Chapter Eight
Iris made a move to lift herself up, but couldn't. She fell back down into the mattress, far too weak to do much of anything. I grit my sharpening teeth as the wolf began to mumble incoherently. "Look! Look! Look!" He cried, awed and inspired by Boaz's effortless skill. "This is what you should do! This is how you break them!"
Her bloodshot eyes watched me intently through the narrow cracks between her swollen eyelids. Those eyes were accusing, demanding, questioning. Why had we done this to her? What sin had she committed to deserve it? Did my mom ever look at my father this way? I wondered, feeling sick to my stomach.
I bolted.
I flew from the cabin. Boaz called after me in surprise, "What's wrong?" He shouted.
He started to come after me, but Trevor stopped him, grabbing him by his shirt. "Let him go. He needs to be by himself a while." There was nothing but pity in his voice. "It seems he's finally coming to terms."
Yes. To be by myself, alone, without any of my fellow monsters around me was exactly what I needed, what I wanted and pined for. I ran to the cabin I shared with Dad and quickly snatched up a duffle bag I had thrown in the back of my closet. I chucked random clothing into it, not caring what exactly it was. I probably had several shirts in there and no underwear. I didn't know and I didn't slow down to check. When it was full to bursting, I zipped it closed with some effort.
Was this really what I wanted? I wondered. Could I really leave and never come back? I braced my arms on my dresser, needing to catch my breath. There was the picture of my mother laying face up on the pile of clothes that still hadn't been put away. She smiled up at me, but her eyes no longer looked happy or proud of the toddler in her arms. Her hold on her child was no longer loving. I pictured those arms, squeezing the little boy too tightly, forcing the breath from his lungs and his ribs giving way beneath the pressure. An awful scream ripped through me as I took the picture frame and threw it against the nearest wall. The frame shattered into tiny glass shards.
A pitiful whine escaped my lips. Why had I lied to myself for so long? Why had my brother lied? My mother couldn't have loved me or Trevor. How could a Red, who had endured everything that my father had done to her, who had seen girls come and then suddenly disappear, possibly love the children that she knew would do the exact same things one day? How could she have anything but disgust in her heart towards me?
It was a stupid, hopeful dream and I was sick of believing it. I prayed to God silently, knowing that it was useless. If there was a God, he certainly wouldn't listen to my prayers. Please, either let the scar completely heal and disappear from my spine or let me become as unremorseful as my brothers. At least then I would have no doubt as to what I was and be spared these pitiful illusions of grandeur. Let me wake up.
As my eyes reopened, I looked up into the mirror before me. Staring back at me was an eighteen year old man with messy dark hair and an unshaven face. His cheeks were gaunt and his skin had a deathly pallor. His moss green eyes were like those of a panicked animal. My reflection suddenly grinned, showing its sharp, canine like teeth. The green eyes flashed with nocturnal eye-shine. I blinked, wanting the illusion to disappear, but when I looked again, the wolf's shaggy face was there, glaring at me. He tilted his head back and howled. I took a clock from the dresser and smashed the mirror, killing the reflected horror.
I took my dad's old truck. It sputtered and groaned as I made my way down the mountain. I hadn't really planned anything out. All I knew was that I needed to put some distance between me and the compound and get as far away from my kin as I could possibly get. I loved them. Despite everything, I would miss them all terribly, even Boaz. But I also knew that if I really wanted to have a decent life, I could never see them again.
Night had begun to fall by the time I reached Pinewood. The sky had turned from grey-blue to bands of rich oranges, pinks and reds. On the horizon, over the peaks of the mountains, foreboding clouds were rolling in. I was tired and emotionally drained. My ribs were bothering me again. My last Ibuprofen had worn off ages ago. I decided to stop at a local Pinewood diner, called Magpie's for some coffee and maybe a bite to eat. I felt safe stopping because it would probably be the next morning before the others seriously thought something was wrong. I had had freak outs like this before, although never this bad. They would give me a few hours to clear my head before they came looking for me.
