Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Solstice ❯ Warg ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter Two

Warg

 

 

December soon melted away into January and a cruel winter set it. Snow covered the tiny town of Innsmouth in a fine, crystalline white blanket. This did not bother the people of Innsmouth, they were used to such ferocity of nature. Or so they thought. The first winter storm's snow was sticky and made for great sledding weather and soon the woods and hills were filled with children and adults alike on their snow discs and toboggans. In a manner of days, the only pond that Innsmouth had had iced over and people had gathered there to skate.

However, deeper in the woods, the snow was still smooth and had yet to be trodden on. These areas were prime for people who looking for a little private winter fun. Teenagers had a habit of using the woods as a sort of lover's lane and other's would use their winter vacations to camp their as in the winter the forest would be rife with raccoons, deer, foxes, and all sorts of wildlife that would be easy to spot in the snow.

It was dark out tonight, the only thing showing their way was the light of the full moon. The white, fat orb in the sky looked eerily like a graveyard tonight. But neither the moon, the snow, nor the darkness scared Amber Summers or Erica Marick. Tonight they had their own personal escort, the very eligible Tom Sommings. The two girls, one with long, dark brown hair and bright green eyes, freckles spanning across her nicely tanned face, the other with light blonde hair that hung around her shoulders in a neat arc and dark blue eyes, her face pale and unmarked by so much as a pimple, giggled as the boy trekked through the silent woods ahead of them, looking for a suitable place to lay down their blanket. It might have seemed silly otherwise to have a make out session this late at night, this deep in the woods with freezing snow on the ground, but all three high school teens were pleasantly buzzed and, like most drunken ideas, it had seemed perfect, brilliant even. In the back of her mind, Amber realized that they would probably be teased tomorrow, called sluts or worse, for luring Tom out here. Really, what sort of girl, what sort of two girls brought any one boy out here? But they didn't care, they were with Tom Sommings. Girls, no matter how pretty or adventurous, seldom got a chance with a boy like him, tall and tan and blonde and gorgeous, and when they did, it was only once. Tom, on the other hand, had no such thoughts. He was a typical seventeen year old, hot blooded, horny male. When two girls, no matter what they looked like and Amber and Erica sure were high up in the looks scale, came to you, drunk and flushed, and asked if you would like to go somewhere private, something as trivial as common sense was as good as dead. He smirked as he led them further into the woods. Tomorrow morning he would return to school with another notch on his belt and plenty of stories for the guys about scoring it with two, count that, two babes.

Tom finally spotted a nice clearing where the trees where just far enough apart for them to lay down and the snow was only a light dusting because of the trees. He laid the blanket down; a homely, red checkered thing that he had stolen from the party they had been at a few hours before. The girls continued to giggle as they watched the boy bend over to secure the blanket and they got a good view of his rear in tight blue jeans.

Erica cried out as a long howl pierced the silent night.

“W-what was that?” She demanded, her voice high and shrill with fear. Tom had to force himself to smile reassuringly at her instead of rolling his eyes. Some girls could be such drama queens. Unfortunately, a majority of Innsmouth High consisted of these types of women; pretty, but overly dramatic.

“Probably just somebody's dog.”

“But that came from inside the woods, not near the town,” Amber mentioned. Tom felt like growling at her. True that what she had said made sense and no one in town owned a dog large enough to make that kind of a howl, but he still didn't like the brunette talking back to him like that. Amber was definitely more level-headed than her blonde friend.

“What if it's a coyote? Or a wolf?!” Erica questioned, her voice rising. The very thought of a large, black wolf roaming the woods at night terrified her and she was panicking. Tom only laughed.

“C'mon, babe. This is New England! There haven't been wolves here in over five hundred years!” Tom didn't know whether that was true or not, but he had trudged through the cold snow and he wanted to get laid and was willing to lie in order to do that. Still, he had never heard of wolves in this town or others near them.

“Just relax,” Tom said, sitting on the checkered blanket, “Come here and sit down,” he patted the blanket. Erica bit her lip. She wasn't convinced at all, not with a howl like that, but she didn't want to be seen as some dumb blonde, stuck up, scaredy cat, so she sat next to Tom. Amber, on the other hand, started to walk away from them.

“Where are you going?” Erica asked, panicking again. There was no way she was going to stick around if Amber left.

“I'm going to freshen up,” Amber smirked, shouldering her black purse. This time Tom did roll his eyes. He just didn't understand women. One minute they were contemplating the presence of a wolf, the next they were willing to go off alone to powder their noses.

“Amber, don't!” Erica begged, but Amber just smiled at her.

“Don't worry, I'm no Little Red Riding Hood. No wolf is gonna get me,” she winked at Tom, “Unless I want it to.” Despite himself, Tom felt himself blush and become aroused. Then, Amber slipped through the trees.

She walked until she was far enough away from Tom and Erica then lit a cigarette. Her buzz was starting to fade and this would help to take the edge off. A crow swooped down at her head and she swiped it with her hand bag. The crow let out an angry squawk and flew away.

“Damn bird,” she muttered, taking a long drag from her cigarette. She flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder.

Amber felt like she was being watched. She snorted. Of course she was being watched, she was in the woods with a hundred different animals. She tried to shake off the feeling of something being wrong, but it lingered. She took more long drags then tossed it to the snowy ground, demolishing the cigarette underneath her heel. It was a waste, but she had things to do. Namely a boy called Tom. She smirked, digging out some mouth spray and squirted it into her mouth. At least now she wouldn't smell like beer and tobacco. She froze as she heard a low growl from behind her. That was the only warning she got before something huge and strong slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. Her first thought was, `BEAR!', but all she saw was silvery fur. The beast's breath was hot and thick against her stomach. She wailed in terrible pain as strong jaws pierced her stomach and felt her skin stretch like rubber as the beast tore open her stomach. She felt things leaving her body and the pain consumed her.

`Those are my intestines,' she thought in shock. She felt its muzzle press into her stomach again, chewing on her insides like she used to do with oranges when she was a child. The full moon peaked from behind the clouds and the last thing that Amber saw was a pair of mad, golden eyes.

 

Tom, his mouth on Erica's, one hand on her firm, perky breast, and the other unbuttoning her jeans, had forgotten all about Amber. His entire world was centered on the sight of Erica's shapely crotch, clothed in a pair of purple, sexy, lacey panties. He lifted up her top to see her ample cleavage and saw that her bra and panties were a matching set. He wondered briefly why it was that lingerie was sexier than the naked breast themselves. They were interrupted by a loud, startling scream. Tom was up in seconds, his erection and sexual fantasies long forgotten. His first instinct was to run. Fuck the girls and fuck these woods, this was horror movie shit and he had never liked those sorts of films. Still, his male pride refused to let him run away. That was a chick reaction and guys were supposed to be wonderfully heroic in these situations. He would run to the damsel's rescue to find her cornered by some rabid dog, kill it, and boast of his selfless deeds in the morning. Amber would, of course, be so grateful she would do anything he asked of her. That was how the story goes.

“Tom!” Erica called, but wasn't heard as he ran off into the thick trees. Erica hastily buttoned up her jeans and pulled down her top, running after him.

This area of the woods was dark as the sky was covered in clouds and the full moon peaked out in only a few places, but where Tom couldn't see, he could hear and smell. He heard a wet, crunching sound that was reminiscent of family barbeques where people were literally decimating the ribs and steaks. He could smell something that reminded him of the zoo, a musky animal smell.

The moonlight finally broke through the clouds and Tom saw silver hair, tons of blood, and a mutilated human hand with manicured nails. The very notion of an animal eating a human being struck at Tom's pride and he lunged forward, grabbing at what little silver hair he could see, and tugged. There was a roar, a flash of gold, pain encircling his neck, and then Tom knew no more. Erica, however, did. She had rushed after Tom and had stumbled upon the horrifying scene. She saw the figure for only a second in the light. All she could see was that it was tall, had golden eyes, and silver hair. Then, Tom's head was gone. It was just gone. Erica heard a terrible squishing crunch and she could take no more. She took off running.

The heels of her shoes snapped because of the force of her steps, but she didn't care. It made it easier for her to run and if she lived through this she could always buy more. She could hear the thing closing in behind her. How could something that big be able to move so well through these dense trees when she was having so much trouble? She saw the lap posts of Innsmouth glowing in the darkness. She felt relieved. Just a little while longer she would reach the town and would be saved. Wasn't that how it worked? Once you reached other people, the monsters would just slink back into the shadows. But this wasn't a movie, though she hoped that the films had at least that right.

Suddenly, something clamped down on her ankle and dragged her back with a forceful jerk. She screamed as she lost her footing and she slammed her head into the ground. Before she blacked out, she though the same thing over and over again.

`No, I was so close! I was so close!'

 

The wolf dragged the limp but still living female by her leg to where the other half eaten bodies were. Her ankle crushed under its massive jaws and it got a brief taste of her hot blood. It let her ankle slip from its mouth. The wolf tore into the meaty treat that was her leg and tore off a large chunk. This female's flesh was softer than the others' and, though she still smelled bad and wrong, she did not smell as bad as the other female. The wolf feasted on the leg, ripping tendons and muscles. The meal warmed its stomach and the prey's screams as she awoke made it feel comfortable and relaxed; everything was alright.

Erica screamed and gripped at the furry head that was tearing into her, eating her but the thing didn't stop. She had no idea a human could have so many different colors inside; bright red, dark red, white, black, and even yellow. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she continued to scream as she felt the beast's hot, feral breath in her skin, on her bone. The beast feasted on her and she slowly faded away as she bled to death on the snowy ground.

 

Cale awoke on the freezing ground, shivering, naked, covered in blood, and every joint and muscle in his body aching. The sun was bright in his eyes and it took him a few minutes to remember where he was. He heard the sounds of the morning birds; grackles and larks and even a few crows and an owl. He was in the woods near the small coastal town of Innsmouth. He could even smell the sea air. When he had first woken up, he had thought that he was back in that house, but the only pain was in his muscles and bones, so he didn't think that it was his blood, though he was more worried that it was someone else's. The ground was cold against his bare back and he couldn't remember why he was naked again. What the hell was going on with him? His ass didn't hurt so he hadn't been raped, but why was he covered in blood and why wasn't he hungry when he hadn't eaten anything in awhile? He couldn't figure it out. What if he had hurt someone like he had Samantha and didn't remember? Or, and this made sense because of his full stomach but did not make sense because he didn't think he was capable of it, he had simply killed animals and eaten them because consciously he still could not get his mind around murdering animals but subconsciously he knew that he needed to eat and was too paranoid to try to go into town. Innsmouth was too close to Byurmouth for Cale's comfort. Innsmouth was even smaller than Byurmouth, so a silver haired teen would be noticed quite easily. Cale was also sure that the police were eager to find him. But he didn't care. He felt at home in these woods. He had enough warm clothes as long as it didn't get too cold. Though, if he kept waking up naked like this, he would end up with no clothes at all. Sooner or later he would have to go into town. He accepted this fact and would face it when it came. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a heavy sweat shirt.

Cale took out the picture that Inigo had drawn for him. He ran his fingertips over the face of the red wolf and traced the elegant script on the back. In the cold air, the tears bit his cheek.

 

“Did you hear about Mr. Sommings?”

“Yes, it's just terrible! After they had him identify his boy's body; or what was left of it anyway, he was in such a state they had to take him to a mental hospital up north!”

“Poor thing! Oh, if anything happened to my Sarah, I'd join him!”

“You do know what they're saying about the… murderer?”

“Oh, anyone who isn't a recluse has! The full moon, the state of the bodies… You'd have to be dull not to have doubts.”

“Of course. Not much use to have police searching the woods for a crazy man when it's a werewolf they need to be on the look out for!”

Sergeant David Brooks snorted as the gaggle of women next to him in the supermarket line continued to gossip. They weren't the only ones, either. It seemed that everyone in the little town was talking about what was being called `The Innsmouth Murders'. There hadn't been a murder in Innsmouth for three-hundred years and that had been a stabbing; nothing compared to this, but Brooks had never wanted to believe that the people he had grown up with, and had watched grow up, were so superstitious. It was true that, in mysterious and deadly situations like this, people did and thought foolish things, but Brooks was not one of them.

David was 42 years old with no wife, no children, and still had all of his thick, black hair, though it was graying a little towards the edges. He had dedicated his entire life to helping people and had never had a time for relationships, though he did connect with people quite easily. He had a stern face but his light blue eyes and his patient nature made people trust him. Everyone in town knew that they could come to him with any problem and he would listen without prejudice. Still, he didn't believe in things like werewolves. He believed in psychology and he believed that it was a man, a man that believed he was an animal. Hell, maybe he even believed that he was a werewolf. The tests hadn't come back on the DNA, teeth marks, claw marks, saliva, or silver hair they had found. Brooks knew that people could do terrible things and the fact of the matter was that there was more evidence of a human than an animal. The teeth and `claw' marks weren't immediately recognizable as animal. The claw marks showed evidence of an opposable thumb and the foot prints could only have been made by something that moved gracefully on its hind legs. However, without concrete proof all he could do was keep an eye out, both for the murderer and for any foolishness.

Three days came and went uneventfully. Dark clouds gathered over Innsmouth and the temperature dropped. As the full moon disappeared with no more murders or sightings of so much as a coyote in the woods, the rumors of werewolves faded and people laughed good naturedly, but still nervously, at their own foolishness. Men stopped trekking through the woods with shotguns filled with iron and silver crosses around their necks. Cale heard the men moving through the woods, but he was well hidden and confident that he wouldn't be found. Still, he was worried about what would happen when he was asleep; to him and to the men. It was a stupid though to have, but it was there anyway. So, he slept in small naps of one to two hours during the day and stayed awake at night. It was exhausting, but he didn't wake up naked, aching and covered in blood anymore. Still, at night he felt terribly restless, as though there was something he should be doing, not lying on a pile of jackets, watching the moonless sky. As the weather dropped, it became harder and harder for Cale to get warm at night. He recognized the signs of a storm and knew he would have to find shelter. His best bet was to quickly go into town and buy a portable tent, but he didn't like the idea of going there or leaving his campsite unprotected. However, he knew that he could either stay here and possibly freeze to death or go into town for shelter. He had enough food to last him for another week, so it would only take him a matter of minutes and he would be back in the safety of the woods. As Cale watched the clouds gather and something primal paced impatiently inside his head and gut, he made his decision.

 

Innsmouth was a beautiful town and it made Cale ache to know he would never be able to live here. Would he always be running? No, he just needed to get farther away, to an entirely different state. He needed to disappear, but there was something about this place that made him stay. It reminded him of his hometown. But, the real reason, the one reason that had kept him alive for this long, was the hope that the closer he was to Byurmouth and the longer he stayed in one spot, the more likely Inigo would find him. There would always be a dark part of him that said that Inigo would never come back for him. But he had to keep hoping that he would, it was all he could do to stay sane.

All of Innsmouth's buildings were old, but well kept. Cale knew that they did an excellent fishing business that exported to all over the country while Byurmouth had little commerce. Innsmouth's citizens, like most or perhaps all small towns, were a close knit group. Though it was nighttime and there weren't that many people around on the street, Cale still got a few distrustful looks. He had put a ski cap over his head to hide his silver hair. There was nothing he could do about his eyes or face, so he let the darkness do its work and looked at the ground, hoping that no one went out of their way to get a good look at him. He didn't think anything would happen if they did, but he didn't want to take the chance of someone connecting him to Byurmouth. Being around people again made him feel edgy. He had become accustomed to the gentle sounds of the woods; the rustling of chipmunks foraging for food and the soft chirping of sparrows. People were so loud.

The camping store was thankfully deserted except for two other customers. The two men made him nervous, but they continued to talk, looking through the rack of fishing magazines. The store was tiny and he found the tents easily. He tried to ignore the men, but as he searched for a one person, cheap tent, bits of their conversation came to him. Cale breathed in relief as he found what he was looking for.

“…Byurmouth?”

Cale froze, paling as one of the men spoke of his hometown. Had he been found out already? He watched them out of the corner of his eye, but neither man had noticed him; they were still only speaking to each other.

“Yeah,” the other man replied to whatever the other had asked him, “Five murders, just like ours, all devoured. It's a miracle that poor little girl survived! If only Erica, Tom, and Amber had been so lucky.”

Cale stared at the wall, not really seeing it. There had been murders in Innsmouth and Byurmouth. People had been eaten. Yes, he had killed five people. Yes, he had ripped out his father's throat and yes he had killed Samantha, Daniel, Brian, and his principal, but had not eaten them of all things and he had certainly not killed anyone here. Wasn't that right? But he remembered strange dreams and waking up covered in blood, both in Byurmouth and Innsmouth. Then there was the little girl that they were talking about and the Japanese girl that had been terrorized by Samantha. All of these things couldn't be coincidences, could they? He covered his mouth with his hand as bile rose in his throat. What if he was responsible for those deaths? What if there was something evil inside of him? He had heard about people who dealt with trauma developing separate personalities; they would even lose time. Maybe that was what was going on. If that was true, he only had one choice: move away from humans and sleep as little as possible.

 

Sarah Defasio flinched as she heard another painful howl towards the direction of the woods. In the past she had loved working nights at the clothing store. As soon as she got off she would walk the road near the woods and listen to the night sounds and think of her girlfriend and the summers they had had in these woods. But now the woods brought to mind less pleasant thoughts; death, carnage, and horror. Her nightly path seemed sinister lately and the closer she got the more the dark trees terrified her. As the woods grew nearer in her sights, she imagined a furry, clawed hand reaching out to grab her and rip into her…

A week and three days had passed since the murders and nothing more violent had happened, but late at night people in town could hear terrible howls coming from the woods. Men had searched for the source, but nothing had been found. There were still rumors of a werewolf, but people were confused since the howls happened in the absence of a full moon. Sarah shuddered. Full moon or not, she didn't care about the logistics of werewolves. There was something so sad and haunting about those sounds. They were so full of longing…

 

Cale woke up with blood on his naked skin again. Since he had moved deeper into the woods and propped up the small tent, he had started sleeping naked. For three days he didn't sleep, hoping that this would stop the violent things that he was doing in his sleep. However, soon exhaustion, illness, and paranoia took hold of him because of his lack of sleep and he could no longer do it. He was terrified that he no longer had control of himself, that he couldn't even stop himself from becoming a serial murderer. He tried sleeping during the day, but it had not made any difference, he always woke up the same way; the feeling that he had just eaten, aching all over, and blood on his skin. Only now it was clear to him that, this deep in the woods, he was not killing humans, but animals. The thing inside of him was not happy about this. Before his father had died, Cale had felt angry all of the time. He had believed that this was because of the people around him, but he was beginning to believe that it was because of a defect within himself, not others. The violence he had done towards people had made him feel satisfied and full. Violence to animals held none of these feelings. Now, surrounded only by nature, he still felt the rage boiling inside of him, though this sort of anger was maddeningly instinctual, no longer just emotional, as though he was supposed to feel this way. Still, there remained a part of him that realized just how wrong these feelings were. Not all people deserved what he had done to his father; what he had done to Samantha. He must have know that, after all, he had let that little girl live. But why did the violence feel so good? Cale picked a large feather from his chest. He grimaced. It looked like he had fed on a turkey last night. He curled up in his tent, wrapping a blanket around himself. Despite his nightly wanderings, he always ended up here. His other side, whatever it was, obviously wasn't completely savage. It recognized this place as `home'. Cale had doubts about finding Inigo. He hoped that the other boy would stay far, far away. Cale laughed bitterly, almost hysterically. Inigo was so wrong. He was a monster of the worst kind.

 

Sergeant Brooks growled as he read the lab reports for the third time. It just didn't make any sense.

“Well? Are you going to tell us what it says or not?” Detective Diana Amaaya drawled. Detective Thomas Hart snorted in agreement. Inssmouth's police department was pitifully small. They only had six detectives, including Brooks, Amaaya, and Hart and the other three were spending their time patrolling the woods and town while Broks, Amaaya, and Hart wracked their brains to figure out what was going on. Amaaya was twenty-seven, tall, dark skinned, and had long, incredible black hair. She was Japanese, but had beautiful blue eyes and long, perfect legs. Despite her beauty, Amaaya was first and foremost a detective. Brooks was proud to have her on the team. She was quick witted, but a bit emotional and soft hearted.

Where Amaaya was beautiful and human in her manners, Hart was definitely pig headed and quick to make rash decisions. He was already foaming at the mouth to nail their murderer and willing to make any arrest, despite the proof. Despite all of this, he was still a decent detective and had done his duty in trying to make Innsmouth safe. Brooks decided that he would keep Hart away from the action, but would also let him be a part of the team. Pig headed did not mean dull after all.

“DNA is human,” Brooks told them, pride stinging at him at that fact, “But,” he said with another growl, “The hair and teeth marks cannot be identified as animal or human.” Both Amaaya and Hart raised eyebrows at him. Amaaya leaned back in her chair, fiddling with her braid between her slender fingertips and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Odd. It sounds just like what happened up at Byurmouth a few weeks ago,” she said. David looked at her sharply.

“What are you talking about?” He demanded. Thomas looked at him incredulously.

“You mean you haven't heard about the murders there?”

Brooks glared at him.

“Unlike you, I am not one to listen to gossip.”

“Seven people were murdered in two days. Two of them were accidents, they were attacked by some high school boy who has now been missing since. They were a classmate of his and the principal. The others were four of his classmates and his father. The last five looked like victims of an animal attack, but no one could identify the wounds and the father was killed inside their home.”

Brooks stared at her, his light blue eyes boring into her darker ones.

“Diana, I think it's about time I went to Byurmouth.”

 

 

It was an hour and a half drive to Byurmouth from Innsmouth and David was not looking forward to reaching his destination. Byurmouth's police department loomed in his view and he trudged inside with a sigh of annoyance. In every cop's career they would meet a true and blue asshole and Byurmouth's Sergeant Nord was Brooks' asshole.

Sergeant Talbot Nord was a slightly overweight, incompetent man, but he, for once, had his facts straight.

Cale Selt, age seventeen, had indeed murdered his principal; Winter, father, and Gary Sheen. Winter had bled to death and Gary's parents had issued a `do not resuscitate' order. He had died five days ago. His father had died when his throat had been ripped out. They had identified the teeth marks using Cale's dental records. The other four were a mystery. The teeth marks showed variations to Cale's, but his saliva was in the wounds. Nord was confident that it was Cale as it was known fact that Cale had been bullied by those four. It had taken a lot of bickering, but after two hours of fighting with him, Nord had given all of the case files and evidence to Brooks.

