The music is causing the entire room to pulse and it's nearly electric. I can taste the sweat in the air and it's sweet on my tongue. The music fades briefly and everyone's dancing slowly to move on the singer’s words, then the beat drops again and the bass takes over. Hips move violently with the rhythm and hands go up in the air.

I too fall victim to the spell and can't help but move. The alcohol is thick in my blood, my vision blurred and my head pulses with the crowd in a dizzying way that only makes me want to dance more. I raise my cup in the air as I shimmy through the crowd to try to keep its contents from sloshing everywhere. The red solo cup shakes from the vibrations of the massive speakers covering every corner of the club. I suddenly shout out with the rest of the crowd to something the DJ said.

Then it's music again and more dancing, more sweat and more alcohol. I feel an arm wrap around part of my stomach and turn to find a young girl—probably too young to be here—but none the less beautiful. She puts her hands against my chest and resumes dancing. I don't stop her and instead place my hands where her low cut jeans meet skin and allow my fingers to just barely graze her hips and the skin under her pants.

She gives a look just as electric as the music and I feel warmth spread throughout me. It starts lows and begins to creep up my spine before settling on the tip of my tongue. She leans in and whispers a request for me to join her somewhere… quieter. She bites my ear and takes my hand before leading me out into the hall. She finds an isolated corner and pulls me toward her, pinning herself against the wall.

I can smell her everywhere, taste the vanilla of her shampoo and it nearly drives me insane. The room starts to spin, colors swirling, everything again pulsing to the faded sound of the kick drum in the back. She kisses me and it’s sloppy and drunken, but I kiss back and then there are teeth. She’s biting me, tugging on my lip and then I’m biting her back—softly—only her lips. She moans and I can feel her pulse. My mouth moves down to her neck, I can feel everything closing in, just her, just me. There’s a rush of warmth in my mouth and I can feel my canines elongating, turning into fangs. I graze her neck and she moans again. I bite hard into her neck and she begins to cry out, but nothing can be heard over the music.

The girl’s body falls heavy to the floor. I wipe my mouth and pull the body further into the corner, tucking it up beside a trashcan. I know she doesn’t deserve this, and I know the body will be found, but I honestly couldn’t care less.

I feel the easy drunk of blood coming over me and it’s a peaceful feeling as I stroll out of the hall and towards the exit. I don’t stop to think about the girl, her name, where she’s from, just that she’s dead and I am not. The music continues in the background as I leave this place.

It’s raining slightly outside as I walk down the sidewalk towards the house. The air is thick and humid as I raise my head up toward the sky to feel the rain falling. I catch a few droplets on my nose. It feels cold and is a relief from the heat of the day—I don’t mind it. The city is mostly quiet save for the few cars that drive past and spray up water. I’m thankful for this and allow my mind to wander. The numb of earlier still lingers and relaxes my muscles as I walk up the stairs to the old Victorian style house.

The thick door has a wolf’s head as a knocker on it made out of heavy copper. The ruby eyes look at me as I press down on the top of the handle. The door opens into a dim room decorated with dark leathers and reds. I toss my keys into the large bowl on the table beside the door as I close it. Removing my shoes I place them beside the wall before entering the foyer. The stone feels cold under my feet and I move quickly to the hardwood. I turn into the open kitchen where the light comes from and see a man bent over the counter.

“It’s late…” He says and I stiffen at his tone.

“I told you it’d be late.” I replied in the same cold voice, shifting my weight uneasily.

“You’re a mess.” He said looking up at me with dark rimmed eyes, “You know the rules.” He runs a shaky hand through his dark hair.

I can feel my jaw clench, “I’m sick of the rules.”

His head jerks up, “I don’t see why. It isn’t like you follow them.” A growl slips out of my throat and in a second he’s beside me, his teeth bared. I stop and look up at him, “Wes,” he rubs his face, “things aren’t how they used to be.” I nod and he leans down to look me in the eyes, “We have to be careful.” He looks older than he ever has and I feel sorry for making him worry. “Go clean up.” He tells me, “You’ve got blood on your collar.”

