Chapter 12

Unfortunately, Brodil, Harlow's father, sat on the ground next to the wheelbarrow in a state of half wakefulness. Lennard stopped Harlow from advancing by extending an arm in front of him, fingers spread. Once he realized who was sitting there in front of his clinic, his hackles raised.

Harlow had been suspicious for a few steps now, recognizing the stench of his father's unwashed body and the ale which he favored. His muscles tensed, but he moved forward with resolution, ready to confront his father head-on until Lennard's huge hand stopped him mid-step by crossing his chest.

Brodil's head shakily raised and looked at the two people stopped before him. His eyes focused and unfocused until he registered who the pair were.

"Harloow," he slurred. "Thiss iz yourz, right?" The obviously intoxicated man half-heartedly pointed at the wheelbarrow next to him.

Harlow's stomach was in his throat. He was both angered and embarrassed to see his father here. Half of him wanted to scream and tell him to go away, the other half wanted to run away himself. But Lennard's strong hand on his chest kept him in place.

"Brodil. Good to see you, old man. Is that Harlow's trunk I see there?" Lennard said with an emotionless voice.

"Len, Len-n-n, Lennard," Brodil stammered. "Why, why yes it iz. I f-found it on the road on my way here." He hiccuped in between his words.

"Then I thank you for returning it and saving us a trip to retrieve it," Lennard continued in the same monotone voice. "Is there something else I can help you with? Perhaps something for a hangover?"

"Hangover?" Brodil asked. "This, this iz ze best zing for a hango, hangover," he said around his hiccups. He held up the virtually empty bottle in front of him like he was showing off a treasure he had found. The bottle moved to his lips and the remaining liquid emptied down his throat.

"Then, if you don't mind, Harlow and I," Lennard emphasized Harlow's name to correct Brodil's incorrect pronunciation from earlier. "Have work to do." Lennard stepped forward slowly, watching to see if Brodil was looking for something else.

Brodil's eyes focused slightly more than before, and he looked at Harlow. "You need to come ho-ome," he slurred. "You've spent enuff-f time with this guy," he waved his hand and bottle towards Lennard. "Yer mama," he paused and sniffed, "wanz you to come home."

Harlow's eyes narrowed. "Mother is dead, father," he said in an icy tone. "No amount of booze is going to bring her back."

Something within Brodil snapped at Harlow's statement. His eyes cleared up and he finally saw the two men in front of him. Men, he thought, not a man and a boy. His gaze shifted to Lennard then, his eyes narrowed to slits and his words came out in a hiss. "You... you lifebonded him! He is my son! You fucking pervert!” Each word grew louder and more staccato.

Lennard’s hand flew to Brodil’s mouth, covering it. “You will be silent, if you have words for me, they will be said inside, in a proper tone.” Lennard’s voice seemingly dropped an octave, and a low growl accompanied his words.

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Brodil’s eyes flashed with fear for a half a second, then anger overtook him and he swung the bottle at Lennard’s head.

The bottle hit hard, shattering with an ear-splitting crash. Lennard, stunned by the blow, loosened his grip. That allowed Brodil to pull free.

Brodil took advantage of his freedom. He used his empty hand to grab Harlow by the collar and began to pull him forward as if he were going to drag him home.

Harlow was no longer the little boy his father abused in his youth. There was a small voice in his head which whimpered with fear. But a new voice, a growl, quickly overwhelmed the whimper and Harlow knocked away his father’s hand.

Without pause he pushed Brodil away and yelled. “Leave! Now!” He had never been in a physical altercation before and didn’t really know what to do. He didn’t have anything planned past this point.

Lennard, recovering from the blow to his head, stood back up and saw Brodil being pushed. Rather than go for Harlow though, the drunkard lunged towards him. This time the broken bottle led the way.

“You fat fuck, this is all your fault!” Brodil screamed as he stabbed forward with the broken bottle.

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Harlow watched in horror as his father recovered from the punch and used the broken bottle as a weapon to stab Lennard. The glass cut into his lover's arm, and Lennard cried out in pain. Harlow couldn't believe his father would attack like this, but seeing Lennard wounded by him secured Harlow's resolve and he brought up his fist. He had never hit anyone before, but he knew he had to do something to stop his father.

Harlow threw an awkward punch at Brodil, but it glanced off without doing any real damage. It hurt Harlow's hand, but his father looked as though he barely felt it. It didn't even seem to register to Brodil that he had been attacked. Harlow watched in slow motion as his father's free hand moved past Harlow's face to connect with Lennard's jaw.

A crunching sound could be heard as Brodil's fist impacted Lennard's face, but rather than Lennard's head being whipped around, it was Brodil's hand which drew back with crooked fingers. Lennard's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed and his muscles tightened. His anger was rising, and he was ready to fight back.

Brodil swung his fist again, but this time Lennard was ready for him. He dodged the blow and countered with a punch of his own, connecting solidly with Brodil's chest. Brodil staggered back, but Lennard wasn't finished. He followed up with a left hook to the jaw, sending Brodil flying into the clinic's wall.

Brodil crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Lennard stood over him, panting heavily. His fangs were exposed and his fists were clenched. Blood ran down his left arm, dripping onto the grass. A crimson stain on the lush green.

Harlow had never seen anyone go bestial before. For the first time, he felt afraid of his mentor, partner, and lover. He looked at his father's crumpled body and felt no compassion for him, his concern was for Lennard.

"Lennard?" Harlow said quietly.

Several people came running down the street at the commotion, but stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing the scene before them. Fights weren't a common occurrence in this small town, but one involving the physician and his mentor's father was a spectacle, especially since Brodil was obviously knocked out already.

Harlow wasn’t sure if it was safe to touch his lover, and with people gathering he didn’t dare to anyway. “Hey, Lennard?” he squeaked again, slightly louder.

Lennard’s ear twitched and he looked down at Harlow. To Harlow’s surprise and fear, Lennard’s eyes had gone completely bloodshot, the whites had turned crimson with blood and the pale blue irises, which Harlow loved looking into, now stood out like brightly lit icy moons against a blood-red sky.

There was a fierceness in those eyes, as though he didn’t actually see who was standing before him. The large man didn’t make any moves, but Harlow could see the muscles tense and bulging. Lennard’s fists quivered at his side.

Harlow took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen Lennard like this before. He was always so calm and collected, but now he looked like a wild animal.

Finding a reserve of courage buried somewhere deep inside of him, Harlow stood his ground and stared Lennard in the eyes. He looked deep inside, and he could still see the glimmer of Lennard in them, but it was dull and diminished.

In what seemed like hours, but was actually seconds, Lennard's eyes began to soften, the crimson began fading, and the anger lessened. The muscles began to relax and the fists uncoiled. Lennard's face shifted to an expression of concern and confusion.

"Harlow, are you okay? What happened?" Lennard asked gently.

"I'm fine, Lennard," Harlow replied. "Let's go inside and take care of your arm." He lightly took Lennard's arm.

Lennard looked down to see the blood staining his fur, then over to where Brodil lay in a crumpled heap against the wall. "Yeah, let's go inside," he said. He looked around at the crowd gathering.

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One of the people who had shown up to find out what was happening was Niko Poldare, who, upon seeing Harlow take Lennard's hand, rushed forward to help.

"Everything's fine now, folks," Niko said as he grabbed the unconscious Brodil under the arms. "We'll take it from here."

He nodded for Harlow to move forward and began dragging the unconscious body into the clinic. Harlow pulled a still faltering Lennard along behind.