I was born on the moors of Dungarvan, nestled safely inside the coast of Ireland. Though me family, me 'Ma and 'Pa both, still reside there, I have vowed never to return to the lush island. In the early eighteenth century, my anczestor, a descendant of the original Morrigan line, was slain. She was the last of her kind, a Lycanthrope. She had prayed to Airitch, the mother of the cursed line, begging that her children would not be afflicted by the same curse she and her brethren had suffered. Though she would be put to death, Airitch heard her prayer, and saved her children from the same fate. For generations me family knew nothing of our true lineage, and adopted the name O'Connell. It wasn't until I was fourteen that I figured out our true family tree, and that I was one of the sons of Morrigan the Red Wolf.
The first time it happens, you hope that it was a one-off. The second time, you wonder if you've imagined the whole thing. The third time you pray it never happens again, but anymore and usually someone finds out your little secret. At least that's how it happened for me.
With a feverish mind it's hard to hide your true form from your friends and family. It's as if all your human senses get pushed out in favor of the beast's primal instincts. With certain phases of the moon the beast has more control and it's not worth fighting, it would be like trying to stop the tides from coming to shore. You no longer think of things like your human self usually would, it's like everything is blurry and your mind is struggling to make sense of it all.
Since Pa shot me in the leg I haven't seen anyone from me family. There have always been stories about wolves taking the form of humans, trying to trick righteous folk, and devouring virgins. I couldn't really blame me father for wanting to kill me, when I first saw what I had become I wanted to die. For years I traveled around Ireland, looking for anyone who knew anything about this affliction, anything to cure my condition.
As a teenager I got caught up in vampires, which was my biggest mistake. While the vampires were generous, giving a young kid all of the earthly desires he could possibly want, they expected undying service in return. I left after I had my fill of women, riches and never ending food. Although I had found a small home in the vampire's society, I needed another of my kind to complete me. For abandoning my duties as a vampire's slave I was hunted, which meant I had to leave Ireland.
Thievery, burgling, stealing, it all came naturally. As a vagrant I found a home on the streets. For almost seven years I've been without a home. Sometimes I get picked up for a night away from the cold, other times I'm not so lucky. After spending a few years in the U.K, I stowed away on a ship to America. Since then I haven't heard a peep from the vampires, but on arrival in the New World, I encountered a far greater problem.
Stealing became second nature, and without thinking of the consequences I screwed over a Hunter; a man who makes his living chasing after monsters. Once his hound had my scent, a taste of my blood, I knew I was fucked. Even after a year of running, I still have to look over my shoulder, hoping not to catch sight of him.
I've found myself following old train tracks, hopping on passing trains when they come by. All the railways have led me to Dallas, Texas. It's usually easier to stay hidden in big cities; most people tend not to bat an eye as they walk past me on the street. Even less so dogs, although I am technically a wolf, I seem to pass as a big dog. Picking pockets is easier in larger cities as well; knocking into a woman seems more plausible when you're in a crowded subway.
About once a week I get a night at a hotel room, grab a hot shower, enjoy the simplicity of the television, and go down to the local pub. This just happens to be one of those nights. Drinking alone at the bar, taking down shots like I wanna win a contest. Blurred vision, uncontrollable smile, everything I need to have a good time.
"This is your last round," the bartender said. Colin saw him a blurry, two-faced bloke as the bartender put another shot in front him.
I really must be lonely if I keep talking to myself like this, reminiscing about me life. Colin drank the whiskey, setting the shot glass on the pyramid he'd created. There really isn't anyone to talk to. Even if I did meet someone I liked, why would they have any interest in a man like me?
Colin looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar; his hair was curly and bright red, he had more freckles than spots on a fucking Dalmatian, and his scowl didn't help matters. He rubbed his stubble; it never really turned into a beard, but always just became bristly short hairs. He was uncommonly tan for an Irishman, meaning his freckles were even darker. He sneered at his reflection and pulled the large hoodie over his head. No, no one in their right mind would want anything to do with him. Even if they could get past his awful complexion, he was homeless, unemployed, and held no real hobbies or interests beyond survival. Drinking was the only thing that brought him happiness as of late.
Colin stared across the bar, seeing a group of college friends goading their comrade to talk to some women who were giggling at the table near the billiards. Friendships were the one thing Colin never truly had, not since his affliction had manifested. Growing up in Ireland he had made plenty of friends through school, neighbors, family, but since then he'd been utterly alone. He'd attempted friendships when he was still a youthful teenager, after a few weeks they would want to see his house, and he was without one. Once, Colin had broken into a home and had invited his new friends into his fake house. However, when the real family came home and saw three strangers playing their PlayStation, Colin knew it was no use even trying to go through the motions of friendship.
