Beasthood

~Chapter 16- Bargain~

Last chapter upload for this week. And I appreciate every vote and read you've all done for me. This chapter is dedicated to @NayyirahShariff for her super voting this week. Thank you! I hope you enjoy the next chapters. Here's more of Garik. He's one of my favourites. :) What do you think of him? 

~Chapter 16 - Bargain~

Ten days earlier...

Wednesday May 18th, 1:03 p.m.

Deer Creek

Garik rolled himself a cigarette, mixing tobacco with dried mint leaves whilst he leaned against his Jeep. He was two miles away from Deer Creek but had pulled over to stretch his cramped legs. And he needed a smoke, badly.

The sun was blazing, his forehead was dripping with sweat and his grey shirt was glued to his damp back. He squinted up at the clear, blue sky above his dark aviators and blew air out of his parched lips. He then licked the cigarette paper and rolled it with his hands into a thin stick, put it in his mouth and lit the end with his lucky, chrome, ace of spades lighter. It was a gift from a comrade who'd died twenty-five years ago.

Bobbie 'Bob Marley' Richman. They called him 'Bob Marley' because he'd had the big dreadlocked hair, even though he was white, and Scottish. But it strangely suited him. No joke.

Garik smiled sadly.

He'd had his throat, liver and spleen torn out right in front of Garik, when the Deer Creek Pack was attacked by another called the Red Sword Pack. They earned that name from all the blood they spilled over the past couple of centuries.

It was now led by a tough, Viking wannabe by the name of Njord Rasmussen. His father and the Deer Creek's current Pack Leader's father, Olaf, had been best friends since they were boys. But a misunderstanding over something Garik never found out, caused them to fight against each other.

Garik was fifty-two now. He exhaled a halo of smoke as he worked out his age back then. He'd just turned twenty-seven when the war broke out, he remembered. He thought about the friends he'd lost as he inhaled the sweet smoke of his roll-up. Bobbie had been the greatest loss of all.

His reminiscing was broken by a faint noise behind him, coming from the forest to the north. He sniffed the air.

He didn't move as he called out, “It's a good job I don't have my gun close by. I might have got a little too friendly with the trigger.” The sound of heavy footfalls on the cement met his ears and he turned with a dark smile on his face, to gaze at a man the size of a house. “I could smell you from a mile away,” Garik said, stubbing out his cigarette in his palm and putting it in the breast-pocket of his cotton shirt for later.

“You must be getting old then, huh? I'd be able to hear you fart from triple that distance without even trying,” came the gravelly, low voice of a man you'd imagine singing in a rock band.

His brown beard was well-kempt, in contrast to his rather unruly, dark-blond hair that was tied back in a pony tail. Garik barely observed the Were's face when he saw the muscular mass of his body; the guy was all muscle.

Garik may have been older than 'Goldilocks' but he was a skilled fighter, a quick-thinker, with balls of steel. He'd been in many battles and very little set him on edge, Goldilocks included.

“Old, and wise,” Garik warned, tapping his temple with his index finger. “And my wise brain tells me that you're trespassing on Deer Creek land, so unless you've got a good reason to be following me, I suggest you spit it out. Unless,” he held up a hunting knife -Crocodile Dundee style, “you want this old man to show you he's still got a good aim.”

Goldilocks held up his hands defensively. “Easy there, you might cut yourself.”

Garik growled. It was a gut-chilling, guttural growl, like an animal. “Out with it,” he grunted.

“Well, I guess we'll skip all the niceties and get down to business-”

“Business? Huh! Whatever you're selling I ain't buying, Goldilocks.”

Not taking offence at Garik giving him such a pet name, the Were's deep storm-blue eyes creased at the sides as he grinned. His wide mouth looked too big for his face. “Oh, I think what I've got for you will be of interest.”

Garik listened, now curious.

“A little bird told me that you've taken particular interest in the mysterious Cur Hunters?”

Fuck, how'd he know that? Garik glared at him.

Goldilocks saw the anxiety in his eyes and smiled slyly. “I'm guessing I'm right then?”

“You might be.”

“So are you interested in hearing our info on them?”

“Depends.”

Goldilocks raised his thick eyebrows. “On what?”

“On whether I can trust you not to put me in deep shit,” Garik shot back.

“Why would I do that when we have similar interests?” his gravelly voice rose in pitch, trying to lure Garik in.

“I doubt that,” Garik remarked flatly.

“We can get you in.”

Garik stared at him uncertainly. He studied him for a moment before retorting, “No thanks.” He then turned to open his car door.

The Were was behind him in seconds. Garik swung round with his elbow ready to crush the Were's nose. Goldilocks blocked the attack with his solid arm, leaving Garik's elbow an inch from the Were's face.

Garik was much shorter than the Were, so whilst he cricked his neck to look up at the him, Goldilocks gazed down over Garik's hovering arm, into his face.

“This is a peace offering,” the Were began, cautioning. “My Pack Leader doesn't make many. And he won't offer it again. I suggest you consider it.” He knocked Garik's arm away.

Garik stood up straight, ready for a counterattack.

Instead, Goldilocks slapped a thin document of A4 to Garik's chest, holding it there as he said, “Read it. Get back to us. Contact details are in there.” He turned and walked away. When he got to the edge of the trees he looked back and added, “Make sure you destroy it. You do know how to do that?” And then as if by magic, he disappeared as he merged into the trees.

“Bloody smart alec,” Garik grumbled. He looked down at the booklet in his hands, flicking through the printed pages. He left it open on the last page with bold, ominous text that read:

I am offering you a chance to fight for a great cause. If you are interested in my offer then contact me within the next five days. If I do not hear from you I will consider that as your final answer and any chance of us becoming allies will vanish indefinitely.

“Well shit, Rassy boy, you sure are direct,” he remarked, releasing a short laugh.

He swatted the booklet onto the front seat and got in his Jeep. He slammed his door and stared at the trees in front. After a moment he glanced down at the document and back at the trees, then back down again. In a hasty motion he picked up the booklet, swivelled round reaching for his rucksack on the back seat. He unzipped it and stuffed the papers inside, then zipped it back up. Chucking it on the front seat, he exhaled heavily and grunted, “Fuck it,” before starting the engine.