Palin
He hadn’t liked it then, and he liked it even less now.
Something was off about the party at Rusty’s, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The sun was long gone from the sky, and night was out in full force. That didn’t affect his vision at all; he could easily see into the deepest of shadows with only a pinprick of light, and even without that he could use thermal imaging to detect anyone out there.
It was the atmosphere of the party that bothered him. It wasn’t what he expected, though it had been a long time since he’d gone to a bush party. When he’d been told it was a party, he’d expected music, partygoers, and general drunken revelry. The eerie silence was…unexpected. Just what the hell kind of party was this?
He’d yet to see any signs of the bonfire, but they parked near the other cars and headed toward the only source of noise they heard, which was located somewhere out behind the barn. His grip tightened on Sandy as they walked farther into Rusty’s little compound.
There were numerous buildings. A handful of grain silos and some sort of square work shed were off to the right when they entered. A massive sprawling ranch house occupied the entire middle, and to the left were no less than three barns, the largest of which could have swallowed three or four of Sandy’s without issue, and hers was bigger than either of the other two Rusty had. The thing was a monstrosity. He wondered what it housed.
“Can we leave now?”
“No,” she hissed. “We’re here to be nice neighbors.”
“I don’t want to be a nice neighbor,” he stated. “I want to punch his face in.”
Sandy rolled her eyes, probably thinking he wouldn’t notice.
“I can see in the dark you know.”
“I’m aware.”
Oh. Maybe she had wanted him to see, so that he could know how frustrated she was.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t feel comfortable bringing you onto his property.”
Sandy paused in her stride, looking at him carefully. “You’re serious. This isn’t just some more complaining, is it.”
He shook his head. “No. Something feels…off. I’m not sure I can explain it.”
“In a bad way?”
Palin frowned. “I’m not sure yet, though I’ll let you know. Right now it’s more of an unknown. There’s something weird here, but I don’t know what it is yet.”
“Are we safe?”
“With me you’re always safe,” he promised, giving her hand a squeeze. “But that doesn’t mean you’re always going to avoid trouble with ease. Most humans just think I’m big; they don’t know what I can do. They don’t always find that threatening enough.”
She patted his arm. “If things turn sour, we’re out of here as soon as you say, okay? But you have to promise to stick around until something definitely bad happens. You’re probably just hyper-alert for my safety and reading into every little thing.”
“Maybe,” he said, though the word lacked conviction of any kind.
Sandy tugged on his hand and they started walking again. When they finally rounded the corner of the massive barn, Palin immediately realized what was wrong about the setup.
The three barns were arrayed in a sort of triangle, and the bonfire was in the middle of them. Burning merrily away with excess skids and other planks of wood, it soared easily ten or twelve feet into the sky, casting wild light everywhere. Chairs were set up all around it, though only some of them were filled.
Many of the people, a mixture of men and women, were paired off. That’s where it started to go wrong. He watched one man bear a woman to the ground. She giggled and then gasped as he ripped her shirt open, but she didn’t protest. Palin noted the way her eyes looked glazed over, even in the firelight. Drugs.
Elsewhere several couples, completely devoid of clothing, were at a much later stage of the dance. Men moved through the group, and occasionally one would stop and find a woman who was available.
“What the fuck kind of party is this?” Sandy hissed, pressing against his side.
“It’s not a party. It’s a Rut.”
“A what?”
He snarled and started backing away slowly, hoping they hadn’t been noticed. “I’ll explain when we’re good and off the property. Suffice to say, we are not in a good spot right now, Sandy. It is time to capital-G Go. Move slowly. They’re all drunk and high on pheromones right now. If you remain unaroused and move slowly, they might not notice us.”
“Sandy, you made it. And you brought a guest I see.”
The voice came from behind them. Palin turned in time with his mate. “Hello Rusty,” he said, deadpan. “So good to see you.”
Rusty crossed his thick arms over his barrel chest, stretching the brown and tan flannel shirt to the limits. “The hired help came as your date. How cute.” The close-set blue eyes narrowed angrily. “Though I don’t recall saying you needed a date.”
Before he could reply Sandy stepped up. “You’re an asshole, Rusty. You know that? I can’t believe you managed to come over and act like you were genuinely sorry and then ask me here.”
Rusty pushed his fingers through his greasy salt-and-pepper hair, pulling it back off his forehead before setting the ratty straw-weaved farmer’s hat back on his head. “I was sorry. I wanted to set things right between us. I just didn’t realize you were going to invite him.” He stabbed a finger at Palin.
“Me?” Palin looked around. “What the fuck did I do? You’re the one who’s treated me like shit since the get-go.”
The farmer’s eyes darted at Sandy.
“Oh, I get it.” A few things fell into place now. “You figured that you couldn’t intimidate her into selling. So instead you’d invite her to your little Rut party, get her high on pheromones and whatever other shit you fucks do, and then seduce her to get her to sell to you that way.”
Rusty’s eyes flew open as Palin revealed that he did indeed know what was going on around the bonfire. It had taken him until then to piece it together, but he recalled now that both previous times he’d encountered them, it had been raining. He’d put the smell of wet dog off to Champ. But it hadn’t just been the pooch. It had been coming from Rusty and his farmhands as well.
“Who are you?” Rusty asked, his voice gone calm.
That wasn’t a good sign. “It doesn’t matter. Come on, Sandy, time to go.”
He turned to go but stopped.
In the dark before them he could pick out at least four different sets of orange eyes.
“No, I think you’ll be staying,” Rusty said in that same calm, commanding tone.