Life With A Werewolf (Book)

Rated: 18+ · Book · Horror/Scary · #2284649

Adventures In Living With The Mythical

A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues.

About "Life With A Werewolf"

Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Friday unless I can't or don't want to.

If this is your first time reading this...start here:

https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack

The first year is available as a compilation in print and on Amazon Kindle:
https://a.co/d/gBLLL7E

The first year is currently available on audible:
https://www.audible.com/pd/B0G3SMJGFN/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-BK-ACX0-482...

My book, "Dreamers of The Sea" is available now on Amazon:
https://a.co/d/0uz7xa3
August 15, 2026 at 1:57pm
August 15, 2026 at 1:57pm
#1121233
         Hey everyone. It's Crash.
         When I'd last left off, I'd gotten the list of places from Eleanor, but the phone call from the hospital had pulled me away. There was only one place I was going. I ignored every speed limit and traffic law to get to the hospital, arriving in less than four minutes.
         Two phone calls were made as I parked near the Emergency Room entrance. One to Elouise, giving her a couple of places to check and asking her to get Mitch to help. Then, as I walked through the door, I called Mitch and asked him to help Elouise. Both answered on the first ring and accepted without question.
         On the outside, you couldn't tell anything had happened. Manicured bushes and closely trimmed lawns. Those short trees that hospitals seem to enjoy near parking lots. On the inside, it was trashed. Slashes in the walls, blood trails of certain victims being dragged away. The sort of organized atrocity that could only be a werewolf pack.
         Most werewolf pack fights, as rare as they are, are hidden. The pack themselves make attempts to hide what they're doing from human eyes. The more humans that are aware of our kind, the more humans that are aware of non-humans among them. It becomes a monstrous headache for any government to handle. Someone wished things to be seen as a werewolf attack. It was as if they went out of their way to ensure it would be recorded and very difficult to cover up. Much of the damage was otherwise senseless, unless you thought about how it'd look on a social media site.
         It was just more disturbing evidence being piled upon a worsening time. We were truly at war, against an enemy who had thrown all of the rules that The Nobility had ever fought for or believed in. One who had no care how big the corpse pile grew to and who was buried beneath it. People like Jason, who had got caught up in the gears of all of this, for the simple crime of trying to do the right thing when everyone else decided to do nothing.
         His faint scent was mixed up amidst the coppery scent of blood, the peppery scent of rage, the onion tinted scent of terror. Every once in a while I'd catch a whiff of him. The strongest was at the door to the Emergency Room, but that made sense. They probably just wheeled his bed out the door and dumped him into a vehicle or stole an Ambulance.
         From there, all of the scents blended with the rotten blood scent of dead vampire. More than one vampire had died in the ER alone. It would have been far easier to just shift. The scents would open up then and come alive. But the human nurses, many of which had no idea about vampires or werewolves or the like, would have just become more terrified. Plus one werewolf stalking through the halls sniffing out a scent trail among the remnants of a battle? I wasn't certain how that'd go down politically, but it certainly wouldn't have made anything better for my boss, who was probably already having kittens over the hospital battle.
         After checking into every room in the lower floor that I could get into, I went up to the second floor. My hope was to find the scent of the werewolf that had taken Jason. To find some sort of evidence that tied him to something I could find. That way, I could get...Vic!
         It clicked halfway through the second floor. Vic had called me about Jason. I couldn't put my nose to the floor or shift, but I could call Vic. He could certainly tell me what had happened and who took Jason. If he was still alive, that is.
         The first call went unanswered. I shouted his name down the hallway and got a few confused looks from nurses and one janitor who was doing his level best to clean up the horror show. The second call Vic picked up on the fourth ring. "Stop shouting my damn name like Stallone looking for Adrian. Third floor. Burn unit. We're in the operating room."
         The operating room they were holed up in was in the center of the hospital. It had no windows and only two doors. Both sets of doors had armed guards in front of them. The security guards had gotten pistols from somewhere, and yes, they were loaded with silver.
         I was stopped by one guard, while another guard stepped inside to look for Vic. Of course, I wasn't allowed in. The guard, an older black guy, looked me up and down as if he wanted to fight me right then and there. "Hey, it wasn't us," I said.
         "I know, that's the damn problem," he growled. "You fleabags can't keep your fucking house in order and it's..."
         The doors burst open and Vic shuffled out. "Shut it Michael. Crash is the best werewolf I know. Please, go get me a blood bag. It is time for my lunch. Thank you."
         "I thought you hated eating in front of us," I said.
         "I'm too hungry to feel self-conscious. I'll cut to the chase, I can feel how frantic you are," he said. "Jason was smart enough to figure out their location from the start. If they hadn't gotten lucky with that bomb, none of this would have been possible."
         "Or smart," I growled. Vic patted my arm. "He's still alive."
