Wolverton, Julie Steimle [interesting novels in english .txt] 📗

You did not intend to fall this deep, but they are manipulating you.”

He couldn’t believe it. Everyone was so friendly. And none of it felt fake.

“The pack will try everything to keep you connected to them,” she said, which he didn’t think was an entirely bad thing. Being connected with the pack felt right. He belonged. And he craved that belonging. “They are going to try to use you as much as they can. Blackmail, if possible.”

“Blackmail?” he scoffed. She was sounding reactionary.

“I know you don’t believe it,” she said with her eyes sadly gazing on him. “They already have their claws deep into you, and you don’t even feel it. But mark my words, your mistake with Daisy is only the beginning.”

Rick stiffened. Shivers ran through him. Everything else felt like a misunderstanding, an overreaction to having lived with an abusive wolf for a husband—except this. That night with Daisy he had lost control. He had gone against all his personal convictions. He had acted impulsively and without restraint. All things he never would have done, ever, before.

“The girls in this town are encouraged to seduce wolves passing through,” Mrs. Blithe said. “Some are better at it than others.”

He stared at her. “Are you saying that Daisy seduced me?”

She nodded, painfully.

He stared into space, trying to imagine it. But all Daisy ever did was hold his hand, keep off the other she-wolves, and talk with him. Unlike that girl Tola who practically threw herself at him, Daisy was an angel. He just couldn’t quite believe it.

“They have tricks,” she explained.

“Tricks?”

“I’m back!” Kurt marched in, carrying the eggs in the basket. He stopped and stared at them both. Leaning on one hip, he asked, “You’re not hitting on my mother, are you?”

Laughing, Rick shook his head and raise up his hands. He then quickly picked up the New Testament and waggled it in the air. “I was just asking about this. I didn’t think most pack wolves believed in God.”

The mother smiled, averting her eyes while going back to the dishes.

“Riiiight.” Kurt marched over the fridge and opened it to carefully put in the eggs. “Tell me another one.”

With a look to Kurt’s mother, Rick said, “We were just talking. I could use some motherly advice right now.”

Staring back at him, Kurt looked like he was trying to decide if that were true.

“But really, why do you have a New Testament?” Rick asked. “Wouldn’t your husband kick a fit and not tolerate it in this house?”

Mrs. Blithe and Kurt both cringed. Kurt shot his mother a look then whispered, “He doesn’t like it. But Mom won’t get rid of it. She says she’ll leave him if he burns it or throws it away.”

“Is that true?” Rick asked, gazing at her.

Turning, Mrs. Blithe squared her shoulders, taking the book from Rick’s hand and said, “My God is not of the moon, but the one who created the moon. I am not a wolf.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.

But Rick smiled. “Good answer.”

“What?” Kurt shook his head at him.

Nodding, Rick smiled at them both as he leaned against the chair back at the table. “My best friend is grandson of the town pastor. I grew up going to the local church.”

“You’re kidding.” Kurt laughed.

Rick shook his head, meeting the gaze of the mother. “Nope. When you meet demons, half-imps, and warriors for God, you don’t discount the reality that there is a God out there.”

Mrs. Blithe smiled. She set aside her book and went back to her chores.

“Then why is there so much suffering in the world?” Kurt asked, sticking his head near Rick’s, looking irritated.

Laughing, Rick stepped away. “That is a different discussion entirely.” He then went around the kitchen table, picking up the remains of breakfast and helping wipe the table off.

“No, it’s not.” Kurt followed after him. “The fact that there is suffering is proof that—”

“That is not proof that there is no God,” Rick retorted, still smiling while shaking his head. “The idea that if there was a God there would be no pain is ridiculous. You are assuming that because pain is unpleasant it must be unnecessary. In fact, you asking the wrong questions. What you should be asking is: why is that living things must experience pain—because it is a part of life, no matter how unpleasant.”

Kurt’s mother stopped cleaning up and stared at him. “Is that what your friend tells you? The pastor’s son—that leader of the Holy Seven.”

Looking to her, Rick shook his head. “No. My father says it.” He then closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Dad says that life is all about growing up. But for all of us to become strong, there will be pain and sadness. …And opportunity to alleviate the pain in others, if we can. He thinks that pain is proof of life….” He stared into the space in front of him, thinking about his father and what he might say about his involvement with the pack. “That no one was meant to be comfortable, as that makes us soft and lazy.”

Both of the Blithes stared. The hum of the refrigerator was the loudest thing the room.

 “I need to take a walk,” Rick said, suddenly feeling stir-crazy. “Clear my head.”

“Want me to come with you?” Kurt asked, following him to the door. “Keep the she-wolves off?”

Rick shook his head, grabbing the handle. “I think I’ll be ok.”

And he went out the door, a lot on his mind.

