Book Two Wylan: Chapter 12

Let the Good Times Roll

Chapter 12: Let the Good Times Roll

September 2013

Two crescent moons hung in the purple night sky as Wylan crept through Tamsin Thorncott’s garden.

London, chained as always to his golden post, was hunched in a corner. He was muttering something to himself over and over.

“London,” Wylan hissed, “London, what is it?”

London’s mumbling wasn’t making sense.

Wylan tiptoed to the little boy. “London!” He whispered.

The boy continued mumbling, holding his stationary, hunched position. He refused to turn to look at or acknowledge Wylan.

“London, are you okay?” Wylan asked, feeling dread unfurl in his stomach. His heart pulsing in his throat and ears, Wylan went around to face the boy.

“When you killed her, you killed me too,” London muttered. He was enveloped in shadows.

“What?” Wylan whispered.

“When you killed her, you killed me too,” London repeated. His words were heavy and flat.

“Tamsin’s dead! You’re free, London!” Wylan whispered.

“When you killed her, you killed me too. When you killed her, you killed me too. When you killed her, you killed me too, ” London droned.

“No, London! She has no power over you anymore. She’s dead!” Wylan urged, “Please, look at me!”

London repeated himself over and over.

Wylan leaned in to get a closer look.

London’s eyes were gouged out and his face was decaying. The graying flesh revealed bits of bone and was pocked with squirming worms and other bugs that feasted on the dead.

“WHEN YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED ME TOO! WHEN YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED ME TOO! WHEN YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED ME TOO!” London screamed, turning his mutilated, ruined, face to stare at Wylan.

“No, no, no, no,” Wylan moaned. “No, no, no.”

London lunged for him.

Wylan woke up screaming.

Soaked in sweat with his heart racing, Wylan lurched off the couch and sprinted for the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before a wave of vomit spewed out of him. He gagged and retched as the images of London’s decaying face spun around and around in his head like a demented carousel.

“No, no, no,” Wylan chanted. He wasn’t in Tamsin Thorncott’s realm. He was on the cold tile floor of Wen’s bathroom, hunched in front of a puke-splattered toilet. His throat burned and was so constricted he was forced to pant, quick, shallow breaths. You’re here, you’re here, you’re here, Wylan insisted, trying to convince himself.

Quivering all over, he shakily rose to his feet and rinsed his pukey mouth out and splashed warm water onto his face. Shivering and trembling like he was getting over a wicked case of the flu, Wylan hobbled back into the living room.

He’d kill for some dust or pills right now.

Fuck me for not stashing some here for an emergency, Wylan seethed to himself. Still, he ripped the room apart on the off chance there were some drugs. Nada. He screamed into his pillow. Fine. He’d go back to the Midnight Market then.

Feet pounding into the ground like he wanted to stomp it into oblivion, Wylan charged around, tearing all of the rooms apart, scouring them from top to bottom. He searched every drawer in sight for cash or cards. But like his quest for drugs, his money search didn’t turn up so much as a goddamn penny.

“FUCK!” He pounded his fist into the wall. The money had to be here. Wen couldn’t magic it away. He was a werewolf not a warlock after all. Werewolves didn’t do witchcraft.

“Wen’s probably sleeping with them in his fucking pillow,” Wylan seethed.

“I’m what now?” Wen’s voice, heavy with sleepiness, said from the staircase. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and he rubbed at his glassy blue eyes with the heels of his hand. “What the hell is happening down here?”

“THE MONEY! WHERE THE FUCK IS IT!” Wylan lunged for his brother.

“What money?” Wen said cracking his neck. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now, Wylan.” He had the audacity to yawn.

It infuriated Wylan.

“THE MONEY! DON’T PLAY FUCKING STUPID!” Wylan snarled.

“Wylan, I don’t know what’s happening. It’s three in the morning for god’s sake,” Wen said, his face crumpling with exhaustion and exasperation.

“Just give me the fucking money!”

