Fate And Werewolves

Gemma woke with a start when her alarm clock went off at twelve o'clock in the morning. "Why is it set so early? I swear I didn't touch it last night..." she grumbled, attempting to run her fingers through the nest of brown hair that set on her head. She shut off the alarm knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep and decided to watch some night time television.

She flipped the channel to some old sitcom and managed to watch the show without ever actually paying attention. She turned off the television, figuring she could just get ready for school anyway, for something to do. She grabbed a pair of black leggings, a ballerina's-tutu-like black skirt, a red tank top, and a black shrug to cover the straps. She set all of her clothes on the sink in the bathroom before stepping into the cloud of steam behind the shower curtains.

She silently sang to herself, as not to wake her parents, and stared blankly at the tiled wall in front of her. A mirror sat on a plastic white rack to the side of her, under the tinted window. Without Gemma touching it, the mirror dropped from the rack and shattered in the bathtub beneath her feet. She jumped, stepping on a piece of glass with her foot and pushed out of the tub and onto the floor, wrapping herself in a towel. She tried not to scream from the pain, figuring she could fix this herself. As the shower still ran, washing the blood down the drain, Gemma attempted to pull the three-inch piece of glass from the ball of her foot. She exhaled and yanked it out with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. Tears spilled down her face from the pain but she didn't let out a whimper or yelp. The blood poured down her foot like a waterfall and she tossed the glass into the tub with the rest of the pieces. She couldn't see nor feel any other pieces in her skin so she stuck her foot under the still running water, washing the blood from her foot. She took a hand towel from a towel rack near her and wrapped it around her foot to stop the bleeding until she could find some gauses.

She tried not to think about why or how the mirror had fallen and started changing into her regular clothes. Limping along the way, she walked down the green carpeted stairs, holding onto the railing, and into the kitchen to find the first-aid kit. She found the bandages she needed and wrapped them around her foot. After putting the box back where she found it, she grabbed the broom from the spare room near the kitchen and limped back up the stairs to sweep up the glass from the tub.

Once she had finished cleaning up the bloody mess she returned to her room to put some eyeliner around her eyes and pull her hair back into a long ponytail. She sat back on the bed and tried not to think of the pain running through her foot.

Then she heard a tapping on her window.

That's odd, she thought. I'm on the second story, no one should be able to reach this window. Canceling out the thought of there being someone outside of her window she decided that maybe the tree near the window was leaning too far.

The tapping came again, louder.

She ignored it and grabbed a book from her nightstand and started reading with the dim light of the moon shining from behind the curtains.

Again the tapping came but now, it sounded as if whoever or whatever was pounding at the glass would make the window shatter like the mirror. Gemma slammed her book onto the bed and stood, glaring at the window. She stepped over to it, sitting on the window seat beneath the glass. She pulled back the black curtains to see-nothing. Nothing was there. No branch, no person; nothing. She sighed heavily and pulled the curtains back over the window and stood, keeping her eyes on the glass. She twirled quickly toward her bed only to run into a cement-like chest. She looked up and there stood a man in black clothes and a black ski mask right in front of her. She started to let out a scream when he placed his hand over her mouth, wrapping an arm around her body so she couldn't hit him. "Hush, darling," he said smoothly with a british accent. "No need to be violent." She tried kicking as hard as she could but he was holding her at just the right angle so she couldn't reach him. He lifted the window with his free hand and leapt off of the ledge, landing on the ground like a feline.

He threw her in the air, catching her so he was carrying her bridal-style, holding down her arms and keeping a tight grip around her knees. They traveled down the backstreets behind her house, down the woods by the highway and into the abandoned train station. Once inside he threw her to the ground, cracking her leg on a near by bench. She held in a grunt and glared at him. "What do you want?" she asked, no hint of fear in her voice, only anger.

"All of you humans are the same, you know that?" the man said with a dark chuckle. "'What do you want?' 'Please don't hurt me' 'Why me?' What do I want? I want peace of mind for once. I want to live free of this mortal society that looks down upon people like me. That thinks of people like me as a freak, a crazy, a psycho. Someone who should be locked away in a padded room. No body believes me, at least, not until I prove what I am." Her eyes widened as the man began to take off his mask. He seemed like an ordinary human with a relatively normal face. He had tanned skin, a five o'clock shadow, and dark brown eyes with the hair to match. He only seemed to be extremely tall. He walked across the floor to the other side of the seating area, directly across from where she laid. Then, he started charging toward her, a lightening bolt flashing through his eyes like a mad-man.

