Page 29 of Jacob Michaels is Trouble

The horizon was that lazy red color that’s trying to decide how long it will be before it turns purple. Higher in the sky, the deep, nearly black, blue color was encroaching on the blood-like color pouring towards the ground. Somewhere between the two colors, a pale-yellow moon was climbing higher into the sky, watching the war between the two colors. Day and night fighting each other as the moon stayed out of the way and did what it was created to do. The sky could fight with itself as long as it kept out of the moon’s way, for it had to bring forth destiny.

Nearly a quarter of a million miles beneath the moon, a scream of agony cut through the woods as the man fell to all fours. Writhing and gnashing, the man screamed out as his bones shifted, and his skin crawled. Popping joints and stretching sinew, like being stabbed repeatedly with hot pokers, the man knew that the pain alone would be enough to kill him. The moon shone down, indifferent to the man’s suffering as he went through the transition—the first to ever experience a pain so unique…so exquisite. A pain that demanded to be felt, for reward was on the other side of that wall of agony.

Throwing himself back to his elongating knees, the man looked up at the moon, his eyes wide and yellow, lengthening and glistening as his mouth opened wide. Teeth, impossibly long, glistened with drool that fell to the ground in fat, viscous globs. His yellow eyes connected with the yellow light of the moon, and his soul learned a truth that had never been whispered to another soul. He was now part of the night—a part of the frightening uncertainty of darkness that forced the first people to walk on two legs to hide in caves when the God in the sky went to sleep each night.

As the first patch of fur split the skin on his back, the knobs of his spine spilling forth from that crevice, he understood everything. His eyes were drawn to the edge of the clearing, where a man in a black hooded cloak watched, his red eyes glowing out from the shadows of that hood.

Magic.

It was connected to everything.

His wish had been heard.

Carlita slowly slid her hand out of mine, her fingers trailing across the top of the table between us in the corner booth. My eyes opened, and I looked over at her, wondering what there was to say.

“He’s been around for a very long time, baby,” Carlita said as her fingers found her coffee cup.

It was evident that she was trying to keep her hand steady, but she couldn’t quite manage it as her shaky hand nearly upended her cup before her fingers latched onto it. My own hand was cold and clammy and just a little shaky as I slid it back across my side of the table and into my lap. She brought the disposable to-go cup to her lips and took a sip from the minuscule hole in the plastic lid, but her eyes did not lose their hold on mine.

What she had just shown me didn’t answer many questions, it merely added more to the growing “List of Things Rob Doesn’t Know.” So, my friend in the black hooded cloak was around when the first man became a werewolf. What did that mean? Had he created the first werewolf? Or was he merely an observer to something that the magic of the world had brought forth of its own accord? Why would someone wish to become a creature like a werewolf and where would such a primitive person get such an idea when no such thing had existed before? Someone doesn’t just wake up one day and have such a thought, nor make such a wish.

Why are the shifters acting weird in Point Worth?

That had been my question for Carlita when I had found her at the LGBTQ+ center in downtown Toledo. Instead of answering, she had led me to the coffee shop—the same one I had been to with Andrew before—and ordered us both a coffee. Then we had slid into the corner booth, mostly out of everyone else’s sight since it was the middle of the day, and business was slow. Her hand had reached for mine, and I had placed mine in hers willingly. My mind had been treated to a memory that wasn’t my own.

But whose memory was it?

Memories were a tricky thing. What is a memory comprised of? Are they flickers of electricity being fired by synapses in the brain? Then again, does the brain contain memories…or is it memories? No matter the answer, I knew one thing for certain, the memory had to be Carlita’s. How else would she have it to share with me? My hand was finally steady when I reached for my own disposable cup and lifted it to my lips. As the warm, black liquid flooded my mouth, I found myself wondering if anything would ever make sense again.

When I had first gone off to Hollywood, all of my pertinent memories about magic and the history of my family taken from me for safe-keeping, things were rough. But they made sense. I didn’t wander through each day blindly, wondering what this thing or that thing meant. I didn’t develop one question after another about every event in my life. One foot in front of the other was how I lived my life because everything was linear and logical. Now…I felt like, with my memories returned…I understood nothing.

I was worse off than I had been before.

“Why don’t you people ever just give simple answers?” I sighed as I set the coffee cup back on the table.

“I’m an oracle, baby.” Carlita smiled as her cup was set back on the table. “Not Dear Abby. Knowing my role in all of this doesn’t mean I can just tell you any-damn-thing that pops into your handsome little head.”

“Thank you,” I said quickly before launching in on her again. “Carlita—”

“Yes, baby?”

“Why did someone become a werewolf?” I reiterated. “Why do they exist?”

“You saw why they exist, Rob.” She replied.

I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes.

“When the first,” She looked around and leaned in, “magic, was used, someone had to be around to keep that shit under control, right? I mean, you can’t have people just running around batshit crazy doing whatever the hell they want without someone there to make sure they didn’t go too far.”

I wasn’t sure she was answering the question I had asked.

“So,” I said, “they came about because some guy wished to be a wolf?”

“No.” She looked at me like I was stupid. “And yes. They came to be because some guy wished to be a wolf without realizing that magic is everywhere. It sees everything and hears everything. Be careful about what you wish…because you might just get it.”

“Why was…he…there?” I asked quietly, nervously reaching for my cup.

“Baby,” The look didn’t leave Carlita’s face, “he’s been around for a lot longer than you know.”