
Dreams of Gray
By Maurice Lawless
Published by Red Iris Books
Dreama Cargill is in trouble. She woke up naked, cold, and sporting a back mural. Where did it come from? Tattoos aren't her usual scene. Then again, neither is blood and a strange attraction to the woods at night. Something is changing her, and not for the better. Can she unravel the mystery before the moon calls her to kill?
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DREAMS OF GRAYCopyright © Maurice Lawless, 2011Published by Red Iris BooksISBN-13: 978-1-937733-06-3ISBN-10: 1-937733-06-8
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or any portions thereof, in any form.
Red Iris BooksWebsite: http://redirisbooks.com/Email: redirisbooks@gmail.comTwitter: @redirisbooks
Cover by SM ReineInterior design by Red Iris Books
Waking up naked was usually a good thing for me. It meant I'd had a particularly nice night dancing at the club, followed by a little horizontal dancing with a cute guy (or girl, if I'm really drunk). I usually wake up content, warm, and relatively unharmed. So maybe I'd have to pluck my bra off the ceiling fan and sneak out without waking up my friend-for-an-evening. It was all par for the course.
But waking up cold, wet, and dirty was new. I'd never had to pick leaves and mud out of my hair before, and this was the first time I had to wander aimlessly through a damp forest for most of the day before I figured out where I was. I ran barefoot and bare-assed from bushes to trees to random parked cars and climbed into my apartment through the bedroom window to avoid being caught without a stitch to my name.
It was one hell of a way to start the week.
I skipped work that day---big surprise, right? Something about waking up naked in the woods two miles from my place really makes me drag. It took me a solid hour to scrub off the caked mud and leaves, and that wasn't mentioning the freak-out that followed realizing I'd joined the ranks of the heavily inked.
I sure as hell should've remembered how I got that tattoo. It took up my entire goddamn back! It looked like some weird cross between runes and a tribal armband a meathead might get on a date, and it ran from the tops of my shoulders to the small of my back.
It didn't make sense. I'd never liked needles. They had to pretty much sedate me growing up whenever I needed a shot. Sedative before the sedative in some cases. What could I say? I was a biter. I'd never set foot inside a tattoo parlor, much less sat through the hours---no, days---it would take to get that amount of ink put on. It didn't even feel tender, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't unconscious for a month while it healed.
After my shower, I took another look at my back. There were six runes, staggered in two rows of three. The intricate patterns surrounding the runes looked more like something you'd see on a Scottish coat of arms.
Looking too closely made me shiver, and I was sickened to see the tattoo shiver with me. This was a part of my skin now. It would take months of painful laser treatments---and permanent scars---to get it off, and I couldn't even remember how it got there.
I covered the evidence with a towel and retreated to my bedroom. I don't remember much after that. I must've fallen asleep because my phone woke me up. The ring was "Highway to Hell", which meant it was my only friend at work: Peggy Jane Mackenzie, or PJ, as she preferred.
I reached for my phone, still mostly asleep. It took a few tries to hit the answer button.
"Hello?"
"This is your 7:30 wake up call. You coming over or what?"
I looked at my clock radio. "Oh crap. Sorry. Yeah, just let me get dressed."
"Someone over there I should know about?"
PJ was very open about her sex life. Too open. She expected the same amount of details from me and was constantly disappointed.
"No. I was just more tired than I thought. Nodded off."
"Well, get dressed and get over here. Or skip the first part. Might make the drive more interesting."
"Whatever. See you in a bit."
I rolled over and looked at the ceiling, then down at myself. I was still naked. Save the occasional weekend delight, I generally slept in something. I get cold easily.
Not only was I less shocked than I should've been with everything in the open, I was actually warm. I pulled on panties, jeans, and a top, and when I went to check the thermostat, it read what it always did: 75. It felt ten degrees above that. I made a mental note to call the office and get the dial fixed.
I looked at myself in the mirror on the way out, and then I sighed and went back to change my top. My usual ones showed too much of my neck. I wasn't ready to breech the subject of the ink with PJ. I settled on the same top with a light jacket that had a collar. It would have to do.
PJ answered the door in jean shorts and a halter top. Her curly red locks were cinched up behind her head in a bundle that looked close to bursting.
"Hey, ho."
She'd already started the movie, and her coffee table was cluttered with a wide array of snack foods. Most were frozen dairy products, sweating sweet rings onto the bills and junk mail beneath.
"Hit me, girl," I said, and I settled onto the couch.
She handed me a spoon like a surgical nurse might pass a scalpel. I stabbed the nearest pint.
"You cold or something? I'm burning up today. Cute jacket though."
She noticed. Crap.
I tried to let it slide. It worked for about half an hour, which is when my back tickled from a dripping bead of sweat. I finally gave in to the urge to shuck the jacket.
PJ was enraptured by Russell Crowe on the screen, feet tucked under her and hair (now free of the clip) spilling out in a wild, bloody spray behind her. I sighed. Hopefully, she'd be too drunk or tired to notice black vines visible on the back of my neck.
PJ got up and shuffled forward to the kitchen, and I stood up and stretched. She whistled a cat-call.
"You slut!"
I'd stretched facing away from the kitchen and gave her a clear shot of the very thing I'd been hiding all day. Smooth move, Ex-Lax. "What?"
"Don't play coy with me, whore. I saw that tramp stamp. When did you get it?"
My face probably matched her hair at this point. PJ was already back in the living room, and seriously invading my personal space.
"Come on, strip. I want to see."
Before I knew it, she was hiking my shirt up. My whole back was quickly bare to her scrutiny. I heard her gasp. "Oh shit."
I wrestled my shirt back down and retreated to the far end of the couch. My eyes welled up, and my cheeks heated to the point of boiling. But PJ wasn't looking at me at all. A strangely confused expression gave way to her sly smile.
"I had no idea you were such a freak, Dree. That's hot."
I laughed in spite of myself, even as I looked away so she wouldn't see the warm stream of tears.
"When did you get it done?" she asked. "And how the hell did you keep it a secret?"
I didn't want to tell her. I didn't want to tell anyone. I wanted to quietly endure the pain and scars and get it erased. Return to normalcy. She sat close to me, and her face went serious.
"What's wrong, Dree?"
I collapsed into her, and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Somewhere between my sobs, I said, "I don't remember."
That snapped PJ back to herself. "What the fuck, Dree? That's one holy fuck of a hangover if you don't remember a back mural!"
I withdrew and rubbed my face dry. "Really, PJ. I don't remember how I got it."
I recounted my morning to her. She smiled faintly at my description of running back home naked, but at the end, she was all business.
"We need to get you checked out. Do a rape kit or something. Maybe they slipped you a roofie."
"You really think so?"
"Fuck yeah I do. Whatever they knocked you out with must have been pretty damn strong to take your memory and keep you from punching their lights out. I know how much you hate needles."
She was already up and milling around the apartment looking for her keys.
"PJ, I---I'd rather just move on, you know? So I had a bad bender of a weekend and woke up in the woods. I don't feel like I was raped or anything. I'm fine. Not a bruise."
Saying that dumped a whole new set of awkward questions into my head. Why didn't I have any bruises, or scratches, at least? I'd slogged through a forest naked and broken into my apartment, for God's sake. It's a wonder I didn't look like a prize fighter.
"Bullshit, you're coming, and I'll have them strap you down if necessary. We're getting to the bottom of this."
She didn't wait to hear my answer; she snagged my arm and dragged me bodily all the way to the nearest emergency clinic.
An hour later, I sat awkwardly in a gown on the exam table. The butcher paper crinkled under my bare ass. I would have been mortified if I weren't convinced somewhere in my head that this was a bad dream, and I'd wake up in my own bed with one motherfucker of a hangover and a back as pale and unmarked as the day I was born.
The doctor came in and PJ laid into him. "About fucking time you sauntered in!"
I shushed her with a wave, and she sat down, but she continued to glare at him.
The doctor seemed more interested in my clipboard than me.
"All right, Miss-"
"Dree. Call me Dree."
"Okay, Dree. In a minute, I'll have a nurse come in and examine you. We need to document everything, you understand?"
"I do." I turned to PJ. "I'll be okay. Could you wait outside?"
She gave the doctor an appraising look that told him she found him wanting, and then she left. The doctor sat on a stool and finally looked me in the eyes.
"How far we go is completely up to you. We can treat you for injuries and not do a kit. I would recommend you get an STD panel, but anything more is entirely your choice."
I seriously considered telling him I just wanted to go home. Maybe take a sleeping pill or something. I'd had a long day.
But what if PJ was right? What if they did rape me?
"No," I sighed, "it's probably best to go ahead and do it."
"Okay. I'll come back when it's done and check on you."
I nodded. He left and was replaced by a short Hispanic woman in scrubs She carried a tackle box in one hand, and a small digital camera in the other.
There really wasn't anything to document. Aside from the ink, there wasn't a mark on me. I told her about the woods and my trip back to the apartment, but I left out the part about the tattoo.
She seemed disappointed when I told her I'd showered twice since then, but she tried to get something from my fingernails and hair anyway. She probed a few other less pleasant areas as well.
She treated me like a victim. I guess, in her eyes, I was.
"Okay, Dree, we need to get some blood now to do a few tests on it. Is that all right?"
My heart rate immediately sped up. "I'm---a little jumpy around needles. You might want to restrain me before you poke."
She smiled indulgently. "No problem. Lie back for me."
As I lay on the table, she fiddled with something on the side. An extension with a Velcro strap pulled out, and she secured my arm on it.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Is there one on the other side?" I asked. "I've decked people before. Nothing personal, understand. I can't really control it."
She paused, gave it some thought, and ended up securing my other arm on another extension. I lay there like a crucifixion victim and stared at the ceiling.
"How strong are those straps?"
She laughed a little. "I've seen big, burly men kick and scream and not get out. You're probably fine."
"Okay." I took a deep breath and looked away.
She dabbed my arm with disinfectant, and I shut my eyes. I tried to think of anything other than sharp, pointy things going into my flesh. I failed miserably.
My vision went bright white the moment she stuck the needle in. When the white faded, I was on the floor in PJ's lap. My arm was sore, and my gown was covered with blood.
"Wha---?"
"Jesus, Dree. You're a hell of a fighter with those needles. I would have come sooner, but I thought someone had shot a dog. "
I saw the nurse nearby, unconscious and bleeding from her temple. Doctors and nurses rushed around the cramped exam room. I felt an immediate and jarring sense of responsibility and said a little too loudly, "I'm sorry! I told her I don't like needles."
The rest of what I said was lost in sobs against PJ's chest. It was only then that I realized I wasn't moving right.
"Why can't I move my arms?" I asked.
I heard a loud rip, followed by two heavy metallic thumps, and my arms were free again.
Jesus, I'd ripped the extensions right off the chair! How did that happen?
I pulled my arms in close to my chest, and PJ ran her hands through my hair. She rocked me like a child.
"Shh...it's gonna be fine, Dree. Just take some deep breaths."
PJ eventually coaxed me into the next exam room and I was coherent enough to let them sedate me before they took blood. It wasn't what I'd call a unanimous decision.
"It's necessary, David," one doctor said. "Just do it."
"She's barely a hundred pounds! Too much could kill her," the other protested.
They probably thought they were being discreet, talking a good hundred feet from my room. I heard them just fine. It didn't seem strange at the time.
Finally, they came back. I didn't have time to react to the first prick before my world went black.
I woke up in my own bed, and for a wonderful moment, I thought it was all over. No tattoo, no mad naked hikes, no assault with a deadly exam chair. PJ's voice from beside me shattered the illusion entirely.
"Hey you. Feeling better? You slept all day."
My throat was dry, but I crackled a response. "What did they give me?"
PJ laughed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
I glared at her. She drew back a bit and frowned. "Geez, Dree. Don't look at me like that. Thorazine."
The name sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe from an episode of ER. "What's that mean?"
"It means you're full-on psycho, chica. They use that shit on mental patients."
Now I was really confused. "Wait, what?"
"You weren't responding to the knockout drugs they gave you at first. You just acted drunk. Funny as shit, too. They had to use something stronger. They did a crapload of tests on you while you were out. They needed consent from next of kin. I gave them your dad's number."
Thank God. My mother would have hopped the first bus from Alabama and refused to leave for a month. Daddy was much more practical.
"Thanks for that, PJ."
"No problem. I called in for you at Woodspring too. Told them we both had a serious case of stomach flu and didn't want to spread it around the office. HR folks eat that shit up."
"I'm hungry," I said.
"Of course you are." PJ walked out of the room and returned with a TV tray full of goodies: bacon, eggs, orange juice, and oatmeal. I even saw a couple little crescent rolls.
"Crap, PJ. I had no idea you were so---domestic."
"Shh. Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep up."
We talked as I devoured breakfast. PJ said the doctors had tried to hold me on suspicion of drugs, but the tox screen came back clean. Finally, grudgingly, they'd released me the morning after we'd gone in with promises they'd call me immediately with any test results.
"You should have seen the look on the hospital administrator's face when that nurse explained that a five-foot-nothing hundred pound girl had ripped the arms right off the exam chair and beat her up with them."
"Is that what happened?"
PJ waved it off. "Who the fuck knows? Probably just had an old table. You do get pretty jumpy, and adrenaline does some weird shit."
When PJ moved the tray to the floor and lay down next to me on the bed, I realized I'd eaten everything. It was a personal best for me.
"You might want to put something on. I feel my latent lesbian tendencies emerging."
I looked down and immediately ran into the bathroom to grab a bathrobe. "How did that happen?"
PJ laughed. "Beats me, chica. Maybe you're a sleep-stripper. Think of the possibilities."
The next few days were pretty uneventful. I slept, ate like a starving child, and slept some more. I started to feel better enough to once again venture into the world, and PJ suggested some R&R.
Her form of relaxation was a club downtown, just a couple blocks from the ball park. Thermal was an all-ages club, which made it less popular with the over-21 crowd, but I knew the bartender and had a running tab. It was a good thing, too; I still hadn't recovered my ID or any of my cards. I settled into a spot at the bar and watched PJ dance with some high school kid. The big black Xs stamped on their hands made them easy to spot.
After two shots and a screwdriver, I had just begun to get into my rhythm. Then I felt a horrible itchiness on my back. I slammed the rest of my drink and threaded my way through the crowd to the ladies' room.
There was a line, of course. I stood in it for a few minutes, but when the itching became unbearable, I pushed past and said, "Irritable bowel, people. Move it or wear it."
It worked, just like it usually did. I made it into the bathroom just as the itching became more than I could handle. I ran to the mirror and lifted my shirt. The runes had turned an angry, burning red. The moment I saw them, my brain registered the pain and I had to bite back a scream. I bullied my way into a stall and took off my top and bra.
With no fabric to rub against, my skin felt a little better, but I could still feel the heat coming off of me like a radiator. I couldn't go naked, but putting my bra back on hurt too much. I settled for the top and stuffed the bra in a pocket of my jeans. It only bulged a little.
I had to find PJ and get out of here.
The first part turned out to be more work than I expected. The place was packed wall to wall with people, and I'm not exactly tall. It took me a while to weave my way to the bar, but I saw bouncing red curls and bored a hole through the crowd.
PJ was comfortably drunk by this time. Her cheeks almost matched her hair, and her dancing looked a little erratic. She smiled at me and tried to drag me into a three-way butt grind. Instead, I grabbed her hand and pulled her to one of the far walls.
"I don't feel well. I need to go." I practically screamed it into her ear to be heard over the music. She dug in her pockets for her keys and gave them to me.
"You're not coming?" I asked, confused.
PJ shook her head, still dancing even though there was hardly anyone on this side of the club. "I'll call a cab. Take care."
I was annoyed, but in the interest of fairness and trying not to drag down my friend's good time, I relented. She signaled me to call her later. I nodded, and then realized my cell phone was missing along with everything else. PJ was lost in the crowd before I could tell her.
Outside, the night was unseasonably cool. I started to hike back to PJ's car and looked up at the sky. It only ever really gets cool in Houston when it's about to rain. Sure enough, it was completely clouded over and looked less than friendly. I walked faster. PJ, ever the cheapskate, always parked as far as she could from the club to get the cheaper parking rate.
I had to walk about three blocks to the car, and this whole burning up and freezing at the same time bit was getting old. A few stragglers were getting to the club late and walked in clumps on either side of the street. Some walked in the street itself.
I was just about to the car when a shadow blocked my path. I could just make out a ragged man in an old suit and slippers. His smell made me want to heave - sweat and stale urine, in equal parts.
"Got a dollar?"
PJ, for the love of God, why couldn't you park closer?
"No, I'm sorry. I don't have any cash on me."
For once, it was the truth, but the bum didn't want to take no for an answer. He followed me to PJ's car and stood close now.
"Two dollar get me a forty. Maybe you give me two?" One more step and he could grab me.
"I really don't have any money. Please, just go."
Something flashed, and searing pain hit my stomach. I looked down and saw a horizontal slash that sliced my top and bit into my skin. I was bleeding.
"You gimme what you got, bitch."
So much blood. Gut wounds are bad. Heard that on a movie somewhere. Oh Jesus, who cares? RUN!
I didn't get two steps before he blocked me off. I ran straight into him and the knife. Turns out I can't bounce off steel. With a sickening, wet sound, the knife went straight into my abdomen.
Oh shit. Oh God. Fuck you, PJ!
I backed away. He looked almost as shocked as I did. Without thinking, I pulled the knife out and dropped it to the pavement. My legs gave out and I ended up on the ground, staring at the night sky.
The moon peeked out from behind a cloud. For a brief second, it was a blinding white, and then everything went dark.
I woke up screaming. It was still night, and I was still in the parking lot. The pain in my back had gone down to a dull throb, and the man was gone. I looked quickly in all directions. Not a soul was out and about. My mouth was dry and tasted like copper. I felt a tickle and coughed something thick and dark onto the pavement. The knife was gone.
I gave myself a good look from head to toe. My jeans were soaked with dried blood, but my stomach was untouched. I ran my hand against it just to be sure, and I felt nothing but unbroken skin. What had really happened? That bum couldn't have stabbed me, right?
You didn't come to the club sporting all that blood, genius.
I debated calling the police, but what would I tell them? Oh, yeah. Random homeless guy attacked me. I got better.
I looked around where I'd been laying and found PJ's keychain. Another small miracle.
I thought about going back to the club to grab PJ, but the idea of walking back through the streets made me shake. Or maybe it was the fact that I'd just nearly been gutted like a fish? Either way, it didn't matter. I got into PJ's red coupe and floored it out of downtown.
The dashboard clock glowed an amber three-fifteen a.m. I'd been out for four hours. I was amazed no one saw me and called the cops. I was suddenly indignant about that.
Whatever, I told myself, maybe the universe is telling you to stay the hell away from clubs.
I don't know why that seemed funny, but I laughed desperately most of the way home.
At the apartment, I locked the bolt, hung the chain, and set the push-lock on my bedroom door. I checked the window I'd jimmied open. It was fixed. Only after all that did I strip and crawl into bed.
I probably should have taken a shower to wash off the blood, but I was just too tired. I curled up in a little ball and slept.
Morning came too early. The insistent banging on my front door sounded so far away, I assumed it was the neighbors. When it didn't stop, I angrily tossed my pillow to the corner of the room and got up. I reached to shuck off the covers, but they were a tangled mess at the foot of the bed.
I threw on a robe and stomped to the living room. I didn't even bother checking the peephole. I just undid the bolt and twist-lock and flung the door open. "PJ, for fuck's sake!"
I stopped there, because the person at my door was a very tall, broad-shouldered, uniformed policeman. I choked on my own words and tried to smile meekly at him.
"I---uh, I'm sorry, officer. Is there something I can help you with?"
To his credit, he tipped his hat and went on like nothing was wrong. "Yes ma'am. Are you Dreama---"
"Dree, officer. Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"
He brought up a clear plastic bag that I hadn't noticed him holding and handed it to me. I took it dumbly, fumbling around at the contents until they registered.
My handbag! I tore the plastic open and rifled through. Everything was there. Tension I didn't know was there released itself so suddenly that I swayed on my feet.