“Money for what?” Wen snapped. “You woke me up out of a dead sleep, Wylan. I have no clue what you’re going on about.”

Finally. Finally. FINALLY he was showing more of a reaction than sleepiness. Wylan latched on and he wasn’t gonna let go.

“YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S FOR YOU FUCKTARD! NOW GIVE IT TO ME!”

“I’m not giving you anything Wylan. Especially with you screaming at me,” Wen said. Wylan could hear him fighting to keep his temper reined in. Good. At least he was feeling something other than fucking disappointment for once.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH! I WILL FUCK YOU UP!” Wylan raged.

“Aaanddd now you’re threatening me. What am I going to do with you Wylan?” Wen sighed.

There it was again. The fucking disappointment. Wen wasn’t gonna tell him where the money was? Fine. Wylan would find it himself.

Wylan shoved Wen and bolted up the stairs for Wen’s bedroom. But it looked like with along with his weight loss Wen had faster reflexes too. Wylan dove straight for Wen’s pillow, to see if he really was sleeping with his cash and cards in the cottony pillowcase when Wen intercepted him. Wen snatched the pillow and hurled it out of the room into the hallway.

Wylan pivoted ready to sprint, only to have Wen block him. He was standing as firmly and unmovingly as a stone elemental.

“Get out of my way, Wen,” Wylan grit out.

“No,” Wen said.

“Get out of my way, or I’ll make you regret it,” Wylan warned.

“I don’t think you will,” Wen said patiently.

“Wanna test that?” Wylan sneered.

“You don’t really want to hurt me, Wylan,” Wen said unflinchingly.

“I fucking hate you, you dumb shit! Just get out of my way and let me GO!” Wylan seethed, kneeing his brother in the crotch and shoving him to the ground as hard as he could.

As Wen coughed and sputtered on the floor, Wylan sprinted for his car keys. He needed out. Now. He slammed the front door behind him and threw himself into his car. Jamming the key into the ignition, he pounded his foot on the gas and shot off.

“Fuck this, fuck him!” Wylan raged. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to get away. His anger blinded him to all sense of time and space. It was just him and the blackness of the open road stretching out.

He was vaguely aware of a sign warning him that he was entering Silver Mine Road.

His radio kept fizzing and crackling in and out. What was driving without music? Swearing, he fumbled for his favorite CD, swerving around a pothole in the road. He popped the disc in and swerved around another hole.

“The fuck is up with this road?” Wylan rolled his eyes. The road began to twist and turn, and Wylan continued to dodge the crumbling holes.

He cranked the volume, and Prince’s falsetto blared through his speakers. Singing and grooving to the music, Wylan pressed harder on the gas, loving the feeling of whipping around the tight and winding streets. He rolled his window down and the air rushed through, yanking at his hair. He whooped at the top of his lungs. He felt good. He felt great.

As he curved down another twisty road, a deer with a huge rack of antlers darted across the road, aiming straight for Wylan’s car.

“FUCK!” Wylan wrenched at the wheel, spinning it to swerve around the deer. It was happening in slow motion, like he was dancing in a rave with strobe lights, the car flipping over. Over. Over. It was like being on a roller coaster. “Wooo!” Wylan cheered, raising his arms.

This is really happening. There was no way he could stop it, so grinning, he leaned back and enjoyed the ride.

The noises cut into his excitement, the scraping and grinding of metal against asphalt and glass cracking and shattering, spraying out and stinging his face. The airbag punched into his chest and everything went black.

***

The quiet hit him first. His CD wasn’t playing anymore. Then his unusual position.

Wylan was upside down.

He was still seat belted in and the airbag was still protruding out. He yanked the keys out of the ignition and stabbed into the puffy blob, deflating it. A part of him wanted to scream. But the other part was resigned.

“Stupid deer, ruining my night,” Wylan grumbled. Although it wasn’t night anymore. The sun was rising.

“It’d serve him right if I hit the fucker.”

