by Casey Lane
“Fuck it,” she muttered.
She curled up on her ratty sofa and went to sleep. She could live without her TV.
Two weeks later, Alanna pushed open her front door. The snow was piled three feet deep. She wore green boots, a thick winter coat that stank of mothballs and dust, and a pair of mittens. The cold didn’t bother her, being a vampire. The extra clothing was for the benefit of the humans in the village.
She took a deep breath. “Okay. You can do this.”
She struggled out into the thick snow, smiling as the fresh winter air invaded her nostrils. It actually felt good. She felt enervated and alive. There was nothing to worry about.
A wolf howled close by, it’s mournful cries echoing around the trees like wind. She stopped still, feeling dread creep inside her. There weren’t wolves in the park.
A werewolf.
Her cow made a frightened noise. Alanna turned back to her front door and ran back inside. She ripped open the back door that led into the barn, finding Bella sniffing something in the pile of hay in the back.
“Stay away from it,” Alanna told her.
She could smell blood. There was a trail of it leading from a small, forced opening in the barn that led to the hay pile. There was a lot of it. Nothing could have survived such blood loss.
The cow clomped away, ignoring her, and found utter delight in sniffing a random patch of ground. Alanna saw something stirring in the hay. She fanged out, preparing to fight, when she heard the groan of a man in pain.
“Show yourself,” Alanna demanded.
The man groaned again before stopping altogether.
She came forward, and dragged a body from they hay. He’d stopped breathing. His shirt was ripped, and dripped with blood. His face was covered with rips and tears. He was a mess of flesh.
Shit.
She couldn’t let him die. If somehow he were to be tracked back here, they’d blame her. They’d kill her, whoever they were. Besides, he could be saved. She’d watched enough medical programs on TV to know basic CPR.
“Okay,” she said, pressing her hands against his chest. “Breathe.”
She put her lips to his his, pushing breath into his lungs. His eyes opened, staring into her. She pulled back, surprised. She’d hardly done a thing to save him. How had this happened?
“Are you going to kill me?” he asked her. His voice was rough, almost choking on the blood that dribbled from his lips. “Tell me.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” she promised him.
He grinned. “Good.”
He passed out. Alanna checked his pulse, just to make sure, before she breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter Three
“Help me, Valko!”
He sat up with a shout, his sister’s cries pulsing in his head like a migraine. He’d tried to help her. He’d done everything he could. But he hadn’t been strong enough.
“Stop shouting,” said a woman. She pushed him back down. He felt his head press lightly against a cushion. “You’re still as weak as a cub.”
He looked up into the eyes of the woman who’d brought him back to life in the barn. She smiled at him and went about her business, which seemed to be stirring some type of stew in a pot on the stove. He could smell some type of bird meat, carrots, potatoes, beans.
“Where am I?” he asked.
He noted he was naked under the sheets. His injuries were healing nicely. He wasn’t sure whether any of them would scar. He’d never been hurt so bad before. At one point, he had actually felt his intestines trying to slide their way out of his body.
The woman turned from the stove. “My cabin.”
“I can see that,” he said. Talking hurt. His throat burned. “Where am I?”
“Somewhere in Baxter State Park. Far from everywhere.”
Valko did a double take. He’d been chased for over a hundred miles.
They must think I’m dead or they never would’ve stopped.
The woman sat down on the edge of the bed and put her palm to his forehead. He watched her carefully as she worked, checking his pulse and his rapidly healing injuries. She was very attentive. He reminded her of his mother, who’d been a nurse before she had retired.
He sighed. “How long have I been out?”
“Four days.”
I’ve been out for that long? It didn’t feel it.
“Are you a nurse as well as a vampire?” he asked.
“You can probably smell the vampire in me,” she said. She smiled as she caressed the injuries on his bare chest. “But no. I’m not a nurse. I just read a lot.”
He sniffed, and took in her scent. He could discern vampire, lavender shampoo, simple pear soap, and something else, something he more commonly smelled in a witch or Fey.
“You’re different,” he said.
She started spreading some kind of green salve on the main injury on his stomach. She’d stitched the wound together to help, but even his advanced healing was having trouble with it.
“I was a witch,” she admitted.
Her touch was cold, which made him giggle.
“I thought witches couldn’t become vampires?” he asked.
“They can’t,” she said, as she smoothed the healing ointment across his abdomen. He groaned in pain, even though her touch was as gentle as the tip of a feather. “But I’m different. I’m literally one in a million.”
She certainly was that. Her blonde hair was like sunshine, and her face was wrinkle free. She looked to be in her early twenties, but he knew she was far older than even he. For all he knew, she could be a thousand years old.
He scratched at his face, and found himself clean shaven. He hated being clean shaven.
“Did you shave me?” he asked suspiciously.
