“I think they went north,” Micah said.
Mia looked north and something caught her eye. It was a thin wisp of smoke climbing above the canopy of pine trees.
“Guys, look!” Mia said, pointing towards the trees.
“Well, well, you smell that?” Brutus asked, sniffing the air.
“Costus root,” Micah said, nodding.
“What’s that mean?” Mia asked, looking from Brutus to Micah.
“It’s a witch herb. An aphrodisiac. Oh my God, Micah might be right. She’s luring her husband,” Brutus said, collapsing on all fours and transforming back to a wolf.
Brutus tore off through the woods.
“I don’t get it,” Mia said, stepping back so Micah could transform.
“Get on,” Micah said.
Mia obeyed. “What’s happening?” Mia demanded.
“The ceremony is beginning. Cora’s luring her husband so that he can see her transform. We have to hurry.”
Mia hopped on Micah and held on tight.
“What’s the plan?” Mia asked, ducking her head down.
“Kill her.”
*****
Micah, Brutus and Mia paused outside a clearing, watching a group of wolves circle a fire. Mia could not believe what she was seeing. A black woman with long grey dreadlocks was chanting near the fire. The wolves started pacing nervously around the fire, constantly looking over their broad hairy shoulders. Mia gasped seeing the lifeless bodies of Tatianna, Linda and Carissa near the fire. Their skins were gray and their cheeks were sallow.
“They’ve been exsanguinated. I’m so sorry Mia,” Micah whispered, pulling her close.
Mia laid her head against Micah’s chest, watching the witch pour a vial of some dark liquid into the fire. From a tent near the fire, a hooded figure came out. Mia pulled away from Micah and leaned forward, straining her eyes to see the figure. Mia’s stomach leapt. She needed the truth. The black woman, who Mia assumed was the witch, pulled back the figure’s hood back, revealing short, curly blonde hair.
“Oh my God,” Mia said, covering her mouth.
It was Cora. A white wolf walked in front of her and rose on his hind legs. Cora smiled at it and the wolf transformed into a tall, broad shouldered Latino man. He cupped Cora’s face in his hands and kissed her.
Mia felt sick. It was Cora’s fiancé, Miguel. He pulled off Cora’s coat and even from this distance Mia could see bite marks all over Cora’s arms. Now that Mia was looking at Cora, it was all coming back to her. Cora always wore long sleeves. Even on the hottest days, Cora wore long sleeves. None of the bridesmaids saw Cora try on her dress. In fact, Cora insisted on no one seeing her in the dress until the wedding.
“Mia? You look like you’re seeing red. Keep a clear head,” Brutus said.
“How can I? Look at her! Kissing him like she’s not standing around her dead friends,” Mia said, feeling her body shake.
“Shhh,” Micah said.
It was too late. Several of the wolves had broken ranks and were walking towards them.
“Shit,” Micah said, standing in front of Mia.
“I’ll take care of them. You two run,” Brutus said, collapsing on all fours.
Before Mia could protest, Micah grabbed her hand and pulled her away. They climbed a tree several feet away and hid in the branches. Mia looked back, watching Brutus rip two smaller wolves to shreds.
Brutus was at least twice their size and was quick with their deaths. He may have been a jokester to Mia and Micah, but there was no question watching him now that he was an alpha hunter. In moments, Brutus had taken out four wolves before they could even yelp for help. Mia watched Brutus look around and then stalk silently toward Mia and Micah. In one leap, Brutus was perched in the tree beside Micah in his human form.
“Yuck! Those dogs tasted like shit,” Brutus said, wiping his tongue on the back of his hands.
“Good work, man. What’s the plan?” Micah asked, patting Brutus on his back.
“Those are pups down there. I say we go in gun’s blazing—metaphorically speaking of course. I think the white wolf and Cora are trying to start a pack,” Brutus said, spitting out blood.
“Fucking bitch,” Mia said under her breath.
“The ceremony will start soon. Mia, stay here,” Micah said.
“No!” Mia said, affronted.
“That’s not a request,” Micah said, baring his teeth at her.
