, if they come? If we try and fight them off?”
“The Sanguine aren’t going to be able to overwhelm twenty Howlers and a Kaldr, especially if there are only a pair or handful of them. The problem will be bringing the whole brood on us once their psychic links shows them what they’ve done.”
“Wait. They can communicate telepathically?”
“Over immense distances.”
“Couldn’t we kill them right as they walked in?”
“They’d know something was up,” Keylor said. “A Sanguine doesn’t just ‘go offline,’ especially not after walking into a Howler compound.”
“The last option,” I said, proposing the ulterior that I felt would bring about the most criticism, “is get the Agency involved. Now—I know it isn’t the speediest solution, and that it’s undoubtedly the coward’s way out, but it’s the only option that keeps anyone from dying.”
“In theory,” Aerick said. Several, including Baptiste, nodded in response. “Doesn’t mean it’ll stop any bloodshed.”
“Since we can’t come to a consensus,” I said, “and since we really have no other realistic option that doesn’t involve bloodshed, I decree we invoke the Agency’s presence in our plight. Does anyone agree with this plan?”
No one raised their hands, nor shook their heads.
“Ok then. Does anyone disagree with this plan.”
Again—no one responded.
I brushed a hand through my hair and looked at the people around me.
Great. Just great.
The one option that might get us out of trouble would probably be the one that would get us killed.
5
The day passed slowly, with little talk or action whatsoever. Breakfast was served, then lunch—then, finally, near the end of the day: dinner. Though there were no clocks within the compound to speak of, I could tell—from the blistering tension alone—that it would soon be nightfall.
By the time it reached its peak, I knew little could be done to remedy the situation.
Faced with outrageous odds, I—with Baptiste at one side and Poem on the other—approached the elevator hatch and entered without saying a word.
“This is going to be bad,” I said, “isn’t it?”
Neither man nor woman agreed.
Their silence answer enough, I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of grating metal as the elevator first started, then began to ease us toward the surface level.
The moment we reached the top was the moment I sensed it.
Dark, foreboding, like death warmed over on the cruelest wake of the year—I listened as, above the threshold, voices began to speak.
“Do you think they’ll open up?” one asked.
“They will,” another responded. “Don’t worry.”
“Silence said there was a Kaldr with the Howler that was returning to the compound. Do you think—”
“Nonsense. What reason would Kaldr have to unite with Howler?”
More reasons than they could think of, I mused, then stepped forward and, with Baptise’s direction, began to enter the keycode that would open the metal hatch.
Sand shifted through the cracks and filtered in from the world above before depositing at our feet, whispering like rats as a cool Texas wind filtered in. Boots became visible first, then legs, then torsos. Finally revealed were the masked faces beneath which nothing could be seen—three in total, all of which were Sanguine judging from their presence.
“Gentlemen,” I said.
“Where is Pierre LeBlanc?” the lead Sanguine—who had also been the most reassuring—asked.
“Pierre LeBlanc is dead,” I replied, willing my eyes to glow their radiant aurora. “My name is Jason DePella. I’m the one who commands this pack now.”
“I imagine you’re aware of our… arrangement, then?”
“I was aware of his arrangement,” I corrected. “Not mine.”
The lead Sanguine hissed.
“His death would have effectively terminated agreement you had with him,” I said, not wanting to step forward out of sheer fear, but doing so anyway so I wouldn’t appear completely chickenshit. “Which means we either have to come to a new arrangement amicably or get the Agency involved.”
The third Sanguine—a woman, judging by the sound of her pitch—emitted a shrill, cackling laughter that rose all the hairs on my arms and neck. “The Agency?” she asked. “Oh, it’s been a long time since that’s been used.”
“I am no longer sacrificing my people in exchange for peace,” I said. “Attack us if you will. Prey on our lands if you won’t. Either way, I refuse to be involved in any business that is destructive to human lives—Howler, Kaldr or otherwise.”
“You’re making a grave mistake,” the lead Sanguine said. He, too, stepped forward, this time coming so close I could smell the fetid odor emanating from his breath. It smelled like a mix of rotten meat and fresh blood—sharp in that it immediately pierced my senses but pungent enough to make me recoil. “I smell your fear, young blood, winter son. Though we will not attack tonight, you will surely regret your actions.” The Sanguine turned. “Let us go. Blood shall be spilled elsewhere.”
The vampires turned and stalked into the darkness.
I frowned. “How did they,” I started to say, but was cut off by the sound of revving engines and motorcycles. “Get… here.”
“I told you there wouldn’t be many,” Baptiste said.
“Three are bad enough,” Poem added. “But a brood?”
“We should consider moving as fast as possible,” I said.
Baptiste pointed toward the moon.
It was almost full.
In a few days, nothing would be able to block out its brilliant luminescence.
