by Ian Thomas
Holly was struck. “You knew?”
Of course he knew you, stupid girl, Carys thought.
“Makes the two we left that much more poignant.”
“I figured as much.” This time it was Carys’ turn to lie. Not a complete lie. The only information she lacked was his motivation. The victims were inconsequential. Nobodies. However, the placement was the key to all of this. Wolf haunts. Yet his purpose still eluded her.
“Come. Sit. I want to hear all about you?”
“Me?” she asked demurely. “Barely anything to tell really.”
“I’m certain that’s not the case.” His charm was measured, false. Much like the glass and chrome apartment overlooking the garish chaos of Time Square. The lines were sleek and modern yet afforded little character. What passed as simplicity and elegance she – the cold vampire – took as stark and sterile. She liked it. And him. “How long have you been in Gracchus’ court?”
“All my time as a vampire.”
“And you’re happy?”
“Happiness is subjective.”
“Yes,” he smiled broadly, the first genuine moment since they met. “It really is.” He poured her a glass of blood, himself a whisky. “It’s fresh. Apologies for it not being from the vein but there was a…struggle.”
“Understandable,” she replied, the aroma tickling her nose. Male. Very fit. Likely another of the fitness fanatics Holly seemed to favor. “And thank you.”
“So how is old Gracchus doing? Last I knew him, he was quite the wolf sympathizer. That still the case?”
Impressed with Henry’s knowledge, Carys felt she’d found an ally. One with power and knowledge. Not some bit player taking their cues as she directed the scenes.
“He’s…distracted.”
“Ah Sabine. Always ruled by his heart that man. For better and worse. Tell me does he still have that lapdog? The urchin?”
“Seth?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Such potential. Wasted.”
“Something like that.”
“He’s your maker, isn’t he?” The question caught Carys off-guard. He was more resourceful than she had guessed. That or he just had an excellent memory.
“You have me at quite the disadvantage,” Carys replied.
“On the contrary,” he replied, “I think this could be quite advantageous.”
“How’s that now?”
“Oh, I plan to bring it all down. The whole blasted thing.”
She tried to hide the excitement from her eyes. A struggle as these were the words she had longed to hear. Well almost.
“These accords are an abomination.”
There it was. Carys couldn’t hold back her smile.
“I see the idea appeals to you. And why shouldn’t it? Civility between the kinds is more unnatural than what we are.”
“We?”
“Soon enough, my dear.” His smile was disarming.
“And how do you plan to do this?”
“From within of course.” The blood and his words had invigorated her like Seth never could. “And without.”
“Where would you like me?”
He scrutinized her closely. “Are you so eager to see the world burn?”
“Fire is cleansing.” When he shifted in his seat, she knew she interested him. More than the obsequious blonde thing who was sitting bored in the corner. Good girl, Carys thought, keep your mouth shut.
“The within is handled. Little fine tuning but he’ll be ready soon enough.”
“Guessing this is a newly sired werewolf? Full moon’s in a few days. Will he be ready?”
“Of course.”
“You do realize siring a wolf is against the accords? As is new vampires. Whoever did you get to sire the boy?”
“Haven’t you worked it out yet?” he asked brazenly, smile broadening.
“You’re a werewolf?” she asked stunned. The gasp from Holly told Carys she wasn’t the only one taken unawares.
“Among other things,” he said, holding up his hand. A small tongue of flame licked around his knuckles the way she’d seen coins dance.
“Little showy,” Carys said dismissively, trying to hide her interest in a werewolf able to wield magic.
He threw back his head laughing. “Oh I like you.”
“Hold the phone,” Holly said loudly. “You’re one of them. A dog. I thought you got that guy Ben to bite his little boyfriend. Why didn’t you bite me?”
Because then she would have been quite powerful, Carys thought, please do shut up and let the adults talk.
“Because I really don’t see you as the fangs and fur type,” Henry lied. Carys almost laughed. Why tell her more than she needed to know?