         I nodded. "I know. But who knows if he'll stay that way for long."
         The security guard returned about then. He handed Vic a blood bag and kept one for himself, stepping back. I looked at him. "Don't worry, they're expired bags," Vic said. "We keep the fresh stuff for the herd and store the expired stuff for snacking."
         I gave him the smallest of a shrug and followed him as he limped towards the nurses station. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I just heard," Vic said.
         "I've been running behind for days. I haven't heard anything."
         He stopped. "I thought...so you're not gathering your pack and preparing to run?"
         "Why the hell would I run?"
         "You're out. Alexandre Heroux is the new protectorate." There wasn't an official title. It was part of how we did our business. Without an official title of office, there was no official paperwork for some human to stumble upon. It was point of the joke we always played on Jason in a way. There was no official paperwork. Just put the information down as best as he could, tell who needed to tell, log it in a memo on the computer, and shred the rest.
         Protectorate fitted him. It was official, and it sounded very noble. "I'm guessing he'll be calling himself 'Lord Protectorate'."
         Vic shook his head. "No, senators balked at the 'Lordship' title that Alexandre was reaching for."
         The vampires hand on my shoulder made me jump. I had apparently been gritting my teeth loud enough for him to hear. "I'm guessing every one of us is now illegal."
         Vic shrugged. "You will be soon. He takes power in twenty four hours."
         "If he lives."
         Vic had been sucking on the blood bag like a child sipping on a Capre Sun without a straw. He nearly dropped it at my statement. "You can't. That's...that's government. That's...they'll try you for murder. You'll be executed." He wiped his lip with the back of his hand and looked me in the eye. "War's over. You lost. Get your pack, go south. Regroup. That's what everyone else is doing."
         "I'm not everyone else."
         Vic grumbled and looked down. "Can you tell me anything?"
         "Villaville. Jason kept repeating it in his mind over and over again. Villaville."
         Taking a deep breath, I nodded. "Okay."
         Everything had gone to shit. It made sense that Boss wasn't calling me with updates. He was either making new negotiations or had grabbed his own pack and heading out. There wasn't much left for me. Not in that moment. My pack was taken. The Rodriguez, as annoying as they could be, had been taken as well. Hell, I'll say it. They're my other pack. The ones that helped me when it was just me, mom and dad. They gave a lone werewolf adolescent friends and a place to stay when he was learning how to be a werewolf.
         My entire life had been erased. And it was time that Alexandre learned there's a cost for that. I turned to Vic one last time. "Thank you. For everything. You've been a great friend."
         Vic nodded. "For what it's worth, we're all pulling for you in here. You're the last thing we got in this world before we're forced back to the old ways."
         The old ways. Vampires hated the old ways. Hiding in shadows, drinking blood from victims at night, running from us. It was a battle they lost repeatedly. A life they were more than willing to leave when negotiations started centuries ago. And look at what they had come up with? Much of modern medicine could be laid at their very feet. And Alexandre was going to run them off for that.
         I pulled my cell phone out and dialed Elouise. At first there was no answer. I called twice. Nothing. A third time, another's voice, a werewolf's voice answered.
         "Gator bitch can't come to the phone right now..."
         I snarled and hung up. My feet were sluggish moving out of the hospital. Villaville. Yes, that was where I needed to go. But, how was I going to attack? I was a lone werewolf in the midst of, well, an entire, now government sanctioned, pack.
         I sat in my car, preparing to start it up when a familiar cop car pulled up behind me. The cop that Jason called Andy stepped out and walked up to me. "This was easier when you had that shack you guys called an office."
         "Officer, I'm still the area's werewolf until tomorrow sometime. I'm on official business." I smiled. "Look at it this way, I'll probably be dead tomorrow anyway, huh?"
         Andy leaned on my door. "No, you won't."
         I looked up at him. "Silver is an expensive commodity to make into bullets, okay? Especially when you're trying to be quiet about it."
         "Andy, no offense, but a werewolf and a human still doesn't have much of a chance."
         He gave me a smirk. "What about a werewolf and SWAT?"
         I dared not to hope. I took a slow breath and released it before I answered to steady myself. "A lot of you will probably die."
         "Our job is to protect the public. Right now, that public includes you and yours. Besides, this bastard has literally destroyed a division of our own."
         I gave him a confused look. "Yes, our own. Your office, was police officers in their own right and with their own jurisdiction. What he did is a direct attack. And frankly, I'm a little offended you think we're about to sit back and let that bastard get away with that."
         "Okay," I said.
         "Just follow me," Andy replied. He pulled around my car, and began leading me through town. Wherever they were meeting, it wasn't the police station. As I drove through, I couldn't help but think of Jason. This was a him kind of a plan. One where he would come in and save the day with. I hoped and prayed that it would be enough for me to.


© Copyright 2026 Louis Williams (UN: lu-man at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Louis Williams has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.