When the Lights Went Out #5

Chapter Five

Werewolf [wear-wuh-lf]: A pack creature with dog-like ears, tail, fangs, and claws. They live in the Waxing fields and worship the full moon. Their society is based on a strict hierarchy.

With labored breathing, London dropped Coyote to the lush gray grass. The moment was over. Coyote gazed up at London, who was hunched over, hands on his thighs, and trying to catch his breath. Somehow, London’s cold skin looked even paler now. Retrieving the book from where it had fallen, Coyote surveyed their surroundings.

A warm, gentle breeze ruffled the expansive grass field around them. Not so much as a tree jutted up to disturb the crisp horizon. Antipode Town was nowhere to be seen. They seemed to have lost their pursuers as well.

“What were they?” he asked.

Still hunched over, London said, “Leprechauns…. They help the…monsters here…stay honest.”

“Leprechauns? Seriously?” Coyote repeated. He squeezed the Fictionary by its fat spine, wishing he’d had more time to read the secrets it contained. “Well, we lost them, anyway.”

London shook his head. “They’ll…be back.”

Coyote searched the horizon where they’d just come from for any sign that was true. Nothing disturbed the grassy field save for a gentle breeze. The same was not so for Coyote’s mind. Leprechaun debt collectors could have saved his father’s life from his mother, who never realized it was her drug habit that caused him to fall into gambling on the wrong side of town, so desperate was he to keep the roof over her head. She was selfish in a way that made Coyote want nothing to do with her.

“Blast it,” London growled. “Because of you, I couldn’t make it to the slaughterhouse. And now there’s no time.”

“Slaughterhouse?” Coyote shook his head. How could he send Singh to a world like this? How could he be in a world like it?

“How do you suppose vampires who can’t transpire survive?” London just confirmed what Coyote had already known. “They employ chaps like me to bring humans back for them. Where do you think I’ve had to send all the other males I’ve accidentally grabbed while trying to pay off my debt?”

Coyote shook his head, taking a few steps away from London. “I just…want to go home.”

“Ha!” London stifled a yawn with the crook of his elbow. “No, you don’t. The troll only accepts an honest answer.”

Coyote closed his eyes. He had hoped London hadn’t heard what he said or understood what he meant. “It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“I guess not.” London combed his fingers through his long hair. “But if I don’t get a meal, those leprechauns will catch up, I will go to prison, and you will go to the slaughterhouse.”

Despite what the leprechauns had said, Coyote didn’t think a person could go to prison for failing to pay a gambling debt. “What are you suggesting?” He was stalling. Of course, he knew how this vampire could get a meal in a field in the middle of nowhere.

Suddenly, London was in his face with an arm wrapped around behind him. Breath catching in Coyote’s throat, he didn’t want to think about what had happened the last time London had captured him in an embrace. London’s icy hand traced a line down Coyote’s bicep, goosebumps sprouting in its wake. Coyote went weak at the knees, falling against London. The vampire lowered his face to the crook of Coyote’s neck… “I could, of course, drink some of yours.”

Coyote’s pulse thrummed through his neck painfully where London’s breath warmed the flesh. “If you think it would help…”

He could’ve stopped the monster from drinking his blood.

He didn’t want to stop London from feeding on him.

After a moment of silence as though London expected Coyote to withdraw consent, London’s teeth pricked the soft flesh of Coyote’s neck. After withdrawing the fangs, London lapped at the fresh blood spilling from the wound. The rhythmic stroking of London’s tongue, much like a vampire bat, sent shivers up Coyote’s spine. He lost count of the moments.

Either too many or too few had passed when London pulled his face away. His arms remained tight around Coyote’s waist as he peered over Coyote’s head.

“You are trespassing in Waxing,” someone growled from behind Coyote.

Startled, Coyote whipped around to see a man with wolf-like ears perked up and a scruffy tail swaying in the breeze. Oh goody, so this world had werewolves too. Coyote only hoped they didn’t hate vampires, as portrayed by every piece of pop culture.

“I am quite sorry about that.” London’s frown was evident in his tone. “I was taking my cosset for a walk and grew quite thirsty. We must’ve missed our turn—”

“Save it, London,” the werewolf said. “I know who you are. And our Weiz Nardlet won’t be happy to see you.”

London’s grip slackened as he shrugged. “Then we can keep my presence here between us, and Wyeth will have no reason to have known I was even here.”

The werewolf lunged forward. “Do not address the Weiz Nardlet in a familiar way.”

“But Wyeth and I go way back.” London shifted to the side, forcing Coyote to turn with him. The movement was subtle, something Coyote hadn’t thought him capable of based on how he blundered everything up until now.

The werewolf curled his hands into half-fists, and the crescent moon hanging in the black sky glinted off vicious claws. “All the way back to your first incompetency.” Slaver sprayed out with the words.

“It gave him a good laugh back then,” London said. “Who’s to say he won’t chortle about my latest too, hmm?”

The werewolf straightened, following London’s movements. “Absolute scumbag.” He launched at them, teeth and claws bared.

London leaped out of reach a moment before the blow would’ve struck Coyote’s chest. The werewolf crouched and launched forward, driving London back where they had come. Holding Coyote made it difficult for London to dodge. The werewolf had to be much more dangerous than the leprechauns.

As the onslaught continued, a commanding, clear voice rang out above them: “Kettering Defiance, stop that this instant.”

Immediately, the werewolf dropped straight to all fours. He pressed his stomach to the gray grass, fixing his gaze on the blades dancing under his breath.

Another werewolf emerged from a hole in the ground a few yards off. The newcomer barely spared Kettering a glance as he marched over. “I might, indeed, have a good laugh at this one.” His eyes roved up and down Coyote’s length, stopping on Coyote’s neck. “Tramp? So, you’ve registered this one. What will Rochester think of that?”

Coyote ripped away from London’s now slackened grip and thunked the Fictionary against the vampire’s bicep. “You named me Tramp?”

The new werewolf chuckled under his breath as London gave Coyote’s leash a tug. “Keep your bloody mouth shut for once,” London hissed.

“Or what? I’ll get us out of this mess like I did the damn troll?” Coyote challenged.

“This one has quite the mouth on him,” the werewolf said. “I can see why you’d want to keep him around.”

Apparently ignoring Coyote, London snapped, “It isn’t like that, Wyeth. We made a deal. This pest is going to get me the hot babe I owe Rochester. That’s all.”

Wyeth burst out laughing. “Somehow, I doubt you could snatch the right human even with help.”

Being treated like scum must’ve made London feel incredibly lonely. The notion briefly passed through Coyote’s mind that perhaps his mother felt just as lonely. He certainly hadn’t helped in that matter, being one of the many human beings to treat her like scum. But his father didn’t treat her that way, even down to his last breath.

Coyote was about to defend London’s honor in a way he’d never dreamed of doing for his mother when Kettering shot up suddenly. The force of it knocked Coyote off balance.

Wyeth snarled at Kettering, who dropped submissively back to the grass.

“Nazarian-og,” Kettering murmured. “They’re coming.”

London looked back, eyes narrowed. “Shit. We have to go.”

Wyeth howled with laughter again. The sound made Coyote want to jam the Fictionary down his throat until it stopped.

“Come on.” London snatched him off the ground. “Thanks for the chat, Wyeth. Hope the leprechauns treat you well.” Then he was off, racing over the field of gray grass just as fast as before.

Coyote was left pondering how, in some way, he was the same as Wyeth. He didn’t like the thought one bit.