“Oh yeah, good call. I so don’t miss shaving my legs.” Holly looked at Carys for support. “Am I right?”
“Quite.” Carys turned her attention back to Henry. “I take it you weren’t invited to the big wolfie pow-wow the other night?”
“Speaking of showy,” he said with a sneer. “No, I’m here incognito if you will.”
“Unlike your British brothers.”
“Now, yes I did see they were in town. Why is that?” Carys was surprised he didn’t know. Or was it that he wanted to match his information to hers, she thought, enjoying the mystery and menace of the man.
“From what Seth said it’s merely to see how the Pack Lord has recovered from his betrayal. Though from the way he and Rufus are acting, they seemed anxious.”
“Rhys Blackthorne most certainly cannot be trusted. He’s only interested in one person and that’s himself. Gracchus would do well to be mindful. As would the Pack Lord.”
Carys laughed at that. Yet Henry didn’t seem to see the humor in his words. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “Just ironic that you’re suggesting they should be mindful of this English wolf when you plan to tear it all asunder. Shouldn’t they be mindful of you as well?”
“Not mindful,” he said, sitting forward. “They should be terrified.” A note in his voice sent a chill through her. Whether it was excitement or fear, she didn’t want to know. The fact that he could chill a cold, dead thing like herself was not something she really wanted to consider.
“So what did you have in mind to bring this all down from the outside.”
“I thought you two might like to kill a werewolf.”
Walking away from her encounter with Henry, Carys’ head swam with the possibilities. He was right the world would burn but oh how bright those flames would be. Neither trusted the other. That much was plain. But their vision was mutual and as long as they shared and served that dream, the world was theirs for the taking.
XXIX
Dylan checked his phone again. No messages.
“Hey,” Annie said, swiping his phone out of his hand. “It’s my one night out. No phones.” She turned to her husband. “Goes for you too boyo.”
“Just work,” Freddie blushed. “Waiting on a client.”
“And what’s your excuse?” she asked, turning on Dylan.
“Haven’t heard from James in a few days. He usually checks in.”
“Aw, look at you missing your little friend. Have you thought about going gay? Because you two would be quite the ‘it’ couple.”
“Two men can be friends ya know without starting some gay panic,” Freddie argued.
“Besides I couldn’t keep up with his sex drive,” Dylan said. “He’s thirty going on thirteen. Remember those days?”
“Well, we all know you’ve done worse,” Annie said, causing Dylan’s face to flush bright red. “He might exhaust you for a change.”
“Can we please not talk about this at the dinner table?” To which both Annie and Dylan looked around the crowded pub.
“Rubbish. Is Little Lord Fauntleroy embarrassed? This why we always have to do it with the lights off?” Annie asked to which Dylan laughed aloud.
“We really should be going,” Freddie said, getting off his stool. “The sitter’s gonna be costing
us a fortune. And I have an early meeting.”
“No you don’t,” Dylan said.
“Will you shut up and let me retain some sense of dignity.”
“Fat chance of that,” Annie said, getting up. She reached for Dylan. “C’mon. Give us a hug.” Dylan did as he was told and wrapped his arms around the woman. “Now I hate to think of you in that flat all alone. Not the most comfortable of places. It’s not a home.”
“It’s great,” Dylan said.
“Just remember there’s a spare room at our place.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll even put away Freddie’s ab-roller.”
“I don’t have – she’s making things – he’s great where he is,” Freddie stammered.
“Home cooked meals,” Annie continued.
“Really?” Freddie asked. “Since when?”
“I cook,” she scoffed. “Well, I can. I just choose not to.”
“I think I’ll take my living arrangements without the small children and marital discord.”
“Then maybe I should join you,” Freddie laughed.
