by Mandy Rosko
He started to drive before the silver wolf jumped from his victim. He managed to run fast enough that he jumped into the back of the truck before they turned the corner.
The red-head checked behind him to make sure the wolf named Westley was securely in place before hitting the gas, shooting them well over the speed limit. "We need to get out of here. Who was that guy?" As if remembering that Mike was in the truck with them, he stared at him. "And who are you?"
"Look, I don't want any trouble. I don't even know who that was." He searched for the moon rock again to show him, ask if they knew what it was since they were obviously paranormal and one was definitely a werewolf. But he didn't have it.
Where did …?
He looked up as the woman smashed the rock into his head. A flash of white blinded him before it was replaced with black.
He wasnhadn’t entirely passed out when she said,: "I think I know who they are. Take us home."
"Whatever you say, princess."
TWO
"Annie, it was incredibly stupid for you to bring him here."
She stared at her feet, tried to avoid the heat in her pack master's rising voice and the humiliation of hearing him use her little-girl name. "I know."
"He's not even part of this pack!"
She cringed, feeling the vibrations of his stomping feet against the hardwood floor as he paced back and forth like a wild animal.
Gordon had never been known for his patience. However, after she came back to the ranch with an unconscious human and a story to tell, she couldn’t blame him.
"She was only trying to help. Maybe you're being too hard on her."
Relief like cool water over a hot burn washed over her when her grandfather's voice came to her rescue.
Gordon whipped his grey head around to throw his anger at him. "Stay out of this, Bill. She endangered the entire pack bringing him here, including my son."
Him being the stranger she, Westley, and Chris rescued from the bar.
She still didn't know what prompted her to go back for him. A warlock with that kind of power was nothing to mess with, but the second that strange man in black robes walked into the bar, his eyes honed in on the depressing looking figure drinking by himself.
The human had looked at her, perked up, and smiled in a way that made her forget that she had nothing to smile about. Maybe that was why she went back.
The hovering man in black didn’t move on, take a seat and order a drink as patrons were prone to do. He stared at the man as though he’d just found his worst enemy. The man who borrowed money without paying it back, slept with his wife and burned down his house all in one night.
The lone wolf was in danger. He had to be. Anne’s hunch proved correct when the warlock sent an explosive ball of fire at his back before she could shout a warning.
The man in the cowboy hat must have Jedi reflexes to have been able to get out of the way of something like that so fast.
Or just the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
He wasn't wearing his hat now. Anne held it in front of her like a shield while Gordon grilled her. The source of his anger lying on the old, brown couch on the other side of the cabin under a faded knit blanket, unconscious and unaware of the argument.
Westley stepped forward. "Dad, it's not her fault. If I wanted, I could've ordered her not to go back."
"Then you damn well should have." Gordon hissed, turning his attention back to her.
"This is beyond disappointing. That you could find it in you to interfere with something like this over a fairy tale. You don't even know what he was being attacked for. For all you know, he's dangerous." He slammed the stone with the crescent moon engraving onto the rickety coffee table.
Anne cringed and stared at the rock, searching for any cracks. There were none she could see.
The stone stopped glowing but that didn't make it any less valuable. Listening to him talk down to her and then slamming the stone like a worthless children’s toy, sent her anger off like a screaming tea kettle.
"Does this mean the wedding's off?"
Gordon’s face puffed out and turned red. His eyes glared and became insane. Anne refused to be stared down.
Still, it was an odd sight. Like an older version of Westley glaring daggers at her. It didn't look right.
He pointed a large finger in her face. "Don't tempt me."
She opened her mouth to argue that it was exactly what she wanted to do, but the sight of her grandpa out of the corner of her eye stopped her.
He wasn't sending her any signals to stop, just standing there waiting for her to make her decision.
If she called off the union with Westley she would have to leave the pack. She would have to leave her best friend and her grandfather.
Anne said nothing. She lowered her head to hide the anger burning on her face as Gordon snatched his leather jacket from one of the chairs and stormed out of the cabin.
"He's your responsibility now! Figure out what to do with him!" He yelled, slamming the screen door behind him.
Anne's shoulders slumped. She brought her hand up and bit her knuckle while battling back the sudden swell in her throat. Westley put his arm around her shoulders but she shrugged him off and stepped away.
The last thing she needed was to look like she and him actually had something together. Thank God Chris dropped them off and left. Otherwise, who knew how much trouble they'd really be in?
"I'm sorry, Annie." Westley moved toward the screen door. She didn’t mind so much when he used that name on her. "I'll talk to him."
When he left, Anne felt remarkably better.
Her grandpa put his arms around her in a comforting hug. She didn't shrug him off like she'd done with Westley.
Instead, she turned into him and hugged back. He wore his thick brown housecoat and well-worn slippers. His usual wear, day or night, and she sank into the familiar comfort he offered. She breathed in his grandpa scent and felt like a little girl again, safe and free from troubles.
He rested his chin on the top of her head and she sighed. "I couldn't leave him to get killed," she said, gazing at the spot where the product of the drama slept.
