Chapter Seven

She ran as fast as she could. Her blond hair whipped back from her head in a writhing, tangled mess. She leapt over a woodpile by the fire pit and nearly lost her footing when she landed, her feet almost going out beneath her. She stumbled for a second and scraped her knee on one of the logs. She didn't miss a beat. As soon as her feet were back under her, she took off again, all the while blood dripped from the wound. The shed blood scented the air like perfume. It urged my brother to run faster, sent hunger pains coursing through our bellies.

I slumped to my knees outside the Red's cabin. Behind me, the Reds stood in the doorway, watching me bleed. They stared at me with hate filled eyes and gleeful smiles, each of them hoping, preying I'd die. They wouldn't be able to get away, even if I did, but that didn't matter. They just wanted to see one of us suffer, see that we were mortal and not untouchable gods.

Iris continued to run. Sticks, briars and pine cones stabbed into the soles of her feet, but she never slowed. Her face was flushed red and streaked with sweat and tears. Her breath came in painful gasps. She looked back, over her shoulder and let out a cry. Boaz' silver and white figure was following her in a quick trot; his blue eyes shown through the dim evening light with evil intent. She picked up her pace. Boaz slowed.

My blood freely flowed through my fingers, saturating my clothes and pooling around me. I collapsed onto the ground and rested my face in the warm red puddle. Sarah approached me slowly, dragging her chain behind her until it grew taunt and she could go no further. She knelt beside me and loomed over my paling face. She touched my wound with her small hand and pressed. Pressed hard and dug her nails into the flesh.

Iris finally reached the chain link fence that surrounded the compound. She had already begun to climb it when she finally noticed the barbed wire that looped around its top. She clung to the fence a moment, staring blankly at the barbed wire, silently weighing her options. Either she gave up and let Boaz destroy her or disembowel herself trying to go home.

I screamed at the terrible pain, unable to hold it in. Sarah's smile widened. Behind her, Melanie began to laugh. She had never done anything but cry since Carl captured her, but now she laughed in a high pitched cackle, like a crazy person off their meds. Sarah scraped her fingers across the wound, tugging the remaining stitches until they had all snapped, leaving the wound wide open. I screamed again and grabbed at her arm, my fingers clawing at her shirt sleeve. I tried to call the wolf forward, in a desperate attempt to save myself from the Red's vengeful hands. But he did not come. I could not hear him. In my mind, I saw him there in the mental cage. Sitting. Grinning. He made no move to free himself. He never even said a word. I couldn't change. I was trapped.

"How does it feel, being ripped apart?" asked Sarah, her voice husky with pleasure. Melanie stepped up and, still laughing hysterically, she stomped her foot against my ribs. I was screaming in agony, could hardly catch my breath as the Reds clawed at my skin and jumped on my chest. I jolted as another bone snapped beneath Melanie's feet. Still, I had to watch. I had to know what Iris' choice would be. Would she rather die than face my brother's madness or would she give in to fate just like Mom?

Iris clung to the fence, barely a step above the ground. Boaz stood just behind her, between his and Trevor's cabin and the butchering shed. What was he doing? I wondered. She was right there. All he had to do was grab her. Then I realized, as I studied his wide eyed expression and wagging tale, he was just as curious as I was. Iris' sudden movement was our answer. She took hold of the links above her and hoisted herself up, towards the barbed wire.

She chose death. I smiled happily at her choice. Good girl. I thought, feeling my limbs go numb. Too bad it's way too late. Boaz leapt forward and bit meekly at her side. She screamed at the sharp pain and let go of the fence.

There was a bang from Carl's cabin and the rustle of leaves under padded paws. My vision was dimming, but I could vaguely see three wolves bounding out of it, their faces twisted with hellish snarls. Trevor and Carl ran to help Boaz subdue Iris. He could have already done it himself, but he was still toying with her, letting her get up and scramble around a little, before grabbing her with his teeth again and throwing her back on the ground.