It wasn't as though he would never take in the comforts of humanity. Some nights he would escort a girl to her home, and when he was lucky a man would take interest in him, but as he rode the hump of his twenties, they became less frequent. Colin turned his head, looking down a few stools to his left. A blonde man was chattering, a huge smile on his face as he spoke to his friend. Colin found his voice irritating, but he had to admit he was eye candy for most of the patrons in the bar. Women seemed to enjoy his firm arms and built chest, while many of the men were interested in his ass.
What caught Colin's attention wasn't the blonde, but his friend, a darkly tanned man with rustled hair that almost came down to his shoulders. He had stunning blue eyes that sparkled when he twirled his gold necklace around his neck. Colin watched the man, his heart beating quicker when the man smiled and laughed with his blonde friend.
"Do you need a taxi?" the bartender asked, bringing Colin out of his daze.
"No. Hotel's just a 'wee walk," Colin said, scooting the stool back as he stood. The room lurched and his vision spun.
"You all right, sir?"
"Yeah." Colin felt his cheeks flush. Shaking his head he began the long and difficult walk out of the bar and the short walk back to his motel. He dragged his feet along the ground, as he pulled out his wallet to thumb through his funds. Thank you ma'am for wanting to buy all of your designer outfits with cash, instead of a credit card. Colin had ditched the purse in a dumpster by the mall and had pocketed the cash for himself. Colin smiled; there was three thousand dollars in his wallet, enough to make a start in the new city.
Colin stopped, putting the wallet in his back pocket. Staying here, could I really live here? There's really nothing here for me. I've been running for so long, I'm not sure if I could just settle down in one place.
Colin had been living out of a backpack for the past ten years. After leaving Ireland with nothing but the clothes on his back, Colin had invested in a durable back pack that could easily store everything he needed for a quick getaway. He carried two pairs of pants, three shirts, the shoes on his feet; his bare essentials. He made sure to get one that not only secured around the shoulders, but could also tighten around the hips and waist. He could never know when he might have to run away in shifted form.
He unlocked his hotel door; it was comforting to have a thick door protecting him from the outside world. With a thud he landed on the bed; kicking off his shoes, wiggling out of his pants and tearing off his shirt. He then rolled over, looking up at the ceiling.
Maybe I'm meant to be alone. I'm boring in conversation, I don't have any skills, the only thing I can do is pick pockets. Colin felt tears falling down his face, all alone for the rest of my days. How could I expect anything different? Colin rolled over and wiped away the tears.
He still had yet to meet another Lycanthrope; he knew they existed, but in his constant relocation he'd never seen one. He knew some must exist somewhere, but he had no idea how to find them. The creature inside him yearned to be with its kin, to be included in a pack, but the idea scared him and his fear outweighed his excitement.
Colin got under the covers. When he woke, he would suffer from drinking eight shots of pure whiskey, but while he could, he enjoyed the warmth it and the comforter brought him.
*~*~*
The sound of the laundry cart echoed down the hall, the wheels loudly rolling over the divots of the concrete sidewalk and each time the sound sent a horrible tremor through Colin's body. He pulled the pillow over his head and groaned loudly.
After a warm shower, Colin wiped away the steam on the mirror. He rubbed his scruff, the rough hairs scraping against his fingers. He cupped his hand, spraying some shaving cream onto it. The razor was an eraser on his face, clearing away the orange short hairs scattered across his chin.
The hangover didn't last very long, dissipating around noon. He thumbed through the cash once again, thinking of what he could do with the large amount of money he'd acquired from his mark. His jeans were beginning to fray, his shirts getting thin and grungy, even his old reliable backpack was beginning to wear from use. He took out a few hundred and put the remaining money into the hotel safe and locked the door as he left his room.
There was a park near the hotel, but it was small with large skyrises and museums surrounding it. Still, the smell of nature, however scarce, always attracted Colin. As he walked towards the park he passed a large building, the Baylor Hospital of Dallas. It overshadowed everything around it. The bar he'd been in the night before had been close by, but on his current trek he wouldn't pass it, which he felt was a shame.
Once he reached the park Colin sat on a bench under a large oak, taking in the fresh air. Hundreds of people must pass through the park every day, but Colin wondered how many took the time to appreciate the simple act of lying in the grass or sitting under a tree. He inhaled a long breath and enjoyed the aroma of the freshly cut grass and the sounds of birds fluttering around in the tree. After a few minutes of relaxing Colin saw a small girl looking around as though she was searching for something while a large group of people buffeted her from side to side.
