#alex threads

Gatlin Fields were not nearly as developed as the rest of the town, and though a lot of people enjoyed this endless expanse of grass and wheat, the rural smell of manure, or driving behind cattle heading back to the barn (Alan included), Wicked’s rest needed to expend, especially with the Serpent’s flat covering now a fifth of it. 

He had bought a large lot of land up there, and the city council had agreed to the construction of over two hundred homes. The local taxes would bring a lot of money to their pockets, Alan, in the meantime, would get even more with each plot he’d sell to buyers. That was, if defenders of the toads (this still irked him to no avail), finally decided to fuck off from the bog and let the servicing of the land happen. 

Parking the Maserati on the side of the road, he had gone to the trunk to trade his italian leather brogues with rubber boots and put on his colorful Cotopaxi rain jacket, a birthday present from his sister that while it clashed with his aesthetic, was too pretty to stay in the closet. 

Walking up to the lot of protestors, who, he had no doubt, would reek of cheap marijuana and alternative bathing methods, the man ignored the booing and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who is in charge?” His stern, no bullshit tone, he hoped would deter them from being sassy. All he wanted was to get back to the car before it started to rain. Those dark clouds couldn’t be announcing anything good. 

As Alex looked over the signs she’d stayed up all night painting with a couple of classmates looked great, but the last minute effort had left her feeling especially drained as she twirled the cold brew coffee in her reusable around before she took a gulp. Some of the other students came to show her their signs and she smiled in kind. “Looks great,” she laughed, “and we have a pretty good turn out.” 

It was about time to gather everyone to pep them up and remind them why they were here, but Alex could hear footsteps approaching that were heavier approaching. The voice that followed caused her features to harden into a glare until she faced the man who sounded ready to lecture her. “That’d be me,” she responded as she crossed her arms over her chest as she looked the older man over, “Let me guess, you’re the connard in charge of building the tacky houses.” 

“Alan Duarte,” he gave the girl a smile, smoothing out his tie against his crisp white shirt before crossing his arms again. The French bit was intriguing. Québec or France? He wouldn’t have been able to tell, but still, he wondered. Either way, he wasn’t really gonna let that impress him at all. Of course, there wasn’t much that impressed him. Alan had worked hard to make sure he’d always been one step ahead, and these people… Certainly he did not have to look so jaded about them, but weren’t they the fucking cliché. What a sorry pathetic bunch of hemp cultists, the businessman thought as he turned his attention back toward her. “This is a private property. You’re all trespassing and I’m going to kindly ask you to leave,” of course, more booing would follow. He felt as though he was talking to toddlers in their no stage (he could thank his siblings for knowing what the hell a no stage was). “This entire area has been purchased by myself and my clients, and you’re delaying a lot of people’s life projects here with your self centered attitude,” he didn’t need to drag them, but it wasn’t like he cared for their feelings, or their opinion. These people would never be owners. 

Everything about the man was polished in a way that had Alex on the defensive. No matter how much she tried to put on the part of a put together young adult at school and dressed according to her bright spring color palette, she still donned almost an entirely thrift store wardrobe. She loved her pale blue button down blouse and dark wash jeans. When she looked in the mirror that morning, she knew she left no crumbs with this look, but people with money always seemed to look at the world with a whole different set of standards. “Alan,” she smiled with a false sweetness that could very easily be read for what it was, “I’m Alex Bennett. Event planner for UMWR’s Conservation Club.” 

The way he carried himself made it more than apparent he couldn’t care less about the ecological impact of misplacing this species of toads from the bog they called home. Alex had spent countless sleepless nights reading up on them in preparation for the protest. They were one of the few species of toads that could eat some of the supernatural bug species in the area. Something about the venom in their saliva and ph that went a little over her head, but she could understand the implication in the big picture of it all. “I don’t think you’ll be building anything here after the next town council meeting,” she retorted, matter of factly, “And people’s ‘life projects’ are hardly more important than protecting local wildlife that has a significant impact on the whole town.” 

Overhead, the sky lit up with a crack of bright white lightning that sent a roll of thunder in its wake. Alex crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly unfazed by the incoming storm. A little rain had never bothered her even if it did leave her smelling vaguely like a wet dog, but something told her Mr. Maserati wasn’t the type of guy who liked ruining his business attire. “You better get back to your car before it starts coming down,” she said condescendingly, “would hate for you to ruin your hair.” As if on cue, a few drops of rain starting falling from the sky and she donned a shit-eating grin that dared him to test her.

