The Rogue

Just then, I heard something approaching through the blue grass outside my window, and stiffening, I backed myself up against my desk, grabbing a pair of scissors out of my pencil cup, prepared to fight with everything in me to keep myself alive.  But the gorgeous head that appeared to be crawling through the window was the very head I had previously just seen chopped off its flawless body.

            “You should really consider having your bedroom lowered to ground level,” Owen suggested in a smart a*s tone, as he coolly brushed pretend dirt of his bare, broad, muscular shoulders.

            “Owen!” I rejoiced at the mere sight of him, dropping the scissors harshly on my desk and rushing forward and throwing myself into his arms.  With a puzzled look at the scissors but without hesitation, he squeezed back tightly, and when I thought he would release me, to my great pleasure he didn’t.  “You have no idea how glad I am to see you…I just had the most awful vision.  How did you�"”

            “We were on the hunt in the woods around your garden.  I could smell something…not right…” He sniffed loudly again, looking around the room.  “Something was in here…” He mumbled unnerved to himself, moving forward slightly, with me still tucked securely around his shoulder, pressed firmly into his sculpted bare chest, glistening with a shiny gloss of sweat.

            “I know, something ripped my favorite picture of us�"and left me alive,” I said, embarrassed that I spilled the secret of having a favorite picture of the two of us.  As we moved closer to the desk, I picked it up in my shaking hands, giving it over to him.  He held it calmly, staring with squinted eyes at the part where his face should have occupied.

            “I knew it,” he groaned under his breath.  “Sophia, they left you alive only because this isn’t the stench of a bloodthief.”

            “What?” I said after a moment, where he left me to ponder. “It isn’t?”

            “No, it’s not,” he repeated lifting his free hand up to rub his eyes in tension. “I was so confused when I caught wind of the smell, I hurried to get here but in the back of my mind I just knew…”  He trailed off again, like he was lost in a never-ending maze of thoughts.

            I pulled myself away from his chest, faced him head on, and wrapped my hands around his forearms.  I could feel the blood quickly pulsing through his thick veins, and I felt closer to him than anything in the world. The fierce look in his eyes was so attractive it was nearly crippling.

            “What�"was�"in�"my�"room?” I hissed loud enough that he knew I meant business, yet quiet enough not to wake Aunt Kat in the other room. “And tell me if they’re still in here, please, I have a Godmother to worry about, ya know.”

            Owen shook his head in disbelief, but a small smile spread across his face anyways.

            “It was a wolf.”

            I was taken aback.

            “What?” I gasped, a hand flying to my heart as I felt my eyebrows stitch together in confusion.

            “Not one from our pack obviously, I would know the scent,” Owen declared, as if I were a fool for thinking that it would be. “It smells awful.  It must be a loner…but it definitely doesn’t sit well with me either way.  We need to get you out of here. Now.”

            Look out, King Lycan mode was about to kick into gear hardcore.

            “What about Aunt Kat?” I asked shrilly. “I can’t just leave her and wait for this rogue werewolf to come slinking back in here looking for some more pictures to tear up.”

            “She’ll be watched after.  I’ll assign some of our strongest wolves to come keep watch tonight.  No more hunting, promise,” He barked his orders more loudly than a dog would.

            Speaking of dogs barking, that’s exactly what I heard next.  A lot of frantic barking, coming from down the road.  At Mr. Morgery’s househould.

            “Shhh…” I held up a hand to stop him from going any further.  “Do you hear that?”

            “It’s your neighbor’s dog, what’s weird about�"”

            “That dog is like 90 years old.  He never barks,” I spat out before letting him finish. “What if something serious is going on down there?”

            “You know, dogs do not live to be 100 years old,” Owen interjected. “And being part canine I found that highly offensive�"”

            “Oh, hush for a minute!” I listened closely, and Owen did the same.  I could almost feel his quickened heart beat rising and falling.

            Just then there were several howls coming from the same direction as the barking.  Not any normal barking either, but a painful, mournful cry, that was nearly human like…I shuddered.

            “Mr. Morgery,” I breathed, grasping onto Owen’s arm tightly.  “What if the wolf that was in here is attacking their home right now?” I suddenly shrieked at the idea.

