by Naomi Clark
My wolf howled in horror at the very idea, but I nodded meekly, biting my lip. She was right. Stretching the skin around and under the burns would burst the blisters and bring on a risk of infection, which would just land me right back in hospital. Once she was sure I understood, the nurse shrugged and let me go. I felt Patric’s eyes on me as I discarded the hospital gown and pulled on my jeans, now denim shorts but still more or less wearable. I hobbled out of the emergency ward towards the exit.
Nobody tried to stop me and I stepped into the cool night with a sigh of relief and a building sense of urgency. Where could Shannon be? Still at Loup Garou, watching the warehouse smolder? Back at the flat, pacing and waiting for me? Wandering Paris looking for me? I didn’t have my phone and I didn’t know where to start looking. The sobs came back, ugly and harsh.
The Hôtel-Dieu de Paris wasn’t far from Notre-Dame. That at least gave me my bearings as I wandered into the night. I headed towards the glowing cathedral, focusing on it to keep the lost-puppy feeling at bay. A sort of dazed melancholy sunk into me, along with a nasty headache from the crying. My lungs felt clogged, although the paramedics had assured me on the ambulance ride that they were clear. I was hot and itchy and I wanted a cold shower and a warm bed.
But I wanted Shannon more. The need gnawed at me as I reached Notre-Dame, the great towers casting shining, rippling reflections in the river. It was only two nights ago Shannon and I had stood here together, gazing up at the cathedral for the first time.
There was a seating area just outside the cathedral; a square of concrete and flowers where kids sat smoking and tourists stood snapping pictures. I found an empty spot and sat with my head in my hands, knowing I should head home. Shannon was a perfectly sensible woman; she’d be there. She’d be waiting for me.
And we’d probably have a massive row about me running into Loup Garou after Thérèse. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, my scraped palms rough against my face wound. The gash from the brick was scabbing over already and I resisted the urge to pick at it. I tipped my head back to stare up at Notre Dame, the night wind carrying a torrent of scents that my wolf-brain filtered and discarded automatically. Cooking meat, river water, damp wood, blooming flowers, cherries, chocolate—
Oh!
I sat up, heart racing; cherries and chocolate. Where? Where was she? Shannon had to be nearby for me to pick up her perfume. I jumped to my feet, ignoring the spike of pain in my legs, and scoured the square for her. There weren’t that many people around; she ought to stand out. Frustrated, I searched strange faces for a familiar one.
“Ayla!” Shannon was running towards me like she’d dropped from the sky, just there suddenly. I ran to meet her, throwing my arms around her. We kissed frantically, words tumbling between kisses, both of us scrambling to speak.
“Where did you—”
“What on earth were you—”
“Are you okay?”
“What happened?”
Finally I pulled away from her, laughing and crying. “I was just about to head home! What are you doing here?”
She fished our Visitor’s Guide to Paris from her handbag. “Hôtel-Dieu de Paris is Paris’s emergency centre. I saw the ambulance and I just... Where else would you be? The fire...” She bit her lip, eyes shining with tears. “Oh God, Ayla, why do you keep doing this to me?”
I opened my mouth uncertain of what would come out—an apology, an argument—but Shannon flung herself into my arms again, kissing me so hard I flinched away. Then she looked at me carefully, taking in every scrape and bruise, even my frazzled hair. “Ayla...”
“I’m fine,” I said, offering her a tight smile. “Really, I am. I just need a bath and I’ll be perfect.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Maybe a haircut too.”
She managed an equally tight smile. “What were you thinking?” There was no anger or accusation in her voice, just a sort of resigned sadness that was almost worse.
“I wasn’t,” I said frankly. I took her hand and we started walking, slowly. “I’m sorry, Shannon, I’m so sorry, but I just wasn’t.”
She sighed, turning slightly to brush a lock of hair from my eyes. “You’re so impulsive,” she muttered. “What am I going to do with you?”
She wasn’t angry at all, I realized with a jolt. She was relieved. Definitely sad, either with me or for me, but mostly relieved. I gripped her hand a little tighter. “You’ll have to get me a collar and chain,’ I joked as a wash of relief ran through me too. “Keep me on a short leash.”
