Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 1 - ROGUE

In my defence, I didn't start the fight.

I was trying to mind my own business. I had been taking a quiet stroll through the woods, enjoying the bluebells and tanning my arms in the afternoon sun. Yes, maybe I was on Ember territory, and maybe I had nicked a few things — nothing of value, mind, just a six-pack of beer and a packet of crisps — but I hadn't hurt anyone.

"I've just mind-linked the Alpha," the woman in front of me hissed. "He's going to be here any minute."

"Cool," I told her.

She spluttered something which sounded like swearwords, but that couldn't be right. Pack females were too respectable to swear. Maybe they could make an exception when they found a rogue sitting on their patio furniture at four-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon. This one was damn near hysterical because she was too proud to run from a scrawny thing like me and too scared to attack.

I popped open my fourth beer can and took a gulp. My first one was blocking someone's gutter, crushed and drained. The second and third ones were decorating a wind vane. It wasn't very nice beer, but then I didn't really like beer anyway. Tasted like bubbly goat piss.

"Can you get an ETA?" I asked.

"An ETA?" she repeated, aghast.

"On the Alpha. I want to finish my crisps before he gets here, but I don't want to rush them unless I need to — you get me?"

Setting the can on the arm of my chair, I wrestled with the packet of Wotsits. When it came open, half of them went flying onto the patio, because I was tipsy. It was my turn to swear. The string of words were filthy enough to make the woman flinch, and if I had thought she couldn't get any more horrified, I was wrong.

"He's on his way, like I said," she snapped. "You should run."

I stuffed a handful of Wotsits into my mouth and chewed noisily. "Five minutes? Ten?"

She closed her eyes and opened them again. "One minute."

"See, why do I feel like you just made that up?" I sighed. I knew I wasn't anywhere near the pack house, and Ember territory was enormous. Ellis could've done the maths about distance and time and shit, but I was too hammered and too stupid.

I continued to eat my Wotsits, sipping the beer between handfuls. The flockie continued to stare at me like I was odd in the head. And maybe I was, but that didn't mean she could be judgy about it.

"Are you ... drunk?" the woman demanded.

"Does this look like apple juice to you?" I retorted, trying to wave the beer can at her. It slipped out of my fingers and some splashed over my jeans before I managed to catch it. "Ah, shit."

A minute had passed without any sign of the Alpha. I was beginning to relax. I slowed down my eating to savour the few Wotsits I had left, and I crossed my legs on the deck chair. My jeans were sticky now, but I would lose them in the shift anyway, so who the hell cared?

The woman was still hovering like a wasp — not dangerous, just kinda annoying. "You do know they'll execute you, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah. I know. Got my death sentence right here," I assured her. One finger pulled down the collar of my shirt to show her my tattoo. New Haven, it said in cramped black lettering. I had a bunch of Celtic-style patterns to surround it. "Do you think I deserve to die for sitting in your garden?"

"You're a rogue," she muttered, but she didn't sound very sure.

"Damn straight," I laughed. "I'd almost forgotten. So, which'll it be? Drink your blood or peel you like a grape?"