Canaan Club - 13. Chapter 13

They had walked into pandemonium.

Like most parties, it was loud, the deafening beat of the music shaking the entire basement, which was as wide and long as a supermarket. The goers were already at it, dancing, drinking, and making a fool of themselves without a care in the world. It was madness under the colorful strobe lights.

However, the most outrageous thing that entrapped the first-years wasn’t the sheer chaos, but the blatant debauchery happening right in front of them. On one side, a lizard girl lay on a table with only two legs, kept balanced by a shirtless, massively built gray-skinned guy as he leaned close and snorted some purple, grainy substance from her stomach. On another end, a couple of humanoid female twins knelt before a groaning tiger shifter, lapping and bobbing at his naked, striped crotch. Some ways past that were several chimeras sharing a gravity bong while watching hardcore porn on a dusty flat screen.

“What the hell did we just walk into?” Joe gaped, his jaw near the floor.

Lindsay was unaffected by the scenes. In fact, there was a tiny evil grin on her face as she watched the trio’s reactions. “Oh, just an annual party to start the new school year off. Nothing big. Remember, this has nothing on the festivities that go on during the year. Your virgin eyes haven’t lost their innocence yet.”

Before she could say anymore, a cheer went up somewhere in the crowd, and their eyes found an excited audience watching as a redcap thrust away into a gorgeous dryad, singing out a perfectly pitched moan while the short, ugly-faced goblin grunted alongside his fierce hammering.

“Oh, jeez…” Andre, who had the tamest of reactions, looked away with a red face.

“So, do students just come here to…” Rafe swallowed his glanced back at the live decadence, “get doped up and fuck in front of others?”

Lindsay shrugged so nonchalantly that it was a bit difficult to understand that she was still only a second-year. “Really, you could do that in your dorm room if you so wished. But if you do it in the out and open, you get cool points and will be revered in the eyes of your peers.”

Rafe, noticing his omé friend’s “more-confused-than-stunned” expression, narrowed his silver eyes at him in question.

“You don’t look too shocked by this. Why?”

It was Andre’s turn to shrug. “Honestly, it’s not that surprising to me. It’s… something, yeah, but this type of thing happens at Graybite all the time. In fact, it’s a thing for wolves to fornicate in open settings. I’ve never participated, but I definitely see it on some days when I’m passing by.”

While Rafe could only stare at him, Joe whistled and shook his head. “Well, damn. Invite me next time, bro.”

“I don’t think I see any other first-years,” the wolf’s eyes carefully flitted across the throng of what he assumed were students. “Are we even allowed to be here?”

The Hermes superhuman could almost feel the other two’s desire to leave. When he spun back to the people, there were a few who stood and observed the first-years, either blankly, like pieces of meat, or like bugs to be squashed.

No. There was no turning back now.

“Screw that!” he ground out. “Everyone’s looking at us, anyway. We need to make a good impression, and turning tail right now is a sure-fire way of getting out asses kicked in the middle of the night.”

Rafe began marching forth, angry, straight-backed, and determined. “So, if you don’t mind me…”

“Rafe, wait!” Andre took a hesitant step forward, but he was pulled back as Lindsay latched onto his and Joe’s arms, taking them to the more secluded spaces of the basement.

“Let’s go find a table,” she said. “We look like babes in a forest full of monsters just standing around.”

Andre glimpsed back to spot Rafe, but the blond had seemingly vanished into the swarm and depravity. When he faced forward, his sights caught a group of still, seated individuals in the dark corner of the basement, the majority of their cold glares scouring the party crowd, but a few were directed right at him.

Andre shivered, knowing exactly the type of people shooting daggers his way.

Hunters.

All human and bitter because of the diversity of creatures surrounding them. Why were they even enrolled here? Why did Mr. Gylarcan even let them in?

“I see you’ve noticed the hunters,” Lindsay glanced at the omé as they strode toward one particular table. "I think they show up for formalities’ sake, but sometimes, I don’t even know why they bother.”