Brooks spent the rest of his day in Byurmouth asking people about their opinions of Cale. What he was told infuriated him. What disgusted him the most was not the viciousness of the crimes, but the townspeople's attitude towards Cale. Everyone that he had spoken to had known that Cale was being abused at home and school. They had even insinuated to Brooks that there might have been a sexual relationship going on between him and his father. It turned David's blood cold to know that Russell Selt had once been a cop. Brooks knew that violence and sex were linked, so he could easily translate `sexual relationship' to `rape'. It made even more sense when Brooks had found out about Cale's mother, Iris. When Brooks had asked why the abuse had gone on for so long, every person had replied the same way: the boy had publicly admitted to being a sexual deviant, meaning he had enjoyed the so called abuse and had deserved to be bullied by his peers. As for what had happened in Cale's home, well, what went on between a father and his son was none of anyone else's business. After an hour of talking to these people, Brooks understood that `sexual deviance' meant `gay' and `bullied' meant `homophobic torture.' The more he heard, the more he wanted to beat the smug looks off of these people's faces. He didn't care if the boy was into S + M or sodomized squirrels; no one deserved that sort of treatment. David also understood after he was finished talking with people that the worst thing Cale had done in relation to his sexuality was have a crush on another boy; a boy that happened to be dead now. In everyone's opinion, Cale had lured Brian out into the woods, raped him, and killed him, then Samantha had tried to intervene with her brother and best friend and had gotten killed. However, Brian had shown no signs of rape and Yoshino Amane, the only one who had escaped the bloody massacre, had told Brooks that the silver haired boy had saved her from the other four. This story made more sense to David. Cale seemed more like the type of person who would save a girl being bullied than the type that would rape someone who had turned him down years ago. But, Brooks still wanted to talk to Cale. He hoped that he wasn't involved in Innsmouth. He hoped that Cale had gotten far away from Byurmouth. Brooks did not think that Cale had been right in his violent acts, but he sure didn't feel any pity for his victims, either.

 

“So, you really think that this kid is our murderer?” Hart asked, staring at Cale's picture. Brooks sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on.

“Yes. He's the closest thing to a suspect we have at this point. I just don't like it…,” Brooks didn't like the way Hart was staring at Cale's picture. He felt oddly protective of a boy he had never met. It took a lot of effort to remind himself that Cale was a killer.

“Of course you don't!” Amaaya snapped, glaring at Hart. She snatched the picture from Hart's fingertips. The forty three year old man glared back at her like a four year old that had had his toy taken away.

“I don't like it, either,” she murmured, staring at Cale's somber face, “Poor little boy,” she said under her breath, but Brooks heard her. Since he had gotten back, David had known that this case would be hard on Amaaya, he had just not known how hard. David had met her when he was just a young cop and she had been a little girl. He had known her father since he was a kid, so when someone from their neighborhood had called in a disturbance, what he had found cam as a shock. Diana had been locked in the closet, half starved, naked with her father's semen on her legs. It was just her and her dad in the house; her mom had left them when Amaaya had been a baby. Brooks had sworn then that he would never let his preconceived notions of people rule his thinking. Cale's case and Amaaya's were so similar that it wasn't hard to see that she was affected by the case, he had just hoped that she would be more level headed about it. Of course, Brookswas just as worried about Hart. Give the man an inch and he would take a mile. Normally, Amaaya and Hart worked perfectly, but this was not a normal circumstance. Brooks was both surprised and relieved that the FBI had not been involved yet. Brooks bet that they still considered it an animal attack.

“Don't be such a bleeding heart,” Thomas said to Amaaya, “Kid's a fucking murderer. He deserves to be burned at the stake, not pitied!” This time Brooks joined in with Amaaya at glaring at the other man.

“I'm well aware of the facts,” Amaaya said, her voice icy and dangerous, “I'm just saying that I can understand him. After all that he's been through, his mind couldn't take it anymore and he attacked the people who were hurting him. If he is the one who killing in Innsmouth, I think that there is something going on with him. He might be mentally ill. He just doesn't strike me as someone who'd kill just for the sake of killing. I've been where he's been Hart. I wish that I'd had his courage to do something about it. Not all people who kill are murderers. Remember that case awhile back in Nausten? That boy had also been raped by his father and his boyfriend killed his dad to protect him. And what happened to him? Nothing! And you know why? Because everyone recognized that it was a good thing!”

David remembered that case. It had been in all of the Massachusetts papers. The man had raped his teenage son then tried to kill his wife. When he had found his son at his boyfriend's house, he had tried to rape him again, then kill him, but his boyfriend had intervened. Nothing had happened to the kids, despite the fact that the boyfriend had caved in the father's head with a baseball bat. But, this was different. If Cale had stuck with killing his father, he might have gotten away with it. Brooks didn't like it, but he agreed with Amaaya. He wished that this case was black and white, cut and dried. He wished that it was an escaped mental patient that they could just ship back to wherever he had come from, not some kid with a long history of abuse. Brooks still didn't want to peg the deaths here to Cale, but the Byurmouth murders were too similar for him to ignore.

“Can I count on you to do your job?” Brooks asked Amaaya. Hart snorted.

“Yes,” Amaaya said, giving Hart another cold look, “Don't ask me to shoot the kid down, but I am a cop, I can't ignore the facts and I can't keep letting him kill innocent people.” Brooks nodded, secretly proud of her conviction to her job.

“And what about you?” Brooks asked Hart, who looked surprised to be under his scrutiny. “Can I trust you not to be a loose cannon? Even if we find the boy, it doesn't mean he's our killer. I don't want you to let your personal feelings for this town and its citizens be the only thing that is motivating you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hart muttered, getting up and walking away from them. Brooks could tell a hurt pride when he saw it and told Amaaya to keep an eye on him. Amaaya nodded. Thomas wasn't deliberately malicious, he was just impatient and didn't always think things through. Brooks sighed.

“I need you to make wanted posters,” he said to Amaaya, “But word things very carefully. The last thing we need is people panicking and mobs searching the woods with shot guns. I know people have been out there looking for a `werewolf'. I don't want anyone to get shot, Selt or one of our people.”

“I understand,” Amaaya said. She smirked, “I bet you're glad to be able to prove that we don't have a werewolf, huh?”

“You have no idea,” David muttered.

 

Cale waited patiently, crouched and hidden in the bushes. He hoped that his pale clothes and hair would blend well with the snow. Another week had passed and Cale had run out of food four days ago and had resorted to hunting for food. However, since it was so cold, it was hard to find anything. He couldn't eat vegetation because most of it was dead and what was left he couldn't identify. Lately, he was surviving on small stuff; rabbits, squirrels, birds, and chipmunks. The biggest meal he had had was two days ago when he had caught a turkey. Yesterday, he had spotted a thin, red fox, no doubt as hungry as he was, but he could not bring himself to kill the beautiful canine. Instead, he had killed a robin and waited to see if the fox would stay in the woods or leave for better hunting grounds. To his surprise, the fox returned hours later and snatched the bird from his hand. When Cale petted its head, it did not nip him, it instead rubbed itself against his hand. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. A few days before the fox, Cale had woken up to see a white wolf standing a few feet from him. It had been like the gray wolf he had seen so long ago, except this had been much more intense. Their eyes had connected; gold with blue, and Cale had felt no fear. He had known instinctively that the wolf had meant him no harm and that she had been just as interested in him as he had been in her. She had walked up to him like a domesticated dog would and licked at his hand, rubbing herself against him. He had let his hand rest on her soft flank, a blush on his face. It was ridiculous, but her smell had comforted him, just like his mother's perfume. In fact, her actions had been more like a mother with a cub than a bitch in heat. She had licked his cheek and lain down next to him. Her body had been so warm against his; he had not needed blankets or his tent. That day he had slept better than he had since his mother had died and his other side had not emerged, but when he had awoken, she had been gone, though she had left him a freshly killed pheasant.

The warmth of that day stayed with him, though he still tried to stave off the other him by sleeping as little as possible. Today, finding food was too hard. He had waited for a sign, a smell, anything. He had awoken early this morning and now it was almost nighttime but he hadn't spotted anything. He realized that, even if he did manage to find something to eat, he would still need a constant food source. He couldn't keep living off of rodents. He also couldn't keep living in the woods. The tent, though it had improved his living conditions a little bit, wasn't doing much in the biting winter weather. The ideal solution would be to go into town and find a job, but it was so risky. Besides, he had no social security card so how was he supposed to get a job? The thing inside of him was angry, he could feel it. It wanted out, but he would not let it. It was restless and it made Cale's skin crawl. The thing was almost like a voice inside its head, but instead of words, it communicated with pure feeling. Cale could feel the anger, the hunger, and the need to run, the need to howl, but all of these feelings were somehow part of him and separate from him. It felt like he was being torn into two halves from the inside out.

Suddenly, a flash of movement caught his eye. At first he thought it was only a leaf, but the thing moved again and Cale saw that it was a rabbit. His stomach was aching and hollow, but he staid still, waiting for the creature to come closer. He had learned early on that it was much easier to catch and kill the smaller animals with his bare hands than any implement. He had been worried about eating raw meat, but he had not gotten sick, yet. He wondered in a macabre thought, if eating humans had made his stomach adjust to the change in diet. The rabbit spotted a tiny patch of grass and hopped to it, munching contently. Cale recognized the move as his only chance and he pounced. Cale was never so happy to have long legs as when he was hunting. He was able to jump across large distances, which was the only way he was able to catch the small, quick animals. This time was no different. As he leapt over the bush and landed in front of the rabbit, the animal didn't have a chance. Cale was efficient and quick, grabbing the rabbit and snapping its neck. The creature's squirming and terrified squeals immediately stopped. Cale waited patiently to make sure the rabbit was dead before sinking his teeth into its soft pelt and tearing the flesh away and swallowing it with a shudder that was part disgust and part joy. His stomach rejoiced at the food, but he felt angry at himself for living this way. He had to change things or he felt that he would go insane.

 

The last time he had visited Innsmouth, it had been nighttime, but now it was early morning and with the sun shining brightly and with no clear places to hide, Cale felt vulnerable and unsure. Yet, he also believed that this was the right decision. Before he had left the woods that morning, Cale had gone to a stream and covered his hair in the muddy water. It hadn't done a great job, but now his hair was a light brown instead of bright silver. At the very least he wouldn't stand out so much. He actually considered buying colored contacts if he got a job, but mused that that was pointless. As he walked through town, he noticed a wanted poster of himself on the side of a building. He panicked. He knew that this was a bad idea. He should have stayed in the woods where it was safe from people. Despite himself, his curiosity got the best of him and he found that he had to know what the poster said. To his shock, the poster had his name and age, but the only other thing that it said was that he was a runaway. There was nothing about the murders he had done, not even his father. He breathed a sigh of relief. The cops here obviously hadn't made the connection like he had. He was safe. He went to the grocery store first, then a bookstore, then a bakery, but at each place he was turned down. He was told that he was too young, didn't have the proper ID, and that there were no jobs at this time, but he knew the truth; he was turned down because they did not know him. Byurmouth was the same way; anyone different or new was treated like vermin. He supposed that `out of towners' were treated the same way in every small town, but that did not make it any less frustrating. He went to every shop he could find, but there was always some excuse as to why he couldn't be hired. Finally, it came down to the last two places: a toy store and an antique store. Cale hit the toy store first. Cale had never had much in the way of toys and his father had destroyed what he had had. Looking at the plush, brightly colored toys and various games, Cale wished he could be that age again when imagination was everything and the world was bright and new and every little thing was extraordinary. There was a line at the register and Cale decided to wait for it to die down. He saw a plush snake and smiled. The snake was purple and realistic looking; it was obviously a rattlesnake and its tale made an actual rattling sound. He felt nervous eyes on him as he looked at the display of stuffed animals. He tried to ignore them, but it felt like the glares were burning a hole in the back of his head. One woman continued to stare at him. He was so tall, he could easily do something to her, she thought. Amy had heard about city kids doing all sorts of horrible things to women; rape, muggings, even murder. Oh, why couldn't he just leave? He had no business here. Innsmouth was an intimate town and they liked it that way. A small voice inside of her said that just because he wasn't from Innsmouth didn't mean he was from the city and he had every right to be in town. She squashed the voice. She didn't care about how logical the arguments were, his intense eyes and spiky hair made her nervous. Suddenly, a harsh crying broke through the calmness of the store. She had just come in here to buy her children some toys, but Nathan was at it again. She had read in books that when a baby was born, children could feel alienated and act out, but Nathan's actions towards Emily were cruel, even for a four year old.

“Nathan! What did I tell you about that?! Get away from your baby sister!”

Nathan stared at her innocently.

“What are you talking about, mommy? I didn't touch her!”

The woman bit her lip.

“I saw you pinch her ears, Nathan, don't you lie to me!”

The line moved forward and she moved with it. As her back was turned, Nathan pinched the baby again. Emily wailed. Amy spun around.

“Nathan!” She cried helplessly. The other people in the store stared, but didn't do anything. Everyone knew that kids were solely the parents' responsibilities.

Cale watched all of this with narrowed eyes. He was glad that he couldn't have kids. They could be so cruel and watching the boy torment the baby just to be mean or out of jealousy made him want to smack the little shit. He grabbed a large, stuffed gray wolf and a red fox from the shelf and walked over to the boy. Nathan reached over to pinch his sister's ear again.

“Did you hear your mother? Stop that right now,” Cale snapped, his voice strong and authoritative. The boy froze, paling as he saw a strange boy that towered over him. Fear claimed him as he saw the boy's intense, gold eyes piercing through him. Nathan whimpered and tried to hide behind his mother, but she was not sympathetic to his cries. Cale looked down at Emily.

“Is she ok?” He asked in a gentle tone. Emily looked up at him and smiled, giggling as baby did. She reached out her tiny hands. In the light she could see Cale's hair glimmer silver and she desperately wanted to touch it. Amy smiled, relieved. Emily's ear was a little red, but other wise she was ok.

“Yes, thank you so much! He can be such a terror.”

Cale smiled at her.

“Kids can be tough,” he reassured her. Her smile grew. Then, it was her turn and she turned to the cashier. She felt a blush spread across her cheeks. The boy was intense, but also very handsome. She felt embarrassed at thinking that the boy could be some sort of pervert, but he was still a strange figure. A bell chimed as the door opened and someone walked in. It was an older woman, her black hair mostly gray and frazzled in its bun, but her green eyes were just as sharp as ever. Amy waved at her and the woman, with a smug and knowing sort of smile, waved back. Amy gave one last thanks to Cale, then left, relieved. She could deal with a strange boy, but Cora Fry was a completely different matter.

 

Cale paid for his animals, with the cashier giving him odd looks, and didn't pay any mind to the old lady that had strolled in. She was just like everyone else in here, probably just trying to find a birthday present for her grandson or something. Finally, Cale managed to ask the clerk if he could have a job. The clerk gave him a dirty look.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I really can't help you.”

Cale narrowed his eyes at him. He was so sick and tired of this bullshit.

“And why not?”

If it was at all possible, the man's look got dirtier and he became exasperated.

“Because, letting someone like you work here would drive away my customers.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” He demanded, not noticing how the old lady was staring at him out of the corner of her eye.

“It means, that having a boy your age in a toy store is inappropriate and I do not wish to give customers the wrong image. Do you understand?” The clerk asked condescendingly. Cale gritted his teeth.

“Oh, I understand. I understand that it is far creepier having a middle aged man looking down the blouses of mothers' trying to get their kid a toy instead of a boy who is desperate for a job, but I guess a guy like you wouldn't consider that `inappropriate'.”

The clerk paled and glared at him. His face became swollen with anger, but Cale didn't stick around to watch him explode. Cale stormed out of the store, frustrated and more than a little depressed. He couldn't have even imagined what the man would have said to him if he knew he was gay. That was what made him want to cry. Gay didn't mean pedophile. He was so sick of places like this, but it was like this all over the world. There was no place he could go to run away from it. He didn't understand how publicly gay people could handle it. Cale growled as he felt someone grip his arm.

“What?!” He snarled, whirling around. It was the old lady. She smiled at him, but it didn't reach her green eyes.

“I heard you were looking for a job,” she said, her voice was clear. It was obvious that this woman had taken very good care of herself; there was not a trace of smoking in that voice.

“Yeah, I am,” Cale said, hopeful, but also distrustful of the woman. He berated himself for feeling that way. He was nearly two feet taller than her and he needed the money. Besides, she didn't appear to be the type that would try anything sinister. But years of riding the tidal waves of his dad's storm had taught Cale to be weary of everyone, even little old ladies. This woman was old, but her face was not that wrinkled and if it weren't for her hair, Cale would have assumed she was in her fifties or sixties, but he couldn't be sure.

“Well,” she said, staring at Cale intently like a child that had found a particularly interesting animal, “I own an antique store not far from here. I have no employees, but I have some trouble remembering things at times and cannot lift the heavy things. I can't pay you much, but I can offer you food and place to stay.”

Cale pondered that. It made sense. The woman's hands looked frail. Besides, what Cale really wanted was food and shelter; money had only been a half way point for him. He didn't want to put her out, but refusing her generous offer would be stupid and rude.

“Alright,” Cale said, “But if you need any help outside of your shop, I can do that to. I mean, if you're giving me shelter, it's the least I can do.”

The old woman smiled. She stretched out her hand.

“Cora Fry,” she introduced herself.

“Cale-,” Cale said on impulse.

`Idiot! Don't tell her your real name!' A voice inside of his head snapped.

“- Santiago!” Cale blurted out, blushing a little as he realized that he told Cora Inigo's last name. Cora smiled widely at him.

“I look forward to living with you Cale,” she said, “Come now, I'll show you where I live.”

 

Cale had had a clichéd image in his head of a decrepit old shack with a broken down car and a million cats in the front yard, but when they got to Cora's house, he was pleasantly surprised. The house was normal, two story that had been painted a soothing light blue. The yard had a few weeds sprouting, but beyond that, nothing was out of place. There was not a single cat to be found nor did it seem that Cora owned a car. Cale gripped the strap of his duffle bag, glad that he had taken all of his things with him when he had gone into town. Cora opened the white door and disappeared inside. As Cale followed her, a huge German Sheppard sprang into the doorway, snarling and lunging at Cale. Cale was taken by surprise and the hair on his neck stood on end. Instead of trying to get out of the dog's way, Cale stood his ground and bared his teeth at it. They seemed to be challenging each other, Cale not wanting to do anything to the old lady's dog and the dog too unsure of Cale to attack. Cora appeared back in the doorway and grabbed the dog by his green collar.

“Bad, Gabe, bad!” She yelled. The dog continued to growl at Cale as she dragged him off into the house. Cale didn't enter until he heard a door close and lock. The house was blissfully warm inside and Cale shivered as his goose bumps from the chilly weather started to disappear. Cora reappeared with a guilty smile.

“I'm sorry about him, he doesn't like strangers much.”

Cale was still annoyed with the dog, but accepted Cora's apology anyway. Cora showed him to the kitchen and forced him to sit down as she made him some tea. Cale had never had tea before, but decided to give it a try. He had had coffee before, but had hated the taste and the way it made his heart pound.

Cora smiled to herself as Cale sat down at her kitchen table. She waited so long, but God's messenger had finally come to her. As she boiled the water, she reached into her pocket and rubbed at the wanted poster she had found. She was not as ignorant as the other heathens of this town. A boy from Byurmouth, where murders like Innsmouth had occurred, had shown up here and the police were going out of their way to find him. Blasphemers, all of them. She had begged them to see God's glorious light and save themselves from Hell, but they never listened. And now, the time that she had predicted had come. God had sent one of his warriors; an avenging angel, to cleanse the Earth of its filth. Not in the form of a heavenly being with halo and wings, but in the form of one of God's creatures, the wolf. Those children had been doing nasty things in the woods that night and God's Angel had come for them. She had prayed for God to come to her and she had spotted Him in the toy store. She would help Him complete His work. She finished with the tea, adding in a sedative to the drink. Not all of God's warriors understood their purpose. Jesus had been a confused child once and so was this boy, but she would show him his true purpose. She knew that she was right. His pitiful disguise had not fooled her. No human had eyes like those. When she had shaken his hand, she had examined it. The boy did not have the pentagram; the sign of the beast. That had sealed her belief that he was a creature of God, not Satan like most werewolves.

Cale sipped at the tea and found that it did taste good. It tasted good, but was also light. There was an odd taste to it, but not necessarily unpleasant. The tea made him feel drowsy, as he often did when he drank something hot. Cora saw the tiredness in his eyes and knew that it wasn't from the medication.

“I'll show you to your room, now. You should get some rest,” she said, leading Cale up the stairs.

“Thanks,” he said.

When Cora informed him that his room was the attic, Cale had had some qualms, but when he saw the room, he was relieved. The attic was large and clean. He had envisioned a room filled with dust, spiders, and junk, but it was empty. A mattress, clean and comfortable looking, lay in the corner. After sleeping on the forest floor for so long, Cale didn't mind the mattress at all. There wasn't a window, but that was ok, too. As he felt sleepier and sleepier, Cale worried that his other personality might come out, but mused that the door had a lock and the door was very thick and sturdy, so he didn't think he could break it down. For the first time in a month, Cale felt secure. The door was off the ground a bit, enough that a book could slip through, but little else. It gave the room a fair amount of circulation which made Cale glad, especially if he planned on locking the door at night. He felt so tired. He looked behind him and found that Cora had left. Gratefully, he let himself fall to the mattress. In his drugged state, he had forgotten to lock the door after all.

Cale dreamt of hands grabbing him, red hair, blood, and screaming, but his dreams were all terrifying and undecipherable as they mixed and blurred together in his drug induced sleep.

 

When Cale awoke he discovered that he was still on the mattress in the same position that he had landed. Did that mean he had not gone on a rampage last night? He stood up quickly. What if he had, though? What if he had hurt Cora? The door was closed but he had not closed it. At least, he didn't remember doing it. But then again, he barely remembered walking up the steps. His head was pounding and his mind was fuzzy. It was then that he noticed that he was naked. His other self had come through! He didn't know what happened to his clothes when these fits came upon him, but it had obviously happened again. He wrapped one of the bed sheets around his waist. He turned the knob to the door, but nothing happened. It was locked from the outside. He knocked on the door.

“Awake already?” Her voice came through the thick door. Had she been sitting out there this entire time?

“Are you alright, Ms. Fry?” He asked. She sounded ok, but he could only guess.

“Oh, I'm fine, dear. You didn't move a muscle in your sleep. I think you needed it.”

Cale felt a chill. He had not locked the door, so Cora must have. She had also watched him sleep. If she wasn't lying and he had slept soundly, then she was the one who had taken his clothes. He looked for his duffle bag with his eyes. It was gone as well. What the fuck was going on?!

“Open the door, now!” He snarled. Her laughter sent panic flaring in his heart like a psychotic butterfly.

