by D D Mathews
Guilt overwhelmed him causing panic. He started to run again, this time further from his Mankato’s house. The long grass whipped his legs as his speed increased. The speed he reached was inhuman. And as he replayed the daydream in his mind he thought, “I murdered my grandfather with a dream.” He felt more guilty and afraid. As the guilt increased to insane levels, he burst out of his human form. His body ripped apart, his clothes torn to shreds. He became the wolf from his dream and ran, covering the entire reservation in minutes. All of his senses were heightened; he could feel the wet of the dirt beneath him, the smell of prairie dogs under the dirt, the bugs on each blade of grass stood out as he muscled through the guilt. He heard the vulture’s caw accuse him of murder so he kept running. He ran off the reservation away from his whole life and into another world, not the white man’s world, but into the world of wolves.
***
Nuri’s heart raced as the heavy door opened into a darkened room. Scuffles came from the other side of the room and she heard a female voice yell, “Now.” The room’s near silence was ripped apart by a horrible scream of pain. At first, it sounded like a man’s yelp, but it changed into a terrible animalistic howl. Her eyes finally adjusted and she saw circles of light created on the ground by overhead lamps, her aunt was on the floor barely alive in a pool of blood. Her aunt needed her. She started toward Tamara when another roar of hate filled the room, reverberating off the concrete walls. Nuri’s head whipped toward the sound. A gigantic dog-like creature on two legs stepped into the light. The beast was covered in black fur. It had sharp claws at the end of massive muscular arms like a monster from Nuri’s nightmares. She looked into its solid black eyes and saw only rage. It advanced and howled loudly, Nuri dropped the crowbar with a clang and let out a pathetic whimper.
“I’ll kill you all!” the beast roared and moved toward her aunt.
Tamara reached up weakly toward Nuri, “Help me.”
All Nuri’s confusion and anger was gone, she had to save her aunt. The nightmare animal was approaching Tamara. Nuri bolted for the creature, unthinking. Nuri only felt fear. Her whole body was consumed by one single emotion. The fear propelled her toward a fight she couldn’t win. The creature was closer to her aunt than she was and she knew she wouldn’t reach her aunt in time. She didn’t think she could be more scared. Something snapped inside her and pain shot through her entire body.
Nuri’s body burst apart. Flecks of skin and a shower of blood covered the floor where a huge light brown werewolf was running to save Tamara. The violent transition was over in a blink, Nuri’s brain was now focused on saving this wounded thing. It didn’t even register it was her aunt. The only thing that mattered was the weak needed saving. The black werewolf paused when Nuri exploded into a much larger werewolf. The hesitation allowed Nuri to reach him before he could get to Tamara. The fight was over in a flash. Her rage added extra speed and strength to her attacks. A fast slash with her claw ripped open the black werewolf’s chest and a powerful open paw jabbed into the creature’s nose, leaving him stunned. She needed to kill this threat and kill it now. She slipped behind him and used her strength and height to snap his neck easily, like breaking a twig. She let his body slide to the cement floor, the battle was over. Her fear subsided some and the real shock happened.
Her aunt stood up out of the bloody mess on the floor and, also, her human skin. She looked like a woman taking off a dress. Her clothes collected in a bunch along with her flesh in the pool of crimson. A walnut-colored werewolf stood where her aunt had been, looking up at Nuri. The creature in front of her stood proudly with her chest out, much more wolf looking than the werewolf Nuri had killed. In her new form, Tamara was powerful and beautiful. Nuri’s brain tried to reconcile what this meant. She couldn’t and simply croaked out a question, “What am I?“
Her aunt’s werewolf eyes showed so much love and guilt, Nuri fell to her knees, morphing back into her human self. The werewolf hair fell off of her body like a dead fir tree losing its needles, exposing the naked woman underneath. Tamara growled to someone behind Nuri to grab a robe, which was wrapped around Nuri’s shoulders by two hairy clawed hands.
Nuri looked up at her werewolf aunt as three others walked into the light and stood behind her. Nuri started crying as the ritual progressed.
“This initiate is reborn in battle as all of her ancestors were,” Tamara said
“She is reborn, she is sister,” the three others echoed.
