Werewolves of Chicago: Howard: The Underdog

by Faleena Hopkins

  “I asked if you wanna go hunting with me tonight?” Draik says, staring at me.

  “Huh? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  Xavier walks in from the back porch. Windowless buildings that have been empty since the cops scared away the meth-makers back when he was on the force surround the two-story. He spends most of his time out there thinking of ideas, where we can look, what happens when we find them. “I suggested it. Go with Draik. You need something to get your mind of her.”

  Blinking between them, I realize what they’re saying. “Hunt for Alexander? Fuck yes. Count me in.” This is the first time they’ve asked me.

  “Your training is going well. And it’ll give you someplace to put that rage if you find anything.”

  “Yes! Great. Let’s go! Why don’t we check out the tunnels?”

  Draik smirks. “We did that the first night, Curragh and I, remember?”

  “Oh, right,” I mutter, glancing to the warped tile under our feet. “I’ve been a little hazy.”

  Kara comes out of the room upstairs and looks down at us over the banister. “Have fun,” she says, her expression serious.

  Curragh appears behind her. “Call if you find anything. And I mean anything.”

  “You got it,” Draik answers, leading the way out. “We’re going to parole the neighborhoods on the south side. I’m taking Kara’s Caddy.”

  Curragh’s tone shows he’s aware Draik is fucking around. “You are not.”

  We both chuckle out the door, down the four steps and all the way to the Camaro. “I dare you to do it,” I challenge him, jerking my chin to the Cadillac.

  “You first,” he laughs.

  33

  Alisa

  And here I’d hoped for a quick exit.

  “Dad, I have to leave. Can you move?”

  He’s barring the door, drunken eyes glowering at me as he sways. “Why did you come back?”

  “So you missed me then?” I dryly ask, masking the hurt this behavior always causes in me.

  His upper lip pulls back in a sneer and he slams the half-empty can of Coors Light on the shelf in our foyer. Pale yellow liquid splashes onto his hand and he wipes it on the back of his dirty work pants. His shirt is askew, the collar uneven where the buttons don’t line up. He’s embarrassing and disgusting and yet somehow I love him anyway because he’s my father.

  “You left us for the big city just like some little uppity bitch and now that you can’t make it out there you come back and expect me to pay your rent? Uh uh.” He swings at me and from experience, I duck. His balance tilts and I dash into the living room.

  “Mom!” Why I call for her I’ll never know. I think it’s the childlike desire for me to have the type of family that keeps me safe, not running from a beating when the mood hits. “MOM!” Searching the kitchen, I don’t find her. My dad takes up the doorway and holds onto it like a zombie coming to make me one of them.

  “Aleeeeessssa,” he hisses. This man is not my father. He is the man my dad becomes when booze hits the back of his throat.

  Trying to reach my real dad, I plead, “Dad! Please stop! I love you, Daddy. I’m not uppity. I just wanted to try new things. I love it here. You have a very nice home!”

  “You look down on me!” he shouts, veins popping in his neck. “I see you roll your eyes when I’m watching T.V. Don’t think I don’t fucking see you going like this.” He does an ugly exaggerated version of me. I’m walking backwards as he advances.

  “If I did that, I’m sorry!”

  He mocks me, bringing his fists up to his face like he’s wiping tears away. “If I did that I’m so soooorrrrrrrryyyyy!!!! YOU’RE NOT SORRY ABOUT ’NOTHIN’ EXCEPT FOR COMIN’ FROM THIS FAMILY!”

  He lunges for me and I try to duck out of the way, but the room is so small I don’t have enough space. He tackles me, smelling so rank that I gag as he pins me. I try to fight him off. He punches me across the face and then a shot rings out so loudly I go deaf for a second. A bullet lodges into his bicep on a deep grunt of pain. He grabs his arm and falls back, blood seeping over his fingers. I look behind me to where my mom stands in the doorway with a gun. She’s trembling, eyes as scary as a deer’s. She drops the piece and grabs onto the doorframe.

  “Oh no!” she hoarsely whispers.

