Moonburn

by Alisa Sheckley

  In the end though, Red had walked me home, and somewhere along the way we’d taken an unexpected detour into intimacy.

  “All right, I couldn’t get Patsy, but here’s Romulus, ready for his shot.”

  I jumped a little as Jackie brought the German shepherd mix in. Misinterpreting my guilty look, Jackie gave a rueful smile. “It’s a mess in here, I know. But I spend all my time outside.”

  “You don’t need to apologize to me, Jackie. I don’t know how you find time for everything as it is.” In addition to her work with the pack, most of whom had suffered in their former homes, Jackie was a wildlife rehabilitator. She took in many of the creatures Red removed, and also served as an unofficial nature warden, keeping tabs on the nests of endangered birds and turtles, and watching out for fire hazards in summer. Her only real source of income, as far as I could tell, came in the form of donations for the wolves, with a little extra from the sale of her homemade moonshine. Which reminded me, I had to bring Red back a bottle.

  “Don’t let me forget to buy some of your whiskey,” I said as I removed my coat and gloves.

  “You don’t have to buy it, girl.” Jackie bent down to pull a bottle out of a drawer, and I realized that she was stocky with muscle rather than fat.

  “You have to let me pay, Jackie.”

  “How about you just loan me Red back for a night? Just kidding, Doc. Red and I are past all that nonsense. And he would never cheat, you know. He’s a good man, and there’s not too many of them going around.”

  I murmured something in agreement, then busied myself giving the shepherd mix his vaccines. As far as I could tell, Jackie’s affection for Red was that of an old friend, and she certainly didn’t act as though she were jealous or resentful of me. Still, it was clear that she saw me as the younger, more sophisticated woman who had bewitched her old boyfriend. It wasn’t a role I was comfortable playing.

  “So,” I said, changing the subject with my usual lack of grace, “anything going on with the pack besides needing their rabies and Parvo boosters? You said Patsy had torn one of her dewclaws.”

  Jackie’s eyes twinkled with amusement at my discomfort, but she followed my lead. “Let me think. Loki’s gone and gotten into a fight with something. Banged up his tail pretty good. I bandaged it, but I wanted you to take a look while you were here.”

  “I didn’t see him when I got here.”

  “He was there; he’s just shy and easy to overlook. But he’s my special boy, because when he warms up to you, he’s one of the smartest, kindest dogs you’ll ever meet. Reminds me of the way Pia used to be.”

  I suppose all parents must feel some shock when their sweet, smooth-skinned little boy or girl suddenly shoots up, sprouts hair, and breaks out in angry adolescent acne and opinions. But dogs and tame wolves exist in a kind of perpetual childhood, and Jackie had never expected her furry girl to rebel. I think Jackie was more shocked at Pia’s emotional shift than she was by her physical transformation—after all, Jackie had known Red in more than one form.

  Out loud, all I said was, “She still loves you, you know.”

  Jackie shook her head. “All she can see is the ways I don’t quite measure up.”

  “I’m sorry, Jackie. I’m sure it’ll pass.” But I could see that for Jackie, a human daughter was a poor excuse for a dog.

  In a way, meeting Pia had been the start of all the changes in my life. Jackie had brought her into the Animal Medical Institute, mistakenly thinking that the services there were basically free. She’d also had some trouble with some of the local vets, who believed she was breeding wolf hybrids instead of rescuing them. But when Jackie had learned how expensive the Institute really was, she’d thought we wouldn’t let her have Pia back, and had sent Red to do a little wildlife removal operation.

  “You done with Romulus now? I’ll take him out and bring Loki in.”

  I was done with Romulus, but he wasn’t done with me. Whining and snuffling, he fought to stay inside with me as Jackie half coaxed, half dragged him back outside.

  Jackie was back in a matter of moments, leading Loki on a loose leash. In a show of affection completely out of character for the shy animal, Loki jumped up and actually licked me on the face.

