Raised by Wolves

by Geonn Cannon

  Ari furrowed her brow and hung up. Rotary phones were difficult, and she hadn’t used one since she was a kid. There was a chance she’d dialed wrong. Or maybe Dale’s headache was worse than she’d let on. Either way, she didn’t want to try a third time, so she hung up the phone and left the shed. She made sure to lock it again behind her before she started walking.

  It was just over two miles home. Not a terrible trek, but also not really worth stripping down and changing back into the wolf. The tennis shoes from her stash were good for jogging, so she set out at a steady pace. Hopefully no one would see her running and get the wrong idea.

  When she got home, she was exhausted and sore from running in both her forms. She let herself inside and went directly into the bedroom. Dale’s hair had fallen across her face, and Ari remembered the night not long ago when she had gotten home under her own power and woke Dale to let her know she was safe. It was getting to be a habit with them. But this time, she also wanted to make sure Dale was feeling okay.

  She crouched by the bed and placed her hand on Dale’s forehead to see if she was feverish. Dale jerked, startled, and Ari shushed her.

  “It’s just me...”

  “M’sleeping,” Dale murmured. She raised her arms and tried to push Ari’s hand away.

  “I know, babe, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Dale rolled her head across the pillow. “Stop...”

  “You had a headache, you didn’t answer your phone--”

  Dale lashed out, sitting up and smacking Ari in the chest with both hands. “Get your hands off of me, you goddamn mutt!”

  Ari fell back onto her ass, staring up at Dale. Dale stared back, hair in her face, lips puffing out with the force of her breathing. She waited for an apology, either for the shove or the slur, but neither was forthcoming. Ari got to her feet but didn’t move closer to the bed.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Ari said, “but you need to take that word out of your vocabulary.”

  Dale sighed and laid back down. Ari watched her for a long moment and then left the bedroom. She really had no clue what had just happened, but she wasn’t willing to spend the night next to whoever Dale had become. They would talk it out in the morning. She was sure Dale would apologize, there would be some explanation, and eventually they would laugh about it. Maybe. She stretched out with her head on the arm of the couch and let her exhaustion take her to sleep.

  ###

  The next morning, she was woken by the sound of the front door opening. She saw Dale slip out, pulling the door shut behind her.

  “Dale...” She got up and chased her out of the house, only to see her car pulling out of the driveway. She watched, completely and utterly confused, as Dale drove away without so much as a look back.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ari pounded on the front door of her mother’s house, then stepped back to the edge of the porch. Her mind was so frantic that she almost forgot she had knocked by the time Milo answered. She was in pajama pants and a tank top, and had clearly just gotten out of bed, but Ari ignored all of that and stepped forward to look past her.

  “Is Dale here?”

  “What? No, was she supposed to be?”

  Ari growled at the back of her throat and retreated again. “I don’t know. But she’s not at the office, and I waited for her to show up, even though she left before me...”

  “Whoa, whoa, slow down. Come inside.” She hooked her hand around Ari’s elbow and pulled her inside. “Go sit down in the living room. Catch your breath. I’ll be right back.”

  Ari did as she was told, because it meant she didn’t have to think or make a decision for herself. She perched on the edge of an ottoman and squeezed her hands together, hunched forward, trying to think of what she might have done to prompt this, or where Dale might have gone, or anything that could make sense out of the past few hours. Dale had been mad at her before, but there had never been anything like this. Nothing even close.

  Milo returned with Gwen in tow. Gwen was wearing a bright blue robe, her hair wet and swept back out of her face. She sat next to Ari on the ottoman.

  “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Dale?”

  “I don’t know,” Ari said. “Last night she said... she had a headache, she wasn’t talking. I thought she was just working too hard. Her eyes were hurting. She’s been watching a lot of security videos and reading those Magnusson essays, so it made sense. Then she didn’t answer the phone when I called her to come pick me up. So I was worried. I thought maybe she was sicker than she said. So when I got home, I felt to see if she had a fever and she said...” She looked away, feeling the tightness in her throat which indicated she was close to losing control.

