2. Apollo
Apollo
Most people thought the full moon only lasted one night, but in fact, it was three. Three nights where the gravitational pull was strong enough to move the ocean, powerful enough to drag monsters from their skin.
My breathing was slow and even, the black mask covering my mouth and nose helping to dissipate the silvery vapor of my breath in the chill night air.
I hadn’t moved in almost an hour, and my muscles were cramping, so I rose slowly from my crouch, stifling a groan as blood rushed to my tingling extremities.
It had been a long night. There was never a guarantee that I would find prey on any given night, but the tracks in the mud showed this spot was used frequently to drink.
Besides, I had learned to be patient. In a secluded wood this close to the city, the chances of stumbling on something on the first night of the full moon were high.
And if not tonight, there was always tomorrow. Either way, blood would be spilled.
Don’t, a voice whispered.
I whipped my head around, searching through the shadows for the source of the voice, though I already knew I would find no one there.
I knew because this wasn’t the first time I’d heard the voice.
Listen, it had said more than once. My conscience perhaps, though that had abandoned me long ago; you couldn’t be an efficient hunter if you let yourself doubt the cause.
No, it was more likely that I was going mad.
I’d heard of it happening before, hunters going insane and needing to be put down.
All the more reason to keep this recent development to myself.
My ears pricked with the faint sound of rustling leaves, and I refocused on my task. I turned my gaze upward and tracked the lack of wind through the overstory. No, this sound had been caused by movement through the woods. The question was… animal or monster?
Taking slow steps, rolling my foot to stay silent on the damp underbrush, I moved into a better position to stay downwind.
I pulled my hood low to reduce the full moon’s glare, then slowly reached over my shoulder, the action practiced and smooth as I fingered the fletching of an arrow, withdrew it from the quiver on my back, and silently set it to the bowstring.
I stood utterly still and silent, partially hidden behind a wide oak, my dark clothing keeping me camouflaged against the rough bark.
My keen eyesight picked up a blur of movement through a thicket, tan fur and a flicking white tail. A deer, but as I drew in a deep, slow breath, I picked up a hint of city scents that had no business being here. Car exhaust, cotton fibers, human body odor. Not a deer after all, then.
Monsters had no place on this earth, and it was my duty to protect humans from this scourge.
Stop! The voice was an annoying gnat in my ear that I couldn’t swat away, but I did my best to ignore it, to focus on my target. Even as it darted out of range, still I did not move. Barely breathed as it bounded gracefully over a fallen log. I let it get closer. Closer still…
When it approached the small creek 50 feet ahead and lowered its head to drink, I was able to count four points on its antlers.
It was a young buck. His ears flicking, hooves sinking into the soft mud of the creek bed, I finally raised my bow.
Muscles straining, I drew back to the anchor point, the string brushing my jaw, and sighted down the arrow’s shaft.
An inch to the left or right and I might bury the head in a tree instead of my target.
But I never missed.
Releasing a slow breath, I loosed the arrow.
With a soft twang, the arrow flew straight, broadhead sinking deep into the deer’s hindquarters before it even had time to flinch.
It let out a pained bellow as it reared back, but when it tried to bolt into the trees, its leg buckled under its weight, collapsing into a heap of thrashing limbs.
By the time I’d hopped over the narrow creek, the animal’s bleating had shifting into a human’s high-pitched wails of, “Oh gods! Fuck! Somebody help me!” His hands hovered uselessly over the shaft protruding from his thigh, gushing blood, seemingly unsure whether to yank it out or not.
His eyes immediately locked on me, and at first, he looked relieved, probably thinking I was going to save him.
It was just an accident, after all, a hunter had mistaken him for a deer.
But then I pulled out my ten-inch Damascus blade from its sheath on my thigh, and I saw realization sink it. I wasn’t his savior—I was his demise.
As I came to stand over the naked man, his entire body trembled, mud and tears staining his cheeks. “P-Please,” he whispered, holding his hands up in defense. “What do you want with me?”
