CHAPTER 7
Wagner
The ride down South is easy. Quick. The wind in your hair. The smell of tires burning the highway. There’s nothing like it. I see Adrian a little in front of me. He doesn’t turn around to see if I’m there or not. We never do. We just expect you to be there. If you’re not? Well, you’ll catch up. You better. If you can’t, then maybe you don’t deserve to ride with the Hellraisers.
I know this road by heart. I’d been beaten and left for dead by the side more times than I can remember. The animal in me never wanted to retaliate. Probably because I kept it subdued for so long. It’s fucked up when you’re the only one of something. The only member of a species, of a breed that exists nowhere else. Or, at least, you live half your life believing this. So, you end up not caring. You pick fights just for the heck of it. You fuck chicks because… well, just because. Is there ever a reason for fucking, other than the sense of instant gratification? I’d say the fuck not.
A life led in murky bars, head between smelly tits of some sleazy stripper, mouth drowning in cheap booze. You’d think you’d get tired of it eventually. But, you don’t. You’re the only one of something, something horrible, something not even fully human, but something else completely. Something others are afraid of. So, you stop showing them this side of you. Because, all you’d ever get in return is violence, hate, fear. Hell, there’s more of that shit in the world than necessary. Why create more?
One night, you pick a fight with the wrong guy. You slap his girl’s ass. You squeeze her fake tit. Whatever. You’re too drunk to know what you’re doing, anyway. But, they don’t care. They take you out of the bar, dragging you by your feet. You can barely stay awake. The booze is cheap. It does you in quick and hard. Hell, you doubt you could even stand up straight. But, they don’t even give you the chance to try.
Three guys to one. Is it fair? Shit, I guess not. Three guys to one animal, though? More fair? Probably. But, you’re too fucked up to transform. That shit takes focus, concentrated effort. So, instead, I feel the blows to my belly, to my side. My inner organs shift to adapt to the blows, to make them less painful, to make my innards less hurt, less sore the following day.
Three guys to one. No one pays any attention. People just pass by, in broad circle, pretending they don’t see. It’s alright. I’d pretend not to see, too. Easier that way. They spit at me, they throw their cigar butts. I don’t even feel the burns. Warm liquid oozes out of the corner of my mouth. It tastes like copper wire. I spit it out.
I have no idea how long it lasts. Long enough for me to lose consciousness. When I open my eyes, one of them at least, the sun is high up in the sky, like a torch. But, it’s not my victory it celebrates. My other eye is beaten shut. I can’t press my lips together. That copper taste is gone from my mouth. I can taste grains of sand between my teeth. I try to move, but my whole body hurts, like I was pulled apart by horses, to all four sides of the world.
I’m parched. Somewhere far away, seems miles away, I hear the sound of traffic. Cars. Trucks. Bikes. I can recognize a Harley anywhere. It stops somewhere close. Closer than the rest of the traffic. I hear crunching of the gravel underneath heavy boots. It stops just by my earshot. I try to focus my eyes on the figure looming above me, but I can’t. Whoever he is, he’s just a shadow. Death? Welcome, death.
“Damn, you look like shit, man,” I hear a voice, as the figure bends down closer to me. I smell heavy cologne. Motor oil.
“Had better days,” I manage to cough. If I die, at least I’ll die saying something funny.
The figure whistles to someone behind us. Then, the same sound of crunching gravel. Suddenly, I’m pulled up by several pairs of hands. My feet drag along the ground, as they take me to their Harleys.
I still don’t know how I ended up at their place. All I know is I wake up in a soft bed, all stitched and bandaged. My eye still closed, but I can see silhouettes better. I can make out faces. And, I make out the face that approached me first. He recognizes the sign, the mark I always took great care in hiding. He notices it from the moment he lays his eyes on me. He tells me I’m home. Truer words were never spoken.
When Adrian and I finally reach the little farmhouse where Alex has conveniently stashed his little operation, we both get off our bikes simultaneously. My boots sink in the ground, as dust twirls around us, like the promise of a tornado that will never happen.