“I’m not scared of you,” Mia said, stiffening her shoulders.
“Guys, can we do marriage counseling when we’re not in a tree?” Brutus said.
Micah bit his lip and balled up his fist like he was trying to reign in his anger. Then his face softened and he looked up at Mia with soft, loving eyes. He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down and kissed her. Mia froze at his sudden change of heart, but kissed him back. He pulled back and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” Micah said.
“What?” Mia asked.
He bit her. He bit her hard on her forearm. The pain was sharp and burned like acid running through her veins. She tried to scream, but Micah was covering her mouth. She was shaking with pain. Brutus’s eyes widened with terror and Mia could tell he wanted to yell at Micah, but any noise could give away their position.
“What the fuck, Micah?” Brutus whispered, looking behind them.
“Shhh. She’ll pass out soon then we can go,” Micah said, holding Mia tightly.
“What if she turns?” Brutus said, feeling Mia’s forehead.
Mia felt her limbs going limp. She could feel every drop of Micah’s venom moving through her body. Brutus and Micah were swimming in front of her as double vision set in. Her body felt heavy. She was nauseous and sleepy all at the same time.
“She’s gone,” Micah said.
Mia tried to hold her heavy eyelids open, but Micah was right, she was gone. Everything went black.
*****
Mia awoke to the sound of loud barking, howling, and yelling. She groaned and swayed realizing she was still on the branch. The ground below her swirled like quicksand and she still felt nauseous.
“Micah?” Mia moaned.
She sat up straight remembering the bite. Her vision was blurry and her voice sounded distorted in her head. Her voice sounded like a low growl. She held her head, but something was wrong. The branch was creaking under her. Mia tried to balance herself but the branch gave way and she collapsed on the ground with a loud thud.
“Ow!” Mia yelled.
Mia rose to her feet and looked ahead, realizing that her vision was clearing. It was not just clearing, it was laser sharp. She could see the smallest ant on a leaf yards away. She could smell the raw, metallic tinge of blood. Mia took a deep breath and looked down at her body. It was covered in reddish brown fur.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Oh no. What the hell?” Mia mumbled, inching backward.
She was a werewolf. Micah had bit her and turned her. She heard a loud yelp that sounded like Brutus. She had no chance to think or to feel sorry for herself. All she could do is act. She collapsed on all fours and raced towards the action.
Bodies of wolves were strewn all around the open field either severely wounded or dead. The witch was bleeding from her throat and her dark skin looked grey as the life in her body spilled around the fire. Brutus was clawing away at a group of wolves that were ganging up on Micah.
“Micah, look out!” Mia yelled, clawing at the back of a wolf that tried to encroach on Micah from behind.
Mia was almost as big as Micah and she felt power surging through her body. It was a raw, animal power and she was attacking the other wolves with an accuracy and ferocity she had never felt in her life. It was like she was always meant to a wolf. She was meant to be this strong and in control. Her nerves were filled with electricity and she could tell by the way Micah and Brutus glanced at her, they were either in shock or terrified.
“Mia, get out of here!” Micah yelled, running towards her.
“Watch out,
” Brutus yelled, jumping on a wolf that was racing towards Micah.
“You watch your back. I’m going after Cora,” Mia said, running away from the fight.
Micah yelled after her, but she ignored him. She could not smell Cora amongst the bodies. Plus, she did not see her white-haired fiancé anymore. Mia was not going to let Cora get away with this. Her massive paws pounded the earth, racing into the woods, back towards the ravine. Cora’s scent was getting stronger. Another smell was burning in her nose: blood. Someone was hurt. Whoever was hurt was slowing Cora down. Mia skidded to a stop. She was surrounded by dense conifer trees. She stalked forward, keeping her head low. Blood and claw marks were on the trees. Mia sniffed something and whipped around.
“Looking for me?” Cora asked, holding a black gun.
Mia growled at her. She was covered in blood.
“He’s dead, you know?” Cora asked, wiping tears from her face.
“You’re a fucking monster, Cora,” Mia said, barking at her.