            Owen calmly placed a hand softly over my mouth. “Okay.  I understand he means a lot to you…we’ll go have a look.  But wait for me to morph so I can let the other’s know I need back up…”

            I waited, frantically pacing back and forth in my bedroom, chewing on my already stubby nails, as he changed from human to wolf, telepathically let the others know what was going on, and in a matter of seconds I heard several other snarls outside my window as the gang appeared.  Clearly, they were ready to go.

            “Come on down, Sophia,” I heard Owen’s voice call out for me.  And like he used to, he held his arms out for me to slip into them.

            As he started walking and my cheek rested upon his firm chest, feeling his own heart beat, I knew this was my favorite place to be.

            We briskly walked down the road with the several wolves Owen had called upon, the barks and agonizing howls growing louder with each stride.  My mind was in a panic, trying to imagine the sight that we might fall upon at the Mr. Morgery’s home…

            As we approached the household, Owen stopped abruptly, crouching down lower in the high grass and tucking me closer against him.  The wolves lowered their crouch as well, and several of them were snarling again, as though they smelled something very suspicious.  A high pitched bark suddenly rang out, and squealing could be heard echoing from the front door, as well as frantic scratching.

            “Toby,” I breathed out.  “That’s Mr. Morgey’s dog.  He must be terrified�"”

            Something was suddenly thrown across the room, clearly visible through the window because the light in the kitchen was left on, and the next thing that was heard was the shattering of glass and a thunderous stampede.

            I braced myself for whatever was to happen next.

            The silhouettes of two large wolves suddenly wrestled across the window, their bodies twisting viciously around each other like coils, teeth barred and yelps and growls pouring through the broken window out into the unkempt front lawn where we lay low.

            “Somebody do something!” I hissed nervously. “Toby could be killed, or Mr. Morgery�"they’re all each other has!” My heart was beating a million miles per hour in terror and confusion.

            “Those aren’t our wolves,” Owen whispered sternly. “Neither of their smells is anything familiar to me… but they are trespassing on our land and they must both be stopped.” Suddenly the monster sized gray wolf tore through the window taking off into the night down the road.  Each wolf crouching with us turned around and waited for Owen’s approval.  With a single nod they took off after the fleeing rogue wolf.

            “Could…could one of them have been a regular, you know, everyday wolf?” I asked out loud, heart beat still racing, curious as to what happened to the slightly smaller wolf possibly inside…and for the safety of Toby.

            “No.  It was much too large, and the smell was wrong,” Owen said quickly, standing up. “Come, we’re going in to make sure it left.”

            I did as I was commanded to, and followed him, white knuckles grasping tightly around his hand as I trailed slightly behind and we climbed the few front steps approaching the door.  I could hear the poor sheep dog whimpering as we walked the window, and saw his gleaming eyes from under the tiny coffee table in the living room.

            We looked all through the darkened ranch home, every room, every cupboard and nook and cranny in between.  Yet there was no Mr. Morgery to be found.

            I thought I might hyperventilate.

            “He’s probably with his son, wouldn’t you think?” Owen tried reassuring me.  “Listen.  I’m sure everything’s fine.  We’ll send everyone out in the morning to look for him if he’s not back by noon.”

            I thought about this proposal, and decided it sounded reasonable.  “Alright, if you think that’s for the best.”

            “I do think it’s for the best,” Owen agreed. “And I also think you staying the night at my place is for the best, also.”

            My head jolted up quickly, a strange zingy feeling shooting through me, until I understood what he meant.  To my chagrin, he decided to explain himself anyways.

            “You know, for protection.  With the rest of the wolves.”

            “Right,” I said blankly.

            “We can walk home now I suppose,” He muttered under his breath. “But I want to hear more about these visions you’ve been having on the way.”

            I didn’t like the idea of that so much.  It was going to be pretty hard for me to tell him what I’d been seeing again.

             But somehow, after he let me climb on his back for a piggy back ride and we started walking, I was able to find the words to describe what I’d been seeing.  After I finished, I heard him breathe out lowly.

            “So, what you’re saying is basically,” Owen said after a minute of silence where he digested my rendering of the terrible nightmare I had of his self-sacrificial death, and even what his decapitated head announced to me from the ground; as well as what I had seen in town earlier that afternoon, Owen’s body taking the place of the actual murder victim. “Is that all these visions you’re having are suggesting those...disgusting bloodthieves…are trying to chop my head off.  In short.”