The officer flinched as though to catch me, but I waved him off. "I'm okay. I'm just so relieved to get it all back. May I ask where you found it?"
He nodded. "Well, that's the curious thing, ma'am. It was brought to the station, as is. Left at the front desk before we could ask anything."
Figured. Still, at this point, I was just so relieved to have the pieces of my life back that I didn't care how they got there.
"You don't usually hand-deliver this stuff, do you?" I gave him my best disarming grin.
He smiled shyly, and his dark brown eyes looked away. Interesting.
"Uh, no, ma'am. I actually live in the complex, and when I saw your address on your license, I thought I'd come by and save you the paperwork."
"Well, thank you so much, Officer---Sutton. Would you like something to drink? Ice water, tea?" I dropped my things on the end table and turned toward the kitchen.
He actually blushed and looked away. "Oh no, ma'am. I've got to get to my patrol, but I wanted to drop off your things before I left."
He tipped his hat and wished me a good day. It was only after he'd left that I realized the real reason he was blushing. My robe had fallen open when I turned. I cinched it shut again, then hastily closed the door and flipped the bolt.
PJ dropped by later in the day to pick up her car. I relayed my morning embarrassment and she completely missed the point.
"Was he hot?" she asked.
"I don't know, I guess. What happened after I left last night?"
Her eyes lit up, and she spoke in rapid-fire phrases. "Oh fuck! You missed some excitement. A little while after you left, some guy runs in and pushes past the bouncers, and he's all covered in blood. He's screaming at the top of his lungs to call 911 and saying something about his buddy getting attacked."
Guess that makes two of us, I thought. I shuddered, and PJ noticed.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," I lied. "Just a chill, I guess."
"Easy to do in your robe. The fuck is it with you and clothes lately? Thinking of going nudist on me?"
I shrugged. "What happened next?"
"Oh, they called an ambulance. I figure it was just a drunk fight, you know? One guy beats up on the other one and realizes 'Holy shit! He's really bleeding!' and panics. Full moon brings out the loonies."
I got up for water. "Do you want something? I've still got some sweet tea left."
PJ nodded. While I was in the kitchen, she peeked her head around the corner at me.
"So what happened to you last night? Pick someone up?"
I was glad I had my head in the fridge so she couldn't see my face. I debated what to tell her. The truth, but not the whole truth, was probably best.
"My back started hurting."
"Hurting how?"
I recounted the whole incident in the ladies room. She thought for a moment.
"Maybe you're allergic to the ink they used. It's happened before. My uncle runs a tat shop. Sometimes folks have a bad reaction."
"Do you think your uncle would know anything about my back? Like what it means?"
She shook her head. "He's a Texan, born and raised. Poppa might know something, though."
"Your Dad?"
"Nah, grandpa. Poppa Mackenzie. He immigrated in the forties. The shop's his, but my uncle runs it these days."
It was as good a place to start as any. "Where is this shop?"
"Southwest side."
Ouch. Any time you heard something on the news about a shooting or a serious car crash, it was on the southwest side. We'd have to go during the day.
"Up for a drive?" I asked. The smile on PJ's face was answer enough.
PJ drove, so it didn't take us very long to make it around the city. Celtic Knot Tattoos was perhaps not the most original name for a tattoo parlor, but the patterns around the sign were close enough to the things on my back that I had hope.
The sounds when we walked in set my teeth on edge. I focused on the back of the store, and avoided looking at all the needles and various other instruments of torture. Apparently they pierced here too. Good for them.
A burly middle-aged man came out from behind a curtain. He gave PJ a broad smile and an open bear hug, and shook my hand gently.
"Connor Mackenzie. Nice to meet you. My niece says you have a question about a tattoo?"
"I do. Is there somewhere...more private I can show you?"
He gave a sly smile. "In a sensitive place, is it? Come on in."
He directed us back to a room that looked disturbingly familiar to the hospital exam room. There were no windows. He shut the door behind us.
I took off my shirt but left on my bra. This was PJ's family, not mine. Connor took a look at my back and whistled.
"Man, that's fine work. Who'd you get it done by? I want to hire him. Or her?"
I gave PJ a distressed look, and she covered for me. "Do you think Poppa might know what the runes mean? She just picked them out of a book."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Connor put on a pair of gloves and poked around on my back a bit. "Damn fine work. Amazing detail. Bon, you need to give me this guy's number. He's an artist. A goddamned Michelangelo."
It took me a second to realize that Bon was his name for PJ. She nodded. "I'm sure we have his number somewhere. Can you get Poppa for us?"
Connor stopped poking me. I slipped my top back on and watched the two Mackenzies share a glance that I'm pretty sure I wasn't meant to see. Connor forced a smile.
"He's upstairs. He's missed you, Bon. It'd do him good if you said hello yourself."
PJ grabbed her necklace and started chewing on it. "Okay. Dree, come on."
She opened the door and motioned me to follow. We climbed a set of narrow stairs and came out in a cozy little apartment. Apparently when PJ said Poppa lived at the shop, she meant it literally.
PJ moved around like she was familiar with the place. I wasn't so lucky. I ended up bumping the kitchen table, which was filled with bottles of medication and alcohol. We went into the small bedroom and PJ greeted the old man in the bed with a gentle hug.
He smiled. "That's my Bonny wee Lass. Been some time."
PJ turned to me. "Poppa, this is my friend Dree."
Poppa Mackenzie looked like he might have been a boxer in a former life. He had the kind of build that was part bulldog and part dwarf: short, but thick.
"Hello, sir," I said.
"Call me Poppa."
"Um, hello, Poppa."
He motioned us to sit down in the chairs beside his bed. "So what brings you here, Bonny Lass?"
"Dree has a question about some symbols on a tattoo she got. We wondered if maybe you could take a look."
"Aye, I could. Care to show me?"
I sat on the edge of his bed and lifted up the back of my shirt. I wasn't entirely sure if he'd consider it appropriate for me to strip it off.
"That's a good bit o' ink, lass. I cannae see it all, though. Go ahead, your vitals are covered."
I went ahead and took my shirt off, and watched him over my shoulder. He was squinting.
"Bonny, fetch my spare eyes, would ye?"
PJ handed him his reading glasses from the nightstand and he made a more thorough inspection with his hands. He went from top to bottom. When he'd finished, I felt him draw back and take a sharp breath.
"What is it, sir---uh, Poppa?"
He took off his glasses and shook his head sadly. "I cannae help ye, lass. Best be moving on."
PJ and I shared a confused look. "What do you mean, Poppa?" she asked. "Do you recognize it?"
"Aye, and I cannae help ye."
I slipped my shirt back on and turned to him. "I don't understand, sir. What does it say?"
"I'm sorry, lass. Best just move on. Ye be not welcome here no more."
PJ's mouth dropped. "What's wrong, Poppa?"
"Out, Bonny. Take your friend with you. I cannae help ye."
I got up and started walking toward the door with my shirt in my hand. I hadn't realized how much hope I'd pinned on Poppa Mackenzie's help, because I felt myself beginning to tear up. PJ hugged me and pleaded with the man one more time.
"You can't tell us anything, Poppa?"
"Aye, lassies. Pray."
We descended the stairs in silence. Connor met us with a smile, but it faded when he saw my expression.
"No luck?"
PJ shook her head. "Poppa was acting kind of strange."
Connor looked away and coughed. "Yeah. We've been worried about him. His mind is going."
He looked at me and said, "Cheer up there, Dree. You've got a grade-A piece of art on your back. You should be proud. Who cares what it actually says. I had a guy come in once with Chinese up and down his arms. Most beautiful thing you ever saw. I asked him what it meant and he said, Kung Pao Chicken with Noodles."
I smiled a little. PJ hugged her uncle and we left. It was starting to get dark outside, and I had work the next day. Stomach flu only bought you a few days.
"Did you get breakfast without me this morning?" PJ asked once we were safely on the loop back to our side of town.
"What?" I asked.
"I mean after the club. I found some napkins in the side door that looked like they had chocolate, maybe raspberry filling on them."
"I don't know, maybe."
"You were really out of it last night, huh?"
Out cold, more like. But I nodded.
Another week passed, then two. I had a few more episodes with my back, but it was never as bad as that night in the club. My dad called to check on me every night for the first week, but he eased off when I told him everything was fine. My tests from the clinic came back normal for everything. All they could say for certain was that I was human and healthy. Big help there.
Eventually, I was comfortable enough with the return to my normal routine that I went on a date with the policeman who'd returned my bag. Turns out his first name was Alan.
"I should be honest with you; I'm not really into Mexican," I said.
He looked around at the horrible décor, complete with sombreros on the walls and a huge concrete donkey by the door, and grinned.
"What? It's perfectly romantic."
I sipped my margarita and scanned the room again. "Umm, yeah. I always did have a thing for donkeys."
His grin went dirty, and I cut him off before he could say anything, "Nope. Not going there. Let's not and say we did."
"Fair enough," he said. "So you know what I do for a living, what about you?"
Sacrificial goat for a local cable provider, I thought.
"I answer phones."
I could tell he was waiting for the rest of it. When it didn't come, he changed the subject. Brownie points for him.
"How long have you lived in the complex?"
"About two years. Moved in when I got my job. It's a shithole, but it's cheap."
He took a long drag on the straw of his margarita and nodded. "Know what you mean. My toilet went out a couple days ago, and they told me it would take a week to fix. What am I supposed to do, piss in the woods?"
That was an interesting mental picture. Actually, now that I had a couple of margaritas in me, I was very interested in seeing him with his pants down. I was way overdue for some action.
"My bathroom works fine. You should come by some time."
He called for the check.
We ended up back at his apartment after all. It was a few buildings over from mine. The good night kiss turned into the good night grope, and it finally became the good night "mad dash for the bedroom."
I practically pounced on him, and we tumbled to the bed. I was plenty ready, so it didn't take much to plunge him inside me. I rode him hard and fast, desperate with need. His hands raked my back. Our bodies slapped and rubbed deliciously.
We coupled for what felt like hours. I was sweating pretty good by this time, and we both shone slick in the glow from the streetlight outside his window.
I collapsed onto his chest in exhaustion, kissing his pecs, his shoulders, and his neck. I took a playful bite of his shoulder, and he jumped, but laughed a little. I took that as a good sign.
He grabbed and sucked on my nipples, and I thrust down on him harder, clenching him as I did. I felt a warmth growing inside me that meant my fun for the evening was about to really start. He bit down on my nipple, and it sent me over the edge.
I moaned and nuzzled his chest. My mouth found one of his pecs and latched on. Somewhere in the back of my head pain was registering from my back, and my tongue felt a coppery warmth on it I wasn't familiar with. I didn't care. All I knew was I was coming, and it tasted great.
I was a little shocked when Alan cried out and pushed me off of him. His eyes were wide, and he had a hand to his chest where I'd latched on. He ran to the bathroom and closed the door. I lay there for a few seconds, basking in the afterglow. Maybe he wasn't the biting type. That would definitely not work long-term. Oh well, I'd got something fun out of him, at least.
I rolled over onto my stomach and caught my reflection in his dresser mirror. My hair was a wild tangle, my eyes were bright in the streetlight's glow, and my chin and mouth were black.
That jerked me out of my orgasmic fog.
I reached for the lamp on the nightstand and let out a startled yelp when I realized it was blood, and a lot of it. I didn't usually go that deep. A bruise the next day for him, maybe. Something to brag to his buddies about. This was---well, I suddenly understood his reaction.
I got up and walked to the bedroom door. "Are you okay in there? I'm so sorry. I must have gotten a little carried away."
"Maybe you'd better go," he said from behind the door.
It stung, but I couldn't blame him, could I? I gathered up my things, dressed, rinsed my face and hands in the kitchen sink and did the walk of shame back to my apartment.
I stepped into the hot shower and watched the last traces of blood swirl down the drain. Hopefully, Alan wasn't the kind of person to press assault charges for a love bite.
I was late the next morning. I snuck into my cube, slipped on my headset, and gave my first caller our canned greeting: "It's a great day at Woodspring Communications. This is Dreama. How may I help you?"
No one in real life calls me Dreama. Well, no one but my mother and a couple thousand customers. To the rest of the world I'm Dree. This particular caller's response came in an out-of-key Sinatra impression with way too much warble. "Dream a little dream of me."
Figured. First shot out of the box and it's Charles Filmore. My day just kept getting better.
"Hello, Mr. Filmore."
"Now, Miss Dreama, I told you to call me Charlie. How are we today?"
I followed our belligerent caller policy: First step, ignore any attempt to provoke.
"And what can I do for you today, Mr. Filmore?"
"Always so formal. Well if you must get right to business, my cable box is out again."
Script number two, coming right up.
"I'm sorry to hear you're having trouble with your service, sir. I'd be happy to schedule a tech to come out and take a look at your equipment. Is a morning or afternoon time best for you?"
He sighed on the other end of the line, but I wasn't playing along. Finally, he dropped the saccharine tone. Score one for me.
"Evening. Preferably after five."
I flew through our reservation program with the kind of familiarity only three years at a dead-end job can give you. A window popped up with a confirmation number, date, and time.
"Okay, Mister Filmore. I have you down for Wednesday the 12th between five p.m. and eight p.m. Our tech will give you a call when he's on his way. Is that time all right for you?"
"Sure."
He sounded sulky. I so didn't care.
"Would you say that your issue was solved satisfactorily today?"
"Yes."
"All right, Mister Filmore. Please hang on and I'll transfer you to the automated satisfaction survey. Thank you for choosing Woodspring and have a nice day."
I slammed the call termination button much harder than I needed to, pulled off my headset and retired to the ladies room. Dealing with that guy always made me want to wash afterward.
As I scrubbed my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. A little gaunt, but otherwise not worse for wear.
I tried to smile, and mostly succeeded.
I was saved from actually dealing with things by a tornado of curly red hair and freckles. Her entrance was heralded by a heavy slam of the ladies room door and a loud, "FUUUUUUUCK, I need to take a shit. That lady kept me on the line forever."
She flew past me into the first stall and slammed the door. After a beat, she opened it just a sliver.
"Hey, Dree."
"Hi, PJ."
The stall door shut again. I ran my hands under the sink again, left the water on while I pretended to check my makeup (I don't wear any), and took my time at the electric hand dryer.
PJ emerged while she was still zipping her slacks. Silver chain hung out of both sides of her mouth. She chewed on her necklace a lot. Unsatisfied oral fixation, she'd told me once. When she saw me, the tiny cross plopped out and landed with a smack on the front of her unbuttoned polo.
"Still here? I figured I'd run you off."
"No," I said.
"Movie night tonight?" she asked.
"Sure. My place or yours?" I said. "Er---better yours, now that I think about it."
If PJ sensed anything odd, she took it in stride. "No problem. Seven?"
"Sure."
Most of our plans were quick, simple, and vague. It got me into trouble sometimes, but if I woke up indoors, that would count as tame.
I sat back down at my desk and donned my headset. Surely, after Charlie, my next call would be something simple. Someone with intelligence, or at least common courtesy.
"It's a great day at Woodspring Communications. This is Dreama, how may I help you?"
"Yeah, uh, my computer won't connect to the internet."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. I'd be happy to help you with some troubleshooting options. First, is our modem turned on and showing three green lights?"
The line rustled. He was probably kneeling down to look in the TV stand or under his desk. People shove our hardware into dark corners like they don't want to know it's there. I sometimes felt like they wanted to do that to me as well.
"Yeah," the man said, "Three green lights. One is blinking."
"Okay, sir. That's good. Now can we go back to your PC and look at the network settings screen? Do you see any warnings or error messages?"
"No, I see a bunch of zeroes and periods."
I never knew how much or how little these people knew about computers. At least he hadn't called the monitor a TV...yet. Baby steps.
"Okay, sir. Are the zeroes and periods you see in a column called 'IP Address'?"
"Umm...I don't know. Oh yeah. Okay."
"All right, sir, reboot your computer and see if it picks up a fresh IP address from our modem. Are you connected to it directly, or do you have a router?"
"What's that?"
The magic box that gives you your porn. "It's something that lets you connect more than one computer to our modem."
"Uh---"
He probably didn't know what I was talking about. Moving on.
"No problem, sir. Is your computer rebooting?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, let's wait and see if it picks up a new IP address."
I hit the mute button while he waited and sighed. This was one of my least favorite parts of the job. We had to stay on the line until the problem was resolved. Short of an expletive-filled tirade from a customer, we couldn't just hang up. No matter how often I wanted to.
"Okay, it's booted," he said finally.
I unmuted. "Okay, sir. Can you check the network settings again for me, please? What do you see?"
"It's still zeroes! What the hell? You said that would fix it."
"I'm sorry that didn't resolve your problem, sir. Let's try something else."
"No, I want to talk to someone else. You got any guys at that place?"
I probably looked like I'd been slapped in the face by the Pope. I should have let it slide and continued. Belligerent Caller Training Manual. I just couldn't get myself to calm down this time.
"Wait. Did you just insinuate that I don't know what I'm doing?"
"Yeah, get a man on here."
"And it's because I'm a woman?"
"What, are you deaf too?"
Not cool. I felt myself getting warm. Who did this guy think he was? Was I just supposed to sit here and take it?
"Sir, I'll have you know that I have a degree in information technology. My first job out of college was installing computer networks. I think I have a damn sight better idea of what's going on in this situation that you."
"What---"
"And furthermore, your misogynistic comments are insulting and low-class. If you honestly think women are intellectually inferior to you I feel very sorry for the bimbos you surround yourself with."
"Wait just a---"
My thoughts were going a mile a minute. I didn't care what happened to me after this call; this guy was going to hear what I wanted to say.
"I'm done waiting on you, you entitled macho pig. Go steal someone's wireless signal for your donkey porn and have fun fucking yourself!"
I slammed the call terminate button and ripped off my headset. My polo itched something fierce and I was burning up. Sweat trickled off my forehead and into my eyes. I made a hasty beeline for the ladies room.
I splashed water on my face. I looked terrible. I was pale, almost translucent. My eyes were sunken in dark circles. To top it all off, the itching was worse. I ran into the nearest stall and stripped from the waist up. It stopped the itching but my entire body now felt like it was on fire. I sat on the edge of the toilet and doubled over.
I just stayed like that for I don't know how long. A dripping sound woke me up. Not unusual for a bathroom, but this one was coming from directly under me. I opened my eyes and saw a growing circle of dark red on the floor. My fingertips were bleeding!
I half-screamed and grabbed the nearest thing I could find: a huge wad of crappy one-ply toilet paper. It didn't staunch the flow very well. I tore open the stall door and dove for the sink.
PJ bolted through the door, "Man, Dree, you must not want to keep this job long! You really ripped---what the fuck?"
She slammed the ladies' room door shut and twisted the bolt. I must have looked a hot mess bent over the sink topless and bloody, with my hands painting the drain crimson.
PJ grabbed a pile of paper towels and examined my hands. The water had cleaned most of the blood off and she dabbed the tips of my fingers. I let her, leaving my hands limp and my head down.
"Dree, there's something under the skin."
She pressed against the tip of my left index finger, and I watched in horror. There was a small vertical slit on the tip of my finger, and when she pressed it more blood came out. That wasn't what scared me. I also saw the tip of something that almost looked like bone.
Bone wasn't supposed to be black, was it?
"Holy fuck, PJ. What's happening to me?"
My friend, to her credit, didn't let out the terror she was no doubt feeling. She swallowed and wrapped both my hands in clean paper towels. Then, she retrieved my top and bra from the stall and mopped up the puddle of blood I'd left behind. Finally, she helped me back into my shirt. My back was tender, but no longer burning.
With all that done, she looked at me with steely resolve in her eyes. "We're going to get you better, Dree. Let's go to the hospital."
I wanted to protest. I hadn't had much luck in hospitals lately. As far as they were concerned, I was perfectly normal. I thought of the black things poking out of my fingers.
Let's see them call this normal.
Decision made. I nodded to PJ and we walked into the common area. Our shift manager was standing there, apparently waiting to rip me a new orifice.
Surprise! I ripped myself ten all on my own!
