by Naomi Clark
“You tell her, Paul,” Mum said. “It makes me feel ill.”
Dad set down his cutlery and sighed. “She had an abortion.”
“Oh.” I set down my cutlery too.
I suppose I should have suspected something like that. There was no law against abortion in the Pack, same as there was no law against homosexuality. But there was an unspoken, acknowledged rule that it was not done. In the past few generations, birth rates amongst wolves had dropped dramatically. There were lots of theories why—pesticides, pollution, too many vegetables in our diet…You name it, someone blamed our decreased fertility on it.
Most wolf couples nowadays produced one cub in their lives, more than one child was a celebrated rarity. Twins were unheard of. So it followed that abortion was a pretty big deal. Obviously there were always times when it was the only option, but I guessed that wasn’t the case with Tina or she wouldn’t have been outcast.
Still, it unsettled me. Given my situation, I hated the idea of the woman being judged so harshly for her choice. Shouldn’t the Pack be past the age where this was such a big deal?
“Oh,” I said again. “That’s…bad.”
We all resumed eating in silence. I churned Dad’s words round in my mind. Did this help Shannon? Not really, unless Molly’s disappearance had something to do with Tina having an abortion several years earlier, which I doubted. I shoved my vegetables round my plate glumly, barely noticing when Mum whipped the plate away and replaced it with a bowl of trifle.
I didn’t stay long after dinner, which–after the turn the conversation had taken–seemed to relieve my parents.
I’d walked over straight from work, knowing I’d probably want to run home to work off the masses of food Mum always insisted on feeding me. I stripped off on the doorstep and left my clothes with Mum. We said our goodbyes and Mum told me to bring Shannon next time. I thought she even meant it.
Nightfall brought a light snow shower and flakes melted on my skin like cold little kisses as I stretched, preparing for the bone-popping pain of the change. Although the waning moon was obscured by thick snow clouds, I could still feel her energy firing through my blood. I threw my head back and howled as the change took me, relishing the answering howls that echoed through the night. Other wolves, other Pack members, ran tonight and I was one of them again. Despite all my reservations, the glow of that knowledge hadn’t diminished yet.
I padded through the streets, claws clacking on the pavement. To my wolf senses the night was alive with sounds and scents that were muffled and dull to my human body. I could smell the gravy from the meal I’d just eaten, hear the slam of a back door a few streets away. An owl hooted softly somewhere nearby and a cat yowled in response. As I passed through the estate, a few dogs barked and snarled at their windows, upset by the presence of a werewolf.
I picked up speed as I left the estate and entered the city again. It was getting late and most people were inside. A few small groups drifted past me, snapping photos with their mobile phones.
Snow dusted my black fur as I paused to sniff a discarded pizza box. A few shreds of pepperoni remained in the box and I gulped them down before moving on. The change burned through a lot of energy, so despite Mum’s massive meal, my stomach was already growling. As a human, I’d have turned my nose up at cold pizza, but as a wolf it was a nice little treat.
I headed west, out of the city and towards the park that bordered Foxglove. I could get a proper run there before reaching home. I could already smell the slightly sickly perfume of the flowers that gave the estate its name and hear the muted yaps of two other wolves rough-housing together. The sound tugged at me, urging me on. I wanted to join in, tussle and wrestle with them.
I found the pair of them a few minutes later as I entered the park. One adult wolf, one younger—a tawny adolescent—chased each other round, snapping and snarling at each other in that kind of play-fighting that verged on real. That drew me up short and I dropped to my belly before they saw me. My paws crunched in the fresh-fallen snow and I laid my ears back with a whine, no longer sure I wanted to play. The older wolf, a dusky blond, bowled over the younger and clamped his teeth round the other’s throat with a rumbling growl.
There was something different about this wolf. He didn’t smell like Pack, but wildly foreign, an odor that both excited and scared me. I crouched low, ears flat, tail tucked between my legs as I watched. When he released his grip on the younger wolf with a snarl, the cub flopped to the snowy ground, exposing his belly with a whine. The dominant wolf nudged at his flanks, tail held erect in a classic posture of strength and the youngster scrambled back to his feet and shot off into the park with a yelp.