I go up the stairs and strip down before jumping into the shower. The water’s hot and it burns slightly before it comes to a comfortable temperature. I let it run down my back and collect some in my hands before splashing it on my face. The water on the bottom of the tub is a light pink and grows darker as I run my fingers through my thick hair. I feel a pang of panic run through me realizing just what a mess I was. I hadn’t even noticed I had been so drunk. There are several deep scratches on my arms from the girl. I realize I was lucky no one saw me and my father was right. I press my head against the tile wall and let the water spray against my back.

I run the shower a little while longer after I get out; making sure all the blood leaves the tub. Grabbing a towel I dry myself off before drying off my hair. I look at myself in the mirror and my eyes still have the faint golden glow of the hunt. I watch myself as they fade back into a soft green and my pupils dilate back into a normal size. I place both hands on either side of the skin and lean in close to the mirror. My arms shake and I feel like I’m about to throw up before splashing some cool water on my face. I crawl into my bed and lay on my back for a long. The sun had just started to peak over the horizon when I finally fell asleep.


My father comes in during the afternoon and sits at the foot of my bed. When I wake up he’s looking at me with a concerned look.

“I don’t mean to be hard on you, son.” He says, “I just need you to be more careful.” I nod and he gives half a smile before standing up. He stops at the door and turns back to me; he looks like he’s going to say something but then thinks better of it before walking out.

I sigh and roll out of bed. With a yawn I stretch before walking over to my closet. I grab some cloths and throw them on before trotting down the stairs. My father is already gone when I walk into the kitchen. I grab one of the frozen meals from the freezer and throw it in the microwave. While it’s cooking I lean down to open the cabinet door and type in the code on the metal panel behind it. Cold air rushes out from the mini fridge and I pull out one of the little red pouches. It’s marked AB and I sigh. My father insists this is the same stuff we used to have—people are people and blood is blood. I disagree.

When the food is done cooking I squeeze out the thick red goo into a coffee mug. There are bits of frozen red mixed in and it looks more like frozen milk than blood. I heat up the cup of slush and devour the sausage and egg sandwich. The microwave beeps and I pull the mug out. It doesn’t smell as good as the real stuff by far. I wonder how my father enjoys this. He says it’s dangerous to hunt but it’s what we’re born to do. He says there are people that would shoot us on spot and that the only way to stay safe is to stay hidden but there has to be another way. I drink what’s in the mug and it burns my tongue.

After throwing my plate and mug in the sink I walk outside to fetch the mail. The air is a little cooler than yesterday but still the same sticky heat. I trot down the stairs and to the mailbox. The newspaper is tucked neatly inside with a small number of bills. Once back inside I lay the mail down. I go to lay the paper down as well but the front cover catches my eye.
Another young girl found dead in a local club.
The body was found marred beyond recognition and cops are still puzzled. People are advised to stay indoors.
I sigh heavily and lay the paper down.

The news would blow over soon, it always has.

But this had never happened here either. We were still new in this town. That had been the idea, at least. To start over. I trot back up the stairs to comb my hair and brush my teeth. The blood doesn’t leave the same blissful numbness and I become agitated with the situation. My bloodied cloths are still lying on the floor of my bathroom and I bring them back downstairs with me. I consider washing them immediately but instead toss them in the hamper for later.

I spend the majority of the day inside sleeping off the dull ache of depression. I truly hate this town. I miss my home and the pack. I miss having a real family and the nightly runs. I miss the hunt and the freedom. We’ve been in this damned town for a few months now and everyday is just a reminder of what I lost.

There was an accident. One of the young girls had gotten careless and hunted to close to home. There was no real evidence but some people suspected. There was a fire late one night and very few made it out. We ran far away, living in different towns and cities for only days at a time when dad found a job that could secure some of the god-awful donated blood.
He’s trying but it’s hard. He’s worried it will all happen again and is trying to protect me, which is only made worse by the fact I couldn’t care less about myself.


It’s a little after five when dad gets home with Chinese food. He smiles at me as he sets the bags down on the table. I lean over the back of the couch and give him what I hope looks like a smile. He looks down and his brow furrows. I rise from the couch and walk over before sitting at one of the barstools.

“This you?” He asks pointing to the front page of the paper.

I nod and grab a plastic fork and one of the meal boxes.

He gives me a serious look, “That was very messy, Wes.”

I nod again, taking a bite of sesame chicken and lo mein.

“Why?” He asks.

I shrug and continue eating.

He places both hands stretched out on either side of my plate and looks me in the eye, “Son, they are carrying out a full investigation.” He tells me, “This isn’t a game.”