But it was too late to ponder the vehicular homicide of sprinting stags. Someone was going to find him at any point. Then he’d really have it.

“I’m done for. Fuck,” Wylan groaned.

He could unclip himself but then he’d fall and probably have internal injuries on top of all of the other shit he was dealing with. As it was, he didn’t think he had a concussion or anything. Yeah, he passed out, but that could’ve been from the shock of the roll over accident, not because of any sort of head injury. His head didn’t hurt too bad at least. Yeah it was a little achey, but that was probably from the puking and dehydration. Didn’t it need to be excruciatingly throbbing for it to be a concussion?

“I’m totally fine,” Wylan said, trying to convince himself.

The unmistakable sound of a car approaching made Wylan’s entire body tense up. His heart pounded in his throat and his body flooded with prickling heat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted.

The car stopped and two sets of footsteps pounded the pavement.

“WYLAN!” A familiar voice screamed.

Wen.

Wen was here.

“Wen?” Wylan asked, angling to try to get a look at his brother.

Wen’s horrified face looked at him from the window. Cayden was with him.

“We have to get him out! Now!” Wen shrieked.

“The tow truck driver you called when Violet and Dirk attacked you was Inga Thistle, right? We’ll call her before we do anything. We don’t want to hurt Wylan,” Cayden said calmly. “Do you remember her number?”

“NO AMBULANCES, NO POLICE, NO DONHE!” Wylan screamed.

“What do you mean?!” Wen screamed back, ugly crying. “You need help, Wylan!”

“And he’ll get help,” Cayden said, hugging Wen from behind. “Wylan, Inga doesn’t report to DONHE. Right, Wen?”

Still ugly crying, Wen nodded.

“She should be able to flip his car back over and we’ll be able to get him out,” Cayden explained soothingly.

“I c-can’t believe you did this!” Wen wailed.

“It’s the deer’s fault,” Wylan huffed. “And I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Wen laughed hysterically.

Now I need to calm him down. Some things really do never change, Wylan thought bitterly.

Cayden took Wen’s phone and found the contact for Inga. The poor service on the road meant the call dropped multiple times and it took twice as long as it should’ve for Cayden to get a hold of her. But he did.

“Inga’s on her way,” Cayden said, hugging Wen again and rubbing his back.

He’s always such a baby, Wylan rolled his eyes. “Is she a werewolf too?” Wylan asked to get Wen to stop blubbering.

“N-no. Sh-she’s p-part tr-troll,” Wen stuttered, still crying.

“Gross,” Wylan said, wrinkling his nose. Now his head was starting to hurt. Probably from being upsidefuckingdown for god knows how long I’ve been like this. It was more of a dizzy hurt than a painful hurt at least.

Wylan closed his eyes, wishing Prince was singing again. He hummed to himself and drifted back into the black of unconsciousness.

A whirring mechanical noise and the rolling motion of Wylan’s car turning over again woke him up. He blearily blinked his eyes open to see he was right side up again. The car was practically crushed in around him, and the windshield was shattered.

“Fuck,” he groaned again.

He was drifting above his body instead of in it, and watched as Cayden hauled him out of the car. He was vaguely aware of his breathing coming out hard and fast as he counted the freckles standing out on Cayden’s milk-white face.

Then he was up, standing on two shaky legs. As he crashed back into his body, in slow-mo, again, he collapsed to the patch of grass and dirt beneath him. Looks like his car had rolled a few feet off the road onto the surrounding forest.

“The gang’s all here,” Wylan slurred, looking from Wen to Cayden and then back again.

Wen rushed over and pulled him into an embrace.

Wylan squirmed away from the hug, “How’d you find me?”

“I saw you dead on the side of the road!” Wen cried. “I recognized where you were immediately.”

“What are you psychic now?” Wylan said, his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth.

“Aurora put me through retrocognition a few months ago. She told me she didn’t know what the long-term side effects would be. Maybe this is one of them,” Wen said seriously.

