A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Have we met? I’m a werewolf-WERE-WOLF.

July 28, 2010
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I was lounging around Paris’s house sipping on champagne and biting into a strawberry when Addison said “You and Gabby, it’s got to stop.”  I looked through my sunglasses at him and back towards the the deeper interior of the house, Paris was inside.

“You’re going to get him in trouble, if you don’t make peace with her.”  He continued, in a rather serious voice at me.

“She started it! She always starts it!” I hissed at him, finishing off the strawberry.

Addison downed a mouthful of beer and looked back at me. “So do the right thing, and just don’t bait her.  Don’t accelerate her temper.  Just let it go.”

My eyebrows shot up so high, I think they almost flew off my head.   I pushed my sunglasses up onto my head.

“And let her walk all over me? Insult me in front of my packmate and his pack? Let her punch me and kick me till I’m down? I’m sorry have we actually met? Because you know, I could swear that would be some kind of bullshit Dr Phil human behaviour you, an Alpha, were talking about, to a WEREWOLF. I’m a fucking Werewolf. I don’t roll over and play dead like a domestic fucking dog on a leash!”  My voice was hushed but getting louder.  We both looked back, in to the house, towards where Paris had disappeared.

“You don’t understand.  After the other night’s altercation, Gabby’s been talking about having the right to fight you for real.”  Addison commented far, too calmly.  My heart on the other hand, just started racing.  “She’s talking about a sanctioned fight.”

I sat upright.

“Merde.”

Addison nodded his head and drank more beer.

Paris doesn’t know, yet.  But that’s only because between, Wiatt, Jules and me, we’re keeping her at bay.  Not letting her anywhere near him.”

“You think if she got his ear, he’d actually let her fight me?” I asked suddenly feeling slight anxious.  Surely my packmate wouldn’t back that bitch over me. Surely.  But then again, I wasn’t pack, was I? I wasn’t his pack.  Did he have the right?

“No I don’t think he would, which would make even more trouble for him.”

I put my champagne down.

“What do you mean?”

“Technically, according to pack law, Gabby has every right to fight you.”

“Why, because I hurt her ego? Are you kidding me? She’d wipe the floor with me. I can’t compete against her! It’s not even a fair match up! An Alpha against a Beta wolf!”

Addison shrugged his shoulders.  “Doesn’t have to be fair. Publically, it looks like you, another pack wolf, started a fight, with an Alpha from our pack on a lunar week. I mean, talk about breaking the rules of civility and peace. Besides, the other night, to me and everyone else, it looked like you could handle her. That you bested her.  That makes you the perfect candidate for a fight. If she doesn’t calm down and let the idea of fighting you for some sort of honour go, then she could cause waves for Paris’s leadership.”  Addison said raising the beer bottle to his lips again.

I felt the blood pale from my face. I suddenly felt ill. I’d never thought about what my bitching with Gabby could or did mean, beyond the superficial girl stuff.  I was the Manhattan Maen’s packmate. Of course there were rules and expectations I had to adhere to.  What pack wolf didn’t have a place and a role to play?

“She could start talking to others, trying to undermine his leadership, out of nothing more than spite for you. Because she can’t get her shot at you.”

My mouth dropped open.

“You’re saying I could be responsible for usurping the leading Alpha of the Manhattan Maen pack?”

“It’s just a theory, but it’s my job to this pack, to Paris to be the thinker on things like this. To try and strategize on Gabby’s next move, if she makes it.  We both know what she’s like and I just wouldn’t put it past her. To do something like that.”

“But other than to get at me.  What purpose would it serve for you guys to loose the best leading Alpha you’ve ever had?”

Addison shrugged his shoulders again and I picked up my champagne and sculled it down in one fluid motion.  My mind was whirling.  Being physical action wolf I could handle, for the most part.

Being played, never worked for me. Ever.

“You think she’d really do that? Go after the leadership of the Pack? But how?”

Addison put the beer bottle on the nearest table.  “There’s only two ways to become leading pack Alpha.  It either gets handed over to you, or you make a challenge for it and fight, till the death for it.  I don’t think Gabby’s ever going to fight him for it, she wouldn’t win and she knows that.  But she might encourage others to make a play for it.  Maybe not even from within the pack.  She’s plenty bitter that she could consider trying to start something from outside the pack.”

I clutched my stomach.  I felt like I was going to be sick hearing his words.  It was my doing. Putting Paris’s leadership in jeopardy, giving Gabby the ammunition she needed, to question it, if she wanted to.  To make him appear, less than adequate as the pack leader, because of his favouritism and bias to me, over her.  His own pack.

This was not good.

“What do we, what do I do?  I can’t fight her. I can’t take her in a fight and I don’t think I could take the beating she’d dish on me either.”

Addison looked back of his shoulder, as if looking to see whether Paris was coming back in.

“Just cool it for now with her okay. Pretend you’re on a truce, even if she’s not.  The boys and I will monitor her moves and see if she’s going to let it go or not.”  We both turned our heads, hearing the floor boards moving as Paris approached the room again.

“We’ll figure the rest out later.”


Aftermath

January 30, 2010
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When the Alpha werewolf goes in to fight and wins over whatever challenger was naive enough to fight him, or her, as the case maybe, they are not helped up.

For the Alpha, weather injured or not, it’s a show of their leadership in the pack, to walk away from a fight by themselves.

For the challenger, it’s a show of their weakness. They are not acknowledged in any sense of compassion. To do so would be insulting to the pack leading Alpha. To do so would be like an act of defiance to the leader’s victory and ruling. It’s just not the done thing.

You get yourself into a fight with an Alpha werewolf, and you somehow manage to survive it, then you get the right to carry your own weary carcass out of the fight zone and warpath of the Alpha.

But you do it yourself.

And if you can’t, then you’re left exactly where you are. To figure your own way out of your own predicament.

Paris walks over to me, back in human form.
Back Dog lay curled in on himself, on the ground, still in lipwerei form. Breathing heavily and bleeding slowly. His back legs, pushing, and slipping against the floor and blood. Trying to move himself forward and up. Black Dog’s front legs are next to no use to him. He’s not even trying to use them. If he were a werewolf, we’d probably all be picking up on his pain. But he’s not.

So I force myself not to care.

Paris probably severed a tendon or two with his claws, when he sliced him open. Doesn’t always take much to make your enemy immobile, you just got to have the willpower to over power them effectively. But it can hurt like hell, and werewolves are not known for playing things safe or soft. If we’re in a fight, in our animal form, you can expect nothing less than ruthlessness.

The crowd breaks up and wanders off.
Music returns, flowing through the club loudly.
Everything as it should be.

People take to the dance floor again, drinks flow and gradually chatter returns to the soundtrack of the night around us.

You do not fuck with the wolves and get to brag about it.
We will have your pride served to you in the gutter over you bleeding, broken, body before that’s allowed.

Addison and the other seconds in command, check in with Paris, who assures them he is good. Waving them off before they all back off again and I’m left standing in front of him. I wrap my arms around him and bury my head in his shoulder. Listening to the rapid thudding of the heart beat in his chest. His arms close around me and we held each other tight.

Just because he won the fight, doesn’t mean he wanted to fight.
But he can not let authority go unchallenged and he can not allow an outsider, not a werewolf, to walk into our world and think they can insult any of us.

It’s one of the first sensations I picked up on when he shape shifted back, it was so strong. The aftermath of doing the expected thing. Of carrying the pressure of expectation. Of being the leader.


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