How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(11) Backstreet Wolves

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"Do you really think that Hunter Trinidad bought you that outfit?" Ronny said as we walked through the mall towards the exit. "That is soooo adorbs. He totally wants the P. And I don't mean your name or anything, I mean your p--"

                  "Ronny, this is serious!"

                   "Okay, okay! Then we need to contact the police or something."

                  "Ronny only stays updated with the latest fashion magazine so he has no idea what to do," Gary said, bitterness in his voice. "Last I heard, Hunter was killing random people that crossed his path and leaving prostitutes to die. The County Sheriff has tried to kick him out many times, but his pack is intimidating as hell."

                  "His pack? What do you mean by that? I know that Sin Trinidad is part of his family's pack, and apparently Hunter has made his own. Is he an Alpha wolf or something, then?"

                  "I'm not sure, I'm just assuming from what I've heard," Gary said, then shared a long look with his brother. "If he is, then you're in deep shit, Pepper."

                  "Just how famous are the Trinidad's here that you know all of this?"

                  "I don't know, you hear things," he said. "There's a lot of gruesome stories about Hunter. Stories that keep parents' children in their beds at night and not wondering around the neighborhood."

                  "Are they true? Can you tell them to me?"

                  Ronny looked at Gary and they shared a look. "Not all of them can be true," was all Gary said.

                  "Hunter has to be screwing with me. He's absolutely, positively, screwing with me," I concluded, trying to shake myself free from the jittery feeling I was getting that made me constantly look behind us. "He wants me to think that he's doing something nice for me. Maybe this is his way of fooling me into letting him into my house or something. Do werewolves and vampires need permission into someone's' house like in all of the movies? Oh god, I'm going to have a blind, psychotic werewolf knocking at my door at midnight tonight and hypnotizing me into letting me into my house to slaughter my entire family, aren't I?"

                  "They have to ask for permission or be touched by someone through the doorway," Gary replied meeting my eyes for a moment, then stared back at the ground. "There's an old wives tale that the first hybrid vampire-werewolf was a rich, respected man that cared only for his reputation. The tale says that one day, the hybrid's son felt spiteful forwards his selfish father that he disrespectfully ran into their neighbors house to play with the little boy who lived there, without asking for the owner of the house's permission."

"And I thought my dad was strict for not letting me eat sugar past nine," I muttered.

"The father was so outraged by his son's misbehavior that he had his son and his entire family cursed by a witch to be well-mannered for an eternity," Gary continued, deep in thought. "And as their genetic mutations and the werewolf gene and the vampire gene's separation became more common than a hybrid being born, each species shared the same genetic curse. Every single time they come to someone's doorstep, they have to persuade or be welcomed in by a resident of the household or they can't get inside."