All Creatures - 3. Chapter 3

“What do you mean, you don’t want to talk about it?” Ally yells over the stereo from the next room over. “I called you three times last night and you didn’t answer once! That is the signs of either an awesome night or an epic fail. Either way, I want to know the details!”

I close up the box of books I have just finished filling and walk into Ally’s bedroom to find her holding up a blue micro skirt to her body in front of the mirror, with a look of disgust. “Do you see what vet school did to me? Remember when I could wear this?” She tosses the skirt on top of a growing pile of clothes destined for Goodwill. I briefly wonder if the charitable organization would allow such a thing to be sold in their stores, before Ally’s raised eyebrow brings me back to the present.

“You look beautiful, Alls.”

“Yeah, and your date went…..” Ally lets the last word drag on as she waits for me to fill in the blank.

I sigh as I sit on the bare mattress of her bed. “It was nice, I had fun, and I’m seeing him again tonight. That's all you need to know.”

“But I always tell you about my dates!” Ally whines.

I can’t help the chuckle that falls from my lips. “And how many times have I actually asked you for this information? I swear, you gossip more than a teenager!”

Ally plops on the bed next to me and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Please?”

“No, Alls. Let’s finish up so we can grab an early dinner before your dad gets here with the truck.” I am already out of the room and turning up the music before I finish the sentence. That effectively stops any more questioning for the next hour or so.

After a quick meal of fried chicken fingers, fries, and ‘special sauce’, I help load Ally’s few possessions into a U-Haul. My chest aches and the lump in my throat threatens to steal my breath as I grip Ally in a tight hug. After a quick kiss on the forehead I help her into her car and wipe the tears from my cheeks as I wave my best friend out of town. She is starting work in a week in a town about twenty minutes from where my new job is located. I’ll see her again in a month and we’ll talk every day. Yet I still feel as if this is the end of ‘us’. No more late night studying binges, no more Duck dates, no more frat boys puking on dance floors. We are now grown up and moving on.

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Eight o’clock finds me standing on the same beautiful front porch as the previous night. After knocking, the door opens to show a stunning sight. Bill stands in the doorway in blue and orange basketball shorts with his chiseled pale chest glowing in the moon light. Normally, I would say orange should never be worn by one with skin the color of Bill’s, but that man could make granny panties look sinful. Plus the shorts happened to be sporting the logo of my alma mater. Ten points for Bill!

After soaking in the image and readjusting the resulting tightness of my jeans, I manage to pull my eyes up to Bill’s face. Behind the obvious smirk at catching me ogling, is a look of exhaustion. Just as I am about to remark on this, Bob yanks me off balance as he rushes to see his owner. After letting go of the leash, Bill allows the sixty pound dog to leap into the air into his waiting arms.

Well, that was fucking impressive!

I follow Bill and Bob into the house and just as I turn from shutting the door behind me, I feel the presence of hands on my hips, pushing me back against the door. Looking up, I am lost in clear, spring blue eyes. As Bills lips close softly over mine, a small whimper escapes my lips.

A grown ass man is whimpering at a kiss!

My dad would be so pissed to hear me whimpering like a child. I can almost hear his voice reverberating in my skull. ‘Act like a man, Mike! Men don’t whimper and whine, babies whimper and whine. Are you a baby, Mike?’ Of course, the fact that it was a kiss with another man that set off the whimper in the first place would have had my father slinging versus from the Book of Leviticus at us both.

Bill’s tongue lightly dances over my bottom lip and then delves in for deeper exploration when I part my lips with a sigh. This man was an expert at kissing. My only rational thoughts, outside the feel of him next to me, are used up to remain standing. As the kiss ends, Bill rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

“Hi” I say weakly.

Well that was a great example of your vast lexicon of words, Mike.

Bill's eyes open, shining with mirth. “Hello, handsome. I’m sorry I wasn’t around this morning. You’ll find that I am often called away during the day. And actually, it turns out tonight is not such a great night either.”

