Wyvern and Company (8 page)

"I hope you like it," I said, leaning down to kiss
her.

"I do. I know Justin likes it, too. That's all that
matters."

* * *

Justin's Journal

The new house waited Thursday after school, and Mack and I
wandered through it when we arrived. His bedroom was already furnished, and he
liked the new king-sized bed Mom and Dad bought for him.

Joey donated a laptop for Mack to do his assignments, and he
was happy with that. The pool waited, too, and we got to swim before dinner.
The only thing that put a damper on all of it was the game and memorial service
the following day.

On Friday, the school was decorated as it usually was for the
first football game of the season, but a somber mood stalked the halls behind
squeaking athletic shoes and student conversations.

A huge poster hung in front of the trophy case, depicting the
students who'd died in the attack. Room was left at the bottom for other students
to offer their condolences and it was already covered with words.

Mack wouldn't even approach the poster, as so many others were
doing. He'd watched those people die, in horrible ways. Gina linked her arms
with ours and led us away from it toward English class.

At least Dad managed to get the headlights fixed on Mom's Jeep
before we'd had to drive back to school, but the dents and dings from the baseball
bat and rocks remained as evidence. We found a crowd around the Jeep when
school let out.

At least they politely got out of the way when we arrived and
climbed in to drive home.

"This sucks," Mack mumbled as we drove through the
gate and onto the street outside the school.

"Still planning to come with me tonight?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'll come. I'm just glad your dad will be driving
us."

"Me, too," I said. "Gina, do you have a ride to
work tonight?"

"Mom takes me," she shrugged. "I'll be thinking
about you tonight."

"Thanks."

* * *

Early evening that Friday was hot, and I hoped it would let up
for the memorial service and the game afterward.

"Dress light," Mom poked her head inside my new bedroom.

"On it," I said. I had a nice pair of cargo shorts
and a white polo laid out on the bed. Somehow, I felt weird, like the air and
rising heat in Fresno was going to stifle all of us when we got there, but that
thought was shoved aside.

I think Mack was just hoping to get through the night without
breaking down.

We rode to the football field in Dad's SUV in near
silence—Mack and I stared out our windows in the back seat, seeing the roads
and traffic without registering any of it. I couldn't explain how I felt—like
something was about to happen and I had no idea what it was or how to stop it.

"We're here," Dad said, pulling into a parking spot
and shutting off the engine. "If you two want to sit higher up on the
bleachers, you can. Your mother and I will sit farther down."

"We'll sit with you," Mack said before I could
answer Dad.

"Good enough," Mom put an arm around Mack's
shoulders.

Surprisingly, a comfortable breeze blew through the stadium,
which was unusual for the middle of September. We found seats right behind the
railing on the first row, by the goal line. I have no idea why Dad chose that
spot, but he evidently had some purpose in mind.

I didn't argue. The air was cool enough to keep us
comfortable, and I wasn't about to question that. Most of the crowd had already
arrived, so it was less than ten minutes before the memorial service began.

The football team stood with their helmets off on the
sidelines as six students, Marilee the tallest of them, were led toward special
seats on the field. The band was nearby, as were many teachers, the Principal
and Vice-Principal.

The school board was also sitting on the field, waiting for
the state Superintendent to begin the short service.

She never got past the first few words of her speech before
Marilee and the five others stood, their skin dripped and split off them and
the ugliest, nastiest creatures fell on anybody close enough to get caught.

Chapter 5
 

Justin's Journal

Pandemonium is the best word I can find to describe what
happened.

As it turned out, there weren't just six who became monsters.
Others were mixed in the crowd and they did the same thing Marilee did. So many
things happened at once—so many deaths—that I can't sufficiently describe the
carnage that ensued.

Instead of running toward an exit like everybody else, Dad
pulled Mom against him and leapt over the railing to the football field below.
I blinked at Mack for only a nanosecond—he was growling and his eyes were going
strange.

