“Tamara, are you still there?”
I was busy looking at the mutilated werewolf corpse on the living room floor. “Hold on. I took out Jerry and two of his friends. Last I checked, I’m neither made of silver nor karate chopping heads off.”
Mom let out a long sigh, as if she was about to say something she preferred not to. “That was you, dear.”
“I know it was me, I was there.”
“Not you specifically, but who and what you are. You see, otherworldly creatures are vulnerable to other such beings. We can kill each other. It’s part of why your father’s people and mine have been at each other’s throats for centuries. It’s not differing ideologies so much as it is the unique threat we present to one another. And both our blood runs through your veins.”
“But you said your magic doesn’t work right against me.”
“As I am aware. You’re highly resistant to magic and you possess physical power that’s a match or more against your father’s kind, power that is at your beck and call at all times regardless of the phase of the moon or your physical appearance.”
It was as if a lightbulb went on in my head. Before now, everything I’d heard seemed to point to the wolves hating me because of arrogance, thinking I was some sort of abomination of two ancient bloodlines being tainted and thus made impure. But now it all made sense.
Almost as if reading my mind – and let’s be honest, it was entirely possible she was – my mother gave voice to those thoughts.
“Your father’s people sought to control you and now seek your death. And mine, if they learned of your existence, would no doubt try to do the same. All because of fear. For centuries, our two races have played a great game of chess, both sides gaining and losing ground over and over again. But only now, with your existence, does the possibility of a true checkmate exist, one that could be used against us both.”
CHAPTER 29
I numbly hung up the phone and passed it back to Mr. Kale.
“I hope your mother is well and you passed on my regards to her,” he said.
Riva’s mother threw up her hands. “Have you gone mad? That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Just because we’ve been attacked by monsters is no reason to be rude.”
I had a feeling things were going to get somewhat rude regardless of our efforts this night. As it was – between gawking at the wolf bodies and my mother’s phone call – too much time had already been wasted. “We need to go. More specifically, you and your family need to get somewhere safe.”
“It’s me, isn’t it?” Riva asked. One of the benefits of being friends for so many years was that you often didn’t need to explain these things.
“You?” her mother replied, immediately taking on the stern persona of a parent who’d just caught their child sneaking cash from her pocketbook. “And what do these beasts have to do with you?”
“It’s not her, Mrs. Kale. They’re after me. I can’t explain it, we don’t have time, and I’m not even sure I believe it myself, but it’s true. I pissed them off and they know Riva and I are friends.” I held up a hand before she could say anything. “Yes, sorry about the language.” Jesus Fucking Christ, this night was getting weirder by the moment. “The problem is, they didn’t trust me from the start, so they had me followed and learned where Riva and you all live. Their plan was to use your family as collateral against me.”
“Collateral for what?” Mr. Kale asked.
“She was supposed to marry one of them,” Riva replied, before turning toward my stunned expression. “Well, it’s the truth. Easier to say it upfront than think up some bullshit excuse.”
Her mother opened her mouth, again no doubt worried that our language was somehow more important than being torn limb from limb, but I was quicker on the draw. “Like I said, it’s a long story.”
Riva’s father nodded. “We were talking about that while you were on the phone.”
“Me getting married?”
“No. Finding somewhere safe.”
“I don’t know if they’re watching the roads or not, but east is out. If you head west you’ll...” I trailed off before saying they’d be heading into Witch Central. Hopefully that wouldn’t be an issue, but the truth was, I had no way of knowing. Probably something I should’ve asked Mom before hanging up.
“No matter,” he said. “I know of a place.”
I was really hoping he wasn’t going to explain that they’d be safe hiding upstairs or in the garage, because if so, I was going to have to put my fist through a wall to illustrate why that was a piss poor idea.
“The Crendels over on the southern tip of town.”
“What about them?”
“They have a root cellar in their backyard.”
“I don’t think...”
“It’s a converted bomb shelter. The previous owners built it in the 1950s.”
A bomb shelter? That had potential.
“Isn’t Edgar a little paranoid?” his wife asked.
“Exactly! It won’t take too much convincing for him to agree to lock us down there all night.” He turned to me. “Tamara, please tell your family they are welcome to join us.”
I shook my head. “They’re all ... out of town tonight. Something about a harvest festival.” It was bullshit and the look on Riva’s face told me it wasn’t particularly convincing bullshit at that, but it was the best I had.
Fortunately, her parents didn’t question it.
The good thing was my house was on the way. If so, we could stop there and I could see what Mom was talking about in the garage.
But first, as she had told me, we had to get there.
♦ ♦ ♦
“You’re sure that’s real silverware, not plated?”
“They were a gift from my mother,” Mrs. Kale said from the front seat, as if that was an answer.
“And you’re certain it will work better than my gun?”
I glanced over at Riva’s dad. “No offense, but your gun didn’t work at all. So offhand, I’d say yeah.”
It had been tempting to steal the Mustang those two assholes had driven, but – as it turned out – none of us could drive stick. We must’ve been the only foursome in rural Pennsylvania who’d been raised entirely on automatic transmissions.