“Oh.” I feel a stab of disappointment. I didn’t realize how much I had built tonight up. All day I had fabricated fantasies of what tonight could hold. Replays of some of my favorite moments from last night with a few extra, probably impossibly acrobatic, moves thrown into the mix.

Bill graces me with a smile that promises wicked things to those who wait. “Rain check for tomorrow?”

“I might have to check my calendar. I have to clean the house, watch the grass grow, and I should probably wash my hair.” I tease with a grin. Bill cuts off anymore mocking from me as he grabs me for another time stopping kiss.

We are interrupted by a knock on the front door. Bill freezes with his eyes glued to the white washed wood of the door.

“Oh shit, not yet.” Bill looks around, slightly panicked, while I study him with increasing confusion. “Mike, I need you to do something for me, and I need you to not ask any questions right now, there is no time for them. Go up to my room and stay there. Don’t come down, don’t try and leave the house, just stay there till I come get you. This is important, do you understand?”

No, no I do not understand.

Even as I think this, I nod my head and stumble toward the bedroom we shared last night. What the hell just happened?

After about two minutes of sitting in the quiet room, I reason it is my right to occupy my time by snooping in all the drawers of the bedroom. No explanation for his odd request obviously equals an invitation for the invasion of his privacy, right? I find a vast collection of vibrators, butt plugs and restraints in the top drawer of the dresser, along with the required lube and condoms kept conveniently in the bedside table, as well as a few BDSM magazines under the bed. Other than that, everything is pretty standard for a bedroom.

After flipping through all the magazines, and finding a few pages to reference later, I realize I have wasted about an hour. Still no Bill.

Well this is just bullshit! Bill is probably entertaining another co-ed downstairs. I don’t need or deserve this treatment!

I slip on my shoes and open the bedroom door, intending to storm out of the house. Just then, the sound of a hundred angry elephants reverberates up the stairwell from the den, stopping me in my tracks. Something about the cacophony of sound coming from below sets off every alarm in my head telling me to turn tail and run until I can find a cave to hide in.

Instead, I quietly toe my way down the stairs, closer to the origin of the sound.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. What the hell are you doing! This is the number one, stupidest idea you have ever had, Mike. Ever!

I stop at the bottom of the stairs, out of the line of sight of the den, but within hearing distance of the action.

Three men are in a heated argument about something. I think the topic is what the current course of action should be over some transgression. Bill and another smooth voice occasionally interject to calm the three men.

“You said that last time!” says a rich tenor.

“And look what is happening now. This is worse than any other incidence. My wife won’t leave the house, we had to pull the kids from school. What the hell are you going to do about this? It is time for action!” This man has obviously been a pack a day smoker since he hit puberty. His voice is gravely and I assume the man will soon be hooked to an oxygen tank if he is not already.

“Jim, we know you are worried, and you have a right to be. But we cannot raid the place without a proper investigation. Be patient, please.” This was the smooth talker; I don’t think butter would melt in that mouth. He would be a good choice to record a bedtime story for children.

So, Jim must be my smoker.

“This is bullshit! If you won’t stop this shit, we will take matters into our own hands. We don’t need y’all. We have never needed y’all. It is time we take care of ourselves!” With a slight crack in the voice at the end of the sentence, I imaged a pubescent boy with bigger cojones than brains.

“That’s enough!” Bill's voice is commanding, jerking me out of my reverie and making me inch toward the doorway leading into the room housing the men. “You will do no such thing. Sit down, Sean. Now, let’s finish discussing all the facts we know and come up with a plan in a civilized manner. Scott, please continue where you left off.”

By this point I can see the room is a lot fuller than I originally imagined. There must be twenty-five men and women packed into the room and I can smell the stink of too many human bodies from here. Bill stands in the front, facing the door where I am hiding.

“Bill, I believe your lamb is loose.” The speaker is the story-time voice and there is laughter in his words. He is short, probably around my height, with curly black hair, sitting straight in his chair, as if modeling for an etiquette book. His back is toward the doorway. His words confuse me, as they don’t fit with the tone of the previous conversation.

It is then that I note Bill eyes are flashing on me with a look of anger mixed with acceptance.

