Chapter 8 #2
Dark shades protected my eyes from the afternoon sun as I lay on the beach while reading a book I borrowed from Darryl’s shelf. The supposed ‘beach bum werewolf’ was a surprisingly avid reader of epic fantasy. There were so many interesting layers to both him and Roscoe.
I’d managed to find a normal-sized book I’d thought was contemporary fiction, and I was half-right.
It ended up being a fascinating read about the theorized origins of the werewolf condition.
The book was science-y at first, but it quickly dove into the absurd and mystical, which made it even more fun.
Adam stopped in front of me and grabbed the book out of my hands.
His hair style had changed since the last time I’d seen him—shaved on both sides, with the same long dreads in the middle.
The thicker fur-like hair on his arms, chest, and legs dripped with sea water, and he wore only a pair of white swim trunks and sandals.
“Dude, c’mon.”
“We need to talk.” Adam glanced at the cover and rolled his eyes before plopping down next to me, tossing it back into my lap. “Are you and Roscoe gonna live with Darryl?”
“No, why?”
“That lying bastard. I’m not going to let him use that as an excuse next time I ask him if I can stay.”
“Okay, I’m not sure if you know this or not, but usually when someone doesn’t want you living with them, you don’t keep asking.” I picked the book back up then thumbed through the pages to find where I’d left off. “Don’t you have a place of your own? And aren’t your parents rich or something?”
He turned away and sifted sand through his fingers. “I’m not pathetic enough to live with them at this age.”
“At this age? Aren’t you like sixteen or something?”
“Hilarious.” He threw the rest of the sand onto the ground and narrowed his eyes on me. “My living situation has changed.”
“What do you mean? I thought you lived with your werewolf in an apartment?”
“I do, but… it’s complicated. I had to keep him a secret for reasons. So, as far as the state knew, I was living by myself. I got a surprise audit a few days ago for the first time, and they’re gonna kick me out.”
“What about your werewolf?”
“He’s the whole reason I’m in this mess, and he treats me like shit anyways. I’d rather break the kuu and live with Darryl.”
“Is that why you both were arguing the other night?”
Adam groaned and rolled his eyes. “I wish I’d gotten the kuu from him. He keeps telling me he has a boyfriend and doesn’t want to get involved with a half-turn, but I’ve never seen him serious with anyone. No one likes me.”
“I like you,” I said through my teeth, “when you aren’t being a total prick.”
“Sorry.”
“If you get kicked out, what’s going to happen?”
“They’ll put me in Stonebrook, and I don’t wanna go to that place. I heard they do weird experiments on half-turns.”
“I’m sure they don’t do that. That would be a violation of human rights.”
“Yeah, human rights.”
“We’re still human… somewhat.”
A huge, blond-furred werewolf with a lighter mane emerged from the ocean, shaking the excess water from his coat. Darryl glared at him for a moment before refocusing on the other swimmers.
“Damn it. I thought he wasn’t going to come today.”
“Who?”
Adam pointed, then tugged at the tight chain around his neck.
“Are you okay?”
Adam didn’t respond as the werewolf stopped in front of us.
“Find us a new place yet?”
“Still looking,” Adam replied quietly. There was something wrong with this dynamic, like all of Adam’s personality had been sucked into a void.
“You’re Adam’s werewolf?” I asked.
“You’ve got that a little turned around,” he said, flashing a toothy grin at Adam. “He’s my half-turn. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes sir,” Adam whispered, his head down while the werewolf slipped a finger under the kuu before gently tracing along the underside.
“Were you in the army?” I asked, eyeing the embossed silver dog tags dangling from a chain around his neck.
The werewolf let go of Adam and sat cross-legged on the sand in front of us, snatching the jewelry before I could read the names. He hastily tucked them into the thicker fur of his mane.
“No! This is just some beach trash I picked up. Plus, it’s none of your damn business.”
“Wow, you’re a real piece of shit,” I said casually before setting the book aside.
Adam’s eyes shifted nervously.
“And you’re pretty bold,” the werewolf replied, extending his hand. “Name’s Austin.”
“Cody,” I replied, angrily returning the handshake. “So, about the piece of shit comment. That still stands. Any particular reason for the attitude?”
“Cody, stop,” Adam whispered, jamming my ribs with an elbow as Austin leaned in close.
“You better listen to him. Looks like your werewolf never taught you your place.”
Even though he made me nervous, I met his glare with my own. “And what place would that be? Last time I checked, we were the ones holding all the cards. It’s our money and our housing. You’re just leeching off it.”
