Her Two Wolves

by T. S. Ryder

  “Are you okay? You don’t sound so—” Another wave of nausea hits me and I puke ruthlessly.

  “Sorry, I’m sick. Anyway, when are you coming back?”

  “I think it will be another week before I can come back,” he says.

  “Why did you have to go all of a sudden? We should have followed up with the second date. This is torture, Harry. I need you.”

  “Listen,” he says tentatively. “There’s something you need to know.”

  “I’m listening,” I say.

  “I can’t tell you over the phone. I…I need to show you something. I just don’t know…it’s complicated.”

  “Well, tell me where you are and I’ll come over.”

  “No, you’re unwell. Go see a doctor, get well, and then we’ll talk about it.”

  “Harry,” I begin. I need to tell him how I feel. I can’t bottle these feelings inside for long. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

  “Okay, what is it?”

  “I think I am in love with you.”

  “That’s a relief,” he says with phew. “I thought you were gonna say, ‘I’m pregnant’.”

  “Is it too soon to say it?”

  “Siobhan, I think about you all the time. I believe in taking things slowly, but the way I feel for you, if it isn’t love already, I don’t know what is.”

  “I just…we had such good time. And now I feel like I’m losing you already.”

  “You aren’t losing me, darling. Things are just complicated. I’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to my dad. We’ll see if we can get you here.”

  “Update me as soon as you can,” I tell him. “By the way, they asked me today if I wanted to have another lab partner because you were on leave. I said no, but now I’m working for two. When you come back, I’ll make you work thrice as hard.”

  “Baby, I’ll work on you very hard once we’re together again.”

  “I love you,” I say, before the next wave of nausea hits. “I think I should sleep now.”

  “No, just keep talking to me. I look forward to talking to you all day. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane.”

  “You know, I almost feel like punishing you by not talking to you right now, just like you abandoned me.”

  “I didn’t abandon you, babe. Things came up, and when you know why, you’ll understand.”

  “I won’t pester you by asking you to tell me now, but it better be soon.”

  “It will be, I promise.”

  “I love you, Siobhan.” He finally says the magical words and butterflies flutter in my stomach.

  “I love you, too,” I say, hanging up.

  The butterflies in my stomach are too strong, and their fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning. I finally book an appointment with my GP. After all the preliminaries and everything, I end up in the GP’s room.

  “So,” she says, “you on a pill or something?”

  “What pill?” I ask.

  “Birth control?”

  “No,” I say.

  “When was the last time you had sex?”

  “Almost three weeks ago, but—”

  “Did you use protection?”

  “No, but it was just that one time. I’m not pregnant.”

  “I didn’t say you are, but you could be. Here,” she says, handing me a cup and a water bottle. “Drink the water, and then urinate in the cup.”

  I do as she says, and then she tells me I’m pregnant. I don’t say much. I ask her if she’s sure, and she tells me that sometimes the tests show as negative during early stages of pregnancy, “But positive is positive. We can do a blood test or an ultrasound if you want, but you are definitely pregnant.”

  “No, that’s fine, thank you.”

  I have to tell Harrod. I have to tell him before my own mother finds out. I know how my pregnancy could be used negatively in the media to tarnish her image. There are journalists who feed on such stuff and make stories out of it, but I won’t let that happen.

  I try to call him all day but I can’t get through to him, so I go to his house instead. The officers refuse to clear me because Harrod isn’t home.

  “Fine, don’t clear me. I’ll wait here until his father comes. I want to speak to him.”

  “Ma’am, we can’t tell you when he’ll be back. He comes home late. Why don’t you—”

  “Save it,” I say decisively. “I am not going anywhere.”

  The officer sends some sort of message on his walkie-talkie. Then another guy comes from the security cabin and clears me to go.

  “Mr. Ford is already on his way here. Please go on. The butler will receive you.”

  When I reach the gates, I get out of the car and skip off the road. I want to walk in those gardens again, but the second I step onto the grass, a loud voice shrieks from hidden speakers, “Get off the grass! Get off the grass!”

  “Okay, okay,” I say, and get back on the path. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the house. When I get there, Gabe takes me to the drawing room.

  “Mr. Ford will be landing any minute now. He’ll join you shortly.”

  The butler leaves and I wait for Harry’s dad to finally arrive. Once I have calmed down, I realize how stupid of me it was to come here. I don’t know what I’ll say to him. I mean, what can I say? I love your son, bring him back?

  Mr. Ford clears his throat loudly to let me know he’s there, and is followed by the butler. He waves Gabe off, shakes my hand, grabs two glasses and a bottle of scotch and sits down on the opposite sofa.

  “Young lady,” he says. “You have been quite a nuisance to my security personnel.”

  “I am sorry, Mr. Ford. I just—”

  “It’s fine,” he says. “Tell me, what brings you here? It must have been important.”

  “I just wanted to see Harrod. I have to talk to him about something. It’s really important.”

  “Ah, you two are dating.” He says that more like a statement than a question.

