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Chapter 36 - Classism

There is a sudden moment of quiet when the door opens to the dining room and a hulking black-furred wolf-man steps in wearing a tailored suit. The few standing up all move to face him while the others still at the table turn their heads and eyes. Some resume their conversations, others linger and mutter anew, putting Ember immediately in a state of unease. He stands as proudly as he can up against the wall beside the door and waits for Cal to come over as he said he would.

But before he does, a man silently excuses himself from his cluster and wanders over in precise and dignified strides. He stops a half-meter away and stands as tall as he can on flat soles, reaching a foot below the wolf’s eyes and extends his hand.

“Walter Grave,” he utters sharply. Ember locks hands gingerly with the man who shakes it slowly but firmly. “You must be Mr Ember Cord; I’ve heard many things of you, some more disturbing than others.”

“Please to meet you, sir,” the wolf says cordially, scanning the man’s collected face.

He smiles, in a prudent manner. “Terrible thing, to take a life, you know. A man can be moulded by guilt; could you say the same for yourself?” Ember’s bottom lip curls inward as he realises he’s being tested.

“Y-yes sir.”

“Would you consider it to be a conscious effort? To be so affected by taking a life that it changes your very identity?”

“No sir,” Ember says firmly. “I’d consider it instinctive.”

The man stays still for a moment, studying the wolf’s face while keeping the sage smile.

“Do you experience guilt, wolf? Or anguish?” He asks plainly, his dark brown eyes burning fiercely.

“Yes sir, and regret.”

“How human of you,” he adds, widening his smile. “I like to speak directly, Ember, it puts people on edge. You can learn a lot of a person if you talk to them like a teacher berating a naughty child.”

“Do you consider me a child, sir?” The wolf asks, bravely attempting light banter.

“I consider you a natural threat to humans.” The man retorts coldly, causing them both to drop their expression. “It is my duty to officially license your kind into civilisation, once proven to be effectively habilitated.” The man waves his hand in front of the wolf’s face, “Aesthetic aside, there must be considerable homogeneity with humans for me to grant Venatorial indemnity.”

Ember nods quietly, slightly confused but hoping not to show it. “I understand, sir.”

“Do you?” He pushes his voice to a more powerful volume. “Do you?” He repeats, now much quieter, and returns his condescending grin.

“Yes sir,” the wolf replies, nervously, but confidently.

“Then I look forward to seeing you still alive the next time I return.” The man steps back, keeping his gaze locked. “I have faith in Alek’s work, wolf. Prove to me you can be the same as the others.”

“Yes sir, I will.” Ember nods, his palms damp with sweat.

The man bows his head slightly and turns, returning to his huddle. The wolf immediately releases a long held breath and spends a moment in reflection, focusing on his air intake, taking a lung-full each time. Cal breaks himself away from a duo of women seemingly nattering of nothing important and walks towards the black wolf with a straight back.

“Mr Cord,” he says in a neutral tone and drops his voice to a low whisper. “Look to my right if you need to be escorted out.” He stands still, waiting for the wolf in front of him to show an escape signal which doesn’t come. Cal smiles and, in a second, returns his visage to a default position along with his voice. “Please accompany and assist me in my duties from here on.”

“Yes … er …” Ember is suddenly rapt with worry, having forgotten Cal’s surname.

“Goodwater,” the white wolf rescues, again in a hushed tone.

“Yes, Mr Goodwater.” Ember lets out another quick, controlled exhale and straightens his back.

Cal turns and walks towards the table. Several other guests have now stood up and begun talking amongst themselves, some of whom continue to glance or outright stare at the Yin and Yang pair of wolves. Two guests turn their nose up at them and force an insincere smile as they approach. The shortest of the two is a mid-50s woman with straw-blonde hair curled into a lazy perm. Her jacket longs for the decade it was stolen from but she wears it well and clings to the ruff like a predator clutching its prey. Her husband, a more elderly gentleman, stands crooked, favouring one leg and burdening a richly tanned, wooden cane. His striking tie does well to announce his independence from his wife’s clearer fashion sense.

“Lady Beatrix and Lord Alexander Horditch, I’d like you to meet Mr Ember Cord, our latest wolf under habilitation.”

“How do you do,” Ember says politely, and bows his head.

“Lord and Lady Horditch are owners of a grand estate agency. They officiated the sale of this residence to Master Warden’s father.”

“Yes yes, enough of that,” the Lord interrupts wearily, “I trust he has been trained to at least make hot drinks?”

