The Lycanthrope's Conquest
Blood. He smelled blood. Flashes of the night came. Images of his brother, Matthew's, screaming face appeared in his head. He could remember bits and pieces of what had happened.
Alfred woke, naked in the forest, covered in blood and dirt. It had finally happened. He broken free and done something terrible.
Someone had died last night under the full moon.
Shaken and distraught, Alfred F. Jones got onto his feet and made his way back home.
Never again, he swore to himself.
He couldn't stay here any longer.
The afternoon sun of early September made the mountains appeared painted blue and green. The trees — pine, fir, cedar, spruce — looked the dark green of seaweed. Cool, dark shadows lay all around, growing deeper and longer by the minute.
Behind the wheel of his apple-red Ford F-150 XL, Alfred smiled, enjoying the beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Something he had only seen in brochures and travel magazines before. This was where he belonged.
He would not regret his decision.
Glancing at the map, folded in a square and held to the front of the steering wheel by one of his thumbs, he double-checked before turning off the larger road and onto the two-lane blacktop that wound and climbed up through the pass.
He passed a green sign that read in white letters: HETALIA — 10 MILES and POPULATION: 143.
Alfred gave whistle at that. Was that really enough to call yourself a town? For some reason he had been fixated on going through since he first saw it on the map. It called to him and it was certainly isolated enough for his needs.
A search on a lobby computer at the last motel he stayed at had given little information about the town other than its own website identifying it as a lovely ski resort town. The pictures certainly made it look nice.
The trees crowded around forming almost a tunnel of overhanging boughs, and Alfred switched on the headlights. He ogled the view, so different from the landscape he grew up knowing in Virginia.
That brought a familiar pang in his chest as he thought of Matthew.
"Please let something be on," he mumbled, turning the radio dial. This area seemed to be black hole when it came to stations.
At first it was just white noise and then, "Hola mis amigos," said a husky voice. He frowned, raising an eyebrow. A Spanish station out here?
But no, the DJ spoke in thickly-accented english, "This is Antonio, coming to you from 83.1 Hetalia!"
The town has a radio station? He wondered with surprise.
"Another oldie but goodie from our favorite list of British classics. Here's The Beatles wi—."
Alfred turned it off.
"The Beatles," he groaned. Where was the "Born In the USA"?
The county road rose and ascended out of the shadowed mountain valley. The altitude shift made his ears pop.
He leaned over the steering wheel, peering intently through the streaked windshield at a patch of blue sky. Tonight would be a full moon. Sitting back in his seat, he glanced at the black bag full of his supplies — chains, heavy padlocks, and a heavy dose of sedative. And he planned to tie himself to a tree far from where he anyone lived so that even if he got free he would cause no harm. Not this time.
It still hurt to think of last full moon. The chains and cages had failed and, if Matthew hadn't gotten into his panic room in time, Alfred would have torn him to shreds. Their neighbor of thirty years, Mr. Wilson, and his livestock had not been so lucky.
Alfred had killed. The authorities blamed it on a wild animal, but he knew better. No longer willing to burden his brother with his curse of the past eleven months, Alfred withdrew all his savings — three thousand in all — and left a note for Matthew one night before pushing his truck down the driveway far enough to start it without rousing his brother.
He had been traveling ever since and hoped to find a place where he could harm no one. Somewhere he could belong.
Flashing red lights in his rearview mirror caught his attention and he gripped the leather wheel tighter, feeling a brief panic and then a surge of anger. He always had anger issues before the full moon these days, but every month they'd been getting worse.
Before the last one he almost punched his brother and knew if he stayed any longer he would beat his brother. With each moon it was getting worse.
"Great!" he said, hitting the steering wheel as he slowed and pulled over.
He wanted to snarl, to hit the accelerator, and blast out of here. Alfred had to remind himself out dumb that would be. His truck would not outrun a cop car and there was nowhere to go up here.
Watching the blond officer in his side view mirror, he was amazed how tall the guy was. The guy's built like a tank, he thought. His blue, button-down shirt and black slacks emphasized the guy's muscular figure. And he had a stern expression on his squarish face as he came over.
"Afternoon officer," Alfred said, rolling down the window and putting on his best grin. His eyes glanced over shiny nametag that read in bold, black letters: BERWALD OXENSTIERNA.
"What seems to be the trouble?"
"Did you know your left taillight is out?" Berwald said, placing a black-gloved hand on side of the door and leaning down. His aquamarine eyes, blurred at the bottom by his rimless glasses, studied Alfred.
Then he did the oddest thing — he sniffed, nostrils flaring on his straight-bridged nose. Taken aback, Alfred tried not to gape as he realized the guy had smelled him.