She choked when she saw the bloody towels, and we walked right past. By the time we got to the door, the entire office was filled with silent, staring mannequins. I wanted to scream at them. PJ just glared. They parted, and someone even had enough autonomy to open the front door.
PJ piled me into her car and squealed out of the parking lot. I concentrated on breathing deeply and thinking of anything other than bleeding out of my goddamned fingertips.
About halfway to the emergency room, I asked PJ to pull over for a minute. She didn't want to, but she gave me a stern look and did it anyway. I pulled the paper towels off my hands.
There wasn't a scratch.
PJ grabbed my hand and looked startled. "What? Gone, just like that?"
It was Monday, and for the first time in my life, I had more important things to worry about than work stress. I was beginning to wonder if I was human anymore.
PJ took me home and insisted on monitoring me the rest of the day. I finally convinced her I was fine (well, at least not bad enough to start bleeding again), and she left with strict orders to call her if my situation changed.
I collapsed on my bed and was just about to go to sleep when someone knocked at my door. I let them knock twice, then got up and answered.
It was Alan. Perfect.
He didn't look too worse for wear from our last encounter. He wore a form-fitting wife beater that showed where he'd bandaged his shoulder. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked so much like a lost puppy I wanted to kiss him.
I didn't.
"Hi," he said.
I stepped out of the doorway and he came in.
"I didn't expect to see you again," I said. "Like, ever."
He shrugged and sat on my couch. It protested his weight. I perched on the opposite end, and pointed at his bandage.
"How is it?"
He rotated his arm a bit. "Okay, I guess. Stiff. You didn't go too deep."
I felt my face go beet red. "I really am sorry. I don't know what came over me."
"Yeah, I've been thinking about that. Maybe I should be flattered."
I laughed until I realized he was halfway serious. "What?"
"Well, you obviously thought I was tasty."
We both laughed that time, and it felt good. We had dinner that night, followed by chaste cuddling and a movie. I wasn't ready to risk wild abandon just yet. We kissed good night, and that was it. He walked back home, and I went to bed.
Good old normal me. Maybe if I kept telling myself that it would stick.
"You sure you don't want to howl at the moon with me tonight?" PJ asked. I could tell she didn't want to ask over the phone.
"I'm sure, PJ. I'm done with clubs for a while. Do me a favor, though?"
"Sure."
"Park closer this time. I'll give you the extra ten bucks. It's not safe parking in the boonies."
She snorted. "Yes, mom. If I bag a pair of twins, I'm calling you up for an orgy."
"Sounds good. Have fun."
"Later, ho."
When I went out lately, I stuck to populated areas after dark and took along protection: a six-foot-tall off-duty policeman named Alan. He made a good deterrent.
We'd taken things slow for a while after my nibble and gradually worked our way back to plain old vanilla sex.
Speaking of which, he picked the moment I hung up to step out of the shower without his towel. I was sitting on the bed when he walked in wet and glistening and oh-so-naked. I couldn't help it; I pounced. I dragged him to the bed and threw him on his back. I wasn't that strong, obviously, so I figured he was humoring me.
I hopped on the bed and presented my tight little ass to him. He got the hint and gave me a slap, then started kneading. I was soaking when his fingers slipped inside me.
I batted his hand away and said, "Doggy. Now."
He was happy to oblige. I liked to watch us in the mirror on the dresser when he did me from behind since I got a great view of his chest as he pounded me. I was in heaven.
That was when hell poked its ugly head into the mix.
I'd gotten used to the idea of my back heating up during sex. It sounded weird, I knew, but you'd be amazed what becomes normal after a while. I felt the usual itching, but I was too busy getting another itch scratched to care.
I knew the runes were going to turn red, but Alan tended to have sex with his eyes closed, so he probably wouldn't notice. I leaned into him and timed my thrusts with his. I heard a tear and realized my fingers were digging into the sheets a little too much. Again, no biggie. I could buy new sheets.
"Fuck me harder!" I said, nearly growling it.
He obliged, and I was inflamed inside and out. For a while, there was no sound but the bed springs and the wet, hot slap of our coupling.
"Oh! Yes! More!" I shouted at him.
A crack came from somewhere, but my moans drowned it out. I opened my eyes to get a good look at us joined before I came, and I saw a pair of alien yellow eyes looking back at me. I was so close to orgasm that even that seemed okay. I finally crested and let out a long, low howl.
Alan froze. I was still basking in the afterglow, and through my foggy eyes, I saw my hands had changed. Not only had I shredded the sheets with long black nails that popped out of my fingertips, my hands themselves looked longer. My thumbs were a full three or four inches further up my arm than my fingers.
What the hell?
I quickly climbed off Alan and ran for the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and looked in the mirror. This was a dream. A nightmare. It had to be.
My crooked canine teeth were so large I couldn't cover them with my lips. My hands looked like someone had grabbed my knuckles and stretched, and my fingertips were something out of a horror movie. Black, sharp-tipped claws glistened with my own blood from where they'd erupted.
I followed my body down and saw two sets of red bumps down my torso. I carefully felt them, making sure not to slice myself up with my claws, and found they were incredibly sensitive. Almost like---oh God! They were nipples.
I hadn't realized I'd been standing on the balls of my feet, either. I tried standing on the heel, but my heel was too far up my leg. My formerly red toenails were curved black barbs that clicked on the tile as I watched.
I was a freak. A circus sideshow. How did this happen?
I awkwardly turned around and noticed a nub of skin at the base of my spine. Dear God, I had a tail. At least the start of one. My tattoo had changed as well. The runes were angry red, but now, the knots around them were red as well, almost like cuts.
I sat on the toilet and cried for what must have been half an hour. Alan knocked and asked if I was okay.
"I'm pffine," I lisped around my fangs, and started crying again. "I'm thorry. I don't feel good all of a thudden."
"Okay, no problem. You want me to go?" I could tell it damn well was a problem, but he was trying to be considerate. Score one for him.
"I---" I looked down at my altered form. "Yeth. I'm tho thorry. I'll call you in the morning."
"Okay. Hope it wasn't dinner."
"Me too. Night."
Once I heard the front door shut, I lay down on the cold tile floor and brought my knees up to my chin.
What was I?
I eventually got up and walked out of the bathroom. Working a doorknob with no thumbs was a challenge. I tripped on my own elongated feet and ended up on all fours on my bedroom floor.
It felt strange and not strange at the same time. I tried moving around on all fours for a bit, and it began to feel more natural. Sharp pain screamed through my torso as my muscles shifted.
I dropped to my side as more pain built in my spine. It got more and more acute with every heartbeat, then I heard a loud POP! and the pain was released.
I needed to be outside.
I fumbled to my knees, which felt rubbery and odd, and used my knuckles to push open the bedroom window. I crawled through and fell into the leaves outside my window with a crash.
I crawled on elongated hands and feet around the corner of my building and into the woods behind it. The more I crawled, the less awkward it felt. My legs cracked and burned and I felt another hot POP!
I could move easier then. My knees were constantly bent, and when I walked, they came up along either side of me.
I moved deeper into the woods. My eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly.
As I padded along the forest floor, the balls of my feet and heels of my hands lost sensation. When I looked at them, I saw that they'd darkened and hardened into pads.
A bright flash of pain struck my ass, and I dropped to my side again. It felt like a finger was trying to dig its way out of my back. The skin above my tailbone stretched like it was made of putty. When it got to two feet long, it stopped. I tried to cry, but all that came out was a whimper.
I got back up onto all fours and felt my balance improve somewhat. My ass wasn't sticking up into the air as much. Either my legs had gotten shorter or my arms longer. I couldn't tell.
I tried to talk. Something to reaffirm the human mind I still had inside this changing form. I growled, mewled, and whined, but I got nothing intelligible.
The next wave hit me, and I balled up as best I could against the pain. My teeth clenched. My ears pulled and stretched, and suddenly, I felt the evening breeze from the top of my head rather than the sides.
My nose became wet, and I could see it grow longer and thicker. It pulled my mouth out with it. My tongue spasmed. I opened my mouth a bit, and it fell out. It was easily twice as long as normal. I licked the tip of my nose with it in a strangely instinctive gesture.
A million tiny ant bites assaulted me from head to toe -- muzzle to tail, I guess. I couldn't turn my head as easily, but I watched my hands -- paws -- grow darker.
I wanted to cry, scream, run from it. I did run, and though I was disgusted at this new form, I found myself enjoying the feel of the evening wind on my pelt. I entered a clearing and saw the moon above me full and bright. I screamed, and it came out as a piercing howl.
Apparently, my brain could only take so much, because I didn't remember anything after that. That was enough, trust me. This time, I woke up in my apartment, at least.
I wanted desperately to find out that I'd just had some bad Chinese and feverish dreams. Propping myself up on the floor of my bedroom, that hope was once again shattered. My carpet looked like a Great Dane had tracked in mud through the open window. That much told me that I wasn't completely insane. Damn it.
I absentmindedly placed my hand over the nearest paw print. Aside from the longer fingers, it fit. The knuckles were an exact match.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up. It came out black, which just made me retch more. I closed the lid and cried myself back to sleep.
It was Sunday. I turned off my phone and warned Alan I might be catching when he came by. I spent most of the day sitting in my robe on the couch. I had made myself a cup of tea, but it sat cooling rapidly on the end table. I stared into nothing. My brain was numb.
So I was a wolf now? A freak. A creature. What had I done to deserve this? When had it happened? What would I tell PJ? Alan? My parents? Could I tell them anything, or would I spend the rest of my life hiding in fear of the moon?
Had I been the one who scared off the homeless guy outside the club? Had he seen something wrong inside me? Something animal? I shrugged away the thought. No sense mourning the wicked.
A knock at my door made me jump. I checked the peephole and saw an unfamiliar woman outside. She wore a denim skirt and an obscenely open jacket with nothing underneath. I also noted, with a little jealousy, that she wore them well.
Her long black hair was streaked with gray, though, so perhaps she was just having a mid-life crisis. Petty, I know, but it made me feel better. I cracked the door but left the chain on.
"Can I help you with something?"
She looked me up and down, which was a feat since she could only see three inches of me through the door. I was about to close the door on her when she spoke. Her voice was rough, like she was an old smoker.
"Wait. I don't know your name, but we need to talk."
"If you're selling something, you really need to practice that opening line. Anyway, I'm not interested."
I was about to shut the door when she flashed me. Seriously. She undid her jacket and confirmed that she wore nothing at all underneath it.
I was stunned, but not by her tits. Okay, maybe that was part of it. She dropped the jacket off her shoulders and turned around, and I saw intricate black knots surrounding a set of six runes. It was exactly the same pattern as mine.
"We need to talk," she said again. This time, I didn't argue.
"My name is Slate."
She didn't bother re-buttoning her jacket. It was a little distracting. I offered her a seat on the couch.
"Dree," I said.
She nodded. "I've been following you."
The hair on the back of my neck bristled. Way to put me at ease, lady.
"What do you mean?"
Her head cocked to one side. "I mean, I've been following you."
"For how long?" I asked.
"Since you were marked."
The way she said it put a tick in my spine that shivered its way down. Marked. Was that what happened?
"Do you know what it means?" I asked.
She nodded. I waited for her to continue, but she just stared. She had an unsettling way of doing that. Like I was prey.
"Do you---I mean---does it also..."
"Change me?" she asked. "Yes, it does."
"Is there a way to stop it?"
Her eyes went dark for a second. I could swear they actually blinked yellow, and then back to brown.
"No," she said quietly.
That wasn't the answer I was hoping for. Anxiety started playing hopscotch on my kidneys.
"So we're stuck like this, forever?"
"Perhaps," she said.
Slate got up, leaving her jacket on the couch. She paced -- no, stalked -- my living room like she had more muscles than a human should. It was hypnotic. I noticed, too, that the last rune on her back just above the line of her skirt was faded.
"Slate," I asked, "how long have you been like this?"
She stopped pacing but didn't turn to face me. "Too long."
"So there's nothing at all we can do?"
"I didn't say that."
My ears pricked up. "But it can't be stopped?"
She came and sat back down. "The change can't be stopped, no."
"But?"
"But he can be stopped. The one who did this to us."
Now we were getting somewhere. "Who is he? What did he do to us?"
"You remember," she said.
"No, I don't. I've tried. It's a blank. The first thing I remember is waking up in the woods."
She shook her head and inched closer to me on the couch. She brushed my arm, and I shrank back a bit.
"I can help you remember," Slate said. "This will seem strange to you, but you must do as I say."
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
She held her right hand just in front of my face. "Smell me."
Okay, weirdness radar maxed out at ten. I don't know what made me do it, but I brought my nose close to her wrist. It did smell interesting. Like leaves and damp earth.
Before I knew it, I was nuzzling her wrist, and her hand was on my cheek. She brought her other hand to my face and held me there. "Look at me, Dree. Sister. Look at me and remember."
I looked into her eyes and saw they were amber again. My breathing sped up. They looked hungry. She held me tight. "Remember."
My eyes rolled back into my head and a rush of events flew into my brain. I was in a club. Not Thermal, somewhere else. A comedy club? The stage was a red brick wall with a small platform in front.
A man was there. His face was fuzzy. It was strange, because everything else was crystal clear. I could count the dings in the brick and the tiny holes in the microphone. The scene flashed, and I was outside. It was dark, and I was walking somewhere. Was I alone? No, someone else was there. A man. He clung to me like he knew me. Like a lover.
Flash. A park under the freeway. An old footbridge made out of rusted steel and covered with vines. Remnants of old clothes and sleeping bags in corners where the homeless slept.
Flash. A clearing in the woods. A blanket. Warmth. A fire? No, the warmth was him. He was burning up. He hugged me, and I felt warm too.
Flash. The moon was so bright! Night breeze blew on my skin. I was sweating. I rolled onto my back and felt him enter me. My ankles locked behind him. I wanted him.
Flash. Running through the woods. Scared. Naked. Cold. Wet. A new array of smells around me. I heard a growl. I was pinned to the ground. I screamed.
Flash. He just stood there, staring as I bled. He tried to run, but I was tearing at his back, nails in flesh. Blood.
Grabbing an outstretched arm, I pulled. Crack! He screamed. His hair in my fingers. Smack. Skin to pavement. Smack. Gurgled moans, then he ran away. I howled.
I came back down to Earth in a ball on the floor with Slate's hands still firmly gripped on either side of my head. I thrashed and kicked, but she held on until I calmed down. Finally, she let go.
I scrambled back until I could lean against the couch, and I hugged my knees. My mouth worked open and closed, but all I could manage was "Oh god."
Slate sat cross-legged on the floor, watching me intently. Her eyes were brown again.
"He blocks it out of our minds," she said, softly. "I don't know why. Only among others of our kind can we see through his veils."
My breath came in violent hitches, like I'd been bawling. "Who is he? I couldn't see his face."
She nodded. "Neither can I. I can tell you what I do know, however."
"I'm all ears."
Slate proceeded to weave a tale straight out of an Anne Rice novel. It had everything: illicit sex, a pregnancy scandal with the mayor's daughter, public torture that turned into a curse. Decades of wandering and feeding, unable to stop.
"How does he spread it? Sex?"
"That's part of it. Blood, too. He bites."
A terrible thought came to me. "Alan!"
She tilted her head again, and I realized what she reminded me of. My mother's Australian shepherd tilted his head just like that when he considered something.
"Is Alan the man you've had over recently?"
I didn't think I still had the capacity to blush. I was wrong. "Just how closely were you watching me?"
"Close enough."
"Yes, that's Alan. Have I...marked him?"
Slate shook her head. "No. The mark only affects women. Spiteful irony by the one who created it."
I sighed in relief. Small victories. "If we find this man, what do you plan to do with him?"
Her eyes flashed amber. It made me shiver. "Kill him, of course."
"I don't think I can do that."
"You'd prefer he continue to do this? Make more of us?"
Well, when she put it that way.
She stood. "It's the only way. He's compelled to do it. Only in recent years has he started to enjoy it."
I thought about last night with Alan. The pain, the wormy feeling of bones and flesh reshaping themselves. The fear of losing what little humanity I had while in that form. The thought of losing Alan, PJ, and the other normal people in my life. I could hide it, couldn't I? But for how long?
Slate let out a growl. It wasn't menacing so much as annoyed. "You're thinking too much. Perhaps I should show you what we're capable of."
She was on me in a blink. This was no gentle cheek caress. She straddled me and plunged her thumbed over my eyelids. I thought she was going to claw my eyes out. I fought, but she had all the leverage.
At first, all I saw was the back of my eyelids, but before long, I was swept up in a memory I knew wasn't mine, running through woods in the winter. It wasn't Texas. The skinny tree trunks stood like gravestones against a clean white carpet.
Something flashed in front of me. A deer? I looked left and right. There were more of us. A pack. We chased, and it was exhilarating. Three of us closed in and forced it into a clearing. There were more of us on the other side. An ambush. My pack held the circle, but I jumped forward. I was Alpha; the kill was mine to make.
I sprung, the doe's dark eyes wide in terror. My teeth sank into fur, and then broke skin. I felt the flow of warm, wet blood down my throat. I tore from side to side, and the doe bled onto the clean white snow. I ripped a piece of its throat off completely, nearly swallowing it in one gulp. I locked my jowls and howled, signaling the rest of the pack to descend.
Flash. I was alone, and afraid. There was no pack here. My paws hit hard, smooth ground without dirt or rocks. There were lights everywhere. I dashed left and right to avoid them as they barreled toward me. I fell into a ditch.
A man was there. He was warm, and I was hungry. He slept. I pounced and sank my teeth into something soft that tasted bad. I spit it out. Now the man was awake. He tried to get up and run but I was too heavy. I pinned his shoulders with my paws and struck.
"STOP IT! GOD, PLEASE STOP IT, SLATE!"
My eyes flew open as soon as the pressure from her thumbs was gone. I was breathing hard, and my entire body was covered in sweat. My robe had fallen open when she pounced on me. I quickly cinched it shut.
"Do you understand now?" she asked.
My voice was breathy between huge gasps. "What? What do I need to understand?"
"That we're monsters. Animals. Abominations."
I shook my head. "We're still human. Part of us, anyway. We have a choice!"
Slate stood and made her way to the door. Her jaw was set. When she brushed her long hair behind one ear and looked at me, I saw a glimpse of what she might have been like, years ago, as a young woman.
"For now. In time, you will choose differently. We all do."
Celtic Knot Tattoos was mostly empty on a Sunday. Connor was leaning against the counter reading a magazine. He saw me approach and started shaking his head before I could say anything.
"If you're here for Poppa, he doesn't want to see you. I don't know why. He's a stubborn old guy. ."
"Please, Connor. I have to try."
He shook his head again. "I wouldn't advise it."
The bells above the door rang, and a biker in leather chaps walked in with his girlfriend. Their outfits nearly matched.
"Pablo!" Connor said. He walked out from behind the counter and met the man with a forced smile. "My man. How's the ink we gave you last week?"
I took the opportunity to slip behind the counter and up the narrow staircase. I didn't know what Poppa Mackenzie might be able to tell me, but he knew something, and at this point, I needed all the help I could get.
The door to the bedroom was closed. Probably asleep. Screw it. I was a monster, and I needed advice.
I tried the knob. It turned, and I carefully pushed open the door. Poppa was wide awake, and seemed to be waiting for me.
"I told ye to be gone!" he said. "Ye'er cursed. Stay clear of me and mine. You lay a hand on my Bonny and I'll gut you meself!"
Not exactly the reception I expected. "Sir, I'm sorry. I don't have anyone else to ask."
He sat with one hand on his chest and the other under the pillow to his left. His arm twitched at my words.
"I'll warn ye no more. Out! Out before ye cannae help yourself!"
"What do you mean---"
He dropped the pillow and held out a revolver. It looked quite old, but it probably could kill me just fine. I ducked instinctively and was glad I did: the gunshot was fearsome in the small bedroom. My ears rang, and a little of the wall fell on my head.
I ran back into the hallway and caught a glimpse of the old man sitting up, aiming for me again.
"Out!" he screamed. "Take ye'er curse elsewhere!"
I ran down the stairs and slammed head-on into Connor, who was on his way up.
"What the...?" he asked.