“Oh, it’s like that is it?” Annie demanded.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dylan said, pulling her back into a hug and shaking his head at his friend. “I appreciate the concern. But I’m all good. It’s nice to have my own space for a little bit. It’s been…wow a really long time actually. I get to walk around naked. Listen to Lord Huron again. Eat burgers, Doritos, pop tarts, and root beer.”
“Not all at the same time I hope,” Freddie said, wincing.
“No, but I get to be my own man again.”
“Well, you have fun with that,” Annie said. “Just no cooking in the nude okay? It sounds far cooler than it really is.”
“Noted. Now go back to your lovely home and your…small children and marital bliss. Yes, I said bliss. And stop worrying about me. My parents do that enough for everybody.”
“I cannot wait to meet them!” Annie cheered. “It’ll be like meeting Richard and Emily Gilmore.” Both Dylan and Freddie looked at each other blankly. “And you call yourselves cultural aficionados.”
“Never.”
“Not once.”
“Must be James.”
“Just go home,” Annie said frustrated.
“Later, mate,” Freddie said, putting his arm around his wife and turning to leave.
“Bye,” Annie called out over her shoulder, then leaned into her husband. “Can’t believe you said you didn’t know the show. We binged most of it in my last trimester.”
“Oh was that the one with the mother and daughter who talk really fast?”
“He remembers it!” she yelled back at Dylan. Shaking his head and smiling, he headed in the other direction to the tube station, their banter still audible down the street.
Not that he’d admit it but he had briefly considered their offer. While Julie hadn’t been the best person in his life he was used to having someone around. He missed that. Not her. Oh god no. But someone. Ever since he was six he’d had McLachlan around. And even before that given how close their families were. And now with James away he wasn’t a fan of the alone time. Sure there was the nakedness. The root beer. The cheeseburgers. The pop tarts. But those were temporary things. The novelty of eating a cheeseburger on James’ sofa buck naked soon wore off. Especially when he got sauce…never mind.
Sitting on the train, he made a decision and fished out his phone.
Dylan // 22:31
Hey, if James isn’t back by the weekend,
it cool if I take you up on the offer to stay?
The train rattled along. Scrolling through his apps, he flirted with the idea of messaging Hayley. They hadn’t talked for a few days. A little fed up with being the one to initiate contact he decided it was better to leave her be. Wasn’t worth starting something with an actual ocean between them.
Of course there was always the lure to move Stateside but he liked his life in England. When James wasn’t shagging half of London Pokemon-style to catch ‘em all, he was a great friend. Freddie too. The firm was above board, strong cases and maybe in a few years the three of them would make partner. Annie was the glue that held them together though. Her and Freddie really.
Which Dylan realized he wanted. To be the glue. To be with someone and make glue. The metaphor was getting out of hand he realized. Long hours working through case files bookended by living alone had caused his big brain to slip a cog or two every so often.
Lord Fred // 22:43
Champion! Good man!
Consider it a done deal.
As the train slowed for his stop, Dylan felt a little lighter. Even if James was back, maybe he’d still go and stay with them, he decided.
The street was reasonably deserted when he emerged from the tube. Not surprising given the hour and the neighborhood. As a cold wind blew through the street, he pulled his coat about him tighter, lowered his head and started the long walk to the apartment.
Further along the street, he saw an amorous couple in a doorway. Huddled close, the man pressing the woman against the store front. At first Dylan wondered if she was in danger. When she laughed he relaxed. More power to them, he thought.
“Get a room,” he laughed as he passed them.
“Maybe you should run,” the man said. An American. Turning Dylan caught the accent before the words. When he saw Ben standing next to Julie, everything fell into place.
“Fetch,” she laughed.
Seconds later, clothes shredded, a large brown wolfman stood where Ben had, claws catching the street lights. Suddenly he was thirteen again. Standing in Mean Old Lady Guerin’s drive and realizing he was food.
Feet slipping on the wet sidewalk, Dylan scampered away. Julie’s laughter chilling the night. He found purchase and launched forward, the sound of his footsteps echoing sharply along the street.
