Butch spun around, aimed the gun and put his
finger on the trigger.
No one was there.
He looked over the gun site at his blank
beige wall and the oak headboard of his bed. Confused, Butch spun
around, scanning his small bedroom; his unmade bed, the pile of
clothing on the chair, a few pairs of shoes on the floor by the
closet…
Butch looked into the mirror again but only
spotted his own face, pale from fright, and his jaw rough, in need
of a shave. He blinked, connected to his brown eyes for a moment,
and tried to calm down. He was just tired. Right?
At the sound of two human voices in the next
room, Butch blew out a breath of relief and propped the shotgun
beside his bed, sitting down on the mattress to recuperate and
think.
He rubbed his scruffy jaw and seriously
thought about heading to Vernon and Connie's ranch. Not only did
they always need help and a horse wrangler, but…it was away from
these two.
The infatuation he had with the masculine ATF
agent and the handsome cowboy had waned. He thought when they moved
in together the love…and sex…would be share, three-ways. But Butch
felt as if he was the outsider.
And now? That the wolf-business was back? He
was not only on the outside, he was in danger.
He picked up the phone on his nightstand and
then checked the time. It was late. Connie and Vernon would be
asleep. He set the cordless phone back in its cradle and stared at
the door. Just to be able to sleep safely, Butch stood, nudged all
the clothing from the chair to the floor, and wedged the chair
against the door handle. He began undressing, looking at the door,
his gun, and then the window of his room. Before he crawled under
the blankets, he peeked outside. The wind was blowing the light
snow sideways, and the walkway he had cleared was coated. He
glanced up at the sky and through a break in the dark clouds he
spotted the perfect face of the full moon.
Butch sighed loudly and lay down, tugging the
heavy quilt over his shoulder and under his chin. He felt his spine
tingle and turned around to see the door. Nothing was there.
Thinking he was being paranoid, and even when Charlie and Roman
were wolves, they never killed anyone, or anything, Butch closed
his eyes and tried to rest.
And standing at the foot of his bed was a
tall man, dressed in black….watching him.
~
Charlie fixed the blankets on the bed since
when they turned into wolves they threw the covers off and bit the
pillows, tossing them on the floor. Roman dropped down on the
mattress heavily and groaned, as if he were exhausted.
Once Charlie had straightened the bed, he lay
beside Roman and met his eyes.
"We are so screwed," Roman said.
"I know."
"I'll have to take a leave from work."
"Yeah. I reckon I'll have to hire the
part-time help for full time to give Butch a hand. Spirit wouldn't
let me near him."
"Fuck."
"Okay. Look, we figured it out once, we'll do
it again." Charlie caressed Roman's hair. "You were goin' to take
time off for the holiday anyhow."
"True." Roman cuddled close to Charlie.
Charlie held him tight, kissing his hair.
"It'll be okay. Don't you worry."
Roman did worry. What choice did he have?
He closed his eyes and listened to the beat
of Charlie's heart, the comfort of his hand caressing his hair,
neck, and shoulder. Before Roman had fallen under the spell of
slumber, he sensed something. Sitting up abruptly, he looked at the
foot of their bed.
"What?" Charlie became alarmed and sat up as
well.
A man had been standing at the foot of his
bed a second ago. That same man he had seen outside. Roman wanted
to ask Charlie if he had seen him, but instead, he lay back down,
assuming if Charlie had, he'd have said so.
"Roman?"
"Nothing. Go to sleep, Charlie."
Charlie relaxed again and they spooned,
Charlie behind Roman, as Roman faced the window of their bedroom.
He could hear the wind whipping outside, and imagined the snow
would be very deep by morning.
With Charlie's arms around him, making Roman
feel secure, he closed his eyes for some much needed rest.
Deep in a dream, Roman bounded in the snow,
his snout covered in cold slush, his tail pointing straight up. The
tree line ahead provided safety, cover. The Deer Creek reservoir
with its protected federal land was his home. He leapt over the
deep snow with powerful jumps, as if he were flying over the
terrain. As he entered into the silence of the snow-covered
evergreens and soft ferns, and moss, iced over with a crystalline
glaze, he slowed his gait. Panting, hot from his run, he sniffed
the air. Deer, rabbit, coyote, urine tracks were everywhere.
