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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 1 month ago

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Perigee Chapter 5: So Much Exposition

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

"... summer home?"

"We have a summer home," Jazz pointed out, reclining in the reading chair while Miho stared out the window. "In fact we have three... no four."

"Winter?" Miho offered, looking toward the door a few seconds before Dane, followed by Calico, appeared in the doorway.

"You suck at skiing," Jazz smirked, remaining where she sat, while Miho did the opposite; her lips flattened, her eyes narrowed, and her posture straightened.

"Come on, Miho," Dane pleaded. "Take it easy, yeah?"

"Calico McDonough," Jazz smiled, spreading her hands in a disarming gesture. "I'm Jazz, and this is Miho - my counterpart is an unapologetic new moon apogee so..."

"With a presence like that?" Calico swallowed, doing her best not to back away.

"I'm a..." Miho began, but Dane finished her sentence.

"Freak?"

"Anomaly," Miho grated out, and only now did Jazz rise.

"Remember the part where you asked for our help?" she queried, lightly touching Miho's shoulder as she strategically placed herself in the middle of the room.

"Freak. Anomaly. With Ethan Cole howling at your door and a pact in effect, you need both and more," Miho asserted over Jazz's shoulder, and Dane held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, you're right, I'm sorry," he rushed out, making eye contact with Miho. "You're one of the few things I know Ethan's afraid of."

"Is ahh, someone going to explain what's going on here?" Calico asked quietly, still behind Dane.

"Yeah," Miho replied, returning to the window and sitting against the sill, but she allowed Dane to expound.

"Miho and I met years ago," he began, stepping aside to allow Calico to enter the room, and she sat on her bed. "Aside from being the most... anomalous new moon apogee to ever have existed, she's a brutally talented shaman who set right a situation with an indigenous burial desecration."

If this fed Miho's ego, it wasn't evident in her expression, but Jazz cast her a proud glance from where she'd settled back into her chair.

"We... had a bit of a falling out before she left," he continued cautiously, "but, nothing that diminished my admiration for her skills when it comes to the mystical side of our kind."

"And I like little more than to stick it to old guard misogynists like Ethan Cole," Miho put in, the savage in her smile bright and sharp.

"So," Jazz picked up, a calm and pale contrast to Miho's barely restrained rage. "How much do you know about our history?"

"Not a whole lot," Calico admitted.

"Story time," Miho smirked, reclining against the glass.

"Okay," Jazz inhaled. "In ancient times, where there were no lines between fact and faith, our ancestors worshiped number of gods, none of them so jealous and vindictive as Inanna. Her gracious light and love brought about great bounty for her worshippers, but even other gods ran afoul of her temper.

"In Bad-tibira, modern day Tell al-Madineh in Iraq, a group of women drifted from devotion to Inanna - goddess of love, war and fertility - and formed a sect of mutual appreciation..."

"Lesbians," Miho nodded slowly.

"Quite," Jazz confirmed. "Incensed that they would turn their gaze from her, Inanna sent Urgula - the divine dire wolf - and demanded they choose one among them to bear the punishment of Inanna's wrath. But they refused to cast anyone out. In a frenzy of fur and flesh, Urgula raped each woman and implanted them with his seed, that they would live to endure their shame, grow it inside them and birth it."

She allowed that to settle on her audience. Miho had heard her tell their history many times, and though it still galled her, the most she moved was the twitch of her fingers. Calico, on the other hand, squirmed uncomfortably, somehow, Jazz's words painted not just a visceral image of the story in her mind, but also a sickening pressure in her stomach she was sure she could feel moving about.

"The children appeared human when born, and grew healthy and strong," Jazz narrated, "and Inanna grew angrier at the love the women had for their them, so she sent Urgula again to take the children from them. Even as teenagers, the first generation of divine wolf-humans were so fiercely loyal to their mothers and each other, they banded together and killed their father.

"Further enraged by this flagrant display of rebellion, Inanna cursed the Children or Urgula with his visage, forcing them through a brutal transformation and condemning them to live as beasts. But, hearing the wailing cries of the women and howls of their pups, the sun god Utu - brother of Inanna - was moved by the injustice of Inanna's punishment, and mitigated the curse. While his bright gaze warmed their skin they would remain in human form, subject to Inanna's curse while his light did not touch the Earth."

"Every night?" Calico queried, frowning. "I mean, I don't shift every night - that would be awful."

"That brings us to the moon - Nanna, father of Inanna and Utu," Jazz clarified. "Most modern, educated individuals understand it only glows in the night sky because of the sun's light reflecting off it, and so too it was that Nanna favoured his son, allowing him to dwell in both the day and night."

"Okay, so, the more light is reflected and the closer the moon is to Earth, the more powerful Utu's influence in the night?"

"Yes," Jazz affirmed. "Which eventually led to the discriminating class system still gasping for survival now. Those least favoured by Utu, born beneath a new moon at its apogee are by far more at the mercy of Inanna's curse than those born beneath a full moon at its perigee. Their blood father's spirit stirs and ripples just below the surface, snapping savage jaws, their self-control is weak, and they possess few to none of the advantages Utu gifted some in compensation for Inanna's ire. Those blessed with full moon births - as you well know - are not so enslaved by their lupine heritage, enjoy power over their transformation, and other boons."

At that point, Calico glanced over at Miho.

"Oh I'm plenty animal," she snorted, stretching her arms over her head. "But, as your charming new friend pointed out, I'm an aberration. A wolf, in black sheep's clothing."

"And such aberrations are in fact rarer than full moon perigee," Jazz added with a sage nod. "And in all the nine individuals I've studied, their remarkable abilities are all different, have no physical or biological explanation, and from a mysticism perspective, I have been able to discern no reason they are so atypical."

"But, your atypical can help me with Ethan Cole?" Calico hoped.

"In a roundabout way," Miho nodded, and as she extended her hand something began to writhe upon her palm.

At first the blue-green light was small, like a wisp of smoke, but as Calico watched, it grew until she could make out the small form of a wolf tossing its head about.

"Tortured spirits have the strongest tether to the living world," Miho explained. "It's a bit cliche, but unfinished business or traumatic death seems to be a surefire way to linger in the pale between this plane and the next."

"That's a ghost?" Calico blinked.

"Yep. His name is Casey," Miho explained, her other drawing a necklace into sight from which hung what looked like a shard of bone. "His death was the definition of traumatic..."

"She killed him," Jazz put in with a smirk.

"I don't like rapists," she snapped, tipping her chin upward before suffocating the spirit in her fist. "So he pays penance."

"So you're going to... kill... Ethan?" Calico wondered hesitantly, trying to join the dots.

"Oh I'd like to," Miho grinned wickedly. "But that comes with a whole other set of problems, so I've got another idea."

"We did some digging," Jazz explained. "Literally."

"Found the bastard who got you into this mess," Miho continued, and Calico's eyes widened.

"My dad?"

"I don't like cowards much either," Miho growled, kicking a sports bag near her feet.

It clanked, the hollow sound of loose bone against bone.

While Calico had every reason to dislike her father, the suicide, the pact, the idea someone had dug up his grave still didn't sit well.

"Ahh, Angus McDonough... is in that bag," Dane stated, peering between it and Calico.

"Yep," Miho confirmed. "Need them to make a connection, since this is far from where he died."

"I'll be able to talk to him?" Calico asked slowly, clearly unsure if she even wanted to.

