Lost Son Read online

  I sent my unspoken question to Neal.

  I detect a large presence of werewolves in the vicinity. Only one has a threat level high enough to be weary of, but all of them together would be formidable. I suggest you get on your bike and ride. They will be here in twenty seconds, you have ten to retreat.

  I sent to him.

  If you chose to stay, I believe I can keep most of them busy enough for you to survive, should violence erupt. Remember, you always have the ocean behind you. None of them are your equal in the water, my lord.

  I asked. I added, just for fun.

  Are you referencing a form of dancing as a synonym for fighting?

  I thought.

  From the dark shadows of the woods stepped a large framed man. He wore a ragged flannel shirt that looked like it had barely survived being burnt, stabbed and rinsed in mud, along with a matching pair of jeans. He had no shoes on and his feet looked dirty, but he moved with no reaction to the hard, cold, uneven terrain. His eyes shone from a dark scowl, they had hints of yellow within them and a wildness that bespoke of power and animal strength. He stood with the air of a leader, someone who gave orders and expected them to be obeyed. His obvious physical strength matched his aura of command.

  “I’m afraid I cannot let you leave.” He said, his voice was rough and had a wild quality to it.

  “Listen, I know what it’s like to have to say goodbye, but it will get better with time. I’ll write.” I said, hoping my sarcastic indifference would keep him off balance.

  I’d been expecting him. I’m surprised it took him this long to find me. When you enter into a pack’s territory and kill two members without permission from the pack leader, well, they tend to be angry with you. Normally, I would have visited him first, but time was of the essence and I was more interested in saving a young man’s life than following rigid pack protocol.

  Neal sat quietly by my side, for all appearances he seemed to be just a loving, albeit larger than normal, black lab. I reached out and rubbed his head in an offhanded motion, the action looked like nothing more than an owner petting his dog. I was really using Neal to infuse my hand with a powerful electric charge. My dog channeled electricity from the air and the ground and funneled it into a small stable field around my hand, it was not permanent and if I didn’t discharge it soon it would dissipate on its own, but it was a neat little trick that allowed me a first punch with a kick.

  The pack leader scowled at me even harder, if that was possible, and growled at me in a very deep and quiet voice, “You have invaded my boundaries and brought violence upon my kin, that is an affront that I cannot let go unanswered.”

  Upon?

  Seriously who talks like that, no one that was born in the last one hundred years.

  Werewolves could be very long lived if they were smart and strong enough to survive the violent and volatile pack lifestyle. If this guy was old and pack leader that meant he was not only very smart, but powerful as well. I ratcheted up my own sense of caution.

  I smiled calmly, not wanting to set him off until I was ready. Sometimes talking can gain you more valuable information than fighting.

  “You’ve got a good thing going on here, plenty of land to run freely during the full moon and game to hunt. Having pack members kidnapping children to hunt and eat is not conducive to keeping the humans from snooping. It doesn’t seem to me that you would approve of their actions. I actually did you a favor, if you think about it.” I said, trying to see if this was something the pack approved of. If it was I would have to come back and kill them for hunting humans, all of them.

  He narrowed his eyes at me and took a step forward.

  “I run a tight pack. The two pups would have been properly dealt with for their transgressions. You have no right to interfere. Pack issues are pack issues.” He said.

  I had the sinking suspicion that this wasn’t the first time they had snatched up an innocent for their sport. This pack had grown too strong up here in the wild, with no oppressive human society to keep them from getting too brazen. Perhaps it was time they were taught a lesson.

  I narrowed my own eyes, “Maybe your control is slipping, if you cannot handle two foolish pups, how can you control the rest of your pack?”

  It was a good thing that the moon was in a waning cycle. If I had to fight him closer to a full moon, it really would have been a lot harder. At this stage of the moons cycle werewolves were weaker, unable to shift into their more violent and viscous beast form. That didn’t mean they weren’t still very dangerous, with superhuman speed and strength, razor sharp claws and a healing ability allowing them to survive almost any trauma, they were a force to be reckoned with.

  The pack leader launched at me the second I finished asking my question. He moved with a speed that I wasn’t prepared for and raked a clawed hand at my face. I turned to the side and pulled back, trying to dodge his claws. I felt a stinging pain as he connected with my cheek and left two deep gashes that bleed freely. As he passed in front of me I punched him in the back of the head, unleashing the stored electricity.

  I hit him at the base of his skull, where his brain stem became his spinal cord. It was where all his nerves came to a tight bundle, and shooting him with 20,000 volts of electricity in his body’s electrical highway really screwed him up. He hit the ground face first, flopping like a fish, unable to control his disjointed limbs.

  I knew his paralysis was only temporary and reached back and pulled my sword from its sheath. It was not silver, that shit only works in the movies, but I could still kill him if I was fast enough. I heard movement and saw in my peripheral vision as a large number of werewolves emerged from the shadows of the woods.

  You’d better be fast; they will be on us in a few seconds. Neal said wordlessly.