I slipped past him and ran as fast as I could out of the shop. I got into my car and jumped when a head appeared in my back seat.
"You really should lock your car," Slate said.
My heart slowed down a bit. She climbed over the center console and sat in the front passenger seat.
"He couldn't help you. The only way to help yourself is to join me."
"You mean kill."
"Yes."
My hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. "There has to be another way."
"There isn't. I'd have found it by now."
I pulled out of the parking lot and hit the freeway loop toward home. My fingers were bleeding again. I didn't have anything to stop the flow, so I wiped them on my jeans.
She looked at my hands. "You need to learn to calm down, Dree."
I glanced at her. "Why is that?"
"You haven't noticed you tend to transform when you're upset?"
I opened my mouth, then immediately closed it. That hadn't occurred to me.
"I'm not sure why it's like that," she said, "Probably fight or flight response. It feels threatened."
"It?" I asked.
"Your wolf."
I thought of anything that might slow down my racing heart: cool water, warm breezes, corn fields. It worked eventually. I looked at my fingers and saw nothing but dried blood.
"What do you want, Slate?"
"The same thing I wanted before."
"My help in finding and killing the guy who did this?"
"Yes."
"And if I'm still not sure I want to go along with it?"
I couldn't see her eyes, but I was willing to bet they were amber. She sighed heavily, with just a hint of a growl at the end.
"Then I wait until you are."
Traffic was bad downtown. People were coming home after the weekend. We slowed to a crawl, and I looked at Slate.
"What makes you so sure I'll change my mind?"
"You haven't fed yet."
"I don't understand. I ate today before I left."
She gave me a look like I'd just asked her to explain why things fall down.
"If you don't feed, you change more often. It's harder to control."
"Feed?"
"Kill."
Another Monday, another exhausting drive home. As soon as I got settled, there was a knock on my door. I sure seemed to be getting a lot of visitors lately. I checked the peephole and froze.
Alan.
I opened the door, but stood in the doorway so he couldn't come in.
"Umm, hi?" I said.
"I haven't heard from you in a bit," he said. "Are you feeling better?"
"What? Oh, yeah. Nothing to worry about really."
"You haven't been home the last couple of nights. I was beginning to wonder if I'd been replaced."
He thought I dumped him for someone else. How cute.
"No, not at all. I've just been busy. Lots of personal stuff came up I had to deal with."
"Anything I do to help?"
Got any silver bullets in your service pistol?
"Ah, no. Not really."
We looked at each other for an agonizing fifteen seconds. He finally broke the stare.
"I want to see you. Talk to you. About the other night."
"Oh."
We stood looking at each other for a little while longer. I sighed.
"You want to come in?"
"Yeah."
I stepped out of the way.
He sat on the couch, and I joined him. After I closed the door and flipped the bolt, of course.
"You're pretty much a wild animal in bed, huh?" he asked.
He had no idea how wild. "Straight to the point then."
"I didn't see a need to sugarcoat it. You like it rough. And it seems like you're a little embarrassed by it."
That was true enough. I damn near turned great sex into bestiality. "Umm, yeah. A little."
He scooted over closer to me and draped an arm over my shoulders. I felt small. Well, smaller than usual.
"You don't have to be embarrassed, Dree. I had fun the other night, too. I always have fun with you."
"Even that first time?"
He chuckled. "I came back, didn't I? Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment."
I smiled, and he kissed me. I didn't know how much I needed that until it happened. My mouth opened and our tongues found each other. He hugged me close but didn't go for the goods. He was feeling me out before feeling me up. Good boy.
I felt the heat between us rise, and my back felt it too. It wasn't burning yet, but there was a sting. I broke from the kiss. He sat back and gave me space.
"Too soon?" he asked, with obvious disappointment.
"No, it's not that. Tell you what; let me hop in the shower first. I feel yucky."
His grin was hopeful. "Should I wait, or come back later?"
I gave him an impish grin on the way to the bathroom. "What the hell. Wait, and get out the massage oils."
That got him moving. I went into the bathroom and shut the door. The face that looked back from the mirror was nervous, but not gaunt or anything. Not like the day I sprouted claws.
I remember how I was able to calm myself in the car with Slate. Even if I didn't decide to go along with her murder scheme, I'd have to learn to live with this one way or another. I stripped, gave my back a glance (no red, nothing strange), and showered.
When I came out sans towel, Alan was more than ready. He was topless, but he still wore his jeans. I liked the look. He'd lit a few of my candles and laid out an array of various massage oils. I smiled, and he motioned me to lie down.
"Front or back first?" he asked. I had to laugh.
"Back, horny boy."
"Yes, ma'am."
I laid down face first and stretched out on the bed. He started at my shoulders and neck and worked his hands down, applying a good amount of pressure with his palms. My tattoos were mercifully cool to his touch.
"You'll have to tell me what all these symbols mean one day," he said.
"One day, maybe." If I ever found out myself.
He made little circles down my spine and did an extra thorough job on my ass. Apparently he's into them too.
He continued past my ass (a little reluctantly, it seemed) and oiled up my thighs. He always "accidentally" slipped a finger or two when it did that. It really got me going, even if I expected it.
I moaned encouragement, letting my body go limp. He worked his way down one leg and began a slow, even rub of my foot. Alan was an ass man, yes, but I'd learned in our time together that he was equally a foot man. He made sure I was well-massaged on both feet before moving back up the other leg. When he got back to my ass, I swatted his hands off me and flipped over.
"Up here, pool boy."
He laughed, grabbed a bottle of oil, and drizzled it all over my chest. It was cold, and I squirmed. He held me down and started rubbing it in. I warmed up plenty quick. He made circles again, this time around my nipples, tweaking them for good measure.
By the time he massaged his way past my stomach, I was ready to pop. I grabbed him by the belt, and he leaned in and let me relieve his pants and boxers. I took him into my mouth and watched his eyes roll back in his head. I could tell he was going to go quickly if I kept this up, so I gave him a few long strokes and popped him out. I flipped so my legs hung off the bed and put a hand between my legs.
"No time like the present, Officer."
Thanks to a combination of our natural arousal and the massage oils, it was smooth sailing. I threw back my head and moaned. I really needed this. He did too, judging from the strength of his thrusts.
Our bodies slapped against each other in an increasing rhythm and I rode the line between awareness and abandon. Somewhere, I was conscious of the fact that my back was heating up. The rest of me didn't give a flying fuck.
He stopped thrusting and grabbed me by the ass. I was lifted and flipped onto my stomach like a rag doll in the middle of the bed. Fringe benefit of being tiny: when you want him to take charge, you're completely at his mercy.
I rose up on my hands and knees. He positioned himself and picked up the rhythm like we'd never left off. The slap of our bodies into each other almost covered up the first telltale POP!
I was ready for it this time. I opened my eyes and did a quick survey while Alan pounded away. Hands? Nope, normal. No new sheets needed tonight. Feet, still dainty as ever. I couldn't very well see whether my back was changing colors. What had popped?
I reached back like I wanted Alan to go harder and checked my tailbone. Bingo. It wasn't a full-on appendage yet, but I felt a definite bulge under the skin. Thankfully Alan was otherwise occupied. I did my best to think calmer thoughts. It's exceptionally hard when being brought to screaming, sweaty orgasm.
Mind of matter triumphed and I felt the swell go down. It was right about that time that Alan squeezed my ass. It was his signal. I let go as much as I could and felt myself rising to meet him. In an astounding act of universal alignment, we came at the same time.
I screamed, he grunted, and we both collapsed on our sides in the exhaustion only a good hard fucking can give you. He stayed inside me until he was soft, and I did another quick survey. Hands and feet were fine. I was on the verge of sprouting four new B-cups though, so I excused myself to the bathroom under the guise of cleaning up.
"Want me to help?" he asked.
"No, ish okay."
My hand flew to my mouth and I nearly impaled myself on fangs. "I'll jusht be a minute."
I went into the bathroom and locked the door. This time around, the person in the mirror was not fine. Not only had my teeth come in, my muzzle was extended almost completely; I could see my nose clearly and distinctly between my eyes. Muzzles look very odd without fur on them. I closed my eyes, splashed some water on my face, which felt awkward rubbing up and down a long canine snout, and thought about calming things.
I felt a pressure release in my stomach and face. When I peeked my eyes open, I was down to the standard two breasts and a normal-length face. I smiled and didn't look like a barracuda. Good.
Alan was waiting on the bed when I returned. I crawled in with him, and we half-snoozed the rest of the evening, our warm skin touching head to toe.
It was the most peaceful night I ever had with Alan. Tomorrow, I would learn to kill.
"Hey, Dree."
"Hey, PJ." I hadn't looked at my phone when I picked up to see who it was. PJ was the last person I expected to hear. "Are you okay?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing. We haven't talked in forever. You been spending too much time with your man, ho."
"I've been pretty busy, yeah." Did she not hear about her grandfather pulling a gun on me, or did she just not care?
"Why are you sounding all apologetic?" she asked.
"Have you talked to your uncle recently?"
"Oh, that. Girl, if I had a dollar for every time Poppa lost his temper I wouldn't be working at Woodspring any more, that's for sure."
"So you're not mad?"
"Mad? Haha. I think it's hilarious. The old coot's finally lost his big old Scottish marbles."
"What did Connor tell you about it?"
"Just that you went to talk to Poppa, and he pulled his fucking six-shooter on you. Why? Is there more to the story? Inquiring minds would like to know."
Apparently Connor believed in the better part of valor, and I silently thanked him.
"Nope, that's pretty much it. I was trying to see if he could tell me more about the tattoo. I think we can count that as a failure."
"I'll say," she said. "Hope he didn't scare you too bad. That gun hasn't worked in years."
I didn't bother to correct her.
"So we going howling tonight?" she asked.
Girl, you have no idea. "No, actually I meant to call you. I'm meeting a friend from out of town tonight. Pretty low key stuff."
"Want a third?"
Shit. I tried to think of an answer, but PJ pushed again, "Hellooooo? Earth to Dree? Houston, come in?"
"Oh, sorry. Actually, no. She's kind of antisocial. It's nothing personal, you know?"
"No worries, chica. More booze and boys for me. Just do me a favor this time, will you? If you two get so hammered you start stripping, call me over so I can videotape it. That shit sells like hotcakes on the internet."
"Will do," I said.
"Later, ho."
I tossed my phone to the other end of the bed and buried my head in the sheets. What would it be like, changing in front of someone? Running in a pack? The memories Slate had shown me made the hair on the back of my neck bristle.
What if I liked it?
Slate arrived not long after that in a gray track suit and flip-flops. Her hair hung free. She welcomed herself in as soon as I opened the door.
"Full dark is in ten minutes. Are you ready?"
"I---I don't know. How do I prepare?"
She looked me up and down. I was in my now-common household uniform of just my bathrobe.
"You look mostly ready to me. Can we enter the woods from here undetected?"
"Yeah," I said, "Did you want to---"
I was going to ask if she wanted to stow her clothes somewhere, but apparently, my living room floor was good enough. She disrobed and stood with her hands on her hips. It took me a second before I realized she was waiting on me. I hastily doffed the robe.
"I usually leave the bedroom window open for after. It doesn't face the street."
She nodded. We went into my bedroom and carefully climbed out the window. I had turned off my bedroom light so nosy neighbors wouldn't get a free show.
As soon as we were out, Slate took off at a run for the tree line. I followed as best I could, but she was taller, and her strides covered more ground. The grass didn't feel quite as good on my tender human feet as I remembered.
Once we were safely inside the forest, Slate stopped and knelt on her haunches. I caught up to her and followed suit. She looked around.
"You will follow me tonight. If I move, you move. If I stop, you stop. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Can you change at will?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"Okay. I guess your changes then have been more...random? Emotional?"
"You could say that."
She put a finger on my midsection. "Imagine a door here. It will open if you ask it to. Think of a strong emotion if you need to. Fear, love, whatever works. And don't fight it. It goes faster that way."
I nodded, and the strangeness of the situation hit me all at once. Here I was, in the woods outside my apartment on a Friday night, having a naked hunting lesson with a woman I didn't know the first thing about. The only thing I did know was we shared the same furry problem.
She turned toward the deeper forest and went down on all fours.
"Slate?" I asked.
"Yes?"
"What do you think about? I mean, to change?"
Her eyes glowed amber in the waning light. "Revenge."
And just like that, she stretched her neck out and shifted. I heard cracks and pops and stretches, and then she was shaking her newly furred form like a dog drying off. She made it look so easy. So painless.
I also realized her name must have been assumed. Her coat was a perfect slate gray with black and white tips.
She turned to me and regarded me with a sideways head tilt, as if to say, "Coming?"
I took a deep breath and dropped to all fours. My mind was a blur of thoughts, images, and sounds. I opened myself up and started to smell the night. Feel it on my bare human skin. I snatched a fleeting thought of Alan, beautiful and oblivious in my bed. The heat on my back flared sudden and strong.
It was different than before. I just let go, and the heat engulfed me from my back to my sides, torso to thighs, arms and legs to feet. I felt the buildup of heat and pressure all over. My brain registered it as pain, but I didn't react. I just kept my posture as straight as possible and rode the wave of searing heat.
My head, hands, feet, and legs all popped at once, and I lost my balance. By the time I hit the leaves I was covered in a million tiny ant bites.
I'd done it.
I picked myself up onto my paws and shook, just as Slate had done. My tail swished in anticipation.
Slate lowered her muzzle to the ground and sniffed. I did the same. She looked at me, human intelligence shining behind glowing amber eyes, and took off deeper into the woods. I did my best to follow.
As it turns out, my best was pretty damn good as a wolf. My legs carried me farther and faster than I could have hoped as a human, and the wind in my fur was wonderful. Slate jumped over logs and brush, banked left and right, and I found myself able to keep up. It was instinctual. Just as instinctually, I stopped thinking of her as Slate. She was Alpha.
After what felt like only a short run, we came to the edge of a narrow stream. I looked closer at it with my improved night-vision and realized we'd traveled almost three miles. This was one of the edges of Lake Houston. Alpha looked at me and hunkered down low. I dropped as well, taking in everything I could with my senses. Smells wafted by as strong as any perfume counter and infinitely more pleasant.
I tried to discern what each one was. Dead leaves, water, the biting smell of gasoline from a highway not far away. Then I caught it. I couldn't decide what exactly, but its smell was a beacon in the typhoon of aromas.
Food.
Alpha continued to hunker down but inched closer to the edge of the water. I did the same, trying to keep a good distance between us so I wouldn't spook whatever it was we were stalking. Most of it was instinctual, but I still couldn't help but feel clumsy next to her polished grace.
Finally, I caught movement form a low bush just short of the shore. A small brown rabbit. As a human, my first reaction would have been, "Oh, how cute! A bunny!" Smelling the rabbit with wolf senses, hunkered down under the light of the stars, my first thought was quite different.
Blood.
Alpha crouched, and her tail rose up ever so slightly until it was level with the ground. The rabbit paused, ears pricked up. She dropped down silently again. Our prey looked around, and then continued with tentative hops to the edge of the water for a drink.
The second his head bent to the water, Alpha struck. The rabbit was faster, and it took off at a dead run back into the brush.
Alpha chased, and I followed. She bobbed and weaved from one side of the terrified rabbit to the other, nipping at its legs. She could easily outrun it, but she was toying with it. I caught her gaze, and she yipped at me. I understood.
She was waiting for me to strike.
I sped up and closed the gap between the three of us. Alpha continued to chase but hung back slightly and let me take point. I lunged and snapped my jaws at the rabbit. Being that close set my brain on fire. Frothy saliva slapped my muzzle as I snapped. I was hungry.
Finally, the rabbit miscalculated a turn around a stump and slowed. Teeth sunk into flesh, and warm blood flowed. My vision became bright, and I pulled the whole rabbit into the air with my jaws. It flailed but had little strength left. I gave it one final shake and heard a pop. The rabbit was still after that.
Alpha walked up, and I forgot the ecstasy of the blood in my mouth long enough to drop the rabbit and back away, muzzle to the ground. It was Alpha's right to first blood.
Alpha stalked up and looked at me, then the rabbit. She yipped and nudged the body toward me.
I sprang up with joy and dug into the rabbit. I never expected raw meat to taste so wonderful. Alpha sat with her paws crossed while I gorged myself. Her eyes scanned the area around us. Finding nothing of interest, she rested her head on her paws and snuffled.
I gnawed on a leg bone for the last bit of flesh and licked my lips with a much more flexible tongue. I panted and licked sweat off my nose. Alpha watched me carefully. I opened my mouth in a wide pant, the closest thing I could to a smile. She didn't respond, but she rose casually to her feet and paced back toward home.
Home? What was home?
The forest felt better to me. I wanted to roll in the grass, swim in the lake, chase more snacks. I wanted to take sweet, bloody revenge on the squirrels I'd had to swerve to avoid as a human when I---wait.
Alpha...no, Slate looked back at me. I saw in her amber eyes a kind of understanding. She knew the feelings I had. She turned and continued back. I followed.
We made it back to the apartment and hopped in through the window with more grace than I could have managed as a human. Inside, Alpha circled a spot on the carpet, then lay down, tail tucked under her muzzle. I did the same. I fell asleep almost instantly and dreamed of beautiful gray darkness and delicious blood.
Slate woke me up the following morning with a toe to my side. I was still curled up in a fetal ball, but I was skin rather than fur. My face felt dry and crackly.
"What time is it?" I asked.
Slate was still nude, but she had apparently showered. Her leg smelled lightly of my lavender body wash. Since when did I notice a person's smell first?
I sat up as Slate sat on the edge of my bed and crossed her arms.
"You did well last night," she said.
"Did I?"
"You have good hunting instincts. It's not always the case with new pups. They try to reconcile the hunt with their human minds. It doesn't work."
I rose and had to steady myself on the dresser. At least the window was closed and the blinds were drawn. Can't have people getting up to go to work and seeing my lily white ass in their rearview mirror.
Slate rose and took my arm. I was grateful, if a little weirded out that we were both still naked. She seemed to sense my hesitation.
"You will become more accustomed to this state, eventually. You may even come to prefer it."
I didn't have to ask her preference.
Slate helped me to the bathroom, then left and closed the door behind her. Apparently, she still believed in privacy...sometimes.
I snuck a look in the mirror. My hair was a rat's nest, tangled with pine needles and the occasional leaf. Mud clods, too. Wasn't I just the regular supermodel?
My nose and mouth were covered with something that looked like mud, but darker than the stuff we have around here. As I washed it off, it flaked and had red-tinged edges. It was dried blood. I retched, but I kept everything down.
The hot shower was bliss. I washed my hair twice, scrubbed my face with the bath poof, and cleaned the rest of my body head to toe. I scraped mud and who-knows-what from under my nails and tried not to pay attention to it as it all went down the drain. I also had to scrape under my toenails.
When I was done, I found Slate fully dressed in the living room. I wore my robe, and for once, I felt less dressed than her.
"How was the hunt for you?" she asked, looking at me intently as I sat on the couch.
"Good. Great, really. I felt fantastic." The moment I said it, I knew with every inch of me it was true. I'd hunted, killed, and eaten another living being, and all was right with the world. I shuddered as my human brain caught up.
Slate smiled, reading my expression. "It's tempting, isn't it? You didn't want to come back."
"No."
She stood and stretched. It lifted the top of her track suit, and I caught the faded side of her tattoo.
"Five years," she said.
I was confused. As she sat back down, her face had an oddly serene quality to it. She closed her eyes.
"I was five years in the wild. I had a pack. I had a mate. We had pups."
Her eyes opened, and they were amber once again. Two blinks, and they were brown. Her glow was replaced with her usual dark expression.
"The winter is cruel."
I wanted to ask what she meant, but I also didn't want to pry, so I changed the subject. "So, about this guy we're after. I was thinking I'd ask around the club I saw in my memory. It's a good place to start."
Slate nodded and walked to the door. She looked back before disappearing around the corner, and I saw another strange expression.
She looked relieved.
The wind rustled the pine trees outside my shift manager's office, and I really wished I could jump through the plate glass window and escape.
"You understand I'll have to place a reprimand in your permanent file, Dreama."
