Erica's body was radiating fear. I could smell it. Her scent which was once like a freshly mowed lawn was now clouded with the smell of decay. A sense of dread had altered her in such a way that even though I wasn't touching her skin, I could feel the sweat escaping her pores.
"You were the vampire that attacked Tony!" He said getting to his feet. His eyes were narrow slits of anger feverishly looking over her for assurance. And his smile was curved and disturbing. He had pegged her instantly as the enemy.
I gripped both rails to the stairs instantly blocking his path to her. If he was going to do something, he was going to have to get through me first. I didn't care that he was older, nor that he might have been stronger than me. I still had the element of surprise on my side, and that should be enough to slow him down so Erica could escape.
The problem was, we were in the cellar of a house full of werewolves.
"Dane, do not start a fight in my house." My mother warned sternly. Her voice was low and angry, like that of the lioness she was when it came to Erica's and my own protection. "Now sit back down and let them pass."
His smile died down a little, but still lingered like a canker sore.
I passed him first, and watched as he kept his gaze on Erica. I was ready to change if the situation called for it, but when she passed him, neither made any hint of an altercation. She passed him with her eyes concentrating on the brimming fire in our cellar fire place, and he watched her closely as she passed him at the cramped entrance. And once she was free, she went straight to my mother's side.
"Thanks." Erica whispered, putting her hands in front of the fire, pretending to warm them. The two of them were quite a pair. I always thought it funny that they'd hide what they were, even to their prey. But I guess the more you practice, the more human you can look.
I decided against the ruse, seeing as he already knew what we all were, and hopped in my bed. I kicked my feet up over one another and rested my head on my pillow; letting the heat from the vent take me away to a better place.
I didn't sleep but an hour when I heard the cellar door open then close. Some words were exchanged that I couldn't remember, and when I'd finally decided enough was enough, I sat up and wrenched my head towards our new guest.
"Oh." He said softly. "Sorry to wake you." He was stoking the fire as he sat near it, but his gaze was at mine. Just like his father, he stared at me as if wanting to ask me a question. I wondered if he'd be the one to ask if so.
I let my gaze become softer, because it wasn't like he was deliberately trying to wake me. He just didn't know how sensitive my hearing was. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine for letting Dane worry me so much about Erica's safety. Who, for the night, was cramped up in my mother's coffin. The thought made me smile. They're probably both uncomfortable.
"That's no problem." I said drearily. He's just trying to stay warm… I just wish he'd stop looking at me. "Marcus gave me the same look last night." I said, forcing him to divert his eyes. He smiled as he did so.
"You're hair and eyes remind me of my Grandma Gretchen." He said reminiscing in some warm memory of her.
"Is she still alive?" I asked, too tired to filter my questions.
"I'd like to think so. She's a vampire." He said adding another log to the fire. He couldn't see my shock, nor my unease.
I wasn't sure which of my parents was which, but this was an interesting coincidence. Add on the fact that I apparently looked like his grandmother, Marcus's mother… That doesn't make since. I'm only twelve, and Marcus looks to be at least forty-something!
"I understand that you're also a mix." He said turning his gaze back to me. After what he said, I couldn't help but feel a brotherly warmth wash from him to me.
He laughed softly at my unease. "You don't have to be so secretive about it. You don't smell like them at all, you know."
"Do the others know?" I asked, a sort of dread started crawling around somewhere in my lungs as I waited for an answer. But instead of answering me quickly, his warm smile brought itself back to his face.
"I'm the only one with a nose strong enough to notice." He said, "So you don't have to worry about the other's finding out any time soon."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
I was too awake to fall back asleep, and even though I knew it was still morning, I sidled my feet over my bed and watched as he stoked the fire into just the right position to catch.
"So are you the same as me?" I asked, not being able to let our similarities go. I knew from Dominic that having a mixed bloodline meant that you were a spinning roulette table and your anatomy was the ball.
"Nope. Marcus, Dane, and I are the normal ones in the family." He said. "Why? Are you different from the others in the coven?"
It never crossed my mind that I should hide what I could do from him, and most of it was due to his kind, soft words and his curious nature.
"I use to be just like you about a month ago." I said, catching his attention.
"What happened? Did someone bite you or something?"
"No," I said smiling at the thought, "Nothing like that."
Though it wasn't very hard for me to tell him what had happened with the hunter, I found out by his shocked expression that I had never truly learned the value of a humans life. They'd always been food to my mother and Erica, and even to my instincts. All of us, even caring Wilson, was a natural predator. We were made to survive off of them if our conscious minds saw fit, and there was nothing that would ever change that.
"And ever since, I'd been more like my mother than my original kind."
"So you can't change anymore?" He said. I could feel the regret in his voice. I knew how much the changes affected me, and I knew he would never want to go without it. The thought even made me shiver.
"I can still change, but it's different than when I was normal." I said, no hint of regret in my voice. I liked my new form, but not as much as I did the last. With my increased size and larger muscles, it was harder to creep along the snow and sneak up on my prey. But then again, I had a much greater deal of speed in that form and was strong enough to take a moose down if I'd wanted. Too bad they don't come around here.