  My swords blade shone with a blue hue as its metallic sheen reflected the sun’s rays. It was forged from Atlantean steel and took me years to gather the raw materials I needed, and even longer to perfect the skills required to forge such a magnificent weapon. The steel would never rust or dull and was stronger than any known metal.

  I thrust it downwards and felt a satisfying impact as it easily sliced through the pack leader’s neck. He was still flopping erratically and I was unable to sever his neck completely, a small amount of muscle and tendon still kept his head from rolling away. There was a loud detonation as Neal emitted a sonic assault on the pack that was hurtling towards us, intent on taking their revenge.

  The offensive maneuver was very effective on werewolves, their sensitive hearing would make the sonic blast devastating, but it was only temporary. I considered trying to finish the job, but the pack leader had somehow scrambled a few feet away and the rest of the pack had started to recover from Neal’s sound assault. I guess it was time to split, some other time perhaps.

  I jumped on my bike and sheathed my sword in a quick motion, I hit the ignition and the motorcycle rumbled to life. I had no time to savor the deep throaty growl as I kicked it into first gear and released the clutch and turned the throttle. The motorcycle roared in answer and the back wheel spun for a second before gripping the road and I shot off like a rocket. I yelled in excitement as I felt a couple of bounces from running over the pack leaders legs.

  The wind ripped at my hair and the fresh scent of the ocean and forest overwhelmed me as I sped away from a crippled pack leader and a pissed off bunch of werewolves.

  I looked down to see Neal’s familiar shadow running alongside me. My speedometer showed sixty-five miles an hour, he easily kept pace. I reached up and wiped at the dried blood on my cheek, knowing that the gashes would already be healed.

  You did well, but you underestimated his speed. He should not have been able to make you bleed. If you insist
on disregarding my advice, I suggest you make sure to perform to the best of your abilities. Neal said.

  I thought back.

  Yes, my lord, but you were faster than him. If you are to be ready for what comes you have to be as good as my programs say, so be faster.

  I didn’t have anything to say, he was right. I was faster than that and I slipped, I let him get to me. If it had been a sea witch whose fingernails hold powerful poison, I would be dead by now, or at least very sick, sick enough to be unable to defend myself.

  I sent back, grumpily.

  Chapter three

  I drove away from the ocean and towards the coffee shop where I was supposed to meet my client. I had an hour to kill before our scheduled meeting and figured I could spend it sipping coffee and reading the news. I liked to keep abreast of current events and looked for anything that might warn me of the approach of the Atlantean warlord who was hunting me. I didn’t think he would sit down for an interview, but you never knew what you can learn from the paper.

  I pulled up to the curb, parking off of the main street in an angled parking space. The town was still small and quaint enough to have parking right in front of its shops and I liked how I could see my ride from inside. Cups O’ Brew was a locally owned shop, the bigger chains had a couple stores in the larger cities, but hadn’t encroached on this small town, yet.

  Neal came around the corner in a small trot, showing no signs of his exertions. It must be nice to be a super advanced, magically enhanced Atlantean guardian.

  I don’t think he liked being called that, but I didn’t care, he wouldn’t stop calling me my lord, so turnabout’s fair game.

  Yes, my lord. I could have sworn he said that with a sarcastic air.

  I went inside and nodded to the cashier, a middle aged man with balding hair. He was ringing up a customer and nodded back absently. Places like this often bought a few copies of the morning paper and let the customers look through them, hoping to get bigger tips. I found a table near the front window and sat down, picking up the front page, I smiled at the headline.

  “Missing boy found alive, authorities still looking for suspects.”

  “Finally, something in the news you can be happy about.” I heard my waitress say as she came over to my table.

  She was pretty, with ample breasts and hips, she would never be a supermodel, but who wants a skinny waif anyway? Her eyes looked at me with gentle reproach. They were dark brown and accentuated her wavy hair that she tried to keep under a pony tail, but an errant strand fell over her forehead anyway. She had a pencil stuck behind her ear and she pulled it out along with a notepad to take my order. She smiled at me, eliciting a smile of my own.

  “It does seem as though there’s only bad things in the news, it’s nice to see something else for a change.” I said.

  “The boy is a good kid. His dad was wrecked when the police said they had no leads.” She looked at me for a few seconds, “People are saying you were hired by the boy’s father, that you found the kid.”

  I folded the paper and sat it down. I didn’t want to be mean, but I didn’t like people knowing about me or asking too many questions. The less someone could tell others, the better, you never knew who might be asking those questions.

  “I’m just passing through.” I said non-committedly.

  She watched me for a moment, gauging my answer. Finally she let out a quick breath; I could tell she didn’t believe a word.

  “Modest too, you gonna be here later tonight? I get off at eight.” She said. Her posture had shifted to one of open invitation.

  I’m sure if I wanted to I could have a nice and enjoyable evening with her, but I couldn’t let anyone close, it would put them at too much risk.

  “As much as I would love that, unfortunately I have to leave in an hour. It’s a long ride home.” I answered.

  She showed disappointment that then turned to acceptance, “It’s always the good ones that are unavailable. Too bad, I think we could’ve had a lot of fun. Is there something else I can get you?”

