Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Humans and Monsters ❯ Meetings and Reunions ( Chapter 8 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: Smortz

The Pointless Disclaimer: This is my story and my take on the strange monsters our humanity has created. Reviews and messages are appreciated. If there are any typos or grammatical errors I am sorry. I re-read and edit all my chapters at least four times but it's hard to catch them.

Chapter 8

Elinore watched the two men in front of her with a strange stare. There was a tension between them that had her uneasy. Death threats flying though the air with no words said.

“So,” she put out into the air.

When they only looked at her like a specimen underneath a microscope she sighed heavily. Standing up off the couch she almost winced when they both stood up as well.

“No, no,” she returned, “sit down. Do you want something to drink?”

When the stranger gave her a smile she almost melted. The way the golden eyes bore into her. Those eyes were different than Landon's, they held a string of blue. She preferred Landon's golden green, like a sun setting over a grassy field.

“Drink?” She asked.

Landon began to laugh, chuckling under his breath before he hunched over holding his stomach.

“Interesting,” the stranger remarked. She didn't have time to blink, he seemed to vanish and appear about three inches in front of her. She could feel his breath as his hands clutched her throat.

His nails grew. They grew thick, sharp. He backed her up until her hips hit the counter. A thought struck her. He hadn't hurt her; his nails weren't digging into her. She could still breathe.

“You're not scared anymore,” he remarked.

“You're not hurting me anymore,” she returned.

She heard Landon sigh, almost in relief. “Porter,” Landon said almost as a warning.

The nails disappeared, the hand relaxing to rub her neck where he had held before pulling it back to rest in his pocket.

“Landon,” Porter began, “why don't you order something to eat, Chinese perhaps?”

Landon gave a nod and look to Elinore. Elinore cleared her throat, “There's numbers for the food places around here by the phone, on the stand by the front door.”

She then looked to Porter, “Drink?”

Porter gazed over the counter. Near the sink were two liter bottles of punches, fruit soda and other caffeinated sodas. Smirking, almost childishly, Elinore noted, he spoke up, “Grape please.”

She couldn't help the giggle, “Ice?”

He nodded, “Do you have a straw?”

“Of course!” She returned, getting to work on pouring him a glass of grape soda.

“Not very typical werewolf of you,” she remarked as she poured herself a fruit punch. “Landon do you-.”

“No,” he cut off instantly, almost snapping at seeing them in an actually friendly conversation.

“So Elinore, how is the magazine? That's actually why I'm here,” Porter asked, sitting back on the couch and bringing his feet up on the coffee table.

Elinore scoffed, “Feet.”

Porter raised an eyebrow at her, but moved his feet nonetheless. It was weird, to have a woman resist his eyes and tell him to move.

In a strange way it was refreshing.

“My magazine is doing perfectly fine,” she answered.

“And this is not some way to unleash our existence?” Porter asked seriously, opening his senses to sense for any lies.

“No,” she said, and it was in all honesty, “There are some things that should remain fairytales and childhood nightmares.”

Porter nodded in agreement, “You can keep this promise?”

“If someone was to try to torture the information out of me, I wouldn't give in,” she assured him.

Elinore took a sip before Landon joined, setting the phone on the coffee table and regaining his seat in the sofa chair between Elinore and Porter. “Your father,” Porter began, sensing her tension on the subject.

“He died twice, according to Landon, and the urn was filled with something other than your father?” He clarified.

Elinore only nodded. “Y-You can stop him, just keep him away from my mother?” She asked.

Porter nodded slowly, his eyebrow rising, “You're not worried about yourself though.” It wasn't a statement. He could sense her, the worry she held for her self was no where near the amount she worried for her mother. It was like a soccer ball compared to a pebble of dirt.

“H-He never gave her a break, he was always doing something to her, sh-she deserved better,” she explained. Landon looked to Porter, trying to sense his comfort level.

Like Landon, Porter was reading her like a book. The fear in her eyes causing the sorrow in his. “We will find him, even if I have to go to different packs,” Porter forced out.

“Until then, I want you to be under close supervision,” Porter began his lament.

“That's not necessary,” Elinore returned, “L-.”

“Seals? Doesn't work against family, no matter how much you hate your father, his blood runs through your veins,” Porter proclaimed watching her shiver at the mere mention of his blood and her veins.

“What do you have in mind then?”

“My house,” he spoke up almost instantly.

“Fuck no!” Landon shouted. “No way will she go to that house, with you nonetheless.”

“Then your apartment, with that descendent? What happens if a case comes up, and you must leave?” He asked, “Or, what happens if he does come, you can not deal with one werewolf alone, even with your experience.”

“Nor can you!” Landon said in his defense angrily.

“My house, Landon, my house is more then one of me,” he returned. “Elinore, you know we are strong, I do not need to prove it. If I need to drag you there I will, but Landon has us taking this seriously, which means I have to be serious about it.”

“That's no fun,” Elinore pouted.

“No fun at all,” he agreed with a smirk.

“So when does all this happen?” Elinore asked.

Landon groaned, “You're okay with this? You're intelligence is shockingly low!”

“Do I have a choice?” She asked almost irritated.

Porter chuckled as he watched her out from the fire escape from her bedroom window. “Too funny,” he whispered to himself.

His very own interesting reporter was singing Ain't That A Kick In The Head along with Dean Martin's CD as she danced around the bedroom. He couldn't say he was enthusiastic in the troubles that they'd have to be put in. He was just thankful she could take the troubles out of his mind momentarily.

Earlier when he'd sensed no fear he knew that she'd dealt with the look in his eyes before. That had confirmed the need to find this stray wolf. A werewolf that could put that much fear into someone, where they don't show it any more, they were it permanently, a werewolf like that was to be killed.