“No! I loved him. All I wanted was for us to be together. Don’t you get it? It’s all I wanted, and you and your stupid boyfriends killed him.”
Mia rose on her hind legs and felt her body fall back into her human form.
“We were friends, Cora. Best friends. How could you do this to me, to them? You kissed your fiancé over the bodies of your closest friends. You’re insane.”
“No, I’m in love! It had to be this way. Nothing else worked! I couldn’t run the pack as a white girl from Florida. No one would respect me. The witch told me it had to be this way. I can’t believe it was this easy for you. Everything was always so easy for you.”
“Easy? I’m from a fucking blue collar family. I couldn’t even afford college.”
“Fuck college. It’s a joke. People only liked me because I was friends with you. I had no one but you. Carissa, Linda and Tatianna were my sorority sisters and work friends, they barely tolerated me. The ceremony didn’t even work. If you were there it would have worked. This is all your fault.”
Mia backed up, watching the gun shake in Cora’s tanned hands. The cliff was right behind her. She could not back up any further.
“Cora, calm down. You’re not thinking clearly,” Mia said, hearing rocks tumble down behind her.
“Good bye, Mia,” Cora said.
Mia braced herself, but all she heard was heavy feet pounding behind Cora in the woods. Cora turned, but Mia saw him first. Micah’s grayish black body came barreling towards Cora, and Cora fired at him, missing. Micah was too fast. He bit Cora, dragging her away. Cora pulled free, backing up towards the edge of the cliff.
“Cora, look out!” Mia yelled.
It was too late. Cora tumbled backwards, falling off the edge of the cliff. Mia reached for Cora, but she was falling too fast. Micah’s human hands grabbed Mia and pulled her close.
“It’s over,” Micah said, kissing Mia’s forehead.
Brutus came barreling ahead in his human form.
“What did I miss?” Brutus asked, panting.
“Nothing. It’s over,” Mia said, leaning up to kiss Micah.
“Good. I burned the bodies by the way. Can’t have humans coming across that mess. We should get out of here by the way. We were pretty loud and I smelled people. Well, I smelled hotdogs. Someone is nearby,” Brutus said, nodding at Micah.
Micah nodded back and then held Mia at arm’s length, like he was studying her.
“Are you…okay?” Micah asked.
Mia nodded, wiping tears.
“I feel…alive,” Mia said, shrugging. “It’s like I was meant to be this way.”
A broad, face-splitting grin spread across Micah’s face.
“I thought you would hate me,” Micah said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“I would!” Brutus said, scoffing. “She could have fallen out of the tree, asshole!”
“He’s right,” Mia said, slapping Micah’s chest.
“All’s well that ends well?” Micah said with a sheepish grin.
“Whatever. I guess we’re off to North Carolina then,” Mia said, looking north.
“You still want to stay with me?” Micah asked, looking at her hopefully.
“I don’t think another man will want her as their doggie best friend,” Brutus said, pulling twigs out of his knotted hair.
“Hey! Be nice. Besides I would choose Micah any day,” Mia said, throwing her arms around Micah’s neck.
“Alright you two. Don’t be gross. I’ll race you to the Florida-Georgia line,” Brutus said, breaking off running in his wolf form.
Micah kissed Mia and shoved her back playfully and took off after Brutus.
“Nice try, boys,” Mia said.
She collapsed on all fours and breathed deeply. She was taking in new, fresh air and a new, fresh life. She was now all woman and all wolf. She was alive.
THE END
Bonus Story 33 of 40
The Live-Ins
The sun breaks through the window and I instantly hate myself for not shutting the blinds before falling asleep. I can’t be too hard on myself—after what Dominic did to me last light I’m honestly surprised I’m awake at a reasonable hour. I roll over in his scratchy sheets and he’s still asleep—he probably will be for the next few hours. He closed Harvest Bar last night and now I’ve got to go open.
I run around Dominic’s apartment searching for my white double-breasted jacket and toque with no luck. He’s the one who tore everything off me—he’s the one who will know. I have no choice but to wake him.
“Dommmminnnnic,” I play, whispering into his ear. He swats at his nose like there’s a fly buzzing around him. Too cute.