“Alright, I'll open it. But only if you promise to eat. I bet you haven't eaten much in days, Mr. Selt, not hiding out in the woods for so long.”

Cale's blood went cold. She knew. She knew everything, he could feel it. Yet, she had not called the cops. She had intentionally lured him to her home. Why? What could she possibly want from him? He slammed himself against the door. It didn't budge.

“Open the door, you fucking bitch!” He screamed. She tsked at him.

“Such language for a messenger of God. But no matter, you'll learn.”

Cale didn't bother deciphering the obviously crazy woman's nonsense. Something inside of him was threatening to break loose. It wanted out of this cage and it wanted out NOW. But, even as he slammed himself against the door over and over, nothing happened. He slid to the ground. What choice did he have?

“Alright,” he said, defeated, “I'll eat the damn food.”

“Good boy,” she said. Cale could hear the sinister smile in her voice. A bowl of stew slid under the door along with a dog dish filled with milk. He didn't protest the degrading way of eating, he was too hungry and the heat of the attic had made him so thirsty. He ate and drank greedily, not realizing how parched and empty he had been. The milk tasted like the best thing he had ever had, cool and smooth and the stew filled him up completely. There were huge chunks of beef in it and it was so tender and rich. He ended up licking the bowls clean. He was actually glad he was locked up in here. It would have embarrassing if anyone had seen him gorge himself like that. His lips felt oddly numb, but the milk had been cold and the soup very hot, so he didn't pay any attention to it. His stomach burned, but that was expected after eating that fast. That was when the first cramp happened. His entire midsection seized up and he fell onto his side. He panted as his muscles contracted, then relaxed, then contracted again. Each contraction was more intense than the last. It felt like his body spasming. He cried out loud as horrible pain wracked his body. Everything hurt. It felt like his bones were trying to escape his skin.

“You stupid cunt!” He screamed, “What the fuck did you give me?!” He sobbed as another seizure ripped through him.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, genuinely interested by the sounds of his pain, “Well, don't worry. You are God's warrior and you will be safe from the wolf's bane poison. It will just make the change happen more immediately. You haven't been sleeping, have you?” She scolded, sounding disappointed, “You should have let things take their course and done God's will. If you had, you wouldn't be in such pain right now. I do not wish to cause one of God's children such pain, but I am also one of God's servants.”

Cale's mind started to block out her crazy words as the pain overwhelmed him, yet he didn't black out. He had read somewhere that the roots of wolf's bane were poisonous. Was this what was happening to him? Was he finally dying? He should have slit his wrists when he had the chance. At least then it wouldn't have hurt like this. Of course, he thought, he had also read in that book about wolves that certain myths said that wolf's bane was used to force a werewolf to change.

`That's crazy,' he thought, even as his thoughts continued to return to that concept. He felt his hair lengthen and cover his back. He screamed again as his spine grew and arched. His hands and feet stretched and grew larger. No, it wasn't possible! He felt something grow from his lower back and his spine finally fell into place.

`That's my tail,' he thought before the wolf took over.

 

As Cora heard Cale's screams grow louder, she unlocked and opened the door and grabbed Gabe. She was smart enough to not stick around for this. After all, those who saw the light of God were often blinded by his glory.

 

The wolf awoke and the boy slunk back into the darkness. The wolf felt an odd protectiveness for him. The old bitch had hurt him and it was good that the boy had fallen asleep. Now the wolf could take care of things. It had been so long since the wolf had come and though the air was warm and smelt of the bitch, it was still a wonderful thing. It was so hungry. The boy had fed, but the wolf had not been loose in quite some time and it was starving. Its golden eyes examined the area it was in. This was not home. This was a cage. Wood surrounded it on all sides. The boy knew of cages and they terrified him. The wolf also feared this cage. It needed the woods, the smell of nature, and to see the sky. This place was evil.

However, there was a gap in the cage and the wolf walked through it, on all fours. It did not know how to take on the task the boy identified as `steps' any other way. The wolf did not look around to see if there was any food in the cage. It wanted out more than it wanted a meal. The outside air was chilly but good against its fur. It was out of the cage, but things still smelled wrong and unfamiliar. There were too many scents to focus on and it angered and confused the wolf, so it left for the only home it had ever known; the woods.

The wolf was a much better hunter than the boy. It took two hours, but the wolf finally found something more substantial than a squirrel or even a turkey. A good sized buck was pawing at the ground, digging through the snow for some grass. The wolf stayed down wind, crouched low where the deer could not smell it. It was eager to sink its teeth into that warm flesh, but it was also a born hunter and knew that now was not the time to attack. It waited patiently for the buck to turn its back to it, then leapt.

Cora had come back to her home that morning. To her surprise, nothing had been disturbed. There was no evidence to show that a werewolf had been here except for the fact that Gabe was growling constantly. Cora had known that the boy would not return here after last night. He was probably exhausted. There had been no reported deaths this morning, but it was still early and the boy had probably returned to the woods since he was the most familiar with it. It was time to go looking for her warrior.

As Cora walked through the woods, she became more and more angry. She had expected to find at least one human body, but all she had found were five deer carcasses. The boy had been busy, alright, but he had not done God's will last night. Finally, she spotted a naked body sleeping among a pile of leaves, covered in blood. Cale's hair had turned back to silver sometime during the night. He was out of it, sleeping so deeply that Cora was able to wrap him in a blanket and carry him back to her house and not wake. Because of his height, he was awkward to carry, but she managed. The boy had not been eating properly, so he was under weight. She once again put him in the attic and locked the door. She would make sure that tonight Cale would finally do his job.

Cale woke with the wolf's bane still in his veins, making him weaker than a kitten and disoriented. He was still in this horrible room, but he knew that last night had not been a dream or hallucination. When the woman had drugged him, something horrible, something wonderful, had happened. He was a werewolf. He was covered in blood again and covered only in a blanket. Was that what had been happening all along? He had read in that book that there were hundreds of ways that people turned into werewolves; wearing an article of clothing made from wolf skin, magic ointment, making a pact with the devil, drinking water out of a wolf's footprint or an enchanted stream, being born on December 24, having two werewolf parents, being a seventh son, curses, being bitten by a wolf or werewolf, and there was even lore that said that werewolves were the Hounds of God, because all angels had the ability to transform. Was that what the old bitch had been spouting about? Did she honestly think that he was a warrior of God? Cale knew the truth. There was another belief, one that existed in other legends as well such as mermaids and Wendigos. It was also the only thing that made sense. This legend said that werewolves were cannibals, that sometime in their normal human lives, they had dined on human flesh. He had torn out his father's throat and swallowed his flesh and blood. Right after that, Cale had started to black out and people had turned up eaten. This concept terrified him and elated him. He remembered reading that book and wishing that such a thing were possible; to be both an animal and a human. But this was too much. What was the point if you couldn't control it and ended up killing innocent people? What was the point if you couldn't even remember what happened when you were a wolf? Worst of all, there was no cure. Sure, Cale had read about plenty, but he knew that most of them were old wives tales and that the only real cure was death. How could he possibly stop killing people without committing suicide? Did he even want to keep on living? But Cale had had the answer all along: as long as he didn't fall into a deep sleep, it appeared that he wouldn't transform. Having a split personality was one thing, but being a werewolf was a much more dangerous thing. He would not accept anymore food from the bitch and he would not fall asleep. He only hoped that someone would find him before he starved to death, but even that didn't bother him anymore.

 

The door swung open and Cora entered, her crazy green eye seemed to glow with fury.

“You are a warrior of God,” she said, her voice cold and clipped with poorly restrained anger, “And you spend the night gorging yourself?! You were supposed to do God's will and punish the sinners of this town. Instead, you eat deer and sleep like you deserve it.”

Cale felt relief sweep through him. So the blood wasn't human; he hadn't murdered last night. Cora laid a plate of bread and a saucer of soup at his feet. He sniffed at it. He was amazed to find that he could actually smell the wolf's bane. Now that he thought out it, his senses had been incredibly fine tuned lately. He had assumed that he had just been overjoyed at being free of his father and had needed to take in every little detail, but he now knew it had little to do with that.

“You will eat, then you will do what you were put on this earth to do.”

Cale narrowed his eyes at her. How the hell was he supposed to endure the pain of transformation when he could barely keep his head up? The aching in his bones that he normally felt afterwards in the morning was nothing compared to this.

“No, I won't. See, I enjoy a little thing called `free will', something your God doesn't seem to put much stake it.”

“You will do God's will,” she demanded.

“Fuck God,” he spat.

Cora slapped him across the face. It didn't have the desired affect.

Cale laughed manically and rubbed his reddened cheek. Cora was taken aback.

“Oh, man. My father hit me much harder than that! You're gonna have to do better! Hey, lady,” he sneered at her, “Where was your precious God when my father was fucking me when I was just a little kid? Fuck, where was he when my mom died on the operating table or my dad drowned my cat? Don't you people keep preaching that He loves all of His creatures?”

“H-he tests those that follow him,” Cora stammered, her conviction wavering a little. Her love of her God told her that this boy's pain must have had a purpose, but the maternal instinct in her wanted to comfort the boy.

“Well, I don't follow Him. God doesn't exist, lady, and if he did, he doesn't give a shit about us. I'm like this because I finally couldn't take father's crap anymore, not because God was too lazy to get off of his ass and decided I might make a good puppet. Fuck, you're the one who kidnapped me, drugged me, and is now forcing me to kill innocent people. If God was real, I'm pretty sure that would count as a big sin in His book. Who are you to judge people? You're not exactly a saint, you stupid bitch. So, fuck your `God'.”

Cora gripped Cale's hair, her long nails digging into his neck and drawing blood.

“You will not use such filthy words in this house,” she slammed him to the floor.

“You will not leave this room until you eat,” she said coldly, slamming the door behind her and locking the door. Cale heard her stomp down the steps. It was like swapping one abusive dick for another, Cale mused. Instead of a raping bastard, he got an obsessive bitch. Either way, he was locked in a room with nothing to do but rot away what little sanity he had. Cale dumped the bread into the soup and overturned the saucer. Broth spilled all over the floor, but he didn't care. He went to the mattress, rubbing at his bleeding neck and laid down. He mourned the loss of his things, especially Inigo's picture. He had bought the fox and wolf plushes to give to him, but he would probably never see the red head again.

 

It was like Byurmouth all over again, Cale thought as he lay on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes felt heavy with the need to sleep and his stomach growled, but he ignored both. He missed the woods, at least there he had had the stars and moon to look at. He could hear Cora pacing down there as night approached, no doubt of thinking of other ways to force him to transform.

`Good,' he thought, `Let the bitch pace. I hope she wears a hole in her fucking floor.'

`Next time you come out,' Cale thought to the wolf he could feel pacing angrily inside of him, `Do me a favor and eat her, ok?'

Cale was disturbed to hear the wolf growling in agreement inside of his head, but felt comforted to know that he wasn't alone up here at least. Obviously the wolf could understand him somewhat. He wondered if he could keep talking to him and if they could get some sort of animal to human conversation going. It was a bizarre thought, but no more bizarre than the fact that he had a wolf inside of him at all. He realized that he had been abusing the creature by not letting it out and, if they truly were separate beings, it was no wonder the wolf was so angry. It was probably hungry and needed to hunt, but was caged up inside of Cale. Also, it was possible that the wolf had some of Cale's memories, just like Cale sometimes dreamt of the things the wolf did while he was asleep. Having memories like those would drive anything crazy and since the wolf was inside of him, perhaps it related a little to those memories and that was why it killed with such viciousness, but had spared the little girl in Byurmouth.

`I'm sorry,' Cale told the wolf, `But I'm scared. I don't know how to deal with this, but I'm sorry for hurting you. Could you please behave? No more killing like that, please?'

Cale was again surprised as he `felt' the wolf stop pacing and growling angrily. The thing actually seemed to be listening to him. Suddenly, he felt the wolf curl up and `sleep' inside of him, content. So they had a truce, that was something at least. But Cale still didn't trust himself to go to sleep. He understood on some level that it was his fault that his wolf was filled with rage and needed to kill to satisfy itself. It was Cale's impulse as well.

Cale couldn't believe that he had spent an entire day sitting here and staring at the ceiling, talking to a wolf inside his mind. It was weird and Cale thought he should be locked up, werewolf or not.

The white wolf and the red fox now made sense. They had known that he wasn't completely human. But what about the gray wolf? That had been before he had turned. He had heard of the Grim, but that was supposed to be a black dog and it was meant as a death omen for the one who saw it. Perhaps the wolf had known what was going to happen to him. And what the domesticated dogs that seemed to go crazy around him and the crows that seemed to almost follow him around? First Scampy had barked his head off at him after he had killed his father when the collie had never barked before at anyone. Now, Cora's dog, Gabe, seemed to hate him. Cale's howl had also terrified Scampy. Cale wondered if he could get the same reaction out of Gabe. Maybe the dogs could sense that something was off about him, but were no longer connected to nature like the wolves and foxes and thought that he was a threat. Then there was the matter of the crows. Before he had loved the sight of the black birds, but now they set him on edge. There was something unsettling about them.

The night turned to morning once more. Cale's stomach was hollow, reminiscent of the time he had spent in the woods, only this time food was only a few steps away and he couldn't eat it. It was agonizing. He was tired, but he was used to ignoring it by now. He only knew that it was morning because Cora was making sounds in the kitchen and Cale thought that he heard a lark, but that could just be wishful thinking. He realized that he didn't even know what day it was anymore. Was it December, January, or had he lost all concept of time and how long it had been since he had left Byurmouth?

Cale heard Cora walking up the stairs, probably to tempt him with more drugged food. His lips were dry and he was so thirsty, he didn't even care about the food anymore. Cale wondered if the wolf's bane had done something permanent to him because he still felt weak and sick. The room seemed even hotter than yesterday, but he knew that wasn't possible. Cora didn't have a heating system, which he had noticed when he had walked into the house, and it must still be cold since Cora had been wearing a heavy sweater. The fever worried him. The weakness worried him. The whole fucked up situation worried him.

Cale heard the door unlock and it swung open. Cale's suspicions were confirmed when he saw that she was wearing another heavy sweater and a jacket on top of it. She was carrying a tray in one hand and something wrapped in a black garbage bag. What was on the tray made his mouth water: a tall glass of root beet in a frosted glass. He paid less attention to the spaghetti on the plate, but that didn't mean he didn't notice it as well. His stomach growled loudly. Cora smiled cruelly as she saw the hunger in his eyes for the beverage. But to her annoyance, as she set the tray in front of him, he didn't move towards it. Cale steeled himself. It didn't matter how much he wanted it, he wasn't going to drink it, even if he died of dehydration. It went beyond not wanting to kill people now. Now it was all about pride and free will. He would not bend to this bitch, no matter what.

“Aren't you going to eat?” She asked sweetly. Cale glared at her.

“Fuck you,” he ground out. Her smile grew.

“I thought you might say that, so I've decided to appeal to the other side of you, instead.”

She unwrapped the garbage bag and something brown and red and furry tumbled out. It rolled towards Cale and Gabe's glazed, lifeless black eyes stared up at him. Cale froze, his heart pounding. She really was crazy. Gabe's decapitated head leaked blood and white and clear fluid on the floor. The wolf growled in hunger. It wanted to devour the treat, feel the flesh and blood in between its teeth…

No! Cale snapped at the wolf. It didn't matter how hungry it was, Cale was awake and in control. Cora glared in shock and anger as the boy kicked the dog's head away from him.

“Sick bitch… your own dog,” Cale muttered. The smell of blood was thick in the air and it made Cale feel even more hungry. He couldn't even tell if it was the wolf's hunger or his own, their twin needs seemed to combine inside of him.

“You can't hold out forever,” Cora said, frustrated at Cale's defiance, “God won't allow it and neither will I.”

 

The first of January finally came and the weather gave a little. The temperature rose to a bearable level and people started to once again enjoy the woods. There had been no more murders, no more howling, no indication of the strangeness of the previous month what so ever.

Cora was getting crazier and crazier as the days passed. No matter what she did, Cale refused to eat and sleep. The boy was losing so much weight, his bones were showing through and his veins and joints appeared to be almost swollen. His eyes became bloodshot and a permanent fever had set in, yet he did not weaken in his resolve to deny anything Cora gave him. The attic smelled terrible with waste and sickness. Cora was failing God and she had to find a way to get the boy to change. One day, she had thought that she had found the way to break Cale's spirit…

 

Cora entered the room with a tray. The smell wafted to Cale, but it only made him want to throw up. The thought of food hurt his stomach while at the same time it filled him with yearning. Cora narrowed her eyes as Cale looked at her, but didn't say or do anything. The boy was losing his grip, weakened with no nutrition. All it would take was one little push to show him who the boss was around here, then everything would be as it should be.

“Do you really want to die?”

Cale stared at her blankly.

“No, but you're not giving me much choice,” he murmured tiredly. He needed something, anything. He was losing his resolve. He felt so ill. He finally came to a decision. If he was in better health, he never would have dreamt of it, but his need was too strong. A compromise was all that mattered. That meant that she wouldn't win, right? And last time he hadn't killed anyone… surely a little bit of food wouldn't hurt? Or better yet, some water… His lips were cracked and bloody. His stomach was no longer a concern to him. He was slowly starting to lose interest in a lot things that should have alarmed him, but water… that was something that still made him hurt in desire.

“Give me the picture in my bag and I'll eat something.”

Cora smiled and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Alright,” she said slyly. She knew better than to trust him. He would hide the picture from her and not eat anything, but she would keep her promise. Cale followed her numbly with his eyes as she left to look through the black duffle bag that she had taken from Cale. Cale felt his eyes droop a little as she left. It was so hot in here, it made him drowsy. He hated the heat so much, always had, even as a child, but this heat was unnatural, it was the heat of sickness. Cora returned swiftly with the wonderful piece of paper, scowling at him. The note on the back… She didn't know how she knew, but she it was a boy that had drawn this. It was disgusting. So, she felt better, knowing that God would have approved of her decision. She held up the picture.

“If I give you this, you'll eat something.”

Cale nodded, furiously. Cora grew sickened as she saw that the need in his eyes for the drawing was more than he had ever had for water or food.

“I don't believe you,” she said, moving the picture back and forth, taunting him with it, “But I can fix you, you know. I can fix you of this disgusting… fixation. You'll thank me and then you'll eat and everything will be fine,” she said in what she thought was her most soothing tone.

She ripped the picture in half. Cale's eyes grew hollow at the sight of the picture being destroyed. She ripped it again and again until the drawing was in eight pieces and fluttered to the ground.

“There, now, I've kept my side of the bargain, I've given you your precious… picture,” she spat, “Now you-,” Cora screamed as Cale suddenly launched himself at her with a deafening roar. His sharp, claw like, jagged nails, swept against her cheek before his energy left him and he fell to the floor, weak. Blood poured over her face from the scratches. She clutched at her cheek in shock. Cale gathered the pieces of the picture to his chest, cradling them. He sobbed like a small child and rocked back and forth.

“Please find me. Please come back for me,” he cried over and over again.

 

That day Cora had indeed broken Cale, yet he continued to fight her. He didn't have the same vigor for it that he had had before and there was something unsettling about his dead, golden eyes. Cora still wore the gauze pad over her cheek as the scratches weren't healing and had even become infected. She had gone to the drug store, but they still were healing only sluggishly and pus would occasionally leak from the wounds. Cale could no longer see the point in anything. Everything that he had ever had had been destroyed. His mother was gone, Inigo was gone, he had no home… what was the fucking point anymore? But there was still the matter of the crazy bitch… she had destroyed the only thing he still held close to her heart and she deserved to suffer for it.

Cale felt so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. His thoughts were muddled and useless and all he could feel was heat. The wolf paced worriedly inside of him. The boy was not well and this was not good. If only it could come out for a little while, it could take care of the boy. It was a better hunter and it knew where good water was. It knew that when it was free, the boy slept well and sleep and water was what he needed the most right now, but the boy refused to let go and free the wolf. It was frustrating. The wolf could do nothing when he was locked inside like this. There were dark periods when Cale would be overcome with illness and loneliness and he would curl into a ball, crying for Inigo in his delirium. The weariness was draining Cale's strength and he couldn't keep it up. The only time he got any water was when it rained and droplets of water leaked through the attic roof. It was just enough to keep him alive, but it was not satisfying at all. January third came and it finally happened, Cale drifted into a fever induced sleep, his body and mind no longer having the strength to keep up the fight. The wolf awoke. Cale fell into a deep sleep. The wolf pulled the word `coma' from the boy's mind, but didn't like to attach it to him. It didn't expect him to come back for awhile. The boy's mind and body were ruined and the long rest would do him good. For now, the wolf needed to take care of their other needs; water and food. The promise the boy had begged of it came to it. No matter, there were plenty creatures, according to the boy's memories, that deserved to die.

 

Cora heard a long, furious howl coming from the attic. It had finally happened! But how? She ran to the basement, locking the door behind her. She was confident that the smell of the basement would hide her. She heard a loud crack as the werewolf destroyed the attic door and descended the steps. She waited, her heart pounding as the scratching steps grew closer and closer to her… Then vanished. The wolf had left the house.

 

The cool air against its fur was incredible. It already felt so much better being surrounded by wilderness and sky instead of the same walls and that horrible stink. The wolf ran through the woods, feeling elated just at being able to run again. It found the stream easily and gulped down long mouthfuls of cool water. It drank greedily, feeling as though its thirst would never be quenched. Finally, drinking so much that it almost made the wolf sick, it submerged itself in the icy water. The coolness seemed to get rid of the terrible heat left over from the boy. The water streamed off of its pelt and the wolf rolled around in the water, getting rid of the stench of sickness from its coat. Its thirst gone and its hair clean and shimmering once again, the wolf followed the stench of living creatures to what it hoped would be a satisfying meal to stop the pain in its belly.

 

People did some pretty dangerous things for sex, Aaron Renolds mused. Barbara Joyce walked tentatively, but excitedly, next to him. Dangerous was sneaking out of your house at one in the morning while your wife and daughter slept deeply to join another married woman in the woods where people had been murdered. Sure, there hadn't been any more murders in a while, but that didn't make it any less dangerous. Aaron didn't really know why he did it; the excitement he supposed. He loved his wife and she was beautiful, but their lives were so routine that something forbidden like this really excited him. Beyond that, for some bizarre reason, it made him appreciate his wife and his family even more. Barbara's reasons were quite different. Though she would never admit to it out loud, she had married a brute and sneaking out of the house to make love to a handsome man that she crossed paths with every day in town made her feel young and beautiful again. They both knew the dangers, but to them it would always be worth it. This wasn't the first time they had done this, but they didn't do it very often; Aaron because of guilt and Barbara because of fear. However, their excitement for this activity quickly waned as they passed a rock formation that neither of them had ever seen before. They were lost.

