by Unknown
The fur that sprouted over him was shiny as satin, exquisite looking from where I stood. The color of silver, I thought it would feel creamy to the touch. Unlike Hector, who's black body was greasy in the star light, Brandon was...
Beautiful. God, he's still so lovely looking, even like this.
His face elongated, grin merging into a long row of razor fangs. He fell forward, hands—paws?—gripping the sand and making furrows. Another growl echoed, his green eyes glowing with a hunger for... for something I couldn't understand. Was it violence? Did Brandon want to fight Hector?
When they were finished, the two were crouched in the blue shadows facing one another. They looked, indeed, like giant wolves. The only difference I could notice were the human-shaped fingers with wicked talon tips. I thought they might be close to the size of my car, their tails slashing the air while their neck ruffs bristled.
“You're wasting your energy,” Hector said. His voice was akin to metal and gravel rolling around in a garbage disposal; it made me cringe. Watching a wolf speak unnerved me, his lips curling back along yellow fangs.
Brandon said nothing. The muscles in his back legs bunched, sand exploding around him. He launched himself forward in one fluid jump, slamming into Hector with a snarl. In seconds, they were on each other.
Teeth glinted white as exposed bone, eyes glimmering with hate.
Or was it excitement?
The werewolves were a storm of fur, ebony tangling with cool silver. Seeing them on edge was nothing compared to them actively trying to murder each other.
The air was heavy, it forced me to grip the rock to stay on my feet. What should I do? I need to help somehow! It was a naïve thought. How could I ever step in? One of their paws could take my head off, it was a suicidal idea to get involved.
Hector rolled Brandon under him, snout crushing down on the fur of my lover's throat. The ground kicked up clouds of dust, especially when Brandon clawed wildly to escape. His ears flattened, body flexing to throw Hector off. The dark wolf was more experienced, I could see that in how he fought.
Brandon, however, was full of vigor.
Wrenching his legs, he tumbled Hector beneath him. Chunks of fur flew, Brandon scuttling off of the bigger creature. Hector moved to rise, yet in that second, Brandon was on him again. I saw the teeth, wicked things ready to bring blood. They clamped for Hector's neck, but missed at the last moment.
The dark werewolf didn't escape unscathed. His yelp was brief, crimson droplets spraying across the sand. He jumped away several feet, a strip of skin bared a mere inch below one scathing blue eye.
It was the first time I'd heard a wolf laugh. “Why are you fighting so hard? I'll never understand your desire to go back to this world.”
Stalking sideways, Brandon moved in a slow circle. Hector emulated him, their eyes never leaving each other. “I don't understand you, Hector. I never have. You can hide yourself as a human, just as easily as I can. Why hide in the forests, why live like that?”
“Hide easily as a human?” Snorting, he lifted an arm to wipe at the blood staining his fur. It had soaked down to his jaw. “Is it so easy for you already? No troubles, no uncontrollable urges?”
I watched as Brandon faltered, freezing on all fours. Hector stood across from him, still as stone. “It's not—no, it hasn't been exactly easy.”
“You ran out into this desert, Brandon. What were you running from this time. Not me, surely.” Lowering his snout, Hector flicked his ears forward. “You already did that. So who?”
Brandon was quiet, his furry features wrinkling with sorrow.
Chuckling, Hector turned his head. I didn't expect him to look in my direction. When his icy eyes fell on me, spotted me peeking around the rock, I stopped breathing. “Was it her, is she who you're running from?”
He knew I was here!
Flicking his tail, Brandon twisted so he could stare back at me. “Fiona,” he whispered.
“Fiona.” When Hector said it, it gave me chills. “So you're the one who's broken up my pack this go around. It's always humans, every time. Come out here, little one.”
This time? Is he saying humans broke up his pack before? Swallowing around my swollen tongue, I stepped out into plain sight. I was far enough away that, if they had been normal humans, I was confident I could have run. Possibly even escaped. But they were far more than humans, that much was abundantly clear.
