Men of the Otherworld (17 page)

“He had to take a call from the office,” Jeremy said.

“Working?” Nick fell into a chair with a groan. “Everyone's always working. When I grow up, I'm never going to work.”

“No?” Antonio said. “Then I guess your poppa and I will have to work harder, so you won't have to. Come on and take Clayton to the kids’ table. Poppa will be down any moment.”

“He'd better,” Nick said. “I'm starving. I hate these rules. Why do we have to wait for him before we eat?”

“Because he's the Alpha,” Antonio said. “If you want to eat first, then
you
need to become Alpha.”

“And do all that extra work?” Nick said. “No way.”

Dominic walked in then, and the chatter died down as everyone swung into their places at the table and started uncovering the food. Nick led me to the children's table, which was in the corner. Nick watched to see where Stephen sat, then picked seats for us on the opposite side of the table.

“See how far away we are from the grown-ups?” Nick
whispered. “They do that so we can't hear what they're talking about.”

“I can,” I said.

He hesitated, taking a moment to figure this out, then grinned. “That's right. You've got the superhearing already. Cool.”

As we settled in, I looked at the main table. As I expected, it was arranged by Pack hierarchy, with Dominic at the top, his sons on either side of him, then radiating down the table to Ross Werner and Cliff Ward at the end. Jeremy sat beside Antonio. I must have looked pretty satisfied with this arrangement because Stephen followed my gaze and sneered.

“You think that means he's something special?” Stephen said, voice lowered to a whisper. “Jeremy only gets to sit there because he's Antonio's best friend. It's bullshit. Look who sits at the old man's right hand. Gregory. A fucking retard.”

Ross and Cliff, sitting at the end of the adult table and therefore closest to us, both turned and I knew they'd overheard. Ross glowered and shook a finger at Stephen, but when the older man turned away, Cliff shot Stephen a grin.

“Now, boys,” Dominic boomed from the head of the table. “I think we may have a problem down there.”

“S-sir, I—I didn't—” Stephen began.

Dominic continued. “Ross put out the food, but I don't think he knows how much Clayton eats. From what Tonio tells me, those dishes on your table are just barely enough to feed Clayton alone.” He looked at me. “Is that right, boy? Can you eat that much?”

I looked at the uncovered plates and nodded.

Dominic threw back his head and laughed. “You think so, do you? Well, then, maybe we should do something about that. We don't want you boys scrapping over the food. Grab your chair
and come on up here, Clayton. You can eat with me today. We'll see which of us eats more.”

From the other boys, I caught a wave of disgruntled looks, ranging from Joey's mild envy to Stephen's outright fury

“Lucky,” Nick mouthed and shot me a grin.

I searched his expression for any trace of envy, but saw none. He was simply happy for me. Had the situation been reversed, I knew I couldn't have been so unselfish. I took my chair, carried it to Dominic's side and asked him a question.

He laughed. “You don't want to sit up here alone with the old men? I don't blame you.” He craned his neck to see the children's table. “Nicky?”

“Yes, Poppa?”

“Bring your chair on up here. You're keeping Clayton company.”

Nick's smile lit up his face. He grabbed his chair and scrambled to the head of the table.

Dominic out-ate me by a half-sandwich and a banana.

“He would have beaten you,” Antonio said. “But he knows a good Pack member always lets the Alpha win. He's a smart boy.”

“So I hear,” Dominic said. “Tonio tells me you're reading already.” He looked out across the table. “Can you believe that? Less than a year ago, this boy was living in the swamp. He couldn't talk. He couldn't control his Changes. He could barely even walk upright. And now he's going to school. School! Can you believe it?”

I waited to see whether Jeremy would correct Dominic. He didn't. I decided Dominic's statement was close enough to the truth to be an acceptable facsimile. I
had
been in school… for
a while. And I'd be returning to school… eventually. In the meantime, Jeremy was giving me daily lessons so, technically, I was still being schooled.

