by Evie Ryan
“I’m sorry,” she said after staring at him in a speechless state for too long. “It’s hard to wrap my mind around this. I didn’t think any of it could be real. You know you see things on TV and it's just fantasy. If it wasn’t I would’ve heard about it, you know? It’d be in the news or something. Vampires don’t exist.” Her rambling bubbled up into uncomfortable laughter. Oh good, she thought, that meant anger was next.
“They do exist,” said Brandon as kindly as he could. “And so do werewolves.”
“This is insane,” she said, finding herself pacing ahead and running her fingers through her hair again.
Brandon shadowed behind her even though he could tell she wasn’t actually going anywhere. She turned on her heel and they nearly collided, but he stepped back just in time.
“What day is it?” She asked, randomly.
“Thursday.”
“I got here on Thursday.”
“That was a week ago,” he mentioned.
“How would you know when I got here?” She asked suddenly scrutinizing his potential involvement.
“I saw you set up camp,” he admitted.
“I remember you,” she said, drifting into thought. Then her car, her job, her parents came to mind in rapid succession. They’d be worried sick by now.
“Gwen, are you alright?”
His voice seemed to be floating at the other end of the long tunnel Gwen had slipped down. Everything seemed to have gone dark, paralyzing her. She felt light headed and her legs had turned to rubber.
“Gwen?”
Without warning an incredible electric energy surged through her, snapping her back into herself, and in an instant she was tearing through the forest, dodging trees, veering this way and that. If her feet touched the ground, she couldn’t feel it, as she whipped through the wilderness with such speed that the terrain seemed to blur all around her.
* * *
Brandon called after her again, but she had completely vanished. Her speed had been otherworldly, but he tore off after her none-the-less. He’d memorized her scent and it hadn’t changed now that she was a vampire. He sprinted, zigzagging and following her smell. Losing her was the last thing he needed. He knew he shouldn’t have taken her out, shouldn’t have explained anything to her, but he hadn’t been able to resist. The way she had given him her undivided attention, they way she had looked at him had sent his mind reeling with desires. He wanted to befriend her, he wanted to do what he could to get close, and he’d been able to draw her in by giving her the explanation she’d so desperately wanted. But this was the very definition of backfiring. And if he didn’t find her and bring her back, he was going to be in deep shit.
Why had she taken off? Where would she be going? And how good was her sense of direction? His mind anxiously raced as he ran then shifted into his wolf form to gain speed and better track her.
Brandon had tracked her all the way to Mount Rainier when human voices emanated from across Hollis Lake, stopping him in his tracks. Flashlight beams swept across the water’s surface, as people called out into the darkness, “Gwe-hen Kell-her! Gwe-hen Kell-her!” over and over like a chant.
The winds changed, giving Brandon the message that Gwen was far west so he started off in that direction leaving the search party behind him.
Seeing with acute vision thanks to his wolf eyes, Brandon spotted Gwen across a clearing. The moonlight overhead was just bright enough to illuminate her blond hair, the one light hue in a sea of darkness. She was perched on Birth tree limb, clinging dearly to its trunk and appearing somewhat shocked to be so high up.
Before Brandon crossed the clearing, he shifted back into his human form so she wouldn't be alarmed then made his way to her.
“I don’t know why I took off like that,” she said with a quivering voice. “I don’t know how I got up here.”
“Can you get yourself down? Or do you need help?” He asked.
“I need help,” she admitted, as her voice cracked with hopelessness. “I’m afraid of heights.”
“You know vampires can fly.”
“Just help me down, Brandon!”
“Ok,” he surrendered, trying to suppress the smirk that was threatening to emerge. He knew if she caught him taking any degree of pleasure in this it would anger her and therefore risk her taking off again. So he kept his head down and leapt up from branch to branch until he was just below her.
“Slide down into my arms,” he suggested.
“Where should I put my feet?”
“Aim for the branch I’m standing on,” he said, though he knew he wasn’t going to let her feet touch. Once he had her in his arms, he’d simply leap to the ground in one fell swoop.
She hesitated, looking into his steel blue eyes for reassurance.
“You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“I haven’t been myself,” she said, giving no indication she was ready to come off the limb. “I’m doing things and I don’t know why.”
“You need to be trained. You’ll get used to everything. I know it’s scary, but once you acclimate, you’ll feel more yourself than ever. Really.” He reached his hand up, offering her to take hold.
“What happened to you?” She asked.
“You mean how did I become a werewolf?”
Gwen let the strange word roll off her tongue, werewolf.
“Come down and I’ll tell you about it,” he said, allowing a slight smile to form across his mouth only to the degree he was sure she couldn’t misconstrue.
She lowered her legs from the branch, dangling her feet downward, and began sliding against Brandon’s body and into his arms until they were nose to nose. Gwen’s arms found their way to his shoulders then she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, holding on tight.
His right arm held her snuggly against him at the small of her back, while the other remained braced against the tree trunk. Gwen could feel Brandon’s heart beat, the rise and fall of each breath he took, and soon she was breathing with him. She noticed his scent, a mix of fresh pinewood and salty skin, then she detected a more intriguing smell. Something tinny coming from beneath his skin. She realized her lips were nearly grazing his neck and the intriguing aroma underneath was growing stronger.