"Come on, dude, let's go with Dad," I shouted at
him. He let me grab his arm and drag him over the rail, where we dropped onto
the field and struggled past fleeing tuba players to get to my parents.

By the time we got there, things had certainly changed.

Dad had claws at least a foot long on his hands, and he was using
them to cut heads off a swarm of creatures attempting to get to him.

Mom held a glowing sword in her hand—I had no idea where that
came from—and she was doing the same thing.

Mack?

He no longer stood beside me. A tall, almost shoulder-high
black wolf had taken his place. I watched in stunned surprise as the wolf
growled before leaping at one of the creatures that rushed Mom.

Okay, that pissed me off. Those things were after Mom and Dad?
While I had no explanation for that, it made me madder than I'd ever been.

More creatures were coming, too, and I was terrified they'd
hurt Mom. She was pregnant, after all, and that hit me like a ton of cinder
blocks.

I went after the monsters, then, shouting at them to leave her
alone.

Except that wasn't what came from my mouth. To my ears, it
sounded like a roar, and a really loud roar on top of that.

There had to be at least two hundred creatures there. The wolf
took down his share. Dad killed many of them while Mom's blade flew faster than
the eye could follow. I had claws similar to Dad's, but where he remained
human, I saw my claws at the end of the most unusual appendages ever.

Folded wings were held tightly beneath what I considered my
elbows, while I clawed, bit and spit out chunks of creatures before ripping
heads from their bodies. Beheading was the best way to kill them, I learned,
but I used my tail to protect my back.

It whipped back and forth in angry, jerking motions, knocking
creatures toward Dad, Mom and the wolf. I didn't have time to question
anything—I only had time to protect my family and hope the other people got
away.

People screamed, sirens screeched; someone from the press box
announcer's booth yelled that the southern entrance was the best way to escape.
Dad shouted at Mack and me, but his voice was lost in the confusion.

I kept fighting—I didn't know what else to do—until there were
two monsters left. Dad killed one of them while the last creature thought to
attack Mom from behind. I lunged, swatting him with my tail toward Dad, who
neatly beheaded him as he sailed through the air. That creature, like all the
others, exploded in an angry, forceful blast of black sand.

The ensuing silence was more frightening than the noise during
the attacks. I worked to catch my breath, my lungs sounding like a bellows as I
panted on the fifty-yard line. The wolf came to sit before me, his golden eyes
blinking at me in curiosity as I struggled to even my breathing.

"Justin?" Mom's blade disappeared in her hand—to
where, I had no idea. She approached me slowly, her hand held out in a calming
gesture.

"He doesn't know how to turn back," Dad said,
walking toward Mom. "Young Mack, are you all right?" He dropped a
hand on the wolf's head.

The wolf turned toward Dad and whined.

"Just think of being human again," Dad said gently.
The wolf disappeared and Mack reappeared—completely naked. Mom covered him up
with a blanket that magically appeared in her hands.

"Justin? Son?" Dad came toward me. I didn't know
what to do, and I suppose my brain was too addled to think clearly. I had no
idea what I was and was only then beginning to feel like a monster myself.

"You are no monster," a very tall, blue man appeared
before me. "You will stop thinking such erroneous thoughts immediately.
Now, I will help this time, but next time, you must do this on your own."

He held out a hand and I dropped to the ground. My arms were
back to normal, at least—because I hugged myself while my breaths remained
ragged and uneven.

I was still dressed, which came as a surprise.

What was I?

What was Mack?

For that matter, what were Mom and Dad?

"This is not the time to ponder those questions,"
the blue man continued. I figured that he was at least eight or nine feet tall.
"You must come with me before the authorities arrive and attempt to arrest
you."

One minute, I stood on the grass of the football field,
surrounded by family and my best friend, who'd just become strangers. The next,
I knelt beside the indoor pool at the new house.