I trudged into the diner. The cook waved at me through the pickup window and a waitress smiled as I entered. I waved and smiled politely back then slipped into a booth at the back of the diner. Magpie's was a homey place. It wasn't very big and the food wasn't fancy or even all that great, but it was always filled with locals. A couple of older men were sitting at the bar at the front, sipping coffee and eating the diner's famous apple pies and cobblers. A group of teenagers were sitting around at one of the tables that ran down the center of the room. The three boys and two girls were chit chatting about a horror movie they had just come back from seeing at the theater. They were dressed mostly in black with their lips and nails painted the same color. My attention was drawn to one of the girls. She smiled with black-purplish lips that made her look like a corpse and opened a sugar packet. Her nails were painted in a pattern of red and black chipped nail polish.
My attention was thankfully pulled away from the girl when the waitress came for my order. She was an older lady with curled hair that was once blond, but which had turned nearly white. She wore too much blush and her mascara made her eyelashes look clumped together, but she was very friendly. "What can I get ya, hun?" She asked with the voice of a lifelong smoker. I could smell the strong scent of tobacco on her breath.
"I'll have a cup of coffee and a slice of blueberry pie." I ordered. The woman nodded with a smile and jotted down my order on a small pad of paper. It hadn't even been a moment since she left the table side before Little Red Riding Hood came strolling in.
Dinah walked in. Her red coat hung on her petite frame over a pair of distressed jeans and a concert tee with the name and logo of some metal band I'd never heard of on the front. Her two tone hair was twisted in a messy braid over her shoulder.
I held my breath as I watched her. She hadn't seen me yet. She walked on to the counter, sat on one of the stools and put in an order, and slid a twenty across the bar to the waitress.
Maybe I can slip out real fast. I thought, shooting wild glances at the only exit. I made a quick move to get up from my booth, but my ribs gave a loud protest. They made a cracking sound and pain radiated through my chest. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
It was too late. The Turnskin hunter glanced over her shoulder and her minty eyes shot right to me. Their icy glare carved through my pale hide. Her lips pulled down into a scowl as she left the counter and began her approach. I decided, against my better judgment, to stay where I was. She couldn't shoot my brains out here, not with so many witnesses around.
"Hi, Eli," Dinah painted on a fake smile. "Mind if I join you for a minute?" Her voice sounded too kind, too sweet…sickeningly sweet.
"Sure, Darlin'," I replied, mimicking her tone. I patted the seat beside me. "You can sit right here next to me." My mouth spread into a mocking grin. "Or would you find it more comfortable in my lap?"
She pursed her lips, her eyes stabbing me with ice picks. "Prick." She mumbled beneath her breath. She slid into the seat, drawing as close to me as humanly possible without crawling on top of me. I found myself having to hold my breath again, trying desperately not to smell her scent, lest my teeth and nails grow any sharper. "What are you doing here? Out for another hunt?" The girl whispered breathily. I stared at her red mouth, watching as her soft lips moved to form words. I heard a faint click and felt a sharp pain in my side. I glanced down at the space between us. That was when I realized she was holding a switchblade against my stomach. The point of the knife had already pierced my shirt.
"What if I am? Are you going to gut me right here in front of everyone?" I challenged her, my tired eyes shifting to meet hers. "They lynch murderers around here."
"I can always claim self-defense." She retorted.
"I've grown up here. These people know me, know my family. You, you're a stranger. Whose side do you think they'll take? Even if they don't lynch you, my brothers would be happy to oblige and you certainly wouldn't want Boaz to get a hold of a pretty girl like you." I saw her recognition at my words. She remembered Boaz. He'd be hard to forget. "Put your toy away, Little Red. I'm not hunting. I'm leaving."
