All characters and themes of Prowlers belongs to Christopher Golden
Almost Human Chapter 2The two stood face to face, staring. Claire's now wolf-like jaw dropped. Jared's jowls curled into a primitive smile.
"This is amazing!" Claire said, probably a little bit too loudly. "So, I'm not a complete freak? There is actually someone like me…"
Jared shook his monstrous head, patronizing her once again "Well, I would go that far. You're still somewhat freakish, but yes, there are a lot of us out there."
Claire's head was spinning. What did this mean…? How had her whole world been altered so drastically in 5 minutes? How many days of detention would she get for this?
But the questions weren't the only things making her dizzy. For as long as she could remember, Claire had been able to mask the inner monster while in human form fairly easily, but outside of the false visage, she could barely stay sane for 2 minutes without attacking something or turning back. She growled. Jared's ears perked up at the change of atmosphere. She hardly registered the thought of why he could stay so calm like this before she pounced at him.
He met her mid-air and pinned her to the cold tile floor. She got one good snap in before she forced herself to change back. Jared followed her lead.
"What the Hell was that?!" his now-human form asked, shell-shocked from the assault.
"Sorry. I can't help it." Then she added tentatively, "how do you stay so calm when you're…you know…like that?"
"I just…do. I actually feel a lot more comfortable like that than cramped in this little body; don't you?"
With his body still pinning her to the ground, she couldn't help but think that it's not so little. "No. I can't control that body. With this one, I can stay away from you (or anyone for that matter), but with that one, I have to attack something. Plus, this one's at least normal. That's just…scary."
"You have some Prowler Pride issues, you know that?" Jared smiled. Finally, he pushed himself off of her. "If that's even what you are."
"I don't get it. Why am I different from you?" Claire asked.
"I have no clue," Jared said. Then he smiled, clearly proud of himself. "But I think you might be hybrid."
"What, like, half and half?" Claire asked. She laughed skeptically, but soon, it seemed to make a lot of sense. "Well…I never knew my dad. Maybe he's a Prowler." Claire smiled suddenly. "So that's what all that talk of half-breeds was in Bio. I always knew there was something weird about that guy…"
"Yeah, he's one of us," Jared told her. "Finally got you figured out, I guess. My parents don't like him though. I'm not sure why. It's something about when they were in a pack together, years ago. I don't know."
"Pack?" Claire asked, confused once again. Like…wolves or something?"
"Yeah," Jared said. "Most Prowlers hunt in packs. Some, like us, just sort of stay independent, you know? I've never been in a pack. I don't even think I'd want to be in one. Back in the 19th century or so, my parents were in one, but they were young and pretty low in the hierarchy. I guess they didn't care too much, but then when their first kid was killed by one of their superiors for flirting with their chick or something, they left. It's a brutal system. I like being benevolent." He stuck his chin in the air and gave her this cute little smile, like a little kid would do.
Claire laughed. "Sounds like it."
They were both sitting on the floor of the empty classroom. They had never turned the lights on and it was pretty dark, not to mention cold, considering it was the end of November. Claire shivered slightly.
"Hey," Jared said, getting up from off the floor. "You want to blow off the rest of the day and get out of here. I'm getting kind of sick of this damn school."
"Okay." Claire knew her mother would kill her for all the detentions she was going to get, but she had never met anyone like herself before.
Jared gave her his hand to help him off the floor. She had to admit, it was pretty classy of the jerk. Maybe chivalry ain't dead among monsters, she thought.
Bridgett's Irish Rose pub was always packed on a Friday night. Kids on dates that wouldn't last until dessert, married couples, friends, loners, the infamous drunkards at the bar, and even the occasional Prowler. Bill Cantwell was being harassed at his post of bar tender, as usual, but he didn't mind. This life was good. And he had lived so many of them, he had reason to think so. Of all the names, occupations, lovers, and homes, this was by far the best. He had a great job; granted, an often taxing job, but great. He had friends. And above all, he had family; a newly re-united niece, two kids that were just as good as his own, and…he had her.
Bill took a deep breath of restaurant-scented air and caught her sweet aroma as she bustled out of the kitchen, shouting directions at her brother and co-owner across the dinning floor. Courtney Dwyer could bustle out of somewhere better than just about any cane user he'd ever seen. And when it came to Bill, ever is a very long time.
Courtney smiled at him as she walked to the always busy bar area. "Exhausted yet?" she teased.
"Never!" He flirted back, then added to the bar patrons, "so quit trying to make the impossible happen."
