Erin Dameron-Hill (2 page)

Chapter One

I walked aimlessly in a desert, the shifting sands piling underneath my feet. The air was dry and hollow, hot but not humid. I placed my small hands over my eyes to shield them from the harsh winds, keeping the debris from piercing my sight.

I could hear him calling my name on the endless sea of sand, “Anput. Anput”.

My feet continued to trudge along through the sand towards the voice. I pushed myself harder, forcing the air to slice itself around me, allowing me through. But the sand seemed to hold me longer than it should have and would occasionally drown my feet with a sandy grip. The more I looked at my feet slipping into the cool darkness of the ground, the more they sank.

So I forced my gaze elsewhere.

The sky was dark blue and a few gray clouds rumbled in the distance. The thunderous applause that clapped in the heavens beat in time to my pounding heart.

“Anput,” the voice whispered again.

I knew who the voice belonged to, and I desperately wanted to go to him. I longed to feel his touch, feel his intense power like waves of heat rush over me.

He was my life, my soul, my very essence and only when we were together did I truly feel alive.

My legs picked up speed and my thighs rippled outward to run in step with my determination. I knew he was close by, I could smell him on the breeze; smell his power like a breath of ancient sage and rosemary with the foul addition of rotting corpses and burning leaves. It was a scent that bristled the hairs on the back of my neck, a scent that spread my very being for him.

“Anput”, he howled again, rumbling louder than the thunder that was now opening for the rain.

But Anput isn’t my name. My name is Sophie.

The rain poured down in large drops pelting my soft and dry skin and flattening itself on the shifting sands. The ground beneath me became hard and easier to tread upon as it absorbed the cool water.

I finally brought my hands to my sides so I could see where I was headed.

All around me torches flared to life, signaling my own personal runway. I decided to follow the trail laid out for me, because I knew he had made it.

Who was it that was waiting for me?

As I approached, dark blue drapes ensconced a singular room where I could see an orange power exuding through the air. I couldn’t see it exactly, but I could smell it. And the scent of my one true love embodied a power that could be felt, seen, and touched. It wafted on the rain-soaked breeze, leaving remnants of curly-cues breathing in the air.

I pushed the curtains to the side taking in the multi-colored pillows that lounged on the white stone floor. They circled him as he lay in the middle of the room, his tail wagging slightly and pointing downwards.

“Anput,” he said with a hushed growl.

My feet stepped on the cold, stone floor and the smell of death and decay stopped me. I turned around to look over the sands that I had just walked and saw millions of corpses instead. They were piled endlessly on top of each other; white dry bones littered the landscape while a few browned skins blew in the heavy breeze.

I knew at once he had caused this.

“It was for you,” he said, pushing an ivory vase in the shape of a cat into my hands.

“He’s in here,” he continued touching my shoulder and allowing the black fur to caress my skin. His touch always had a way of touching more than just one area, I could feel him all over and I knew I was safe.

The smell, though, of rotting corpses and desiccated bodies pounded against me, and locked my heart away into a place that could never be opened. For he could never be forgiven.

“Anput”, he said again.

“
That is not my name,”
I replied slowly and distantly.

His shiny, white claws etched their way around my waist, keeping him at my back. They slowly and surely slipped themselves into my belly, bringing five red lines of blood dripping down my naked hips.

“
No
,” I said more loudly than I was accustomed to.

“I do this for you, Anput,” he growled.

“
My name is not Anput
,” I said turning on my heel to face those hungry gold eyes.

His white teeth bared at me and slobber washed over my face as his roar threatened to take the very heart of me. His large paws found my head and forced me to the floor as his anger rode louder and heavier upon me.

My heart sped up and pumped adrenaline through me, giving me the edge I needed to run away. But running is what he wanted. He could smell it now, he could smell my fear. And at any moment he would swallow me whole.

The green eyes of my body turned to face me and they said, quite simply, “
Wake up
”.

My toes prickled as the cool breeze meandered around them, tickling the soft baby hairs that rested tenderly on the knuckles. The chills aroused me from my sleep, whispering silently to open my eyes.

Big, brown eyes stared intensely over me. They had a smooth, green edge around the iris, creating a swampy, halo effect on his large peepers. I knew at once who it was, although, it was beyond dark and he shouldn’t have been here.

The dream was still echoing in my mind as I drew up the courage to fully wake. Billy was shaking my shoulders gently, pushing my body deeper into the bed, forcing me to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

“Billy, what are you doing here?” I yawned, “How did you even get in here?” I asked. I keep several chain locks on my front door and several bars on my picture window and sliding glass door. After the attack that fateful night two years ago, I kept everything locked. Fear has a way of leaving one paranoid and heavily guarded.

My eyes turned to face the red digital numbers to discover the time, it was 3:12 in the morning, “Do you know what time it is? Are you changing?”

Billy Masterson is my safety partner. If either of us lost control either from too much drinking or too much emotion, we would call each other and try to calm the other one down. To normal humans we were AA buddies, but the truth was far less attractive. We were werewolves and we needed to be kept in line. If Billy was here this late at night, then something had gone wrong.

“No, nothing like that,” he said, toning down the anxiety that was quivering on his lips.

Billy had been a werewolf since he was four years old so, he had much better control of his beast than I had, even though he is younger than I am. Billy was nineteen and enrolled at the local community college, working towards a business degree. He really didn’t seem the type to sit behind a desk, instead, his black, punk rock hairstyle destroyed that image. He kept it spiky and hard from way too much product. There were at least five gold earrings in his left ear and two large hoops in his right. A silver hoop held tightly in his small nostril complementing his sharp nose. Nothing says Wall Street better.