My dad was on top of Sarah before I knew it, biting at her and digging claws into her soft, pliable flesh. She screamed louder than I did when he tore the meat from her cheek and swallowed it whole. Her blood ran out of her like a flood and mixed with my own. "How does it feel to be ripped apart?" I asked the dying girl, all too happy to see her eyes quickly turning milky.

I passed out then, with Melanie's laughter and the crunching of Sarah's bones still ringing in my ears.

When I woke up again, I'd lost three days of my life. Something I was both angry and happy about. The wolf was disappointed he wasn't able to be there for Iris' punishment, the human part of me, the part that was Eli, was relieved that I didn't have to help them hurt her, despite what she had done to me; although, I had the sinking feeling that this reprieve would not last long. Judging by the screams I could still hear, echoing across the compound, Boaz was no wear near done initiating her into our little family.

"You're up!" Wyatt gasped as he elbowed his way through the door with a trey of food. He quickly plopped the trey down on my night stand and swiveled back into the hall. "Eli's awake!" He announced. At once my Dad rushed into the doorway.

He stood there, staring at me. He let out a breath and a look of relief softened his harsh features. He must have been holding that breath for days. "Eli." He said my name softly. His smile was no more than a slight curve to his lips. "I'm glad you're awake. We…Carl said you might not…" He stuffed his meaty hands in his pockets and looked away from me like he found looking at me awkward. "You weren't breathing when I finally got Sarah off of you. I thought they had killed you for sure."

Wyatt sat at the end of my bed. He swung his feet off the edge playfully. I watched them kick, two and fro, a memory of Iris' flailing limbs passing momentarily through my mind. I shoved it away, buried it deep, just as quickly as it had come. "Dad said your broken ribs punctured your lung. He didn't think you'd live through the night." He smiled warmly. "I'm glad he was wrong." Looking at him, you wouldn't think that Wyatt was any different from a human child. At the moment, that wasn't too far from the truth. He couldn't shed his skin fully yet. It would be another year or so before that happened. He had never helped with the Red hunts, never chased a girl down, and had never torn one to shreds. That would soon change and his innocence would be destroyed just like theirs. I turned my head away, not able to stand looking at him any more due to the jealousy that was suddenly stinging my insides. If I had run away before I could shed the skin, would it have been easier to pretend I were human?

Dad laid his hand on top of Wyatt's mop of black hair. "Go get your dad. He'll want to look Eli over to be sure he's really okay." Wyatt nodded and quickly left, practically skipping down the hallway.

Dad took his place at the end of my bed. He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran his fingers through his hair, in the way he does when he's worried. I started to fiddle with some sort of tube that was lying across my face and he quickly stopped me, grabbing my hands and pushing them down at my sides. "That's your oxygen. Leave it alone. You'll be on that a couple more days, probably." He sighed again, ran his hands through his hair and tugged at it in frustration. "Why the hell didn't you change? Why did you let them do that to you? They were going to kill you, Eli. Is that what you wanted?"

"No." I shook my head. My voice was very weak, barely more than a whisper. My father leaned in closer so he could hear me. "I couldn't. I didn't hear the wolf talking to me, like I usually do. I didn't even feel him moving."

"Hmm." Dad muttered, eying me and wincing when his gaze crawled over the blue and purple bruises that peeked over the top of the blankets. "Maybe it was because you were already weak?"

"Maybe." I agreed, letting out a rattling breath. I didn't want to tell him what I really thought. Maybe the wolf was the one that wanted me to die. I was useless to him anyway.

Carl came in soon after. He praised me for fighting through and reassured my dad that I'd probably make it now that I had regained consciousness. Dad, Carl, Wyatt and I all sat around my room, talking for a long while. I mostly listened, but I was happy for their company. They didn't talk about the Reds or about what had happened. Instead they discussed a trip to Myrtle Beach, something that Wyatt had been begging for for years. We rarely went on vacations. I could remember only one trip to the beach when I was seven. We hadn't gone on a trip since, so Wyatt had never really been anywhere. They had always told him no before, but it looked like they were finally at least considering it. I hoped they would take him. He needed at least one happy memory.