Problem came that he didn’t know the neighborhood as well as Evanston. High brick walls. Locked gates. Terraced housing. As he ran down one street, then another, Dylan felt trapped in a concrete maze. There, an alley.
Skidding, he hit the wall. It made the turn easier, but his arm hurt. The alley was narrow and unforgiving, curving just enough that he couldn’t see the exit. The confined space was better for Ben who seemed to be using the three surfaces to propel himself forward.
He felt the wolf behind. Close. Too close.
Seeing the end of the lane, Dylan tucked low and raced forward. He shot out of the tight space, hooked a lamppost with his good arm and swung onto the next street. Skimming across a parked car, he found his feet and barreled forward again. A crash told him Ben hadn’t been so fortunate. He’d take the couple seconds lead and gain some distance, suddenly aware he was completely lost.
Taking a left, he knew immediately he was wrong. A scrunch behind him told him Ben had made the turn also.
“Shit!” he swore as the dead end rushed up at him. Leaping at the wall, he caught it. Wind knocked out of him, Dylan hauled himself over the top. He dropped into a small backyard, the house to his right. Basically trapped. He ran at the opposing wall and heaved himself up.
Chancing a look behind him saw Ben had scaled the wall easily. The walls of all the gardens were brick, some crowned with ivy, potted plants or bare. Looking ahead, Dylan saw a path, one brick wide, leading along the back of the properties to a street some ten or so houses beyond.
Effortlessly, Ben had pulled himself to the rooftop. Above him, silhouetted against the night, Dylan knew what a monster was. Sprinting along the wet bricks, he struggled to keep his balance. One slip he’d go down. Badly. And Ben would be on him. Claws carving him open.
The image burned his mind, Dylan counted the houses to the street. He didn’t need to look for Ben. He knew where he was, keeping pace along the roofs.
Six houses. He had this.
Five. Almost there.
Four. It’s not even the full moon!
Three. Gonna make it.
Two. But where then?
One. Whoops!
Dylan’s foot slipped on a wet bramble of ivy on the last wall and felt his balance go. He kicked with his other foot, felt it connect and pushed off. But he had too much momentum. Arms flailing, he slammed into the end wall and spilled into the street.
“Ooof!” His back hit the hard ground, knocking the breath from him. “Man down!”
“Hurts does it?” Ben asked, perched above him. “Well, the next part’s gonna smart a little more.”
“Just. Give. Me. A. Second. Will ya?” Dylan asked, holding his hand up to ward off Ben.
Fight or flight – he really wasn’t sure which – saw him roll over and start to push himself up. Slowly he got to his feet. Nothing broken, he surmised, just really sore!
“Good boy,” Dylan said. A voice in his head – not unlike his brother’s – was yelling to stop with the canine references but his self-edit broke in the fall.
Disheveled, knee bleeding, arm possibly broken, Dylan slouched in the street and looked up at the werewolf on the wall.
“This all you are now?” he asked. “Her lapdog?” Ben growled leaning forward. “She yells fetch – which she actually did by the way – and you fetch? Cos you know I totaled these shoes if you need a new chew toy.”
“What do you think this is going to achieve?”
“I get use all the dog puns I can think off, only this time to your face. She’s pulled your leash across the pond to do what? Play with me? Yeah I gotta think Matteo raised you better than that.”
“Don’t mention his name.”
“Helluva number she did on him. Bet she never mentioned that when she recruited you. Can’t imagine you would’ve signed up for that, would you Ben?”
“No.”
“So she really screwed the pooch on that one. No offense.”
“You’re just like him,” Ben snarled. “Love the sound of your own voice.”
“Who? Mac? Shit maybe we shoulda compared war stories a few traumas back. Ben, I’ve been living in his shadow for years. How does normal, smart, adorable and not demonically stained stack up against that? It doesn’t. We’re a lot alike ya know.”
“We’re nothing alike.”
