Fate of the Fathers
Chapter 7

Jenna stared at the looming tower of boxes in the closet of the upper level. This floor was smaller, only the primary bedroom and bath, which had been her parents, and then a linen closet stacked high with the remnants of her past.

She had only glanced briefly into the room which held the bed, with matching nightstands and a dresser. Her mom had loved that set; an heirloom passed down from her parents: Jenna’s grandparents. She had barely known them, as they had both died when she was young. She remembered the nights, sitting on her parents’ bed, looking through volumes of photo albums. Her mom would point out the various family members in each picture.

Grabbing the box nearest to her, she hauled it downstairs to the living area. She sat it on the dining table and brushed the thick layer of dust from the top. Inside, she found an assortment of books, journal articles, and newspaper clippings.

She wasn’t even sure what she should be looking for, but began compiling the contents into stacks ranging from least to most helpful. She’d have Chase go through it later and see if his detective eyes found anything useful.

Box after box she did this, until her vision blurred and ankle throbbed from going up and down the stairs. She retrieved one of Chase’s sodas from the fridge and sank onto the couch, propping her ankle up on a stack of pillows. The ice pack was frigid against her skin as she popped the lid on the can and sipped at it.

Outside, rain fell steadily against the windows in typical coastal fashion. Chase had disappeared again, but after what had happened earlier, she figured that might be for the best. He said something about following a lead and had left.

She glanced at the clock above the TV. Nearly two in the afternoon now. Tomorrow she would need to set up an appointment with a realtor. Sandra was probably the best bet. She’d ask June for the number in the morning.

She shifted the ice pack against her ankle and felt the overwhelming urge to go for a run. Restlessness pushed on her insides and she gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t take that sort of risk of injuring herself further, but she also didn’t know how to tamper those feelings down.

Images of Friday night jumped into her mind and she remembered the feeling of intense power flowing through her.

Of the claws that emerged where her fingers had been.

She held her hand out, studying the anatomy of her palm, the back of her wrist, and joints, skin, and nails that looked so normal now. She ran a thumb against the pads of her fingers, remembering the ugly red scratches down the man’s back and arm. She had done that–had become a monster and done that to him.

She looked down at the tattoo on her wrist–the one that Chase had pointed out, when they first met. She had known she was a monster, long before the events of Friday night. She might have told her girlfriends that the tattoo had represented strength and perseverance, but it also portrayed something darker and deadlier. A side of her that she would never reveal again.

The kitchen door slammed shut and then Chase said, “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

Jenna removed the ice pack and stood from the couch, turning around. She was surprised to see Chase had a second person with him: a female. She sighed and said, “It’s never-ending.” Then threw a questioning look in his direction.

“Jenna, this is Ruby. Ruby, meet Jenna.”

Ruby stepped forward, tight black curls bouncing at her shoulders as she reached a hand out to Jenna; a smile lighting up her face.

Jenna accepted the gesture, noting Ruby’s flawless, caramel skin and dark eyes. She was immediately hyper-aware of her own sweat-laced clothes and messy bun. So much for the shower a few hours ago. How nice of Chase to give her a heads up about bringing people over.

“Nice to meet you, Jenna,” Ruby said in a voice like rich silk.

“You too,” Jenna replied, then turned to Chase. “I’ve compiled some things from my dad’s boxes, if you want to go through them?”

“After a drink,” he replied, going for the fridge and grabbing a soda. He popped the top before acknowledging the silence that now beheld the kitchen.

“Ruby is your friendly neighborhood werewolf, here to be your guide.” He waved a hand between the two females. “Do wolf-girl shit and leave me alone.” He turned to the piles Jenna had sorted on the dining table.

Jenna quirked an eyebrow, but said to Ruby, “You’re a wolf?”

Ruby gave her a look she couldn't quite read. “Yes, but you should have–” she stopped as Chase made a motion of a finger slicing his throat. “Oh.”

“Oh . . . what?” Jenna asked, a twinge of something in her gut as the two shared a look. She had the distinct feeling that they knew something she didn’t. “What are you not telling me?”

Chase sighed. “All of the supernaturals have a sixth sense about whether another individual is also supernatural or not.”

Great. It just kept getting better and better.

Jenna leaned a hip against the counter, crossing her arms. “Teach me how to do it.”

Ruby threw Chase a look before stepping up to Jenna. “Of course, we have a lot of things to cover and as delicious as he is to look at–” she smiled ruefully at Chase. “We don’t need him interrupting us.” She looped her arm through Jenna’s, pulling her towards the living room. “Where can we go?”

Jenna considered for a moment, before gesturing towards the stairs. “The basement.”

“Perfect.”