Her parents’ Toyota was first in the driveway, so we’d piled into that instead.
“We really should do a better job warning the neighbors,” Mr. Kale said as we pulled out of the driveway. He wasn’t wrong, but I had to prioritize.
Our marathon session of racing through the cul-de-sac, knocking on doors, and screaming at people to run because a tornado warning had just been issued – the best plausible threat any of us could come up with on short notice – had garnered far more confusion than fear, probably not helped by the fact that it was a clear, windless night.
“I promise you, I’ll try. But we need to get you all someplace safe first. Believe me, they’re going to be looking specifically for you.”
“You need to hide with us, Bent,” Riva said from my side.
“No chance. I started this, I need to try to stop it.”
“But...”
“She’s right.” Mrs. Kale turned around in the front seat. “And this kills me to say as a parent, but I saw what you did in our house. I’ve never seen anything like that before. They tore through our front door like it was paper, but they barely touched you. Save who you can, but if it gets too much, please come and join us.”
“I will,” I lied as I rolled down the back window.
Riva raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a nice night for some fresh air and for keeping my ears open.”
“Listening for tornadoes?”
“Yep, big hairy ones.”
Turns out that was a smart idea. We hadn’t gone more than two blocks when the first howl drifted in. It was still distant, or so I hoped. Was kind of hard to tell in a moving vehicle.
“What are you doing?�
� Riva’s mom asked her father.
“There’s a stop sign ahead.”
“Who cares? There’s an army of monsters invading the town.”
“Just because we’re being hunted by werewolves is no reason to risk a speeding ticket.”
Riva and I shared a glance as the surreal conversation happened up front, but we both realized it was best to keep our mouths shut. On the upside, I was impressed. A part of me hoped to one day be in a relationship so comfortable that not even an apocalyptic nightmare could derail the mundane realities of life.
Someday, perhaps. But first, I had to survive the night.
♦ ♦ ♦
We were maybe a block away from my house when the howls rose up in earnest, much closer and far more numerous. Up until then, we hadn’t seen anything other than typical evening traffic ... people heading home from work, maybe going out for dinner. But I had a feeling that was all about to change.
Turns out I was more right than I’d ever want to be. A van and a pickup truck both turned onto the street up ahead, driving at a pace far greater than the twenty-five mile per hour residential limit.
“Oh my goodness!”
Mr. Kale was right to cry out. Beneath the glare of a streetlight, I saw someone ... or more like something leap from the back of the pickup and go racing off into the darkness as the two vehicles continued heading toward us. I had a feeling it wasn’t alone.
Shit! “Forget my house,” I said. “Turn here and floor it to the Crendel place.”
“But what about...?”
“Just do it!”
Though I was barely old enough to qualify as an adult, something about the tone of my voice seemed to get through to Riva’s dad. He made a sharp left down a side street and immediately sped up, all fear of speeding tickets seemingly forgotten.
My family wasn’t friends with the Crendels, but I knew who they were. They had a reputation as preppers, which was probably why they kept their root cellar in good repair. If so, then maybe they had guns, too. Doubtful on the silver, but something with higher caliber than what Mr. Kale owned couldn’t hurt.
It was probably for the best that I planned to stay busy fighting werewolves. Their son had once asked me out back in high school. I said no because he was a bit of a dweeb but then, when I’d learned it had been on a dare, I’d ended up blackening both of his eyes. It was probably not the ideal background for me to hide in cramped quarters with his family.
The sound of sirens began to fill the night. While it was possible the cops were just responding to a fender bender, I doubted that was the case. We knew that at least some of the pack was already in High Moon. No doubt those unlucky enough to live at the eastern fringe of town were already well aware that strangeness was afoot this night.
A few moments later, as if to confirm this, houselights all over the block we were driving down abruptly went out. Fortunately, there had been a green agenda rolled out during the last town election which had resulted in an effort to upgrade the town’s street lights to solar. Nevertheless, the effect was dramatic as all the homes – warmly aglow as families began their evening routine – became pitch black almost as one.
No way was this a coincidence, not with a pack of paranormal predators about to descend upon us. If Uncle Craig wasn’t a complete idiot, and it was probably wise to assume that was the case, the phone lines and cell towers would be next. As rural as High Moon felt, it wasn’t like we were at the northern tip of Alaska. Isolation was merely a state of mind in this modern age, unless one took steps to ensure that outside help couldn’t be reached.
Sadly, it looked like this assault had been thought through in advance.
So much for hoping the National Guard would come rolling into town to save our asses. For all intents and purposes, we were on our own.
CHAPTER 30
I hid in the bushes and waited for the Kales and Crendels to head out back to the fortified vegetable cellar.
Though I didn’t see the point in letting the Crendel family know I was even here, lest they try to stop me from running off into the night, I didn’t want to leave until I was certain Riva was okay.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long for the back door to fly open and the two families to head on out. From the look of things, Edgar Crendel and his wife were well-armed as they led the way.