My skin gave a sigh of relief as the pressure of the blade lessened. She folded the knife back up and slid it into her pocket. "And where exactly are you headed?" She asked quietly. Some people at the bar were looking at us, so she began playing the role of the dopey eyed love bird. She curled herself into my side, rested her head on my shoulder.
I draped my arm around her, squeezed her tight. "Don't know. Don't really care. All that I know for certain is that I have to get away from my family. I don't want to ever be like them."
"You are like them. You're a Turnskin. Hurting and killing helpless girls is what you do." Dinah whispered. Her voice was venomous.
"If only all we did was kill them." I replied, watching quietly as her face drained of color.
"What do you mean?" She asked, her eyes widening. "What the hell do you do to them?"
A large group of people suddenly entered the dinner, interrupting our conversation, men in uniform, some in the dark blue of the police and others in the tan and brown of the Sheriff's Department. There were several older men I recognized as Pinewood residents, dressed in orange hunting vests. There were also three strangers among them, a middle aged man, a woman and a young girl. They stood around talking with Sheriff Loris. The man was stern faced, arguing with the sheriff, pleading with him to let him search a little more. The woman cried endlessly, sobbing into her hands. The little girl, whose blond hair was twisted into a pair of innocent, looking pigtails, looked towards me, stared at me with cold hazel eyes, as if she knew every sin I'd ever committed.
"You can't end the search now! She's already been out there for days! She'll die of exposure before you idiots find her!" The man pleaded, his face twisted in grief and anger.
The sheriff held his hands up defensively. "Sir, we're doing all we can, but we can't search those woods in weather like this. The ground is too uneven. People could injure themselves. We'll pick back up the search first thing in the morning. Why don't you take your wife and daughter back to your cabin? Try to get some sleep."
The man's mouth clamped shut for a moment. He glared at Sherriff Loris through pain filled eyes. Tears fell down his ruddy cheeks. "Do you have any children, Sherriff?" He asked, his bottom lip quivering as he fought the need to wail in despair.
Andrew Loris tore his eyes away from the pitiful man, unable to take seeing that god awful misery for another moment. "I have a son and daughter. My girl's almost Iris' age."
"If your little girl disappeared out there, would you want people to ever stop looking for her, even for just a minute? Could you let yourself sleep without knowing where she was?" A painful sob erupted from Iris' father's barrel chest. "God damn it, look at me!" He grabbed Loris' shoulder, shook him, forced him to meet his eyes again to watch the tears that now poured freely in a stream down his weary, gaunt face. "I'm the one that made her go on that errand. If I'd just gone myself, she'd be safe. Now whatever happens to her is my fault. Would you be able to forgive yourself if your daughter died because you were too lazy to go to the store yourself?"
Loris rubbed his hand across the bristle along his jaw. His grey-green eyes found me sitting at the back of the dinner, slouched in the booth with my arm around Dinah. His jaw set and I knew I was in trouble. "No, sir, I wouldn't." He finally replied. He patted the distraught father on his shoulder reassuringly. "I promise I will do whatever I can to bring her home. You have my word."
Iris' family didn't seem to put much stock in the sheriff's words, but they backed off and retreated back out into the chilly, rainy night. They'd return to their empty cabin in the woods, sit by the phone and pray that their lost daughter would somehow find her way home. But I knew she wouldn't. Boaz has a pretty strong grip.
When they were gone, the sheriff slowly approached our table. He tilted his wide brimmed hat more over his brow, casting his troubled face in shadows. "Eli. I've been meaning to talk with you. Do you have a minute?" He asked, rubbing at his bristly chin again.
"I'm on a date with my girlfriend right now. Can it wait?" I flashed him a smug look, squeezed Dinah's shoulder tighter.
The sheriff frowned at me. His hand came to rest on the holster for his gun. He obviously didn't like the look in my eyes. Andrew Loris is one of the few people around who know what Roan men are capable of. To me he wasn't just Pinewood's Sherriff. He was my uncle. "I'm afraid it can't. Dinah?" His eyes shifted to Red Riding Hood. "You can do better than this guy. You best get back to your granny's house. I'll call her and let her know you're on your way."