Before either wolf can answer, his wife chimes in. “Now Alex, he did at least assist with producing the meal, I should think a coffee would be within his limits.” She sneers and fiddles with her coat.

“We have little evidence of his involvement.” The man retorts with a scoff, “I need something more directly tangible.”

“My Lord, if I may,” Cal says, taking hold of the situation. “Ember only joined us the day before yesterday and as such, Master Warden has directly instructed for him to shadow me in my duties and to not leave my side.” The man furrows his brows and growls a hum.

“I see.” He turns a head to a passing waiter and barks an order at her. “Espresso.” He doesn’t turn back until she disappears into the kitchen.

“Have you identified any useful talents?” The Lady asks, staring unwaveringly up at the black beast towering nearly three feet above her.

“He has proven himself useful in the kitchen my Lady, and on the grounds itself as an assistive gardener.” The woman nods dismissively, seemingly disappointed by the answer. “We have yet identified his passion.”

“Passion!” A voice barks through into the conversation. The four of them turn to face a man with an unwise parting to his thin hair. He steps unsteadily closer, cradling a glass of dark red wine with both hands.

“Venator representative, Mr Lewis Broadbent,” Cal introduces to Ember, who nods politely.

“So here he is, the Hunter-killer,” the man says unabashedly, wafting his hand in a grandiose flourish. “Bet it felt good, killing a judicator and executioner of your kind.” He mocks, grinning with pleasure. The other two humans turn to face Ember to determine his reaction, like brats next to the biggest bully in school. “You’d do it again too wouldn’t you? Slaughter a man of governed law?”

“Please sir,” Cal says calmly, “there’s no need to get aggressive.”

“Oh no?” The man worms his head around to face the white wolf, twisting it at the neck like a dog. “Do you know what it’s like to hear the woes of a murdered man? Can you imagine the face of his wife as she’s told that her husband was torn to shreds by an untamed beast?”

“No sir.”

Ember is impressed how calm Cal is being in the face of this wretched man.

“We have the right to have him trialled for this gross act, and to take the rest of you out with him. You are all dangerous, and I will forever advocate your extinction.” He snarls inhumanly and turns his back in an instant to walk away.

Ember clutches at his trousers, trying to distract his mind away from these words before they’re allowed to sink in.

Thankfully, another voice breaks the silence. “He talks big,” it says, in a much deeper pitch from over the black wolf’s shoulder, “but he still eats his wolf-prepared meal.”

“Colonel Hamish Wright,” Cal says for Ember’s benefit.

A stocky gentleman in his 60s injects himself into view, and if not for the introduction, Ember would have identified his military background from the vast array of metal across his breast. Each one glints in the low sun, and the highly reflective lustre shows how fervently they were polished. He holds himself statesmanly with one hand tucked into a jacket pocket while the other warms a brandy. He recognises him as the man Hess pointed out through the kitchen window.

“Very good, Cal,” he says, “proving yourself useful at least.”

“Thank you Colonel,” the wolf responds perfectly amiably, dipping his chin.

“I find it near offensive that this wolf should be paraded around so soon after his capture; and worse still, so soon after the attack.” He turns his face up at the black wolf so near to him, who stands as firmly still as he can. “I find it impossible to believe he has reformed so easily.”

“Ember is doing very well -” Cal starts to explain but is cut off by a swift hand in a halting gesture.

“Subjective speculation, I’ll hear none of it,” the Colonel rebuts.

“Yes Colonel, my apologies.”

“I find your kind contemptible, but useful,” the human continues, reengaging with Ember. “I believe beasts like you can be turned into valuable and functional members of society, but I don’t always agree with Alek’s methods.” He sniffs haughtily and does his best to look down on the wolf, despite the height difference. “Were it up to me, you’d be militarised. Put to the tasks of real men at war and made better use of than cooking and serving tea.”

Ember ponders on this a moment, thinking back on the story Voigt told him and how awful it must be to battle for your life. He thinks about how different the habilitation regiment would be, considering how much more like a human he is treated here. In a war zone, he is a pawn facilitating the conflict for a nation he wouldn’t care to defend. If they put him there, he wouldn’t want to fight for them but would he have known any better then? It would have given him a purpose, at least, but what then? No doubt, he assumes, he would have been trapped there until he is killed in action or executed once he becomes infirm. These wolves at the manor, and the master, are worth defending because of what they have done for him.

