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Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
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A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues. About "Life With A Werewolf" Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Tuesday unless I can't or don't want to. If this is your first time reading this...start here: https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack The first year is available as a compilation on Amazon Kindle: https://a.co/d/gBLLL7E Audio and print versions will be available in the future. My book, "Dreamers of The Sea" is available now on Amazon: https://a.co/d/0uz7xa3 |
| Werewolf healing is strange. Stranger than us regular types. Even stranger than lawn gnomes. Valyur's new girlfriend, Auburn is timid of humans. But it's understandable. She has a scar on her that she won't talk about. It looks recent, and probably from a human. So, I get why she insists on staring at our front door on occasion, or staring at the neighbors as if they're going to go on a lawn gnome smashing spree. The thousand yard stare is one of trauma and survival, not necessarily one of combat. I saw it in her, and understood it immediately. She'll talk if she wants to. Otherwise, we're here for her in our own capacity. A werewolf though rarely has a scar when they heal. And it's done so fast. I understand how a werewolf can eat so much in a single sitting. Crash's paycheck is spent in large part on food. The man is an eating machine. Literally, werewolves are eating machines. It's like magic, they can turn a paycheck into literal crap in a matter of hours. All of that healing must get it's energy from somewhere. A fast metabolism is the perfect place to start. All of that shifting must get it's energy from somewhere, too. That somewhere is going to be a huge portion of food. Meat. Carbs. And of course, hunting. Werewolves seemed to hunt when money is tight. I know they enjoy it, but they do it more when the paycheck is low. At least this is what Crash does. There are times when he eats with us, all he has is vegetables. What I've picked up on is this: he's hunting more then. Knowing Crash, the reason he just eats four or five potatoes and almost a pound of steamed carrots isn't because he's dieting, it's because he's caught and devoured wild game already. Or a wild mythical criminal that I probably don't want to know about. His healing ability and metabolism had me thinking though. Could a werewolf get something stuck inside of them? Would their quickly healing bodies have an object that was healed over? It sometimes happens with people. A woman gets a BB stuck in their backside from a jealous boy. As she grows older, the BB is still there, grown into the skin. Then the boy, now a man has a list of things he wants to make up for, and finds out she's a courtroom sketch artist and....okay, maybe that's "My Name Is Earl". What about those cases of people sitting on a couch so long, they've literally grown into the furniture? Okay, that might be a bad example, too. After all, Jerry Springer wasn't exactly the bastion of intelligent television programming. The smartest thing to come from that show was the Weird Al parody song. Though it was entertaining, I'll give you that. With a werewolf's high pain tolerance and quick healing ability, I can see a case where a werewolf could have a rock, or perhaps a stick or something lodged inside of them, and not even know about it. Would any werewolf have something like that? It brings me back to a memory of one of the first weeks I was here. Crash had that bite taken out of his shoulder, the tooth stuck inside of it. I was able to get the tooth out. Then he healed. His body was trying to reject it somehow, push it out. Perhaps that's how werewolf healing really does work. It sees the foreign object, and begins to push it out. What would it take to scar a werewolf anyway? I mean besides seeing me in fishnet stockings and a Marilyn Monroe wig? That'd be enough to scar anyone. I suppose that's not the kind of scars we're talking about though. But I digress. Maybe severe damage of a kind that would take a human body weeks or months to recover from with an entire team of doctors. Maybe it'd be something so bad that we couldn't see it on regular streaming platforms. Many of a werewolf scars are the ones that dig deep below the surface. It's scars that they hide with a crass joke and a smile. The type of scars that makes regular people wince, tear up, and pat you on the shoulder. On our recent vacation, we did see some of Crash's scars. It had festered in his mind as he attempted to forget and move on. Thankfully, we were able to get