Courtney's still-youthful smile faltered slightly. "I have some…new research." She leaned in, transferring her weight from her lions-head cane onto the countertop. Then she whispered, "Some new attacks have been reported in the city. Downtown."
Bill shook his head in despair. "I don't think this will ever end. There are just too many of them."
"Maybe that's because the Underground is so scattered, there's nothing we can do." Neither had noticed the arrival of Courtney's younger brother, Jack, until then. "We should gather the others and stage a revolt against the packs," he said idealistically.
Not long ago, Jack and Courtney's lives had been quite a bit less complicated. Not that it had been easy to raise her brother alone after the untimely death of their mother, but at least things were somewhat normal. Then, their so-called normal lives took an un-natural turn when Jack's best friend, Artie, was brutally murdered by a Prowler of Owen Tanzer's pack. Jack and Artie's bond had been so close, that even after his death, Artie had not been able to be separated. Jack was soon granted the gift, or curse, of not only to see Artie and other ghosts, but to slip into the uncharted Ghostlands. Since then, Jack and his friends had dedicated their lives to destroying the monsters that killed his best friend and countless others. They had even succeeded in killing Owen Tanzer himself.
Prowlers were evil, monstrous and savage beasts. Though they hid behind human facades, they were no more human than spiders. At least, most of the one's he had met. There were, just as there are in any species, an evil and a good side. Jack hadn't met many, but he knew a few decent Prowlers. Bill, for instance. Jack had known Bill Cantwell for years before he found out about his wild side. Or his somewhat royal heritage, for that matter. Among the Prowlers, he was known as Guillaume Navarre, son of Yves Navarre, the greatest Alpha of any pack the world had ever known. He had preceded Owen Tanzer's father, Wade. In the Prowler world, this made Bill a king.
And then there were the others of the Underground, those Prowlers who escaped pack-life. Bill's niece, Olivia, was a "good guy," as well as most of her friends.
But they still needed to deal with the bad guys.
"It can't be done," Bill told him. "We've discussed this. Most of the Undergrounders just want to live normal lives. We won't be able to pry them away; it isn't fair."
Jack sighed. "I know. But there has to be some that would help."
"I think we are better off just doing what we're doing."
"Just following random attacks and taking out random packs?" Jack asked, his voice rising a little too loud. Then in a lower tone he added, "it's so miniscule. They're everywhere!"
"Jack, we know," Courtney put in, sighing slightly. Jack and Bill suddenly realized how tired she was. If anyone could mask weariness, it was Courtney Dwyer. "But there's nothing to be done. Except your work, of course."
Jack smiled and left the bar. She was right. There were at least 4 other waiters working his tables for him at the moment, and he knew they would kill him for it later. Especially his girlfriend, Molly, who was currently being hassled at table 5.
It felt good to finally be out of the overly large brick building packed with too many kids. Jared led Claire down the paved walkway towards his car. If there was one thing in his life he was proud of, it was that black 1967 Cadillac convertible. He had saved every penny he'd gotten since he was 12 for that car, and frankly, it wasn't easy to give up his daily Twix bar, though he did lose a little weight. It was his baby, his love, his soul mate, and his best friend. His Stella, as he lovingly referred to it. He'd had to have it since that day a year ago when he'd first laid eyes on that beautiful, beautiful "for sale" sign in her back window while walking through the parking lot of the Barnes and Noble he worked in.
"Where are we going?" Claire asked, walking in step with him.
"Anywhere but here."
They just drove around for a while before ending up in a Starbucks for lack of a better location. Jared wasn't too thrilled about all the fancy drinks, but Claire told him she needed the caffeine, so he settled.
Chocolate Brownie Frappaccino, Caramel Machioto, Tazo Chai latte; why can't they just have a damn cup of regular coffee and why the hell is everything so expensive? Jared wondered as he stared at the menu above the counter. He finally ordered a cup of French roast coffee that tasted strangely burnt and way too weak, and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner. Claire stared at him, drinking her Vanilla Crème Frap and laughing quietly as he winced at the taste of his own beverage. "S'not funny," he said, glaring back."Okay, okay," she retorted. "So…"
"Yes."
"Uh-huh." The conversation had taken a rather exciting turn.
"So…how's life?" Jared asked with a smile.
"Oh, wonderful, thanks. You know, I just found out I'm only half a person and everything. Just peachy."
Jared forced a laugh for politeness' sake. "You're not half a person. Just, half a species. I don't know. I'm sure that there are a million others, but you don't really hear about them everyday. I guess they try to blend."
