Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Monkey Wrench ❯ History Lesson ( Chapter 2 )

My first thought after hearing Dom's “I'd like to thank the Academy” worthy speech was “Holy shit, my brother's a werewolf.”

 

This might not be a surprise to most people, as nearly anyone before 1945 would go through a state of disbelief. However, I skipped right passed disbelief into all consuming pissed off mode. You see, questioning the veracity of Dom's assertions wasn't even a blip on my radar screen, because I knew werewolves were real.

 

In fact, I knew were-creatures in general were real, as were vampires, witches, warlocks, and the fey. Ever since the end of WWII, when the fictional supernatural things that go bump in the night turned out to be most assuredly non-fiction, the world had come to terms with their presence in our society.

 

They weren't discovered or exposed, they merely showed themselves to the masses and in fact, proved to be a great help to the war effort. They called it the “Unveiling,” which sounded a bit contrived to me but hey big surprise.

 

It seems even the supposedly long believed “evil” beings found Hitler's genocide and maniacal domination to be abominable. When Europe was implementing the Marshall Plan, it was also integrating the supernatural with the human population as well.

 

Over time, the notion of Were-beasts, Spell Casters, Faeries and Nosferatu became everyday belief and America, as an emerging superpower, saw a great influx of European SNB's (a.k.a. supernatural beings, later simply pronounced “snibs”) and seemed to accumulate a large number of both Weres and Vamps.

 

However the Soviet Union, also an emerging power, tended to repel the Snibs to the U.S. and Western Europe. Many speculated it was the colder climate that pushed the warm blooded Weres and the easily chilled Vamps to America's shores. The fey stayed on their native Ireland, helping to rebuild both it and the United Kingdom in the war's aftermath.

 

However, don't think the Snibs appearance made things easy. The world didn't suddenly turn into one big melting pot o' diversity while we held hands and sang John Lennon's “Imagine.”

 

No, not at all, what it did do was bring the human race closer together and while racism and prejudice still exist, most of it was eradicated by the force of a greater threat, the Snibs. Rather than hating a fellow human because of skin color or religion, it was much easier to band together and hate a not so fellow human because of what he turned into at the full moon, or his purely liquid diet, or the chromosomal mutation that ran through his genes.

 

Due to this growing tension, the Snibs began to become more reclusive and essentially went back to their old ways of banding together and keeping out of human affairs. Unfortunately for them, the Werecat was out of the bag and this time around humans knew it existed.

 

In the U.S., Congress passed a law stating the Snibs had basic human rights and therefore could not be hunted and killed as in some countries with slightly less stringent human rights laws.

 

Although, lest we forget, this is a country of capital punishment, so killings were allowed in certain instances, as long as a court of law approved of the execution. While Snib lawyers became the next big legal niche and police forces began training for special Snib raids, humans went on with their lives, happily pretending the Snibs were fictional once again.

 

Currently, we existed in a state of détente, and to paint an even better picture, up until now, in my 24 years of life I have never come across a single Snib. Granted, I wasn't actively searching but not only had I not encountered one, but hardly any regular human did.

 

Snibs were reclusive, preferring to stick to their own kind and culture after their inauspicious coming out party in the 1940's. They had their own schools, businesses, churches (when applicable), even their own version of the internet called Preternet, used exclusively by Snibs.

 

So here I sat, mouth agape, eyes startled wide, seething in rage that my brother had not only gotten me into this horrid position but had not felt the need to give the tiniest detail over the phone as to what I was walking into. Oh and he was going to be furry three days out of the month.

 

It all suddenly made perfect sense, the “dogs” from security weren't huskies but wolves and this airplane hangar of house was some sort of headquarters for a pack of werewolves. Oh this was bad. I felt like I'd somehow fallen down the rabbit hole and woke up in Bizarro World.

 

I stood up, hands clenched, now believing I was dealing with this pack's alpha leader or whatever, I straightened my back and stated, “I want to see him. Take me to him, now.”

 

Although Dom had not given me any reason to suspect he would not be forthcoming with the appearance of my brother, something told me if I broke down sobbing, clutching his monogrammed handkerchief, I would lose any sort of respect he had to offer. Also, I was just too damn pissed off to cry, stupid Seth got himself bitten by a werewolf and now I've got to “donate” some perfectly good O positive for his continued survival with a human brain.

