Pull of the Moon - Chapter 2
#2 of Eben Black Series - Pull of the Moon
© All characters and storylines surrounding these characters belong to me, Eben Black..
I was underwater. At least, I felt like I was underwater. I could breath, but when I moved it felt like a heavy liquid that was moving and pushing against me. I opened my eyes and was floating downward, inch by inch, staring up, up at the smooth, glacial surface of the ocean around me. It was dark, but there was a hint of colour here and there. Red. Shreds of light split the colour and made it change darker or lighter. What was I sinking inside? I gazed around. I gazed around for some metallic wall, some form of container around me, but there was nothing, just a stretch of water in all directions. I blinked and noticed I was not anxious, not worried about where I was. Why was I so calm? I should have panicked. I was sugmerging deeper and deeper, my tail moved with the sinking motion and I gazed up as the surface faded and darkened around the edges.
I was relaxed. Too relaxed.
There was a movement, some hulking mass moved the water beneath me. I found the strength and span, gazing down at where the movement had been. Nothing. I listened hard and heard a sound. A gentle thumping noise. I'd managed to haul myself up and I floated right-side up, gazing and searching the darkened depths for someone, or something. I had realised that when I'd become a werewolf, that anything was possible. All those stories about the boogeyman, and demons, and angels all seemed so true. I had yet to meet any of them, but I was prepared. Another movement and a louder thump.
Eben!
I opened my eyes and sat bolt upright. I was sat in the middle of my bed, the duvet was folded at the floor near the bottom of the double bed. I had the bed sheets pooled in my naked lap. I ran a hand through my tousled head-fur and gazed around. The bedroom was large enough for, an en suite bathroom with shower and bath tub, a floor-to-ceiling window stretched along one wall of the bedroom. We were at least sixteen feet off the ground, if there was someone capable of clambering up and peeking through my bedroom window, then the reward of seeing me asleep should be more than enough. There was a dresser and wardrobe, and a mirror opposite the bed. I looked as exhausted and surprised as I felt.
"Eben? Eben are you in there!" a deep voice growled through the bedroom door.
"Bishop?" I replied, recognising that growling voice. I spilled out of bed and padded to the door. I had grabbed a cushion from the bed and held it where it was needed while I opened the bedroom door.
"About time! I've been knocking for about ten minutes!" he explained.
"What do you want, Bishop? Its almost...oh!" I looked startled at the time and realised I shouldn't be annoyed. It was three in the afternoon. "My bad, I guess I overslept. Bloody alarm must be broke."
"Whatever. I'm here because I wondered if you wanted to help me out with something?" Bishop asked.
"Help with what?" I frowned at the aged werewolf before me.
Bishop stood at six foot four, he was old, not ancient, but damn close, almost fifty from what I'd been told. He was broad-shouldered and showed that he was once a true-blue athlete. He was all muscle and pride. His fur was dark brown, almost black. His ears looked torn and his eyes were a glaised brown colour. He was dressed in denim, torn, aged denim jeans, jacket and a black tank top underneath. His tail stranded with white swished behind him.
He was also one of the pack's oldest sponsors. Sponsors were the wolves who helped the new meat through their first few full moons and their initial transformation. Some people handled the permanent transformation harder than others. I knew from stories I'd heard from Donovan that he'd had to explain the transformation to young children before, I had developed a hatred for those of us who'd harm the innocent and make them one of us. We recognised them as kin, but the humans would turn on them and call them monsters. It was bad enough having a twenty-five-year-old transform for permanent, but imagine being fourteen and having your mom turn on you and demand you leave home. We had not had minors in a long time though. Bishop had seen one or two, but so far it had been adults. I was one of the youngest according to Donovan.
"Donovan's spoken to Maximillian, and has arranged a meeting for tonight. The lions will be visiting at seven o'clock. Donovan asked me to make sure you got this, for tonight's dinner." He handed me a bound-and-wrapped package. He grinned at me and that made me squirm a little. "Donovan thinks he's got the measurements right, and he says you can choose your own dress shirt for tonight." He waved and left without another word. I grimaced and closed the door to. I unravelled the package and groaned when I saw what was inside. I dropped the cushion as I walked to stand beside the bed.
I tossed the unwrapped package onto the bed and padded barefoot toward the bathroom. A suit. A tailored, Italian-made suit from what I saw. Donovan must have been planning some dinner if we were wearing suits. I hated that we were doing the formal attire tonight. I ran the hot water, while I brushed my teeth and woke up a little more. I tested the water, and when it was warm enough I stepped under. The warm water rushed over me, smoothing all that tousled hair down. I stood there, under the hot water for a moment, enjoying the warmth that was flowing over me. Then I reached for the shampoo. I lathered up and relaxed as the scent of vanilla spilled around me. I took a deep breath and stepped back under the heat, allowing the water to push and flush the shampoo suds from me. I finished up and turned the water off. I stepped out onto the cold tiled floor and reached for a thick black towel that was suspended on a rack on the tiled wall. I rubbed it across my grey head fur and then dried off the rest of me. I was all clean and thick-furred when I'd finished. I padded into the bedroom and looked down at the suit.