“Don’t be scared,” he said softly into her ear. “We’re going to jump to the ground, but I’ve got you. You aren’t going to fall.”
With that, he let go of the trunk, which caused Gwen to hold him even tighter and wrap her legs around him regardless of her dress’ skirt riding up, and they sprang off the limb.
A moment later, Gwen felt a thud when Brandon’s feet struck the ground. She opened her eyes, not realizing she’d shut them, and let her feet drift down to the ground. It had been so easy for him to jump thirty feet down, like second nature.
His hands remained on her, just as her lips hovered only a breath away from his neck. Slowly he loosened his grip, giving Gwen the option to step back, but something held her there. She didn’t want to be free of his embrace. It had been the safest minute of her life.
But she didn’t want this to get awkward or let him think he had a real chance with her. The last thing she needed was to get mixed up romantically, while she was being put to the mind-boggling task of becoming a vampire. So Gwen retracted her arms from his neck and backed away by a few steps.
“Let’s get you back,” he said softly. “It’s getting late.”
“You were at my campsite,” she said. “I watched you rescue an animal. What was it?”
“A mountain lion,” he said.
“What happened to it?”
“I brought it back here where we gave it antibiotics for an infection it had developed. It’s healing in one of our chambers. We’ll hopefully release it in a few weeks.”
“And you were following me?” She asked abruptly.
Brandon’s instinct was not to answer. He didn’t want her to run off again if she disliked his answer, but he thought lying to her would be worse. “I kept tabs on you
,” he admitted. “You were on the outskirts of one of my territories,” he shrugged.
“You found me?” She asked.
Brandon fell silent, as a wealth of regret rose in his chest. “I should’ve kept a better watch on you. I should’ve told you not to hike Tucker’s. I could’ve prevented your death. I’m sorry about that.”
He did prevent my death, thought Gwen, though something was holding her back from saying it. She glanced down, refusing him eye contact and noticed the hem of her dress was bunched up. When she rolled it back down, covering her left upper thigh that had become exposed, it occurred to her that she didn’t feel awkward in the garment despite Brandon looking at her. She was comfortable around him, but couldn’t reason why.
Without needing to say a word they made their way back through the forest. It wasn’t until Brandon had walked her to the entrance of Little Bear, the dormitory Gwen had been assigned to, that Gwen felt compelled to address his apology, sensing that if she didn’t it would weigh on her all night. But she could only muster a word, “Thanks.”
As she pulled the door open, Brandon said, “I’m around if you need anything.”
Gwen turned and studied his expression. He looked sincere. “Around where?”
“I live off campus, in a cabin to the west by about three miles.”
Gwen shot him a look. “That’s not close at all, but thanks.”
“Here,” he said, handing her a silver pendant on a chain.
She turned the piece over in her fingers and realized it wasn’t a pendant.
“I’ll hear it,” he said.
“It’s a whistle?”
“Yeah.”
She hung it around her neck and slid the whistle down the front of her dress.
“Good night,” she said, holding his gaze and sensing the tension that was rising between them. He leaned towards her magnetically, but Gwen stepped back, entering the building with a quick yank of the door.
Brandon watched the door fall closed behind her then started off heading west in the direction of his cabin.
Once Gwen had reached her bedroom, she grew tired in an instant. She brushed her teeth, skipped her usual nightly shower, and peeled off the black dress. There was a dresser set adjacent to the foot of her bed, so she opened a drawer and set the folded dress inside. Then she untied the black ribbons at the back of each thigh and unwinding them from around her legs until she was free to kick off each heel. She was at a loss for undergarments to sleep in, so Gwen climbed into bed nude except for the whistle that dangled down her chest, pulled the covers up, and closed her eyes.
As she fell asleep, she held the whistle between her fingers, and began dreaming about the burly man who had held her in his arms.
Chapter Three
Gwen gently lifted out of sleep to the sensation of pins and needles along her arm. Groggy, she squinted through the sunlight that was pouring through her bedroom window and attempted to wiggle the discomfort out of her limb. This wasn’t the first time she’d cut off circulation to her left arm by sleeping with her hand far above her head, but as she fully awoke, she realized her hand hadn’t migrated to the headboard. It was under something. Something warm and furry. It was breathing.
She rolled onto her side, blinking away sleep and focusing her eyes as she faced it and discovered that a dog was lying beside her. Well, on her arm, which was the cause of the pins and needles.
To say she was surprised to find an animal in her bed would be an understatement and though her impulse was to spring out of bed and distance herself from the strange dog, she froze instead, not wanting to make any sudden movements.
She assessed it as it slept. Its back rose and fell with each breath, drawing her attention to the fact that it had somehow curled up under the covers with her. She’d never had a dog, or any animal for that matter, but it still struck her as highly curious that the animal had been capable of wedging itself between the sheets. The length of its warm body was pressed against hers all the way down to her knees, which told her this was a very large breed.