"Um…" Alfred stilled remembering the empty beer cans he had tossed in the back last night. Shit, he thought, wondering if this state had a law against that. The last thing he needed was to be locked in a cell tonight of all nights.
"Are you heading to Hetalia?" the man asked, almost grunted, his gaze fixed on Alfred who felt a rising need to lunge at the man. There was something about him, something that made Alfred feel wolfish in a way he had never felt around other men.
He felt like he needed to prove something.
"Yes," Alfred said, forcing himself not to snarl. "That was the plan."
As was chaining himself to a tree in the forest tonight.
The officer sniffed again and backed up. "I see." Something pissed him off about the officer. He had never wanted to tear someone apart so bad without being in wolf form. Alfred could see it in his head, claws sinking into that flesh. "Are you alone?"
That threw Alfred out of his thoughts. "P-Pardon?"
"Are you with anyone?"
"No," Alfred said, raising an eyebrow. The man nodded as if satisfied with that answer. "Just me."
"On a full moon?" Alfred blinked, feeling a surge of panic. What did this man mean? "Animals get wild around this time. You should be careful."
"I will, officer. Thanks for the warning," Alfred said.
"When you reach Hetalia, get the left tail light fixed. There's a tune-up shop, Ludwig's Auto and Repair. If you promise to get it fixed today, I let this slide with no ticket."
"I'll get it fixed. I swear. Scout's Honor," Alfred said, gesturing as a scout. That sounded fine by him. His car could use a tune-up and an oil change.
"See that you do," the man said, putting a hand on the hood to lean over again. "Oh, and say hi to the mayor, Arthur Kirkland, if you should see him."
"The… mayor?" Berwald was already walking back to his car. He noticed from the logo on the side that it belonged to the Hetalia Sheriff's Office.
After Berwald had — to Alfred's relief — turned around his car and started driving in the opposite direction, Alfred continued on his way.
What a creepy dude, he thought.
Little did he know that was just the beginning.
He rounded a sharp bend, and, slowing the truck, saw his first true glimpse into the valley with the tiny town of Hetalia. Ahead lay a long, downward sloping straightaway and the county road became the main street through Hetalia.
"Damn," he said with a whistle of admiration. He adjusted his glasses and zipped up his brown bomber jacket with the number fifty printed in white on the back. He wished his jeans weren't torn and riddled with grease stains. This was a fancy-looking town, a definite tourist trap, something right out of a magazine of towns in Europe.
All the stores advertised on rustic wooden signs. The architecture of the buildings varied from Norwegian, Swiss, Bavarian and anything mountain-country style. Stone, bricks, wood, timbers, stained and leaded glass windows were used liberally. The private homes were adorned with balconies and front porches with ornate railings.
Was he still in the US? Or had he found a portal into the Swiss Alps. This was definitely a place built to please the tourists who likely came to ski in the winter.
A few residents strolled along the cobblestone sidewalks or sat on the porches and balconies, watching Alfred drive by. Some even waved and he waved peevishly back.
At the first intersection, he braked at the stop sign and glanced both ways, pleased to see a burger shop down the left way, one whose red and green sign read: HETALIA BURGERS
There was no way he would pass up on that; Ludwig's Tune-Up Shop just across the street was an added bonus. Signaling his turn, he headed over.
After dropping off his vehicle and hurrying away from the strange Ludwig and his assistant Feliciano, Alfred stuck his hands in his pocket and crossed to the burger shop.
Outside, the air was cooler, a reminder autumn was coming to the Sierras soon. Although Alfred had always been warm-blooded and his werewolf nature only enhanced that, he still got cold at times, especially when he skipped lunch. He suspected he had a higher metabolism since turning.
It hadn't soothed his feelings when Matthew joked, 'Well, when it's that time of the month, you can't help it Al."
Through the large front windows, Alfred could see customers inside, chatting and a waitress taking their orders. Grabbing the rustic, wooden door, he opened it and stepped inside, feeling the gust of the heated air on his face.
The kitchen was behind the wooden counter, expelling the pleasant smells of grease, cheese, flour, and sizzling bacon. A white-haired man, visible behind the window of the steel serving counter, was setting a red-whicker basket with a hamburger in it down and calling at the waitress, a woman in green dress with an apron, "Another awesome burger, by the most awesome cook here!"
She rolled her eyes, tossing her light-brown ponytail back over her shoulder. They both froze, eyes shifting to Alfred who stopped. In fact, all the patrons who filled half the tables paused and looked at him.
Suddenly, feeling very nervous, he said, "Hello."