For a second I thought the dominant wolf would chase after him, ignoring me. I stayed low, hoping to avoid notice, but the breeze was going the wrong way, carrying my scent straight to him. He swung his great head straight towards me, hackles high. I held my own submissive position, quivering with a cocktail of nerves and energy. He was a feral, there was no doubt about that. In all my years as a lone wolf, I’d never met a feral. They were almost mythical; werewolves who chose to live as wolves, cutting away their humanity in favor of the wilderness that lurked in us all.
What the hell was one doing in the city limits, bullying a Pack youngster?
He bounded over to me with a sharp bark, warning me to stay put while he thoroughly investigated me, cold snout poking at my groin and belly. I closed my eyes and put up with his nosing, even if the human part of my brain was screaming in outrage. The wolf part of me knew better than to protest. He was twice my size and weight; there was no way I’d beat him in a fight. So I stayed still while he sniffed me over, fighting to ignore the hot flush of fear he gave me.
After a minute or so he backed off, letting me up. I rolled to my feet, keeping my head low. We huffed at each other, breath fogging in the night air. His hackles were down, but his amber eyes were narrowed, wary, like he didn’t know what to make of me either. I probably smelled as alien to him as he did to me: a muddle of city scents and the earthy signature of Pack.
We faced each other for a long, dark moment and then I took a cautious step forward. He rushed me, snapping at my neck with an angry yowl. I yelped as his fangs tore into my skin and dropped back into my crouch. Hot blood dripped from the wound, sending a spike of panic through me. I cowered, assuming the meekest pose I could. I didn’t want to fight him.
He chuffed at me, shaking his thick ruff, then pressed his nose to the ground, snuffling through the snow. Picking up the other wolf’s scent, I decided when he turned toward the direction the youngster had run. The feral wolf gave me one last look, feigned a snap at me, then trotted off after the youngster. In seconds he was gone, hidden by the curling mist.
I collapsed onto my side, as exhausted and shaken as if we had actually fought. Adrenaline rode me hard, the thrill and fear of the encounter twisting my stomach. I tried to crane my head enough to examine the bite on my shoulder, but it was impossible. I’d have to get Shannon to look at it.
With a grunt, I forced myself to my feet and headed home. I had to pace myself. My shoulder pulled as I walked, a tight line of pain all the way down my right foreleg. I hoped feral wolves didn’t carry any diseases. The last thing I wanted was a raging case of rabies.
***
“Ayla, my God!” Shannon cried. “What happened?”
I whined and pawed at her leg. She stood on the doorstep, blocking my entrance, worry etched on her face. I butted at her to get her to move, wanting to shift back to human and get a proper look at my shoulder. The pain had increased as I walked home and I could feel the blood drying in my fur.
She stepped aside to let me in. I hopped into the hall, bringing a flurry of snowflakes with me. Ice had crusted on my paws and I left wet prints on the powder blue carpet as I limped to the living room. I sat down on the rug with a humph and began nosing at my frosty paws. Shannon knelt down next to me, brushing her fingers lightly down my back. I closed my eye
s, tongue lolling in pleasure at her touch. It was a weird thing, when I was in wolf shape and she touched me. Not sexual, as it would be in human shape. But still, whatever form I wore, she was my mate and her touch did something to me.
She gently parted the fur around the bite mark to examine it. “Scrapping with the local strays, were you?” she murmured. “It’s not deep, but it needs cleaning. Might be easier if you change back.”
I sighed and clambered gracelessly to my feet. Shaking my head, I shifted shape. The bite was a riot of agony as I did, sending hot flares through me that were somehow worse than the usual pain of shapeshifting. When I was human again, I fell straight back to the rug, burying my face in the thick creamy-white weave.
“Shit,” I said.