him to forgive and let go, rather than forget and move on. Cause, much like rocks, or that BB, things in our own psyche that we try to forget and move on from just lay beneath the surface and fester. Our mind and personality has grown over the damage, but never been allowed to push the object out. The only real solution, even for werewolves, is to dig it out, to push the infection out, and to let go. That's what I see when I look at most werewolves these days. I suppose it's why I can now identify with them. They are, just like me, a collection of scars, hiding from the world with a bad joke and a smile. Perhaps, just like anyone. I guess that's why some werewolves, like Crash, like Mitch, are more human at times, than many regular people I've known. |
| The trip back was as beautiful as the trip out. We took alternate routes, explored roadside diners in small towns. Occasionally, we stopped to snap photos of local hot spots and attractions. There was no lingering though on this leg of the trip. We just kept going forward, pushing ahead to get back home. Crash had changed. A lot of his jokes after the trip home became more personal, but less biting. There had been a weight lifted off his shoulders, which seemed to seep through his personality and into his smile. It was visible to both me and Elouise. The jokes were the fun kind. Those short jabs that flies over and makes you laugh despite being the butt of it. Being the only human there, I got more than most. Considering my ranting nature, I think I deserved it though in some way. Besides, I write the blog, so I literally get the last word. Ha, beat that, Crash! When we got home, it was a relief and a disappointment, the way all the best vacations are. We kind of all wanted to be away at least one more day, but was glad to be able to sleep in our own beds. It's amazing how, when you leave for vacation all you want to do is be gone, but when you're coming home all you want to do is sleep in your own bed, surrounded by your own things. Escaping from stress can be a stress all it's own, I suppose. The house did look beautiful on our corner as we pulled up that evening, I will admit that. Elouise hopped out first. She grabbed her bag, gave me a chaste hug. Then she walked over to Crash and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you both for the nice time," she said. Then she twisted Crash's ear. "And that's for trying to murder someone on vacation." Crash winced and hollered. "Only almost, only almost!" She twisted it a bit then let him go. "Only almost, I swear." Looking at me she said, "Take care of this fur ball." And with that, she headed home. I'm not sure if it was in relief or sadness, I wouldn't be surprised with either. Everything was about wrapped up. Everything save for one detail. Valyur. I had made a promise to our resident lawn gnome. He watch the house, and I come see him after. There was a favor that I owed to him. I didn't forget. Of course I wanted to go talk to him almost immediately, get the scoop on what had actually happened while we were away. But, I had to wait, cause of course, your neighbors will never believe you for some reason if you tell them your lawn gnome is alive and talks to you. So, it was about midnight when I finally got the chance. Valyur met it with the same dignity and understanding he always does. He glanced at me, then sneered, "So, the meatie finally graces me with his presence." "I wanted to come earlier, but the neighbors just see crazy guy sitting in his flower bed talking to statues. I don't want to be chased by guys with butterfly nets." He gave me a look as if to ask 'what are you talking about?'. I just shrugged. "Nevermind." "There's more important things going on then your weirdo meatie shenanigans. Something's brewing, meatie. We have strange vehicles roaming around. Dangerous looking meaties about. All marked up. Got other meaties nervous." There was no reference in my brain for what he was talking about. A dangerous meatie to a lawn gnome is a kid with a baseball bat. So, I made the tragic mistake of blowing off his warning. It could have been exhaustion from the trip. Or subconsciously I knew what threat was coming and was ready for it. For there to be an ending to something that I technically hadn't started. So, I just nodded to Valyur. "The police or Crash can handle them, I'm sure." "Also, I want a wife." That part caught me off guard. "So, I just go to the store and buy a female lawn gnome?" He shook his head. "No! I want to meet them first. Romance them, get to know them better. You don't just up and marry someone out the gate, do ya?" Great. So now he wanted me to take him into the store so he could meet the lawn gnome