His nose to the ground he came upon an open
ring inside the deep forest. Nothing grew there, and no snow lay
inside it, as if it was heated and whatever touched it had melted
and evaporated, like an invisible dome over a desert.
Roman stopped short before his paw touched
the raw earth. His ears twitched and he raised his head and sniffed
the air. Burning. Burnt wood or something else. Something foul. He
smelled decay.
Padding slowly around the dry clay dirt,
avoiding the ring, Roman stared up at the trees. Death hung on the
branches over the dry surface. Headless birds, deer entrails…
Roman winced and licked his lips and nose,
continuing around the exterior of the large circle. The stench of
death grew more powerful and he eyed the area warily. Something was
lying in the circle, close to the snow edge. Roman trotted closer
and realized what it was. He froze and screamed.
"What?" Charlie grabbed him and shook him.
"Roman! Wake up!"
Drenched in sweat, Roman surfaced from the
nightmare to see Charlie beside him. He grabbed him and hugged him,
choking on his sobs.
"Baby, no. What were you dreamin'?" Charlie
caressed his hair. "Yer soaked in sweat." He pushed the heavy quilt
off.
"You…" Roman swallowed his sorrow. "I dreamt
you were dead, Charlie."
"I'm not. It was a silly dream." Charlie
kissed his head.
"No. It was so real." Roman controlled
himself and sat up so he could see Charlie. "That ring in the
woods, in Heber. You remember the one? Near where we found all the
sacrificed deer?"
"I do. Yes."
"In the dream I was a wolf, in that area by
the reservoir." Roman touched his forehead, wiping the dewy sweat.
"You were dead, as a wolf. Your leg in a trap."
Charlie cringed. "Roman, that ain't never
gonna happen. Okay? It's a nightmare." Charlie kissed his lips
lightly.
"Don't go off without me."
"Huh? When?"
"When we visit Vernon and Connie for
Christmas."
"Maybe we shouldn't go."
Roman shook his head. "No. We can go. Don't
wander off though. Okay?"
"Okay." Charlie urged Roman to relax again,
caressing him to calm him. "I'm surprised that dream didn't turn
you. Yer still shakin'."
"I'm okay. Just hold me." Roman shifted
closer to Charlie and they wrapped around each other with their
arms and legs.
"I got ya." Charlie kissed Roman again,
squeezing him. "Sleep. Yer overtired. That damn job of yers."
Roman closed his eyes and held Charlie tight.
If he ever lost this man, he'd die. Simple as that.
Before they both drifted off to sleep, Roman
heard Charlie mumbled, "Must be that man…"
Roman tried to focus. "What man?" But Charlie
was already asleep.
Roman opened his eyes to the sound of a
truck's engine laboring outside their home. He felt Charlie stir
beside him and raised his head to look at the digital clock;
Eight-ten. Roman moaned and rested against the pillow.
"That'd be our boys." Charlie shifted on the
bed. "They'll be plowing our drive."
"Mm." Roman acknowledged him and then could
hear Butch's shout outside their window. He felt Charlie moving
away from him. Roman reached out and grabbed Charlie's arm,
dragging him close. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To piss?" Charlie laughed.
"Oh." Roman released him. "Are you coming
back?" When Charlie didn't answer, Roman rolled over to see him
standing naked, peeking out of the blinds.
"I should get out there and help. We got a
dumping of snow."
"Let the boys clean it. It's what they get
paid for." Roman rubbed his face.
"Yeah, I know. But there's at least a foot of
fresh powder out there." Charlie walked off, scratching his balls,
closing the bathroom door behind him.
Roman stretched out on the bed, yawned, and
rubbed the grit out of his eyes. More grinding noise, like a plow
scraping against rock, came through the closed window. Men's
voices, calling, directing…
The toilet flushed and Roman heard the shower
turn on. Charlie was not coming back to bed.
Roman figured he could get up, go help. He
just didn't want to move. After dozing off again, Roman heard the
door to the bathroom open and Charlie began getting dressed.
Roman propped up his head, watching. Before
Charlie left the room, Roman asked, "You want me to make
breakfast?"
"Let me see what's goin' on outside. I'll let
ya know."