 

Yep, definitely starting to shake with anger, plus, I haven't cried in 11 years since my grandfather died. My psych major friend Heather told me this was a sign of bottled emotions, but I simply told her that my emotional range tended toward judgmental, anger, and killing rage (mostly when driving). Not surprisingly, I'd found a new level of anger, brother induced murderous wrath, oooh that one sounds fun.

 

Dom seemed a bit put off by my outburst, as if he almost would have preferred I burst into tears and moan incoherently for my lost sibling. Not if I had anything to say about it.

 

He stood as well and looked at me, tilting his head to side as if examining a specimen at the Smithsonian rather than a person. It was unnerving and I felt like he was watching me with something other than his eyes, I'm sure all sorts of wolvie senses were going haywire trying to placate the homicidal crazy girl. Hey, maybe he could call in his maid and serve scones with butter? Damn, I wish he would say something.

 

My wish was granted as he moved his head sharply to a normal position and it dawned on me that I had seen my parents' dog do that head tilt thing a thousand times and always thought it looked like he was thinking. Looks like I wasn't too far off.

 

Slowly blinking his eyes, a reassuringly human trait, Dom argued, “Don't you want to know the circumstances surrounding this change? I can assure you this is not a common occurrence here at the Hunt; we do not go changing humans into werewolves as an everyday event.”

 

“Are you saying this was an accident?” I responded, still thrumming with angry tension.

 

Dom growled in his throat and it sounded very real and not at all human. Interesting, this was the first time he showed the slightest bit of irritation at tonight's proceedings and I was more than glad to see it. Granted, I may be the girl of three callers and three emotions, but I expected a little more from this guy.

 

It also became painfully obvious that I knew next to nothing about werewolves or Snibs in general. It was not a subject taught in school, only a little bit from WWII history and aside from a specialization for lawyers and cops, most people just never bothered to learn about Snibs. Well, if my brother was going to become one of them, I needed to learn quickly.

 

My attention flitted back to Dom as his growl rose in volume.

 

“It seems that accident would be the best word for it, although one would hope such a thing could have been prevented. Your brother was at a party earlier, along with about 15 other students from the high school at Whisty field. Apparently, during the course of the party your brother went out into the woods to relieve himself and on his way back to the party was attacked by a werewolf.”

 

“Is he hurt?” I asked.

 

I had no idea how much damage a werewolf could do but my imagination was running full tilt and the images it was conjuring up were not pleasant. Also, there was no moon tonight; I know because I was cursing its lack of illumination when I was searching for the farm, I asked Dom how a werewolf could be around with no moon, went against all that good and trusty folklore.

 

Dom seemed to go into lecture mode, physically adjusting his voice and mannerisms to affect a professor's countenance.

 

“A certain class of werewolves may change whenever they wish, as opposed to the lesser caste that only change at the rise of the full moon. While the lupus are beholden to the control of the moon, the lupinaras have much more control over their beast and with practice can even hold back the transformation to only one night when the moon is at its zenith and even then for a few hours. There is a great divide between werewolves and those who are lupus always yearn for the restraint inherent in the lupinaras class.”

 

Wow, okay, bit of information overload but file this under good to know. So Seth had been bitten by this super wolf, or lupinara as Dom called them. I also took a wild stab in the dark as to which class old Dom here belonged to, his very pronunciations of the two classes was reminiscent of a medieval king explaining serfs to a child. Guess being the alpha has its perks.

 

“So Seth is going to be a lupinara as well?” I asked.

 

My anger started to fade toward judgmental and it was great, so Seth at least got to choose when he went fanged and furry.

 

“It is possible, the only way to be lupinara is to be born into it, or turned by one, although the transformation is never fool proof and if his body is not strong enough it can reject the lupinara chemical and revert to its most basic lupus origins. Either way he will be a wolf.”

 

Dom looked remotely chagrined at this statement, got to love the genuine effort at his attempts for feigned sympathy.

 

Just as I was about to ask Dom about this whole blood donation thing, a crack sounded on the huge oak door and in walked a guy that was the antithesis of Dom. Easily 6'4” with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a green plaid shirt and worn Levis, he busted into the office with an intent look in his eyes.