He fades back into the conversation, not realising that the Colonel was still talking at him and quickly tries to catch up.

“- not that I think you’re capable of deductive reasoning of course, but instinct is a useful trait of wild animals that’s often employed in battle.” He is about to continue his tirade when he too is interrupted.

“Are you accosting my wolves again, dear Colonel?” Alek asks, sneaking in around Cal. Ember has to quickly stop himself from getting excited, feeling his tail swish a little at the mere sight.

“Not at all, Warden. I was just considering alternative therapies to your more … homeopathic approach.” The Colonel grins like a cartoon villain.

“I believe the best way to make someone feel human is to treat them like one.” Alek replies, casually sipping his tea.

“Then why enforce this ghastly visage?” The Lord, who had kept himself quiet during Colonel Hamish’s diatribe, gesticulates at the two wolves present.

“Because it is their true form, my Lord. Their human is the beast inside.” Returns the master, “Hiding themselves behind the mask of humanity does not make them human, you need only act like one.”

“I disagree, sir.”

“I know, Colonel.” Alek smiles cockily. “But under my roof, my wolves are under my protection, as is approved by the Venatoriat. You of all people should be considerate of rules and regulation.”

“Yes, of course I do. But that doesn’t mean I always agree with them.”

“You are free to form any opinions you wish, sir. But keep them to yourself if they offend me.” The Colonel’s trick brow lowers and he is about to reply in contest when Alek hands his mug and saucer to the butler. “Take this away please, Cal,” he says, surreptitiously excusing both wolves from this nasty discussion. Cal bows and gestures for Ember to follow him to the kitchen, which he does without hesitation.

—

Once through double doors and out of earshot, the black wolf sighs and collapses down onto the floor, plonking his bottom onto the tiles. Hess and Barbara are still there, cleaning and putting things away, the wolf of the two rushes over when he sees Ember in distress. Cal puts the cup down and kneels down next to him, putting a hand on his leg.

“Hamish is in a real awful mood because of the murder, I’m sorry you had to experience that.” He says softly, gently nudging his muzzle against Ember’s. The wolf sat on the floor takes some deep breaths and shuts his eyes.

“Did he hurt you? You alright?” Hess asks, kneeling at his other side.

“No,” Ember shakes his head answering both questions, “I’m just so angry and scared. I feel like I’m back at the tribe being told off my by dad for being a stupid little faggot.” He clenches his fist and pulls his knees up so he can bury his nose between them.

“Im really sorry Ember. I didn’t know you had those sorts of arguments with your dad,” Cal says solemnly.

“It wasn’t just my dad,” the black wolf mumbles, and keeps his face hidden as he sniffles. The two wolves he’d started to consider his friends remain seated next to him with an arm wrapped around his back.

“You can do this,” Cal says. “You can prove to them you’re not just some Hunter-killer.”

“Is that what those fuckers called him?” Hess asks, lowering his voice but noticeably aggrieved.

“The master intervened before it got too ugly, but yeah, Hamish is in a particularly bad mood I think. So is Lewis.”

“Lewis can do one ‘en all; waste of skin that man. All ‘e does is read an old book to a shifter right before they put a slug in their ‘ead. No backbone in ‘im!”

“Don’t rile him up, Hess, and keep your voice down. We still need to go back out.”

“Do we have to?” Ember asks softly, raising his head out from under his arms to look at Cal, who nods with an apologetic smile. The anger inside him slowly replacing with fear as thinks about entering the fray once again.

“It’s about time you met Prava, she’ll cheer you right up, I’m sure.” The white wolf pats Ember’s back. “Come on, dear, let’s get you up.”

The two on either side assist in getting the black wolf to his feet and dust off his suit. He looks between the two of them and wraps an arm around both to pull them into a group hug.

“You guys are so good to me.”

“Hey now, none of that.” Cal chuckles, pushing away. “I can’t go back out there with teary eyes and neither can you. We can get emotional later.”

Ember laughs quietly and rubs his head. “Sorry, you’re right, we should go back.”

Barbara hands him a piece of paper towel so he can dry his eyes and blow his nose. After taking a few breaths to quell the contempt he can still feel inside him for these people he nods again at Cal to say he’s ready.

“See you soon, sir,” Hess adds quickly, and goes back to helping Barb at the sink. Cal raises his eyebrow and Ember flusters a little at the sight.

“He asked me,” Ember whispers as they reach the double doors.

