Erin Dameron-Hill (13 page)

Chap
ter Eight

I remained stiff as a board during the entire drive home. The only two things that moved within me were my beating heart and my roaming eyes.

For a werewolf, I’m a bit skittish. I should be brave and courageous because I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. When I first became a werewolf, my panic and anxiety attacks drifted away, removing all of my human fears. But now that I’m a beast, I’m afraid of what beasts are afraid of, namely, Hunters.

I could be the most deadly, the most dangerous creature in the wild but compared to a fully trained and elite Hunter, I’m nothing more than a cow being roped into the slaughter.

I wish I could return to those earlier feelings of peace and serenity because living in a constant state of fear and sadness was beginning to drag me down. I was becoming more and more confused by the minute which only aggravated my already on edge nerves. I was confused because I didn’t know how or why my family was being murdered. Even though Hunters are dangerous, there still would have been signs of a fight, and there wasn’t. Both Charlie and Clyde seemed to die willingly. And Billy was still missing. His trail had actually disappeared so much so that even our super-smellers couldn’t track him, couldn’t follow his scent. Our noses are like bloodhounds, and the fact that they couldn’t follow a single scent was driving me insane.

There was too much happening for one woman to handle. There were too many memories, too many sad memories, for me to contemplate. I wanted to turn a blind eye towards my family because I just couldn’t deal with their deaths anymore. In so many works of fiction, a person seemingly moves on from their pain and embraces the future, but I couldn’t do that. I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to move on from this. On one thing I could agree with the Hunter; the crime scenes would give me nightmares forever.

Having a psychic gift that was forever giving me nightmares should have made me immune to new nightmares, instead, it only served to remind me that I would continue to dream, continue to see horrific images every time I closed my eyes.

Being a psychic werewolf should have insured that I could handle anything, be immune to whatever surprises the Fates had cooked up for me, but it didn’t. Those qualities didn’t overshadow the full human that I had been all my life. I was an emotional being, a sensitive woman, and if I really think on it, even the strongest man would have cowered at those crime scenes.

I know I did. I know that I’m still trying to turn tail and run. Only I’m running away with too much panic and fear, running in the wrong direction. Because if I had been smart, I would have left town. I would have moved somewhere else instead of being in the passenger seat of a Hunter’s vehicle.

Which brings me full circle to one of the reason’s on why I’m stricken with fear.

“I apologize,” he said, leaning over me to unlock my door because apparently he didn’t believe in automatic door locks, “I completely forgot about your bag.”

As he leaned over, I took a deep inhale and breathed him in again. I may be scared out of my wits but my beast wasn’t. No, it wasn’t scared, it was tempted. I don’t know if it wanted to rip out the Hunter’s throat or kiss his throat and honestly, I didn’t want to know. I would rather be frightened out of my mind than lustful. And that’s what my beast was feeling as I took in the gun powder sandalwood scent that was rolling off the Hunter. My beast was feeling an ancient draw and was beginning to pull me to the Hunter as well. It was something unexplainable, I mean, logically, I needed to be wary of the Hunter, but emotionally, I needed to be closer to him.

My mind and heart had been split a million different ways within the past twenty four hours and I didn’t need them to be torn anymore. Enough was enough.

“I don’t need my bag,” I replied shakily, my lips trembling on the exhales, “I always have extras.”

Now that was impressive, I could manage speech after all I’ve suffered through. I had thought for a fleeting moment that the tragic events had rendered my tongue useless, but I was relieved to discover they hadn’t. I don’t know that I would have been able to survive if I had also gone mute. Too much stuff had happened. Was I really capable of handling it all?

My arms also began to move, tearing themselves out of the frozen stupor that they had been in. I slowly reached for the gray door handle and heard the unmistakable click of the door opening. It was actually a relief to hear that sound because then I would be opening the door to freedom. I would have enough space to run away from the Hunter, to run away from my problems. I would race into the forests of Wikiva National Park and never be seen again. There I would live and forever hide from psychic nightmares, loss-of-loved-ones nightmares, and Hunter nightmares. Perhaps I would live in a state of peace and never have to remember Clyde, Charlie, and Billy. I could forget them, push them out of mind and never think on them.

My feet landed on the black pavement and my dark sandals reflected the soft glow from the moonlight. I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out three keys: the key to my jeep, one for my home, and another key for Billy’s apartment. Because we were safety partners, we each carried a key to the other’s home just in case. It was how he was able to get into my home several hours before. It was how he told me that Clyde had died.