I stare at my plate.

“Wes. Are you trying to get caught? This is the third time this month…” He looks old again, concerned.

I look up at him, make eye contact and then continue eating.

His hands clench into fist and he walks to the other side of the kitchen where he puts his head in his hands. I feel a pang of guilt but it becomes numb and I take another mouthful.

He seems torn and looks up at me. “This is very serious, Wes.” He’s shaking now and turns his back to me.

“It was too dark to see anything, dad. No one was outside.” I tell him, faking a smile, but part of me is afraid. The other half is excited for the first time in months.

“Just be careful from now—” there’s a knock on the door. My father and I exchange looks before he takes a deep breath and crosses over to the door. I remain seated.

“Hello,” I hear my father greet the person at the door, “What a surprise.” There’s a smile in his voice.

“Avery!” The voice called back.
At that I ran to the door, “Michael!”
“Wes!” He calls as he wraps one massive arm around my shoulder. I’m immediately a little kid again looking up at my uncle like he’s the king of everything. I give an honest smile for the first time in weeks.
“When did you get here?” I haven’t seen any of the other survivors since a little after the fire.
“Just now. I missed my little nephew.” He winks at me, but there’s something else behind it.
I start to ask more questions but my father cuts me off, “Well, I’m sure your uncle is very tired from the drive and would appreciate a soft bed.”
Michael gives a sober look, “I haven’t had one of those in weeks—nor a beer. Wes?” He looks young and excitable again. I walk into the kitchen to go fetch a beer but as I do I heard the two men whispering.
“I think we have some trouble, Michael…” My father says to his brother.
“With Wesley?” He asks sounding concerned, “More than what you told me?”

“He’s been hunting in town and the police are holding a full investigation. Three girls. They have a man who said he saw a young man covered in blood leaving the club.” I blanch at that. No one had been outside, no one could have seen. It was so dark. “Michael, I’m worried.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Avery.” Michael tells my father and walks toward the kitchen. I zip to the fridge, pull out a beer and quickly move toward the doorway of the kitchen. I slow down as I exit the kitchen and cross over to my uncle. He takes the beer with a nod and gives me a smile, “Thanks, pup.” He tells me before taking the stairs up to the guest room.

I can feel my brow furrowing and try to relax my face as I turn to my father, “I’m glad he’s here.” I tell him.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze, “Me too, son.” Then he retires to his room.

I stand there at the foot of the stairs and look up toward where my uncle had went before walking over toward the porch. The door resists slightly as I pull it open and walk out. The air is salty on my tongue as the wind blows my face. I can feel the salt sticking to my skin and walk over to the railing. I lean over before climbing on top of it and gracefully jumping off. It’s a good drop but I land on my feet and absorb the impact easily. I look up at the moon, but she’s just a sliver in the sky. I sigh and walk toward the dock at the edge of our property. There are two boat slips but there aren’t any boats around. The wind picks up a little and I feel my internal temperature rising to compensate for the cool wind. The ground is still warm from the sun and I strip off my shoes and cloths.

I take a deep breath and can feel my body changing into something else. My limbs elongate and my spine stretches as hair spurts widely all over me. My face turns into a muzzle and my ears point up into furry tips. In a matter seconds I’m a large black wolf and I can barely feel my paws hitting the ground as I fly into the woods surrounding the town. The night is empty and quiet as I push myself to run as fast as I can. Trees race by in a blur as I pull my ears back and my head down to push harder.

It’s nearly three in the morning when I return to the dock for my clothes. I change back into my human form and dress before climbing up the columns of the house and back up to the porch. I jiggle the knob some before it gives and climb up the stairs to my room. Exhausted, I collapse on my bed and fall asleep immediately.

When I wake up my dad’s gone and my uncle is downstairs making breakfast. He offers me a box of cereal and some coffee.

“No blood?” I ask him.

“That’s not blood…” He responds with a look of disgust.

I nod.

“I shouldn’t say that, actually. It is. It’s just different. Your dad’s trying, you know?” He cocks an eyebrow at me. His sandy hair falls in his face and he looks more like an older brother than an uncle. “It’s better than nothing.”

I give a half smile and stir some sugar into my coffee. A few moments of silence pass before I turn to him and say, “You know, I heard what you and dad were talking about last night.”