first. Like what...wander up and down the isle with a lawn gnome hidden under my jacket? Walk him down the isle and tell the statue 'pick out a good one'? Stand them next to each other, so they could talk and flirt in the middle of the isle of the store? "So...am I taking you to the store or..." He gave me the confused look again. I thought he was going to slap me. "No! I don't want no meatie chaperoning me, ya creepy weirdo!" This was getting very strange. "So, why are you..." "I already got a woman. I just need ya to agree to let her stay here. To let us build something." Oh. That made a lot more sense, and thankfully didn't require me to smuggle lawn gnomes into Wal-Mart. I stood and patted him on the head. "Don't take over the entire yard, and don't turn us into lawn gnomes. But sure, knock yourself out. You earned it." As I went inside, for the first time since Valyur had taken this self imposed job of guardian, I saw him smile. It was nice to see. I hope whoever that ceramic nutjob picks is able to keep him in line. He does need someone to talk to on those long nights. He don't think we notice, but we all see he's lonely. It's part of the reason I go out and talk to him. Despite being the crazy guy sitting in his flower garden talking to a statue. The vacation, as disastrous as the trip home for Crash was, was much needed. Vacations are their own stress it's true. But, it's a different kind of stress. The pressures of deadlines, people keeping up with you, having to perform rigorous standing or sitting while waiting. Sometimes a job can be all the bad parts of a Disney world vacation, but without the fun of Space Mountain. All in all, I was grateful to Crash for taking us, for showing us around. And though, he never said it directly, I know he's grateful to us for stopping him. Though, we've all agreed: next time we're just going to see the grand canyon. |
| It felt good to eat again. To laugh again. To have Crash at his normal, weird joking, teasing self. He was going for the jokes that only he'd go for. The strange near double entendre's. The types of humor that works for more mythical creatures but humans generally feel left out of unless you can lean into the joke. My military background is one long lesson in how to lean into a dark, awkward joke. However, things were slightly off. I could feel it, I was pretty sure Elouise could feel it too. It was as if Crash was making a conscious effort for us to have a good time. No joke was too far, no item too expensive. Though, to be honest, it wasn't that expensive of a menu in the first place. After all, it was still a diner. Call it serendipity, call it fate, but we were in the same booth Keith's family sat in when we first saw him. It put a thin pall over everything, that had drained the color temporarily from our lives. My burger was supposedly delicious, but I barely tasted it. Elouise looked as if she had barely tasted her own food. The emotion felt like a thin veneer of paint over an old rotted house. One that was soon to come down. Crash's heavy hand touched my shoulder and he gripped it. Looking me in the eye, there was a moisture there that I saw for a moment. "You know I'd die for you if I had to, right?" "You know you don't have to, though," I said. He turned to Elouise. I could see his hand on Elouise's shoulder as well. "I'm really glad I got to know you," he said. "Honey, you're talking like the condemned," Elouise answered him. Things had started to unravel as they do. Slowly, then all at once. Crash threw a wad of twenties down on the table, and grabbed us, ushering us outside before we could complain. We left, and then started driving towards the outskirts of town. "I love this town. But only to visit, heh. A terrible place to die in." The joke went over like a goose walking over your grave. We pressed North along the highway, pointing towards the interstate. At a scenic over look, perhaps the last one in the county, Crash yanked the wheel over, and stomped on the brake, skidding to a stop a yard from the protective fence. "Wait.....did you hear?" He started to get out. My heart was in my throat. I grabbed his shoulder. "No, Crash. Please." He smiled at me. "Won't take long, I promise. If I'm not back in an hour, follow this road to the interstate. Pull into the nearest gas station. I'll find ya." Then he was gone. "Son of a bitch just had his last supper," Elouise said. I pulled my pistol. "Like hell he did. We're going to find'em." I jumped into the drivers seat and threw the car into drive. It car threw gravel as I pulled a U-turn and began twisting back down the mountain, searching for Crash. It made no sense for Elouise to try and chase him as a Rougarou. In the