Page 4 of Jacob Michaels is Dead

The ground was still shaking, maybe not as bad as it had been, but cracks had formed in the ground of the parking lot outside of the football stadium.

A pack of werewolves stood in a semi-circle, their leader at the center, a smirk on his face as the woman approached. Ancient and wise, confidence announced her arrival like perfume that had been applied far too liberally. Jason and his pack sneered and smirked, attempting to look menacing as the woman walked towards their half-circle of terror. Still the ground wasn’t the only thing shaking. At least, it wasn’t the reason that more than one werewolf’s knees were wobbly. Whether something such as a werewolf would admit such a thing, every person in the pack knew that this woman was not to be trifled with, nor was she to be treated as harmless. With the snap of her fingers, she could easily incinerate any one—or all—of them.

Jason stepped forward as the woman stepped out of the dust and shadows, approaching the pack of werewolves as though they were bunny rabbits. She had nothing to fear from the wolves that comprised the pack, whether they were in wolf or human form. If it weren’t the pack, one would think that the ground shaking underfoot would have unnerved the woman, yet it did not. She was unbothered by either the werewolves or the quaking underfoot. After all, this was the reason she existed. She had nothing to fear, for her destiny was tied to this moment. Just like it had been to every similar event spanning back to nearly the dawn of human existence.

Jason did his best to swallow down the lump in his throat and continue to smirk at the woman at the same time, though he knew that his fear would be palpable to her. Nearly anyone would fear this woman almost as much as they would the man in the black hooded cloak. Of course, no one was certain why such a seemingly harmless creature could be nearly as fearsome as the cloaked man, yet the fear was there. Perhaps it was because she had nothing to lose or gain, regardless of how events unfurled. Maybe it was because she had no fear herself. Or maybe it was because she was able to walk along on the shifting ground in a pair of high heels and not miss a step.

“Well,” Carlita popped her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she stopped a few yards in front of Jason, “I guess today is as good as any other day for an apocalypse.”

“You can’t do anything now.” Jason attempted a snarl, but to his chagrin, it came out as a wolf-y whimper.

Carlita looked across the expanse between them with a simple smile affixed to her face.

“As if I would.” She said.

Jason nodded shakily.

“My allegiances have not changed, wolf,” Carlita said, holding a hand up to examine her nails lazily. “Yet, I am quite surprised that we are seeing each other so soon.”

“That’s her fault.” Jason spat.

Nearly a quarter of a million miles above them, the moon shone down, full and orange. Soon, it would be blood red, though darkness would mask it. Carlita glanced skyward and let her manicured hand fall to her side as she took in the hue of the moon, trying to mentally calculate how much longer they had. Suddenly, the ground stopped shifting. With a smile, her eyes landed upon Jason once again.

“They’re no longer in Point Worth.” She said. “For now.”

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but a woman’s voice came to Carlita’s ears instead.

“They high-tailed it out of here, ya’ bitch.”

Carlita’s smile widened as she turned her head to peer into the darkness at her right. Out of the shadows, Esther Jean Wagner stomped towards her. Clad in blue denim bib overalls, a plaid long-sleeve shirt, and gardening clogs, she looked as happy as she usually did, which was to say: not at all.

“Vieja loca blanca.” Carlita snorted.

“Don’t you talk that Spanish shit to me, Carlita.” Esther Jean continued her march towards the woman in the red high heels. “You got somethin’ to say, say it in a language I understand.”

Jason took the opportunity to step back, slipping into the ranks of his pack, making himself a less likely target. At least a harder to hit target. Whether he would be a target for fire, a tongue lashing, or worse, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that he did not want to be between the two women if they decided that they wanted to fight. It was unlikely that Carlita would allow violence to erupt during one of their meetings. Still, Esther Jean Wagner was a force all her own. She wasn’t afraid of the woman in the red high heels. She had no reason to be.

“You crazy old white bitch.” Carlita bobbed her head back and forth with a sneer as she took in the old woman who stopped merely a yard away. “That’s not exactly what I said, Esther Jean. I added the ‘bitch’ because it felt right.”

“How dare you talk to me like that?” Esther Jean’s voice boomed.

A pack of werewolves, though in human form, cowered and whimpered. Destruction was upon them all. Whether it would come from these two women or the force that had caused the ground to shake, they weren’t sure. But destruction was imminent.

“I wouldn’t be talking to you at all right now if you had gotten Rob out of Point Worth sooner.” Carlita examined her nails again. “Yet again, you just couldn’t do your damn job.”

“I did my job.” Esther Jean snapped. “I got him out of this damn town before he came of age, didn’t I?”

“And you did such a marvelous job.”

“You look here, you bitch—”

Jason and his pack began to back up, thoughts of slinking away into the darkness crossing all of their minds.

“Don’t even think about it, you sonsofbitches!” Esther Jean turned her head to snap at them.

The wolves froze in place. Carlita smiled, amused, though her eyes never left Esther Jean.

“I got him raised. I got him out of Point Worth when he was sixteen.” Esther Jean jabbed a finger at Carlita’s face, though she was smart enough to stay out of her reach. “I made him think everything was his own damn idea. I gave him those memories. I did everything we agreed upon. I. Did. My. Damn. Job.”