Shannon propped me up against the armchair in the corner of the room. The worn leather was blessedly cool after the heat of shifting and I relaxed against it with a moan. Once again, exhaustion hit me. I pressed my fingers tenderly to the bite mark. It had stopped bleeding on the walk home, but changing had opened the wound again, bringing fresh blood to the surface. I winced.
“Stay still,” Shannon ordered. “I’ll get some water and bandages.” She hurried off to the kitchen and I heard her rummaging through cupboards.
“It’ll stop in a minute,” I called. Shapeshifting usually went someway to healing wounds; broken bones often fixed themselves as the body remade them to suit the new shape, for example, but bruises and cuts tended to linger in either form. A bite like this should scab over pretty quickly if I stuck to one shape for a while.
Shannon returned with a bowl of warm water, a bag of cotton wool and a roll of bandages. “It needs cleaning. God knows what kind germs you could have picked up.” She sat down next to me, dipped a wad of cotton wool in the water and swabbed it across the bite.
I rolled my eyes, even though I’d thought the same thing myself and submitted to her ministrations. “It was a feral wolf,” I said, dragging my nails through the carpet. “I ran into him in the park on the way home from Mum and Dad’s.”
She glanced up at me, surprised. “I didn’t think ferals came into cities.”
“I didn’t either. He was fighting with a Pack cub, then he went for me when he saw me.”
She frowned. “So do you have to tell the Pack? Is this a violation of protocol or something?”
“I’ve no idea.” There weren’t many hard and fast rules for dealing with ferals. Pack wolves just had so little to do with them. “If something happens to the cub... I should have gone after them,” I realized with a pang of guilt. “I didn’t think, I was just so... I don’t know, freaked out.”
Shannon finished cleaning the wound and bandaged it carefully. “It’s not your business,” she said, stroking my hair. Now it felt sexual and my body tightened in response to her caress. I was suddenly conscious of being naked, where I hadn’t cared before.
“It’s Pack business,” I said, picturing the youngster’s submissive body language. A feral wolf had no right asserting dominance over a Pack wolf. Hell, a feral had no right being in Pack territory—that much I was sure of.
Shannon snuggled closer to me, pulling me against her. I nestled my head in the curve of her neck and slid my hand up her thigh. She was in her pajamas, old flannel that was soft to the touch and smelled of her floral shampoo. “Pack business doesn’t have to be your business, Ayla,” she told me, still playing with my hair. “It was probably nothing. Maybe it wasn’t a feral, just a Pack wolf you don’t know.”
I supposed that was possible. Even if my senses told me it wasn’t. Even if the wild, exotic scent of the other wolf wasn’t burned in my memory, telling me it wasn’t. I hadn’t known every wolf in the city before I left, so why would I know now? I sighed and shook it off. Whatever. Shannon was right—it wasn’t my business.
“I asked Mum and Dad about Tina Brady,” I told her. “Apparently she had an abortion and that’s why she was outcast.”
“Harsh,” she said, sliding her hand down to my good shoulder. “Interesting, but not really helpful.” She sighed. “I should have referred this case.”
“How about we go and talk to Tina together?” I offered. “Maybe she’ll feel better talking to another wolf.”
“We could,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “What I really need is a chat with the police officers she reported Molly’s disappearance to. Think you can swing that?”
“Not just yet.” I turned and kissed her cheek. “But we’ll get there. You’ve only just started.”
She caught my lips with hers, turning my chase kiss into a deeper, hotter one. I squeezed her thigh, pressing myself against her. Shannon gripped my shoulders, forgetting the bite, and I pulled back with a soft hiss of pain.
“Oh God, sorry.” Immediately contrite, she leaned away from me. “Are you okay? Does it really hurt?”
I craned my neck to look at the bandages. “It’s fine,” I assured her, tangling my fingers in her hair to pull her in again. “I’m not broken.”
“I’m not so sure.” She pressed her lips to mine teasingly, little butterfly kisses that whet my appetite for more. “Maybe I need to play nurse?”
I snapped playfully at her, tingling with excitement. “Still got that Halloween costume?”
“It’s tucked away somewhere.” She rose, pulling me to my feet with her. “I’m sure I can dig it out if you really think you need some first aid.” She winked and cocked her hip saucily.
