by Naomi Clark
I had to give her that one. Not all Packs were that controlling or strict, but I knew from my own experiences that if you didn’t fit their particular mould, you had it tough. Hell, I’d run away for just that reason. And Tina Brady, an outcast wolf we’d helped during the Silver Kiss case, could vouch for it too. She was kicked out of the Pack after she cheated on her husband and had aborted an illicitly conceived cub. Technically her daughter, Molly, had still been part of the Pack, but none of them had lifted a claw to help when Molly went missing and wound up part of Sly’s werewolf fight ring.
“So what do you want to do?” Shannon asked, taking the bar stool next to Sun. Her tone was gentle, promising support. That was the Shannon I loved best, compassionate, giving. I was relieved to see that side of her back.
“Well.” Sun swallowed hard, staring at the floor. “I want to contact Mike’s family. They need to know what...what happened. And after that, I guess... I guess I’d like to go to England with you guys. I’m not asking you to take me in or anything,” she added hurriedly, as if to stave off any rejection. “You know, I can take care of myself and everything once I’m over there, but...”
“We’ll help,” I said and Shannon nodded, patting Sun’s knee. “Whatever we can do, we’ll do it.”
Thérèse beamed “Très bon. And as long as you are here, the Loup Garou will help, okay? You are welcome anytime.”
“I’d like that,” Sun said.
“Great,” Shannon said. “So how about we take you home and start looking into moving you to England.” She looked at me. “Maybe we can get in touch with Joel and Vince and ask them to get things moving?”
I nodded. Joel’s family was pretty tight with the Pack alphas; they’d be able to grease the wheels a bit. Not that I thought any Pack member would refuse to help a pregnant wolf in need. Sun hugged Thérèse and we set off back to Montmartre. I kissed Shannon on the cheek as we stepped back outside into the pale sunshine. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“Don’t be silly.” She flushed. “She’s got nobody else, has she?”
We both gazed ahead at her. Sun was a few feet in front of us, head down, pace heavy as if the effort of lifting her feet to walk was too much. “I promise this won’t turn into Pack politics,” I told Shannon.
She smiled wryly at me. “If it does, I’m pushing you off the top of the Eiffel Tower.”
***
Back in Montmartre, it was obvious Sun was in no state to do anything practical yet. It turned out she hadn’t eaten since that morning, and while Shannon expressed loud disbelief at Thérèse and Clémence’s neglect, I ran out to the nearest boulangerie and came back with enough fresh bread, cheese, fruit and cold meat to feed several pregnant werewolves.
It was late afternoon and Shannon and I had planned to walk down the Champs d’Elysee to see the Arc de Triomphe. Now that Shannon had decided to help Sun, however, there was no stopping her. While I fed Sun, Shannon set herself down on the sofa, fired up her laptop and was sending emails within minutes, fingers tapping furiously on the keyboard.
“Will you send something to Vince?” she called to me. Sun and I were sitting at the kitchen table, devouring massive doorstop sandwiches stuffed with brie and grapes. I left mine reluctantly to join Shannon at the laptop. I’d promised Vince I’d stay in touch while we were away; I hadn’t thought it would be for anything like this.
Hey, we’ve run into a bit of a weird problem... We have a pregnant wolf with us. She’s got no family and wants to come to the UK. Do you think you and Joel could give the alphas a poke and explain to them? She needs somewhere to stay, some grief counseling, support, all that stuff. I don’t know what else, but all she’s got are the clothes on her back.
I paused, considering and after a second added:
btw, do you remember Hesketh? Do you remember what he smelled like? Hope you and J are okay. Paris is lovely. xxx Ayla
I hit ‘send’ and passed the laptop back to Shannon. “Should get things moving.”
Sun finished her sandwich, yawned massively and smiled sweetly at us. “You guys are amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’d probably just crack up.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “You’re going to be fine.”
Her lips trembled, but she fought the tears with a visible effort. “I guess I’ll go take a bath and get some sleep.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Thanks for the sandwich.”
“Give us a shout if you need anything,” Shannon said as Sun left. Sun nodded, waved and slammed the apartment door close behind her, leaving me and Shannon in a reflective silence.
“Do you think she should be on her own?” I asked.
Shannon shrugged and went to snag a sandwich of her own. Sitting at the table, she smiled a little sadly at me. “I think I’d want to be alone, if...if anything happened to you. I can’t imagine wanting anyone around me.”
“Don’t get morbid,” I scolded her softly. “I’m indestructible.”
She laughed then. “Adamantium claws, is it?”
“And kryptonite bones.”
“Kryponite was Superman’s weakness,” she pointed out. “Kryptonite bones would probably just give you cancer.”
I pulled a face at her. “I had no idea you were such a comic book geek.”
“My dad loves Superman. I always preferred Wonder Woman, personally.”
I laughed and crossed to the window, needing fresh air. I itched to change shape; the sight of the wolves in Loup Garou nagged at me, reminding me that my own wolf had been locked inside too long. My claws might make an involuntary appearance if I wasn’t careful. I should have asked Thérèse about places to run. “How about a walk?”