  Milo, standing awkwardly to one side, said, “Whatever it was, I’m sure it was just a heat of the moment thing. I know I’ve said awful things when I felt poorly.”

  “She shoved me and said ‘get your hands off me, you goddamn mutt.’”

  Gwen and Milo both went very still. Ari was pretty sure that Gwen didn’t take a breath for a full minute, reaching for Ari’s clenched hands and squeezing them both.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Milo muttered. “Not Dale.”

  “Believe me, it echoed,” Ari said. “I’ve been hearing it all night. And... and it wasn’t the first time she’s called me a mutt. She did it twice before. I told her to stop, but she... I guess... forgot.”

  Gwen said, “Well... she does throw around the word ‘wolf’ a lot.”

  “So do we,” Milo said.

  “That’s different.” Her voice was gentle. “How many times have you ripped into someone for calling you a wolf?”

  Ari said, “I told her she could do it. She calls me puppy, too.” She finally cried then, the tears that couldn’t get past her eyelashes breaking free. “She says wolf, but she calls us canidae when it matters. And I know that if I told her to stop, she would in a heartbeat. I know her. I know Dale Frye, and I know she would never use that word the way she did last night. She threw it at me, Mom. Like it was a dart.” Her voice cracked again and she said, “She wanted to hurt me.”

  Milo said, “Well, and what happened this morning?”

  “She woke up, got dressed, and just left. I tried to stop her, but she just got in the car and drove off. I went to the office. I tried calling. Nothing.”

  “She might have taken herself to the hospital if she was feeling bad enough,” Milo said.

  Ari shook her head, still staring at a random spot on the carpet. “I don’t think she was ever sick. I think she just said that so she wouldn’t have to talk to me.”

  Gwen rubbed Ari’s forearm. “Has anything happened between you that might prompt a reaction like this? Any fights?”

  “No. We actually...” She glanced sideways at her mother, then at Milo, and away again. “We, uh, we actually... got engaged.”

  Gwen’s hand went still. “Really?”

  “Wow,” Milo said. “Congratulations.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Ari said. Then, to her mother, “We hadn’t told anyone yet.”

  Gwen said, “I understand. But... maybe it’s a big deal to Dale. Maybe bigger than even she realized. People can panic in the face of a big change, and with Dale... she’s marrying a canidae. That’s bound to create cold feet in even the strongest relationship. She may have just needed to go somewhere and be alone to clear her head.”

  Ari muttered, “Maybe...”

  Milo said, “I could call her. Maybe if she’s screening her calls, she’d be willing to talk with me.” She went out of the room and retrieved her phone from elsewhere in the house.

  “What if there’s something in the essays?” Ari said. “What if she learned something about canidae that would make her not want to be with me?”

  Gwen reached up and stroked Ari’s hair. “I can’t imagine anything like that, Ariadne. The things that girl has gone through, and she still ran to you at the end of the day? The things she’s done
to save you? I wish you had seen her when you were in prison. I didn’t invite her to stay here out of loneliness, I did it because she needed someone to watch over her. She was a wreck without you. I can’t imagine a world where she would choose to be without you.”

  “Well, look around, because we’re in it.”

  Milo came back with her phone. She gave Gwen a quick head-shake, indicating Dale also hadn’t answered her call.

  “Did you get my phone, too?”

  “Yup.” She held it out and Gwen stood to take it. “Think she’ll answer you?”

  Gwen said, “I’m not calling Dale. I’m calling Charlie Otto. They’re an old friend, lives in France. I called them about the essays. They said they’d call me back, but I’ll see if they know anything that might ease your mind, Ari.” She dialed and walked toward the couch as she waited for an answer. “Charlie. Gwen.” She lapsed into French.

  Milo leaned closer. “She’s asking for anything they might know about the essays. It’s urgent. She wants to know if there’s anything controversial or upsetting, because someone who was reading it...” Gwen stopped and then spoke again in a different tone of voice. “Oh,” Milo said, “Charlie’s not happy that someone was reading it, apparently. Gwen said it was a human.”