  “Mom, where did you get that gun?” I scramble up and rush over to her.

  “Your Uncle Sean gave it to me,” she whispers, staring at my father who is swearing like a trucker who’s gotten his cargo stolen while he was fucking a hooker.

  “Mom, you have to call the police. Tell them what you did. And why! They’ll understand.”

  She shakes her head, slowly at first then more violently. “No, no I can’t. I won’t do that to your father.”

  “You won’t do that, but you’ll shoot him?!”

  “We’ll make it through this,” she says, eyes locked on him. “It’s just one of the bad spells. He’s hurt that you moved away.”

  Stunned at how he shows it I look over at him. I can’t believe he hasn’t gotten up but there he sits on the floor, a blob who barely resembles the man who gave me life. “Fucking shit motherfucking bullshit cunt whopper hissy fit bull swagger nonsense!” Blinking hard, his mouth contorts. He looks over and his face softens, his voice now that of a young boy. “Ellen?”

  My mother rushes to him and grabs a dish towel, wrapping it around his bloody bicep and touching his cheek with her other hand. “I’m so sorry William! You were going to hurt Alisa again.”

  “I wasn’t going to hurt her!” he whines then looks over to me. “Was I going to hurt you baby? I love you!”

  Oh fuck. Tears fall down my cheeks as I choke, “I love you, too, Daddy.” Bending to pick up the gun, my mind spins for a solution to this mess. “Okay, look. You have to go to the hospital.” My mom turns to me in horror.

  “I can’t tell them I shot your father!”

  “Tell them a robber came in and did it. I’ll take the gun. You never had this gun, you understand?” She nods. “Dad, will you help Mom?” He nods. They look like children to me. I sniffle and wipe the wetness from my cheeks, trudging out. “I have a dinner to go to.”

  Pulling the white Honda Accord Lynnie and I shared in Chicago into their driveway, I see through the front window her parents and the Carmichaels standing near the fireplace.

  Their house is gorgeous. The landscape is perfect and cared for, punctuated by flowers until the heavy snow comes. It’s pretty much the exact opposite of where I was raised, although when she and I met my house looked better than it does now. It took years for it to need the paint job it will probably never get, and for the lawn to become persistently overgrown and brown. We look like the haunted house everyone has in their neighborhood.

  Coming here to German Village, the nice part of town, just reminds me of what my family sorely lacks.

  When we were little Lynnie and I had more in common. We both had pink bikes and really straight hair that didn’t curl well even with hairspray. We laughed a lot. Usually whatever came out of my mouth made her giggle, since it was rude or obnoxious and so opposite of how she was taught to be. When I got suspended from Middle School she snuck up to my room every night to keep me company for the month I was grounded. As high school came we grew less connected. We didn’t do everything together anymore, both had separate groups of friends. Mine were the cool kids, hers the cheerleader lame-asses who THOUGHT they were the cool kids. No one gave us shit for being friends since everyone had grown up with us, and knew better.

  Walking on the lawn right now, I stare inside the perfect house, the inhabitants unaware that I am observing their adult conversation and how their wine glasses are a part of the evening and not everything. Lynnie walks into the room accompanied by handsome Jason Carmichael. He leans in to whisper something only for her, and she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. This is the first time I’ve seen her smile since what happened to Trevor. Everyone’s dressed up and I realize suddenly that I did not
change. I’ve got on ripped blue jeans and a sweater, and sneakers. Also, my face is probably fucked up from what happened with my father. I need some makeup and I need it now. Numb, I head back to the car as a text comes through. Pulling out my phone there is Lynnie’s name.

  We’re about to start dinner.

  Glancing over, I see her holding her phone, staring down at it and waiting for my reply.

  Sighing, I text back: I have to run home and change. I’ll be right back.

  34

  Howard

  The search was fruitless, but it did keep my mind off what I’ve lost. Draik and I spent hours searching the south of Chicago but came across nothing but a mugging, which we stopped. I got to do the honors, and the thief will think twice before trying that again. We got some food after working up an appetite, and now that it’s after eleven we are heading back. A couple blocks away, Draik says over the music, “Text them we’re coming.”