“Champs d’Elysee?” Shannon brightened. “We can find somewhere for dessert and it’ll be dark by the time we finish and then we can go up the Arc and see the City of Lights at its best.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.
***
Two hours later, it sounded like less of a plan. There were nearly three hundred steps to the top of the Arc de Triomphe and even for a healthy young wolf that was hard work. Especially when the staircase was narrow and spiraling, the steps shallow and the passageway crammed with other tourists who also wanted to see the City of Lights in all its night-time glory. I resisted the urge to whimper and cling to Shannon as we climbed higher and was pathetically grateful for the halfway point where we could stop and catch our breath.
“Are you okay?” Shannon asked me when I collapsed onto one of the benches along the wall, guzzling from my water bottle.
“Just...okay.” I didn’t want to admit I was slightly freaked out by the height. Notre Dame was tall enough, but the Arc dwarfed it. At this rate I’d never cope with the Eiffel Tower. Shannon sat next to me, rubbing the small of my back without comment.
This mezzanine-style rest point had a few models of the Arc, big free-standing posters detailing the history and construction of it and a gift shop. I managed to overcome my weak knees enough to poke around in the gift shop while Shannon read the posters. Would it be really tacky to buy ‘I Heart Paris’ socks? Probably not quite as tacky as the ‘I Heart Paris’ t-shirts, I decided, paying for a pair.
“Ready to carry on?” Shannon asked while I tucked my socks into my bag. “Only another forty-odd steps to go.”
“We should have taken the lift,” I grumbled, following her to staircase to the top of the Arc.
“But that only comes as far as this floor,” she pointed out. “We’d still have to climb these stairs.”
I could learn to hate my mate, I reflected, sucking in a deep, calming lungful of air. The view would be worth it, I told myself. It was safer than being in an airplane, anyway. Right?
Shannon took my hand as we emerged from the staircase out into the mild night air. The sky overhead was cloud-free and inky blue, stars sparking while a thin slice of silvery moon cruised through. I released the breath I’d been holding, taken aback by the unexpected beauty of it. The moon ca
lled to me, stirring my wolf, and I had to close my eyes for a second and remind myself to be human. Tough to do, when all I wanted was to rip off my human skin and sing up to that moon with my wolf voice.
Shannon moved away from me; I heard her boot heels tapping on the stone and opened my eyes. No point getting all the way up here and not actually looking, even if my stomach did churn a little at the thought, my créme brûlée suddenly feeling like not such a good idea.
There weren’t many people up here, I noticed. A couple stood off near the edge, the man taking pictures whilst the girl leaned over the safety railing. I quickly averted my eyes, looking for Shannon. She was on the other side of the Arc, her camera flashing. I joined her, clinging to the safety rail and staring out across the city. For a second I forgot the height and the moon, dazzled by the glimmering, glowing spread of Paris beneath me.
Champs d’Elysee was like a river of light, tall buildings sparkling, car lights flashing by. I could see Notre Dame from here, looking like a model and glowing a pale yellow in the darkness. Off in the distance, the Eiffel Tower cast a blazing reflection across the Seine, a fairytale building, magically huge even from here. I held my breath, listening to traffic rush around the Arc, hearing the faint howl of wolves somewhere down amongst all the light and clamor.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“Imagine the view from the top of the tower,” Shannon said, spinning to take a picture of me gaping stupidly down at Paris. “We’ve got to go up tomorrow night, Ayla. It’ll be amazing.”
I believed her and cast another glance at the tower. Well, we probably wouldn’t be able to go all the up to the top at night, would we? Too dangerous. I could deal with being half way up. Probably.
We spent a few more minutes at the top of the Arc de Triomphe. I was entranced by the flow of traffic down Champs d’Elysee and Shannon slid her arm round my waist, kissing my cheek. “This is what I wanted when we came here,” she murmured in my ear.
I turned to kiss her properly, tasting sugar and chocolate on her lips from her dessert. I wanted to lick the flavor from her, until all I could taste was Shannon, pure and naked. My wolf rumbled inside me and I felt my vision shift from color to sepia, wolf’s sight. I pulled back from Shannon reluctantly, blinking to shake away the change.
“You okay?” Shannon asked.
“Fine.” I pressed my hand over my eyes, focusing on pushing the wolf back. “I really need to find somewhere to shift.”
“You can shift in the flat, can’t you?”
I could, but it wasn’t the same as having somewhere wild and open to run and hunt in. Still, it would do for now. “You done taking pictures?”
Shannon nodded, tucking her camera away. We stared at the city together while my vision switched back. As much as I enjoy my heightened senses, I preferred human, color sight to the wolf’s limited view. Once my human vision returned, we headed back down the stairs. It was much easier to tackle them going down, rather than up, but I still heaved a quiet sigh of relief when we were back on the ground, under the massive bulk of the arch.
It was too dark to see the engravings under the arch, listing historic French battles and victories, but Shannon spent a few minutes snapping pictures anyway. Once she was satisfied, we linked arms and headed for the Champs d’Elysee. It was a roundabout way back to Montmartre, but it was still early and neither of us were ready to call it a night just yet.
