Shades of Werewolf

by T. S. Ryder

She expected to be taken back to the root cellar she had been locked in for the last few days, but instead, he led her to his house. It was a small cottage, built by their brothers and cousins when he married his wife. Amy stood on the step with her hand resting on a large, rounded belly, looking anxious. Mary blinked.

  "You didn't tell me that Amy was expecting," she mumbled. "She's got to be six months along, right?"

  "I didn't really have the time to tell you anything, did I?" Peter's voice was weary. He pulled her past Amy, giving his wife a small shake of the head.

  He took her into the barn behind the house. Inside the building, the air smelled of hay and dust. Mary sneezed. She glanced around, but her eyes wouldn't focus on anything and so she gave up trying. Her Wolf was going to be purged. It whimpered, curling up in a tight ball in her chest. She closed her eyes as everything tilted around her.

  "I'm sorry," Peter said. He helped her sit on a hay bale. "For everything. I wish there was something I could do."

  "There isn't."

  "I know. But I wish there was."

  She looked at him. Her brother, younger than her by a year, had always been her closest friend. In many ways, he was her only friend as they grew up. She would miss him. Or she wouldn't. Once her Wolf was purged, she would have no memories of her past. She wouldn't remember him to miss him.

  Oh, Andre! I wish I could tell you goodbye. Would he manage to find her someday? They were soulmates, they were meant to be together. But without her Wolf, would he continue being her soulmate? Would she even have a soul anymore?

  "Mary, I need to tell you something."

  "I don't think I want to talk, Peter."

  He grasped her shoulders, his green eyes intense as he gazed into hers. "I have to. It's about... him. Your Bear. About his family."

  Mary's head jerked, breaking eye contact. She pulled out of his grasp and walked away, pressing a hand to her forehead as she considered his words. "I don't want to hear anything, Peter. I only have a few hours left, I don't want to hate you."

  "I don't want you to hate me either. That's why I have to tell you." His voice cracked. "Please, Mary. I can't... I won't be able to live with myself if I can't tell you what happened that day."

  Mary froze. A surge of anger bolted up her spine and she whirled on him. "What is that supposed to mean? You are going to kill yourself if I don't listen to whatever excuses you have to give? That's supposed to make me not hate you?"

  "Mary, that's not what I—"

  "Right now what makes you think I even care what you do once I can't remember you? You killed a little girl!"

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The rage ebbed, replaced by a deep guilt that tore up her insides. Was this really how she wanted to leave her brother? Telling him that she didn't care if he lived of died? No! She loved him. Even though his sins burned her to the core, she couldn't leave him thinking that she hated him.

  Slowly she returned to sit by him, her head hanging. Peter was silent and Mary wondered how she was supposed to apologize for something so terrible.

  "I didn't mean it," she said eventually. "I'm sorry. It's just this... I'm just angry. With everything."

  Peter slowly put an arm around her. "It's okay. I deserve it."

  "No, you don't." But she wasn't sure of her own words. "Tell me what happened. I don't understand how you could..."

  Peter closed his eyes. "It was three years ago. It was such a beautiful day, I wanted to spend it with Amy, but you know Father. He wanted to go hunting with Philip and me. He said that a couple of grizzlies had been hanging around the farm. He said he was afraid that they would attack one of the little ones, or something would happen during the Full Moon Run."

  A pang hit Mary's heart. It had been years since she had been able to fully participate in the Full Moon Run. When she was with Andre, she was able to enjoy the time with him. But even that wasn't the same as running with other Wolves, sharing the glory of the moon.

  She would never be able to run with her own children. She would never be able to run again.

  "We went hunting. And we found a mother bear and her cub. I... we didn't have the proper guns. I don't know why Father brought the guns he did. It didn't kill them right away, we had to use knives to… I didn't know they were Shifters. I thought they were animals and a threat to the community. Oh, Luna! Forgive me, I didn't know."

  Mary swallowed hard, wanting to reach over and comfort him but too frozen to move. "When did you realize?"

