by Laura Taylor
“Imagine your skin changing, fur emerging,” Baron was saying, oblivious to Dee’s wandering mind. She made an effort to concentrate, but she felt no change in herself at all, no static, no tingling in her limbs, no blurring of her vision. She let out a huff.
“It’s no good,” she said flatly. “She won’t come out while we’re still locked up. She just wants to go outside and run in the forest.” That had been the wolf’s persistent request throughout the whole three days, images of thick trees, the impression of speed, along with an annoyance that Dee had not delivered on the wide-open spaces the wolf had demanded back in London.
“Damn it, Dee, I’ve told you before, you are the wolf. If you can’t embrace her wishes as your own, then we’re never going to make any progress.”
“Okay then,” Dee said defiantly, deciding to play this game. Was it her fault if the wolf insisted on being a different person from her? “Then I refuse to shift until I get to go outside.”
Baron looked at her with dry humour. “Let’s try this again,” he said in a voice that was patronisingly patient. “Close your eyes. Picture the wolf in your mind…”
Mark sat on the back patio, staring at the plaque on the memorial wall. ‘Luke Adams’, it read in clear, copper letters. ‘Fallen in Battle. Walk with Sirius.’
The wall held dozens of plaques, each paying tribute to members of the Den who had been killed at the hands of the Noturatii. Identical walls were located at every Den across Europe, testament to the continual losses they suffered, and to the growing discontent among some factions that demanded a more strategic plan to end this war.
Luke had died in wolf form, an honourable death for any shifter. As his closest friend, Mark had been given the sacred duty of placing his body on the funeral pyre and performing the Chant of Sirius to guide the fallen spirit to the next world. The ritual was supposed to bring peace, but ever since the van had returned that day, with Luke’s body reverently laid on the back seat and covered with a towel, Mark had felt a deep, aching void in his chest that could not be relieved.
In an underground culture where contact with outsiders was strictly controlled, good friends were hard to come by. But Luke had been just that, sharing Mark’s interests and his dark sense of humour, his frustration with the lack of women in the Den, and long philosophical discussions on the future of Il Trosa.
His death had done more than rob Mark of a friend. It had also catalysed a lot of other frustrations that had been plaguing him for years, held at bay by Luke’s droll wisdom and his ability to distract him from his blacker moods with teasing and beer.
Perhaps that was why he’d become so fixated on Dee. The first time he’d really felt something other than emptiness since that tragic day had been when he’d looked down at her, strapped to the table, and seen her determination to live, the cold steel in her eyes that refused to accept a fate of dying at the hands of these madmen.
She was becoming quite the complication now, not just because she remained a loose end from his illegal explorations, but because she had become something of a permanent fixture in his thoughts. Though he hadn’t been able to go down to the cages to see her himself, he’d heard news from the other shifters: from Skip, who took meals to her, and from Heron, a shifter in her sixties, the longest running member of the estate, who had been spending time with Dee in the cage room. Rumours continued to circulate over whether she was going to go rogue, apparently unable to merge with her wolf, but she was displaying plenty of attitude, arguing with Baron, teasing Silas, and Mark found himself craving each morsel of news about her, an odd obsession that left him both frustrated and fascinated.
But Dee wasn’t the only complication left over from the labs. The hard drive he’d stolen from the server was still in his bedroom. He’d moved it three times, trying to find a better hiding place where no one would accidentally find it. He’d thought about destroying it, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. It contained a wealth of information on the Noturatii and their research that could prove priceless to Il Trosa. Unfortunately, handing it over to be analysed meant signing his own death warrant, as there was no reasonable or rational explanation for how he’d come to have it that didn’t condemn him at the same time.
“Mark! Get in here!” He heard Caroline’s shrill voice coming from the kitchen. He sighed, heading inside to see what the crisis was.
“I need you to take Dee’s lunch down to her.” Caroline thrust a tray at him, containing a sandwich, a pear, a cup of tea and a bowl of diced meat, and Mark felt a thrill of anticipation at the chance to see Dee again… as well as a cool suspicion about Caroline’s motives.
“I’m curious,” Mark said, as he took the tray. “Rumour has it that Dee hasn’t been able to shift since that day on the stairs. So sending me down there now wouldn’t be a little experiment to see if I can draw her wolf out, would it?”
Caroline smiled at him condescendingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mark was in two minds about the situation as he let himself into the basement. As eager as he was to see Dee again, after their meeting on the stairs he’d had no opportunity to talk to her about her wolf and whether she remembered him, or to warn her not to say anything, and he didn’t believe Caroline for a moment that this wasn’t a test to see how she reacted to him now. Though Dee hadn’t said anything to Baron in the last few days, there was no guarantee this stunt wasn’t going to provoke the wolf into alerting Dee to his role in the events at the lab.
“Lunchtime,” he announced, seeing Baron sitting in front of the cage and Dee sitting on the floor by the bars. He went to the slot in the wall and slid the tray inside. He was relieved to see Dee was looking better. She’d looked so pale that day on the stairs, but the colour was back in her cheeks, and she no longer looked tired and drained.
