by K. R. Smith
One hour stretched to two…two hours stretched to three…the clock on the wall read the time as 1.30 AM. My eyes were stinging and I felt cold because I was tired. I curled up on the Sabre’s old, beat-up couch, as the three of us continued to wait it out.
I recalled my earlier conversation with my parents over dinner. I frowned as I remembered what Dad said about the trespassers and poachers. Next, I shuddered as I relived Dad telling me that the baddies hit the woman, who went with her male colleagues to ask them to leave town. I wonder if what was happening tonight because of the same element?
The longer we waited, the worse Aunt Susan’s shaking became. I felt bad seeing her like this since she was usually a strong, independent woman. Her chastisements could even put Declan’s ferocious temper, in its place!
My Aunt raised her sons with a loving but iron fist, with the help of my Gran and Grandfather whom Derik and Declan appreciatively called ‘Uncle Em’ and ‘Aunt Arabella’. Sometimes even Mum and Dad helped out with babysitting duty, as Derik and I spent many hours either building cubby-houses in the woods, or playing games. Grandfather was probably the closest to Declan though, with the amount of time the older Werewolf took the younger one out hunting to placate Declan’s demanding European Werewolf bloodlust.
Gran once told me that Grandfather felt the most responsible for Declan. I think it’s because of the night the Sabre family arrived on tribal lands. It was Grandfather who shared his blood with the dying Declan, because his mate declared the Sabre’s family. The pack were at first reluctant to have a foreign Werewolf in their midst, as at first they doubted they could train his bloodlust to hunt animal instead of human. But it was through an incredible amount of will power, stubbornness and most of all love; that Grandfather succeeded where the pack thought that he would fail.
Aunt Susan, Gran and Mum got on like a house on fire, as the three of them would sit together at tribal gatherings and laugh until the cows came home. My Aunt was a strict but sometimes funny teacher, who I greatly respected. So to see her sit there, shaking like a leaf? This was a new experience seeing her this way. I wish I had a better handle of my abilities as a Circulator, so that I could just make all of this somehow go away.
Yet she could still surprise me, because although she was in the throws of panic about the safety of her first born? She still noticed how cold I looked.
“Derik, get B a blanket from the linen cupboard, would you?” She broke the silence.
“No, I’m fine.” I sat up, but he was quick to jump to his feet and obey her command.
He smiled warmly as he returned with the blanket to put over my legs, which I appreciated. Then he returned to his mother’s side as they sat, holding hands… but he snuck lots of looks in my direction.
By 1.30 AM Declan hadn’t come home yet nor had the Lokoti Werewolves carried him home.
“I think this is a good sign.” I told them. “If something had happened to him, they would have brought him home by now.”
Aunt Susan nodded vaguely, but she didn’t look convinced. I snuggled under the blanket then I lay my head on the arm rest to let myself doze for a little while.
*****
It was still dark when I woke up from hearing the backdoor open in the kitchen. I sat up as I watched Aunt Susan and Derik jump to their feet.
“Declan!” His mother cried out as she threw her arms about her eldest.
I watched the family reunion through the kitchen doorway. Declan had just pulled on the spare bathrobe which always hung on the back of the kitchen door, when his mother pounced on him.
He would pull off the robe just before he changed into his shape of a European Werewolf and then he would put it on again, when he reverted back to human. Unlike the Lokoti Werewolves who could still wear jeans in their humanoid werewolf bodies, when Declan changed his form completely altered. It was because of this, he couldn’t wear any clothes since they were torn apart.
“Declan, is that blood?” Aunt Susan cried out as she pulled back to look on.
I saw his left shoulder had dried blood on it, which was rubbing off onto the white bathrobe.
“Relax Mom, it’s almost healed.” He sighed.
“What happened?” Derik asked his older brother.
“Those stupid drunks from Alma - that’s what happened!” He growled unhappily. “I’m OK, but Jack isn’t.”
Aunt Susan and Derik turned quiet as my stomach sank.
“Is Uncle Jack badly injured?” I asked from the couch.
Declan looked past his family as his eyes settled on my position in a grim look.
“Jack took two bullets to the brain, removing half of his head as another tore through his heart.” He said unhappily. “He didn’t survive.”
My eyes filled with tears as my throat tightened. Uncle Jack… is dead? I mean, he wasn’t literally my Uncle; we used the term ‘Uncle’ as a sign of affectionate respect. Being one of the pack was more than just belonging; Mum once told me that the Lokoti Werewolves were not just empathic with their mates, but also with each other. There was even a rumor that they had limited telepathic ability. It was why Dad would suddenly leave the house and run out the front door with no word where he was going, like what happened tonight.
The European Werewolf released his human brother and mother and started to walk past where I was sitting, when he stopped to look down.
“I’ll just get some clothes on and I’ll drive you home.” He said flatly.
“No.” I tearfully shook my head. “There’s no need and you’re wounded anyways. I want to walk.”
“I can drive B home.” Derik offered.
“I said I’d do it so I’ll do it!” He suddenly said angrily, startling us all. Then he left the lounge room and went into his bedroom to dress.
