Feral

by Serafini, Matt

  He jogged across the street to his car and slid behind the wheel. Checking his side mirror for traffic, he caught a glimpse of Officer West standing in the station's entryway, watching him. Jack locked eyes, certain the cop had forgotten to tell him something. When he made no further motion, Jack pulled away with a sinking feeling.

  Officer West couldn't be bothered to check into a concerned citizen's report, but was interested enough to watch that citizen drive away.

  Something else for the growing checklist of weird.

  Greifsfield's downtown hub was eerily quiet for a Saturday in June. Even the local eateries, typically brimming with visiting couples and families, looked desperate for patronage. Odd, as these were peak dining hours. Jack had seen some of these places busier during offseason trips to visit Luce.

  He drifted through Greifsfield center, trying to get his head around everything that was wrong. People were out and about, but their movements and mannerisms were all the same: hurried. Like they wanted off the streets before nightfall as much as he did. He knew his reasons and shuddered to think they all might them.

  He didn't want to consider that. Most of these people were locals going through their daily motions. They lived here year round and were fully adjusted to any small town idiosyncrasies.

  That’s what he told himself, at least.

  He banked a right at the intersection and swung onto Old Walker Road, heading into suburban Greifsfield. He drove to Lucy's house for the third time today, hoping to find her car in the driveway. It wasn't and he kept driving, dialing each mutual college acquaintance he had on his phone, asking whether or not anyone had seen her. The answers were similar:

  "Not since finals."

  "I talked to her once, but haven't seen her since we moved out of the dorms."

  "Haven't heard from the bitch once all summer."

  On his way back to town, he skipped past the turn off for the Big East, deciding that he wouldn't be spending another night there, despite Officer West's disingenuous assurances.

  Heading back to Pittsfield was a possibility, but he'd checked out of the Tavern on the Hill this morning and didn't want to drop two hundred and fifty bucks on another night. Which meant the only remaining option was heading back to Leominster.

  It wasn't like he had anything to follow up on that would bring him any closer to Lucy, and he wasn't the sort of guy that followed up on leads anyway. He was a procrastinating college student, not a private investigator.

  The road was dark and without streetlights. At ten past seven, daylight was ready to pack it in. And so was he. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. He slowed his speed, looking for the nearest driveway to turn around in.

  Flashing red and blues erupted in his rearview accompanied by a police siren. Startled, Jack pulled over and hoped the cruiser would speed by. Instead, it slowed on his bumper.

  He hadn’t been speeding and, as far as he knew, his head and brake lights were all intact. Jack steadied his hands on the steering wheel and took deep breaths, hoping to smooth his nerves by the time the cop got here.

  Two knuckles rapped against his window in startlingly rapid succession. When his heart didn't explode, Jack threw a hand against his chest and sighed with relief.

  "Holy shit," he mumbled and rolled down the window.

  The familiar face of Officer Sean West ducked into the open frame. It was stone cold, his features motionless and devoid of recognition or courtesy. He said nothing and just stared.

  Jack thought his previous thought must've been right. Officer West must've been trying to motion from the sidewalk. He had something else to say. Why go through all that effort otherwise?

  "Step out of the car please, sir."

  "Hi, Officer West. Did I..."

  "Out." The cop stepped away and motioned for him to get out.

  There weren't any options here. Jack was at the mercy of the law. Drive away and risk taking a bullet to the back of the head. Refuse to step outside and risk being pulled, screaming and kicking through the window.

  He swung the door open and eased his way out.

  "I'm not trying to make trouble for you guys," Jack said, unconsciously raising his hands. "I've been looking for a friend of mine who's missing. I'm really worried and I think it might have something to do with what's happening over at the resort.”

  "There's nothing happening at the resort that I didn't already tell you about. As for this friend of yours...this better not be about that girl you think disappeared from the Big East on Friday morning."

  "Not her," Jack said.

  "You're telling me that people close to you have a funny way of going missing, is that right?"

