Michael woke up bathed in grey light. He turned off the alarm clock and tossed and turned in bed. Then with a sigh he got up and headed for the bathroom. He walked over to the mirror and looked at his own face. It looked as if he had been punched.
After a shower and with his clothes on, his appearance seemed much improved. With one hand he pushed back the hair that had fallen back on his forehead, picked up his bag and left the house.
The metallic grey Audi he had rented was parked in front of the gate. Before getting in, he took a big breath and sniffed the air. Cold, damp, smelling of wet asphalt. It was still his old Oldgrove. He smiled. Then he got into his car and started the engine.
***
He stopped in front of a building whose façade occupied an entire city block. He looked up at the three floors of empty windows from which the grey sky could be glimpsed. All that remained of the old building was a shell of red bricks blackened by smoke: the flames, six months earlier, had totally incinerated the interior, from the floors to the roof. Now it was to become a large warehouse.
A team of workers was waiting not far away. A man with a light suede jacket open over his prominent belly and a large bundle of drawings in his hand walked towards them. "Hello!" he said, extending his hand. "You must be the architect Barclay. I am Mallory, John Mallory, the site manager."
"How do you do?" replied Michael, shaking his hand, then put on the yellow helmet he handed him and walked to the entrance.
***
The clouds finally seemed to have squeezed out every drop of their rain and a few stars could even be glimpsed in the sky. Michael parked his car on Temple Street and reached the entrance to the Blackout. A group of variously assorted people stood in line behind a cordon, waiting for the two bouncers to let them in. Michael passed the queue and showed his ID.
Alex checked, nodded and lifted the cordon to let him in. Barclay was an important name in the city, and although she had never seen the man before him, she had no reason to doubt his identity.
Michael crossed the threshold and walked through an anteroom with dark red walls and floor into a large room. Small sofas and tables were positioned on various levels with coloured organza curtains draping and partitioning. The walls were dark red as in the antechamber, the furnishings and curtains in warm sun tones with inserts of pure white. Soft lighting made the room cosy and intimate. Michael studied the people seated in the half-light, then walked to the counter, whose curved line occupied almost the entire left side of the room. Made of tempered, backlit glass, it stood out with its dazzling whiteness. Behind it, multicoloured glass shelves held rows of bottles and glasses.
"A Macallan," he said, sitting down on a stool.
A hand rested on his shoulder and a familiar voice called out to him.
Michael turned around, stood up and with a smile stretched out his arms and pulled his friend close to him. "Andy!"
Tall, with an athletic build, Andy had wavy black hair, long down to below his ears. His eyes, smiling, were a full blue. His open face was framed by a light beard. "Let's go sit down," he said, and led his friend towards one of the sofas. "When you told me you were in town I couldn't believe it!"
"Did you think I would never come back?"
Andy tightened his shoulders. "Not so soon."
"Does eight years seem short to you?"
"It's certainly not a lot for us," he replied, raising an eyebrow.
"In fact, I wouldn't be back for much longer if I didn't have this assignment," Michael replied with a bitter grimace.
The two friends remained silent. Then Andy said, "Tell me about this job."
The smile returned to Michael's lips. "The usual department store."
"The usual? Not when you put your hand to it!"
***
The hours were quickly dwindling, as were the inhibitions of the club's patrons. Already two people had been thrown out for being too noisy and harassing, when one of the waiters came out at the entrance. "Guys, there's another one, whose turn is it?"
Alex stepped forward. "Let's go." And she followed the boy into the club.
As she crossed the threshold, the warm, odour-saturated air hit her. Her gaze slid over the people sitting on the sofas drinking and chatting and she immediately found the disturbing element. He was near the bar and three waiters were trying to keep him as far away as possible from the other guests in the bar.
Alex hastened her pace and flanked the man who was slightly above her in height. "I think you've had too much to drink sir," she told him. "I'll see you out." And she gripped his arm in a vice.