  "After they were dead. He came. Your Bear. He didn't have his Bear with him, but he saw what we had done and he attacked. And then I realized what we had done. Was she his wife?"

  "His wife and his daughter," Mary whispered, remembering the pain in Andre's eyes whenever he told her about them.

  "Father shot him in the face as he embraced his Bear. It's a miracle that he survived. But he must have realized it was too late for them. He... he ran. Father wanted to chase him, so I pretended to be injured. We never talked about it again. A day later I went back to bury them, but they were gone. I assumed the Bear must have come back. I was glad that they weren't stuffed and mounted like trophies, or left to the elements."

  Mary put a hand on his shoulder, not knowing how to comfort him.

  "After a week, I found Philip with a gun in his mouth. I didn't know how, but I convinced him not to kill himself. It wasn't until I saw him like that… I was planning the same thing. But I knew I couldn't. If I did, who would be there for Philip?" He hunched over, hiding his face in his hands. "How old was the child?"

  She had been six. Her name was Eve. But Mary couldn't tell Peter that. Instead, she put her arms around him and was silent. This is something I will gladly forget.

  "I'm going to make it right. Someday, somehow, I am going to make it right." Peter looked up again, his eyes burning. "I swear."

  She didn't tell him that he couldn't. There was no bringing back the dead. There was no making something like this right.

  ***

  Andre. Mary kept her eyes closed, bringing his face to her mind. She thought of the curves of his lips when she made him laugh. The taste of his skin, the pine scent of his body. His fingers traced over her lips, steady and calm. His callouses caught in her hair as he wrapped his hands in it. And how the heat of his body sent fireworks into hers. That was all she wanted to remember, the feeling of being near him, her Wolf howling and joining with his Bear.

  A hand held hers, but she didn't open he eyes. Andre was with her. His voice was whispering she was beautiful and that was all she needed.

  "It's time," Peter whispered. "Mary, I'm so sorry."

  She squeezed his hand harder but didn't speak. If she spoke, the spell would be broken and Andre would no longer be with her. His black eyes gazed at her. Her hands were on the smooth, tanned skin of his body, tracing the strong muscles of his torso. She ran her hands through his shoulder-length hair and his mouth was against hers.

  And then the pain began.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Andre Mitchel glared at Peter Locke. "How long ago was her Wolf purged?"

  "Two days."

  Andre paced from one end of the barn to the other. It was nearly empty with piles of hay swept against the walls and tools sitting neatly on the shelves that lined the wall. The door lead into a muddy yard. He glared at the two Wolves that sat on a hay bale watching him. Peter's wiry frame was slumped, defeated, while his sister Julia twisted her hands in her lap.

  With a grunt, Andre strode towards them. Both tensed and Julia yelped. The Bear thrust the rifle he had taken from Peter into her hands.

  "Does that make you feel better?" he demanded.

  Julia's pale features reddened. "You have no right to be angry at me for being frightened of you! It's only been a few months since you tried to kill me!"

  Andre flinched. Some of his anger trickled away. "I'm sorry. I know that isn't enough, but I truly am sorry."

&nb
sp; He didn't feel like justifying his actions. At the time of the attack, her father had burned down his house and slaughtered his flock of sheep, leaving their bodies as a reminder of how he had slaughtered Andre's wife and daughter. A frenzy of hate had consumed him.

  His eyes flickered to Peter. His Bear rose, snarling, wanting to crush the life from the man, but he forced his rage down. He had lost Mary to his desire for revenge once already. He would not make the same mistake again.

  "You should go," Peter said. "If anybody else finds you here, you'll be killed."

  "Where was Mary sent after her Wolf was purged?"

  "What does it matter? Her memories are gone. She won't remember you."

  "I don't care!" Andre roared, advancing. Both Wolves flinched and he retreated again, chest heaving as he fought to control himself. "Are you stinking animals still hunting me? Is that why you won't tell me where she is? You think that I'll be putting her in danger?"

