TO CATCH A WOLF

by Susan Krinard

  "Indeed" Athena said, surprising herself. "I feel most privileged."

  Harry flushed, cleared his throat, and guided her into the tent. Immediately Athena felt the space all around her, smelled the sawdust and horses, heard the clipped words of performers calling to each other from high above. She followed the sounds to the tops of the platforms near the roof of the tent, where a man in tights executed a graceful somersault in midair and was caught by a second man.

  "Two of our aerialists," Harry said. "They are nearly finished, but the clown and Caitlin's act come next. I have a place for you where you'll be able to observe everything closely."

  He guided the chair down an aisle between rows of wooden risers that framed the front door, beneath a rope barrier, and to the very edge of the low-walled ring that encircled the inside of the tent. He pulled up a chair beside her.

  "The Giovanni Brothers are newcomers to our little group," he told her, pointing his chin at the men high above. "They joined our wire-walker, Regina. We were able to add their act when our fortunes took a turn for the better a few months ago. Thanks to you and your brother, Miss Athena, we will be able to keep them."

  Athena pulled her gaze from the aerialists and glanced at the old gentleman. "Forgive me if I am too forward, but my brother did mention a fire that destroyed your original tent. Had you suffered many misfortunes?"

  "Alas, such adversities can plague a small show like ours. So much depends on elements like the weather, other troupes in the vicinity, the prosperity of the towns we visit, and the health of our animals." He shrugged. "The large shows have begun to use locomotives to move from city to city, and think the less of wagon shows like ours. Perhaps we are not as competitive as we might be. But I would not have it any other way."

  "Because you are like a family," Athena murmured.

  He looked at her in surprise. "Just so, my dear. A family. And like any family, we will do everything within our power to help each other and stay together."

  Athena felt a twinge of envy and quickly smothered it. All that was left of her own family was her brother, and he had so little time to spare for anything but business. Yet he had brought the circus.

  "That is why we are here on this earth—to help each other," she said.

  "And it was our good fortune that your brother came when he did." He smiled, as if at a private memory. "Just as fortunate as Morgan's coming."

  "Morgan Holt?" She spoke before she realized how quickly the name had come to her lips. "He has… he has not been with you long?"

  "Only a bit longer than our flying friends. It was because of him that we were able to hold our band together through the summer."

  Harry spoke with such warmth that Athena wondered what Morgan had done to earn it. Harry was one of those rare men who liked and trusted everyone, yet Athena recognized a deeper affection, almost fatherly. She had not forgotten a father's love.

  "I don't believe that you ever told us what he does, Mr. French."

  "What he does? Why…"

  He hesitated, floundering for words. "He is currently—ah—creating a new act."

  "I see." She glanced at him, wondering why he had been so ready to speak of Morgan a moment ago and then became so evasive. "Perhaps his act involves some special trade secrets?"

  "Ah. Yes, exactly so." He patted her hand. "You are very kind in indulging an old man. We must keep our unique attractions from… from those who might try to duplicate them."

  "I quite understand. I can see that whatever you choose to present, it will be wonderful."

  Just as she finished speaking, the promised clowns arrived in the ring, accompanied by several dogs, a large ball, and objects as diverse as a trumpet and parasol. The leading clown, dressed in mismatched and exaggerated garments, had very white skin and hair that did not appear to be painted. He led the others in a series of tricks and pratfalls that had Athena laughing with far more abandon than she would have shown if her friends had been beside her.

  The clowns bowed in Athena's direction when their performance was finished, and after a pause, several handsome gray horses were led into the ring. Running lightly after them was Caitlin, with her mop of red hair. She held no whip, yet as soon as she entered the ring the horses fell into order and watched her every move with pricked ears.

  "Caitlin is our equestrienne—our Lady Principal—but she has more than one skill," Harry commented, beaming with pride. "She trains liberty horses and performs bareback riding. You will see an exhibition of her riding skills later. Such versatile performers are a great asset to a small troupe such as ours."