My eyes lingered on the sliver hoop and for just an instant, I wondered why he would be wearing silver, after all, isn’t it dangerous for a werewolf? And then my mind became fully aware; werewolves do not fear silver because it does not hurt them. Now, if there are silver bullets, then it will hurt because it’s a freaking bullet. No one is immune to a bullet.

I looked back to Billy who was wearing a bright blue vest that laid open on either side, showing off a white T-shirt that said, “Getting things done with Delores” portraying a woman with curly brown hair wearing a smile that was way too 1950’s perfect. He always wore shirts that I didn’t understand and every time he did, I would have to ask what they meant. Sometimes it was better not to know.

His khaki-colored cargo pants drooped slightly on the floor, occasionally being stamped on by the blue Converse shoes. I still don’t see the appeal of baggy pants that show of boxers. I mean, really, pull your pants up. Women make themselves beautiful for you, the least you can do is make yourselves beautiful for them.

His right foot began tapping and suddenly I was well aware of the urgency of the situation because Billy doesn’t tap his feet, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Clyde,” he said simply.

“What happened to him?”

His large hands wiped at his forehead and it was then that I could smell it; depression. It rolled off him in waves, sending that sickly smell of despair rushing through me. I can’t explain the scent exactly, but it reeks of days being in an ally and drinking oneself to death and laying effortlessly in vomit and refuse. I knew Billy hadn’t done that recently (long story), but that was the smell.

“He’s dead, Sophie,” Billy said as he sat down beside me gently pushing the mattress.

I reached for him and brought him in for a deep hug. Clyde was the newest member to the pack although he had been a werewolf for several years. He had recently moved to the area and as soon as Billy and Clyde met, they became instant sweeties. Clyde was very genteel and elegant. He was twenty years older than Billy, but age doesn’t matter when it comes to love.

“I’m so sorry, Billy,” I whispered into his metal-infected ear and felt the harsh sting of the cool gold upon my lips. I really hoped that the relationship was too new for them to grow that attached, but time doesn’t matter when you love a person. Especially if you’re soul mates. And Billy and Clyde were soul mates. They were perfect for each other. I had never seen a better couple before in my entire life. They literally oozed love from their pores, from their very being.

And that’s when I noticed it, Billy wasn’t crying. He was somewhat limp in my arms, but the pure reality of his lover’s death hadn’t set in yet. Billy was still in shock from it all.

I squeezed him tighter and held him because that’s all I could do.

“How did it happen?” I asked and immediately wanted to shoot myself for asking such a rude question.

Billy pulled back from my arms and faced the wall. He was silent for only moments, but it seemed like an eternity. His shoulders slumped upon themselves and the soft, staggered breathing began to appear. He sniffled slightly and held his head in his hands.

I gently touched his shoulder, letting him know that I was still here but giving him enough space to feel like a man. In my experience, men never reveal their emotions, even if those emotions are overwhelming. They prefer anger to sadness, sex to cuddling, warrior to normal. So, I gave him space even though I just wanted to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

But that wouldn’t be true. Death takes the souls of the dead and pieces of the living. Billy was missing a piece.

“Matt said you need to see it,” Billy managed, still gazing steadily at the sage green walls.

Matthew Davis was what humans would call an “alpha” if they didn’t know jack about wolf packs. But a real werewolf pack is more than just an hierarchy, we are family. If any term suited Matt, it would be father. And his wife, Sheila, would be mother.

Werewolves have tightly knit communities; each person is treated as a person, not as a submissive or dominate. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t sleep in huge naked puppy piles nor do we screw around with each other. We may be part animal, but we are also part human and the prudish side will always win hands down.

“What do you mean, see it?” I asked nervously.

“He thinks you can get a feeling or something by looking at it.”

“Everybody knows I can’t do that anymore, that it died as soon as I became a werewolf.”

“Yeah, we know that,” he said now facing me, showing his big brown eyes filled to the brim with tears, “please try. The least you can do is try.”

“What happened, Billy?”

He just shook his head and continued to stare at the blank wall, determined to be an isolationist. But he had earned it, and so I managed to throw off the sage green comforter and walk towards the cherry drawers.

I shed the red silk nightgown that was torn in several places (I still kept it even after the attack, a constant reminder to stay paranoid), and rummaged through my drawers for something decent to wear. I wanted to take my time looking for clothes because I didn’t want to “see” whatever happened to Clyde, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to disappoint Billy, either.

It was a tough quandary, but in the end, I went with speed. I threw on a white tank top and light blue jogging pants from the first drawer that I opened. I didn’t bother myself with a bra because my breasts aren’t large enough to require one and showing a bit of nipple through clothing never hurt anyone, especially at three in the morning.

I slightly trotted to the hallway closet, passing the bathroom and very small foyer and reached for my black ADIDAS sandals.

“Did you bring your car?” I asked Billy because sometimes he just had his bike. Not only was he a full-time student, but Billy was also a messenger so his usual transportation was a Huffy bicycle.

“No,” he said coming down the hallway to catch up with me, “I didn’t want to think about driving.”

I left it at that. He didn’t need to explain himself right now and I was pretty sure he didn’t want to. Billy was in mourning, and whatever Billy wanted, Billy would get.

My keys rested tenderly on a wall peg beside the white door and they jingled as I swooped them into my hands. I gently shut the door behind us and tried quietly to lock up. I live in a condominium complex like many Floridians, so I try not to annoy my neighbors with loud sounds.