"How so?"
"I'd rather not say." I stated. This was my little secret and the only two who knew my secret was my mother and Dominic. And I knew they'd leave that secret for me to tell. "I like to think of it as insurance, though." I said, bringing an understanding smile to his face.
"Fair enough."
A howl broke through the silence outside.
"The town's people are on their way." He said, scooting up closer to the fire. He was freezing in here. Even with the heaters on full blast he shivered down here in this dark little sanctuary of mine.
I pulled the tucked comforter from the foot of my bed and handed it to him. "You're not going to help them?" I asked.
He gratefully took the blanket from my hand and wrapped it around his shoulders. "No. It's not like they really need my help though. We're not fighting a war; we're just keeping the ignorant, ignorant."
I liked the way he put it. Simple and honest.
"Besides, I think I'm about to catch a cold."
I fell asleep to Wilson telling me about his grandmother. He told me how she'd been so nice to them when they came to visit, and even though she didn't eat, she would spend every meal with her grandsons. His grandfather's name was Demitri Windgates. A name that regrettably didn't ring a bell. When I'd asked why his father didn't share the name Windgates, he told me that he's yet to meet a werewolf that took his father's name. In their culture, their mother's were the most important thing in their lives. And so Marcus took Gretchen's name, De Maul. Wilson took the name Dirge from his mother, and Dane took the name Thomas from his. I started to wonder after a while what my name would have been if I knew my mother.
It right before I'd went to sleep that Wilson said that he'd had an uncle. But he'd never met him. He'd been the one in the family to take after both his mother and father. Marcus had hinted to him that he was diseased and soon died after Marcus had started his own pack… but that was the extent of what he knew.
Such a sad story, I thought as my eye's drifted shut and my mind deluded itself to a dream…
I was hunting in my dream. The soft scent of a woman's perfume clung to my nose like a loving embrace, calling me to kill. Her figure was running as fast as she could in the distance, her face was hidden by the shadows of an old building littered with child-like drawings stapled all along it's halls.
Christmas lights were hung on dilapidated doors, broken and dead as I chased her deeper into the darkness. My paws slapped the slick marble floors as I beckoned for more speed.
She turned suddenly down a narrow passage leading into the boiler room. The red lights were surprisingly alive as I made the same turn, and it stunned me momentarily as I gazed down the stairs. She had just made it to the bottom and ran even further into its depths.
My mouth watered and my heart was aching for her sustenance. I was both hungry for her, and thirsty for her blood. Both of my instincts were conjoined as I imagined how she would taste, and my fangs were grinding against each other as I jumped past the steps.
She was cornered.
There was nowhere to run now. There were no windows to crawl out of, and there were no more passages for her to disappear through. There was only one way out, and I was blocking it.
As I stood on my hind legs and stalked over too her, I finally saw her face.
Those beautiful grey eyes were caressed by her straight, red hair. Her thin cheeks, wore pain and fear as I stopped. She backed away from me. Her mouth was parted, as if she wanted to speak, but she couldn't. Instead, she cried. Erica cried.
Pain blistered in my heart as I felt the magnitude of what I planned to do. The thoughts of drinking her dry and eating what was left became suddenly sickening, and I felt as though I might vomit. Every ounce of my being had told me she was my prey, betraying her like she meant nothing. My mind was a torrent of disastrous thoughts.
As I turned to leave her to her fear, I was met with two more figures.
One was my mother, angrily glaring at me from the stairway. Her arms were crossed and her lips were pushed together curtly. "Adam! What on earth are you doing?!" She yelled.
The other woman also spoke up. "Deitre." The name was foreign, but I recognized it instantly as my own.
Her hair was a glowing brown swell of curly hair. The image made me think of the mirror my mother had gotten me. But what shown more from the dark, red atmosphere, were her brilliant amber eyes. "That's not how I raised you!" She yelled.
The world turned black as the image of the two women began to converge. Their being shook and distorted, growing around the room until there was nothing.
I awoke to my body sweating and disoriented. My head was a swirl of hunger and fear as I kicked myself up against my headboard. "I don't want it!" I screamed, remembering how badly I'd wanted to take Erica's life. "I don't…"
My mind began to clear as the dark room came into focus.
Sitting near the dimming fireplace was Wilson and his father. I looked to them and I couldn't keep the name from escaping my lips. "Deitre." I whispered.
Marcus's eyes went rigid with an intense focus on my own. "Where did you hear that name?" He asked me coldly.
My mother's figure ran too my bed and she held me close to her. I'd never felt so cold and heartless as I did waking from that dream. It was a nightmare! A haunting delusion of fear and desperation. And it shook me to my core. It shook me in such a way that I could answer Marcus's question. I couldn't think. It hurt to know that I had that kind of desperation in me, and it killed me to know that something like that could happen.
"It was only a dream." I assured my mother, still shaking under her warm embrace. I buried my head in her shoulder and took in her scent to calm me down, but it wasn't helping. I'd been hungry in my dream, and I was hungry now. Rather, thirsty.
