Her Perilous Wolf, Julie Steimle [howl and other poems TXT] 📗

spirit warrior.”

Vincent blinked at that as they shook hands. He had no clue what that meant—but he recalled hearing the guy say that phrase in the parking lot. It had to mean something significant.

Michael cleared his throat. “What exactly do you need to know? You do realize that the more you know about the supernatural realm, the more—”

“It won’t leave me alone?” Vincent nodded, finishing that thought. “Yes. Rick said that. But that means it won’t leave my cousin alone either.”

He could see shivers go up Michael’s back. The man nodded slowly. “Good point. Audry Bruchenhaus is well known by the Seven…”

Stiffening, Vincent nodded. “Because of Rick Deacon.”

Yet Michael shrugged. “I suppose, yes. But the thing is, sometimes there are people, through no fault of their own, who get sucked into the supernatural without seeking it. As long as she was unaware of what she was wading in, she was safe—”

“She wasn’t safe when witches came to her apartment to hunt Silvia down,” Vincent snapped. This was what worried him. He did not want that kind of thing to happen again. He could only imagine some psycho SRA hunter shooting at her next—just for talking to Rick.

Michael and Tommy both stared at him, alarmed.

“I was there,” Vincent bit out, referring to the witch attack while glaring over his coffee at them. “It was me, Randon, Silvia, and Audry. We were just packing up things in the apartment to move out, and this crazy chick comes out of nowhere with a knife to kill Silvia. If Audry had not taken out her tranquilizer gun, my cousin would have been a slasher victim!”

“Tranquilizer gun?” Tommy echoed.

“She’s an animal rescue worker,” Michael said as an aside. He looked to Vincent. “When did this happen?”

“Last year,” Vincent replied, watching how that pair had a partner kind of vibe. “But I just thought they were crazy. Audry did not even know anything supernatural existing then—and she still was not safe. Just tell me, what else could attack my cousin? Or my family?”

Michael exchanged a meaningful look with Tommy. Once more he got the impression that they were telepathically communicating. For all he knew, they probably were. Matthew as psychic.

 “My cousin, Doug, right now is doing blood research in cooperation with Troy Meecham—whom I just found out is a vampire,” Vincent added. “What could happen to him? To my cousin. He doesn’t know about all this.”

Michael groaned. Ages of grief seemed to weigh on this odd man.  

“I mean, I didn’t even know vampires existed until this week!” Vincent’s face flushed, watching the reaction.

“They exist,” both Michael and Tommy said with weight.

“Alright,” Michael declared, clapping his hands together once. “I get it. Ignorance for you is not bliss. …So anyway, as I was saying… some people just get sucked in. We have been working hard to keep Audry out. It’s one of the reasons Jessica befriended her. But—and I’ve been warning the others about this—often when we befriend people, they actually get sucked in further.”

“We as in who?” Vincent puzzled. He knew it had been said before, but he wanted to be clear.

“The Holy Seven,” Michael replied, annoyed as it was obvious.

Vincent shook his head. This was nuts. “Who are the Holy Seven?”

“Well, for starters, Daniel Smith is one,” Michael explained with a nod. “We call him Swift. And Jessica Ma—um, Cartwright—as well as her husband Andrew. There are four others as well besides myself. I don’t want to get into detail.”

“Get into detail,” Vincent begged, knowing Michael was still striving to leave him out of it. “You’re right. I am not a believer in the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’. To be ignorant is to be unprepared.”

That caused both men from the SRA to raise their eyebrows.

“For example, the newspapers said you were kidnapped by a cult.” Vincent closed his eyes, shaking his head. “And your father said you got kidnapped twice. What’s the story? Also, what kinds of supernatural things are out there? And what can I do to protect myself and my family?”

Michael led out a hand to Tommy, but Tommy swatted him on the head with fighting retort: “You tell your story first. Then I can talk about the rest.”

Rubbing his scalp, Michael nodded petulantly. He turned his gaze back to Vincent. “What exactly did you read in the paper? I can tell you what is right and what was wrong.”

So, Vincent elaborated on what research he had done and found—starting from Michael’s summer kidnapping by the so-called Wolf’s Wood Cult which apparently had kidnapped boys over decades and tortured them in the Berkshires near that tiny Massachusetts town. The boys (including Michael) were rescued by a girl and two men whom she had convinced out of the cult to save them. And the cult was eventually nabbed after another round of kidnapping several other boys around the Berkshires. At least, that was what he had heard.

“Is it true?” Vincent asked. His eyes carefully took in their postures and mannerisms to read them as best as he could.  

But Michael only chuckled, shaking his head. He as hardly upset. “That’s the story we tell people.”

“But it’s not true?” Vincent stared at him.

Michael shook his head. Meeting Vincent’s gaze firmly, he said, “Are you prepared to believe in what the rational world would call ‘impossible’?”

Vincent shrugged. “I am prepared to believe what is the truth.”

Tommy grinned, nodding to Michael. “That sounds right.”

It took a bit. But Michael resigned himself with that response. “Ok. Here’s the truth. There was no Wolfs Wood Cult. Middleton Village, the town my mother is from and my grandmother still lives in, is cursed.”

A shudder went through Vincent. He almost peed himself as he stared at the guy.  