I nodded. At least she had enough sense to realize I was under a lot of stress that day. Bleeding from my fingertips had probably helped.
"I'll have to do random monitors on your calls for a few weeks. Standard procedure. How are your hands?"
I looked down. Despite the stress of being reprimanded, I was cool. What was standard procedure when someone tore out their supervisor's throat?
"Fine, thank you," I said. "Probably just a nasty paper cut. I've always been a bit of a bleeder."
It was a complete lie, but she bought it.
"Okay, Dreama. Go on out to the floor and I'll check in with you later today so we can work a call together, okay?"
Working a call together was code for monitoring the behavior of the operator when they did something stupid, like suggesting a customer go fuck themselves to donkey porn. I guess I couldn't blame her.
I made it back to my desk past the sea of prying eyes that peeked over cubicles and tried to be nonchalant about it. If I was close to making any more friends at work, Mister "Women Don't Know Anything" took care of that. Or maybe it was the blood. Whatever.
I put on my headset, signed in, and waited. My first call of the day came in not long after. Cable support waited for no one.
"It's a great day at Woodspring Communications. This is Dreama, how may I help you?"
"Yes, I was wondering if you could give me some advice."
The voice sounded not only familiar, but I could swear I was getting an echo from my other ear...the one without the headset.
Oh, shit. Not today. Any day but today.
"I need to know how to let a girl I like know my feelings for her. Do flowers work?"
He was directly behind me. I took off my headset and turned. "Hello, Charlie."
"Dream a little dream of me," he warbled completely off-key. He held a ridiculously huge bouquet of the gaudiest flowers I'd ever seen.
"Charlie, this is where I work."
"Yep, took me a while to figure out which office, but once I did, it was smooth sailing."
I started toward my shift manager's office, but he blocked the only way out of my cubicle.
"Can you wait here for just a minute?" I asked. "I have to ask before I leave the floor."
Judging by his disgusting puppy-dog eyes, he didn't seem interested in letting me leave. My stress rose, and with it, I started feeling hot. I directed the heat into my hands as I lightly nudged him away. At least, I thought I touched him lightly. He staggered back like I'd punched him and looked confused.
"Just a minute, Charlie. Then we'll talk."
He recovered quickly, perhaps because he realized all the lookie-loos in the office were trained on him.
I rushed to my shift manager's office, keeping Charlie in sight the whole time. I knocked, then barged in and shut the door behind me.
"Dreama, is something wrong?"
"Yes. He's here."
"Who?"
"Do you remember that complaint I filed a few months back? The guy who got a little too friendly over the phone?"
She backed her chair to the corner and dug through her filing cabinet. After some rifling through a manila folder with my name on it, she said, "Oh yes. Charles Filmore? Creepy, but nothing stalker yet?"
"He's graduated to full-on stalker, Marie."
She poked her head out of the office door. Charlie must have waved because Marie gave him a tense smile.
"I'll call security," she said.
I don't know why I did what I did next, but I've regretted it ever since.
"No, wait, let me talk to him. Maybe I can get him to leave without calling in the big guns."
Marie looked at me skeptically, one hand still on her desk phone. "You're sure?"
"Just five minutes. If he's not gone by then, you can call in the cavalry."
Her hands went up. "Your stalker, your call."
"Thank you so much, Marie. I'm sorry I've been so inconsistent lately."
She shook her head and shooed me out. I walked over to Charlie and lowered my voice.
"Maybe we should talk in private."
His eyebrows shot up. He smiled and followed me toward the front of the office, past the receptionist, and out into the parking lot. I made sure we were around the corner from prying eyes.
"Wanted to get me alone, eh?" he asked. "I knew there was more between us, Dreama."
I didn't pull any punches. He wouldn't understand subtlety.
"What the fuck are you doing at my work? Did I not make it exceedingly clear to you on the phone that I had no interest in you whatsoever?"
He looked confused for a second before his confident grin returned. "I just figured you couldn't flirt with me during an official call."
I crossed my arms and glared. "I'm seeing someone, Charlie. A cop."
He jerked like I'd actually punched him. The dopey smile went to a frown, then a scowl. "How could you? After all we had?"
I rolled my eyes at that. "Charlie, you're delusional. I do tech support for your crappy cable box. I swear, the thing breaks down so much, I was beginning to wonder if you broke it on purpose just to talk to me."
He closed the gap between us like he wanted to hug me. "It's okay, Dreama. I forgive you. We can work through this."
I cut him off with a shove, and he squeaked. He was close enough to the wall that I'd pinned him with the palm of my hand. I wasn't pressing hard, but he acted like he couldn't breathe.
"Drea...ma. You're hurting...me. Let me...down."
My head tilted in a very Slate-like gesture, and I looked down. Charlie was suspended six inches off the ground by my one hand.
I yelped and let him go. Looked like I had a long way to go keeping my anger in check. In my defense, this guy was the Stalkergizer Bunny.
Charlie recovered, picked up the flowers he'd dropped when I pinned him, and tried again.
"It's okay, really. I like a little resistance. Makes the heart grow fonder."
The phrase disintegrated what little control I had left. I pinned him to the wall again, much higher this time, using his crotch for leverage. I easily supported his weight with the heel of my palm, leaving four fingers free for shredding. Heat surged from my back and into my hands and face. He looked down in terror as my fingers split and grew long, black claws. I tapped my middle finger-claw on his zipper.
"Listen, psycho. No means no. Now get the fuck out of my life. If you tell anyone about this, I will hunt you down and make sure you're still alive when I eat you, piece by piece. Perhaps starting with this!"
I punctuated it with a poke to his crotch. I heard fabric tearing. My voice had come out husky but not lisped. I'd somehow managed to change my mouth without letting my muzzle extend. I couldn't imagine what he thought when he saw a row of long pointed teeth filling my dainty little mouth.
Charlie's eyes were pale saucers. His mouth moved, but nothing came out. I pressed my claw in a little further.
"Are we clear?"
He nodded, and I let him down. He fell to the ground in a heap, grabbing his crotch. Seeing him in that pathetic state cleared my mind a bit, and I felt my hands and face return to normal.
"Thank you for choosing Woodspring Communications. Now get the fuck out."
Even in my normal voice, I didn't have to ask him twice.
My monitored calls went fine, and I left a mostly carefree person that afternoon. PJ caught up with me as I was leaving.
"Stalker boy finally made the break for the big-time, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
She gave me a hug that was probably meant as reassuring. I just felt suffocated.
"Do I see a restraining order in your future?" she asked.
"No, I don't think he'll be a problem anymore."
She laughed. "Why's that, you beat him up?"
I stopped walking. "What did you hear?"
"Nothing, ho. Geez. Wait...did you beat him up?"
"No! No, I just maybe slapped him around a little to make a point."
"Look at you, a regular crusader for women's lib. Congrats."
When we got to the parking lot, I pulled her aside. "Were you with me the weekend this happened?" I patted my back.
"You know, I've been looking into that. I don't remember a thing from that weekend. I must have spent the whole time plastered to Hell. The bartender at Thermal said he didn't see either of us all night."
"I think we might have been at a comedy club."
PJ made a face. "What? What makes you think that? Did you remember something?"
I thought back to the whirlwind of images Slate had torn out of me. "Only a little. It's foggy. I might be totally wrong."
"I think I'd have remembered sitting through that kind of torture," she said.
I rubbed my lower back. "Yeah, me too."
"Okay, Dree, point taken. Are we trolling comedy clubs tonight?"
"Umm, maybe. I want to bring Alan."
"Well, shit, that means I need a date too."
"He won't be a date. More of a bodyguard."
"Have you told him how you got that tattoo?"
I realized I hadn't discussed my ink at all with Alan. He probably just assumed I'd had it for years. Obviously, it didn't bother him. Would it bother him if I told him it had been done against my will? Probably.
"Okay, maybe not Alan. What about your uncle Connor?"
The look PJ shot me was not friendly.
"What?" I asked, "He's a pretty stocky guy, and he knows his side of town better than we do."
"Yeah, Dree, but I don't usually take him along on social outings. He's like fifty."
"Okay, fine," I said, "No bodyguard. But the second we smell anything fishy, we need to leave. I don't want to wake up tomorrow with the rest of my body tattooed."
"What about that friend of yours? The antisocial one?"
I hadn't even considered Slate. She could definitely hold her own in a fight.
"That's perfect, PJ. I'll call her."
PJ nodded and started off toward her car. "Cool. Leave around ten?"
"Okay," I said.
She opened her car door and leaned against the frame. "We are going to have some drinks, right? I can't go through a night of bad stand-up sober."
"Sure thing."
With a nod, she took off, and I was left wondering how I could get in touch with Slate. We hadn't exactly exchanged phone numbers. Was she watching me right now? I looked around in a sudden bout of paranoia, but I didn't know what I expected to see. She could be invisible when she wanted to.
I climbed into my car and headed home. As it turned out, I didn't have to search very hard for Slate. She was waiting at my door when I got home, covered in blood.
I let Slate in immediately, and she walked to my kitchen sink. She didn't seem bothered by the dried blood on her knuckles or her swollen lip.
"What happened?" I asked.
She washed her hands and came back into the living room, hands on her hips. "I was busy today."
"Obviously. Did you find something?"
"He has changed clubs since he attacked you."
Wait. Changed clubs? That meant...
"You knew where I was that night? Why didn't you tell me?"
She shook her head. "I didn't know for sure until today. I was following him before you, but I wasn't paying attention to where he picked you up."
"Why not?"
She looked annoyed. "I was following his scent. The trail led where it led."
"So you know where he is?"
"I believe so. His former employer was---less than enthusiastic to tell me where he went."
She rubbed her knuckles, and I saw there were no wounds. Over the course of our conversation, her lip had recovered as well. It was barely bruised now.
"Do we all heal that fast?" I asked.
She nodded. "As does he."
"Did you get his name?"
Slate grumbled, and it came out as a growl. "The Amazing Lupin."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"That's the strangest name for a comic I've ever heard."
"He's not a comic," she said.
With a name like "The Amazing Lupin", he certainly wasn't a lounge singer. "What does he do, juggle?"
"He is a hypnotist."
Bingo. Things suddenly made a little more sense. I'd always heard hypnotists couldn't make you do anything you didn't want, though. Looking back on the memories I had of that night, I had to blush and admit that I had wanted it plenty. At least the first part.
"PJ is coming with us tonight," I said.
Slate's hands returned to her hips, and she tilted her head at me. "I'd advise against that."
"Why?"
"She is not one of us. If we have to change, she won't understand. She will run, get in the way."
It was a fair point. Still, I wanted someone there I felt halfway comfortable with. "If it gets to that point, we can ditch her."
Slate was firm. "She should not come. We are hunting tonight."
"Yeah, about that. I still don't know if I can kill him."
She growled again, and stalked into the kitchen.
"There's a big difference between an animal and a person, Slate."
"Not so much with us," she said, "With him."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I don't."
I couldn't explain it to her. She had obviously killed people before. I had seen it in her memories. But it was one thing to kill for food, to kill something that didn't talk, didn't love.
"What was it like, those five years in the wild?" I asked her.
"Beautiful."
"What made you change back?"
For a long time, she just stared into the distance and didn't answer. When she finally looked back at me, a voice outside interrupted her.
"Dreama! I need to talk to you!"
Oh Jesus. Charlie?
Slate pricked to attention. "The one with the flowers?"
I nodded, and she moved to the bedroom. She kept herself out of sight from the door, but still in my vision.
"Charlie, you really don't want to mess with me. I meant what I said. Get lost."
"No! I don't care what you are, I love you. Please let me in so we can talk."
I was so not going to do that. Instead, I shot a look back at Slate. She nodded and disappeared. I heard the bedroom window slide open.
I took a deep breath, made sure the chain was on the door, and opened it just a sliver. Charlie wasn't having a good day. He was disheveled and looked like he'd been in a fistfight or two. His hands and face were dirty, and he wore a hooded jacket twice his size despite the heat.
"I was waiting for you, but that tall woman came by, so I hid."
"Charlie, you're ill. You don't love me. You can't. We barely know each other. Now go before I call the cops."
His face twisted into a petulant sneer. "You mean your boyfriend."
He sounded like a little brother who'd just discovered my diary. I wanted to deck him.
"What the fuck, Charlie? I thought we had this settled."
He looked around and shifted in his hoodie. "Can we talk somewhere else?"
"I'm not going anywhere alone with you. I don't trust you."
I saw something move in the corner of my eye. Slate was watching. It made me feel a little better.
"Whatever you need to say to me, say it right here. Then go."
He reached into his jacket. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. He pulled out just enough for me to see a flash of metal and his finger on the trigger of a gun. His whole hand shook.
"We need to talk," he said, "Alone."
I don't know if it was false bravado, annoyance, or the fact that I'd killed something not much smaller than him with my teeth. Whatever the reason, I stood my ground.
"No, Charlie. Not now, not ever."
I heard a car door close in the parking lot. Keys jangling. Someone was coming.
"Last chance, Charlie. I'm never going to be what you want."
He shook his head. "Then I'll make it so he can't have you either."
Alan walked up just about the time Charlie pointed the gun at me through his jacket. Thank God Alan was still in uniform. He had groceries in his hands.
"Dree, are you in there? Are you okay?"
Slate picked that second to pounce. She was in wolf form, and Charlie screamed as she brought him down. Alan dropped his groceries and pulled out his service pistol.
"Back away from the door, Dree!" he screamed.
"No, wait! Alan, don't shoot!"
Too late. Two bangs close together, followed by an anguished whimper. Slate fled toward the woods. I slammed the door and pulled off the chain, then threw it open again. Alan was still there, holding his gun. Charlie had fled for the woods as well, in the opposite direction of Slate.
"GodDAMN it, Alan! I said don't shoot!"
He was frozen in place, and obviously confused. "But...he was being attacked!"
I screamed with rage and headed into the woods. He called to me as I left, but I wasn't listening. I think he said, "What the hell was I supposed to do?"
I smelled blood both directions. Slate or Charlie? Charlie out there alone with a gun was more of an immediate threat, but Slate was my friend. I couldn't leave her when she'd been shot.
My wolf decided for me. Without another thought, I stripped down and dropped to all fours. I couldn't concentrate on Alan to change. Instead, I thought of the man outside the club. Rage filled me, and I began to change. I shuddered, snapped and popped into my wolf form, and stuck my muzzle toward the nearest blood drop.
I ran in the direction Charlie had gone. He must not have been injured that badly because he was already out of sight. The trees glowed orange in the near-dusk sunlight. I picked up the scent of Charlie's blood leading into the woods.
I ran as fast as my powerful legs would carry me, dodging trees and small creatures along the way. My human mind lay dormant. I was hunting. Find the one who tried to hurt us. Find the one who caused our Alpha harm. Find him, and kill him.
Charlie moved clumsily, not trying to hide his tracks. He had shed the jacket next to a tree, but when I padded on and around it, I didn't feel the gun.
I found him hiding behind a stone bench just off the paved hiking trail. I moved in closer. I could see him clearly, holed up against one side and breathing heavily. He clutched the gun like it was his last friend in the world. Perhaps it was.
As I approached, creeping silently closer, I smelled more blood on him. It wasn't just a scratch after all. In the rapidly dimming sunlight, I saw a dark smear across both arms. Alpha had done that.
I sniffed the air. There was more blood on him than just those smears. He shifted a bit and I saw him clutching one side of his stomach. There was a hole in his shirt. Dumb bastard must have shot himself when Slate tackled him.
I stalked around to the opposite side of the bench so he wouldn't see me approach. I moved with the wind and the underbrush to hide my sounds. I was a few feet from the bench when a squirrel rushed down a nearby tree. Charlie whipped around to see what it was, moving his gun with it.
I pounced.
My initial bite sank my teeth into his gun hand and I damn near snapped it off. He dropped the weapon and scrambled to get up. I landed on him, pinning him down and snapping my jaws at his face. He did everything he could not to face me. I heard panicked mewling sounds from his throat and smelled urine.
I paused. He was subdued. I could just let this be a scare and let him go. If he was stupid enough to let this happen and come back for more, I could sic Alan on him.
But what if he came back packing heat while Alan wasn't there? In public, maybe, where I couldn't easily change and defend myself?
My wolf saw no dilemma. This was the one who wanted to hurt us. The one Alpha protected us from. Alpha was hurt while protecting us. I should kill him. I could eat well. He was much bigger than a rabbit.
I shook my muzzle to clear my mind. Charlie started crying, a high keening noise. I stared down my nose at him. He was pathetic. Would he have really killed me?
My ears pricked up at the sound of someone coming. His steps were as loud as an oncoming car. He screamed a name into the falling night. "Dree! Dreama! Where are you?"
Dree?
Oh, Dree was me. Part of me. Wolf-Dree sensed danger from the one coming now. He was the one who had hurt Alpha. He would hurt us too, in this form. We needed to kill and run.
While my human side was distracted, Charlie was busy listening. He started to scream, "Over here! Help! Ple-"
The last bit was cut off as I placed my teeth on either side of his throat. He swallowed hard and said nothing else.
"Hello?" Alan called back, "Who's there? I'm a cop, I'm going to come help you."
Damn it. He drew closer, honing in on the sound of Charlie's voice. I looked down at my prey. He looked back in paralyzed fear until something on his face changed.
"Dree?" he whispered, "Oh my God, is that you? I love you, Dree. We can work with this. I won't tell anyone. Please."
Wolf-Dree growled at him, and whatever recognition he saw disappeared. One of our teeth had broken skin. His blood was rich, and the smell was intoxicating. All it would take is a single snap, and I could tear off a juicy piece of flesh.
Alan broke into the clearing and took a shot. The bullet ricocheted off the stone bench, and Wolf-Dree woke up from its reverie.
Danger! Run! I did. I was much faster than the one who had hurt Alpha. I ran far enough that he would never find me before hunkering down and watching. The one with the gun knelt by our food. He put the gun away, and in a fleeting moment, we wanted to kill him.
I suppressed the thought as best I could. This was Alan. He was not our enemy.
I licked the last of the blood off my jowls, and turned to face a sound from behind me. It was Alpha. She limped and smelled of old blood, but otherwise, she looked fine. I turned and went back to watching the one with the gun.
He stood and spoke into something small on his shoulder. I knew there would be more of them soon. More of them with guns. They would search for us, but they would not find us. Alpha looked at me, and I lowered our muzzle to the ground and looked up at her.
She licked my muzzle and walked deeper into the forest. She was Alpha. I followed.
That night, we slept under the stars. Nothing disturbed us, nuzzled together in the hollow of a dead tree. I had strange dreams of bright lights and cold steel.
When I woke, Alpha was gone. Instead, a tall one stood in front of me. I bristled until my muzzle caught her scent. She smelled like Alpha. Part of me recognized this tall one with pinkish-brown skin and no fur.
Slate. This was Slate. I licked her hand when she lowered it.
"Wake up, Dree," she said, "You've never willed it back before, and it's going to hurt. You need to learn."
The tall one rubbed her hand from my ears to my back, and my hackles lowered. I wanted to snooze more. It was light. Easier to hunt in the dark. Hide, wait, sleep.
"Dree, it's time. Come back."
Slate. Friend. Human.
That did it. I felt myself resurfacing. I tried to visualize my body with hands, feet, no muzzle. My fur receded, but it wouldn't go away entirely.
"Concentrate, Dree. Close away the wolf. It wants to sleep."
It did. I imagined ushering the wolf into a room, and I felt my fur receding completely, the hair on my head growing out, and my hands and feet shrinking. My claws withdrew, and the tips of my fingers healed. Ice cold shocks ran through my bones as they reformed. My spine popped and shortened. Each new sensation sent a pulse through my now bare back, where I felt the tattoos reform.
Slate sat cross-legged in the grass and stroked my hair as the change completed. The previous evening pressed down on me, and I began to cry. I'd nearly eaten Charlie. Not that he didn't deserve it. He had tried to kill me, after all. But ripping out his throat? I could still taste his blood.
And then there was Alan. Who knew what he was thinking. He'd probably called in half the local precinct to search for me.
What if he knew?
