by Cheree Alsop
A shiver ran through my skin followed by a surge of adrenaline so sharp it hurt. “What’s happening?” I shouted at the girl before my bones bent, pulling me down on my hands and knees and tearing my clothes.
“You’re phasing,” she said. Her hands linked in the fence and she shook it, trying to reach me. “It’s instinct, to protect you!”
A yell tore from my throat as my bones contorted, muscles shifted, and dark red fur sprouted from my arms and legs. My teeth elongated and my ears lengthened. I tried to control it, to fight against the phase and get over the fence, but I was too far gone. The dogs growled and whined, uncertain of what was happening.
I vomited on the ground when the phasing ended, then lifted my head and looked at the dogs. I was bigger than them, thick-chested Rottweilers, sleek Dobermans, and one menacing brindle Mastiff with gaping black jowls. My lips lifted of their own accord and a snarl rumbled in my throat. Fierce pleasure rose in my chest at the power that surged through my veins. I met eyes with the Mastiff and growled. A rush of feral instincts clouded my thoughts until I could only focus on doing what was necessary to survive.
“Don’t kill them,” the girl pleaded.
I glanced back at her. The sounds of pursuit neared. I growled once more at the dogs, then gathered my legs underneath me and leaped the fence.
“Is-is that you?” the girl asked, a tremor in her voice as she reached toward me with an outstretched hand.
I couldn’t talk in the animal form, and couldn’t figure out how to phase back, so I touched her hand gently with my nose. Her fingers ran along my muzzle and over my eyes, then down my neck to tangle in the thick fur of my dark red ruff. Men cleared the trees behind us and the metallic sound of guns being lowered and cocked echoed loudly in my ears. I started to run and the girl ran beside me, her bare feet slapping the dirt in cadence with my paws.
A command rang out and guns fired. Bullets hit the trees around us and I dodged left, then right. Something stung the back of my leg. I tried to ignore the fiery pain and ducked my head, pushing us as fast the girl could keep up. We ran through the trees, across an empty black paved road, then through a starlit field. I took us parallel to the lab, certain they would expect us to keep fleeing in a straight line as far as we could go.
I found a shallow river wash and led the girl down. We splashed up the muddy water in the hopes that the dogs wouldn’t be able to track us through it. The water eventually dried out and it was a scramble to get back up the side to flat ground. We kept pushing far after my reserves of strength dwindled and we both dragged our feet, our minds numb and fear still pushing us further.
Shades of lighter gray touched the horizon by the time I found a small, abandoned barn and took us inside. The girl stumbled to a dusty pile of straw and collapsed in a heap, tears streaking her cheeks and her eyes shut tight. I paced near the door, wondering if the animal form would go away if I calmed down, but worried about leaving the girl unprotected. She fell into a troubled sleep when the sun neared its peak. I sat near the crooked door and stared out at the multitude of grays, blacks, and whites that made up my animal vision. My back leg ached, but I ignored it the best that I could. I settled down gingerly and tried to pretend I wasn't a monster.
Chapter 2
I must have fallen asleep somewhere between evening and nightfall. When I awoke, I was in my human form again. Fear and disgust filled me at what I had turned into. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t real, but the throbbing in my calf said otherwise. I opened my eyes to find that I was naked. I felt momentarily relieved that the girl was blind, then guilt clouded the thought.
“Sleep well?” the girl asked.
I glanced at her. She sat in the doorway a few feet from me, her face turned toward the moonlight. Her long, dark brown hair had been freed of the rubber band and hung to her waist in slow waves. Moonlight played off her soft skin, accentuating a pert nose, full lips, and a graceful neck. I guessed that she was my age, though she definitely acted older than I felt. She turned her head and the light shone on faint tear tracks down her cheeks although she was done crying.
“I’m sorry about Gabe,” I said quietly. I searched the night for comforting words, but came up lacking so we sat in silence for several minutes.
“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice worn.
“Kaynan, Kaynan Anderson. Yours?”
“Grace Chapman.” Her voice softened, “It was going to be Grace Locklow.” She fell silent again.
A stray breeze slipped into the barn, bringing with it the scent of a lazy, winding river filled with fish and reeds, cows grazing in the pasture next to our field, and an animal odor that made my heart speed up despite my efforts to ignore it. My limbs ached at the promise of a chase and I gritted my teeth.
“What happened to me back there?” I asked, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice and failing entirely.
Grace turned toward me. “You’re a werewolf and you phased. It’s instinctive to protect yourself from danger like dogs and armed men. You’ll learn to control it eventually.”
“I don’t want to control it, I want to get rid of it,” I spat out. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“As I recall, you were suppose to be dead,” she said softly.
My heart slowed and I picked at a splinter poking up from the rough wooden floor. “That’s right.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Her voice was soft and understanding, but talking about what should have been was the last thing I wanted to do. I stood and looked around the empty barn. “I need clothes.”