  “Well, that’s some hello,” said Jackie, sounding mystified. Unlike dogs, wolves stop bonding with new people after about three months of age.

  “Guess you really like me, boy.” I ruffled Loki’s brindled gray fur. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to stand and let me examine his tail, but then, right on cue, a chain saw fired up, making him jump and cower under the table. “God, Jackie, that’s awful. I thought this whole area had been declared a wetlands preserve.”

  Jackie squinted out her small window in the direction of the offending noise. “Yeah, well, you know how that goes. Somebody offered somebody some money, and presto, an expert appeared who redrew the boundary lines.” Jackie coaxed Loki out into the open, rubbing his ears until he looked up at her with a purely puppy look of devotion. She held him while I ran my hands up and down his tail. “My neighbor set up the lights so they can work after dark.”

  I was about to say something sympathetic when I felt Loki wince at my touch. “Jackie, is there any chance that Loki could have gotten into a fight with some of the other dogs?”

  “Sure, there’s always a chance. Why do you ask?”

  I took out my tweezers and removed a claw from the thick, double coat of fur near Loki’s tail. “Tell me. What do you make of that?”

  Jackie took the claw in her palm. “That’s not dog or wolf. That’s a bear claw.”

  “I should show it to Red. He said he had a run-in with a bear. Well, not exactly a bear.”

  She paused. “Is he all right? And what’s not exactly a bear?”

  “There’s a bit of a story there, and I think Red should probably be the one to tell it.”

  Jackie looked at the claw again. “You mean something supernatural,” she said. “A regular old black bear would be hibernating this time of year.”

  I started to reply, but then the whine of the chain saw drowned out the possibility of easy conversation. Jackie’s generous mouth tightened into an unhappy grimace. “Of course, who can sleep, with that racket going on?”

  An hour later and we were done. We’d successfully vaccinated all eight of the wolfdogs, and I’d given Loki a shot of antibiotic and bandaged up Patsy’s paw, and Jackie had loaded me up with two bottles of bourbon and one of home-tapped maple syrup from the previous spring.

  As she walked me to my car, the wolfdogs swarmed around me again, but this time there was no mistaking their mood. Wagging their tails like excited puppies, Romulus and the husky mix jockeyed each other for the right to sniff, while the usually timid Loki kept worming his way between the other dogs’ bodies so he could sidle up and lick my hand.

  Jackie scratched her head as I tried, for the third time, to get my hand to the handle of the car door. “You put something extra in those injections of yours?”

  “I guess I just have the magic touch.”

  “Guess you do.” Jackie pushed the dogs off, allowing me to get into the car. “Leave her alone, boys, leave her alone! What are you trying to do, ride on home with her? I can’t have all my boys leaving me for Abra, now.”

  Wincing a little, I lowered my window so I could say good-bye to Jackie. “We should meet up at Moondoggie’s for dinner this week. I know Red would love to see you.”

  “Storm might be coming, but we’ll see. Thanks for coming all the way out here,” said Jackie, fishing a cigarette out of her pack and lighting it. As I drove slowly away down the icy drive, I caught her reflection in the rearview mirror, dragging on the Marlboro as if she’d been postponing this smoke for a long time. She looked off into the shadowy woods, searching for Pia. Who seemed to think I was standing in the way of her winning Malachy’s affection.

  I sighed, suddenly bone-tired. Somehow, Jackie must have inadvertently convinced her daughter that I was s
ome kind of man-eater. And in a way, I supposed I was to her what Magda was to me. But I hadn’t actually broken Red and Jackie up, and Magda was a crazy bitch. Still, I wished Jackie could find another man’s photograph for her trailer wall.

  As I backed into my parking space outside the animal clinic, I wondered if I should convince Jackie to come with me to a day spa one of these days. She couldn’t be much more than thirty-eight, and there was really no reason for her to live alone with the dogs. She just needed a little fashion advice, a lot of moisturizer, and a good haircut, none of which were available in Northside.

