A tug at my instincts said southeast. I’d never been there. I didn’t know anyone outside of Jay’s world.
I didn’t want to know anyone in his world anymore. It wasn’t mine. Whatever I saw—which I was already questioning now that I’d gained some distance—was in the past.
And the future, apparently, was on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
Chapter 2
The Misfortune of the Werewolf
Isaac
Ahowlquaveredthroughthebayou. Saul was out of sight, but I could sense him prowling the edge of my property. He knew I was about to disappear, and he was making his unhappiness known.
This was our routine, and it had been for more years than I wanted to count.
Routine was comforting. There were no unknowns. Chaos was blessedly elusive. The worst thing the Barbeaux brothers experienced was an argument, usually between Saul and Eli. I didn’t like to argue.
I didn’t like to do much anymore.
Because routine was comfortable and comfortable was suffocating. More and more I was questioning the point of living so many years when all of them were wasted on monotony. The emptiness beneath my ribs was a gnawing pain. This was the burden of our kind.
The misfortune of the werewolf.
I jogged down a game trail, weaving between cypress trees and leaping over pockets of water until my home was in sight.
Compared to my brothers, I lived in luxury. I liked it that way. If I was doomed to live on a sweltering bayou for the rest of my enduring life, then I might as well make it tasteful.
In seconds, I shifted from beast to human, trudging down the gravel path to the back of my house and punching the button for the outdoor shower. Icy water rained down on me. It wasn’t a warm night but letting the monster out always made my blood hot. The jarring temperature helped me come back to my senses.
Myhumansenses.
Still naked, I marched to my truck. There was a clean pair of jeans and a button-up in the driver’s seat. I put both on and used a bottle of gel to fix my hair. By now I’d done it so many times that I didn’t need a mirror.
For my brother, the hunt was over. For me, it had only begun.
Therewasonerealbar in Port O’Henry—not one of those tourist trap bar/grill combos with overpriced food—and it was so dank and disgusting that even a lot of the locals didn’t visit.
Saul would be in a tizzy if he knew I was fraternizing with locals.
Saul was a grumpy prick, though, and there was no need to let him spoil what little fun I could find.
I should be going to meet a woman whose inhibitions were lowered just enough to give me a good time and receive one inreturn. In the busy season I would find a city slicker tourist that wanted a walk on the wild side with a small town redneck. There were plenty of local men to go around but most of them were roughnecks from offshore rigs or laborers at the plastic plant, dressed in faded jeans and filthy t-shirts.
City women didn’t want the real deal.
They wanted me. Wrapped in snug, clean jeans with polished cowboy boots. I was the perfect combination of well-dressed and ill-mannered. A devil in disguise. My persona was practiced to perfection. No one rejected me.
But walking intoThe Anchorafter parking my truck in the last spot, I knew I wouldn’t find a woman. I wasn’t even looking for one, despite the designer jeans, shiny boots, and sleek hair. That was just part of my mask. After so many years, I felt exposed without it.
Besides, it made the locals turn their noses up at me and that was what I wanted. When I inevitably goaded one—or three—of them into throwing a drunk punch, it would be because they thought I was some superior asshole.
Iwassuperior. I had more money, better looks, and endless years to enjoy them.
If only I had a heart to round it all out.
The truth was that I was empty. Drained. My brothers thought I was spending every night with a new woman and I let them believe that because it kept them from seeing the harsh reality of my spiraling state. Deep inside me was a black hole, wending through muscle and bone, devouring all the good things inside of me.
I could keep it at bay with my vices—sex, drinks, and violence—but less so all the time. I was a deviant, escalating into the most unholy behaviors. Soon the quiet desolation of Port O’Henry wouldn’t contain me.