The four and the rejected Alpha's return

Michael’s stomach felt like an empty cave. He rubbed a hand over his grumbling belly, his steps eager as he fantasized about a cold soda and a bag of chips. He was crossing the street to the store, watching the front entrance from under the hood of his threadbare black hoodie. There was idle curiosity in his obsidian black eyes as his gaze landed on a blonde-haired woman, and a boy with curly locks who looked about his age, loading groceries into the trunk of their car. “I can’t believe they made us wait for the council to make a decision. They said they were close to finding the third.” The woman was saying, her voice carrying over the distance. Her brows were wrinkled up in frustration and her lips set in a definitive thin line. The boy’s tone was placating. “I’m sure they had their reasons, mum.” “We don’t have time, Johnny. We really don’t. Everyone is getting agitated, and our ties with the Blackwood pack is getting strained. If the wolves switch sides, we’ll be doomed.” The boy gave his mother a tight smile, the worry on her features mirrored in his. He was about to open his mouth to speak, when the bottom of the brown shopping bag in his hand ripped open and a gallon of milk thumped to the floor. Rolling away from the car to the edge of the curbside and stopping right at Michael’s feet. The boy sighed, and jogged over. He spotted Michael and an embarrassed smile flitted across his lips. “Sorry about that,” He said. “Yeah, let me get that for you.” Michael murmured, surprised by the friendliness in the boys' manners. He stopped to pick up the milk at the same time that the boy did. The moment their fingers touched, a painful tug gripped Michael’s stomach and he jerked back. An invisible surge of power crackled between them, causing blood to roar in his ears and he found himself staggering backwards. “What the-” He started to say. The neon sign above the store short-circuited and exploded, and they flinched, their hands going above their heads protectively as they were showered with sparks. Michael stood there aghast. While the boy’s mum rushed over. Gripping him by the shoulders. “What happened Johnny, are you okay?” “I’m fine mum. I just…” He trailed off, looking down at his palms with wonder and then up at Michael. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Michael’s heart raced. He’d felt something just now, like he’d caused that explosion to happen, which was crazy. He shook it off, scoffing under his breath at the ridiculousness of his wild thoughts. “Crazy thoughts,” He murmured. Yet the tremor in his hand was unmistakable. He shoved them deep into his pockets and kept his head down. Moving past without another word. He didn’t want to be questioned. He was a minor, and currently homeless. “You should be able to control your powers by now. This is why the council needs to add efforts to find the third. You’re so unstable now because the circle isn’t complete…” He heard the woman saying. Michael was glad she wasn’t looking to him as the cause of this weird incident. But at the same time, he wasn’t sure what to make of her words. The third? And powers? He couldn’t help himself, he turned to get one last good look at the source of this strange conversation. But the woman had already bundled her son into the car and driven off, leaving a trail of exhaust smoke in their wake. Michael scratched the back of his neck. Whatever the hell that was, he didn’t care. He tried to convince himself. The owner of the store jogged past him outside to look at his ruined sign. Michael ignored him and walked into the store, trying to forget all about what had just happened. Weird things transpired around him all the time. He was just glad no one got hurt this time. His chest tightened as he recollected the last time he felt that surge of power in his belly… He gritted his teeth and forced that memory to the back of his mind. But images of flaming beasts with tongues of flames for fur still hovered behind his eyelids. Haunting and taunting him. “Food. I just need some food.” He muttered to himself. Forcing himself to carry on. All he could afford were some protein bars. He stuffed his pockets with a few and tore one open, munching gratefully on the salted peanut caramel flavored snack. His mind wandered. Going to the other thing he’d come here for. Soap… Ten minutes later, he was in the bathroom scrubbing under his armpits thoroughly. Eyeing his reflection with a level of disinterest of one unconcerned with their physical appearance. His skin was mocha colored and his hair curly black, and presently wet and sticking to the sides of his head damply. A loud clattering sound caused his head to perk up and his body tensed. Was the store owner back from complaining about his ruined sign? He wondered. He made quick work of tugging on his hoodie and bundling his meager belongings into his bag and opened the door a fraction, peeking out. The lights were all off, save for the emergency bulbs. Casting an eerie flickering glow over the rows of goods. When did the lights go off? It wasn’t like the store was closing up soon. It was barely dusk. The hairs on the back of Michael’s neck stood on end. He could sense danger looming. Get out of here now! A raspy voice growled inside his head. Michael reacted purely on instinct, he’d deal with the fact that