“Don’t worry about modesty on my behalf,” she said with a slight hint of humor to her tone. “I’m not looking.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“The cows won’t mind; they’re naked, too,” she pointed out.
I couldn’t help the smile that came to my face, but shook my head. “We need to get you home, and I’m not about to go traipsing through town on full display.”
Her lips pushed together as though holding in a smile. “Traipsing?”
“My mom’s an English teacher,” I replied. “We were raised with a dictionary in the middle of the kitchen table.”
“You’d use traipsing over walking, jaunting, or frolicking?” she asked with a dimple showing in one cheek.
I laughed, feeling slightly better. “Fine; let’s go frolic to town, shall we? It’ll go well with my current state of distress.”
“You mean state of undress?” she teased.
“Just be grateful you can’t see me,” I snapped.
“Oh believe me, I am,” she replied, rising to her feet.
She held out her hand and I took it. A slight thrill went up my arm at her touch, but I attributed it to my heavily taxed nervous system and led us out into the moonlight.
“You’re limping,” she said after a few steps.
“It’s nothing,” I lied. “I must have twisted it when I jumped over the fence.” But in truth, the bullet wound in my left leg had closed over. It throbbed painfully with every step and it was all I could do to keep walking.
“You’ll have to be more careful,” Grace said, her tone neutral.
I bit back an ironic smile. “Next time we’re chased by angry dogs and armed guards and have to jump over a fence, I’ll pay more attention to how I land. Thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime,” she said with a smile that lit up her face.
***
By the time we reached the first signs of civilization, my calf burned and my limbs felt hot and heavy with fever. I left Grace by a cluster of trees and stole into the closest house without a car in the driveway. I found a dark gray sweatshirt and black sweatpants folded on top of the dryer and was putting them on when a faint hint of smoke touched my nose. I finished pulling on the clothes and turned to leave, but my conscience tickled at the back of my mind.
I followed the faint scent through the house and up a set of stairs. A st
ring hung from a pull-down ladder near the end of the hall. I listened to make sure no one was returning home, then pulled the ladder down and climbed gingerly into the attic. I traced the scent to a slowly twisting tendril of smoke next to the furnace. Burn marks on the insulation signified that this was a reoccurring problem.
I quickly pulled away the insulation packed tightly around the furnace vents, unplugged the furnace and made sure the smoke was completely gone, then left a short, anonymous note on the kitchen table explaining the problem and thanking them for the clothes. A pair of sunglasses sat in a coin dish by the sink. I thought of the nurse's reaction to my eyes and slipped them in my pocket, then left out the back door. I shut it tight behind me and hurried back to the trees where Grace waited.
The look of relief on her face when she heard my footsteps made my heartbeat quicken. I couldn't imagine how she must feel hiding and wondering if I was coming back. I took her hand and smiled slightly at her barely audible sigh of relief.
“Was your expedition successful?” she asked, walking beside me.
“Definitely,” I replied, thinking of the smoke in the attic. “They lost some clothes, but not their house.”
She threw me a questioning look but didn't press for details. We walked past the sign at the entrance to the tiny city and my heart slowed. I stopped and stared at it, then looked around at the surrounding sage brush and scattered houses; mountains tinged in the red of dawn sat in the distance.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.
“Have you ever been to Utah?”
She shook her head. “I’m from Washington.”
“Well, you’re in Utah now.” We walked slowly up the road to the town. A diesel-engine farm truck roared past and shook the bridge we crossed; Grace squeezed my arm tight and I put my hand over hers reassuringly, but couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound pathetic.
As we walked down the main street, I felt the eyes of the locals watching us. I was surprised to see so many people up that early, but I guessed farmers worked odd hours. We crossed at the only street light, then walked across a well-kept lawn to the public library. It didn’t open for another couple of hours, so we settled on the steps and waited as the sun rose and chased away the last shreds of chill from the air.
“Why did you want to die?” Grace asked quietly, her back against one of the handrail poles and her face toward the rising sun.
My stomach twisted. “It’s not a topic for discussion.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Ouch.”
I frowned. “Not to be rude or anything, but I just don’t want to talk about it. It’s not pleasant.”
She nodded, then a few seconds later said, “You know, being a werewolf isn’t that bad.”
“Looks like it did you a lot of good,” I replied before I could stop myself.
Her brow creased and she turned her face away, but not before I saw the hurt that swept across it.
I touched her hand. “Grace, I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.” I gestured vaguely. “I’m not the polite conversation type.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, still looking away. “What type are you?”
My heart clenched, but I told the truth. “Before all of this, I was the drinking, lying, stealing type who hurt my family and everyone who got close to me just because I could.”
She turned back to me, surprise on her face. “You don’t pull your punches,” she said softly.
“I’m an easy target,” I replied.
She smiled and was silent for a while. Her fingers ran softly along the cool concrete of the step like a piano player getting familiar with a new instrument. “How old are you?” she asked in an offhand tone.
“Eighteen. You?”
“Nineteen,” she replied, her voice thoughtful. “My birthday was yesterday.”
