A Holiday of Roses - Part 4

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, part 2, and part 3 first. And as always, thank you for reading!

The Lodge of Roses was decked out in strings of white lights. The decorations were meticulously hung along all the angles of the massive log structure, and a giant fir bough was draped cheerily across the doorframe. The warm glow of the fireplace cast blue shadows through the windows that danced across the snow drifts outside. It was a veritable Christmas postcard scene. Valerie hated how wholesome it looked.

Everything about the Rose clan was a façade, partly out of necessity and partly pure familial bullshit. But in the end, what did she have if not her family? Valerie saw herself as a loner—along with her brother and father, she was an outcast among the larger family tree, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be alone. She envied Baylin’s ability to just walk away and start fresh, though at the same time, she couldn’t comprehend an identity without being a Rose or a Hunter. In this, her fate was sealed.

“Follow that path,” Valerie said, edging power into her words and commanding the actions of the captured Wolf.

Donny stumbled through the snow, stiff-limbed and shivering. She surveyed the Wolf’s gait and body language, assessing it for weaknesses. What a pathetic creature. This one would be an easy kill.

“Bringing in the prime goods, eh, Val?”

Her cousin Theo appeared from a nearby outbuilding, various sized leg-hold traps dangling from metal chains clenched in his gloved hands.

Valerie tightened her jaw. “Did you bring in a tribute?” she asked, not bothering to stop as she drove the Wolf forward to an electrified pen at the end of the path.

“Not sure you can call that a tribute.” Theo fell into step behind her, the traps clattering softly. “It’ll be dead in two seconds flat. Not much sport in that.” He wasn’t wrong, but in the end, it was better than nothing. Theo wasn’t better than her just because he had a penis.

“Well,” she replied, pausing to swing open the door to the pen and motion Donny inside with a quick jab of her chin. He did so without complaint, head hanging low. “I suppose we finally have a Wolf that will fit your skill level.” She closed the door, the metal hinges screaming against the winter chill, and ventured a quick glance at Theo as she electrified the cage. His face had turned a deep red—and not from the frigid wind.

Theo was the last of their generation of Roses to have not bagged a Wolf on his own. Even Baylin, as reluctant and anxious as he was, had multiple solitary kills. Theo couldn’t stand to be reminded of this fact, and Valerie loved to use it to her advantage.

She didn’t give him a chance to respond. Valerie trudged back up the path toward the lodge, leaving Theo floundering slack-jawed behind her.

~

Inside, the lodge was every bit as cozy as it appeared from the outside. Furniture made from Western Red Cedar complimented the woodsy ambiance of the log structure, and the smell of cinnamon and ginger permeated the air. Theo’s mother was clearing the sitting room of abandoned drinking glasses and snack plates as a din of voices wafted from a room deeper in the lodge.

Valerie didn’t waste time greeting her aunt and instead headed straight for the trophy room. Most of the family was gathered in the expansive space, happily mingling among stuffed wolves of every shade and size. These, of course, were the acceptable pieces, passable to the layperson as just another taxidermied wolf. The basement held the real trophies—Wolves killed mid-transition, some not shifted at all. No matter what the shape, every trophy from every hunt was gutted, stuffed, and mounted.

Baylin was towards the back of the room, talking with their father, his arms crossed and gaze downcast, not meeting Hudson’s eyes. Her brother looked uncomfortable—but when did he not?

“You can’t hunt in that chest thing. How can you even breathe?” Hudson loomed over Baylin, his voice tinged with barbs of pain and anger meant to punish the child who chose to turn away from the family.

“Maybe I should sit this one out, then,” Baylin mumbled to his feet.

Their father was tall and rugged, the kind of man that called to mind the American idealized patriot of the Old West. He was stern and intimidating and ruthless—everything Baylin wasn’t. As Valerie approached them, she could see the fire roiling beneath Hudson’s skin, an angry hue consuming his features. “No child of mine refuses to hunt,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Valerie stepped up to them and gently nudged Baylin. “Drop it, Dad. Baylin is hunting—does it really matter how he chooses to do it?”

Her brother looked up at her with a thankful expression, his eyes glistening with a faint teary sheen. Before Hudson could respond, a booming voice hushed the crowd.

“I think you’ve all waited long enough.” Kameron, the eldest of Hudson’s brothers, projected his voice from the front of the trophy room with more force and volume than the space required. “Tonight is a special event. Valerie has brought a tribute—the first woman in our family to do so.”

An awkward silence settled in the room, and somewhere someone coughed uncomfortably. This didn’t feel right. Valerie shifted her weight and stared defiantly back at Kameron. This wasn’t the kind of attention and admiration she was looking for. What is Uncle Asshat up to?