I swept his key to the side of the ring and grasped the gold key that was my home. All of the keys jingled silently as I turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

The Hunter was close to me, almost too close. He was invading my personal bubble and within a few seconds, he would be invading my home once more.

Logically, I was screaming inside my head. After all, a killer was in my home and worse than that, I had invited him in. I showed him where I lived and was about to ask a ridiculous question.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked. I was being cordial and civil to a murderer. He killed my kind. They might have been rogue werewolves and they might not. Who knows how many innocent wolves he’s slaughtered without asking questions? And here I was being a perfect hostess.

“Water would be great,” he replied as he stopped to look at the many potions that lined my dining room wall.

“Is a bottle okay?” I asked pulling an Equate water bottle from my refrigerator.

“Yeah, that’ll be fine.”

My eyes took in the butcher’s knives that rested neatly on the granite counter tops in my kitchen and I memorized exactly where they were, just in case. I also took quick inventory of any pots and pans that might come in handy if I had to belt him upside the head. If I had to defend myself, then I would try not to shape-shift. As I said before, turning is painful and disgusting. And I really didn’t want to waste time by eating myself, making sure all of my blood and bones were within my wolf belly.

“See anything you like?” I asked handing him the bottle and feeling my chest tighten as fear began its outward spread. A few minutes ago I had been cradled in his arms, felt at peace within his embrace, and now I was actually trying to find weapons just in case his Hunter reflexes kicked in. Wow. Even that is too much of an abrupt change for me.

“Do you have any real truth serums?”

“I wish. If only something like that existed.”

Some detective he was not knowing that truth serums were fake and nothing more than a pipe dream. I mean, would I really be just middle class if I had a truth serum? Imagine what I could do with that…

“Do these love potions work?”

“A few of them do.”

“Which ones?”

I picked up a few clear bottles filled with a bright red liquid and looked at the ingredients.

“This one is real, you can tell a real one by the ingredients.”

“How so?” he asked taking the bottle from me and looking over the ingredients like he was checking how many calories were in it.

“Anything with flame caps are real love potions.”

He nodded, “you have to harvest them from the volcano on Pompeii, right?”

“Yeah, you know your herbs.”

“I also know that you have to beat a Sphinx in a game of wits just to enter the volcano.”

“Yeah, they’re hard to get.”

“So, how come you have a real love potion?”

“I buy them from eBay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I know occasionally you can get blessed weapons and ancient artifacts from there, but I didn’t realize you could get love potions.”

“And not just love potions. I have berserker potions, calming potions,” which now that I think about it, I should probably take. I don’t know why that thought hadn’t entered my mind before. When the Hunter leaves, I’ll take it, “There are a few potions containing curses on these walls as well.”

“Why do you have them?”

That’s a good question. I have no idea why I bought them. But out loud I said, “they look good with my decoration.”

The Hunter nodded again and slipped the small, red bottle into his side jean pocket.

“Ahem,” I coughed and held out my hand, “if you want it, it’ll cost you. But don’t even try those tricks in my home. A normal person wouldn’t have seen you pocket it, but my eyes…” Shit. A normal person? Way to go, Sophie, way to blow your cover. If he didn’t already suspect you were a werewolf, he does now. I silently cursed myself and prayed that I would get a new brain soon.

He raised his eyebrow and stared fully into my eyes, sending me a hard glare from his dark eyes. As I looked closer into those beautiful chocolate covered eyes, I noticed they were ringed with a golden light almost like a halo effect. I smiled almost uncontrollably. I hadn’t seen eyes that beautiful nor that golden since…never mind.

I shook my head and looked away. I had had enough with past memories and I was trying to focus on the now because my life was in danger. I was trying to remain calm, to remain cautious so I didn’t need my memories to haunt me right now. I was in a very perilous situation and it would take all of my cunning to survive this. Not only was the Hunter dangerous, but my beast reacted lustfully towards him. So both sides of the coin were treacherous.

“That’s right, you’re a psychic,” he replied instead of whipping out a gun and shooting my beast, “how much?”

He couldn’t have been that great of a detective if he didn’t realize I was a werewolf. There were too many clues and instances pointing towards my beast. But if he didn’t recognize tell-tale signs that I was a werewolf, then I wasn’t about to piss on my parade; I wasn’t about to tell him.

“That particular vial will cost you $1332.99.”

He whistled, “That’s pretty high.”