I dismissed that entirely. He couldn't. Things like this don't happen. Not really. Surely he was thinking I'd been spooked and ran, and that I'd turn up.
But PJ was probably looking for me too. She might have come by my apartment and found it unlocked or worse yet, taped off by the police. What would she think? I had abandoned her. Her grandfather tried to kill me. I was a monster. A freak. What was Slate's word?
Abomination.
Slate rocked me back and forth. She leaned down and spoke quietly into my ear. "Are you ready to stop him? To keep this from happening to another woman? "
I looked up at her. She wasn't as tough as she made herself out to be. She had hardened herself over the years, yes, but I saw glimpses of what she once was. Had she been someone's wife? Girlfriend?
"I'm ready, Slate. Alpha."
She smiled at me, and I added, "Sister."
We snuck through the forest for most of the morning. I felt awkward and exposed in human form. Slate, of course, practically projected self-confidence. She strode gracefully through the forest as if she were in a nude ballet. At least it wasn't hard for me to stay quiet in bare feet. I had to make a mental effort not to try and cover myself constantly.
We eventually made it to a deserted parking lot. It was odd to think Slate had a car. I guess I'd always just assumed she ran everywhere. Her perfectly normal silver sedan was parked alone next to a golf course on the edge of the woods. She reached under the car and pulled out a magnetic key box.
With one more careful glance around the lot to make sure we were alone, she popped the trunk. Inside were several sets of clothing, all easy to pull on and off. It was mostly a collection of track suits and an array of cheap sandals. She pulled out two pairs of pants and two tops, handing me one set. We dressed quickly. The suit was a little long in the legs, but otherwise fit me pretty well. I had to wonder if she'd bought it with me in mind.
When we were presentable again, we hopped into the car. It was a manual transmission. Somehow that fit with my image of her. Self-reliant, even in her car.
"You won't want to go back to your apartment for a while," she said.
I was fully aware of that, and none too happy about it. I'd left pretty much everything there, and the door and bedroom window were unlocked. I vainly hoped that Alan hadn't been so distraught at my disappearance that he forgot to go back and lockup.
"We can regroup at my place until nightfall," Slate said. "Tonight, we end this."
I nodded. She didn't say where her place was, but judging from the direction she took, it was somewhere on the northwest side of town, on the other side of the interstate. She drove in silence. I had so many questions I didn't know where to start, so I picked the most innocent thing that came to mind.
"How old are you, Slate?"
Her mouth turned up a little. "How old do I look?"
I gave her an appraising look. "Maybe thirty?"
Her smile told me I was wrong, but in a good way. She kept her eyes on the road and was constantly scanning all directions. Driving in Houston was every bit as involved as a hunt.
"You will not age as fast now," she said, "It is one of the few perks of being marked."
"So you're saying you're older than thirty?"
"Much."
She wasn't forthcoming, so I didn't pry.
"I didn't choose to kill him."
She didn't take her eyes off the road, but her eyebrows rose.
"My wolf chose for me," I said.
"You are not really two separate beings, you know."
"I---I guess not, but I can cope with it if I can separate the two."
She nodded. "It will become harder in time."
That was a sobering thought. What would happen if I wasn't able to fend off the wolf's instincts?
"You're saying I'll become more wolf, even when I'm human?"
One nod, quick and curt. "Exactly."
I shivered at the idea, and focused on the strip malls whizzing by on either side of the street.
"I can't see Alan anymore."
"No," Slate said.
"I'll have to move."
"Most likely."
"Can I, maybe, stay with you? Just for a little while?"
She nodded. "Of course. We are pack. You're always welcome."
I don't know why, but that warmed me more than anything in the past few days. It was a level of acceptance I had wanted since our first hunt but never actually expected.
"Thank you," I said. "I mean it. You've made this whole experience a lot less frightening."
She took a deep breath. "I did not have the benefit of a guide. I don't wish anyone to have to deal with that like I did."
We drove on in silence for a while. My stomach settled, and I felt a little better. Slate's track suit was comfortable. It smelled like her. I found it calming.
"Slate, have you ever met any others like us? I mean, like men?"
"Men that are like us, wolves?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Once."
I turned to face her, curling one foot under me. "What was it like?"
She took her eyes off the road briefly.
"At first, I didn't know what he was. We met in the wild. Hunted together. Ran together for a time. We were---intimate."
"He was your mate?" I asked.
"Yes."
"How long was it before you realized he was human?"
She stopped at a light and rubbed her arms. "Not long. I saw him change at a river to catch some fish. I changed as well. He was very surprised."
I giggled. "I bet."
"We spoke. It was how I learned much about what we are. He thought he was the only one. He had spent most of his life as a wolf."
"He must have been lonely," I said.
"We both were. It was good that we had each other, for a time."
I almost hated to pry, but I was curious. "Were you a couple as humans?"
"We were close in both forms, yes."
The light went green, and she pulled through the intersection, resuming her alert driving stance.
"What happened to him?" I asked.
She didn't answer right away. I worried that I'd finally crossed a line. I opened my mouth to apologize and she waved me off.
"I have not spoken of this to anyone. I suppose because no one asked."
I waited. We were going under the interstate, so my hunch was right; she lived somewhere in Spring.
"He had a pack," she said, "He met me when he was out scouting. When he brought me back, the other members were not happy. Especially the females. We fought for the right to mate. I won."
She paused and took another deep breath. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought she was on the verge of tears.
"I bore him pups. Two litters. I asked him once when we were human if he wished to have a baby. He said honestly he didn't know how to raise one. I was content as a mother by then, so I didn't try to persuade him."
The concept of Slate having wolf puppies confused me. I mean, I guess technically in wolf form, we had all the right equipment, but to stay that way for however long it took wolves to give birth? She must have really loved him.
"Were the pups normal?" I asked, "I mean, wolves only?"
"Yes. I was curious as well, but they did not seem to be able to change. Strangely, they recognized me as their mother in either form."
"Your scent is the same," I said, "It took me a second this morning, but I recognized you when you woke me up."
She considered it. "That would make sense."
After a beat, she continued, "We lived deep in the forest for a long time, but as the pups grew they became restless. They wanted to explore. I was afraid for them, because I knew what the farmers outside the forest would do to a wolf. What I had once done."
"You grew up on a farm?"
She nodded. "I tried to warn the pups, but the oldest male was stubborn. He was much like his father. He ventured out despite my mate's warnings. I followed him one night. We went far, far away from our den. He was picking chickens out from a hen house."
I could see where this was going, and I wasn't sure I liked it. Still, this was the most I'd managed to get her to talk about herself since we'd met. I didn't interrupt.
"My mate had followed, too. I did not know until it was too late. The pup was caught, but when the farmer fired, my mate jumped in front of him."
She was holding back tears now. Her eyes glistened in the sunlight, but her face remained firm, jaw set.
"The shot did not kill him, but he could not run as fast as the pup and myself. He fell behind as we fled. The farmer caught up with him and slit his throat."
We slowed down and turned into an apartment complex. She rolled down her window and entered a number into the keypad on the gate. She stole a hand to the edge of her eye quickly, wiping away a tear.
We pulled in two building down and she shut off the car.
"We are here."
"Slate, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have asked."
She stared into the distance, making no move to get out of the car. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper.
"It was a cruel winter."
As we were getting ready for the evening, Slate retired to the bathroom. I saw her in passing and peeked in. She had a spread on the counter that looked like a surgeon's table: straight razors, tweezers, gauze. No iodine or anesthetic, though. She controlled her breathing with long, deep breaths as she cut an inch-long slit on the front of her shoulder. It went deep.
I wanted to ask her what she was doing, but her jaw was set, eyes amber and focused fully on the task. She dropped the razor and picked up the tweezers. They plunged into the hole she'd just made, and she growled a bit as she dug around until there was a faint TINK! of metal on metal.
When she pulled the tweezers out, a metal ball was clasped inside them. A slug, from Alan's bullet. She dropped it into the trash, and then she washed her tools methodically. She swabbed the wound with damp gauze, just to clean away the blood, but didn't dress it. In a few seconds, I saw why: it had already stopped bleeding. I had a feeling even the scar would be gone by the time we got to the club.
Slate wore the same outfit from when we'd first met. It was just as revealing the second time around. There was a new addition: a pair of wedge heels. I would have questioned the ensemble, but I figured, as with all her clothing choices, she wanted something she could lose quickly for the change.
I dug around her closet and found a modest halter and jean skirt with some matching sandals that had a slight heel. Neither of us bothered with makeup. Slate looked at the two of us in the bedroom mirror and nodded.
We left for the hunt.
We hadn't spoken a word to each other since the ride to her apartment. I was afraid to break the silence, so I concentrated on the darkening night out the window while we traveled to the southeast side of town.
The night was in full swing as we stepped in to dimmed lights and someone on stage complaining about the price of airline tickets. He had either warmed up the crowd pretty well or they were already drunk because his lame attempts at humor had the room laughing.
Slate walked confidently to a table in the back of the room where two twenty-something men were sitting, beers in hand. They saw her approach and I could tell by their faces they appreciated every step.
"May we join you, boys?"
I caught up with her, a little less confident but otherwise holding my own. They nodded and pulled two chairs out from the table. We sat and made small talk for a while. Well, I made small talk. Slate could project sex without a word. The man closest to her didn't seem to mind.
The one next to me, Rob, motioned me closer and spoke into my ear. "Your friend doesn't talk much."
I nodded and tried to think of something to say. The best I could come up with was, "She's the strong, silent type."
Rob laughed. The house lights came up for just a second as the man on stage left to polite applause. Out came the emcee, who did his part to keep the room warm with a couple of quick jokes about some people on the front row.
The lights dimmed again, and he asked the crowd, "So is everybody ready for the main event?"
The crowd cheered as did our tablemates. Slate was focused, as usual. The emcee continued, "Give this guy a warm welcome! On loan from The Laugh Shop in Brooklyn, New York, The A-MAZE-ing Lupin!"
This was it. The one who made us into freaks. The one who took my life but left me breathing. Made me choose between this curse and Alan. Made me a killer. The room was suddenly much warmer.
Slate reached over and took my hand without looking. As the main attraction took the stage, she squeezed it and held fast.
The Amazing Lupin was not exactly what I expected in a serial seducer and ruiner of women. He was just barely six feet tall, if that. He wore a pair of black slacks with shiny black shoes and a gray-and-blue striped dress shirt that was open at the collar. He had tattoos on his chest. I couldn't see what they were from our table.
When I saw him scan the crowd, I immediately realized his appeal. He had a handsome face with strong lines. His intense brown eyes were serious but held just a hint of playful mischief.
I was thankful for the low house lights and strong spotlight. I wasn't sure what either of us would do if he picked us out.
"Good evening, everyone! How about that Bobby LaMonde? Isn't he great?"
Compliment the previous act. Quick way to win over a crowd. There were whistles and applause, and he took it in like a polished showman. "Now, as some of you probably know I've got a little different kind of act for you tonight. You see, I was raised by gypsies."
He paused and there were a few isolated laughs. No one was sure if he was serious. "They taught me the arts of seduction and mind control. I'm here to hypnotize someone."
There were big cheers to that. He scanned the audience, and I ducked down without thinking.
"If I might toot my own horn here, I think I'm pretty good at it. But let's have you good people be the judge of that, how about it?"
More applause and whistling. "Now, here's the part you've probably all heard before. I need a volunteer. Preferably one not too drunk to stand. I know that's a tall order."
Hands went up all through the club, and a moving spotlight roved around. It focused on the center of the room, safely away from our table. The man sitting next to Slate said, "You should volunteer. Hey! Over-"
He was cut off by Slate's free hand on his crotch. It wasn't a come-on. She squeezed, and he took the hint.
On stage, Lupin had already picked his next victim. "You there, the blonde with the antennae! Take me to your leader or your bedroom. Whichever comes first."
The young lady he picked hopped up. She wore a pair of green blinking balls that sprung off her head and bounced when she moved. She was into the act and more than a little drunk, judging by the way she walked. She announced to the whole crowd, "Oh don't worry, I always come first."
The audience ate it up. Cat calls and yowls all around, coupled with raucous laughter. Lupin helped her up and presented her to the crowd.
"Okay, folks. Let's have a hand for-" he pointed the microphone at her.
"Whitney!" she said, hands behind her back so her chest was on full display.
Lupin let the applause die down and took Whitney's hand. "Now, Whitney, not everyone can be hypnotized, so we'll have to do a little test first."
He looked out at the crowd. "Folks, seriously, I need a little quiet for this one to work. Just give me a minute."
The club was silent as he looked into Whitney's eyes. He stowed the microphone on its stand and took her hand in both of his. His thumbs rubbed small circles as he spoke in a low monotone. No one breathed as we saw Whitney sway just a bit.
A stage hand put a chair down behind her, and Lupin touched his hand to her forehead. She slumped down, looking asleep with her eyes open.
Lupin grabbed the mic and spoke to the crowd. "Well, looks like she's a cheap date." The crowd laughed and the noise levels came back up to normal. There was a chorus of cheers. He walked over to the foggy Whitney and put his hand on her shoulder.
"Are you okay, Whitney?"
The mic lowered, and a dreamy Whitney answered, "Oh yeah. I'm cool. Chilly Willy."
That brought another round of laughs, and Lupin chuckled as well. "I swear I didn't put her up to that one. Okay, Whitney. We're going to have a little fun, but I want you to know you can stop at any time, all right?"
"Okay."
"Whitney, when I snap my fingers, you're going to lose any and all memory of the number four. Do you understand? You'll forget it exists completely."
"Okay."
A heckler in the crowd yelled, "Boring!"
Lupin took it in stride, and gave a wink to the crowd. "We're all adults here tonight, right?"
Cheers and applause answered.
"Okay. Whitney, on top of not remembering the number four, every time I say that number, you will open one button of your blouse. Is that okay?"
"Sure."
The crowd was cheering and hooting now, mostly the men. Our tablemates were no exception. I looked at Slate, but her expression was unreadable. I was pretty sure this kind of thing couldn't be legal, but maybe the rest of the club thought she was a plant, like his assistant.
"Okay, Whitney. Stand up for me, please. Good. Now on three I'm going to snap my fingers, and you'll wake up. One, two, three!"
Whitney perked up immediately. Lupin took her hand. "How are you feeling, Whitney?"
"Umm, when's the test start?"
Giggles came from the crowd, and Lupin gave them an indulgent grin. "You already took it. You passed!"
Whitney's eyes went wide. "Oh, cool. So do I cluck like a chicken or something?"
"No, no. I need your help with something though." The same stagehand who brought out the chair set up a collapsing stand with a big tray on it. It was the kind of thing a waiter might use to bring out your food. Instead of plates, it had a row of six shot glasses.
With a little dramatic flair, Lupin grabbed a bottle and a lighter from off stage. He took a swig from the bottle and spat it out in front of him, using the lighter to ignite a fireball over the drinks. The crowd gasped and clapped as the shots glowed with blue coronas of flame.
"Now, Whitney. How many shots do you see? Count them out for me."
"Really? Okay. One, two, three, five, six, seven."
There were snickers from the crowd. Whitney looked at them with an incredulous smile.
"What? What's wrong?"
Lupin guided her over to the tray. "Okay, so there are seven?"
"Yeah. I'm not stupid."
More laughs from the audience. Lupin winked at them again. "Whitney, let's have a drink. You and me, what do you say?"
"Um, okay."
He handed her one shot, and he took a second. They blew out the flames and downed them together. Applause and cheers. One of the girls at Whitney's table yelled, "You go, Whitney!"
"Okay." Lupin handed the empty shots to his stagehand and returned to the tray. "So how many are left? Count them out for me."
"Is this a trick or something? One, two, three, five."
"Five then?"
"Yeah."
Lupin looked out at the crowd. "Not four?"
Whitney looked flushed and her hand flew to her blouse. One button down. "What's that? That's not a number."
The crowd was in stitches. A couple of guys threw out cat calls when she opened the button. Lupin laughed with them and continued.
"What's two plus two, Whitney?"
"Five. Duh."
"Not four?"
One more button gone. Someone yelled, "Woo, take it off!"
Whitney was very confused. "I don't get it. That's not a number. I'm not an idiot."
"No, no. Of course not, Whitney."
The tray was removed, but not before Lupin distributed the remaining four shots among the people at the front table. "No sense wasting a good prop. Cheers."
Lupin addressed the crowd. "Now, never let anyone say you didn't learn something tonight. You see, I'm a bit of a student of history. One of my favorite speeches is the Gettysburg Address."
The crowd didn't see where it was going, but I did.
With as much dramatic flair as he could muster, Lupin circled around Whitney and recited, "Four score and seven years ago, our four fathers brought onto this continent a new nation. Four days later, they discovered moonshine, and all bets were off."
Whitney was down to one button now, and her lacy black bra was on display to the crowd. I saw why Lupin had picked her. There was a lot to show.
"You've been a great sport, Whitney. Come over to the chair and have a seat."
He touched her forehead again and she went slack. "Whitney, you can button your blouse back up now." A couple of guys in the crowd booed. He waved them down with a smile.
"Whitney, you've done a great job tonight. I want you to forget all of the suggestions I've made to you, and when I snap my fingers, you'll remember everything that just happened. You'll feel refreshed and happy. Is that okay?"
"Yes."
"One, two, three." He snapped, and Whitney became perky again. I noticed, with a little satisfaction, that she had the decency to blush a deep crimson at the realization she'd just pretty much flashed the whole club.
"Oh, you suck!" She shoved Lupin, but her smile told everyone she didn't mean it. He led her down off the stage and the crowd cheered. "Bartender! Whitney's table is on me tonight! Thanks so much!"
Whitney's friends cheered and everyone else settled in for the next bit. He got another volunteer and went through the usual kinds of things: you're getting ready in the morning, you only see my head floating without a body, and for irony's sake, the old cluck like a chicken routine. He chose a dozen volunteers by the time it was done, but always women. I wondered if he couldn't hypnotize men.
Slate was restless. She had let go of my hand halfway through the act. Now that Lupin was winding down, she grabbed it again. He whispered to the emcee on his way out and went down a hallway behind the stage.
"Okay, folks!" the emcee said. "Let's hear one more round for the A-MAZE-ing Lupin!"
When the clapping died down, the emcee said the next group was a band. "It's gonna take a little while to get them set up, so please take this opportunity to freshen up your drinks or make some room for more!"
Tables emptied, and Slate pulled me from ours. I waved a hasty goodbye to Rob and his friend, who threw their hands up in confusion. I yelled back, "Girl stuff. Sorry, bye!"
Slate pulled us to one side of the hallway Lupin had used. I asked what we were doing, and she shushed me. We waited as calmly as possible, and soon enough Whitney's lighted bobbles came bouncing through the crowd.
A thick man in a black security shirt stood just inside the hallway. He stopped her, recognized her from the show, and let her through. Apparently lady callers for Lupin weren't anything new. Color me not surprised.
Slate waited to see which door Whitney went in and motioned me to follow. The security guard blocked our entry. "Let me guess, more fans of The Amazing Lupin?"
Slate took the lead. "Relatives, actually."
His eyebrows went up. "Can't say I've heard that one before. You got proof?"
She opened her jacket and grabbed the back of his head. Before I knew what she was doing the guard's head was planted firmly between her breasts and shaking. Slate let go, leaving her jacket open. The guard staggered back. "What the fuck, lady?"
"That work for you?"
His confused expression went sly, and he laughed. "Damn, you're a freaky girl. Can I get your number?"
He looked at me for the first time, up and down. "Your friend's, too?"
Slate smiled and slinked up next to him so her breasts brushed the front of his shirt. She put a hand on his cheek and said, "Ask Lupin at closing time."
The guard looked a little shell-shocked but nodded and waved us through. He watched Slate's every move down the hallway. She buttoned her top and whispered under her breath, "I hate having to do that."
"What do you mean?"
"I was a proper girl once. Before this."
Somehow I doubted that. Before I could stick my foot in my mouth, we reached Lupin's door. I heard Whitney's voice inside. Slate reached down to slip off her heels. I did the same.
"He will run. Follow my lead. Together, we can take him."
"Okay."
She didn't ask if I was ready. Her foot struck the door, and it flew open.