  Gwen listened to Charlie and turned to look at Ari. “Pourquoi?” Her eyes flashed, and she broke off into a stream of quick French. Ari sat up straighter, her anguish forgotten as she watched her mother rage at someone across an ocean.

  “What’s she saying?”

  “I can’t keep up,” Milo said. “Something about warning, and, uh, Charlie should have told Gwen when she called the first time...”

  Gwen lowered the phone and threw it onto the couch. Ari and Milo both stood, but Gwen paced to the wall with her hand to her temple.

  “What’s going on?” Ari asked. “What was all of that about?”

  “Charlie told me there’s a reason no one is allowed to read the essays without being approved. They’re poison texts. Apparently whoever reads them gets... their minds get manipulated. It’s not exactly brainwashing, but it’s bad. Charlie... Charlie said...” She was looking at the floor, hands on her hips, trying to control her breathing.

  Milo said, “Gwyneth, please, just tell her.”

  “In the thirties, before canidae got their hands on the essays and prevented them from being published, Magnusson was going to use it to train a new generation of hunters. Wolves who read it got self-destructive, suicidal. Humans who read it... became worse. Ari, there’s a chance that reading those essays turned Dale into a hunter.”

  “Bullshit,” Milo said before Ari could find her voice. “No, that is bullshit. Dale Frye? Dale, who crawled on her hands and knees to clean wolfsbane from a canidae bar? Who ran unarmed into a gunfight to save one of us who had been hit? I’d give that woman a loaded gun and put the barrel on my forehead, and you’re telling me she’s turning into a hunter? No. No.”

  Gwen said, “The book is powerful. It’s... it’s why they have it under such heavy restrictions. Charlie said no one is ever given permission to access it long enough to read more than a page or two. It’s too dangerous.”

  Ari began to respond but was interrupted by her phone ringing. She grabbed it, expecting to see Dale’s face on the screen, but it was an unknown number. She answered just in case.

  “Dale?”

  “Ah. No, I’m afraid this is Timothy Dodd.”

  For a moment, Ari had no earthly idea who that was. Then she remembered the case, Crossing-Over Place, the Burroughs. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m... i-it’s been a morning, Mr. Dodd. How can I help you?”

  “Today is the reading of Vivian’s will. I thought you would like to be in attendance. The children will be here at ten-thirty.”

  Ari looked at the clock above the mantle. She had enough time to get downtown, just barely. Part of her wanted to tell Dodd the case was closed, give him the theory about a fake tapestry, and focus all her energy on Dale. But if she was wrong and a priceless piece of art was still out there somewhere, she would regret it. The timing was godawful, but it would get her mind off of it.

  “I’ll... I’ll be there. Thank you for letting me know.” He gave her the suite number and she hung up. “I have to go. It’s a case.”

  Milo said, “You’re working on a case today? Now?”

  “I have to,” Ari said quietly. “I can’t just sit here. We’ll talk about this after I get back. Maybe Dale will have made contact by then.”

  Gwen said, “Go. We’ll see what we can do in the meantime.”

  Ari felt a swell of emotion for her mother. “Thanks, Mom. And... and about... everything we talked about...”

  “That’s not part of this,” Gwen said. “You can go back to being mad at me when everything is settled. This isn’t your forgiveness, I know that. This is family.”

  Ari crossed the room and hugged Gwen, startling everyone in the room. She buried her face in the plush material of the robe and, after her shock wore off, Gwen returned the hug.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too. And congratulations on your engagement. I’m so happy for you, Ariadne.” She pressed a kiss to Ari’s cheek and pushed her away. “Go, you have work to do.”

  Ari went to Milo and touched her face. “You’re family, too. You’re like a sister to me.”

  “Don’t make it weird.”

