A Holiday of Roses - Part 2

Author's Note: This is a short story based on the characters established in my current "work in progress" novel, Belly Full of Roses. The events in this story take place about ten years prior to Belly Full of Roses. If you like urban fantasy, werewolves, and shows like The X-Files or Supernatural, I think you'll enjoy these characters. Make sure to read part 1 first here and as always, thank you for reading!

The gas station was a rundown affair—a single rusted ‘60s style pump sat sentinel in front of a small, crumbling market. Baylin would have preferred another, less murdery-looking option, but in the expanse of rural Montana, you took what was available when it came to fuel. He was armed—hunters always were—but they were also in the business of killing werewolves, not innocent people. That rule was a strict one.

“You want any snacks?” Baylin asked Valerie as she tucked herself into the payphone booth outside the market and jabbed at the keypad with such force, he thought she’d break her finger.

Valerie replied with a glare, cradling the receiver between her ear and shoulder so she could cross her arms to complete her patented go fuck yourself look.

Baylin raised his hands in surrender. “Jeez, okay, calm down. I’ll get you some Twinkies, then.” He smiled sweetly at her, ignoring the continued stink-face she beamed his way. As he walked toward the market door, Baylin caught fragments of Valerie’s conversation.

“We’re going to be late,” she said directly, the annoyance in her voice palpable. Valerie never wasted time with greetings. “We got delayed and it’s getting dark. It’s going to take a bit longer for us to get there.” There was a pause, and the annoyance turned to vitriol. “Yes, he is with me.”

Baylin suddenly lost interest in eavesdropping. Whoever was on the other side of the phone call—their father, most likely—wasn’t honoring Baylin’s identity. He was grateful for Valerie accepting him, no questions asked, when he came out as trans and left home. She was the support he needed, but returning to the viper pit of toxic family made Baylin’s guts clench. Why did he let Valerie talk him into this?

The sickening roil of emotion continued as Baylin stepped into the store. He couldn’t back out now—Valerie was counting on him, and this was important to her. Mindlessly, he grabbed a variety of packaged snack cakes and beef jerky off the shelves, the unease building in his stomach and chest as he moved deeper down the market aisles.

I need to leave. I need to leave now! The thought was a panicked mantra that masticated his brain into a bloody pulp. What was he thinking? He couldn’t do this hunt. If his family’s ridicule didn’t do him in, the Wolves would. The Wolves would get him, eventually. The old scar on his leg began to burn hot with phantom pain.

“Let me know if you need help,” a jovial voice said behind him. Baylin turned to see a red-headed, bearded man stocking the shelves, a green t-shirt stretched taut over his round belly. “If you’re hungry, I just put on fresh hot dogs, and if you put the nacho sauce on top, it’s the best—out of this world! Like, I would totally write a postcard home about it.”

The armful of snacks slipped from Baylin’s grasp as the man straightened and made eye contact.

“Hey buddy, you okay? You look a little sick.” The man took a step forward, a flash of concern lighting his eyes. “Maybe nacho sauce isn’t the best if you’re not feeling well. I’ve got some Pepto over there.” He pointed to the next aisle over.

Baylin took a step backward. This was a rookie mistake. He was distracted and ignored what his body was telling—no, screaming—at him. There was a Wolf nearby. Now his sensory system was dangerously inching toward critical mass. Acid crept up his throat.

“If you need more help, I can find some,” the man said earnestly. “There aren’t that many people out here, just my sister and my niece, and old Huck, Debby, Luke, Crazy Jake…” The man ticked off each person on his fingers, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he droned out the area’s census info. “Oh yeah, and me!” He brightened and smiled at Baylin, a sweeping gesture full of teeth. “I’m Donny.”

Baylin didn’t respond as his mind switched to survival mode. The only viable exit was the front door, which was behind the Wolf standing in front of him. Presumably there was an exit in the back, through the storerooms or employee break area, but it wasn’t a certain bet. Best to use the exit he could see.

“Oh hey!” Donny said, his voice rising with excitement. “That is really cool. What is that, a bullet?” He’d homed in on Baylin’s necklace—a silver bullet threaded on a chain. Valerie had one too, a bit of a family joke and symbol. He fought the urge to tuck it under his shirt.

“That looks like a silver bullet,” Donny continued. Genuine interest narrowed his eyes and he took a step closer to Baylin. “You would be surprised how much those movies got it wrong. Silver bullets don’t do crap to a werewolf. Pretty much all those movies are ridiculous, but I do love me some Teen Wolf. You know, with that guy from Back to the Future? If I could play basketball like that, man, I wouldn’t be working here, I can tell you that.”