When we did reach Montmartre, we were seduced into wandering in and out of the numerous sex shops lining the streets. One in particular—a three story, neon-red bedecked palace called Sexodrome—was just too much to resist. I dragged Shannon in, giggling like a schoolgirl at the array of toys and clothes on display. Rows of stripper heels in garish colors faced racks of porn DVDs, with shelves of vibrators and lubricants lining the walls. Couples and groups wandered the store, all looking far too serious to me. Surely I wasn’t the only person who found all this neon, fur and plastic wildly funny?
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in this,” Shannon teased me, plucking at the hem of a French maid costume. “It’d bring a new meaning to breakfast in bed, anyway.”
I eyed the skimpy dress warily. “I’d rather see you in that.” I pointed out a cheerleader outfit. “You could do your hair in bunches, put on some knee-high socks...”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m a bit old for the schoolgirl look, don’t you think?”
“Something more grown up then?” I nodded to the racks of bondage gear on the opposite wall. Nipple clamps, whips, and handcuffs hung up next to corsets and thigh-high plastic boots. Shannon blanched.
“That’s maybe too grown-up,” she decided, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the display. I followed without protest; bondage never was my thing. I’d dated a girl briefly when I was a teenager who’d wanted to tie me up, but it had been a colossal failure. The wolf hated anything that reminded her of cages and traps; being handcuffed to a bed was a nasty trigger. Nobody got hurt, but our relationship hit the rocks very quickly.
Truthfully, domination wasn’t as big a part of werewolf culture as books and film had you think, at least as far as sex went. Of course we had our Pack alphas and a bigger, stronger wolf would always hold a psychological advantage over a smaller one when it came to fights. I might nip a cub’s ears if I thought he needed it and an alpha might use his clout to push other wolves around—and did in fact, I thought, remembering Eddie with a grimace. That kind of dominant social behavior didn’t cross over into sex as often as humans thought. Shannon had been pretty surprised, the first time we slept together, at how careful I was with her. When I’d dated wolves, I’d been less careful, but I could still honestly say I’d never been interested in hurting anyone for pleasure. It seemed sort of counter-intuitive to me.
Still, there were enough werewolf/human bondage porn films available in the Sexodrome that I had to admit I might be a bit sheltered in that respect.
Every shop was a variation on the Sexodrome we quickly discovered, either smaller and tackier, or smaller and classier. We found ourselves at one point back in the shop we’d seen on our first day, with the shoes I’d thought Glory would like. There we did cave in and buy a book of erotic fantasies. Shannon got that same serious look on her face as she paid that I’d seen on the other shoppers.
“I’m going to read one of these to you later,” she announced, sliding the book in her bag. “Maybe on the Metro or something.”
I flushed at the thought. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She smiled wickedly and squeezed my rear. “Try me.”
I wanted to. It was nearly midnight and I was suddenly very eager to get to bed. Back out on the street, the red windmill of the Moulin Rouge blazed in the darkness, people pouring out of the doors chattering and squealing. We really had to go and see a show before the end of the week. The images of corset-clad, can-can-ing showgirls painted over the entrance to the building was too enticing to resist.
I was so relaxed and happy that I hadn’t spared a thought for Sun or Le Monstre all night and it wasn’t until we passed one of those newspaper stands that I remembered. The stand was closed up, but the day’s headlines were still slapped across the wooden boards of the shutters. Une autre victime du Le Monstre de Paris. I pulled Shannon to a halt to look at it properly. It was today’s paper and my heart thudded at the sight of it, certain it must be about Mike.
“It’s not,” Shannon said after a few minutes of scanning the front page. “I don’t think so, anyway, it doesn’t mention anyone named Michael or Mike.”
“So this is a completely different killing?” I shuddered, suddenly cold and feeling very exposed on the busy street. I glanced around. Nobody else seemed scared, despite the dire warnings the newspaper man had issued to me the day before.
“I think so. Come on, let’s get home.”
We hurried back to the flat, both a little more somber than we had been. There was no sound from Sun’s flat, although light leaked out from under the fr
ont door. I considered knocking, just to check that she was okay, but decided against it. Maybe a little peace and quiet would do her more good than being fussed over. I knew I’d hate it if I was being constantly asked if I was okay, even if it was well-intentioned.
In our own flat, Shannon disappeared into the bedroom while I poured myself a glass of water and chugged it down. I wondered if Vince had replied to my email yet. After seeing the headline I couldn’t shake the image of Hesketh in his wolfman form, towering over me like a nightmare made flesh. I could so easily see a creature like that stalking the streets, preying on helpless victims.
I pictured Mike, the savage wound in his throat. It had been a messy bite, the kind of killing blow a wolf could easily deal. And of course a wolf was the obvious suspect, as much as I hated to admit it. What Paris was dealing with was probably not some vague, shadowy monster, but a wolf gone rogue. Maybe, at a push, a creature like Hesketh had become, a human using wolf skin to turn themselves into a killer.
