Chapter 16 Vin #2
But when she swung the door open, what stood there wasn't a pizza guy. It sure as hell wasn't human, either. A wolf, big and grey, with eyes that held more intelligence than you'd find in most people. It just stood there, staring at her, as if waiting for an invitation.
"Uhh, guys...you better come see this," Raven's voice had lost some of its usual cool, edged now with a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"Tell me that's one of them newfangled robot dogs," Moab said as he caught sight of the animal.
"Doesn't look like any tech I've seen," Canon replied, stepping closer.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath, pushing off from the table to join Raven at the door. That wolf, it just stood there, calm as you please, like it was the most normal thing in the world to show up at a biker clubhouse. But nothing about the past four days was normal—not by a long shot.
The wolf stepped inside, and the air in the clubhouse went thick with anticipation. Nobody breathed as it prowled forward, its eyes locking onto each of us in turn.
"Alright, what's this, some kind of joke?" Shivs said, his voice a mixture of annoyance and awe.
"Hold up," I said, my gaze not leaving the creature. Its muscles rippled beneath its shaggy coat as it moved to the center of the room. And then, right there in front of our stunned faces, the wolf began to change.
Bones cracked, fur receded, and in moments, where the animal had stood, now was a man. Naked as the day he was born, that man grinned at us, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"George 'Toolie' Rizzo, at your service," he said, extending a hand as if we were just meeting at some fancy cocktail party instead of him popping out of a damn wolf.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Moab muttered, crossing himself.
"Welcome to the freak show," I quipped, but my heart was hammering. This was no parlor trick; even my skeptical mind couldn't wrap around it. Toolie just chuckled, unfazed by our disbelief, as though turning into a wolf and back was as normal as kicking back a beer.
Before the questions could start flying, Mama Céleste rose from her seat, commanding attention without so much as a word.
The talismans around her neck clinked like a death knell, and every eye in the room fixed on her.
"Y'all need to understand somethin'," she started, her voice low and resonant, "this ain't no coincidence.
Each man here has been touched by the other side. Resurrected for a purpose."
"Resurrected?" Canon echoed, skepticism etched on his face.
"Oui." Mama Céleste nodded, amber eyes burning with an intensity that made me feel like she was looking straight through me. "Each of you has walked through death's door and returned. You think that's by chance?"
Silence settled heavily over the room as we digested her words. Skulls, accidents, close calls—we all had stories that should've ended with us six feet under. Even in my most shitfaced moments, I knew I'd dodged more than one bullet that should've had my name on it.
"Your lives are bound by blood and spirit," she continued, "and the transformation you will undergo... it's only the beginning. You've been given gifts, tools for the fight ahead."
"Fight? What fight?" Shivs asked, glancing from Mama Céleste to Toolie, still trying to make sense of it all.
"Against darkness," she said, her voice dropping to a murmur that seemed to vibrate through the room, "against those who would see this world swallowed up in shadow. Charles Stansfield is but a pawn in a larger game."
"Great, supernatural war games," I muttered, shaking my head. "And here I thought dealing with rival gangs was a headache."
"Take heed," Mama Céleste warned. "This is no light matter. You are chosen for this—chosen to stand against forces that would tear apart the very fabric of this society."
A weight settled on my shoulders, the gravity of her words like chains wrapping around my chest. This wasn't just another street brawl; this was destiny, fate, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it.
We were in deep, deeper than any of us had ever imagined.
"Chosen or not," I said, finding my voice, "we'll be ready. Let Stansfield come. We’ll give him the welcome he deserves. "
"Bon," she said, a slight nod acknowledging my resolve. "Prepare yourselves. The night is long, and shadows grow bold."
As she settled back into her chair, like a queen upon her throne, I couldn't shake the feeling that our world had just tilted on its axis.
And whether we liked it or not, there was no going back.
I pushed back my chair, the legs scraping against the concrete floor with a sound that felt like the start of something big.
The rest of the guys were silent for a hot minute before Canon cleared his throat, his eyes locked on mine.
"Alright, so we're up against some supernatural shitstorm," he said, voice steady as the engine of his Harley. "But what's new? We deal with the impossible every damn day."
"Damn right," Moab chimed in, cracking his knuckles like he was preparing to go another round with destiny itself. "We didn't rise from the damn ashes to be taken down by some puppet master playing god."
"Stansfield doesn’t know who he’s messing with," Shivs added, a wicked grin splitting his face as if he'd just been gifted a new blade to play with.
Their words were like gasoline on my already raging fire. Yeah, skepticism had its place—kept you alive in our line of work—but now wasn't the time for doubt. Now was the time for the kind of balls-to-the-wall action that made legends or ended them.
"Listen up," I barked, feeling every pair of eyes in the room snap to attention. "Stansfield wants a war? He'll get one."
A chorus of grunts and affirmations filled the clubhouse. We were united, each of us bound to the others by more than just leather and chrome. This was about brotherhood, about the unspoken oath that tied our fates together.
Toolie, still naked, sat at the table next to Shivs who shifted his chair. Shivs pointed at Mama Celeste. “What did you mean about us going through transformations?”
Mama Celeste nodded at Toolie. "Transformations like you’ve seen here tonight," she said, gesturing towards Toolie who was now casually leaning back in his chair like being buck-ass naked in front of strangers was an everyday thing for him—and maybe it was. “Each one o’ ya got somethin’ wild lurkin’ deep inside,” Mama Celeste continued like it was straight outta some fucked up fairy tale.