  “I’m not really sure you can call it that, but your son and I like each other very much.”

  “‘Like’ wouldn’t have made you come all the way here, all the while knowing he wasn’t here.”

  “No, we do love each other. It just seems strange to say it so soon, but we are probably headed in that direction.”

  “You are cautious, just like your mother.”

  “You know my mother?”

  “Everybody knows your mother. Senator Daphna has been one of the finest.”

  “But I never told Harrod about my mother. How do you know all this?”

  “Your mother and I have crossed paths quite often, mostly on the wrong foot. She gives us a hard time in Congress. Nevertheless, like yourself, she is a brilliant woman. Dedicated, hardworking and passionate. We are acquainted.”

  “Right, and I can guess what you do.”

  “Best not to speak of it. Now, back to why you are here.”

  “I’d much rather talk to him.”

  “Except you know you can’t. So I’m all you have for the time being. Now you can tell me what it is and I’ll help you as I see fit, or you can wait till later tonight to talk to him. Take your pick and decide fast, because I don’t have all day.”

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. To say that Harrod’s father is intimidating would be an understatement. He sweetly pressurized me and then threw the time bomb. Or maybe I am hormonal. I’m normally better at staying calm

  “What? What has that got to do with…” He pauses, then pours himself another drink and shakes his head.

  “Harrod?” he asks, looking at me.

  I nod. “It was just the one time.”

  “Harrod is the father of your baby?” He laughs. “I don’t believe this.”

  “I’m telling the truth,” I say, indignant.

  “Sorry, no, I don’t mean I doubt you. I’m just surprised. Harrod has always been careful, followed the rules, all those things. You know how it is for families like ours. And now this.” He laughs again.<
br />
  “Are you implying that I—”

  “I am not implying anything,” he chides. “When did you find out?”

  “About two hours ago. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.”

  “I’m glad you came here. How far along are you?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “Do you want to visit Harrod?” he asks. “I have a private jet. I can send you off now. But you can’t come back until Harrod completes his training, which is going to be another week.”

  “He never told me he was…what is he training for?”

  “I think it’s best if you go there and find out for yourself.”

  “So where will I be going?”

  “I can’t tell you that, but the place is safe.”

  “My mother will want to know.”

  “I’ll handle your mother. Besides, you’re grown woman. Tell her to stop being a helicopter parent.”

  “I’m sure you know how it is,” I say. “Security issues and all that.”

  He nods, finishing his drink.

  “Are you going to keep the baby?”

  “I’ll decide when I talk to Harrod. I think we’ll make a decision together.”

  “Well, whatever you decide, I hope you do keep the baby. This life is lonely. Harrod and I have always been alone. It wouldn’t hurt to have a pup in the den.”

  “A pup?”

  “You know, a baby wolf.”

  “I doubt such ferocious beings exist among our kind.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he says.

  He stays for another half an hour and chats. In spite of his cockiness and impassiveness, I see a lonely man. He tells me about his wife, her mental illness and how he never married again because he’s still in love with her. He also talks a lot about the baby, what I’ll do and where I’ll stay, if we decide to keep the baby. His eyes sparkle whenever he mentions the baby, icy cold and blue like Harrod’s.

  An hour later, I find myself on a private jet, circling a forest on a mountain. Down below, the only sign of civilization is a short strip of tar and asphalt — a runway.

  Chapter Ten - In The Middle of Nowhere

  Siobhan

  As the plane lands, I spot two heads in the trees. One of them is Harrod, of course, although I can’t tell which one. From the distance, they both look the same. The plane halts and I wait inside until those guys are here. The forest is beautiful, but also terrifying.

  When Harrod walks in, I’m surprised at how different he looks.

  “Harrod,” I say, getting up. “You look so different. What have…” Then the actual Harrod steps in.

  “Siobhan,” he says, surprised. He pushes the other guy aside, locks me in an embrace and kisses me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I went to your place and raised hell, so your father sent me here.”

  “Did he? You must have been pretty convincing.”

  “You never told me you had a twin. Who is this?”

  “This is my brother,” he says.

  “Hi, I’m Harrison,” the other guy says.

  “Wow, the resemblance is uncanny,” I say, shaking his hand. “Harrod never told me he had a brother.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t know,” he says.

  “How are you now?” Harrod asks.

  “I’m fine. I still have the stomach bug.”

  “I was worried about you,” he says. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  As we step out of the plane, I ask, “So, where are we? Your father’s secret science facility?”

  “Something like that,” he says.

  It’s a 15-minute walk into a fenced community, a village of sorts. Harrod introduces me to his Grandpa and a woman called Mishayev. ‘Misha is my teacher here,’ he tells me.

  “What does she teach you? What are you here for, secret service training?”

  “No. I’ll tell you later.”

  “No, you said you’ll tell me when we are together, I can’t wait anymore. Tell me what took you away from me.”

  I perch on an ottoman in what appears to be a common room, and Harrod gets on behind me, legs and arms around me. It feels safe inside his arms.

