Epilogue

Epilogue

One Month Later

“State your name for the committee,” the DONHE judge said.

“Wendell Howley-Kirkwood,” Wendell said, standing up straighter. It took everything he had not to tug at the tight collar of his stiff, buttoned-up shirt.

“And what are you here for today?” the judge asked in a dull, monotone voice.

“To cede my role as alpha in the Wolfinger-Hedlund and the Wolfeiler-Strohm packs,” Wendell said, fighting the urge to cringe.

The revelation that K.C. and Stevie were behind everything still set his teeth on edge. He clenched his jaw.

Next to him, Cayden laid his hand on top of Wendell’s.

“Breathe, Wen,” Cayden said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Thankfully, this wasn’t a trial with a full jury. If it were, Wendell shuddered to think what his odds would be, especially knowing how prejudiced DONHE was to werewolves. Instead, it was a small panel of DONHE officials and higher ups.

It still wasn’t ideal, but it could be worse.

“I inherited the role of alpha upon the deaths of the original alpha of the Wolfeiler-Strohm pack and the death of Stevie Wolfinger-Hedlund at the hands of a monster hunter, Violet Sword,” Wendell said.

When he name-dropped Violet, a sea of whispers and muttering rose from the seven DONHE officials on the panel.

“I wasn’t aware of what my actions did in July 1993 when I killed the alpha before I was bitten,” Wendell said in a confident voice, just like he practiced with Cayden and a “panel” of Howley-Kirkwoods the night before. It came out sounding so good, he cheered inside.

But his victory was short-lived.

“Ignorance,” the judge said firmly, writing onto the pad in front of him, “doesn’t absolve you of the consequence of your actions.”

“Well, I was twelve and had no idea I was about to, you know, become a werewolf, let alone that werewolves actually existed,” Wendell said bluntly.

The judge noted something else down on his pad, shaking his head the whole time.

“I’ve already spoken with the next ranking werewolves of the Wolfinger-Hedlund pack and they’re fully prepared to step into the role of alpha now that Lupa, Dacian, and Stevie are dead. They’re eager to get started once I officially cede, like I’m trying to do right now,” Wendell said, trying to keep his temper.

“And that’s obstruction of DONHE now,” the judge said, writing it down.

“How is that ‘obstruction’ if I’m already the alpha speaking to ‘my’ pack?” Wendell said.

“I’d advise you to use your words very carefully Mr. Howley-Kirkwood, this is a courtroom,” the judge warned.

“I’m sorry,” Wendell said in his best professional voice without meaning it.

“As it is, you’re not in good standing in this court. You still haven’t completed your yearly physical at a DONHE center or with a DONHE-compliant doctor. As you were informed when you were first bitten, noncompliance runs with the consequence of jail time. But in light of recent events–”

“Recent events like my case worker being murdered? Or recent events like my case worker being murdered by a lyc chaser who infiltrated your organization pretending to be my case worker? I didn’t refuse to comply, I had no options,” Wendell said dryly.

“You interrupt me again, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood, and I can hold you in contempt of this court,” the judge said coldly.

“I’m sorry,” Wendell said, still not meaning it. “None of what happened to me was normal, and I don’t think the normal rules should be held against me.”

“Ahh, so you believe the rules don’t apply to you,” the judge said, shaking his head again.

“I didn’t say that,” Wendell insisted. “I was just advocating for myself.”

“That’s what your lawyer would be here for, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood. But you turned down legal representation,” the judge said darkly.

“I didn’t turn it down. I have a lawyer, but you changed this hearing at the last minute. He wasn’t available on such short notice,” Wendell said, growing more frustrated by the minute with how this was going.

“Blaming your lack of representation on your lawyer’s absence and incompetence isn’t the way to win this case or earn our favor, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood,” the judge said sternly.

“I’m not doing any of that. I’d like to request we move this hearing to another date,” Wendell tried.

“It’s too late for that, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood,” the judge said. “We’ve already started proceedings. We’re not going to cease them.”

Cayden leaned in and whispered, “You’re okay, Wen. You can do this.”

“As it is, you’re fortunate that we approved your request to have your husband, Cayden Howley-Kirkwood, accompany you,” the judge said, looking at the duo with unmasked disdain.

“Don’t let them rev you up,” Cayden whispered. “They want you to lose your cool.”

“Can I request a recess to speak with my husband?” Wendell tried.

“No,” the judge said bluntly.

Wendell sighed.

“What is it, now, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood?” the judge asked unsympathetically.

“If you were in my position, how would you feel?” Wendell said unflinchingly.