I crouched beside him and pulled down my mask. “Where’s the rest of your herd?”
He shook his head frantically, sweaty hair falling into his eyes. “No herd. It’s just me.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said ominously, gripping his hair to yank his head back and holding my knife to his throat, a trickle of blood dripping over his Adam’s apple.
He was barely old enough to grow facial hair, I noted, judging by the sparse scruff on his jawline.
Not yet a man. Doubtful that he’d be out here by himself.
The smell of urine joined the coppery tang of blood in the air, and my upper lip curled in disgust. “Where are your parents? Older siblings?”
“I-I’m adopted,” he whined, eyes wide and fearful. “By humans. I’m all alone here, I swear.”
Please, the voice whispered faintly in my head, and I gritted my teeth, the knife’s grip slick with sweat against my palm. This was what I was trained to do. Hunt down these monsters posing as humans and eliminate them before they could hurt someone—or worse. Please…
My instincts warred inside me, conflicted on the best course of action. Pater would say no exceptions, no doubt commanding me to slash his throat and be done with it. It was no big deal, I’d done it hundreds of times before. But…
I could feel that judging presence inside me, breath held to see what my decision would be.
With a short huff, I let go of his hair and sat back on my heels with a frustrated sigh. He was just a teenager. What kind of risk could he possibly pose?
“W-What are you?” he asked, voice quivering and hoarse from screaming. “Not human…”
“Shut up,” I barked, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking to the boy or to the voice in my head.
Rising from my crouch, I didn’t let myself second-guess what I was about to do.
I grabbed the shaft and yanked the arrow out of his thigh.
He screamed as a gout of blood erupted from where the four blades of the broadhead tore flesh apart, but even though the metal had been dipped in a toxic resin that kept him in his human form, the wound began to heal before my eyes.
The boy whimpered, curling in on himself, but I would bet he’d be walking again in a matter of minutes.
It was unnatural, the way these creatures could shapeshift, hiding in plain sight like sleeper agents. Quick healing, super speed and strength, attuned senses, too violent for anyone’s good. Pater was adamant that they deserved everything we delivered unto them, that we were doing righteous work.
I knew the anger that raged inside me was natural, but it wasn’t directed at the teenager at my feet. He’d done nothing wrong. No, the anger was directed at myself for the choice I was expected to make.
Sheathing my blade, I shook the blood from the arrow and shoved it back in the quiver. “Get out of here,” I commanded roughly.
The boy nodded without question and pushed himself up onto shaky legs. Keeping a wary eye on me over his shoulder, he limped off into the woods.
I stared down at the disturbed duff covered in congealing blood. Dread and indecision played tug-of-war with my guts, hate and fear and shame drawing me deep into the well of darkness that lived inside me.
I clenched my eyes shut. Shit, I let him go.
What was I thinking?! I told myself it had nothing to do with the persistent voice in my head, begging me to show mercy.
I mean, he was just a boy! And he wasn’t even a predator.
He shifted into a deer, a damn herbivore!
It wasn’t like he was a danger to humans. Why shouldn’t I have let him go?
Even as I justified letting him live, I resented the fact that it needed to be justified in the first place.
I’d been dealing with the guilt of my actions for as long as I could remember, but I didn’t know another way.
Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this life. But if I didn’t belong with the family that raised me, then where else was I supposed to go?
That feeling of being lost followed me the whole way home, though I wasn’t entirely sure it could be classified as “home.” It certainly wasn’t the kind of wholesome family unit you saw on TV, with parents and their 2.
1 kids living in a two-story home in the suburbs, complete with picket fence and a scruffy dog named Rex.
No, this was a compound, nestled deep in the woods off an overgrown gravel road, clearly marked with barbed-wire fences and signs that said: TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. It wasn’t an idle threat.
Once upon a time it had been an old farmhouse, but it was impossible to recognize it for what it used to be.
It had been stripped down to its bare bones and sectioned off into more bedrooms to accommodate all the orphans Pater had adopted.
