The Cajun Wolf - Murder Most Foul
by Nicholas Hall
Chapter 2
Copyright © 2019 – Nicholas Hall
"We be of one blood, ye and I"
(Rudyard Kipling)
Chase glanced in the side rear-view mirror of the SUV in time to see his mother and grandmother shift to wolf form and race away toward the raging, but diminishing battle, joining the effort to stem the tide of attackers seeking the family of the Bateau Parish Pack's Alpha and destroy his sons and possible heir, the oldest of the sons. The ravaging murderers would be too late to prevent his escape. Sarah and Marie, now widowed, fought hard, viciously, unrelentingly, taking out more than just a few of the marauding killers, until they were overwhelmed and met the same fate as their mates. Their valiant fight did provide the time needed for Chase and the others to escape far enough away from the battle and onto a main road leading to Interstate 55.
Chase's eyes misted over remembering his father, mother, and grandparents.
"Magnificent creatures," he thought, "beautiful in all ways, strong, loyal, selfless, placing others before themselves, gentle and loving toward us, and aggressive in protecting us, not only in life, but our escape. I couldn't have asked for better examples for living my life."
Nodding his head sadly, yet in resolve, as he headed north, he softly aloud, he murmured, "I must remember I am a "loup-garou," a werewolf of the bayou and, if you believe the superstitions, I would "certainement" imperial your soul."
Pausing he continued with a laugh, "I haven't imperiled any souls yet, at least that I know of. However, there've been a couple of cute guys I wouldn't minded impaling."
"What-re you muttering about?" asked Henri from the 'shotgun' seat.
"You're the navigator," Chase replied, not acknowledging his muttered comments, and handed Henri the envelope with their route and directions in it.
Henri looked through the large envelope, sorted out the maps, and read through the typed sheets with the directions on them.
"If you're on Interstate 55, we're headed in the right direction," he advised. "It also says this SUV has a GPS on board, but it won't be activated for, let's see," reading further, "three days from now if I have the dates right."
It was past dawn when they drove through Kentwood, Louisiana and crossed the State Line into Mississippi. Jacques and Gaige woke, having fallen asleep shortly after leaving home, and announced they had to pee and were hungry.
Chase spotted a sign for a truck stop and left the Interstate. It was a large truck stop with restaurant and convenience store included.
"Let me top off the gas tank," he said. "You guys go pee while I do it. Henri, stay close to Jacques and Gaige. Never know what you might run into here. Some guy might want to give their horns a 'toot' whether they want it or not. If it doesn't look safe, wait for me, I won't be long."
They still weren't far enough away from home, Chase thought, to avoid detection. The possibility of someone from the Red Wolf's pack spotting them, if they were missed and being looked for, was still great and he didn't really want to take any chances. He really had no choice, the others had to pee (so did he) and were hungry (so was he). Fortunately a pump was open and it didn't take long to fill the tank.
The three of them were standing in the hall outside the men's restroom door waiting for him after he paid the gas bill.
"We started to go in and Gaige said it didn't feel safe, so I stopped them out here," Henri explained. "As we waited, a guy came out, looked around, saw us, flipped his stiff cock out of his pants and waggled it at us. Gaige told him if he did that again, he'd scream his head off."
"Man, you should've seen him take off," giggled Jacques, clutching his crotch in an effort to stave off a pair of pissed pants.
There were six urinals in the restroom; four had guys standing in front of them.
"Share," Eric directed and they did. Jacques and Henri sharing one and Gaige sharing with him.
Gaige scooted next to Chase in front of the urinal, unzipped his pants, pulled out his two inch boy todger, and let fly. Casually, he glanced at Chase's rather thick and long teen penis streaming urine, shrugged and looked back down at his, carefully aiming at the back side of the urinal. He, like all Lycanthropes, were accustomed to seeing each other, at all ages, naked. Clothes generally were shed before the mature werewolves shifted from human to wolf. Clothes weren't always put back on right away after the shift back to human was made. Gaige made no comment other than to say he was finished, jiggled his cock a couple of times to clear the drops and tucked it back into his pants.
"That felt good," Henri acknowledged from the other urinal.
Hands washed, Chase announced, "Let's eat," and the headed out to the restaurant.
Eric and Henri had steak (rare) and eggs, while Jacques and Gaige tucked into biscuits and gravy with an egg on top.
"How did you figure out this guy at the toilet had some idea about going for one of you?" Chase asked between bites of steak.
"I saw him staring at me," answered Gaige, "from the doorway of the gas station when we climbed out of the SUV. We walked in, asked directions to the restroom from one of the clerks, and he hurried down the hall and inside."