Dominic continued. “When Jeremy told me he brought this boy home, most of you know how I felt. I was against it. I thought the boy would be dangerous. I thought he'd have to be locked up in a cage and if he ever escaped, he'd put us all at risk of exposure. I thought we should—” He glanced at me and stopped short. “Well, you know what I thought should be done. But I trusted Jeremy. I told him he had one year to show me that the boy could be controlled.” Dominic laughed. “Controlled? Look at him. This boy could walk around New York City and he'd be no more an exposure risk than you or me. I have a lot of faith in Jeremy, but I'm still amazed by the job he's done.”

Jeremy murmured a thank-you as the rest of the Pack pitched in with congratulations of varying degrees of sincerity.

Dominic continued. “Jeremy, I know there's still two months to go on that year's probation, but I've made my decision. The boy is yours, and he's a member of the Pack.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy said.

From Jeremy's other side, Raymond Santos cleared his throat. “Shouldn't we … give the kid some kind of test. I agree Jeremy
appears
to have done a good job—”

“Appears?” Dominic said, skewering Raymond with a glare. “Clayton, come up here. Jorge? Grab me today's paper.”

Dominic pushed back his chair and lifted me onto his lap. The boys at the children's table took advantage of the break to pull their chairs close enough to hear. When Jorge brought in the newspaper, Dominic laid it in front of us.

“Can you read the headlines, Clayton?”

I nodded.

“Well, you go ahead and read me what you can, then.”

I selected the first article, a piece on the Vietnam War. I stumbled over a few of the place names, but managed to get through the whole article. When I finished, the room was silent.

Dominic looked at Raymond. “How about you ask Daniel to read the same piece?”

From the end of the table, Cliff said, “Hey, Jeremy? Think while you're teaching him to read you can teach him to
speak?
Kid sounds like a goddamned hillbilly.”

A few chuckles greeted this. This was the first time anyone had mentioned my accent—I talked so little that it usually wasn't apparent. I suppose it makes sense that when I regained my language skills, I'd speak as I always had. Jeremy had certainly never commented on it.

“He sounds just fine,” Dominic said, patting me on the back. “Nothing wrong with being different. As for the reading, I'll be the first to say school smarts aren't everything. No one in my family ever went past high school and we do just fine. My point is that the boy can learn, and learn quickly. I have no concerns about Clayton's future with this Pack.”

“Nor do I,” said Antonio.

Gregory and Jorge added their agreement, quieter but equally firm. Dennis Stillwell and Ross Werner chimed in with their support. The Santos brothers and Cliff Ward said nothing. That was fine; they were permitted to disagree. Only the Alpha's decision mattered.

“Now,” Dominic continued. “Speaking of the Pack and the future, I've been considering something for a while, and seeing how well Jeremy has done with Clayton has only confirmed my feelings on the matter. As you know, when Jorge came of age, I allowed Jeremy to mentor him, guide him through his early Changes. That was Jeremy's idea and, although I'll admit I didn't see the need for it, Jorge thought he'd like to try it. The transition
from a boy to a full werewolf is never easy, but Jeremy made it smoother. Jorge learned control much faster and his Changes come easier.”

Jorge nodded. “I remember what Peter went through, and I had a far easier time of it.”

“Everyone's transition is different,” Wally said. “Peter's was tough. Mine wasn't. There are a million factors. You can't take one example—”

“Of course you can't,” Dominic said. “And that's why I'm thoroughly testing this theory of Jeremy's by having him try the same with the other boys as they come of age.”

“What?” Stephen squawked, but his father shushed him.

“Furthermore,” Dominic said, “last year Jeremy asked for permission to tutor the adolescent boys, so they're better prepared for their first Change. I'm granting him permission to do so, starting today. After lunch, Joey, Andrew and Stephen will go with Jeremy for a few hours. They'll do the same at each Meet until they reach their first Change.”

“Cool,” Joey said.

Stephen and Andrew shot Joey looks that said he'd pay for his enthusiasm later.

Raymond cleared his throat.

“Yes, Ray,” Dominic said, his voice heavy with warning.

“I, uh, don't entirely disagree with the
idea
of someone prep-ping my boys for their first Change. But Jeremy… ?”

“And what is wrong with Jeremy?” Dominic asked, infusing the words with a near-growl.

Raymond glanced at Wally for support.