"Yep," Miho nodded. "Right now, all we have is Ethan's words about what went down and how it was resolved, so, unless we want to wait until the pact does or doesn't force you to submit, we need to be sure. Only then can we figure out how to undo it.”

"Okay," Calico sighed, seeking Jazz's gaze. "What is this going to cost me?"

The stinging clap of Miho's hands coming together made Calico jump.

"This one I do for the joy of it," she grinned, and there it was, flashing in her eyes: Urgula's brutality.

"Today," Jazz declared, rocking to her feet, while Miho snatched up the duffel-bag and slung it over her shoulder. "The best laid plans rarely go off without a hitch and we're pressed for time."

"Let's invite Dad to lunch," Miho gestured, pointing toward the door.

They started from the cemetery and walked, following Miho, and walked into the trees.

"Where are we going?" Calico whispered to Dane as they trudged through the undergrowth.

"The thinnest divide between the now and then," Jazz answered., her footfalls making very little sound despite the dense undergrowth. "It's unlikely your father will co-operate, and while Miho is talented and powerful, sacred ground certainly helps."

The shaman paused, closed her eyes and sniffed the air before crouching and digging her fingers into the soil.

"Here will do," she stated, dropping the bag of bones. "Help me clear a patch."

"So, what makes this ground so sacred?" Calico wondered, plucking at some leafy shrubs. "An ancestor cocked his leg on a tree here or something?"

"Something like that," Miho muttered, digging around in the moss until she'd uncovered a stone the size of her hand with an unnatural mark on it.

"Is that a dingir stone?" Dane wondered in no small measure of amazement, peering over her shoulder.

"Tiŋiɾ, but yes," Miho confirmed, smoothing her thumb over the etchings with sad tenderness, then unceremoniously dumped the contents of the bag at her feet.

There wasn't much more than bone - Miho had already removed shreds of fabric and there hadn't been any flesh left to to strip.

With mouth slightly open, Calico watched as Miho arranged the skeleton with the skull inside the rib cage, and all the other pieces placed around.

"So," she swallowed, looking to Jazz. "When we die, our... souls... are trapped in our bones?"

"No," Jazz chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Miho uses them as a conduit. Whether or not she allows the spirit to resume its journey after she's done with it, however, is completely up to her."

"Casey," Miho snorted, then sat cross-legged in front of her ghoulish display, the godstone in her lap.

A chilling still fell over the forest and a wholly unnatural silence in which nothing seemed to move.

Inching closer Dane laid a light hand on Calico's arm. She was quick to grab his hand when Miho’s closed her eyes flicked abruptly open and flashed a ghastly red. Before her the bones rattled, and the skull rolled about in its cage before a wispy blue shape began to rise.

“Get out here, coward,” Miho snarled, her voice the harrowing grate of teeth and supernatural willpower.

Calico cringed; that's what Ethan had called him. While she had more than ample reason to despise her father, disrespect still felt somehow wrong.

The blue shape grew, pulsing angrily, but the struggle was brief.

For the first time in sixteen years, Calico made eye contact with her father.

And he cowered, instantly struck by crippling shame.

Rising to her feet, Miho glowered at the shade, her wolf writhing beneath the surface. It was clear Angus McDonough was terrified, and well he should be.

“Explain to me why I had to burrow through your remains and your daughter is facing pact servitude, rape, and forced breeding.”

Obviously, she already knew the answer, but her beast was enraged and demanded he suffer.

“I'm sorry!” He wailed, unable to recoil beyond the bone pile. “I... I got complacent, when Cole challenged me, I'd already... I was lazy and he...”

“Kicked your ass?” Miho snapped.

“So, it's true,” Calico exhaled, slumping.

“And then what?” Miho spat.

“Um... then…” he stammered.

“Look at her when you say it!” Miho roared, pointing to Calico who now leaned against Dane.

Angus’ translucent head turned slowly to look at his daughter, as miserably defeated as the day he'd lost to Terrence Cole.

“I didn't think it would ever...” he began, but the tears gathering in Calico's eyes caused him to pause.

“Say it,” Miho commanded. “A pack alpha, challenged and defeated, you did what?”

“I... offered him the one thing I knew he wanted more than my head,” he wept, piteously.

“What?” Miho insisted, then repeated, “Say it.”

“My daughter, when she came of age.”

There it was, from the very mouth of the man who’d made the pact. Instead of accepting defeat and his own fate, he chose instead to give away the future of his only child knowing precisely what that would mean for her.

“Terrence Cole died,” Jazz said flatly, though with far less aggression than Miho. “Now his son is alpha and calling in that marker.”

“There's nothing I can do,” Angus sobbed.

“Actually, not true,” Miho grinned, an entirely malicious expression. “I'm going to offer Ethan your soul, bound in torment forever, in exchange for Calico's freedom.”

“Think he'll go for it?” Dane asked, while Angus's ghost stopped blubbering and looked horrified.

“You can't!” he blurted desperately.

“I most certainly can,” Miho sniffed, then responded to Dane. “Maybe, maybe not-but Jazz generally prefers me to attempt the least bloody options before I wreak irrevocable carnage.”

“Took a long time to train her for that,” Jazz quipped.

“Please,” Angus begged, throwing himself at Miho’s feet, but as he reached out for her ankle his form seized and emitted a harrowing yowl.

“Disgusting,” Miho spat, clenching her fingers to increase his agony.

“Calico?” Jazz prompted. “It's your life, and so it should be your decision.”

Dane felt Calico inhale to capacity and shift her weight to stand taller.

“You,” she cleared her throat, “bargained my life for yours, then left Mum and I alone. I'm...”

There she paused to collect her thoughts and all the sharp emotions that accompanied them.

“I'm not... I don't want revenge, but I'm not going to give up my life for a decision I had no part in.”

Taking this as Calico’s answer, Miho her spread her hands apart then slowly began to bring them together. Though there was nothing but air between them, her progress seemed hampered by significant resistance.

“Still refusing to accept responsibility,” she rumbled, each word she spoke punctuated by the snapping elongation of fingers into claws.

“Don't do this! Calico, please!” Angus pleaded, his visage roiling and contorting until finally Miho’s palms touched and she interlaced her fingers tightly.

“If Ethan refuses,” she sneered, “I am going to eat you.”

With a gesture of finality, Miho slammed her left hand against the top of Angus' skull, trapping his essence within.

Unflinchingly, Jazz placed her palm flat against Miho's back; the effect was instant. Swiftly the raging and barely contained animal within the shaman was soothed. Her body relaxed, and the wolfish features that a moment ago seemed about to take over, retreated.

“Jesus,” Calico sighed heavily, leaning against Dane again.

“What do you want to do with the rest of him?” Miho asked, holding the skull at her side.

“I don't care,” Calico responded, her voice distant.

Eternal torment was stiff punishment - no doubt- but to beg for clemency from the child you offered to another man?

Fuck that.

#werewolf #werewolf fiction #OC #Original Fiction #Iconic duo #badass heroines #sassy characters #justice #Miho #Jazz

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 1 year ago

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Perigee Chapter 4: Diplomacy Missed the Mark

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

"What are these?" Dionne inquired, glancing over three shallow boxes and tracing the pattern on them she knew perfectly.

It was a rhetorical question really, the real query behind it, 'are these for me?'.

But even that was a foregone conclusion, for who else would Ethan by lingerie for?

Her fingertips picked under the edge of one lid, but Ethan's hand smacked down over hers before she could see its contents.

"You have plenty," he growled when her head snapped to his in confusion.