“There are four curses everyone in Middleton Village knows about, but may or may not entirely believe,” Michael explained in a low and serious voice. “First, that witches run the town.”

Vincent nodded. He knew this. He wet his mouth, bating his breath.

“There are three covens that I know of, each competing for supremacy in the town, though they often cooperate, making that town the North American epicenter for witchcraft.” Michael shook his head darkly. “I am not the witch expert. That would be Daniel, whom you’ve met.”

“Because his sister is a witch,” Vincent said, nodding.

“And ex-stepmother and two half-brothers,” Michael added for emphasis. “But not only that. He’s done serious research. My dad didn’t really believe in witches or witchcraft even after my mom told him about it. It was only until after I vanished and came back that he started to realize it was real.”

Vincent shivered. No wonder Michael was so intense. Also, no wonder Daniel moved fast. It was like he was always running just so nothing dangerous could catch up with him. 

“The second curse is related to the first.” Michael took a sip of cocoa. Once he swallowed, he said, “No one can go in or out of Middleton Village without the serious consequences. You have to have the covens’ permission.”

“But—”

“I know.” Michael nodded. “The Seven have left. But we are the exception.”

“But Rick Deacon—”

Sighing, Michael shrugged. “Well, them to. But that’s because they are connected to the third curse. Everyone in town has heard the rumors since forever that the Deacons are werewolves, but no one but the witches actually believed it. But that’s because they created the Deacons.”

“Created?” Vincent went pale. His mouth felt dry.

Nodding, Michael said, “Mr. Deacon the First was born a wolf. Witches sometimes create assassins using local predatory animals to get rid of people who offended them, or to simply gain power. But the problem with making a werewolf—in this instance called a Gore-wolf as he really isn’t a man, but a wolf in human form—is that the wolf tends to enjoy being a human and does not wish to return to its feral form. And it attacks its creator.”

“So Mr. Deacon—”

“Is half wolf, half human—a true werewolf.” Michael nodded.

“And Rick?”

“The same. He’s a quarter wolf, though.” Michael sighed. “He’s an interesting case too, as he had transformed later in life. Most werewolves are wolves as cubs—you know pups. Infants. Howie Deacon had no clue he was a wolf at all until he was thirteen. His mother was completely unaware. His father had assumed the gene was so thin that Howie would not ever transform… but that was proven wrong. I mean, I never believed in that curse, and I had played with Howie during summers. I’ve been in his house—and you should see all the wolf paintings and statues that they have there. It was freaky obsessive. And when I had asked Howie about it before the change, he just shrugged and said his grandfather had bought it all—though he did not know why. And what’s even funnier, Howie’s nickname had been Howley Howie—because Middleton Village’s school mascots is the timber wolf—and he could do the wolf howl perfectly. It was eerie, but we all thought it was cool.”

“But how did you not know he was a werewolf from that?” Vincent’s jaw dropped.

“The witches knew,” Michael said. He sighed. “But the thing was, Mr. Deacon the Second always was away during the full moons—so neither his son nor his wife ever found out he was a werewolf. That is, not until Howie had his first transformation when he was thirteen. I suppose it was puberty that set it off.”

“So that full moon stuff is real?” Vincent noticed his hands trembling. He tried to hide it. He had heard Rick mention the moon. Be he also knew Rick could control the change. He had done it on the beach for pity’s sake and the moon was not full then.

Michael nodded. Tommy did as well, looking a degree sad about it.

“Werewolves have to make a kill on the three nights of the full moon.”

“Three nights?” Vincent was sure the full moon was only one night.

“Waxing gibbous, full moon, and waning gibbous,” Michael explained.

“Oh.”

“But anyway, when Howie first changed, he freaked out. His mother freaked out. But the staff in the manor house already were in on the secret. They knew, and they were prepared for what they had to do to handle it, keeping the mother safe and helping the son.” Michael sighed shaking his head. “Mr. Deacon is a smart man. But his one mistake in all his plans was that he had not included his family in the truth. It ruined his marriage, and caused serious emotional trauma for his son. Howie is scared to death of relationships. He’s always worried he is going to hurt somebody.”

But Vincent rolled his eyes at that. Passing on a werewolf gene did not seem to be a wise thing for anyone to do. Michael did not seem to see that.

“And the fourth curse on Middleton Village is the one that affected me,” Michael said.

Vincent took in a breath. He peeked to Tommy who was listening with his elbow on the table and his cheek resting on his hand as if this were a favorite fairytale he was hearing.

“In our town was a library in which everyone knew that young boys who went in too frequently were likely to vanish forever.” Michael shook his head. “I didn’t believe that one either. The only curse I took at face value was that there were witch covens in the town. But I had thought they were like Wiccan nature clubs or something—not practitioners of dark magic.”

Chuckling, Vincent knew he would have thought the same.

“So that one summer, I was bored. Howie had not been in town for two years since his parents’ divorce, so he wasn’t there to hang out with. And though I knew some of the other kids in town while visiting my grandmother, I felt like such an outsider.” Michael gazed levelly at him. “Those Middleton kids are so insular, they actually picked on me for being from California. My friend Jessica had the same problem when she moved into the town. She was the girl who rescued us, by the way.”

Vincent perked up. “Jessica?