Stained

3 : Lurked

Argen

I held the golden pendant in between my thumb and forefinger, twisting it under the sunlight with a face full of disdain. It felt like a collar. No. It is a collar. With this, I was unequivocally announcing to the world that I am the Court’s slave – again.

Before I followed the urge to crush the damned thing in my fist, I let it fall from my hand.  I directed my thoughts to more pertinent matters. My mission. Under broad daylight, I was walking briskly to the source of the wet, foul smell that could only belong to a large pack of oversized mutts. The scents they’ve left to mark the boundaries of their territory clung to my nose.

Disgusting.

I left my car at the edge of the forest. If I took it, I would have reached the Black Moon pack sooner, but I wasn’t in any hurry. Besides, a purring engine would have alerted them easily of my presence.

Not that my smell wouldn’t give me out. To them, I stank like dead corpse and carnage… or so someone said before his final moments. It was possibly due to the fact that I drink blood to survive. Or it might be that I am as repulsive to them as they are to me. Either way, it vaguely mattered.

Today, they are my prey. I am their predator.

I arrived in fashion. Greeting me warmly was a congregation of severely warped faces of men with full fangs and dark claws. Four of them were in Lycan form, their furs ranging from dark brown to spotted gray. They were pacing around me, measuring, waiting...

A huge man stepped out from the first line of defense. A young man. Couldn’t be older than thirty. He bared his teeth at me.

“You are not welcomed here, vampire.”

My trained eyes swept at their pathetic, bristling forms. My gaze fell back to the young man. “Where’s your Alpha?”

He growled at me, trying and hugely failing to intimidate me. “I am the Alpha, you insolent bastard!”

I nodded, deeming it better not to offer my condolences. Old man Thaddeus had met his maker sooner than I expected. Judging from his son’s attitude, he had not yet received the wisdom that came with the responsibility. Too young.

Not in a mood to play, I raised a hand in an attempt to placate him. I wrinkled my nose as I spoke objectively. “Child, eight vampires were sent here a week ago. Do you know their whereabouts?”

Out of the blue, one of his mutts stepped forward, snarling at me with unevenly curled lips. “You haughty leech! You dare call our Alpha a child!”

The mutts snarled ferociously. I lifted a brow, and then the pup who posed to attack me began convulsing. He clawed at his throat as frothy bubbles escaped his mouth.

“Enough! Stop it!” the Alpha roared, and I complied, not because he ordered it, but because if I killed the mutt, the others would lunge at me. If they attacked me, I would undoubtedly kill them. All of them.

The young Alpha studied me with intense blue eyes. He speculatively eyed my pendant.

"You’re alone?”

I didn't reply.

He looked over his shoulders. Some of his men slowly backed away into the pack house, while five of them flanked his sides as body guards. The rest dispersed into the forest, as fast as the wind. I could hear how their skins ripped off their human bodies and soon, I could very well catch the sound of thudding paws.

The Alpha looked visibly calmer, cooler… deadlier. I guess the old man did teach his son how to be civil with other creatures of the night.

Commendable.