Howls, sirens, and now a blackout. Many would have dismissed it and stoically waited for the weirdness to pass, assuming it was nothing to worry about. But thank goodness for the truly paranoid. It didn’t take a whole lot of convincing to get them to break out the survival gear. Gotta love folks who can’t wait for the end times to get here.
I was tempted to throw out a few howls of my own to get them to move a bit faster, but that would’ve done little more than get me shot. So I waited as the two families filed toward what I hoped was safety. Riva stalled for a moment, looking around, perhaps sensing I was nearby. I sorely wanted to run out there and give her one last hug before seeing her locked away, but I held my ground.
Finally, she walked down the stairs and I saw the form of Mr. Crendel descend and close up the doors behind him.
As sure of their safety as I was going to get, I quickly turned away lest I sit there all night while the rest of High Moon became a slaughterhouse. They were okay – locked up tight, with food, provisions, and weapons, including all of Mrs. Kale’s silverware if worst came to worst.
I had only myself, but – call me conceited – that was good enough for now ... assuming I didn’t get swarmed by a dozen werewolves at once, something I needed to make sure didn’t happen.
Apparently that would be easier said than done. No sooner had I broken cover and stepped out onto the sidewalk when a minivan turned onto the block ahead of me and drove up onto the curb.
It stopped, the side door opened, and three monsters piled out and ran howling off into the night.
Had I not been aware of how dangerous these creatures were, I’d have probably laughed my head off at seeing this soccer mom mobile turned into a troop transport for a nightmare army.
The driver’s side door opened and a much smaller figure stepped out. She actually beeped the van to make sure it was locked before tearing out of her clothes beneath one of the street lamps. It was almost too much for me to take. Fortunately – depending on one’s definition of the term – the minivan wolf spotted me before I could completely dissolve into laughter.
The creature snarled, then broke into a loping run, dropping to all fours and picking up even more speed.
Being the accommodating type, I decided to meet it halfway.
I still wasn’t sure if Craig had come clean with his pack about my true heritage. The muscle car wolves from earlier suggested that he hadn’t, as they’d stepped right up for an ass-kicking.
The one in front of me, however, actually skidded to a halt. Its long, wicked nails scraped against the asphalt and its eyes opened wide in surprise as I closed the distance between us.
It was possible my uncle had finally wised up and clued the rest in. Of course, it was equally likely that werewolves were simply more used to people running away from them. Charge toward one in an aggressive manner and it might not know what to make of that.
Unfortunately for this creature, I knew exactly what to make of it ... short work.
♦ ♦ ♦
Pummeling each and every one of these beasts into submission with my bare hands was an awesome idea on paper, but a bit less than practical. Case in point, the soccer mom wolf I had just beaten the shit out of, leaving her lying in a drainage ditch with her arms and legs broken in multiple places. I debated finishing her off, but the creature’s pathetic whimpering was off-putting, making me feel like I was about to curb-stomp a helpless puppy instead of a monstrous beast. In truth, I felt relief at showing it mercy. Becoming desensitized to killing, even murderous monsters, was not something I wanted to do.
It was definitely down for the count, though. Fast healing or not, there was little
chance of it getting back up before the sun rose. By then, hopefully some semblance of sanity could be restored to the town.
Besides, more were coming. I could hear them running about, wreaking havoc. Every second I wasted on a defeated foe was one that another werewolf could be using to tear someone apart.
“Stay down,” I warned the she-wolf. “I see you again tonight and I’ll be wearing your teeth as a necklace.”
That was a crock of shit. As if I could tell the vast majority of these things apart from one another. But she didn’t need to know that.
Without further ado, I took off again into the night, racing toward the center of the street so as to make myself an easily seen target. Rather than go chasing after shadows, I decided to adopt a different tactic – one designed to lure the monsters to me.
I began to scream bloody murder, as if Satan himself were hot on my tail. My goal was to get home, find Mom’s stash, then hopefully hook up with whatever police were out and about ... assuming I could convince them to not shoot me. But, in the meantime, I might as well make myself a tempting target for any wolves on the prowl. Better me than someone who couldn’t fight back.
As expected, I didn’t have to wait long. The padding of heavy feet reached my ears before I could even make it to the end of the block – another solo wolf, probably one from the group that soccer mom had dropped off before getting her ass handed to her.
I began to wonder if perhaps there was little strategy to my uncle’s assault against the town. The hodgepodge of cars and trucks racing to the far ends of High Moon. Werewolves hopping out and heading in whatever direction they pleased. It was chaotic, as if their orders had amounted to little more than “Go get them!”
Maybe it really was as simple as that. Why not? The advantage in raw power was entirely theirs. This wasn’t a war so much as wolves descending upon a herd of sleeping sheep.
Problem was, it was also stupid. More importantly, it was something I could potentially use. As most athletes will tell you, half of any competition takes place in your mind. Knowing all the moves, the skills, making them second nature was key, but you needed to watch, observe, think. And the reason for that was you oftentimes needed to strategize on the fly.
Get Bent! (The Hybrid of High Moon Book 1) Page 20