"Then who?" she frowned, her voice tight and already on the very edge of angry.

"Mind your tone," he warned, lifting his hand and turning away. "It's like you've forgotten your place."

"I'm your wife," she snapped. "It's very much my place to question who else you'd buy expensive lingerie."

"Green is not your colour," he sniffed, lifting the stopper from a crystal decanter and pouring from it. "And it's certainly not becoming."

Dionne bristled at the insinuation but managed to rein in her frustration.

"In all our years, have I not served you faithfully?" she managed through her teeth.

"You have," he acknowledged, glancing up as he sipped his drink. "But when fate delivers a full moon perigee of McDonough lineage, no alpha in this or any other county would pass that up."

"McDonough?"

Ethan gave her a look of pure disbelief, but then seemed to understand her ignorance.

"Yes," he exhaled, taking his glass to the Chesterfield. "A bloodline ancient and potent."

"So this has nothing to do with your libido?" she sniffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Do I want to fuck her?" Ethan mused, watching the whiskey slosh around as he tipped his glass from side to side. "Oh yes. The look of defeat on her face as she cums will be perfect."

Dionne's lips parted, but she couldn't quite find the words to express her anger and revulsion. No, she didn't care about Calico or whatever tortures Ethan had planned, but that he would expect she'd be okay with it all was beyond belief.

"Good thing I know a good divorce lawyer," she muttered under her breath, turning for the door, but she stopped when Ethan laughed.

"You and I both know you won't leave," he chuckled. "You arrived with nothing, and you'll leave with even less."

"Christ, I haven't rolled through Cleaver in ages," Miho chuffed, killing her bike's engine.

"I suppose there's no point in telling you to keep a low profile," Jazz smirked, removing her helmet and readjusting her blonde locks.

"We're not here to keep a low profile," Miho replied, following suit before peering down the street. "And I'm not good at it anyway."

"No," Jazz murmured, nodding. "No, you are not. But, diplomacy first?"

"Sure, I'll wait in the car," Miho smirked, lightly hip-bumping Jazz as she began toward the mansion. "Just leave the windows down a little."

Shaking her head, Jazz followed up the paved stairs trimmed with manicured box hedge and flowering roses, and waited behind Miho. Miho, meanwhile, didn't bother with the doorbell, and went straight for three heavy thuds against the large wooden door.

The response was slow, but the woman who answered - a maid by her ridiculously formal uniform - smiled politely.

"Jazz Mann to see Alpha Cole," Jazz said with equal courtesy. "He's not expecting guests, but this business is important."

"And her?" the woman gestured, arching one sculpted eyebrow at Miho's heavy boots, jeans and black band tee and leather jacket.

"Don't mind her and she won't mind you," Jazz replied blandly. "Now, Alpha Cole? Or am I going to have to become... insistent?"

"Alpha Cole is currently indisposed," the maid explained.

"We don't mind waiting," Jazz beamed, placing her hand against the door, but she stopped short of forcing her way in.

Miho, on the other hand, tapped her toe loudly, and her jacket creaked menacingly as she folded her arms.

"Yes, of course, please come in," the maid agreed finally, stepping back to allow them entrance to the foyer.

"Off to a good start," Miho smirked as she followed, and Jazz sent her a pleading look. "I'll wait out here while you receive his illustriousness in the formal sitting room, she added, sitting herself in a red velvet wing-back chair.

Looking unsettled by the prospect of leaving Miho unsupervised, the maid faltered, but Jazz leaned toward her to whisper.

"Don't worry, she's very good at following commands."

With a serious face she then glanced to Miho.

"Stay."

"Yes Ma'am," Miho nodded curtly, and slung one leg over the other.

Leaving Miho where she sat, Jazz then followed the unnamed maid down a corridor of dark wood textures, and old, gold-framed paintings, before being led into a lavish sitting room. It was not the first of its type she had experienced: opulence in every inch of upholstery, luxury in heavy velvet drapes, and a large measure of ostentation. But she was not wowed by the pretentious show of wealth, in fact, she usually attributed it to insecurity, no matter how formidable the home owner seemed on the surface.

"Can I offer you refreshments, Miss Mann?" the maid inquired, hands clasped behind her back.

"Oh no, thank you," Jazz dismissed with the light wave of one hand. "If Alpha Cole isn't here in ten minutes, my friend and I will be leaving."

After a short pause, the maid inclined her head, even offered the slightest of unsure bows, before turning to exit.

"To chat with Calico McDonough," Jazz added lightly, then reclined comfortably. "You should probably tell him that."

"I heard," Ethan dropped from the garden-side doorway, disdain corrugating his forehead.

One hand remained in the pocket of his crease-less chinos, attempting to convey a relaxed countenance, but his other fingers flexed toward his palm.

"And yet, you don't seem all that pleased I've come to present myself to the Alpha of this region," Jazz mused, rising from her seat to offer him a respectful nod. "That is tradition, no?"

"What do you want with Calico McDonough?" he questioned flatly, striding in like he might not stop until his shadow swallowed Jazz's petite frame whole.

Jazz just waited for him to reach her, then looked up.

"You don't want to know who I am first?" she offered, blue eyes focused on his despite the height disparity.

"Jazzeline Mann, I know who you are," he retorted, refusing to meet her calm with anything less than brooding menace. "And I hate to repeat myself. What do you want with Calico McDonough, Lorekeeper?"

"I want you to dissolve the pact your father brokered, and any other notions you might be entertaining about her liberty and autonomy," Jazz explained, nice and clearly so there could be no confusion.

Snorting incredulously, Ethan apparently abandoned his attempts to intimidate, and opted for nonchalance instead.

"No," he answered. "The universe in balance - debts must be paid."

"In nine out of ten cases, I wouldn't disagree," Jazz offered, studying his body language, the tense of his shoulders, the veins in his neck. "But not this time. Unbeknownst to her, a coward father has offered his innocent daughter to save his own skin, and since we're talking cosmology here, I can't think the universe would be okay with that."

Having poured himself a whiskey - at 9:30 am - Ethan took a sip the scoffed.

"Is this all you have? The universe is going to give me a bad Yelp review?"

"Well," Jazz exhaled, seeming thoughtful, "there's always the less civilised option."

Crystal firmly met mahogany, and Ethan moved to face Jazz once more. The storm in his expression was on the brink of breaking, and Jazz was sure she could hear the buttons of his shirts straining as he flexed.

"Yes, exactly," Jazz confirmed smoothly, pointing at him from toe to top.

"Who are you to enter my territory with such disrespect?" he growled, a knuckle or two popping.

"Pardon me for quarreling, Alpha Cole," Jazz winced, but it was definitely derisive. "But you already claimed to know who I am."

Her persistent taunts the very definition of poking the bear, Jazz steeled herself against the very real possibility Ethan might lash out at her - still, she had more to say.

"We no longer live in the Dark Ages of patriarchy, where women must bow and submit to men, werewolf or otherwise," she declared with a much sterner tone. "You and your ilk are a dying breed, clinging to archaic traditions because they make small men feel big."

"If there is dying to be done," he rumbled, taking hold of her arm tightly, "you should be more concerned about yourself."

Resisting the urge to struggle, and fighting down the snapping beast beneath her own, pale skin, Jazz tipped her chin.

"By all means," she grated. "But you're going to want permission from my alpha first, who can - by happy coincidence - be found waiting in your foyer."