He doesn’t seem surprised, “I figured.” He takes a bite of cereal. “Yeah, you may have bit off more than you can chew—” He chokes on his cereal, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

I laugh, but it’s a morbid one. “I wasn’t careful.” I confess, “It was a mistake.”

“A pricey one.” He takes a sip of coffee, makes a face and adds more sugar. “I tried to call in some favors with some local cops, but the is sheriff isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine.” His brow furrows and there’s a slight growl in his voice.

“Thank you” I tell him, “for trying. It means a lot.”

He nods and finishes off his cereal before heading outside.

I slid into a barstool and try to distract myself by organizing all the green Apple Jacks and the orange into neat rows. One of the greens keeps floating away and I become flustered. I splash the spoon in the milk and drink the cereal out of the bowl. When I’m done I throw the bowl and spoon into the sink and quickly finish off the coffee, it taste burnt.


Again I spend the majority of the day sulking on the couch but it’s with a lighter heart knowing my uncle is around. I worry over the police involvement and the probability of being identified. I feel sick at the thought and spend several minutes dry heaving in the bathroom. Around one I make myself a sandwich and sit outside as I let the sun warm my skin. It provides little relief but is a splendid distraction from the more pressing matters.

Around five my father and uncle return home and I greet them with beers and a silent thank you for breaking my alone time. They spend some time watching various hockey games while I worry myself with trivial matters of aligning the salt shaker with the other assortment of spices.

I’m nearly finished organizing the fridge when my dad walks over, “We need to talk, son.” At that there’s a knock at the door. We all exchange glances; none of us had been expecting any guest. My father calmly crosses over to the door as the knocker makes contact with the door once more.

“Hello,” he greets. It would seem like a friendly enough tone if you pick up on the growling undertone. My uncle rises from the couch and joins my dad at the door. I can see his posture stiffen as he approaches but the person at the door is still out of my view. “Do come in.” My dad finally tells him.

There’s a shuffling of heavy boots on tile and I duck further into the kitchen.

“Thank you.” It’s a voice that that commands respect and makes me bare my teeth.

“Can I get you any coffee, Sheriff?” My uncle asks. I become uneasy and slink even further back into the corner.

“That would be lovely… I’m sorry; I’m actually unfamiliar with this residence. You’re new here, are you not?” He asks.

“Michael, but I’m just visiting.” My uncle tells him.

“And I’m Avery,” my father interjects, “I’m the owner.” My father tells him in a light respectful tone.

“Pleasure to meet you both, I’m Sheriff McGeed.” I can hear a rustling of fabrics; I assume he tipped his hat.

“I’ll go get you some coffee.” My uncle excuses himself.

My uncle crosses over to the kitchen and moves to stand beside me. He starts a new batch of coffee. The coffee maker spits and sputters before coughing and beginning to brew coffee. Under the cover of the noise my uncle whispers to me, “Stay in here. We’ll keep him away from the kitchen.” I nod and as the coffee finishes brewing her pours it into a travel mug.

I sink down to the floor and crawl over to the cabinet closest to the bar so even if the sheriff did come toward the kitchen he’d have to walk over to the cabinets to be able to see me.

My uncle gives the coffee to the sheriff, “Thank you Michael.”

My father then resumes the conversation, “What brings you our way.”

“I assume you’ve heard of the murders.” He says and his tone makes me shiver, “My boys and I are just making rounds and enforcing a curfew. No one is to be out after ten without written consent from the police department.”

“That seems like a very good idea.” My father replies.

“Indeed. I understand you have a kid, Avery?”

“Yes, my son Wesley.” My father struggles to keep the growl out of his voice.

“Where is he now?” The sheriff asks.

“I believe he said he was going to see an old friend.” My father replies.

“Ah, well, please make sure he is in my curfew.”

“I will do so.”

“Thank you. That is all I had to say.” The sheriff’s boots are heavy on the floor again and I head the door click a few moments later. I sigh and go to stand when I see the top of the sheriff’s hat at the kitchen window across from me. I quickly shuffle across the floor to hide from view. The hat comes closer and the two dark from eyes of the sheriff peer in. I just barely manage to move myself behind the island when the hat finally disappears. There is the noise of the boots heading down the porch steps and the start of a Crown Victoria when I finally stand.

My father and uncle walk over to me and take a seat at the barstool.

