Chapter 18 #4
Roscoe crawled toward me, his eyes returning to their usual honey amber.
“God damn! What the hell’s goin’ on?”
“I don’t know,” I groaned, still shaking as I sat upright before examining the opal that now lay shattered on the floor. “Aw shit.” I picked through the pieces, shaking my head. “There goes our protection.”
“Look at that,” Roscoe said, pointing at the gold lighter that had fallen to the floor. It glowed a molten orange for a moment before turning black. I tried to pick it up, but it crumbled like soot.
“It’s gone.”
“I kinda had a hunch,” Roscoe said, picking up a piece of the broken gem. “I think I remember something. They protect against witchcraft. There aren’t that many things that’ll scare a feral werewolf, but witches sure do.”
“How the hell is a werewolf using witchcraft?”
Roscoe shook his head. “He ain’t. Witches can’t be male the same way werewolves can’t be female.
And witches sure as hell can’t be werewolves.
” He went silent for a moment. “I bet there’s a witch in this town.
” He scrambled to his feet. “Hell, it’s in the town’s name. Nor-WITCH. Why didn’t I see it?”
“Okay, now you’re going all tinfoil hat on me.”
“You don’t know, Cody.”
“And you don’t remember. So, let’s calm down and try to get some answers.”
The door to our bedroom flung open, and Austin strode in, wearing nothing but a wet boner and an earnest expression.
“Fuck dude! You scared the shit outta me,” Roscoe yelled, holding his chest.
Austin greeted us with a salute. “The target’s been neutralized and is safely asleep, sir!”
“Oh, what the hell now?” Roscoe whispered under his breath.
“Uh… good work, soldier,” I said with a bit of hesitation as his creepy blue eyes locked with mine.
“Awaiting your next command, sir.”
“Damn, Mosavi really fucked him up good, didn’t he?”
“This one may have been my fault. He does anything he’s told, and… I kinda didn’t know it would last this long.”
The older werewolf cracked a sly grin. “Seriously? He’ll do anything he’s told?” He walked up to Austin, eyeing the larger werewolf’s empty blue stare. “Oh boy.”
“Leave him alone,” I said, before turning back to the other werewolf. “Austin, why don’t you—”
“Clean my dick with yer tongue. That’s an order, soldier!”
“Roscoe, stop!”
“What? This shit’s funny as hell.”
Austin’s eyes dimmed to a familiar blood orange, his brows furrowing as his large fingers wrapped around Roscoe’s neck.
“What did you just tell me to do, fatty?”
“I—is that how you talk to yer superior officer, sold—”
The larger werewolf shoved Roscoe against the wall, leaving another head-sized dent in it. “You ever speak to me like that again and you’ll be eating through a straw until your teeth grow back!” He released the older werewolf and looked over at me. “I’m going to my garage.”
“Take the still apart,” I called back to him.
Austin groaned but didn’t respond as he disappeared into the hallway.
“Thought you said he did what he was told?” Roscoe said, rubbing his neck. “Goddamn, he dug his claws in and everything.”
“I still don’t know exactly what triggers it.” I stood up and walked over to the door. “I’m going to go check on Adam.”
“What’s wrong with him now?”
“He’s been getting meaner lately.”
We both crept down the hall to see Adam sleeping naked, spread eagle on the bed with the biggest smile on his face. Roscoe went to say something, but I caught his mouth with my hand and led him away from the door.
“Okay, maybe this isn’t as bad as I thought,” I whispered, letting go of Roscoe. “Adam’s happy. Austin’s… happy—ish, and we’re okay, right?”
“I dunno. If there’s a witch—”
“Then we’ll deal with that later. Right now this might be working in our favor.”
Austin walked out of the garage carrying about five bottles of homemade moonshine.
“Uh, whatcha doin’ with those, buddy?” Roscoe asked, slinking across the room and licking his lips.
“Dumping them,” he replied.
“I got an idea!”
I grabbed a magazine Adam had been reading earlier, rolled it tightly, and smacked Roscoe over the head with it. “No!”
“Now hold on, I ain’t talkin’ about the booze. We could trade something to the ferals to get them talkin’. I happen to know for a fact those fuckers love white cheddar popcorn and soda. Hell, they’d suck yer dick dry for a Little Debbie Swiss roll.”
Austin rolled his eyes and continued to the kitchen.
“You know for a fact?” I crossed my arms. “Are you sure you’re talking about the ferals or yourself, because Little Debbie owns half the real estate in our pantry right now.”
Roscoe didn’t respond as Austin sauntered back out of the kitchen.
“Yer not gonna dump the beer too, are ya?”
“Beer?” I asked. “Where the hell did you get beer?”
“Made it,” Austin replied, his ears slowly drooping and his eyes changing color again. “I’ll dump it all, sir.”
“Now, hold on, let’s not get too hasty. That beer was amazing.” Roscoe placed his hand on my shoulder. “Yer really gonna make Austin dump all his hard work down the drain? Yer gonna crush him. Just look at his face!”
We both turned toward the blonde werewolf staring at us with the same stern, emotionless expression he often wore.
“The guy obviously has his heart on his sleeve. Would you really want to hurt his feelings?”
“Dump the beer,” I said without hesitating.
“Wait a minute! C’mon. You gotta taste it first. Please.”
“Roscoe, I’m putting my foot down.”
His eyes grew wide and watery as he leaned in, his pupils dilating much larger than they should have been able to. I still didn’t know how the hell he got them to do that.
“That hasn’t worked since we met.”
“Pwease…”
“It’s hard to believe someone as pathetic as you is over a century old.”
His tail wagged faster. “If you don’t take at least one sip, I’ll do my Andy Dick impression every time we have sex.”
“Bring me a goddamn beer,” I demanded, to which Austin replied with a salute before disappearing into the garage. “One sip, and then it’s going down the drain.”
Roscoe knew I didn’t really like beer, so I was kind of confused as to what he hoped to accomplish with this. Drinking foamy homemade bread-water wasn’t exactly going to change my mind.
Austin returned holding a recycled brown bottle with a faded label.
“You did wash these, right?”
“Of course I did. I’m not gross like Roscoe. I didn’t get these from the dumpster,” Austin said with a snarl, pushing the bottle into my hand.
“I ain’t dumpster-dove since I left the city, but I bet they throw away a lot of cool shit around here.”
“Don’t bring any garbage into this house,” I said, holding the bottle to my lips. The flavor was unexpected—like beer, but with an interesting aftertaste.
Roscoe smirked as I took another, larger gulp.
The beer became a malted chocolate with a hint of heat, like either ginger or cayenne pepper.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s beer,” Austin replied, matter-of-factly.
“No, I mean, what did you put in it?”
“It’s a secret.”
I gulped down more of it.
“You wouldn’t want to know, anyway,” he added.
I stopped mid-swallow and slowly spat back into the bottle. “Okay, now I want to know what the fuck I just ingested.”
“Nope.” Austin turned and walked back into the garage.
“So?” Roscoe asked, his expression more eager than before. “What do you think?”
“It’s good, but—”
“Then let’s take some bottles out in the woods, have a little fun and see if we come across any ferals to trade with.”
“This is a stupid idea.”
“Without that lighter, Mussolini ain’t gonna know nothin’.”
Austin ambled back through the dining room holding an entire box of beer, but I grabbed his arm. “I changed my mind. Don’t dump those.”
Though he didn’t smile, the werewolf’s eyes lit up, and his tail wagged.
“All right,” he replied, setting the box on the table before taking a bottle out for himself. I snatched it out of his hand before he could open it.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, placing the bottle back into the box.