“I figured,” Cal nudges the wolf’s side and straightens himself up. His expression drops to neutral and looks back at Ember for him to do the same. When ready, they open the door and step back into battle.

—

The guests have since scattered and regrouped in the time they were away, aside from Hamish and Alek who are still debating with firm tones. The two wolves walk out around the table and into the middle of the dining room where they can be better equipped to serve. When Cal spots Prava and another woman outside, sat on some cushioned metal chairs, he steers himself out of the patio door with the black wolf in tow.

“Cal, hello again,” the lady says immediately and stands up, the other woman remains seated. Her accent is strongly American with some noticeable Indian twang.

Ember can see, now that he’s up-close that the dark green dress is heavily adorned with gemstones that, while only being made of plastic, add a beautiful, orange flare in the suns radiance. He smiles at her, and she stares intimately back.

“Miss Prava Burman, and Mrs Emily Diggle,” Cal says, introducing them.

“Ember,” Prava begins, holding up both hands and sandwiching his head in them. “My what a handsome wolf you are; your eyes sparkle in the sunlight. There was a lovely black wolf in a Canadian preservation national park I visited, but his eyes were brown. He was such a shy boy, are you the same?”

Ember mewls a soft exhale, attempting to swallow his nerves but all he can manage is a nod. The hands on his face gently stroke the fur under his eyes, and he catches a glimpse of Cal smirking at his side.

“I thought so,” Prava continues and pulls her hands away. “There’s a lot of scary people here today, but not me.” She beams, and Ember assumes the lady must be a little tipsy or a little eccentric. “This is my dear friend, Emma.” The other woman stands up and smiles sweetly. “Her husband is one of two police chief superintendents of the whole metropolitan.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” the black wolf says courteously.

“Always nice to meet a polite gentleman,” Emily comments to her friend. “You should make sure to introduce your latest acquisition to my husband,” she suggests, addressing the white wolf. “He would be most intrigued to find he is black furred. That detail was omitted in the … incident report.” She grimaces and leans in to add quietly: “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Emma!” Her friend gasps, showing gleeful surprise. “You terrible woman.”

“Oh come, Prava. You hate them as much as I.” She collects a drink she’d left teetering on the arm of her chair and takes a sip.

“Yes but we mustn’t show bias.”

“Don’t worry ladies, your secret is safe with us.” Cal grins and shifts his eyes into the glass wall before returning his face to a more relaxed, proper design. “Where is Mr Diggle?”

“Something disagreed with him from dinner and has taken refuge in the toilets.” Emily sighs, plopping herself back on the seat. “I’ve told him countless times to bring indigestion remedies, but he never does; the dense fool.”

Prava chuckles and sits back down also. “Would you like to join us, Ember?” She suggests, gesturing to a free chair he could drag over.

“Someone is hailing me,” Cal says suddenly, still looking through the glass. “Be nice to him ladies.” They look at each other and look back with a nod before he hurries inside at a tremendous walking speed.

Prava gestures again and Ember timidly grabs the spare seat to bring it into view of the two women without obstructing the garden. He finds it awkward sitting down with all these clothes on and has to adjust the trouser legs a couple of times.

“Are you familiar with my work, Mr Cord?” Prava asks, relaxing back in her cushion.

“I was told you’re a nature preservationist, not much more beyond that,” the wolf replies in a muted voice.

“Yes that’s about right. I cofounded an animal relocation and conservation centre with my partner who unfortunately couldn’t be with me today. She’s stuck back home working on efforts to bring the red wolf population back up; with promising results too, we just hope it will stay that way.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Ember says dimwittedly.

“Well, I consider it more of a duty,” Prava states, and continues on to talk about the extinction status the species almost fell into and the successful efforts of captive breeding and the conservation of their habitat. “Alek doing what he’s doing to save even the odd werewolf from being mercilessly destroyed by those horrible people, is exactly what I like to see.”

“Me too,” the black wolf adds in an attempt to sound humorously selfish and rubs the back of his head with a wonky smile. The two women giggle which gives him confidence that he’s doing something right. “So are you a benefactor of ours?”

“In spirit. Wildlife preservation isn’t profitable, but I have a good presence, so he says. Sometimes I think he’s just glad to have an ally around, which I understand more than most at parties like this.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know what it was like to have real friends until I came here.” Ember dips his eyes. “Now I have them, I don’t ever want to lose them,” he adds, feeling embarrassed.

“Aww, you’re such a sweetheart,” Emily squees.