“Well,” I sighed. “There goes that plan.”
6
Aerick was the first to greet us upon our return to the subsurface domain. “So?” he asked. “How’d it go?”
“They left,” I replied.
The clan began to cheer.
“But will likely be coming back,” I finished.
The shouts and clamor instantly died down.
“If I were to guess,” I continued, looking at the group of men and women around me, “they’ll attack during the full moon.”
“They wouldn’t want to fuck with us while we’re turned,” Keylor said. “We’d rip them to shreds.”
“Only if you weren’t incapacitated,” I replied. Baptiste nodded and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t know a whole lot about werewolves, but from everything I understand, you’re chained during the process to keep from hurting yourselves.”
“Or others,” Poem agreed.
“Most, if not all of you, will be in chains. How can you expect to defend us when you’re sha
ckled to the wall?”
“Not all of us have to be chained,” Aerick said. “Just the ones who would be most willing to pick fights with the other Howlers. Say—Keylor, for example.”
“I would not start fights,” the man growled.
“Aaah. See! He’s already trying to pick a fight right now!”
“While you dirty little fagg—”
“Let’s not start that now,” I said, placing myself between the two of them. I honestly expected Aerick would lick the man’s face just to spite him if he came any closer. “So what are you suggesting, Aerick? That you stay out?”
“I’d be cool with that.”
“But who would be with you? Poem?”
“Oh, no. She would rip my head off out of sheer spite.”
“What about Baptiste?” I asked, turning to look at the much taller Frenchman. The way he shook his head made me frown. “Are you sure you don’t—”
“Aerick tried to mount him the last time we turned,” Keylor said. “While we were chained.”
“Hey,” Aerick said, spreading his arms. “Don’t hate the player. Hate the wolf.”
“It was… very…” Baptiste paused. “Awkward to say the least.”
“I can only imagine,” I said, casting a glance back at Aerick, who only grinned and offered a wink at the much larger Frenchman. Baptiste merely grunted and furrowed his brows. “So that throws Aerick out of the equation.”
“You just wanna see me in chains baby,” Aerick said, raising his arms and mocking behind handcuffed over the head. “Ungh.”
“Knock it off, Aerick,” I said. “This is serious.”
“Serious then. Now?” He snorted. “Now it’s just us fucking around trying to see who does what.”
“Can you and Poem be the two to guard us when the Sanguine come?” I asked, turning to face her and Baptiste.
“I don’t see why not,” Poem said. “I don’t think we’d have any problems.”
“Unless they’re howwwwling at the moon,” Aerick said, thrusting his hips in fucking motions. “Arooooooooo!”
Poem, and even Baptiste—whom I’d barely seen make an emotion since arriving—blushed instantly.
“Shut up Aerick,” Poem growled, raising a fist and taking a few steps toward him.
The man darted behind me to use me as his own personal shield. “Sorry, sister. Just thought I’d mention you and Mr. Hunkstuff here have been banging your brains out the last three months.”
“Either way,” I said, hoping to dispel the conversation before a fight broke out, “that’s better than two Howlers trying to kill one another.”
“What about you?” Poem asked. “Where would you be?”
“Barricaded. In my room. Hoping not to get eaten.”
“I’ll eat you anytime, baby,” Aerick purred.
I jokingly pushed him away and smirked when he laughed and darted off. “In the meantime,” I said. “Someone needs to explain to me how this whole procedure works.”
“I will,” Poem said, stepping forward. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
7
“This,” she said, “is where we chain ourselves when we begin to undergo the change.”
The room was barren. Made entirely of concrete and empty of any personal artifacts, it resembled a storage container where, once upon a time, rations, clothes, and other military paraphernalia had been stored. It smelled dank—comparable to a place where the pipes had busted and been left to run for an indeterminable period of time—and looked to be almost in the exact same condition. The only thing that separated the state of this room from the others were the number of chains and shackles affixed to the concrete walls.
“We call it the lockdown room,” Poem said, stepping into and then pacing the room, trailing one hand along the wall until her fingertips fell upon the rusting metal.
“Are you sure it’s safe in here?”
“Oh, definitely. We’ve already gone through one cycle here and nothing went wrong.”
“What would happen if, say… one of the Howlers broke free of their bonds.” I gestured to the shackles she was currently tracing. “What then?”
“Well… depends on the Howler. Some might do nothing. Others might try to rut. Some… I fear… would kill us.”
“Intentionally?”
“The personality of the wolf is highly dependent on the personality and mental state of its human counterpart,” Poem explained. “Aerick, for example, is a sarcastic, snotty little mess who likes to make jabs but stay out of fights. Baptiste likes to sleep. I get territorial. A wolf like Keylor, or, say, Dominic—whom you’ve not met—is more prone to violence, which means—”
“They might hurt someone,” I said.