She gripped onto the floor and tried to pull herself up before he was able to reach her but he seemed much too quick. Then she heard the crack of what sounded like thunder right in front of her. She slammed her eyes shut, waiting for the impact of his hit, but it never came. She opened her eyes to see another man had came into the train station, holding the crazy-man from before up against the wall. The cement from behind the guy's back was cracked, as if the impact of him being hit was enough to shatter the wall. In a split second all she could see was this guy she didn't recognize holding his hands around the other guy's neck in a lion-like position, his mouth agape revealing long canine's like a wolf's. His eyes glowed a blazing yellow as he bit into crazy-man's neck. Gemma slammed her eyes shut again and attempted to stand back up by pushing her hands on the ground. She stood up and tried to run/limp to an exit she could barely see; she fell within seconds. She hit her chin on a broken piece of tile, slicing it open. She shook her head and started to crawl to the exit. She could hear growls and snarls from behind her. All she thought was that she must've been in some crooked nightmare, none of it could be real. But all of it felt so real, the pain, the sounds of the growls, everything.

Then, she heard the final snarl along with a yelp and a thud behind her. One of them was dead, which one she wasn't absolutely sure. She heard footsteps coming towards her from behind and she frantically started crawling to the door; she was too far. He lifted her by the arm and pushed her against the wall roughly, though, not enough to cause anymore pain. "Who are you?" it was the one who had fought off crazy-man. She shook, unable to speak. "How did you get down here?" he continued to ask questions while she was unable to find her voice. He shook his head and let go of her arm, causing her to fall to the floor. She kept her eyes on the tile and waited for him to hurt her, too. "You need to leave," he said blankly, taking a step back from her to give her space. She tried standing again but started to lean over. He caught her before she landed on the floor. "Here, I'll just take you back myself. I can't believe Ross did this tonight of all nights." So crazy-man has a name, she thought as he picked her up bridal-style, not as tightly as Ross had done.

She tried to say thank you, tried to ask why Ross had taken her, what was with his eyes, but nothing came out of her mouth. Before they stepped out of the exit he set her gently on the ground and took off the black leather jacket he had been wearing and wrapped it around her. "So you can be warm and people will think you look sleepy." He picked her up again. "Just lean your head on my chest so your chin isn't showing." She did as told and tried her best to at least not get blood on his white shirt; unsuccessful.

He carried her outside just as it had begun to pour. He mumbled something to himself and began jogging down the sidewalk, a few people moving out of his path, others just walking by. He finally got to his black Saab Aero X and held Gemma close to him with one hand, unlocking and opening the door with the other. He sat her on the black leather seat and shut the door before she could say anything. He walked around the front of the car and sat into the driver's seat. He started the car with a low purr and started pulling into the streets. She eyed him for a few minutes, taking note of his black hair and tanned skin.

Gemma coughed silently to see if she could hear anything. She could hear a bit of her voice and she smiled, finally able to speak. She frowned again when she had to ask him questions. "What exactly happened back there?" she asked turning to him.

At first he sat there, blankly staring at the road ahead of him. Then he finally answered with, "Nothing happened, this is just an illusion."

She sighed and crossed her arms. "I'm not exactly in the best mood to be joked with right now, don't be a jerk."

"Oh, fiesty aren't we?" he laughed then returned his focus to the road. "Ross...was having an off night. Normally he doesn't act this way, at least, not on weeknights. Something must've just set off in his head."

"And that's supposed to just make me feel all better and 'forgive' him?"

"No, not at all," he responded shortly. She sighed again and laid her head on the window, feeling the cool temperatures outside eminate through the glass.

"Why me?" she asked eventually.

"He sme-" he stopped suddenly then changed his words, "I don't think there was a real reason. You might've just been the house he was closest to."

"You're not telling me something, what is it?" she asked turning her eyes toward him. It was then she noticed his eyes had changed to a pitch black color.

"If I were hiding something, why would I tell you?" he asked jokingly, though, his eyes didn't match his tone. "Then again, whose to say I'm even hiding anything." He smirked and stopped at an upcoming stop light.

Gemma started to turn, using her legs, so she could say something to him but when she moved her leg she felt something snap and she yelped into the palm of her hand. "We should get you to a doctor," he said changing the subject.

"There's no clinic open this late and the hospital is an hour away. I'll just wait until morning." She gripped onto her leg and waited out the pain. When it subsided she laid her head on the window again. She put a finger to her chin where it had been bleeding and only felt dry blood. She licked her finger and tried to wipe off whatever blood on her chin she could.

"You need to go. I'll just take you to the emergency room. What would your parents say if they woke up and saw you in this condition?"

"They'd ask if I tripped down the stairs again," she chuckled with a small smile. She wondered how they really would take to her telling them "Oh no, Mom and Dad, I didn't fall down the stairs. Some man dressed in all black came into my room last night, kidnapped me, took me to the train station where he broke my leg, and some other guy came in, killed the first guy, then took me home." They'd put her in the looney-bin for sure.

