5Hear the Devil Whisper
Chapter 1: Fresh Meat
Hunter entered the restaurant with his girlfriend at his side. Although it was his first time at the restaurant, he hid all traces of distaste and grinned with feigned approval. He knew how to behave in the shabby restaurants that Nina frequently chose, and he convinced himself that the torture would all be worth it in the end.
Billie Joe's was packed, and the couple stood at the entrance waiting for a table to empty. Nina subtly leaned against him, and he automatically slid his arm around her waist. Hunter could feel her warmth pulsating beneath the blouse. His claws extended involuntarily at the craving for fresh blood. He withdrew them with effort just as a group of girls pranced by.
"Sluts," Nina whispered into his ear. "They're all sluts."
He nodded to quiet her. "Right." The one farthest to the back suddenly turned and looked straight into his eyes.
Ripley O'Brien couldn't believe her ears. A blonde bimbo had just named her trio of friends sluts. And her little boy toy had agreed. She turned, aiming a glare toward the girl, but her eyes stopped at the boyfriend.
Hunter Beauregard.
Supposedly, he killed his women.
Ripley glanced at the bimbo once more.
"Nina McGraile," whispered Bianca Barrett, who knew generally everything there was to know about anyone. Ripley being new to town, Bianca had offered herself as a human encyclopedia on the small Michigan town, it's goings-on, and it's people. She continued, "Resident whore. Remember her at the assembly?"
"That was her making out with Ethan Cortez?" exclaimed Connie Greer. Ripley and Connie had immediately stuck to each other like glue upon first meeting. Connie had returned from boarding school-her father finally allowing her to return to public-and she'd made it her duty to keep Ripley from slipping. Despite that, Connie wouldn't spill any information about her father's reasons behind sending her away. Nor would Bianca.
"Doesn't matter," Bianca shook her head. "Look at the way he's holding her so possessively."
Ripley gave the couple a casual glance. Nina's blonde head was resting on Hunter's shoulder, and his arm was at her waist. They appeared relaxed, and… well, perfect. "Actually, I think it's sweet," Ripley replied.
Bianca snorted. "Sweet? It's sick." She continued observing them shamelessly.
Ripley and Connie made comments now and then on the other couples and groups. Billie Joe's was a legendary senior hangout, and was currently packed for their fifty-third anniversary. Ripley tugged her coat closer to her body. Despite the fact that it was merely late fall, it was freezing. Back in Texas she endured the fall and winter weather with a light jacket. Upon moving to Michigan near the end of the semester, Ripley not only had to purchase a coat, she was forced to replace nearly her entire wardrobe. Apparently t-shirts wouldn't cut the winter. Though Ripley couldn't see the sunset, the faint mesh of colors was enough indication of the time.
Loud hoots and cheers suddenly resounded through the doors. Ripley and the others backed away as a massive cake with nearly a dozen layers was rolled forward. Three waiters and a waitress struggled to restrain the crowds. Their frustration was evident when the waitress suddenly shrieked, "Will you shut the fuck up?"
A couple of guys whistled. One even shouted, "For a night with you? Any time!" She blushed and scuttled back inside.
Ripley shifted her attention to the cake, which was iced thickly in white frosting. It was bedecked in colorful sparklers which shot out in completely random directions. Soon enough, the food, also on wheels, was brought out.
Bianca and Connie immediately leapt towards the carts, along with everyone else. Ripley moved forward and struggled past a few people and ended up beside the cake. At the base, it read "Happy 53rd Birthday, Billie Joe's!" A hand suddenly blocked her view of the writing. Slowly, a finger drew across the letters. Ripley looked up.
Him.
She raised a brow.
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes and turned to find her friends.
"How about we make this party a little more interesting?"
Ripley paused. "Shoot." Hell, if she was dealing with the greatest loon in the county, she might as well have some fun doing it. Ripley took in his features more closely. Not only the greatest loon, but the greatest looking guy she'd met so far. His black hair brushed his eyebrows slightly, and his eyes were a light brown. No, not brown, but nearly gold. He was much taller than her, and Ripley was at exactly 5'7". Even from across the cake-cart, his distinct scent was evident.
Ripley nearly smacked herself. Her canine instincts were kicking in. She glanced at him again. There was some sort of odd, inhuman quality to his scent, even canine-esque… Somewhat like her brother's. But her brother was off up north, leading his own pack. Funny, that the scent of Hunter Beauregard reminded Ripley of her brother. Ignoring the wary feeling her gut, she prodded him to continue.
Hunter watched the display of various emotions on her face, the most domineering being mistrust. He had nothing better to do, especially after Nina disappeared after some friends. It was an awkward situation, made even more awkward by the fact that they were having a discussion across a cake with noise beyond any that an anniversary of a restaurant should generate.
Hunter looked at her again. He had no idea who the girl was, only that Nina had called her a slut.
"Nina McGraile is a bitch," she blurted.
Big shocker. "Your point?"
Now she looked shocked. "Aren't you going to defend her? At all?"
"There's no point in evading the truth."
Flabbergasted was the only word to describe her. "You," she spluttered. "Are one cruel son of a bitch."
He nearly laughed. She had no idea how right she was. "I don't know your name," was his reply.
She frowned, debating whether to allow him that piece of information. "Ripley."
"As in, Ripley's Believe It or Not?" Hunter toyed with a sparkler and grinned. "So, what can you do?"
A glint in her gray eyes hinted that he shouldn't have asked. "This!" She grabbed a chunk of cake with a good portion of frosting and smeared it across his face. She was surprised, no, shocked, that he didn't flinch. Sweet, white frosting coated his forehead, hair, and eyelashes. His eyelashes were long, Ripley noticed. It was completely unfair that a feminine feature gave him such a fresh appeal. Even with cake smothered over his face, Hunter Beauregard looked appetizing as ever. However, Ripley convinced herself that she was immuneto it.
