AgathaHart
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Grayscale Ch7
🕑 Added 2016-10-19 11:43:51 +0000 UTC Nothing more fun than getting up early to pay bills! Thought I'd add a Patreon update since I've got time!***
Koz dozed a little, but he was just awake enough to know that Jack never returned when he nodded off. This was worrying, but he dismissed it. Manny wasn’t half the threat he’d been before Jack was bitten, and Koz didn’t doubt that the Czar would rather have him join up than kill him. He figured Jack had gone off, decided not to come back, and slept somewhere else. When the early morning birds started to rise, he began to worry.
He didn’t want a repeat performance of the first day on the island; he didn’t want Jack to return to the druid circle to think Koz had abandoned him. Jack mistrusted him enough right now. But what if something had happened to him?
Koz bit his lip, his thoughts going back and forth before he shook his head. No, if Jack came back, he’d just keep tracking him until he found him. Then explain and apologize profusely… since that worked so well last night. He sighed.
He left the druid circle, following Jack’s trail through the gloomy trees. At first he searched for footprints and broken fauna as he made his way through the brush, then he remembered his enhanced sense of smell.
The air was cool but humid. Koz found he could follow Jack’s scent without needing to crouch and track. The lingering moisture held the scent trail fresh longer than usual. He walked normally, following Jack’s scent in a west-ward direction.
He kept his head high, scenting the air for any trace of Jack returning. Occasionally he called for him, but all he heard was the chatter of early birds and the rustle of leaves. He wasn’t sure if Jack was in a forgiving enough mood to respond anyway.
Koz’s feet crunched through dead leaves and twigs and he swatted midges from his face. It was getting warmer. The light streaming between the foliage had turned from dark blue to purple.
Koz hadn’t thought Jack would go so far, and yet he had couldn’t find any place heavy enough with Jack’s scent to indicate he’d stopped to rest for the night. “Jack!” He called. Had he gotten lost? He seemed to be heading in a fairly straight line for someone who’d lost their way.
A breeze blew from the west and Koz lifted his head and inhaled deeply, trying to catch a whiff of his companion, but all he smelled was exhaust and asphalt. The highway. His stomach turned in dread. Jack had walked to the highway.
“Shit.” Koz turned and ran back the way he’d come. If Jack had gotten picked up by a driver, he might be home already by now! “Shit!” Koz sprinted back towards the lake and the scene of last night’s party. He didn’t know how he might catch up to the boy, but he’d probably at least need his car.
***
Jack walked slowly towards Burgess along the highway’s shoulder. There were very few drivers out so late, but he dutifully put his thumb out for each pair of headlights he saw, hoping for a ride.
Each time the vehicle would pass him by until finally a semi-truck pulled over for him.
Jack was a little wary. He’d dealt with his fair share of creeps and knew about the reputation truckers had with female hitchhikers. Still, he figured there must be some advantages to being a werewolf. He could always let loose his control a little, and go just wolfy enough to and scare the crap out of the guy if he tried anything funny.
This plan flew out of his head as soon as he climbed up into the cab and was greeted by a very small, very excited poodle, wearing a leather-studded vest that said ‘Bad to the Bone’ on the back.
The poodle yipped and skipped across Jack’s lap, licking at his face.
“C’mon Gilly-girl,” the driver said, his mustache bouncing as he spoke, “be cool.”
He pulled the semi back onto the road and Gilly settled on the seat between the two of them, alert and watching the scenery beside the road.
“So you a student at the college or what?” The driver asked.
“Um… yeah,” Jack lied. “Car broke down on my way home and no phone so…”
The trucker grunted and scratched the poodle’s ears. “Probably would’ve been faster to head back to Claussen,” he said. “Would’ve taken you all night to get to Burgess.”
“Yeah, but I live at home, so I thought I should just… y’know. Don’t want my mom to worry.” Jack twiddled his fingers on his shorts. He felt odd. He was wearing stolen clothes, he’d been through this crazy nightmare/adventure, and now he was here, hitchhiking home.
“Why you think I picked you up, kid?” The trucker said, “I saw you and thought: that kid’s probably got somebody worried about him, wondering where he is.”