"We'll let you rest now. Go ahead and eat." Dad said, gently patting my back before following my uncle and cousin out the door. I turned to my now lukewarm meal. It was some sort of stew. I spooned through the dark broth. There were potatoes carrots, onions and rice. Chunks of meat floated on the top here and there. Stew beef. I thought, happily. It was one of my favorites so I eagerly took a bite. I stopped at the first spoonful. A part of me wanted to throw it back up at first, but with each chew, the flavor grew all the more delicious. It wasn't beef. It tasted vaguely of pork, but was far sweeter, tenderer. It was a flavor that I knew well. I had eaten it many times before. It was human. A girl named Sarah. I picked back up my spoon and ate heartily.

I was able to get off the oxygen by the end of the week. A couple of days after that, I was feeling well enough to venture out of our cabin. The days of bed rest had done me good. The gunshot wound had healed nearly completely, and my ribs were well on their way. They however, were still plenty sore. I stepped gingerly out onto our front porch. I leant against the railing, looking out across the compound, trying to guess where everyone was. I couldn't hear Iris screaming anymore, so Boaz was most likely not in the Reds' cabin. Just across from me, I could see Carl tossing a baseball back and forth with Wyatt, both of them grinning happily like a normal father and son, like people who didn't have women chained up on their property. Trevor was sitting in an old beach chair by the fire pit. He seemed to be burning some trash. Every now and then, he tossed another trash bag into the flames. I wondered, with a deep frown, which one had bloody clothes in it. My dad was at the butchering shed, power washing Sarah's blood away from the floor and walls. Nearby, in a wheelbarrow, were heaped the hollowed remnants of her corpse. Her mauled face sat on top of the pile of skin and limbs, her glassy eyes gazing unblinkingly up at the clouds that passed overhead, like the sky offered her the freedom that she would never again experience on earth. As I looked at her bloody, dismembered body, my mouth watered at the memory of her taste. I turned away from the sight, feeling ashamed. She may have tried to take my life, but we took hers' first.

I trudged across the way to the fire pit, wanting nothing more than to watch something burn. "How are you feeling?" Trevor asked, smiling up at me.

"Been better." I mumbled, drawing my dark blue flannel shirt tighter across my chest. The autumn air was chilly.

"I'll grab you a chair." Trevor said. He got up and retrieved another beach chair from a tool shed. This one was thankfully taller than the one he was using, so I wouldn't have to bend too much to sit down. I took my seat beside him and before he sat back down, he went to his cooler to get us some drinks. "Beer?" He asked, holding up a nice tall can. I must have made a face because he started to laugh and tossed the beer back in. "Coke it is then." He gave me my soda and opened up a beer for himself. We sat and sipped in silence, watching the black trash bags in the pit melt away from their contents, letting it spill out over the ashes. The smallest bag held Sarah's bloody shirt, its fabric all torn to shreds.

"Where's Boaz?" I asked, off offhandedly. I didn't really care where he was. I just wanted to have something to talk about, something to end the silence that had fallen between my elder brother and I. "I don't hear Iris screaming anymore."

"Yeah, she…stopped." Trevor took another sip of his beer. "He went to town, said he needed to pick up something for Carl."

"He didn't take you with him?" I asked, surprised to say the least. The twins were usually joined at the hip. Trevor was Boaz's shadow. It was strange to see them separated by so many miles.

Trevor's eyes softened as he looked away from the fire. His fingers started to fiddle with the tab on his beer can. "He's been preoccupied with Iris. He's barely talked to me since we took her." He ran his hands through his hair worriedly, just like our father always did. "It's not that I'm jealous or anything. In fact, I'm thankful to have a break from him. Lately…he's been scaring me. I mean more than usual. He hasn't acted completely right since our blooding, but it's gotten worse since we started 'practicing.'"

"You've noticed it too then? That strange look he gets when he's hurting them." I breathed excitedly, grateful not to be the only one. "It's like he gets off on it." I grit my teeth at memories of Iris' screams and cries for mercy.