“That’s a very childish thing to ask, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood. I advise the next words that leave you are spoken with more care,” the judge said.

“It’s not childish, your honor. It’s human. I know that everyone here has been against me before I even opened my mouth. But this isn’t about me. Not really. This is about a pack that’s grieving and that needs an alpha. I’m pleading with you today not for me, but for them,” Wendell said.

“Please accept my request to cede my role as alpha for both the Wolfinger-Hedlund and the Wolfeiler-Strohm packs. I have existing obligations as alpha of the Howley-Kirkwood pack with my husband, Cayden Howley-Kirkwood. It’s not realistic or sustainable to expect me to carry on in the role of alpha and undertake all of the alpha duties for the Wolfinger-Hedlund pack. I’d also request that your honor and the court acknowledge that the Wolfeiler-Strohm pack no longer exists and ought not be recognized as a werewolf pack going forward,” Wendell continued.

“The panel and I will discuss your request. Please remove yourselves to the hallway while we make our final decision. An official from the panel will return to retrieve you in less than an hour,” the judge said blandly. He waved a hand to shoo them out.

“You did it, Wen,” Cayden said, embracing Wendell in the hallway.

“Barely,” Wendell said with a nervous laugh. He relaxed into Cayden’s warm hold. “They might turn me down entirely… and then I’ll be forced to be the alpha of two packs.”

“You’re not going to be the alpha of two packs, Wen. If they try to pull that on us, we’ll fight them. We still have a case against the werewolf division for those agents who strip-searched you last month,” Cayden reminded Wendell. “I think we should rethink going after them. I know you said you want to move on from it and don’t want to dredge up the past, but I think it might be necessary. What if they do what they did to you to other men and women? At the very least, it’d show them that they won’t keep getting away with how they treat us.”

“You called them men and women and not werewolves,” Wendell said, feeling shocked by Cayden’s choice of words.

“It’s important to you, and that makes it important to me, too, Wen,” Cayden said soothingly.

Wendell pulled Cayden into a kiss.

The couple was still kissing when one of the DONHE officials broke them up with a disgusted look on her face. “We’re ready for you.”

Wendell took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Holding Cayden’s hand, he returned to the courtroom.

“Our decision is made,” the judge started, picking up his gavel. “We hereby grant your request to cede your role as alpha in the Wolfinger-Hedlund and the Wolfeiler-Strohm packs.” He whacked the gavel against its block. “The court is dismissed, and you’re free to go, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Wendell cheered in the parking lot.

“I had no doubts,” Cayden declared, unlocking his sleek SUV with his key fob.

“I still can’t believe everything that happened,” Wendell said as he slid into the passenger seat next to his husband. “It feels like a fever dream. All of it. I can’t decide what the freakiest part of it was. K.C. still being alive after all of those years, or Stevie being so… so… evil and working with him.”

“It’s a lot to take in. It’s okay that you’re still processing it, Wen. I’m not going to tell you to get over it. None of us are,” Cayden said reassuringly.

By “us”, Cayden meant the rest of the Howley-Kirkwood pack.

Wendell moved back into the house he lived in with Cayden when they were happily married … well, sort of.

He decided to split his time between his current house and his old house with Cayden in the Howley-Kirkwood packlands neighborhood. After the night of the Super Blood Moon, he started to move some of his things back to the house. Now he didn’t even need to pack a bag before staying with Cayden anymore. It was almost like old times.

Today was the first day of his three-night monthly moonset, and he was eager to spend it running free in the packlands with Cayden instead of chained in a mini moving van in the remote woods like he had been.

“I wish you’d reconsider…” Cayden started. But he shook his head. “Actually, never mind.”

“One day I’ll move back in again full time, Cayden,” Wendell said, “But right now I want to do this. I want to be with you, but I also want time and a space for myself away from the pack. I thought you were okay with that.”

“I am!” Cadyden said quickly. There was panic in his green eyes, as if he was bracing himself for Wendell to say he changed his mind. His face went paler, and his freckles stood out more than they usually did.

“Cayden, I’m not going to change my mind,” Wendell reassured his husband. “Speaking of changing minds though, I wonder how Violet is doing.”

“Baking cakes and shooting more pre-pubescent werewolves, probably,” Cayden said cheekily. But still, there was an edge of sadness in his voice.

“I was the one who brought Violet her crossbow. She lost it on Hollow Road the night she went after me,” Wendell confessed. His stomach swooped and twisted and his heart thudded in his ears. “Stevie’s death is on my hands.”

For a moment, there was silence between them. The only noise between them was the ticking of Cayden’s turn signal.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that, actually,” Cayden finally said.

