Werewolf Single Dad 3, page 21
Arch was comfortable enough with me now, but I wasn’t his daddy, so how he was going to react to my attempt at conflict resolution was anybody’s guess.
But actually, Archie chose neither of his two typical modes as he sobbed his little heart out. He wouldn’t come in for a cuddle, but he wasn’t taking dramatic steps back so he could scream at me from a comfortable distance, either.
As I sat cross-legged on the floor with one toddler bawling in one arm, the second toddler met me in the middle, and he stood with his shins resting against my knee while he rubbed his eyes with his fists and half-angrily babbled about “wanting to draw big” and “cadderpidders.”
I wasn’t about to get angry at two three-year-olds for wanting to express themselves, but I needed to continue calmly reiterating to them that walls weren’t the place to draw, coloring books and sketch pads were.
Of course, every restatement of the house rules was like a twisting of the knife in the already artistically-wounded toddlers, and they protested and wailed very loudly at first, but when the high emotions calmed down a little, they did manage to cope with the information a little bit better. Soon, the whole thing was largely forgotten, and both children agreed if we got them a really, really big sketchpad, then that would suffice as “big” enough.
Within minutes, the whole thing was water under the bridge, and we were back to talking about all the hot topics in a three-year-old’s life, such as jumping really high, custard, and dinosaurs.
Though, Archie sure was doing a lot of dinosplaining for someone who pronounced velociraptor as “Be-lobby-rasta.”
When the tears had dried up and the children were back to being reasonably receptive, I suggested we should all play downstairs because Charlie was lonely down there, and Mite-slash-Daddy needed to keep an eye on all three children while Tent-slash-Daddy was still out at work.
Of course, there was still some rebelliousness in the children’s psyches, and both of them whined about having to come downstairs. But when I reiterated that we needed to keep Charlie company and offered an olive branch to the kids in the form of the chance to bring aaaaanything they wanted from upstairs downstairs, it seemed as though the terms of my peace negotiations had been accepted. Archie and Dionne scrambled around their bedrooms to find something really worth bringing downstairs with them, like they were contestants in the game show Supermarket Sweep, and I had to stifle my laughter lest it set them off again.
Dionne met me on the landing with her toy dragon, Penelope, and a pillow from her bed tucked under her arm, and I thought both of those items were wholly acceptable selections.
Archie, on the other hand, had chosen his television remote and a stone seahorse ornament from the bathroom, which I thought were a little off-kilter, but I did say “anything from upstairs,” so that was on me for not being ultra-specific.
I was conscious about leaving Charlie downstairs for any longer, and I didn’t want to deal another blow to this already-wounded fellowship, so I agreed Archie’s unconventional selections were great choices and led my band of hobbits to Isengard.
And by Isengard, I of course meant the living room, but you had to use your imagination to keep things fresh when you were the exhausted guardian of three very young children, or you’d go stir-crazy.
The rest of the afternoon was pleasantly drama-free, with Archie and Dionne electing to express their creativity with Play-Doh rather than do any more drawing, and Charlie gurgling and kicking his legs happily while I held him high in the air.
This kid was gonna be a world championship crawler, I could tell.
The vibe in the living room was so nice I almost forgot I was waiting on a delivery from Grace. But a knock at the door followed by the thunk of a package hitting the porch reactivated me like I was some kind of sleeper agent, and I tucked Chaz under my arm and darted to the front door to collect my very important package.
As I skidded down the hallway and flung open the front door, I spotted the long, flat cardboard box on our welcome mat, and I couldn’t help but notice it looked a little over-packaged for a phone.
Ah-ha. That’s probably how my sneaky government agent friend wanted it to come across. But I was an undercover agent now, too, and I’d recognize the dynamic pawprint of AWOO’s logo on that package anywhere.
I knew Grace had said she wanted to drop off the package and head straight off, but I just couldn’t not see her knowing she was right outside my house, even just to smile and wave goodbye to her.
So, I loaded Charlie up comfortably on my hip and poked my head off the porch, but the neighborhood was as still as death when I looked for Grace. The smells of gas were faint from the cars who had all come home to roost in their driveways, but there wasn’t the strong scent of a running engine I’d anticipated smelling, nor was there that unidentifiably nuanced shifter musk that beguiled me every time I was in close proximity with Grace.
My bubble slowly began to burst as I realized this red herring phone package probably wasn’t a red herring after all.
But I felt a sudden surge of hope as I realized I hadn’t missed Grace’s delivery after all.
I picked the package up with one hand while keeping Charlie secured on my hip with the other, and I retreated into the house and took both precious bundles into the kitchen where I could juggle them on the table.
I plonked Charlie into his high chair and kept him happy with a scattering of beef ‘n’ cheese puffs while I unveiled the contents of the package, and it quickly became evident this wasn’t the phone, because phones don’t usually come with ice packs.
This was the children’s nutrient subscription box.
It was undoubtedly a bit anticlimactic to unpack packets of blood gummies and turkey jerky instead of my secret agent phone, but it did fill my heart to see that this supplement box was updated to cater for two toddlers and a baby.