Jack felt a little guilty at that. Koz was probably wondering where he was right now. He shook his head as if to shake away the thought. He didn’t care what Koz was doing! His mother was definitely worried about him, and had been for weeks now. He was going home.
He leaned his head against the window and watched the trees go by, nothing but a darker patch against the night sky. He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke the rig was slowing down as it pulled onto the exit ramp towards Burgess.
It was still dark out, that much he knew immediately. He blinked sleepily as Gilly squirmed beside him, hopping over his lap to look out the window. He rubbed his eyes and looked up ahead to see the blaring white lights of a 7/11. A familiar 7/11.
The semi pulled up at the gas station’s edge. As soon as they’d stopped Jack gently pulled Gilly off his lap and hopped out of the cab. “Thanks for the ride,” he said. He heaved the door shut just as the driver rolled down the window. Gilly yipped in excitement as she pranced about and watched him from the window.
“You need me to drop you off someplace?” The driver asked.
“No thank you, I live just down the street.” Jack waved goodbye and set off. He hadn’t lied. The 7/11 really was just up the block from his house. He could see his mailbox from here.
He shoved his hands in his pant-pockets and walked, although he almost felt like running. He felt kind of bashful. What do you say to someone who thinks you’re dead? That your dad maybe murdered you? Who’s already started mourning? Gosh, the neighbors were going to freak out. The whole town probably would – he’d made it into the newspaper! Somehow waltzing up to the front door, knocking, and announcing ‘Not dead’ didn’t seem appropriate.
He was also afraid. Was his dad home or had he been detained for questioning? If the police thought he might’ve killed Jack, he could be in prison!
The 7/11’s lights threw shadows all down the street and Jack stared at the long shadow stretching out before him, trying not to let fear take hold of him. The night was quiet, the neighborhood still asleep, so Jack jumped in surprise when Gilly’s sharp barks echoed from the gas station parking lot.
A quick glance revealed the little poodle had been let down from the cab and was standing next to the tire pump at the edge of the lot, barking her head off. Even from a few houses down, Jack could hear the driver hushing her. The tiny dog was incensed though, barking and snarling, her whole body tensed in defense-mode as she edged back towards the semi.
Jack followed her gaze to the treeline, just at the edge of the lot. The convenience store lights were bright, but the branches were too thick to see far beyond the trees.
Jack felt a tingle along the back of his neck as his arms broke out in goosebumps.
‘Probably a raccoon,’ he reassured himself. Why would it be anything else? How could one of Manny’s pack have followed him? He shuddered. They had driven a long way going maybe seventy or eighty miles an hour. Could a werewolf keep up with that?
Jack hurried his steps. He may have talked big to Koz, but he was afraid of running into Manny’s pack. Even if he was immune to their bites now, he wasn’t keen on getting mauled again. He almost wished Koz were here. But maybe it was Koz. Maybe he’d followed Jack?
Jack nearly broke into a run as his unease grew, but remembered at the last moment that you weren’t supposed to run from wild animals – it only encouraged them to attack – so he resisted the urge. He walked quickly up to his front door, so frazzled he barely registered his own joy at standing on this porch once more. He was just being paranoid, he told himself. He’d been on the run from supernatural monsters for weeks now, of course he’d still be antsy now.
He could see the specks of purple where his sister had spilled nail polish on the sidewalk, the bushes next to the steps where a stray cat had once had a litter of kittens. The paint along the door was chipped and scratched in places, marking Jack’s height as he’d grown, even though it had driven his mother crazy for him to scratch up her house.
He reached up above the doorframe, a feat once impossible for him, and groped blindly until his fingers met the chill of metal. He pulled the key down from on top of the doorframe and slid it in the lock, pausing as he realized that it might be a little alarming for his family if he suddenly appeared inside the house.
He stopped and replaced the key over the door. The doorbell was broken and had been for as long as Jack could remember. Heart in his throat, he knocked on the door.
He waited a breathless moment, shaking from head to toe, though he wasn’t sure why. In the distance he heard a deep rumbling as the semi pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway. The deep silence left in its wake sent a shiver down his spine. He’d grown accustomed to the sounds of the forest at night.