water, she was far faster and deadlier than Crash ever thought of being. But on land? Crash outran her in his werewolf form. He was also slightly stronger too, and far more experienced stalking the woods. She'd never catch him and never be able to stop him if by some miracle she did catch him. So, we searched together going over every place we got to know in the last couple of days. We tried the park where Damian died. Nothing. We tried all the other haunts that Crash had mentioned or shown us. Nothing. Not at the motel, not at the diner. Not at the cemetery, either. The search was starting to confuse and frustrate me. There is a bit of poetic justice and irony in Crash. He knew I knew it and must have been purposely avoiding any place he'd ever shown us. Out of luck and ideas, we stopped at Crash's grandparents' grave; our spirits dragged down by our failure. Elouise knelt in prayer. Me? I'm not much for that sort of stuff, never have been. But even I in that moment muttered a a passionate request to Crash's grandparents asking for help. I guess that could be called a prayer. As lost and hopeless as we both felt, it seemed the right thing to do. I silently muttered my words. Elouise, finishing her own prayer, then tilted her head towards the woods. "About three quarters a mile due south. Think there’ll be a clearing from the sound of things, though I can't promise ya. I'm gonna take the car. Got an idea." "Okay. If you find bits of me scattered across the forest, beat Crash with a rolled up newspaper." I pulled the pistol, and began running towards the woods. Elouise jumped into the drivers seat and was gone before I ever reached the edge. It was what Elouise had called 'dark thirty'. The sun had set and the blue of the evening sky was steadily blackening like a worsening bruise. The brightest of stars were out already, waiting on their dimmer brethren to wake up. A half moon hung heavy in the sky, just starting it's rise. I silently wished it had been a full one as I crossed over to the woods in the distance. The extra light would have come in handy. It's hard to navigate through trees in such darkness. The daylight died in the forest long before it was done outside of it. I pushed forward, towards growls, snarls: the sounds of werewolf combat. My plan was simple. Stop Crash by any means possible. If need be, get him to attack me instead. Hope the shock of the attack shook out of him whatever the hell had gotten into him. The plan sucked. At best I got maimed, at worst I got ignored while Crash murdered a guy. Either way, I was hoping his heart would just come back from whatever darkness that had swallowed it. I didn't think there was much of a chance of that happening. But, the old saying goes 'a bad plan is better than no plan'. I couldn't stand by and watch, hoping Crash came out okay or that he came to his senses. I had to do something. I marched forward, the sounds of werewolf combat getting stronger, louder. Being as quick and careful as I could, I traversed a small stream, over roots and the occasional fallen tree. The sounds were almost larger than life now. They seemed to reverberate in my bones, telling me to turn back, to not get involved in werewolf business. I pulled my pistol, and steeled myself as I pushed forward, finding the clearing Elouise had talked about, and the results of their battle. Two werewolf warriors stood on opposite sides of the clearing. Crash snarled. His pitch black fur, his claws and teeth glistening with black blood in the thin light. His ear had been torn, his shoulder bitten badly. His back and belly slashed. He panted and bled, but looked better than the other wolf. The other wolf was more gray and a few splotches of brown in his fur pattern, but was mostly covered in blood. His chest, thighs had been slashed deep, his belly slashed. His body shivered in pain. His own teeth was exposed, an ear hung on for dear life on top of his head. They looked like boxers on the twelfth round of a long heavyweight championship fight. "This ends now," I shouted. They looked at me. Then they turned to each other. Crash pointed at Keith, and snarled at him. "Stop holding back, murderer, or it will cost you your life!" Keith gave him a bitter smile. "Aren't you threatening to kill me? When you survive this, it'll be you who's the murderer." I fired a shot in the ground. Neither one looked at me. They leapt. I screamed, I'd shoot. They were too fast. I couldn't shoot either one, cause I could hit Crash, Keith, both. Killing my friend whom I was trying to save and his mortal enemy who's death I was trying to prevent. There wasn't a more helpless feeling in my life standing there trying to stop a match between two creatures