Colin approached her, his presence easily parting the waves of people. Once he reached her he bent down. "Are you all right?"
The girl was about seven, with black braids hanging down on either side over her ears. She was dark skinned, with huge brown eyes. "Mister, I don't know where my Datty is." She looked at him with the kind innocence of young children, oblivious to his frightening physique. Colin had been used to kids seeing his red hair and sour face and getting scared off, but this girl seemed unfazed.
"What does he look like?"
She sniffed. "Like my 'Datty'."
Colin chuckled, and held out his hand to the girl. "Come, lass, I will help you find your father." As the girl came closer, he took in a deep whiff of her scent. He then led her through the large crowds, his nose working to find a scent that was similar to hers.
"Patma?!" a voice yelled out.
The girl squeezed Colin's hand and he looked down at her. "Is that your name, little lass?"
"Yeah!"
Colin took her closer to the voice. He dropped her hand when his eyes fell on the man yelling for her. He was handsome with dark skin like hers, his eyes a striking blue, and Colin could only describe him as an Indian Prince. He wasn't sure where the man came from, but he looked familiar. He was elegant and seemed to carry himself like royalty, his back was straight, his strides perfectly timed, and his appearance was without fault. The man turned to see Patma running towards him, "Patma!" He enveloped her in his big arms. "You can't run off like that."
Colin watched the reunion, a soft smile on his face. Patma turned to him. "Rak, this mister helped me find you."
Rak eyed Colin suspiciously as he stood, but extended his hand. "I'm Rakshasa, thank you, sir."
Colin raised an eyebrow at the extended hand; it had been a while since someone had offered to touch him; usually they would ignore him or only grace him with slight eye contact. He took the outstretched hand in his and mumbled, "Colin."
"Hmm?"
"Colin, my name," Colin said, trying arrange his face to do something other than scowl. His mouth turned up into a smile and his muscles twitched as he struggled to keep it up.
"Oh, right." They stood awkwardly for a few moments, each unsure of how to depart without being rude.
"Mister, are you going to the aqua-aqua-aquarium, too?" Patma asked, struggling with the big word.
Colin knelt down. "Not today, but I hear there's a whopper of a shark in the tank."
"Like Jaws?" she asked loudly.
"Maybe."
"She tends to like the monsters in movies. I catch her rooting for the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park."
Colin smiled. "'Tis a fine lass you've got there. She's your daughter?"
"No," Rakshasa said. "My niece."
Patma laughed. "You talk funny, Mister."
"Patma, that's rude," Rakshasa growled.
"Aye, I do, me lass," Colin said, reaching around the girl's head he pulled out a quarter. "I have the luck o' the Irish, you see."
"Wow, Mister!" Colin gave the girl the quarter, smiling as he stood and looked Rakshasa up and down once more.
"All right, Patma, thank the kind gentleman." Rakshasa ushered her away towards a small group standing near the entrance to the aquarium.
She giggled, smiling back as she ran towards her family. "Thank you, Mister!"
Colin bowed. "T'was nice to meet such a fine lass." He watched as Rakshasa joined the group; a big Indian man took Patma into his arms. He looked similar to Rakshasa, but he was built much more solidly. He asked Rakshasa a question that made him turn back to Colin. Seeing Rakshasa's striking blue eyes looking at him sent a shiver down Colin's spine. His smile faltered, though, as the rest of the family began glaring at him. The big man was trying to push past Rakshasa to come at Colin, obviously intent on violence. The hostility made Colin take a step back, unsure of what he could have done to upset them.
Colin's eyes fell to the ground, and he felt the familiar emotions of guilt and loneliness returning. He turned on his heels and walked away, not bothering to look back at the family again.
Kyle licked his lips, his teeth coming over his bottom lip to create what he hoped was a subtle, but sexy expression. The man next to him was touching his hand, asking what Kyle wanted to drink. Leaning in, Kyle whispered into the man's ear, "Can you get me a screwdriver?"
He got up and ordered the drink from the bar, looking back a few times at Kyle who smiled back at him. When he returned and sat down again Kyle put his hand on the man's knee. "Thanks." Kyle looked up to see a familiar blue-eyed Indian entering the bar. "Oh, hey, Jeff—"
"Oh, it's James," the man said, smiling stupidly at Kyle.
"James, righ—t" Kyle waved at Rakshasa. "My friend is here, so I have to leave, but thanks for keeping me company." Kyle stood, picking up his drink as well.