“I hope you will consider me a friend of the family.” Prava reaches out and puts a hand on the wolf’s knee. He nods in response before she continues. “I know how hard it is to find people who support you, but once you have them, never let anything get in the way of that”.

“Thank you, I’ve never had this feeling before, so I’m going to make sure I don’t lose it. It seems strange, having someone else to fight for, when all I’ve ever had to protect was myself. I’d fear getting caught or killed nearly every night; well before my family tribe was wiped out by Hunters.” The wolf looks down sombrely at his hands on his lap, idly playing with his fingers.

“Oh Ember, that’s terrible.” Emily pipes up.

“Was the Hunter you saw, that night …” Prava cautiously broaches.

“He was one of the ones who killed my family.” Ember looks back up. “I recognised him from the newspaper.”

“They do so love their vanity.” Emily rolls her eyes, “Lucky for you, in a way.”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t want revenge, but I never went looking for it.” The wolf tries to defend, “I just … saw him on a hunt and … thought about what he’d done …”

“It’s alright, Ember, you can leave it there.” Prava coos, still rubbing his knee. “We didn’t know the full extent of it, but I can tell you now, everyone who received that report from the Venatoriat, will know the full story.”

“How like them,” Emily sniffs, turning her nose up in a grimace. “To omit such a valuable detail. My Oliver will see to it that the necessary authorities are informed also.”

“Why does it matter, I still killed him?” Ember whines.

“As tenuous as it may seem, it is still an augment to be made for your vindication. For some, like Emily and myself, it is enough.”

“I just don’t want you to go to so much trouble. I’m not worth the effort,” the wolf mutters pathetically, causing an uproar of abuse from the ladies.

“Don’t be so stupid,” Emily berates gruffly. “The truth is worth fighting for.”

As they’re talking, Lewis, the Hunter representing his council, struts out onto the patio holding a half-empty glass of wine. The three turn to him as he chuckles derisively in their direction.

“Having a natter with the help?” He jeers.

The two women stand up to face him properly causing him to step back and hold his hand up in defence.

“You will not speak to me in such a way,” Emily says, “nor to Prava, nor Ember.”

“I will speak how I please, Mrs Diggle, I am under no jurisdiction to hold my tongue,” he remarks plainly, having regained his confidence, and returns his hand to his side. “Anyway, since this wolf is supposed to be working and not gossiping, I thought it best to draw to his attention to my drink.”

Ember stands up and the two women make way for him, stepping back a little and grumbling to each other. “Yes sir, what seems to be the matter?” He asks as politely as he can.

“It’s gone off.” Lewis thrusts the glass in the wolf’s direction. “Cheap swill that it is. Just taste it, it’s awful.”

Ember looks into the red liquid swirling around on the inside of the glass, his sensitive nose already curling at the smell of an acrid metallic odour. “No, thank you sir, I can just -”

“You think me a liar, cur?” Lewis interrupts, raising his voice.

“Leave him be, you miserable sod!” Prava snaps but Lewis ignores her.

“You must have such little respect for your peers. A simple creature like you should be able to follow a simple task.”

The towering beast furrows his eyebrows and growls a little. “I’m … sorry … sir, but -” he says through gritted teeth and is cut off once again.

“A waste of time training this one I think,” he utters mockingly at the two women who are doing their best to restrain their tongue, and their fists. The man turns back to the wolf and sneers. “You should have stayed at home and died with your family.”

Ember feels a surge of rage bubble up inside him, churning his stomach. His eyes burn orange in the afternoon sun. As he opens his mouth to bare his teeth and release a roar of bottled anger, the two women push past him in a triumphant wave, hurtling verbal abuse at him and threatening their varnished claws. Voigt turns outside the patio door upon hearing the din and quickly enters the fray, but before the man can be hauled away, he performs his coup de gras and thrusts his glass towards the black wolf. The wine catapults out and hits his face, trickling down onto his finely tailored suit, staining everything a dark crimson.

Everyone stops in silence for just a moment to observe the devastating ridicule of a ruined three-piece. The women gasp. Ember looks down and feels the wine trickle through his fur and soak into the handmade fabrics. The world around him seem to desaturate. The edges of the humans standing around him start to blur and ghost as his eyes fidget in their socket. A red haze descends into view like a cold morning fog and his mouth begins to burn. He licks his lips and tastes the vile liquid that was splashed on him, finding how truly unlike any wine he’s ever tasted. He feels the flavour of what it really is as it courses through his body. Blood.