All that needless guilt I’d felt over thinking I wasn’t doing a good enough job at providing for my children melted away in an instant.
Some things took a little patience, but they were often well worth the wait.
Stacking the fridge drawer full of blood-berry smoothies, meat lollipops, and beef jello pots helped me pull myself out of my own head, and I smiled as I reminded myself that I really was a good dad. I was just trying to figure a lot out.
After I’d basked in the glow of my own greatness long enough, my thoughts made way for the matter of the phone delivery I was still waiting for, and I started to worry in case something had happened to Grace.
Our phone call took place a couple hours ago, and there were definitely no other packages out by the front door when I went out there, nor was her mysterious scent anywhere close by.
The kids had a loose bed time of around eight PM, and the clock was just ticking over to around five-fifteen. As much as I’d have liked to have stuck my head through the living room window to keep a look-out for Grace, I had to get the little ones fed, so I donned my chef’s hat and went diving into the fridge.
Shifter children were generally less fussy than human children. If there was meat in their meal, they were happy. But shifter kids had some pretty high protein, fat, and iron targets to hit daily, since the carnivorous cornerstone of our diet understandably could get a little neglected with the integration into human society. That’s why AWOO provided nutrient-boosting subscriptions to shifter children in the first place, and the packaging everything came in was cleverly disguised as very high-end dog treats in the event of packages being stolen or a delivery truck flipping over and spilling its precious cargo.
Though the counteracting human side of our biology meant we could stomach a lot more things than an actual wolf could, there were still things we were better off avoiding, so fried food and things like chocolate, avocados, and onions were to be enjoyed in strict moderation. We even had our own special blend of beer-- and that was fortified with nutrients, too-- but the occasional night on the human stuff didn’t hurt.
Well, until the next morning, that is.
After a little seasoning, I was able to dish up the perfect, easy midweek meal that all the members of a shifter family could enjoy: my take on steak tartare.
It was raw beef minced and topped with a runny raw egg and drizzled with a werewolf’s extra special touch of tomato and pig’s blood ketchup, and voila.
For werewolves, and for the French, the squishy raw red meat with the gloopy raw egg was a delicacy, though on many family tables in America, it would have been seen as a monstrosity.
All three children and I practically licked our bowls clean, and Archie had just asked what was for dessert, so I was in the midst of scooping some Neapolitan ice cream from the never-ending tub I’d returned with after my first run-in with Ally and Red, when I swore I could smell cinnamon.
I had just opened the spice cupboard in search of sprinkles, but that surely wasn’t where this sudden waft of winter spice was coming from.
In almost the same millisecond I realized why I could smell cinnamon, I heard the mail slot rattling, and I knew it was Grace making her whistle stop delivery at my door.
To the groaning disgruntlement of my children, I suddenly put the ice cream down, and I sprinted through the kitchen and the living room as I ran to collect the padded envelope that had landed on the floor.
I pulled the door open in the hopes of Grace still being there, but the only calling card she left as I heard her car purring up the boulevard was the unmistakable yet unrecognizable floral burnt cinnamon musk.
My stomach couldn’t help but recoil with a small pang of sadness, but it was probably for the best she didn’t stop and chat.
After all, I knew I was taking pills to stop my dominant scent from being so strong, but I don’t think it would have been wise for Grace to have returned to her poor, deserted boyfriend with the scent of a macho Alpha on her clothing.
And anyway, this dominant macho Alpha was in the midst of being screamed at by two three-year-olds for ice cream, and he knew his place in the pecking order here.
While the kids were placated with their long-awaited bowls of ice cream, I leaned over the kitchen island and opened the package Grace had left.
Just as I anticipated, there was an ordinary black phone, a charger, and a little disclaimer note that said, ‘All calls to and from this phone will be monitored by an AWOO agent,’ with the four-digit lock screen passcode and the phone’s own number printed at the bottom.
The phone was on, fully charged, and tapped into the rolling airwaves of 5G, but as it stood, no one had called yet.
Shit. This felt really real now.
It was already Wednesday, and I was hoping Beanie and Gel-O’s dealer would keep it to at least the weekend to call so I could have Grace accompany me in the take-down. But ultimately, I needed to play my part in keeping the mean, L-infested streets of Chicago safe, and I wanted my name off that watchlist, so if the dealer was really going to push for a meet-up before the week was through, I’d just have to go with it.
Shit, it was almost six. I wanted to upload my first post or video as Amadeus tonight, but first I wanted to report my idea of governing my packs via PackMate to whichever caseworker was on the clock at AWOO.
I quickly pulled up the number I’d always called for Grace, and I waited for an unfamiliar voice to answer, so I could tell them all the ins and outs of my revolutionary plan.
The call connected, and an operator answered. It was a different guy from the one I’d feigned a mix-up over PackMate with. This guy was an older-sounding, cheery kind of guy. He couldn’t have sounded merrier as he advised me my call would be recorded for monitoring and training purposes, and in turn, I was very merry in the way I acknowledged him.