“Adam used to be a real smartass, too. You’ll know who has all the power when the cravings hit and you’re begging to be dicked down. That’s all a half-turn is. A whore.”
The more he spoke, the angrier I got. Everything in my vision turned the usual red.
Austin tugged at Adam’s kuu chain. “I guess Darryl didn’t fuck you yet, huh? You reek.”
“He smells fine. What the hell is your problem?”
The thick, blond werewolf stood, pulling Adam’s chain again until the half-turn was standing. Aside from Darryl, I hadn’t seen another werewolf quite as large, and he was using that size to bully Adam and intimidate me.
“You’re a new half-turn, aren’t ya?” he asked.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” He gave me an intense stare while grabbing his crotch. “You’re not my half-turn, but I got enough in the tank for two.”
“You’re also bold, I’ll give you that.” I picked up the book again. “Hard pass.”
“Suit yourself.” He let go of Adam’s kuu before nodding toward Darryl’s beach house. Adam led the way as Austin followed close, occasionally looking back as if something I’d said confused him.
The red hue faded from my vision when they disappeared into the house.
I felt bad for Adam, but there wasn’t anything I could really do at that moment.
He was obviously in an abusive relationship, though I didn’t know to what extent, and the kuu seemed to be making it worse.
Adam never had any bruises or cuts, but he was also a rapidly healing half-turn.
Regardless if it was physical or emotional, abuse was abuse, and I wasn’t going to sit by and let it keep happening.
The sun was halfway below the endless blue horizon.
Darryl and Roscoe were swimming in the ocean while I was jogging along the shore.
They seemed to be playing around, but when Roscoe went under and Darryl disappeared after him, I grew concerned.
I stopped running and waited for someone’s head to pop back up.
When neither emerged after a minute, the real panic sat in.
What was I going to do? I could barely swim in a pool of stagnant water, and now my werewolf was drowning. I paced back and forth, shouting their names over the crash of the waves, growing more hysterical by the minute.
Out of the corner of my eye, much farther out than before, both of them emerged, struggling to pull something along.
It took them a good five minutes before they were close enough to shore to be able to stand. Their disappearance made sense when Roscoe slung a heavy blue marlin over his shoulder and hobbled along, Darryl keeping him steady in the turbulent water.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” I asked, running closer to get a better look at the fish. There was a huge gash along the underside of its head where Roscoe or Darryl’s powerful jaws made contact.
“Dinner’s here,” Roscoe said, giving the fish a slight shake. “Want some sushi?”
“You guys scared the hell out of me. I thought you were drowning.”
Darryl threw his heavy, sodden arm over my shoulder. “No one’s ever drowned on my beach, and Roscoe’s an okay swimmer when food’s involved.”
“I’m so hungry, I could eat this whole thing,” Roscoe said, drooling.
Darryl snatched the fish away and tripped Roscoe, who fell face-first onto the dry sand.
“Don’t even think about it, fatty.”
Roscoe climbed to his feet, shaking the sand out of his wet fur. “Oh, come on. When have I ever done that for real?”
“Christmas of ’86, when we went camping, remember?”
Roscoe scratched his head. “Uh…”
“You volunteered to cook up that stag we killed that would have fed the ten of us, and everyone was so excited about it because you were the only one that knew how to actually cook.”
Roscoe opened his mouth as if to object, but all that came out was a meek, “Ohh…”
“Yeah. And because you were my friend, we were both not invited to any more campouts. And need I bring up Thanksgiving at Jessie’s?”
“All right, you made yer point. That was all in the 80s, and I’m just… hungry like the wolf.”
“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t gotten any fatter,” Darryl added, poking Roscoe’s muscle gut with his free hand. “If you weren’t a werewolf, you’d probably be in one of those electric scooters, taking up an entire aisle at Walmart.”
“You make it sound like it’s a problem. We’re big monsters with big appetites.”
“Your problem is you take everything to excess.” Darryl’s tone went from scolding to lighthearted when he looked over at a frustrated Roscoe. “At least you’re not as bad as you used to be.”
We approached the porch, and Darryl slapped the fish into Roscoe’s hands. “I’ve gotta build the fire in the barrel. Can I trust you to prepare this thing without it disappearing into your bottomless gut?”
“Of course! I bought the right spices and everything.” Roscoe walked into the house but quickly reemerged. “You expecting company, Darryl?”
“Are they still in there?” I asked, looking up at the confused werewolf.