Gabriel wasn’t about to let a bully go unpunished. Especially when that bully had laid a finger on his mate. Like a predator stalking his prey, Gabriel followed Aaron Mortem’s every move. He watched the football practice from the shadows of the bleachers. The kid was flexing his supernatural DNA as the high school quarterback, but as a wolf, he wasn’t impressive. Gabriel doubted the kid even had the strength to fully shift. He waited patiently for the team to filter out of the locker room, and then silently and stealthily followed him to his car. The kid drove a proper redneck truck, complete with a lift kit and oversized tires. Gabriel watched stealthily as the kid pulled out of the student parking lot, and then he pulled out behind him in his own black pick-up.
Instead of driving straight home, Aaron Mortem veered off the paved road and started bouncing at break-neck speed along a rough dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. Gabriel followed behind him and shook his head every time the kid’s truck fishtailed through another curve.
The road dead-ended in a clearing, where several other cars were already parked. Aaron Morem braked hard and skidded to a stop, slamming the truck into park and jumping out before the dust settled. He reached back in for a six-pack of beer before he flung the door shut with unnecessary force. He had a dopey grin on his face as he loped toward a trail that led down into a ravine where a small stream made a waterfall and a swimming hole. It was soon apparent that it was a popular hangout for the teenage delinquents of the small town, judging by the cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and vague odor of weed that permeated the place.
Gabriel skirted the path and crouched on the ledge that overlooked the ravine. There were five other kids, all of them inebriated to some degree already lounging around beside the water. One of them had hooked up their phone to a speaker and was blasting some kind of raucous alternative rock. A cold smile slowly spread over his face, as he reached for his shirt and began to slowly work the buttons loose. It was a perfect setup. There was only one way in and one way out of the ravine, the music would cover any noise, and the fact that the kids were all drunk or high would make their stories unbelievable.
Aaron Mortem cracked the top of his second beer and slurped down half the can before he stopped to wipe the dribble off his face. One of the other kids called out to him, “Hey, where’s Mark?”
“Home nursing his fucking nose, I guess,” Aaron said. He tossed back the rest of the beer and then crushed it in his hand. “That trashy bitch really broke his nose.”
He didn’t see the dark blur that dropped silently down into the ravine from the ledge behind him, but the kids facing him did. “Shit, what was that?” the boy with bleary, bloodshot eyes asked, pointing a finger behind Mortem.
“What was what?” Mortem asked, tossing his empty can aside. He turned lazily, and then froze, dumbfounded, as a massive black and gray wolf stepped out of the underbrush, kicking the beer can aside with one massive paw.
One of the girls screamed, “Wolf!” and started scrambling back toward the steep path that led out of the ravine.
“Nah, no, that’s not possible, there are no wolves here,” another boy, who was a science nerd when he wasn’t stoned out of his mind, shoved his glasses up his nose. He backed slowly away. “It... it has to be a domestic dog… it's too large…”
Aaron Mortem knew what a werewolf was, and he knew when he was looking at one, even if he was slightly buzzed. He took a step backward, intent to follow his friends out of the ravine, but the wolf circled and cut him off.
“Look,” the teenage boy said nervously, glancing around for help, but realizing that his friends had abandoned him by the swimming hole. “I don't know who you are, but my dad is Harold Mortem.” He brandished the name of his father like it was some kind of threat. The wolf seemed unimpressed. It stared at Aaron with silver-gray eyes, its lip lifting over razor-sharp teeth in a snarl.
Aaron took another step backward, bringing him nearly to the edge of the water. He made a show of bravado, lifting his fists like a boxer. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m warning you…”
His warning was lost on the wolf, who sprung immediately, knocking him backward into the cold water. The water wasn’t deep at the edge, but it was enough to soak through his clothes and add confusion as the enormous wolf pinned him under his paws.
Instinctually, Aaron lifted his arms to cover his face, but that was a wrong move. Powerful wolf jaws closed around his forearm and clamped down until bone crunched between his teeth. The teenager screamed and clutched his mangled arm against his chest. In the next instant, the same teeth were closed around his neck, and the boy stopped struggling. He wheezed for breath and held completely still, knowing that with one wrong move, the wolf could rip his throat out with a simple twist of his head. More than a minute ticked by while the boy and the wolf stayed locked together, and the wolf seemed to debate whether or not to finish the kill.
He slowly disengaged his jaws, pulled his fangs from the tender tissue of the boy’s neck, and licked the blood off his jowls. Silver eyes stared down into the frightened, watering pale-blue eyes of Aaron Mortem. The wolf raised a paw and stepped down on the boy’s forehead, pushing Aaron’s head into the water, so that the flow came up into his face, into his nose and mouth, covering his eyes.
The teenager coughed and flailed, choking more on his own panic than the water that sluiced into his airways. His hands clawed at the air, trying to knock the wolf off from him, before he realized that the massive paw was gone. He sat up with a gasp and used his good hand to wipe the water out of his eyes, even as he gagged and spit river water out of his mouth. An unseen hand circled his neck from behind, lifting him to his feet, and squeezing his airway closed. He could feel the strength of the body against his wet back. Aaron tried to twist his head around to see the face of his attacker, but the fingers only closed tighter.
The voice that growled into his ear made his hairs stand on end, and his blood ran even colder than the river that had soaked his clothes. “If you ever touch Honorera Talbot again, you’ll be wearing your entrails around your neck.” The hand continued to squeeze until the teenager lost consciousness, and then it tossed him aside into the beer cans and trash that littered the stony beach.
Gabriel climbed back out of the gorge and pulled his clothes back on. By now the kids had probably called the authorities to report a rabid dog on the loose. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension in his neck, and then strode to the place where he’d hidden his truck, just off the road and out of sight. He was long gone before the county sheriff rolled up.