“Well, come on in Mike. You might as well meet the gang.”

As I take the last step into the room, all eyes turn in my direction. Heat floods my face and my stomach feels as if there is a ten pound ball sitting in there. The looks in the faces around me range from disgust to open curiosity.

After quick introductions around the room, I sit next to the person with the only name I remember. Story-time voice, otherwise called Stephen. As I sit, I catch Bill shoot Stephen a look of warning and possessiveness. Usually one to bristle at such actions of possession, I am surprised to find myself smiling at the gesture.

The next hour and half is spent with tales that make no sense to me peppered with the occasional outburst by Jim and Sean. At the conclusion of the meeting, everyone files out of the house with grumbles and half heard curses on Bill, his family, and all he holds dear. When only Stephen, Bill, and I are left in the house, we retire to the kitchen, where Bill prepares me a sandwich.

Stephen sits at the bar, crossing his right leg over his left. “Well I think that went well.” Even I can hear the sarcasm drip from his words.

Bill replies as he watches me devour the ham and cheese. “You realize that we are going to have to fight this time don’t you.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You and I will, of course, be fine. Whoever is left of their pack at the end of it will be glad it is over, and there will be peace restored.” Stephen is looking under his nails and seems uninterested in the subject.

“Pack? Are they like a biker gang or something? I didn’t know we had those sorts of things around here.” I speak around my last bite, earning me a raised brow from both men.

Stephen looked at Bill. “You haven’t told him?” After a quick shake of Bill’s head, he continued. “Well, in that case, I assume you have a long night ahead of you. Good luck with that one!” With this, he hops off the stool and exits the house.

I look at Bill expectantly. He sighs “Come on Beautiful, we have a lot to talk about.”

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What the fuck? This cannot be real! Werewolves, rival packs, and vampires? Here? In small town, middle of a cow field, nowhere USA? No, uh-huh, no way. I’m going to go pinch myself, I’ll wake up, call Ally, and we will laugh about this.

“Ouch!”

Shit! Shitty-shit-shit-shit! This is real!

I left Bill’s house around two thirty this morning in a daze. He asked me to stay over, but I couldn’t. Too much was playing through my mind. Chiefly, this is crazy. He is crazy and I am bat-shit crazy for listening to it.

After the mini panic attack in my apartment I grab my bottle of Jack from above the fridge and sink into the lumpy couch in my den.

How did this happen? How, in twenty-four hours, have I gone from living in a normal boring world, to living in one filled with all the things that go bump in the night.

I take a long swig of the Jack. After the involuntary grimace as the amber liquid burns my mouth and down my throat, I set the bottle on the cheap TV tray next to the couch, lean my head back on the cushion, and close my eyes. I wait till I feel the familiar haze settle over my mind and extremities. Relaxing into the disconnect brought to me by my favorite liquor, I slowly open my eyes.

Let’s take this in pieces. Bill and Stephen have pointy canines occasionally in their everyday life. That is kind of like a cat, I can handle that. They cannot go into the sunlight and therefore tend to sleep during the day and work at night. They are like 3^rd shift workers, that makes sense. Their bodies do not age and they will not contract any diseases. As a scientist, I find that idea amazingly intriguing! They do not eat, they drink mammalian blood. Okay, that is my limit on weird.

I take a longer pull of whiskey this time around.

Let’s move away from the blood thing for now. The others I met today are werewolves. Shit!

One more small pull from the bottle. It’s going down a lot easier now. That's always my first sign of inebriation.

The others have a genetic mutation that is not communicable but passed through gene lines. Alright, semantics, but I can handle that. They also can occasionally have pointy canines. Okay with me. There is no pull of the lunar cycle that forces this change on them, it is a free will choice to make by each individual. That is convenient. They are completely sentient in all forms. Good for the rest of us. They are strong in their human form, but stronger in their animal form. Jesus H. Christ!

I can’t do this!

I guzzle the rest of the bottle in one go. Falling back on the couch, I let the empty bottle slip from my fingers to the threadbare carpet below. Watching the ceiling spin and sway, I drift into a dreamless sleep.