Page 20 of Feral Werewolves
I was going to make my own choices.
I was in control of me.
And then, one of them contacted me on social media.
7
paladin
THE NEXT DAY, I tried to talk about her with both of them.
I went to Lazarus first, because I thought Lazarus might agree with me about it. Lazarus would sometimes say stuff to Kestrel and me both sometimes about how we never had any experience being in relationships with women, which was true. Lazarus had been in love, even if that love had ended in gore and horror, and even if he hated himself for having done that. So, he knew what it was like.
“I think we should try to get in touch with her,” I said to him. “She said her name’s Clementine, and I already did a search on social media and found her.” I showed him the phone that we all shared out here, on my social media account. There was her picture. It hadn’t been hard. Clementine wasn’t really a real common name. She lived in the city, and I knew what she looked like, so I scrolled through the search results until I found her.
“It’s against the rules,” said Lazarus.
I knew that, but it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t report us, I thought. And she had felt it, too, and I knew she had. It had been different than any of the other times. “You know that she’s something special,” I said to him.
“I don’t know anything like that,” said Lazarus. “She was pussy and ass, and that was it.” But the fact that he felt the need to say that meant that he was trying to convincehimself otherwise. He did know it.
“She talked to us,” I countered. “She told us her name. When have any of the tithes ever been like that?”
Lazarus just glared at me from where he was lounging on his bed. We were having this conversation in his bedroom, and it was evening, and usually if I came in here it was because I wanted sex or because I thought he wanted sex, so the fact that he grabbed me by my one of my belt loops and pulled me in closer wasn’t that out of the ordinary. He kissed my crotch.
I pushed his face off. “Lazarus, I’m trying totalk.”
He laughed up at me. “What do we even need a woman for? We have you.”
I put two feet of distance between us and just eyed him, unable to even speak at that.
He flopped down on the bed. His voice was gruff. “Sorry. That was fucked up.” It really was, especially considering he knew the way certain groups of wolves had used me, the things they’d called me, the way they’d made me dress sometimes… “I forget sometimes is all. Forgive me?”
“Just a request,” I said. “A friend request. If she ignores it, that tells us something, but she said to find her next month.”
“Paladin, it’s against the rules,” said Lazarus.
I sighed heavily.
“Did I fuck it up?” said Lazarus. “You too weirded out for anything now? Because I’m hard as a rock. Sixty-nine with me at least, huh?”
I didn’t go to Kestrel until the next morning. He was out with the chickens, looking for eggs, even though I said I would do that. I kept forgetting to do my chores, and Kestrel never said anything about it. He just did all of it. I’d apologize; he’d say it was no big deal; I’d say I’d do better; I never did.
“Sorry,” I said. “I know I said I was going to deal with the eggs.”
He grunted, holding up the basket he had. It was basically full. “I’m done now.”
“Maybe if we made, like, a list somewhere?” I said.
“You want me to make you a chore chart like a toddler?” he said. “You want star stickers, Paladin?”
I flinched. They were jerks to me sometimes, both of them. I’d been in a lot of situations, though, and all of them had been hands-down worse than this one. We were all fucked up, so nothing was easy, but they weren’t trying to control me or use me. I was allowed to say no. And Kestrel was good at working the farm.
“Sorry,” said Kestrel, rolling his eyes. “Let’s call it even. You forgot the eggs. I called you names. We’re both asshats, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said.
We started off together towards the house. Outside, the air was cold, the dew chilly against the grass, the sky only barely starting to lighten. It was nice out here, I had to admit, nice in the morning, especially.