“Now there’s an idea.” She gave me a real smile then, sweet and sultry at the same time. Despite all my aches and pains, I couldn’t help but feel a flush of arousal. It seemed wildly inappropriate under the circumstances, but I liked the heat that smile sparked in me a lot more than the heat I’d experienced so far tonight. It would be okay, just for a few hours, to forget about Sun and Clémence, wouldn’t it? Forget other people’s problems and just enjoy this holiday like we were supposed to be .
I inhaled Shannon’s luscious cherry-chocolate perfume and decided that I would do just that.
***
We took the Metro back to the Opera Quarter and strolled past the sex shops towards our flat. It was still pretty early—before ten, I guessed—but the streets were almost deserted. Maybe my nerves were shredded from the drama of the evening, but the lack of people in the heart of such a touristy area of the city set me on high alert. The bars and restaurants were full, but nobody sat at street tables and nobody stared out of the windows as we passed. It was like all those diners and drinkers were pretending the outside world didn’t exist. Unconsciously, I pulled Shannon closer to me, until we were almost tripping over each other.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I scented the air, searching for the one thing I didn’t want to smell: sweet, sour, rotting, wicked. “Nothing,” I told her when I didn’t find the scent. “I’m just jumpy.” I tried to convince myself of it as we walked past the neon-lit Moulin Rouge. Le Monstre wasn’t lurking in the shadows. This was just a quiet night. Maybe, I told myself, everyone had gone to watch Loup Garou burn.
We rounded the corner and headed up the hill to our flat. The silence and stillness was unsettling. How often did utter silence fall in a city? No cars revving, no cats fighting, no music blaring from open windows. It was unnatural. My wolf cringed inside me, waiting for the hammer to fall.
It didn’t happen. No shock attack came, just a slow, creeping sense of wrong as we made our way up the hill. And a slow, creeping realization that yes, I could smell it. That the air was gradually filling with that cloying scent that made my wolf quake and my stomach turn. It was here. Le Monstre was stalking us.
I swallowed. My throat felt tight. “Shannon...”
“Hmm?” She didn’t smell that evil scent, I realized. Didn’t notice that anything was wrong.
“Nothing.” I decided I didn’t want to scare her. I glanced around, tried to pick out some hint of where it might be, how close, how dangerous. The streets were dark, the lamps out as if by design. There was no moonlight to chase back the shadows. Le Monstre could be anywhere. Ahead. Behind. Shit, it could be fucking anywhere. The smell made it hard to think straight, to stay calm. I couldn’t concentrate.
I picked up our pace, desperate to get to the flat. To get inside where I knew we’d be safe. We were minutes away. Maybe Le Monstre was stalking other prey. The wind could be carrying the scent from blocks away. I could be imagining it was close, still jacked up from the fight and the fire at Loup Garou. I just didn’t know. I didn’t trust my instincts. I couldn’t when my wolf was so edgy and scared, like a cub on her first hunt. I looked this way and that, peering into every shadow, expecting some horror film monstrosity to lurch shrieking from the darkness any second.
“What’s wrong?” Shannon asked me, her heels clopping on the cobbles as she trotted to keep up with me. “Ayla?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” I said through gritted teeth. We were nearly home,
nearly safe. We’d get inside and I’d switch on all the lights and laugh at myself for being such a coward.
“Well slow down then,” Shannon said. “Take pity on the poor human in her high heels, okay?”
I inhaled, sucking up that rotting-fruit smell. It was stronger, I was sure of it. I listened, wishing I was wolf-shaped so I could flick my ears around and gather up every whisper of sound. But there was nothing to hear, except our own feet slapping on the pavement and Shannon’s puffing breath as she tried to keep up with me.
Why couldn’t I hear it? It was nearby, it had to be for the smell to be so strong, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing. Nothing moved in absolute silence, nothing in our dark little corner of the world. It frightened me. There was nothing that made no sound at all. Even the stealthiest of wolves rustled the grasses in the park, or tapped their claws against the pavement.
