Wolf, in League

Chapter 1: Mostly He Missed It September 2016 The sun was rising. He could smell it in the air—crossed wires, blown fuses, burning ozone—and it left a bitter taste in his throat. At that point there wasn’t a single beam of light in the sky, not even a brightening of the horizon, but it was most definitely coming; he could feel it worming into his pores, lifting hair, rolling alongside every thump of his sluggish blood. Above him the bats entertained as they always did, circling like performers on soundless wings with their ‘fingers’ extended to ply the wind into workable currents. Below him sat a fat rat, gorging appreciatively on the leftovers of the dinner he had left for it. Bones crunched and splintered beneath its furiously working teeth, but although it ate with fervor it never took its beady black eyes off its provider. It knew that in a moment the tall, slim man could decide he was still hungry and there would be no reprieve for the rat if that was his choice. While quick, the rat could never be quick enough to outrun the man. Not this one. The man had no interest in the rat, though. His hunger, for food anyway, had been satiated. Now he stood and watched the dark skies for the shine of what he could smell approaching, musing on another hunger entirely: the one for justice. For vengeance. For it too was coming, as sure as the sunlight. That he could control; would control. And maybe, someday, he’d find a way to control the sun as well. Because by all rights and dues he hated the sun the second-most of all the things in life. He hated the way it burned his eyes, the way it bubbled his skin, the way it forced him to see everything in blacks and grays—he hated the way it had stolen the very color from his life. The greedy b***h. The choosy, picky, human-loving b***h. The brilliant, burning, vampire-hating b***h. He hated it. Except…as much as the hate…he missed it. He missed feeling it, seeing it, closing his eyes, and warming his skin with it… But that was a truth he would not speak of, even to himself. The wind rose in swirls, up the side of the building and into the night sky, carrying the scent of pine needles and gathering leaves. He ignored the odor of blood that moved off the roof and into the air and gave his attention to the curve of blue that seemed to grow with the rising wind. It was time to seek the kind of darkness that sunlight could not find. He could spend more time watching tomorrow. It was hard to believe after so many years of cursing the way time moved so slowly that it suddenly seemed there would never be enough time. So many plans to make. So many things to do. But the days were getting shorter and the nights were getting longer. Things were moving in his favor. The rat startled as fabric twirled above it, not sensing the movement before it had already come and gone. Then it turned back to the litter of the departed man’s meal and continued to eat.