  “Right.” I type in a quick announcement then stare out the window at the drab landscape of grimy buildings people no longer think about. When he pulls up to the curb we jump out and head in without thinking anything of it. We weren’t careful this time.

  Kara, Curragh, and Xavier are on the back porch, a bottle of Oban single malt scotch half gone on the rickety table that could tell stories of a time no one wants to know about.

  “The place smells better,” Draik says, picking up the bottle and drinking from it without ceremony.

  “Our nostrils couldn’t take the pain,” Xavier smirks, leaning against a banister. A door slams inside and all heads turn. Five heartbeats that don’t belong to us alert us that we are no longer alone.

  “Stay here,” Curragh growls to his wife.

  “Like hell,” she snaps, pulling a gun from the back of her jeans. She’s been armed since we moved here. Just in case. I gave her one from my collection.

  She has to catch up with us as the four wolves use our heightened speed to confront our visitors. Within one second we are facing not Alexander Kruglov, but five wolves from my old pack. Tahl is among them, healed now by time. Also with them is my mother.

  Xavier says, “Did we forget to invite you to our party?”

  Draik snickers, “Going to cry?” spreading his legs in a powerful stance.

  “Mom,” I say in a voice barely controlled. “What is this?”

  “You have chosen these strangers over your own blood family.”

  “The only one who shares my blood here is you.”

  Tahl sneers behind an ugly smile. “Your mother was worried about you, Howard. You’ve been so distant.”

  “Have I?” I growl, locking eyes with him. “I should have killed you.”

  “And break the law?”

  “FUCK THE LAW. She’s my mate and your death would be forgiven.”

  Jaron and Rafe exchange a look, but Lewis remains hungry for blood.

  Curragh is standing in front of Kara with his back rigid and his nails grown sharp. “You all should turn around and go.”

  “You’re not taking him anywhere,” Xavier snarls.

  “The hell I’m not,” my mother says, low and dangerously as her eyes glow bright gold with yellow flecks…just like mine.

  “You should be more grateful, Howard,” Lewis tells me, cocking his head in an unearthly way. He was always the first to mock my stunted size back then. Who knows why he hates me. He just does.

  “For what? For the unconditional love you all gave me,” I sneer.

  “We killed the human your mate and her friend were fucking. Didn’t you like our present?” Rafe calls out.

  “Our work of art,” Jaron adds.

  Kara whispers, “It was them.”

  Of my mother I demand to know, “Since when do you kill people?”

  She shrugs. “I didn’t know they were going to do that. But am I sad for the loss? Not one bit. Your mate as you like to call her is a whore, turns out.”

  Viciously I growl, “She never touched him!”

  “Her scent was on his shirt,” Tahl only-too-happily informs me. “Why do you think I tried to take her in the alley?”

  “Because you’re fucking evil,” Draik growls, hunching over. “And you’re going to die tonight.”

  35

  Howard

  A cacophony of cracking and reshaping bones explodes in the hollow room as every werewolf transforms into fangs, claws and fur. We lunge at each other, jaws snapping. Tahl is mine. The fight is ugly, but we are stronger and it is over quicker than they had planned. Kara has the gun on my mother’s wolf, holding her off with it alone. She’s backed into a corner by the snarling she-beast and Curragh pounces on her and brings her to the ground yelping under the hold he has on her neck. He could easily snap it in two. I shout, “Stop!” naked and bloody.

  He lets her go and backs away, checking on his wife. “I’m okay,” she tells him kneeling by his side to bury her fingers in his dark brown fur.

  My mother shifts into her human form, naked on the ground and touching the puncture wounds on her neck. “Howard,” she whispers.

  “Mom.” Kneeling down, I lift her up and look at the marks. They will heal. “Why did you do this? Why couldn’t you just—”

  “—Change?” she asks, pleading with her eyes for me to understand.

  “Yes. Why couldn’t you change with me?”

  The sounds of panting and whining from the desperately wounded wolves of my childhood are forgotten as my packmates watch, compelled by our sadness. This will be the end of us and they know it.