Jazz struggled to keep her feet on the floor as Ethan dragged her from the room. The maid let out a little squeak as she was knocked aside in the corridor, but Ethan did not pause until he'd stomped into the foyer - where Miho, her back to him - tilted her head at the painting it seemed she was critiquing.

"Why would anyone forge a Seurat?" she wondered, her hands spreading in a baffled gesture as she turned to the sound of thunder. "God, I hate neo-impressionism."

Biting her tongue was all that kept Jazz from emitting a sound as Ethan's grip tightened. Her fingers itched to stretch and claw out his bicep.

"I take it diplomacy missed the mark?" Miho queried rhetorically, not even looking at Ethan. "Don't feel bad," she continued. "Big cock, reeeeeally small brain."

Despite appearances, Miho was indeed paying attention; the second Ethan's shoulder twitched like he intended to throw or slam Jazz down, Miho held up her hand.

"Ah!" she barked, a sharp imperative to stop. "If you want to scrap, I'm all for it, but it will be with someone your own size."

"You're her alpha?" he spat, not releasing Jazz.

"Is that really so surprising?" Miho laughed, then narrowed her eyes at him salaciously. "Hell, for a few, ahhh, hours, I was YOUR alpha."

Tonal shift.

Changed tack.

"Please cease man-handling Jazz," she requested with a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little. "She wanted to ask nicely, I wanted to go with fishing-line testicle torture, yet here we are all worked up over the freedom of a woman you're not entitled to anyway."

Not that she needed permission or a signal, but the disappointed click of Miho's tongue punctuated the limit of Jazz's patience. The strength of Ethan's grip on her arm provided a perfect anchor for Jazz to swing her lithe figure forward and then up, where she caught his neck between her thighs.

The momentum jolted him backwards, his reflex to throw out both hands, allowing Jazz to roll free of his reach and return to her feet.

"Very diplomatic," Miho snickered.

"I thought you'd have punched him by now," Jazz muttered, fixing her blouse collar.

"In my house!" Ethan roared, on the edge of transformation.

"You were offered reason," Jazz pointed out, irritated by the tear she found in one sleeve.

"Release Calico McDonough from the pact," Miho went on. "You have everything you need here in Cleaver without her."

"Or what, Miho?" he sneered.

"I guess you forgot what happened when you sent Cleaverlaw after me last time, hmm?"

"Small brain," Jazz reminded her.

"Leave Cleaver, and Calico," Ethan commanded. "Or I will bury you both."

"There's another sex joke here about how you were the one buried in me, but I just can't quite get the phrasing right," Miho frowned in mock consternation. "Something, something, left tied-up and naked for your wife to find?"

"Punchline still works," Jazz approved, but was poised for further action if Miho really broke Ethan's self-control.

"We'll go," Miho stated, before Ethan could retort. "But you should man-up and do the right thing. Nix the pact."

Jazz stepped to the door first and Miho followed, seemingly unafraid to show her back to him.

"Whether you like it or not," he snarled spitefully, perhaps knowing he could not take out both women at once. "Calico will submit to me. The pact will make it so."

After checking in at the police station as required, Calico was asked to accompany Detective Nowak to the crime scene; thankfully not Detective Cole. Still, it struck her as odd she'd be taken to the scene at all so early in the investigation, even if - especially if - she was a suspect. No doubt it had something to do with Ethan, maybe trying to reinforce the seriousness of the leverage he had over her.

"I'm sorry the untimely death of someone is such an inconvenience for you, Mrs Hollows," Jude sniffed, breaking the silence only as they pulled up outside the crime-scene tape.

"No that isn't..." Calico began, then changed tack. "I wasn't rolling my eyes at this, Detective Nowak, just... there's a lot going on, that's all."

Skeptically, Jude studied her a moment, before exiting the car.

Exhaling a long breath, Calico followed, albeit reluctantly.

"This way," Jude instructed, motioning with his hand, before himself heading toward the cabin.

While his back was to her, Calico dug her phone from her pocket and checked her messages, but there were no notifications. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but was definitely hoping for some news from Dane that he had the magic answer to solve all her problems. It was a lot to expect from a guy she'd just met, but the seed of hope he'd planted refused to wither - even as she looked upon that wretched cabin in the woods.

"What exactly are you hoping to achieve by bringing me here?" she asked, trying to keep the snark out of her tone.

"Just corroborating your story," Jude replied, this time not reacting to her irritation.

"It's not a story, it's the truth," she argued. "I inherited the cabin from my ex, showed up here and saw someone rotting inside - from the outside - and went straight to the police to report it."

"It's true we found no evidence of you inside," he agreed, walking her to the front of the a-frame cabin, where the entire wall was glass. "And our review of your vehicle's GPS data will ascertain your recent movements."

She could have complained, but what they'd find was she hadn't been anywhere near Cleaver until the day she discovered the corpse.

"Well, I look forward to being completed exonerated," she said, then fixed her gaze on the dark stain through the glass.

The shag-pile rug remained, sans corpse , the murky person-shaped mark providing a reminder someone had died.

"Has the ME determined cause of death?"

"More interested in the the cause than the identity of the deceased?" Jude queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Read into that whatever you like," she shrugged, peering into the cabin through the massive front windows. "So? I mean, I wouldn't be here if the death was ruled natural causes, right?"

"We're still waiting on toxicology," he revealed. "Tell me about Oscar Hollows."

"Narcissistic, over confident," she answered with a shrug. "Worked his way up out of next to nothing, but reached for more than he could handle and was entitled to, including in our marriage."

"Unfaithful?"

"Yep," she chuckled. "Got a woman pregnant, thought he could explain away his stupidity on alcohol."

"And the AVO?"

"Proud men can get very angry," she sniffed. "His reputation was in decline, his business was failing, and I wasn't interested in putting up with infidelity - it didn't sit well with him."

"So he used physical force."

"Got in a few lucky punches," she nodded, working her jaw. "But that was it. After that it was all just... pathetic. Drunken phone calls, sobbing, shouting, begging."

"Begging you to take him back," Jude posed.

"Yes," Calico nodded, recalling how much that had disgusted her. "He suggested we could all live happily together."

"You, he and this other woman - whose name is?"

"Alina Toffat," she replied. "I never met her, but spoke to her on the phone a couple of times."

"Initiated by?"

"Her," Calico laughed, shaking her head and turning to look out into the trees. "She thought we could share Oscar, raise her kid as a family. I told her about our split, the drinking, the order, but she didn't much want to hear it - she was enamored."

"You sound like you feel sorry for her," Jude observed, his tone changing a little.

"A little, I guess," Calico nodded, rolling her shoulders and looking back to him. "I told her no way, good luck and goodbye, and didn't hear from her after that. Oscar stopped calling, and eventually I get a call to inform me he'd wrapped himself around a tree and I was the proud owner of a death cabin."

Jude sniffed.

"Is this all a bit too dramatic for you?" she quipped, tucking her hair behind her ears and raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not at all," he replied, tipping his chin a little. "Alina Toffat: did you hate her?"

"Think the body's hers?" she answered with a question of her own.

"Now I have a name to run, we'll find out soon enough," he smiled thinly.

"Maybe Oscar killed her, before his death," she mused darkly. "He wasn't much for taking responsibility, so maybe he blamed her for things turning bad."

"Interesting theory," Jude replied.

"No less interesting than I killed someone," she pointed out. "Shall I pose a few more, or do you want to actually look at evid..."

She didn't hesitate to answer her phone when it rang, but didn't greet her caller by name.

"Dropped by the tavern, but Bill said you left early," Dane's voice sounded.