  “Yeah, I’d love a coffee, black if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure thing, coming right up.” She said, turning away but keeping eye contact for a second.

  I was soon on my third cup, the coffee wasn’t bad, but I loved to watch the normal comings and goings of the customers, people living ordinary lives, doing ordinary things. It always fascinated me.

  Here comes Mr. Stavinaugh. He’s ten minutes early. Neal’s voice came to me clearly, startling me out of my thoughts.

  I held my cup in both hands, elbows leaning on the table when Mr. Stavinaugh came in. He was a large man, heavy in the belly and chin, but his eyes shone with a calm thankfulness. His love for his son gave his demeanor a robust life that was infectious. He carried a small paper bag.

  He came to my table and sat down, smiling at me.

  “Jack, you’re an angel. I can’t thank you again for all you’ve done.”

  “How’s the boy doing?” I asked.

  A traumatic experience such as the kid had gone through can be hard to overcome. A loving family and support system is extremely important, I had the feeling he was in good hands.

  “He’s doing wonderful, glad to be home. It will take some time, but that doesn’t matter, as long as he’s home, it will all work out.” He beamed.

  “Here, the rest of your fee, as promised.” He brought the bag up and handed it to me. I took it and put it in my jacket without counting it.

  “I’m glad I could help.” I said, rising to my feet.

  Mr. Stavinaugh grabbed my arm, not letting me go. His face flashed a shadow of pain and memory for a second, “Jack, my son keeps talking about monsters and wolves. His therapist says it might be good to figure out what he means in order to help him. Do you know what he is talking about?”

  I slowly pulled away from his grip, turning towards the door.

  “Men can be monsters, there’s nothing more complicated to it than that.” I said and left.

  The bell above the door rang as I opened it.

  Neal rose from where he sat next to my bike. I got on and started her up, the sound loud in the calm small town’s main street.

  Home?

 

  I pulled out onto the street and headed south, knowing the temperature wouldn’t warm up until I got closer to where I lived. Most people wouldn’t consider Oklahoma City to be the kind of place for an Atlantean to live, seeing as how it was landlocked, but that was kinda the idea. Also it was a great place to travel from, if I needed to get somewhere in a hurry Oklahoma City was almost right in the middle of the America, being a hub of cross country travel. It was good a place as any to live, although I desperately wanted to be somewhere near the ocean, that’s why when given the chance I would swim anywhere, even the frigid Alaskan Bay.

  After a week on my motorcycle, pulling up to my home/business was a welcome sight. I lived on the second floor of an old building in the historic part of Oklahoma City. The place had a wonderful vibe, holding the old brick construction, yet placed in a part of town that tried to capture that big city feel. I pulled around to the back through an alley, parking my bike I sat on it for a minute, letting Neal do his thing.

  He came trotting up to me a few seconds later, his intelligent eyes shone from a shape that screamed for me to play catch.

  Initial scans show that the building has not been tampered with, that doesn’t mean someone cannot be watching you, just that no one has entered while we were away.

  “God, I need a shower, and some food.” I said, walking to the door and opening it.

  I had every intention of sitting down and watching some football games that I had DVR’d. I went inside and turned on the light switch next to the door, the fluorescent hummed to life and I held the door open, letting Neal in. Yeah he was an ancient Atl
antean guardian, but he couldn’t open doors, go figure.

  My business consisted of two rooms, one main one in the front that housed a desk, computer and a phone. The back consisted of a small storage room and a bathroom that I kept clean in case a client needed to use it. I think the place used to be an old toy store, selling baseball cards, wind up robots and tinker toys, before the mega chains came in and put all these old places out of business.

  When I moved in I found a box in the back that had a bunch of dusty old toys in it, still in their original packaging. I dusted them off and used them to soften up the place. I sat down at my desk and checked the phone for messages, nothing. Then I powered up my computer and checked for any emails, but only found a bunch of spam. Neal said the computer was unnecessary but I liked it. My desk faced the front door, but I had a small wall built that separated it from the rest of the space, I had it reinforced with steel plates just in case someone came at me and tried to shoot me while I worked. That left a small area right inside the front door that had a couple of comfortable chairs and a small table.

  I flipped the computer off and was about to go upstairs for a hot shower and football when my phone rang. I picked it up on the second ring and said, “Jack Industries, this is Jack speaking how can I help you?”

  “Oh thank god you’re there, I wasn’t sure if I should call, I didn’t want to talk to an answering machine. Wait, this is the place that helps find missing persons isn’t it?” The woman on the other end of the line sounded excited, desperate and slightly insane all at the same time.

  It was a common reaction when someone you love mysteriously disappears without a trace.

  “Yes this is the right place, how can I help you?” I said calmly, not wanting to spook her, she sounded frazzled enough already.

  “How does this work? Do I come in, should we meet somewhere?” She asked frantically.

  “Well, that depends; do you need to find someone?” I asked tentatively.

  “It’s just, the cops said that it hasn’t been more than twenty four hours, but I know something’s wrong. Jessica wouldn’t run off, not my Jessica.” She said in between sobs, she was trying hard to contain herself.