The customers quickly reverted back to their conversations, pretending not to stare, but he could feel their eyes on him. Only the waitress, after exchanging a nod with the cook, came over. The name tag clipped to her uniform read: LIZZIE.
"How can I help you…?"
"Call me Al."
"Al," she said, taking out a pen and a notepad. Then she sniffed and he heard a couple others. "Where would you like to sit?"
He frowned, trying not to check his armpits. Did he smell that bad? He blushed realizing he had forgotten to use deodorant and he slept in his car last night. He must smell rank or something.
"Ah, there is fine," he said, sliding into a red leather cushioned booth by the large window. It gave a perfect view of Ludwig's shop and the street. He grabbed a plastic menu, unfolding it. "What do you recommend?"
"Well, you must be hungry," she said with a wink. He frowned wondering… was she flirting with him? "I get pretty starved around this time as well. I recommend the Special. It's only on the menu once a month."
"Once a month? How lucky I'm here today then." He grinned big at her.
"Quite a coincidence," she said with a soft chuckle. "I can tell you're from out of town."
"What is the special?"
"It's four all beef patties, topped with cheese, vegetables, and sesame buns. Plus an order of fries and your choice of drink."
"Sounds perfect. I'll have that," he said.
"You got it," she said, winking again after she had jotted it down and ripped off the ticket.
"Oh and medium-well!"
She laughed as if he had told a funny joke and went around to the service window, shouting, "Gil! House Special. And you better not overcook it this time!"
"Yeah, yeah, don't have a cow, you banshee." He appeared only for a moment to grab the ticket.
A few minutes later she brought him back his burger, he salivated at the smell of it. There was something else he had noticed. The people here from Lizzie to the others smelled odd to him — maybe it was just his sensitive nose, but he swore they smelled odd for humans.
Picking it up, he sank his teeth into it, almost shivering in delight at the flavor. He chewed on it, shutting his eyes. He had never tasted anything so good, so delicious, so… raw?
His eyes popped open and he was startled to see her standing there watching. "Um…" he said, after swallowing. "I think… it's undercooked."
"Oh, it's always served like that," she said. "Do you not want it?"
The truth was he wanted it badly. Since becoming a werewolf his tastes had changed and perhaps this was another lucky coincidence but he found himself scarfing it down like a starving man.
"I'll take that for a yes," she said, still standing there.
"Um…," he said, licking his fingers. "Do you need something?"
"No," she said, dimples appearing in her rosy cheeks when she smiled at him. Her nostrils flared again. Another sniff. Maybe she really was flirting. "Just wanted to know. Are you staying for the full moon?"
"Full moon… um… why is that important?" he asked in a shaky voice. "I'm just passing through."
"Are you alone?" she asked, slender brows drawing in concern. "You shouldn't be without friends. It's not healthy."
"I have" had, "friends back home."
"The kind you can hunt with?"
"You mean deer-hunting? Yeah…"
She gave a laugh and then glanced at the front door when it chimed and walked away. He didn't watch her go, just went back to staring out the window. This town was strange and he was getting sure that after tonight he'd get out of here as soon as he could.
There was some whispering near the door and the other patrons were staring fixedly. There came the clack of heavy booted heels, ones he expected to pass by, instead the owner slid into the seat across from him.
Alfred blinked in surprised as the lean man fixed his lime-colored eyes intensely on him. If the man was attempting to dress like a stuffy prick, he had succeeded. Dressed in dark green from head to toe, he wore a long trench coat. His thick sandy hair fell across his forehead, giving him a mussed, almost boyish appearance. He had a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose.
His clear, green eyes were hooded with heavy lids that gave him a sleepy look. His voice was soft and melodic as he spoke in a measured and deliberate way in an English accent.
"I hear your name is Al," the man said.
"Yeah, what's it to you?" Why the fuck are you sitting there? Alfred wanted to add. His anger was climbing by the second and he wanted to leap across and bite and claw at this man. No one had ever pissed him off so bad before.
"Arthur Kirkland," the man said, sticking out his hand.
Tempted to break it, to see Arthur writhe in pain, Alfred used all his willpower to take it and shake. Rage coursed through him; his blood pumped. It was overwhelming. He felt a growl rising in his throat. There was something about this man who smelled of tea and pastries, something that enticed him and enraged him as the same time.
The man used his thumb to massage, caress, the top of Alfred's hand. It sent a strangely, soothing jolt one that made Alfred want to…
He yanked his hand back, shooting to his feet, face blushing and red. "What was that?" he snarled.
Suddenly, everyone was watching intently, expressions impassive. Arthur held up a hand and they all went back to pretending the two did not exist.
"My apologies," Arthur said. "Please sit down. I was merely trying to help you with your urges."
"My what?" Alfred said, remaining on his feet.