“Are they usually so dark and mysterious over in the corner there?” Joe asked as he took a look.

“Most of the time. Some of the guys in their group aren’t so anal about having fun but try socializing with the rest of ‘em and all that you’ll get is a good staredown and a downed mood.”

Andre was about to probe for more answers, but before he could, a strong scent suddenly overrode the clashing odors of the underground rave. An alpha was in their midst, and up ahead, he recognized the high-class wolf sprawled in his seat at a round table of his packmates, drinking from a bottle of blue liquid as he gazed lazily out into the dazzling lights.

“Hey! There’s-”

“Cain Aspen!” Lindsay’s tone swiftly shifted to irritation as they stopped in front of the alpha wolf. “You have a lot to answer to, mister!”

Andre tensed, pursing his lips hard.

It was ruled as insubordination to speak to the alpha or another higher-up like that, the wayward tribe member rewarded with either a painful beating or instant death. Sometimes, more grievous offenses afforded long, agonizing endings.

However, to the omé’s surprise, Cain just leaned back and laughed heartily along with his packmates, muscular arms wide open as if gesturing for a hug. “Ah, hey, Lindigo! What’s goin’ on with you, girl?”

The blue-haired mage crossed her arms and glowered. “Don’t do that! Do you mind taking a look around you and take a count of your teammates for me?”

“Um…” the blond alpha blinked, his whites around his lavender eyes red and slightly unfocused, “everybody’s… everybody seems t’ be here an’ present. Just tryin’ t’ have a good time an’-”

Then, his face fell in realization.

“Aw, shit.”

“’Aw, shit’ is right,” Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Your pet wolf Zoel was off his leash again.”

Sat beside Cain was a plump, azure-eyed guy with spiky, white hair in only pink swimming trunks. Drawing his attention away from swapping spit with the slim brunette girl on his lap, he cast a cool gaze at the second-year mage.

“You gonna be a wet blanket over here all night, Linny, because if so, there’s a whole group of ‘em in the corner right over there,” he indicated toward the assembly of hunters, still sullen and quiet.

“Make like a tree and fuck off, Pegapo. You can turn into one of those, right?”

Pegapo, a kelpie shifter, just huffed and continued his make-out session. If Rafe were here, he’d scoff in disgust.

“He just wants a mate, Lin. Give ‘im a chance,” Cain slurred, his southern accent becoming more pronounced the more he drained his weird beverage.

“Once again, I’m fourteen,” she grimaced as the three took a seat at the table.

“Oh. You’re right,” he winced, glancing at Lindsay apologetically. “Sorry, babe. I’ll take care of ‘im. Don’t you worry.”

“I better not be asking for the fiftieth time, Cain.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a salute, he gulped down the last of his drink before turning his sights to Joe and Andre. “Now, who’re your friends? By th’ looks of their lost-little-lambs expressions, they’ve just popped their Ironward party cherry.”

Andre instinctively looked down, keeping himself from staring directly at the alpha. It was seen as future mutiny to maintain eye contact with one’s betters.

“Yup. Cain, meet Andre and Joe Sloane,” Lindsay pointed them out respectively. “Joe and Andre, meet Cain Aspen. There’s a third one somewhere in the crowd, too. I’ll introduce him when he comes back.”

“What’s up, man?” Joe nodded at Cain, and Andre waved shyly.

Cain reciprocated. “Gentlemen. Welcome to your first Ironward party. This my Argo pack,” he gestured to the wolves sitting around him, introducing them one by one, even though Andre was sure to forget them a second later. “I hope all this ain’t scarin’ you too bad.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” Andre shrugged. “It was like this back in my tribe all the time.”

“Ain’t that so? You have an omé scent. What tribe are you from, pup?”

“The Graybite Tribe, sir,” the omega looked down at the wood, twiddling his fingers nervously.

“Graybite, eh?” Cain examined the younger wolf closely. “We hail from Warfang.”