Unaware of his apprehension, Dee took the tray from him, offering him a brief ‘thank you’. She pushed a dish with a raw beef bone in it back through the slot. Despite the wolf’s refusal to eat, they had continued providing food for her, hopeful that at some point in time she could be coaxed to emerge.
There was no reaction from the wolf, and Mark allowed himself a moment’s relief. Dee sat down on the bed and started eating her sandwich, while Mark picked up the leftover bone and headed for the door. Okay, so he’d performed the experiment for them, with no result, no shift. Now that he was satisfied Dee was doing better, he was eager to get out of the room before anything unexpected happened.
Dee watched as Mark disappeared around the corner and felt an odd stirring inside herself. There was something startling, something jarringly familiar about watching him leave, about knowing he was about to disappear out the door and up the stairs, and the wolf…
A wave of dizziness took over and Dee was grateful she was already sitting down. She collapsed sideways onto the bed, feeling like her legs were all wrong. Her arms felt odd, too thin, and her hands felt numb. And suddenly she couldn’t breathe properly, her tongue too big, and what the hell was that smell? It was equal parts disgusting and enticing, and she felt nauseous at the same time as her mouth started watering.
And then she noticed Baron. He was standing in a half-crouch, a look of alarm on his face. Mark was back, she realised with a wave of satisfaction, peering down at her with a concerned look.
She stood up, eager to tell him she was fine, but he seemed a lot taller than he’d been before. She opened her mouth to speak, but the strangest sound came out, part bark, part whine.
Dee froze. Oh hell, she couldn’t be… Could she?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dee looked down at herself in alarm, only to have her suspicions confirmed. She no longer had hands, but paws, with grey fur and robust claws. She glanced back and saw a tail, thick and fluffy, wagging fiercely. The wolf pushed forward into the front of her mind, stood up on her hind legs and batted her paws against the bars. The movement left Dee dizzy and disoriented, and it seemed safer to retreat a little and let the wolf
take control. But not too far, she protested, as the animal pushed forward harder. She wanted to stay and see what the wolf was doing. And, perhaps realising that she didn’t mean to take control again just yet, the wolf acquiesced, made room for her… however possible it was to ‘make room’ when they were just two minds, two consciousnesses.
Baron was saying something, but she couldn’t make out the words. And Mark was still there, a metre or so back from the cage, but she wanted him closer! Or perhaps the wolf wanted him closer. The clamour of thoughts in her head was chaotic, and she tried to sort out which were her own, and which belonged to the wolf. She felt something cold and hard and realised the wolf was pushing her face against the bars. Her tail wagged again, one of her paws reaching forward, but Mark stood back, staring at her with the oddest expression on his face.
Mark came dashing back into the room at Baron’s startled shout, astonished to find Dee in wolf form, eyes locked on him, paws reaching through the bars. Bloody hell. This could get him into big trouble.
“Go to her,” Baron ordered, sharp eyes fixed on him. “Let’s see what happens next.”
What, indeed. Against his better judgment, Mark approached the bars. The wolf whined and reached out a paw again, and Mark couldn’t help thinking how odd this all was. This was not the behaviour of a human in wolf form. This was the behaviour of a wolf, dignity be damned, human consciousness far removed. So perhaps Dee herself didn’t remember him, but maybe, if the wolf was indeed a separate entity as she had been saying, then the animal side of her did. He took the time to wonder if Dee was aware of what was going on. In her previous shifts, she’d claimed she’d simply blacked out, that she had no memory of what had happened during those minutes. Was that still the case now, or would she eventually learn to retain her presence of mind while the wolf was in control?
He reached forward, catching the wolf’s paw in his hand, and then leaned in further, reaching through the bars to stroke his hand through the thick fur of her neck. The wolf seemed to grin at him, teeth showing, tongue hanging out in a very convincing canine display of delight.
Dee felt a wave of embarrassment as Mark brushed his hand over her fur. The wolf was front and centre, but she could see, hear, and feel everything the wolf was feeling.
She could also smell what the wolf could, she realised, as a strangely familiar scent filled her nose, of soap and sweat and the faint tingle of cologne.
And when she realised just where she’d smelled that scent before, the shock was enough to make her surge forward, thrusting the wolf out of the way and forcibly returning them to human form.
The wolf snarled at her, a short mental struggle ensuing as they each clamoured for control, but this revelation was enough to give Dee the edge, strong as the wolf was.
It was the same scent that the wolf had shown her when she’d asked about the man in the lab. This time, it had been without the cloying stench of blood over the top, and there was no doubt in her mind: Mark had been in the lab. He had saved her life. She picked herself up off the floor, feeling dizzy and nauseous.
Mark and Baron were both peering down at her, Mark looking concerned, Baron looking rather pleased. “Well, that was interesting,” he drawled. He glanced sideways at Mark. “Two shifts, and both of them centred around you. Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”
“I don’t know,” Dee managed to say, noting Mark’s grim expression. By the look on his face, he knew she’d figured out what he’d done, and was none too happy about it. But there was no way she was going to spill his secret now. He’d saved her life, and stabbing him in the back was the last thing she wanted to do. Instead, knowing Baron was waiting for information, she chose to focus on something else entirely. “I stayed conscious that time,” she said, not having to fake the excitement in her voice. “I could see what the wolf was seeing. I could feel her emotions. I could smell…” She glanced at Mark. “…everything.”