When the officialities and the pleasantries were out the way, just as Grace had advised me to do, I told the cheerful old agent absolutely everything I’d been thinking about concerning my plan of leading from afar. I addressed the conversation like I was telling AWOO what I was going to be doing, not seeking their permission, and the happy fellow seemed quite impressed with my idea, which in turn filled me with a kind of confidence that this thing could really work.
Maybe Amadeus really would be the face behind a whole new way of werewolf governance.
Well, an obscured face, but even so.
As per Grace’s recommendation, I made it expressly clear I did not wish to have my true identity revealed to any of my pack members at any time, and the agent reassured me that to do so would forgo AWOO’s strict code of ethics, so there was no risk of it happening.
Awesome.
Once I’d reported everything I needed to report as far as being a distant leader to thirteen territories was concerned, the lovely government agent asked if there was anything else he could help me with.
I looked at the government-allocated phone on the counter in front of me, and I wondered if it would look suspicious if I didn’t bring up the fact I was about to become a mole for AWOO.
Grace did say it would look better on both of us if I was on record having spoken to agents other than her about a few different things, and she had also assured me that by the time this phone reached my person, all the relevant i’s would have been dotted and t’s crossed.
So, I didn’t see the harm in checking in with this chipper fellow about what laid ahead now that I was effectively a secret agent.
The cheery chap took a moment to get his facts straight, and when he came back to me, he started by telling me exactly what the little slip of paper inside the padded envelope had told me-- that any time my phone rang, someone in the AWOO office would be notified, and they would automatically be connected to the call and would be able to listen in on it.
He then told me all I had to do was get the drug users to give details of a time and place and to verbally specify it was for a drug deal, and then a further decision would be made as to whether the police unit would be the ones to turn up to that appointment, or whether I’d need to go in alone with a body cam to assess the situation or help it come to a head first before justified police enforcement could take place.
I must have sounded a little bit unsure in my responses, because the agent assured me my safety would come first, and I would not be forced into any situation if I were to feel my situation was going to be compromised.
But he followed up with the reminder that these people were posing a serious threat to society, and without brave and selfless citizens like myself volunteering themselves to step up to the plate, AWOO would have a much tougher job in keeping our streets safe. He said my willingness to serve my community was commendable, and a more proactive Alpha he’d never known.
The cheery agent was obviously a highly-skilled manipulator, but damn it, I just couldn’t let him down after that string of accolades. He followed his stirring speech by asking me if I had any objections to acting as an undercover agent on behalf of AWOO and my community and, of course, I said I didn’t.
The kindly old man responded in an overzealously proud and enthusiastic tone, and we signed off the phone call by wishing each other a wonderful evening.
So, thanks to that cheerful bastard, two things were official: I was the shifter government’s rat, and the wheels were in motion for me to officially begin my multi-region reign as Amadeus.
I had a lot of work to do. Guess I better get on with some of it.
The kids were still busy painting their faces with ice cream, so I went on my usual phone and set up my new email and password for my PackMate account to be connected to, and I also changed the associated phone number. Then I hid the phone number for good measure, but I kept the email address open so concerned civilians would know how to contact me.
Once I’d been through a thousand verification checks, the handover to Amadeus was complete, and I deleted the PackMate app from my usual phone. Then I swapped to my new phone, and I logged into the app to start accepting the multiple requests to act as admin to the thirteen community pages that were under my jurisdiction.
After I’d accepted each community page’s invite, I gave about five minutes of my time to scrolling over the posts on each one, and I saw a striking similarity between the hot topics of discourse in every community.
Disorder, a rise in violence, fear, illegal drug use.
How do we operate with an absent Alpha?
Just like Mousy had said, the community pages were rife with panic and uncertainty. A panicked werewolf was a dangerous one, and it didn’t even bear thinking about how dangerous thirteen groups of upwards of one hundred panicked werewolves would be.
It was time for Amadeus’ inaugural address.
Chapter 12
I’d originally envisioned my first address to be a video of myself in the wolf mask, and I was secretly looking forward to reading the reactions that such a performative feat would bring. But in all actuality, I hadn’t really ironed out all the creases of filming and editing a video yet, and there would probably be things like scripts to write, and I just knew it would take longer than I was anticipating to send my image out there.
And going by the mass hysteria that seemed to be gently bubbling throughout the community pages, I didn’t feel like I could stall contacting my packs for too much longer.
It was okay, though, because at least by sending out a written message as my first official means of contact, I could ease the people into the idea of one Alpha ruling over multiple territories better than with a shock video drop, and when I did eventually show my face, my video would be akin to a long-awaited video game trailer or something.
I took the kids upstairs for their baths, and the entire time I was playing lifeguard and washing their hair, I was mulling over what my first address as Amadeus would look like.
By the time I got the kids in their jammies and curled up on the sofa, I had a pretty solid statement lined up and ready to go out into the world, and I began typing the message out on one of the community pages where I was now officially admin.