The way the man looked at Gaige and then at Jacques, sent shivers up and down Gaige's spine, triggering alarms in his head. It was the look someone had before taking the first bite of his favorite dessert; a longing, mouth-watering, intensely desirous, a stomach rumbling look. Gaige figured either Jacques or he was being singled out as a morning snack and he wanted no part of it.
Chase nodded his understanding before explaining, "Okay, guys, here's the deal. Until we reach our destination, we go everywhere together, even to take a shit."
"Eee-uuu!" moaned Jacques.
"If I leave the vehicle to pay for gas, you guys lock the doors until I get back. No one but me gets back in. Okay?"
Jacques, catching Chase's attention before they climbed back in the SUV and left the parking lot, asked, "Do you know the SUV has Minnesota license plates?"
He hadn't noticed, so checked. Jacques was right, they were Minnesota plates. It took some planning and foresight. Buying and registering the vehicle in Minnesota would aid in keeping their escape relatively unnoticed. A Minnesota vehicle heading north wasn't likely to cause much notice; less than a Louisiana vehicle heading north.
Chase started tiring around ten in the evening and pulled into a rest area, parking back in a less lighted area, thinking they'd draw less attention. They all fell asleep but he was awakened about four hours later, sensing something out of the ordinary. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a parked vehicle's interior light come on and go off, as if someone was leaving it. The wolf inside him was alerted so he slipped out of their vehicle as well and hid in the shadows of some trees near the SUV.
Three young guys, probably high schoolers, crept along in the shadows, heading toward the SUV. Chase shed his clothes and shifted. He waited until the three were up close to the SUV and peering inside. Two of them had some object in their hands. Chase wasn't certain what those items were but he was convinced they were up to no good. Softly, ever so softly, he left his concealment and stalked forward, unheard and unseen by the trio. One leaned over to get a closer look in the SUV and when he did, Chase shoved his wolf nose up the guys jean-covered ass crack. The guy straightened, half turned to accuse one of his cohorts of goosing him, and Chase stood on his hind legs, front paws on the teen's shoulder and licked his face.
Two guys screamed in terror. The one with Chase licking his face, said nothing but did shit his pants. The smell was almost overwhelming. Chase lowered to all fours, snarled and bared his fangs. Then the teen ran, shit rolling down and out of his jeans, evidence there was no underwear present, heading toward their own vehicle. Chase shifted back to human forms, retrieved his clothes and dressed. Looking around he discovered the objects the men dropped- hammers. He assumed the hammers weren't for driving nails.
"More like breaking windows and heads."
Crawling back into the SUV he wasn't surprised to see the others awake.
"Think anyone will believe them?" snickered Henri.
"Probably not," admitted Chase with a laugh, starting up the SUV and heading toward the Interstate.
A few miles down the road, he announced from then on they'd be traveling at night and sleeping during the day. It'd be safer all the way around.
A routine quickly was established; Chase would drive from around eight in the evening until dawn, find a place safe to rest, and they all would sleep until noon. A diner would be found, they'd eat, drive for a while, find a rest area or municipal park where they could use the restroom, relax, stretch or play, drive for another hour or so, and eat dinner. Back in the vehicle after dinner, gas up, and down the road again.
The time passed, the miles rolled by, and soon they were in St. Louis where Interstate 55 intersected with Interstate 70 West. Following directions to U.S. 61, Chase headed them north through the rest of Missouri, following the Mississippi River to Iowa. As he drove he was especially careful to obey the traffic laws of the various states, not wanting to get stopped by cops for speeding or something.
U.S. 61 intersected U.S. 218 and they headed toward Iowa City, Iowa, found Interstate 180, drove it north to U.S. 20 West to Interstate 35 west of Alden, and turned north. An hour and half or so later they were through Mason City/Clear Lake passing the Iowa Welcome Center, and in Minnesota. Chase stayed on Interstate 35 to Duluth, and picked up U.S. 53 heading toward International Falls. The GPS was activated shortly after passing through Duluth and Henri put in the address of their destination asking for directions.
The sun was barely illuminating the horizon. It's light struggling to peek over the earth's horizon and the forests carpeting northern Minnesota with darkness slowly fading into a dawn as Chase pulled to a stop in front of a nicely kept, two story home. A large screened in porch extended across the front and, from his position in the SUV, the back side of the house had an excellent view a large lake some fifty yards or so distant across a well maintained lawn and sandy beach. He assumed, from the state map, it was Lake Kabetogama.