I was imagining it. The wind was carrying the scent. I was tired, hurt and strung-out. I chanted it to myself over and over as that sickly-sweet smell clogged up my nose and sent raw fear ripping through me. I quickened my pace again, sweat beading on my brow. I wanted to be inside, I wanted light. I wanted locked doors.
“Ayla, Slow down, for God’s sake!” Shannon pulled free of me so sharply I stumbled on the cobbles and slipped. I landed on my rear with a thud and a yelp. Shannon cried out. “Oh shit, I’m sorry...” She leaned down to help me up.
A rush of air and sweet rot hit me. I gagged, rolling onto my side to vomit. Eyes down, dizzy, I didn’t hear it strike. All I heard was Shannon scream.
Ten
For a second I couldn’t react. My body heaved, my head spun with that nauseating scent and it took me precious seconds to get myself under control and back on my feet. “Shannon!” I yelled, searching for her. She couldn’t have gone far...
My blood ran cold when I saw her—them—across the street. It, the thing, Le Monstre had knocked her clear across the street and now it loomed over her, trying to get a grip on her while she thrashed and kicked and screamed.
Le Monstre was like some terrible bird. It moved constantly, almost too fast to see, shifting through the shadows to claw at Shannon with ragged nails. A long coat, black and iridescent like an oil slick, masked it from me, but I thought it was slight, with no weight or muscle to it. Its back was to me so I couldn’t get a glimpse of its face. But I could see Shannon’s. I could see the pure, mindless terror etched there.
That spurred me into action when all I wanted was to cringe and cower away from Le Monstre like a frightened cub. I held my breath to block out the worst of the terror-inducing scent and charged the creature.
It was moving so unpredictably that I barely made contact. I ploughed into it, a glancing blow off a bony shoulder. Le Monstre spun to slash at me and I got a quick, clear glimpse of its face. Ruddy cheeks and a thin face, like skin stretched too far over too much bone. Eyes like black pits that sucked in the light. I recoiled, a primal horror filling me, my wolf wanting nothing more than to turn tail and run.
But I wasn’t going anywhere, not without. Shannon. Le Monstre hissed at me, lunged forwards and struck me hard across the face. I never saw the blow coming. My wound ripped open, blood streaming down my cheek, and Le Monstre licked its ice-blue lips, smiling with feral glee. My stomach flipped and I thought I might puke again.
“Ayla!” Shannon kicked out, her sharp heels striking Le Monstre’s leg. It spun and dove at her, pinning her down and snapping at her. She shrieked and the rich scent of her blood spilled into the air. My wolf curled and twisted inside me and I reached for her, determined to shift regardless of my wounds. I wanted this horrible monster off my mate. I wanted it dead with my teeth in its throat.
The shift didn’t come.
I couldn’t transform. My wolf was... Hiding. Scared. Terrified. I couldn’t do it.
I jumped at Le Monstre, pounding my fists against its back, screeching Shannon’s name. The creature swatted me away like a fly, like I was nothing, The simple movement sent me flying. I hit the pavement, bracing myself with my palms and ripping them open. My legs folded under me, the tender burns scraping against the rough surface, sending fresh agony through me. I ignored the pain, forced myself back to my feet. Le Monstre flew at me.
Before I could react, it had me back on the pavement, bony fingers grasping my wrists with a strength I couldn’t believe. It lowered its head to mine, the sweet-sick scent overpowering me, choking me. It licked my cheek, dragging its tongue across the bleeding gash. I gagged, whimpering as it lapped up my blood. Searing panic ran through me and I screamed at the top of my lungs as Le Monstre raised one of my bloody palms to its lips and licked that too. It was disgusting, its tongue dry and rough. I screamed in its face, bucking my hips and kicking my legs.
The thing hissed in my face, breath fetid and reeking of blood. My blood, Shannon’s blood. Mindless with terror, I snapped at it, my teeth sinking into its beak-like nose. It cried out, a piercing sound like a trapped rat. Wrenching free, it a small chunk of frozen flesh in my jaws. I gagged, spitting the hard, bitter flesh out. Le Monstre jumped away me, racing back to Shannon.