My knees wiggled, yet I managed to walk stiffly towards them. I only stopped when I was nearest to Brandon, his eyes stuck on me. “Fiona, what are you doing here?” he whispered.
Glancing at his pile of clothes, I pointed with a trembling hand. It was hard to think straight with Hector watching me so intensely. “You had my phone on you. I followed it.”
It was funny to see a wolfish face look so surprised.
Hector moved towards us, his steps slow as sap. “This girl is the reason you abandoned me, isn't she? Fiona, you said her name was... I recognize your scent, girl.”
Straightening up, I placed my heel behind me. In a rush of silver, Brandon moved between us. He was my armor, my guardian, and the low growl rumbling from him didn't stop.
Yet, neither did Hector. He continued to approach, looking only at me with his paralyzing gaze. “You were the girl always hanging around Brandon. He used to explore the forests alone, before you came along. Imagine my luck, the day that flood came and gave him to me as a gift.”
Gritting my teeth, I balled my hands at my sides. “Brandon wasn't a gift to you. He was never yours.” He was always mine.
Hector squinted at me, curved ears pulling back onto his skull. “Oh, yes. You are the reason he left. Brandon, if you wanted to add someone to the pack... especially someone you deemed so worthy to break away for... why didn't you say so?”
“It was never your business!” Brandon snapped, hackles raising high.
“I understand fully,” Hector murmured. I felt like he was speaking more to himself than either of us. “She's your pack mate, your other half. That's why you struggled so much against me. Yes, I know how much that feeling can drive a werewolf to do reckless things.” He spoke with melancholy.
It's like he's remembering something. What happened to him?
“I'm a fool.” Shaking his head, amused, he looked back to Brandon. “Let me give you a second gift. I'll make her a werewolf, then we can all live together as one family.”
My stomach bubbled, hot with unease. Me, a werewolf?
I went to speak, but Brandon's snarl cut me off. The anger in it chilled me to the core. “You won't touch her! I won't let you do to her what you did to me, it's no gift!”
“Oh, but it is.” Tilting his head, Hector looked on Brandon with sympathy. “You still don't understand. You're so much more than human, yet you cling to it. You cling to her. I'm saying I'll let you have her, Brandon. Why don't you want that?”
“I already have her,” he answered softly. “I love her as she is. Leave her be.”
Hector's silence was unsettling. He lifted his muzzle, as if he could hear something we could not. It occurred to me, just then, that Hector might not be entirely stable. Was it possible for him to be mentally ill? “I see,” he mumbled. “Alright then. If you don't want her to join us, I have another option.” He looked at me, fangs glinting with his terrible smile. “I'll kill her, then it will be just you and I, Brandon. Just us again. A happy family.”
Like black lightning, the dark wolf jumped at us. My scream was immediate, arms raised like they could actually protect me. Brandon launched himself up, slamming into Hector roughly. Yelping, nipping, the two tore at each other in the sand.
They were so close to me, bits of gravel hit my legs. I scuttled backwards, unsure where to even go. It was like being too close to a tornado, their heightened chaos pulling at me enough to keep me locked in place.
Again, it looked like Hector had the upper hand. Unlike the first round, Brandon wasn't able to rip the bigger wolf free. Rich ebony fur turned ru
by as Hector's maw bit down. Strong arms wrapped around, claws rending at flesh. Brandon's scream made my heart shiver.
Easily, Hector threw him aside. I watched the silver body slide across the ground, a thick trail of blood left behind. My instinct was to go to him, but I was hindered by the werewolf. Hector had no inclination to hesitate. With a grace that was unfitting, he pushed me down to the hard earth.
I caught a flash of the burning blue fire in his face, the scythe like claws aimed for my belly.
Then, there was only pain.
When had I begun screaming, when would I stop? My throat was raw, spots of color swimming in my vision. Hector's scent, musty as something ancient and forgotten, mingled with the coppery smell of blood. My blood, I'm hurt. How bad is it? Unable to sit up, I couldn't see. Hector looked down on me, his face full of wretched teeth.