Denim and pastels. She was the shining, stunning picture of the mainstream, cradled with the illusion of a better world, where everyone's voice matters. Alan welcomed her sight, and her introduction with a sonorous yawn. “Event planner?” Was that supposed to be a job? He had some doubts about it. “You sure know how to pick a venue,” he ironized, a crooked smile appearing on his face as he glanced around. The bog was quite the stinky, unwelcoming place, but once he dried it up and built over it, it would house one of the loveliest pieces of real estate in the area, all thanks to yours truly. 

“The local wildlife is going to be relocated,” he flatly replied. As for the next town council meeting, Alan wasn’t worried about it. How many of his projects had been approved in the past? How many were rejected? The scales were tipped in his favor. It was near comical that she thought her bunch of pot smokers over there even stood a chance against him. Those frogs brought nothing to the town, other than their loud croaking disturbing the peace of the neighbors. Alan offered to move them someplace else, as a gesture of good faith, and bring in wealthy taxpayers in exchange for those freeloaders. The math was easy, it revulsed him that college level kids couldn’t manage that. 

The sound of thunder brought a frown to his face. Great, he was going to smell like a fucking wet dog, again. Pulling his hood over his head, the realtor put his hands in his pockets, shaking his head at her as she taunted him about the state of his hair. It did look like he put some effort into achieving that look. “It won’t get ruined, I use olaplex,” he explained, with a smile so wide it could have belonged to his lupine half. 

The fact this man had suggested something as simple as rehoming the wildlife, as if it was that easy, only made Alex grow more frustrated. She rolled her eyes and let out a scoff. “Right, because that’s just such a simple thing to do for a species that has very specific habitat needs,” she spat, “And the location is important, so I’d say I did a good job. If you move these toads, you’re gonna have some parasitic insect species overpopulating the area.” It’d serve the man right to end up with eurynomos or eintykara swarming the likely overpriced homes that Alan wanted to build. 

As if to add dramatic effect, a bolt of lightning lit up the cloudy sky before it was followed by a deafening crack of thunder that made her grimace. Despite the fact Alex had wanted supernatural hearing growing up, she wasn’t so fond of it at that moment. Or any moment really, since the enhanced senses had nothing to do with the ranger lineage of her family. The clouds in the sky overhead were a dark, smoky gray and she already dreaded the eventual downpour. It was one thing to smell like a wet dog at work, but she was surrounded by peers and a far too arrogant businessman. “Don’t think olaplex will save you from looking like a drowned rat, princess,” she shot back. 

On cue, the torrential downpour started and Alex knew she was the one out here probably looking like a drowned animal considering she was an animal of sorts, if monsters could be classified as animals biologically. There wasn’t really a place in biological domains and kingdoms for the supernatural though maybe that was a project she could start. The others had already been wearing the ponchos she’d stolen from the Dollar Store for everyone, but she hadn’t been quite as prepared for herself. She could already pick up on the wet canine smell, but there was something else that wasn’t entirely her. Her eyes widened when she realized the other dog-like smell was coming from Mr. Olaplex himself. “Y- you’re,” she rambled nervously, “Like me?” She pointed to her nose, hoping it was enough for him to pick up on. If he made all that money, Alan had to have some common sense, right? 

“If they can only survive in this specific bog, they might not be fit for survival, don’t you think?” It never ceased to make him roll his eyes, people fighting nature. By design, humans were conquerors, aiming for the top of the food chain. Alan knew he didn’t wait for the bite to make that come true. Sure, turning into the big bad wolf helped him a lot, but he got rid of business opponents without it, and he was certain he would have made it without his lupine friend. 

“You’re just delaying the inevitable,” he pointed out. Slipping his hands in his pockets, Alan sighed. What was she even talking about? “What parasitic insects? Mosquitoes?” Those weren’t even parasitic. 

He wouldn’t be the one living here. What would he care? If it was worse than he anticipated, he’d just find a hunter and grease their murderous hand with a stack of money. 

There was an age when he wouldn’t have budged in the face of tonitruant thunder, but those days were gone. His shoulders tensed, and the man cringed in distaste. “I’ve been in Afghanistan, I think I’ll live,” he didn’t seem so convinced about it, but hoped his words would do the job of conveying this idea : don’t fuck with me. 