"I've been entertaining Detective Nowak at the cabin," she responded, making eye contact with the man in question, holding it as her pupils constricted a little. "But we're done here, so I should be back soon."

"Good. I have some people who'd like to meet you, people who might be able to help."

"Awesome. I'll be there soon. Thanks."

Lowering the phone, Calico finally blinked at Nowak, who actually flinched.

"By all means charge me with something you can't prove, Detective," Calico said, walking toward his vehicle. "But if not, I'd like a ride back to town, now."

She was half expecting him to handcuff her, but Jude did as she'd demanded, driving her back to town where he dropped her at the tavern. She thanked him, reiterated she wouldn't leave town - just yet - and headed inside.

The moment she crossed the threshold, she was met with a strong presence, a torrid swirl of incongruent calm and bitingly sharp that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She couldn't explain it, but the same instinct that had forced her to flee, to seek an alternative solution to her impending servitude to Ethan Cole, now whispered 'safety' into her ear.

"Hey," Dane prompted, stepping away from the bar and greeting her with a smile. "Rough morning?"

"Nowak is fishing," she scoffed, smiling, but her gaze was searching. "He hasn't even identified the corpse yet."

"No doubt he's got Cole breathing down his neck," Dane nodded, pointing to the stairs. "Miho and Jazz are waiting upstairs."

Continue to Part 5

#werewolf #werewolf fiction #Miho #Jazz #Iconic duo #to trope or not to trope that is the question (is this s trope?)#original fiction #original characters #full of sass

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 2 years ago

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Perigee Chapter 3: The Clock Is Ticking

PART 1 PART2

Calico didn't realise how much time she had spent in the cemetery until Dane pulled his SUV to the curb and the shadows had become long. Was she ready to trust every word that came out of his mouth? No. But she had no paddle and shit creek was more accurately a raging shit river.

Luckily, Ethan was nowhere to be seen at the police station. She was given stern warnings about leaving town by lead detective Jude Nowak, and instructions to return to the station for a check in tomorrow by 9 o'clock, and provide her lodging information.

"So," Calico exhaled, meeting Dane outside. "Am I going to need to worry about Ethan barging in and dragging me off in the night?"

"Unlikely," he replied. "He wants to be seen more as being able to control people like puppets than with brute strength. Physically strong-arming you would make it seem like he hasn't got enough magnetism to compel you."

"Which he does not," she stated, just to reiterate.

"So you needn't worry about that," he nodded. "I can recommend a couple of places for you to stay, in town or out, and I can offer you a room at my cabin, but I think it may be better if you had somewhere neutral."

"That's very considerate of you," she noted with a smile, and it didn't feel forced.

"You don't need my, or anyone else's protection, Calico," he shrugged, smiling back. "But I'll give you my number in case you need someone to rant at."

Calico's smile turned into a grin.

"You may regret that when I'm in a frenzy at 2am," she chuckled, flipping her keys over and over her fingers.

"List of places you might like to stay," he replied, then handed her a piece of paper. "And no matter the time, if you need something, call."

Calico nodded in appreciation and Dane bid his farewell. Despite what he had said about her not needing anyone's protection, however, as his SUV disappeared, she found herself almost wishing she'd taken him up on the room in his cabin, if only to not be alone in a strange place.

"Suck it up," she hissed at herself, climbing into her own car. "You're a McDonough."

After examining the list of potential lodgings, she did a drive-by of each, appraising them on gut feeling alone.

Her mind was fizzing, buzzing with agitation and it needed to stop; she pulled abruptly from traffic into the lot of a tavern cleverly named - Cleaver Tavern.

Overnight bag slung over her shoulder, she pushed into the surprisingly smoke-free interior with a warning expression broadcasting she was not in the mood to be messed with. It was so strong, it seemed, that several patrons looked away from what they'd been doing to consider the potential threat. Just as quickly, eyes were averted.

With only mind numbing alcohol in mind, Calico went straight from the bar and sat as far from others as she could.

“Fucking Oscar,” she hissed, dumping her bag.

After their divorce - far from an amicable affair - an AVO kept him, mostly. His pride had suffered, and it seemed to slip into everything else he did after that. As a human, he'd never known about the part of herself she'd kept secret - it wasn't relevant to their relationship or its dissolution. Now, with Ethan Cole breathing down her neck, she made a startling realisation.

Oscar had been a lot like Ethan.

It hadn't been a first, but his transition into an alpha-esque personality had definitely put a strain on their relationship: until it was too much.

Shaking her head, she sought the bartender's eye, made her request, then disappeared a shot of whiskey.

“Another, please,” she prompted, allowing the burn of the liquor to ground her thoughts - for all of five seconds.

“On me,” a voice to her right declared, just as another body filled the space to her left.

Sighing, Calico inhaled against further irritation before responding.

“Thanks, but I can buy my own.”

“Can’t a couple of guys show some Cleaver hospitality?” the one to her left queried, but she didn’t look at him or his partner.

“You’re not just guys,” she pointed out in a heavy exhale, just loud enough for them to hear amid the cacophony of other sounds.

“True,” Mr Left agreed with a chuckle. “And you’re not just a girl.”

“Astute observation,” she grunted, rolling her shoulders and downing her second shot. “I’m a full moon perigee McDonough, so you should stop sniffing around and just leave me be.”

This revelation got the desired response.

Both tensed, and their confidence flaked away.

“Alpha Co…” Mr Left began, but Calico cut him off.

“Isn’t my alpha for a start,” she snorted. “But you should definitely scootle away and tell him I’m here.”

Almost stumbling, both men were quick to comply, vacating the space around her as if she’d brandished a gun.

“A McDonough, huh?” the bartender mused, rubbing. “Your lot practically built this town.”

“Before my time,” Calico sighed. “It’s just a name.”

“Those fellas didn’t seem to think so,” the tender laughed. “Ain’t never seen them high-tail it like that. Most folks ‘round here just tolerate their hijinks.”

“No doubt why they keep doing it,” she shrugged. “A friend suggested you might have a room I can rent for the short term?”

“Sure, got a room upstairs,” he shrugged. “Small but got its own bathroom, clean, cash in hand?”

“Could be more of those idiots coming around here because of me,” she posed, but the tender shrugged again.

“Seems like you got the wit to deal with them,” he laughed.

“Done,” Calico smiled.

“Jesse!” the tender called, and a wiry woman appeared from what Calico presumed was the kitchen, and tipped her chin a little.

“This way,” the tender motioned, before introducing himself as Bill Donaldson.

He seemed like a decent enough guy, gruff but friendly like bartenders in such places were, and even over the scent of beer, Calico could detect no malice about him.

When she was squared away and had given Bill a few days rent, Calico stood in her room, trying to clear her head.

“The hell am I supposed to do here?” she sighed to herself.

It was late afternoon, far too early to go to bed, but she'd had enough of being watched. Instead, she pulled out her phone and dialed.

"Hey Mum," she said, flopping back onto the bed. "Oscar manages to fuck me one last time," she sighed heavily. "No idea who the dead person in his secret cabin is, but now I'm back in Clever. Yeah. Cleaver."

There she paused, working her jaw and staring up at the exposed beams supporting the ceiling.

"Did you know? What Dad did?" she asked, her voice softer. "Because that's a doozy of a secret to keep, I mean, you could have warned me, and I never would have come here. Now I'm stuck, and barring a miracle, Terrance Cole's son is going to..."