Without blinking, the blue man held up a hand and Mack was
dressed again, the same as he was before the attack. "I suggest watching
the local news. I shielded your participation in the event," he said. "However,
I did not disrupt the broadcast of the turnings or of those that came from the
seats to assault attendees. It is time these humans knew what was attacking
them."

He disappeared, leaving me staring after him in shock.

* * *

Joey, Karzac, Uncle Lion and Uncle Dragon were all there when
we had our meeting. Joey brought boxes of pizza. Somehow, he knew Mack and I
would be starving. The last person to arrive, oddly enough, was Mack's dad.

"I'm proud of you, Son," Martin Walters ruffled Mack's
dark hair. "Most werewolves don't acquit themselves so brilliantly on
their first two turns."

"What?" Mack stared at his dad. I'll admit, I was
staring, too.

A werewolf? Mack was a werewolf? How did that happen? Was he
bitten?

"Werewolves are born, not bitten," Joey patted my
arm. "Mr. Walters is the Fresno Packmaster. They don't tell the young ones
until it's time—it's easier to fit in with humans that way."

"But Beth," I floundered. Beth was Mack's sister.
She had a boyfriend. How did that work?

"Beth is also a werewolf, and as female werewolves are
rather rare, she is promised to the Sacramento Second. At least they like each
other," Mr. Walters sighed.

"Dude?" I turned to Mack. "Is this how you got
away?" It was dawning on me, then, just what it all meant and how he'd
survived. It also accounted for his memories of running on all fours to get
away. He'd done exactly that.

"It is," Mr. Walters confirmed. "I believe he
may have killed one or two of those monsters at Shaver Lake, but the wolf knows
when he's outnumbered. He ran; that saved his life. I've been waiting for signs
of the turning since then. It happened tonight. I'm glad he was with you and
your parents. Of all the people who'd understand," Mr. Walters said.

"But," I began.

"We weren't sure about you, Son," Dad said. "You
don't realize what you are, either, because you couldn't see yourself. You
impressed Pheligar—he spoke to you directly."

"But," I repeated.

"Justin, we had no idea what you'd be, or whether we
could be certain that you'd turn. You're a Wyvern, honey. A red-gold Wyvern. I
wish you'd seen yourself. You were amazing against those spawn." Mom gave
me a tired smile.

"Can you tell us now what those—spawn things—are?" I
croaked. Somebody had kept those things secret. "Why were you fighting
them? Have you seen them before?"

Dad smiled at Mom and patted her hand.

"It's what we are and what we do—we fight spawn and the
ones that make spawn," he said. "Living in Fresno and running a
business is just a cover."

"Joey, am I dreaming after a really bad sci-fi movie?"
I turned in his direction.

"Nope." He grinned at me. "I'm their healer."
He pointed toward Mom and Dad. "I don't have much to do, usually, because
they're good at what they do and don't get injured much. That leaves me time to
do all the computer work for your Dad and design video games on the side."

"What about Uncle Lion and Uncle Dragon?" I asked.

"Tomorrow, after we recover from tonight, we'll take you
to the beach house we talk about sometimes, and show you how your uncles fit
into the equation," Dad said. "Let's watch the news as Pheligar
requested. I'm sure we'll see something unexpected."

We did.

Vice Principal Jameson was attacked by the monster that used
to be Marilee Short. I almost gagged when that thing bit out his throat and
gobbled up the flesh before devouring his arms and part of his chest. Others
died in the attack, too, but that was the one shown in detail on the news.

"Dude, that's just sick," Mack huffed beside me.
Yeah, he'd already seen it before, just not from Marilee.

"That thing isn't her," Dad said, as if he'd read my
mind. "She died the moment one of those creatures bit her. It takes thirty
seconds for the saliva to infect and destroy a human after the bite."

"Are you going to talk about your claws, Dad?" I
turned toward him and ignored the carnage being shown on the eleven o'clock
news.

"Tomorrow. You'll hear it from me—and your
mother—tomorrow."