“Jeremy's very young,” Wally said. “Not only to be taking on a position of this responsibility but, don't forget, he only went through his own Change a few years ago—”

“Which is exactly why he's the right person for the job. He still
remembers what it was like. I've made my decision. End of discussion.”

Dominic picked me up off his lap and plunked me on the floor. “You've done well, Clayton. Now go play with Nicky and Daniel. Jeremy, take the rest of the boys into the living room. Antonio, you can help Jeremy if you like. Everyone else, amuse yourselves until dinner. I'll be in my office.”

Before anyone could say another word, Dominic walked out. Antonio murmured something to Jeremy, then rounded up the three older boys and shepherded them from the room. Jeremy followed.

“What do you want to do?” Nick asked me.

“Can we go outside?” I asked.

“Sure. Let's go.”

As we headed for the door, I glanced over my shoulder to see Daniel trailing along behind us.

“Don't worry,” Nick whispered. “We'll ditch him as soon as we're out of the house.”

And with that we left.

We pulled on our shoes and coats, and went out the back door. Daniel followed.

“Once we get to the path, run,” Nick whispered. “Keep running until he gives up.”

As plans went, this sounded somewhat primitive, but Nick had the experience in this matter, so I went along with it.

The path led into the forest behind the house. It started behind a wooden shed, which meant that by the time we reached it, we were out of view of the house, so no one would see us abandon Daniel.

When we reached the path, Nick took a quick look around, then whispered, “Run!”

I quickly discovered one drawback to the plan. A werewolf's special skills are intended to improve our chances of survival. Yet Mother Nature is selective with her gifts, apportioning no more than necessary. She gave us additional strength for fighting off our enemies, so that was what we were designed to do when faced with danger: fight, not run. In wolf form we run as fast as a wolf and in human form we run as fast as a human. So Nick, who
had a tall, long-legged build, was a whole lot faster than Daniel… and a whole lot faster than me.

After a quarter-mile of enduring Daniel panting at my heels and Nick's impatient waves for me to catch up, I stopped and turned to face Daniel.

“Go away,” I said.

He looked past me to Nick who was jogging back to us. “Your grandpa said you're supposed to play with me.”

“I didn't hear that,” Nick said. “You hear that, Clayton?”

This didn't seem like a good time to become talkative, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Your grandpa said—”

“He said Clayton was supposed to play with you and me. But I'm not playing with you, so Clayton can't play with us both, can he? He has to pick.” Nick stepped up beside me. “Who do you pick, Clayton? Me or him?”

One could point out that this was a pivotal moment, and had I refused to choose one boy over the other or suggested that we all play together, I would have saved myself a whole lot of pain twenty-five years later, might have even saved the lives of two people I cared about. Call it denial, but I don't see it that way. I honestly believe that had I acted differently, things would have turned out the same, that there were too many other factors that built up over those twenty-five years to blame it on something as simplistic as this.

The truth is that I was incapable of making any other decision. Even to call it a decision implied a choice between two options. For me, there was only one answer. Nick had been nice to me; Daniel had not. I have zero capacity for political insight—I cannot look at a situation like this, mentally play out both sides and make a conscious choice based on what might be the politic thing to do, what might earn the best long-term results.

“I want to play with Nick,” I said.

Another boy might have flaunted his victory by grinning at his opponent or sticking out his tongue. Nick just nodded, waved for me to follow him and raced down the path. I tore off after him. As for Daniel, I don't know what he did. It never occurred to me to look back.

Nick led me to the middle of the forest, where Antonio had built him a tree fort. It was no more than eight feet off the ground— high enough to be fun, but not high enough to be dangerous. We climbed up and Nick took two bottles of soda and a bag of beef jerky from his secret stash.

“I know I shouldn't be mean to Danny,” he said as we opened our bottles. “Pack brothers and all that but, man, he is such a sneaky little shit. Sometimes I play with him, because I'm supposed to and there's no one else my age, right? And I'm nice to him, share my stuff and everything, and he pretends to be really nice back, so I think, okay, he's not so bad. But then, later, when his brothers get going, making fun of me, saying I'm stupid and spoiled and stuff, Danny's right there with them, laughing at their jokes, calling me names.” Nick champed off a piece of beef jerky. “You know any kids like that?”