“She is my sister, we are bonded in this life and the next forever,” her aunt continued.
“She is our sister, we will fight for each other in this life and the next forever,” the voices behind Nuri added.
Tamara took Nuri’s chin and lifted her niece’s face up, so she could look into her eyes. Tamara’s wolf paw was massive compared to Nuri human face, but also gentle. Her aunt’s wolf eyes burned intensely; something was expected of Nuri.
“I will die for you, my sister,” her aunt demanded.
Without pausing Nuri responded, “I will die for you, my sister.”
Her aunt nodded her wolfish head and changed back into her human form, her monstrous body flaking away. Tamara smiled reassuringly then released Nuri’s chin and stepped to the right out of her sight. Nuri’s brain screamed at her, “This isn’t normal. I’m a monster.” Another wolf now stood in front of her, she was mostly grey with streaks of light brown. While Nuri’s brain protested the entire situation, the new wolf smiled kindly down on the new pup.
“I will die for you, my sister,” the wolf said with a gravelly voice.
Nuri repeated, “I will die for you, my sister.”
The grey and brown werewolf flaked apart changing into a squat grandmotherly woman. Her aged face beamed with joy, which in turn made Nuri start to think, “Maybe these women aren’t monsters. Maybe I’m not a monster.” The elderly woman moved to the right continuing the ceremony around Nuri as she knelt on the cement floor. A lean werewolf with raven hair stepped into Nuri’s view. This wolf was the opposite of the previous wolf. She was cold and mean-looking. Nuri started to worry again about being a monster. The werewolf’s head was smaller than the last two wolves, but her face was sharper, crueler. Nuri looked up to her before the wolf could take her chin, now knowing what was expected. This werewolf had many bald patches on her chest and arms. Where the dark brown hair was completely gone, the skin underneath had burn scars. She took Nuri’s chin roughly; no smile reached her mouth.
“I will die for you, my sister.“
“I will die for you, my sister,” Nuri said again.
Nuri held the scarred beast’s eyes, mostly out of fear. When this woman morphed to her human form it was different. The cruel beast bubbled like acid and melted away. Underneath, she was a black haired woman with creamy white skin and scars all over her body. Her look never softened. The cruel raven-haired woman moved around to the right, like the last two and the final wolf took up the position. She took Nuri’s chin and quietly repeated the mantra.
“I will die for you, my sister,” the last wolf said.
The wolf standing over her was blond; her face was attractive and sweet. Her eyes were more human than wolf. Having seen only a handful of wolves, Nuri thought this one was beautiful compared to the others. Nuri thought to herself, “Can a wolf monster be beautiful?”
“I will die for you, my sister,” Nuri said again.
The blond beast turned grey and broke apart like rock crumbling away. She was a gorgeous woman only a couple of years older than Nuri. The blond smiled and stuck out her tongue. She was behaving like an older sister trying to make a sibling laugh. She finished her part of the ceremony by moving off to the right like the others. Tamara stepped back in front of Nuri.
“This sister has beaten fear and conquered her enemy alone. As our sister, she will never have to fight alone again; we are her family.” Tamara gave Nuri a big hug and everyone started crying, except the scarred woman. At last Nuri felt like this ordeal was over. Relief almost caused her to
pass out but she would have to sleep later, her night was just beginning.
Chapter 3
Dozens of electric lamps cast an eerie light over the Hill of Tara where the clan had collected. The half-moon hung low. Colin was excited to finally become a recognized Were. Every four years, all Ireland’s Celts came together for The Rise, a rite of passage for young werewolves. The Rise included introductions, politic, food, and drink. The most important part was the Ephemeris where the new wolves compete in tests of skill. This was how ‘pups’ got noticed to the Council and other important Celts.
Two shallow ditches surrounded the hill, the Celts called them Rilles. Colin and his Grandfather Alby stood in the second one. The Rille levels were another way to establish hierarchy inside the clan. His father, Carthach stood up on the flat hilltop with King Osmund and the Council. Carthach wasn’t part of the Council, but the king wanted him there, so there he stood. He was wearing an old pair of pants with a hole in the knee; his shirt was larger than his frame. He looked out of place. Carthach wore a laid-back smile, showing he wasn’t worried. It was normal for him to be there, Colin assumed.