“I think it is only fitting,” he continued, “that the tribute chosen to be this year’s trophy is Valerie’s Wolf.”

Valerie’s stomach plunged five stories. This was a set up. They saw how pathetic her tribute was and knew it would be the perfect opportunity to break Theo’s Wolf-cherry and elevate Kameron’s son within the eyes of the rest of the family. This was bullshit. She felt her skin combust with rage as she clenched her fists and stared hard at her uncle, Theo grinning at his side.

They will not rob me of this. And if they do, I’ll make sure they pay.

#

Everyone was focused on Valerie, waiting for her response to the thinly veiled disgrace. It was the perfect distraction for Baylin. He drifted to the back of the room and slipped out into the lodge’s main sitting area.

The rest of the place was deserted, except for Aunt Gretta. She sat on the grand, hand-crafted log sofa, her fingers wrapped around a mug spilling steam into the air like a miniature chimney.

“Where are you off to?” she asked, her voice low—suspicious.

Baylin never had many allies in his family to begin with. Once he began transitioning, that number dwindled to just Valerie. For some reason, everyone saw his actions as the propagation of some nefarious agenda. He could barely take a shit without an extended family member giving him the stink-eye and asking what he was up to.

“Pre-hunt nerves,” Baylin said with a sheepish grin. “You know how I get. Gotta take a walk before all the excitement begins.”

Gretta narrowed her eyes and pressed her thin lips into a tight line. It was a few moments before she spoke again, and Baylin could feel his eye twitch under her gaze. “Go off the path if you’re going to puke,” she said finally, into her cup. “No one wants to step in your messes.”

Baylin gritted his teeth and gave her a stilted salute before disappearing out the front door. You throw up one time on grandpa’s shoes and you’re branded for life.

Outside, it had begun to snow again. Plump flakes drifted to the earth in lazy spirals. This would be the kind of hunt where snowshoes were necessary, but running to the supply shed for specialty footwear wasn’t Baylin’s intention. He grabbed a rifle instead.

The thought of hunting Donny had chewed at the back of Baylin’s mind since they left the motel. It didn’t feel right. Certainly, Donny was a killer—all Wolves were by nature—but maybe not all Wolves were savage murderers like he’d been taught? And now with Donny chosen as the trophy, he wouldn’t have a fighting chance, if he had one in the first place. Baylin knew he had to do something he’d never considered in his life—break a Wolf out of the Rose compound.

He picked his way to Donny’s pen, the fresh snow crunching under his boots. As he grew nearer, Baylin could hear a voice rising and falling on the wind. He paused to listen.

The Wolf cages were scattered across the expanse of Rose land, no nearer than two miles of each other to avoid captives from communicating and collaborating on plans for escape. At first, Baylin’s heart jolted with the possibility that one of the other Wolves had somehow already broken free, but quickly realized that the voice was Donny’s, talking to himself.

Baylin watched the large man pace around the enclosure, his arms crossed and hands emphatically rubbing the skin exposed from his thin t-shirt. Even with his hands occupied with the task of keeping warm, Donny’s other movements were animated as he recited Aragorn’s pre-battle speech from Return of the King. An odd choice of monologue, and maybe a bit unnerving given the circumstances, but Baylin couldn’t shake the feeling that this guy didn’t deserve what was coming for him.

“Are you planning an uprising?” Baylin asked as he stepped in front of the pen. “Because if you are, that will affect what I do next.”

Donny giggled and shook his head. “No. Movie quotes pump my blood—keeps me warm. Have you seen Lord of the Rings? It’s one of my favorites. Special effects have come so far.”

Baylin sucked in a deep breath and held it as he turned off the electricity to the cage. Is this the right thing to do? The alternative didn’t seem any better, and he was running out of time to make definitive decisions. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of his family came pouring from the lodge, ready for the thrill of the hunt.

The rifle in his hands was heavy, and Baylin adjusted his grip as he considered his approach with Donny. “Before I open this door,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I need you to understand something. I’m going to let you out of here and you need to listen to me and do exactly as I say, alright?”

Donny nodded, shifting his weight back and forth on his heels, as if he was swaying on the deck of a ship.

Baylin continued, squaring his shoulders, and willing his stomach to calm. “You’re in a lot of danger, but if you come at me, I will shoot you.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Donny kept on swaying and his voice broke.

There wasn’t much Baylin could say to that. Either he was making the biggest mistake of his life, or he was helping to preserve a family. Voices from the lodge cut through the air; decisive action was the only thing that mattered now. Baylin disabled the electricity and carefully opened the door.

“Be quiet and walk in front of me.” He motioned for Donny to step on to the path back to Valerie’s van. “The hunt is about to begin—you need to move quickly.”