I glanced at her, uncertain what to say. I finally settled for, “Sorry you had such a crappy birthday.”
She shrugged. “It was pretty good. At least I got out of that place.”
“How long were you there?”
“Six long months.”
I stared at her, wondering how she could have survived six months when I couldn’t even last a day fully conscious.
Grace sat up. “Someone’s coming.” I listened for the footsteps and heard them just before a person rounded the corner of the library.
The lady walked up the steps and eyed us curiously as she turned a key in the door. “You’re welcome to come in,” she said with an amiable smile.
I took Grace’s hand and led her inside. The lady gave me another glance when I didn’t take off my sunglasses, but I figured the glasses would be less conspicuous than red eyes. “Do you have a computer where we can access the internet?” I asked in my best innocent tone.
“Of course,” she said. She led the way down a row of books and into an empty room full of computers. She turned on the first row and gestured for us to use whichever we would like.
“What are you looking for?” Grace asked in a whisper when the woman left.
“Someone who can help us,” I replied. “You need to get back to Washington and we don’t have any money. We either need to find your family-“
“My pack won’t be there,” Grace said, cutting me off with a carefully expressionless tone. “Hunters found where we lived. We were running when I got shot. Gabe stayed behind to help me and they got him, too.”
“The rest of them left you?” I asked, incredulous. “Who was in charge?”
“My brother,” she said quietly. She turned her head away so I couldn't see her expression.
My heart ached for her. I took a deep breath and looked back at the computer. “Okay, then let’s shoot in the dark and see if we can find something.”
After an hour of fruitless searching through websites on werewolves which made them out to be anything from demons of the night to angels to messengers of both God and Satan, I came across a small, single white page with black, unassuming letters that said merely, ‘If you are a werewolf and need help, call Jaze.’ It listed a phone number next to a single small wolf paw print. I copied the number down on a piece of scratch paper beside the computer.
“It was the only thing I could find besides cult worshipers or people asking to be bitten,” I said, leading Grace back through the library. I frowned. “Does the whole bitten thing work?”
“You mean would it turn someone into a werewolf?” She shook her head. “Until you came around, werewolves were born, not made.”
The fact that I was the harbinger of a new form of werewolf didn't cheer me in the slightest. “Maybe this Jaze person can help me get back to normal.”
“Well, it’s something at least,” she said, though the doubt in her voice was obvious.
I didn’t want to trust anyone, but since neither of us had change for a pay phone, I went back to the librarian. “Could we use your phone?”
She looked us both up and down, then gave me a small smile. “Just don’t talk too long,” she said. She set a phone on the desk and took an armful of books toward the shelves.
I punched in the number, held my breath for a moment, then let it out slowly when a male voice answered. “Hello?”
“Is this Jaze?” I asked carefully.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“I called the number on the website.”
Jaze fell silent for a moment, then said, “Okay, where are you? We’ll come get you.”
Grace stiffened beside me; after what we had been through, I agreed with her distrust wholeheartedly. “How do I know we can trust you?”
“You called me. The website said to call if you need help, so how can I help?”
When I didn’t answer, I heard him take a slight breath. “You can trust me. I don’t know how I can prove that over the phone, but if you’re in trouble, that's what we're here for. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come myself to pick you up.”
Despite my reservations, something told me I could trust him. My leg throbbed
and I felt lightheaded. There was no way we would get far without help. I squeezed Grace’s hand reassuringly, then told him the name of the town we were in.
The voice on the other end of the line went silent for a minute, then he said in a sure voice, “Okay, we’re in Texas. It’s a day and a half drive. If that's too long, I'll buy you plane tickets; you can fly into DFW and I'll meet you at the airport.”
“They’ll be looking for us at the airport,” Grace whispered.
“Is someone else there?” Jaze asked, his voice sharp. “Is this a prank?”
I gritted my teeth. “No, this isn’t a prank. I’m here with someone else who also needs help, but we prefer not to go to the airport.”
“Is someone looking for you?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
He fell silent again, then said, “Alright, where can I meet you?”
I took a steeling breath. “The city library. We’ll meet at noon two days from now.”
“I’ll be there,” he said.
I hung up the phone before I could change my mind.
“What do we do until then?” Grace asked, her voice just above a whisper.
“Hide out, and find some food,” I replied.
“Can we go back to the barn?”
The note of fear in her voice at the unknown caught my heart. “You felt safe there?” I asked. She nodded before ducking her head and the action made up my mind. “We’ll go back to the barn. I felt safer there anyway.” She smiled, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt.
I took her hand as the librarian came back.
“Have a great day and come visit us again soon,” the lady said.
I gave her a smile. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime,” she said. She straightened her glasses and picked up another armful of books. I led Grace through the front doors and out into the sunshine.
Chapter 3
“What do we do about food?” she asked quietly, a touch of concern to her voice.
“Leave it to me,” I replied. I led us toward the closest gas station. “I’m an old hand at this. Not that I’m proud of it.”