  The tension in the cop's voice escalated with each syllable. He was intent on provoking him, or trying to run him out of town, at least. Apparently, intimidation and brute force were going to be his tactical way of making that happen.

  "Have I committed a crime that I'm not aware of?"

  "You little prick," the cop's hands shot upward as he lunged forward, taking Jack's throat in a compactor squeeze. They tumbled back and Jack's spine slammed against the car door. West's grip was a clamp. "Don't try and pretend you don't know what's happening. They should've killed you long ago."

  Jack struggled but succeeded only in antagonizing his grip.

  More headlights slowed on approach, pulling in behind the flashing cruiser and disappearing behind the booming police glow.

  It wasn't back up, not from the way the cop's head cranked. Keeping his hands clamped, he dragged him around the car towards the cover of forest. Jack's sneakers carved wobbly trails in the dirt. He tried to scream for help, but his voice was a wheeze. If they made it to the tree line, Officer West was going to put a bullet in his brain.

  "Believe me," West said, throwing Jack to the ground. "You're better off this way, brother. Some of those others might enjoy this. Me, I'm going to make it quick."

  West un-holstered his Glock in what might as well have been in slow motion.

  "Close your eyes. I don't want you watching while I put you down."

  Jack's eyes squeezed to black and he braced for a blast to his head. The Glock never sounded. He heard a thud followed by the immediate shock of two hundred pounds crashing down onto him. The wide-eyed body of Officer West had spouted a dribbling third eye in the center of his forehead.

  Jack slid out from beneath the dead cop, wiping blood from his eyes.

  "Take his gun." A female voice cut the darkness. "You're going to need it."

  Jack spun in a circle, wide-eyed and panicked. His car was maybe ten feet away. If he was fast, he should be able to make there. Then make Greifsfield a memory. Forever.

  "Don't run," the voice said. She emerged from the thick foliage with a smoking silenced pistol in hand. "Try and run, they're going to hunt and kill you. That cop most likely called in your plate before pulling you over. That means his buddies are en route. If they find you, I won't be able to protect you."

  "I'm leaving town."

  "You won't get that far." Her eyes were trained on the dead body. "You hurt? Did he bite you? Did anyone bite you?"

  "Bite? No. I haven't been bitten."

  The shadows loved her. Beyond her outline there was very little to see, save for lighter hair bunched up atop her head, and a gun hand extended in his direction.

  "This one must've been new...didn't quite master the art of killing and eating his prey."

  On top of being violent, she was crazy. Savior or not, Jack wasn't going to argue with a vigilante. He realized he was nodding along, and would continue to do so as long as she was armed and willing to kill him.

  She came out of the shadows then, wearing a blonde ponytail while clad in some kind of military getup, complete with all sorts of combat utilities. She looked capable, and at just a few inches taller them him—probably 5'9"—her broad shoulders hinted at more strength than he'd ever have.

  He also wondered how she moved around town looking like she was supposed to be
occupying a foreign country.

  The blonde dropped to one knee and examined the body. Then she holstered her weapon and grabbed the service pistol Jack had neglected to take. She unsheathed a massive blade and stepped on her victim's neck with a thick boot, swinging it through the air. It wooshed down and hacked through bone with a textured crack. Two more swings until the head broke away from its neck, completely severed from the lower jaw.

  "You're coming with me," she said, sheathing the bloody knife. "No, you have no choice. Don't give me any shit and we'll get along...ok?"

  "I..."

  "That's more shit than I'm willing to take from you. Shut up, and follow me."

  Jack stood in stunned silence at the mutilated body.

  "Listen, I know this type of thing demands more finesse than I'm giving. Like I said, the cops will be here any minute. You don't want them to see their friend like this because, believe me, they're not going to take you into custody. I need you to come with me so that you can tell me everything you know. We can't do that here."

  There was zero emotion in her voice and hardly any behind her eyes.