The song changed and she paused as if awaiting for the next beat. This was anything but classy. It was a remix of Julie London's Sway along with Dean Martin. He could've drooled watching her.

The dance she'd been slightly into with the first classical song was elegant and playful while this, this was almost completely different, the only thing similar was the woman performing it.

Her fingers wrapped around the bed post as she swung her hips back and forth to the ground as if in a tango seduction.

She knew how to dance, if given a partner, he wouldn't doubt it. Maybe it was dance lessons at a young age, college performing arts maybe? He didn't know, but he had to stow it away in his mind for safe keeping.

“I told you, I didn't like you being around her and her apartment,” Landon growled, shaking the fire escape grate as he crouched next to him.

Porter watched his eyes go from that human disguise to the golden color he knew would be a reaction to her tango.

Elinore was twirling to her bathroom then, running the shower as she let down her hair and ran her hands through it, dipping her back down to almost the floor before back up.

“Beautifully done, like a professional,” Porter congratulated.

Landon snarled at him causing her to snap her head in their direction.

Porter sighed, knowing that they couldn't escape even with their speed, not on a fire escape. “Shit,” he cursed.

“Oh my god!” She gasped.

Landon knew that for a human woman to be caught wearing white lace panties and a black spaghetti strap sleeping top it was a huge deal. Porter however didn't interact with humans enough, thinking that she were an ordinary female werewolf. However, they weren't as modest.

“You look ravishing-.”

A slap echoed the room, Porter's eyes wide as he peeled the chemical covered rag off his face. She'd cleaned the sink with it.

“Y-You've been watching me?!” She shouted as she pulled on a silk robe that covered the panties by three inches. The silky baby blue robe did little to help the men cope with their desires.

Landon innocently held a finger up to point at Porter, which only served him a scowl.

“We were only making sure you were safe,” Porter returned.

Landon gapped at him, “Don't say it like we were here together, I showed up about fifteen seconds ago!”

Elinore gasped and stared at him in shock, “Fifteen seconds? You were still spying on my through my fire escape!”

Landon opened his mouth and then closed it, “I was making sure that he wasn't here!”

“You have excellent taste in music,” Porter intervened.

“Get inside,” she growled, “now.”

Landon and Porter nodded and she grumbled something under her breath as Porter shut and locked the window behind him.

“I didn't see anything,” Landon murmured as he came up next to her.

“The point is,” she said, taking in a sigh, “you were spying on my fire escape.”

Porter walked between them, setting a clawed hand onto her shoulder, “When did you learn how to dance?” He asked.

“C-College, performing arts,” she answered. Porter chuckled, “So you've never danced with a man you were in love with? Your tango is quite seductive, I'm sure you could have any man you want.”

Landon hated Porter in the moment, watching her fluster up, however, the blush on her face had him almost chuckle. “I-I'm not interested in men,” she explained.

Porter's lip curled, “Don't tell me you're homosexual?”

Elinore gasped, barely smiling, “No, no, I just don't have time with the magazine and love is something that happens naturally, not something you should look for in my opinion.”

Porter nodded, “A wise take on it.”

Elinore only blushed heavier before she reached to the old sound system and paused the song. “Do you want a drink?” She asked.

Landon nodded, “That stuff you gave us before we left, th-that was really good.”

Elinore stared at him, as if trying to remember before she laughed, “T-That fruit drink? Sure I can make more.”

She tied the robe tighter around her before guiding them to the couch they sat earlier.

They'd barely sat down before the lights all shut off.

“Power outage?” Elinore asked as she began to walk over to the drawer where she had a flashlight and firestarter.

Landon and Porter both stood up at full alert. “Smell it?” Porter asked. Landon only gave a nod before Elinore turned the flashlight on.

There was a knock at her door and she startled looking at them. “Landon,” Porter ordered, Landon was beside Elinore in a moment, his hand gripping her forearm.

As Porter neared the door his nose began to hurt with the wreak of madded hair. He unlocked the dead bolt halfway up it, then reached for the knob. The door slammed open and Porter jumped back quick enough to resist having his nose smashed between a door and a wall.

“Who are you?” Porter asked.

The man stood bulky at the door, his hand against the hinge, claws splintering the wood. The wife beater he had on was clinging for life around his muscular torso. A small patch of hair was on his chin and his eyes were blazing with a dangerous hazel gold.

“D-Dad,” Elinore got out, her hand reached to grip the back of Landon's t-shirt.

“Eli,” he got out, his teeth breaking into a toothy grin.

Porter growled warningly at him. “You are trespassing in to a different packs territory,” he warned.

The man looked to Porter, his grin disappearing, a feral snarl upon his lips.

“It is family that brings me here! My kin! There's no rules that permits that!” He shouted.

His eyes went to Elinore's once again as he began to walk without hesitation or guilt to her. “Your mother, where is she?” He asked sternly.

Porter shot out in front of him, pushing him back. Elinore's dad brought his arms up to deflect it as he skidded back a few feet.

“If your kin does not wish to see you, you could be punished by death by terminating that trust,” Porter growled.

“Kill him!” Elinore shouted. Sheer fear painted her words.

Porter looked back at her, his eyes expressionless before he turned back to her father. “Take her home Landon, she is not capable of seeing our fights,” Porter ordered.

Elinore didn't know what happened then. Her feet had lifted off the floor. She'd heard something shatter, choice words tossed into air, but her body seemed weightless and surrounded by softness.

Her heartbeat was echoing in her ears. “Kill him,” she whispered again.