Wanting to take back her arm to relieve the pins and needles, Gwen slowly slid her arm out from under it. The dog stirred, lifted its black head then yawned out a sweet whine and looked at her.
She shook her numb hand out to get the blood flowing, then rubbed the dog’s head between her hands. Its fur was silky soft and Gwen had to admit it was nice to cuddle a big animal. The affection roused the animal and it sprung up excitedly, alarming her for a second. It was even larger than she’d imagined. But it didn’t clobber her like a typical dog would. Rather it held a seated position, while looking down at her, and panted happily. So she resumed petting it by delivering a few firm strokes around its ears figuring it was a big dog and would like a rougher touch. Then she stroked down its fluffy chest, noting the vertical strip of white fur that cut down its abdomen.
“How did you get in here?” She asked it, to which it immediately ceased panting, cocked its head to the side and perked its ears forward. “Do you have a name?”
She gave it a few more pats then sat up, prompting the black dog to hop down to the floor where it sat obediently and stared at her. Gwen climbed out of bed herself and walked straight into the bathroom at the far end of her room, the dog padding after her.
There, she started the shower, pulled the whistle off from around her neck and set it on the sink counter, grabbed a towel from the rack and set it on the toilet lid so it would be easy to get after she’d washed, and then stepped into the hot stream, while the dog sat on the tiles watching.
Gwen had never had a dog, or any animals for that matter. Growing up, her parents had denied her any pets, though she begged them periodically, arguing that having a dog would teach her responsibility. But the counter-argument had always been that dogs and cats shed uncontrollably, ruin furniture, and would give their home an unkempt appearance, none of which they could afford. Her father was a psychiatrist and treated his patients out of his home office. Her mother, though unemployed, dabbled in interior design and used their Seattle penthouse as a shining example of her abilities. For all the points Gwen had tried to make in favor of having a pet (none of which appealed to her parents in the slightest) she’d never thought to highlight companionship and protection.
It had never occurred to her that a dog could feel like a friend, but for the half hour it took her to dry off, get dressed in the only garment she was allowed to wear (that black slinky dress), and head out to the cafeteria for breakfast, that’s what she felt like she had: a little sidekick.
It wasn’t until Gwen was about to enter the cafeteria building that the dog fell back. Smart little guy, she thought. It probably knew it wasn’t allowed around food preparation. She gave it a quick pat on the head and told it to run along then made her way through the building and to the buffet of breakfast foods.
After getting a tray and setting a plate, mug, plastic tumbler, and utensils on it, Gwen started down the buffet line. The students in front of her piled their plates high with eggs, bacon and other meats, but as Gwen slid her tray along she couldn’t bring herself to put food on her plate. The smell of cooked eggs turned her stomach. The bacon seemed less than appetizing. Nothing looked appealing to her. In fact, the thought of eating at all was driving her into a bad mood.
She broke away from the line, hoping that a creamy cup of coffee would jumpstart her appetite, but even that made her queasy. Well, she would have to eat something, so she poured herself a cup of coffee, stirred in cream and sugar, grabbed a banana (though the very word made her stomach lurch), and started through the tables, looking around for an empty seat as she went.
The students stared at her as she passed. Those that had an empty seat beside them quickly set an article of clothing or their backpack down as if to say the spot was taken. It was like being yanked back to middle school. Everyone had their established clicks and no one wanted to risk befriending the new girl. Was it because she was new or was it because she was different?
There were a number of vacant tables at the back of the cafeteria, so Gwen held her head high and chose a seat at the farthest one, being sure to sit facing the room and not with her back to it. If middle school had taught her anything it’s that the bullies would surely throw food if they knew they wouldn’t get caught.
She was tempted to blow her whistle. Brandon seemed to be the only person here who was willing to get to know her, though the intent she’d sensed from him was intimidating. Too bad that dog couldn't have accompanied her. She straightened her back, acknowledged that this was painfully awkward, and peeled her banana. She was an adult, after all. This wasn’t summer camp. She didn’t need to make friends, though she’d like to. If she kept herself focused on her training (whatever that entailed) then she would get through the next... how long did they expect her to be here? No one had mentioned.
Suddenly Gwen was distracted from her ruminations by a sneering comment that came anonymously from the crowd of students: bloodsucker.
If she had been in a bad mood before, the insult got her blood boiling. Her eyes darted across the faces that were glaring at her, as her mouth pressed into a hard line.
“Who said that?” She said through her teeth.
Someone chuckled, but she couldn’t locate where the laugh was coming from. A fantasy flashed through her mind: flying across the room, clutching the throat of one of these jerks, squeezing the life out of them. But she snapped out of it. Violence was beneath her. It wasn’t like her to jump to anger. She was reminded of the equipment she’d smashed, the impulsive sprint through the wilderness, the knee-jerk reaction to Brandon, grabbing his shirt and slamming him into the wall. There was something dark stirring deep down inside of her and if she didn’t make a concerted effort to calm it, she was afraid of what she might find herself doing. Committing. She hadn’t received a second chance at life only to wind up in prison. The last thing she needed was to commit assault and get arrested.