I turned back to the television then, in time to see the
screen go fuzzy and hear the journalist announce that all cameras, including
cell phone cameras and video cameras, stopped working at the same time.

Eyewitness accounts were also spotty after that. It made me
wonder about the blue man and how he managed to do all that.

* * *

Adam's Journal

Pheligar appeared in our bedroom as Kiarra and I were
preparing for bed. He was exhausted, although his eyes held a bit of anger. "I
had a lengthy meeting with Thorsten," he explained, holding up a large,
blue hand. "Thorsten claims you went looking for those spawn tonight,
instead of reacting as he asked. We must all tread carefully from now on. He
made threats." Pheligar shook his head, as if he were confused.

"What the hell is going on?" Kiarra demanded.

"I fear that if you react to further attacks by spawn,
there may be consequences. I fail to understand this, as that is why your race
was created in the beginning. I know not what has precipitated this reaction."

"What are we supposed to do, then? Let them take over?"
I snapped.

"Let me think on this," Pheligar sighed. "Perhaps
there is a solution. We will discuss this again very soon."

He disappeared, leaving us in confusion.

* * *

Justin's Journal

"Did you sleep last night?" Mack asked as he
shuffled into the kitchen the following morning. Neither he nor I usually got
up before seven-thirty on any Saturday morning. Today, we were both up at six.

"Nah. Too much to think about." He scooted onto the
barstool beside mine and stared at the refrigerator opposite the island.

"Want cereal?" I asked.

"Yeah. Dad says that now the wolf has made his presence
known, I'll be hungry because I'll be growing."

"Seriously?" I turned to blink at him.

"That's what he says. We talked for a long time last
night after you went to bed. I saw his wolf. Man, he's huge."

"You were no slouch," I pointed out and stood to
walk toward the pantry. I pulled out a box of cereal, then got milk from the
fridge and set it on the island before grabbing spoons and two large bowls from
the cabinet.

Mack and I were crunching away on crispy rice squares when Mom
and Dad walked into the kitchen.

"How are my boys?" Mom asked, giving us both a hug.

"Better now," Mack offered her a grin.

"Good." She ruffled his hair affectionately before
heading toward the fridge and the coffeemaker.

"Dad, are you British? Is that why you always drink tea
instead of coffee?" I asked.

"I am. I was born in the mid-eighteenth century," he
said. "This house was built from the same plans used to build my family
home back then—on a smaller scale."

"What?" Mack stared at Dad.

"I'll tell you soon enough. Your father said you could
come with us to the beach house for the weekend. He has Pack business to attend
to this weekend anyway. He wants his wolves to go hunting for spawn, since our
hands are tied on that, at the moment. The Sacramento Pack may join the Fresno
Pack, to help track these things."

"Seriously? They can do that?" I said.

"Werewolves are the best trackers," Mom said. "A
friend of ours, Daniel Carey, is coming from Corpus Christi to help out. He has
plenty of experience tracking spawn, so he'll work with Martin and Thomas
Williams on this. We set it up last night, after everyone else was in bed."
I could tell there was more to the story, but didn't ask. If I needed to know,
she'd tell me.

"So
we
can't track them?" I asked Mom.

"Your dad, your uncles and I are prevented at the moment,"
she said. I could tell she wasn't happy about that, either. "We can't hunt
them; we may only be able to react if they attack us directly. As you probably
know, that is far too little and much too late."

At least a hundred questions circled my brain, most of them
dealing with who would prevent the hunting of those monsters—and why. "Where
are they from?" Mack sputtered.

"They can be from anywhere. As you've probably guessed,
the spawn need a host to perpetuate their race. Humans are especially
susceptible. They incubate in the host for two weeks or so, then slough off the
outer skin like a chrysalis, to become a newly-hatched spawn, hungry and
prepared to attack any food source available," Dad said. "They are
supernatural creatures and generally, humans are too slow to combat them with
success. It takes another supernatural creature to fight them."