I see Adrian eyeing the little farmhouse. I remember that he wasn’t with me last time. Mason was. So, Adrian is on the lookout. Apart from Mason, Adrian is the next guy in line I’d allow to watch my back. Silent and deadly, he’s like a nighthawk. You’ll escape him, only if he lets you. But, those days are long gone. We don’t hunt anymore, even though we all miss those days occasionally. Civilization is a bit too restraining for someone who’s got more animal than human inside. But, we try to accommodate to the new world order.
“So, what do ya think?” I spit to the side, feeling the dust crunch between my teeth. Fucking desert. Give me the woods any day. Crisp air. Clean water. What more could you ask for?
Adrian doesn’t reply straightaway. I can see his eyes twitching, quickly examining our surroundings. I give him all the time he needs. It might pay off later, if we need to make a run for it. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to screw us over.
“Two doors, barred windows,” he tells me.
How the fuck can he see that? I take off my Ray Ban’s, but the sun angrily responds, and I immediately put them back on. I’ll let him handle the outside. I’ll be doing the talking with my fists anyway, if necessary. Usually, it is. Nothing makes people talk like some physical encouragement. Jogs their memory.
“One room inside, maybe separated in two,” he adds.
“How many people?”
Adrian lifts his nose in the air, and smells it. I can almost see his nostrils opening and closing, like a fish’s mouth on dry land, gasping.
“One, two,” he pauses. “Two.”
“That’s unfair,” I chuckle. “Too easy.”
“One’s a wolf shifter.”
Adrian’s final conclusion changes things. Bear shifters haven’t been on good terms with wolf shifters for ages. It all started about 150 years ago, maybe more, when the wolves overtook a part of our sacred land, even though the unspoken agreement claims we do not hunt in the territory that belongs to the others. They not only started to hunt on our grounds, but they overtook a part of it. Mason’s father lost his life in the battle that took place high up in the mountains. Not only him. Many others, too. We won the war, but we lost the battle. Our sacred ground has soaked up so much blood, that I doubt anything good could ever come out of it again. That was partly why we settled in this shithole, but if Mason says it’s worth it, then it’s worth it. Maybe a little more civilization would do us all some good.
“So, a human and a shifter?” I ask, for confirmation, and Adrian nods. “Alright then. Let’s go ask some questions.”
Slowly, we walk over to the front door. I push it slightly with my foot, and it opens, with a squeal. I take a step back, expecting an attack of some sort, guns or teeth, it doesn’t matter. I’m usually ready for both. But, there’s nothing.
The inside of the farmhouse is dirty. There is a strange smell lingering in the air, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Adrian probably could, but neither of us speaks. There is a table in the corner, a few knives and bubble wrap are on it. The chair is pushed to the side, as if someone got up in a haste.
We both look around, trying to suppress the loudness of our breathing. Adrian leads the way, heading to the little table. He traces a line of something on it, then brings it to his nose. He nods at me.
I look around again, expecting an attack. Adrian smells human presence. I can smell it, too, even though my sense of smell isn’t as developed as his. There’s a door right in front of us. Adrian starts first. I keep a lookout. The door we came through is still open. Someone could sneak from behind. Wolves are stealthy. I’m not afraid of that human. Alex is a pussy. But, he obviously knows what his best line of defense would be. Hiring a wolf shifter.
Adrian disappears through the door in front of us, and I follow immediately behind. Within seconds, something explodes in the far end corner, raising dust all around us. I hear the clanking of nails underneath my boots, and I bend down, my eyes searching for Adrian.
Some commotion is heard to my right, and I rub my eyes, but the fucking smoke is everywhere. Suddenly, a sharp pang of pain cuts right through my left side. I growl loudly, falling to the floor. I feel a burning sensation where pain used to be. Hot and sticky wetness spreads underneath me.
“Fuck,” I blink heavily, pressing my hand to my sides. “The motherfucker cut me…”
In a flash, I feel the familiar presence of Adrian loom over me. I only hear swooning noises, like claws flying through the air with lightning speed. I try to get up, but the pain is unbearable. The smoke slowly starts to dissolve, and I see a black puddle underneath me. I’m probably bleeding like a pig. I take off my shirt and wrap it around my abdomen. Hot, throbbing pain hits me like a ton of bricks, but I know I need to get up.