The wallpaper had been peeled from its walls, the carpets from the floors.
The house was meant to be functional, not comfortable.
The windows were original, the glass rippled, distorting the view of the woods beyond, but that also meant that the rooms were freezing in the winter, sweltering in the summer.
The roof sagged beneath its peeling shingles, leaking all through the spring rains, and the wind found its way through the cracks and howled through the halls like a banshee.
The place reeked of damp wood and the thick clay packed beneath the floors—oh, and sweat from too many alphas crammed into the close space.
Home, sweet home.
The truck rocked as I did my best to avoid the potholes, branches scraping down the sides of the rusting vehicle, and as the compound appeared around the final bend, a cold dread spread out to my fingertips.
Would Pater take one look at me and see evidence of my failing?
I shuddered, the memory of my last punishment still fresh in my mind.
So I gritted my teeth and forced my heart to calm, smoothed all expression from my face.
The compound was quiet as I hopped down from the truck and grabbed my gear from the back. Maybe I wouldn’t even see anyone, maybe I could slip straight through to my room and—
“Did you have a successful hunt this evening, Apollo?” Pater asked from the doorway, and I paused only long enough to draw the strap of my quiver over one shoulder.
My boots clomped hollowly as I made my way up the wooden steps. I towered over the hunched senior, so I stopped on the step below and tilted my head down in deference, unable to meet his eyes as I lied. “Yes, Pater.”
He held one hand out, and knowing what he was asking for, I passed him my quiver. He gripped the shafts and pulled them out, inspecting the blood on the broadhead. It was a tool made for delivering justice, and I hoped the blood was evidence enough.
My heart threatened to burst from my chest as he inspected my blades, but I forced it to slow.
After a pause that seemed to last an eon, he nodded, smiling down on me like a proud father, the kind of smile I’d always worked so hard to earn.
Tonight, it rang hollow. “Well done, son. Don’t forget to clean your blades before you retire for the night. ”
“Yes, Pater.” It took everything I had not to sigh in relief.
He stepped aside, and I kept my head bowed as I passed him into the house. I headed straight for my room down the narrow hall that ran the length of the building. I’d almost made it to the safety of my cell when a shadow passed in front of me.
I came up short, senses bristling at the larger alpha who’d blocked my path, his thick biceps crossed over his chest, lips twisted in an arrogant sneer.
Seth. There’d always been something about my adopted brother that set my teeth on edge.
He had a mean streak he did nothing to hide.
He was the type of guy who felt nothing for the lives he’d taken.
Seth leaned in and took a long, deep sniff. “You stink like guilt,” he drawled, his eyes glinting with malevolent glee. “What did you get up to tonight?”
I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. He had no proof.
Just a hunch and a chance to get under my skin.
Without breaking eye contact, I stepped in, chest to chest. There was a strange tension in the air tonight that made me feel invincible.
He was bigger than me, taller, stronger, but part of me hoped he’d pick a fight, just so I could smash my fist through that fucking smirk of his.
My hands balled into fists at my sides, and I felt a vibration roll through me.
Unfortunately, it was like he saw something dangerous in my eyes that had him stepping back, his smile slipping.
He averted his eyes to the floor and tilted his head, as if baring his neck, before a look of confusion flitted across his face.
The confusion quickly shifted to anger. “Fuck off!” he shouted in my face, lip curled in a snarl, then he spun on his heel and stormed off without another word.
The adrenaline drained away, leaving me shaky and unsettled. It had been a long night. I just needed some sleep and tomorrow would be a new day.
Stepping into my cell brought no comfort, with its bare walls and narrow bed.
Nudging the door closed with a foot, I opened my fists, staring down at the bloody marks where my nails had dug into my palms. “Shit…” I moved over to the basin of water I kept on the dresser and dunked my hands in.
When I pulled my hands out to inspect them, the blood had washed clean away, but there were no wounds left behind.
My chest felt tight, my breathing too loud.
Listen, the voice said. See…