Trevor nodded quietly. "Don't we all?" He smiled sadly. "None of us are innocent by any means, but Boaz is different. He didn't want to take Iris because of some breeding instinct. He took her because he wanted to inflict pain on someone. She was just unlucky enough to get his attention." His eyes lifted up to me, met my own. He looked so much like Boaz. Nothing, not even the way he parted his hair was any different from his twin, but they were always easy to tell apart. There was an ever present fear in Trevor's eyes, an emotion I've never seen reflected in Boaz's. Boaz's eyes always seemed empty. He took a big swig of his drink. "You were lucky you missed out on the festivities the other night. That…was not a pretty sight." He shook his head like he was trying to clear away evil, disturbing thoughts.

I swallowed hard, feeling bile rise in my throat. Trevor and I had already done some awful things; we'd watched the elders do even worse things. We'd helped them. What in the world could Boaz have done to make Trevor pale at the very thought of it? I started to ask, but thought better of it. My mouth slammed shut. It was better not to know.

"So dad told me what you said…about not being able to change that night." Trevor began thoughtfully. He was changing the subject. He looked at me knowingly with a slightly pitying expression. "You're fighting it, aren't you?"

I bit at the inside of my cheek, tasted blood. "Is it that obvious?" I asked, watching the writhing flames before us. "I…don't like what I am, Trevor. I don't even like who I am. I'm not like any of you."

"Oh, I know what your problem is. You want to be human. But you're not a human." Trevor answered. "You'll never be human, Eli. Even if you left and turned your backs on all of us, you'd still be a Turnskin. Nothing will change that. You'd always have those urges. The ones that make you want to change and hunt and kill. They'll always be there. You're wasting your time, fighting yourself like you are."

"God, you sound just like Dad." I chuckled bitterly, shaking my head.

"Well he's right."

"You don't understand. I still remember my mom. I know what she went through. I don't want to destroy someone else the way dad destroyed her." My voice sounded angrier than I had intended it to.

Trevor's face fell. He looked almost hurt. He leant back in his chair and kicked at the ashes, sending sparks flying through the air. "You think you're the only one that remembers Trisha?" He asked, his voice soft, like he was afraid someone would hear. "I was nine when she died. I can remember more about her than even you can. I used to spend a lot of time in the Reds' cabin. I was supposed to be guarding them, but mostly I just went there to be with people who didn't have the same face as me. Most of them were afraid of me, but Trisha was always nice. She didn't run from me. Instead, she treated me like her own kid. We'd play games and she'd tell me stories that she made up off the top of her head. She treated me no different than she treated you. She may not have been my real mother, but she was closest thing I've ever had to one. I miss her too; just as much as you do. But I still have to face the fact that I'm my father's son. I can't avoid it. None of us can. Trisha knew that. She knew what both of us were, but she cared about us anyway." He sighed heavily. "You've got to stop thinking that you're somehow better than us, Eli, like you're some entirely different species just because dad kept Trisha longer; because, in the end, if you catch a Red, you'll destroy her just like all the rest of us."

"I don't think I'm better than you." I said in total denial.

"Sure you do." Trevor shrugged. "You think you're more human than us, that we're the monsters and you're not. You're like those characters in those werewolf movies that get bit and are trying to fight changing, to hold on to whatever scrap of humanity they have left. Except you have no humanity to hold on to. The only thing our mothers determine is what our human skin will look like. Everything else comes from our fathers. There's not a drop of human blood in you, Eli."

There was nothing I could say to deny it. "Does it get easier after the blooding?" I asked quietly. If everything he said was true, if there was no way to avoid becoming my father, then I at least wanted assurance that I'd someday have some semblance of peace about it.

"Yeah," said Trevor. "Every kill makes it a little easier. Once you've killed one, there's not much reason to hold back anymore. What's one more, right?" Trevor smirked at me. Pity shone in in his eyes once more. "I guess, what I've been trying to say is that you shouldn't try so hard to be something that you're not. It's only going to end up getting you hurt or killed, just like the other day. Let the changes happen. Let the wolf have his way. You'll be happier."