The temperature cooled as they made their way down to the lower level. Stepping onto the carpeted floor, Jenna surveyed the white-washed walls and mahogany wood paneling that lined the space. Floor to ceiling bookshelves made up the south-side of the room, their volumes collecting dust from years without use.

On the north side, there was a bathroom and closet. The east, a TV screen with a couch–that made out into a bed. Where, Jenna presumed, Chase had slept the night before, as she told him the third level with her parents’ bed, was off limits, and only her room was on the main level.

The west side–facing the ocean–contained windows and a sliding glass door leading out onto the small covered patio. From there, a path wove between the beach grass and rock, down to the shore.

“This is cozy,” Ruby remarked, settling onto the couch. She crossed one leg over the other and gave Jenna an inquisitive look. “Chase said you grew up here.”

Jenna brushed her hand along the spine of a book. “Until I was eleven.”

“And after that?”

She dropped her hand from the book. “How much did he tell you?”

Ruby tilted her head. “I’m here to help you, Jenna. Whatever questions or concerns you have about your wolf, I can help you.” She stood, walking over to stand in front of Jenna, her eyes turning from a rich brown color, to a pale shade of blue, dusted with golden specks.

Jenna gasped and stepped back, but Ruby grabbed her hand, holding it firm.

“I can sense your pain–the loss you feel. This is why we have packs–to guide us and help us through tragedies,” Ruby continued, her eyes returning to a lovely shade of mahogany. “I was also a wolf without a pack once, so I get it. I get how you can be surrounded by people but still feel loneliness and fear. It’s a hole that will only be filled when you’re part of a pack.”

Ruby’s words echoed in Jenna’s mind, even as she fought the urge to repel them–to tell Ruby she wasn’t lonely or afraid and she didn’t need a gods-damned pack to help her.

Her throat bobbed as she tried to replace something to say. The right thing to say. Finally, she landed on, “I–I don’t know how to do this.”

Ruby’s eyes softened. “That’s why I’m here.” She noted Jenna’s crossed arms, and reached out, giving one a squeeze, then she straightened. “Your first lesson. . .” Her lips quirked. “We don’t do anything without alcohol.”

Jenna swirled the remnants of her cocktail as she watched Chase throw back another shot of. . . something she couldn’t remember. She had taken a couple of shots with Chase and Ruby, but her drinking game was a far cry from theirs. They said it was their supernatural metabolism and mocked Jenna when she couldn’t keep up.

It wasn’t that though. She hardly felt a thing from the alcohol, but it felt weird to keep drinking when she didn’t need to. She had only ever drank socially, and it felt weird to consume so much. She enjoyed the warmth in her stomach and ever so slight buzz that was blooming. She had never gotten drunk like her girlfriends had after a night of drinking. And. . . well, maybe that’s why Chase kept knocking back shots.

Maybe it took that much for it to affect him.

She glanced around the bar, taking in the wood-paneled walls and an assortment of sports and beach paraphernalia that lined them. Besides the stools at the bar, there were half a dozen round tables and some high-tops. Two pool tables lined the far wall, as well as a dart board. It struck her as a place that mainly served regulars, instead of tourists.

Her suspicions had been confirmed when multiple groups of people trickled in throughout the evening, calling the bartender by name and saying things like, “I’ll take my usual.”

Chase sputtered, some combination of choking and laughter at whatever Ruby was saying. She was leaning back in her chair, mouth open, hollering.

Jenna had missed the punchline, but smiled at the sheer goofiness of the two of them. “I’ve gotta pee,” she said to no one in particular, as she scooted her chair back, and made for the sign near the pool tables, indicating the restrooms.

Laughter at one of the pool tables caught her attention. She glanced across the faces, noting that they all looked to be in their mid to late 20’s and all males. Some held beer glasses as they hollered profanities at their mates.

Shouldering past a couple standing in the archway to the restrooms, Jenna focused on the sign indicating women, and didn’t notice the tall, broad-shouldered man she half ran into in the process.

Beer sloshed over the rim of the glass in his hand, and the man let out a surprised yelp as a few drips landed on his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. . .” Jenna said, and it was instinct when she reached out a hand to brush away the liquid from the fabric of his tee. She had been completely oblivious and one-track minded when she ran into him and that mortified her.

But as her fingers brushed against his chest, she realized what lay beneath the cotton. . .

Firm, hard muscle met her fingers, and her eyes flew up to see what sort of man could possess that body.

She should have known. . . should have fucking known that a body like that would undoubtably possess a face like that.

Rich brown eyes met hers and she could have sworn that he blinked.

“Hey,” he murmured.

The next chapter will be released February 25, 2024 at 6pm PST.