            “Owen,” I scoffed inapprovingly. “Please don’t say it like that.  You’re not taking me serious.”

            “Well, I’m just saying,” Owen said with a dark laugh, one of the ones I loved to hear because of the mischievous tone he shone through, which I always knew he had deep down inside. “I’m sure they would love to get their scabby nasty hands on any of us.  And as for what happened in town, you’re probably suffering from sleep deprived hallucinations.”

            “You’re missing the point I’m trying to make, oh mighty king,” I snapped with sarcastic venom, which to my disappointment all he did was laugh out at.  “Don’t you see what this means?  I’m seeing visions of a battle, which clearly isn’t the ‘end-all’ battle where everyone dies.  The only person I see dying is you.  This is obviously an attack on you, Owen.  Because you killed their future, they want to kill ours.   They want you dead this time, that’s their main priority.” It hurt even saying it, and I was more scared in fear of his death than my own.

            He was silent as we locked along the path, listening to crickets chirping and night owls hooting, the full moon swallowed by the dark underbrush of midnight clouds.  I could no longer see where we were going, but upon his back, I wasn’t scared.

            “I will bring this idea to the attention of the elders, then,” he said darkly at last in his deep, husky voice. “Anything else you think should be brought up?”

            I already had the next topic rehearsed in my brain; I planned it out while listening to the twigs snapping beneath his briskly walking bare feet.
            “There actually is one more thing,” I began, feeling his large, warm hands sliding higher around my thighs that wrapped around his torso, and experiencing that familiar chill scamper down my spine in reaction.  “The other night I was looking through things in my attic, and I found this box of really old notes and pictures.  It was from a man who was in love with my ancestor Eloise.  His name was Josiah Alford Palmer.  I think he could be related to Brady, I really do.  I told Mariellen and Tyler everything and they even agree with me, Owen.  I wish I could show you everything I found; you would believe me you really�"”

            He stopped walking abruptly at that moment, and I heard him inhale so roughly it sounded like a growl formulated within his chest cavity.  For a second I was almost afraid he was angry with me for suggesting such a thing.

            But without saying anything, he turned about 90 degrees to left and started walking another direction through the woods, each step was rougher, more aggressive, and hot-headedish than the one before.

            It took a lot to set Owen off, but when it happened, he really knew how to be harsh about it.  I shut my eyes tightly, clutching on more firmly to his sculpted abs as it became harder to stay on his back. “Where are we going now?” I snapped, not even bothering to caution myself around the pins and needles I was trampling on.

            “To Palmer’s house,” Owen spat the words out.  “If everyone thinks so much that he’s a part of the prophecy, than he’s got to be in on this as much as everyone else.  He’s going to have a lot of weight on his shoulders, starting tonight.”

 

Needless to say, Brady was extremely, extremely confused and irrationally aggravated that we woke him up in the middle of the night and now were dragging him through the streets in pajama bottoms, a white beater and a surprisingly cute case of bed head.

“So, let’s get this straight,” He said through a yawn, so it was difficult to translate his words. “You’ve come to my home close to 1:00 in the morning, to tell me I’m a part of this whole great big prophecy that you’ve tried to shut me out of for a month, and now you expect me to just march myself to the other side of town and come live with your silly pack of puppy dogs?  Like this is completely normal or something.”

I could see the muscles ripple across Owen’s back as his anger shook him, taunting himself to tear into the beast caged inside.

“Precisely,” he managed to choke out calmly. “Trust me; I don’t want to do this anymore than you do.”

“I highly doubt that,” Brady snorted. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have this one over here�"” he jabbed a thumb in my direction “�"climbing up to my window in the middle of the night, persuading me to come with you.  You’re lucky my parents are on vacation this week, otherwise you would have to answer to my father.”

Owen was silent.

“And I want to see that stupid box of letters you were talking about, too,” Brady continued, this time jeering in my direction. “I’m not buying anything until I see this for myself.  I mean, how do you know this isn’t just a coincidence the old geezer had my last name?”

“We don’t know for sure,” I mumbled after a moment, hearing cicada’s all around us as we walked along the empty road, spaced several feet apart from each other.

Brady scoffed. “Well, you’re both out of your damned minds if you think I’m going to let some crazy so called prophecy rule my life and make all my decisions for me.  You can piss off, wolf boy, because there’s no way in hell.”