who moved, and fought far faster than I ever could. A slash, a swipe, a kick. A grab and a throw. Jaws snapped, bit. There was a headbutt. Knee, twist, and Crash was on top of Keith. Snarling down at him. Crash looked at me, and said. "Turn away." I stepped forward, kicking Crash as hard as I could in the chest. He stumbled back a moment, then leaped forward slamming me to the ground. The wind was knocked out of me. I panted slowly, looking up at Crash. His eyes were full of pain, anger. "Why the hell are you interfering?! This isn't your fight!" "Cause you'd do the same for me if I was fucking up! You wouldn't stand by and let me throw my life away! You didn't before, and damn it, I'm not gonna do that now!" There was a whole speech behind that. But I didn't get a chance to say it. Keith, as injured as he was, tackled Crash. A tackle, Crash easily reversed and pinned Keith to the ground again. Keith grunted softly, the fight leaving him for a moment. "Do it," Keith muttered. "Just do it." I leaped for my gun, Crash had his hand in the air. Clawed fingers splayed out, glistening with tacky blood in the thin light. I fired a shot into the ground. The round passed between Crash's hand and his head. "You'd really shoot me," Crash asked. "If I had to," I said. "Don't make me, Crash, I'm begging you." "You do what you have to," Crash said. Then looked down at Keith. "For Damian," he said. My finger was on the trigger. He was hand my sights, and for a moment, I thought. I'm going to do it, I'm really going to have to shoot my friend. My best friend, the man who saved my life. A tear trailed down my face as I put my finger to the trigger. Keith was looking up at Crash, his own muzzle twisted into a grim grin. his good ear standing upright. "For Damian," Keith answered back at Crash. "DAD!" My heart froze. Crash's muzzle dropped open in shock, his ears folded back as he looked behind me. There at the edge of the woods was Elouise and Keith's two children. His wife was right behind her. "Damian? Sophia?" The two kids nearly ran up between them, but their mother pulled them back. "Laura! What are you doing here?!" "You think I was about to let my husband march off and get himself killed?!" She shouted. Elouise was in full rougarou form, her gator skin was dark and glistening in the thin moonlight of the clearing. She stepped forward and picked Crash up. "This is what I want you to see! You think this is the end of anything?! Listen to your damn grandma! Vengeance never stops until you stop it! Look at him!" She pointed at his son who was now on the ground hugging his father tight. "You don't think he'll be back to kill you when he grows up?! Do you?!" Elouise and I dragged Crash back off of Keith and pushed him against a tree. Well okay, Elouise did most of the lifting on that, but I helped some, too! Crash sat on the ground, his back against the tree. His body was healing. Injuries that'd take me weeks to get healed up was knitting themselves together in minutes. Inside an hour and Crash would look as if he hadn't even been in a fight at all, much less one that was so violent and bloody. Despite all of the insanity and drama, it was stunning to witness. Crash hung his head. He sunk back on his haunches. "But Damian died. He has no children. No relatives. Nothing." "And that's what you're about to leave Damian, Keith's son! Nothing!" Elouise shouted. "You're not healing your pain, Crash. You're not helping yer friend! He's gone! You're just giving your pain to his children! Kids who will come looking for you! When does it end?!" Laura was helping Keith up. The children were doing what they could as well, trying to lift him and drag him away to safety. "Now what," Crash asked. He looked at me. "You know where I was. You know the type of shit I did. You know I've seen first hand the weight of vengeance. Villages and families torn apart for wrong doings that go back literal centuries. You kill him, and that kid will be after you. Where does it end? Is your family going to fight his until your both gone like Damian's?" I gripped Crash hard in a hug. I snarled in his ear "Live in Damian's memory, Crash. Don't kill in it. Your friend wouldn't have wanted that." Crash stood slowly. He walked over to Keith's family. They huddled around him now, and he tried to push them off of him, to get them clear. I could see the fear in Keith's eyes. Crash squatted down in front of him. "You took my friend from me. But more than that, you took his entire bloodline from this planet. He was the last one and I'm the only living soul to mourn him." Keith sighed, his ears twisted down in sadness as he looked to the ground. "You're not the only soul who mourns your friend. I