The Good Intentions of a Cyborg Werewolf

Better Kept Secrets - VIII

It was much easier to get to Erin's place than it would've been to go back to Mercer's. She lived in the less dense area of the city, and traffic was lighter. Luke seemed to do his best to keep his eyes out for a tail, but something made Erin feel like the whistling man was long gone. After all the punishment he took it'd be crazy to keep after them, and Erin had other concerns. She worried about anyone recognizing her, or if anyone happened to have a camera at the park. She mused that people would likely be more focused on the man in the costume than her, but the last thing she wanted was the police knocking at her door. Alex was at the park, he could've seen her. There's no way she could lie her way out of that even if she wanted to. These nervous thoughts kept nagging her, and she checked her watch. She only had about twenty minutes before she was expected back at the office, but she'd have to be late. Luke didn't say anything, but Erin was observing a pattern with his transformation. He always came out of it drained, and it made her think of the chemical cocktail he was always being fed. Between suppressants and catalysts his body must be in turmoil, Erin likening it to taking sleeping pills and then adrenaline. No matter what he really was, she couldn't imagine it'd be pleasant. He may not be human but he sure seemed as weary as one.

"We'll get you cleaned up, too," she said as they entered her house. "How long do you think it'll take for them to, y'know, grow back?" She turned back to Luke, who in turn looked back with no expression.

"Right," Erin sighed. Luke said nothing, simply taking a seat at the counter as she headed towards the kitchen and opened Kyle's fridge. It wasn't exactly well stocked, but he had a sirloin steak. If she worked nights he'd sometimes treat himself when she wasn't home, which sometimes bothered her as she could always smell it afterwards, but now she'd give anything to have that annoyance back. It came to her now that she'd never get annoyed at his cooking again, or fuss over the noise when he'd have friends over, or lie awake at night worrying he'd never come home from the job. She'd never wake up to see him beside her, feel his arms around her as he greeted her in the hallway when she got home, never hear his voice as he whispered "I love you" when they laid together on the couch. It still didn't seem real. It didn't seem fair.

"You okay?" Luke asked, and Erin snapped back to reality. She looked at the package steak in her hands and shook her head.

"Fine," she said, and turned towards the oven.

"Wait," Luke said, holding up a hand. "Don't cook it."

"That's disgusting," Erin said, but then remembered when he ate in front of her. Her statement was still true, but she realised her own dietary bias had little to do with Luke's personal needs. She handed him the steak, and he held it to his nose.

"Thanks," he said, and peeled it open. "You wouldn't happen to have paprika, would you?"

"Uh, sure," Erin said, and rummaged through one of the cupboards. She found the bottle and handed it to him, but rather than pop the flap to shake it out, he unscrewed the whole top and dumped it over.

"Would you like some meat with your spice?" Erin asked, knowing she wouldn't get an answer. It made no sense to her that he'd take the steak raw and then just destroy it with spice, but he seemed well-used to it. Once the bottle was empty he lifted the meat with his bare hands, and Erin was forced to look away as he devoured it. It still wasn't right, not to her, even ignoring the fact that eating meat already revolted her. Yet something deep down inside was almost drawn to it. The same thing that made her lash out in the park. Erin had never attacked anyone. She'd hardly thrown a punch before the last few days, and she hadn't eaten meat since she was five. Yet now she stabbed people, now she felt hungry, and it was difficult to reconcile it all in such a short time.