Demon and the Fox - 18. A Hunter's Revenge

His head was like a thick foggy cloud. Thinking hurt, so he didn’t think. Instead he listened.

“What if they figure it out? What if you lose your job?” A masculine voice said. It sounded mature. The voice of a man in his forties.

“They don’t care,” said another. This second voice was male also, but a lot more youthful. “They have enough things to worry about.”

“We can’t afford this apartment with just the twins’ salary,” the older voice said.

“I won’t lose my job. No one saw me, and even if they did. This kid has no ID. No one’s looking for him. It’s not like anyone was rushing in to pay for the hospital bill, Mike. They’d just about forgotten him on some stretcher in the hallway.”

Were they talking about him? He wondered. He did feel like he should be in a hospital right now. His body felt like a heavy bundle of sore muscles and bruised skin.

He cracked one eye open, and saw that he was crammed in some kind of cage. Actually, it looked like a big dog wire crate. Why would someone put him there? What was going on? He tried to sit up straight, but there wasn’t enough room. He had to stay rolled up on himself. Every muscle protested as he tried to move, and he let out a moan before he could stop himself.

The lights hurt his eyes, and his throat felt so dry. Oh, God. He was so thirsty. Now that he was aware of this, he couldn’t think of anything else. He needed water so badly.

Two people came in the room to gaze down at him. The ones that had been talking just now. He recognized their voices.

“Looks like he’s awake,” said a forty-something man with shaggy brown hair and glasses. He wore a tank top that revealed tattoo sleeves. Designs of guns, knives, skull heads, broken hearts and black roses covered his sinewy arms.

“About time. What’s your name?” the other one asked. He looked like he was around twenty years old. He had short-cropped black hair and narrow blue eyes, set deep under thick eyebrows. He wore loose jeans and a Ghostbusters t-shirt.

He shifted uneasily in his crate, craning his neck to glance around the room. He saw a worn-out three-seat sofa and a pair of mismatched winged leather chairs facing a TV. They had an exercise bike machine in one corner, a dying fern plant in another. The fading daylight spilled in through pale wooden blinds. He narrowed his eyes and glimpsed a flower shop and a haircutting salon across the street. Both shops looked very modest and flanked a two-story brown brick apartment building with white framed windows. He didn’t recognize his surroundings at all. He brought his attention back to the two men staring him down. He tried to swallow but his throat was like sand paper. He tried to speak but no words came out.

“Maybe it helps if we introduce ourselves first,” said the tattooed guy. “My name is Michael, and this,” he pointed at the Ghostbusters t-shirt guy, “is Jared.”

“What’s your name?” Jared asked again.

When he got no answer, Michael sighed. “Look, we’re werewolf hunters. My friend Jared here is a male nurse and—”

Jared cut in, “You don’t have to add ‘male’ in front of it. I think it’s pretty obvious I’m male. Men can be nurses too. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Anyway,” Michael crossed his tattooed arms over his broad chest, “someone dumped you at the hospital the morning after the Full Moon, and, well. You’re covered in wolf bites.”

“Werewolf bites,” Jared specified.

Hesitant fingers clung to the crate’s thin wires as he sat up as straight as possible and looked down at himself. They had put him in ill-fitting jeans and t-shirt. He did see bite wounds on his arms, and the sight made him wince. No bandages covered them up, and those looked infected. Nausea overwhelmed him all of a sudden, and if he had any food in his stomach, he would have thrown it up for sure.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Michael said, “but it’s like this. Either those bites kill you, or they change you into a werewolf on the next Full Moon. The only reason we’re keeping you alive right now is we were hoping you could give us some information on who—or what—did this to you.”

They call this keeping me alive?

A door barged open then.

“Leftovers are here!” A feminine voice exclaimed.

The smell of greasy diner food filled the apartment.

He couldn’t see the hall or kitchen from where he was, but he heard the sounds of two pairs of high heel shoes stomping about, keys and purses being dropped, and plastic bags and food cartons tossed on a counter.

“Guys?” the same voice called.

“The kid’s awake,” Jared announced without taking his eyes off the crate.

Two red-headed girls rushed in the living room. They wore blue and white waitress uniforms with name tags on their blouses. Valerie and Kim.

“Is he hungry?” Valerie asked.

“Honestly,” Kim said, “I’m surprised he’s alive.”

They were clearly twins: same graceful, lean built, same freckles, green-brown eyes, and curly red locks. Kim had bangs and a lip piercing, but that was pretty much the only way of differentiating them.

Jared and Kim moved toward one another and stood close in a silent agreement. Their hands were almost touching. It looked like they were a couple.

“He’s not a talker,” Michael said, and that seemed to give Valerie an idea.

She went to the kitchen, and came back with a tall glass of water.