  Ari laughed, and more tears fell free. She hugged Milo. “I love you, Millicent.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She was almost to the door when Gwen called to her. “Ari. When I told Charlie that a human had read the essays, they said to run. Run far, run fast. Whatever tainted those pages, it’s incredibly potent. A human who read it should be almost immediately driven to violence. Dale’s first instinct was to put distance between the two of you. She ran away, Ari. Whatever might be happening in her brain, I think that’s pretty solid evidence of where her heart is.”

  Ari twisted her lips, teeth clenched tight, and nodded once. “Understood. Thanks.”

  She left the house with her emotions in more turmoil than when she’d arrived, and the answers she’d received about Dale’s behavior only made her feel queasier, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Going to work would give her something to occupy her brain. She was grateful for the puzzle of Crossing-Over Place, and the whole sordid Burroughs saga.

  Anything to keep her mind off the puzzle of her own life.

  ###

  Dale drove to Myrtle Edwards Park, one of the few parks in Seattle which wasn’t hiding a stash of Ari’s clothes. It was a jogging park, with lots of flat exposed land where people could picnic or play fetch with their dogs. Just the thought of dogs spiked her headache and twisted her insides. She pressed her fist against her stomach, just above her navel, and tried to stay upright. The park also had three large slabs of stone called Adjacent, Against, Upon. She focused on them as she walked, and eventually the nausea faded enough for her to put her hand down.

  She had tossed and turned all night. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She didn’t know why it took all her willpower to stay in bed and not go into the living room where that damn dirty mutt - My puppy, Ariadne, my sweet lovely fiancée - was sleeping. She’d clenched her fists until the fingers cramped, scared of what she might do with them if she didn’t. When she got to the park, she climbed onto the platform of the Against stone and sat down facing the water, letting her feet dangle.

  “Miss Frye. Or may I call you Dale now?”

  She didn’t look toward Isaac Hayden, just waited until he was close enough to get into her line of sight. She glared down at him from her perch.

  “What did you do to me?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I just provided you with information that had been withheld from you for too long. You were indoctrinated by the wolves, only heard their side of the story, forced to take sides without all the facts. You deserved to know the truth.”

  Dale realized how
close they were to her car. She was engaged to a detective, she was making herself way too easy to find. She jumped down, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and started walking. Isaac followed, at first lagging behind but then speeding up to walk alongside her.

  “I’m glad you called me. You’re not the first human who has been seduced by the wolves.”

  “Don’t call them wolves,” Dale said.

  Isaac looked at her. “What do you call them?”

  Mutts, mangy mutts. “I call them canidae,” she said. “It’s what they are. And even if I did call them wolves, it’s not... you don’t have the right. I’ve given a decade of my life to that woman--”

  “Not a woman,” Isaac interrupted. “She may look female, but she’s not. None of them are. They’re a different species. Even when they’re in human form, they have heightened senses. Their skeletal structure works in ways ours never could. There’s a reason a bite from them is fatal. A human can’t become a werewolf, no matter what the myths tell you. I believe if it was possible, either Willow or her mother would have turned you a long time ago.”

  She tried not to think about how many times Ari’s teeth had been on her neck, or her fingers had been in Ari’s mouth just inviting a bite. She shivered, even though those memories still felt warm and loving. She felt like her mind was wrapped in barbed wire, and thinking one way would tear the memory up while the other way would spare her pain.

  “It was the essays, wasn’t it? There’s something in them.”

  “Indeed there is,” Isaac said. “The truth. And soon the whole world will know what’s been living hidden in the shadows.”

  Dale imagined the news breaking. She saw people spray-painting slurs on the office, on their home. People would harass them in restaurants, clients would refuse to hire her. They’d been lucky to live in a city where that never happened just because they held hands or kissed in public. And there would also be paranoia, witch hunts, caused by the fact you can’t spot a canidae just by looking at them.

  “Ariadne is going to get hurt, isn’t she?”

  “Probably. She has a habit of sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Those are the types of dogs who tend to get their snouts hit by the newspaper.”