live with the weight of my sin every single day." Crash held his hand out. A clawed, furred hand that was covered in both his and Keith's blood. He held it in front of him. "I forgive you. It's what Damian would have wanted. What the living Damian wants now." Keith looked down at it for a moment in surprise and shook it. Then a look of disappointment crossed Keith's face before he hid it with a smile. Keith took the offered hand, and shook it. Crash looked at Keith's family. Their faces haggard, weary. They had dirt and leaves in their hair from where they had been running through the woods. Some of their clothing was matted in mud from tripping and falling. "I hope you can forgive me one day," Crash said. Slowly, Damian stepped forward. He looked at Crash. Crash's face was drawn down in pain and sorrow, his ears folded back and his muzzle pointed to the ground. "Dad heals quick. Are you really going to spare him?" Crash nodded, a tear falling from his face. Both ears working now. Both folded down in pain. "I forgave him. You don't take back forgiveness." "Then, I forgive you too. It's what friends do." Crash hugged Damian tight. The child hugged him back. Though his mother looked shocked and terrified for a moment. Then he pushed Damian away and stood. We made our way back out of the clearing to the cemetery in silence. When we got back to the graveyard, a familiar SUV was parked near the Cadillac. Elouise nodded to Crash and began to explain. "Yeah, I got hold of yer friends, and then made them bring me to that couillion's family. When I knelt in prayer at ya grannie's grave, it was put on my heart that the only way to stop this was to show you what your anger was tossin away." Crash nodded. "Makes sense." He gave a small sad laugh and shook his head. "Grandma always said I had a hard head. 'Takes a lot of pounding to get something to sink through,' she'd tell me." Keith's family climbed into the SUV. The terrible trio looked at us as Keith's human family climbed into the vehicle. All three of those who threatened us was in werewolf form. They didn't say anything. Neither did I. They just climbed in after Keith's wife and kids, then waited. Keith himself wandered over to me and Elouise. "I suppose I should thank you," he said. "But you're not," I replied. Keith gritted his teeth. A lot can be said in a glance. Keith was still in pain yes, both physically and emotionally. A weight of a sin like his can cost a lot. "You don't know..." he began. "Save it." I said. It was time for tough love. I physically turned his head towards the SUV his children was in. "You live for them. No matter what the fuck happens. You live for them. And you sure as hell don't take a cowards way out of spinning up another werewolf to kill you." "You kill yerself, you're ripping a hole in their lives they ain't never gonna fill," Elouise said. Tears were in his eyes. He had a vicious snarl on his muzzle. "You don't know what it's like. To have to live every day and hear what a great person Damian was. What he did for others. To hear how much of an impact he had, and how big of a hole he left when he died. When I killed him! I do! I have to sit with that every. Single. Day. You don't have any idea the depth of my pain!" "So fucking what." He looked like I had just slapped him. His jaw dropped open. His ears splayed flat. I didn't give him a chance to answer me. "You chose to be hurt. No one told you to be hurt by those words and those stories. You chose it. You can choose to forgive yourself. Or you can choose to hold onto that weight until it crushes you." I forced him to look at the SUV one more time. "Just remember who you're leaving behind if you decide to get crushed." He walked with heavy feet towards the SUV. I know the look of the self-condemned. Those people who have chosen their lives to end but just don't know how to do it yet. Keith had that look about him. I wasn't certain any of mine or Elouise's words had sunk in. We both hoped it would. She prayed it would. I just climbed into the front seat of the Cadillac, and looked over at Crash. "You good?" "You were really going to shoot me," he asked. "In the arm. You could have bitten it off," I replied. He gave me a short laugh. Then started driving. "You know, I'm going to get you back." "You know, yer gonna have to shift back ya varmint. You still look like a reject from a bad eighties horror film!" Elouise shot back at him from the back seat. Crash laughed. "You mean a good film?" We continued the teasing almost as if it hadn't dropped off. We didn't know where we were going to stay that night. We just knew it wasn't going to be in that town. The car pointed north again. Out of the city limits. Out of regular civilization. On toward adventure. |