  As for Pia, it suddenly struck me that the other dogs hadn’t greeted her as a submissive, and that she hadn’t spoken to them as one. She was shy around Malachy and me, but maybe there was another side to Pia.

  People thought wolves and dogs could be categorized as alphas, betas, or omegas, as leaders or followers. Some people even thought that was the way the human world worked. But the truth was more complex. Just as a woman could be a powerful manager at work and then a meek wife at home, or a man could be a tyrant at home and a milquetoast in the office, a wolf could be dominant in one pack, and submissive in another. Status was fairly fluid, and every wolf encounter was filled with nuance and negotiation.

  I had just removed my key from the ignition when I heard a screech of tires as someone burned rubber pulling in beside me. I stepped out of my car, bracing for an animal emergency, and found myself face-to-face with Marlene. She was in acute distress, her face pale and wide-eyed, her coarse black hair still in curlers, and her pink chenille sweater stained with blood.

  “You have to help Queenie! She’s bleeding!”

  I raced to the back of Marlene’s cherry red pickup truck where I saw exactly what I’d been dreading: Queenie, staining a white towel scarlet.

  I didn’t worry about losing control of my temper; with a patient bleeding out in front of me, I snapped into professional mode. “Take the other end of the towel,” I ordered Marlene, who had come up beside me and was staring, horrified, at Queenie. “On my count: one, two, three, now.” As we lifted her I had a moment to think, I wish to hell Pia hadn’t gone home. Then we were at the clinic steps, and I snapped, “Door, somebody get the door,” but Malachy was already there, holding it open.

  “Christ, let’s get her into the operating room,” he said, and I bit back a retort—where did he think I was going, anyway? Marlene’s stringy arms were shaking as we lifted Queenie onto the table.

  “I’ll prepare the surgical tray,” Mal said, brushing Marlene aside as he examined Queenie. “Scrub up, Abra.” I was about to ask him why he didn’t want to operate himself, but then I glanced over and saw my boss palm a pill from his pocket.

  Marlene walked over to the sink as I put on an operating gown, her face old and oddly masculine without makeup. Her eyes did not meet mine. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, scrubbing my nails, then shutting the faucet with my forearm. “But if she dies, we know who’s to blame, don’t we?”

  “I asked you to take care of it! This is your fault! You think you were being responsible? Those weren’t puppies, they were little monsters waiting to come out!”

  I was dimly aware of my boss pushing Marlene out, murmuring something about waiting out in the other room, and I could feel Malachy watching me, but it didn’t matter. All my attention was on Queenie now, and making sure she didn’t lose her life along with her puppies.

  SEVEN

  I didn’t want to wake up. There was a headache waiting for me when I opened my eyes—I could feel it, knocking at my temples, wanting to get in. There was a bad taste in the back of my throat, and a wave of nausea chasing it. My muscles were aching, letting me know that whatever it was I’d been doing last night, it had been pushing my body to its limits. Or past them.

  “Good morning, Doc.”

  I groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers over my head. Red, who was clearly not suffering from whatever was ailing me, was now kissing his way up my instep and calf. I made a little flailing motion, trying to shake him off, but it was a pretty weak effort.

  “I know how to make you happy.” Now Red was nipping his way toward the back of my knees. I made a sort of convulsive hand and foot movement, trying to communicate the fact that I was in real distress here. The nips were climbing my inner thigh, at almost the same pace as the nausea was climbing my esophagus.

  I curled up into a fetal ball before looking over my shoulder. Red was looking feral and happy: He liked a bit of a chase. He was wearing jeans and a shirt, and he smelled of pine and sandalwood and smoke, with a faint undertone of musk. It was that delicious woodsy aftershave again. Except that he had said he wasn’t wearing any fragrance. “What time is it?” My voice was hoarse, as though I’d been shouting at the top of my lungs. Or howling.

  “Nearly eleven. Malachy said to let you sleep in. I told him you had to let off a bit of steam last night.”

