––––––––

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, LET’S look at this rationally,” George said, touching his tender head.

Micah had looked more relieved than Zeke would have expected to see his father in one piece, if a little battered and bruised. It was a shock to his system to realize that he was still comparing Micah’s relationship with George to his relationship with Jimmy. Even after death, Jimmy was fucking with him. He shook off the funk and focused on what George was saying.

“What we have is a credible threat without proof. Which means the cops are out.”

“Cops would be out anyway,” Brandy pointed out. “Last thing we want is the government getting involved again.”

“Right,” George agreed. “So he has an arsenal, we know that. What else does he have?”

“About a dozen farms full of allied werewolves,” Zeke said.

Every eye in the room turned to look at him in shock.

“It’s a guess,” Zeke amended quickly. “But when Micah and I left his ranch, literally every person on that street was watching us. Ranch hands, owners, you name it. And they were all older, I didn’t see a single kid in that whole neighborhood even though it was Saturday. I think he tried this once before and the ones who are living near him are the ones he was able to draw into his cult. I think he needs fresh blood, I think that’s why he went after kids.”

“So on his home turf he has an army,” George sighed. “Wonderful.”

“So do we,” Brandy said grimly.

“Sweetheart, thirty middle-aged werewolves isn’t....”

“I’m not talking about them,” she said, standing up and pacing. “Look, I know they’re just kids. But they don’t have anyone fighting for them anyway, in any area of their lives. At some point, they’re going to need to stand up and do what they need to do to fix their lives. In this case, that means eliminating the threat.”

“You want to take a bunch of teenagers to war?” Zeke asked doubtfully.

“Not war,” Brandy said. “Not if we can avoid it. But if we just show a strong, united force and let him know in no uncertain terms that he is not getting his cult following from here, then....”

“Then he’ll get it from somewhere else,” Micah said tiredly. “We might not have to wipe out the whole street, but he can’t stay alive. We have to stop him for good. He is the only reason that any of us are having a problem in the first place. If he hadn’t started this whole thing, we would all still think that werewolves were myths, or a weird moment that they redacted from the history books. He’s a nightmare creator.”

“When did you say he wanted all the kids out there? And where does he want them?”

“At his ranch, next full moon.”

“He’ll probably expect you to do something,” she muttered. “He’ll be prepared.”

“He won’t come out until after sunset,” George interjected. “Full moon, he’s the only one who can fire a gun. That’s where he has the advantage.”

“He still has all of the healing ability, strength, and speed,” Zeke put in. “I don’t know how much force it would take to kill him with just our bodies as weapons. I don’t even know if we can...Micah tore Kenneth’s pet werewolf’s belly to shreds, and he recovered in minutes. We’ve got to start thinking in action movie physics.”

“The only thing we know for sure causes lasting damage is silver,” Micah said slowly. “But if we can’t use guns, how can we wield silver without hurting ourselves?”

There was a long pause as they thought the problem over. Brandy paced restlessly, George rubbed his head, and Micah glared at an empty corner of the room. Zeke stared absently out the window, his mind torn between thoughts of his father and concentrating on the problem at hand. It always seemed like there was just a little bit too much to think about, and he couldn’t seem to capture any of it.

Brandy stopped suddenly and snapped her fingers. “I got it.”

***

REAL LIFE HAD A WAY of interfering with the supernatural and emotional. Zeke found himself zoning out at work more often than not, and was finally told to take bereavement until he could focus. Micah had been spending more time at the school, identifying and communicating with the werewolf kids under the guise of literary development. Brandy had taken over entirely; she brought the kids to her home every day that she could, teaching them how to shoot, training them to work as a cohesive pack. Restless, Zeke had started spending a lot of time out there, helping with the teenagers.

Aster had moved in to Brandy’s house with his baby, and was slowly figuring out how to be a parent under her watchful eye. Everybody was permanently on guard, expecting Kenneth to show up with guns blazing at any moment, but he never did. The full moon was just a few days away, and the kids were starting to feel ready. Zeke was still numb, his mind still filled with muted, conflicting emotions. The only clear thought which remained unwavering in his center was that he didn’t want to die like his dad. He didn’t want to let misery write his life.

One Saturday morning he sat at his kitchen table in his little apartment, staring out the window at the courtyard below. He appeared to be deep in thought, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what he was thinking; vague images and impressions were all that he could see, but the emotional weight of them threatened to crush him. A knock at his door barely registered, and he floated to the door to answer it. Micah was on the other side, looking worried and pale.

