Origin Story

by Rowena Rede

  She had better things to do than pick up these two bozos. Time was the most important factor on cases like these. She had a lead on a vamp that might know something about something and Stone promised the apartment would be open for her this afternoon. Why couldn’t he just send a car for them? She assumed they could read. If she were in charge of logistics she would have emailed the files and sent a car. No fuss no muss. Fae were so difficult.

  Looking at her watch for the hundredth time, she rolled her eyes and stamped her feet loudly on the asphalt. Patience was not one of her virtues. This was just as bad as a stakeout. Pulling out her phone, she tapped open the special file Stone’s office had sent over. Forcing herself to focus, she adjusted her aviator sunglasses by pushing them further up on her nose and scanned the personnel files of her new buddies. Park Thatcher and William Ison.

  “So. We gonna talk about what just happened?” Maya ignored Ison and stomped over to her desk, slamming herself into the rickety wooden office chair, its wheels groaned in protest.

  “I don’t understand. That thing, what was it? Some kind of training simulation? The special effects were quite impressive.” Ison, always looking for the logical explanation, just couldn’t quite wrap his head around the last few hours. Maybe he was jetlagged.

  Thatcher, leaned against the wall in the corner nearest to the exit, frowned and checked the makeshift tourniquet that was holding his arm together. “That wasn’t a simulation. My arm is bleeding real blood and hurts like a mother-“

  “Okay, okay. It wasn’t a simulation. What was it? What did we get ourselves into?”

  Maya watched them banter back and forth. She knew exactly what it was, but she didn’t know why. Still silent, she replayed the events of the last two hours in her mind.

  She’d picked up Thatcher and Ison at the airport easy enough. The blonde one, Thatcher, had tried to charm her with a smile, while the other one, with the blue eyes, immediately started talking shop. She liked that. He was ready to get down to business. The other one was more interested in getting lunch first. She remembered his chattered nonstop about finding a good steakhouse right before the attack happened.

  She shuddered involuntarily as the image popped into her head.

  They were still in the private underground tunnel leading from the airport to the parking lot. Bert and Ernie were still arguing behind her, oblivious to their surroundings when she felt it. The hair on the back of her neck rose and her arms erupted into a mass of goosebumps despite the warm California climate and her jacket. “Shut up you two,” she hissed and slowly reached into her back pocket. Her silver dagger was there, right where it should be. The peanut gallery behind her formed ranks and flanked her on either side. She was glad they had sense enough to fall in without instruction. She heard low growling followed by a bone-chilling howl. “I don’t suppose you boys are carrying any silver bullets on you by any chance?

  Thatcher’s voice brought her back to the present situation.

  “It reminded me of that case I went on a few months ago, but this thing was different. It was more sentient. I don’t think it was related to or even created by the same organization. I hope not anyway.” Thatcher pressed on his arm and winced. The bleeding hadn’t stopped, and he was starting to get concerned. Looking around, he deduced this was Maya’s office. Mismatched and worn furniture, clutter everywhere, he was started to get dizzy. Spotting an empty chair that looked questionable as to whether it was safe to sit in, he chanced it. There was no way he was going to pass out in front of his new colleague.

  “What case? What are you talking about? Nothing I’ve been sent said you were experienced with handling werewolves.” Maya, had a burgeoning hope that these guys weren’t as clueless as she had been led to believe. They had managed to kill a Were, not easy even if you had a supernatural boost. The other one had gotten away but not without being wounded pretty bad.

  “A colleague of ours. He went missing. Turns out he was experimented on by an organization of science thugs. They turned him into something like that thing we just encountered. It was a nasty ordeal with ongoing consequences.” Ison explained while moving closer to Thatcher. “How's the arm?” Thatcher merely nodded as a response then they both looked at Maya. “Did you say Werewolf,” they both asked in unison.

  Maya was a little dismayed. Not a werewolf. Genetically modified monsters were terrifying in their own right, but not her realm of expertise. Oh shit! His arm! She bolted up out of her seat and ran to the back of the office.

