Of Humans and Wolves

By: Dog-Demon-Emiko

Chapter 1: Infestation

I grunted as I sent a kick to his nose. He flew back into the corner, cracking the cement behind him. The scent of rotted wood and mildew made me cringe. Rotted apartment buildings weren't the best to be smashing things in, I know, but beggars can't be choosers.

"You crazy bitch!" the mutt groaned as he peeled his face from the floor. Before he could recover I grabbed a handful of his messy hair.

"Dam right. You think I'd let you get away with trying to run?"

"I didn't do it! I didn't turn anyone!" Yea, right. The scent of fear coming off him was enough to make me gag.

"That's not what my sources are telling me James. You going to tell me that they are wrong?" He started to shake. "Jeremy is not pleased with all the attention you are drawing to yourself. You running around town eating cats isn't helping us at all James."

"I'm sorry! I c-can't control-l it!" I gripped his hair harder.

"Then learn...soon, and far from here. Your too close to the city." He looked at me, and in that moment I could tell my night was about to get much more difficult.

Before I could realize what happened, he swiped at my face. I jumped back out of reach, letting go of his hair in the process. He took off, crashing out of the window and leaving a trail of blood behind. In seeing it, I went for the stairs at a jog while taking out my cell phone. The smell of blood is the most recognizable scent in the world to a wolf, and not to mention the fact that he's scared shitless. Finding him again will be easy, but I would need help and I knew exactly who to call.

"Hey Darlin'," I heard through the phone. I hated to admit it sometimes, but I loved that southern drawl.

"This mutt is a bit troublesome," I panted. It was all I really had to say.

"Where are you?" It was then that I noticed the whir of the engine in the background.

"Cape Cottage, are you-"

"Stay put." He hung up in my ear. Looking at my phone uncertainly, I shut it. I must have only been standing there for 10 minutes when a black BMW slowly pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down. All I needed to see were those blue eyes to know I was alright. I got in the car, and as much as I wanted to kiss him, I faced forward and kept my hands to myself.

"I called you ten minutes ago." I said simply. "We talked about this."

"You've been gone for three days and haven't called." He was close, even for being in a small car. I turned to tell him to back off but he caught my lips. "I worried, and I can't be sorry for that." He kissed me again, this time getting a bit of a response from me. I could see from the cocky half grin on his face that he knew it too. I turned away from him and looked out the window.

"Just drive. He ran southwest and is bleeding." And we were off.

We found the scent incredibly strong not even a half mile from the apartment building. I guess not even a wolf can survive a run with a seriously bleeding nose. Or maybe he can't breathe out of it?

We got out of the car to see him throwing up blood on the side of the road. Clay grabbed the collar of his jacket and dragged him from the view of passing cars. Once my eyes adjusted I saw the damage.

His nose was clearly broken, and it was streaming blood. Due to his fear, his heart was pumping at a massive rate which caused him to loose more blood more quickly. And because he ran, he had to breathe through his mouth, making him swallow blood. Now he was throwing it back up. Yummy.

Clay reached out, grabbed the mutt under his chin and by the hair, and twisted. He then grabbed the collar of the coat and dragged him off into the woods to bury him. That he could do alone, I needed to watch the car. The last thing we needed was someone to come looking for the owner of the empty car next to a huge blood spot.

It wasn't until I got into the car and shut the door that I realized the scent of the car was different. It smelled like an older person who wears musk instead of cologne. My eyes went to the ignition. No key, but the car was running. I sighed. Yup, that was my psychotic boyfriend.

When he got back into the car he smelt of fresh earth even though there wasn't a speck of earth on him. And now that I took a look at his clothes, they weren't his either. Clay usually stuck to a wardrobe of sweat pants, Levi's, black or white t-shirts, or tank tops. These jeans looked a bit short at the ends and they were gray. And the shirt was navy blue.

"You took off on foot to come and find me since Jeremy hid the keys, and stole a car and clothes when you got here." He smiled even though he didn't look at me.

"You know me too well Darlin'." I shook my head. "You hungry?"

"I know you are." He looked me straight in the eyes.

"In more ways then one." Heat shot straight to my lions. Dam hormones. He laughed.

"Just stop at a restaurant." He laughed more, but did as I said. It was a small diner but the food smelt good.

"Just admit it Darlin'," he said as we got out "you can't-"

I looked at him. His eyes were intent on something over my shoulder. I whipped around and saw nothing.

"What is it?" I whispered. I tried to listen but heard nothing out of the ordinary.

"A mutt," he growled. I looked at him sternly. If it was one thing Clay hated, it was mutts. But only when they were on our turf, which would be the whole state of New York. We were in Southern Maine, too far from home for us to be picking fights. Although mutts don't have territories, we try to be fair enough to leave them alone so long as their not causing trouble.

"Leave it alone, Clay," I warned. His eyes, just as intense, looked to me.

"A female mutt." That caught my attention. There was only one female werewolf in the world- me. It wasn't because I was an attention hog, it was because the werewolf gene is in the Y-chromosome, something only males have. The only way for a female to become a wolf was to bite her. Simple, right? Wrong.

Because a mutt is a wolf with no pack, they have no control. So when they bite, they bite to kill. If their victim survives the bite and turns the original mutt usually doesn't have the control to help his new pal. And about eighty percent of the time, a bitten person will die during the transformation. This sort of stress is something we as the Pack try to control. We can't catch every mutt that's made, but another female you think would have been something we would have heard about sooner then this, far sooner.

"Let's go." I didn't need to look to see if he was following me as I bounded off into Fort Williams Park.

I know I said New Years but a lot of stuff has been happening.

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