Whitney was on his lap, and her blouse was open again. This guy moved fast. We entered, and his eyes went wide and flashed amber. I couldn't tell if it was just surprise or recognition. He quickly hid himself behind the girl, hand on her throat.
"Lorelei? My God! Please, I don't want to hurt anyone."
"Speak for yourself," Slate said, and she charged toward him. He was just as fast. He pushed Whitney at her and flew out the door before I had time to react. Slate dropped the confused girl and was out the door in a blink. I followed.
He bolted through the rear fire exit, which had been propped open by someone. We passed by a group of waiters having a smoke break. Lupin ran for the next alley, with Slate on his heels. I struggled to keep up, and I lost them around the corner of the next building.
Desperate, I focused some of my anger and frustration into trying to smell them instead. With each breath, more and more of Slate's scent came to me.
I ran to the end of the alley and slipped through an opening in the chain link fence. The strip center ended in a marsh, and I saw two dark shapes moving through it low and fast. Lupin's dress shirt hung from a barb of the small wire fence that surrounded the marshland.
I shed my clothes and dropped to all fours. I thought of revenge. I changed quicker than last time, but it still hurt just as much. I could almost see their scent rails now. I bounded over the fence and took off in pursuit.
The full moon was behind a cloud tonight, barely a shimmer. The darkness didn't bother me. I flew across small ponds and splashed through soft earth with purpose: find Alpha, and find our enemy.
I burst through a line of brush and into a small copse of trees. I heard sounds of a struggle - growls, whimpers, and brush being snapped and rustled. I followed my nose and ears and came upon the fight.
Alpha was already bloody from a gash in her shoulder. Her fur was matted black around it. The other wolf was larger than both of us, and his coloring was different. He was nearly all black, with red tips around his eyes, muzzle, and tail.
He charged Alpha, and I leapt in his way the last minute. We collided, and I grappled with him, claws and teeth searching for purchase. I found his foreleg and bit down hard. He yelped and scrambled out from under me, snapping wildly at my neck.
I righted myself and faced him. My hackles were raised, and I growled low and loud. His blood dripped from my jowls and I licked a bit of it. Good as any rabbit, and less bitter than Charlie. I could stand to have more.
He limped back, facing both of us. Alpha charged again, and I followed. We hit him almost in unison; her mouth took his neck, and mine took his rear leg. We flipped him sideways and all went tumbling.
He sunk a good bit into my back and threw me off of him. Slate laid into him behind his head, and he howled, but managed to shake her off. She hit a discarded tire rim, and I heard something crack. She lay still.
Lupin backed away again from us both. I saw him shudder and change. Suddenly, he was human again and covered in bites and blood. He dropped to his knees.
I hunkered down, ready to spring despite the searing bite on my neck. He screamed, "Dreama, wait! Let me speak. Kill me later if you have to, but let me speak!"
I was in no mood, but didn't immediately strike. I paced him in a half-circle, back and forth in front of the prone form of Alpha. I could hear her breathing heavily. The tension in Lupin's shoulders relaxed and I saw the tattoo across his chest. In a rough, amateurish script surrounded by roses and thorns was one word: "Lorelei."
Lupin was winded, but his wounds were closing up immediately. He looked frail as a human. You'd never guess he was a jet-black monstrosity under it all.
"She didn't tell you everything, did she?" he asked.
I reluctantly changed back so I could answer. I remained kneeling and held onto my rage just in case.
"What more is there to tell? You cursed her. Cursed me. How many others have you done this to?"
He shook his head. "I love her, Dreama."
"Funny way of showing it. Forcing her to lose any semblance of a normal life and change into this monster to kill and feed?"
"I didn't mean for that to happen. You must believe me."
I didn't buy it. "Then how the FUCK do you explain what you did to me? To the others?"
"It wasn't supposed to be you," he said.
"What?"
He rubbed some of his wounds, smearing the blood surrounding them. The skin was unbroken now. "Your friend, PJ. She was with you that night."
I growled without thinking. "What about her?"
"She's a Mackenzie, right?"
"Okay, enough of this bullshit. You hurt Slate. She might die. I'll hurt you, too."
I dropped down to all fours and cleared my head to change. Lupin threw out his hands. "Wait! Lorelei is her name. Was her name."
"I don't really care. You've nearly killed her and sure as hell ruined my life. You need to pay for it."
"Lorelei Mackenzie."
That stopped me. I rolled back into a crouch and let him continue.
"I met her on her father's farm. I was with a traveling carnival at the time. We fell in love. I wanted her to come with me. Her father wasn't happy."
Whatever. So you took her anyway and made it so daddy wouldn't want her anymore. Enough of this.
I shook my head and focused every bit of rage I could into changing. Once I was a wolf, everything would be clearer. The transformation was almost complete when a weak voice behind me said, "Stop, Dree."
I finished shifting and looked back. Slate was human again and limping toward us. Her arm was bent at an awkward angle, and she cradled it, wincing with every step. I went to her and licked her calf.
"Wait, Dree," she said.
She knelt a good distance from Lupin. He showed no signs of wanting to attack. He just looked tired.
"Lorelei, please. I loved you. I still do."
She chuckled softly. "You loved a little farm girl who'd never seen the world. A ripe little berry you could pluck off the vine and throw away when it spoiled."
"Dreama," he said, "I want you to see something."
He turned around. The pattern on his back was the same as my and Slate's tattoos, but these weren't smooth ink. The runes were thick, pitted scar tissue. The knots surrounding them were ragged cuts that looked old, but still only partially healed.
Slate muttered to herself, "Daddy always did have a temper."
"He cursed me, Dreama. I didn't realize the full reality of it until afterward. I tried to take Lorelei with me anyway. The carnival wanted to move on. Too much trouble in that town."
Slate spat her words at him, "So you took me! In the back of that stinking trailer, surrounded by your freak friends. You made me a freak too."
Lupin shook his head. "I didn't know! I swear it. I hadn't changed yet myself. How could I know what would happen?"
Slate just stared at him. Lupin tried again.
"I didn't force myself on you, Lorelei. You loved me too, once."
She got to her feet in one fluid motion. It must have hurt because she let out a yowl. She closed the distance between her and Lupin. He made no move to stop her.
With her good arm, she grasped his throat. Her hand lengthened and claws extended, biting into his flesh. The tattoo of her name rose and fell with his labored breathing. She spoke with an accent I'd never heard her use before.
"I got pregnant, you sack of shite. When Daddy found out, he beat me till I bled. Bled your bastard right out of me. Did you know that, Amazing Lupin?"
Lupin's eyes were wide and rimmed with red. Apparently, he didn't. He tried to say something, and she squeezed him silent. Her mouth was practically in his ear at this point.
"Did you know that when my father found his own daughter wearing his handiwork on her back he took me to the fields to kill me? My first change was in front of him. My own father. He led me out there with his rifle and told me to strip. I pleaded with him, and he decked me with the stock."
Slate was breathing hard. She shook her injured arm, and I heard something crack. She cried out, but I watched as it healed perfectly before my eyes. She ran her free hand through Lupin's hair and grabbed a clump of it, pulling hard.
"Daddy watched me change. Every agonizing second. He waited for it to finish, and then he chased me off the farm like a common wolf come to rustle the chickens. He meant to kill me. You should have seen his eyes. Did you think of any of that while you were touring around and bewitching farmers' daughters into your bed?"
Slate's face was blood red and streaked with tears. I half-expected her to let out a howl and tear his throat out with her human teeth.
"Nothing to say, Lupin? Or are you still little fucking Danny MacGregor, gypsy bastard and breaker of girls' hearts? Where's Danny tonight? Oh, he's having a grand old time with his latest whore. You're nae worth a docken to him."
The more she ranted, the less intelligible it became. Her speech started to sound less like the Slate I knew and more like Poppa Mackenzie. When she was done, she let him go and he gasped for air. His first words were, "I didn't know. God, I swear I didn't know."
She stood and kicked him in the chin. He fell flat on his back. Straddling him like a lover, she pinned him and sunk two sets of claws into his chest.
"Like 'ell you didn't! Whit's fur ye'll no go past ye, Danny boy. You'll get what's coming to you. She was a girl, you know. I named her Grace, and buried her by my mum in the dead of night so my poppa wouldn't know. I covered the grave with rocks so the wolves wouldn't dig her up. Other wolves like us."
"Your father said you ran away. Took a ship to America. I left my band to follow you." Lupin's voice was raspy. Had Slate pierced his lungs?
Slate nodded but kept her claws inside him. "Aye, that much was true. I searched for you for three years, Danny. Three years on the road starving myself and feeding off chickens when I changed. I prayed at every cross I could find along the way, fat lot of good it did me. I gave up and ended up a stowaway. I had to whore myself to the captain to pay for it."
She shuddered. Lupin tried to put a hand on her arm, and she shrugged it off. "You have no idea what I went through after that. When I caught wind of you starting up a troupe in the States, I followed you."
Lupin's face went pale. "That was you? I thought I was doubly cursed when the women I was with kept disappearing."
Slate's laugh was cold. "Oh, I know where they are. All of them. You were years on the road, and I was your shadow. I waited for the right time to take you. I followed you here. And then I find you laughing it up and trying to dick your way into my great grandniece."
Lupin lay there shaking his head. He didn't try to escape, or even move at all. "I thought you were gone, Lorelei. Dead. It gets lonely on the road. She reminded me of you so much."
"So you thought, what the fuck, I'll curse her too? One cursed Mackenzie not good enough? Fuck you, Danny. Fuck you. You deserve a slow death, and I'm going to give it to you."
I felt like the worst kind of voyeur during this exchange. I shifted to human form again. This many shifts were taking a toll on my body. I hurt all over, and my brain felt like it was fractured in two.
"Wait!" I said. "You're talking about PJ? What does she have to do with this?"
Lupin sighed, but Slate shoved her claws in further. She looked like she was ready to scoop his heart out and eat it. "Answer the question."
"I didn't want to turn her," he said, "I didn't want to fuck her either. I just needed her blood."
Wrong answer.
Slate threw a slap across his face. Her clawed hand left deep gashes in his face, which began to heal immediately.
"Just a few drops, Lorelei! Over the years, I managed to find out that the blood of an untainted Mackenzie daughter could end it. Think of that, Lorelei! End it all!"
Slate shook her head, but pulled her claws out of his chest. "You mean it would kill you. Daddy was not the forgiving type."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The bubbly rattle was diminished. "Aye. It will kill me."
I had to ask. "Will your death end the curse? For us all?"
I was on my feet now, looking down at both of them. Lupin shook his head. "Vengeful old bastard your poppa was, Lorelei."
To me, he said, "No. I don't think so."
The puncture wounds from Slate's claws had healed. Aside from the blood, he was entirely whole. "Could we have really killed you, Lupin?" I asked.
"I don't know, Dreama, I just don't know. I've tried to die many times. Silver helps, but I can't touch it long enough to slit my own throat. Your friend's necklace burned me when I touched it."
"But why did you take me? What did I have to do with all this?"
"My wolf chose for me," he said.
"Bullshit. We're one and the same, Lupin. You chose me for a reason."
Slate rose and walked to the edge of the clearing. She stood with her back to us, arms crossed and looking into the darkness. Her voice carried in the still night.
"He always did have a thing for brunettes."
Something nagged at me. "Slate, you said there were others. That you knew where they were. That he'd been doing this for years, spreading the mark. What happened to them?"
Lupin lay still, staring up into the night sky. "She killed them, Dreama."
My head swam, and I ran to Slate. "He's lying, isn't he? ISN'T HE?"
She remained still and looked into the darkness. She could have been a sculpture for all the response I got out of her.
Lupin sat up and scraped his hands across his face. He suddenly looked every bit as old as their story suggested. "They'd always turn up a few days later. Dead. I never knew why. I thought maybe I had done it and forgotten. The moon makes us crazy sometimes."
Throughout all of this, Slate remained still, denying nothing. The weight of it hit me, and I stumbled to the ground.
"How could you? Did you spend all this time with them too? Show them how to live and gut them when they weren't looking? Am I next? Talk to me, Slate."
"I cleaned up his mess," she said, "He left a string of them on his way down here. Scared, tainted women. Girls, really. Made into abominations and left to fend for themselves. I ended their suffering."
"You really did it. You killed them all." I felt nauseous. "When was I going to go? Tell me that much, at least."
She turned to me, and I expected her eyes to still be amber. They were brown. "I like you Dree. You, I wanted to keep. Make a pack. Perhaps find you a mate."
"I'm not a pet, Slate! I'm a person! Most of the time anyway. Were you ever going to tell me about the others?"
"No."
Lupin was up now, pacing. "Lorelei, we can start again. We can have a proper marriage. Have children. Whatever you want. I thought you were dead. This is wonderful."
He was beginning to sound a lot like Charlie. I wondered if he'd turn out the same way. I looked at Slate, but she seemed unconvinced.
"It's too late for all that, Danny. Far too late."
He knelt down next to her. "As wolves then. This curse need not be the end of us. We can at least enjoy the last of our days together, in spite of your father."
I could tell she was considering it, but she shook her head. "We are monsters, Danny. My father made sure of that. We have killed, both of us. Brought others in and taught them to kill. We don't deserve to live our lives at all, much less together."
Lupin placed a hand on her bare shoulder, and I half expected her to break it. She left it there.
"You don't really believe that, Lorelei. Do you?"
"Leave me alone, Danny MacGregor. It's what you're good at."
I was at a total loss for words. Slate, who just this morning had cradled my head in her hands and coaxed me back to humanity, had systematically killed all the others who came before me. How could I trust that I wouldn't end up the same?
It was too much. I ran. Lupin called after me, but I wasn't listening. I changed out of instinct and ran faster. I didn't know where to go, so I headed north. She was Alpha, but she had betrayed me. This time, I wouldn't follow.
I just ran.
It took me three nights to get back to my apartment. Three nights of surviving on rabbits, stray cats, and whatever else I could find. Days were spent hiding and sleeping fitfully in drainage ditches and the occasional bed of brush. I had to move in the dark and stay to unsettled areas, which in Houston has become less and less common.
I was shot at, at least once. A pack of feral dogs tried to ambush me just north of the freeway loop, and I'd reacted on instinct alone. With their alpha in bloody strings, they rethought their strategy and ran. I began to forget where I was going. I continued north regardless.
It was deep night on the third evening when I emerged from the woods behind my complex. I listened closely for signs of anyone outside, and when I was satisfied, I snuck around to my bedroom window. It was closed. I held my breath and shifted back to human.
After three days as a wolf, it felt strange to have small, clawless feet. My skin was naked to the wind with no fur, and my nose felt tiny without my muzzle. I felt weak. The pull to change back was loud and insistent in my brain. I wanted to run, to hunt and feed forever. I couldn't imagine what this would feel like after years in the wild.
My hands awkwardly fumbled the window open. The police might have closed it, but they didn't flip the latch. It seemed an odd detail to miss. I climbed in carefully and shut the window behind me.
My lamp flipped on and I whirled, growling low and flexing claws I didn't have. Alan was in my bed, and his gun was out. He put it down when he got a good look at me.
"Dree, thank God you're okay! I have a missing persons report out on you. I thought maybe that guy we found in the woods might have-"
He sprang out of bed and tried to hug me. I shrank into the corner and growled at him. Part of me wanted to embrace him, but the larger part at the moment was the one that had seen him hurt Alpha.
He stopped cold. "Dree? What's happened to you?" As an afterthought he asked, "Why are you naked?"
I breathed deep and did my best to think calm human thoughts. My voice was almost mine, with only a slight tinge of growl to it.
"Hello, Alan."
"Where have you been, Dree? I missed you. I was so worried. We ran a check on the guy in the woods. Restraining orders going back five years, suspicion of stalking. He was a suspect in at least one murder. I thought he got to you out there, hid your body somewhere. We found your clothes."
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"Out on bail. Why?"
I didn't answer. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. "I thought I'd lost you, Dree."
Before the events of the last week, I might have melted completely and spent the rest of the night wrapped in his warm body. In this moment, I had trouble feeling anything warm toward Alan. Part of me was horrified by that.
"Please leave, Alan. We can talk later."
His mouth worked open and closed several times before any sound came out. "That's it? You take off after a stalker and a goddamned huge dog into the woods, come climbing in here four days later naked and dirty, and you expect me to just go?"
When he put it that way, even I had to bow to the absurdity of it all. Still, I was not in the mood to explain myself tonight. My rapidly emerging human side wanted a hot shower, clean sheets, and sleep that wasn't interrupted by would-be predators.
"Yes. That's exactly what I expect. Please go, Alan. Leave your key on the counter."
His jaw dropped. "Why?"
I dragged him to his feet and pushed him out the door. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I marveled that I could do it at all. He had a good hundred and fifty pounds on me on paper. How things change.
"You heard me, Alan. We'll talk later. I promise. Right now, I want some alone time. Good night."
He shook his head, but he took his clothes when I handed them to him. He dressed in the hall and walked away. I heard his key hit the kitchen counter and the door slamming shut. I followed behind and flipped the bolt.
A lack of cell phone doesn't keep people from contacting you; it just forces them to resort to more conventional forms of annoyance, like making house calls. I had taken a long, hot shower, curled up and slept a good solid seven hours before the heir Mackenzie decided to bang on my door.
She swore at me furiously through the door, asking where the hell I'd been and why I'd made everyone think I was dead or mangled by that stalker. I heard all of this as I walked to the living room.
I flipped the bolt and opened the door wide. I hadn't bothered to put on a robe. PJ shut up immediately.
"Are you coming in, or what?" I asked.
Suddenly, she'd run out of things to say. She walked in, and I shut the door behind her. I stood in front of it and crossed my arms.
"Did you want something, PJ? I'm very tired."
Her mouth started working again, and she sputtered, "Dree, what happened to you? And why are you naked?"
I'd heard that one before. I shook my head and went to the kitchen to make some tea. She followed meekly and spoke softly. It was odd for PJ.
"We thought you were dead. They found your stalker in the woods. Some scumbag, huh? Can't believe they gave him bail."
I didn't say anything, just waited for my kettle to boil. I absentmindedly picked at some mud under my fingernails. I'd have to invest in a nail brush.
PJ walked in between me and the kettle. "Dree, talk to me. What happened? Alan called me this morning, said you were back and not talking. Did you really crawl in through the window buck naked and kick him out?"
"I did." The kettle whined, and I performed my tea ceremony: cup, bag, water, spoon, steep.
PJ put a hand on my shoulder and I jumped back without thinking. Her hand hung in space for a second before her true self emerged. "What the fuck, Dree? I'm worried about you. Is that offensive to you in some way?"
The numbness that had surrounded me much of the morning suddenly broke. "No, PJ. I'm sorry. It's been a stressful time for me. You know what happened with Charlie. Things got crazy."
I didn't know how many details PJ had heard. I didn't want to mention the "large dog" Alan saw, or nearly eating Charlie.
"Where did you go?" she asked. "Why didn't you call me or something?"
I stirred my tea and tried to think of what I could tell her. The closest thing to the truth was probably best.
"Remember that friend of mine, the antisocial one? I stayed with her while things calmed down."
She seemed satisfied with that. "You should have called me, ho. Did you find anything out about your tattoo?"
"No. You?"
She shook her head. "Not really. I could only stand two comedy clubs in one night by myself. Some of those guys are awful. The drinks aren't even that good."
"I'm okay, PJ. Don't worry about me. I had some drama with the stalker, and now it's over. I don't think anyone would blame me for being glad about that. Do I still have a job?"
PJ hugged me and laughed a little to herself as she let go. "I can't believe you're all nudist now. That's going to take some getting used to. And yeah, Marie had HR put your position on hold until they were sure what happened to you. Are you up for work today?"
I shrugged. I hadn't considered it at all. Could I really stand sitting in a cube listening to people whine about their cable boxes after I'd torn a guy's throat out and eaten it? What about Lupin and Slate? Would she change her mind about wanting me around? Was she watching me now, waiting for the perfect opportunity to clean up another one of Lupin's abominations?
"Well," PJ said, "I'm on my way if you want a ride. The drama should be juicy. Dreama Cargill, Survivor of Stalkers, back from the dead."
