Mike The Werewolf: A Humorous Werewolf Thriller, page 13
Little by little they coaxed from him what had happened while I was mind-whammied by that sea monster, leading to a far more detailed retelling than the two minute recap I’d been able to deliver.
The problem was that with every detail Winston recounted, I once again experienced an awful sense of déjà vu – experiencing strange flashes of memory I had no recollection of.
Winston had awoken somewhere deep underground, within the New York sewer system.
The space around me was dimly lit, bathed in an eerie green glow like some cheap Halloween haunted house.
He’d gained consciousness in a strange place alongside people he didn’t recognize, all of them laboring toward some purpose he couldn’t quite articulate.
My vision panned downward, scanning the floor around me, only to discover a similar pile of innards now lying discarded upon the ground.
Wherever he was, Winston had been both confused and frightened to find himself suddenly free of whatever mental prison he’d been stuck within.
He didn’t quite describe it that way, mind you, filling his tale with obviously false bravado I doubted anyone in the room believed.
Whatever the truth about his feelings, he’d gotten lucky. At first, the others didn’t seem to notice he’d broken free of whatever control they were under. They were too focused on the gruesome task they’d been set to.
That’s when it hit me. His face, heck, all of their faces. They were blank slates, devoid of any emotion. The lights were on but no one was home, almost like they were ... sleepwalking.
Isaiah raised an eyebrow, possibly noticing me twitch as I experienced the shock and terror of these bizarre flashbacks while Winston recounted his story. However, he said nothing, gesturing for my other half to continue, which he did.
Whatever confusion he’d felt upon awakening quickly gave way to rage. The way Winston explained it, he’d had every intention of clawing and slashing everything in sight – either not knowing or caring those others were likely victims too.
I felt a euphoric numbness deep inside that began to rapidly spread to my extremities. It was the space of an instant for me to understand what was happening.
“And then what?” Isaiah prodded after Winston paused in his retelling.
“I changed my mind,” he said.
“Truly?”
“Yep. Not much sport in gutting mindless drones. So, I decided to leave instead.”
That was a lie. I wasn’t sure how I knew it. I just did.
Alien. Totally, inexplicably alien.
That’s the only way I could describe it without screaming. This scent was like nothing I’d ever encountered before. My mind, a veritable Wikipedia of foul odors, was unable to identify it beyond that..
Winston had smelled something which spoke of worlds other than our own, places that were hostile, wild, and completely unlike anything either of us had ever experienced.
I wasn’t sure of much beyond that save for one thing – it had utterly terrified him because that was the point when he’d turned his focus toward escape.
That alone was enough to give me pause. Werewolves didn’t frighten easily. In my dealings with the pack, I knew it took either overwhelming odds or injury to make them rethink their actions. But that wasn’t the case here.
It was fear, plain and simple – not that he was about to admit it.
Winston instead focused on the details of his escape, which mostly involved gloating about effortlessly slashing his way through countless enemies standing between him and freedom.
I squinted to see whatever was blocking the way, only to immediately wish to God I hadn’t. The creature was the size of a grizzly bear, held up by three pairs of spindly legs while a gleaming carapace covered its backside.
From deep within my subconscious an image began to take shape of some ... monstrosity, inhuman in a way that made werewolves almost seem mundane.
“No!”
It was only the curious stares of the elders which made me realize I’d said that last part out loud.
“No?” Winston replied. “You calling me a liar, asshole?”
“It’s not that,” I backpedaled. “It’s just ... I got caught up in the emotion of it all.”
“Sorry if my retelling is too badass for a pussy like you. Oh wait, no I’m not.”
What he’d described as a kick-butt adventure through New York’s underground was in reality a desperate escape. I don’t know how I knew this, just that I did – almost as if some small part of me had been awake enough to remember.
More important was the question of what had triggered our shared primal fear. It may well have been that kaiju-sized monster from the river, but somehow I didn’t think so. All I could seem to remember was an eerie green glow and then smelling something that didn’t belong, a scent strong enough to induce pure terror.
There wasn’t much more to Winston’s tale. He kept running until he was far from the city, and that’s apparently the point where the Chadworths decided to make their appearance.
I tuned out the rest. There was no need to relive it.
Won’t lie. A part of me was glad I didn’t fully remember that underground prison. Just hearing Winston talk about it was enough to give me the willies.
However, it did serve to confirm what I already suspected. The weirdness in Harris County was only the tiny tip of some much larger supernatural iceberg.
Sure, I’d known about vampires and witches, but there was more out there – a lot more. How much? I had no clue nor did I really want one. All I knew was that history was full of myths and monsters, plenty of whom were much higher up on the food chain than lycanthropes.
We’re talking demons, devils, demigods, and more. A whole wide world of terrors.
I’d once thought I had a handle on what was real versus what was imaginary. No more.
The only thing I was certain of were my limits with regards to how much I could take. There were things out there that were more than I’d signed up for, something I wasn’t ashamed to admit.