Poem nodded. “We’re all chained the same, regardless, so no one feels slighted, but you don’t have anything to worry about. Pierre would just normally lock us in here, leave the key in the door, and transform outside this room. It only lasts until dawn, and by that point, all anyone wants to do is get down and sleep.”
“So when I leave you and Baptiste to defend us…”
“You simply stay quiet, stay in your room, and lock the door.” Poem frowned when I flashed her a concerned look. “By lock, I mean push something against it. The place is falling apart, as you’ve already noticed.”
“That’ll be remedied once we move in with the Kaldr.”
Her eyes shifted. “You mean Elliot—”
“Agreed? Yes. He did.”
“You didn’t mention this before.”
“I didn’t mention it because we got stopped by the Sanguine on the way back,” I sighed, reaching up to test the rigidity of the bolt and shackles Poem had been examining. When several hard tugs proved they would not falter, I stepped back and nodded when she, with her heightened Howler strength, did the same to no effect. “You’re free to mention it to anyone you like, and to direct them to me if they have any questions. It’ll be a while, though. Elliot has to have the ground excavated and the bunker installed, which means—”
“We may be here for another cycle, if not more.”
I nodded.
“Oh well,” Poem sighed. “At least there’s light at one end of the tunnel.”
Whether or not we’d live to see it had yet to be decided, but until then, I decided to remain focused. All we could do at this point was stay strong, persevere, and withstand anything that came our way.
Unfortunately for me, I had danger all around me, from both inside and out.
8
“You sure you’re gonna be ok in here when we all get freaky-deeky?” Aerick asked, settling down atop the bed after he announced himself with an unexpected visit.
“I’m going to have to be,” I said, settling down beside him. “I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”
“I can tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Aerick pointed. “See that glimmer there?” he asked. “Along the floor and around the door? That’s silver. Liquid silver. Liquid silver that was poured along the doorframe to keep Howlers away.”
“How come you can get in here then?” I asked.
“Because I’m magic,” he replied with a grin, then said, “But no. Seriously. I just step over it.”
“How’s that supposed to help me if Baptiste and Poem decide they want Kaldr for lunch?”
“The door’ll be closed, so the only way they’d be able to get in is to break in. Breaking in involves slamming your body against the door, and given how big we get when we transform, there’s no way a Howler would be able to slam into the wall without touching the silver. Unless it was Poem. I mean, she’s kinda small when she transforms, but even then, it’s not like she’d be able to—”
“You’re not helping,” I groaned. I slung myself on the mattress and pressed an arm over my eyes, sighing as thoughts of danger began to plague my conscience.
“Hey. Hey!” Aerick said. “Don’t get all mopey on me now. It’s not like anything bad’s happen
ed yet.”
“Yet being the key word.”
“The Sanguine’ll probably come, make an appearance, scare the ever-living shit out of you and then leave. They’re not going to try to break into the elevator hatch, let alone into a compound filled with Howlers. I mean, yeah—most of them will be chained up, but anyone who’s smart enough to hold their dick while they piss would make sure at least one was out and about, if not two.”
“You have such a way with words,” I smiled.
“Yeah,” Aerick laughed. “I’m a modern day Shakespere.”
When I made no move to respond, let alone continue the conversation in any detail, the bed shifted. While I’d expected Aerick to climb on top of me—possibly to kiss or initiate sex—he didn’t. Rather, when I removed my arm from my head, I found him stooping near Pierre’s drawers, combing through them until he came upon the object he was looking for.
He lifted, from one’s depths, a gun, then popped the cartridge open to reveal the silver bullets within. “Ah,” he said. “There it is.”
“You knew where Pierre’s gun was?”
“I knew he had a gun. I just didn’t know where it was.” He grabbed a pair of hole-covered boxers, pressed them to his face, and inhaled. “Damn,” he sighed. “If only that man had been a little bit gay. I swear.”
“My boyfriend said the same thing once,” I said, then paused when I realized how the words had come out. “Guy. I mean… Guy had mentioned the same thing. About how hot it would be for a Howler and Kaldr to have sex.”
“And was it?” Aerick asked.
“Oh, trust me. It was.”
He grinned, stood, kicked the drawer with the dirty underwear shut, then crossed the brief distance to the bed, where he pushed the gun into my hand and leaned forward to look into my eyes. “If for any reason you think you might be in danger—and I mean any—don’t hesitate to use this.”
“I wouldn’t shoot Baptiste or Poem.”
“Willingly. But if it came down to you or them?” He leaned back. “I’d personally pick you. But then again, you’re the one with the sweet ass.”
“You dirty motherfucker you.”
“I will get into your pants again, Jason DePella!” Aerick cried as he made his way toward the door. “I swear it!”