Bill rubbed soothing circles into her back. "I understand. But did you have to bring him here?" Bill picked up the stone, twisted it in his hand and examined the crescent moon for some seconds before reluctantly returning it to the coffee table.
She knew what he was thinking. "You didn't see it. It was glowing, just like in the story. And, that guy made shadows come to life, we fought them with light. Just like in the story."
Bill took her by the shoulders and held her at arms length. He leaned down and looked her in the eyes. "Honey, do you know what the odds of something like that is? Even if he is who you think he is—"
"Then he needs to be protected. If he's the first—"
"He's not," Bill cut her off sharply, his blue eyes leaving no room for argument. "Even if this is what it looks like," Bill picked up the stone again and held it in front of her, "you cannot believe that this man if the first werewolf."
Anne cocked her head, then looked at the man still unconscious on the sofa. "But that man attacked him, he had that stone and shadow warriors. I heard him say something about a thousand years. There has got to be a chance."
Bill sighed and rubbed his face with an aging hand.
“Please, Grandpa?” sShe begged. Gordon had just yelled her into submission, she needed someone to believe that she didn’t do this for nothing.
He looked at her, searching her face before nodding. "Tell me what this warlock looked like again."
It shouldn't be so important that someone believed what she believed. But, if that man really was the first werewolf from the legend, then he could overrule Gordon's decision and she wouldn't have to get married.
And, if he was not, well, at least she could say that she stepped in and saved his life. She could also tell herself that she’d done everything in her power to stop her arranged mar
riage from ever happening.
"He was short, my height, and wore a lot of flapping, black clothes. His face was very rat-like and he had a comb over. His hair and eyes were the same shade of black."
Bill nodded and looked back at the man on the couch. "Shame he has no ID on him. Maybe then we could find out where he comes from, see if we can contact any family for him."
His pockets had been searched and no wallet had been found. Before Gordon exploded on her, he determined that the wallet must have been lost during the destruction of the bar.
"And, since we can't?" sShe asked.
Bill scratched his full head of silver hair. "Gordon isn’t going to appreciate it, but this is beyond even his power as pack master. If someone is out to kill him, and there's a chance that he is the first wolf, we have an obligation to protect him. But, because I don't think he is who you think he is, the best course of action is to hide him. Just in case."
Anne cringed. "Because I brought him here and endangered the rest of the pack," she said, repeating what Gordon had screamed at her earlier.
Bill nodded. "Yes. I know you meant well and I'll talk to Gordon. He can't stay angry for long." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "You did the right thing. I think it would be best if we helped him out regardless of who he might be. It’s not right to let a man be killed when we can do something about it."
She hugged him. "I'll stay here with him, in case he wakes up." It was nearly dawn and he'd been out of it for hours. He couldn't sleep for much longer.
She, on the other hand, could use a wolf nap.
Bill looked at their sleeping guest, then back at her with one grey eyebrow raised. Her grandpa had old fashioned values. If a man and a woman were not married and not related, they didn't spend the night together in a square, one bedroom cabin where the only thing that separated the kitchen from the sitting room was the table.
Whether the man was unconscious or not was beside the point.
She removed his hands from her shoulders and kicked off her boots. "I'll be fine. Gordon said he's my responsibility anyway. He'll see that I'm taking what I did seriously if I'm the one waiting for him to wake up. Plus, I kind of feel bad. I was the one who smashed his head with the rock, after all."
Bill burst out laughing and kissed her forehead again. "Alright, but I want Brock to come over in case you need anyone."
Anne sighed, she was perfectly capable of defending herself against a human male. Especially one who would want nothing more than a bottle of aspirin when he woke up. Unfortunately, Bill wouldn't leave until she was under the protection of the big, red-headed wolf. She conceded to his request.
"Fine, fine. I love you and I'll see you in the morning." She kissed his cheek and all but pushed him out the door.
Only then did she breathe.
Everyone in the room, whether they were interrogating or defending, suffocated her. She was glad to just be alone.
She looked back at her guest and nearly managed a smile. Well, not quite alone, but close enough.
Anne pulled one of the old chairs closer to the couch and settled herself into the cushions so she could hear him if he stirred.
Not for the first time since bashing him did she wonder if she did the right thing. Either way, he was here and she couldn't wait for him to wake up. She had so many questions.
If he was the man of legend, Luna’s lover and the very first werewolf, then that didn't necessarily make him a werewolf now.
The story told of a warlock and a normal man, both in love with the same woman. She was the Goddess of the moon, Luna, Selene…her name was different depending on the origin, and could only come to Earth during a full moon.
Despite his wealth and power, the Goddess did not choose the warlock. She returned the love of the peasant, gifting him with her moonstone as a symbol of her affection.
Some stories claimed that the stone granted immortality and allowed her to find and visit him no matter where he was, perhaps even allow him to go to the moon to see her.
There were as many versions as there were fish in the sea, but somehow the warlock discovered the pair. Furious with the match, he cursed his opponent to transform into a monster during the full moon to keep him away from the woman he loved.
