The Heir To Ishtar's Legacy

3 - Heir

The evening of the party had arrived, as had the guests - none of whom were my friends - the girls and boys I'd grown up with. Strange considering the whole darned thing was honouring me, myself, I. Then again, I don't think I'd have any friends left if they knew of my family's peculiar religion and um, genetics. 

Mummy dearest had certainly spared no coin for the evening's festivities; this had to be one of the most lavish parties in Borrowdale's history. My mother's extravagance embarrassed me, always had since a very young age. Although my dad was earning good money, it never failed to amaze me how quickly my mum could spend it. And parties were her favourite thing.

Everyday townsfolk, of course, believed the party was in honour of yet another of my dad's business successes. As the CEO of EcoTech, a leading company in the management of biodegradable structures enhanced with AI technology, he was considered somewhat of a pioneer. 

With a predilection for wildlife preservation, enabling schemes to benefit both man and beast, my dad's latest contribution had hugely impacted the Forestry Commission and the Wildlife Trust, offering a futuristic approach to keeping an already fragile ecological system from further devastation. This achievement was met with much praise and commendation and was hailed as 'this year's best and most innovative contribution' within its field. Consequently, my dad's achievement could not have been better timed, for it served as the perfect cover for my inauguration. 

His work had, allegedly,  been extremely beneficial for those of us born with a certain 'genetic mutation'. Of course, this was not known in the mainstream population, but it did enable both man and beast to co-habit without too many unfortunate events. Still, all the guests at my party were werewolves (according to Mum and Dad). No mainstreamers allowed.

I knew only the basics of the invited clans and their packs, having been told about most by my parents over the years. Still, I considered them all equally fanciful and deluded. 

A number of guests obviously shared my parents' ideology and were ardent followers of Ishtar. A second, lesser-known doctrine in the vicinity and based on a Roman soldier called Niciros was also in attendance, as were the Lycaean Zeus and the Damarchus clan, both of Greek mythology, also the Volsungs, a Nordic clan, and not forgetting the Verdun and Burgot brood, whose bloodline hailed from the year 1521, but rumour had it their tale was really just about a couple of serial killers. That did not deter their disciples, of course, who firmly believed them to have been genuine werewolves. Incredible to think that such a multifarious group of individuals all adopted mythical creatures as their idols. Of course, the source of any given clan did not determine their subsequent packs' nationalities or where they lived. No, these founding clans boasted members worldwide.

The appointment of Ishtar's Heir had been readily sanctioned by all clans. Quite why, I didn't understand. And, other than the donning of a title, what the hell was it meant to verify anyway? No doubt some long-winded contract would outline my duties and responsibilities. How disappointed everyone would be when they realised the entire foundation on which their faith rested was a load of trumped-up crap.

Even following my harrowing dream from two days ago, I still couldn't bring myself to acknowledge that werewolves were real and that perhaps my parents were just sad, deluded cultists.

I nervously looked at my watch, seeing if it was synchronised with the large grandfather clock in the entrance hall. Not long now, I thought miserably. The Matthews' Special Announcement was imminent. 

As I mingled with guests, I found myself unusually receptive to their conversations and politely listened as they readily discussed their respective clans.  I already knew Ishtar was renowned for being the woman Gilgamesh rejected because of her reputation with her past suitors. However, the modern disciples' devotion stemmed from her treatment of a particular young shepherd who was deeply in love with her. Having become bored by the young man's attentions, the Goddess cursed him, and he became a wolf. Allegedly, he was later killed by his hounds. It was gruesome, yes, let alone ridiculous.