  Will and Park looked at each other trying to process Maya’s sudden rush out of the room. Shouts of “Fuck! “ and “Where is it?” were followed by various crashes and bangs. Without a word, they both got up to investigate. Thatcher’s wound was throbbing now, and the pain was more intense. He trudged along behind Will, steeling himself not to pass out. His curiosity winning out temporarily over his physical condition.

  They found themselves jammed into a small industrial kitchen, much better equipped than the office in the front. Glass jars neatly labeled with the names of various herbs lined an open pantry. Maya was frantically grabbing various jars and placing them near a large bowl on the counter.

  “I know I said I wanted lunch earlier, but um, in light of what just happened to us, I’ll take a raincheck.”

  Maya stopped grounding and looked up at him, glaring. Great, he’s a smartass. “Listen, what we just fought, wasn’t created in a lab. I need you to take off your shirt.”

  “Wow, usually we would go out and get to know each other first but ok.”

  Maya ignored him and went back to grabbing her jars, “Hey Bert, could you help me out? Turn on the coffee pot and get ready to catch your boy.”

  “Wait, who’s Bert?” Thatcher wasn’t sure what was going on, but Ison leapt into action. Oh so he’s Bert, wait, is she inferring that we’re Bert and Ernie?

  “I like my coffee black thanks.” He felt himself slumping and casually reached for the trim on the doorway for support.

  “Whoa there Ernie, follow me.” Oh my god, she IS calling us Bert and Ernie! He laughed out loud before passing out and crashing headfirst on the kitchen floor.

  “Dammit. I was hoping he wouldn’t do that.”

  “What the hell happened?” Will rushed over to his friend and helped Maya straighten him out on the floor. “He’s burning up.”

  Once she made sure there wasn’t a head wound to deal with in addition to the cut on his arm, Maya rushed back to her herbal concoction. Charcoal, Coconut oil base, man she hoped it was just a scratch. Satisfied with a base recipe, she turned her attention back to Thatcher.

  “Okay, that needs to sit for a minute, so help me move him to my room.”

  Ison balked at the order. Did she not see that Thatcher was rapidly declining?

  “I’m calling an ambulance. I’ve never seen a flesh wound take him down that fast. It isn’t even that deep and the bleeding is uncontrollable. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Maya sighed. Conventional medicine wasn’t going to help. This called for a competent witch. Admittedly, she was a mediocre practician at best, but a bad witch was better than no witch and they had to act fast before things got worse. She pushed past Ison and climbed over Thatcher’s body slumped in the doorway and positioned herself at his head, preparing to drag him into the other room by the arms if she had to. She hoped she wouldn’t. This guy was big and hauling his dead weight across the hall wouldn’t be a picnic.

  “Listen, you guys mentioned you fought something like that a while back. Lab-created right? Now imagine something like that, that occurs in nature, only it carries a virus. A virus that makes it a perfect killing machine. One bite and you’ve become infected and become a carrier, a scratch and you’re paralyzed. Easy prey.”

  Ison watched as Maya struggled to move Park. “Okay let’s switch. I’ll get the head you get the feet.” They switched positions quickly. He was fighting every instinct he had to take over and call an ambulance. The creature they’d enc
ountered was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Maya was part of their team now. She had proven knowledgeable and fearless when they were attacked. Logic told him that meant she’d dealt with this kind of thing before. He had to trust that she knew best in this situation.

  “My bedroom is closer. Just a few steps back through that door.”

  “Oh man, I’m so glad he’s unconscious right now. The jokes would be nonstop,” Ison huffed a little as they both lifted Thatcher onto Maya’s bed.

  “So he thinks he’s a comedian. Good to know. Now take off his shirt, I need to see if his arm is the only wound, and you need to hope it’s a scratch and not a bite. Bites are way out of my wheelhouse,” she muttered as she pulled Thatcher’s shoes off and tossed them in a corner.

  Once the shirt was off, Maya did a quick once over. Satisfied that his arm was the only problem, she undid the tourniquet to inspect the edges of the wound. It was a single gash, deep, with nearly neat edges, not a single tooth mark to be found. She exhaled loudly, relieved it wasn’t the worst-case scenario. Scratches were bad and required fast action, but bites could ruin your life. She stepped away from the bedside and sprinted out the door, calling to Ison as she exited.