He chuckled at her joke and slightly glanced at her. "What is it?" she asked removing her eyes from the passing buildings and placing them on his face.

"N-Nothing," he said with a stutter and glanced back at the road. She shrugged it off and stared out of the window. The pain seemed to be numbing, though she could feel the sleepiness of her not-so-good night's sleep engulfing her.

Gemma awoke to the guy carrying her into automatic glass doors. She could smell the sterilizing cleaners in the air around her. "What's wrong with her?" a woman's voice asked near her.

"She might have broken her leg, I'm not sure. She fell down a couple stairs at home," he lied passing her to the nurse who then put her on a stretcher.

"We'll take care of it," she said and placed a blanket over Gemma.

Gemma woke up again, back in his car. She looked down at her leg to see nothing around it. "Your leg was only a bit shaken and you had some bruises; nothing that needed a cast," he said from next to her.

"Really? That's a relief. I wouldn't have to explain the cast to my parents." When he didn't say anything she asked him if he would take her home. He only nodded and followed each direction she gave him. "What's your name?" she asked when it had gotten too silent for her to be comfortable.

"Tucker. And you?"

"Gemma."

"That's a real pretty name. Are you italian?" he asked blankly.

"Partially; I'm italian, french, and german."

"Ah, the german explains those blue eyes you have. Your dark hair...the italian. I guess the french is in your petite features," he said slowly observing her with his eyes.

"Wow, you're very observant, huh?"

"You could say that," he said with a smirk.

Before she could say anything the car suddenly came to an immediate stop. "What was that?" she asked frantically. Before he had the time to respond a large claw reached in through her window, wrapping around her waist, and pulled her out. She screamed as loud as she could. It didn't seem to make a difference; the stores were closed, no one was on the streets, no one would hear her but Tucker.

"Let go of her!" he snarled as he chased after Gemma and whoever was carrying her. She balled her hand into a fist and punched him in the small of his back, making him drop her completely. She stood, wobbling a little. Tucker grabbed her arm and looked her in the eyes intensely. "Go into the trunk of my car and pull out the silver dagger I have hidden under the black cloth and bring it to me." She was surprised to know that weapon had been in there but she kept her face straight and did as told. Silver? Why would it have to be silver? she asked herself as she dug through his trunk and finally found the silver dagger. She turned around and saw Tucker was overtop of the strange man, pinning his arms to the ground. "Hurry Gemma!" he yelled without taking his focus off of the guy. She ran toward him with the dagger and handed it to him. "You might not want to look." She nodded, knowing what was coming. She turned around and covered her ears waiting for a yelp or scream from this stranger. All she could hear was the muffled words, "never," "mortals," and "werewolves," within the speech Tucker was giving. She felt his hand on her shoulder and he told her the job was done. She turned to see the stranger was gone, no sign of him left behind.

"What'd you do?" she asked as she got into the car with him.

"Nothing you need to remember."

"Why did the dagger need to be silver?" It felt like the wrong question to ask in the situation she was in but it seemed like it should've been asked. "Why are your eyes now black when they were a golden yellow at the train station? Why were you able to slam Ross or whoever into the wall so hard it cracked? Why were your canines so long and sharp? Why did you need to kill whoever was back there?"

He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel causing the two sides to cave in a few degrees. "Because I'm a werewolf!" he yelled, the blazing yellow back in his eyes.

"Those aren't real," she said with blatent arrogance. Werewolves weren't real, of course not.

Tucker shook his head and sighed. "I'm a werewolf," he repeated more calmly. "I could do all of those things because that's what I am. Silver is the only way to kill a werewolf no matter the form.

It was silent for a while in the car as they just sat in the middle of the road. "What was Ross doing in my home?" she asked not looking at him.

"I meant what I said, he just lost it. He did that every now and again but never attempted to actually kill someone like he was going to do to you. Why he chose you, I'm not sure. I just know he could smell your blood." He glanced down at her bandaged foot.

"How do you know that?"

"Us werewolves can read each others' minds. That is, if we choose to. Ross and I were partnered together so I could keep a close eye on him. Apparently I wasn't watching close enough." He sighed and looked down at the steering wheel where the two dents pointed toward each other. His eyes seemed to go glassy and he put his face in his hands.

She hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. He leaned back again, her hand still on him, and he said, "I hated to do that to him. It just needed to be done." He turned so he was staring into her eyes. His deep onyx eyes were no longer glassy but yearning for something she had no clue. She removed her hand when she noticed the light had turned green. "I'll get you home," he promised turning onto the next road.