He wiped the first drops of water from his cheek, but that damn smell would be there soon. It came from her before it did him. Fuck. Alan’s eyes darted from the dark menacing clouds back to her. He hadn’t met another wolf in a few years. Though he had put a few hunters in their grave in that span of time, the wolf population had dropped enough it made meeting new folks complicated. “Oh God,” had to be a fucking hippie. Shit. And he could already feel his heart shifting, disdain being replaced with the sort of affection that came with a sense of belonging. “I… Who…” He had been a lot more eloquent before. “Really?” 

The man was not budging and the willful obtuse manner in which he spoke about simply rehoming wildlife still ground her gears more than Alex cared to admit. Her purpose had been all but swept from underneath her feet the night she was bitten. She’d never be able to protect the world by fighting monsters. Even with how much time she spent in the gym, her strength would never match Andy’s or Kaden’s. But protecting the environment and the planet? That was something she could still do, though the way Alan continued to shoot down her efforts made her doubt she could even do that. 

“If you say so,” Alex relented, not really wanting to ask why he was in Afghanistan when she was pretty sure she could deduce as much. Her mind was more wrapped around the fact he was a werewolf like her and what that could mean. A wave of anxiety ran through her. Despite spending most of her life as a werewolf, it was still hard to forget everything her parents had drilled into her brain from the time she could understand words. That didn’t go away overnight, not that she was sure it went away at all. She struggled living with what she was most days and she hadn’t actually gotten to know another werewolf. 

“Really,” Alex answered as she swallowed back the lump in her throat. There was a swirl of different emotions that she couldn’t bring herself to parse, but she found herself not backing away as she normally would. Most of the others had cleared out with the last bolt of lightning, but she found she was stuck in place, unsure of what to do or say. The man was still irritating but there was a certain pull there too. One that made her more inclined to crack a joke despite the fact they’d been arguing only moments before. “Didn’t exactly pick out wet dog as my choice of perfume,” she attempted, but it fell flat, because of course now that they shared something in common, she was practically desperate for approval. 

By this point, Alex was soaked to the bone and the lightning was getting dangerously close. She knew as much, had to clear people out of the park far before this point, but she couldn’t leave. “How long,” she asked.

“Well shit,” Alan wasn’t a skilled liar. He could argue his way through most things, but lying was never his forte. He would have made quite the shitty actor, this was for certain. “Fuck,” it had been a bit since he last saw another werewolf : those he had met were either dead or out of town for good. It wasn’t a good thought, not when faced with such a juvenile face. His gaze dropped to the floor, shielding his head from the rain, and himself from her inquiring eyes. Her joke did make him crack a small, sad smile, but one only he would be aware of. 

Wiping his nose dry for just a second or two, he glanced back toward the young wolf.

“It’ll be eleven years on the 14th of July,” the thunder hit his ears once again, more forceful than before. The storm was getting closer. “Look Alex,” under other circumstances, Alan would have called her the wrong name, and he certainly wouldn’t have said that : “we need to get out of here,” the lightning lit up the dark sky again, as if to punctuate his words with one final definite period. If he was right about what he perceived from her, then she was as eager as he was to keep the conversation going, which certainly was just fucking ironic, considering how little he wanted to speak with her just moments ago. “You could come with me, tell them to go home, say that we’re gonna have a chat, you and I.” Which wasn’t to say that he was going to give up on his plans for this place, but this had bought her a whole new level of credibility. 

“Eleven years,” Alex repeated, thinking back to how long it had been for her, “13 years for me.” Her voice quieted, trying to push out images of the night and the blood that splattered their campsite. Her hand instinctively went to the place the scar on her left hip was, the one that forever marred her and brought up a concerned furrow of brows of every girl who had ever seen it. It almost seemed to have a dull ache as she pushed the memory away, but she was certain that it was her imagination. That wound, at least the physical aspect of it, had long since healed.

Alex looked over to the staggering students who had covered up under ponchos and nodded. She approached them quickly, wanting to be sure they made it somewhere safe as quickly as possible. “Everyone, get out of here. The lightning is getting close and it’s not safe. I’m gonna take to the Big Wig and keep y’all posted,” she explained. There were a few reluctant nods, but most seemed glad to get somewhere warm and dry. 