I wanted to keep Harris County and its people safe. That was it, the limits of my ambition. I saw now that I’d overreached in traveling to New York to confront Hobart. If anything, my ordeal beneath the streets of Manhattan was quite possibly the universe’s way of telling me to keep my snout out of situations that were none of my business.
If so, I intended to heed its warning, especially having caught a glimpse of what awaited out there.
The strangest thing was, I had a sneaking suspicion Winston felt the same way.
The question now was whether we’d have any say in the matter.
SECRETS AND LIES
I wasn’t quite sure how to explain my fears to Isaiah without setting Winston off in the process.
Sure, I’d sensed that same fear from my alter ego through the bits and pieces of memories I had. But where I wasn’t afraid to admit I was in over my head, I had a feeling my wolf half wouldn’t be quite so accommodating.
Call it ego or a massive inferiority complex, but if someone were to ever, say, challenge Winston to prove his bravery by diving headfirst into molten lava, well, I’d best be wearing asbestos underwear.
I stood there debating where to begin, only for a massive yawn to escape my lips instead. Odd since I was wide awake. Hell, after spending two weeks asleep inside my own body, I wasn’t particularly eager for some shuteye.
“Gods damn,” Winston groused, “You fuckers are even more boring than I realized.”
“That was you?” I replied. “Didn’t you just wake up?”
“Save it for someone who cares, bitch boy. And maybe next time pick more interesting company than these rubes.” He yawned again, taking my half along for the ride.
Ahead of me, Isaiah grinned knowingly.
“Yer of course welcome to rest awhile,” he said. “Please do enjoy our hospitality.”
“I’d ... enjoy ... gutting you more. But ... maybe ... later.”
The way Winston slurred his words told me he was fading far faster than I would’ve expected.
Don’t get me wrong. I understood boredom. Stucky loved to share his fishing stories whenever it was slow at work. He was a nice guy, but he couldn’t spin a yarn to save his life. He could’ve been out on Loggerhead Lake battling Moby Dick himself, but somehow he’d make it sound as exciting as watching paint peel. Still, he’d never conked me out quite this fast.
“Be ... a good ... pupcake,” Winston continued, the left side of my face drooping with fatigue, “and don’t fuck around. Remember, I ... know where ... you live.”
I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a threat or joke as my left side suddenly went limp, causing me to stumble. Fortunately, I managed to regain my footing before I could eat floor. I stood up again, not sure what had just happened, other than being certain I was once again alone in my own head.
I either shared a body with the laziest werewolf ever or something else was afoot. The fact that Isaiah’s body language instantly changed from overly friendly back to his typical severe self, clued me in that it was the latter.
“The beast is asleep, yes?”
I nodded tentatively.
“He will be awhile, although I fear not long enough. He’s frightful strong, and the night calls to his kind.”
Won’t lie, the instant change in demeanor scared me, albeit not nearly as much as those memories from my time in New York. “What did you do to me?”
“Not ye, only he.” Isaiah turned toward Abram and nodded.
“The ham,” the other elder explained. “’Twas dosed with a tincture that affects wolf not man.”
“You drugged him?” Even as the question left my lips, I realized how stupid it was compared to what he’d implied. “Hold on, you can do that?”
“Indeed.”
Holy crap! I’d confessed my dual personalities to them barely an hour ago. Now, I was no science whiz, but didn’t it normally take whole teams working for months if not years to formulate vaccines, antivenoms, and the like?
What the heck kind of chemists were Barley Hills hiding that could specifically target a split-personality werewolf in less time than it took to watch a movie? Unless...
“I’m not the only one. Am I?”
“Only what?” Isaiah replied.
“You know what I mean,” I snapped, momentarily finding my backbone against the elder huntsman. “There are others out there like me, aren’t there? Dominants whose wolves have somehow become conscious.”
Isaiah raised an eyebrow at my outburst but said nothing.
However, David was quick to fire back. “Mind yer tongue before your betters, boy.”
Betters? It was a good thing Winston wasn’t awake as I had a feeling he’d have an opinion or two to share.
“That will do,” Isaiah interrupted before either of us could say more. “Be at peace, Michael. Yer among friends. But to answer yer question, nay. Neither I nor any of my fellows have met another like ye.”
“Then how come he’s asleep and I’m not? You can’t just tell me it was a lucky guess.”
“I claim no such thing. What we did was purposeful.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nor are ye meant to.” He let out a sigh, as if debating whether to say more. “I understand yer confusion. Truly I do. To have yer whole life upended a few short moons ago, not to mention that of yer kin, has to be nothing short of terrifying. But yer also young, where this world is not. What might seem strange and new for yinz, is ancient history for those with a better understanding.”
David, despite being admonished moments earlier, turned to him. “Our oaths, Isaiah. I will remind ye...”
“I need not be reminded of my duty, brother. Though I may not be as quick in body, trust that my mind remains sharp. Sharp enough to know that, though our fealty remains, those we swore our oaths to do not.”
“But...”