I dressed and donned a pale blue dress shirt underneath the tailored suit jacket. Was it creepy that Donovan had managed to get my measurements? No. We were around one another enough for him to guess accurately. I stood in front of the mirror, and slipped the suit jacket on. I smoothed out the sleeves and buttoned up the suit jacket. I looked at the whole outfit, and found that even though I hated wearing formal gear, I still looked decent, almost as handsome as some of the other male wolves would look in the attire. I turned and looked at the back, the suit's pants had even made an allowance for my tail as it spilled out carefree without difficulties. Donovan had catered for all eventualities it seemed. I smiled at that thought, and knew it was yet another sign of how dependable Donovan was. I stepped into some dress shoes and fastened the slender tie. The suit was done in basic black, but it was the tailored, Italian material that was both expensive and comfortable to move around in. The blue of my eyes looked brighter thanks to the blue shirt, and the silver loops through my ear glinted in the bedroom light.
There was a second knock on the bedroom door. Before I could answer Kane stepped inside. He was dressed up in the same tailored suit, except he wore a rich brown dress shirt, that made those chocolate brown eyes shimmer. I had to admit the man looked handsome, almost refined. But then you saw the look on his face. Kane was like me, he'd rather walk around either half naked or in his own attire, than pad around in suits and formalities. He stood in his own suit, his head fur was long enough that he'd bound it in a golden silk ribbon. His scar looked fine and neat against that jet black fur. When he'd been human, Kane, full name Takeshi Kane, had been half Japanese and half American. He still had a slight upward tilt to the corner of his brown eyes, but his attitude and mannerisms were all American. He had done one thing that was a Japanese tradition. He'd been trained since he was young in how to wield a sword, and when he became a werewolf, his technique became more refined and devastating, considering his strength and speed was now on a whole new level compared to that of a human. I'd heard rumours that when he heard about the troublesome massacre incidents, he'd begun training harder and more often. Did Kane believe he'd need his swordsmanship at some point? Who was I to question him? Since I'd become a werewolf I'd taken a liking to regular martial arts with Bishop. He was the head of security here at the penthouse. He'd taught me basic hand-to-hand combat and even how to wield a gun. I had not purchased my own gun yet, but I knew how to hold one.
"You look awkward," Kane admitted, throwing a smirk at me.
"I can't help that. Formalities of any kind are really not my thing," I explained.
"Me neither, but Donovan's the alpha, I suppose."
"Do you know what the lions are like? I'm still new to all this, remember?" I asked, looking almost ashamed.
Kane slumped down and perched himself at the foot of the bed. He looked at me and said, "Maximillian is a good enough guy. Strong, dependable, like I said. But there is a problem."
"What kind of problem?" I asked as I ran a hand through my head fur again.
"Some of his lions believe the pride should be led with a more traditional feel. The pride should be led like the wild lions on the Savannah lead their prides."
"All dominance and violence then?"
He nodded. "All wereanimal groups adhere to dominance, the more dominant, the more powerful, then that means your higher up the ranking and your opinion means more, but there are some like Donovan, who believe their pack should be run on the voting-regulations, everyone gets a vote, and the final count is the final decision."
"You don't believe that's right?" I asked looking startled.
"Trust me, Donovan Reed is the best alpha I've ever had, but sooner or later someone's going to come along and recognise his democracies as weakness. He needs to be a king, not a politician."
"Have you told him this?"
"He has assured me that anyone who stands against him will be taken down. But promising me that won't be enough. Conflictions between ourselves aren't needed right now," he explained, "Considering what is happening elsewhere, I believe he's going to change his manner of ruling sooner, rather than later. But until that happens, there are going to be some who will challenge him."
"Having the lions here sounds like a bad idea then," I admitted. "Having them running around, while in the shadows the wolves are fighting amongst themselves sounds like a bad combination."
Kane nodded and steepled his fingers. "While Donovan is meeting with the lions tonight I'll proclaim myself as Guardian."
"Guardian?" I repeated.
"Its a proclaimation. A title that means anyone who wants to challenge the alpha has to basically challenge and beat me first." He looked grim as he explained.
"So your doing what the name states, basically?" I asked.
"Bishop wanted to do it, but I talked him out of it."
"He's aged. Taking on challenges doesn't sound like something he could handle day-in-day-out," I added, nodding in agreement.
Kane nodded and then grinned, "I can handle that pressure though. Sounds like fun actually."
"Your insane, Kane."
"Would you have me any other way?"
I smiled and shook my head. "No. I guess not."