The GPS directed him to the correct address, although there were times he was doubtful as he wound around the wooded countryside. This house wasn't in the city of Kabetogama, if there was one, but out in the woods somewhere. The drive from Duluth, a little over one hundred and seventy miles, was on highways bordered by vast forests and occasional lakes and countless signs with arrows pointing to resorts, businesses, and people's homes or cottages.
A certain tenseness developed, bringing him to a full alert status and full of apprehension, as he drove through the darkened forests as the creatures of the night appeared running across or standing beside the highway. The four of them were alert as they spotted deer, an occasional bear, once a large moose, raccoons, and countless other critters. Chase eased off on the accelerator so if one of the animals should dart out, he'd have a better chance to prevent a collision. Tiredness wasn't far away for the four of them, the journey was long, their losses great, and they were ready for some relief and rest.
Chase sat a minute more before turning off the SUV's engine and turning to Jacques in the back seat, asking him to hand up the envelope with the letter inside introducing them to their grandmother's cousin. Holding the envelope in his hand, he opened the door of the SUV. An unexpected, but very familiar scent invaded his nostrils. Flaring his nose to better capture the faint scent, he captured the smell of wolves; not forest wolves but Lycanthropes.
Every muscle in his body tensed, flexing, preparing him to shift as his ears perked up seeking sounds, eyes sharpened, focusing on a sweep of the surrounding area and the forest edges seeking the source of the scent or any creatures who might be lurking, waiting in ambush, hidden by the brush and dense forest.
"We smell them too," Henri acknowledged softly from inside the SUV.
"I thought Grandma Marie's cousin was supposed to be human," Chase whispered.
"If so," Henri commiserated quietly, "he has a lot of wolf friends."
Gaige was just as aware of the wolf scent as well. He also was cognizant of one particular, singular scent among the many which permeated the air; a scent causing him to think back on his "Tante's" words. This one scent was stronger than the others to him and he wondered why.
Chase was cautious, wary as he stepped away from the vehicle. He tossed the keys in the front said telling Henri, "If anything should happen, lock the doors and drive like hell away from here!"
He thought a moment before asking, "You can drive can't you?"
"Duh, enough to dust our asses out of here."
Slowly, guardedly, his senses on high alert, Eric approached the porch, stepped up onto it, took a deep breath, and pushed the doorbell button.
"Eric," Evan Troutman hissed, as he poked his husband, Eric Trempealeau, in the ribs, soliciting a grumpy, grunted, "What?" from him.
"Someone's at the door."
"Probably Jessie," Eric muttered back. "He said he'd stop by this morning to sign his new will. We must've overslept."
The two elderly gentlemen were tired and worn out from two busy weekends in a row. The weekend before, they'd celebrated the wedding of Jerry Haven, a County Deputy Sheriff and a member of the Lycan Guardian Corps, to Beth Campbell, daughter of Art Campbell. Art was president and CEO of Campbell and Associates, a cyber security firm with headquarters in the remodeled resort "The Pines" and Alpha of the Kabetogama Pack. The wedding was held at The Pines and was one fine affair. The guests included both human and shifters, but Eric and Evan were the only two humans who knew the difference. The celebrating continued until early on the Sunday morning.
This weekend was another wedding. This time it was between Jessie Sutton, Eric's god-son and youngest son of Jim and Evelyn Sutton owners of Suttons Resort. Eric was also the Sutton Family attorney and had been for many years. Jessie's husbands were the identical twins Jason and Tyler Campbell, Art's sons. Jessie, human when they first met, was turned by both Jase and Tyler long before they married. Jessie was the only member of his family who was Lycan and his parents and siblings didn't have a clue.
The reception and wedding was held at the Resort. A large crowd attended, with the majority being human. The only shifters were those from "The Pines" and the Averill Creek Pack, all of the others were human and friends or patrons of the Resort and its supper club. Eric and Evan thought Jessie was the most handsome of all in attendance, but they were quite biased.
Again, Evan and Eric were the only two humans who knew who was wolf and who was human. Jessie and his group, the Averill Creek Pack, took the two elderly gentlemen into their confidence knowing their secret would be kept and they'd always have a safe place to be and someone to talk to in the human world. The after party, the real party, was held at Jessie's cabin, now his home, with all of the Averill Creek Pack in attendance as well as many from the Kabetogama Pack. They howled and hunted and ate most of the rest of the night. It was dawn Sunday before it broke up and Eric and Evan headed home. They tried to sleep during the day, but it was a restless sleep. Going to bed Sunday evening, they soon found a sound, sound sleep.
"Eric," Evan said patiently, "It's not Jessie."
"It's Monday isn't it and he said he'd stop by."