Not at all satisfied with her response, Baron turned his stare onto Mark. “Well?”
“I don’t know,” Mark said, not taking his eyes off Dee. “Maybe it’s something to do with when I was tracking her in London.” Damn right it was. But with Baron watching her so closely, Dee couldn’t give him the slightest signal that she intended to keep his secret. Her silence would have to be enough. Later, though, she was going to have a serious talk with this man.
“You two wouldn’t happen to have met before, would you?” Baron asked shrewdly.
Dee shook her head. “No. The first time I saw Mark was the day you brought me here.” That, at least, was true, even if it had been much earlier in the day than Baron was aware of. “Why would you even ask that?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a wolf has tried to cheat the system,” Baron said, not looking at all convinced by her protestations of innocence. “We have strict rules about who we convert and who we don’t. But there are always situations outside the norm, wolves who meet someone, fall in love, want their friend or lover or sister to be converted, even if it’s against the rules.”
“I didn’t want this,” Dee protested, outraged at the accusation. “I’m locked in a cage, away from my friends, my family, my job. God knows what people will be thinking. They must be frantic with worry. And then you tell me I have to eat raw meat and let the wolf have equal time in this body, and now you think I’m trying to manipulate you? Shit, Baron, you’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Dee fell silent, stunned by her own outburst and struggling to maintain her composure. This wasn’t like her at all. Normally she was rational, polite, always preferring to negotiate and compromise, rather than hurl accusations and start a confrontation. But now…
She heard a low growl in the back of her mind. So it’s you who’s doing this, she accused the wolf. An impression of bared teeth, raised hackles. Fine. You want at him, go ahead.
She was expecting the wave of dizziness this time. She retreated just far enough to let the wolf out, then hung around to watch, and she was rewarded when Baron leapt back from the cage, her teeth missing his hand by scant millimetres.
“I think you pissed her off,” Mark commented drily, and Dee was startled to find that she could understand him. When Baron had spoken before while she was in wolf form, the words had been nothing but noise.
This time, instead of pushing her away, she felt the wolf tug her closer. Merging, Baron had called it, and Dee wondered if this was what he meant. She and the wolf wanted different things, certainly, but right now they were both feeling pretty damn annoyed with the man on the other side of the bars. Hell, if this was a girly bonding session, complete with an arsehole of a man for them to gripe about, she was all for it. If only she was male, then she could have peed on his shoes.
“Dee?” Baron tried, then swore under his breath. “Do you even understand me? I’m sorry, okay? I know you were kidnapped, and that was a low blow. Come on. I need to talk to Dee. You want to let her back out, Faeydir-Ul?”
The wolf growled one more time, then sat down with a huff. Dee felt herself being pushed forward and was shocked at herself as she hesitated. It was a lot easier to be angry with the man in this form. But the wolf insisted that it needed her to communicate – a wolf couldn’t speak human words – and so she gave Dee another shove.
Dee paid more attention to the shift this time, felt her legs lengthen, her jaw retreat, her fingers grow. And rather than lying on the mat, this time when she came back to herself she was sitting up, cross-legged, and wearing a glare that seemed far fiercer than she felt. Baron looked relieved by her reappearance. “What did you call me?” she asked, butting in before he could say anything. Somehow she had the sense that the name had been important.
“Faeydir-Ul. It means Origin-Wolf.” At her confused look, he continued. “We have a rich folklore about how the first shifters came to be. Thousands of years ago, it’s said that wolves and humans were just learning to work together, to hunt, long before domestic dogs were bred to serve humanity’s wishes. Faeyd
ir was a wolf prone to adventures and curiosity, and she used to sneak into the human camps at night to steal their food and listen to their stories. One day she decided she wanted to become a human, to experience life as they lived it. So she summoned all the magic of her pack and lured a willing human away into the forest – a girl, young, maybe eighteen years old. They exchanged blood, cut their veins and let themselves pour into each other, and Faeydir cast a spell that bound the two of them together. She would be able to spend time in the human’s body, while the human could spend time in hers.”
“But what Faeydir hadn’t realised was that her pack had tricked her.” Mark stepped closer, picking up the story, and Dee got the impression that this was a popular ritual in this place, telling stories of their folklore, perhaps around a camp fire. Her wolf liked the image, wagging her tail in her mind. “Faeydir had only wanted to spend a few days as a human, but every time she crept into their camp and stole their food, she risked angering them. And the rest of the wolves knew that the humans were fierce hunters and could easily wipe out the wolves, if they chose to.
“So they warped the spell with their magic. And instead of switching their bodies, Faeydir found that she and the girl had merged into one being, sometimes a human, sometimes a wolf.
“With no body left to return to, Faeydir was unable to return to her pack. A human could not live alone in the forest, so she was forced to live amongst the humans for the rest of her life. She got her wish to be human, but paid a huge price for the privilege.”
