The Gravity Between Moons

Chapter Three

Garrett took the vial from his jacket and poured a few drops into the drink at Brook's bedside table. Giving one last look at the slumbering bastard, he slipped back out the door. He took care to re-lock and silently close the door. Wiping it down with a rag, he froze at the sound of a stick breaking under approaching footsteps. Quickly he disappeared into the dark.

Washing himself down in the tub and disposing of his clothing, Garrett once again found himself leaning against the sink. Avoiding his own gaze, he checked the rest of his reflection for any signs of the night's events. Nothing. Everything looked normal, as if he hadn't just gone against every bit of his moral fiber to poison that man. Any minute now the old drunk would be reaching for that glass to refresh his drunken state. Garrett's stomach tightened, and he threw up in the sink. This time he looked at his reflection, and finding the evidence of his sin staring back at him-he threw up again.

Finally ridding his stomach of all it's contents, he cleaned up and went to lie on his bed. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to relive all of the events leading up until tonight.

A much younger Garrett was chasing his brothers through the house, taking care to quietly avoid where the adults were sharing drinks and jokes. Howls of laughter almost drowned out the music playing in the background. The Hazel pack house was filled with friends and family, celebrating a Council member's birthday, or anniversary...he wasn't sure. There was always some kind of celebration going on, people dancing, drinking, eating, flirting- all of the best part's of life. Wolves from every part of the community were gathered in the house to partake in the mirth.

It was a favorite game between the Hazel brother's to play hide and seek in these times. It was getting late and they were supposed to be in bed- but that just added to the fun.

Trying to avoid being caught by their parents or anyone of any authority, they snuck quick drinks of punch that warmed their bellies and set their throats ablaze with tastes of the alcohol. They each snagged platefuls of hor d'ouvres, desserts, and small portions of the feast that was laid out. They would meet in a dark corner of a seldom occupied alcove to enjoy their plunder.

On this particular night, Garrett was the first to bring his heaping tray of meats and cheese to the meeting spot. He quietly chewed on a rib while he waited on his partners in crime.

Two men walked through the door talking loudly and collapsed into overstuffed chairs across from him. He sunk into the shadows, waiting to be found out, but they didn't notice him. Instead they lit cigars and sloppily threw back their tumblers of amber liquid.

“You know, all of this is great fun, and I do love these parties- but I can't stand Will.” the first man said in a low raspy voice.

The second man growled. “Me, either. He's a power hungry drunk with no f*****g soul. He should've been kicked out of the Council when he first started planning the last war with those other two hellspawn.”

The man took a long pull of his cigar, blowing the smoke in Garrett's direction in a way that almost choked his dry throat. He was still waiting on Damen to bring drinks to the room.

The raspy man nodded emphatically. “Exactly! And then getting so many innocents from that pack killed. Why, that boy Garrett would still have his blood family-”

Another growl cut him off. “Watch your tongue, you'd be dead if someone heard you.” The second man snapped. “You know that's a forbidden topic. No matter that it's on Brook's hands. What about everone else that caused all of that s**t to go south?” They turned suddenly as the Hazel boys ran right into them, causing drinks and food to go everywhere. Garrett was frozen behind a chair, trying to workout what he had just heard. He ran to his room through a side hall while everyone was distracted with the naughty boys and their stolen meal.

Garrett didn't tell anyone about this for years. For weeks he played it in his head over and over, sure that he had misheard. There must be another Garrett. Or maybe they had the name wrong. But then...he didn't really look like his brothers at all. If he really thought about it, their ages didn't really line up either. But.... his mom and dad... they couldn't not be his mom and dad. If they weren't.... who were his parents? Where were they? Had he been kidnapped? Were they...dead?

At this thought he almost always started to feel sick, and had to cut himself off from the topic altogether. He stared to be unable to look at his parent's faces or be near them. His fake parents?

Even his loving brothers started to feel distant. Everything in his life started to crumble when he really thought about his past.

Up until this, nothing in his life had really been that bad. The worst thing that had happened was when he discovered his grandma had been lying to him. Recalling the circumstances surrounding her betrayal he chuckled a little bit.

She had always made these sweet and delicious pumpkin pies. They were always fresh out of the oven, still warm and piled with cheap whipped topping that he gobbled up as soon as it hit his plate. He loved it so much that he would growl and swipe at anyone who tried to get a piece until he had eaten his fill.

Grandma had started bringing him his own special pie to the table. He felt so loved and spoiled that she would go through so much effort to give him such a gift. One day he went to the kitchen to thank her and bestow her with some kisses while he retrieved his dessert. Mouth watering, he approached the counter. The smell of warm cinnamon, pumpkin, and nutmeg wafted up to his nose.

Then he saw it. His pie was sitting in a plastic pie plate, the sell by date and brand name plain as day.

“Grandma...”

She turned and placed a pie on a cooling rack, and then took his pie and put it in the oven. “Yes, dear?”

“I...uh...you bought the pies at the store? I thought you made them for us....for me.”

She rolled her eyes and patted his tummy. “With as much as you eat? I'm not that good of a baker. Get over it.”

Suddenly Garrett realized that might not even be his real grandmother. He felt his eyes tear up and his lower lip start to quiver. He needed to talk to someone. To figure this all out. Who was he, really?

He balled his fists and went to the pack library. Looking for anything and everything he could find on the last pack war, he compiled it all in his room under his bed. Every chance he got he read, but he never found anything that answered his questions. Until he found a list of newly initiated pack members after the war ended. His name wasn't on the list, but he knew where to find some of the people whose names he found. He was making a plan to go talk to one of them, to find out the truth when Simon walked in.

“Whatcha doin' nerd?” Simon gestured to all the books that Garrett had gathered up to return to the library.

“ Nothing.” Garrett responded. He paused for a second then took a deep breath. “ Do you think I'm different from you and the rest of the family?” he asked.

“Yeah. You're definitely a weak human.” Simon pounced on him and knocked the books out of his hands. He laughed at his own joke and then proceeded to stack the books in Garrett's arms. “ You and Damon are practically twins. Neither one of you has a good sense of humor. Come on, it's lunch time.”

With that he was gone, and Garrett didn't get to ponder any more of him.