“I had to,” she said. “It was the only way to help treat some of the wounds on your face.” She looked into his eyes. “Part of your jaw was unhinged. I had to… pop it back in place. Plus, your chin had a bite mark on it that looked really nasty.” He waited for her to continue. He needed to know everything. “I pulled buckshot out of over seventy percent of your body. There was half the blade of a knife in your back. You were bitten so badly, I’m surprised there was anything left of you.”
He digested this information solidly. He couldn’t remember being shot at. He couldn’t remember most of that night. It was a blur of screaming and fear and blood.
But I do remember Vasilka dying. That is one thing I’ll never forget.
“You saved my life,” he said quietly, almost accusingly.
“You would’ve healed,” she said.
He shook his head. “My injuries were too severe, even for a werewolf. If you hadn’t found me and helped heal me then I’d be dead.” I do want to be alive, right? “Thank you.”
She beamed and walked away. The salve on his stomach wounds itched like crazy, and smelled just as bad. He wondered who this vampire was, who lived in the forest like this on her own. A hermit. What had caused her to move out here? What climactic event had driven her to such isolation?
She walked over with a dinner tray, a steaming bowl of stew placed on it. He took if from her and ate it gratefully. It was a little burnt, but it tasted good. His stomach informed him he hasn’t eaten in a long time.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She sat at at a small table, facing him. He was about to ask why she wasn’t eating too when he remembered that human food gave vampires the most excruciating stomach pains imaginable.
It couldn’t be any worse than the pain I’m in now.
He almost felt like slapping himself. He’d never been given to self pity. It made him feel like a failure.
“Alanna,” she replied.
“I’m Valko,” he said. “Valko Green.”
She seemed to recognize the name. “The Green family is akin to werewolf royalty, am I right? Alphas.”
“Something like that.”
An alpha family would never have been betrayed like he was. Per
haps they didn’t deserve to be alphas.
“I thought you were supposed to be Scottish?” Alanna asked. He had her attention exclusively now. She seemed interested in his heritage. “Valko sounds Eastern European.”
“It is Eastern European,” he said. He thought about his long, varied, family history, and how all that had been wiped away in one blazing moment of treachery. “My family has lived in a lot of places.”
Valko looked back at his bowl, watching a lump of carrot bob on the surface. He didn’t even know whether he had a family any more. They could be dead.
I could be the only one left.
Betrayed by a bunch of betas. How embarrassing.
“I met one of your ancestors once,” said Alanna, watching him, gauging him for a reaction. “He was also called Valko. He’d just come back from the Great War.”
“That was my great-great-grandfather,” he answered. “I was named after him. We all…try to live up to his reputation.”
Alanna gave him a strange look before he continued to eat. Curious, he tried to sit up, and ignored the pain. He’d loved his grandfather immensely. Besides, hearing stories and tales would help him focus on something other than the pain.
“The rumors are true?” he asked.
She watched him for a few seconds before saying, “I don’t listen to rumors.”
“My family didn’t talk about it, but I’ve heard whispers all my life that Valko Green, the first one, was…homosexual.” He laughed, which caused pain to slice through his body. “Sorry about that. I know nobody cares now but back then, in the twenties, it was illegal.”
“He was a good man, burdened by the horrors he’d seen in Belgium during the war, and by his feelings for other men. He sought me out, having heard the rumors of a dark witch who hid out here. He wanted me to cast a spell on him to make him love women.” She sighed, smiling. “We got on so well. He stayed with me for a year.” He noticed her hesitate a moment, as if on the verge of saying something else. “I tried to persuade him not to go, but he couldn’t fail his family. He was a true hero.”
Alanna walked up to the bed. She gazed down at him, which made Valko feel uncomfortable. There was a darkness in her eyes that was unnerving.
Is she going to kill me? Am I going to die at the hands of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?
“What are we going to do with you?” she asked.
“I thought I could stay here for a while,” he declared boldly. “We could milk the cow and forage for nuts.”
“You need to tell me what happened to you.”
He put down his spoon. “You tell me your dark and sordid history and I’ll tell you mine.”
She smiled again. It was genuine, though a little melancholy.
“I don’t trust you enough to tell you,” she said. “Suffice to say I…killed the man who hurt my sister.”
“Do you regret it?”
She shook her head. “I’ll never regret killing that man. As far as I’m concerned, he deserved the violent death that I gave him and more. I’m just sad that my sister never really got her life back.”
“At least your sister got to live her life. Mine…”
He couldn’t even say her name without wanting to howl with grief. It was too soon. Even now he couldn’t get her piercing shrieks of agony out of his head, or how her spattered blood smelled.
“What about your story?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It’s too soon. It’s just so raw.”
“Take your time,” she said. “You’re still healing.”
“No. I think I should tell it. I have to tell it.”
He nodded his head as he sorted the story together in his mind. He still couldn’t believe it had happened. How had his whole life disintegrated in the space of a morning?
Chapter Four
“You do know it’s raining,” said Vasilka.
