Story Excerpt

January 17, 2000
Ma’s been pushing me to write out the stuff crawling around in my head instead of drinking, brawling, or working out –and I admit I’m at the point and age that somethings got to give… or I’m going to end up my like my old man. The workers at The Beer Store and LCBO recognize me now, and honestly, the amount I have to drink just to feel it—thanks to my body burning it off—is getting real tiring. Damn wolf genes.
I was talking to this one source the other day after finishing the wiring on another row of houses out at the new townhouses on Pine Street, southwest of Ottawa. We were talking about the leeches and their odd behavior—or the lack of it—so far this year. The townhouses are decent, if you like living up against your neighbors and across from the Mississippi Golf Club. Maybe if things had gone the way I wanted back when I was still in college to become a veterinarian… Oh boy, what the hell was I thinking with that one? Maybe Ma’s — God did know better and steered me away from that line of work. I can’t imagine holding down a job like that and having a boss okay with me dipping out for family stuff. But maybe I’d know more about them than I do now—more than just a name and the fact that he’s some rich man in an ivory tower somewhere.
Anyway—the vamprs are usually up and stalking the tourist spots, bars, clubs, the art and business districts of the city. But they’re not. They’re gone. Like, scarce. And it’s got some of us paranoid and cranky—well, more cranky than usual for this early in the new year. The guys are coming up with these wild-ass stories straight out of a mystery murder channel, totally out of left field. I mean, they’re entertaining, sure, but they’ve got zero credibility. And I can’t say a damn thing—can’t let on about the truth of it. Fuckin’ sucks having to play dumb. And I know they should realize I can’t say anything either way because of my position in the family. Who knows—maybe the leeches are up to something. I don’t know yet. And I’m not exactly thrilled about having to go dig through the trash to find out what’s really going on.
The informant said something ancient is stirring, and that the older leeches—especially those tied to this thing’s bloodline—can sense it waking. You know what kind of shitshow it’ll be if this thing fully wakes up? I was always told there were four of these ancient vampires. I know one is already awake. I don’t dare tell anyone, though I probably should. It’s family. But…She told me. Back when we were… you know. I met her, and I couldn’t tell there was anything different about that dark woman—nothing that set her apart from Her.
There goes my stomach. And the wolf.
I haven’t felt right since I found out. It’s been creeping in slow and now it’s just sitting there, heavy, in the pit of my gut. Nathan calls it stress. Had the balls to suggest I was worried about Her. We threw down in the garage last night, knocked over some of the gym gear. I gotta fix that after this. Jeremy—the older neighbor on the left of me, from the Wilkersons—had to throw in his two cents trying to break us up after hearing us growling over the classic rock blaring. I guess I can’t deck an old friend just for saying I’ve still got feelings for an ex-fiancée…
I don’t have feelings, Berenice!
And I wasn’t hitting him with full strength, for Pete’s sake! Just because Nate has a family doesn’t mean I was looking for that in my twenties. Ha!
But if this ancient is waking up… Berenice would know. Especially if it’s her grandsire. No telling what the Community will do if it fully wakes—and whether it’ll keep hidden or try to start something with us Shifters, or the Outsiders. If the Old Man’s face was any indicator after I told him, it could mean our first war since his younger days—back when he fought with a group of leeches.
I can’t drink this away. I can’t hide it in booze—it’s too much when the damn employers know me by name. Maybe it’s the inner animal telling me I can’t keep running and dodging these things – mom calls it the “Spirit” or the “Holy Spirit” — like nope, not getting into the religion thing. For fuck’s sake, Jai, man.
Ma’ might be onto something with this writing thing.

January 20, 2000
Shocked myself at work today. Literally. Hell of a zing in the step. Maybe that’s why I’m twitchy. Or maybe it’s because I’m trying not to bite anyone’s head off.
Two nights in the bush—running, hunting deer. Should’ve taken the edge off. Nope. No booze either, just water. Sonny tore into me for fighting with Nathan—the bird-brain defending the wolf. Only in my messed-up circle. He reminded me I didn’t take it well when she handed back my great-grandma’s ring. Damn right I didn’t.
Thought the New Year would bring something big—fireworks, buildings crumbling, Parliament blowing up—something. Nada. Just me and this pit in my gut. Siss says it’s a sore spot. She’s right. My little sister’s wedding sure as hell didn’t help. I hate weddings. Could’ve dragged a date along, but why? Waste of time for a “good night” and maybe some drunken screw in the woods.
I should be over it. Shouldn’t still be chewing on this. She said yes, then no. Just like that. And I just stood there—stupid, stunned. I could beat the crap out of that version of me for not speaking up. For not saying it mattered. For not saying I didn’t give a damn about the years between us—just wanted to be with her.
Bury it. Deep. Keep pretending I’m fine. That I like my life. That I like my jobs.
Maybe a run on two legs will help. I’m jacked. Pissed. Getting wolfy.