Andre inspected the blond alpha’s packmates. He’s heard of the Warfang tribe in passing, one of twelve tribes in the Northern Claw Nation and just as powerful as Graybite. The tribes weren’t exactly close by each other, their territories spanning acres and acres of land. Although, from time to time, he’s heard some not-so-unsavory things from his tribemates, like how the Warfang alpha was getting soft, raising a family of pansies.

This pack – a smaller batch of wolves that hang around each other, similar to a clique – was pretty sizable for one. And with such a strong, dominant, and commanding scent, Cain seemed like the farthest thing from a pansy.

“The top dogs,” one female pack he believed was named Jara member snorted. “What’s Renkin doing sending you guys to an out-of-sight place like this?”

Another, probably called Daki, grinned, baring a small fang at Andre. “Yeah. I heard he’s a real control freak of an alpha.”

“Let’s get you guys some drinks and relax,” Cain promptly spoke up, not facing the first-years. “Choose your poison.”

Joe peered at Andre. “Well, I don’t really know. We haven’t been here long enough to have one.”

“Here!” Lindsay swiped a finger, and green sparkles glimmered before converging to become a tri-fold menu.

Joe and Andre surveyed the set of choices on the list – Mad Drop. Unholy Blaze. Centaur’s Wacker? None of these sounded familiar.

“Look at it an’ choose what looks good,” Cain told them.

“I’m not sure,” the younger wolf brushed his shoulders anxiously. “I’m… not really a drinker.”

Just then, a slender, tawny-brown noirette gently placed his soft hands on Andre’s shoulders, leaning down into his left ear and whispering in a smooth, soft voice. “Aw, don’t worry, baby wolf. Just try one. Newcomers usually start off with the soft stuff but always go hard later in the night.”

That was Wesan, the packmate Cain had mentioned was an actual succubus, which was most definitely strange but not all-around uncommon. He was one of the… “tension relievers” for the group. Considering he was only in jean shorts, revealing a partly sweaty chest, he might have gone a few rounds.

It was more the touch than the innuendo that made Andre flush even more. “Well… I’m not… it’s…”

“It’s alright. Nobody’s gonna say anythin’ over here, pup. Eat, sleep, an’ fuck if you want,” he reached over across the table and snatched a half-empty bottle from one of his packmates, much to their protests. “Do they treat you right in Graybite, omega?”

Andre was caught off guard by the question. Usually, it was “we treat you right, don’t we, omega?”

“Oh, uh, y-yeah. Alpha Renkin’s good to me. I mean, we don’t exactly have the best living conditions over there, but we take what we can get and, most times, it’s enough.”

Cain shook his head as if he was a little displeased with the answer. “I didn’t hear more than enough, so I’m gonna go with no.”

“It’s… not that bad,” Andre defended weakly, but in some corner of his heart, there was a tad of elation and relief.

Concern. Genuine concern from a higher-up. Now, he was curious about how things were run in Warfang.

“That Renkin!” An Argo packmate sneered as he slammed his bottle upon the table. “Bastard is causing such a ruckus with all the tribes lately. I never liked him.”

A few others hummed in agreement. “Nobody likes him. He’s a fucking fraud and he thinks he’s got everyone fooled.”

“What do you mean?” Andre questioned, the statement catching his 50attention.

“You don’t know?” a curly-haired male packmate blinked.

“Rumors have it that his highness is shackin’ up with Kynarross Thunder,” Cain explained. “A big, ol’ criminal organization in the shadows. Like the mafia but for dragons. I don’t exactly know why, but even if they’re just speculations, it’s makin’ the rest of us plebians look like suck-ups.”

“More like race traitors,” a packmate stared at Andre as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Does he not tell you guys anything?”

“Don’t antagonize ‘im. He’s an omé. Of course, he wouldn’t tell him anything,” the Argo alpha fully turned to the omé, his face still and his gaze searing deep into Andre’s soul. The younger wolf had to hold back a shiver. “Now, Andre, holler if this hits close t’ home. Have you heard any talk of plantations? Where members of different tribes are being kidnapped an’ sent to t’ work while Graybite and Kynarross profit off their free work?”