Isaiah waved him off. “I am quite aware of recent happenings. But until we are presented with proof the old words haven’t been forgotten, we shall stand as judge of our own actions.” He turned to address the others. “You are all aware the natural order has been upset, perhaps irrevocably so, are ye not?”
The elders looked among themselves but none of them spoke against him.
“Good. Then I say we shall honor our oaths while also acknowledging these changing times. The world has moved on. We cannot allow ourselves to be dragged down by refusing to move with it.”
I had no freaking idea what he was talking about. That said, while I wasn’t holding my breath to be taught their secret handshake, I got the impression Isaiah was trying to clue me in more than his fellow elders were comfortable with.
“Is any of that supposed to mean anything?”
“Not to ye, Michael. But I will tell you this much. Your knowledge of yer true nature is only due to events no one, be they witch or seer, could have foreseen. But yer actual story is far older than ye will likely ever suspect.”
He held up a hand before I could ask. “Alas, tis a story ye will not hear from my lips. Just know my people have long prepared for a time we thought would never come to pass. But now that it has, we find ourselves as ready as any man could hope to be. And yet, despite our preparations, we also find ourselves adrift same as ye. Tis truly strange days we live in.”
I waited for him to continue, but he’d said his piece.
While I couldn’t pretend to be terribly enlightened compared to five minutes earlier, there were some things I was beginning to suspect – assuming I was correct in reading between the lines.
If so, then the people of Barley Hills and Harris County were similar in that none of us had actually seen a werewolf prior to three months ago. But where I’d been raised to think the boogeyman was make believe, the folks here had been taught otherwise via some hidden knowledge passed down from generation to generation.
I couldn’t help but draw comparisons to the ritual, nor wonder who had originally set both towns upon their respective paths. Were they the same people, or two groups diametrically opposed to one another?
One town full of hidden monsters and another of hunters training for the day when those monsters might appear, all of it stretching back to the distant past. I didn’t know how far, but at this point couldn’t rule anything out.
Heck, for all I knew, those ships which landed at Plymouth Rock four centuries ago could’ve been carrying pilgrim werewolves.
Gah! It was ... simply too much for me, a sanitation worker from rural Pennsylvania, to process. If there was anyone ill-prepared to handle the idea of a centuries long supernatural standoff, it was me.
What the heck kind of crazy world had I stepped into? And more importantly, how the hell did I get out of it and back to my life?
BRAND NEW DAY
“Time to pay the piper.”
“What’s a piper and why aren’t we ripping him to shreds instead?”
I let out a sigh. “It’s only a saying.”
“Which means what?” Winston asked.
“It’s ... something people say that doesn’t really mean anything.”
“That’s pretty fucking stupid. And yet you humans consider yourselves the dominant species. What a joke.”
“Whatever. I was just talking to myself, okay?”
“Then I suggest shutting your meat hole so I don’t have to hear it.”
I suppressed a yawn as we waited near the outskirts of Barley Hills, but this time it had nothing to do with werewolf hunter alchemy.
Sleep had been a long time coming after the elders finally decided they’d browbeaten me enough. They didn’t want me to risk another confrontation with Hobart’s minions, so they found me a spot in Isaiah’s barn instead. The accommodations were a little rough but I’d had worse. It was more an issue of my brain refusing to turn off.
Not only did I have way too much to think about, but I couldn’t easily dismiss the fear of closing my eyes only to wake up and find another two weeks had passed.
I’d been hoping for the elders to fill me in on everything that had happened whilst I was on my extended catnap, but they’d remained tight-lipped after Isaiah’s speech. The best I could glean was that a sort of unspoken demilitarized zone had been established between the two towns.
So long as each faction stayed on their side, things remained at a low simmer.
Can’t say that was bad to hear. Following the debacle in Brooklyn there was no way Hobart wouldn’t have known about the hunters’ true calling. So the fact I hadn’t returned to outright war between our respective municipalities was nothing to sneeze at. Although now that I was back, there was no way of knowing whether the peace would hold.
Regardless, I’d finally drifted off, only to awaken a few hours later, upright and pantless as I stood in the open doorway of the barn blissfully relieving myself.
Thankfully, it had only been number one, but it was enough to realize that whatever they’d drugged Winston with had obviously worn off.
Now, with the sun up, my butt once again covered, and with my purloined bugout bag over my shoulder, I was waiting for my ride home. Hopefully, the early hour would give me a chance to settle in before...
“Is it true?”
Huh? I spun, much quicker than was warranted. A snarl escaped my lips, followed by, “Who the fuck are you? Not that soon-to-be dead bitches need a name.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow, showing far less surprise than I would’ve expected from Winston’s violent and vulgar outburst.
“No,” I cried. “She’s a friend.”
“She ain’t my friend.”
“Not with that attitude,” she replied, her voice calm as a summer breeze, the rifle slung over her shoulder and six shooter at her hip no doubt contributing to her confidence.
She wasn’t alone either, even if the bulky pit bull by her side looked far more confused than menacing.
“I see it’s true then,” she said after a moment.
“Um, what is?” I remarked, trying to play it cool.
“Calm yerself, Michael. Da told me.”