There was another more significant ripple that shot through Owen’s muscles as he walked with quicker, lengthier strides.

“And if you think I’m going to let you guard me like some pathetic, helpless vermin, you’re wrong.  I don’t need protection from anyone,” He continued arrogantly, as I wrapped my oversized gray sweater tighter around my torso. “The only reason I’m even doing this is because of Sophia, so don’t think for a second�"”

Owen suddenly turned on his heel and shoved his face right in front of Brady’s in a threatening manner, and I realized his monster canines were protruding from his gums and his eyes had shifted over to the glowing, halcyon gold shade of the wolf.

“Do yourself a favor, and shut your damn mouth.” Owen growled, his entire frame shaking from head to toe as he clenched his jaw down tightly in concentration. 

Their noses bumped together as I stood rigidly and watched in tension, Brady hardly looking intimidated, but when Owen backed off and continued storming ahead of us, Brady rolled his emerald green eyes darkly and followed, not saying another word until we got to the tree shrouded road Owen and his pack lived off of.

Owen showed me to the room I would be staying in.  It was pretty small, had a little dresser, a closet and a full sized bed that was much too big for me and what I was used to sleeping in.  There were no windows in this room, and I found that reasonably safe.

“Is this alright for you?” he asked like any good host would.

“Yes, its fine,” I responded expectantly.  He starred at me for a moment, and then began to shut the door.

“Well, goodnight.”

“Owen?” I blurted out, realizing how stupid and annoying I was being before I even finished annunciating his name. “What happened to us.  I mean, why are you so cold to me anymore.”

He seemed to flinch in confusion at first, so I continued in case he didn’t quite understand.

“I mean, ever since we left the beach house.  Things have been different,” I continued, wondering if maybe I were dreaming, or delirious. Because I really didn’t want to say the things I was saying. “You…you used to be my very best friend, besides my guardian.  I could tell you anything, we got so close at the beach and now… now I feel so far away from you.  What…what happened?”

The muscles in jaw relaxed a little and he swallowed, walking back in the room and shutting the door behind him. “Change just happened, Sophia.  Change.”

Was that all he was going to say?

“Well, I don’t like change,” I muttered under my breath, even though he heard me anyways, and smiling with his lips although his eyes looked to be in pain, he took a few more steps forward.

“I have a lot more responsibility now than I even did before,” he said professionally, almost. “And I’m sorry, I really am sorry if it’s affecting you too.  I just have a lot on my plate.  I’m going to be a leader, and be married.  And I have a lot to take on.  Soon.  And I’m only 18.  It’s not easy, you know.”

Somehow, I didn’t feel as though this was a genuine answer, but it was close enough or good enough for now.

“I just miss you, I guess.  Being honest,” I whispered as he sat down on the edge of the bed and starred at a painting of a vase of flowers on the wall.

“That’s one of my favorite things about you, your straightforward honesty.  No matter what,” He said turning to look me in the eyes, bouncing back and forth between each one.  He had a favorite thing about me?  I was touched, and felt a warm sensation flood my face. “And your unfaltering compassion for other people, of course.  Like your concern for Morgery.  Although I wish sometimes you would put your own safety into greater consideration, at times.  But I guess that’s just you.  Different from anything else.  One of a kind.”

I knew if it was brighter than nightlight light in the room, he would be able to see me blushing like a little tomato.

“Will you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep,” I plead.  “I’m just a little shook up still.”

He nodded solemnly almost, and then lay down next to me on the bed, facing me.  My heart was racing in search of memories from the beach, when this was carefree and easy.  And struggled against the temptation to squirm.

I fell asleep finally at some point in the night, and when I woke up, I was still nose to nose with Owen, and his steady, warm exhaling stroked my face.   He hadn’t left when I fell asleep, after all. 

As I laid there and watched him sleep, breathing peacefully, it was hard to imagine anything that angelic and innocent looking could be so lethal.  Could ever kill a man, could ever morph into a ravaging beast.  As I assessed the soft curvature of his face, his perfectly plump shaped lips, and swoop of his dark hair, brushing across his scar cutting straight through his left eyebrow, it seemed impossible to me.  I reached up and gently ran the backs of my fingers against his soft cheek, wanting so desperately for the desperate wanting to go away.

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[BeetleBug]

I loved that last sentence. "...Wanting desperatley for the desperate wanting to go away." Pure poetry, monome.