Arthur sniffed the air and that angered Alfred further who slapped the table, causing his drink to jump a little. "I got it! Yes, I smell!"
"Indeed," Arthur said, smirking. "You smell divine. Like you badly need an Alpha to nurture and guide you."
"A what?" Alfred squared his shoulders. He was feeling confused what he wanted from Arthur. To attack him? Or to grovel before him? He didn't like what he was feeling. The man had an overpowering aura and scent. One Alfred had never smelled before. It was dominating.
"An Alpha. Have you never… so Berwald was right," the man said. "How long since your first moon?"
"My first… huh?" Alfred tried to remember where he had heard Berwald before. Then it hit him. "That officer?"
"Yes. He watches the roads. Him and Tino. There are only two that lead into this valley."
"And why would he tell you about me?"
"Because I'm the mayor and I'm also the Alpha of this pack," he said, waving a hand around at the patrons.
Alfred snarled, baring his teeth and growling. Arthur stood up, growling back. His eyes flashed with an eerie green light.
"You're a…a …" Alfred said.
"Yes," Arthur said. "Not the brightest, are you git? Everyone in here is. They are my pack and soon to be your packmates."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You want to fight me, don't you?" Arthur said, sliding out of the booth and Alfred did as well, keeping a three foot distance between them. "It's natural. Until you submit to an Alpha, you'll want to challenge others. This town is a refuge for the supernatural. Soon to be your home. A packless werewolf is a danger to everyone. Your rage will grow each moon until you form a pack or join one."
"Stay away from me!" Alfred said, edging away as Arthur approached. "I'm outta here!"
He turned around to see the entrance blocked. Everyone was standing up and gathering to surround him. "I'll never join you!"
"This is for you own good. Don't worry, love. I'll treat you real well." His lewd gaze went down and then up. "Berwald left out how good-looking you were."
As much as Alfred wanted to lunge at Arthur, he knew he was outnumbered. Seeing himself boxed in, he did the one thing left. The one thing that made Arthur's eyes widen in shock. He ran into the booth, leaping onto the seat. He threw up his arms to shield his face and jump into the window, for a moment believing he might bounce off it and fall back like an idiot but no, it shattered, shards slashing his forearms.
His sneakers hit pavement and he smelled his blood — it didn't matter he would be healed by tomorrow thanks to his wolf state. He bolted across for the shop, digging up his keys from his pocket.
This town was insane.
He go no further than ten feet when something swooshed past his shoulder and bounced off the vender of a car. His eyes bulged to see a tranquilizer dart on the ground. Glancing up, he saw a sniper perched on the roof, aiming at him.
"Holy shit!" he yelled moments before a second thunked in his shoulder.
As he ran across the road, he yanked out the dart and cast it aside. Two more hit — thunk, thunk — one in his thigh and another his back. He pulled them out.
His head felt huge, wobbling on the end of his neck. He swayed, the world rocking back and forth and he collapsed on his side — only aware of landing because he felt the warm asphalt against his skin. Everything was spinning.
Growling, he made a half-hearted attempt to crawl. Dozens of footsteps thundered toward him and soon he was surrounded. He could smell Arthur standing over him and see the man's knee-high black boots.
Priss.
"Give it up, love," Arthur said, kneeling over him. "You're mine."
"Three darts is a little much," Lizzie said, nearby. Alfred's head was swimming. "Peter always overdoes it."
"Better than letting this treasure escape," Arthur said, grabbing Alfred by the hair on the back of his head and forced his head back. Alfred grunted, vision blurring. "That face and that body. Maybe I'll make him my mate."
A couple people muttered at that. He only heard Lizzie say, "I can't remember the last time you did that. He is awfully handsome. And that ass!"
"Oh, he's still awake," Arthur said, sounding delighted as Alfred gathered his legs, trying to shove to his feet. He weakly swatted at Arthur who let go. He almost managed to get his belly off the ground as he crawled. "Eliza, please do the honors."
"With pleasure. Sorry, Al." she said. There was a click followed by two more thunks.
Alfred slumped to the ground and couldn't move. His limbs would no longer obey him.
"What a tough guy," Lizzie said. "One should take most of us down. He kept going after four."
"He's perfect," Arthur agreed.
"Think you can beat him?"
Arthur chuckled at that.
Alfred reached blindly forward, touching the toe of Arthur's shoe.
"Still?" Lizzie said. "He doesn't know when to give up. A fifth?"
"Of course," Arthur said.
Thunk.
That did it. Alfred went down.
Note —
Sorry this got longer than expected and and I had to break it into a two shot. I will get the rest out when I can.
In the next chapter, it's wolf-time.