There was a pounding in her chest as she approached Alan again. In all this time, Alex had avoided getting to know another werewolf. She was taught to hate them, afterall. If she couldn’t shed that hatred when looking in the mirror, how was she supposed to approach another werewolf with understanding? But the complicated web her logic had woven was getting more tangled together. Everything her parents had taught her was challenged daily by the fact Alex herself had never killed anyone. Then she spoke to Teagan, who had kindly released her from a bind without prompting. And Alan, well aside from being a rich jackass, didn’t look like a monster and his gaze had softened to a degree that made it even more difficult to make that correlation despite the fact they now both reeked of wet dog. 

“Where to,” Alex asked, still reluctant as she looked at the overpriced vehicle. There was a whole whirlwind of questions in her mind, but Alan was older and had been a werewolf nearly as long as she had. Maybe he had a trick or two up his sleeve… and maybe there was something in his age that made her yearn for the approval her father never showed her, but that was neither here nor there. “Guessing you have some fancy pants office or something?” 

“Thirteen years?” That made her both the youngest and oldest werewolf Alan knew at the moment. She must have been terribly young when she got bitten, and the mental image of a child being attacked by the sort of enormous beast they now turned into, that image made his stomach churn. How did she survive that? 

Her court of poncho clad hippies took their leave, and Alan couldn’t help but find irony in a good shower being the downfall of these folks. Stereotypes sure had a long time ahead of them before they’d ever disappear. But, as funny as that thought was, the thunder was a dreadful reminder of his condition. Fucksake. 

At least they’d be leaving this goddamn place now. He certainly wouldn’t be mad to see it disappear underneath concrete or to never see it again. 

 “My den in the middle of woods of course,” he smiled to himself, if only to appear like someone who had his shit together. Where to… He had his office, he had his house. The latter had towels and dry clothes, because he didn’t feel like showing up and letting his employees get the idea that he smelled exactly like a wet dog. The way they’d been standing in the pouring rain, it would take days to let the stench leave his car, which was already bad enough to him. “I’m taking you to my house. I’m not going back to work with that stench on me,” and her. “It’ll be a much better place to talk,” opening the car for them both, the wolf hurriedly rid himself of his raincoat, tossing it in the trunk before going to sit behind the wheel. He didn’t move for a second, contemplating what meeting her could possibly mean. Even if they belonged to different generations, different social classes and had different beliefs, perhaps they could make it work, stay alive, together. Lightning struck in the distance. Alan remained quiet, reaching for his phone to send a message of reassurance to a friend he knew wouldn’t be having a good time in this weather. “Coffee and a chat sounds good to you too?” 

The look of sad perplexion that the older wolf tried to mask was one Alex was familiar with. There was a reason the young werewolf didn’t go around offering up information about herself without thinking it through. She was young, she knew the picture that came to mind when she said thirteen years was one of a small child being attacked by a monster. It would pull at anyone’s heart strings and the big shot realtor was no exception. But would that same soft spot still be intact if Alan knew why she’d been in the situation in the first place? That she was supposed to be trained to kill monsters like the both of them? It left a spinning feeling in her stomach so she simply nodded in response. 

But then something hit her. Something akin to… kinship? Alex wondered if there was some universal appeal of the woods to werewolves, some sort of comfort in the quiet oasis it provided to they’re overactive myriad of senses. Maybe there was some sort of supernatural biological programming there though she wasn’t sure how much the principles of science really came into play with supernatural beings. It stood to reason that even supernatural creatures had instincts and roles in the local ecosystem just as any other species. She smiled softly once the group cleared out. “I’d expect nothing less,” she responded, “Mine is too… Well, more a really run-down rental cabin, but the rent is stupid cheap. Pretty sure the owner is a vampire and is just really out of touch with the current rental market.” 

Her words were intended to lighten the moment a bit and maybe there was some small hope that they’d help with bridging the gap created by the very wrong foot they’d gotten off on. Alex had a whirlwind of complex feelings about what she was, but something in her still craved the older werewolf’s approval, and if she was being honest with herself, maybe even his guidance. For so long, she’d put off connecting with anyone like her because well… how could she reason with herself that she was a monster, but stay open to the idea that other werewolves weren’t monsters? Maybe she was tired of never feeling good enough, tired of trying to live up to the idea of being someone her parents would love if they could see her today. Another crackle of thunder rumbled the ground below them and she readily agreed to go with him to his house, a show of trust uncharacteristic of the young wolf.