“What happened?” Zeke asked, instantly alert.

Micah brushed past him and shut the door, then wrapped him in a vice-like embrace. He was trembling, and Zeke squeezed him hard.

“What’s wrong?” Zeke asked gently, stroking Micah’s hair. It seemed thicker and softer than usual, practically absorbing his hand as he touched it.

“I, uh....” Micah’s voice shook, and he walked away to pace Zeke’s little living room. “I haven’t been feeling very well lately. I, um....”

Zeke’s heart was pounding.

“Are you sick?” He asked. “Is it bad?”

“Uh...sort of and maybe,” Micah answered vaguely, biting his lip. “Um...my mom noticed and she did a bunch of tests. We, um...we kind of screwed up, Zeke.”

“Screwed up? How?” Zeke’s palms grew clammy and he swallowed hard. “What did I do?”

“Me,” Micah said with a nervous laugh. “There were enough reminders. We should have...you even thought about it once, I think, but then...I don’t know, it just didn’t feel like a real possibility in the moment, you know, like something out of a story.”

“What are you talking about?” Zeke was getting more confused the longer Micah talked.

“I’m, uh....” Micah interrupted himself with a disbelieving little chuckle. “I’m pregnant.”

Zeke’s brain began to buzz. His ears filled with a high-pitched whine, and black dots speckled his vision. It took him a moment before he remembered to breathe, and he nearly passed out when he did. After he’d caught his breath, he looked at Micah, who was watching him nervously.

“Well,” Zeke said breathlessly. “Um. We’re going to need a bigger house.”

“What?”

“Can’t raise a baby in a pair of shoe boxes,” Zeke continued giddily. “Babies need space and room and stuff and things. Um. We’ve got what, nine months? Eight? Something? Okay. Um. I’m on bereavement, my pay’s cut a little, but I can pick up another job for a little while. We’ll get something else. Maybe out in Dogshead? Would you want to do that? It always kind of felt like home to me, plus your mom’s there, and Aster, and he would be able to tell us how the whole baby thing works for dudes...God, I hope it isn’t completely terrible....”

Micah crossed the room in two strides and interrupted Zeke’s babbling with a fierce kiss. Zeke jolted in surprise, then returned the kiss with fervor. They embraced there in the middle of the tiny apartment, clinging desperately to one another, drinking each other in. As they slowly came apart, Zeke met Micah’s watery eyes.

“I thought you’d lose your mind,” Micah admitted with a choked little laugh.

“I would have, a few weeks ago,” Zeke said. “But...I’m ready.”

“For a baby?”

“Oh hell no,” Zeke laughed. “No. I’m ready to be happy.”

Joyful tears spilled down Micah’s face and he embraced his lover once more. Their kisses grew wilder, more passionate with every passing moment. Zeke’s body ignited, his nerves reawakening after their long, grief-induced sleep. Every ounce of want and need burst through his cells, wrapping around Micah, pulling him closer and closer. Clothes fell away in piles on the floor, and they tumbled, clinging together, into the bedroom.

Connected. Zeke couldn’t remember ever feeling so connected during sex before. There had always been an undertone of darkness, always a sense of despair, always a barrier. There were no barriers with Micah. He knew Zeke as well as Zeke knew himself. He brought every moment of their years together into the bedroom, securing bonds which had been growing for over a decade. Micah was everything Zeke had ever wanted. He couldn’t believe that he had never seen him that way before.

He lifted Micah up against the wall, tugging his hair, biting his neck, utterly enthralled with his sounds and scents, with the feel of him as he sheathed Zeke’s raging cock. More powerful than erotic, their embrace extended until they were bonded together, their breath flowing from one to the other, sweat and tears mingling until Zeke didn’t know where he stopped and Micah began.

“I love you,” he groaned in Micah’s ear as he felt the molten lust begin to tighten in his loins.

“I fucking love you,” Micah replied, nipping Zeke’s shoulder with hungry teeth.

The feeling built up and spilled over in a quaking, soul-splicing simultaneous climax. When it was over, Zeke didn’t want to let him go; he needed him to stay, he needed to lie with him forever. He covered Micah’s face in kisses as his own body betrayed him, breaking the physical link. They held each other for a long time, murmuring whichever words floated to the surface, punctuated with kisses. They didn’t leave the bedroom that day, or the next. By the third, though, it was time to get serious.

The moon would rise full.