"Yes, its Monday, Love, but Eric, the sun isn't hardly up yet. Hell it's almost dark outside."
Eric tottered over to the dresser, put his glasses on, looked at his watch, squinted as he peered out the bedroom window overlooking the lake, and concluded Evan was correct. "It must be someone else."
"Brilliant conclusion, counselor. You're a real Perry Mason."
"I'll go see. You don't have to get out of bed Evan; or should I say, at your age you barely can get out of bed."
"Ha, I can still get it up, so there!" Evan snorted in disgust. "Oh, by the way, Eric," he snickered, "You might want to put a robe on or those two wobblers you have hanging between your legs might frighten the caller away."
Eric looked down. "I suppose you're right."
Pulling on his robe as he walked down the hall toward the living room and front door, he muttered, "So, who the hell wants me this time of the day?"
He unlocked and opened the front door. Standing on the porch was a handsome dark-haired, dark-eyed, young man with a slightly olive complexion, about five eight or ten, lithe, slim waist, definitely eye candy and holding an envelope in his hand.
Eric cocked an eyebrow, looking the young man over carefully. "You've got either a special delivery letter for me," he said seriously but with a smile, "or you're a damn young process server getting ready to hand me a subpoena."
After all, the young man was pleasing to look at and Eric wouldn't pass up any opportunity to gaze upon an attractive human male, preferably naked, but in this case, clothed would do. Evan, now robed as well, shuffled up behind him.
"Are you Mr. Eric Trempealeau?" the young man asked in a distinctly southern drawl, but with a hint of another accent as well.
"And who would want to know?"
"I'm Lowell Cashon Landry and my grandmother, Marie Trempealeau La Compte, your distant cousin, sent me and my brothers to you and asked I give you this," and handed Eric the letter.
Taking the proffered envelope, Eric scanned the young man carefully, noting his facial appearance, height, coloration, eyes and hairs, and rested momentarily on the crotch, where a nicely sized bulge was revealed. There definitely was some family resemblance, only the Trempealeau's weren't naturally tanned as this young man was.
He also did have a cousin, two or three times removed, named Marie about ten years older than him. An occasional, but short association with her at family gatherings, was made but the differences in age kept them apart, as well as interests. She graduated from law school and seemed to disappear. According to family stories, she married an independently wealthy man and wasn't heard of again, at least to his knowledge. He had no notion whether she was alive or dead and since, the younger generation of Trempealeau's probably never heard of her or cared, he doubted he'd be able to verify the assertion of the young man he was her grandson.
"How do I know, young man who says he's Lowell Cashon Landry, a grandson of Marie Trempealeau La Compte, you and your merry band of travelers in the SUV won't come inside, beat us senseless and rob us blind, leaving us old, injured, and destitute?"
"Well, if we were the type to do that, the only thing that would change is you'd be injured and destitute; the old part wouldn't be our fault."
Looking behind Eric, the young man continued, with certainty, "besides, that handsome devil standing behind you has a rather large pistol in his hand."
Laughing, Eric joked, "For a minute I thought you were going to say 'weapon' and I was going to reply 'dream on'."
"Smart ass," muttered Evan from behind him.
"Pay no mind to him, he's my husband, Evan Troutman. He's just jealous," waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "if you know what I mean," and winked.
Chase knew exactly what was meant and breathed a cautious sigh of relief. So they were a gay married couple, but they weren't wolf. They smelled human, yet the scent of Lycanthropes was pervasive in the house. Did they have friends who were shifters? If so, were they aware of their friend's dual status?
Inviting the young man in, Eric said, "Call your buddies in as well, may as well make this a group grope."
"You, sir, are a naughty man," jested Chase.
"Not as naughty as I'd like to be or as I was thirty years ago."
"Don't listen to him," admonished Evan. "He loves to flirt."
"Alas, but I do," Eric responded as the young man gave a wave toward the SUV and three stunningly beautiful young boys slowly emerged.
"Bring all of the papers," Chase instructed them.
Evan and Eric watched, noting with pleasure, the natural attractiveness of the three young boys slowly walking toward the house. Attractive would've been inadequate to describe them. The two older looking and taller boys closely resembled the young man delivering the envelope while the youngest, again similar in looks, was somewhat different. The youngest was an absolute delight to behold, dark hair, dark eyes, tanned complexion, and just as cute as a button. Both men thought the young cutie would be a lovable, huggable boy, and probably a cuddlier, if either of them were into young boys, which they weren't. He didn't carry any papers, instead had a school type back pack on his back as he headed toward the house.