The opening prayer to the moon, called the Zenith, was completed. Sarah McCarthy, Killian Daly, Maire Riley, and Osmund preformed the archaic rite, which looked like a Shakespearean dance to Colin. Next was the Diurnal, a proclamation of current clan news and Council decisions. Osmund moved to the front of the hill while the Council stepped back. Osmund, a powerfully built man, about Colin’s height, with much broader shoulders and arms, wore a dark tailored suit. His brown hair was turning grey. He was the image of a distinguished Irish gentleman. He held up his arms and the entire clan went quiet.
“The Council has expanded the O’Rinns’ hunting grounds north a hundred kilometers.” Colin was fairly certain nobody cared. Hunting grounds had mattered when werewolves hunted humans hundreds of years ago, but not today.
“The Council is also happy to announce the upcoming wedding of Neil Flannigan and Ariel O’Rinn,” Osmund stated loudly. Both families cheered the news. Osmund’s tone changed, “We have some sad news. John Gallup has passed. He died surrounded by his loving family earlier this year.” Colin had heard this news already. It wasn’t a surprise since Mr. Gallup was quite old. Osmund continued, “Also Wendy Doyle has passed on as well,” some of the clan members howled in anger. Colin didn’t know what befell Wendy; she was only forty-something. Maybe she was killed in a car accident, he wondered.
Osmund finished up the announcements with a pedantic report on the clan’s coffers. “Total expenses this quarter were four hundred and sixty-two thousand, nine hundred…” Colin stopped listening and looked around the Hill of Tara at the families gathered. The massive bunch of Rileys, most a little older than him occupied the first Rille. The Connellys and Doyles stood in the second ditch off to his right. The O’Rinns were directly next to him and Alby. Their family was despised almost as much as his. Instead of one massive failure hundreds of years ago; the O’Rinns were troublemakers, thieves, and drunks. They were the bottom of the clan, except for the Colin, Carthach, and Alby MacDermott.
Colin’s focus was brought back to the hill when Osmund called his family name.
“Come here, MacDermott. Change,” he demanded. The act of morphing on demand for an adult werewolf was like being treated like a trained dog. His father limped over to the king, his skin and clothes slid away. A brown werewolf ambled away from his human form dissolving into the earth. His gait stayed the same as he half limped; half hopped the rest of the way. He was average height for a Were and thin. His father’s tail curled under him. He also had some random bald splotches where his fur had fallen out. The whole effect made Carthach look unimpressive. Osmund retrieved a jester hat and a scepter covered in colorful fabric from the east side of the hill. The king laughed as he placed the hat on Carthach’s head and handed the rod to him.
“Dance dog,” Osmund intoned like this was a clan ritual, but its purpose was to humiliate the MacDermotts and put a shiver of fear into the rest of the clan.
Alby MacDermott, watching his son’s humiliation, whimpered. Both Alby and Carthach’s triggers were humiliation, Colin’s wasn’t. He used a mental trick he learned growing up to deal with being teased. He visualized placing all of his emotions in a box wrapping it up like a present. He never took his eyes off his dad hopping from one foot to the other, waving the scepter around.
“Sing the MacDermott family Alma Mater,” Osmund commanded and Colin’s father sang. In his Were form, Carthach’s voice made the song sound horrible and the normally prideful lyrics were turned cruelly ironic as his father, the scapegoat, danced around. Colin didn’t look away as Alby whimpered next to him. He had never seen this before. He had heard the older clan members talk about it, his friends with sympathy and others with mocking vileness. Most Celts on the hill watched delighted in the scene in front of them. For him, seeing it was different than being mocked about it. The humiliation was designed only to hurt Carthach, his family, and his ancestors. Colin also saw it hurt the clan. That was unacceptable to him.