Donny trotted toward the vehicle; the legs of his jeans soaked through from the snow. Baylin kept the rifle level at Donny’s back. The commotion from the lodge had become livelier as people began to spill out the front door, donning boots and snowshoes, preferred weapons in hand. They didn’t have much time left.

“Get in the van. It’s unlocked,” Baylin commanded.

Donny fumbled with the door handle and managed to flail himself into the cargo hold without drawing attention. It would be a miracle if they got out of this unscathed. With his reluctance toward shifting, Donny undoubtedly would end up as one of the more human-looking trophies in the basement, and who knew what Baylin’s fate would be. What was the punishment for a family member breaking a Wolf out of the compound? He’d never heard of anyone doing something like this before—he couldn’t imagine anyone had ever tried. Or maybe they had, and one of those creepy “human-like” mounts had actually once been part of the Rose family.

Baylin suppressed a shiver, then froze, his hand poised above the driver’s side door handle. A slight pressure eased into the small of his back.

“What are you doing, Bay?” Valerie’s voice was ice. The vibrations traveled up his spine as if someone had walked over his grave.

Baylin shifted his weight to place more space between his back and the tip of Valerie’s sword. She wouldn’t run me through, would she? He swallowed hard. “I’m not exactly sure how to answer that.”

Valerie let her blade fall and Baylin turned to meet her eyes. She was angry. The blood in her face was close to the surface and her skin was flushed bright red. “I could take the trophy,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just one swipe of this sword and that Wolf’s head is hanging above the fireplace. But,” she paused and glanced toward the lodge. “If I bring in this trophy, I’ve proven nothing. They won’t let me win.”

“Maybe you should stop playing their game,” Baylin offered. Valerie scoffed but didn’t argue, so he continued. “This family is scary, Val. I don’t think it’s normal to have bunkers full of weapons and an uncle who specializes in taxiderming people.”

“They aren’t people,” Valerie shot back.

“Whatever. The point is, I can’t do this anymore.” Baylin slipped his silver bullet necklace over his head and held it out to Valerie. “I’m not a hunter.”

Valerie took it from him and scowled down at the lump of metal in her hand. Baylin thought she might yell, but instead she simply said, “Get that Wolf out of here. I’ll cover for you.”

Baylin didn’t hesitate. He yanked open the car door and jumped into the driver’s seat. Donny stared at him, wide-eyed, from the back.

“We’ll talk more about this when you get back,” Valerie said and shut Baylin’s door. He started the engine and watched her walk away toward the Wolf pen.

~

They stood calf-deep in the snow, Donny still shivering and Baylin surveying the forest around them. The snow was falling harder, blanketing their tracks within minutes.

“Through that grove of trees,” Baylin said, pointing ahead of them. “You’ll find the river. Follow it south and it will eventually meet up with the main road. You’ll be able to follow that all the way back home.”

“Thank you,” Donny mumbled and began trudging forward through the snow, shoulders slumped, and arms crossed tightly across his body.

“Donny, wait,” Baylin called. “What are you doing?”

Donny turned around, his face scrunched in confusion. “I’m doing what you told me to.”

Baylin sighed and attempted to untangle the nest of complicated emotions weaving into his brain: frustration, rage, fear, pity. He wasn’t prepared for this. “You’ll be warmer and cover more ground if you change.”

Donny’s face went blank. “Change into what? I don’t have any other clothes.”

“No—that’s not—” Baylin huffed and cupped his hand and held it above his head like a pointy ear. “You know, change. Four feet are faster, fur coat is warmer. Dude, they will kill you if you don’t get away from here quick.”

Baylin had never seen anyone more crestfallen than the man before him. Donny’s whole essence seemed to deflate. “Do I have to?” he asked.

Baylin shrugged. “Probably—yeah.”

“Alright.” Donny started to tug his shirt over his head.

Baylin couldn’t contain the awkward panic welling in his chest. Do I turn my back on a Wolf to give him privacy and make myself an easy target, or do I watch a practical stranger strip to the buff? He settled on focusing on the man’s feet.

The shift was nearly imperceivable. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a Wolf change form, but it was the first time Baylin had witnessed it without staring down the sight of a rifle. His stomach flipped. The red wolf took a step forward, then paused, wagging his tail once, twice.

“Look, Donny, I’m sorry. I—” Baylin wanted to say more but couldn’t. How could he genuinely apologize for upending someone’s life like this and have it actually matter? Nothing he could say would seem like enough. “I hope your niece likes those movies.”

The wolf tilted his head slightly, tongue lolling out in a goofy canine smile.

And then he was gone. Nothing left but a set of paw prints and a pile of clothing quickly disappearing underneath the fresh snow.

~The End~