“Yeah, well it’s not snake oil. And as you readily pointed out, it’s hard to come by.” Which, when I think on it, why the hell would a Hunter need a love potion?

“I suppose,” he said and placed the bottle back on the shelf in-between a power-reducing potion and a vomit-inducing potion. I don’t know why I bought the vomit-inducing potion because if I wanted to puke, I could just eat rotting food or visit the crime scenes of my family.

No. Don’t think about that. Don’t even mention it. Focus on the here and now. Make sure the Hunter doesn’t find a way to corner you. Don’t linger on the deaths of your family because it will only slow you down. I reminded myself that I didn’t want to join the list of victims that I wanted to remain with the living.

The Hunter had already moved past my dining room, pushing aside a few crimson, billowy drapes and entered my living room where he had sat only a few hours ago. I almost couldn’t believe that I had a Hunter in my living room twice in one day.

He sat down in my green, leather chair and faced the two beige, leather couches. His shoes that were both torn and blood-stained rested gingerly on my very clean coffee table. I wanted to scream at him to remove his feet from my table, but I didn’t. Instead, I sat across from him and stared at the blood stains. They weren’t red anymore because they had dried to a dirty brown crust. Whenever I heard the psalm ‘dust to dust’ I never actually pictured a human body decaying into dust. But when you see liquid blood dry to a brown crust that looks like dirt, then you realize the saying is true. It’s a little bit overwhelming to know that Clyde and Charlie would soon be nothing more than a pile of dirt. Or according to the future actions of Shirley, be nothing more than a pile of ashes.

No matter how much I tried to focus on the here and now, I couldn’t. I couldn’t escape the deaths of my friends and there was no way I could ignore them. I wanted to erase them permanently so that I wouldn’t have to feel as if the world was collapsing around me, as if God was turning his back on me.

But as I said before, Death takes the souls of the dead, and pieces of the living. I was missing a few pieces. I was left with nothing more than a shattered soul.

Chapter
Nine

The Hunter and I sat in silence for several moments, savoring the flavor of awkwardness. My hands rubbed themselves together sending the signal that I was nervous and scared. I don’t carry a good poker face, instead, every single emotion is worn all over my face and body. For a con-artist, it’s one of my largest flaws. For a werewolf hiding her identity from a Hunter, it’s downright dangerous.

Through the silence the soft tapping of the branch on my window continued its constant rapping, occasionally beating against the window with louder than usual thumps.

The Hunter’s eyes followed the noise and slowly, he stood and walked towards my bedroom. I suppose he was going through the motions of a bodyguard, making sure that every noise was nothing more than just noise.

He may have been doing his job, but I didn’t want him anywhere near my bedroom. That was my personal and private sanctuary where only I was allowed to be. Since I opened my home to my clients, I needed a space that was all mine, a space that no one else would ever see. That space was my bedroom. And the deadly Hunter was walking right into it.

I saw his head move left to right as he looked through my bedroom, checking to make sure no one was hiding behind my catty-cornered cherry-colored armoire or my cherry-framed standing mirror.

“Get down,” he said huskily, “I’m going to raise the blinds. If anyone is after you, we don’t want them to know where you are.”

Good point, but it’s a little bit late for that. 1) They could have followed me home, and 2) it’s just the Raven tapping on my window. Nothing more.

But I followed his orders anyway. There was something so demanding about that voice that I had to obey. It was kind of disturbing to follow someone so willingly, especially to abide by the rules of the Hunter.

“It’s just a cat playing beneath my window. It does that all the time.”

“The cat taps a branch on your window?” he asked closing the cream-colored blinds.

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled and then took a deep inhale, “I don‘t want you sleeping in here tonight.”

“Why?”

“It’s too vulnerable, too open a space, and too easy a target. If anyone is after you, they would check the bedroom first.”

“So, you want me to sleep on the couch?” I asked incredulously. This was my home and I wasn’t about to give up the comfort of a soft bed.

“Honestly, I don’t want you sleeping at all. I want you to have your wits about you. I want you to stay on guard.”

“What’s the point, you’re my bodyguard.”

“I’m only one man. I may be a Hunter, but what if I’m late getting to you? We can’t take any chances.”

If only he knew that I already took a chance just by letting him in. There was a werewolf killer out there and it just happens that this Hunter is in town when the killing starts. If you ask me, that’s too much of a coincidence. So, perhaps he’s right, perhaps I shouldn’t be sleeping tonight. I needed to stay awake, I needed to keep my eyes on him.