  "Who are you?" Jack asked as they walked back to her vehicle.

  "Shut it," she said. "I have to listen."

  "For?"

  "For those things." She shushed him as they climbed into the cab of her pickup.

  "Your car's no good. They'll be looking for it."

  "If they have my plates they know where I live. They'll find my parents..."

  "And that's why they need to find your car. They can't think you've left town. You might not like it, but I'm the safest place for you right now. And if there's anything you need out of there, I suggest you grab it in the next fifteen seconds because you'll never see it again. Try to run from me and I’ll gun you down."

  "I thought you needed to pick my brain." Jack slammed the door. His belongings were clothes that could be replaced. "Shooting me isn't the best way to go about that."

  "I need to ask you a lot of questions," she said. "But if you try to run, those things out there will find you. And they'll either kill you or make you one of them. Trust me, blowing your brains out would be doing you a favor."

  "I feel safer already," Jack said, staring at the headless corpse in the brush as the truck pulled away.

  ***

  Elisabeth heard the howling in the hours just before dawn. A chorus of cries blanketed the Greifsfield sky, ushering in the day.

  Being among her own kind should've made her feel welcome: the town was being dismantled and humans didn't seem to notice. The howling had once been a beacon, the lure of Greifsfield. The presence of other varcolac served as a security blanket, at least before she'd realized that Anton Fane had come to make this wooded paradise his.

  She'd never felt more foolish. Though she rarely gave a damn about what others thought, that he'd interpreted her arrival as a way to reconnect kept her awake at night. Seething.

  Whatever Fane was doing was outside their kind's best interest, but that had always been his self-serving way.

  Allen's sweaty, muscular arm draped over her, pulling her against him with possession. She traced the pleasing contours of his form while her innards glowed hot. He was coming along nicely. His intense passion for her made it easy—it was always the key to corrupting a person's soul.

  Any decent person, no matter how devout, could be tarnished for the right price. As a huntress she'd gotten better at doing it than anyone ever had, and through Allen she realized it was still among her talents. Her only trepidation came when the pup was left to his own thoughts for too long, but her touch was all that was needed to help him forget.

  To be fair, she wanted him as badly as he needed her.

  Her fingers stroked the longest fang on her necklace. With Allen caressing her stomach in his sleep, she felt a stitch of guilt, but could not say for whom. Aetius was so long ago, and almost entirely a memory. Without this trinket, she might've questioned whether or not their love had happened at all.

  Memories and dreams were indistinguishable after the right length of time. He would want her to be happy, and probably would've demanded it long before now.

  Remember when those men came for you?

  It was a thought that hadn't recurred in full for some time. But she had lost him that night, and could not allow the same thing to happen again.

  Elisabeth slid out from Allen's grasp and got up off the floor. The stone tile was ice cold on the soles of her feet as she crept upstairs and stepped inside the shower. The hot steam soothed her angry muscles, but facilitated her panic.

  Yesterday's visit from Fane gnawed at the back of her mind. Why so insistent on the huntress' presence? In wartime, there had been ceremonies where pups were allowed into their ranks through a ritualized induction. Fane, and in rare instances, the queen, would explain varcolac evolution as being one step closer to the Gods. In these services, it fell to the huntress, Elisabeth, in most cases, to encourage all pups to submit to their instincts.

  Oh, did they.

  Even the most steadfast of souls resorted to debauchery once the consequences were removed and fantasy became a possibility. Priests turned on underage virgins with sadism, brother raped sister, delighted to be able to unleash their eternally suppressed desires, and loving mothers demanded to be invaded by fully turned wolves, exhilarated by the brutal contrast of pain and pleasure.

  Local villagers of all ages were harvested for the festivities, intended as subservients for the pups. They could be feasted upon, fucked or turned—sometimes all at once. Their fate was always left to the fledglings. It gave them their first taste of varcolac power.

  Anton Fane wouldn't dare bring that back.