The hair raised on the back of his neck. He should at least be hearing crickets chirp – the forest started at the edge of his backyard - but all was quiet.
He bit his lip. Everyone was probably asleep and if his father weren’t at home, his mother might not even answer the door. He tried again, stealing his nerve and knocking louder, more insistently.
He bounced on the balls of his feet, adrenaline coursing through him. Maybe his mom had decided to stay at a friend’s house?
Sound hit him like a thunderclap – an explosion of noise, there and then gone again. It was his only warning.
He backed away. No, no, no, no! Not now! He couldn’t have a sensory attack now!
He clapped his hands over his ears as he slouched over, braced for pain, but that didn’t stop the rising wave of sound. He could hear his own blood rushing through the veins in his hands. He gasped in alarm and agony and his own breathing sounded like a thunderous gale. He opened eyes he didn’t remember closing and looked up at the front door.
He couldn’t let his mother see him like this – maybe after he’d talked to her first, but not right off the bat. He wasn’t even sure if he could talk to her; if a sound louder than a heartbeat came to his ears, his eardrums might burst.
He staggered back, nearly falling down the steps. The sound of his own footsteps was like a bludgeon to his senses, so overwhelming he couldn’t even think straight enough to keep his feet under him.
He fell onto the grass at the front lawn and curled into a ball, palms white against his head as he tried to drown out the noise. He opened watery eyes and looked at the blurry grass just before his eyes.
What was it Koz had said? Focus on something else.
There was a terrifying crunching noise growing closer and closer, ragged wind and tearing, breaking – Hell and who knew else what - sounds so distorted by volume they couldn’t be identified and all Jack could do was press his hands over his ears and hope the insistent throbbing of his own pulse would drown out the jagged edges of sound that pierced through his senses.
He gasped for breath and just registered a foul taste in the air. Foul enough to notice, foul enough to distract him.
He breathed deeply through the nose and took in the rough, musky scent. It was familiar somehow, like something he’d smelled not that long ago. It was nighttime then too. He had been with Koz – the night he’d first found out Koz was a werewolf! He’d smelled just like this.
Jack lifted his aching head. “Koz,” he whined softly, tears pricking at his eyes.
A cold nose pressed firmly against his cheek, hot breath ghosting across his skin. The tactile sensation was so contradictory and shocking coupled with the strong scent – Jack could feel the world slowly quieting down around him.
He blinked back tears, eyes focusing on the muzzle gently nuzzling against his cheek. It was white.
He jerked away, leaping to his feet, still dizzy and shaking from the attack.
The wolf jumped, startled at Jack’s sudden movement. Up close, the supernatural glow from its eyes was bright as a flashlight and . . . green, not red. So it was a white wolf, but not the White Wolf.
The two stared at each other a moment in mutual surprise and alarm, then there came a crash like shattering glass from around the side of the house.
Jack jumped. What the hell was that? Then he realized - if there was one werewolf here, there might be another! He bolted around the side of the house. The white wolf followed after with a hesitant growl.
Jack skidded on the dewy grass and saw a brown she-wolf struggling to pull her head out of what remained of the kitchen window, glass shards dropping from her thick ruff, although her face was covered in bloody scratches. She hardly noticed Jack. Instead she stood on her hind legs and gingerly pawed the last of the glass out of the way.
Jack’s felt cold. There were werewolves at his home and they were trying to get in.
“I’m calling the police!” Even the wolves jumped in surprise as Jack’s mother shouted from within the house.
The sound of her voice made Jack want to cry. He wanted to call out for her – but didn’t dare. He heard a door slam shut somewhere upstairs and he prayed his mother did more than lock herself and his sister in her room. They’d need a barricade to keep out these monsters.
The she-wolf hopped up onto the window-ledge, balanced precariously as she squeezed her large frame through the comparatively small opening.