Dinah sighed, as if very annoyed at the interruption. She got up from the table, grabbed her take out order from the front counter and stormed out of the diner.
Andrew slid into the seat across from me, linked his fingers in front of him on the counter and we each locked our moss colored eyes with the other. "The guy working the register at the Pharmacy tells me that you and your brothers came into the store right after Iris the day she disappeared. He also tells me that you left with her. Care to elaborate?"
"It ain't got nothing to do with me." I slouched further in my seat, wishing I could turn into a snake and slither away.
My dear uncle Andrew took his standard issue pistol from his holster and laid it on the table, his finger stayed precariously perched on the trigger with the barrel of it pointed straight at me. What was with everyone trying to kill me lately? I wondered with an exasperated huff.
Andrew smiled. His pearly teeth shined like the badge at his breast. "Oh, I think it does, Eli. You're eighteen now. Was she your blooding prey?"
I gave him a smile of my own, filled with sharp canine teeth. "You're not thinking of stirring up something with the Roans are ya, Uncle Andrew?" I sneered as I watched him flinch. The agony of grief flickered across his face momentarily. "We have an agreement, remember? You have a problem with it, I suggest taking it up with my dad." I leapt up from the booth, disregarding the pistol, knowing he was bluffing. Loris wouldn't shoot me. Even if we were alone out in the woods and no one would see it, he still wouldn't do it. He isn't stupid. Turning on the Roans has ramifications.
He grabbed my wrist as I tried to flee. "Wait, don't leave just yet." He pleaded. "I'll give you a ride home."
"I'm not going home. I've wanted to go solo for a while now and I finally got the guts to leave." I replied, my pinched face betraying the turmoil I felt stirring in my chest every time I looked at Andrew Loris, whose face was so similar to mine. Maybe I'd be a lot like him if my father hadn't been Henry Roan. Though, I can't say I'd want to be. He wasn't as saintly as the uniform made him look. He was actually a sinfully selfish man.
"Really? Where are you headed?" Andrew smirked knowingly at me when I shrugged in response. Even he could tell that this attempt most like would not succeed. This had been little more than a temper tantrum, like little kids threatening to run away when they're scolded. They pack their things, hide from their parents, but they rarely get much further than the drive way. "Let's get you home for today. You can run away some other time."
With some hesitation, I nodded, giving up on this attempt. I wasn't sure what Andrew was planning to do and the not knowing put an uneasiness in my stomach. If he threatened to indict Boaz on kidnapping, if he exposed us, he'd find himself in an unmarked grave right next to my mother. Or worse, we'd be the ones in the ground. I had to return with him, if only to be sure that he didn't do something stupid.
"We'll take your dad's truck. If the others see me putting you in the cruiser, it'll raise suspicion. I'll be with you shortly. I'm just going to get some coffee." said Andrew.
I left without any further arguments. I canceled my pie order on the way out and just got my coffee in a to-go cup. I was hoping that Dinah had gone home already, but I should have known that she'd be waiting for me. She was sitting on the hood of Dad's truck, disregarding the downpour around her as it drenched her red coat, turning it the color of dried blood.
Sipping at my coffee, I blatantly ignored her. I got into the truck. She swooped into the passenger seat before I could lock the door. "Please leave me alone. I'm not having the best day." I groaned, resting my pounding head on the steering wheel.
"Yeah well, I bet Iris isn't having the best day either." She hissed. She might as well have a forked tongue. "I'm not letting you leave here without giving me an explanation. You keep them? You don't just kill them and eat them?"
"Don't you think it's weird that there are no women in the Roan family?" I asked, not looking at her. My eyes were closed as I pictured each of my kin. Carl. Dad. Trevor. Boaz. Wyatt…my Grandfather. "There are no female Turnskins. We use human women to…reproduce."
