myrrh

Chapter 2

All that was established among both species as cold hard truth was that vampires were heartless, frigid, cruel creatures, that cared for nothing but blood and allocating pain amongst the humans they looked down on. According to our lessons in school, vampires had populated the Earth for about as long, or even longer than humans. Soulless animals that strayed from the sun, slept during the day and feasted in the blanket of night, and were extremely difficult to kill. But, with the wolves' help, acting as an army, we outnumbered the leeches, eradicating the entire species in less than two months. Of course, it was not an easy battle. Thousands of lives were lost, human and wolf alike. After the bloodshed and turmoil, a peace treaty was signed, and the wolves were integrated into society as an independent species and treated as equals.

At least, they were supposed to.

Werewolves nowadays are treated more as minorities, though they take up most of the population. Even though their numbers amass a staggering fifty-two percent of the population, jobs for them were hard to come by. Regardless of how some of them acted, even my father could not forget or underappreciate our history with them, nor the sacrifices they made for us. Most people treat them kindly enough to their faces but talk down on them behind closed doors, and the lack of high-paying, respectable jobs reflected how we truly thought of them: less. Different.

They mostly settled on construction work, plumbers and janitors, or low-paying minimum wage jobs. They never complained, though, and did whatever work they had to do with pride. Humans just chalked it up to them being satisfied with not having to hide anymore, and being able to be out in the open without fear of death or prosecution.

I had been born in the busy metropolis and high glamor of San Jose, California, where my parents had been high school sweethearts and wed during their sophomore year of college. Shortly after they had steady jobs I was conceived, my father never letting me live down the fact that I was a 'surprise.' There was hardly any fooling me, and I knew the real word for what I had been: accident. I lived in California for seven glorious years before my parents yanked me out of school and away from what little friends I had managed to make in my short career of education and moved me across the country to Sabre Falls, Maine.

At first, I was frustrated and unhappy. I was perfectly happy living out my seven-year-old life in California. However, my seven-year-old self was highly unaware of the dangers that living in San Jose had presented. According to the treaty, werewolves were not to hurt humans. It did not seem to stop them from causing 'uh-ohs' that harmed humans, however. From fireworks to the gas station fiasco presented in my father's daily paper, any example I could fathom had probably, and more than likely, befallen at a human life's expense.

Sabre Falls had been kinder, much less dangerous. I was free to explore the forest after a few days of settling in and my parents becoming acquainted with pretty much the entirety of the town, werewolves included. The forest had become my safe place, a refuge as I grew older away from my parents and the stuffy, older than them put-together house they had shoved me into. I loved being outside exploring, discovering all that the earth had to offer, and accepting all of the dirt under my fingernails that came with it with happiness.

I pushed away from the table and set my plate gently in the bottom of the sink. "I'm off then," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Is Mako walking you?" Mom asked kindly, and Dad snorted. Gee, Mom, thanks for feeding the beast.

"Of course," I replied as if it was anything new.

"Shouldn't you be walking the pooch, not the other way around?" My old man called out to me as I headed outside. I quickly shut the door behind me as I spotted my bronze-skinned friend leaning on my mailbox. I walked up to him and he held out a fist, which I returned gratefully, bumping my balled-up hand against his.