  Athena nodded, but her attention was on Caitlin. The girl was grace itself. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she stood at the center of the ring and gave brief commands to the caparisoned horses, which reared and danced and turned in an equine ballet.

  Of all the things Athena might see in a circus, this was hardest. Once she had been as light on her feet as Caitlin.

  Once she had ridden like the wind—and run faster. She felt her legs twitch, a moment of rare sensation, as they reacted in sympathy to the red-haired girl's fluid motions.

  Athena rested her hands in her lap and clasped them tightly. It was good that she should remind herself of what she could not have again. Years ago she had abandoned unrealistic hope, but every so often the old longing returned. As it had done, however briefly, in Morgan Holt's company.

  "She is truly amazing, Mr. French," she said. "I compliment you on…" She lost the thread of her thoughts. A familiar, imposing figure had appeared across the ring, staring in her direction.

  Morgan. Her heart soared to the top of the tent, and she knew if she were not very careful it would likely plummet to the ground most painfully.

  Harry saw Morgan as well. He shifted in his seat and glanced at Athena. "Please continue to enjoy the show, Miss Athena," he said. "If you will excuse me…" He heaved up from his chair and set out along the sawdust path that skirted the outside of the ring.

  Athena tried to concentrate on Caitlin's act, but her gaze sought Morgan across the ring as if some invisible wire connected them. She was hardly aware that one of Caitlin's horses had begun to buck and plunge, surging away from the others.

  Someone screamed. Athena turned her head just as the animal leaped the ring and charged straight at her.

  Seconds passed as if they were minutes. Athena grasped the wheels of her chair and tried to make them move. She was not afraid. She looked calmly across the ring to where Morgan had been standing.

  He was not there. He was already running into the ring, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in his wake. In mid-stride his body was lost in a dark blur, and when he hit the ground again he was no longer a man. Four large paws threw up sawdust as a great black wolf dashed after the panicky horse.

  Athena had the fascinating sensation of floating, as if she had become an aerialist herself. The wolf put on a burst of incredible speed, overtook the horse just a few feet from Athena's chair, and shouldered it aside. She could feel the rush of air as the wolf passed, hear its panting and the squeal of the horse.

  Then she began to tremble. Raised voices faded in and out of her hearing. Only her vision remained sharp. With perfect clarity she saw Caitlin grab for the errant horse and take it in hand, watched the wolf skid to a stop and shake its dark coat. The unearthly mist surrounded it again, and when it cleared Morgan Holt stood in the wolf's place.

  He was quite, quite naked. Magnificent. Athena bit down hard on her lower lip, struggling to escape the dreamlike unreality that had taken her mind captive. All her senses were working again, but her thoughts spun around and around in helpless circles.

  She knew what she had seen. She knew.

  Morgan took a step in Athena's direction. A trouper came up behind him and slung a heavy cape over his shoulders. Morgan fastened it and strode toward Athena, looking neither to the right nor left. Her view of him was blocked by the small crowd of circus folk who gathered about her. They seemed afr
aid to speak. Her own tongue was frozen.

  "Miss Athena! Are you well?" Harry French's voice shook as he crouched beside her. "I have no words to express our—"

  "Later, Harry." The crowd parted for Morgan, and he came to stand before her chair. His eyes—wolf's eyes—held hers. "Can't you see she needs quiet?"

  Harry backed away. "Of course. Of course. Let her lie down somewhere. I—"

  Without waiting for Harry to finish, Morgan swooped like a striking eagle and gathered Athena into his arms. She felt the thumping of his heart against her side, and his breath in her hair. His steps were so swift that she seemed to fly through the air on invisible wings.

  No one had touched her this way except her brother, Romero, or Brinkley when they carried her to or from the carriage or from one chair to another. Those occasions had been impersonal, a matter of necessity. This was very different.

  Morgan Holt held her. He could as easily have pushed her in the chair. She was not on the edge of death, no matter how shaken she was. But he carried her straight across the ring and through the rear entrance—the "back door," she incongruously recalled—to an antechamber furnished with chairs, a table, and a cot.