“And each stigma—or mark—on your body ain’t just some scar or tattoo.
” She leaned forward staring us down like she could see straight through us.
“They’re marks signifyin’ what you got runnin’ through your veins. ”
Something flickered across Canon’s eye—a particular gleam he got when his curiosity was piqued. “So how does this work exactly?” He asked. “We just change into...what—wolves?” He nodded towards Toolie, who grinned, seemingly enjoying all this attention.
“Not necessarily.” Mama Celeste said. “Toolie here’s got some wolf spirit inside ‘im—that’s what lets ‘im change.”
“So what do we got then?” Shiv looked down at his own hands like he could see whatever beast lay dormant beneath his skin.
“Could be anythin’,” Mama Celeste said leaning back. “The spirit chooses ya—ya don’t choose it.”
Moab raised an eyebrow skeptically .“And how exactly does this ‘spirit’ decide?”
Mama Celeste shrugged nonchalantly “Could be somethin’ tied t’who ya were before all this mess started,” she said.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, the weight of her words settling over me like a storm cloud.
"So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for some animal spirit to take the wheel?
" My voice was low, edged with frustration. This wasn’t exactly the kind of plan I was used to.
I liked action, not cryptic voodoo riddles.
Why had she not mentioned this back at the swamp?
I knew why. I would never have believed her before seeing Toolie’s transformation.
Mama Celeste gave me that look—the one that made it clear she wasn’t about to entertain my bullshit. "Patience, Vin," she said, her voice steady but laced with a warning. "You’ll know when it happens. It ain’t somethin’ you can force."
Raven stepped in, her voice cutting through the tension. "And what about me?" she asked, her dark eyes locking onto Mama Celeste. "I don’t have any marks. No scars. Does that mean I’m not part of this... whatever this is?"
Mama Celeste studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable.
"You’re here for a reason, child," she said finally.
"But your path ain’t the same as theirs.
" She gestured to the rest of us, her gaze lingering on Raven like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. "You got your own role to play."
Toolie chuckled, breaking the tension as he stretched lazily in his chair. "Guess that makes you the wild card," he said, shooting Raven a grin that was equal parts charming and dangerous.
Before Raven could respond, Moab slammed his fist on the table, the sound like a gunshot in the room.
“Enough of this cryptic bullshit,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
“I ain’t waiting around to turn into some critter.
If we’re gonna take down Stansfield, we need a plan, not a damn zoo exhibit. ”
Canon leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “He’s got a point,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve got numbers now—Bump, Toolie, the Prospects—but we still don’t know what we’re dealing with. Stansfield’s got resources and connections. We can’t just charge in blind.”
Shivs smirked, running a hand through his hair. “Blind ain’t always bad,” he said, his voice dripping with that cocky swagger I knew too well. “Sometimes it’s better not to see what’s coming.”
I shot him a look that shut him up quickly. “This isn’t some weekend brawl,” I snapped. “Stansfield’s got blood on his hands, and we’re walking right into his crosshairs. If Mama Celeste says we’re changing, we need to be ready for whatever the hell that means.”
Toolie stretched again, his muscles rippling under his skin like he was already halfway to wolf again.
“Relax,” he said, his tone easy. “It ain’t so bad once you get used to it.
Hell, it kinda grows on you.” He flashed a grin, sharp and wild, and for a second, I could see the animal lurking just beneath the surface.
"Besides, being able to tear a man apart with your bare hands has its perks. "
Raven’s eyes narrowed, her gaze locked on Toolie. “You’re not helping,” she said flatly, her voice like ice. “This isn’t some game. My father isn’t just some corrupt politician—he’s a monster. And if we’re going to stop him, we need to be smarter than he is.”
I nodded, my jaw tightening. Raven was right.
Stansfield wasn’t just a threat; he was a predator, and he’d already proven he was willing to kill to protect his secrets.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, my voice steady.
“But first, we need to know what we’re dealing with.
Mama Celeste—” I turned to her, my tone hardening.
“What exactly are we looking at here? You said we’d transform.
How? When? And what the hell does that mean for us? ”
Mama Celeste leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she studied me like she was weighing my soul.
“Patience, Vin,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made the room feel smaller.
“The change comes when it comes. It’s not something you can force or control.
But when it does...” She paused, her eyes flickering to each of us in turn.
“You’ll feel it in your bones. It’ll burn through you like fire, and when it’s done, you won’t be the same.
None of you will.” Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke.
The gravity of what she was saying settled over us like a storm cloud, dark and unstoppable.
Moab broke the silence first, his voice low and gruff. “So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for this... whatever it is to happen? No warning? No way to prepare?” He seemed to relax and accept the change would happen when it happened.
Mama Celeste’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “Prepare as you would for any battle,” she said simply. “Train your bodies, sharpen your minds. But know this—when the change comes, it will test you in ways you cannot imagine.”
Shivs leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what if we don’t want it? What if we decide this is too damn much and walk away?”
The room went quiet again, every eye on Mama Celeste.
She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Her voice was calm but laced with an edge that made my skin crawl.
“There is no walking away,” she said, her tone final.
“The path has been set. The threads of fate have woven you into this tapestry. To leave now would be to unravel everything—and the consequences dire.” She pushed away from the table.
“I must rest now.” And with that, she got up and returned to her room.
“Who thought returning from the dead would be so complicated,” I said flatly and looked around the table. And then, all at once, the group of us, including the naked Toolie, broke out into laughter.