there was a voice inside his head later. The soles of his tattered sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor as he marched to the exit. Pulling the straps of his backpack tighter until they dug into his shoulder. As he turned into an aisle of junk food, his throat constricted. He released a hacking cough, bringing his sleeve up to his nose as his eyes watered. A smell as foul as the trash cans behind the farmers market enveloped the air like a thick and dense cloud. “What…” He never got to finish that sentence because his mind went completely blank with shock as a creature turned round the corner, blocking his path. It was humanoid in form, with mottled gray skin, hollowed eye sockets and grinning decaying teeth. It took a step forward and greasy gray smoke emanated from its body, reminding him of something fresh out of a pot of the disgusting, watery gravy served at the St Agnes homeless shelter. “Found you… Dark master will be pleased.” The thing chattered, it sounded like crinkling foil paper. Michael had a lot of questions. Why did it have strands of hair clinging to its scalp like that? Why not just go completely bald? Two, not that he was a prude or anything, but a loin cloth? Seriously? And thirdly, why was this creature looking so pleased with itself for finding him? He’d always nursed fantasies of having a family out there looking for him. But no one had ever shown up, except this zombie in a loin cloth. If the zombie called him son, he was shallow enough as a person and ready to reject any connection to this thing happily. “No, I think you have the wrong person, pal. Sorry,” Michael said, recovering his voice and stepping back. Run! The voice in his head commanded. The creature chattered again, releasing a shrill shriek. “Found you. Dark Wolf wants you…” It communicated more insistently. “Dude, I don’t think anyone wants to be found by you,” Michael pointed out. It started to approach him, stumbling forward as if it was just learning to walk. Its hand rested on a shelf of peanut butter M&M’s and Michael watched with horror as the aluminum metal and the snacks turned to gray dust under the zombie’s touch. Its bony fingers stretched in his direction like they wanted to engulf him in a tight hug, or poke out his eyeballs. He wasn’t sure which. The knowledge that those limbs coming in contact with him would turn him into a pile of dust like those poor innocent M&M’s spurned Michael into action. He spun on his heels. His plan was to get as far away from this thing as possible and hopefully wake up on his makeshift cardboard box mattress in the alleyway behind Yodo’s pet store, and realize this was all a dream. His legs were already geared to break into a sprint, his hands mid-swing to propel his movement forward when he stopped in his tracks. There was a girl standing and blocking his escape route. She had long silver hair that shimmered like silk. Her hands were led lightly by her sides like a ballet dancer. And her brows were drawn together in a frown of concentration. Michael was so confused by her appearance. All he could do was stare like an i***t. “Duck.” She said. “Huh?” He answered stupidly. His mouth hung open and his brain felt foggy. Despite the bizarre situation he was in, he still noticed how pretty the girl was. Then he saw the wicked sharp blade in her right hand and his eyes widened in alarm. As she raised her arm, he dropped to the ground like his life depended on it. She flung her knife, the glinting sharp blade arcing through the air and cutting through the space his neck had been just a split second ago. There was a dull thud and the loin clothed zombie screeched in pain. Michael heard a bubbling and disgusting hissing sound of flesh squelching and dissolving. He swallowed down his nausea and revulsion. The girl stepped over him, her clunky boots nearly crushing his hand. He scampered to his feet watching her study the gooey mess on the floor with a pensive finger on her chin. She was dressed in a skirt with a flayed hem that stopped mid-thigh with black tights underneath, and a blue t-shirt. “Well, that’s new,” She said. Was she talking to him? She kept studying the puddle on the floor with interest. Testing the toe of her boot against it and nodding when it hissed and the leather started to melt away. She didn’t seem all that bothered about ruining her shoes. Michael cleared his throat. “Hello?” He waved his hand in the air, calling her attention back to him. She looked up as if she’d forgotten he was there. Tilting her head to the side and studying him with eyes the color of storm clouds. He felt his face warm up. In all his sixteen years, he’d never had a girl check him out so openly before. He became conscious of his appearance. His black hoodie that had started losing so much color was now ashy and limp on his skinny torso. His denim pants were several sizes too big, and his shoes were ruined. She must have noticed all these things too, because her gaze immediately hardened with animosity. “Get out of here. Now.” Michael frowned, his hackles rising at her tone. Who was she to order him around? She looked just as young as he was. His mood instantly shifted to defensive. “Hey now?” He said, “I was here first. Where you the one that brought that zombie in here?” The girl’s eyes flashed with anger. “What are you talking about? Get moving!”