He left Roman lying there, closing the
bedroom door behind him. Roman rolled over, tucking the pillow
under his cheek and staring at the window. He heard the noise of
the front door closing, then Charlie's voice.
Roman closed his eyes. When he did he could
hear everything being said outside. The grinding of the truck
plowing the snow was loud and annoying to Roman's keen senses. Then
he heard Charlie yell, "What do you mean a goat's been
slaughtered?"
Roman's eyes sprang open. He sat up and tried
to think. Before he leapt out of bed, he spotted their pillows,
covered in teeth marks.
Roman frowned unhappily and tossed off the
covers, climbing out of bed.
~
Butch waved Charlie over.
Charlie put his gloves on, his breath a puff
of vapor in the cold, crisp morning. A pickup truck with a plow
attached was clearing his driveway as well as the lane that
connected it to the main street. His day workers had arrived and
were cleaning stalls and feeding the animals.
Charlie navigated the deep snow, stepping
into Butch's footprints. He spotted the blood on the white snow
first.
Butch was standing over a carcass, which had
frozen overnight.
Charlie stood beside him, taking a look.
"Did you and Roman get out last night?"
At the sarcastic tone, Charlie gave Butch a
tired glance. "Shut up."
"Just askin'." Butch shrugged and crouched
down. "It isn't one of ours."
Charlie inspected the animal. "Shit. I'd
prefer it if it was. Who owns goats 'round here besides us?"
"Could be anyone. Gotta call the ranger to
see if she's got a chip or any ID."
"No. Don't call no one." Charlie raised one
of the animal's legs to determine the cause of death. A slice had
been made in its underside, clean, like with a knife. "Not a
coyote."
"No. I saw that. She's been gnawed a bit by
scavengers, but that ain't what killed her."
"She bled out. Look at all that blood. Damn
it." Charlie stood and stared at the frozen creature. "Can't bury
it. The ground's hard as rock."
"I'll light a fire."
"Okay." Charlie looked back at the barn. "All
our animals okay?"
"As far as I can tell. Maybe we need to lock
up the barn at night now."
"Goddamn it." Charlie looked back at the barn
and could see Roman making his way over wearing his black leather
jacket, blue jeans, work boots, and gloves.
When Roman noticed the dead animal he stopped
short. "One of ours?"
"No." Charlie blew out a cloud of vapor in
his frustration and nudged Butch. "There's a stack of firewood
behind the barn. Use that."
"Okay." Butch walked off.
Roman moved closer, brushing Charlie's
arm.
Charlie said, "I'm getting' a bad sense of
déjà vu."
"I don't even want to look." Roman stuffed
his hands into his pockets. "I already can guess the heart is
missing. Look at the way it was sliced."
"Roman, we can't be dealin' with a cult here.
Not here." Charlie took off his glove and rubbed his face.
Roman removed his phone from his pocket.
"What are you doin'?" Charlie panicked.
"Calling the sheriff's office."
"No!" Charlie reached out his hand.
"No? Charlie, we have to report this
activity. Are you kidding me? It's not one of ours. Some family is
now missing a goat and if we have a cult or some nutty kids out
there—"
"Roman." Charlie looked back at the men
working, then held Roman's arm as he spoke quietly. "
We
are
going to arouse suspicion. You an' me. You realize if we get the
sheriff's department out here, they may set up some kind of drive
by. What if they come by when you and me are…" Charlie looked back
at Butch who was stacking the wood in an open corral.
A look of defeat hit Roman. "Then how are we
going to let the family know?"
"We ain't." Charlie put his glove back on and
grabbed the hind legs of the goat, dragging it to where Butch was
making a bonfire.
"Fuck!" Roman said in frustration.
Charlie knew Roman, being an ATF agent, this
kind of thing went against his grain. Roman was honest and law
abiding to the extreme.
Butch crouched near the kindling, lighting it
with a pocket lighter, trying to stop the breeze from extinguishing
it. Charlie glanced up as the horses were being led from the barn
to the fenced paddock. He worried about them now. In the last two
years they'd been lucky. Unmolested by the wildlife or local kids.
But this wasn't kids. Or the natural predators. No. Charlie knew
exactly what this was. It wasn't a mystery like it had been at the
ranch in Heber.