The Haitian Werewolf Chronicles

There sure are some stupid people in the world, man. My name is Raphael Mathieu. A young Black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario. I moved to Toronto last year, after spending ten years in Des Moines, Iowa. I'm a naturalized citizen of the United States, though I'm originally from Northern Haiti. I recently moved to the Confederation of Canada to start a new life. Let's just say that I pissed off a lot of people in the States and some of them wanted me dead. I moved to the last place they expected to find me, Canada. It's been a struggle to adjust but Toronto has come to feel like home to me.

Toronto feels a lot like an American city. It's very different from Ottawa, the Canadian capital, where I was stuck for my first months in Canada. There are lots of Africans, Asians, Hispanics and Arabs in Toronto while Ottawa is lily-white and uptight. I guess that had something to do with why I couldn't stand Ottawa. In Toronto, my life blossomed. I enrolled at the University of Toronto and majored in Criminology. They accepted my transfer credits from Simpson College in Des Moines, Iowa, and it was a rather smooth transition. Yep, a brand new life was starting for me. Uh, I guess I better come clean on some details, man. Otherwise you might get freaked out.

You see, I'm not exactly a regular Joe. I was born different. Certain people are born with what I call, the Gift of the Wild. Our senses are sharper. We are a bit stronger and wilder than ordinary people. And we can turn downright vicious when feral, which happens fairly often. Also, we heal quicker. There are many names for people like me. Native Americans call us Skin Walkers. European folklore calls us Werewolves. In the Republic of Haiti where I was born, my kind are called Loup Garou. Which basically means Werewolf in both French and Haitian Creole. Yeah, I guess you could say that I am a Wolf-Man. That's cool, right? People like me are real. Get used to it. There are tens of thousands of us living across the planet Earth. We're Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, Arabic and everything in between. And no one has ever known we were here, until right about now.

At the University of Toronto, I tried my best to put my old life behind me. You see, back in Des Moines, Iowa, I got mixed up with the wrong people. I was attending Simpson College on a scholarship and I was broke most of the time. My parents, Etienne and Marie Mathieu, aren't rich people. Dad is a schoolteacher and mom is a registered nurse. Like me, they're both Werewolves. However, they're old school and I'm not. I tried to use my natural abilities to make some money. I ended up working as an enforcer for Jacob Luciano, this local gangster. He was uniting the various gangs of Des Moines into a powerful force which would rule the City. And he wanted a superhuman like myself on his team. He would send me against his deadliest adversaries. The kind of wicked men and women even a seasoned law enforcement official wouldn't last long against. And I was good at the job, man. So good that Luciano wanted to put me on his payroll. Permanently. Well, I didn't want to be a crook for the rest of my life. Especially since all of my missions for Luciano were top secret and the cops didn't have anything on me. No name, no fingerprints. Luciano was the only one who knew who and what I was. When I told him I wanted to quit and focus exclusively on school, he didn't take it too well.

That's a big part of the reason why I'm in Toronto, Ontario, right now. I needed to get away from Luciano and people like him, man. My parents basically disowned me because I nearly exposed the truth about our kind's existence to the outside world. Now Luciano is aware that Werewolves do exist. He's out there, trying to find out as much about our kind as he can. This small-time gangster wants to become a real bad-ass. And he thinks that with an army of men and women like myself, he could become a force to reckon with. Well, I wasn't about to help him with any of that. That's why I happily stayed in Toronto, and started my new life. However, trouble soon found me.

As it often did in a young man's life, trouble came in the form of a tall, gorgeous young woman. Christina Isanyathi, half Native American and half Black. The offspring of an Aboriginal father from the Sioux people of North America and a Jamaican mother from the Caribbean. Born and raised in the City of Toronto, Ontario. Oh, and she was a Half-Breed. Werewolves are notoriously private and keep to ourselves. Most of us don't find human beings attractive. However, sometimes, Wolf-Men and Wolf-Women hook up with ordinary men and women. Occasionally, these unions prove fruitful. The result are Half-Breeds.

