Howling Bonds

3

"This isn't like any reading I've ever seen before." She stared at me with some incredulity and whispered, "The results show… your life will change dramatically." I watched her gulp. "Either you'll get a promotion… or die a violent death."

"Then I'm getting a promotion," I said, holding out my hand and taking my cup back. I think I smiled at her. Lydia shrugged and seemed glad I wasn't taking it seriously. "Come on, let's do something else. I'm in the mood for some video games." I winked at her.

We played online games together for a while, after which I went back to my room. The wind blew in through the narrow blinds, the heat of the day dissipated, along with the hustle and bustle of the city. Like an ocean floating on thin ice, the night became darker.

My mind drifted back to the video Lydia had shown me. I had seen those wounds before in those manuals and old photos the Eben town librarian had displayed. They looked identical.

But the town of Eben was over 2,000 miles away, and even the craziest serial killer wouldn't come to Tacoma, far away on the West Coast, to commit a crime.

Not even a werewolf.

Unless this monster was following me.

The thought popped into my mind and sent chills down my spine. I shook my head, trying to shake the ridiculous idea. It could just be a coincidence, maybe a rare disease, maybe some kind of drug.

I opened my computer and typed in the website Emilia had been on, and thought of my mother. Where did that come from? I wondered.

Something had separated me from my mother almost twenty years ago, and I could barely recall her. Evelyn's face was now a blur, and her memory had faded. But I still remember the days when we spent time together. Often in the solitude of late nights, in the day's obscurity, the silence of noon, by ancient wells, above dark streets, or when we first saw the city's traffic lights.

I kept convincing myself to look for my mother, but I realized I knew nothing about this woman's past. Nothing about her life before marriage, or what she had done at my age. She was my mother, and that's all I knew.

But I remembered the science books piled high on my bookshelves that accompanied me through my childhood, teenage and young adult years. Evelyn may have been a brilliant college student, but why get married, have children, and focus on being a housewife in Eben Town?

Then there was the knock on the door that night. I would never forgive Richard.

I continued to slide my mouse wheel through videos of aliens and Putin taken by conspiracy theorists. Putin was dancing around in the video, like some rapper, but I don't remember the name. In the sea of spam, I imagined what I would have done had I been Evelyn back then. Town streets were empty in the 90s, even without streetlights. The townspeople were trapped by 18th century rumors and locked their doors and windows on Halloween night. And here, she was left to live and die as an ordinary housewife. When she returned home, her husband and daughter, as was tradition, refused to open the door for her. Her husband, who had always claimed to be an atheist, even succumbed to the town's stereotypes, and seemed to turn his back on the faith they shared.

Maybe Evelyn had awakened from her big dream that night and elected to leave and was now in New York, Los Angeles, or somewhere. I tried not to blame her for that and hoped she found whatever she sought. I kept scrolling and soon a video pop-up followed: Beacon CEO Tony Pike Attacked!

Another freak incident in Tacoma. The forum exploded, with followers faster than the news reports. People online saw it as a worldwide crisis involving mythology, symbology, witches, and ancient spells. Tony Pike was an older man in his sixties, and his replacement appeared to be a young man named Faye, who I had the misfortune of meeting before. He came to one of our conferences to share his experience. But I don't know why our company invited an executive from a mini-bot company. He was in his thirties with beautiful wheat skin and wind-blown straw-green eyes. Tony always appeared arrogant and unbeatable.

That meeting ended badly, but afterward, he invited me on a ridiculous date. He acted as charming as ever, but I screwed everything up. However, I believe he did so on purpose. If someone told me that Faye was behind all this weirdness, it wouldn't be a surprise.

Internet news came in waves, with video after video showing over and over how someone found Tony Pike lying on the steps below his office, his right eye cut and his head bruised. He had a deep gash on the right side of his chest, which didn't look like the work of any wild animal. I zoomed in on the video as much as I could, but all I could see was a group of dark, busy figures.

Doubts were now weighing like weights on my mind. None of the narratives or theories were based on actual evidence, and all had clear logical flaws, even the most unconventional ones. I shut down my computer and lay in bed, tossing and turning. The bright moonlight fell on my face through the curtains, shining on my sideburns.

Werewolves.

With no one around, I stood in silence on the roof. I turned my gaze to the horizon, where a full moon glowed in the sky, illuminating the entire night. Its pure white light was so captivating that I could almost see it dancing in front of me.

Was this a dream?

The wolves had come out of their dens, awakened by the moon's song. Their howls sounded like rushing thunder, splitting the forest and destroying the mountains. They ran, roaming free without fear or worry—pure freedom—in the light of the full moon.

I shivered, and a chill ran down my spine—it was one of those dreams from my childhood. The dark night of the full moon brought only fear, like an old myth, or the symbols of the one-eyed serpent painted on the walls by cavemen. Then I saw an image different from the dream I had as a child, where packs of wolves roamed the tops of city skyscrapers, abandoned factories, and immigrant settlements.

They jumped from rooftop to rooftop, their fur glistening in the bright moonlight. Their movements were graceful and agile, their eyes shining with an intense energy that somehow seemed almost human. I watched them traverse the night sky. The sight was clear, distant, and like the old days. Somehow, I almost felt like I belonged among them, rushing under the stars, unencumbered by limitations or expectations. I realized that even though these creatures were nocturnal predators, they had become masters of their territory.

The animals moved together in perfect harmony—they had been together for many years, and bonded. The power of the ancient story and its prophecies unfolded before my eyes, and I knew this was a night like no other. It was a time of myths and legends. An enormous wolf led the pack, jumping onto the roof of the CBD building, and growled at the moon. I sensed its power and intensity, as if something primal had been reborn in his soul—something transcending time and space, language and culture.

One by one, the wolves jumped down from the heights of the city, leaving the alpha looking wolf, and he smiled at me.

Then, the wolf turned into a young and handsome man. His face was unmistakable in the light of the full moon and eyes shining with fierce determination. I felt as if I had known him for thousands of years as he extended his hand to me.