Inside the house, following Chase's lead, they carefully sniffed the air, noting the widespread wolf scent, mingled with human scent. Scanning the room carefully for any threats, Henri and Jacques sat on a couch as indicated, leaving room for Chase, while Gaige sat on the floor in front of it.
Eric settled himself in an easy chair directly across from the couch and Chase handed him several envelopes.
"Now," he said, with a twinkle in his eye, "Your name is Lowell Cashon and I'm willing to bet in this day and age, rather than Lowell, you go by something else, right?"
Chase wanted to reply, "my friends call me Mr. Big" but said instead, "My friends call me Chase."
"Okay, Chase, what else do you have for me?"
Chase handed over a packet of envelopes. "Grandma sent these for you to read through after you read her letter."
Eric nodded, opened the envelope with his name on it, while Chase joined his brothers on the couch. When Eric began to read the contents of the letter inside, his robe inadvertently gaped open partially, exposing his above average cock and large, low hanging balls. He seemed not to notice or care if he did, but all four boys noticed what before was concealed and now revealed.
"You can see his cock and balls," Henri telegraphed to his older brother in Cajun-French.
Chase just nodded.
"He's good sized!" added Henri.
"No doubt he's family," Chase replied, "especially through the crotch."
"You got that right," murmured Jacques.
Gaige just nodded, saying nothing, but evidently not impressed.
Evan, standing to the side, noticed something as well when Chase nodded his head. "One of the other boys is communicating with him and the middle sized boy did as well," he thought.
The looks on their faces and reaction said it all without anything being said aloud. Evan was witness to this same phenomenon numerous times when around Jessie, Jase, and Tyler and other members of the Averill Creek Pack. These four new arrivals were shifters, no doubt in his mind about that!
"I'll make coffee and heat some water for hot chocolate if anyone would want some," he announced and headed toward the kitchen.
What Evan didn't notice was the intense look Gaige gave him as he was pondering over in his mind who and what these new arrivals were and their mode of communication.
In the kitchen, as the water was heating and the coffee brewing, Evan quickly texted Jessie, telling him of their new house guests, his concern they were shifters, and suggested Jessie come over and "help them sort this out."
"Let's see what this says," Eric announced as he began to read the letter. It was several pages long and he read it carefully in its entirety before commenting.
"Do you know what is in this?" he asked Chase
The teen shook his head, indicating he didn't.
"It says, among other things, three of you are Marie Le Compte's grandchildren. Which three?"
Chase pointed first at Jacques; "Jacques Landry, age twelve; Henri Landry, age fourteen, and I'm sixteen."
"How about the youngest one, the one sitting on the floor?"
"That's Gaige Wyatt Saulnier. He's eight years old and our cousin, sort of. Actually, he's our uncle by adoption. Grandma and Grandpa adopted him when his folks were killed."
"Does he speak?"
"Yeah, but he's pretty quiet and shy, especially around strangers."
Eric nodded his understanding; nothing wrong with thinking before one spoke.
"It also says here there are papers giving me full custody and guardianship over all four of you."
Chase nodded, clarifying the issue; "Gaige has his own papers to give to you in his backpack."
"We'll get to that later," Eric said.
Sort of pursing his lips, frowning a bit, he asked, "Why would your parents do such a thing and how do I know this letter isn't a forgery, some way to scam us of our money?"
Chase jumped up, angry, hurt, and tearfully shouted, "Because my Grandma wouldn't lie and besides she's dead!"
Eric knew what Chase said was true, all except the dead part. Marie accurately confirmed her relationship with Eric by identifying a small birth mark at the base of his spine, just above his ass crack.
"In case you doubt who I am," she wrote, "one time when you were little and we were at a family gathering, your mother asked me to change your diaper. When I wiped you little butt, I noticed a small strawberry colored birth mark at the base of your spine. I'd never seen one before and it intrigued me."
Marie also informed Eric, in her letter, what happened after she graduated from law school; meeting, marrying, and mating with Jean Le Compte and turned by him.
"I know your involvement with our society," she wrote. "A good friend of mine with the Grand Council made discreet inquiries and discovered your involvement in an encounter with a rogue wolf. It is something very few know about or ever will."
She concluded asking if Eric and his husband Evan Troutman, would care for her grandsons and her adopted son, finishing with "I'll not be around long."
Eric folded the letter, stood, walked forward to the sobbing teen, put his arms around him, hugged him, and murmured, "I know you're telling the truth Chase. I just had to be certain. Welcome to our family."
Gaige's nose suddenly picked up the strong scent of wolves, wolves coming fast and hard in their direction.
"Chase," he hissed, "Wolves coming, werewolves, and there's a bunch of them."
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