  “You can check the rest of him. I’m not going near his swimsuit area. We just met and I didn’t swipe right. I’ll go get the stuff to treat him.”

  Ison sighed heavily as she left. Great, now he had TWO wise guys to deal with. “I’m not going near the swimsuit area either, I know where it’s been,” he mumbled helplessly as she left the room.

  “Okay, it’s just a scratch. I can work with that. Charcoal to draw out the poison, willow bark for inflammation, quicksilver to counteract the wolf’s magic,” she repeated treatment instructions that she’d learned by rote when she was a girl. “Thank you, Abuela.” Her grandmother was a healer with a high success rate and had her girls memorizing basic treatments as soon as they could speak whole sentences. Maya always hated it, but now she was grateful. “Willow bark, Willow bark…” she searched the shelves and cupboards frantically only to come up empty-handed. She didn’t have time to run out for a refill. Thatcher needed treatment now. The paralytic poison in a wolf’s claws acted pretty quickly. She was surprised he’d lasted this long. The effects were usually seen in minutes. His breathing wasn’t shallow, so it hadn’t reached his respiratory system yet. Once his breathing slowed, it would be too late.

  Aspirin. Aspirin could work. In theory anyway. It was for inflammation, not magic, the quicksilver was what would counteract the wolf’s poison while the charcoal drew it out. Besides, aspirin was invented with willow bark so it could work. It could work. She kept repeating the words in her head, hoping something positive manifested from it. She was a witch after all, believing in magic was the most important part of any ritual or spell. Man, she hoped these guys never found out how much she winged it when it came to the craft. Grabbing all her supplies, she took a deep breath and headed back into the bedroom.

  The smell hit him first. Rotting flesh mixed with wet dog. Then Maya shushing them and taking a defensive pose. He and Will immediately assumed the same positions, guns out, the three of them covering all angles. He noticed she didn’t have a gun. Just a small dagger. It worried him, and he hoped she had something more helpful hidden somewhere on her person. They waited for what seemed like an eternity. Low guttural growling echoed throughout the underground tunnel, growing louder as it came closer. Everyone tensed in anticipation. They were just a few feet from the exit, he could see a small line of daylight just past Maya’s head.

  An earsplitting howl broke his concentration, he steeled himself for impact. The creature easily tore through them and circled back, not waiting for anyone to get up. He and Will were still on the ground when IT charged at Maya. Firing off a shot as it leapt past his head, he was confident it hit. The animal kept charging as if nothing had happened. Will shot next, a solid hit right in the spine. The monster stopped its charge for just a moment as if it were reconsidering it’s intended target. The hesitation was just the distraction Maya needed to get close enough with her dagger. He and Will continued to take shots, allowing her to make her move.

  She was about to strike when the wolf suddenly pivoted back to her direction. He noted she didn’t hesitate, just acted. Plunging the dagger into the beast’s side, it howled in pain and retaliated swiftly. Grabbing her with it’s large, clawed, hand, it flung her with ease causing her to crumple against the wall. He wanted to scream a warning, to catch her attention, something to get her up and moving. He stood up and fired another shot. Another hit. “Thatch, this thing isn’t being phased by our bullets. We need another plan of action and we need it now.”

  Ison was right. This thing wasn’t slowing down. He stared at Maya, limp on the floor, the monster inches away ready to finish his attack. He took a deep breath and charged headfirst at the creature. “Are you crazy?!” He heard Will scream as he bodychecked the wolf. He had the element of surprise in his favor and managed to force the monster out of Maya’s path. Will rushed over to her side as he continued to grapple with the beast. It was massive. At least seven feet tall and twice as wide as he was. Within seconds he was easily pinned down. “I guess mints weren’t an option today,” he muttered trying hard not to gag on the putrid smell wafting his way. Closing his eyes, he waited for the inevitable. Hot breath and saliva dripped on his face as the beast regained its composure and pounced on him, enormous paws held him down. It was toying with him. He turned his head away, toward Maya and Will. Maya’s eyes were open, she twitched her fingers and murmured something inaudible under her breath.