I growled and gave her a light push towards the stairs. “Take me to bed, Nurse Nightingale. I feel a hot flush coming on.”
***
My bite wound was pretty much healed by the morning. Whether Shannon’s bedside manner had anything to do with that or not, I didn’t know. But when I peeled the bandage back in the shower, the hot water sluiced over a thick scab and a purplish bruise and nothing more. I was relieved, although I felt silly for it. A tiny part of me had been genuinely scared of catching rabies or tetanus from the feral. Stupid, when there hadn’t been a recorded case of werewolf rabies in almost a century, but with a feral…who knew? They didn’t live like us.
I left Shannon in bed with a plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of tea and set off for Inked. Despite her misgivings she’d decided that both of us speaking to Tina might help—or at least wouldn’t hurt—so I planned to ask Calvin for a half day.
As usual he was already at work when I arrived, down in the basement area polishing the tattooing chair. I quirked an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.
“Cleanliness is next to Godliness. And you can’t be too hygienic in a tattoo parlor.”
I shrugged. I’d spent the morning worrying about rabies, so who was I to question him. “Can I take a half day?” I asked. “I’ve got something on this afternoon.”
He whistled through his teeth. “It’s pretty short notice.”
“It’s important.”
Calvin sat in the chair, twirling his polishing cloth in the air. “Wolf stuff?”
“Not exactly. Private eye stuff.”
“You have the most exciting life, Ayla.” He threw the cloth at me. “Alright, but you can’t have it as holiday.”
I caught the cloth. “No problem. I’ll make up the time somewhere.” I couldn’t afford to lose half a day’s wages. A few extra hours stocktaking or cleaning wouldn’t kill me.
“Finish polishing down here and we’ll call it even,” he said, tossing me a can of furniture polish. “Then you can sterilize Kaye’s needles.”
I grabbed the can with a sigh. Exciting didn’t really seem the word.
FIVE
Hollow Hill was a suburb of the city that would probably make Joel fall to his knees and thank God for Foxglove. Street after street of identical, depressing boxy houses, saplings fenced off with chain link and gardens filled with broken cycles and abandoned children’s toys. It was the most depressing part of the city and—coincidence or not—it was where Hesketh had lived. He was the bent copper who’d skinned my cousin Adam after his death
, using the skin to transform himself into a wolf-monster. Driving into Hollow Hill with Shannon that afternoon, I was crushed with memories of my fight with him.
It had been Alpha Humans who’d murdered Adam, but Hesketh and his werewolf partner Kinsey had desecrated him. Rage threaded through me as we drove to Tina’s, feeding my wolf, who still thirsted for revenge. Never mind that Kinsey and Hesketh were gone. I still didn’t feel like anyone had truly paid.
Shannon tapped my arm, pulling me out of my black thoughts. “This is it,” she said.
I glanced at the house. Like the all the others down this street, it was grim and uninspiring. Maybe even more so, as it didn’t even have a proper garden. The lawn had been paved over with thick concrete slabs and lichen filled the cracks between slabs. God. If this was what Molly had to live in, no wonder she’d ran away. She must have been starved for greenery, for open space.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked Shannon, who drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Nerves.
“I don’t really have one,” she confessed. “It’s not like I think she’s involved in Molly’s disappearance or anything, I just think she can be more helpful than she has been. Tell us more about Molly, her friends, her hobbies. Anything would be useful at this point.”
I nodded. I’d helped Shannon out on cases before, mostly with research. I’d never questioned anyone before, but how hard could it be? As Shannon said, Tina wasn’t a suspect. We weren’t going to be shoving bamboo slivers under her fingernails, as Lawrence had suggested.
We went to the door and Shannon rang the bell. A few seconds later, a woman I guessed was Tina answered. She was younger than I expected. Prettier too. I’d built this image in my head of a world-weary wolf, ground down by the bad hand life had dealt her. But Tina’s eyes were bright, curious and, when she recognized Shannon, hopeful.