 

The wolf waited impatiently for the humans to come closer. They smelled of sex and fear and the wolf's instincts told it that they were the perfect prey; confused and vulnerable. Out here in the woods, the wolf was in control of everything. After so long, it could not wait to sate its hunger. The wolf searched the boy's sleeping mind for any indication that this prey might be unsuitable, but he had no aversion to the wolf eating them. The boy was deeply asleep, but it was not peaceful. The wolf tried to shake off the foreign feelings it had concerning the boy. He could be fine as soon as it found food for him. But doubt remained. There was something wrong with the boy, something that food and water might not be able to fix. The male of the pair turned his back to the wolf to say something to his companion. The wolf leapt. It sunk its sharp teeth into the man's shoulder and tore. The whole lump of flesh came away. Blood sprayed every where as arteries were severed. The man howled in agony, falling to the floor as his life blood seeped out of him. The woman saw a large flash of silver, then Aaron's shoulder was gone and she was covered in his blood. Her screams choked in her throat. It was true; all those rumors about werewolves… it was all true! She didn't even have time to run as the large creature turned to her and she felt sharp, horrible pain in her side as the thing's jaws pierced through her stomach. It dragged her to the ground, her making odd, guttural noises in her throat, kicking at the beast wildly, and wolf tore into her.

 

The wolf stripped the bones on their flesh, even gnawed on the bones themselves as it gave it some sort of cub like comfort. However, after being hungry for so long, only two meals did not satisfy it. It returned to the river to drink again, cleaning its fur of the thick, almost black blood that coated it. The boy did not stir.

 

Douglas Black had certainly been lucky tonight. He had expected to come back with nothing but squirrel and rabbit fur, but here he was with already one beautiful red fox in his bag. He had only one bad spot of luck when he had come across one of his traps that was wide open, but covered in white fur and blood. He had caught something beautiful and large by the looks of the tracks around the bear trap, but someone had freed the beast. Even as he growled in anger at someone tampering with his traps, Douglas was even more afraid. Trapping and hunting for anything other than fish in Innsmouth was illegal; killing foxes or anything else besides turkey and rabbits was an even bigger crime. Sure, the Black family had been doing it for generations and none of them had been caught, but that didn't mean that Douglas would be that lucky. If whoever had opened the jaws of the trap pinned it to him, Douglas would be going to jail, whether or not they found the fox in his bag. Still, he kept going to trap to trap, seeing what he had caught. Douglas was no fisherman, he had never had any talent for it, and this was really the only way he could make money. He only had two more traps to look at, then he could go home.

 

The wolf watched the human with furious golden eyes. It had been wandering the woods for awhile, hunting the scarce turkeys that still lived in the woods, despite the cold, when it had stumbled upon the white wolf that the boy had seen awhile ago. Her foot was caught in a sinister looking device that the boy knew was a `bear trap', though this confused the wolf since these woods didn't have any bears. Seeing the female's blood and fur on the trap and her struggling against the cruel, torture trap made the wolf want to destroy the trap and whatever had put it there. The boy recognized it as a human invention and he had also labeled the people who used such things as `evil'. The man's scent had not been hard to follow, he was not the cleanest of creatures and his natural scent was not masked by the weird things that humans put on their bodies. The wolf could smell the dead fox that the man was carrying and it mourned for the creature. The boy recognized that the fox had not been killed for food, but for its fur. It was one thing to kill the animal, but to steal its fur was so wrong. The wolf knew that `wrong' was a human concept, but it welcomed the word as its own. There was killing and there was desecration. The man deserved to know what it felt like to know pain and humiliation.

 

A long howl pierced the night. Douglas froze. He mind went to the things he had heard around town about demon wolves in the woods. He didn't put any speculation on werewolves or vampires or anything like that, but large wolves were another danger entirely. He ran, but the howling seemed to follow him. In his entire life he had never been so terrified. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, but now the trees seemed to loom accusingly around him, ready to snatch him into the air with their clawed branches. He heard something following him, something big. Something incredibly strong pierced his leg and dragged him down. He screamed in pain and terror. The pain was excruciating! He tried to run, but he was pinned like some giant butterfly. When he looked down, he expected to see wolf jaws around his ankle; instead his mutilated leg was clamped in one of his own bear traps. Through the pain he laughed hysterically. Of all of the ways to go, he was going to bleed to death, trapped by his own trap! If it had happened to anyone else, Douglas would have found it delightfully amusing, but since it was happening to him, it was downright pathetic.

Another howl came, this time much, much closer. He panicked hearing that low growling sound. He lurched this way and that, trying everything he could think of to break free, but the trap held strong and he only succeeded in tearing his leg further. He wrapped his hands around the trap's jaws; the sharp iron slashing through his fingers, but the device was stubborn and wouldn't part. Then a growl came from right behind him. Before Douglas could turn around, something grabbed at him and pulled with an incredible strength. The teeth of the trap tore all the way down his leg, ripping off the nails of his foot. He was free for a mere second before the wolf's claws slashed into him, ripping open his insides.

 

Once the wolf had finished with its meal, it went to the man's bag and took out the dead fox. With its huge claws, it dug a hole in the frozen earth and dropped the animal's body into it, covering it up again. At least now other human's wouldn't find the poor creature and mutilate it.

 

Morning came, the first morning that the wolf had ever seen. The boy still did not wake up. He refused to. The darkness was so nice away from the pain and sickness, so the wolf let him sleep. He would take over for now. If only the boy was outside, with the wolf, it could nuzzle him like the little kit he was and protect him from the cruel female that had imprisoned him and made him so sick. It would protect the little human, even if he was inside of the wolf, it would find a way to save him. The anger of last night had stayed with the wolf, so when it heard voices coming closer to it and its kills, it got ready to leap. However, as the humans drew closer, the wolf recognized them as cubs and it walked away from them. The adults with them the boy had also labeled as `off limits' and the wolf respected this. The wolf could understand the boy's aversion to killing what he called `children', as the wolf saw the little humans, it had no desire to rip through them. They had little meat on them anyway.

 

The morning was much warmer than it had been, so the troop leaders of the Wilderness Scouts of Innsmouth decided to take their little charges out into the woods to get their bird watching badges. The police had informed them that they had searched the woods several times, but had found nothing, so it should be safe, but they had brought mace and cell phones anyway. They were having a wonderful morning. So far they had found blue jays, cow birds, chickadees, cardinals, crows, and even a young quail. Suddenly, one of the girls at the head of the group screamed. The troop leaders rushed ahead to her. The little girl kept screaming her head off and they saw why. Flies buzzed around the corpses in a thick cloud and the smell was rank.

“A monster, look! A monster!” A little boy behind them cried. Then, all of the children started to scream in terror. The leaders saw a flash of the `monster', a large figure with silver hair, golden eyes, and wicked claws, before the thing disappeared through the bushes. One of the leaders took out his phone and dialed Brooks' number.

 

Cora emerged from her hiding place in the basement once morning came. Once again Cale had not returned, but once again she had not expected him to, but she knew where she had gone. She rubbed at her bandaged cheek subconsciously. While she was in town, she heard all sort of crazy rumors about the murders that had been discovered this morning. Cora believed most of them. Crazy didn't mean untrue. She felt a dark burst of pleasure when she heard that two of the murders were Aaron Renolds and Barbara Joyce. Everyone in town, with the exception of their spouses, knew that the two of them were having an affair. In Cora's mind, the two of them being killed while they were out in the woods sinning against their own husband and wife was too good to be true. But when Cora heard that Douglas Black had also been murdered, she felt angry. The poor man had been a constant church go-er and had never sinned in his life. He had not deserved to die. What was that boy doing? He was supposed to be destroying the evil in this town, yet his killings were so random! She searched the woods, but did not dare to leave the sight of the town. She soon gave up, realizing that Cale must be deeper in the woods. It didn't matter. She was confident that the werewolf would not leave the woods and she would be back every morning until she found him again.

 

Brooks watched the autopsy of Black, Renolds, and Joyce with a depressed air. When nothing had happened after awhile, he had hoped that the killings had stopped, but here were three more. Innsmouth was too small to have their own crime lab, neither did Byurmouth. They had to send out all of their evidence to Boston and it took so long to get it analyzed. So, even though they had teeth marks, saliva, and hair from the murders to cross examine with the DNA from the Byurmouth murders, it would still take some time for the results to get back to them. It was so frustrating. But, despite the lack of proper evidence towards his conviction, Brooks was now very sure that it was Cale. He had talked to the children that had found the bodies and they all gave the same description of the so called creature that had seen this morning: tall with silver hair/fur and golden eyes. In other words, a pretty good description of Cale. They had also found a fox that had been buried not far from the bodies. There had been rumors about the Black family hunting and furring in the woods. The way that Brooks saw it, Cale had killed Black because of what he was doing. Those that had known Cale in Byurmouth said that he had a very strong love for animals, much greater than he had for people. As for the other two murders, it was anyone's guess. After the bodies had been taken care of, he had called Hart to tell him to instate an eight o'clock curfew. So far all of the killings had been done at night and Brooks hoped that it would stay that way. He also ordered his other deputies to continue to patrol the woods. They had obviously missed something and Brooks didn't want to stop looking until they found Cale or another viable suspect.

 

Sarah Defasio had been right all along. She, her girlfriend Frankie Hutson, George Jaff, and Jack Redic were running from a monster. Only this monster was no werewolf. It was something much more terrifying: humans filled with hate and prejudice. All of this time she had been worrying about werewolves in the woods when she should have been worried about the people she was living with. George and Jack were childhood friends of her and Frankie, and also homosexual. They had all hid this fact well for years, until tonight. Innsmouth was not openly homophobic, but like all places, it had its spots of ignorance. They had been hanging out behind the Laundromat like they always did. It was a safe place, especially now after the murders of yesterday, no one wanted to stick around after dark. There was a curfew, but with most of the police patrolling the woods, it was easy to get around it. Nighttime was the only safe time for the two couples to meet their lovers. They certainly couldn't do it in broad daylight. They had thought that they would be safe tonight as well. George and Jack had been holding hands, discussing taking a sort of honeymoon up to Vermont. There was a quaint little town up there, much like P-Town, where gay couples could meet each other and not be so afraid. Of course, no place was safe for people like them, but some places were safer than others. Sarah and Frankie were kissing. They seldom had the chance to be intimate with each other when their parents were being so overprotective in this dark time, so they took every chance they could. In Sarah's opinion, Frankie was the most beautiful woman in the world. To some this might not seem like such a bold statement since Sarah had never left Innsmouth, but it was truly how she felt. They were both dark brunettes, but Frankie's hair was short and she had dark green eyes and adorable freckles that spanned her face. When she looked at her, Sarah's heart raced and she felt a love for her so strong she thought for sure she would die from it. So when assholes like Lars Fillmore, Steve Kemp, Rob Zilcor, Jane Stevens, and Ted Sommings showed up with their steel bats and cruel words and archaic ideas, Sarah couldn't help but feel betrayed by God and everything her parents had ever taught her. She wasn't even sure how it had happened. They had been kissing and talking and having a good time, when suddenly the back door of the Laundromat had swung open of the five of them had come out, the boys with their baseball bats left over from the high school game this afternoon, and Jane with her arms filled with lingerie; everyone knew that she was Rob's girlfriend but no one would be surprised if the buxom blonde had done it with the other three guys because, sadly, it was expected of her; the slightly slutty blonde cheerleader and her baseball `guy pals'. Sarah didn't know what they were doing here so late at night, but she was sure that it wasn't because of laundry. In fact, she could detect the slight smell of pot on their clothes…

The next thing Sarah knew, she, Frankie, George, and Jack were running for their lives through the woods with the slightly high, slightly drunk homophobes chasing them, slurs screaming and bats swinging. Sarah wondered how they could make so much noise with no one coming to their rescue, but she wasn't surprised. Hate crimes like these were a dime a dozen. After all, you heard it happening on the news and in the papers all of the time. In reality, they never had a chance, all four boys were on the baseball team and were used to running laps while the four of them were never that good at sports. Sarah heard George yell in pain and foolishly turned around to stop him. In mid turn, she heard another scream in pain, this one much louder and almost psychotic sounding. What she saw almost made her bladder go. Steve Kemp was the one who had caught up with George and had hit him hard in the leg with his bat. But it hadn't been George who had made that second scream, it was Steve. Steve was lying on the ground, screeching as something on top of him tore into his back with flashing teeth.

The moon was not out tonight and they were too far away from the town now for there to be much light, so all she saw was silver hair, a large figure, and golden eyes, but she knew deep down what it was… a werewolf. She felt no pity for the boy as the wolf killed him, though the sight still terrified her. To her pleasant surprise, she heard Frankie's heavy, shocked breathing next to her. She had come back for her.

“It's real,” Frankie murmured, “Everything they said, it's all real.”

As soon as Steve went down, Jane fled.

Ted, just as foolish as his dead brother, attacked the wolf, swinging with his bat. Though he struck the thing several times, the wolf did not seem fazed. Instead, the creature reared up. Ted screamed a battle cry and went to strike the wolf again when the wolf clamped down on his tongue and ripped it from his mouth, swallowing it down like he had seen his baby brother, Todd, do with macaroni. Ted fell to his knees, a choked sound coming from his throat, but the only thing that left his lips was a thick spray of bloody spit. His body writhed in his last erratic movements before he bled to death through his mouth and he fell to the ground with a loud thud. Sarah felt bile rising with the terror in her chest, yet she found that she was chanting in her head, `kill them, kill them, kill them all.' She knew that she should run, but her legs wouldn't move. Jack was gathering up George and she thought for sure that they at the very least would flee while they had the chance, but they didn't leave either. The four of them were transfixed to the spot watching the blood bath. None of them felt sad as the wolf advanced on the last two boys. Rob felt pinpricks on his cheeks as the wolf grabbed him, then tore away his skin from his face like a latex mask. But it wasn't a mask, he thought, it was his face. The skin ripped away from muscle and bone and teeth and Rob felt the sickening sensation of nails hitting his teeth. Blood ran in thick, clumpy rivers down his neck, soaking his jersey. He tried to back away, but stumbled over Steve's body and slammed his head; what was left of it, against a rock. Lars was a bit smarter than Ted, he tried to run. He didn't get very far. In fact, he didn't get anywhere at all. The wolf used his bloody claws to do to his neck what he did to Rob's cheek. His exposed neck; red and white and yellow and all sorts of colors; seemed garishly bright in the darkness. He made one sputtering, vomit like sound before he also fell, blood pooling out of his neck like the run off a cherry pie. Sarah felt like cheering. That was, until the beast turned to them. The wolf came closer and closer to them, surprisingly graceful on two legs. They could feel its warm breath on them though they still couldn't see it very well in the darkness and they still couldn't move. They waited for death, knowing that they wouldn't be able to outrun the beast. Sarah stared into the things golden eyes. She saw something familiar in them; emotion and sort of intelligence not unlike a human's. Then, that hot breath was gone. The beast was gone. They, for some reason, had been spared. Sarah realized that. It had not been a fluke or a coincidence. The beast had looked into her eyes and had actually decided not to harm them. She fell on her butt on the ground, tears prickling at her eyes. She felt Frankie's arms around her. She never felt safer.

 

The wolf followed the scent of the girl that had gotten away. Despite the biting hunger, the wolf had not killed the other humans. The boy had determined them `innocent', just as innocent as the cubs that the wolf had spared earlier. The others, however, the boy had lumped in as `evil' just as he had the man who had killed the fox and just like the first meals the wolf had had, those other humans in those other woods. The wolf had waited too long to chase this female, but that was ok. It didn't matter how far she had gotten, it would find her.

 

The wolf found her by the scent of her blood. The girl had run out of the woods, into an open field, and right into an old barbed wire fence. She screeched like a scalded cat, struggling against the wire but only got herself more entangled and blood covered her body. If the wolf could smile, it would. When would humans learn to watch where they were going? The girl could smell it and her screams and thrashings grew more frantic as it got closer to her. The wolf clamped its jaws over her caught arms and pulled her out of the fence. She shrieked as the sharp wire ripper her skin apart like warm wax. Her blood spattered on its nose and face. She screamed and screamed, but no longer had the energy to fight the wolf. It dragged her back where it had left the other bodies to eat.

 

Cale awoke the next morning. His body was stiff and hot and aching. He was still hungry and thirsty and he could feel illness burning in his veins. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Why did he have to wake up? His eyes wouldn't focus and his vision remained blurred. The chilly air did nothing for his fever and he felt his naked body shake a little. He tried to move, but his muscles wouldn't work. He was too weak. He would have ripped out his left eyes just for a gulp of cold water. He coughed and pain shot through his chest, making him wince. He needed to find water, he knew the signs of dehydration, but he just couldn't manage the ability to care anymore. There was tacky blood on his skin. He knew somehow that he had killed someone last night, but he just didn't care. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

 

Cora walked through the woods with an angry expression. The boy had killed again last night; they had just found what was left of the bodies this morning. They were good people, each and every one of them. They were mere children, really. To make things worse, he had let those horrible faggots live. They were both failing God. This morning she was much luckier than she had been before and found Cale lying naked among some leaves. He had killed the ones that had been trying to do God's work. She should punish him for doing that, but nothing seemed to faze him as she shook him roughly. His skin was flushed and extremely hot and he did not wake up. With a scowl, she pried open the sleeping boys mouth and forced some wolf's bane roots into his throat. He coughed as she shut his mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow. The affect was immediate. Cale began to seize, his body shaking violently. His muscles became taunt, yet this time he didn't scream. Suddenly, his movements stopped and he looked up at her with glassy, dead eyes. Blood leaked from his eyes, nose, and mouth along with whitish, pus like liquid. He was completely still and wasn't breathing. His muscles spasmed over and over even as he lay there and blood started to pour out of his ears as well. Cora leaned in to see if he was dead. Had she given him too much? Could werewolves even die? But, Cale wasn't a werewolf right now, he was in his human form and wasn't wolf's bane supposed to be poisonous to humans? Suddenly, Cale's body jerked and his eyes met hers, his mouth opened and a screeching howl left his lips. Cora fled.

 

 

If only the bitch hadn't run in the middle of the coming out, the wolf thought, then it could have turned her to shreds. The wolf could feel the boy's illness boiling in its brain like a horrible cancer. Everything hurt. It wanted to tear the world apart, even the air that it was breathing deserved to die. The wolf snarled low in its throat. Its eyes burned and blood gushed from them. It walked shakily on all fours, snapping at the air ferociously as whatever the bitch had given it burned through its body. Everything just hurt too much. It whimpered and fell to the ground, curling up and escaping into sleep.

 

Febuary came and the cold weather did not let up, but there were no more storms or even a little bit of snow. The wolf spent most of its time hunting animals and sleeping. Cale would not wake up. There was another lull since no more killings but no one in Innsmouth had a false sense of security. People, for the most part stayed out of the woods, and anyone that did go into them, didn't go too deep. The police had taken a lot of insults for having more killings happen when the police where supposed to be patrolling the woods. Cora had also been wary to search the woods for Cale, but did so anyway, though she couldn't find him. However, there were a spare few of people willing to brave the woods. These people decided that, since the police weren't doing it, they could police themselves. So, armed with silver, crosses, wolf's bane, holy water, shot guns, and many other useless things, they searched the woods for the werewolf.

Dennis Miligan was one of these individuals. After hearing about another Sommings dead, he had decided that enough was enough. He went alone in the dead of the night to look. The other men were fools, he decided. They were too cowardly to go at the time of day that the wolf had been killing. Instead, they had been going in the day, when the wolf was no doubt hiding. No one had wanted to join him in a hunt this late, but that was just fine with Dennis. He didn't want any yellow bellied shits dragging him down. He kneeled down on the ground, spotting something that made his blood run cold; a large print and a silver hair. The wolf was near here, he could almost taste it.

The wolf followed the man's movement with fevered eyes. Did the human really think that he was hunting it? Anger boiled inside of the wolf. No one hunted it, especially not a clueless human. It crept on all fours, following the man as he moved deeper in the woods.

Dennis followed the tracks to the stream that ran through the woods. The foot prints were huge, it was amazing. And yet they looked familiar to him. He did not see anymore silver hair, but the tracks led over the stream. The flowing water was not deep, so he trekked over it, following more of the foot prints.

The man was moving over water and for a minute his scent wavered, but the wolf was smart enough to still track him. With a great leap, the wolf jumped over the thin stream. The man moved into the thick woods on the other side.

Something was wrong. Dennis could feel this in his gut. The woods had become deathly quiet and a strange, familiar smell came to him. He leaned down to inspect another foot print. Then it hit him. When he was a kid, his father had constantly taken him to Maine to go hunting. A few times he had seen tracks like these. These were bear tracks. And that smell was the smell of an animal that had been dead for a very long time. Dennis heard a low growl from behind him. The wolf had tricked him. It had let the bear wander deeper and deeper into the woods, then killed it, just so he would follow the tracks. A werewolf would be too smart to leave tracks this blatant. He wasn't such a great hunter after all, he had been bested so easily…

The wolf lunged with a deafening roar.

 

“This is some stupid ass shit!” Kim snapped again as she and her three brothers walked through the woods. Mike rolled his eyes. Eric smirked. Dean just ignored her.

“Just because some dick friend of yours bet you to do this, why do I have to do it as well?” Kim demanded.

“Because, even if you're a girl, it doesn't mean that you can't have some goddamn balls,” Mike jeered.

“Fuck that, this is a stupid idea!”

Despite her constant whining, Dean had to admit that his sister was right. This was some stupid ass shit. It was one in the morning and here the four of them were in the woods just because Mike's friend had dared him to come here and tag a tree to see if he had the guts to go into `Werewolf Woods'. Of course, Mike had decided that he should bring his siblings along and they all had been stupid enough to join him. Eric kept looking all over the place for the sign of the killer wolf. So far, they had been safe, but the deeper they went, the more goose bumps Dean got. Finally, Mike spotted the redwood he was supposed to spray to prove his courage.

“You got the paint?” He asked Eric. Eric dug the spray paint can out of his bag and handed it to Mike. Mike sprayed an orange X over the tree with a relieved smile.

“Finally, we can get the fuck out of here,” Kim muttered. A loud angry roar broke the silence.

 

The wolf could smell something horrible. He needed to kill it. Kill the smell. Kill everything. Just kill until the pain stopped. It no longer cared about food. Its stomach was devoid of all feeling. Now it only felt rage. Rage for the kit that called itself Cale and rage for itself.