  A bit of steam. I wasn’t sure exactly what that had entailed. I had a vague memory of going to Moondoggie’s, of drinking the Tuesday apple martini special, and not eating the chicken surprise. There might have been a second martini in there somewhere, but nothing to account for the class-five hangover that was steadily building in strength and intensity. “I need to get up.”

  “Mal said not to worry about coming in today.” Red curled himself around me, his clothing rough against my bare skin. “You didn’t want to talk about it last night, but I got the impression it was a pretty rough day at work.”

  Suddenly the musky scent of him felt overwhelming, and I grunted as the pain in my head battled for precedence with the bile in my throat. Funny to think that I’d once fantasized about having a man who would spoon with me and pay attention to my moods and feelings, back in the days when I’d been married to a narcissistic lout. Now all I wanted was some breathing space. And possibly some throwing-up space, as well.

  “That was some run last night, huh?” Red lifted the hair off the back of my neck, which felt good, and then starting kissing my nape.

  “We ran?”

  “Oh, God, yeah. I couldn’t keep up with you.” He inhaled deeply, and I knew he was drawing in the scent of my hair and skin.

  “Stop. I smell awful.”

  “Not to me. Not to any shifter, for that matter. And considering last night, I’m thinking we should be calling you a shifter, Girl.”

  I threw the covers off my head, needing cooler air. “What happened last night?”

  “Yeah, good question. Let me think: dinner, drive home, something out of the ordinary, but what was it, again?”

  I punched him. “Red, I’m not feeling up to this.”

  Red smiled at me, quizzical and fond. “You don’t remember?”

  “My head hurts. I’d like to throw up, but I’m worried that my head might split open. My body feels like I was hauling rocks, or maybe getting hit by them.”

  Red’s smile faded. “You really don’t remember.”

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed, then bumped my head on a lamp. “Oh, Jesus, I hate living in this damn cabin.”

  There was a momentary silence, like a vacuum of sound, as we both heard what I’d said. “Sorry, I’m just … I feel lousy, that’s all.”

  “No, it’s me who’s sorry. Too caught up in my own good mood, I guess.” I felt the bed dip as Red stood up. He walked away, opened the freezer, and came back with a bag of frozen peas. “Here, put that on your head.”

  “Thanks.” I couldn’t look at him, so I didn’t try. “So, Red, what did happen last night?”

  “You shifted.”

  Now I did turn to him, but he was looking away, measuring coffee into the pot. “I went furry before the moon was even half full?”

  “Yep.” I watched Red pour the water, all the excitement and pleasure gone from his face and posture. There was something else that had happened, I was sure of it, something that had revved him up and filled him with happiness
. But before I could inquire further, the competition between pounding head and roiling stomach came to an abrupt conclusion. I bolted for the toilet with my hand clapped over my mouth.

  * * *

  The next day I decided that I couldn’t put off talking to Red any longer. Nearly thirty hours had passed since my lost night, and we still hadn’t discussed it, just as we hadn’t discussed the strange moment with Malachy.

  It was mainly my fault. Wanting to escape the tension at home, I’d taken two Alka-Seltzer and shambled off to work, where Malachy didn’t ask me how I felt, or try to comfort me about Queenie. In return, I didn’t confront him about his nameless illness. Neither of us acknowledged our strange moment of intimacy, which was a relief. Maybe if we pretended it hadn’t happened, it would just go away.

  To be honest, I didn’t even like thinking about me lying underneath my boss on my front lawn in broad daylight. I wasn’t sure what was worse: the knowledge that Malachy hadn’t been interested in taking what I was offering, or the realization that I’d been offering. It wasn’t that I’d just discovered a secret attraction to my boss—way, deep down, I knew I wasn’t attracted. It was like having some sort of strange sex dream about some nerdy, bow-tied high school teacher you didn’t even like. Which had happened to me, back in the tenth grade. Maybe in my wolf form I was still unformed and curious. Just what I needed, another adolescence to endure.