Ch 18 The Wolf Shows Out

I stood waiting. Ed must have heard us talking because he came out of one of the rooms with Derrick. He rapped on the other doors as he came, and the other guys worked their way to the living room.

The basement door flung open. I was glad I wasn't blocking it like Mac had been.

Mac literally shoved me out of the way, ran out the front door, and heaved into the bushes there. It didn't look like he was in a hurry to leave them. A second round of Mac throwing up in the bushes had all of the guys exchanging looks between Mac and me and Dad, who had finally come up from the basement.

I threw Dad a questioning look.

He shrugged. "I took my time. Maybe I should have gone faster."

I shrugged back and grinned.

I don't know how many times while watching a movie Mom, he and I would shift. One hand, one foot, full shift starting in different areas of the body. It had been like a game of follow the leader, each of us matching the other's shifts. Control of the shift was something he had drilled into me.

"At least Running Elk was able to hold it."

Dad threw me an indecipherable look and took up a spot on the one couch waiting for Mac to come back in. I opted for the floor close to dad, sitting cross legged across from the guys and ready for whatever happened next.

A very peaked looking Mac finally came back in. He went straight to the kitchen, banged all the cupboards around, cussed, and finally poured himself a glass of water. He stood in the kitchen doorway for a minute chugging it down. He turned around, slamming the glass on the kitchen table, before coming to sit on the couch across from dad.

"Tell me I did not just see that."

Dad shook his head gently.

"My father walked out of the Black Forest. I can't really tell you more than that."

"You ever..."

Dad took a guess at what he meant. He looked thoughtfully at the small group of men standing off to the side before looking back to Mac.

"Twice. The first time by accident. The man was a rapist hunting on the college campus where I met his mother. We fought, he died. Second time was his mother, at her request. She was beautiful..."

I chuckled a bit when the silence drew out and Mac got uncomfortable.

"Dad gets to thinking about Mom and he zones out a bit sometimes. Mom was awesome."

Dad and I shared a smile. After another moment Mac cleared his throat.

"You think that's what happened..."

He couldn't finish it. He headed to the bushes for a third heave. When he got back as far as standing in the front doorway, I answered his question.

"Without a doubt. Shitty ass handling of it too. Owww!"

Dad had thunked me on the head. "Watch your language."

"Yes sir." How else can you answer your dad?

Dad motioned to the spot Mac had been sitting and waited until Mac sat down.

"This is how this is going to work. For now, it stays between you, me, and Little Wolf. You do not speak of it to your men."

Mac started to say something and dad's look hardened.

"No. You listen!"

Dad's voice held a touch of a growl. His eyes on Mac were a hard wolf's stare. He leaned forward slightly.

"I am The Black Wolf. I tell you, the wolf protects its own. You think you watch over your little establishment here? You cannot compare with me protecting my own.

"Your friend? You can't understand. You can't help, not with that. You haven't thought through the ramifications. I have spent my life thinking of nothing else. You haven't considered the possible different scenarios. I have. You want to walk in my world big man? Come back down to the basement again with me if you dare."

Wow! Who knew my dad was such a bad ass? His tone had been challenging. He didn't let up his stare the whole time. Mac was sweating bullets, literally. Big drops of sweat fell off him.

"We do black ops."

"Mac!"

Some of the guys were surprised that Mac blurted that out, spilling the beans about what they do. Honestly though, I wasn't surprised. Almost all of the fighters were really, really good. Most seemed to have military tats of one kind or another.

"Shut it!" Mac barely looked at the guys before focusing on my dad. "We run certain types of gigs, usually overseas. We have different teams we swap out between. I was considering recruiting your son. I won't."

Dad sat back and smiled, arms stretched out along the back of the couch.

"Little Wolf is his own man. The decision is his to make, not mine. Mac, believe me that for now, are you listening? For now, it is better not to say anything. In time," Dad paused, "perhaps. Tell your friend.. no, that won't work. He'd never find The Pointe with his handicap. Little Wolf?"

"He needs... tell Lone Wolf to work on endurance and coordination. He'll know what I mean."

"Seriously? You're calling him Lone Wolf?" Mac asked with this incredulous look on his face.

"There's a reason. He didn't give me anything to call him," I said grinning. "Why not keep to a wolf theme? You just call him Lone Wolf. He'll understand. Tell him you met my dad, who's willing to help, but you should act confused about helping on what; after all, he didn't tell you. If he wants, we can set up a meet. We can let you know roughly where the pointe is. He might be able to find it."

I turned to Dad, considering.

"As much noise as he makes, you'd hear him if he was anywhere around. Any weekend should be a good time?" I asked Dad.

Dad nodded and I continued.

"Tell him I said he's got to double down on what I asked of him when he meets my dad."

"What did you ask of him?" asked Dad.

I got up and whispered in Dad's ear about the kneeling and... he waved me off.

"Triple down. He comes to me acting like that and I'll knock him into tomorrow. You can tell him I said so."

"And that's suppose to gain his confidence so he'll trust you to help? Threatening to knock him out?"

I laughed, as much as the looks on the guys faces that Mac just accepted the fact dad would be able to knock his friend out, as at Mac's derisive tone.

Dad did that thing where he points at you with steepled fingers. At least this time he was pointing at Mac.

"I told you. You can't understand the circumstances he's in. The ramifications..."

Dad shook his head.