"Where did you hear that name?" Marcus demanded, raising his voice as he stood up straight.
"The woman in my dream called me Deitre." I answered, keeping my face buried in my mother's loving embrace. I could sense her worry for me, even as my shaking calmed down some. It was only a dream, I told myself, over and over. Only a dream…
"She looked like me." I said, tears escaping my closed eyes. I ripped myself away from my mother. "I don't want it…" I said, my stupor was emerging from my swirling mind. The dream had taken me by storm, ripping me from my sanity completely as I brought my nails into my forehead.
Blood seeped from the slices I'd made, and the scent forced me to push myself further and further into the corner, away from the concerned faces of everyone in the room. "I don't want it. I don't want it." I repeated, my nails drove themselves up into my hair, cutting at my scalp like a knife.
"Adam!" My mother screamed, quickly sliding next to me. "What's wrong?" She said, wrenching my hands away from my head.
I looked at the blood on my hands and something inside burned for more. More… more blood… feed… My instincts were erratic as I tried to pull my hands to my mouth. My stomach clenched, my skin started to burn, and my anger began to flood my veins… I was changing.
The sounds of my shirt ripping seemed to overtake the screaming between the people around me. All I saw was my hands, covered in my blood. All I wanted, was more…
My mother let go of my hands as Marcus pulled her away from me. Wilson wasted no time in grabbing up Erica from the coffin and they both disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone with my fear and my rage.
I'd ripped my torn clothes from my
massive body and roared at my family's capture. Blinded by anger
and fear for their safety, I followed quickly up the stairs,
exploding through the cellar door.
The house was a hurricane of
excitement as its occupants ran in all directions to escape the great
white beast I'd become.
"Where are they!?" I roared.
The sounds of my mother calling my name came from the front door. They sounded to me like cries for help and with that delusion I leapt into the kitchen, smashing the table and bolting for the front door. I'd blown through it like a missile as it splintered in all directions.
I was quickly met with a slew of changed werewolves, and none of them were keeping me from my family.
They backed off as I charged, but before I could kill them, my mother screamed my name. "ADAM! NO!"
I had become stiff and unmoving as my glance shot in her direction. She was packed around a tightly knit circle comprised of everyone who wasn't changed. "Let her go!" I roared.
Everyone had stopped moving. It was as if the world had been paused; only the wind blew.
My chest rose and fell feverishly as I waited for them to get away from my mother. The crowd was reluctant to even move let alone watch her come near me. I was a monster to them, to all of them. I was an out of control abomination of mixed blood, enraged by my own insanity.
Slowly, my mother moved through the crowd, her figure sidled between her captors and once she was free, my breathing slowed.
"Mom." I called softly.
As I moved forward something small and fast flew into me. I recoiled and nearly fell back at the sight of something so strange.
Before me was a small boy, younger even than me with wild, black hair and glowing green eyes.
I watched in awe as he placed his small hand up against my chest and smiled up at me. "Deitre. It's going to be alright." He said.
I raised my hand, debating whether or not to strike him down, but the boy didn't flinch. Instead he placed another hand on my fur and sighed. "It's not what your mother would want." He said softly. His tone had become sad and low as his smile faded. "She's your life." He said.
From his hands, came a warmth unlike any I'd ever felt before. It was lava hot, but it didn't burn me. Instead, I could feel it soothe away all of my insanity. My muscles became loose and uncoiled. My body felt as though it was melting away in the presence of this small child. This small, human child.
Before I knew it, I was normal again. Kneeling in the snow, with my arms wrapped around chest; bent over and crying. "I don't want this…" I said. "I never wanted this…" I gasped. My breath felt as though it would never be caught. Pain raced through my lungs, and burned against my chest. I could only squeeze my arms around it tighter.
Within seconds, my mother's arms had found me. Lost and alone in my darkness, I felt as though I'd never be happy again… my mother would never be happy again.
"It's not your fault." She whispered in my ear. "You're going to be fine." She assured me.
I laughed a little at how insane she sounded. I just wrecked our home to steal you away from the people who tried to save you from me… I'm far from fine…
"Adam, look at me." She said, rubbing her hands against my bare shoulders. "Look at me." She said again when I didn't respond. I couldn't. I couldn't look up to her. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing her worry, nor her fear. I couldn't…
Her hand found the tip of my chin and warmed around my tear stained skin. She lifted my gaze softly into hers and to my shock, she was smiling. "There's my boy." She said, calming me. "That's my son that I love." Her words were an audible comfort to my ears, and I could not deny their truth.
"I'm sorry." I said, praying she could forgive me. In my mind, there was no way she could forgive how I'd hunted after her. I was ready to kill for her, and I was sure that the notion was less than flattering.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, Adam." The sound of my own name was all that I could ask from her. I hated the name Deitre. What it did to me; how it had made me act… was unforgivable.
"Are you thirsty?" She asked, trying to coax me into sitting up.
I nodded.
My mother looked up into the crowd that had once contained her. "Erica, go inside and grab a blanket and something for Adam to drink." She said softly before turning her attention back to me. "Everything's going to be alright. I promise."