  Would he not? Thinking about the Turning now, after so much time had passed, Elisabeth was repulsed by the signs and sounds that colored her recollections. Watching fledglings succumb to their most corroded instincts brought no joy, only misery and depression.

  Fane had mentioned a Turning, but it was hard to imagine even he would be bold enough to transform an entire town. For what gain?

  After showering, Elisabeth picked out the right wardrobe for her audience: a tight-fitting leather skirt that conservatively masked her curves while offering just a glimpse of her breasts. She straightened her necklace in the mirror, making sure it was plainly visible as both personal encouragement and a reminder to Fane.

  She considered packing her blade but decided against it. This was not about waging war. It was about making things safe for Allen, while figuring out what Fane was up to. She had no desire to go, but it was preferable to losing another lover.

  Nor will we run away.

  She had never bared her neck to an adversary before, not willingly, and Fane would not be the first to see that weakness.

  Allen was awake when she came downstairs. He was nude, hunched over on the couch and holding his head in the palm of his hand, grunting with misery as she ogled him. Even in disheveled pain, his naked, cut body was an alluring sight.

  "Did you drink too much? So much for that, 'I know my limits line' you kept feeding me last night."

  "We were celebrating, weren't we? I mean, I don't know what the hell was in that stuff, but I'm pretty sure it's responsible for fueling our around the world game. I didn't think we'd ever make it back to the bathroom floor."

  "You credit the wine?"

  "I credit you."

  "I would not have imagined you had so much...enthusiasm to keep at it for so long. It is almost dawn. We broke in every room in the house along the way, did we not?"

  "We did. I'd like to see Sting do that."

  "Who?"

  "You were alive in the 80s, right?"

  "Yes, but I spent much of it in Nepal."

  "Forget it. I'm just wondering why I feel so awful. I didn't even, uh, transform once we got back. I felt fine in the shower...and I definitely felt great afterwards. But now...I feel like I've been breaking rocks. And the dreams I had..."

  She laughed. "I
tired you. I hope you are not telling me that you regret it." She certainly didn't. She'd convinced him to get a little kinky as they spilled into her bedroom on their four or fifth time. She'd dabbed his anus with hash oil and added a drop between her legs to heighten certain sensations. Her muscles were enflamed now, but the countless string of orgasms made it easier to deal with the discomfort.

  "I regret nothing," he said and got to his feet.

  "You are a mess. Get some rest."

  "I've had enough of that...those dreams," he took her in his arms. "I want some more of you."

  Elisabeth wanted to drop to her knees, but the temptation would have to wait. Dealing with Fane was first. "Rest, regain that strength. You will need it when I get back."

  "Where are you going?"

  "I have to go out for a while...someone I must to speak to."

  "You're going to him."

  “Yes."

  "You're not going alone."

  "Allen, he is an old friend. If I go alone, it will not take long." She tried kissing him but he turned an abrupt cheek.

  "I've got a good case of morning breath."

  "I take the good with the bad. Kiss me."

  Allen gave her a reluctant peck on the lips. She wanted more, but he had done as she said, and without hesitation. They were off to a great start.

  Elisabeth convinced Allen to spend a few hours reclaiming the energy exhausted during their marathon. She left him in the kitchen, frowning while cooking a full skillet of bacon. He was not terribly cute when he pouted. His face was rather annoying when it was frumpy.

  To her surprise, she was willing to overlook his attitude. It was, after all, born out of concern for her and what she was about to do.

  "Just give it a little bit of color," she said. "You do not want to cook it too much, or it will never satisfy you."

  It would not be long before a pound of raw bacon would cease to satisfy his hunger at all.

  Sondra Gleason's car remained idle in the driveway, parked beside her father's Mitsubishi. The red sports car was, admittedly, a bit garish, but she'd grown accustomed to the way it handled. It would be in her best interest to get rid of Sondra's car at some point, but the girl's fate was of absolutely no concern to her.