  "Bears are dangerous." Peter's voice was cold. "Even if you aren't being hunted, how can you say that you can protect her? She told me about the Bears that captured the two of you while you were on the run. This Grant Easton that she talked about. The one that was going to kill you both because our father killed one of his she-Bears. Can you say that if you went back to her, he wouldn't come after you again?"

  Andre stopped his pacing. He sucked in a deep breath, letting the scent of alfalfa hay itch his nose. The scent was calming. It reminded him of his childhood on a farm in North Quebec, and of his own little farm where he had lived with his late wife and daughter for many years.

  "Easton isn't interested in me or Mary," he said. "He's interested in this community."

  Julia paled. "Why?"

  "Because your father was a murderer," Andre snarled at her. "He killed more than just my wife and daughter. The whole Locke family has a reputation as killers. Wolves from this community always flit off around the world, murdering other Shifters. Children! Do you know how many children your father killed?"

  Julia stared, eyes wide. She shook her head rapidly, the rifle shaking in her hands. "No. No, Father was a good man."

  "He was a bastard." Peter's voice was low. He stared at the floor, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "He deserved what he got."

  "Peter!"

  The Wolf got to his feet. "If Easton is interested in the community, he used Mary to find out where we are, didn't he?"

  Andre hesitated a moment but nodded. A huge part of him just wanted to find out where Mary was and leave, but he knew he couldn't. There was innocence among these Wolves and it deserved protection. "Yes. He's planning an attack. He'll find out how all your children are born with Wolves, then kill everybody over the age of six."

  Peter swayed on the spot. "Julia, go to the house. Put ghost town into effect. Phone the Millers and Greenes."

  Julia skirted past Andre and ran. He was left staring at the Wolf that had helped to kill his wife and daughter. It would be so easy to embrace his Bear to attack. Rip him to shreds. There was nobody to stop him. He longed for revenge so badly he could already taste the blood on his tongue.

  But Peter Locke was his only chance of finding Mary.

  "Where is she?"

  "I don't know."

  Andre roared, leaping forward. His Bear started to push out and his fingers turned to claws as they wrapped around Peter's throat. "Tell me where she is or I'll rip your head off!"

  "I don't know!" Peter choked out. His fingers grappled with Andre's grip, but the Bear just squeezed harder. "They were afraid I'd try to help her get her memories back. They wouldn't tell me where she went!"

  Andre tightened his grip until Peter's face was blue and his limbs began to go limp. With another roar he dropped the Wolf and walked away, digging his hands into his hair. Stay calm. Stay calm.

  Peter coughed on his hands and knees, drawing in wheezing breaths. Eventually, he looked up at Andre. "If I knew where she was, I'd tell you. She doesn't deserve to be punished like this for defending herself."

  The Bear closed his eyes, pulling in a deep, calming breath before speaking. He had to remain clear-headed for Mary's sake. He would not be able to look her in the eye when he found her if he had killed her brother, despite everything he had done. It was clear that Mary cared for him. His death would be so much harder on her than her father's had been.

  "Why did you let it happen if you didn't think she deserved it?"

  Peter rubbed his throat and stumbled to his feet. He leaned against the wall of hay bales, still gasping. "If I had let her escape, her punishment would have been transferred to me. I need the land and reputation my father left me in order to get the rest of my sisters and brothers out of this hellhole. It's what Mary wanted."

  Andre's chest heaved, but the words rang true. Mary did want to prevent her sisters from being treated the way she had been. "And how do you plan to do that?"

  "By starting a new community that encourages interaction with the world, instead of isolating everybody from it. By bringing change to our social structures. By sending our children to university, instead of cutting them off halfway through high school." Peter rubbed his throat. "How much time until the other Bears get here?"

  "I don't know." Andre felt a shiver of trepidation run down his spine. If Mary was here, she would want him to help her siblings escape. "I have a car. I can drive some of your siblings away from here."

  Peter's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Thank you."

