Sleep Noise

The Commisioner

Atticus watched him from the corner of his eye while trying to listen to Lavanya's story. He was bee-lining for them; werewolf by what Atticus could smell of him. He took his friend by the shoulders and pulled her close to him so their bodies touched as Imrus approached.

“Pretty girl you got there,” the man commented as if admiring a neighbor's new car. Atticus was baffled by the brass of the bigger man, unafraid to express it through his slack jaw and raised eyebrows.

“Thanks. Was there something I can help you with?” he asked sternly, hoping they could slip away without confrontation.

“You could help me by taking a long walk away from here,” the werewolf grabbed Lavanya's arm, “and leave this little filly here.” Atticus glanced down at the sudden grip a moment before his blood began to boil.

“Buddy,” he strained to maintain his calm disposition, “you need to seriously reconsider your actions.” He began to countdown to ten.

“Yeah?” Lavanya was jerked away from his clutch and he felt her nails dig through his thick cotton sleeves. “And why's that?” Another violent tug and Atticus was sudden unhinged.

He took hold of the cur by the back of the scalp and brought it down hard into his knee. Imrus stumbled a moment before charging forward, blood flowing from his fractured nose.

Atticus side stepped and kicked his attacker's backside, awkwardly propelling him off balance and head first into the wooden bumper of the counter.

“You stupid fucking leech,” he bellowed as he stood, snarling when his contender winked with four sharp teeth gleaming. He ran again, superior in size to the vampire ahead of him. He wrapped his arms around Atticus' waist and lifted him above his head, only to drop him on the flat surface of a table. The wood shattered underneath the weight and Atticus tried to quickly crawl to his feet away from the shards, avoiding the growing crowd around him.

Before he could stand fully, Imrus grabbed his ankle and yanked him towards him. Once Atticus was on his back, a softball sized fist battered down on his face, drowning his vision in neon soaked shade. He felt his own fangs shredding his lips, the skull behind his eyes and nose splintering.

With one last, drawn out pull back of Imrus' arm, Atticus bucked and took hold of the hand meant to break his face.

He twisted the wrist of the yowling lycan behind his back and grabbed the waist of his pants, lifting him off his feet in a flash and pulling him down with an immense strength, his back perpendicular to his knee.

The room was silent, omitting the ragged breath of Atticus as he let the limp body slip from his grasp.

He stood from his kneeling position and walked towards the door as the congregation parted.

Lavanya stepped toward, her blonde curls wisping around her worried face, one finger pressed to her bottom lip. His extended hand stroked her ivory face as he leaned in to kiss her cheek as if to offer the forgiveness she silently asked for.

Slowly, his shadow emptied from the room and the sorry souls behind him followed, Richard among them.

Atticus walked along the windy sidewalk beneath the overhang of blocks of shops and restaurants on his route home. His ears rang from the yelling in the bar and the blows to the head he took. The moonless night was a comfort to his tired eyes as was the silence around him. Until he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned into an alley to his right and adhered to a shadowy corner. His pursuer tailed him, their silhouette blocked out the soft near-light of the stars and far off street lamps. Atticus waited.