Failine - 5. Chapter 5

There were only a dozen of people here, but it felt as if had to shake hundreds of hands. Dillon gave me a hip hop hug, that grabbing your hand and shoulder bumping thing, and called me ‘dude.’ No one had ever done this before, but being ‘encouraged’ to stay at home reduced the number of people who could do so drastically. Nonetheless, being close to Dillon, leaning against his body, smelling him again, made up for the rest of the handshakes. Some of the pack members showed me the pics they had taken. The much I loathed my human body, the much I loved my wolf form. My fur was gray with a distinctive brown tint. And Mom had been right: my paws were giant, but unlike my human hands, they fit the rest of the wolf. As a wolf, I wasn’t skinny, and the lengths of my limbs suited each other. During the transformation, I hadn’t noticed my tail, but as an excuse, there had been so many things going on that it was impossible to take in everything. I’d pay attention to the tail the next time I shifted. I was dying to watch the videos that had been taken of the transformation itself, but Dad had made clear that he wanted to proceed with the initiation.

I stood beside my dad with another cup of the Catalyst in my hand. We waited for Dillon to get undressed and to step before the pack. Strangely enough, the ants had returned. My only task was to hand over the cup. So, there was no reason to be excited in the first place, but logic seldom applied to my emotions. The door of the store room opened, and the pack members stepped aside to make way for Dillon. I almost dropped the cup. Dillon’s body was impressive when dressed, but it was breathtaking without clothes. Where my body was smooth and lacked any details, Dillon’s bristled with these. There were bumps, dents, veins, and bundles of skeins, forming muscles worthy of a Greek god. A thin line of hair led down from his navel, being his only body hair. Like me, he was cupping his privates. Why did I wish him to take his hands away? I knew the answer, of course, but it raised another question: When would the time have come to acknowledge the truth at last? I forced my eyes away from his crotch. I wondered which sport could form a body like this. The strange feeling of being watched made me turn to my dad. He was indeed looking at me and didn’t have to say a word: he was asking himself why this wasn’t my body. Dad had always been an athlete, and for heaven’s sake, he had tried to make me one as well. He had failed. My way of defiance.

Dad turned to Dillon again. “Tonight, you will meet the wolf.”

“The wolf,” I said with the pack.

“Sharing your first transformation with us forges the bond.”

“The bond.”

“Skin-clad you stepped before us, Dillon Goddard, and so I ask you: do you wish to join this pack of your own will? Do you submit to its rules? Do you vow loyalty?”

“My answer is the threefold yes.”

Whether his answer was more truthful than mine?

“Does anyone object to his request?”

I certainly didn’t.

“Proof to this pack that you are worthy, and the pack will welcome you as one of its own. Your test will be the Agony.”

“The Agony.”

“Do you accept the pack’s challenge?”

“I obey the will of the pack.”

From someone like Dillon, such a pledge of allegiance meant something.

“Then, from its humblest member, receive the Catalyst.”

I stepped forward and extended my hand. With no clothes to cover him, his smell was even more intense. I felt a stir in my boxers. Not now! I stared at the Catalyst in my hand and tried to concentrate on its pungent stench. With the scent came the memory of the pain, ending the uprising down low. He took the cup from me, and the smile he gave me almost broke my fragile control again. Smiling back at him, I stepped out of the cloud of Dillon pheromones.

When he raised the cup to his lips, his brows furrowed. It took some effort to drink something that smelled like the Catalyst, but Dillon closed his eyes and chugged it down.

“Pain lures the wolf. Give in to its call.”

“Give in to its call.”

In my memory, the time between drinking and the beginning of the pain had felt like quite a stretch, but Dillon bent forward the moment he swallowed the green concoction. He dropped the cup and went down onto his knees, flashing his privates. Even down there, his built was superior to mine. This wasn’t envy, only admiration. In slow motion, he fell over to the side, pulling his knees to his body like a fetus. Fur, having the same sandy color as his hair, grew all over his body. It reminded me of watching a time-lapse video of grass growing. His fur was short, at least shorter than mine. Then, his arms and legs converged in form and length, looking like copies of each other. They were different from what my paws and legs had been like. His face elongated, but the process stopped half-way and the resulting shape was too short to form the muzzle of a wolf. Something was wrong. Though the transformation wasn’t finished yet, one thing was clear: Dillon wouldn’t shift into a wolf. I looked around. The other pack members had come to the same conclusion. Their mouths gaped open, or they had clapped their hands over them. Some had taken a step away from Dillon. I faced my dad. Like the others, he stared at the writhing thing Dillon was changing into.

Dad said a single word. “Failine.”

The word spread around the room, repeated by the pack like an eerie canon.

The transformation was over. I had seen this animal in the zoo when I was a kid, but we had spent much more time with the wolves, of course. It was a cougar. Dillon was smaller than me as a wolf, more slender, and with green eyes, changing to amber at the rim. Like me, he hadn’t uttered a peep during the transformation, but now a rhythmic choking sound escaped his throat. His flanks contracted, and he spew out green foam. Something in the wolf’s digestive system neutralized the Catalyst, but this obviously didn’t work for cougars. He went slack, breathing in rapid gasps, eyes closed.

A commotion went through the pack. I looked up from Dillon. My dad had torn his clothes off and shifted. Other pack members followed, Dillon’s father being one of them. They pounced closer and circled around Dillon, snarling and baring their teeth. My instincts made me take a step back. Why were they doing this? It was Dillon, not some random feline shifter. The person didn’t change as Mom had told us. Apart from this, Dillon wasn’t in the shape to harm anyone, even if he wanted to.

This madness had to stop. “Leave him alo…”

“Eli!”

I spun around. Jamie! He was standing beside the pile of Mom’s clothes. She must have shifted as well, leaving him where he was. Jamie was sobbing, tears coursed down his cheeks, and he pressed Mr. Hoppypop close. If there was a fight, it’d be too dangerous for him in here, not speaking about the things he’d see. I dashed forward and grabbed him under his arms. Pulling him up, I turned around and ran for the door. With Jamie’s head buried in my chest, he wouldn’t have to witness what was going on behind us. As I turned the door handle, the high pitched scream of a cougar, Dillon’s scream, boomed in my ears. This was more painful than everything the Catalyst had done to me. I stopped cold. Jamie’s fingers cramped, sinking into my flesh. He couldn’t bear this either. I yanked open the door and bolted out into the night.

Protecting my little brother meant leaving behind Dillon. If a man had to make decisions like this, I wasn’t prepared to be one.