I had begun to come to in the later hours of the night. Suspended in animation by the cruel beauty of sleep paralysis, I took note of my surroundings, enough to realize that I’d been placed in bed. Stripped of my clothing, save the boxers about my waist, I’d been bundled as if expecting a storm—which, I idealized, could not have been more appropriate.
Eventually, exhaustion took hold, and I was thrust deep into sleep.
The second time I woke, I was not chained by my own inhibitions.
Barreling out of bed with the effort of the recently-awoken, I tore through the flat with just enough caution to ensure that I wouldn’t run into things before unlocking the door and storming into the hall. By this time, the clarity was beginning to come back—the visitors, the wait, Guy’s reappearance, our conversation—and with it raged the fire that quickly consumed my being. I could care less whether or not I was in my boxers. At that moment, I only had one thing on my mind.
“Elliot!” I called, the rough timbre of my voice echoing throughout the house. “Elliot! Elliot! Where the fuck are you?”
My heavy footfalls upon the stairs summoned the presence of one of the help, who blankly stared at me with wide eyes before I pushed him out of the way.
“ELLIOT!” I screamed, tearing through the living quarters and toward the opposite wing. “You better get out here right now before I—”
“What the hell is going on?” a familiar voice barked.
I spun, enraged, toward the living room—where, atop the spread of couches, sat none other than Elliot Winters, a book poised in his robed lap and a pair of glasses perched atop his nose.
“You know what’s going on, you bastard,” I growled.
“There’s no need for such language,” he said, placing the book aside. “I imagine he already explained it to you, though knowing my son it might not have been the most perfect terms. He sacrificed himself in order to offer you asylum. I don’t understand why you’re so angry. What better gift could he have given?”
“Why didn’t you throw me out? I’m the one who killed her!”
“Because you would’ve been eaten by the wolves.”
The tone in his voice couldn’t have been influenced by what he was. That was absolutely impossible. Not once throughout my time with Guy or any of these Kaldr had there been mention of such abilities. At that moment, though, it seemed to be just the case—that his eyes, so rigid and painfully-blue, could draw beads along my neck, his lips the frozen maw that could snare me whole. Any anger I’d had at that moment was diminished in but a second—snuffed like a candle whose flame had been bright and strong.
“Do you honestly believe I didn’t think the whole thing through?” Elliot asked, snapping me free of my trance. “Do you truly believe that I am so stupid, Jason, that I didn’t consider every option? I’m more than aware of the predicament you suffer. Your faces have been on every single major news station since you left. You’re wanted murderers—serial killers if you consider the number dead. The fact that you’re still here is still a blessing, but I am well aware that you pose a far greater threat in the real world than you do here.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Don’t you get it? You take one step off this property and the Howlers will have you faster than you could possibly imagine. But they won’t keep you for themselves. Oh, no. They plan on doing something much worse.” Elliot stood. He crossed the living room to stand before me, his impressive height even more intimidating up close. “Do you have any idea why I let Guy go and not you?”
“Why?”
“Because if he gets caught, he at least has options. His lineage provides him that. You, on the other hand…” Elliot smiled and shook his head. “You’d be the death of the Kaldr.”
“You’re lying.”
“No. I’m not. The Howlers’ primary objective has always been to eliminate us. With a human scapegoat, they’d be able to turn you into the authorities without question. And you—with nothing more than the fantasy of werewolves and mountain men you’d be forced to present—would bring the entire state of Texas down on us. It doesn’t matter whether or not they believe it’s real. They’ll come, regardless.”
“You could move,” I said. “You’ve done it before.”
“But in the presence of the public? I’m not an idiot, and I am most definitely not a fool. Announcing our presence with such an act would only expose ourselves to the entire world. The Howlers have already been stacking the odds against us, trying to drive us from enacted safe zones and into the wild. All those livestock killings, so close to this ranch... on private and state property? If it isn’t them, it’s the others. One hint of what we are and we are either the next medical marvel or the greatest biological weapon. We’d be done—finished, kaput, especially if your stupidity and my son’s passions resulted in the Wendigo uprising. Do you hear me?”
I didn’t say a word.
Elliot leaned forward until our faces were no more than an inch apart. “Now do you realize why it was perfectly reasonable to keep you here, Jason? Guy spared you in letting you keep your memories. He could’ve wiped you clean. Instead, he chose to let you remember… all with the hopes of one day coming back to you.”
Drawing back, Elliot glared at me with his piercing blue eyes, waiting for a response.
When I gave none, he brushed past me and started for the hallway leading to the stairwell, but stopped before he could clear the threshold.
“Jason,” he said, his voice no less firm than it had been the moment before. “I’m only going to tell you this once, so listen carefully: If you ever wish to see Guy again, do not leave the ranch. Believe me when I say there are far worse fates than that.”