  “I need to warn you first and prepare you. This shit is crazy.”

  “Whatever it is, tell me. Go ahead, I can take it. Can’t be crazier than everything else that has happened, with me coming out to the middle of nowhere to be with a guy I only had one date with.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” I say, cutting him off. “Tell me now.”

  “Harrison, do the honors, will you?”

  What happens next is, simply put, crazy. I should have freaked out, I should have, but I don’t. I am inside his arms, I am safe. I know that no harm will come to me. But it takes my breath away anyway.

  “So, your brother is a shape-shifter,” I say, letting out a long breath.

  “Not a shape-shifter,” he says, rubbing my arm, turning me on. “A werewolf.”

  “And you?”

  “Me too. Everyone here is.”

  “And your dad knows about this?”

  “He’s one too. Like I said, Siobhan, we all are. Except my mother.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think that’s probably why my dad sent you here, so you could find out before things get serious.”

  “Before things get serious, Harrod, seriously? We still have a before?”

  “I mean, you know, so you can get out while you can.”

  “So if I want to get out, you won’t stop me?”

  “If this is too much for you, why would I?”

  “So you’d let me go just like that,” I say, slightly angry.

  “I’d try like hell to stop you, but I won’t force you.”

  “I’m cool with it,” I say. “Growing up in a political family, I’ve seen stuff way more messed up than this. Nothing like this, but still. I think I can get used to this. But I sure as hell won’t be living here forever.”

  “Neither will I,” he says. “But we’ll have to come here every full moon. I’ll have to.”

  Then I ask him something really stupid, something a child would ask. “Can you turn me into a werewolf?”

  “With a bite, yes.”

  “Cool,” she says. “Do it. Bite me.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” he tells me. “Only an Alpha’s bite can do that, and I am not an Alpha yet.”

  “Get the Alpha to bite me then.”

  “Six days from now, I have to face my brother in The Pit. If I can beat him there, I’ll become the Alpha. We’ll think about it then. But I can’t wait to bite you in other circumstances.” His hand finds its way into my shirt and around my stomach. He turns me around, rubs my back and kisses me again.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he says.

  “I missed you, too,” I say.

  I close my eyes and draw in a long breath, taking in his masculine smell, his intoxicating juniper cologne. He pushes me down on the ottoman and tries to get on top.

  “Not here,” I whisper.

  “They don’t mind.”

  “I’m shy.”

  “Okay,” he says, kissing me again. “You should go rest, anyway. You must be tired. Mishayev will show you to our room.”

  “Okay.” I give him a quick kiss and leave with Mishayev.

  She takes me to Harrod’s room, which is a mess, as can be expected.

  “You will get cold. Let me bring you some fur.”

  “Thank you.”

  She comes back ten minutes later, carrying three different colored fur coats.

  “Wow, these are real,” I say, feeling the soft fur, trying one out. “These are so warm and light.”

  “Yeah, these are real.”

  “Thank you,” I repeat.

  She smiles, then looks at me strangely.

  “What is it,” I ask.

  “You love him?”

  “I guess…yeah.”

  She smiles. “He’s a good guy. Training here is hard, coming to t
erms with everything, but he’s patient. He’s doing it all very well. He’s a keeper. Don’t break his heart.”

  “I won’t,” I promise, hand over my heart.

  “If you need anything or have any questions, you can come to me,” she says, and turns to leave.

  “Misha,” I say, “I can call you that, right?”

  “Call me whatever you want,” she says.

  “I wanted to ask you something,”

  “What is it?”

  “Is there a doctor here?”

  “We have an infirmary. It has all the modern equipment and our doctors are great. But don’t go there alone.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, concerned.

  “I’m fine. I was just curious.”

  “Right. You should rest now, and I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

  Chapter Eleven - The First Snow, The Good Tidings

  Siobhan

  Mishayev wakes me up late in the evening.

  “Put on your coat,” she says. “It’s going to be freezing tonight.”

  “As if it isn’t already,” I reply, shivering in my skin.

  When I step out, I see the snow falling softly, slowly, mixing with the dark mud. It compliments it, makes it look nicer, somehow serene. The sun is setting in the distance, and although we can’t see it from here, the snowflakes gathered on the ground are bathed in a soft orange light.

  “It’s a good omen,” Misha says.

  “Snowfall? People hate snow where I come from, but then it never looks this beautiful.”

  “We have a saying among our pack, passed down the generations. It says visitors bring the weather with them, and if they bring snow, it means they bring good luck. You have brought us glad tidings.”

  “What tidings?” I ask, as we step outside. A gentle gust of wind hits me, getting under my fur coat through the sleeves, freezing me to the bone. I remove my hands from the sleeves and wrap it around me like a shawl, blocking the wind as best as I can.

  “It is not always known right away,” she says. “But they come out soon. Here, at least.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Keeping good news to yourself is considered a sacrilege here. There is a lot of misery out there in the world, and when the Almighty sends his blessings, they should be shared and spread. What’s his to share is not yours to conceal.”