James grabbed Kyle's wrist. "I thought we were having fun. I thought maybe you'd keep me company tonight."
Kyle smiled, pulling his wrist away. "Sorry, James. You're really nice … but I already have plans; maybe next time, ok?"
James sulked, but allowed Kyle to leave.
"You love getting free drinks, don't you?" Rakshasa asked as Kyle approached him.
"Well, I have to get drunk somehow, and you've seen my wages." Kyle sat next to Rakshasa. "Did you have a fun time with your family?"
"My one day off, and they drag me around an aquarium. My mother was interrogating me almost the entire time about this guy we met outside."
"What do you mean?"
"Patma wandered off again, she has been so bad about that lately." Kyle looked confused at Rakshasa, who sighed and continued. "A Lycan found her. It took all my efforts to stop my brother from pounding the poor guy into the ground."
"Doesn't he owe a bunch of money to the Lycans?"
"Yeah, he's been running up a gambling debt again. He was convinced that they sent the wolf to threaten him by getting to his daughter." Rakshasa took a drink of his beer. "I don't know man, the guy just seemed really pathetic, didn't seem like a gangster to me."
"Still, I can understand your brother getting defensive about his daughter."
"Yeah, well, then my mom took to blaming me for it. She was nagging at me." Rakshasa's voice went high pitched as he impersonated his mother, "'You shouldn't let Patma out of your sight, how can you let a dirty Lycan touch your niece, why don't you take more responsibility?' I swear she just wouldn't let it go."
"Well I've had a wonderful day; the only thing that would make it better would be going home with a tall, dark and handsome man." Kyle looked around. "Really the pickings here have gotten so slim."
"Really?" Rakshasa looked around. "They all look nice enough to me."
Kyle pointed to a muscle bound giant. "He's got a really small package." He then pointed to an attractive man in a suit. "He's into some kinky ass shit." Kyle then pointed at a thin blonde sitting across the room. "That guy, he's good in the sack, but he's such a bitch. After a roll in the hay, he won't even talk to you, just points at the door."
Rakshasa shook his head. "What about him?"
Kyle looked across the bar to a man who was sitting in a corner and when the light illuminated his face, Kyle gasped. "Wow. I've never seen him before."
Rakshasa grinned. "Amazing, there's a person here you haven't slept with?"
"Not for much longer," Kyle said smugly.
Rakshasa frowned. "Are you ditching me?"
"You're the one who pointed him out." Kyle waved goodbye as he left to walk over to the man. He smiled when the man's nose twitched at his approach. "Hey, are you all alone tonight?"
"I'm not expecting anyone if that's what you mean." The man's voice was low with a soft rumble that seemed to reverberate from deep in his chest. He was wearing a designer suit with his tie loosened. He had a small growth of stubble along his chin and his black hair was thick and curved slightly up and out.
"I'm Kyle." The man's head turned slightly as Kyle took a seat across from him.
"Logan."
Kyle laughed. "Anyone ever tell you, you look like Hugh Jackman?"
"I recognize the irony of my name." Logan's hand felt up the side of his beer, tracing the condensation with his fingertips.
Kyle crossed his legs, surprised when he rubbed against something warm and furry. He heard a soft growl from under the table, and bent his head to look.
"That's enough, Vanessa." A dog came out from under the table, and sat at Logan's side, her head in his lap. "Sorry, she was getting bored just sitting next to me the whole time."
Kyle recognized the harness on the dog's back. "Oh, you're blind."
Logan smiled. "Do you need to make a quick getaway?"
Kyle shook his head. "No. I've worked with service dogs before."
Logan's eyebrow rose. "What do you mean 'worked with'?"
Kyle downed the last of his screwdriver. "I work at a rehabilitation clinic. I'm a physical therapist; I used to work at the hospital just down the road, but that wasn't really for me."
A waitress came by. "Sir, would you—oh hello, Kyle." She took out her order book. "Would you two like anything else?"
Kyle looked over at Logan's nearly empty beer. "I think I would like a Cosmo."
Logan looked over at the waitress. "Another beer would be fine."
The waitress pulled out a lump of meat from her pouch, unwrapping it from the foil. "I snuck some food out of the kitchen, would it be all right if I feed her?"
Vanessa looked at Logan, then at the food. Logan nodded, and she took the morsel out of the waitress' hand, wagging her tail. "I'll get those drinks for you boys, and Kyle," she bent down and whispered, "Be nice to him."
Logan's smile soon returned to a frown as he turned back towards Kyle and leaned back. "So what made you change job locations?"