Brandon was a ghost, appearing from nothing and throwing himself against the other wolf. With the pressure gone from my chest, I inhaled desperately. The searing agony from my lungs, wind whistling over the dryness, was nothing compared to the fire in my guts.
Lifting my head, I stared down at myself. I saw my toes, my knees, then the crimson soaking through everything. His talons had tore open my belly. Wetness glinted, but the longer I looked, the more detached I felt. The pain was incredible, leaving me disoriented.
A hoarse shout filled my ears, making me turn to look. Brandon had Hector under him, his muzzle the color of fresh cherries. I watched as he bent low, nostrils flaring so near the other werewolf. Each breath made the dark fur ruffle. “How dare you, you monster!”
“What?” Hector sounded strained, I wondered if he was more wounded than I could see. “It's nothing, why are you upset? Because she's dying?”
“You're a murderer!” Brandon's mouth stretched wide, ready to tear open his prey's entire neck.
The spark in Hector's eyes was sly. “Only if you allow it. Go to her, you can save her. All you have to do is bite her. Give her the gift I gave to you.”
Brandon's jaws drifted closer together, hiding away some of those monstrous teeth. Both of us were listening, I didn't know who was more rapt in their attention. He's telling him to make me a werewolf. To save me the way he did, for Brandon. Looking down, I lowered a hand towards my giant gash. Blood still pumped, matching the slowing beat of my heart.
“Do it,” Hector goaded him. “She'll heal, she'll live! Then, all of us, we can be a family. We'll replace my pack, we won't lose anyone this time. Not to humans, no to anyone.”
His pack... he lost them to humans. That's why he hates us. I understand, now.
“Brandon, bite her. Save her the way only we can.” Something was unsettling about his voice, a wavering edge like an instrument out of tune.
The man I loved, he sensed it too. Looking my way, his green eyes moved through a variety of emotions. I recognized grief, but the last one threw me for a loop. Was it determination, or something else?
Twisting back towards Hector, his snout crinkled. “There are better ways.”
The darker wolf's face fell, a look of genuine distress. Brandon's fangs crunched, slicing through his throat like a spoon through cream. It was quick, there was no joy or malice in Brandon's attack. A strangled noise escaped Hector, his body twitching under the silver wolf.
Then it was done, the beast went still.
I watched it all, fascinated and detached from sensation. My skin had gone clammy. At some point, the pain had faded to a dull throb.
“Fiona,” Brandon said, kneeling beside me.
He moved fast... or did I just close my eyes for too long? “Hey,” I whispered, tasting the tang of rust in my mouth. I knew it was blood, I'd bitten my tongue enough to be familiar with the flavor.
His face was close to mine, fur tickling my cheek as he bent over. His gasp told me the wound was as bad as I suspected. “Oh, Fiona. I don't—we need to do something!”
Turn me into a werewolf, I thought with cynical humor. “I did a risky thing, chasing after you,” I muttered softly. “It was dumb, wasn't it? Now I've messed everything up.”
“No! No, Fiona.” Emerald eyes focused on me, pulled my attention back. “Fiona, listen to me. You're fine, you're going... you're going to be fine.” His voice was gritty, anger seeping into his sadness. I thought he was convincing himself more than me.
“You can do it, you know,” I said. “Turn me into a werewolf. I don't mind, if it's... if you do it to me.”
He was already shaking his head. “I can't, I can't do that to you. It's not the life meant for you. You don't need to have this burden.”
Wincing, I reached out to touch his muzzle. “You're fur is even softer than I thought it might be.” Something hot rolled down my cheek. Tears, I'm crying. “Brandon,” I begged suddenly, “I don't want to die. After everything, I'm not ready.”
“You won't. I promise, you won't.” His face contorted, fur melting away rapidly. In a minute, he'd shifted back to his human form. Letting me go, he moved out of my vision.
“Brandon? Brandon. Hey.”
“Shh, I'm here.” His shadow fell over me, his body dressed in his clothing from earlier. Gingerly, he bent low to scoop me into his arms. The movement made me cry out, a tortured noise that caused him to grimace. “It'll be alright, Fiona.”