A body drops right before me, like a puppet. I recognize Alex’s face. I press my fingers onto his neck.
“Good, the motherfucker’s still breathing…” I manage to muster.
I get up, fighting the pain. The smoke is almost all gone now. Adrian is on his knees, in the corner, head bowed down. A crazed wolf is hawking over him, his claws extended, aiming for Adrian’s neck. I muster all my strength, and throw myself at him. We roll over to the side, my abdomen burning with the rage of a thousand Devils, but I don’t let go. I need to focus to shift, so there’s no time for that. I need to take this mother fucker out, human style.
A wolf’s only weapon is its mouth. It can either bite orf scratch. Nothing more. It’d be easiest to just kick him in the ribs while they break and perforate his lungs, but my position doesn’t allow that. Instead, I grab him under his jaws, at the bottom of his ears, shaking his head wildly left and right, knowing this will make any animal dizzy. I quickly climb on top of his back, avoiding his legs, which are trying to kick me off. Using my own legs, I spread his rear legs, standing on them. I know by the time this ends, I’ll be covered in scratches, but the wolf shifter will be way worse off. My fingers take hold of his neck, and I just squeeze until I can’t feel that kicking anymore, until my own fingers feel all white and trembling, until I can’t feel that heat in my sides.
I don’t know how long that lasts, but I stop only when Adrian approaches me and puts his hand on my shoulder. My fingers unclasp and a dead wolf body tumbles down onto the floor.
Adrian and I glance over at Alex.
“He alive?” I ask.
“Should be.”
We walk over to him, and Adrian kicks him with his foot, not too hard, though. Alex whines, opening his eyes.
“Get up, you fucker,” I hiss.
Alex gets onto his knees, then slowly, stands up. His whole body is shaking. I look down and I see he’s fucking pissed himself.
“Where is it?” I ask, pressing my side. The pain is back, and I wanna get the fuck outta here, so I can tend to my wound.
Alex lifts his trembling finger at a metal box in the corner. Adrian immediately jumps over there and tries to unlock it. It doesn’t budge.
“The com-combination is three, seven, nine, z-z-zero…” Alex moans. The son of a bitch should be glad he’s alive.
Adrian turns the little dial following this code and the door clicks open. He gently extracts two black, wooden boxes.
“Do I need to open them to make sure it’s all in there?” I blare at Alex. He just shakes his head. “What the fuck do I do with you now?” I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair.
Adrian gives me a meaningful look. I know what he’s saying. Mason urged for less killing. Unless it’s completely necessary. We got what we came here for. And, the wolf’s dead. Is this piece of shit really worth another kill? Adrian shakes his head.
“You’re one lucky motherfucker,” I spit at Alex, who cowers in fear, thinking I’m about to strike him down.
Luckily for him, I take no more pleasure in killing. None of us do. Gone are the days. We simply demand respect, and sometimes, you had to smash your fist against the table if you want to be heard.
“So, this is what you’re gonna do now,” I aim my index finger at Alex. “You’re gonna disappear somewhere, in some shithole, change your name, your appearance, whatever the fuck you wanna do. I just want you gone, off the face of the earth. You dig? Cuz, if I see you again, Adrian won’t be here to save your sorry ass.”
“Y-yes, yes... T-thank you…” Alex bows down, and I swear I can’t look at him anymore.
“Now, get the fuck outta here.”
Alex drags his beaten body out of the little farmhouse, as I do the same, over to the chair.
“Fuck, those claws are sharp,” I hiss, breathing in through clenched teeth.
“Wait,” Adrian tells me, then runs out.
He comes back a few moments later with a bunch of yellow flowers in his hand and a bottle of water in the other.
“You came to ask for my hand in marriage with that bouquet?” I ask, snorting, and a pang of pain punishes my effort at humor.
“Witch hazel,” he kneels down to my side, rips a part of his shirt, and wraps the flowers in it. He spills some water on it, then presses it to my wound.
“This is going to hurt,” he tells me, and I have to close my eyes when he tries to wipe away the already crusted blood.