The warlock stole the stone from the peasant and called the Goddess to him. Still, it was not enough to win her heart. Determined, the warlock decided to kill the peasant.
Anne had heard different versions of the story, but one said that he succeeded in doing just that, but not before enough people were turned to ensure that lycanthrope would go on and survive. Another version said that the Goddess, upon learning of her lover’s death, killed herself to be with him.
The problem for the warlock was that the lover of the Moon Goddess was always reincarnated. No one ever mentioned to her whether he was reincarnated as a werewolf or a normal man.
None of the stories ever agreed on what happened to Luna. Was she reincarnated as well? Or did she go back to the moon to suffer alone?
Anne stared at her houseguest. He could be a wolf, his reflexes were fast enough, but why did he not change to defend himself?
Then, there was that thing he said about seeing the man in black killing him. Memory from a past life, perhaps?
The figure on the couch groaned, clutched his head, and turned over. Anne shot to her feet as he rubbed his eyes and blinked up at her.
The hint of stubble framed a square jaw. Curious blue eyes stared up at her, freezing her to her spot and making her blush. God, he was cute.
Then, remembering what she'd done, she smiled and sent him a nervous wave. "How're you feeling?"
***
Mike leapt up and stumbled away from her.
Her! What was she doing here?
He tripped over the arm of the couch, his feet tangling in a knit blanket, causing him to fall hard on his back on the floor. The woman let out a small scream.
The sudden fall and impact of the landing made his brain explode inside his head.
"Are you okay? Let me help you up." She wrapped her little fingers around his thick wrists and pulled him up with surprising strength.
When he was back on his feet and the room no longer spun, he yanked his hands away. "What do you think you're doing? Where am I?" God his head pounded. It made him nauseous. He covered his mouth to keep anything from coming up.
She moved around quickly, taking his arm again and leading him back to the spot where he'd been sleeping, throwing the blanket on the chair. "You're at my pack master's ranch. Here, take a seat."
He did, stunned with the strength in her small frame and even more so when she rushed to the other side of the cabin and filled a glass with water from the tub-like sink. The thin pipes screeched and rattled until she turned the water off.
She walked back and handed him the glass and two red pills. He looked at them and sighed. Aspirin, just what he needed.
He popped the pills into his mouth and guzzled down the lukewarm water. The pills couldn't kick in fast enough.
Keep your head clear. Get some answers.
She said pack master. Shit. He was surrounded by werewolves.
"Want to explain why you decided to kidnap a Griffon City cop?" That warlock might not care where he was from, but a pack of wolves who were familiar with the city likely would.
She tensed, the color draining from her cheeks. "You're a cop?"
He couldn't believe it. "You didn't know?"
She shook her head, strands of that curly, light hair flying all over the place.
He could see that she was telling the truth. He reached into his pocket for his wallet to show her his badge. His hand found lint.
He eyed her, suspicious and angry, his hands clenching. "Where's my wallet?"
"We don't have it."
He jumped to his feet again. The room spun and he couldn’t see her but he was sure he was looking right at her. "Bullshit. Where is it?"
The door burst open. A man who was six a
nd a half feet tall ducked under the door frame to peer inside.
Mike’s vision cleared like calming lake water after a splash. He couldn't believe it. The guy was like a red Incredible Hulk. Despite how Mike stood over his host, the red-haired man's face radiated calm.
"Everything alright, Annie?" He asked, his voice deep yet non-threatening.
She smiled for him. "Fine, Brock. Just explaining some house rules."
Mike bristled at the house rules comment but said nothing.
Brock turned his questioning stare to Mike, eyed him from head to toe, then quietly ducked out of the cabin and shut the door behind him.
A man that size would make some sort of noise when he walked. Due to the lack of noise coming from the other side of the door, he could tell Brock was waiting right outside. Waiting for him to make a mistake before charging in to Annie's rescue.
Body tense as a bow string, he sat back down. "So, Annie," she frowned when he said her name, "how long am I to be held?"
“Don’t call me that. Only a few people are allowed to call me that.” Then her blue eyes quickly turned apologetic. "And, please, don't think of this like that. We're not trying to hold you against your will."
He continued to clench his fists on his knees, forcing a mask of calm to remain on his face. "Then let me leave. I'll even go the extra mile and not press charges."
She shook her head. "It's kind of important that you don't leave, at least for now,." sShe amended at his snarl. "I just need to ask you a few questions. Then, if nothing adds up and that guy doesn't show up, you're safe to go."
Ah, she was talking about the magician man who tried to blast him into his next life.
He leaned back, folded his arms and crossed his booted foot over his knee. "It almost sounds like you think keeping me here is going to protect me. I was handling myself fine."
Her soft face, which had been so emotional, turned to rock. "Which part about being held down do you think is fine?"
"Look, I have no idea who that guy was. He saw me and attacked. That's it."
"You don't know his name? Nothing about him at all?"
“If I didn’t know better. I’d say you were the cop in this room.”