Andre balked in horror. None of that could be true! Alpha Renkin was many things, but being some kind of slaveholder? Strict, intimidating, and intolerable of disobedience he was, but he wasn’t outright insane.

Right?

“Th-That’s… That’s horrible!” Andre stammered. “N-No! I haven’t heard anything like that. I don’t… I don’t believe it. Although…”

Cain promptly blew out a breath, his expression shuttering before he had another swig. “Shit. My bad. You’re supposed t’ be relaxin’, and here I am gettin’ you all choked. Sorry, pup.”

“If that’s true, then I apo-”

“Nope,” Cain cut him off instantly. “Not your fault, omega. Don’t let your alpha’s mistakes fall back on you. He’s the alpha for a reason. Shit. Talkin’ about Renkin’s got me all worked up. And not in a good way.”

“Want me to help you unload, C?” Wesan saddled up next to him.

Cain wrapped an arm around the succubus’ lean shoulders, a drunken smirk splitting his face. “You might not be enough this time, Wesan. It’s heavy baggage this time.”

The half-demon buried himself further into the alpha’s side, nose sniffing at his thick neck. “I’m sure I can handle it, but whatever you say.”

A girl in a frilly white skirt shot up from her seat and flounced over to him, going to Cain’s other side. “I can help!”

“You two enjoy your night,” the blond wolf got up from his chair, his big arms around his packmates. “Find your place in this school alright. Lins’ll help you out, won’t you, baby girl?”

Lindsay, who had been silently listening in, rolled her eyes without bothering to look at him. “Not because you asked me.”

“Atta girl!” he spun to address his pack. “We leave when I get back!”

“Don’t work them over too hard,” one of them said. “I wanna go before I conk out.”

And then they were gone within the crowd, partygoers moving out of the way as if Cain was a well-respected king. Supposedly, he was being a pack leader, a tribe alpha, the breadwinner of a famous sport, and a seemingly cool guy.

Andre and Joe finally got their drinks, the blue beverage Cain had been initially drinking for the former and some gunmetal concoction called “Noah Ark’s Bathwater” or N.A.B for short. The name left a lot to be desired, but Joe mentioned that it tasted a bit like coke.

Half an hour later, Rafe still hadn’t returned from his venture to wherever the hell he went. Now worried out of his mind, Andre pushed the remaining three-fourths of his drink away and tapped Joe, who was speaking to one of Cain’s female packmates, on the shoulder.

“Hey, dude. I’m gonna go and find Rafe. With crowds like these, someone’s bound to get punched in the face.”

The noirette superhuman just peace signed his approval before returning his attention to the girl. With that done, Andre stepped away and cautiously trudged towards the masses. Even though it’s certainly been a while since the party had started, the horde was still going at it, dancing and fornicating as if it all just began a couple of minutes ago.

His mouth began to dry as he absorbed the size of the mob. If this was Graybite, it would have been a lot easier to take the next few steps, being it familiar territory and all. But everywhere else, Rafe was always by his side, shrouding himself in his superhuman friend’s sphere of fearlessness and fortitude.

Now, he was alone. And he didn’t know where to start looking for that well of courageousness.

That is until the throng abruptly began heading to the right as if something was calling them in that direction.

“…first-years are starting the first spat this year,” Andre heard a snippet of a couple of passersby’s conversation.

He wasn’t able to see what the audience was bearing witness to, so he hurried forth until he saw a protruding bar cabinet against the wall, where the others must have gotten their drinks. Due to his size, he was able to slither past the others, dodging unconscious bodies and strange puddles, and leap eight feet into the air and onto the topside of the cabinet. From there, he could make out most of the basement.

But when he turned to the impending quarrel, he blanched, instantly recognizing one of the aggressors.

Circling each other, both looking ready to pounce and tear the other to shreds, was that one barbarian kid with the wooden club, trailing along behind his group like he was about to be left behind, and…

…Rafe.

A dull-eyed, slouched, and obviously inebriated Rafe.