The call disconnected with a beep, indicating she had reached the limits of a voicemail.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tossed the phone on the bedside table, knowing her message would never be returned.

"I didn't think you'd answer, Jazz," Dane said into his phone, holding it against his shoulder as he continued to grill his dinner.

"Why would I not answer?" Jazz's gentle, melodic voice replied.

"I mean, you and Miho are tight," he explained, grimacing a little as he spoke that name. "I just figured what happened between her and I would... sour... our relationship too."

"I'm not sure 'sour' is quite the right word," Jazz laughed. "You're lucky you made it out with all your danglies."

"Oh, I remember," he smirked, the recollection both sweet and frightening. "And I have a terrifying suspicion I'm going to need both of your help."

"I'm going to enjoy this, aren't I?"

"Not as much as she will," he exhaled, flipping his steak. "How much do you know about Cleaverlaw and the alpha challenge between Terrance Cole and Angus McDonough?"

"Please," Jazz sniffed. "What do you want to know?"

"Whether McDonough fled with his family because he lost against Cole, or whether he fled not to protect his own life, but the life of his three year old daughter he'd promised to Cole in place of his own."

Silence stretched for some time.

"Are you telling me the later is the case?" Jazz asked finally, her tone skeptical.

"That does seem to be the case," he answered. "Calico McDonough, the daughter in question, just arrived and Ethan has given her three days to submit to him."

"Hmm, then the clock is ticking," Jazz mused, asking the following question though she thought she already knew the answer. "Is she amenable to his request?"

"She's only here because her dead husband left her something in his will that happened to have a dead body in it," he explained, taking the steak off the heat and setting it aside to rest. "Cops have ordered her to stay until they can rule out any involvement with the corpse," he went on. "But Ethan dropped the pact between his father and hers right on her, and for a McDonough she isn't very well versed in pack politics, history, or the immutables of being a werewolf."

"Ahh, which is where Miho comes in," Jazz concluded, and Dane then heard an alarming, familiar voice call out from somewhere in the background.

"I'm doing what now?" she called, and Dane cringed, even though she wasn't anywhere near him.

"Can you get here ASAP?" he asked Jazz quickly. "You and I both know Calico will be at Ethan Cole's mercy in three days without a hail Mary."

"You mean a hail Miho," Jazz snickered. "I'll see what we can do. Text you when I know something."

It was all he could think to do, other than going to Ethan and begging for Calico's freedom; not a good idea.

PART 4

#original fiction #werewolf #werewolf fiction #fiction #writing #drama #Ethan is fucked now Jazz and Miho are on the way!

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 2 years ago

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PSA

#chronic illness #me go bedie #sucks #just keep swimming #floating?

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 2 years ago

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 2 years ago

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Perigee Chapter 2: Antiquated, Patriarchal, and Even Mystical

PART 1

"Three days," she heard him call from behind her, but he didn't pursue, nor was she waylaid by officers as she left the police station without her wallet and keys.

Without thought for any particular destination, she hit the pavement and did not stop, like she could outrun what Ethan hadn't said.

But she'd already filled in the blank, and though she'd never heard him say it, it was her father's voice she heard repeating it.

Though it didn't seem as if she was followed, Calico didn't stop running until she was on the edge of town and heaving in deep breaths.

"Fuck," she gasped, kicking at the ground, so frustrated she missed the weed she'd been aiming for.

"There's plenty of weeds in here that could use a lesson," a voice intruded, a broad-shouldered frame following his statement through an ivy covered gate.

Glaring, Calico directed her frustration at this interloper, fists balled and eyes flashing.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I was just trying to lighten your obviously dark mood."

"Yeah, well, fuck off," she barked, but as soon as she did, the words seemed to suck the anger right out of her.

She was confused, in no small part afraid, and now, embarrassed.

"If you want," he shrugged, and his apparent willingness to leave her to stew should have felt better, but instead, Calico's discomfort deepened.

"Look," she sighed, "sorry, I'm..."

"Having a bad day?"

"Understatement," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "I didn't mean to be rude, just..."

"Got a lot going on," he nodded, stepping forward and offering his hand. "Dane."

She considered his dirt caked fingernails and calloused palms, rolled-up sleeves and the mud clinging to his heavy duty work boots. He was a far cry from Ethan, but he was definitely a Cleaver werewolf.

"Calico," she reciprocated, accepting his hand and giving it a firm shake.

"So," he began, releasing her and leaning a little against the shovel he held in his other hand. "People say a problem shared is a problem halved?"

"Yeah, I'm not really..."

"You want a cup of coffee?" he offered, cutting her off, and his smile was warm and honest. "Might help, might not, but I was about to take a break."

He was a stranger, but Calico had no friends in Cleaver, and it was clear the cops were in Ethan's pocket. She had to give the demanding alpha time to cool off and leave the station before she returned for her handbag.

"Yeah, okay," she shrugged, following him as he moved through the gates.

Then she stopped, peering up the manicured grassy slope that was crested by a weathered mausoleum. Though the grounds and gardens were beautifully landscaped, it was clear the tombs and graves were quite old.

"Cemetery," she frowned, and Dane turned and chuckled.

"Not a fan?" he asked, but didn't stop. "Or maybe not what you were expecting?"

"Both," she huffed, glancing around as they went, though most of the stones and structures were old and worn, only a few looked new.

"It's a family thing," he explained, pushing through some more hanging foliage and revealing an open space with a large pond, benches, and tables scattered about. "My family have been caretakers here for centuries. Maybe you'd like a tour with your coffee?"

The suggestion was a surprise, but not a terrible one; she wasn't going anywhere until she retrieved her handbag, and even then...

"Sure," she agreed, following him up to a corrugated iron shed. "I guess I'm not in any rush."

He busied himself with a hotplate and kettle while she hovered awkwardly just inside the door.

"Here you go," he said, finally handing her a steaming mug.

She thanked him and accepted the coffee, which was strangely good considering where it was made.

"Come on," he invited, taking another from the countertop and leading her outside. "I'll show you around."

In the distance, behind the cemetery, she could see the mountains. The view would have been breathtaking at any other time, but all Calico could think about was Ethan Cole and the way he'd looked at her.

"You look a million miles away," Dane remarked, and only then did Calico realise he'd stopped beside a granite cruciform grave marker some ten metres behind her.

"Sorry, I'm listening," she apologised sheepishly.

"I asked where you'd like to start," he repeated, but did not seem irritated by her inattentiveness.

"At the beginning I guess," she shrugged.

Though the day had begun so badly, Calico was grateful for the distraction Dane provided - and he certainly was a font of knowledge. It was fascinating, hearing about the town's history, and although he didn't differentiate between human and werewolf achievements, Calico could make out most of it through names she vaguely remembered her mother mentioning long ago.

Despite her suggestion they start at the beginning, they wound a path from the very outside of the graveyard toward the clearly more elite mausoleums at the very heart.

"Family reunion?" Dane offered, stopping at the locked double gates of the grandest sepulchre of all.

Brows twitching, Calico looked up at the name at the entrance, then back at her guide in question, while beneath her clothing, muscles that had begun to relax clenched tightly once more.

"What?" she questioned, trying to play off her obvious surprise.

Unsuccessfully.

"There isn't a werewolf in Cleaver who can't identify a full moon perigee, even if they haven't ever encountered one," he explained, like Calico didn't know she was the werewolf equivalent of a klaxon. "And I happen to know the only such birth in the last hundred years was Calico Moira McDonough."

"You got me," she admitted, but took a step back.