“And?” Wendell cringed, bracing himself for his husband’s reaction.

“I think Stevie was beyond saving,” Cayden said heavily. “You heard how happy he was when he talked about killing Todd and deliberately killing his would-be siblings. The kid was definitely a sociopath.”

“But did he need to die for it?” Wendell mused.

“He never would’ve stopped until you were dead, Wen,” Cayden insisted, “there was no other way.”

“But K.C.,” Wen started.

“You heard him, Wen, even as a werewolf, he was a lyc chaser through and through. If he were still alive, imagine all of the people he’d be biting. He was a danger to everyone around him.”

“You’re not wrong,” Wendell sighed. “I just wish there was another way.”

“I understand,” Cayden said, holding one of his hands over one of Wendell’s for a moment. “Do you need to stop by your house to grab anything? We’re about to pass by it.”

“Nope,” Wendell said, “Aurora already has Mary Shelley and all of her things.”

Still, Cayden drove them down Wendell’s street. A car Wendell had never seen before was parked by his house.

Probably someone visiting one of my neighbors, Wendell thought. Most of the driveways on his street were on the shorter end, so street parking wasn’t uncommon. Still, he felt a surge of anxiety about DONHE possibly changing their mind and one of their agents making a house call. He suddenly wanted to get as far away from his house as possible.

As if reading his mind, Cayden sped up.

Eager to change the subject, as Cayden merged onto the highway Wendell jumped onto the next topic he wanted to bring up.

“I dreamed about Wylan last night. He had blue hair and was hitchhiking in the desert,” Wendell said. “I haven’t dreamed about him in forever.”

“Twintuition?” Cayden asked.

“What?” Wendell laughed.

“Twintution. Twin intuition. Isn’t that a thing?”

Wylan Batty by Brooke Helton

“In movies and books! In real life, not so much. He’s predictable, though. I don’t need to get into his head to know what he’s thinking or doing. Dying his hair and hitchhiking in a desert is very on brand for him,” Wendell said. “This is probably just one of the side effects from the retrocognition that Aurora put me through last month.”

“If you say so,” Cayden said skeptically.

“I have a writing update for you,” Wendell said. “I finished the rest of those short stories I started last year. I’m swapping them in for some of the other stories in my original manuscript.”

Writing was one of Wendell’s biggest passions. In his thirty-two years, he wrote hundreds of short stories and three whole novels that he confessed would never see the light of day.

“Are you actually going to send them to that werewolf writing agent I introduced you to this time?” Cayden asked.

“You mean literary agent,” Wendell laughed. “And no. I want to do this on my own, without any werewolf influence. The first time I tried to query those short stories, I only had twenty rejections,” Wendell tried to say it casually, but it still stung. He could remember all of them in vivid detail. “Now my stories are even stronger, so already I’m better off than I was the first time. Plus, I’ve heard it can take as many as a hundred rejections to get a yes.”

“So eighty to go?” Cayden said.

“Eighty to go,” Wendell affirmed. “If that many agents reject me, then I’ll talk to your werewolf agent.”

“I’m with you, whatever you choose,” Cayden said. “And if you want to quit teaching and write full-time, I can support you. I can support us.”

“Right… even though Silvia was, you know, murdered, her notes did give me the all clear to return. I still can’t believe she was shot right in front of me,” Wendell shook his head. “I still have nightmares about that bullet smashing through the window and killing her.”

“I know a werewolf therapist who’d be willing to take you on in an instant, Wen,” Cayden said as he took the exit ramp.

In minutes, they were within the Howley-Kirkwood pack’s neighborhood.

Wendell felt a rush of relief pour over him to be back in his territory. His whole body relaxed, and he let out a long breath. Next to him, he saw Cayden smile.

“I’d like that, Cayden,” Wendell said.

“So what are you going to tell your boss? Principal Penman, right?” Cayden asked as he pulled into their driveway.

“I want to give teaching another shot. I kind of miss those kids. I can do without the ones who called me Mr. Fatty, though.”

“They’d have to be very creative to come up with an insult for you now, Mr. Howley-Kirkwood,” Cayden said lovingly.

“Don’t underestimate the creativity of ten-year-olds,” Wendell laughed.

Hand in hand, Cayden and Wendell went into the house.

Wendell was home.

Cayden and Wen by Rachel Tomis

This may be the end of Wendell’s story, but Millennial Monsters is far from over! There are several exciting things on the horizon for Wen and his friends. From more bonus content to surprising spinoffs, keep an eye out for more releases here! 👀

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