 

Kim ran through the woods, the heavy pounding footsteps of the beast closing in on her. The monster had killed her brothers. It had ripped them apart like they were made of dough. And now it was coming for her. She knew that running was futile. The wolf was too fast. But as she felt its hot breath on her neck and the thing's jaws closed on her long her, dragging her back with a painful jerk, she still felt a useless sense of accomplishment at getting this far.

 

The labs from the Boston lab had finally come back a few weeks ago and Brooks was still not pleased. They had collected Cale's blood from the kitchen of his house as well as tissue, hair, and saliva. It had all matched what they had found on the Byurmouth murders and now Brooks saw that it matched all of the Innsmouth murders. Cale was their murderer. No one in town had spotted the boy and they had searched the woods, but still no sign of him. How could you arrest a boy that moved like a ghost? Everywhere Brooks went he saw that the people of this town were terrified. Some had even moved up North. A fevered panic was gripping Innsmouth and Brooks knew from experience that it was only time before it all blew sky high. He had to find the boy soon. He had to stop these killings, but he had nowhere else to turn. There was no pattern. The time frames and people that were killed were so erratic and random.

 

Febuary faded away and March came. The early spring weather melted the snow and the chill left Innsmouth, but a less physical chill still gripped the small coastal town. The ground staid hard and the flowers would not sprout until sometime in April. Somewhere in the woods, the wolf ate what little things it could still stomach, drank furiously as it was overwhelmed by a never ending thirst, and slept deeply, the illness in its body unbearable.

 

The wolf hunted at night and slept during the day. It was not because it was nocturnal, it was because it eyes burned and bled all the time now and the darkness made it felt much better. Its instinct told it that it needed food, though the wolf didn't feel much like eating. Just like the boy, all it wanted was to sleep. It was worried that boy had not stirred for almost a month. He was falling deeper and deeper into the wolf. It was bothersome. The wolf did not know what to do to make it better for the boy. All it knew was how to hunt, kill, eat, and destroy. As the days went, the wolf moved further and further away from the town in the woods. Memory told him that sooner or later it would run out of woods to hide in, but something told it that constant movement would keep it hidden. The wolf smelled prey. The trees parted as the wolf stalked towards the scent. There was a large clearing and the wolf spotted its meal. The animals, which the boy defined as `sheep' were confined by some sort of wooden structure. It kept the gentle grass eaters in, but would do little to deter the wolf.

The sheet bleated lightly as the wolf advanced and climbed over the fence. The hoofed animals had no protection from the experienced hunter. Their coats were strange to it, fluffy and thick, but underneath them was meat and blood just like any other animal. Suddenly, there was deafening sound that hurt the wolf's ears and an incredible pain in its shoulder. Blood poured over the wolf's silver gray coat. The wolf snarled as a man holding some sort of metal rod stared at it in shock. The man was obviously terrified and shaking, but he held the rod, which the boy called a `shot gun', level towards the wolf's head. The man squeezed the trigger as the wolf leapt at him, but it was too late, the wolf was too fast. The wolf's jaws closed over the man's hand and crushed it in an unbreakable grip. The wolf crushed the farmer's head in its hands; the sound of his skull cracking made the wolf feel better through the pain.

 

A month had passed, but Cora had never stopped looking for Cale. Today, her terrible luck had turned, or had it? She had spotted a naked body in the woods, covered in blood. However, as she rolled the body over, she saw that it was Cale, but he was badly hurt. Someone had shot him in the shoulder and the wound was angry looking, yellow green puss was leaking from the wound and there were dark, web like patterns spread out from the wound. She recognized it as blood poisoning. But he was a werewolf and he would heal. So, she wrapped him up in the blanket she had always brought with her. His blood soaked through the blanket and she brought him back to the house. She locked him in the attic again and tossed the blanket into her garbage can. The thing was ruined with blood and puss. It was garbage day, so the nasty smell that Cale's wound had transferred to the cloth would not be noticed by any of her neighbors. She though about buying bandages for Cale's shoulder, but knew that that would come over as suspicious as she was obviously fine and she lived alone.

Once Cora had made sure that the garbage men had come by to dispose of her trash and evidence, she went to the kitchen. She opened up the drawer and took out the bundle of wolf's bane that she had found in the woods. She took two stems and cut up the roots, disposing of the beautiful flower. She took the chopped roots and went to the attic.

Cale looked dead. If it wasn't for the weak rise and fall of his chest, Cora would have assumed that she would need to bury him in the backyard with Gabe. Silver hairs covered the floor. His hair was shedding. No, more like it was just plain falling out. Why had things gone so wrong? What had she done to displease God? Why couldn't Cale be the avenging angel that he had been born to be? She sighed and forced his mouth open, shoving the roots down. The spasms were horrible, his entire body lurching off the floor and his neck snapping. Foamy, bloody saliva trickled out of his mouth and pus poured from the wound in his shoulder. He rolled onto his side and threw up a mass of clotted blood that was swirled with white, yellow, and green abscess. Tears of pain went down his reddened cheeks. Cora waited and waited. An hour past and Cale's seizing finally stopped. His eyes were like a corpse as he stared at her, unseeing. He did not change.

It wasn't possible! He had always transformed before! Transformation was supposed to be like the beating of a heart, completely involuntary, a simple reflex, so why wasn't it happening? Cale's golden eyes rolled to the back of his head and he shuddered before his eyelids drew shut once more.

 

Angelica and Zachary Crane looked at each other nervously as they sat in Brooks' office. David watched them carefully. They were obviously feeling guilty about something. However, he did not want to push them. They were here under their own free will and they had something important to tell him, he could sense it. Finally, Zachary spoke.

“It's about Cora Fry.”

David's eyes narrowed in thought. Everyone in Innsmouth knew about crazy old Cora Fry and most believed that she was innocent, that she just wanted an ear to her craziness, but Brooks knew better. People like Cora were ticking time bombs ready to blow up in someone's face. The Crane's lived across from her, so Brooks leaned in to listen closely.

“Well,” Angelica murmured, “Cora… she's, ya know, strange. She frightens me.”

David nodded in agreement. Anyone with common sense would be afraid of her and he was glad that Angelica had some.

“We've been hearing strange noises coming from her house; howls, crying, screaming, that sort of thing,” Zachary explained.

“We thought that it was just Gabe, her German Sheppard, but,” Angelica looked nervous again, “I haven't seen Gabe around lately. Besides, even a dog Gabe's size couldn't make those sounds. A Saint Bernard or a Great Dane, maybe, but even that would be pushing it. And just this morning,” Angelica continued, her blue eyes tinged with fear, “She came home carrying something big in a blanket. When she came back out, she threw away the blanket. The trash people came already, but I still remember it clear as day. It was covered in blood.”

“Well, it was covered in something red,” Zachary said, unsure.

“It was blood,” Angelica snapped and Brooks agreed with her.

“Alright,” Brooks said, standing up to shake their hands, “I'll check it out. Thank you for stopping by.”

 

“I don't blame them for not coming forward sooner,” Amaaya said as they searched through the town dump for the blanket, “I mean, it's frustrating, but that lady is totally bug fuck crazy. Pardon my French.”

Brooks smirked.

“Consider it pardoned.”

This was not what either of them wanted to do on their Saturdays, but a possible clue was better than none at all. Brooks had this gnawing suspicion that Cora was involved with the murders somehow. Last night a farmer had been murdered. His shotgun had gotten off one round, then this morning Cora had brought a bloody bundle into her home. It all fit together too well.

“Got it!” Amaaya cried in triumph, pulling a bloodied, dusty blue blanket from a pile of newspaper. Brooks examined it closely. The blood was thick and clotted with streaks of yellow, white, and green. The smell coming from the blanket was almost unbearable. Amaaya pinched her nose shut with a grimace. Silver hairs clung to the blanket in twisted clumps. Brooks recognized that smell. When he was a kid, he and his brother had been playing deep in the woods and his brother had cut himself on an old trap someone had discarded out there. By the time they had gotten to the hospital, his brother's wound had smelled like that. Whosever blood's this was was very sick.

 

For three days Cora watched Cale. After two more attempts, she had stopped feeding him wolf's bane. He did not turn once. The second time, his seizure like reactions had scared her so badly, she couldn't bear to do it again. Cale slept deeply, shiver and convulsing on the mattress. Since the first time she had force fed him the wolf's bane, he had fallen into a sort of coma and had no awoken, but he had terrible, feverish nightmares. Even in her bedroom, she could hear him screaming and crying and whimpering in the attic. Cora worried about his sleeping this much, it wasn't natural. She had tried to get him to eat and drink, but he threw everything back up. His shoulder wound was oozing nasty smelling liquid constantly now. She left the attic door open to let the air circulate. There was no point in locking it anymore. The boy had nothing left to fight with. He was dying.

 

Three days. Three days of waiting. Three days of wondering. Three days of worrying. Brooks paced in his office, thoughts whirling in his head like panicked birds. If the blood was Cale's that meant that the boy was badly hurt, maybe even dying. Hell, he might be dead already. Why was Cale involved with Cora? It didn't make any sense. He worried as the hours passed, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't break into Cora's house on a mere hunch. He needed proof that Cale was there. Fortunately, if the blood was Cale's, since he was in immediate danger, they wouldn't need a warrant. The phone rang.

 

“We're going,” Brooks snapped at Amaaya and Hart who were going over crime scene photos. Amaaya stood up quickly as Hart went to get their jackets.

“What's wrong, David?” She asked.

“The blood on the blanket is Cale's,” he paused, “His blood is infected,” he added.

 

Hart knocked on Cora's door. There was no answer.

“Sergeant,” Amaaya whispered as Hart opened the door with a skeleton key, “What if he's not here? What if he's dead?”

Brooks didn't answer. A faint, but nasty smell came to them as they walked into the house. Hart wrinkled his nose in disgust, but Brooks and Amaaya had already smelled it once before. They entered the kitchen to find Cora, her arms across her chest defensively, a cold look in her eye; she looked crazier than Brooks had ever seen her.

“What are you people doing in my house?!” She demanded icily.

“Where is he?!” Brooks snapped.

“Little Davy Brooks, thinks he's so big, barging into old ladies' houses just because he has a shiny badge,” she sneered.

“Where is he?!” Brooks ordered again. Cora's green eyes subconsciously went to the attic stairs. Hart and Brooks ran to the steps.

“You can't go up there!” She screeched, trying to follow them, “You are impeding the work of God and you will all be sent to the lake of fire for this!” She ranted. Amaaya stopped her, flashing her badge at the old woman.

“I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we have good reason to believe that a dangerous criminal is hiding in your house. For you safety, you need to stay right here.”

“Chink, slut, Satan's harlot!” Cora spat at her, trying to run past her, but Amaaya was much taller nad stronger than her and kept her in the kitchen easily. She narrowed her eyes at Cora at her slurs, but refused to lower herself to her level.

“Do you want to go to hell, girl?” Cora whispered.

“Lady, if we find that boy here, the only one who's going to hell is you.”

 

The smell go worse and worse as they walked up the steps and as they got to the open attic door, even Brooks gagged at the retching stench. As they walked into the room, the smell of sickness, urine, waste, blood, and vomit hit them hard and Hart struggled with the need to throw up.

Brooks went right away to the body on the mattress, his heart heavy in his chest. The boy was naked and David could see blood on his skin along with old scars. His bones and veins showed through his gray skin, his joints were swollen in malnutrition. His upper body was covered in a disgusting looking, discolored pus. A web like patter arched from his wound, indicating blood poisoning. His face was red with fever and his eyelids were dark and hollow looking. His lips were dry, split, and bloody, and his hair was limp and dead on his skin, long and shaggy and filthy. He didn't appear to be breathing.

“Oh, fuck,” Hart said, covering his mouth in shock as he saw Cale, “That bitch…”

Brooks pressed his fingertips against Cale's thin neck.

 

Nothing.

 

He waited.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Still nothing.

Five seconds…

 

Suddenly, Brooks felt something.

A small, tiny flutter.

Brooks breathed in relief. Cale was alive, barely, but even that little puse sent hope bursting through him.

“Amaaya!” He yelled, “Call an ambulance!”

“Okay!” Amaaya yelled from downstairs.

 

Amaaya glared at Cora and flipped open her cell phone.

As Amaay was preoccupied with calling the ambulance, Cora took a butcher knife from the knife holder, and hid it under her apron.

“You will not take my anger away from me,” she murmured with a smile.

 

Brooks jumped back from the mattress as Cale's body gave a weak convulsion.

“Shit,” he muttered. Hart wrapped his jacket around Cale's naked form and lifted his nearly weightless body into his arms. Someone Cale's height should not weigh this little. Cale convulsed a little in Hart's arms. Hart kept a firm hold on him while trying not to put too much pressure on him. His emaciated body would not be able to handle too much. Brooks and Hart shared an angry look and they descended on the stairs.

 

Amaaya put the phone away. Innsmouth did not have a hospital, but Plymouth did. The ambulance would be here in about eight to twelve minutes. Hearing the voice on the other end of the phone tell her that had made her feel relieved. She didn't know how bad the kid was, but for Brooks to sound so panicked…

Amaaya turned back to Cora, who was still glaring at her and muttering cruel things under her breath. Something violet blue drew her eye. On the counter behind Cora was a bundle of flowers, some missing their stems. There weren't many flowers around here that looked like that and she recognized them right away.

Hart and Brooks returned from the attic. She saw what Hart was carrying and she whirled on Cora.

“You bitch!” She hissed. She shoved Cora aside and grabbed the flowers. Cora cried out in anger and launched herself at Amaaya. She tried to get the flowers from her, her nails digging into Amaaya's tan arm, but Amaaya flung her off easily. She showed Brooks the violet flowers.

“It's wolf's bane,” she said angrily, “The bitch has been poisoning him.”

Brooks narrowed his eyes at Cora, her lack of guilt for what she had done to Cale infuriated him.

 

“Cora, why?” He asked softly. He remembered how Cora had been when he was a kid. She had been crazy then, too, but that was different. She had been a bit eccentric, but not dangerous. It hurt him to know that the same lady who had made him and his brother sugar cookies after school was now going to go to jail for kidnapping a teenager and trying to kill him. However, he did not let his personal feelings for her let him see her as any less guilty. Cora's eyes were so insane when she looked at Cale, it scared Brooks.

“He is the Avenging Angel sent by the Lord Almighty to smite you sinners, you blasphemers, and here you come to stop His glorious work?! You will be sent to the pit. Let me help you! Let me save your souls!” She cried.

“Woman,” Hart growled, “News flash, God doesn't make people kill each other.”

 

There were noises, so many noises. It made things hurt even more. Cale floated through a pulsating haze that kept hi from waking up. It hurts so bad… He saw red everywhere. Blood, Inigo, help me, help me. He felt the wolf brushing past him, its soft fur comforting against his broken skin.

Help me, he begged the wolf, it hurts, it's so hot… Inigo… I need…

The wolf smelled blood and he smelled the bitch. She would die.

The wolf awoke from its cage of illness.

 

The ambulance's siren wailed in the distance. The three detectives were relieved; finally this whole nightmare would be over. Cora panicked. They were trying to take her angel away from her!

“You will not take my salvation away from me!” She screeched, slamming the knife into Amaaya's shoulder as her back turned to her. Amaaya gasped, falling to the floor in a crouch, pressing her hand automatically to the wound. Blood spread over her uniform.

“DIANNA!” Brooks screamed.

A gun went off among the loudness of the siren. Cora's green eyes widened and she crumpled to the ground, dead before she had realized what had happened. Her brain matter and blood stained the kitchen wall. A stream of blood ran down Cora's nose as her dead eyes stared on.

Cale sat up in Hart's arms, the policeman's gun smoking in his tight grip. Cale's face was contorted into a snarl, his teeth clenched. The growls that came from him and the expression on his face were not human.

`He is a werewolf,' Hart realized, `But a human one.' Hart did not loosen his grip on the boy, though. Hart's gun clattered onto the floor as the wolf slipped into darkness once more.

 

Cale howled, growled, and screamed as the orderlies tried to get him into the operating room. Memories of his mother filtered through his fevered brain. He wouldn't go in there. That lace was death! These people were trying to kill him!

Cale's teeth snapped at the people restraining him, his jaws almost closing onto one man's arm.

“Dammit!” The orderly swore, “Watch out for his teeth!”

Doctor Lindsey Stark approached the terrified boy with a needle.

“Hold him down!” She snapped, “I can't get him into surgery if I don't sedate him and I can't do that if he's thrashing around!”

Cale felt a cool hand on his miserably hot forehead. He opened his glazed eyes and caught a glimpse of red hair and soft brown eyes.

`Inigo,' he thought deliriously.

“It's alright, honey, it's all ok. We're going to make you better, alright?” A female voice soothed him and Cale felt himself relax.

`Why does Inigo have Mom's voice?' He thought blearily. He didn't even feel the needle slipping into his arm.

Stark looked at the red headed nurse in appreciation as the boy succumbed to the drug.

“Thank you, Nurse Sullivan,” the doctor glared at the orderlies as they helped wheel the shivering boy into the ER.

 

Brooks and Hart watched this whole scene with a sense of deep helplessness. Amaaya had already gone into surgery and it had only been a simple patch job, the surgeon had said. They had given her some morphine, stitched up the wound, given her a transfusion, and she was now resting peacefully. Cale was a different story. The second the doctor had seen him she had worn a look of depression. With the teenager it would be touch a go for awhile. Infection, malnutrition, dehydration, blood poisoning, bladder infection, and sleep deprivation had taken their toll on him. The blood poisoning had spread to one of his kidneys, but the abscess had been drained while he was in surgery, so the doctor hoped that they would not need to remove the kidney. The wolf's bane still working its way through his body was severely complicating things. His stomach had been pumped, but he still had trouble breathing and every so often, he would dry heave. They gave him medication for the poisoning, to help his body work through it faster. For the first time, Brooks was glad for someone's death. Cora Fry hadn't exactly been an easy woman to like.

 

Amaaya woke later that night, groggy from the morphine, but otherwise fine. After she shook off the haze of the drugs, she was her usual fiery self, asking them nonstop questions about Cale that they truthfully couldn't answer.

Five hours later, they were allowed to see Cale. The boy looked even worse under the bright lights ad hooked up to all of those machines. Thick bandages covered Cale's shoulder, tubes sticking out through the bandages, sucking out abscesses and infected blood while another pumped clean blood back in. An oxygen mask had been put over his face when he had had trouble breathing during the operation. IV's supplied him with nutrients, fluid and antibiotics to help him deal with his malnutrition and infections. The silver haired boy looked like a frail, broken doll lying on the hospital bed, his thin chest rising and falling. He knew that he should be angry at this boy. He had killed twenty five people, many of them people he knew, some more intimately than others. Yet, he didn't feel any sort of resentment towards Cale. Looking at the scars and burns that spanned Cale's bare chest, he felt anger, but only towards the ones that had hurt him. If Cale was a monster, then he was a man made one. Brooks believed that some people were born evil. Hell, it had been scientifically proven. What else would you call sociopaths? But Brooks also believed that people could be pushed to insanity. People like Cale. People whose minds and spirits had been broken so badly, they didn't even know hat they were doing. Looking at Cale, it was easy to believe that the boy had another person inside of him that was the one responsible. The killings had not been done by a sociopath, but by someone filled with rage and a sort of animal like dementia. He believed that he could still save Cale. He needed to believe that.

Brooks was roused from his thoughts by a light knock on the door. Hart was standing at the doorway.

“We have to go back to Cora's,” Hart said reluctantly, “To check the place out before those guys come from Boston.”

Brooks nodded. He brushed Cale's silvery hair from his pace.

“I'll be back,” he promised.

 

While they were in Cora's house, they mutually agreed they would wait for the crime team from Boston to deal with the attic. Neither of them relished the idea of going up there again. The kitchen and bedroom held nothing of interest besides more wolf's bane in a kitchen drawer.

“Hey,” Hart suddenly mentioned, “Didn't that couple say something about a dog?”

“Yeah,” Brooks replied, “She has a German Sheppard named Gabe. Why?”

“Well,” Hart looked around, “Where is it, then?”

“Shit,” Brooks muttered. They should have at least heard the animal barking at an intruder. He sighed, “I'll tell the Boston team to bring a methane detector and see if she buried him somewhere on the property.”

Brooks felt a little depressed. Sure, he had hated that dog. Most people did. Gabe hadn't exactly the friendliest of dogs, even as a puppy. Brooks doubted that there was anyone left in town that hadn't been bitten or barked at by the German Sheppard. Still, he hoped that Gabe had died of natural causes. He hoped that it hadn't been Cale. The boy did not need another death on his shoulders. It might have just happened that Gave had run away or had gotten sick and Cora had had to put him down herself. The woman had never believed in medicine, calling it `voodoo for the common man.' However, there was something almost sinister about the dog's absence. Brooks tried to shake off the feeling as they went down into the basement.
“Well, we hit the jackpot this time,” Hart said as he found a black duffle bag and book bag under the steps filled with clothes and even a foldable tent. As with the other rooms, Brooks took pictures as Hart sifted through the stuff with careful, glove covered hands. He picked out a fountain pen that was stained a dark brown with old blood.
“I think we have a winner,” Hart said.
“Right,” Brooks sighted, “Let's bag it all and get out of here.”