  He laid her on the cot and settled her comfortably, smoothing her skirt without touching any higher than her knees. Lightning raced up and down her body, spiking below her waist. Phantom sensation—but oh, how wondrous!

  Drunk. She felt as the inebriated must feel, though she had not touched a drop. Morgan produced a thin wool blanket and draped it over her. He dragged a chair beside the cot and sat down, wrapping the voluminous cape about him. She could not seem to forget that he was completely naked underneath it. His face was just a foot from hers, and she could see every detail of his features, so much more than she had remembered.

  "Miss Munroe," he said. His voice was rough as gravel and filled with concern. Yes, concern, from Morgan Holt. "You are not hurt?"

  "No." She smiled like a mooncalf. "I am quite all right."

  He got up and stepped behind a blanket hung across one corner of the tent. He emerged a minute later in shirt and trousers, pausing to fill a mug with water from the pitcher on the small table. "Drink this," he said, pressing the edge of the mug to her lips.

  The very mundane act of drinking restored her sense of reality. "I saw…what you did," she murmured. "I saw everything."

  A muscle in his jaw tensed and relaxed. No denial came. He simply waited, staring into her eyes with all the grim patience of a natural predator. He looked ferocious enough to tear her limb from limb, but she was not afraid. Oh, nothing nearly so uncomplicated as fear.

  It was not she who needed reassurance now.

  She reached from under the blanket and touched his hand. He clenched it into a fist under hers.

  "I understand why Harry would not tell me what you do in the circus," she said, gathering her words with care. "I am not shocked, or horrified. I know I am not mad." The shaking started again, a delayed reaction like the prickling that came to fingers warmed by the fireside after long exposure to bitter mountain winds. "I will not give your secret away. You see, I have one of my own." She took a long, deep breath. "I am like you. I am a werewolf."

  Chapter 7

  Cecily Hockensmith gave her name to the secretary in Niall's reception room and waited to be announced, gazing with appreciation at the tasteful appointments and the original Bierstadt on the immaculate wall of the office.

  Niall had not designed the place, of course. He knew better than to entrust such matters to his own abilities, when his talents lay in other directions. But his had been the money behind everything she saw here, and in the house on Fourteenth Street. He owned the very building in which she stood, and many more in Denver besides. For all its rustic beginnings, this city might make an acceptable home for a lady who had been a leading light of New York's elite.

  As long as that lady had the right husband, and all his considerable resources at her command. She had decided when she and her father had arrived, short on cash but long in ambition, that she would aim for the best. If she could not be comfortable in New York, she would be fabulously wealthy in Denver.

  There was only one thing standing in her path.

  She unrolled the poster halfway and looked in distaste at the words and pictures. Her feelings in this matter were quite genuine, insofar as the circus people were concerned, and Niall would be as grateful for her efforts on Athena's behalf as he had been in the past. He was beginning to recognize that Athena needed something other than what he could provide. Something that might be found far away from Denver.

  As long as Athena was the focus of Niall's life, neither one of them could be happy. Nor could Cecily Ethelinda Hockensmith.

  The bronze Dore clock on the marble mantelpiece chimed the hour. Cecily knew where most of Athena's circle was at the moment—enjoying luncheon in the Windsor's dining room as they did every Thursday. Athena never joined them, and Cecily had not yet been invited into the sanctum of Denver's young female society.

  That would come soon enough. Athena had welcomed her into her philanthropic sisterhood and to her home, but the unfortunate girl had less social influence than she believed. Cecily had eavesdropped on conversations not intended for her ears, or Athena's. She suspected that those haughty young ladies, who professed to be Athena's friends, needed only a nudge to look away from Miss Munroe and toward a more mature woman of greater sophistication.

  "Miss Hockensmith? Mr. Munroe will see you now."

  She nodded at the respectful secretary and followed him into Niall's office. It was not the first time she had been in the room, but it never failed to take her breath away. No similar office in New York was more impressive. Or more opulent.