"Mac, before this is over I have a feeling I'm going to need the help of you and your men. I will try, I swear, I will give my life trying to keep them safe. I can't guarantee it. You want your friend out? I swear to you I want it even more.

"There is an obvious wrongness where he's at. Until we know what kind of situation we're dealing with," another pause while dad shook his head. "I don't have enough information yet to know what we need to do in order to deal with it.

"You lead your men. Think about the danger you would be leading them into this time. They think they would follow you anywhere. Are you willing to lead them there? Are you willing to take that risk for them?

"You need time to think about it, really think about it, and come to grips with with whatever decision you make. You aren't a coward if you say no. You aren't a hero if you say yes. This life isn't for everyone. I don't think your friend was given a choice."

Dad stood up. I followed him to the door. He stopped before going out.

"Mac, Little Wolf and I will stop by in the morning after breakfast; do a bit of wrestling on your mat, if you don't mind. Come son."

As we put on the helmets I couldn't resist whispering in Dad's ear.

"Badass daddy werewolf!"

It got me a thwack across the shoulders but it was worth it.

We headed back to my house. I had more questions, ones I had never thought about. What had it been like to train Mom, to train me?

We talked about what we might find with these other werewolves. We talked about how Lone Wolf could have gotten to such a state of almost constant terror. There wasn't too much we could actually plan until we knew more.

We finally headed to bed. There still wasn't any sign of Derrick.

Saturday morning came, and still no Derrick.

Dad and I went for a run as wolves, hunted rabbit for breakfast. We spent hours together as wolves. It felt good being with him. I didn't realize how much I had missed it.

It was around nine in the morning when we headed to the gym. Dad insisted we take my bike again. I was beginning to wonder if Dad would end up getting a bike of his own.

I was kinda hesitant going in. There was a new dynamic now in my relationship with the guys. I wasn't some potential recruit to them anymore, I was an unknown. Mac's reaction to my dad had them on edge.

Mac himself was passed out on one of the couches. There were three bottles of vodka on the floor in front of him. Two were empty, the third mostly full.

The guys were hanging around keeping watch over Mac.

I could see the question churning in each of their minds. What was it about my dad, and by association me, that had Mac of all people get so off-balanced and afraid, looking half whipped?

It was as if my dad had some sort of authority over Mac.

They were warriors, mercenaries, unafraid. Mac had acted like a raw recruit getting caught at something by a general, spilling the beans without a thought.

It gave me an insight into how Lone Wolf might have gotten so pathetic. Some werewolf out there was using what he was to purposely terrify people into obeying him. How much terror, and how long being terrified? How much of a power trip did someone have to be on to do that to someone else? How could they ignore the wolf within? The thought of it still angered me.

Dad nudged my arm and we made our way to the basement.

A few of the guys followed us down. Ed walked over, watched as Dad and I stripped down to just pants. A few of the guys were sitting on the steps. Derrick stood halfway between Ed and the other guys. Apparently Ed was the spokesman.

"Mac doesn't drink." 

Long pause. Neither dad or I said anything.

"Mac hasn't touched a drop in a long time, until last night."

Dad answered him. "I'm glad he has such good friends to watch over him. He'll be fine."

Dad ignored Ed then, and focused on me. I didn't know what else to do. When Dad came at me, I had no choice but to start wrestling with him. I was the better wrestler, he was the better overall fighter. Like most of our practice matches, there were the occasional comments about strategy and moves. We always tried different things to work around different positions.

Mac came down finally, sat on one of the bottom steps, and watched us. I could smell the vodka in him even from the ring. He held the third bottle.

Dad asked about muscle movement. I started using the subtle muscle shifts I had told him about. Our conversation became a list of muscles and joints. If Mac knew what we were talking about, he gave no sign.

Suddenly Dad straightened up.

"Mac, how about having a round with me, see if I can put what this young pup has been going on about to actual use against somebody."

I was surprised when Mac came lumbering over. Eddie tried to take the bottle from him but Mac wasn't having it. I don't know where Mac's mind was when he set the bottle on the edge of the mat and climbed in the ring.

I moved myself outside the ring, staying by the edge. I tried to place myself where I would block most of the guys' view of the ring. Dad had a tendency to shift his feet slightly for extra leverage power, digging claws in.

I became coach for dad then, calling out muscles to shift, calling out his feet the one time I noticed a twitch there.

When Mac had him in a good hold on the mat, I called out hip, shoulder and elbow. The twist that would result from that shift should throw Mac off balance just a smidgen, enough for a good wrestler to take advantage of it.

Dad managed it, but Mac's bulk made for a lot of weight. Once the hold was broken, Dad stood with his back to the guys. He rotated his shoulder with a growl. I could hear the shift. He partially shifted back and forth a few more times, enough to test his shoulder, then back to totally human before he turned around.

"Enough. I'm going to have to work on that one." Dad rotated his shoulder normally. "That's going to be sore for a bit."

He came down off the mat, leaving Mac standing up there. Dad came over to me, put his hands on my shoulder. No words needed. I shifted the joint.

"Hmm. That was only about half what I did."

"Yeah, more than that would have things at the wrong angle."

Dad just looked at me. He had done what I said. I hadn't mentioned at what point to stop.

"Sorry, still working on it myself."

"Got any of your aunt's salve?"

"Yeah, in my saddlebags," I answered him, then turned quick to Mac. "Uh-uh, nope!" I grabbed Mac's bottle before he could grab it. "I have something better."

If looks could kill, Mac would have glared me to death.