| The three individuals who picked us up began to "chat" as soon as we got in the SUV. It was the kind of conversation you prayed for long awkward pauses. One where it seemed to meander as much as their driving, but always managed to find it's way into a threat or a dark promise. They made sure not to tell us any names, so I came up with my own. The driver I named Damon cause he kind of looked like Matt Damon. If Matt Damon gained weight, went to the gym a lot, and grew a goatee that was sad in it's own "I wish the 90s were still cool" desperate sort of way. Behind him was a woman I called Hilton, cause she kind of reminded me of a buff version of Paris Hilton. And next to her was Rob. He was thinner than the other two, had a clear enjoyment of electronics, but had absolutely no people skills. The kind of person who would let people call him "Rob" without arguing. The kind of person who didn't understand the purpose of nicknames. Damon did much of the driving, Hilton, much of the threatening. That's what it was. Each story they told, of how the Nobility attempted a raid and they ended up shipping the heads of their soldiers back in boxes to their main headquarters in...well some small town in Europe. I remembered I couldn't pronounce it, didn't want to try, and the conversation kept rolling into their next veiled threat so there wasn't time to catch it. As we got to a picturesque view of their side of the Appalachian mountains, we also got the gruesome details of how they maintained the truce in their town. They drove up one side of the road, and then pulled over to scenic overview, the sort that would make you want to get your camera out. The mountain seemed to open up into a valley, with waves of trees rolling towards the horizon, and a sheer drop off at the cliffs edge. "You see that drop? Not even a werewolf can survive that if you throw them hard enough. We know, we've experimented more than a few times. Took us more than four times to get the drop just right, you believe that? But we now know just how to drop a werewolf right off this ridge right now, and have them both regret their decisions and bleed to death in the valley below before even our rapid healing can save them." Hilton laughed as we pulled away. "You should see the looks on their faces as their body begins to give out. Most of them praying for a quicker death, some of them praying for us to just shoot them." "Yeah," Damon jumped in. "When you're forced to keep the peace and keep trouble makers out, you find fun ways of doing it. We're not the only patrol either, we're just the ones who decided to talk to you." They drove down a highway that looped back around dumped back into the small town. "You see, Jason and Elouise. We have been watching you. We've been watching Crash. We know all about his little meet up. Keith, he's under our protection. The final standing order of Grandma. So, you do whatever you have to do. Convince him, knock him out and drag him. Whatever. Cause if Crash attempts to harm Keith, we'll find how fast a rougarou dies at our cliff on top of her werewolf wannabe boyfriend. And how high a human can bounce." At about this time, the motel rose into our sight. It would have been smarter to listen to their threat. But of course, it's me. I'm not that intelligent. "Eighteen inches," is what I said as they pulled into the parking lot. "Eighteen inches," Damon asked. "Yes," I said. "That's how far the blood splatter travels from the back of a werewolf's head after I've shot them with silver. It's my personal record, I'm proud of it. I'd like to try for nineteen. Any volunteers?" Rob spoke up for the first time. "Crash is standing around the rear of the motel. I think he's gazing into the woods again." Rob continued to play with his phone. "He's not very active right now, I bet he's thinking, worried about you two. He tried to look for you both, you know, after we picked you up. Sad to see a werewolf lose his pack." I did almost pull at that point, but Elouise gave me a look that made me pause. The SUV made a slow trip towards the back of the Motel, where a sad attempt had been made at a pool, one they clearly failed with. It was empty then, save for a small puddle of rainwater at the deep end that was filled with more moss and leaves than water. As we drove up, Crash snarled at the sight of the vehicle. Giving everyone a curt nod, we got out of the car followed by the terrible trio. "Crash, your friend may get everyone killed before you do," Damon said. I pulled my pistol in my typical fashion. All three of their eyes lit up in surprise. "I'm a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy. Questions like, how