"Yeah… " Claire responded, distracted by her own thoughts as usually. She sat up in her chair across from Jared's and leaned forward slightly. "This is so strange. Yesterday I was just freakish-wolf-girl and now there's this whole other species no one's ever heard of and I'm part of it. It's just…weird." She shrugged and rested her chin on her hands, elbows balanced on knees.
"Have you ever tried to contact you father?" The question had hung in the air like a overflowing piñata, but it had caught Claire by surprise nonetheless.
"No."
"Ever think about it?"
"I used to. Not any more. I just…gave up." She leaned back in the squashy chair and glanced and a middle-aged suit typing apathetically on a brand new laptop dell. She noticed the way the glow of the screen, even while dulled from the harsh lights of the café, cast a ghastly like upon the man. She could see him. He was unhappy and alone, although he made a ton a year and probably had a few kids at home whom he never saw. Isolated from the world as she was, she pitied the guy. He had chosen is own path, while she had not.
"I think you should." Jared took another swig of the rancid coffee and put it down on the chessboard table. She was shaken from her thoughts and glanced back at his dark eyes, staring intently at her. "I mean, he could tell you stuff, right?"
Claire scrunched up her nose for a second. "Nothing you couldn't tell me."
Jared smiled. "I guess so." He sipped at the cooling coffee again. "So who is this guy, anyway?"
"My father?" Jared couldn't help but notice the way her eyes wandered from him when they were having a conversation, the way most girls he knew did. He hated when girls did that; it was like they weren't paying attention. Though, he didn't mind today. He supposed that she was paying more attention that the other girls, in her own way. Besides, she had a lot on her mind right now.
Claire shrugged. "His name's Bill Cantwell. He used to play football. He lives in Boston now, I think." She shrugged again. He also could tell she had a habit of that. "I pretty sure he doesn't know I exist." Her eyes shifted to the side again. Jared could almost see the thoughts etched across her frowning face. Confusion covered in a think blanket of sadness.
Jared's eyebrows furrowed as he watched her. Then it occurred to him: Bill Cantwell… "Wait a second. I definitely have heard that name."
"Really?" Claire turned to him leaned forward once more. "How?"
Jared thought for a second before it came to him.
"He was a football player," she repeated hopefully, "maybe you—"
"No," he interrupted. "That's not it. My parents still keep in touch with this one brother of mine that joined a pack a while back—I've never met the guy—and he keeps us up to date on what's going on above ground—"
"Huh?" Claire tilted her head to the side in curiosity. Jared grinned. The pup in her had risen to the surface with the simple gesture. She was unmistakably a young Prowler, and it intrigued him.
"What?" he said to cover his tangent thoughts.
"Above ground?"
"Oh," Jared started again. "We—you and me and all the other non-pack Prowlers—are part of the 'Underground.' We lay low. We don't hunt. Anywho, he tells us all kinds of things about the people my parents used to know; you know, their new names and stuff. And this Bill Cantwell? He's really Gillaume Navarre." His grin widened and he looked at her as if he were divulging a huge slice of gossip.
Claire blinked a few times. "Jared," she said. "I'm new at this. That name—Gie?—"
"Gillaume Navarre."
"Right, Gillaume Navarre. That means nothing to me."
O yeah. He had forgotten. He paused a moment to collect his thoughts.
"Well, his father was once a big hot-shot pack leader. So, he and you, I guess, are sort of royalty, in a way."
Claire stared at the blinking curser of her email screen. She really had no reason to be nervous but her heart was pounding in her chest. Jared had somehow convinced her to contact her father and she had looked up his email address and location as soon as he'd driven her home. But now, she didn't know what to say. Hi. You don't know me but I'm your daughter?
She just couldn't do it. Not like this. Claire was alone and unhappy with her confusing life, and she didn't need it anymore complicated than it already was. She sighed and turned off the computer. She started to get up when her mother stormed into the room, anger playing on her face.
"Where were you?" she asked in a soft voice. She was too quiet and that was never a good sign. Claire's mother was the kind of person that the more angry she became, the quieter her tone. "The school called and said that you hadn't been in any classes after 4th period. You know the way things work; it's not like at home. You can't just leave anytime you want."
"I know, Mom," she said, playing the innocent little girl act that hadn't worked in years. Her mother knew better than anyone that Claire was far from innocent. "But something happened; I had to leave. It was important, believe me."
"What would be so important?" She looked at Claire as if she didn't know her.
"I met someone, Mommy…someone like me."