The Secret Mate Society

1. Ethan

Ethan

My life was over.

“You’re firing me?!” I cried, staring at my boss from across the desk.

I knew I must’ve looked insane. I hadn’t slept in nearly three days or showered for that matter. There was a large coffee stain on my wrinkled button up and a crazed tone in my voice.

“Yes,” he sighed. “I have to. You haven’t written a usable article in almost a month and you’re wasting the paper’s limited budget going on a monster hunt.”

“But I’m so close!” I yelled, slamming my fist on the table.

My boss looked up at me, his brows furrowed in anger.

I forced myself to take a breath, raking a shaky hand through my greasy hair.

“Listen,” I said softly. “I’m really close.

I only need a few more days or a week before I can blow this whole thing wide open.

It’s gonna be the story of the century! I know you don’t want to miss out on that.

It could put this little town on the map for the rest of history! ”

“Ethan,” he said, no small amount of condescension in his voice. “You’re a journalist, not a monster hunter. If you want to track down bigfoot, do it on your own time.”

“It’s not bigfoot! It’s a werewolf!”

“ETHAN!” The boss stood up, his fist full of the research I’d thrown on his desk.

A vein pulsed angrily on his forehead. “This is garbage! A fairy tale! The paper isn’t paying you to talk to locals about UFO’s and monsters.

We’re paying you to write articles that sell more papers.

If you can’t do that, then you don’t belong here. Plain and simple.”

“But… this monster… it killed my father!” I cried back, my voice cracking despite myself.

“Then get some fucking therapy.”

There was a long pause, the air filled with tension. The boss took a deep breath, placed the papers back in the file box I’d brought, slipped the lid on, and pushed it over to me.

“I’m sorry about your father,” he said. “I really am. No kid should have to go through that. But I’ve already pulled every favor I could to keep you here. I’m out of options and you… you’re out of a job.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Ethan. But you need to go.”

I stood there, frozen, as the reality of the situation sank in. My hands trembled as I picked up the box of research, clutching it to my chest like a lifeline. Without another word, I turned and stumbled out of the office, barely registering the pitying looks from my now ex-coworkers.

The cool autumn air hit me as I exited the building, and I took a deep, shuddering breath. What was I going to do now? The newspaper job had been my only source of income, and more importantly, my only legitimate reason to continue investigating the creature that had torn my life apart.

As I walked to my car, a flyer caught my eye.

It was tacked to a telephone pole, its edges fluttering in the breeze.

"MISSING," it proclaimed in bold letters, with a picture of a young man below.

My heart rate quickened as I read the details.

The disappearance had occurred in the same area where I'd been tracking the werewolf.

I ripped the flyer from the pole, stuffing it into my pocket.

Job or no job, I couldn't give up now. Not when there was a chance I could save someone else from suffering the same fate as my father.

I tossed the box of research into the passenger seat of my beat-up Camry and slid behind the wheel, my mind racing.

As I drove towards the outskirts of town, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see glowing eyes following me. But the road behind me remained empty.

I pulled up to the small cabin I'd been renting as a base for my investigation. It was isolated, nestled in the woods at the foot of the mountains where the werewolf sightings had been concentrated. As I stepped out of the car, a twig snapped in the nearby trees. I froze, my heart pounding.

"Hello?" I called out, my voice embarrassingly shaky. "Is someone there?"

Silence answered me, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind.

I shook my head, trying to calm my nerves.

I was getting paranoid. Spending so much time mired in my research and alone was taking a toll on me.

How long had it been since I’d called my mother?

Or since I’d visited her? Hell, I wasn’t even going on any dates or anything.

That couldn’t be normal for a twenty-four year old.

Then again, after everything that had happened in my life, I was far from normal.

Inside the cabin, I spread out my research on the rickety kitchen table.

The missing person flyer joined the mess of newspaper clippings, blurred photos, and research notes.

An article printed from the local library caught my eye.

“The History of Shifters” it was titled.

It was one of the most intriguing pieces of evidence I’d found so far.

What had begun as a fairly vague online encyclopedia entry turned extremely interesting toward the bottom.

There was mention of an event that brought strange creatures into the public eye.

But the further down I read, sections started being redacted before the page itself completely errored out in front of my very eyes.

Some quick thinking made me hit the print button to catch what I could.

But by the time the pages were on the printing tray, the entire article had been deleted. I’d never been able to find it again.

Something weird was going on. I was sure of it.

And the pile of photos, notes, journal entries, police reports, and eyewitness accounts told me I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands of people knew creatures like the werewolf existed.

It wasn’t just me and I knew, for a fact, that I wasn’t crazy.

Therapy wasn’t the answer. What I needed was answers.

A loud thunk on the side of the cabin made me jump nearly out of my skin.

I walked over to the window, glancing out at the early autumn forest surrounding me.