  “I don’t know,” she says on a low exhale, casting her eyes to the warped tile. “Changing is so hard, Howard. I didn’t want to believe that—” I hear a vicious snarl and then a deafening crack as a gun goes off. Whipping my head around, I see Tahl on the ground with a bullet in his head. His wolf vanishes, replaced by his human form, scarred badly and covered in fresh wounds.

  I’m in shock and look to Kara who shakes her head and points to the door. Alisa is standing in the doorframe with a 9mm held in two hands, smoke coming off the barrel, her necklace shining. She meets my wide eyes. “He was going to…no one was looking, so I had to…” Her voice is trembling and she drops the gun.

  “Kara.” I motion for her to take my mother. “Watch her.” Curragh shifts back and says, “I will.”

  I go to my beautiful girl, pick the gun up to make sure no one else gets their hands on it, and pull her into my arms. She buries her face in my neck and I kiss her hair.

  Rafe and Jaron shift back, but Xavier and Draik remain wolves to keep watch. Lewis is out cold.

  Rafe rasps, “He didn’t tell us she was your mate, Howard.”

  “We didn’t know,” Jaron wheezes. “We didn’t know! Not until tonight.” He cries out as fresh blood pours out of gashes on his side, the transformation exacerbating the pain.

  “What do we do with them?” Kara asks Curragh.

  “Are there others who can claim them?”

  “Yes,” I tell him, my shoulders heavy. “I’ll make the call.”

  There are good wolves in that pack. They weren’t all bad or as easily swayed as Jaron and Rafe. Lewis no longer has a leader, and I hope it stays that way. I call Lena, a smart and capable she-wolf who never gave me any grief. Briefly I summarize what took place and that they need to be retrieved. She apologies, her shock evident. During this phone call, Curragh gets us all something to wear, mostly because he doesn’t want Kara seeing his packmates naked. Pulling the jeans on I hang up, tuck the gun in the back of the waistline, kiss Alisa, grab her hand and ask her to wait for me.

  “Of course.” Our fingers hold on until they can’t.

  Walking to my mother, I tuck in the blanket Kara brought down for her. She refused any clothes, though I don’t know or care why. “This is goodbye, Mom. We’re done.”

  There are tears in her eyes, but they steel against me with pride anyway. “Fine.”

  With as much kindness as I can manage, I ask her, “You think I have anoth
er choice?”

  She stares at me for a long moment. “No.”

  Lena arrives shortly afterward with several cars and drivers. They remove the wounded and leave us alone. On her way out, Lena turns to me and asks, “You okay, Howard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You look different. Bigger.” She motions to my naked chest.

  “Yeah.”

  She nods and glances to Alisa. Casting one last glance over her shoulder at me, she disappears.

  36

  Alisa

  War closes the door behind her and looks at me with so many emotions it wrecks me. He’s scratched up and bloody like he was the night I was almost raped, and all I want to do is kiss away the pain reflected in his eyes. Reaching up, I hold his face in my hands. “I know what it feels like to have to stay away from your family even when you love them. It’s so painful.”

  He nods and pulls me close to him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I had to come. I want to be with you. That’s not my life anymore.”

  Pulling back to talk with me, he frowns. “What about your friend?”

  Smiling sadly at the memory of Lynnie’s insistent texts and phone calls, I confess, “I almost didn’t tell her I was coming, but then halfway here I finally did. She’s mad at me but I told her that…” I trail off, touching one of the cuts on his shoulder because he’s just seen what I forgot about and suddenly I’m self-conscious.

  “Why is there a bruise on your cheek?”

  “Um…can we talk about that another time?”

  “But you’re okay?” he demands, fire in his eyes.

  “I’m perfect. But you? You’re a mess. We need to get you cleaned up.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says, low and distracted. Glancing around we discover everyone has left the room to give us space. We hear voices on the back porch and War turns back to me. He kisses me deeply and rasps, “How did you find me?” I touch my necklace and his eyes light up on the memory. “I put the return address on the envelope.”