Jack saw red. He charged forward, stumbling as his legs warped beneath him. His clothes shrank, threatening to choke him before he tore through them entirely. He fell on all fours and hit the ground running, a roar bursting from his throat as he tackled the she-wolf. She yelped as her body was wrenched to the side, her back legs losing their purchase while she scrambled to pull herself inside with her forelimbs.
She was trying to get inside, away from Jack – but more importantly, towards his family. The thought of her harming them filled Jack with a bestial rage. He grabbed hold of her hind leg and yanked. There came a sickening pop and the she-wolf screamed in pain, but Jack wouldn’t stop. He barely registered what he’d done. His thoughts were murky, clouded out by two instincts: protect and fight.
He clamped down on the she-wolf’s hind limb and shook, wrenching her dislocated foot even further.
The she-wolf cried and kicked at him with her other back leg.
The white wolf was on him in a moment. They rolled clumsily head-over-tails before lurching to a stop. Jack jumped to his feet, fueled by a panicky aggression. He lunged for the white wolf’s flank, forcing his opponent to feint back, snarling, ears back, tail between his legs. He was small, Jack registered. Young. A pup. The female too. He felt no pity though – only a cold confidence that he would win. He darted forward and snapped at the white pup’s muzzle, almost enjoying how the wolf flinched back, his body lowering slightly.
Jack’s ears turned around at the clatter behind him and he turned his head to look. The she-wolf had pulled herself back out of the window and landed in an ungainly heap.
Jack charged at her and she scurried away while her male companion darted forward with a snarl. Jack whirled on him and instantly the pup’s ears flattened. He bore his teeth, but his tail hugged his belly.
The female shrank away, moving unsteadily on her damaged limb.
Every move Jack made, the white wolf put himself between him and the she-wolf, all the while displaying obvious signs of his own fear. Still, he clung stubbornly to bravery until the female had ducked into the woods.
The pup glanced nervously from Jack to the edge of the yard before bolting for the forest. Jack gave chase, snarling at his heels, more to chase him from his territory than for any intent to do harm. He followed him to the edge of the treeline and then the fur rose on the back of his neck.
Up ahead, the two pups scurried toward two sets of glowing eyes. Jack’s hackles rose, and he growled uncertainly.
The two watchers were larger than the pups who’d attacked Jack’s home. The injured female hobbled toward them, head bowed, ears flat, tail between her legs. The male followed after, body low to the ground in the face of his older pack members.
One of the wolves growled at them while the other glared at Jack. Jack didn’t break eye contact until the sound of sirens broke out in the distance.
As one, the four pack members started into the woods.
Jack remained, unsure. This was his home wasn’t it? He should stay, right? But he shouldn’t? Why not? He couldn’t remember. But he did remember when the sun came up, he’d be a human again. He’d be able to think better then, but he’d also be vulnerable. He needed to hide.
***
Koz jogged back the way he’d come, trying to stave off fear. He was usually better at shutting down such emotions when he needed to, but Jack had gotten to him. He couldn’t break off his feelings towards him any more than he could towards North or Bunny.
He tore past the druid circle and found the creek he and Jack had followed the night before. He slipped and slid over the damp stones, feet kicking up wet sand in his wake.
The wind shifted and he had a moment to breathe in the new scents it carried before he stopped dead. The hair rose on the back of his neck. Even though dawn had broke and the beast in him should have been at rest, he still felt an animalistic fear rise in him. He scented the breeze again to be sure – but there was no mistaking it – he smelled blood, and there was a lot.
Koz moved carefully after that, eyes and ears strained and scenting the wind for anything other than the stench of blood and decaying flesh.
The smell grew stronger and stronger until he’d come to the end of the stream, where the water’s steady trickle merged into the lake. Here on the bank, Koz found the source of the smell easily.
The gloom put a fuzzy edge to the scene, so it seemed almost like a dream. But there they were: the tents from the night before were torn to shreds, down and fluff from the campers’ sleeping bags lay strewn about, soaked red so they blended in with the campers bloodied remains.
A few Koz recognized as teens at the party from the night before, the rest were either face-down or torn beyond recognition. Teeth and claw marks stood out against lifeless flesh. Bloody paw prints patterned the beach.