“No!” I clambered to my feet, trying again to call the wolf. Nothing, fucking nothing. The only weapon I had and I couldn’t use it. Tears streaked down my face as I chased Le Monstre across the street, too fucking slow to stop it swooping down on Shannon again.
She moaned as it bit her, the sound triggering a storm of fury and fear in me. I wouldn’t lose her. I couldn’t. This thing wouldn’t take her from me. I leapt, hitting it squarely this time, and knocked it away from Shannon. We rolled a little way down the hill, limbs tangling as we scraped and snapped at each other. The creature barely weighed a thing, but it was so strong and for every half-assed blow I landed, it hit back harder, enough that I saw stars. Fighting blind—too dizzy and disorientated to know if I was striking in the right direction—I struggled to gain the upper hand before Le Monstre landed a debilitating blow.
With speed and agility on its side, it worked its way on top of me and spindly legs clamped around my waist. With a quick movement it raked its sharp claws over my eyes. I howled. For a few seconds I was truly blind. A few seconds was all Le Monstre needed to sink needle-sharp fangs into my neck.
Paralysis crashed over me. For a long horrific moment, I simply lay there on the cold cobbles while Le Monstre slurped greedily at my neck, at my blood. Then Shannon moaned, feeble and pained. Shannon! Fury gave me renewed strength.
I grabbed the creature by its greasy hair and ripped its fangs from my neck. I screamed as my flesh tore and hot pain flared through my neck and shoulders. The creature struggled against my grip, but I held on. I let its strength pull me up from the ground, flipped over and with a shriek unleashed all my wolf strength and smashed its head against the pavement. It cried out, a harsh, cawing noise, and went limp. Savage, I smashed its face down again for good measure, then staggered to my feet and stumbled towards Shannon, my breath coming in ragged gasps, blood running down my neck to soak into my t-shirt.
Shannon didn’t move as I approached. Oh God, is she dead? Dead like Mike. No, please don’t let her be dead, let her be alive, please Shannon, please... I collapsed at her side and pressed my shaking fingers to her bloodied throat. I felt light-headed and sick. Please, please, please...
There was a pulse. Oh God, she’s alive. I wept, pulling her into my arms and dragging her hair back to get a better look at her wounded throat. Her hair was slippery with blood—mine and hers—and with my quaking hands it took me two attempts to scrape the heavy, wet tresses away. The bite was rough and raw. It had torn through the skin. I fingered my neck, realizing we sported a matching pair. Gritting my teeth, I dragged us both to our feet. I had to get her inside and into the light. The light was safe. Safe, safe. My wolf agreed, clinging to the image of light. Sunlight, lamplight, firelight, it didn’t matter because the darkness was dangerous.
Shannon hung heavy in my arms, her breathing shallow, skin chalky. I glanced
back at Le Monstre, expecting to see it still face-down on the street, unmoving. It was gone. Gone, only the sickly-sweet smell lingering. I swallowed my fear and made myself move. We were minutes from the flat; I could see the building ahead. “Please,” I whispered, “Please let me have hurt it enough to drive it away.” Please don’t let it be lurking ahead to finish us off. I didn’t have the strength, didn’t have the courage to face it again.
***
Something heard my prayers. We made it to the apartment building. Dragging Shannon up the stairs was the worst experience of my life, worse than anything Sly had put me through, worse than anything I could imagine. She was breathing, but blood dripped from her throat and I was convinced she’d bleed to death in my arms before we reached the flat. I was still bleeding heavily too and stars flashed before my eyes as I fumbled for the keys. I was pretty sure I was going to faint and I wanted to be safely behind a looked door before I did.
Wavering under Shannon’s weight, I inched us in and slammed the door shut. Then, spent and exhausted, I slid down to the floor, ending up with Shannon in my lap. For a few minutes I stayed there, fading in and out of consciousness. The world went black and white, hot and cold and all I could think of was blood. My blood, Shannon’s blood; rich and salty and seeping into the air. I jolted out of my stupor. We were still bleeding.