At least one of them is trying to keep me alive.

“He’s probably really dehydrated,” Valerie said as she came to sit in between a winged leather chair and the crate. “I mean, when was the Full Moon?” She glanced out the window at the fading daylight. “Three nights ago?”

Three nights. He’d been unconscious for all that time?

The others told Valerie to be careful, but she waved them off. She opened the crate, gave him the glass of water, and closed it again. She was right to wave them off, because he didn’t have enough strength to even think of escaping. He just wanted that water.

He drank it too quickly at first, and his throat protested. He coughed some of it out. Then he tried again, slower. And that worked out better. That water was the best thing ever.

Valerie had gone back to standing with the others.

“Are you gonna tell us your name now?” Jared asked.

An unsettling feeling rattled him deep inside.

“I don’t know,” he uttered in a low, hoarse voice.

Jared stared with narrow blue eyes. “You don’t know your own name?”

He was on the verge of crying. He realized his fingers were shaking as he clung to the half-empty glass of water like his life depended on it.

“I don’t know anything,” he whispered.

The four of them stepped a little closer, and he winced.

“What did you say?” Jared’s tone was threatening. Kim took his arm and held it in a soothing manner, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Speak up, kid,” Michael added. “This is important. You’ve got to tell us everything you know. Where you come from. Where exactly this happened to you. A description of the wolf that did this to you, as detailed as possible, and—”

“I don’t know anything! I don’t remember anything.”

They all looked startled, exchanging glances with one another.

Valerie shrugged. “It’s possible. Could be the trauma. Or he could’ve seriously hit his head when the wolf attacked him. He might have a concussion, or something.” She removed clips from her hair and let the red curls unfold on her shoulder. “I’m assuming they didn’t run any scans at the hospitals?”

“No,” Jared retorted.

“Of course they didn’t,” Valerie said, “with this crappy medical system. If no one pays for it, then—”

“I think,” Michael raised his hands, “we’re straying a bit off topic here.”

Valerie shrugged again. She went to sit at the far end of the three-seat sofa, like she wanted to sit as far as possible from the crate. She tossed her hair clips onto the round coffee table and scratched her scalp. The evening light made her locks glow like fire as she stared out the window.

“Well if he can’t help us,” Jared was saying, “then he’s no use to us. No use keeping him alive.”

“You know I’m not comfortable with that,” Kim told him in a hushed tone. “Killing someone when they haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

“Yet,” Jared exclaimed. “Exactly. Yet. If we keep him alive he’ll turn into a werewolf next month. What if he escapes somehow between now and then? What if he kills a bunch of people when he transforms? I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to have those deaths on my conscience.”

Kim hesitated.

“I think we should wait a bit longer,” Michael said, “and see if his memories come back. He might have information about the New York pack.”

Jared seemed to wince at that. “Or maybe he’s their friend.” He said the word friend like it was the most despicable thing in the world.

As the werewolf hunters argued whether they should kill him or not, he caught a flash of white from the corner of his eye. Something luminous and pure taking form right next to the dog crate. Something that seemed so out of place in the dull apartment. Something, or someone.

A girl. Wearing all white, and with long caramel hair that looked softer than silk. No one else seemed to be able to see her.

This just kept getting weirder and weirder. Was he having hallucinations?

The girl smiled. Her manicured fingers touched the wires that formed his cage as she folded her legs and sat next to him. Her every movement was poised and graceful. There were specks of violet in her blue eyes.

“You’re not hallucinating. I’m your spirit guide now—I’ll explain later.” Her voice was melodious. And very low, but he could still hear her. He glanced at the others. They weren’t acknowledging her at all. The girl said, “But you’re right. You’re the only one that can see me. So don’t talk to me, or they’ll know something’s up.” Her smile faded a bit. “Your name,” she said, “is Sasha Reed. You will tell them that you’re starting to remember. Tell them you’re willing to help. I’ll tell you exactly what to say.”

Sasha Reed. Sasha. He repeated the name over and over in his mind, letting it sink in, hoping it would have a familiar ring. But it didn’t. He didn’t remember anything. Anything at all.

But what choice did he have? Sasha might be a name given to him by some strange ghost girl that claimed to be his spirit guide, but it was the only name he had right now.

He turned away from the girl in white and jumped out of his skin when he saw that Jared had just stepped back in the living room holding a crossbow. He was setting the black-tipped arrow into the barrel and angling the weapon toward Sasha.

“Open up the cage, Mike,” he said.

Mike hesitated.

Valerie sprung to her feet. “What are you doing with my crossbow?”

“Well I’m not gonna use my gun, am I?” Jared said. “I don’t want no neighbors calling the cops on us.”

“Kim,” Valerie snapped, “tell your boyfriend to get his filthy hands off my crossbow.”