“Dominic,” I repeat louder. “I need to find my uniform for work and I need to be there in twenty-minutes, including ten minutes in line at Coffee Train.” Exhaling ever so cutely, he ignores me, rolls over, and pulls the blanket over his head.
“Wear mine,” he mumbles from underneath. “In closet. Need sleep.”
He gets like this anytime he closes, but I’ve never had to go into work in his uniform before. I go to the closet, open the door quietly, and look through the clothes hanging up. There is nothing white, let alone anything that resembles our uniform. Looking down, I see his white jacket, black pants and toque jumbled in a wrinkly ball. Great. I pick them up, shake them off, and not only are they a size too big for me but they’re also covered in spicy marinara sauce. Even better.
“Dom, you don’t have another pair?” I ask. “These are all sauced up.”
“Drycleaner,” he warbles.
Ugh! Think, Tara, where the hell did Dominic strip you last night? I check the bathroom—behind the shower curtain, the living room—behind the couch, the kitchen—under the table. Nothing, nada. I can either keep searching and possibly come up with nothing or leave now in tomato sauce-stained clothes and still enjoy a dirty chai latte. I choose to put on Dominic’s baggy, stinky uniform. At least my shoes are still by the door.
Life after Le Cordon Bleu is not as extravagant as I’d envisioned it. I’m 26 and a sous-chef at one of Century City’s finest wine bars. It’s not Beverly Hills but Harvest Bar is huge step up from the burger joint where I worked before school. Although I graduated toward the top of my class the only reason I was hired here is because Dominic has been my closest friend for years and just so happens to be the head chef at Harvest Bar. As it turns out, it doesn’t matter where you went to school—Los Angeles is a tough place to find good work in the culinary arts.
Curse these Century City apartments without elevators! I take the stairs five floors down and step out of the complex. It’s a warm February day—definitely beats the winter they’re having back home. I wouldn’t be caught dead in Cleveland right now.
Dominic’s building is a five-minute walk from the mall, which is most of the reason I consistently crash at his place. I live in Burbank, and with traffic it takes me an hour and twenty minutes to get to Century City on the 405 if I’m lucky. My rent is als
o a quarter the amount of Dominic’s, but there is no way I could afford to live this close to the city.
It’s too damn hot to wear the chef jacket so I fold it, throw it over my shoulder, and walk to the mall in the black tank-top I wear underneath. My hair is extra frizzy today but I can probably braid it quick and shove it into the toque—one of the small perks of being a female chef—I don’t have to think too much about my hair.
I love crossing Santa Monica Boulevard because I get a view of palm trees, buildings, mountains, and good-looking men. L.A. is the biggest melting pot I’ve lived in—Cleveland was primarily African American and Caucasian. Here, however, I get a variety of any kind of man I could want. Walking across the four-lane boulevard in my black slacks and black tank top, I don’t get as many look-backs as I’d prefer. My number one insecurity is that to these big businessmen and agents I look like some kind of hood rat, so I just keep my eyes on the scenery and enjoy the warmth on my skin.
***
Once I step into the prep area I’m instantly pissed by what I find—all of last night’s closing work has been left for me. Damn you, Dominic, I think. I don’t care how busy they were last night; I’m tired of picking up his slack. After all, he does make ten thousand dollars a year more than I do.
By the time Tim, my general manager, comes in, I’m only halfway where I need to be for the restaurant to open on time.
“I’m sorry, Tim, I was left with a mess this morning,” I say, loading the dishwasher because the stewards don’t come in for another hour.
“You know we have the Phillips P.D.B. today, right?” Tim asks. Oh, my God, I realize. Today is the day that we’re booked for Denver D. Phillips, billionaire and owner of PaeroTech—a conglomerate in the software industry. Do I know anything about software? No. But I know that P.D.B. stands for Private Dining Buyout, and that this company has rented the entire restaurant to serve five people.
“That would be today,” I say, sprinting to the walk-in freezer. The whole time I’ve been here I should have been preparing the special courses instead of our standard menu.
In Time to Love Page 108