"Are you happy?" The words were out my mouth before my brain could stop them.

Trevor chewed at his cheek. His eyes drifted away from me to the ground. He bowed his head as he took another gulp of his beer. "Boaz seems to be." He finally answered half-heartedly. There was a lot more that he wanted to tell, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. The words were caught in his throat. He kept drinking his beer as if the golden liquid would dislodge them.

"I didn't ask you if Boaz was happy. I asked if you were." I prodded him.

I never would get my answer. The sound of the Jeep rolling back into the driveway put an end to our conversation. Trevor got up without a word, unable to resist returning to his twin's side. I followed him, not wanting to leave his'.

"Boaz," Trevor called out as we approached him. Boaz gave a relieved smile at Trevor's approach. "You're back already? What did Carl send you to get?" Trevor asked.

He wasn't prepared for the answer. Boaz reached into the pocket of his jean jacket and showed us his quarry. A pregnancy test.

Trevor and I both sucked in a breath.

"Melanie's showing the signs. Carl wanted to be sure she wasn't before we dealt with her." He said calmly, like he was explaining a very easy math problem.

"Carl wants to kill her? Why? She hasn't been here that long." I asked, still staring dumbfounded at the test in his hand. Melanie, poor stupid, crazy Melanie…

"Cuz she used your chest as a trampoline, dummy." Boaz laughed. "Dad wanted to kill her too, but since there's the possibility that she might be pregnant, Carl talked him into waiting. For once I agreed with him." He stuffed it back into his pocket and started walking towards the Reds' cabin. "Come on, he's waiting for me."

Trevor and I followed Boaz obediently, each of us equally as curious as to whether or not the pack was about to gain another member. Carl was already inside. He was sitting with Wyatt at the card table, eating popcorn out of a ceramic bowl. They had set up a small television and were watching an old Disney movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Dad dragged a bound a gagged Melanie out of a back room just as the evil queen transformed into the ugly hag. Her evil cackle reverberated through the small cabin.

Carl got up from the table and came to talk quietly with Boaz. "Did you have any trouble getting it?" He asked in a whisper.

"Nah," Boaz shrugged. "While Mrs. Carney was busy, I slipped it in my pocket and was out the door without her noticing a thing." He handed Carl the little white stick and the elders dragged her back into the bathroom.

"Where's Iris?" I asked after a long time of sitting in silence. The main room was empty, save for Wyatt, who was still enthralled with his movie.

"Sleeping," said Boaz. He jumped over the counter and scoured through the cabinets and fridge for something to eat. "Could you go wake her up, Eli. I'm fixing her something to eat. She hasn't in a while." Boaz's smirk spread into a smile. Sharp teeth gleamed.

Trevor gave me a sympathetic nod. I could tell by the look in his eyes and the deep set of his frown that I wouldn't like what I would see when I went back there. My steps were slow and hesitant. I bent over, holding my ribs, trying to make it seem like it was my pain that made each step torturous and not my fear over what I might see and how the wolf may react. I opened the door and nearly gagged.

Iris lay on the bed in the fetal position. She wore the ripped and tattered remnants of the red gown. Not much was there anymore. Every inch of her skin bore bruises, teeth and claw marks. Scratches crisscrossed over her legs and arms. The wounds were not very deep. Boaz had just pressed hard enough to draw blood. But what was most disturbing was how swollen and battered Iris' face was. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut. Blood oozed from both a busted lip and a broken nose. Her blond hair was now stained the same shade of red as her gown with all the dried blood. She was unrecognizable.

I was horrified. Usually, we tried not to injure them to this sort of extent. After all, their health was important if they were to produce Turnskin children. However, I understood why he'd done it and it wasn't just because he enjoyed causing her pain. He was making her an example. This is what would happen to you if you tried to run. You either get beaten to within an inch of your life or you end up in a stew.