long can a werewolf live with silver in their chest. Shall we find out?" Crash did try to step in front of my gun, but Elouise got there first. "Let's not do something fucking stupid." She turned to the three werewolves. "We get the message. Don't kill Keith." She turned to Crash. "You get that message?" Our friend gritted his teeth. You could tell he was warring with himself then. A war that he rarely let us in on. It was a war that Crash always held at bay with bad jokes, worse puns, and pranks. A war that looked as if it had been winning this entire trip. "I get the message. Leave my friends alone. They have nothing to do with this." "Neither do you," Hilton said. "Your own grandmother settled this years ago. Keith is under orders to not be killed. Ever. You harm him, you'll face our wrath, werewolf. You and your pack." As they began climbing into their vehicle, I lowered my weapon, slipping it back into my holster. "Yeah, bye. Please forget to write. Be a stranger. Don't come back now, ya hear?" None of them answered me as they got into their SUV and left. Elouise wanted to tear into me, but I rounded on Crash first. "Could you talk to me, instead of just shutting us both out of this private war of yours?! Since I'm now threatening strangers and being told my life will end if you act?!" Crash ran a hand through his hair, as he looked back into the woods. "I told Keith already. We've moved up the time table. It's happening tonight. You and Elouise get in the Cadillac and leave." I'd never pulled my weapon on Crash before. It was out of my holster before I knew what I was doing. "I'll fucking shoot you myself," I swore. The tear traveling down my face went almost unnoticed by me. "You're not ending yourself over a fucking vendetta! I swear to God, I'll shoot you in the leg, have Elouise bite it off, and we'll drag your crippled ass back home in the backseat!" Crash stepped to me and smiled. It was a smile weighted down with the pain he bore. "You are incredibly fast with that." He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You'll do what you have to. You don't understand. Every where I see, I have memories. Every one of those memories are tainted with the his death. I watched him die in front of me, that's not something you just walk away from." He turned to the woods, his lip quivering, his chest heaving in pain and anguish. "You know what it's like?! Everywhere you look, you have a memory of him. You start asking yourself, 'did he some how know? Is that why he said what he said, and did what he did? Was something in his brain telling him of his fate?' And every fucking time I close my eyes, every time I look out into these woods, I see his face. His favorite beer in his hand. Then I see that bastard taking his head off for the crime of merely existing. There is no more of his family. No children. No relatives or cousins. Damian's entire bloodline is dead. And he gets to live with children. With a wife!" Crash turned on me. "That should be Damian's wife. That should be HIS KIDS! HE SHOULD HAVE PUPS OF HIS OWN! RAISING THEM RIGHT NOW IN PEACE INSTEAD OF RESTING IN IT!" My pistol faltered, then lowered. I took a breath as I holstered it, steadying myself. "Crash, do yourself a favor. Ask yourself this. Would Damian want you carrying around this pain? Or would he want you to let go of it? To live in the peace that he always wanted?" Crash didn't answer. Elouise stuck her own two cents in after. "You know, it's been my experience that retribution is just vengeance wearing church clothes." He looked at the ground for a moment then back into the woods. "I am sorry about how everything is going. Please, forgive me, Jason." "I'll forgive you for trying to get us killed," I said. "But I won't forgive you for us losing that barbecue! It smelled pretty good and those bastards have it in their SUV right now." Crash looked at me for a moment. Then he cracked a smile. "You forgot the barbecue?! How dare you?!" Then he laughed. "Let's go to the diner instead. We'll have a meal there. And then, we'll talk about what we're doing next." "Some vacation," I said. Elouise nodded. "Yeah, some vacation." Crash smiled. "Hey, could be worse. We could be fighting The Nobility." He got smacked in the back of the head for that one by me and Elouise. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that Crash was planning something. His attitude change came on too sudden. As if he had finally decided to do something. His actions seemed to be that of a man wanting his friends to have one last good memory before he did something terrible. Or maybe the actions of a condemned man sharing one last meal. |
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