"Oh my God!" She gasped, her face turning a sickly color. She clasped her hands over her mouth as she tried to keep her last meal down.
"We don't kill them all. Some we keep as…I guess you'd call them captive brides." I elaborated.
"Don't! Don't you dare call them that! The word "bride" makes it sound too pleasant! They're nothing more than sex slaves!" She screamed at me. Her hands were balled into fists and I thought she might actually punch me.
I watched her sadly, my head still on the steering wheel. Saying all of this out loud, watching her expression become more and more horrified, really put a new perspective on things. It showed me just how screwed up my life and my views were. I clasped my coffee cup in my hands, reveling in its warmth while the cold wind seeped through the door of the truck, wishing I could douse myself in the bowling liquid. "More like incubators. If this was just about sex, we'd keep them forever, but we don't. This is and has always been about breeding. Other packs may do it differently, but Carl has a rule that we only keep Reds until they've had one child or twins, as they case may be with Boaz and Trevor. Once the babies are weaned, they're killed just like the rest."
"Why? If you kept them longer, they could have several children a piece." She said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if she were about to shatter.
"It's his idea of mercy." I replied. I took a big gulp of my coffee. It was too hot and burned my tongue.
She made no reply to my last comment. She sat staring blankly at the trash that littered the floorboards, toying with the zipper of her red coat. "So that's what's happening to Iris now? You're holding her prisoner? Raping her?"
"She belongs to Boaz now." I replied.
She instantly stilled, horror freezing her to the bone. "And you helped him take her." She spat, looking at me with pure disdain.
"I didn't want him to take her." I breathed heavily. "We're not even supposed to keep Reds. That's a privilege that only our elders get. But Boaz was impatient. She caught his attention. She's his type; blonde, curvy and naïve. Once he made up his mind that he wanted to keep her, nothing we said or could have said would have made a difference."
The look in her eyes… it was like she was face to face with a rabid dog. Her pupils were like pinpoints. She gnashed her teeth together, grinding them in her effort to hold herself back. Her hand was at her pocket, fingering the switchblade through the denim of her jeans. Did she even see my human facade? Or was I always the wolf in her eyes? "Let me guess, you were a totally innocent bystander. You didn't help at all." She said through her teeth.
"I never said that!" A deadly growl echoed deep in my chest. I had to sit back a minute and take deep breaths to calm myself. I was afraid the skin might rip right off me if I didn't. "What would you have wanted me to do, Dinah? I can't turn on my brothers. They're not just my family, they're my pack. Do you have any idea what that means? I can't explain it. It's like I despise them and love them all at the same time. I may hate them for the things they do and for expecting me to do the same things, but I still love them. I want us to be happy and I want them to hate being a Turnskin as much as I do. I'd give anything to be human, but I can't change what I am any more than you can change the color of your hair. I can pretend to be human and you can dye your hair as much as you want, but it still doesn't change anything." I reached out and touched the ginger roots of her hair. "I'll always be a monster…" A small smile curved my lips. "And you'll always be a red head."
For the first time since the day we met, Dinah's features softened. She no longer glared at me with intense hatred, but with pity and maybe a tiny dash of understanding.
We both jumped in surprise when Sherriff Loris banged his hand against the door of the truck. He wrenched the door open and glowered unhappily at the two of us. "Dinah, I told you to go home." He grumbled. "Go on now. You don't need to be hanging out with any of those Roan boys. They're bad news."
"Yes sir." She mumbled. She pulled her hood back over her hair, gave me a slight smile. "I'll see you later, Eli."
She got out and the sheriff took the wheel as I took her place in the passenger seat. We drove back up the mountain in silence. I drank my coffee as I stared out the window, watching the rain pelt us, kind of hoping that the wind would just topple us off the side of the overlook.
"You don't have to worry about me arresting Boaz. I'll keep my mouth shut about you and your brothers being responsible and I'll plant some drugs on the pharmacy clerk. No one will trust his testimony after that. Just…tell me…is she still alive?"