*****
Neither Declan nor I said a thing, as he drove me home in his old, light blue, pick up truck. The sky was just starting to lighten with the onset of dawn and I felt cold, tired, hungry and emotional. Tearfully, I stared out the window for the short trip and couldn’t wait to get home so I could cry openly.
His vehicle chugged up the steep, dirt road as we drove past my families houses before Declan turned into the driveway of Mum and Dad’s. He pulled up in front of my veranda and left the engine running.
Just as I was about to hop out, Declan suddenly put his hand over mine. He squeezed it tightly which made me pause, as my breath caught and my heart began to race… I didn’t look at him nor did he look at me.
The heat of his hand actually began to travel up my arm and magically warm me all over, his grip was strong as it was tight. I even began to feel his thumb start to caress my palm, putting butterflies in my stomach. I sat there unmoving, not breathing and not blinking. Neither of us said a thing, leaving an eerie quietness in his truck.
Next, I felt his fingers entwine with mine, making my eyes widen as I stared ahead out of the windscreen. My butterflies grew worse, flying into a flurry; making me tremble when his fingers pressed into my palm and massaged it with his finger tips. His touch was both direct and yet tender.
Unconsciously, I started to squeeze his hand back but then my front door opened and Dad walked out. Automatically, he pulled back his hand as he still didn’t look my way.
“Go get some sleep.” He said shortly.
Finally I started breathing again, almost hyperventilating when I quickly opened my door and climbed out. I accidentally slammed the door shut, as I walked around the truck and up my veranda steps. Dad gave a nod to Declan, who quickly reversed out of our driveway to drive off back down the hill.
I collapsed into tears in my father’s waiting arms and he squeezed me tightly before leading me inside the house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ Scent ~
By K.R. Smith
Sample Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This sample may be rep
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‘Scent’ copyright K.R. Smith 2010
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http://onaya3.blogspot.com/
Cover graphics by Isabel de Sequera, copyright 2010
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Cover photo taken by Nina Ackerman and Leesa Montague, copyright 2007
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This book is available at most online retailers.
~~~~~~~~
“Men do not roar. Women roar. Then they hurl heavy objects. And claw at you.”
— “What does the man do?”
“He reads love poetry. He ducks a lot.”
(Worf and Wesley on Klingon mating rituals Star Trek: The Next Generation)
~~~~~~~~
~ 1 ~
1st September 2084
Man, this Iggy Pop album is awesome! Our heads bopped along to the tune of ‘Lust For Life’ in time to the beat and in time with each other.
“B.”
Hmm, what was that?
“B!”
Is that Mum?
“BIANCA!”
Derik and I looked to each other, each of us wondering if the other had heard that? as we laid on our stomachs on top of my bed, listening to the old CD play on the second-hand CD player that used to be my Dad’s.
“I think your Mom is calling you.” Derik turned down my music.
Just then Mum blew into my room and stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“Bianca Grace I have been calling out your name for the past ten minutes!” She announced.
“Yes?” I looked up inquiringly.
“Will Derik be staying for dinner tonight?” Mum rolled her eyes and then she looked his way.
“No thanks Aunt Jess, but thanks anyway. My Mom is expecting me home.” He answered in his usual polite manner.
“Thanks for answering that Derik. Now I have to go all the way back downstairs and continue making Bianca’s dinner. Next time B, keep the music to a less deafening level and save my legs the hassle, OK?” Mum glared as she started to leave.
“So? Phase.” I shrugged.
“Excuse me?” She stopped to look back.
“Instead of using the stairs and coming all this way to ask us that one question, just instantaneously phase up here.” I pointed out.
“Oh right! Because I’m already in the custom of instantaneously phasing in and out of my 17 year old daughter’s bedroom at my leisure. No never mind if you were up here with a boyfriend or you were getting undressed for a shower or if…” She prattled on.
“Mum!” I cut her off as I blushed.
“I’ll be sure to pass on your open invitation to your father so he knows that he too can suddenly appear inside your bedroom at his preference.” She added on sarcastically. “We’ll post an ‘open’ sign on your bedroom door, shall we?”
With that she was gone, and Derik was left chuckling in her aftermath.
“Your parents are cool.” He said for his millionth time since I’ve known him.
“No they’re not.” I rebuked for my billionth time.
“Your Mom is much more flexible than my Mom.” He remarked.
“That’s because my Mum was 19 years old when she had me and your Mum was 24 when she had you. I think it’s an age thing.” I shrugged.
“Your family is cool.” Derik said for his zillionth time.
“No they’re not.” I sighed for my gazillionth time.
“You’ve got a pretty cool Mom and Dad, you’ve got a cool Uncle and Grandparents and Great Grandma. Your Dad, Uncle and Grandfather are Werewolves…but they’re cool Werewolves. They’re not interested in hunting humans. And your Dad and the rest of the tribe makes sure Declan doesn’t either even though he’s a different kind of Werewolf.” Derik went on.
“Declan is an asshole – he would frickin’ eat Bambi if he saw it all helpless and alone in the woods.” I said unimpressed.
“He’s not that bad, it’s just around a full moon he gets a bit tetchy.” He defended his older brother.