Wylan shivered. Wen wasn’t fucking around with him. “Right. Cool,” he said. His throat felt raw.

“I’ll go talk to Inga,” Cayden said, taking charge.

“Don’t let DONHE take my car!” Wylan snapped.

“They’re not,” Cayden said.

At the same time, Wen cut in with, “Why are you so afraid of DONHE?”

“I don’t need them impounding my fucking car, Wendell!”

“It looks like it might be a total loss, boys,” Inga said, surveying the damage.

She certainly looked half troll. She was nearly seven feet tall and was built like a WWE wrestler.

“I can take it to my body shop for now until you decide what you want to do with it,” she said.

“Yeah. Right. That,” Wylan said, saluting Inga.

As she loaded Wylan’s battered car onto her truck, Wylan turned to Wen and Cayden.

“No hospitals, and no DONHE. I’m serious,” he said fiercely.

“Wylan, your car rolled over while you were in it! Of course you’re going to get cleared at the hospital!” Wen insisted.

“No, no, no, NO!” Wylan argued.

“How about Lucan looks you over then? He’s a doctor in our pack,” Cayden explained to Wylan. “The Howley-Kirkwood packlands aren’t far from here. I’ll give him a call.”

“That’s fine, I guess,” Wylan grumbled.

***

Later that day, Wylan woke up on the couch. . . . to see Wen sitting across from him, holding a steaming mug of tea and staring.

“Geeze! Some space, please. Lucan already said I don’t have a concussion. You don’t need to sit there watching me all Edward Cullen-y.”

“I thought you’d want to hear about your car, but if you don’t want to, I’ll go,” Wen said, rising.

“Don’t be a little bitch, Wen, I’m not in the mood,” Wylan cracked his neck and scrunched his shoulders. He was stiff, scorching hot, and itchy all over. Like little bugs were crawling on… no … under his skin, he dug his blunt fingernails into the skin of both of his arms and scratched with all his might.

“Fine. Your car isn’t in good shape, but it’s salvageable. You’re going to give yourself a rash if you keep scratching like that,” Wen warned, “Then you might get an infection.”

“Salvageable,” Wylan repeated. “And you’re infection.”

“That means it can be fixed,” Wen explained.

“I know what ‘salvageable’ means, Wen,” Wylan said dryly, still scratching. “I’m just surprised, okay?”

“The repair fees … they’re … extensive,” Wen said. Wylan could tell he wanted to wring his hands together, but couldn’t because of the mug.

“More than twenty-five dollars?” Wylan said with a dark chuckle.

“Way more than twenty-five dollars,” Wen agreed.

“Fuck me,” Wylan sighed. “Troll lady didn’t tell DONHE, right? You’re absofuckinglutely sure?”

“Why are you so fixated on DONHE, Wylan?”

“Why are you not?! I thought you hated them,” Wylan said.

“I do, but it doesn’t explain why you’re so afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. It’s just that my car … kind of … sort of … belongs to one of my exes, okay?”

“I know,” Wen said.

“You know?!” Wylan sputtered.

“Inga told me when she ran the plates. Wylan, you are so lucky she doesn’t report to DONHE. What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t steal it first. My ex stole it from one of his exes,” Wylan explained. “So it was already a stolen car when I … borrowed it. Don’t make such a big deal about it, Wen. It’s whatever.”

“I think we have different definitions of ‘whatever’, Wylan,” Wen said. “Anyways, you want your car back? I can help you. But you need to follow the conditions in the contract. No more games.”

Wylan is really in for it now! With his car basically reduced to scrap metal he’s gonna have to start living by Wen’s rules! Can our blue-haired, chaotic, gay disaster turn his life around? Get a up close and personal look next Friday July 3rd in Chapter 13 “The Man in the Mirror.” ✨🪞🗝️

(P.S. If you read Wen’s story in Book One, I hope you loved all the little nods to the parts of his story in this chapter!)