And another good reason for not sleeping would be no dreaming. The past two dreams that I had to be privy to weren’t helping my already weakened emotional state.

I walked out of the room towards the couch that would be my home for the next few hours. I could feel the Hunter staring at me as I moved away from him. On one hand, his gaze sent chills down my spine and for a split second, I wanted to add a nice sway to my walk, but on the other hand, I knew that he was going to kill me. He was watching me for weaknesses, watching me as the lion with the antelope, biding his time until he pounced and finally killed me.

This guy was obviously psychotic, he didn’t just kill, no he first drove his victims insane by scaring the shit out of them. What was I supposed to do with him in my home? Should I go ahead and grab a weapon and kill him first? But on the off chance that he isn’t a murderer, then
I
would be considered the murderer.

Shit. What the hell was I supposed to do?

I plopped back down on the leather couch and kept my eyes peeled on the Hunter. I should be patient and wait for him to make his move. There was no point in jumping the gun just yet. I needed to make sure that he really did pose a mortal threat.

Perhaps I could delay the inevitable slashing by bombarding him with questions. Most villains love to talk your head off about their world domination plans or what they’re going to do to you. I’ve seen it in movies. It’s always the villains downfall when they start monologue-ing. Perhaps I could get him to do the same.

I should get him talking by starting out with an easy question, “So, how many wolves have you killed?” Oh yeah, that was a real easy question. Way to go, Sophie, let’s spark his bloodlust. Jeez, and I always thought I had a brain. Apparently not.

The Hunter’s eyes went wide for the slightest of seconds and then he answered quite simply and psychotically, “Hundreds, probably. I lost count.”

Oh God, he’s killed so many of my wolf-kind and he was in my living room. More than just a slight wave of panic erupted in my chest. If I couldn’t get it under control, then I would likely go into hysterics. I grabbed the water bottle that was sitting on the glass table and took three or four large gulps that nearly emptied the bottle. The jolt of cold water made my stomach jump and whine, but I didn’t care. At least the wave of panic was subsiding somewhat.

I sat the bottle down on the table and realized I had just drank his bottle. I should have noticed when I could taste a distinct warm mint flavor with the water, but I wasn’t exactly using all my faculties tonight. I had tasted his lips and although my beast was very excited, my logical brain had sent me blushing.

“Sorry,” I said literally running to the bathroom. I think I was too fast for him because I managed to slam and lock the door. Which was a very nice surprise that I could outrun the Hunter. I should keep that in mind. I might not be able to take him in a straight up fight, but I could at least kick my flight response in gear.

I could hear my beast rumbling just below the surface, brushing its tail against my skin, tickling my skin to soften, to remove. Usually my beast doesn’t try to coax me into turning, usually it just tears me apart. But tonight, it was being gentle. I believe it wanted to try a new tactic because the old one really didn’t work that well.

But the new tactic wasn’t going to work either. I wasn’t about to let my animal loose. There are too many things that could go wrong. 1) I could eat a human, 2) I could fuck the Hunter, 3) I could die trying to fuck the Hunter. So, I wasn’t about to change.

It’s pretty disgusting having those images of a wolf-woman screwing a regular human being, I mean, come on, bestiality is not attractive. I keep some of my human form when I change such as I walk upright even though I run on all fours, I somehow manage to keep my breasts and vagina only they’re insanely hairy, my arms are very human as is my neck only my head fully transforms, my feet and hands turn into claws, I end up with a dew claw on my knee, and a large bushy tail grows out of my ass. So, technically its not really bestiality, but it’s close enough to make me uncomfortable. And if anyone wants to have sex with a creature like that, then they need some serious help.

I grabbed my electric toothbrush and scrubbed at my lips and my teeth. I didn’t want to taste him anymore, I didn’t want my beast to lick him up nor tempt me into changing. I tried to tell my animal that the man was a Hunter, that he was dangerous, but it wasn’t listening. It didn’t care, it wanted him.

Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between a sexual hunger and a food hunger when it comes to my wolf, but I could definitely feel the sexuality oozing from my beast. It tightened me in places that hadn’t seen any action for years, forcing me to nearly cream my pants as the beast began to paw at me.

I stiffened just a little bit more and snapped back at my beast, calming myself violently to force it back into it’s cage. I really didn’t need lust to cloud my emotions right now.