“Your older brother is ‘tetchy’ even when there isn’t a full moon… which means every night of the frickin’ year.” I retorted.
“It’s only because of this Werewolf business.”
“Declan has been a Werewolf since he was three years old when he was attacked.” I arched an eyebrow back.
“Yeah, but see? The Lokoti Werewolves don’t turn until they’re ten years old or older, when a male relative like a grandfather or a father dies, which triggers their Werewolf DNA. Declan was turned into a Werewolf by the European Werewolf that attacked him and Dad, when our Dad died. Plus he’s a different breed of Werewolf, so he has different symptoms. It’s not his fault if…” Derik went on but I cut him off.
“He’s socially inept.”
“No he’s not…” He tried to argue, but then I shot him a tired look and he stopped himself, “…well alright, so he’s a little on the defensive side and he keeps people at arms length. But that’s only so he won’t accidentally turn anybody else by biting them. He hardly ever hugs Mom because he’s scared of hurting her. How do you think that makes him feel?”
“Oh poor Declan, he’s just misunderstood.” I whined in a funny voice. He tickled me for that! “Derik, cut it out!” I laughed and rolled away from him. But he didn’t cut it out, he kept at it! “Derik no! Stop it!” I squealed, rolling off the bed to get away from him.
He cracked up laughing when he saw me land on the floor.
“Are you OK?” he chuckled, reaching over and pulling me back onto the bed.
“You know I hate being tickled!” I hit him hard on the arm.
“Oow!” Derik guffawed, flinching. “Your right hook has really been beefing up in the last month or so. Are you working out or something?”
“No.” I gave him a look as if he were mad for even suggesting it.
“Hmm.” He squeezed my arms to check the muscles for himself. “I guess not, they still feel pretty flimsy.”
“Hey!” I whacked him a second time.
“Ouch!” he rubbed his sore shoulder where I hit him. “You may look like a pipsqueak, but you hit almost as hard as Declan.”
“I thought you said he treated you and your mother with kid gloves or something.” I gave him a funny look.
“He’s punched me now and then.” Derik smiled ruefully.
“I thought he was worried about accidentally turning you.”
“Well, yeah he is.” He shrugged. “But when he punches me his hand is in a fist so his nails are tucked in. Besides he can only turn someone if he bites them… I overheard your Grandfather and my Mom talk about it.”
“Typical.” I rolled my eyes. “The guy is afraid to hug his own mother but he’ll still male bond with his brother by beating him up now and again.”
“Yeah, that’s about right for us men.” Derik said in humor. Then he looked at his watch before he looked back. “I’d better take off. So, will I see you later on tonight down at Ben’s bonfire?”
I gave a nod before he stood up first and out of politeness so did I, as I walked him to my bedroom door.
Just as I started to open the door to let him out, Derik stopped us. He quickly leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. At first this took me by surprise and for a couple of seconds I froze… but then I recovered.
“Derik.” I frowned.
“Yeah I know, you don’t know if you’re ready for anything more than friends yet.” He gave a guilty smile. “But I couldn’t resist.”
“Try.”
He sighed wistfully as he left my bedroom and he walked down the small corridor to the stairs. After throwing me one last look, he jogged down my small staircase. I closed my bedroom door beh
ind and leant on it whilst sighing myself.
I’ve known Derik forever…he’s one of the few boys of the tribe that’s my age, although he’s not a Native Alaskan nor is he Lokoti by marriage. Derik, his older brother Declan and his mother Aunt Susan, are the only non-Lokoti invited to live on this land as one of us, who weren’t married into us.
Aunt Susan who was pregnant with Derik at the time, came here to live when Declan was just three years old. On the night of her arrival, her husband died from the European Werewolf attack which had also mauled and ultimately changed Declan. My Gran helped the Lokoti Werewolves fight the foreign Werewolf which was a different and more dangerous breed of Werewolf, a man-eater. Then Gran found out that Susan had been married to Anthony Sabre who was killed by the foreign Werewolf? That was that, Susan and her kids were declared family and were taken in by the tribe. Apparently Anthony’s Great Grand Uncle was Mike Sabre, who was turned into a Circulator by my Great Great Grandmother, Elisha Worthall.
The female lineage of Elisha Worthall all became Circulators, including my grandmother and mother. They used to be part of the Circulate, but when the Circulate evolved to exist as pure energy and light to take their place in the space time continuum? It left behind only my Gran and Mum, who later met the last Calculator Vincent Moher, who was our distant cousin.
I’m meant to be the last Circulator although I haven’t circulated yet, which means that I can’t put myself into phase. In layman’s terms it basically explains that I can’t turn my biological body into one of light and pass through time and space, as you do…! I’m turning 18 years old in a month’s time and all I’ve had are the dreams and visions. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a Circulator, or a Calculator? Vincent who’s our Calculator can’t put himself into phase; but he has a highly attuned mind that is able to calculate temporal causalities. He can ‘see’ how we affect the timeline, or what’s in store for us.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, B.” Mum said for her trillionth time when I voiced my reservations about my ability. “I didn’t phase for my first time until I was 18 years old and pregnant with you.”