He swallowed bile and moved away from the bank, hoping to avoid walking through the scene. Flies buzzed around the beach in a frenzy, swarms surrounding the bloodier forms. An eager crow pecked at the red-stained sand and hopped towards one of the still bodies. Koz picked up a pebble by his foot and threw it at the bird. The crow squawked and flew off. He’d be back soon though - and with friends. This was a feast for carrion birds and Koz would rather not be present to witness it.
The whole scene reminded him of his wife’s death, but he had practice shutting that out. Besides, he’d been to a wendigo’s nest, this was nothing.
Still, when he got in his van on the other side of the massacre, having stepped around several bodies laying further away from the beach, he paused to take a few deep breaths.
He knew Manny was not afraid to spill blood. He’d heard plenty of horror stories about the White Wolf, but it was a little different seeing it for himself. And what purpose did it serve? He’d mistaken his wife, Jo, for a threat and had turned Jack out of some twisted desire for kinship (or else on accident) but why had these children needed to die?
Was it because of Koz? Was this some show of force to intimidate him and Jack into joining Manny’s pack? Or a warning to not cross him? No. He remembered, they’d showed up last night smelling like blood. Jamie had even had blood on his muzzle.
Jack had said that Jamie had hunted him as part of a test – an initiation. If Jamie hadn’t been the one to turn Jack, did that mean that Jamie hadn’t passed his initiation? Was killing those campers his and his sisters’ second chance?
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for speculation. The blood bath was bound to draw more attention than birds and bugs, and he didn’t want to be caught loitering when the police turned up.
He needed to stop and report the wolf attack to Mr. Qwerty and tell him he was on the case before Bunny or North tried to step in. Then he’d find Jack. He put the van in gear and pulled away from the scene of the massacre, frowning as he saw another crow fly in just as he pulled out.
When he was able to breathe without the scent of blood making him want to gag, he rolled the windows, hoping to catch a whiff of Jack on the breeze – but he couldn’t be so lucky.
He cursed as he pulled out of the park, using the same pass as he had last night to slip through security. Jack could be anywhere! All Koz knew was that he lived in Burgess, but he had no idea where. He didn’t even know Jack’s last name!
The newspaper might have it – but Jack was a minor so they shouldn’t have released it. No, wait! Jack wasn’t a minor, Koz had nearly forgotten. If he could get his hands on one of those newspapers, he could find Jack’s last name. Maybe then he could find him in the phone book. Burgess wasn’t a large town, so long as Jack’s last name wasn’t something outrageously common, he was sure he could find him.
He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do after that.
He didn’t want to kill Jack – it wasn’t even an option at this point. That didn’t mean he trusted him alone. Whether Jack wanted it or not, he would change and he would attack humans if he could. At the very least, Koz needed to keep in contact with Jack so the boy would have him if he needed him. And if Jack did want to explain things to his parents, it might help to have someone there to back up his story and maybe provide a buffer between Jack and his father.
Koz grit his teeth to think he might have to meet and make nice with such a person.
He drove past a road sign announcing an approaching exit for Burgess. He’d get off there, he decided. There was a gas station just off the exit that he knew of. He might be able to find a newspaper with the article about Jack, and he might as well grab a coffee and some breakfast while he was at it. He wasn’t hungry, but he’d need the fuel in the likely event that he’d be spending the whole day searching.
He pulled off onto the exit ramp and drove into the 7/11 parking lot.
Instantly, he noticed a commotion going on down the street.
The sun wasn’t even up and people were standing in their doorways, on their porches, crowding the cracked sidewalks and generally milling about. Most of them were wearing pajamas with sneakers or jackets hastily pulled on. In the midst of it all was a police car, flashing lights throwing red and blue across the street and splashing the pavement with stark shadows.
The houses along the street weren’t dilapidated, it wasn’t a bad looking part of town, but neither was it a squeaky-clean suburb. It wasn’t too surprising to see the police there, but then an animal control van pulled in down the block.
Koz’s heart sank. He pulled out of the convenience store lot and drove slowly down the street. He looked plenty suspicious, but he also blended in – what was one more snoop amongst the crowd?