Kyle sighed. "I was tired of seeing people broken, unhappy and dying. In the hospital you see people give up, you see families stop visiting, and you watch the bodies pile up in the morgue. It's all a little too depressing."
The waitress sat their drinks on the table and the two men thanked her. Kyle continued, "At rehab, the patients might come in with low spirits and feelings of self-loathing, but after a few months you see people turning their lives around. I've had so many patients who felt like their lives were over, that nothing could possibly ever become normal for them again, but when you work with them and encourage them, you see a difference. At the hospital all you see are the consequences of medicine. An amputated limb might save a man's life, but he leaves feeling like he's only part of a whole. I enjoy helping those people walk again, show them there are options to make life simple and easy again."
"Wow, that's pretty deep. I have to admit I didn't think you would have any redeeming qualities," Logan said, his nose twitching again.
Kyle frowned. "I like to think there are," he bit his lip, "some good things about me."
Logan cocked his head. "Not sure about that."
Kyle rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "And what do you do, Logan? Besides fighting with the X-men?"
Logan smiled. "I find things for people." He paused, obviously expecting a laugh at the preposterous idea that a blind man could find something, but continued when he didn't hear it. "I guess you could say I'm a bit of a gumshoe, though I don't really have an office."
Kyle reached across the table, hands lightly caressing Logan's index finger. "That sounds pretty interesting. Do you find cheating housewives? Dangerous criminals?"
Logan moved the drink to his other hand, so that Kyle had full access to the hand he was touching. "Sometimes. I tend to deal in more dangerous situations than sexual ones."
Kyle downed the rest of his drink, thinking that he had Logan where he wanted. "You wanna get out of here?"
Logan grinned. "Yeah." The man took hold of the dog's harness, Vanessa leading him through the crowd to the bar. Logan paid his tab, but Kyle pointed to Rakshasa as the bartender asked for his payment. "My friend over there owes me a drink; he'll take care of it."
Kyle wrapped his arms around one of Logan's, enjoying the feel of the large bicep underneath the jacket. To his surprise, once at the door, Logan pushed Kyle away gently. "I think it's time for me to leave. Alone."
"Why?" Kyle asked, completely shocked.
"I know what you're after, and there are plenty of other men in here who are dying to take my place." Logan gently pet Kyle's hair, before his hand fell away. "I'm not interested in casual acquaintances, or quick flings." He turned away. "But it was very nice meeting you, Kyle."
Kyle stood staring at the door as it closed behind Logan. Rakshasa came up behind Kyle, trying to contain his laughter. "He—he rejected me." Rakshasa pulled his friend back to the bar stools. "I've never had anyone ever reject me." He looked at Rakshasa and asked, panicked, "I'm still sexy right?!"
Rakshasa looked his friend over. "You've got a six pack, one of the tightest asses I've ever not seen, your chest and arms are well formed, and your face is handsome, yet not overly masculine. You look fine." Kyle looked at himself in the mirror; his blonde hair was perfectly styled, his green eyes vibrant, his lips lush and pink. "But I don't think he cared about the way you looked."
"You're right, he just—" Kyle frowned, "didn't want me."
"Not everyone is looking for sex you know?"
"I don't look just for sex!" Kyle protested.
Rakshasa raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you've never called back any of your 'dates'?"
"I have, too!"
"Only because he left his wallet. Round two doesn't exactly mean a relationship."
"Rak." Kyle slumped down in the stool. "I'm a whore."
"Well technically you are a slut if you aren't getting paid. I've told you, you need to get morals."
"I thought you were a prude because you came from a traditional family."
"A traditional family means you have arranged marriages, having morals doesn't have anything to do with it."
Kyle looked over to him. "Is your mom still on about that?"
"Yeah, I told her I fancied men, guess what her reaction was?"
"She disowned you?"
"No, worse." Rakshasa took a drink from his beer. "She said, 'oh, well, Rahul would be a perfect match!' Of course she would find me the only other gay Ailuranthrope looking for an arranged marriage. Now I have to meet him face to face."
"No way." Kyle looked at Rakshasa in disbelief. "She really wants you to marry a dude?"
"Apparently there'll be a contract where I'm considered the wife. It's ridiculous."
"I guess you won't be lonely for much longer. Our little Rakshasa growing up, getting married, soon there might even be little Rak juniors running around!"
"Don't even joke about that. You know my mother has been looking up stuff like that. Ugh, can you imagine, me, pregnant?"
Kyle laughed as Rakshasa's face turned red. "Wow, thanks Rak. You've made my night!"