Fuck it. Why not?
I chucked the last of my tea in the sink and went to retrieve my work uniform. As I slipped on the rough cotton polo, I cringed at the feel of it on my skin. My slacks were no better. I felt hot and awkward. I wanted to throw it all back in the closet.
I guess PJ was right; I'd gone nudist on her. Better she knew about that than my new found taste for blood.
What is it about horrible things happening that makes people suddenly notice you? An outsider visiting my office the day I came back would get the mistaken impression that I was a hero, loved by all.
I walked in to the usual sounds at first: keyboards, phones, and people reading the company scripts. As I made my way to my cube, the sounds died off.
When I finally sat down, I'd developed a tail, and it wasn't the furry kind. People in clumps that roughly resembled a line had to ask how I was doing, know if I was scared, call me a hero or a victim, and treat me according to the category they decided I fit.
I got no work done the first half of the day. Marie called me into her office after lunch, and I was sure she was going to ream me for it.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
I spouted out the same canned response I'd given everyone else that day. "Okay. It's going to take time."
She nodded. "Of course. Please, sit down."
I sat, and she closed the door to her office. Usually, that wasn't a good sign. In my mind, I was already working through the scenario.
In light of recent events we just don't think you're a reliable employee. We're going to have to let you go. I'm sorry.
"In light of recent events-" she began, and a growl bubbled up in my throat. Marie froze. Maybe it did more than bubble. Whoops.
"Sorry. Skipped breakfast," I said.
She gave me a weak smile and continued, "I think you'll be happy to hear that you're off probation. I won't be monitoring your calls any more. Just keep you head down and do your best. It's all we can ask after something so horrible."
I started breathing again. That was not what I expected to happen.
"Um, thanks, Marie. I...didn't expect that. I know I've been flighty-"
"And I had no idea what you were dealing with. You filed a complaint about that man a long time ago, and, to be honest, I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. I'm very sorry, Dreama."
I nodded and got up to go. She walked over to open the door for me, and I artfully dodged her attempt at an awkward hug.
"Not really in a touching mood right now, Marie. Nothing personal."
She stiffened, but nodded. "Oh. Right. Of course."
I went back to work. I wasn't sure if it was just the shock of being back at work or Marie's strange bout of sympathy, but I got so flustered on one of my calls that I told a lady she needed to reboot her TV and plug the cable line into her phone.
The walls of my cube felt like a prison. I was miserable. I managed to fumble my way through the woman's problem and hang up. I needed air.
I snuck past Marie's office and out the door. It was a brisk day, and the air was dry and cool. I wandered around the perimeter of my office building smelling the wind and not really paying attention to where I was going.
I ended up in a wooded patch a quarter mile down the road. I shook myself and turned to get back to work when Slate stepped out, blocking my path. I immediately began looking for the quickest escape routes.
"You're afraid of me now," she said.
"No," I lied.
Slate shook her head. "I smell it. Before you were just confused, but not afraid. What has changed?"
What hadn't? "How'd you do it, Slate? How could you kill all of them? Why?"
She turned her head in that very canine gesture again. "They were suffering. Not all of them took to the change as well as you. It's merciful to kill a pup that is suffering."
"They were human! They weren't pups, Slate! They were someone's daughter, maybe someone's wife!"
Slate showed me her palms in the most infuriating So what? gesture. To think I was beginning to like her. To trust her. She saw other people as obstacles or food, nothing more.
"Did you kill Lupin?" I asked.
"I haven't decided what to do with him. He lives, for now."
Apparently, their conversation hadn't gone any better after I left. Whatever, it wasn't my concern anymore.
"What will you do after you kill him? If you kill him?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. I had hoped to start a pack, with you."
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a wolf."
"You're lying."
I was lying, just a little. The pull was stronger the more time I spent outdoors and around her. Her scent was the same as the first day I met her. A perfume of the wild. I couldn't deny it was tempting.
"Are you going to kill me, Slate?"
"No."
"Then please, just let me leave."
She nodded and stepped out of the way. "I will be in touch. Soon."
She walked into the woods and was gone. Her scent went with her. It left me a little empty and a lot confused. Mingled in with her usual smells was one I wasn't used to. She smelled like sex.
I sleepwalked through the rest of my day and clocked out for home. Alan was waiting for me at the door to my apartment. I sighed and turned back to the parking lot when I saw him, intent on driving around long enough for him to get the hint and leave. He caught up to me before I could get in my car.
"Wait, Dree. You said we'd talk."
I leaned against my driver's side door and listened. I didn't have much of a choice, since one of his hands held the door shut. I could break it, but that might be counterproductive.
"I love you, Dree," he said. "I know you've been through a lot, and I can give you space. I just want to know I'll still have a place with you when you come back to Earth."
"I can't promise that, Alan."
He set his jaw. He really wasn't getting this, and it frustrated him. I guess I couldn't blame him. It frustrated me, too.
"What do you want, Dree? Is this your way of breaking up with someone? You just revoke the key to your apartment and ignore me?"
I didn't know what I wanted, other than to be away from him. He was a reminder of all the good parts of humanity I'd lost when I changed into a wolf and tore out a man's throat. He'd also shot Slate, though of course he didn't know that. There was a lot he didn't know. Too much for me to explain, even if I thought he'd believe it.
"Maybe it's best if we broke up, Alan. You should find a nice hu---a nice normal girl. I'm damaged goods."
"I don't care, Dree. We'll work through it. I love you. Don't you feel anything at all for me?"
"Yes. I do, Alan. I just don't think we're right for each other."
"Why not?"
I kill things, Alan. I chase them down and tear off their skin. The taste of their warm blood going down my throat excites me more than sex ever did. And that scares the living hell out of me. I don't want you to end up dead.
"I'm in a different place now than when we met," I said. "I have things I need to work out. Trust me; you don't want to follow where I'm going."
He protested, but he let me leave when I refused to say any more. I called PJ and asked if I could stay the night. On my way there, I thought about what I'd almost said to Alan. He deserved someone human. That wasn't me anymore.
PJ was convinced that I needed some R&R after the week I'd had. Despite my objections, as soon as I walked in her door she started throwing clothes at me. She picked a plain black skirt and backless red top that was light and flowy and left little to the imagination.
"PJ, I don't think a bar is the best place for me tonight."
"Bullshit, Dree. You need drinks. Lots of them. The cheapest way to get them is a bar. Who knows, maybe you'll find a tall drink of water to wrap your lips around too." She smiled at her own cleverness.
I gave up and put on the outfit. There was no use arguing with her, and certainly no use trying to hide my tattoo any more. Once I was dressed, PJ dug into her jewelry case.
"You need something extra tonight."
She pulled out a silver necklace not unlike the one she always wore. I backed away quickly.
"No thanks, PJ. I appreciate it, but silver isn't my style."
"Oh, come on. It was my gram's necklace. Just try it on for a minute. I want to see how it looks on you."
I shook my head, but she kept coming.
"Please don't, PJ."
It was too late. As soon as the silver touched my skin it began to sear. I screamed and shrank away. PJ was frozen where she was, still holding the open necklace.
"God, I'm a freak," I said. "I'm a freak, I'm a freak..." I huddled myself in a corner and started to rub the welts on my neck. They were fading, which didn't help my self-esteem much.
"Damn, Dree. I've heard of people being allergic to certain metals, but it usually just turns their skin green or something. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried! You just kept coming."
PJ dropped the necklace on her dresser and came over to put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, chica. I just wanted you to look night tonight. I mean, you're single again, right? You need to unplug. Bad."
I scrubbed my eyes and nodded. Drinks, lots of them, sounded pretty good right now. Free ones from whatever random guy was willing sounded even better. With enough alcohol, I could forget Alan, forget Slate and Lupin, forget the forest and the blood.
"You're right. Let's go. I need a drink."
PJ beamed at me. "That's the spirit! Come on, let's put a little makeup on you. We'll get you laid tonight one way or another."
Wanting to get drunk didn't necessarily mean I wanted to get laid, but in PJ's mind the thoughts were one in the same. I didn't bother pointing it out.
PJ drove, and I noticed with some satisfaction that she parked only a couple of blocks away this time. As we walked toward Thermal, I smelled the crispness of the air and thought about the cooler weather that was coming.
The slight wind felt lovely against my back, and it teased its way through the sheer material of my top. I looked up at the clear night sky and saw the full moon.
The moon makes us crazy sometimes.
Lupin's words would not ruin my night. I pulled PJ into a sideways hug and we stepped into the club. What was the worst that could happen?
The bartender set down my fourth drink of the night. "From the guy on the end. In the jacket," he said. I thought it was a pretty vague description, until I looked down the bar and saw someone who could wipe out a perfectly good buzz just by showing up. He wore a ridiculous black duster that looked more at home in a country-western club.
Charlie. Jesus fucking Christ, he just didn't give up.
I immediately wondered what he had under the jacket. He wouldn't try anything in a public place, would he? All I had to do was keep him in the club and discreetly have someone call the cops.
Yeah, like it would be that easy.
I walked over to him, trying to stay calm. My back was open to the world, and it felt like I was lying in the sun. The rest of me wasn't exactly chilly, either, but that was the alcohol talking.
The son of a bitch had the nerve to actually smile at me, like we were long-lost pals who hadn't nearly shared a murder-suicide. I gave him a big fake smile and watched his hands. Any funny business and I was going to scream bloody murder.
"Hello, Charlie. What do you want?"
His forehead was soaked with sweat. The jacket must have been hot, or he was really nervous about something. Planning to kill someone can do that.
"Why don't we get some air?" he said.
"Let's not and say we did. I don't trust you alone, Charlie."
He opened his jacket just a bit, and I saw the glint of steel. "No one needs to get hurt. I know where PJ lives now. Her grandpa, too. I'm very good at finding things out about people."
"Fine. Just outside. I want us visible the whole time, or I scream rape."
"Scream, and I'll shoot. I meant what I said, Dreama. If you're not going to be mine, you're not going to be anyone's."
I can survive a couple of your bullets, jackass.
"Lead the way," I said.
PJ gave me a look on my way out. I'd asked her to keep me from leaving with any strange men, and Charlie certainly qualified. Unfortunately, I had to wave her off.
It was much cooler outside the club. Charlie stood on the street corner, looking out at the bayou just beyond. It was a nice view.
"What do you want?" I asked him.
"You know what I want, Dreama. It's you. I can be there for you the rest of our lives. I love you."
"Would it ruin the mood if I told you once again to piss off?"
He surprised me with how fast he could move. One second he was standing there like a wounded puppy, the next he had his hand over my mouth and something hard pressed against the small of my back.
"Why do you do this to me Dreama? All I ever wanted was for us to be together. Why can't you just accept it?"
I could have probably taken a shot to the back and still managed to subdue him, but his little maneuver had my blood pumping fast. Coupled with the chill of the night air, rational human thoughts started to fade.
I clamped my teeth down on his hand and drew blood.
The small trickle of blood was like a hundred shot glasses at once. It filled me with energy and made my vision bright. I wanted more. His neck. I'd feed and run and feel the cool wind on me. I howled and pulled him closer. The gun got in the way, so I tossed it aside and made a hungry lunge for his throat.
Something hard but pliant stopped me, and then sent me flying. I ended up splashing into the bayou on my back. I scrambled to the shore, letting out an enraged howl. I shucked my dripping clothes and stood ready to run back toward the thing that had denied me.
It was Lupin. He told my food to run. I wanted to chase. To kill. To feed.
"Dreama, stop this. It's not you that's doing it. The moon makes us crazy. Remember who you are! Remember what you are! There's no coming back from this."
I didn't understand the words. I felt my face push forward, my hands and feet stretch and reform, my tail grow out. The pain was nothing compared to the high I felt. I welcomed it. I slammed to the ground on all fours and shivered as my fur came in.
I charged.
The one in the jacket didn't make it far. His two legs didn't work as well as my four. I was on him in a heartbeat, my jaws clamped down on his throat. He whimpered something.
"Dreama, no. I love you! Ple-"
A snap and a rip was all it took to pull out his throat. I bathed my muzzle in his blood and savored the warmth of his flesh as it filled my mouth. I swallowed it and tried to dig in further, but something stopped me.
It was Lupin again. He held me back from the blood. I was on such a high from it that his strength excited me. I pushed back, snapping at his arms as they restrained my forelegs. My back claws dug into his midsection. I felt him start to change.
His smell confused me. He was not Alpha, but he smelled like her. His muzzle grew under the weight of my body, and his hands lost their grasp and thumbs retracted up his foreleg. I dove and latched onto his newly-furred neck. He tossed me off of him easily and I hit the ground hard.
The wolf I saw now was huge, strong, and gorgeous. His black fur glistened in the moonlight and rippled with muscle every time he moved. His stance was powerful and dominant, and I could see his breath in the air.
I wanted him.
I wanted to fight him, to run with him, to make him my mate. I was drunk with his scent. Then I saw Alpha. She came running toward both of us and blocked my view. I charged again, this time at Alpha. If she could not defend herself, I would win him as my mate.
I went for her throat, but she dodged. I touched down lightly and circled around. She was fast. She had already turned to face me. Claws swiped at my muzzle.
My vision went bright from the strong blow to my nose, and I yelped. I would not give up so easily. I would be Alpha. I would be his mate. I circled around quickly, using my slightly smaller frame to outmaneuver her. I caught her rear leg in my teeth and sank in. She bled.
I growled in triumph, but I celebrated too long. She whipped around and sank her jaws into my ear. I let go and backed off. He was watching us, waiting. He was our prize. One of us would claim him tonight.
She feinted a strike and when I dodged she changed directions and grappled me to my back, taking snaps at my forelegs and shredding my belly with her claws. I yowled in pain and tried to wriggle free. Her muzzle locked onto my neck and bit down. I felt blood draining from the wounds, and my mind cleared somewhat. I yipped in pain.
She stopped, and released her grip. I scrambled upright and looked at the scene before me. She could have killed me just then. She was stronger, and I was injured. I had lost. I dropped to my belly and whined, looking up at her.
She walked closer to me, amber eyes blazing in the moonlight. My blood was on her muzzle. She did not lick it off. She seemed satisfied with what she saw in my eyes. She licked my nose lightly, then turned and padded over to join him, as was her right. I was barely aware of the sound of sirens as they ran off together, toward the nearest patch of trees. I stared at the moon, a bright point in the inky gray and black, and howled.
Charlie's body lay there in the moonlight. With the adrenaline from the kill and the fight draining away, my human mind started to reassert itself.
Oh god. I'd really done it this time. I'd killed him.
I looked to the trees, where the other two waited. Would I follow them? Run with the pack? I looked back toward the club. A crowd was gathering, and in the front I saw PJ. She looked paler than usual, her red hair the color of the blood on my muzzle. If she recognized me like this, she didn't show it.
I'm sorry, PJ.
I did not look back as I ran for the trees. The other two wolves welcomed me with nuzzles and licks. Off they ran to the north, in great bounding leaps.
They were Alpha, and I followed.
Maurice Lawless is a novelist from Houston, Texas. Found in Blood, his 2011 novel from Paperbox Books, has been hailed as "a classic detective story" that's "brilliant and scary." When he isn't busy conjuring more books of demons and werewolves, Maurice volunteers as a Municipal Liaison for National Novel Writing Month. He likes his steaks rare, and his fiction raw.
Find him online:
http://lawlesspen.blogspot.comTwitter: @mauricelawless
Turn the page for an excerpt from
Death's Hand
Available now from Red Iris Books!
By SM Reine
February 1998
James spotted a splatter of blood through the tree boughs. It marked the snow like an ink stain on paper.
He pushed through the pine needles, and her bare feet appeared, blue-toed and limp. He saw the curve of a calf and a knobby, bruised knee. He saw the jut of ribs under her skin and an arm thrown over her face. And the next thing he saw was the twelve other bodies.
Nausea gripped James, but he covered his mouth and maintained composure. His guide was not so lucky. The other man dove behind a bush, gagged twice, and vomited across the frozen earth.
Elise was already dead. He was so certain of it that he almost walked away at that moment. But what would Isaac think of James abandoning his daughter's body? The indignity of leaving her naked on the ice for the birds to devour was too much, and he came so far to find her remains.
Yet he couldn't bring himself to step foot in the clearing. Elise looked peaceful, but the others were twisted in agony. Blood marked their fingernails. They had gone out fighting.
Each of the twelve other bodies could have been siblings. They had pale skin and white-blue eyes---he could tell, because they were frozen open---and slender forms draped in white linen. The snow around them looked fluffy, as though it were freshly fallen. Something about that struck him as wrong. It was cold, but it hadn't snowed in days, leaving the earth a solid sheet of ice.
Taking a closer look, James found it wasn't snow---the clearing was covered in feathers.
His guide had recovered and began babbling in Russian, but he spoke too fast for James to understand. He heard one recognizable word---chort, devil.
James hung back in the trees, fighting the urge to leave. Nobody in Oymyakon needed to know what he found in the forest. His guide wouldn't discuss their trip with anyone else. It could remain a secret.
No. Someone would find out. They always did.
He adjusted his balaclava, tuned out the guide's shouts, and stepped into the clearing.
The hair lifted on his arms. His skull began to buzz.
He tried not to look at the other corpses, but it was like they reached for him, pleading for escape. Their teeth were bared. Their tongues were purple and twisted.
That one had been stabbed in the chest.
The body by his feet was disemboweled.
Those two bodies had died clutching hands.
He couldn't look at them anymore. He focused on his feet and forced himself to take a step once, twice. Again and again. When he reached Elise, the buzzing grew so loud that he could no longer hear Maksim's protests.
James hovered a glove over her body. All the energy vanished. The clearing went silent.
He pushed the arm off her face to examine her. Dirty, frayed bandages were wrapped around her hands, so tattered that they looked like they might blow away.
Elise had her father's auburn hair and his strong nose, but her soft chin belonged entirely to Ariane. Her eyelashes were sealed by ice. How had she died? There wasn't a mark he could see.
He moved to unwrap one of her hands.
Her eyes fluttered.
"Maksim!" he shouted. Her broad lips parted to exhale silver fog. "Maksim! She's alive!" He forgot to speak in Russian, but his message didn't need translation.
His guide shouted and ran to the van. James shed his parka. The cold seeped through his undercoat as he wrapped her in his furs. Alive. It was impossible. Nobody could have survived an hour naked in the killing frosts of Siberian spring.
James watched the other bodies, waiting for them to jerk to life and creep forward, but they remained lifeless. Elise was the only survivor, even though it was impossible for one small girl to have survived an attack that killed a dozen others.
Unless she had been the one to do the killing.
He carried her out of the clearing without touching the other bodies. There was nothing he could do for them. He wasn't sure he would have anyway.
The guide opened the van, letting steam escape the back end. As soon as James climbed inside, laying Elise between their extra gas tanks and a rattling space heater, he closed the doors again.
"Hurry!" James said, reverting to his limited Russian.
"She's a demon," repeated Maksim as he climbed to the driver's seat, and then he continued to speak so quickly that James couldn't understand if he tried. He picked up a word here and there---devils and hell, curses and fear---but he was too busy to translate. He cracked heating packs open and pressed them to Elise's underarms, her groin, and the back of her neck.
James pulled a glove off with his teeth and touched his bare fingers to her throat. Her pulse was slow but steady. Color began to flush her cheeks.
A demon, Maksim said. Maybe. But she was also Isaac and Ariane's daughter, and James promised to bring her back safely. He kept all of his oaths, no matter how unpleasant.
His driver shouted and gestured. James interrupted him to say, "Town. Take us to town!"
The van bounced and groaned over the path. He had to brace his back against the fuel canisters to keep them from falling on Elise as he searched her body. He found nothing. Aside from a few bruises, she was unharmed.
Surely a girl that young couldn't have killed so many people without injury. There must have been someone else in the wilds---someone he hadn't seen. It wasn't a comforting thought.
He peeled the bandages off and flipped her hands to look at the palms.
No.
James turned her hands over again, heart racing.
It was the first time James wished Elise had died on the tundra, but it was also far from the last.
Death's Hand
Available now from Red Iris Books!