He smiled across at his sister as he continued his work. He needed to get the roof fixed before the winter snows came in. It was grueling work, but he enjoyed it. It felt good to work with his hands. Besides he loved to work on the ranch. There was nothing nobler than fixing things and feeding cattle and making sure everything worked the way it was supposed to.
Vasilka walked across the roof, smiling. She looked free, unafraid of the height and the long drop should she slip. He wasn’t afraid for her. She was nimble and careful, even while in her human form.
“Mother is moaning about you,” she said as she sat down on the wet roof to watch him. “We can afford someone to fix this you know.”
“I know,” he said, hammering the last nail in. “But you know I enjoy it.”
“Being rich does have its privileges, like hiring roofers.”
He smiled. He loved physical work. It made him feel like he was contributing something. It made him feel like he was more than a wolf. Not that he didn’t love the wolf, but his love of carpentry gave him something else, a purpose, a passion. It was a pity his family couldn’t see that.
We originated as simple folk. It’s a shame we’ve turned into snobs.
Vasilka was his younger sister, born exactly two years after him, which gave them the same birthday. They’d been inseparable since her birth. He cared for her more than he cared for himself. She was a little snobbish on occasion, but she lived a carefree existence, and he respected that. Nothing bothered her.
There was a love bite on her neck.
“How did you get that?” he asked.
He was deeply protective of his sister. She could probably best him in a werewolf battle, but he still felt it his duty, as the older brother, to look out for her. Her resentment of it was adorable.
“I was at a party last night,” she confessed, grinning. “I met this wonderful werepanther. We got drunk and… well, that’s none of your business. I won’t be seeing him again.”
Valko suspected there was more to it, but left it at that. It was none of his business.
I’ll ask Karin later. She likes to gossip.
Karin was Vasilka’s best friend and Valko’s former lover – until Karin cheated on him. Valko had been devastated at the time, and it had caused friction between the two friends. They’d eventually gotten over it when Valko realized all he wanted was Karin to be happy.
She sat down beside him. They stared together across the estate, at the farm house, stables, and fields. They could see the main village of Chapel Green in the distance. It looked like a toy town. Most of the were families lived outside of the village in various estates. It was easier if you had to change into your animal form. Scaring unknowing humans was something that was always on their minds.
“Do you like living up here?” she asked him.
She swept her dark hair back, which allowed the drops of rain to pelt her face. She seemed to be in deep thought. Vasilka was a thinker. A deep intelligence hid behind her party girl exterior. She could’ve been a scientist or a philosopher. Instead, she preferred to be a party planner.
“I’d prefer to live in the town,” he admitted. “It feels like we’re living in a castle up here, looking down on the peasants.”
She laughed. She always snorted when she laughed.
“Our ancestors did used to live in a castle in Scotland,” she said. “That’s why we’re an alpha family.”
“A castle which was torn down by humans, and forced our family to flee,” he reminded her. He shivered. “Do you remember when Mom and Dad took us to visit the site? On the full moon, when I was full wolf, I talked with the ghosts of those that had died. They were sad.”
Werewolves could change into a wolf any time they wanted. On a full moon they had more power, more strength, and could even commune with their wolf ancestors. It was an odd experience. Whenever Valko did it, he always gained some new wisdom, but also felt a little exhausted afterwards, like his mind and body had been running a marathon. The past was usually a violent place to revisit.
“I remember,” said Vasilka. “They wouldn’t talk to me. Stupid
Scottish wolves.
The rain was coming down in sheets now. His thick brown hair was plastered to his head, and he could feel the cold in his bones. His beard dripped with moisture. He was just glad he was a werewolf. A normal human would have been shivering by now.
“You know I love you, right?” said Vasilka.
He turned to her, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I just don’t say it enough.”
The house was silent as Valko opened the refrigerator door. He could dimly hear his parents sleeping upstairs, snoring like wild animals. He had no idea where Vasilka was. She was probably busy organizing a party for spoiled rich girls in the city.
I don’t envy her having to put up with all that. Rich people can be so arrogant.
He took out a can of beer and pulled up the tab. He didn’t normally drink this late at night, but he felt anxious. There was this deep seated dread in his stomach that he couldn’t identify.
I’m probably just worried about tomorrow.
Tomorrow was the annual were winter conference. All the weres and shifters in Maine would be meeting here to discuss news. That was the plan. Mostly it just ended up with drinking and fights. Valko hated it. It always felt like his home was being invaded by a foreign army.
And the weresnakes creep me out.
The Green family was the only alpha werewolf family that lived in America; only one of five left. The others lived in various parts of the world, mainly England, though there was one in India. His father had told him the other alpha families thought that moving to the new world was a stupid idea. Maybe it had been at the time. Now, in 1984, the Green family were considered American were royalty.
He heard something behind him. He spun around just in time to counter the fist coming his way.
“Good catch.”
It was Rian, the son of the Lovelock werewolf clan – and Valko’s best friend since childhood. While it was good to see him he was curious as to why he was in his house in the middle of the night.