There was no sense of danger about Dane, but the last guy to focus on her heritage wanted her firmly wedged beneath his boot-heel... and other places.

"What were you running from?" he asked, head tilted a little - such an incongruously innocent gesture for so rugged an individual.

"Oh, come on," she scowled. "You've had all the answers so far."

"Okay," he nodded with a smile, seemingly unflappable. "Ethan Cole came after you frothing at the mouth like a rabid mutt and humping your leg?"

A loud chortle blurted from between Calico's lips, so emphatic she nearly spilled her coffee.

"So close," she quipped, finally regaining her composure.

"I can smell him on you," Dane remarked, his face becoming stormy. "And the term 'alpha' is generally antonymous with respect for others and consent."

"I didn't stick around to get the precise details," Calico exhaled, the usually bitter but pleasant taste of coffee turning to ash on her tongue.

Stalling, because speaking it aloud made it seem so much more inescapable, she looked up to where her family name was written across the mausoleum lintel.

"I knew my dad left Cleaver after Terrance Cole challenged him for alpha," she disclosed, sitting down on the mausoleum steps. "I was three then so, didn't have a clue what was going on, and we didn't talk about any of it growing up. Dad killed himself when I was eight, so shit, I knew I was different, but it wasn't until right before my first shift that Mum got expositive."

Dane didn't say anything, but he sat down beside her and listened.

"You know, she said there were traditions, packs, social hierarchies that regular people were unaware of, but largely glossed over the details because we weren't in a pack, kept to ourselves, and that's how she wanted it," Calico continued, then snorted. "And she was big on how heroically Dad smuggled us out of Cleaver after the challenge, saved our lives, but made out like it was because Terrance Cole was supposed to kill Dad for losing."

"That's the rule," he nodded. "Even in more progressive times, pack run territories adhere to it because of the significant benefits of being alpha."

"But that's the thing," she scowled, throwing up her hands. "Dad lost, fled and that was it. As entitled as Ethan seems to be, I can't help but think his father would have sent Cleaverlaw after Dad."

"And Ethan revealed why that didn't happen," Dane concluded, observing the way Calico's body language changed from tensed and tall to small and withdrawn.

"Do you support him?" she asked, voice now matching her posture.

The glance she cast sideways at him was far more hopeful than it was safe to be, for if his answer was yes, anything she said and everything she did around him would be reported back to Ethan.

"Cleaver's my home," Dane answered, and it sounded like the beginning of a politician's response to a question that if answered truthfully would make him look bad. "My family isn't as old as yours, but it too has invested blood and tears to build up the affluence you see now, so it's not really in my best interests to oppose Alpha Cole."

Though she was expecting it, the last two words were like a punch in the gut.

"Hang on," he said, catching her wrist as she moved to rise.

For this trespass he was lashed with a savage glare and a vicious flash of gold in her eyes.

"Yeah alright, sorry," he rushed, lifting his hold like her skin was white-hot. "But you should let me finish."

Calico stood, but crossed her arms and continued to stare down at him warily.

"BUT," he emphasised. "My lot have never been the cow-towing type. Personal integrity is far more important to me than amassing brownie points with an egocentric megalomaniac."

"I can't imagine Ethan being all that thrilled about outliers," Calico mused.

"You seem to know a fair bit considering your late start," he noted.

"Not enough to save me from serving myself up to Ethan and his ultimatum," she sighed.

"Yet you're not just anyone," he pointed out. "Being full moon perigee isn't just a title or rank, they're coveted as mates for a reason."

"Fuck I hate that word," she spat, wringing her hands. "Like, like women are just breeding tools."

"Understandable," Dane nodded. "But... you know it's more than that, right?"

"Do I?" she growled, rocking to her feet again and pacing away a few strides before spinning back around. "Could I punch a hole in a concrete wall? Probably," she declared, hands now gesturing wildly. "Do I heal like the wind? Sure; but ask me to navigate the antiquated, patriarchal oppression of traditional pack dynamics and mystically unbreakable pacts, and I'm screwed - both figuratively and literally if Ethan has his way."

"You're right," Dane said. "It is antiquated, patriarchal, and even mystical, but it's also part of our nature."

"So you're saying I should go bend over and let Ethan mount me?" she snapped, and the air around her crackled with the energy of her anger.

"No," he answered, and his voice was calm and steady, like a rock in a storm. "I'm saying the first step to overcoming a problem is understanding it."

"I understand it," she grunted. "It's a bunch of horny cavemen with a superiority complex."

"And you're a woman allowing them to give you an inferiority complex," he countered, and though his words were harsh, his tone was not.

"Excuse me?" she blinked.

"The McDonough built Cleaver, from wild forest territory to affluent eco tourism hub, so your family's bloodline is strong," he expounded coolly. "You got cornered by Alpha Cole, and you may have run, but didn't buckle. And no matter what you have or haven't been taught about our kind and your own potential, as a full moon perigee you have the greatest of all our strengths."

"I don't want to have to rip someone's head off just to live my life," she exclaimed, throwing her hands up again.

"That isn't the only power an alpha wields these days," Dane pointed out, maintaining calm. "You've experienced Ethan's influence in the local police department first hand, and his pockets are deep."

"Well shit, I'm a billionaire with a batphone to the President," she muttered rolling her eyes. "But that still isn't going to stop the universe from demanding I fulfill the pact!"

Dane did not respond to that immediately, because he knew her sarcasm came from fear and desperation. Instead, he allowed her to fume, to clench and shake out the pricking hopelessness that needled at her self-control.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I'm truly sorry I don't have the answer you're looking for," he admitted, his own body language open. "But I don't agree with Alpha Cole using the pact your father sealed to abuse you."

Calico rolled her shoulders and took a few long breaths to clear the fog of her panic.

"So," she said, the gravity in her voice returned. "What do I do now?"

She didn't know a whole lot about this man; though on face value he seemed genuine about wanting to help her, she did know enough to understand speaking out against a firmly entrenched Alpha was playing with fire.

"Unless you managed to do so before your police station visit, let's find you somewhere safe to stay," he answered. "Ethan has his hand in many businesses in town so you'll want to avoid them."

Calico blinked at that. She hadn't realised she'd be that visible to him.

"Oh," she murmured, but she did feel better knowing someone had her back, even if she had to take everything he said and did with a grain of salt." I have to go back to the police station and get my stuff," she exhaled, rolling her shoulders back and holding the now cold remnants of her coffee out to him.

"You want a ride?" he offered, emptying the mug into the shrubbery. "I don't think you realise just how far you ran."

PART 3

#original fiction #werewolf #werewolf fiction #fiction #perigee #writeblr #dodge that trope!

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 2 years ago

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AI and your name

tl;dr Books are being 'written' (more accurately cobbled together) by AI and are being sold under existing human author's names on Amazon and Goodreads without their knowledge or consent.

This makes me soooo mad.

#fiction #writing #writers #authors #intellectual property #your name #scam #artificial intelligence

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 2 years ago

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Perigee Chapter 1: Corpse on the Shagpile

Once the sound of the SUV door slamming passed, none followed.

No birds.

No wind.

No whispers of the forest.

Calico inhaled a slow, full breath of mountain air, but it wasn't nearly as sweet as it should have been. Filtered light through the observing aspens patterned the overgrown path to an a-frame log cabin. It didn't feel right, smell right, but it was all hers now.

It wasn't animals, not carrion, but something was definitely putrefying.