 

He took one look at me and his features seemed to relax a bit and I wondered at that. He turned to Dom and said in a semi-ordering tone, “She needs to get down to Doc's; he's going to need that blood transfusion soon.”

 

Great, now Seth was in emergency mode, needing my blood ASAP and I just knew there was going to be some kind of alpha male turf war over this new guy's commanding tone. Except it didn't happen and I suddenly had a greater respect for Dom, then he bowed his head slightly but enough so that it was obvious and headed toward the door, “Yes, right away,” he stated with a nod.

 

Dom quickly grabbed me at the elbow and ushered me down the long hallway of offices, across the formal entry way and down the other wing of the house, the other guy I was naming Paul Bunyan until I heard otherwise, was following swiftly at our heels. We moved so quickly I barely had time to notice my surroundings and half way through the hall we took a right down a flight of stairs into what must be the basement.

 

As we crossed over the threshold past the swinging metal doors we entered what can only be described as a symphony of stainless steel and fluorescent lights. I stared in awe at what looked to be an entire hospital wing set up in the basement of this contemporary wolf's den. There were hospital beds, heart monitors, EKG, X-Ray machines, even an MRI machine laid out in perfect order.

 

Rooms partitioned off were labeled as ER and OR and lying on a gurney, with a nearby older balding man in a white lab coat and stethoscope around his neck hovering over his bedside, was Seth. Long jeans covered legs bloodied and torn; his sweatshirt was intact although blood spattered it as well. My heart leapt in my throat as his seemingly lifeless body drained of all color on the stark white sheets of the bed.

 

I yelled, “Seth!”

 

I shook free of Dom's hold on my elbow and ran to my only sibling, grabbing his hand, feeling the cold clamminess seep through my own.

 

“He can't hear ya now,” said Paul, with a look of concern crossing his features. “Doc, you've got the transfusion set up right? Damn it, Dom what the hell were ya waiting for, Christmas? I know she had to be told `forehand and consent, but this kid needs her blood.”

 

“I needed to ascertain the depth of her understanding in this undertaking. I would not have tarried longer if I knew the boy was in such dire straits,” Dom's oily voice remarked.

 

“Can the eloquence for now, Dominaeus, and go help Doc with the monitors.” “You,” Paul said, pointing at me, “lay on that bed next to Seth's and pull up your sleeve.”

 

The man in the lab coat must be Doc; why else would he be wearing a stethoscope? Doc came over, grabbed an alcohol wipe and furiously scrubbed at my inner left elbow joint.

 

“Are you squeamish with needles or the sight of blood,” he asked.

 

“Well, not before, but I guess it depends on how big the needle and how much blood. Do whatever you have to save my brother; I'll deal with it when the time comes.”

 

The doctor looked at me as if I were saying brave words without fully knowing the consequences. Like those people on Fear Factor who state confidently they're going to win the 25K until Joe brings out the sheep's eyeballs for dinner and they're puking on national television. Yep, I felt like a Fear Factor contestant, not something to be proud of.

 

The doctor and Dominaeus (oh that was too good to pass up) had a heavy hose running from my transfusion machine to Seth's and I suddenly felt the need to ask that question I'd been about to mention to Dom before Paul burst in.

 

I looked at the doctor as he was preparing the rather large needle for my veins. The thing looked like it had last been used on a wild rhinoceros, and had been overkill at that.

 

“Why do you need my blood? I'm not even sure if we're the same blood type.”

 

The doctor frowned, “It would help if you were, but what he needs right now is a genetic marker as a baseline before his transformation. Ideally, everyone would have an identical twin for this procedure and lupinaras would be the norm. Alas, the best we can do is use a sibling, as you are the only person available who has the same genetic material, having the same mother and father. Using a parent would only supply half the necessary information. For those whom have no siblings, it is last resort, but not often a success.”

 

I grimaced, so I was a step above a last resort, yea me. Okay, time to bleed. I took one last look at Seth, as I had been told by Doc that I would likely pass out from the amount of blood necessary to keep Seth human, but I should recover fully given time to rest. Oh, and maybe some cookies and orange juice, food always was a great motivator for me.