Cale opened bleary, golden eyes for what seemed like the first time in months. The bright lights burned his eyes and he had to squeeze them shut. He didn't dare open them again, it hurt too much. Where was he and why was it so bright? He tried to rack his brain for any clue, but his mind was fuzzy. He only remembered things in bits and pieces. Blood, screaming, needles, a gunshot, someone telling him that he would be back… He remembered these things, but the memories themselves were so fractured and he couldn't put them together. It was so frustrating grasping at things that seemed to be made of smoke. Just when he thought that he had it, the memory would become blurred and distorted. The last two things that he remembered concretely were Cora tearing up the drawing and him being very, very sick. Cale felt like throwing things. If he could only remember. He tried to get off of the bed he was on to punch the white wall, throw whatever it was that was making that agonizing beeping noise, but found that his arms were strapped down. What the fuck?!
Suddenly, it came to him. Needles, white walls, the beeping, the strange pins and needles feeling in his arms, and that nasty sterile smell… He was in a fucking hospital! Cale dared to open his eyes again and before the burning got to be too much, Cale saw that there were tubes in his arms; he felt another, bigger one in his shoulder, and he also noticed that he had something on his face. He struggled against his bonds but it was no use, he felt weaker than he had ever been in his life. He understood that it wasn't just the drugs they were no doubt pumping into him, but also because he still felt sick. And yet, he felt better than he had been lately. But that didn't matter, if he stayed here, he would die just like his mother. However, no matter how he moved, his body wouldn't cooperate. He realized that the straps were irrelevant; he was too weak to even sit up. Fear overwhelmed him and he felt tears stream down his cheeks. What the hell was wrong with him?! Why couldn't he stop crying?
Cale heard the door open and he made the mistake of opening his eyes to see who it was and he hissed in pain as the light seared his eyes like a knife, fluid joining his tears.
“It's okay,” a gentle, deep voice said, “You can open your eyes now.”
Every instinct in Cale told him not to trust the voice. He was in a hospital and people lied all the time here. Besides, the person sounded like a man, someone who might be larger than him like his father and people like that couldn't be trusted. Still, he found that he did trust the voice. He also instinctively realized that this person did not mean him any harm and if he did, well, Cale was strapped down and sick. Cale opened his eyes to find that the man dimmed the light considerably.
“That's better, right?” A tall, clean shaven brunette with blue eyes wearing a police uniform said. Cale nodded. His eyes only burned a little, but the lights themselves weren't hurting him anymore. The man removed the oxygen mask that had been on Cale's face. Cale flinched a little at the move, but forced himself to try to relax.
“T-Thank you,” Cale said, his voice rough and thick. He then realized how thirsty he was. HE remembered that terrible feeling of constant heat, pain, and thirst. He never wanted to feel that way again. The man seemed to sense his discomfort and pressed a paper cup filled with water to his cracked lips. Cale drank greedily, his throat immediately feeling better.
“Can you please undo these straps?” Cale pleaded. The man frowned.
“You kept lashing out in your sleep. You even bit a nurse when she was checking on you. However,” the man's blue eyes travelled to Cale's wrapped shoulder, “You do look better than when we first found you.” The man unbuckled the straps. Cale didn't move. He wanted this man to trust him. Besides, it was just the feeling of being trapped that had bothered him.
“You're a cop,” Cale said with a hint of fear. The man smiled bitterly.
“Not all of us are like your father, Cale.”
Cale was not surprised that the police man knew about him or his father, it was a matter of public record, after all.
“I'm Sergeant Brooks. Me and two of my men found you at Cora Fry's. You were nearly dead and we brought you here. You shot her by the way. Cora's dead,” Brooks said with no accusation in his voice or eyes. Cale found that he felt nothing at hearing about the old bitch's death. All of the violence and death and blood had numbed him somehow. He hated it. Brooks sat by Cale's bedside.
“They're treating you for quite a few things, including blood poisoning and kidney infection, but it appears that you're healing fine. I need you to tell me everything that's happened.”
Cale paled. He didn't want to say anything. It was hard enough going through it in his head, let alone out loud to a man he barely knew and would be responsible for locking him up. Cale didn't need to remember anything to know what he was guilty of. He had been guilty his whole life. He deserved to be punished for this just like he deserved to be punished for his mother's death. So, he told Brooks everything. His mother's death, his father's hatred, Brian, Samantha, all of the abuse, going insane and killing all of those people in Byurmouth, living out in the Innsmouth woods, the strange dreams and blackouts he had, meeting Cora and being kidnapped and poisoned, Cora killing her dog, Cale realizing that he was a werewolf, and fading in out in sickness for so long he didn't even know what month or year it was anymore. He even told Brooks about Inigo and the sordid facts of the last hours of his father's life. Somewhere along the line, Brooks had grasped Cale's hand, anguish in the cop's eyes. Brooks had become a cop to protect people, so hearing about everything that had happened to Cale, still a mere child compared to the forty year old, tore at him. Cale didn't mind. After months of no human contact, the touch was welcome. When Cale was done, he was crying again. Brooks finally interrupted him when Cale started to say that it was his fault. David brought the teenager to his chest and hugged him as the boy cried. Cale's words and actions were so mature, it was easy to forget that he was still just a child.
“What's going to happen to me?” He asked.
“I don't know,” Brooks murmured truthfully.
Cale was too weak to write down his testimony, so he tiredly repeated it and Brooks wrote it down, having Cale sign it with a shaky hand. With that particular bit of nastiness aside, Brooks helped Cale settle back into bed and the boy fell into a fitful sleep.
Brooks felt like punching something, namely one Russell Selt. Too bad he was already dead. No child should ever be put through that hell. It was evil. As for Cale, well, he was obviously mentally ill. David was no psychologist, but it sounded like a particularly violent multiple personality disorder. The blackouts, the disassociation with his darker side. The boy actually believed that he was a werewolf. Of course, so had the people of Innsmouth. If Brooks had seen Cale coming after him in the dark with his height, claw like nails, golden eyes, wolf like hair, and inhuman behavior, he might have had the same thoughts. He only hoped that the people that sentenced Cale came to the conclusion that he needed help, not a jail cell, but Brooks was confident that Cale's testament showed that he was not stable.
A knock cam at the door. Whoever it was didn't wait for confirmation, just waltzed in. It was a woman with short, brown hair and green eyes wearing a very smart, expensive suit. This didn't bode well. The woman smiled at him, but didn't make Brooks feel better. With one last look at Cale's sleeping face, Brooks dragged the woman out. The kid was still sick and needed sleep and Brooks would not be responsible for waking him.
“Who are you?” He asked with a snarl once they were in the hall. The woman stretched out her hand.
“Sally Parker, PhD. You must be Sergeant Brooks. I work fork-.”
“I know who you work for!” David snapped, “I haven't been living under a rock. What I want to know is why Judge Larn's lap dog is here.”
Parker only smirked.
“These… murders… of your have made it into all of the papers in Boston. Judge LArn is considering this case as good publicity. As a court appointed psychologist, I'm here to judge the boy;'s state of mind.”
“His name is Cale Selt. Show him a little respect,” Brooks snapped. Hearing this particular fame greedy woman calling Cale `boy' made Brooks mad. She wasn't here for Cale's sake, only her own.
“May I see Mr. Selt, then?” She asked sweetly.
“No,” he said shortly, “He's sleeping.”
Brooks thrust Cale's statement at her.
“This will do for now,” he said in a voice that clearly stated that if it didn't do, she wouldn't eve get this much. She took it and sat down in a chair, suddenly all business. Brooks waited patiently for her to finish. When she was done, her face curled into a cat who got the cream type smile.
“Oh, this is just too good,” she said under her breath.
“Well?” Brooks asked impatiently. Sally stood with the statement safely tucked against her breast as though she was afraid that Brooks might try to get it back.
“He obviously suffers from dissociative identity disorder. I'm also willing to bet my diploma that he has post traumatic stress disorder as well.”
“Is that in your medical opinion or are you just trying to stoke the fire?” Brooks asked condescendingly. Sally narrowed her eyes at him, insulted.
“While it is true that I work for the courts and thus have to exaggerate every now and then, first and foremost, I am a psychologist! This boy has the classic signs of DID and PTSD. After his father's constant abuse, his mind fractured in order to create a personality to protect himself. I will tell Judge Larn that, in my personal, medical opinion, Cale Selt is incapable of standing trial. Because of his disorder, his concept of reality has been distorted and he should be sent to a mental institution to help him integrate his personalities. It is not a sure thing, but with help, he might be able to live a normal, healthy life,” her green eyes burned into David with sincerity.
“Thank you,” Brooks said. She nodded and walked towards the exit. Brooks sighed. He only hoped that this would be the good part of his day and not end up biting them in the ass.

Cale was still on a liquid diet the next morning, but at least he was awake to drink his chicken broth. Brooks expected him to complain about the diet, but Cale was too glad to taste something, he didn't have a single complaint. When the doctor came to check on him, Cale was scared and nervous again. Fortunately, Dr. Stark only had to check his temperature, IVs, and his infected kidney. Brooks didn't know how the boy would react to another needle. However, Cale received some bad new when she gently pressed down on his kidney and he gasped in pain.
“The blood poisoning is gone,” she said happily, “But your kidney is still filling with puss. I'm going to need to take some more tests to be sure, but you may need it removed.”
Cale swallowed nervously. Both the doctor and Brooks expected him to put up a fight, but Cale gave the doctor his arm, letting her draw blood, though he winced when the needle slid into him.
“I'd rather not die in this place,” he said.
The doctor returned an hour later with the test results.
“Pumping your kidney of the abscesses isn't going to be a permanent solution. Surgery is the best option,” she informed Cale.
“I can live with one kidney, right?” Cale asked nervously. Dr. Stark smiled reassuringly at him.
“Yes. I'm happy to say that your other kidney is perfectly healthy and it has enough tissue to do its job.”
Cale nodded.
“Alright. When do you want to do it?”
The doctor's smile grew.
“Good, I'm proud of you. A lot of people, who don't even have hospital phobias, hate the idea of surgery. I can prep you first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I am scared,” Cale said, “But I'm also tired of being in pain. I just want it to stop.”

Brooks could sense how scared Cale was, but he admired his resolve to go through with the surgery. Not many people had that sort of bravery. Though, Brooks knew that Cale wouldn't agree with him calling him brave.
Cale felt just as stupid being so terrified of a simple surgery that would save his life as when he had told Brooks that he was a werewolf. The more he talked abut this belief out loud, the more doubt he had. Dr. Stark left and Cale heard someone else knock on the door. A short haired brunette came in. She smiled at Cale and Brooks.
She smelled strange and the wolf, who had been silent in Cale's mind for so long, sniffed at her curiously. Cale wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of her perfume. He had never smelled perfume that strong before and it burned his nose. All of the time he had spent at the hospital the wolf had been absent as well as his heightened senses, until now, anyway. Was he really a werewolf? Silver and iron didn't bother him, he didn't change just during the full moon, and the wolf's bane hadn't made him change the last few times, just poisoned him. His doubt grew.
“My name is Sally Parker,” the woman said, “And I'm here on the behalf of Judge Larn. He read the testimony that you gave Sergeant Brooks and he's come to a decision.
Cale perked up a little. This was all happening so fast. Would they really send him to jail while he was still sick? The idea of being trapped behind iron bars the rest of his life terrified him.
“Judge Larn has confirmed my own belief that you will not be able to have a fair, competent trial and that, instead, you will be sent to St. Rosemary's Hospital in Boston. It's a mental institution.”
“A mental institution?” Cale asked. Was he really not going to jail? Parker smiled in reassurance.
“I believe that you have Dissociative Identity Disorder, also known as Multiple Personality Disorder, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD.”
Wasn't this what he had thought in the first place? That his mind was just sick? It made a lot more sense than him being a supernatural creature. Besides, if he was crazy, then he could have though and seen all sorts of things that weren't really there. His mind still desperately clung to the idea of lycanthrope, but he couldn't deny what he was being told. Besides, if he had turned into a killer wolf man, there had to be some sort of proof, yet the police hadn't found anything. Suddenly, terrible thought bombarded him. What memories were false and which one s were real? Was all of the abuse between him and his father just a hallucination? What if what was happening right now was just in his head? Was he even real? Or, his most terrible thought of all: What if Inigo wasn't real?
Cale could feel his heart restrict. Was he having a panic attack?
When he thought about it…
“Hi, my name is Inigo Santiago. I like your hair.”
“I promise it won't hurt.”
“You're not a monster.”
“I trust you.”
“I love you.”
Inigo had left him, but the door had been locked from the inside.

Inigo had been perfect. So like him, so beautiful, so kind. And that was the point, wasn't it? Inigo had been everything that Cale had needed.
Brooks and Sally were shocked when Cale seemed to collapse in on himself. Cale hid under the blankets as he fell apart.
Brooks grabbed Sally by the elbow.
“Let's talk in the hall,” he said as he led her out of the room. He had a good idea of what Cale was crying so heart brokenly about and he couldn't blame him. To find your soul mate, only to realize that he was only a figment of you imagination… Brooks felt his own heart break for Cale, he couldn't imagine what Cale was feeling right now and he sure didn't need an audience to his anguish.

Cale stayed under the blankets for a long time, long after he had run out of air. He felt the IVs tugging on him, but he didn't care. He wanted to lock himself in a world with only himself and Inigo. He didn't care about the `real world', whatever that was. He just wanted to be with the only good thing that had happened in his life. So why couldn't he? What was the point of these hallucinations if he couldn't make them work for him?
Cale swung his legs over the bed. He was much stronger now, though the act of standing was still very difficult for him. His legs were shaky and it took a few tries to stand up without fear that he would fall. He took the IV bags with him as he lurched towards the door and leaned heavily on the doorknob. He had never wanted to end his life as badly as he did now. He realized that the only reason he had lived so far was because of the hope that Inigo would find him, a hope that was now dead. What was left of him besides that desire to see the one he loved again? He felt like someone had scraped out everything that had once made him human. He felt shattered and hollow. How could someone live with these thoughts and feelings in their head? He didn't know if he could. But, he didn't deserve to die. He was evil, a monster. A human one, but still a monster. He deserved to pay for what he had done. He should go to jail, but he was terrified. A tiny glimmer of hope was born in his mind. Was he worthy of redemption? Could these people make him better, at least to the point that he had control over himself again? He deserved to be punished, yes, but human safety was more important. If he could get rid of the beast inside, maybe that would make things better. At the very least, it would stop all of these terrifying doubts about his own reality. It would give him one more goal, one more journey that he had to finish, and that was all that he could think to do. He felt the wolf poking around in his brain, filled with concern for Cale and his depression.
Shut up! Cale screamed at it. The wolf skulked away, annoyed at Cale's behavior.

“What's going to happen to him?” Brooks asked. Sally kept her eyes pinned to cale's door before she answered.
“The transfer will take some time,” she said, “He's a maximum security risk. I know he's just a boy, but he killed over twenty people and that's quite a feat for anyone, let alone a seventeen year old. I've informed St. Rosemary's about him and they will transfer him a week after he is discharged from this hospital.”
“That's three weeks!” Brooks snapped, “Plymouth won't let us keep him here for that extra week. Where are we supposed to put him until then?”
Sally sighed.

“You'll have to take him back to Innsmouth. I'm sure your police station has a holding cell of some sort.”

“That's unacceptable,” Brooks snapped, “Not only does the idea of throwing that kid into a holding cell like a common drunk make my blood turn, Innsmouth is a very small town. Hell, everyone in town already knows all about Cale! The second he steps into that town, he'll be lynched! And let me tell you, they won't care how old he is or if he's sick. They still believe he's some kind of inhuman monster!”

“Alright,” Sally frowned, “There's another option. There's a coastal town near Boston called Dunwhich. It's bigger than Innsmouth and they have their own mental hospital. Comparing St. Rosemary's to it is a lot like comparing this hospital to a high school nurse's office, but they could take him for a week. Once Cale is all better, we can spare some cops from Boston to bring him there and I'll look after him from there.”

Brooks felt relieved. Just the idea of bringing Cale to Innsmouth made him feel cold inside. Sally Parker drove him insane; though today for some reason she seemed much less annoying, even acceptable, but he was sure that she could take care of Cale until he went to Boston.

“Excuse me,” a small voice said from behind them.

Cale was poking his head out of his room.

“Can they… will they help me control myself?” He asked quietly. Sally smiled warmly at him. Cale thought that that look didn't suit the psychologist.

“Yes, honey,” Sally said softly, “You don't need to be afraid of yourself anymore.”

Cale narrowed his eyes at her and Brooks stared at her in amazement. That didn't sound like the short haired woman. At least she had the common sense not to show her true colors around Cale. Cale on the other hand, didn't like this woman knowing what was going on in his head.

“Are you alright with all of this?” Brooks asked. Cale nodded.

“I've done terrible things. I'm so tired of all this violence… I just want to be myself again.” Cale went back into his room and shut the door. There was nothing left that he wanted to discuss. He would be doing a lot of talking and analyzing when he was institutionalized. He really was ok with everything. He would be in a place that would keep him from hurting other people as well as help him to find out what was going on with him. In jail it would only be him and himself and he really didn't want to know that person anymore. Most of all, he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts.

Once Sally left, Brooks went back into Cale's room. The teenager was sitting in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Brooks sat in a chair nest to him.

“Do you really think I'm crazy?” Cale asked tiredly as he looked up at the ceiling. There were no water marks or shadows, at least that was something. Brooks put his larger hand over Cale's.

“I think you're mentally ill, yes. What do you think?” Brooks asked him. Cale's eyes met his.

“I read a book on werewolves and I saw a wolf in the woods. Right after that, all of these weird things happened, like I had implanted it in my head. Inigo was too good to be true, I should have realized that. My anger was before I killed my father, it all just sort of escalated. The blackouts and the fact that I can hear the wolf in my head… no one actually saw a werewolf, did they?”

Brooks looked sadly at him.

“No, no one saw anything that couldn't be explained logically.

Cale seemed to collapse in on himself again. Brooks was prepared for some sort of violent reaction, but nothing happened. The boy seemed drained and achingly exhausted. Brooks didn't blame him. Brooks smiled at him and patted his hand.

“Get some sleep, you have your operation tomorrow.”

Cale smiled weakly at him, but it was better than nothing.

 

Cale didn't remember much about the next day, for which he was grateful. He woke up a day after the operation with the annoying sense that he had missed quite a bit of time. He hated that feeling, he hated feeling so disconnected.

Dr. Stark was standing by his bed with a clipboard, checking his heart rate, temperature, and blood pressure.

“How did it go?” Cale asked roughly.

Does that even matter? The evil voice asked. Don't you realize the truth? You're dead. You're dad killed you and now you're in Hell. The voice jeered. None of this is real, you crazy shit. Cale ignored the voice. Dr. Stark smiled at him.

“So far there have been no complications and I don't expect there to be. Your body is healing very quickly and unless you develop an infection, which will be very rare, you should be out of here in a week.”

Cale nodded.

“I've been a fast healer since I was a kid.”

Yeah, and my dad just LOVED that fact, Cale thought bitterly.

Just one week and he would be out of this terrible place. Cale understood that the people here had saved his life, but there was nothing logical about his fear.

Over the week as Cale's body healed from the surgery and malnutrition, his hair retuning to a silky, healthy shine and his bones strengthened, he was presented with the last fact that solidified his doubt. He was still weak and beyond walking for a few hours up and down the hospital halls, he couldn't do much. Mostly, he laid in his bed reading, watching what very few television programs that didn't make him feel like launching the remote at the screen, and sleeping. Every time he woke up, however, he wondered something. Why hadn't he changed? Unless he truly was delusional, he should have changed by now. He could still feel the wolf pacing angrily inside of his mind, but that was all. He had no more blackouts and overall felt much better. HE was still hit by waves of severe depression, which Sally had given him anti depressants for, though they didn't help much, but physically he felt much better. His stitches from the operation came out quickly and the scar was very small and faint compared to his other scars. Cale mused that he really didn't feel any different with only one kidney. As the days passed, he got stronger and stronger until, by the end of the week, he felt like his old self again. Of course, no that he was almost a hundred percent better, he no longer had exhaustion and illness to distract him from how horribly bored he was. So, when Dr. Stark pronounced him fit to leave the hospital, he was glad that he would be able to leave. He would be seeing the sky again and what a wonderful concept that was! Also, the fact that he had not followed in his mother's footsteps helped ease his fear just a little bit. His shoulder had scarred very badly, however. Cale didn't expect any different. According to his doctor, he had been shot point blank with a shotgun and therefore had had a terrible burn and a gaping wound. It was no wonder how it had gotten so badly infected so quickly, but besides a few twinges of pain when he moved his arm, the scarred wound didn't bother him too much. As far as he was concerned, it was just one more scar. His day times were filled with boredom and Cale making up stupid games to amuse himself. One day he had licked different bits of food at the wall to see what would fall fastest; pickles, cheerios, even a piece of deli turkey when he had been brought a sandwich, nothing had bee safe. The slicked pickles had won. The janitor had not been very happy with him after that, even when Cale offered to clean it up himself. The best times were when Brooks brought him card and board games for the two of them to play together. Sometimes Detective Amaaya, who, unlike Cale, still had her arm in a sling, and Detective Hart would join in. Cale loved it when Detective Amaaya came to visit hi. It made them both feel so much better, knowing that there were other people out there that were like them. Cale found that it was easier to talk to Amaay about his past than any psychologist.

The day time was either somewhat fun or incredibly boring. The nighttime, however, was completely different. Cale had no problem taking naps during the day, but at night, a restful sleep was nearly impossible. Tonight was no different. He was going to be released into Parker's custody tomorrow and he was excited about leaving, but as soon as night feel and the orderlies shut off his lights, fear gripped his heart. He tossed and turned until the clock in his room read 3:02, listening to the sounds of his room; the dripping of the IV and beeping of the heart monitor that his doctor still insisted on having, the light footsteps of orderlies performing their rounds… Finally, he fell into sleep.

 

The nightmare started immediately; though Cale's slumbering consciousness did not recognize it as a dream.

He was back in the library loft, looking out of the window as Inigo lay on the couch behind him. He wanted to go to him, but his body wouldn't listen. The microwave flashed 3:02 in angry, bright red number. It was not raining outside this time but snowing. Suddenly, what little light that was in the room because of the moon turned a deep red. Cale looked up at the top window which was slanted like a roof. There was blood streaming down it. The blood at the top of the window was thick and cracked and was so dark that it was a horrible mix between black, brown, and a deep, deep red, it looked like it had been burned into the window. As the blood streamed down and became spread out, the blood at the bottom stretched into decayed colors of yellow, a pale brown, and a pinkish red like an ancient shower curtain or paper or the skin of a mummy from a horror movie. Cale wanted to run from the window, but couldn't. Then, the scene changed, but Cale was still naked and vulnerable. He was back in the kitchen of his house. He was staring at his father's back as the man was sitting at the table. Cale tried to speak or fun, but nothing happened. His father was dead, he had killed him! Russell stood and faced Cale, he was very much alive and had that sinister smile on his face that meant that Cale would be in some serious pain and soon.

“You've been a very bad boy,” his father said, his voice cracked and ancient like a movie from a fifties move that he used to watch on TV. Cale tried to run again, but he was rooted to the spot. His father spread out his hands and instead of fingers, there were long syringes stretching form his hands, each filled with a different terrible fluid, the needles of the syringes were long and sharp, liquid dripped form each tip.

“Time to take you medicine,” Russell said and thrust his hands forward. Cale finally screamed as the needles pierced his arms. The plungers went down, injecting him with the unknown poisons. It burned into his flesh and blood ran down his arms…

Cale opened his eyes to find he was somewhere else now. The room was icy cold and Cale could see his breath coming out in clouds. He looked down at his arms to see furious, deep puncture wounds and dark bruises. He wrapped his mutilated arms around his shaking, naked body. Cale saw large, metal drawers built into the walls and realized that he was in a morgue, however, there was only one body on the metal tables. It was Inigo, his naked boy laid still, his pale skin grey, and his flaming hair inexplicably devoid of color. There were long, deep claw marks on his skin and his chest and rib cage had been ripped open. Cale could see his exposed heart, still and lifeless. Crows sat on his stomach, pecking holes in him to get to his intestines.