"Know what I can do?" Hunter took a step closer. A small crowd had formed around the two, but he paid no attention to them. He didn't wait for her to react when he grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her face-first into the cake.
Ripley shrieked and thrashed about, thoroughly spreading dessert into the crowd. Within seconds, cake was flying through the air in torrents. The street lights and sparklers-which were soaring through the air, at the moment-were the main sources of light. Billie Joe's had closed, and the employees joined in with the antics of the crowd.
Ripley swiped at the frosting smothering her eyes and shoved past several people until reaching a safe spot on a bench. She spotted Bianca shrieking as some blue-haired guy tackled her. Connie was slowly, painstakingly making her way toward her.
Her expression was priceless.
Normally, Connie was the epitome of angelic beauty. After struggling through rowdy, drunken seniors, her blonde ringlets were drooping with white icing, and her cupid's bow mouth spitting curses.
Connie quieted and sat down beside Ripley. The two stared at each other and burst out laughing.
"Should we find Bianca?" Ripley eyed the horde warily.
Connie shook her head. "Impossible. That is, unless she finds us." Right enough, Bianca's pixie-like frame stumbled towards the bench. Like Connie, she was spitting mad.
Bianca was much worse off than the other two. She had taken a fetish to black, and heartily denied that it was considered a stereotype. Today, she'd worn a black hoodie along with dark boots and jeans.
Ripley couldn't help but ogle at her.
"Shut up," whined Bianca. "You don't look much better." Ripley was suggesting that they return home when she noticed the other two already heading to Bianca's car.
Ripley trudged into the kitchen. Her sister, Zoë, was sitting at the breakfast table, studying, when she looked up.
"Holy shit." Ripley shrugged. Zoë O'Brien was hardly one to accept messes in her house. She quickly shooed Ripley out.
Soon enough, she returned with the garden hose in her hands.
Ripley screamed when the first burst of icy water hit her. "I'm going to kill you!" Zoë's attention was fully on ridding her sister of any traces of frosting. Ripley shielded her face and inched forward. It was her sister's turn to scream when she was tackled to the ground. The two thrashed in the front yard, Zoë's weapon being the hose and Ripley's being her fists. They tore apart, gasping and shivering.
"It's thirty degrees outside," gasped Zoë.
"Maybe you should've considered that before skewering me with the hose!"
"Forget it. Just help me clean up the house after you soak it."
Ripley reluctantly agreed.
Zoë was washing the dishes after dinner when she spotted Ripley pouring herself coffee. "It's a school night," she pointed out.
"You have an appointment tomorrow morning."
Zoë rolled her eyes. "I'm not the one gorging on caffeine."
Ripley offered her a cup. "Want to see Keanu Reeves in muscle shirts?"
Zoë raised a brow. "Damn, you're good."
She grinned. "I know."
"Rise and shine, darling!" In response, Ripley moaned and tugged the covers over her head. Zoë clucked and pulled them away.
"If you love me you'll leave me alone." She buried her face against the pillow.
"Get up or I'll bring that hose into the house."
She looked up and scoffed. "And put your house in jeopardy?" Zoë grimaced and gracefully left the room. Ripley dragged herself to the bathroom, completing her morning ablutions. Feeling slightly more awake, she rummaged through her closet before finding a clingy teal turtleneck and black jeans. She combed her dark brown curls and pinned a few strands away from her face.
Zoë glanced at her sister as she trudged in with a backpack, a pair of thick socks, and sneakers. She popped a few waffles into the toaster before turning to observe her.
The two-despite their closeness in age-didn't look one bit similar. Zoë claimed the looks, while Ripley claimed every physical plain Jane asset. Her curls were dull compared to Zoë's vibrant black ones, and her eyes a murky gray alongside her sister's glowing quicksilver orbs. Ripley was taller, yet Zoë maintained a curvy figure which made Ripley's appear gawky and inapt.
"You know," began Zoë. "Yesterday, I was searching for a pack within… well, our kind."
Ripley nodded groggily. "And?"
"I found one in our county. It's been a while since we've had fresh meat, you know. I think it'll be nice to know who our kind are. We'll be able to-"
"Will you stop referring to them as 'our kind'? We have a name." Ripley hated how her sister never referred to them as Loup-garou, their proper name. Although she hadn't seen much of her sister in the past year until her mother's untimely death, the habit had always annoyed her.
As to the mention of fresh meat, it was true. The two had been surviving on regular food for two months. It wouldn't be long until their consciousness began to dim. Unfortunately, Zoë didn't keep rats in her house, so the prospect of a morsel was out of question.
Zoë continued about Stony Creek Forest, located east of town. The pack apparently did their hunting there, within the depths. Within the past twenty years there had been one accident, requiring the involvement of the police. The older members of the pack immediately fled the town, leaving the young to fend for themselves.
"The next hunt is Friday night," Zoë informed. "You'll be all right until then?" Ripley rubbed her temples and nodded. She'd be fine for another good three weeks, but the weakness was slowly emerging. Normally, Ripley would be uncannily alert in the morning. Her energy was gradually diminishing. Zoë also had dark smudges under her eyes, Ripley noticed.
"What about you?"
Zoë shrugged. "I'm having a bite this morning. It might help a little." Ripley nodded and turned to the waffles. Her sister was, though older, much weaker than her. In theLoup-garoux world, strength depended solely on size. Zoë pulled out several slabs of meat from the freezer. Fresh meat-no matter what kind-gave aLoup-garou the energy to survive. Preserved meat was like a piece of candy.
After wolfing down her waffles, Ripley bade goodbye and left.
Let me know how it is, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask. :) I have a quarter of the next chapter done.
Until then.
-M.T. Duhaime