out here. Let its energies disperse.” He knelt again, cautiously holding his hand a few inches away. “Hmm. Already dispersed, apparently.”
“Then it’s not going to be a danger to humans,” Gil said, relieved. “Just a bundle of twigs.”
“Just a bundle of twigs,” I echoed. “That might have been used for diabolical purposes by a magic-wielding werewolf.”
Gil glowered at me. “Or by a vampire.”
“The two of you need to stop this shit.” Asher hissed, holding his phone up to his ear. “Enough. Hello? Nine one one?”
8
I threw my head back and exhaled one last plume of silver smoke, watching it drift across the moon. Leaning on the hood of my car, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, my boots crunching on debris and loose asphalt.
Our brush with the law hadn’t been as unpleasant as I’d thought. We told them exactly what had happened: we were hanging out at the cabin when we heard a scream. Minutes later, we found a dead body. Straightforward, and more or less unsuspicious, just like the boys had hoped. Nobody mentioned the fetish, though.
The three of us stood huddled in the parking lot, watching a squat building that thumped with rock music and roared with occasional peals of laughter.
“Sounds like a rough crowd,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette.
Gil shrugged. “You throw a bunch of wolves together, that’s what you get. They’re especially rowdy because everyone in there is from the same clan. It’s hard not to feel comfortable around family.”
Asher nodded at the bar, a red neon wolf flickering intermittently above the front door. “The Dead Dog,” he said. “Sounds friendly. Is that the name of the clan?”
“No,” Gil said. “Just the name of the bar. There are different clans all over. Some of them are like religions, and a bunch of others clump together because of common beliefs. Could be based on how you interpret your origins as a werewolf, or your perception of the world. Some of it is strictly familial. Way too much variety to cover.”
“And which kind are your buddies?” Asher said.
Gil frowned. “I’d hardly call them ‘buddies,’ not by any stretch of the imagination. What we have up here are mostly the Blood of Garm. There’s pockets of them throughout California, mixed in among the other clans. Could be some Fenrir Folk up here, too, but I doubt it. I’d say both of them fall more on the pseudo-religious side of the spectrum. Very old hierarchies and beliefs. Very old.”
I chewed my lip, picking up on the names he’d mentioned. Part of our education under our shared mentor had been to study up on mythology. It’s healthy knowledge to have on hand, in case you run into a creature of myth, or worse, a god, one that happens to be angry at you.
“Fenrir,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Huge wolf, right? Supposed to eat the sun at Ragnarok?”
“That’s the one,” Gil said. “Big figure in Norse mythology.”
“And so is Garm, come to think of it.” Asher rubbed his chin, which came off a little more comical than he’d intended because of how smooth and hairless it was. “He’s a psychopomp, guards the gates of Hel. Huge dog. His howl is supposed to herald the end of days – the beginning of Ragnarok.”
“In some stories, a huge dog-headed man,” Gil corrected. “Which makes him an especially appealing figure for werewolf worship. Or emulation. Whatever. The point is that the Blood of Garm is not especially known for being, uh, peaceful.”
A crash thundered from inside the bar, something I imagined to be the sound of a beer bottle being smashed across a counter. I grimaced. “You don’t say. It’s a clan built around a dog from the underworld, Gil. An actual hellhound.”
Gil folded his arms and raised his chin at me. “Remember when I told you that this wasn’t going to be a good idea?”
“Actually,” Asher said, “one more question. What clan do you belong to, Gil?”
I held my tongue. From the way Gil’s face fell, you could tell that it was a sensitive subject. Always had been, and we’d rarely ever discussed it. I liked messing around with my friends to the point of infuriation, but some buttons you just didn’t press. The question wasn’t meant to be malicious, though.
“That’s not something I really like getting into,” Gil said. “Not all of us can force the transformation the way I do, and a lot of the werewolves I meet – well, they find it unnatural. Immoral, somehow, like I’m mocking the moon itself. I don’t want to say that I’m shunned by other werewolves, necessarily, but that’s kind of what it feels like.”
“Sorry I asked,” Asher said.
Gil forced a little smile, clapping Asher on the back. “No harm done.” He slung his arm across my back, too, bringing the three of us in for a hug. “You guys are my clan, now.”
“I’m going to vomit,” I said, sticking a finger past my lips.
“Enough chitchat.” Gil thumped his chest and shook his head, psyching himself up like he was about to walk into a bar fight. Finally, some excitement. “Let’s head in.”
Asher looked between the two of us, blinking innocently. “Do I – should I just wait in the car?”