"Have you ever done that? Tried to kill someone, I mean, like Ross did?" Gemma asked glancing at him. For some reason she couldn't quite understand, no matter the answer he'd give, she felt she could trust him.

"Once, a long time ago when I was young. It was a girl who had thrown a rock at my head and just completely set me off though; it wasn't at random like how Ross had done." Every now and again he'd glance at her, too.

"Did you succeed?"

"Do you really want to know the bloody details?" he smirked at his pun and pulled into her driveway.

"I guess not." She looked up at the windows taking note that every light was out. "Good, they're not up." She looked at the clock on the dashboard. "And it's only three thirty-seven; I'll get a good two and a half hours of sleep," she stated sighing. Tucker chuckled and walked around the car before she had a chance to open the door herself. He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her out gently. "You don't need to carry me, I think I'm fine," she said sincerely, pushing down his hand. She took one step and stumbled. He grabbed her around the waist before she hit the cement.

"I think we should stick to the safe side." He smiled and lifted her up and walked toward the house.

"How are we getting in?" she thought out loud knowing the front door would be too noisy.

Before she could continue her thought, Tucker had leapt into the air, landing on her window sill. She tried not to squeal and wrapped her arms around his neck, afraid they were surely going to fall. He pushed open the window and stepped onto the window seat still holding onto her. "We're safe inside now," he said as he shut the windows behind him. She hesitantly loosened her grip on his neck and looked around her. She sighed with relief to see the familiar space. He set her on the ground and she twirled around her room.

"Yes, finally, my room." She sat onto the bed and looked up at Tucker. "Want to come sit?" she asked sincerely, patting the space on the mattress next to her. He hesitated for a moment then sat on the bed next to her. "So, how would one become a werewolf?" she asked looking him dead in the eyes.

"Well, normally you're just born that way. But there are some who are born with the gene but don't fully become a werewolf until they're much older."

"So, what you're saying is, I could happen to have the gene right now and become a werewolf, oh, say, twenty years from now?" she asked skeptically.

"Basically how it works," he said with a smirk. Tucker was so close to Gemma that she could feel the heat eminating from his skin. She pondered some more questions and he answered most, some he kept to himself. "You know, I've never been able to feel this way, so trusting, toward someone else; it's new."

She smiled and laid back on the bed, the aching in her body converging with her sleepyness. He laid back with her, facing his body toward her. "I'm glad I could be of service," she responded jokingly. "I'm glad you can trust me with that type of information." He smiled now, pushing back a stray hair that had escaped her ponytail. She could feel him moving closer, and she wasn't going to stop him.
But instead of kissing her, he stood from the bed and leaned his back against the wall across from her. "I have to go before the others catch on to where I am."

"Oh," she said with obvious reluctance. He smiled gently; she knew she couldn't stop him. He slowly walked over to her again, placing a hand on the end of her bed post. "Do you think we could see each other again?" she asked staring up at him.

"I'm not sure, maybe. Let's leave that up to fate." She smiled despite herself and he slowly leaned down to place his lips on her's. It was a soft and gentle kiss and he lingered before taking a step back. "Good-bye, Gemma." Then he disappeared through the window, the black curtains fluttering behind him.

She placed an index finger on her lips, feeling the tingling sensation his lips left there. She sighed and laid down on her bed, happy that the night would soon be over, only missing him.

Gemma woke with a start when her alarm went off at six o'clock in the morning. She glanced down at the clock and gripped it in both hands. "How'd that get set back?" she asked herself, her hair falling in her face. She pushed it back strictly remembering it had been in a ponytail. She looked down at herself to see she was in the pajamas she had been in earlier. "What is..." she started to ask as she felt her chin, cutless, looked down at her foot, cutless as well, felt her leg, better than ever. She shook her head then thought of one last thing. She ran to the bathroom; the mirror sat on the rack unharmed. "But...it couldn't have been a dream! It just couldn't!" she yelled waking her parents.

"What a way to start the morning," her mother said stepping out of the door. "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah. I'm fine," she said reluctantly. Maybe she had been right about that looney-bin.

She got changed into the same outfit she had originally planned to wear to school and slipped on her all black converses. She ran down the stairs without the limp and kissed her mom on the cheek goodbye. She practically ran through the halls of school after getting there, knowing she'd be late.

She slammed into the wooden door just before the tardy bell rang and sat down in her usual seat. She only barely noticed a new kid was sitting behind her before she had plopped into her seat and began writing down notes. Once the teacher had gotten distracted she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Hello," the familiar voice said. She turned slowly to find the face she had grown familiar with staring back at her. The black hair, the onyx eyes, the tanned skin, even the leather jacket she had been wearing in the dream. "My name is Tucker," he said outstretching his hand toward her for her to shake. "I'm a new student and I have to say, I think it's fate we met."