Baylin couldn’t stand it anymore; he needed to run. Donny took one more step forward and Baylin’s stomach lurched, bits of vomit splashing across the floor.

“Don’t move.” Valerie’s command was as strong as steel, the power of control in her voice ringing through the air. She stood in the doorway behind Donny, the hilt of a three-foot long sword clutched in her hands. The scene would have made Baylin laugh if he weren’t so relieved to see her.

A wave of emotion rippled across Donny’s face as he fit the pieces together. “You’re hunters,” he whispered, and the skin of his face turned sallow.

#

Luck wasn’t something Valerie liked to rely on. Skill, dedication, sweat, and blood were the ingredients to success, but it seemed this was the rare exception. Stumbling upon an unsuspecting Wolf on the way to the holiday hunt felt like more than luck—it was an omen.

“I’m not a fan of this plan,” Baylin grumbled from the passenger seat. His head hung low towards his lap, elbows braced on his knees and hands wrapped around the back of his neck.

Valerie tore her gaze from the road and risked a quick glance in his direction. A queasy green pallor had washed over Baylin’s face in the presence of the Wolf at the gas station, and the sickly hue remained there even an hour later.

She sighed. “I can’t pass up the opportunity to bring a tribute to the hunt. You’ll need to hold in the urge to go full Exorcist on the upholstery.”

Part of her knew she should be more accommodating to her brother. While she had the power to control Wolves with her voice, Baylin could sense them—unfortunately with his stomach. Any time he came into the vicinity of a Wolf he grew ill, sometimes violently. It was a useful skill to confirm a Wolf’s identity, since not all Wolves could be bent to Valerie’s will. But she didn’t have the patience to attend to Baylin’s tummy troubles; this Wolf could be her ticket to full acceptance in their family.

“You know they used pea soup for Linda Blair’s puking in The Exorcist,” Donny’s voice piped up from the back of the van.

A metal grate separated the front cab from the cargo hold, and Baylin lifted his head to glare back at their captive. “You’re not helping,” he hissed.

“Don’t talk to it,” Valerie said, her voice flat, though not without warning. He knew better than to entertain conversation with Wolves, but then again, she couldn’t remember a time where he’d had the opportunity. Once they confirmed a Wolf’s identity, it wasn’t long before they dispatched it, and even then, Valerie or their father did all the talking. “Just ignore the thing, okay?”

Baylin made a noncommittal noise and buried his face in his hands.

Snow had begun to fall once they left the gas station. The fat and fluffy flakes that started as a peaceful dusting had turned into a torrent of blurry static. Streaks of white caught in the van’s headlights and torpedoed over the windshield, creating a hypnotic effect of warp-speed space travel, the falling snow against the darkness stand-ins for impossibly stretched-out stars. Valerie tried to focus her concentration on the disappearing road, but a piece of her was trained on the Wolf, sensing its movements, its breath, ready to enact her commands if it made a move against them. She was almost certain that the metal partition could withstand the advances of a healthy Wolf, but she couldn’t trust that alone. Splitting her attention between the worsening driving conditions and the murderous beast mere inches behind them was making her sweat.

“So,” Donny began again, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Where are we going?”

“Outside of Fort Peck,” Baylin’s muffled answer escaped between his fingers.

Donny whistled long and low. “Wow! That’s a long way.”

Valerie clenched her jaw and glared at the road. “Seriously, Baylin.”

“What?” Baylin lifted his head and blinked at her in a groggy stupor. She could see the misery coating her brother’s face from the corner of her eye. Still, physical discomfort was no excuse to ignore orders.

“Leave it alone,” she said, the words peppering the air like bullets. Baylin opened his mouth to respond, but Valerie cut him off—it was pointless to argue when she was right. “The storm is getting worse. We’ll need to find a place to stay for the night.”

“Oh no,” Baylin groaned in mock dismay. “You mean we’re going to miss the bro-feast and kitchen duty? This holiday is ruined!”

Valerie couldn’t deny she wasn’t upset about missing the meal that kicked off the three-day festivities. The food was delicious, but the obvious gender divide was annoying—all the women were relegated to the kitchen to cook and clean while the men enjoyed their shoptalk in the study. This year, Valerie figured, would be particularly painful for Baylin when they dismissed his claimed identity and forced him to do kitchen chores with the womenfolk.

Valerie chewed on her lip. Fuck that meal. Besides, it was the hunt that truly mattered. When she brought in the trophy, the family would finally see her. Eating was just a distraction.

She suddenly spotted a half-lit sign announcing a place called the Myna Bird Inn. “Perfect!” she blurted, turning the van abruptly off the main road and into an empty parking lot surrounded by growing snow drifts. “We’ll stay here tonight.”