I felt like ice against his heat. Part of me, in a cloudy daze, worried I was ruining his new shirt. “Are you going to do it, turn me into a werewolf?”
Hugging me tightly, he looked over at Hector's broken body. Amazingly, it had turned back into the blood stained figure of a nude man. “No. I won't do that. There are better ways to save you than to curse you.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant, I had so many questions. Instead, my eyelids demanded they be allowed to shut. “Brandon,” I struggled to speak. “I love you.”
The blackness closed in. I never heard his response.
Chapter 10
The light was white, sterile. It hurt my eyes, but I needed to fight against the exhaustion sapping my strength. I needed to hear Brandon's answer, needed to know more than ever that he loved me. If it was the last thing I managed before my death, it would be enough.
Blinking, my eyesight blurry, I saw someone sitting beside me. “Brandon?” I croaked, sounding funny to my own ears.
“No,” my grandpa whispered soothingly. Paper-rough skin touched mine, his hand closing on my wrist. Confused by what was going on, I looked down to see the tubes in my arm. “Take a deep breath, Fiona. Just relax.”
“Where am I?” This isn't right, I was... I was in the desert, and... I tried to sit up, grasping at my stomach in fear. I was lying in a bed, my body covered in a blanket. “How am I alive?”
“It's alright,” he assured me, gently stopping me from lifting the covering. “Don't look. The stitches are still raw, it was pretty ugly.”
We looked at each other, I suspected he was trying to read me as much as I was him. “Did you see him?” I asked, positive he knew who I meant.
My grandpa shook his head. “No. The nurse told me a young man dropped you off, and in the bustle of getting you to emergency care, he vanished.” Digging into his pocket, he set something gently in my hand. “He left this at the desk.”
Holding my phone up before me, I tasted salty tears as they rolled down to my lips. Sniffling, I wiped at my eyes. I knew what had happened. Faster than a car. He got me here in time.
A better way to save me, than making me a werewolf...
“Are you alright, honey?”
“Yeah,” I said, setting the phone on my stomach. I flinched, the pain dulled. They must have me on medicine for this, but it still hurts. “He saved me, Grandpa. Brandon saved me again.”
His fingers closed on my wrist, then slid away. “I know. I didn't see him, but I know.”
Closing my eyes, the drugs pressed on me like soft cotton. “You really believe me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you think,” I whispered, my cheek turning
on my pillow, “that he'll come back again? Now that I'm safe?”
My grandpa's voice sounded far away. I imagined I was falling down a tunnel made of thick silk. “If you need him again, Fiona... then I'm sure he'll come back to you.”
I fell asleep with a smile.
* * * *
I spent a week in the hospital before they let me go home.
My grandpa wanted to stay longer, but I assured him I was fine. He'd already spent so much time with me after his frantic drive from South Dakota. I didn't want to imagine how scared he'd had to have been when he got the call from the hospital.
Outside of some stitches that would no doubt leave notable scarring, my body had no damage. Brandon had gotten me there in time, utilizing his abilities that he proclaimed to be a curse.
I wasn't so sure if he was right.
It wasn't injury, or lack thereof, that made me walk with heavy steps into my front door.
The last time I'd seen Brandon had been moments before my expected death. I hadn't heard a word from him. It made my heart hurt, and fed into my paranoia that after everything... he'd chosen to run away.
Passing my car in the driveway, I paused to look it over. The police had found it, and in doing so, discovered Hector's body. The story I'd come up with was that I'd been attacked by a strange animal I couldn't identify. My flesh had been rendered by claws, the doctors confirmed it to the police.
The marks on Hector's throat coincided with the tale.
Still, they scratched their heads over the whole mess.
I told them I didn't know Hector, had never seen him before. With no other leads, it was ruled a death by animal attack. I got my car returned, it had no purpose for evidence.
There was no crime.
The police waited for someone to claim Hector's body. I knew no one would.
Pushing through the door, I heard Angel meowing before I saw her. Grandpa had been a peach, feeding her for me while I was in the hospital. “Did you miss me?” Kneeling down, I rubbed her cheeks.