“No,” Cale said breathlessly. Suddenly, Inigo's eyes opened and the cold, amber depths stared at Cale.

“You killed me,” Inigo said through cracked lips. Cale shook his head.

“No, no…,” Inigo's body started to turn gray and his skin became shrunken and it decayed away. Cale could see his muscles, then his organs, all decaying until it was just a skeleton on the table. The shed hair turned black and looked like burnt leaves. His bones became yellow, then turned to dust on the cold, metal slab. The birds stared at Cale accusingly.

“NO!” Cale screamed. An impossibly huge gray wolf brushed past him, a familiar bloody dress in its large jaws.

“Baby boy,” someone said softly from behind him. Cale spun around.

 

Iris stood in the door way, just as naked as Cale. Her nipples were hard in the chill of the room. She ran her fingers over her belly, swollen incredibly from pregnancy. She smiled at him. A translucent, pinkish purple fluid that was more like thick, but liquidly Jell-O than water, ran down her legs. Like a vicious acid, it ate at her thighs, dissolving away chunks of flesh. She opened her arms to him.

“Come here, baby.”

Cale wrapped his arms around her, feeling her huge belly press against him and the fluid on her legs started to work on him. A long tentacle snaked out of her vagina, the appendage glistening with the purple fluid, and spikes and burrs and broken razor blades adorned its tip. The huge thing forced its way into him, tearing and melting his insides. He felt chunks of flesh fall from in between his legs.

“I'm sorry, mommy, I'm sorry!” He cried. Suddenly, Iris' stomach burst open as hundreds of spiders exploded from her womb. Thick blood splattered on his stomach and the spiders crawled all over him, tearing him apart and crawling inside of him.

 

 

Cale woke up screaming and not knowing where he was or what was happening. He heard orderlies running at the sound of his scream and thought, `Good, let them come, oh, please let them come.' He itched at every little patch of skin he could get to. He could still feel the ghostly crawling on him even as his mind told him thee wasn't so much as a mosqito there. HE looked at his arms, ignoring the questions the orderlies yelled at him. No puncture marks, plenty of other scars, yes, but no tracks.

Was he alright?

No, no, far from it.

What was wrong with him?

So much, he couldn't even begin to name all of it.

But Cale didn't say anything.

 

 

“The night nurse told me about you fit last night. This isn't the first time, either. At least it wasn't as bad as the first few nights that you were here, but you can't keep going on like this, Cale, it's not healthy,” Dr. Stark said as Cale packed his things. Brooks had given him back his things this morning and he was wearing his mother's jewelry again. He felt guilty wearing it after the nightmare he had had, but he felt closer to her by having it. He felt horrible that his mind had depicted his mother in that way. She wasn't the monster, he was, and he had made her that way. His nightmare was true; he had deserved all of it. Still, he couldn't help scratching himself and looking for track marks on his skin. He fiddled with the silver bracelet on his wrist, making it ring merrily as he traced its edges with his fingertips.

“It was just a nightmare,” Cale told her. Lindsey sighed.

“Alright, but you have to tell Dr. Parker about it.”

“I will,” he said.

`Eventually,' he thought. It would be a long while before he would be ale to tell anyone about what he had dreamt about.

Someone knocked on the door. It was Parker, a man with long, shaggy blonde hair that Cale didn't recognize but was wearing a police uniform, Brooks, Amaaya, and Hart.

“We came to see you off, kid,” Hart said. He shook hands with Cale. Cale hugged Brooks tenderly and went to do the same for Amaaya, but she hugged him fiercely. The blonde cop produced a pair of handcuffs.

“Is that really necessary?” Amaaya snapped.

“You know that it is,” the cop said with an English accent. He glared at Cale distrustfully. Cale spread his arms out and the cop handcuffed his hands to his front, for which Cale was grateful. Riding all the way to Dunwhich with his arms behind his back would have been unpleasant.

“We should be securing his legs as well, but this will have to do,” the blonde narrowed his pale gray eyes at Sally. Clearly the two had fought on the subject. Cale was glad that she had won. He didn't like the idea of being that helpless among strangers. He said his final goodbyes and thank yous to the Innsmouth detectives and let the blonde lead him out of the hospital as Sally took his things with them. He had a moment of panic when he thought the psychologist had lied to him and he was going to jail anyway, but the car they put him in was oddly not a cop car, but a silver Toyota Corolla. It had to be Sally's. He supposed that this was less conspicuous and that, since he had not hurt anyone in the hospital, they felt that they could drop their guards around him. Well, he wouldn't disappoint. What would be the point of running? So he could end up like he had been living in Innsmouth? He leaned against the car window and fell asleep, the sunlight streaming down from the cloudless blue sky drove away his dreams.

When Cale woke up again, they were out of Plymouth and had just arrived in Dunwhich. Dunwhich was a strange town. Much like Byurmouth and Innsmouth, Dunwhih was rich with woods, only they had roads that cut through them much like the road they were on now.

It was April and the woods were beautiful with thick foliage and wildflowers. It was odd, the last time Cale had been outside it had been drearily cold and everything had been dead, but now it was pleasantly warm and there were sighs of life in the woods everywhere.

While they had driven through the first section of town that was separate from the second by the woods, Cale had gotten the impression that not many people lived here. There had been mountains around the town at one point, but had been turned into deep caverns. The caverns looked like they had been caused by some giant, rampaging evil and the town had an air of great stillness like a tomb or a place of tragedy. It felt like his house after his mom had died. Cale shook off his feelings. This town wasn't like Innsmouth or Byurmouth, but it was going to be his home for a week.

They were deep into the wood trail when Sally suddenly stopped the car. She got out of the car and opened his door.

“Get out,” she ordered. Cale looked around nervously for the blonde cop, but couldn't see him anywhere.

“Where's the cop?” He asked.

“I made you all see him. He wasn't real.”

Cale stared at her. Either this lady was just as crazy as he was, or he was hallucinating again. Cale panicked. How could you wake up when you weren't asleep?

“Get out of the car, Cale,” she said again. Cale did as he was told mechanically. This wasn't real, so it didn't really matter what he did. Still, this woman smelled weird. She smelled wrong and right at the same time and it hurt Cale's head just trying to think about it.

“This is real, you aren't crazy, Cale,” she said. Hearing those words for the first time was reassuring, even if he didn't believe it. Cale snorted.

“That's exactly what my fucked up mind would have you say.”

Sally smirked.

“Clever.”

Cale narrowed his eyes at her.

“If I'm not crazy, then that means that I'm a werewolf and that's just not possible!”

Sally raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why don't you think werewolves are real?” She asked softly. Was this some sort of fucked up therapy session? But there was still the matter of the missing cop.

“Well,” Cale thought. It had all made sense just a little while ago.

“I don't black out during the full moon.”

“Not all werewolves follow the lunar cycle,” she explained. “In fact, in a majority of folklore, the moon isn't even a factor.”

“Silver and iron doesn't bother me,” Cale tried to cling onto his convictions, but the woman's own surety made him doubt again. Wasn't there anything in his life that he could be sure about anymore?

“You know,” Sally countered, “There are many different subspecies of werewolves and other shifters, which is why there is much contradicting folklore. For some, silver and iron can kill, others it only makes sick, and some it doesn't affect at all.”

Cale struggled to find more reasons. How the hell did this woman know so much?

“No one say a werewolf, the wolf's bane poisoned me, and all of the evidence the cops found was human!” Cale felt confident again, hearing these things out loud. Sally sighed.

“The evidence wasn't human.”

“What?” Cale asked, confused. Brooks had said that the DNA was his.

“Initially, they couldn't identify the DNA as human or animal because of mutations in the blood. However, when they compared it to your DNA, they found that it was a ninety five percent match. The other five percent showed a severe mutation. But because of the ninety five percent compatibility, they could ignore the other five.”

“Mutation?” Cale asked, scared, “And how could you possibly know all of this, you're just a psychologist!”

“You'd be amazed at what someone like me can find out,” Sally said with a secretive smile, “When you turned into a werewolf, your blood mostly integrated with the lycanthrope except for five percent of the virus that can be noticed genetically. The wolf's bane poisoned you because your body was too weak to change and you stayed human. It was just a coincidence that no one saw you in your wolf form and lived to tell about it.”

“Who are you?” Cale asked in a small voice. He wasn't crazy? Then that meant that Inigo had been real! But that didn't make sense… Cale's heart was being torn in two by his hope and his logic. Sally smiled and changed.

 

It started from the top of her head. She got taller. Her short, brown hair grew until it was at her hips and turned a gorgeous, shimmering white like newly fallen snow. Her pale skin turned a nicely toned brown and her eyes narrowed and changed from dark green to a beautiful, light blue. Her hands became slimmer and the nails became long. Her ears became pointed and their tips became covered in soft, white fur. Her facial features even softened and became less sharp and stern. She was beautiful. Cale blushed. Her outfit didn't change, but she had a large, furry sash around her waist. Suddenly, the white fur moved.

`That's a tail!' Cale thought. Oh, he was crazy alright. She sighed again.

“No, you're not,” she said.

`Oh, yes I am! A woman who can change her appearance and hear my thoughts… I'm fucking loony tunes!'

Sally smiled warmly at him.

“It's like I said, Cale, there are many different subspecies of werewolves. My kind has no names as we are very rare, but we are shape shifters. We can blend in with anyone and anything. We can also look inside of the minds and hearts of people and animals.”

Cale backed away from her.

“You're insane,” Cale muttered. Sally smirked.

“Sally, what do you want?” Cally asked angrily, both confused and annoyed. Sally's smile widened and she showed off fangs, yet her eyes were still sad. Her expression made it impossible to dislike her and that was the problem.

“It's Tala, Cale. After Dr. Parker got back from that Judge, I intercepted her and took her shape.”

“What did you do?!” Cale snarled. Tala's blue eyes held no pity, only understanding.

“Don't worry, I didn't kill her, she just got a call from her `mother'. She lives in Texas, so by the time anyone suspects anything, I'll be long gone.”

Cale heard the singular in that sentence. Never since he had had his suspicions about being a werewolf did he want to turn into one so badly. Tala, if that really was her name, was going to do something and Cale was still handcuffed and defenseless.

Tala reached behind her and took out a .45 M1911 pistol from her pants waist band, its silver metal glistening in the sun, and pointed it at Cale's head. Cale stared at it.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because,” she said sadly, “You're dangerous, Cale. And I'm not even sure if I have a choice.” Her tanned finger tightened on the trigger. Cale didn't feel any fear. He knew right away that she meant it. He was so tired. He hated these feelings of guilt and anger and he just wanted them to go away. He was a monster, he had killed people. He deserved to be put down like the dog that he was.

“Will that do the job?” Cale asked softly.

“Yes,” Tala said, “You're species is mortal, all it takes is a single shot to the head and it'll be all over. I'll make it quick and painless, I promise.”

Cale smiled bitterly. That was more than he had ever expected his death to be. He supposed that that was something. Still, illusion or not, he wished that he could see Inigo one last time. He had been kidding himself thinking that his life could ever mean anything. Even if he could be cured, then what? He honestly couldn't see any good no matter what the outcome. At least this way, this long, exhausting journey would be at an end and Cale wouldn't have anymore deaths tacked on his head.

“Then do it,” Cale said, “Please, I just… I want this to be over with,” he murmured. His mother, his father, Brian, his sexuality, his poverty, dealing with people thinking that he was a monster because he had fallen for another male, Cora, Inigo… he was just so sick of all of it. He just wanted to sleep, was that so wrong? Really… he didn't want to keep on living knowing that he would never find another person like Inigo Santiago. He would always be alone and unhappy.

 

 

Tala hated jobs like these. The more she looked into Cale Selt's mind and heart, the more reasons she could come up with not to terminate him. He was a warg; a murdering werewolf with no control. Yet, he was so scared and Tala didn't blame him. She remembered the day that she had found out what she really was and the terror that had gripped her then. But she had just been a child and children had much greater coping mechanisms than others and Cale was a teenager. More than that… he really was sick. For all that she had preached to him about his sanity, he was mentally ill. When she had first saw him in the hospital, she had been terrified. There was nothing rare about Cale's species. He was a Gray Wolf lycan. Lycan's were just people who could turn into bipedial half man, half wolves at pure will, though Gray Wolves, like their wolf counterparts, were very rare, their actual lycan species were not. Yet, when she had first looked into Cale's mind, she saw an abnormality. Cale and his wolf side were two separate things in his mind. The abuse of his past had indeed fractured Cale's mind, only when he turned, it came out as his wolf side. It was no wonder Cale couldn't control himself as a werewolf even after all of the months he had been one; he wasn't really `Cale' when he changed. Tala's heart went out to the child. It just wasn't fair! Yes, he was a murderer and had no control, but he was still a child and did not deserve to be put down for a simple turn of fate. Still, she found that she could not loosen her grip on the trigger even as her supposed solid convictions wavered. If she didn't kill him, a lot of people would die, if she did, an innocent would die by her own hand. She had come here looking for a rogue wolf, maybe even a rabid one, and had found instead, a mere puppy, lost and so horribly alone. Her aim at Cale grew just as wavered as her heart.

 

Cale smelled it before he actually saw it. He had closed his eyes, waiting for the moment when he could finally just let everything go, but when that smell had come to him, he had to open his eyes. The smell was slightly different than he remembered, but it was still that smell. The thing was huge, yet it moved so fast, it was a blur. It came from deeper in the woods and it moved with a great speed. Cale's first instinct told him that it was a bear, there was no way that there was any other animal out there that was that big. However, what knocked Tala to the ground and leapt in front of Cale was no bear.

It was a huge, red wolf. Its fiery fur burned in the sunlight. The wolf was the size of a horse. With one swipe of its mighty, black paws it could tear apart either Cale or Tala, but Cale wasn't afraid. After all, it was Tala that the wolf was bearing its terrifying, soda can sized teeth and snarling at. The animal had its back to Cale and appeared to actually be protecting him. The wolf pawed tat the grassy ground as its amber eyes and stature challenged Tala and the white haired wolf bared her teeth in response, but she knew that the male Maned wolf had the upper hand. The red wolf curled its tail in an aggressive pose and Cale saw that its tail, paws, and some parts of its back were black, not red.

The Maned wolf and the Arctic wolf squared off, but nether moved. The wolf was he, but Tala had a gun and perfect aim. Then, just as Tala had, the wolf suddenly changed.

Its ears, teeth, fur, tail, and muzzle all melted away. The air was filled with the sickening sound of bones snapping and rearranging themselves until the wolf was gone and what was standing in is place was a boy with long, flaming hair and burns on his arms that had turned them black.

All of Cale's strength left him and he fell to his knees. He felt tears slide down his cheeks, but he didn't bother to stop them. Inigo was real, he was right here! He hadn't lied… Inigo had come back to him!

Inigo looked so good in the sunlight. His long ponytail brushed his back and Cale ached to touch that slim back. Inigo was wearing a white t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans that were badly ripped. His mountain boots were covered in mud and his white t-shirt was stained with muddy water and grass. There was an adorable grass stain across one of his pale cheeks. T looked like the boy had taken a bad tumble. One of his knees, exposed through a tear in his jeans, was skinned and bloody. Inigo's beautiful amber eyes that had haunted Cale in his best dreams and worst nightmares, glared at Tala.

“Don't kill him, I beg of you.”

“Why?” Tala asked.

`Just give me a reason, kid.'

“He's my responsibility!” Inigo insisted, his Brazilian voice made Cale's heart ache. “He didn't know what he was doing. Everything that happened, it was my fault, not his!”

Tala snorted and clicked the safety back on the gun, hiding it in her waist band again.

“I doubt that, kid, but alright, he's our responsibility, then.”

Inigo stared at her in shock. He had no idea that the hunter would be so easy to convince. Tala sighed and ran a hand through her snowy bangs.

“It's my job to bring people like us to justice, but a part of my job is also to help people like us and,” Tala looked at Cale, “This kid definitely needs help.” She approached Cale and undid his handcuffs, stuffing them into her pocket. She turned her back on them, showing Inigo that she trusted him not to attack her, and went to her car, giving Inigo and Cale some privacy.

Inigo turned and knelt in front of Cale.

“Oh, Cale,” he murmured sadly, but there was no pity there. What Tala had needed to look inside Cale's mind to see, Inigo understood instinctively. Cale wrapped his arms around the slighter boy, clenching tightly at the back of his shirt. He felt soft and solid at the same time. Cale breathed in his scent deeply, his body shuddering in happiness. His dreams were nothing compared to this. Inigo felt Cale's tears soaking his thin shirt, but he didn't mind at all. The silver haired boy had lost weight and he was shaking in his arms. Inigo felt his own tears falling. After all of this time he had found him! He wasn't too late…

“I don't care if you're a delusion, you're here and that`s all that matters!” Cale murmured against Inigo's smooth neck. Inigo laid his head against Cale's.

“That's right,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

 

I have traveled to the moon

But it is nothing compared to the journey of you

You're sleeping peacefully

While I watch at night

 

I used to be able to smile falsely to stay strong

But since meeting you, I can only smile honestly

I was sure that forgetting you would give me that strength back

But it only makes me weaker inside

 

I've been waiting for you

I'm sure that you can feel that

Even now in the distant future

This will never change

I'm waiting for you

I've been screaming in my mind

Screaming your name

As my heart cries out in need

You tell me

No need to cry

And I wake up

But your voice remains

 

All my life

I have traveled in silence

In meeting you, I stretched my hand out

I felt you, but now you're so far away

Only close in my desperate memories

 

When I close my eyes, I can hear you and it hurts

But the ache is dear to me

 

Look at me!

I've been looking for so long

For something like you

Even if I've lost my way, I know you will always find me

We are forever connected

My heart protects you and my hands shelter you

As I tell you, there is no need to cry

I know you will return

 

I feel something

I feel nothing

Only for you

Listen closely

I hear you

Listen closely

Do you hear me as well?

Open your ears for me

Disarm that that gives me my nightmares

In this constant, never ending moment

You will find me

Where it's quiet and I am looking up at the moonlit sky

Listen closely

Hear me breath

Listen closely

Hear me crying for you

Let our blood flow

Through all of these spaces

Between out hearts

 

Listen closely

I hear you breathe

“There is no need to cry”

 

 

“I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. God, I love you so much!” Inigo cried, cradling as much of Cale in his lap as he could. Cale pressed his hands against Inigo's back through his shirt, a back that he knew well. He wanted to slip his hands under the shirt and feel him skin to skin, but he didn't dare. He was too scared. He was terrified that if he touched Inigo, he would disappear like phantasm. Things like this never happened to him. He never got something he wanted this badly after waiting for so long. There was always something… Last time Inigo had fled. What would happen this time? Would he end up slaughtering Inigo in his sleep just like he had in his nightmare. Cale shuddered again, this time in fear. The warmth from Inigo's body killed the chill that made goose bumps rise on his skin, but the fear remained.

Inigo yelped as Cale shoved him a way. The tall boy wrapped his arms around his long legs and scooted farther away.

“Don't touch me,” Cale said coldly.

“Cale?” Inigo asked, his voice wavering with hurt and confusion. Cale buried his face in his knees.

“You were wrong, so wrong. I am a monster. A blood thirsty beast! I kill everything around me that's good and I'll kill you, too! I don't want to kill you,” Cale sobbed, “You're the only good that's ever happened to me,” Cale murmured brokenly. Inigo felt his heart warm at that, though he felt sad at the same time. He never should have left the boy in the first place! He was such a coward…

“Cale, I can help you,” Inigo tried.

“No!” Cale's head whipped up and he screamed, “No one can help me! I'm a murderer! Even before I became a werewolf I killed people!” Inigo was shocked at the amount of fear in Cale's golden eyes.

“You have to stay away! No, you have to kill me! It's the only way,” Cale cried, pleading.

“No!” Inigo snapped and hugged Cale tightly.

“Stay away!” Cale yelled. He fought against Inigo, trying to free himself, but it was no use, he was so tired.

“No, Cale, I won't,” Inigo rubbed his cheek against Cale's, mixing their tears.

“I won't kill you. I'm staying right here. If I kill you, I might as well kill myself. Without you, there would be no point in hoping for anything better in my life!”

Cale groaned in fear at the though of Inigo killing himself. Even if he wouldn't be alive to witness it, it was still a terrible thought.

“I'll help you, Cale, for both of us. You won't kill me,” Inigo insisted.

“He's right, kiddo,” Tala said from behind them. Cale and Inigo blushed when they realized that she could hear and see their whole exchange.

“Death isn't the only answer, it's only the easiest.” She stared at Cale, “When I found out that I was a werewolf, I was just like you. I was scared and I felt that I was all alone. I thought that I was a monster. Fortunately, I had someone who was there for me. She taught me all about the illness and showed me how to control my powers. We can help you, Cale.” Her icy blue eyes moved to Inigo as she spoke of her girlfriend. “Besides, I'm going to stick around and if you change, I'll make sure that you don't hurt anyone, no matter what.”

Cale looked into her eyes and knew that she was telling the truth. If it came down to it, she would put him down. He relaxed.

“You never told me who you are,” Cale mentioned, “Just your name.”

“Do you want to tell him?” Tala asked Inigo. Inigo shook his head.

“Actually, I know very little about your profession.”

Tala sighed and sat cross legged on the grass. Cale was glad that Dunwhich was so desolate and no one had come down the road yet. They made a strange sight; two boys holding each other like the world was about to end and a woman in a business suit sitting among the dirt and leaves, lecturing them; not to mention the fact that said woman had wolf ears and a tail. Cale was glad that his… mutation… was not noticeable when he was a human.

“Ok, my name is Tala,” Tala said for Inigo's benefit. Inigo turned around and said in Cale's lap. Cale blushed as Inigo's butt laid on his crotch and the red head's back was pressed against Cale's stomach and chest. Inigo snuggled against him and smiled to himself as Cale caught the hint and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“I was born in Canada to an Inuit clan. My clan migrated there thirty years ago,” she said quickly as Inigo opened his mouth to ask why she didn't have a Canadian accent, “I spent all of my time with my clan, separated from the world,” she explained, “My family had been persecuted for so long, we couldn't trust anyone. So, instead we lived in the woods, surviving completely on our own. When they discovered that I was a werewolf, they tried to kill me, but another werewolf intervened. Laorrina Ciné,” Tala's voice grew soft as she spoke of the other wolf. Cale recognized it as the same tone he had had when he spoke to Brooks about Inigo, “She took me away to Alaska where she taught me how to control my powers. Laorrina is like us, the only difference was that she found a wolf clan at a very early age and learned that she wasn't the monster that everyone calls us. She was a hunter and when I saw her work, I also saw my purpose.”