Carthach was crooning out the final lines of the MacDermott Alma Mater when Colin caught Colleen McCarthy looking down from her place in the first ditch to his left. She and her family stood next to the flat land at the top of the Hill of Tara. She was cold and had been mean as a snake growing up. He spent time at her family’s estate when he was young. His father would drop him off at her parent’s house when he had a clan meeting. Those nights were torture. As children, she enjoyed bossing him around. She would giggle every time he cried or complained; she was awful to him. After he turned eleven, he begged his father to leave him home alone for clan events. His father relented so he hadn’t seen her much since. Now she watched him intently. Her eyes reminded him of a hawk, always looking to kill. Her face wore arrogance like a badge. He remembered that look. Now though, she seemed to have a secret. A secret she would never tell anyone, least likely Colin. She turned away from him back to Osmund and Carthach.
The dance completed, his father changed back into his human form. He was now naked still wearing the ridiculous hat. Carthach gathered up his clothes and was dismissed. Colin forced himself to focus on Osmund and the Council, ignoring his naked father scrambling down the hill to take his place with his family.
The Council stood in a line. Osmund took his honorific spot in the center. Sarah McCarthy, the matriarch of her family, stepped forward. She was tall for a woman and used her extra height to demand focus. She moved gracefully forward stopping near Lia Fail. Even at her age, she embodied icy toughness. Her voice clear and high rose over the clan below.
“The spirits forewarn change. The world is shifting. What we are now may not be what we will become later. The strong will survive, the weak will die. The fast will outlive, while the slow will be caught. The wise will see all, and the ignorant will live blind. The spirits told me for this clan to survive we must adapt. An evil, a plague is coming and no one is safe. The trees will burn, the land will not grow. The harbinger will be three wolves skinned alive. Our dead ancestors have spoken and we all have been warned.“
The Message of the Ancestors is rarely upbeat, but Colin had never even heard about one this dark. The threat of being skinned alive was especially chilling. It separated the wolf spirit and the wolf body so the Were can never find peace in the afterlife. It also leaves a werewolf forever unable to change forms again; a complete outcast.
The silence after Sarah McCarthy’s warning weighed on the clan. No one moved as the words hung over the crowd. Osmund strode forward to the front of the hill and broke the silence, “Time for the Rise!” It was the first time Colin was thankful for Osmund.
Chapter 4
Samantha’s double chin shook as she smacked her watermelon bubble gum. She was pissed. Her older brother had dragged her into the middle of nowhere for some stupid car part. She rolled her eyes as Wade explained again why the part he needed would help fix his dumb dirt bike. They had driven for
an hour out to an old farm off highway 18. It turned out to be a trash pile of broken cars, motorcycles, and other ruined things. The junk man didn’t even have the part Wade needed. Samantha still seethed looking out the window, watching the miles and miles of grasslands, when her brother slammed on the brakes. The dust took a moment to clear for her to see why. Lying on the road, face down was a body. Both of them jumped out of the truck; Samantha stopped short of a naked boy. Her face got warm. She rushed back to the truck and grabbed a blanket from the cab.
“He’s alive,” Wade stated as she placed the blanket over the unconscious teen. They worked together to get him into the passenger seat. Samantha got in behind the driver seat and looked down at the tan boy’s face. He looked kind. Her brother started driving, faster than before, to the hospital.
The boy muttered, “I didn’t mean to. Get away from him, vultures. Leave us alone. It’s not possible. I’m a,” and growled like a dog.
“Hurry Wade. He don’t sound right.” Samantha said.
***
Joseph woke up in a small single hospital room. He was thirsty and confused clad only in a pale green paper gown. A couple of nurses stood outside gossiping. “That guy is a pig. He’s so gross. Why did I ever date him?“
Another responded, “You always date pigs.”
“I’m thirsty,” Joseph interrupted.
Another nurse, a guy in his twenties, entered the room. He had blond hair and delicate features. He used a water pitcher to pour some water for Joseph who gulped it down and asked for more. The nurse poured another cup and set the pitcher on a nearby table.
“My name is Kyle and I’ve been watching after you. The doctor says you’ll be fine, but you need to rest and rehydrate. You’re lucky Wade and Samantha found you. I have a few questions if you’re up for it.“