Koz pulled up to the curb near a set of antsy-looking neighbor women. He rolled down the window, smiled, and turned the posh in his accent up to an eleven. “My!” He said, “What’s going on over there?”
“A bear broke through their window!” One of the neighbors said excitedly.
“Or a mountain lion!” Cut in another. “We aren’t quite sure. Nobody really saw much.”
Koz held back his relief. “Good God, I hope no one was hurt?”
“No, no.” The neighbor lady shook her head.
“Thank goodness!” Koz said, and he meant it. He doubted that whatever had broken in was a mountain lion or a bear. Perhaps Jack hadn’t been able to get a lift and had changed in order to get home faster? He might be hiding in the woods at this very moment, waiting for the commotion to die down.
Koz thanked the neighbor ladies, disentangling himself as quickly as he could from a conversation about his accent. He drove a few blocks and parked around the corner, then left the vehicle and headed towards the treeline on foot.
When he felt he was far enough into the woods that he wouldn’t be spotted from the outside, he started back towards the commotion, keeping his senses alert for any sign of the boy-turned-wolf.
His heart pounded as he crept through the trees, the thrill of the hunt fanning his adrenaline – but he tried to force the feeling away. This wasn’t a hunt. He kept low with his weapon out and down. He didn’t want to be mistaken for a mountain lion and shot, but neither did he want to get attacked by a rampaging werewolf. He’d written Jack off as a non-threat, but he wasn’t so sure about his wolfish side. If Jack saw him as a danger now . . .
He whirled at the snap of branches behind him.
Even in the gloom he could clearly make out Jacks’ snowy-white fur.
“Jack?” He said, his voice low, ready to raise his weapon at any sign of aggression. He didn’t want to harm Jack anymore now that the boy hated him more than he had before, but he didn’t want to get laid up when they were both in such a vulnerable position either.
He was in luck though. Jack whined and shuffled toward him slowly, ears back and eyes wide, the fur on the back of his neck fluffed up. He was clearly distressed, but his eyes flickered around – away from Koz – so it wasn’t Koz who had him so anxious.
It might have been the police, who were shining flashlights into the trees not far from where they stood.
“Come on, Jack,” Koz said, urging the young wolf to follow him as he turned and made back towards his car. Jack hurried to follow after, nearly knocking Koz over as he clung to his side, whining softly. “Shhh!” Koz hissed. He wasn’t sure if animal control had started combing the woods for the ‘mountain lion’ but he knew he didn’t want to by found by them.
Suddenly he caught a stench on the breeze and froze. Beside him, Jack also went still, ears pricking and leathery black nose flaring as he scented the wind.
Koz could smell wolves – other wolves – but he couldn’t see them.
Jack growled into the brush. Koz put a hand on his ruff, thinking he might grab hold if Jack tried to bolt into the trees. The instant he touched him and felt the muscles beneath his hand, he realized this would be impossible – this was not some little pup he could grab hold of. But then he didn’t need to. Jack seemed to calm under his touch. He licked his lips and settled back against Koz.
“C’mon,” Koz urged, giving Jack’s ruff – loose now that he wasn’t so tense – a soft tug. Jack followed him willingly.
Those onlookers who were still out were thankfully too distracted talking to one another or else looking towards the trees to notice Koz and a 200-pound white wolf run across the street.
Koz had just managed to squeeze Jack into the back of his car when the sun peeped over the horizon.
A quick run-through of their things while Jack changed confirmed that while the van still had all the groceries they’d purchased from the day before (and thank goodness he hadn’t bought any refrigerated items) he didn’t have any clothes for Jack to wear.
He slipped off his jacket just as the younger man shifted into human form and his tremors stilled. He wrapped the jacket around the young man’s narrow shoulders.
Jack sat up jerkily, pulling the edges of the coat tight around himself. He swallowed and shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs from the night before. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, eyes distant as he tried to remember how to form words.
“Manny—” he spoke haltingly, his words still clumsy. “His wolves were here.”
“I know,” Koz said.
Jack looked up at him with damp eyes, the scent of fear rolling off of him. “They know where my family lives.”