  ***

  In the end, the eight youngest of Mary's twelve siblings were piled into his car. The four oldest, all boys, stayed behind to help with the evacuation of the community. Andre pulled away from the Locke farm, his head was swimming. Less than a year ago, he had been planning on attacking the Wolf community, just like Easton was, though he had no intention of killing the women and children.

  I was still going to kill men who weren't involved in any deaths as far as I knew. Would children have been caught in the fight? If it wasn't for Mary, would he be just as bad as Easton?

  The little ones wailed and the older ones tried to comfort them. Julia, the oldest of the bunch at sixteen, directed Andre where to go. They went from the majestic scenes of the Rocky Mountains to the flat, dry land of the prairies.

  Dawn was rising on the fourth day when Julia finally told Andre they'd arrived. They were well off the beaten path, in a little town that looked deserted.

  He pulled into the parking lot of an old inn, next to a couple of mopeds. The building was shabby but not falling apart, and the grounds had the look of recently being tended to.

  As they all piled from the car, a heavily pregnant woman stepped out of the inn.

  "They took him!" she sobbed, running to Julia.

  Andre watched the Wolves, feeling uncertain. His Bear grumbled in his chest, but it was angry with him and no amount of coaxing would draw it forward. He felt alone and vulnerable. Yes, he'd helped Mary's siblings get away from the massacre, but where was Mary? He had wasted so much time!

  Not wasted. Julia had been able to overhear where Mary was being sent. He had a starting location, at least.

  "Took who?" Julia asked as Andre turned back to his car.

  "Peter."

  Andre stopped. The Bears had taken him? He couldn't deny that he approved. Perhaps if Easton had the murderers in his custody, he would let the rest of them go.

  The pregnant woman sobbed. "Philip, John, and Thomas arrived just before you did. Peter turned himself over to those Bears. He said something about facing justice. What am I supposed to do?" She wailed. "How can I go on without him?"

  Andre turned his back on the Wolves. They were no longer his concern. He slid into the car and headed back for the highway. He had to find Mary.

  Chapter Thirty

  Andre prowled the streets of the stinking city, hands shoved into his pockets to avoid punching a wall as his frustration continued to build.

  Julia swore that Mary had been sent to somewhere in Chicago, but he had been in the ci
ty for two months now and hadn't seen any sign of her. It was a big place, though. All he could do was walk around and hope he would run into her.

  He had risked embracing his Bear a couple of times while searching for her scent, but grizzlies were not a welcome sight in the city. The second time the police had been called on him, he knew he couldn't continue to take such risky ventures.

  He slipped into a café, ordering a cup of coffee and took a spot near the window to glare out it. His face was half-reflected back at him, but he tried to focus past it to the hot, humid day outside. Trees lined the street in this section, and their bright green leaves were a relief against the brilliant sun reflected off the tall glass buildings.

  His cell phone rang. Andre ignored it for a moment, grunting as he spun it around the table. It was probably Julia again. She called him constantly.

  It might be an actual emergency this time. "Hello?"

  "Have you found her?"

  Andre bit back a grunt. "If I had, I would have told you."

  "You haven't called in two days! We thought that you had found her and run off without telling her about us." The accusation didn't cover the pouting tone of her voice. "And we're out of milk."

  Lord help me. Andre closed his eyes. He understood why Mary had chosen to leave when she had–her siblings were so needy! Julia acted as though he was meant to take care of every detail of their lives, or that she needed his permission to do anything that wasn't daily routine. I suppose that is the way Paul Locke ran his family.

  It was still very annoying.

  "If you need milk, buy milk. You have a car, you have money, I am not coming back just to bring you groceries! I will call when—"

  "When you bring Mary back, you're going to go save Peter, aren't you?"

  Andre held his breath a moment. He's already dead. "Don't call me again. If I have news, I'll call you. Got it?"

  He hung up before she could utter another word. The sharp, bitter scent of coffee helped to override some of the burnt air smell that always permeated cities, but it did nothing to improve his mood. He returned his gaze to the window, his eyes tracing the bass clef scar on his reflected face. He had deliberately made that scar, as a reminder of his need for revenge.