drastic
overlay of lupine instinct and super senses. If guided by an Alpha
wolf, the individual survives with their personality and sanity
intact. Without an Alpha, the odds are that they’ll go insane from
the combination of pain, completely alien body and the intense
instinct to hunt and kill. But if what the brothers was telling me
was true (which would be easy to verify by looking at records or
newspapers from a month ago) than Jake was one of a tiny minority
that survived the first transition unaided and retained his human
control.
“Were you a fighter in school Jake?” I
asked.
“What? No!” he replied, confused by my change
of topic.
“He was too popular in school to have any
problems. Star receiver for the football team, popular with the
girls and everyone knew he was my kid brother,” Steve said, the
protective look on his face explaining much.
I explained what I knew about people who
underwent the change unaided; how most became rogues that had to be
killed, but that a very, very few sometimes survived largely
intact. I say largely because becoming a were was traumatic and had
to leave some marks on a psyche.
The fact that Jake was popular and neither an
aggressive sort nor someone who was bullied by others may have been
a huge factor. Throw in an extremely strong bond with his older
brother and the fact that said brother was the first human he
encountered post-Change and it could have been the right set of
circumstances for him to get through it.
“So last month you came here, right? Let me
guess, someone here at the resort saw you?” I asked.
“I guess. I don’t remember much about being a
wolf…just bits and pieces,” Jake said.
His brother was nodding, still watching me
warily. “He changed in the woods, then I think he ran for a while.
After that he either followed my scent back or just knew the way
because he was scratching at the door just before dawn. I let him
in quick, but some of the guests were up and around,” Steve
said.
“He scratched at the door to come in? And you
let him? What did he do, curl up on the floor?” I asked,
incredulous.
“Yeah, pretty much. Why?” Steve asked.
“Because it’s incredibly dangerous to be
anywhere near a new werewolf. It can take years for most bitten
weres to develop control. But two months into the whole lifestyle
and your brother is like a sheep dog!”
“He wasn’t like any dog. He was edgy and had
a look in his eyes. But I just talked to him like I always do, fed
him a steak and tried to act normal. I sat in the chair over there
–“ he pointed at a beat up arm chair, “and he finally just circled
around and laid down. Then he Changed back,” Steve said, shuddering
as he remembered it.
“You called me a bitten were? Are there born
ones?” Jake asked suddenly.
So I spent the next two hours filling them in
on the facts of supernatural life. I explained about both bitten
and natural weres, about the different species of weres, their
rules of behavior and the penalties for breaking those rules. Steve
learned about how to act around Jake when he was in wolf form,
although he had done pretty well already. How not to make eye
contact, or get angry with him or make threats. Eating immediately
after the Change (meat for the wolf and any high calorie – high
protein food for the human) would ease the pain of transition no
matter the direction of the Change.
“I’ll make an introduction to the local Pack
closest to you in Michigan,” I said, taking a big bite of the ham
sandwich Jake had whipped up. Steve wasn’t eating, just sipping a
Sam Adams and watching us devour our massive Dagwood
sandwiches.
“You eat like he does. But you’re not a
werewolf?” Steve said suddenly.
“I do and I’m not,” I said around a
mouthful.
“What are you?” Jake asked.
“No one knows. Sorta a hybrid.”
“Hybrid what?” Steve asked.
“I have some were characteristics, but most
of my attributes are closer to vampire,” I
overlay of lupine instinct and super senses. If guided by an Alpha
wolf, the individual survives with their personality and sanity
intact. Without an Alpha, the odds are that they’ll go insane from
the combination of pain, completely alien body and the intense
instinct to hunt and kill. But if what the brothers was telling me
was true (which would be easy to verify by looking at records or
newspapers from a month ago) than Jake was one of a tiny minority
that survived the first transition unaided and retained his human
control.
“Were you a fighter in school Jake?” I
asked.
“What? No!” he replied, confused by my change
of topic.
“He was too popular in school to have any
problems. Star receiver for the football team, popular with the
girls and everyone knew he was my kid brother,” Steve said, the
protective look on his face explaining much.
I explained what I knew about people who
underwent the change unaided; how most became rogues that had to be
killed, but that a very, very few sometimes survived largely
intact. I say largely because becoming a were was traumatic and had
to leave some marks on a psyche.
The fact that Jake was popular and neither an
aggressive sort nor someone who was bullied by others may have been
a huge factor. Throw in an extremely strong bond with his older
brother and the fact that said brother was the first human he
encountered post-Change and it could have been the right set of
circumstances for him to get through it.
“So last month you came here, right? Let me
guess, someone here at the resort saw you?” I asked.
“I guess. I don’t remember much about being a
wolf…just bits and pieces,” Jake said.
His brother was nodding, still watching me
warily. “He changed in the woods, then I think he ran for a while.
After that he either followed my scent back or just knew the way
because he was scratching at the door just before dawn. I let him
in quick, but some of the guests were up and around,” Steve
said.
“He scratched at the door to come in? And you
let him? What did he do, curl up on the floor?” I asked,
incredulous.
“Yeah, pretty much. Why?” Steve asked.
“Because it’s incredibly dangerous to be
anywhere near a new werewolf. It can take years for most bitten
weres to develop control. But two months into the whole lifestyle
and your brother is like a sheep dog!”
“He wasn’t like any dog. He was edgy and had
a look in his eyes. But I just talked to him like I always do, fed
him a steak and tried to act normal. I sat in the chair over there
–“ he pointed at a beat up arm chair, “and he finally just circled
around and laid down. Then he Changed back,” Steve said, shuddering
as he remembered it.
“You called me a bitten were? Are there born
ones?” Jake asked suddenly.
So I spent the next two hours filling them in
on the facts of supernatural life. I explained about both bitten
and natural weres, about the different species of weres, their
rules of behavior and the penalties for breaking those rules. Steve
learned about how to act around Jake when he was in wolf form,
although he had done pretty well already. How not to make eye
contact, or get angry with him or make threats. Eating immediately
after the Change (meat for the wolf and any high calorie – high
protein food for the human) would ease the pain of transition no
matter the direction of the Change.
“I’ll make an introduction to the local Pack
closest to you in Michigan,” I said, taking a big bite of the ham
sandwich Jake had whipped up. Steve wasn’t eating, just sipping a
Sam Adams and watching us devour our massive Dagwood
sandwiches.
“You eat like he does. But you’re not a
werewolf?” Steve said suddenly.
“I do and I’m not,” I said around a
mouthful.
“What are you?” Jake asked.
“No one knows. Sorta a hybrid.”
“Hybrid what?” Steve asked.
“I have some were characteristics, but most
of my attributes are closer to vampire,” I
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