The trees were swaying heavily in the wind, the twilight coming on fast as the sun sank further down toward the horizon.

But there was nothing out of place from what I could tell.

A branch had probably just scraped against the cabin or something.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But between losing my job and not sleeping for three days, I was on edge.

Shaking my head, I headed back toward the kitchen.

There was some stale pizza in the fridge and a flat two liter of soda in the fridge that had my name on it.

But as I reached for the fridge handle, another thud echoed through the cabin, this time from the front door.

My heart leapt into my throat. That definitely wasn't the wind.

"Who's there?" I called out, my voice cracking. Silence answered me.

I crept towards the door, grabbing a heavy flashlight from the counter as I went.

Part of me wished I’d gotten that handgun I’d been eyeing a week ago, but it was far too late for that now.

Instead I grabbed one of the iron pokers from the fireplace, wielding it like a sword.

My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob.

Taking a deep breath, I yanked it open, brandishing the poker like a weapon.

The porch was empty.

Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by embarrassment. I was letting my imagination run wild. I stepped outside, shining the flashlight into the gathering darkness. The trees cast long shadows, their branches swaying in the wind. As I was about to turn back inside, something caught my eye.

There, at the edge of the clearing, was a figure. Tall and broad-shouldered, it stood motionless, half-hidden behind a tree. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The figure didn't move, but I could feel its eyes on me, watching.

"Hello?" I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Who’s there?”

The figure shifted slightly, and I caught a glimpse of gleaming golden eyes in the darkness. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. I took a hesitant step forward, the iron poker shaking in my grip.

"Who are you?" I demanded, trying to sound braver than I felt. "What do you want?"

A low growl rumbled through the air, raising the hair on the back of my neck. The figure emerged from behind the tree, moving with an eerie grace that was decidedly inhuman. As it stepped into the beam of my flashlight, I gasped.

It was a man... sort of. He was tall and muscular, with shaggy dark hair that cascaded over his entire body.

His limbs were too long and his legs looked almost…

broken. My gaze lifted to the glowing eyes, expecting to see a face.

Instead I saw nothing but dark fur and a long muzzle filled with gleaming yellow teeth.

But those eyes weren’t just animal… something about the way they moved, the way they studied me…

it felt… human. As I watched, frozen in shock, his lips curled back into a snarl, the growl reverberating from his chest rattling me down to my very bones.

"Oh my God," I whispered. "You're real. You're actually real."

The creature - the werewolf - tilted its head, regarding me with an unsettling intelligence. It didn’t speak, but only stood taller, its claw-tipped fingers reaching up to pull the fur away from the left side of its chest. There, shining in the flashlight beam, was a long jagged scar.

My heart nearly stopped. It was the same place my father had cut with his hunting knife when he was attacked right in front of me.

Suddenly I was transported back a decade, my father screaming for me to run as his throat was torn out by some dark monster that I couldn’t explain.

Nobody believed me, not the police and not even my own mother.

When they found my father’s body half eaten in the woods, they said it was a bear attack and closed the case.

But here the monster was, standing before me with a cruel grin on its lips. And it sure as fuck wasn’t a bear.

Fear filled me from head to toe, the flashlight shaking harder than ever before.

"You... you killed my father," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and rage.

The werewolf's grin widened, revealing more of its razor-sharp teeth. It took a step towards me, its massive form casting a long shadow across the porch. I stumbled backward, my back hitting the cabin wall. The iron poker slipped from my sweaty grip, clattering to the wooden boards at my feet.

"Stay back!" I shouted, but my voice cracked, betraying my terror.

The creature paused, tilting its head as if considering me. Then, with another low growl that sounded far too much like laughter, it tipped its head back and let out a long, low howl.

My blood went cold in an instant. I knew, should the creature want to kill me here and now, it could.

I stood no chance against it. My hand slipped down to my pocket, searching for my phone.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to call the police, my mother, or try to snap a picture of the beast. Either way, my fingers found nothing.

I realized, with sinking dread, that my phone was still on the kitchen table.

I was all on my own with nothing but a flashlight to defend myself.

The long howl came to an end and the creature’s vicious gaze settled on me once more.

It’s body tensed and for half a moment I thought it was going to spring forward and rip my throat out just like my father.

But, with another cruel chuckle, it turned toward the woods, and cantered away on all fours, leaves crunching underfoot.

As soon as it was gone, I dropped down to my knees, the fear draining all the energy I had left from my body. I collapsed onto the front porch, my heart pounding so hard I thought I would die. Gasping for air, I stared out at the darkening woods, the wind chilling me to the bone.

I’d seen a werewolf. The same one that killed my father. He was out there still. I hadn’t been making it up after all.

Despite all the fear and the exhaustion, I felt a warm sense of pride flow through me. The werewolf was real and I wasn’t crazy.

And I was going to catch that motherfucker if it was the last thing I did.