"Yeah," I muttered. "Boaz is keeping her."
"The psychotic twin kept her? Jesus…" He squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the thought.
"You can't have her back. It doesn't matter whose Red she is." I reminded him, gritting my teeth at his pained expression. Why the hell was he so troubled over Iris' fate? He had just lied to her grieving parents' faces and he had promised to help us cover up the fact that we were responsible. He had helped on many missing person cases through the years. "If you ask me, it's a little too late to be growing a conscience."
That's where the conversation ended. Neither of us dared speak a word until we were back behind the gates of the compound. As soon as I saw those familiar cabins, my heart sank. I was back, back behind those oppressive walls and within the clutches of my twisted pedigree. I could practically feel the noose tighten about my throat as my executioner, uncle Andrew, led me away to be hanged from my family tree.
The door of the main cabin opened and Carl walked out with my dad right behind him. He had probably smelt the sheriff coming before we were even half way up the mountain. My father looked pissed off. His thick arms were folded across his chest and his mouth was turned into a deep scowl. Carl, however, seemed unaffected by the unexpected arrival. He knew my uncle was not a stupid man. He had far too much to lose to start trouble with our pack.
"Andrew. What brings you here, old friend?" My dad asked in a mocking tone as Andrew and I got out of the truck.
"I thought I'd return your boy to you." said Andrew, masking his annoyance behind a stern poker face. "He was talking to the Carneys' granddaughter. I'd appreciate it if you and your people left that family be. They've already lost a daughter to you. I don't want them losing her too."
"You were hunting?" Dad couldn't hide his genuine surprise.
I reverted my attention to the mud and kept my mouth shut.
"I'd appreciate it if you kept your boys on a tighter leash, Henry. I know Boaz took Iris Mahoney." Andrew and Dad glared at each other. "He was sloppy about it too. Someone saw all three of them leaving the pharmacy with her the day she disappeared. I'll do what I can to redirect suspicion, but I can't guarantee that I can protect you forever."
"Duley noted. The boys were in the wrong when they took the girl. They did not have permission from us to be hunting in the first place. They've been reprimanded."
"You call letting Boaz keep the girl punishment?" Andrew spat.
Dad lunged for him. Andrew was lucky Carl grabbed a hold of him. "I suggest you stop concerning yourself with my kids and start worrying about your own" He growled.
"Get a grip, Henry! I'll handle this." Carl shouted and shoved him back. He turned back towards Andrew calmly. "Whether Boaz was in the wrong or not, Iris is a valuable resource. We could have made him kill her outright, but that seemed…wasteful."
"Whatever." Andrew shook his head, unconvinced. "There's something that I need to discuss with you. Do you mind if I come in for a minute?" He asked.
"There's nothing left to discuss." Dad grumbled, his teeth growing sharp.
Andrew readjusted his hat as he watched my dad carefully. "It has nothing to do with Boaz. It concerns another case and I only want your expert opinion on it. I'll fill you in once we're inside."
The four of us crowded around Carl's small kitchen table. I patted myself off with a wad of paper towels, trying to pretend like I wasn't listening while the adults talked. "So what is this about?" asked Carl, calmly.
"Two weeks ago, the body of a jogger was found out by a creek. She looked like a bear had gotten her, all torn to shreds, mauled, but there was also evidence that suggested that there was some sort of sexual assault. My first thought was that she had been attacked by one of your boys, but her body was found 100 miles from here, near the North Carolina border, outside of your usual range." said Andrew.
"You know as well as we do that that's not how we do things. If we were going to use her, we would have taken her. We wouldn't have left her like that for the world to find, either." Carl replied, matter-of-factly. "What makes you so certain that a human didn't attack her and she got mauled by an animal after she was dead?"
"There were bite wounds on her body…both human and canine. There was also some hair and blood found under her nails. That's still being tested, but I'm willing to bet my life savings that it'll come back inconclusive." Andrew smirked.