  She had learned that Niall did not keep such luxury for himself. He knew the value of impressing those who came to him seeking financial backing, or potential investors in his own enterprises. Money begat money. Niall Munroe had Midas's touch and utter indifference to his own personal comfort.

  He rose from behind his leather-topped mahogany desk and bowed slightly. "Miss Hockensmith. Charmed to see you." He gestured to one of the matched chairs across from the desk and remained standing where he was. "How may I be of service?"

  Cecily took her seat, suppressing a frown. After months of acquaintance, he was still formal with her. She might even say aloof, but that was insupportable. She could be patient. And most devoted to her cause.

  "I hope I have not inconvenienced you, Mr. Munroe," she said in her most melodious voice. "I would not have come if I hadn't felt a certain urgency in my errand. Indeed, I… considered carefully before coming to see you."

  His gray gaze settled on her and slid past. "Please speak freely, Miss Hockensmith. I am happy to assist you in any way I can."

  He was obviously impatient with her. She got in the way of his business. She knew how to trouble those still waters and make him take notice. She knew how to take a small, unimportant thing and make it seem of great consequence.

  "Thank you, Mr. Munroe. If you will allow me…" She rose, taking care that her skirts fell just right, and moved with conscious grace to his desk. "I will be as brief as possible. A few days ago, while we were visiting Athena at the circus—you may recall?"

  "Yes, Miss Hockensmith. It was kind of you to share Athena's enjoyment."

  "It was my pleasure, of course. But while we were there, we received these posters from the proprietor—Mr. French, I believe? I confess that I had not thought to look at mine until some time had passed. I am not at all familiar with circuses and the people who inhabit them, so I had not thought it of importance."

  Niall glanced at the rolled paper she had placed on the desk. "Ah, yes. I remember."

  "You can imagine my distress when I saw the nature of the performance these circus people intended to give our orphans." She unrolled the poster and used a pair of weights on Niall's desk to hold down the ends, turning it toward him.

  He barely glanced at it. "Miss Hockens
mith, I understand the nature of the performance. I see nothing harmful in a circus."

  Cecily held on to her temper. Men in general could be obtuse, but Niall Munroe was worst than most. He needed a little more encouragement. "Please read it, Mr. Munroe." She placed a gloved fingertip near the top of the sheet. "Only look at what they consider their greatest attraction!"

  He looked. He frowned, and his brows drew down in a way that more than appeased Cecily's disquiet.

  "The Wolf-Man," he murmured. Cecily watched his face as he examined the garish picture of a creature half-man and half-beast, fanged and slavering, its long nails raking at the bars of a flimsy-looking cage. " 'The only true beast-man in existence, certified by the experts in the greatest Halls of Science, acclaimed throughout the nation. Stand within inches of its ferocious claws. Hear its terrifying growls. See it with your own eyes…'" He looked up at Cecily. "I saw nothing of this when I was on the lot.

  "I have always heard it said that these people excel at deception. This 'Wolf-Man' is not the only hideous attraction of which they boast. There is the snake woman and her poisonous serpents, and any number of freakish creatures unfit to be seen by young children who have no parents to guide them."

  Niall continued to stare at her, the thoughts running swift behind his eyes. Cecily pressed her advantage.

  "That is not my sole concern," she went on. "I realize that Athena hired these people without being fully aware of their natures. She has made the best of things and her desire to entertain the children is laudable, but Athena is much too warmhearted to judge with the cool reason we must sometimes employ to protect what we hold dear. I must say that I do not feel that circus people are appropriate company for either Athena or the children."

  Niall locked his hand behind his back and half turned, gazing at the velvet curtains drawn over the window. "They were to give only one performance."

  "But what damage might be done while they are here? Athena is this very day observing a rehearsal." She leaned over the desk. "You must see, Mr. Munroe, that I speak only out of deepest regard for your sister. I have been in Denver a short while, but in that time I have observed that Athena's heart has complete control over her head. I fear for her."