“So, there are a lot of us out there?” Cale asked, excited about something for the first time in a very long while. Even Inigo seemed intrigued at the idea of a werewolf clan. Cale realized at that moment that he, Inigo, and Tala were all the same; they were alone and scared and desperately wanted a family, people who could understand them and love them for who they were. Cale wondered if this was the first time that Inigo had spoken with other werewolves. Cale understood that feeling. Until a few moments ago, Cale had thought that he was insane and there was no one else on the planet who could understand what he was going through and here he was no with two people who were just like him!

“There are centralized units of werewolf packs and other species of shape shifters all over the world. Because lycanthrope is rare, we do not stick with just our own subspecies. Packs will take in any wolf that needs them. Like me,” she said sadly, “Everyone in a pack has a job and a responsibility to each other. We are a closer knit group than any human family,” she said with pride, “We take care of our own. If there is a wolf killing or breaking any serious laws, he or she will be killed.”

Cale paled. Tala smiled at him reassuringly.

“But only if that is our only option. It exists that way in nature with wolf packs, as well. If a wolf is acting violent, the other members of its pack consider it a threat and will kill it. In 1973, there was a pack of werewolves in Japan. One of theirs went rogue and started killing children in human villages. The humans tracked him back to the clan and the whole pack was slaughtered, so it is understandable how one wolf can cause trouble for the rest. Werewolves are also susceptible to rabies and can end up doing a lot of damage. Beyond that,” her blue eyes narrowed. “Werewolves are not the only supernatural creatures in the world. For example, mermaids, wendigo, vampires; these creatures are myths, but they are staked in the reality of the Dagon. Dagon are half human, half supernatural creatures that feast on human flesh and have animal characteristics. I've hunted a few of them myself. Anytime a being like us mates with a human, a Dagon is born. If any supernatural being creates chaos among humans or supernaturals, they must be dealt with. Since humans are ill equipped to handle the supernatural, it is up to us. You saw how that old woman handled you, Cale. She had her folklore all messed up!” Tala showed her hand to Cale. It was smooth and unblemished. “The so-called `Mark of the Beast' does not exist. Lycanthrope is an illness, not a curse. A wolf pack in Bulgaria during the 1500's branded their members' hands with the mark and the legend still exists today, only it has been butchered to read that all werewolves have it. Anyway, I am a hunter. It is my job to handle any disturbance caused by a supernatural being,” she said.

“That's why you hunted me, to kill me,” Cale murmured. Inigo squirmed on his lap nervously, not liking how this conversation was headed.

“No,” Tala said firmly, “My job is to dissolve the situation. The best way to do this is to help you control your powers. I'd rather not have innocent blood on my hands,” Tala said sadly.

“But I'm not innocent!” Cale snapped. Inigo desperately wanted to say something, but let the argument play out.

“Yes, you are, Cale,” Tala said with a sigh, “You are a werewolf, but you also have a split personality. You and the wolf should be one person, not two. We need to find a way to integrate the two of you. Then, the blackouts will stop and you will have full control. Only then can I teach you how to use your power.”

“But how?” Cale asked tiredly, frustrated, “It won't take a few hours and I change when I sleep… Wait a minute!” Cale gasped, “At the hospital I never changed!” Tala smirked and she started to change again, this time to the red headed nurse that had always changed his IV at night and had somehow reminded Cale of both his mother and Inigo. Tala quickly turned back to herself.

“You poisoned my IV!” Cale accused. Inigo snarled at Tala and tried to leap at her, but Cale held him still.

“Just a little wolf's bane,” Tala said as though she had given him nothing worse than orange juice.

“But that stuff is what made me change!” Cale said, confused. Tala shook her head.

“The raw root of wolf's bane can force a change, sort of like a muscle contraction, but if you boil the petals of the flower for a few hours, you can keep a wolf from changing.”

“Then I don't need to fix my personalities, I can just eat that stuff!” Cale said in excitement. Tala shook her head again.

“If it were that simple, there would be much fewer werewolves. No, in less than a month your body would become immune to the plant's positive effects and it would become a deadly poison for you and the wolf. I don't dare to give you anymore.”

Cale deflated. Tala looked at her watch.

“We've been here for too long. That Toyota isn't mine and I won't feel safe until we're at least out of Massachusetts,” she said. Inigo stood and helped Cale to his feet. Both Inigo and Tala noticed how tired the silver haired boy looked and they helped him into the back seat. Cale lied across the seats and put his head on Inigo's lap. It felt so comfortable, Cale felt his eyes droop and he fought off sleep. It was embarrassing being so tired when he hadn't done anything strenuous, but the day had still taxed him emotionally. He no longer felt hollow, instead he felt that he was overflowing with emotions; sadness, relief, anger, frustration, fear, worry, love…

Inigo brushed Cale's spiky locks away from his eyes.

“Go to sleep, love,” he murmured. He smiled as Cale's body relaxed at the sound of his voice and his eyelids closed.

Tala handed Inigo her jacket so he could put it over Cale as he slept. Inigo blinked and blushed in embarrassment, his eyes comically wide, as Tala stripped. The female wolf was wearing a lacey pair of violet panties and bra that suited her well, but not the blue suit she had been wearing. Tala smirked. Inigo was definitely gay. He looked so embarrassed at the sight of her body and he hadn't once attempted to look at her breasts.

“Do you have to do that here?” He squeaked. Tala grinned as she pulled out some clothes from under the passenger side seat. She put on a pair of blue jeans with a dark blue dragon embroidered wrapped around the right leg, a light blue t-shirt with white angel wings dusted on the front and a demon wing on the left sleeve, and a black jeans jacket. The white wolf looked more at home in these clothes and Inigo had to admit that they fit her slim form beautifully.

“That suit looked good on the psychologist,” she explained as she laced up her mountain boots, “But it was too constricting for me. I hate suits,” she eyes Inigo's own torn clothes, “We need to get you something to wear, too. What happened to you anyway?”

Inigo continued to stare down at Cale's sleeping face and said nothing. Tala sighed.

“Fine.” She slid into the passenger seat.

“What's the plan?” Inigo finally asked as Tala revved up the engine.

“We're going to cross the border and go to New Hampshire. We'll stick to the back roads for now and pass through Arkham. Once we hit New Hampshire, we'll ditch the car and steal another one and find a hotel.”

“Do you have a place in mind that we're heading to?”

Tala sighed.

“Maybe, maybe not. Right now I just want to concentrate on getting out of Massachusetts.”

Inigo looked out the window as they drove out of Dunwhich. Trees filled the car window and he found the events of the day finally catch up to him and he fell asleep.

 

Cale woke up to find they were traveling through another town that was not Dunwhich. This town was also fairly small and was filled with broken down and crumbling architecture; gambrel rooftops and Georgian buildings. The place would have looked quite lovely if it had been kept up, but the place looked like a ghost town. There was no one on the street, but there was smoke coming from the chimney's and lights on in the houses, yet there were no cars. Cale doubted that anyone in this place left the town for some reason. Of course, he had never left Byurmouth until recently, but this seemed weirder to him. It was as though the people had seen them coming and they had fled to the safety of their homes. Cale was familiar with the ways of small towns to alienate outsiders, but never to this extent.

“Where are we?” Cale asked sleepily as he sat up. He switched positions with Inigo who was deeply asleep and laid him down on the car seat. Inigo mumbled something in his sleep and curled up like a child against the car door.

“Arkham, Massachusetts,” Tala said. Cale watched with muted panic as they passed an asylum, but as soon as it left his vision, he relaxed again.

“We'll be in Boston in about ten minutes,” Tala told him. Cale nodded. He watched with interest as a college passed by them. That was another thing he would never witness. The gate of the school read `Miskatonic University'. Cale shook his head. That was a really weird name for a school. Tala narrowed her eyes at the various buildings. There was something in her stare that worried Cale.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing,” Tala tried to reassure him.

“I mean it, what's wrong?” Cale pressed.

“Look, if you see anything, just tell me ok?”

“But why?” he tried again.

“Because, for the past couple of hundred years, children have disappeared from this area. The underground has rumors that satanic rituals are being performed, but either way, if you see anything, tell me.”

“You mean beyond the fact that no one's here?” Cale snorted. Tala smirked.

“Yeah, beyond that.”

Cale frowned.

“It reminds me of Dunwhich. I mean, the second I woke up there, I just felt wrong. Kind of like the place was sour or something.”

“You're a werewolf, Cale,” Tala told him, “You'll sense a lot of truths that you can't explain.”

“Are there a lot of places like this?” Cale asked. Tala nodded.

“You'd be surprised the dark secrets a town can have.”

Cale thought back to Byurmouth and all the terrible things that had been done to him because of the fact that he was gay; often in public, and how people would stop and stare, but no one ever came to his aid.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Cale murmured darkly, running his hands over Inigo's silken hair for some comfort. Tala saw his look, but didn't say anything. It was in the past and Cale was Tala's responsibility now and she wouldn't let anything like that happen to him ever again.

It was a great relief to both of them when they left Arkham, drove through Boston, and hour's later, left Massachusetts. As soon as they passed the invisible line to New Hampshire, Cale felt a weight lift from him, as though he was leaving most of his pains behind him and perhaps he was. A different state with different people… maybe even a different life. Well, he could hope anyway.

Inigo finally woke when they entered a town called Jefferson Tract and Tala had to ditch the silver Corolla into a lake.

“And I liked that car, too,” Tala muttered. Tala helped Cale carry his things as they hiked into town and looked for a place to spend the night. Inigo noticed the worried look on his lover's face.

“What's wrong?” He asked. Cale shrugged.

“I could change tonight, these people could make trouble for us, mostly I'm just afraid. I've never been out of Massachusetts and I've never been a part of something this impulsive.” Inigo intertwined their fingers and clutched Cale's larger hand.

“It'll be ok, Tala has a plan. She may not be sharing it with us at the moment, but she wouldn't drag us all the way here on a whim.”

Cale watched Tala walk in front of him and had to agree with that. The strong woman didn't seem the type to not be sure on anything. Cale rubbed the strap on his duffle bag, a thought coming to him.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. Inigo blinked up at Cale.

“What for?”

“I… your picture… it got destroyed,” Cale struggled. Inigo could tell that Cale was sorrier for himself than Inigo. He truly had missed the drawing. Inigo tightened his grip on Cale's hand.

“It's alright. That picture was a promise, one that I kept. I'll draw you another one.”

Cale smiled.

“That drawing was the only thing that kept me alive when things got really bad,” he admitted and kissed Inigo on the cheek, “Thank you.”

Inigo blushed.

 

 

Jefferson's Tract was much different than Byurmouth, Innsmouth, Dunwhich, or Arkham. The town was small, but bustling and the people were friendly, glad to give Tala directions to a good restaurant, motel, and a car dealership. The motel reminded Cale of a cheery version of the Bates motel, but it was still a nice place. They got weird looks from the own when they requested one room for the three of them, but one Tala explained that they were siblings on a camping trip, he was much more amiable. Jefferson's Tract was rife with hunters, hikers, and campers, especially in the warm spring season. Inigo and Cale staked their claim to the King while Tala took the twin. Tala left them alone briefly to take a shower.

“So, where did you go?” Cale finally asked as they sat on the bed together.

“I didn't lie, you know,” Inigo insisted, “I do love you and I never intended to leave you like that.”

Cale listened intently, having needed to hear this for so long.

“That night,” Inigo paused with a dreamy, satisfied look, “was so wonderful. But when I woke up, things were different.”

“What do you mean?” Cale choked. Inigo placed his hand over Cale's.

“I know nothing about you,” Cale said in a subdued voice.

“I second that,” Tala said as she sat down on her own bed, her wet, white hair stuck to her toned skin and only wearing a white towel.

“I told you about myself and I know all that there is to know about Cale, but I know nothing about you. So, I suggest that you start talking unless you want me to use my ability on you,” Tala threatened. Inigo paled.

“I'm from Brazil,” he admitted, “I'm a seventh son, so I never really met my family. My mom took me as a baby and we fled.”

Tala nodded.

“So that's how you became a werewolf.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Cle asked, confused.

“All seventh sons have lycanthrope,” Tala explained, “But not all of them become werewolves, though it is believed in some superstitions that all seventh sons become werewolves and all seventh daughters become witches. Lycanthrope is just like any other illness; some can have it and show no symptoms while others are full blown.”

“So you were born as a werewolf?” Cale asked in interest. Inigo nodded.

“I had enough control over shape shifting that my mother never found out, however the rest of my family was very superstitious and my mother and I were exiled. Shortly after that, I started to notice that something… evil was looking for me. I fled, but no matter where I went, the Damned Thing followed me! I thought I would be safe in Massachusetts since it was so far away, but…,” Inigo fidgeted, clearly guilty of something.

“When you were with Cale, you felt Its presence again and fled,” Tala finished, piecing it together herself. Inigo nodded, tears in his eyes.

“I was such a coward,” Inigo said softly, “I should have stayed and fought if I had to instead of leaving you alone. I was so scared… But everything that happened to you after I ran away was my fault.”

“No!” Cale shouted, the thought of Inigo witnessing his father raping him made his heart stop in fear. If Inigo had stayed, he would have put himself in danger from that Thing. What if, when his father had seen him, his dad would have tried to rape Innie? No! Cale's mind protested, Cale feeling sick just at the idea of something like that happening to the beautiful boy. He would never have let that happen! He would have done everything in his power to keep Russell from laying even one filthy hand on the boy he loved!

“It wasn't you fault!” Cale demanded, “It was no one else's fault but my father's!” Cale stopped the second those words left his mouth. After all of this time, a bitter truth came to him.

It wasn't his fault.

`Yes it is!' Cale protested, after years of thinking this way, this thought came as an automatic reflex. But, if he continued to blame everything on himself, he would have to blame his killing all of those people on Inigo and he just couldn't do that.

All he had wanted was to see the kitten. He hadn't wanted his mother to die and he hadn't physically killed her. His father had told him that it was all his fault, that he had needed to be punished, but he hadn't been cold blooded murderer! It wasn't like he had left his mother to die! He had tried to help her. It was because of his screaming that people had come. He had cried over her death just as much as his father had! Tears slid down Cale's cheek. Fuck, she had been his mother! If he blamed himself, he might as well blame his father, too, for not being there. If he thought that he needed to be punished for his mother's death, then Inigo should be punished for his becoming a werewolf and that just didn't make sense! Cale trembled as he thought of all of those times he had been hurt and raped and humiliated and he had believed that he deserved it… it had all been a lie. Russell had used Cale's guilt as an excuse to hurt someone to ease his own pain. Cale no longer believed that Russell had believed that it mattered that it was Cale that he was hurting, just as long as something was hurting. Cale smiled weakly at Inigo who was looking at him in concern.

“Things just happen, Innie. It's no one's fault. Shit happens. If anything, it's my dad's fault for raping me, my fault for fighting back in that way. You weren't there and you couldn't save me. You're here now and that is all that matters. You didn't abandon me.”

Inigo sniffed, nearly gasping at Cale's admittance to what his father had done to him. It was so evil! The Thing that had been hunting Inigo was nothing compared to the evil of one human.

“Well,” Tala said, smiling proudly at Cale, “I say that that epiphany deserves an award. There's a nice steak restaurant here, I'll treat the both of you.”

Both Cale and Inigo perked up at the thought of food. Neither of them had had much to eat beyond canned goods and hospital food and the thought of real meat made both of their stomachs growl anxiously.

 

“I never want you to put your life needlessly in danger for me,” Cale said to Inigo as they walked to the restaurant.

“Cale, it's like I said, I'm never leaving you again,” Inigo said with a smile.

“Even when I was running for my life, all I could think about was your safety,” Inigo laughed, “I even set off the alarms at the bank so the cops would be too preoccupied to follow you to your house,” Inigo bit his lip, “But, maybe I shouldn't have… if the police had gone to your house, your dad would be in jail and you wouldn't be a werewolf-.”

“And I would be locked up and we wouldn't be together right now,” Cale finished, “No more what ifs, ok?”

Inigo nodded sheepishly.

“But you shook It off, right?” Cale asked worriedly. Inigo nodded.

“Yeah, I lost It somewhere in Nebraska,” Inigo assured him. “As soon as I was sure that It couldn't follow me, I tried to find you. I was almost too late,” Inigo whispered, paling at the image of Tala pointing a gun at Cale's forehead.

“Stop it,” Cale ordered him and Inigo smiled weakly.

 

Dinner was strange for Cale. Since his mother had died he had never been to a restaurant save for the fast food places that he had worked at nor had he had steak and he had never in his life had steak like this. The wolf, having been subdued for so long by the wolf's bane was starting to wake up. It sniffed happily at the huge piece of beef on Cale's plate. Tala had insisted that he get whatever he wanted and she had been happy to see Cale indulging. By the look in his eyes, Tala sadly noted that the silver haired teen was not used to this sort of treatment. She hoped that she could change that.

The wolf was practically drooling at the thick taste of the marinated beef and even managed to stop growling in the back of Cale's head at the other people in the restaurant. The restaurant was well air conditioned and Cale was glad. He had always hated the heat and it was worse now after suffering from fever for so long. He now equated heat with pain, fear, illness, and even death. Inigo got something Spanish sounding in which he revealed to them that he loved spicy food since his mother's food had been spicy when she had cooked for him when he was little. Tala settled for grilled salmon as her favorite food was fish. When she had lived in Alaska, she told them she had gotten her first taste of salmon and had fallen in love with the pink orange fish.

They took their time in eating, knowing that if they would be on the road for awhile, then they probably wouldn't have leisure time like this. Even when they were finished and they left the restaurant, they loitered in the mostly empty parking lot and enjoyed the night air and the sight of the cloudless, starry sky.

Cale noticed a bunch of crows in a tree above them and felt the familiar stirrings of anger, but the feeling mysteriously vanished as Inigo held his hand.

“So, was this our first date?” Inigo asked, his amber eyes were bright with happiness. Cale blushed.

“I've… never been on a date before. I've never had anyone to go on a date with!”

Inigo's smile grew and he kissed him on the cheek.

“Well, then, it's settled.”

 

Tala watched them with a sweet smile then looked away. Suddenly, she noticed that more and more crows were gathering on the tree. She narrowed her eyes at them and her gaze turned icy and she curled her hands into tight fists.

“Cale,” she said, never adverting her gaze from the crows, “How long have these crows been following you?” Her voice was as tight and cold as her stare. Cale blinked at her.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. She pointed at the tree. Cale noted in shock that there were twice as many birds from when he had looked.

“Well, in Byurmouth I noticed that the only birds around were crows and since then there have been a lot of them but I don't think they're following me,” Cale said doubtfully. Tala's gaze pierced him.

“But you've had the thought, right? You'd notice the crows and think that they were following you.”

“Yeah…,” Cale said hesitantly, “But they're just birds,” but Cale's stare was unsure. Tala returned her gaze to the birds who were staring right back with their black eyes.

“We're leaving, now,” Tala snapped.

 

When they returned to the motel, Tala slammed the door behind them and started to collect their things. Cale and Inigo were both silent as they watched her pack furiously. Neither of them had seen her pissed before. Up until now, she had had a very calm, controlled personality.

Suddenly, the Arctic Wolf spun on Inigo.

“What is hunting you?” She demanded. Inigo only blinked at her in confusion.

“You said that something was hunting you, but never said what it was, so what is hunting you?!”

Inigo looked down at his feet and refused to say anything.

“Inigo!” Tala snapped, “This is important!”

“It's a Khrow, ok?!” Inigo snarled, “My uncle's a fucking Khrow, you happy?!”

Cale stared at him. He had never heard the red head swear before. Tala shook her head.

“Why would you keep something like that a secret? Shit, kid! A bloody Khrow!”

Inigo paled.

“I thought that if you knew, you'd toss me by the side of the road somewhere,” Inigo murmured. Tala sighed and sat on her bed, suddenly tired.

“No, I would never do that,” she said, “But we should still leave. That Damned Thing probably doesn't know where you are, but I can't chance it.” Tala handed them their bags.

“What do you mean, `Crow'? What's so bad about that?” Cale asked, perplexed.

“Khrow. K-H-R-O-W. Crows were named after them, not the other way around. I'll explain once we're on the road,” Tala said and they followed her outside.

 

The car dealership was empty and closed this late at night, so finding another car was easy. This time it was a black Pathfinder. Inigo was curious about why she would change for such a big car, but he felt as though he was still walking on egg shells and didn't question her. Cale watched with interest as Tala lengthened the nail on her first finger of her right hand and the nail morphed into the shape of a key. Tala broke into the office and swiped the Pathfinder's keys without any problem. None of them spoke until they left Jefferson Tract.

 

“When I was born, my entire family except for my mother wanted to kill me. They pressured her to have an abortion, but she threatened my father with suicide and she was allowed to have me,” Inigo explained next to Cale in the back seat, “But the paranoia of my family grew and grew until when I was five and my father tried to kill me,” Cale tightened his grip on Inigo's hand, “My mother intervened and we ran. We lived on our own for five years before my uncle, my father's older brother, Draven, hunted me down. I never had any clue he was anything but human until that night. I still don't know much about Khrows, only that they are powerful and… evil. He tried to make me change, but I was scared of my wolf form and refused. He killed my mother and tortured me,” Inigo rolled up his sleeve to reveal blackened flesh, “He's the one who burned me. I barely escaped with my life and I've been running ever since,” Inigo finished his body tense. He knew that Cale understood him with a single glance, but what about Tala?

“No one knows much about Khrows,” Tala assured him as she drove, “They're ancient beings with incredible powers. They can use both crows and death like puppets and familiars. If crows have been following Cale, it's a safe bet to assume that a Khrow or other powerful supernatural force is hunting him. The best we can hope for is to keep two steps ahead of It.”

“Where are we going, then?” Cale asked, “I mean, if I change at night when I sleep, I can't go to heavily populated towns. Hell, Innsmouth and Byurmouth were tiny and I ended up killing over twenty people!”

“I thought of that,” Tala said, “Have either of you heard of Derry, Maine?”

Inigo and Cale shook their heads.

“Well, ever since before Derry's founding, every twenty six years approximately, terrible disasters would happen and thousands of children have been slaughtered or just disappeared there. However, in 1985, a huge storm destroyed the town and the killings stopped. Their Standpipe exploded and the town was flooded. The entire downtown was cracked in two. People tried to rebuild, but after awhile people started to move away and now Derry is just a ghost town,” Tala said, “We can hide out there. Since there is nothing there to kill, it's the perfect place for Cale.”

Cale brightened at that.

“Maine?” Inigo asked, “So it's not a long drive?” Tala shook her head and smiled.

“We'll be there in four hours.”

 

 

End Chapter Two