Chapter 22: Marking His Territory

Garin stood at the back of the crowd, watching his family’s ridiculous display, marching in their cloaks as if they were some specters haunting the streets of Victorian England. He scoffed. He wanted to go home but the road was blocked. He hoped the parade would be over soon. He was going to pack and head back to school tonight. He didn’t care what time. He already knew that there was going to be an argument tonight since he hadn’t met up with his parents.
The crowd began to thin, and he saw his chance. He pushed off of the building he was leaning against but saw that his way was blocked again by people, cheerily talking. He resented them immensely. He would have to cut through the wooded park to get to his car if he even wanted to leave today. He looked back over his shoulder once at Willow’s cart, but it was dark now, the large window locked.
The streetlights provided some guidance as he weaved around the playground towards the walking path that would lead to his car. It was eerie, a playground at night. It felt as if he were in a horror film as the swings swayed slightly in the breeze. He imagined ghostly children staring at him, moving their dead legs. With a shudder, he walked faster and soon was enveloped in almost near darkness.
He could still hear the noises of the festival behind him, but he couldn’t see a thing. He dug out his cellphone for light. He wasn’t far from the parking lot now. He knew that it was right around the bend, past the pair of benches overlooking the small pond. A strange smell drifted on the wind. It smelled musky, earthy. It had the sharp scent of sweat and animal fur.
Something about it quickened his step. An innate quality bred through generations of hunters had sharpened his smell, beyond those of others. His subconscious recognized danger before he did. He just followed along with his body’s urgency to get out of the woods.
His car was parked where he left it, a streetlight shining brightly down on it. He hurried to it, pulling his keys out as he did so. A long shadow was stretched near his door. That is odd. The light is bending the wrong way. He thought as his steps slowed. The shadow moved, yellow eyes flashing. For a second his heart skipped thinking it was Willow until he caught the scent again.
His face hardened. It was Lyall. He now knew that he too was a shifter. His scent stained the air and his eyes, now yellow when they had been green before, were wild. He had to tread carefully. He knew he was outmatched by himself.
“Lyall,” he said cordially through his teeth.
“Brochade,” Lyall hissed. His scent was staggering. It assaulted Garin’s senses. It was repulsive. Where Willow’s was intoxicating, his had the opposite effect, reminiscent of a dog left out in the rain.
“What can I do for you?” Garin asked, exasperated. This was the last thing he needed tonight.
“Stay away from Willow,” Lyall said standing, in a movement almost too fast for human eyes to follow.
“Fine,” Garin said. Lyall regarded him curiously.
“Don’t come back either. I don’t care if your family are Red Hoods. I’ll kill you and leave your corpse at their doorstep,” Lyall took a step closer, spittle pooling in the corner of his mouth. Garin’s stomach turned.
“Not planning on it. In fact, I’m trying to leave now,” he said, swallowing his fear that was tinged with anger.
Lyall bowed sarcastically and moved aside so Garin could walk past him. Garin held his breath as he brushed past him. He heard a low rumble in Lyall’s chest. He kept his keys tucked between his knuckles, just in case.
As Garin opened his door and began to get in his car, Lyall stopped him, a hand on the door frame.
“We’re going to be married soon, you know. And then she will be mine. Mine.” Garin started into Lyall’s empty eyes, his teeth sharper than they had been before. He recoiled slightly when all he really wanted to do was shove his keys deep into Lyall’s exposed throat. The thought of him touching Willow sent bile into his mouth.
“Whatever you say,” Garin tugged the door closed and pushed the locks down. Lyall cackled but it wasn’t a human noise, more of a deep barking. He threw his head back and extended his arms out, letting the moonlight wash over him. He let out a blood-curdling howl and with a wink, ran back towards the forest. Garin could have sworn the shadow he cast on the pavement had been a wolf’s.
Shaking with anger and disgust, it took him three times to start his car. He kept picturing Lyall’s hands-on Willow and it made him see red. He had to take a few deep breaths before he could calm his thoughts enough to drive.
As he looked over his shoulder to back out of his spot, he spied the bag that his family had left for him. Curious, he opened it. Inside was a red cloak. Feeling disgusted, he rolled down his window and threw it onto the ground.
“I need out of this damn town,” he spat. As he drove out of the parking lot, a piercing howl tore through the night, sending a shiver down his back.