They’re quiet for a long time before my uncle suggests we eat some dinner and get some sleep.

I wake up early before the sun has started to rise. There’s a slight nip in the air as I walk out to the porch. I didn’t go running last night and my body feels ridged and anxious. I spend a long time just looking at the water before I come back inside and head downstairs.

My uncle has a pot of coffee brewing and it smells much better than yesterdays. I slip into a barstool and stare at the brewer as the coffee drip down into the pot.

“You don’t look so hot,” my uncle tells me.

“I’m a little worried. I don’t trust the sheriff.” I confess after a long pause.

He nods and hands me a mug of red. I give him a puzzled look, “I used the brewer.”

I shrug and try a slip. It tastes better than usual but not as good as the real stuff. Nonetheless, I finish it off quickly and feel slightly less anxious. My uncle smiles at me as he passes me a bowl, milk and a box of cereal. “Thank you.” I tell him.

“Aye, we’ll be fine.” He tells me through a mouthful of cereal.

I laugh quietly and am thankful for the company.

He reaches a hand over the counter and squeezes mine. He gives a wink as he tosses his dishes into the sink. “I’ll be back later.” I feel a pang of panic as he walks out the door but I smother it with another cup of the brewer blood.

When I’m done with breakfast I grab one of the beers from the fridge and go to stand outside. My body longs to go for a run, but even more so a hunt. I try to numb the feeling with the alcohol but it crawls at me from the inside. I slink into a chair on the porch and try to focus on the horizon but it just makes my muscles ache. The sun still isn’t up when I decide to cave.

I jump off the porch railing and walk into town. The town is unusually quiet and there are few cars on the road. I listen carefully for the faint heartbeat of prey. It doesn’t take long to find a young woman struggling with several large bags.

I jog over, “Hey, do you need some help with that?” I ask with a friendly smile.

She looks over at me suspiciously before giving a look of relief, “Please.” She smiles back.

I take some of the bags, “Where would you like them?” I ask her.

She brushes a long strand of blonde out of her face, “Just inside.” She says as she points to an open door in the garage.

I nod and sneak one look at her before carting some bags inside. She’s probably about 5’5” and has dark brown eyes. Her skin is sun kissed and golden even in the dim lighting. She has thin lips and smudged eyeliner like she’d been crying. She bends over to pick up one of the lighter bags and her long hair falls to one side exposing her neck—it makes my shudder.

I walk inside and place to bags beside two other similar looking bags then head back outside. This time when I grab the bag I sneak a look inside and notice that it’s mostly little things like tooth brushes, tooth paste, hair brushes, make up, clothing. I assume she’s moving.

When I get the final bags inside she’s leaning against the counter, “Something to drink?” She asks me.

“Please.” I tell her with a half smile. She looks away and I can see the hint of a blush on her cheeks. She walks over to me and hands me the glass. I take a sip; the water is cold and feels good on my throat. “If you don’t mind me asking,” I start, “What’s up with all the bags?”

She takes a sip before answering. “I moved out of my boyfriend’s house.” She tells me.

I give a puzzled look, trying to look concerned, interested.

“I walked in on him and another girl.” She tells me.

I furrow my brow, “That’s horrible.” I stand and take a step toward her. “I mean, I don’t see how someone could do that to someone as gorgeous as you.” She looks up at me, “I’m sorry. You don’t know me. That was probably rude.” I try to look like an innocent and caring.

She smiles even with the hint of tears in her eyes, “No, it’s okay. You’re sweet. That’s a nice change.”

I c*** my head, “Was he not?” I ask.

She looks at the floor, “I always tried to think he was. But all he ever really cared about was himself…” She looks back up at me, “I don’t know why I’m telling a stranger all this.” She gives a nervous laugh.

I give another half smile, “I get told that a lot.”

She laughs again and takes a step closer, “I never told you my name. I’m Khole.”

“Wes.” I tell her. “Nice to meet you, Khole.”

“You too. You seem like a nice guy, Wes.” She tells me as I spot another blush creeping up. “I wish I knew more nice guys.” She takes another step closer until she’s standing inches from me. She reaches a hand out and nearly touches my chest before she pulls away. She mutters something to herself that sounds like, “I’m so stupid.”

I reach out and take her hand before she puts it down completely, “Shh.” I tell her, “No you aren’t. Everyone makes mistakes. It doesn’t make you any less of a person.” I bend down so she has to look me in the eyes.