“Jar—” Kim started to say.

“My name is Sasha Reed.” His voice slashed through their rambles.

They all stared. Jared was still pointing the crossbow.

“I, um, I’m starting to remember,” Sasha said.

“That’s more like it,” Jared hissed. “Come on, speak up.”

Valerie glared at him across the room. “Jared. Put down the god damned crossbow.”

“Why?” He snapped back. “It’s working. He’s talking.”

The girl in white told Sasha what to say, as promised, and Sasha repeated after her.

“I’m from New York. I was friends with this girl, Hazel Snow.” Jared tensed at that. Sasha went on, still repeating what he was being told: “I got scared when I found out she was a werewolf. Actually, her brother and her boyfriend are also werewolves. Her boyfriend’s name is Nicholas Russell. He killed the old pack leader. I knew too much, so they attacked me. That’s all I remember. I swear. They must’ve left me for dead.”

Jared’s body was as taut as his crossbow string. Valerie walked around the coffee table, her heels clicking the floor. She took the crossbow from Jared and held it down.

“That’s enough,” Valerie said quietly. “If he’s willing to help, we’re not going to kill him.”

Jared said nothing. He was very pale.

“So the rumors are true,” Michael mused, “Kevin Snow is dead. The pack is vulnerable.”

Kim reached out to Jared, but Jared pushed her away.

“If,” Jared said, “I can’t kill Kevin Snow myself—”

“You can’t,” Valerie chimed, “he’s already dead.”

Jared pointed at her. “You’re lucky you’re my girlfriend’s sister.”

Valerie arched an eyebrow. “I’m the one holding the crossbow now.”

“Guys!” Kim shouted. She pushed her bangs to the side. “Stop. Seriously.” Her eyes flicked to Jared. “I know how much your revenge meant to you, but Kevin was too strong, there’s no way we could’ve—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jared cut her off. “Forget about that. We’re going after Snow’s daughter. His wife, his son. His daughter’s boyfriend. Any member of that pack who’s still out there. Mike’s right. They’re vulnerable. We strike now.”

Sasha shifted in his cage. The girl in white was gone. So much for ‘I’ll explain later.’ He felt very uneasy without her there; had he imagined the whole thing?

Michael was staring at Sasha. “What I want to know is, how did you end up in a hospital here if you were attacked in New York?”

“I don’t know. I swear to you, I don’t know. Where’s here, anyway?”

“You’re in Newark,” Michael said quietly, studying him.

Sasha looked away. His legs were hurting. He wished he could unfold them.

“Can’t you let me out of here?”

But they ignored him.

“Doesn’t matter how he ended up here,” Jared was saying. He touched Kim’s freckled arm. “Pack a few things, all right? We’re going to New York.” His tone was urgent, but the way his thumb stroked her skin was delicate.

“What about the diner?” Kim replied. “We have work tomorrow.”

“What about the hospital?” Michael added.

Jared looked unamused as he stared Michael down. For the first time, Sasha noticed Michael wore pj pants with drawings of sharks on them. Sasha almost laughed.

“From the dude who doesn’t work,” Jared said, “and buys himself expensive, cliché tough-guy tattoos.”

“I do research,” Michael replied on an offended tone, pushing back his glasses.

“Yeah, right.” Jared scoffed. “When’s the last time you tracked down a wolf, huh? A month ago? More than that, I think. What do you really do all day on your laptop? Don’t answer that,” Jared said, “I don’t want to know.”

Michael said nothing.

Jared wasn’t done. “This—hunting down wolves, saving lives—is more important than our day jobs and you guys all know it. Come on, Mike. What would you do if this was the wolf that bit your wife?” Jared spun and looked at the twins. “What would you do if this was the demon that killed your dad?”

Valerie rested her crossbow against her hip. “I already killed that demon, thank you very much.”

“That,” Jared hissed, “is not the point.”

Kim was nodding. “He’s right, you guys. We need to do this. We’re supposed to be a team. We stick together. And honestly,” she ripped off her name tag and tossed it to the floor, “I don’t care if the diner fires me.”

Michael pushed back his glasses again, and cleared his throat. “I’m in.”

They all looked at Valerie, even Sasha, from his cage.

Valerie sighed. She tugged at her blouse with a hand. “Baby blue and white really aren’t my colors anyway.” She exchanged a knowing glance with Jared. “Let’s go kick some werewolf ass.”

They all seemed to be getting really fired up about this.

“What about me?” Sasha asked.

“You’re coming with us,” Jared said. “You’re gonna help us find the werewolves.”

Sasha really hoped that spirit guide girl would show up again, because in complete honesty, he had no clue whatsoever what these people were talking about.

“Can I at least get out of the cage?”

Jared smirked. “No.”