These unique beings who are neither human nor werewolf. Werewolves like myself are able to transform into hairy, humanoid, wolf-like creatures with superhuman strength and speed when we want. In his or her transformed state, the average Werewolf has the strength of ten to fifteen healthy men, and the top speed of a cheetah. Also, we heal instantly from almost any injury as long as there's no silver involved. Yep, in that regard, most of the myths about my kind are actually true. That's what it means to live a Werewolf's life. There's one thing that you idiotic humans don't seem to get, though. No human being can become a Werewolf after being bitten. And moonlight doesn't force Werewolves into their true forms. We can transform any time we want, day or night. The moon has no hold over us. Alright? Cool.

Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yes. I was telling you about this lovely mixed young woman I met at the University of Toronto. The daughter of two worlds. Native American and Jamaican. Werewolf and human. Talk about unique. I had never met a Half-Breed before. I vaguely knew they existed, but it's almost like seeing a unicorn or something. I know they have all the powers of regular Werewolves, and they're less vulnerable to silver than we are. Christina knew what I was the moment she looked at me. She approached me, and introduced herself. I must say I was surprised by that. Wolf-Women are typically an unapproachable lot. They're a lot tougher, more aggressive and more vicious than Wolf-Men. Wolf-Men for the most part are an easygoing, nomadic bunch. Wolf-Women are territorial, and quite bitchy. Well, Christina surprised me because she was actually kind of nice. I was amazed.

My interactions with the females of my kind have been limited for the most part. My mother called me a weirdo because of my penchant for dating human women, instead of the females of my superhuman species. Romance about Wolf-people is more complicated than romance among humans, folks. A lot of Wolf-Men lose their lives because they approach the wrong Wolf-Woman. You see, Wolf-Women can shift from human form to wolfish form faster than the males of our species. This makes them deadlier. Also, while in wolfish form, our males tend to retain most of their humanity while the females freely give into the animal within. This also makes them deadlier. I didn't date female Werewolves because I didn't want to lose my life, or my balls. Yes, we can regenerate most lost or damaged body parts but still, you know?

Christina introduced me to others like her. Other Half-Breeds. Young men and women who were the offspring of Wolf-people and ordinary humans. There seemed to be quite a few of them in the City of Toronto. I guess Wolf-people from the Confederation of Canada are more liberal and accepting of inter-species relations than those in the United States of America. I could never get my mother to approve of any human chick I liked. And she'd probably tear me to pieces if I brought a human chick home. Well, Wolves in Canada seemed really okay with that. I found myself liking Christina, man. She was exactly my type, in more ways than one. I like human women. I found them infinitely more attractive than Wolf-Women, though I could never reveal my true self to a human female for obvious reasons. Christina was both human and Werewolf. And she was smoking hot. Tall, with very light brown skin, long Black hair, light grey eyes and a gorgeously curvy body. Not to mention a gorgeous, heart-shaped booty. This chick had the best of all possible worlds in her. Human and Werewolf. Jamaican and Native American. Wow. Yep, I fell for her. Can you really blame me?

I fell for Christina, the gorgeous Half-Breed. My world was changing and I liked it. Finally, there seemed to be a gal who was right just for me. And she seemed to genuinely like me. We began dating, and life seemed perfect for a while. Little did I know that my dream gal had a dark side to her. You see, Christina was extremely ambitious. She wanted power, and lots of it. And she had the allegiance of many of the Half-Breeds in the City of Toronto. She wanted to unite as many Werewolves as possible under the banner of conquest. Yep, my gorgeous new girlfriend was crazy. And it would be up to me to stop her mad plans. I guess I just can't escape my fate. I always throw in my lot with the wrong person, the wrong crowd. How in hell am I getting out of this one? Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen.

It's with great reluctance that I must find a way to convince my dear Christina to abandon her chosen path. Otherwise I must find a way to stop her. Werewolves are a deeply bigoted bunch, man. There is no way the mainstream society of Werewolves is going to accept a Half-Breed female as their leader in anything. Also, Half-Breeds are barely tolerated by regular Werewolves. When Half-Breeds start to organize, regular Werewolves feel threatened. And they'll band together to take out the outsiders. I must make Christina understand reason. If I can't, she will die. As will most if not all of the Half-Breeds who have pledged their loyalty to her. It seems I can't escape this hell that is my fate. Once more, the game of power is afoot. And I must play my part. Wish me luck.