She smiles and wraps her arms around my waist. I can smell her golden hair and the hint of cinnamon and ginger make my eyes roll to the back of my head. She looks up at me suddenly, “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know you. I’m so sorry.” She tells me and starts to pull away.

I pull her toward me, “Shh. It’s fine.” I tell her with a smile.

She smiles back and stands on her toes to kiss me. She blushes again and I know all this is only because she’s emotionally unstable but hunting is hunting. I kiss her back and she gives a little moan. Her heart beat speeds up and I can hear the blood rushing inside her. Her dark eyes have a sneaky look in them as she nips at my neck. I pick her up easily and set her on the counter. She wraps her legs around my waist and I bury my face in her neck. She gives a laugh that turns into another moan as I let my elongating canines graze the side of her neck. She pulls me closer and I can feel her labored breathing and heartbeat. She reaches her hands to cup the back of my head and I lightly bite her neck. I can feel her tangle her fingers in my head as I bite again, this time harder. She yelps but not completely in pain. I bite again and move quickly to cup her mouth. Her scream is muffled as I bury my face into the open wound on her neck.

Her body goes limp and I can feel my clothing rip and tear, making room for the large wolf that takes my place. I dig my muzzle deep into her stomach and tear into her flesh easily with large teeth and sharp claws. Her guts spill out onto the kitchen floor and I can already feel the blood drunk coming on.

When I’ve had my fill of her the sun is just starting to peak over the horizon. I leap out an open back window and sprint into the woods. My heavy paws leave no trace in the soft dirt as I make my way back home.

No one is inside when I slip back into the house from the back porch. The sun is low in the sky and the water is just beginning to glisten under its rays. My vision is slightly blurred on the edges and my head feels light and blissful as I stumble inside. The lights are off when I climb back into my bed.

It’s late afternoon when my uncle comes home and finds me laying naked in my bed.

“Wesley.” He sounds disappointed in me. “Get up. Look at yourself in the mirror.”

I do as he says, stumbling over to my bathroom. I look in the mirror. Even with my vision still not back completely I can make out a young man with dark tangled hair and golden eyes. His face is crusted in a deep red. His face has one scratch reaching from his jowl to his temple. I spin around and find more crusted blood and scratches tracing his back.

My uncle walks into the bathroom and stares at the mirror with me. “Shower.” He tells me in a commanding voice, “Then come down and we’ll talk.” He doesn’t seem angry but his face is hard. Almost as if he’s scared but I’ve never seen my uncle scared. I nod and he walks out.

I shower much like I did just a few nights ago. I scrub my scalp and watch as the water runs red and I chase the crusted blood off my face with soap and scalding water. Even after I’m washed I slip to the floor of the tub and feel afraid. The drunken fog is wearing off and I can remember the girl’s name. Khole. The smell of cinnamon. The taste of strawberry on her lips. The subtle accent of a place far away. I feel sick with myself as I stand and walk out.

I throw on some jeans and a white t-shirt that covers the majority of the cuts and scratches. As I walk downstairs I can feel my uncle and my father’s eyes on me. I slide into a barstool and my uncle takes a deep breath, “Where are your clothes?” he asks me trying to sound even and calm.

“I don’t know.” I tell them honestly. “I can’t remember.”

My father’s jaw clenches, “how did you get back home?” He asks.

“I ran.”

“Where’d you shift?” my uncle asks.

“Inside. Inside a house.”

My father’s pacing, “What house?”

“A girl’s house.”

He looks frightened as he stops pacing, “A girl or the girl’s?”

“The girl’s house. Her name was Khole.” I try to calm myself.

“Do you know where this house is?” My uncle asks.

“In town. By the big stone house.”

“You mean the sheriff’s house?” My father sounds scared again.

“Maybe. It had a big oak tree out front.”

My uncle nods, “We have to leave.”

I spin around to face my uncle, “I don’t under—” There’s a knock on the door. I want to run inside but I can see the sheriff’s hat in the glass and I know he can see me too. We all look at each other. My uncle makes a low gesture with his left hand calm down he tells us. I take a deep breath as my father walks over to the door.

“Ah, sheriff. Lovely to see you again.” He smiles at the sheriff and it looks warm and inviting. “This is my son who you missed last time you stopped by.”