A few small knocks came at the bathroom door and I realized I had probably looked really stupid running away after drinking from the Hunter’s water bottle. I guess it was pretty childish. But I didn’t want my beast to emerge and if I had sat there and acted like everything was okay, then the beast would have torn me apart because it desperately wanted to be next to the Hunter. I don’t know if I would have been able to stop it.

“I’m going to trim the branches outside because I don’t know how much more of that tapping I can take,” he said, his voice muffled slightly through the door, “I want you to come outside with me.”

“What if I’m seen?” I managed through a toothpaste infested mouth.

“I don’t want you out of my sight.”

“Okay,” I replied spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing my mouth out with sink water. I don’t know why I agreed with him so readily. It was really a bit unnerving. I shouldn’t be agreeing with a Hunter.

I finally looked into the mirror out of habit and noticed that my eyes were red and swollen. My face was puffy and blotchy and my nose was bloated with mucous. I looked a right mess. Tears are never complementary to the face.

I splashed some cool water on my cheeks in the hope that I could somewhat dissipate the pathetic state my face was in when I realized I didn’t want to remove the puffiness. I wanted to wear it so that I could remember Clyde, Charlie, and Billy. I wanted to wear their suffering on my face like a badge of honor. I wanted everyone to know that I lost people who were important to me, I wanted to scream to the world that my wolf-brothers were dead. I guess I wanted pity. I wanted sympathy. Instead, I was rooming with the enemy, staying the night with a Hunter.

I heard my front door close and I instantly left the bathroom. As much as I didn’t want to be anywhere near the Hunter, I also didn’t want to be alone. I was scared and frightened that I would be the next victim and I didn’t want to take my eyes off the Hunter because he could be the culprit.

I watched as he pulled a ten-inch blade from underneath his jeans and my heart lurched for just a moment. I hadn’t even smelled his weapons. I didn’t even know he had been carrying. If he had somehow got the jump on me, I would have been dead.

I stepped back a few feet just in case he was going to turn the blade on me so that I could have a head start when it came to running away. But I stopped short of a head start. Instead, I was fascinated with how the knife easily cut the branches and my beast wondered if the handy man in front of me could replace the light bulb that hung just out of my reach in the living room. I have no idea why my beast was thinking of domestic issues. I think that unnerved me more than my eagerly agreeing with the Hunter. It was all a bit too weird for my tastes when I started wondering if he could unclog the disposal while he was here. It would be nice having such a handy man around.

What the hell was I thinking? There is a very dangerous, very deadly Hunter trimming my bushes and I’m thinking about white picket fences! I think the stress was finally getting to me.

I turned on my heel and walked back into the condo. I didn’t want to stand there one more minute and think of the Hunter because every time he was in my thoughts, my beast would perk up and try to get out. I was tired of dealing with that prospect.

My hands roamed over all of the vials of potions that were placed neatly on my shelves. I had remembered discussing the calming potion earlier and it would behoove me if I took a drink of it right now. I needed to be calmed and relaxed. I had dealt with more in one day than most humans would deal with in their lifetime. So, I needed this potion.

I managed to put the cork back in the bottle when I heard the Hunter’s tell-tale soft padded shoes hit my laminate flooring. I swallowed down the chamomile infused and lemon tasting liquid and instantly felt a slight relief. I don’t know the exact ingredients in the potion, but I do know that a frog’s left testicle was extracted as the main calming ingredient. It’s kind of creepy that I just drank a testicle. An amphibian testicle.

The relief spread through me like a soft breeze on a warm evening and I managed to sit down on my red leather chair. My knees were feeling a little bit wobbly so I didn’t know if I would ever be able to stand again. This stuff had more kick in it than eight shots of tequila. I only hoped it wouldn’t give me a hangover.

The Hunter sat down in front of me, where a client would sit, and I followed his every movement with my lazy eyes. He was getting a bit hazy the more I looked at him, his face was blurring like someone had rubbed Vaseline on the camera lens, giving him a soft, picturesque glow.

Dear God, I shouldn’t have taken the calming potion. I thought it would just calm me down, not make me temporarily drunk. This was not good.

I really wished that the fiction on werewolves having a high metabolism was true. Although, now that I think about it, it should be true. I was constantly stuffing my mouth with several pounds of beef and steak and I was still just a size 3. So, hopefully, the calming potion would be burnt out of my system in just a few minutes. That would be a very good thing.

The Hunter continued to stare at me and if I was in my normal state, I would have cringed. Instead, I took it as a complement and slithered into a variety of poses. I must have looked like I was posing for Playboy or soft porn because I was beginning to show some skin.