The man turned towards her and his reddened eyes fixed on her face. 'I don't feel like leaving yet,' he replied. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol.
"I don't think he has a choice." To mark his own words, Alex twisted the man's arm, directing him towards the back of the room.
The other gnashed his teeth and with a tug he broke free.
Alex looked at him, her eyes became hard and impassive. In the blink of an eye she was behind him and with a grip on his left arm forced him to bend down to prevent her from breaking it. From his mouth came a growl. Alex increased the twisting until she felt his muscles loosen, then she pulled him up and pushed him towards the door.
The man turned to strike her, but she deflected the blow downwards and, pressing on his elbow and wrist, forced him to the ground. He clenched his jaws, gritting his teeth. His eyes were out of their sockets in anger. When he felt Alex loosen his grip to get him up, he rolled away to immediately pounce on her.
It all happened in a split second. Under his thrust Alex hit the red wall with his back and head, then slid to the ground. He immediately stood up, shaking his head, as a dull ache in the back of his neck began to throb. The man was already far away and had crouched down, ready to attack. Alex blinked his eyes. The man's face seemed to have distorted, elongated, and his eyes shone with a strange golden glow. When he lunged at her, she used the force of her thrust to grab him and push him against the wall. The man slammed his face violently against the wall, then slumped to the ground, dazed.
Leaving him no time to recover from the blow, Alex caught up with him and pinned him down, then twisted his arm behind his back and forced him to get up, then - finally - pushed him out of the club.
When Alex went back inside she noticed that the chatter had died down and the guests in the club all had their eyes on her. A moment later, however, everyone returned to paying attention only to their cocktails.
"Everything OK?" asked the boy who had come out to call her.
Alex nodded, then headed for the entrance to join Mike.
Michael and Andy had watched the scene attentively. Having placed their glasses on the glass coffee table in front of them, they had remained seated, but ready to get up and intervene if necessary.
When the man was thrown out, Michael turned to his friend. "Is that a new one?"
"I think so."
Not even a stray would have lost his head like that, risking becoming among so many humans. Unless one's intent was suicide. The pack leader, in fact, would not have been slow to find him and kill him for transgressing one of the basic rules of werewolves: never show your true nature . reale
The two friends got up and together they headed for the back exit of the club. They found themselves in a deserted alley. They looked in both directions, but there was no trace of the man. They walked down the alley until they met the main road, but saw not a soul.
"Let's go back inside," Andy said after a while.
"He was alone," commented Michael as they walked back to the club. "How is that possible?"
Andy shook his head. "I don't know, but he has to be found. We risk him hurting someone or getting caught." And so saying he retrieved his mobile phone and quickly dialled a number. "Hi Reag. I'm calling about a problem. Tonight, at the Blackout, there was a new guy. He was alone, unsupervised. He attacked one of the security guards. He was thrown out, but I can't find him." He stood by as his interlocutor spoke. "Male, white, about 5'7", slim, short dark hair. Wearing jeans and a black leather jacket." He waited again, then resumed. "Need a hand? OK, let me know." Communication closed, he turned to Michael. "Raeg will take care of that. I figured you weren't planning on showing too much around yet."
Michael nodded and murmured a "Thank you."
***
Back home that evening, Alex went to the kitchen and took two aspirins from a drawer and downed them with tap water. He craned his neck, squinting in pain. He passed his hand behind his head and felt the lump caused by the bump against the wall. If she could have, she would have shaken her head at the memory of how the man had slammed her against the wall so easily. He was very strong, but had no technique, fortunately. His yellow eyes blinked in her mind. She ran a hand over her face, opened the fridge and made herself a sandwich, then threw herself down on the couch where she dined with the vampire from Moonlight.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading this far!
I hope you're enjoying the story — and if you'd like, I'd love to hear what you think 😊
Starting from this chapter, unfortunately, the translation is no longer done by Lori.
Still, I hope you'll continue to enjoy the journey ahead.
Ye Lang