"You're barking up the wrong tree, sheriff. It wasn't any of us and the nearest other pack is nowhere near here." said Dad protectively. "Stop pestering us and start questioning some of your own people."
"Quiet, Henry." Carl tried his best to calm his larger brother. "Do you have any crime scene photos, Andrew?" He asked.
Andrew nodded as he took some polaroid photos from his breast pocket and laid them in front of my dad and uncle. The poor girl. I swallowed hard as I took in the gory picture. The wolf began to stir slightly in my belly, delighted with the image. That girl, you could hardly tell it was a girl. There was so much blood! "Well," Uncle Carl sighed. "I have to admit it does look like something a Turnskin did, but none of us have gone beyond Pinewood recently. We've stuck close to home."
"I know it wasn't any of you, Carl, but I know it had to be someone like you. Had to. And there's more. There's been a rash of similar murders like this one, all across the deep south. Women, little girls, men, it didn't matter. They were all killed, just like the girls you take." Andrew began. He spread out the polaroids, each of them were from a different location with different bodies, both female and male. He leant forward in his seat, eager to prove his hypothesis.
"Now stop right there. Turnskins don't just wander around killing people. We stick to one place, hunt in our own territory and there are men and children in these pictures. I agree with you about the condition of the bodies. It does look like they were attacked by a Turnskin, but everything else sounds too much like what a human would do, Andrew. It's not one of us. It can't be." Carl argued. He was right, the idea that there could be a Turnkskin going on some sort of killing spree, taking out whoever crossed his path was a stretch. We were murderers for sure, but we killed with the purpose of survival. Whoever this was, killed for pleasure and that was generally a human trait.
"Don't deny it just yet, let me finish." Andrew went on, pulling out more and more photos, each more gruesome than the last." It started in Charleston, South Carolina. A four year old girl was snatched off her doorstep. When they found her, there was barely anything left to bury." He jabbed his finger down on the picture of the mutilated child. It was so horrible, even my dad had to turn his head away from it. "It happened again in Jacksonville, two fourteen year old little girls, beaten, raped, and partially eaten. Then in Miami, a whole family was wiped out, each of them mauled beyond recognition. Lastly, a month ago, up near Raleigh, a bunch of kids on a campout were found mauled to death. The boys were eaten in their tents. They didn't even make it out of their sleeping bags. The girls were all found scattered in the woods. Four of them were dead on arrival, however, the fifth managed to live long enough to give the police a description. Thanks to that they were able to do a sketch." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and laid it on the table. "Do you recognize this guy?"
The sketch showed a young man, in his either early or mid-twenties. His blond hair was shaggy and fell in his face and nearly to his shoulders. His face was gaunt; his eyes weary, as if he hadn't slept in years. A thin beard covered his upper lip and chin. On his head was an old, faded dark green baseball cap with a jumping big-mouthed bass embroidered on the front and a colorful lure stuck to the bill.
Dad took one look at it and gasped, "Oh, shit!"
Carl leant back in his chair. His hand was over his mouth, his dark brows angled over his yellow eyes in confusion.
I simply sat, staring at it, unable to make a sound. All knowledge of human speech had just flown right out of my head. There was no denying it. That face was too well known to us. The killer was one of us. Still, nothing about the murders made sense. The boy, whose face matched the sketch so perfectly, couldn't hurt a fly. His name was Tobias Roan. We called him Tobi for short. He was my cousin and probably the closest thing I've ever had to a best friend. He lived in Pamplico, South Carolina with the original branch of the Roan family. He was shy, quiet…weak. He was so useless at hunting, his pack only let him feed the Reds and like me, he hated being one of us. We used to go fishing in their pond and talk about running off together, hiding out from our packs, and being free of it all. He was the last person I'd ever suspect of killing all these people, but what really, really made no sense, was how he even escaped my Grandfather's control in the first place.