I walk over and attempt to shake the sheriff’s hand. He turns away as I reach out, “Do you mind if I look around?” My father opens his mouth, but the sheriff turns away from us and starts to walk around.

My uncle follows him as he walks toward the laundry room and shuts the door, “I’m sorry sheriff, but we are going to have to ask you to leave.” My uncle’s voice is calm and polite but his eyes are fierce and hard.

“Very well,” the sheriff tips his hat. “Perhaps later.” He lets himself out and we stay quiet until we hear the engine start.

“We can’t leave, now.” My uncle tells us. “It’s suspicious and dangerous.” My father reluctantly agrees. “Tonight I’m going to see if I can clean up the mess at the girl’s house before the sheriff finds the body.”

My father looks at me, “Wes… You have to try to be careful.”

I nod and duck my head. I feel beaten, but oddly alive. Something inside me buzzes and I grasp hard onto this feeling. Anything is better than the dull ache.

He squeezes my shoulder and I can see the concern in his eyes. I bite my lip to try to chase away the guilt I feel inside. He turns back to me, “I’m going with your uncle to keep watch. You’re going to behave while we’re gone. Order a pizza then go to sleep. If the sheriff comes by again don’t answer.” He gives my shoulder one last squeeze in the meantime try to relax while we kill some time.

For the next few hours we stare at the TV although none of us are actually watching it. We worry over what will happen if the police find the body first. I can tell they all want to leave now and that the not knowing is killing them, but it isn’t safe to walk up to the house of a dead person in broad daylight. The sheriff is already suspicious of us and we can’t risk stepping on any toes.

When night comes they both stand and give me a concerned and serious look before leaving the house. I call for a pizza and sit on the couch. I flip through the channels but nothing catches my eye. I sigh and start to pace as I wait for the pizza.

Fifteen minutes later the knocker hits the door and I carefully look for the sheriff’s hat, careful to stay out of view. There is no sheriff and instead there is a young girl in a Pizza Hut hat. I try to smother the feeling but I can feel my pupils dilating. I open the door and try to avoid contact but the girl smells like berries and she ideally flirts as she tells me my total. I try to swallow the knot in my throat and she takes it for interest. She gives me a smoldering look as she hands me the pizza and I invite her inside. She tells me this is unprofessional and against the rules but that I’m her last order for the night and she can make an exception.

She reaches a slender arm out to touch my face and leans in for a kiss. Her mouth trails down to my neck and I can feel my mouth growing too small for my teeth. I move to sit on the couch, to try to gather my thoughts and she slides over to me and blocks my sight. I close my eyes to focus and she mistakes it for pleasure. She kisses me against and I try to push her away but she moans. My senses go wild filling with her scent and her taste. In a second my mouth is on her neck and she’s pinned to the couch. Her eyes twinkle at me. I bite hard into her neck and she cries out but it’s over before anyone can hear.

There’s a sound at the door and I look up. I realized in our haste we had never closed it. A cold wind rolls in and I see the glare of the buckle on the sheriff’s hat. His gun is trained on me when a large wolf runs out just as the shot is fired. I see the heavy body of a gray wolf fall to the floor in a heap. The sheriff looks shocked and looks back at my giant wolf form. My uncle form changes into a man as his eyes shut for the last time. The blood from his head pours onto the floor.

“What are you?” The sheriff is shaking violently and gun pointed at me. He goes to take another shot when my father appears behind him.

The gun goes off and the sheriff falls to the ground, a large gash in his throat and scratches across his face.

I’m immediately relieved to be safe when I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. I howl out in pain. My form changes quickly back into a young man. Shaky and naked I cup my hands around the bullet wound in my stomach. Blood pours out over my hands and I look up at my father. I feel cold as sweat drips down my face. My father runs over to me and holds my head in his lap. One hand cups my face as the other tries to keep the blood from pouring out my stomach.

I can feel something pulling on my lids and want to close them so badly; to just drift to sleep and escape the pain.

“Stay with me, Wes. Stay with me. It’s going t be okay. It’ll be okay.” He tells me over and over. Tears drip down his face and on to mine. His voice is rough and shaky and I can barely hear him. He seems so far away even though I can see him right here.

I open my mouth to speak and blood drips out. I look up at him, “Please be careful.” I tell him as the pull finally over takes me.