The Walking Wolves of Tahoe: Slaughter

Chapter 34

I work today. Lola works later. I didn't like leaving her home alone but she insisted that she would be fine. She promised me she would stay inside and would keep her shotgun close to her. Later, Bruce Cox and a few of his guys from his crew are supposed to come over and replace the windows. So, I know Lola won't be alone all day.

Now, I knew it would be useless and a waste of time but I Googled dragons anyways while I should have been working on the Samuelson project. I learned much of nothing, not that a modern-day search engine was going to know anything about Morphers, especially one so archaic and unknown to even to ourselves.

The computer only showed me images of Chinese dragons that are well known pieces of historical art and ones created by an adoring population.

I say that only because, Eastern or Western dragons, both are very different, but both seem to be loved by a wide fan base of humans. Dragons are drawn as savages and as beautiful creatures, young and old, realistic and cartoon, both the hero and the villain.

Werewolves...?

Not much out there but scum and villainy. And no heroes unless you like also vampires that sparkle in the sunlight, and even then, they're bigger than life furry dogs.

I don't know why I even bothered with that. I know what a Werewolf is supposed to look like. I look at myself in the mirror every morning when I brush my teeth.

I tried to return my focus only on the historical pieces of art and representation of the Chinese dragon. Sometimes...just sometimes, historical art reflects more truth than any one wants to admit too.

But even then, it was hard to imagine that Qin, or any man, can become a serpent that defies gravity and flies. The only thing that almost every piece of historical art depicted was that dragons guard and fight over a flaming pearl.

Might explain why the Long Siwang numbers have dwindled if they're constantly at war with each other over flaming pearls that are associated with prosperity, power, immortality or the moon.

I looked at the clock, sighed and threw my head back against the back of my office chair to stare at the ceiling. I hate my nine-five job. Nothing is worse than watching the clock hoping for a bomb threat so we can all go home or for the lunch hour to start. Either would be fine.

And this is to be my curse for life?

Maybe as Alpha, I just won't show up. I'll go into work when I want too. Or I could work from home. I definitely won't be wearing a corporate monkey suit anymore, that's for sure.

Maybe being Alpha won't be so bad.

I'll be in control.

I'll make the rules.

And I'll...

"Don't you work anymore?" Mick said from behind me.

I sat up in my chair and spun around in it to face my Father leaning up against the quasi door frame of my cubicle.

"I work." I lied with a half-smile.

All I got back was a cold stare of disbelief.

"Uh-huh." Mick shook his head. "I only came down here to see if you wanted to join me and some others for lunch. We're going to go play pool down the street."

"At the Nosh Pit?" I asked, but knew the answer. It's the only local bar down the street that has pool tables and serves food.

Mick nodded, "I feel like torturing my insides with some nacho chili cheese fries with extra jalapenos."