Stranger’s Eyes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

Rick strode out and down the steps, walking barefoot to the road. His father’s words seemed to echo in his head as he looked around the rundown town. It was such a comfortable place, and yet it struck him as odd and eerie that these people really didn’t do much for the upkeep of the town. Yes, a few of them mowed their lawns and had gardens, but Rick suspected those were the homes where humans lived, like the Blithes. The wolves of this pack, he noticed, didn’t exactly build. In fact, Rick suspected that they had not built this town. This town, he started to guess, was in fact a reclaimed ghost town. It probably wasn’t even called Wolverton, but something else.

His feet took him past several homes, watching the locals wake up after the late night hunt. It was a sleepy town, very different from his home. And though the rhythm was hypnotizing, he started to unexpectedly get homesick for Middleton Village. Despite being the witchcraft epicenter of North America, Middleton Village was also picturesque in a gothic Victorian sense. It was neat, well-tended, and had modern tech. Looking around, Rick wondered if this place even had wifi. But then he recalled that Kurt had an iPod. The guy had to be getting his songs from somewhere.

Eventually Rick ended up at The Lot. No one was there. It was still early. But that left him nothing to do. He was bored. Normally, he’d have something to read with him—either online or book in hand, but all his books were back at his lodging with his change of clothes. Looking around, he wondered if this town even had a library. Seeing the first elder on the street who was shuffling toward a neighbor’s house, Rick walked up to him. “Hey, do you have a library?”

The older wolf gazed down on him and nodded with a gesture down the road. “Go that way, straight. Then turn a left at the Wollef’s house—”

“Which house is that?” Rick asked.

“The tall two story one with the bay windows. Then you go up the hill three houses down. You can’t miss it.”

Rick stared at him. The likelihood of him missing it was extremely high. All the houses look the same—like they were dying in the hot sun. But to be polite, he waved and thanked the man.

“Don’t mention it,” the elder wolf said and shuffled along.

Rick jogged down the road a short ways, counting houses. He asked a few others about the library, and got similar instructions—up until he reached the Wollef’s house where he saw Farkas goofing off with two other boys younger than him. Farkas waved at him.

“Hey there! Great hunt last night, huh?”

Rick nodded, waving back. “Yeah.”

Farkas sat on one of his brothers he was wrestling and called out, “Where’re you off to?”

“Library,” Rick said, watching Farkas’s other brother try to wrestle him off. “I’m bored.”

“We’ve got video games inside,” Farkas said, easily holding off the boy while still pinning the other one. “And comic books.”

Rick halted. “Comic books? Which ones?”

Shrugging Farkas listed on his fingers while his brother struggled to get out from underneath him, “Spiderman, X-Men, Young Justice… Oh, and I got the newest Electricity comic book out.”

“Electricity?” Rick marched up the lawn to them. “No kidding. I collect those.”

Farkas grinned at him.

 

Rick never made it to the library. He ended up spending the morning in Farkas’s room reading out of Farkas’s collection of Electricity comic books, which were his favorite. Not that Rick didn’t like the others, but he had heard there was a code in the ones and zeroes that ran along the top and bottom of the pages of Electricity, and he always wanted to figure it out. Besides, he liked the artist’s style and the witty dialogue. He’d love to meet the writer, Saul Christian Eber, one day. He also thought the character Sarah Stallone was hot.

 “There you are!” Kurt walked in, grinning and laughing at Rick who at the moment was ‘sitting’ on his back, upside down with his feet against the wall while Farkas was listening to music and poring over old issues of Young Justice. “That’s a funny way to read. Does the blood flow better to your head that way?”

Rolling over and sitting up, Rick shook his head, chuckling as he gently closed the comic while keeping the page. “No. I had a roommate who used to borrow my comic books and sometimes read over my shoulder—and it got so annoying that this was the only way to stop him. I guess I do it instinctively now and I got used to it.”

“Reading upside down…” Kurt shook his head, coming in closer. “Don’t tell me this guy was some kind of demon too.”

“Half-imp,” Rick said, closing the comic book entirely and setting it aside. “And he could walk through walls.”

Kurt and Farkas laughed both. Farkas had actually heard a great deal about Tom Brown when he showed Rick the comic books, begging Rick to treat them kindly. Rick had to explain that he understood, recounting the time Tom Brown had drawn mustaches on all the characters of several comics one day when he was mad at him.

“Let’s go out and get up a game,” Kurt said, gesturing to the door.

“Before lunch?” Rick asked.

Kurt stared at him. “You missed lunch?”

“Oh…” Farkas groaned. He shook his head, clutching his stomach as he stared at the clock. “We were totally in the zone. But now… damn, I’m hungry!”

They all went down together to the kitchen and snatched food from the cupboards. Their mouths were stuffed, and arms holding food, when they walked out the front door. Rick halted on the porch, reality coming back to him.

Both Kurt and Farkas turned around. “What is it?”

Cringing, Rick said though