  A breeze picked up around him. The wolf raised its head, confused by the unnatural wind. The moment didn’t last long as the creature decided the change in atmosphere wasn’t a threat and returned to menacing its prey. Gathering up his strength, Thatcher pulled up his legs and kneed the creature in a place that he assumed was sensitive to every being. The beast reared back and howled in pain. Thatcher tucked and rolled to the side and quickly tried to crawl away.

  His escape attempt wasn’t successful, however, and the wolf swiped at him with its claws, catching him on the shoulder and breaking the skin. The pain was excruciating. For a second he wondered if he hadn’t been stabbed. Still on his hands and knees turned away from the monster and scrambling for anything that could be used as a weapon, he noticed Maya once again twitching her fingers and mumbling under her breath. Will was firing off rounds at random in an attempt to draw the monster away from them. Any distraction was helpful at this point.

  The strange wind returned, stronger this time. He watched dumbstruck as Maya’s dagger seemed to fly into her hand. While the creature was now focused on Will, she picked herself up and hurled her body in its direction. Just as she was about to attack, it whirled around and smacked her away as if she were a toy The dagger falling from her hand with a hard clank.

  Ison was running out of ammo by Thatcher’s count. This needed to end now. Maya was holding her ribs and sliding up against the wall. She caught his attention and frantically started to mime her plan and pointed to the dagger. He only had a short window for success and everyone’s lives depended on getting this one last shot right.

  While Ison fired his last shot directly at the wolf’s head, Thatcher ran toward Maya who had managed to pick up the blade once more. She tossed it to him as he leapt into the air. In one fluid movement, he caught the dagger and forced all his strength into plunging it deep into the base of the monster’s neck, severing its spine. The effect was instant. It howled in pain and crumpled on the floor, writing for a few seconds, then silent.

  Thatcher woke up with a start. The memory of the creature’s attack still fresh in is mind. He was covered in sweat and his arm hurt like hell. It had to have been more than just a scratch. The pain was coursing through his body, his arm throbbed and burned at the injured site. He could really use a drink right now. LA was turning out to be a nightmare. He had to get out of here, but first, he needed
to figure out who’s bed he was in.

  “So, you’re telling me that magic is real. All of it. Ghosts, vampires, witches, curses, and charms? It’s all real?” Maya sighed and poured Will another cup of coffee. She pretended like she didn’t notice it was his third cup and he didn’t seem at all affected by it. He must have a pretty high tolerance. She’d have the shakes by now. He waited for her to reassure him once again.

  “Yes, it’s all real and it’s all complicated.”

  “What’s complicated?”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Thatcher, still groggy, face swollen from a hard sleep. Oblivious to the fact that he was wearing nothing but his socks and boxer shorts. Maya pretended not to stare at his abs, which were purple from bruises sustained in the attack.

  “You look like you just got hit by a bus,” Ison offered him a cup of coffee from his perch on the edge of Maya’s desk, which he refused.

  He’d rather have something stronger but wasn’t exactly sure what time it was and if Maya would give him shit for day drinking. He looked at her to see if he could read her mood, but she beat him to it.

  “Here champ, not many Iners live to talk about werewolf attacks.” Maya reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and tossed him a bottle of tequila. “There are glasses in the kitchen and probably a lime in the fridge. I only drink clear liquor,” she patted her stomach, “Heard it was light on the carbs.”

  As he left the front office room in search of his pants and a clean cup, he heard Ison, “Inis? What’s that? Another paranormal species we need to know about?”

  The realization hit Park. He had just survived a near-fatal monster attack and he was standing in a stranger’s kitchen in his underwear. Now his partner and their new co-worker were discussing, seriously discussing, magic. Panic hit him for a second, but only for a fleeting moment before the casual laissez-faire attitude returned. Maya was pretty attractive and competent in first aid, added bonus; he didn’t die.