With keys jingling at her side, Calico walked to the front of the building, steeled herself and approached the door. It was solid, secure, and through the large glass windows, the interior was immaculate - Oscar's hard-earned money at work, yet she'd known nothing about it.

Not that he'd been her problem for years.

Designer lounge, expensive fittings, warm colours, rotting corpse on the shagpile.

"Hey!" Calico barked, rapping against the two-way mirror. "I've been here four hours."

Though she knew there was at least one person on the other side, no response was forthcoming. She had already explained to the detective in charge everything she knew, but had been told to wait. Being the good citizen she was, she chose not to exercise her right to leave - since she was not being charged with a crime - but four hours was too much.

With hackles up, she went for the exit.

Before she could turn the handle, however, the door opened inward, and she narrowly dodged being hit in the face.

"Take a seat, Mrs Hollows," the man said; plain clothes, clean-cut, built like a brick shit-house.

Instantly, his presence filled the small space and threatened to smother her, an innate and powerful mien her instincts told her to be extremely wary of.

"Not a cop," she managed, forcing herself to look up and into dark blue eyes.

Everything about him told her to do as she was told, but that only made her feel more defiant.

"I've been sitting for hours," she growled, pacing away from him and then back to the centre of the room, squaring up. "In case the cops didn't tell you, I came to them with the whole dead body thing, so why am I being treated like a suspect?"

Calmly, with the restraint of a storm about to break, the man strode to the table where he waited expectantly.

"Sit," he instructed, no compromise, and the gravel in his voice scraped against Calico's patience, scraped under her skin.

And it wasn't the only thing, and he knew she knew.

Clenching her teeth, Calico kicked the chair away from the metal table and sat.

"Ethan Cole," he stated, remaining on his feet, a towering figure casting a shadow across her. "Cleaverlaw Alpha."

She's guessed as much, and as such, was not the slightest bit surprised by his behaviour or appearance. He reeked of entitlement, of arrogance, and an underlying confidence he had complete control in every situation.

But he'd never met Calico.

"Not my alpha," she declared, and was pissed that it didn't sound nearly as spiteful as she had intended.

The motion of his eyebrow was subtle, but the shift of his bearing crashed against Calico with the weight of a raging avalanche.

"Did your cowardly father teach you nothing?" he asked, but it was rhetorical.

The judgment in those eyes was demeaning.

Swallowing and forcing down the rising tumult in her stomach, Calico steeled herself against the urge to cower.

"I'm not here to talk about any of that," she said slowly. "I found a body in my late husband's cabin, so I reported it to police."

"Yes," he agreed, hands sliding into his pants pockets, at ease and yet still seeming like he might pounce at any moment. “Your human husaband.”

Rolling her eyes, Calico let out a long sigh.

"Ex-husband," she exhaled, then sat a little straighter, inching toward rising. "Now, if the police have no further questions..."

"You will do as you are told," he hissed, cracks finally forming in his impassive exterior.

"I didn't come here for a dogfight, Mr. Cole," she grated, pushing back the chair and getting to her feet. "I have an estate to settle, which I now cannot do until the small matter of a corpse is resolved, so until then, I will stay out of your way."

She stepped around the table but was stopped from moving any further by a broad hand splayed against her collarbone. It was warm, but a chill spread from Ethan's palm and spread to every part of her body.

Rage, however, quickly flushed her with heat.

"I don't care where we are," she growled, sneering and tensing her muscles in readiness. "Remove your hand, or I will break it off at the wrist."

"If you believe yourself possible of that, little McDonough," Ethan whispered, lowering his head closer to hers, his gaze, his lips and the teeth behind them a terrible peril, "you truly were taught nothing, and I intend to rectify that."

She was unexpectedly lithe for her size and not stupid when it came to violence and fighting - Ethan Cole may not have been her alpha, but that didn't mean she'd had no experience with one at all.

Her first move was to take a half step back, causing Ethan to lurch forward with the force he'd been exerting against her, and she ducked under his arm. Emerging on the other side of him, Calico reached for the inward opening door, but soon found her cheek pressed to its metal surface.

Ethan was swift, far faster than her, and the heat of his body against her back was oppressive. One hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place, and the other pulled her right arm painfully behind her.

"If you wish to fight, Calico," he breathed through her hair, tickling against the shell of her ear. "Then the whole pack deserves to enjoy your ultimate submission."

"Get the fuck off!" she barked, wriggling but unable to free herself.

A police station should have been a safe space, but they'd let Ethan in, probably called to alert him to her presence, so there was no relying on them for a rescue.

"In three days, at the New Moon," he rumbled, "you will come to Arc Lodge and submit."

"I will NOT," she snapped back but remained still.

"If you run, the police will chase," he went on, the brutality of his hold a shuddering contrast to the caress of his thumb against the soft flesh of her inner wrist. "If you evade them, the pack will hunt you down, and you will be dragged back in shame and humiliation to be thrown at my feet."

"Why?" she shrieked in utter outrage. "Why the hell do you care what I do? Why the hell does it matter?"

Calico hadn't been in Cleaver since she was three. The vaguest of memories sometimes teased at the periphery of her consciousness but left no impressions - her only ties to the place were her father, who fled, and the mother who raised her after his suicide.

"It should be enough that I tell you to," he answered, finally relaxing his grip, and though the idea of driving her elbow beneath his ribs flashed across Calico's mind, she forced herself toward calm.

"You're strong," she exhaled, biting back bile. "You clearly have money and influence and a beautiful town to live in, but just because you have these things does not give you the right to impose your will on me."

Carefully, keeping both hands on her at all times, Ethan turned her to face him.

"Keep your ridiculous pack mentality, run your little dictatorship and bask in the adoration of those who accept it, but I didn't practise in my childhood, and I don't practise now, so leave me out of it," she added.

"You were drawn here for a..." he began, but she cut him off.

"Stop seeing mystic signs where there are none," she huffed, tossing her head. "I told you, I'm here to deal with remnants of Oscar's estate; that is the only thing that brought me here, and when it's done, I will never come back here again."

"You're definitely forthright enough. I could take you at your word," he smirked, his hand sliding down her throat before falling away. "And even if you reject or disrespect old traditions, you know well enough the binding nature of a pact."

Chewing the inside of her cheek nervously, Calico turned this over, trying to figure out exactly what pact he was referring to.

"Your father..." he hinted, no longer angry or vicious, just... pleased.

"Whatever he promised, I'm not bound by that," she argued, but a creeping dread was slowly taking the place where moments ago fires had burned.

"We may look and act like humans most of the time, Calico," Ethan said, now totally back in comfortable control, "but even those who've fully integrated cannot deny some truths are equal part fact: immutable, kept and compelled whether you believe it's by a force magical in nature or some primal science we're yet to understand."

As he spoke his little spiel, he took two long, slow steps to the table and then turned to lean against it.

"My father challenged yours," he went on, matter-of-fact. "Yours lost."

"Then, by the traditions you seem to hold so dearly, he should never have made it out of Cleaver," she pointed out, but the ground beneath her was no longer as solid as it should have been.

"His life should have been forfeit, yes," Ethan agreed, then reached the punchline. "Though, there have been instances where another life, one of greater value, has been offered to pay that debt."

Calico didn't wait for him to say it.

She wrenched the door open and ran.

PART 2

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Author note: Soooo, werewolf is a new one for me, so if anyone still reads this stuff, what trope should I go with and which ones shall I break into pieces?

-B

#werewolf #werewolf fiction #original fiction #trope central #alpha #writeblr

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