by Mandy Rosko
He shook his head as he eyed the scene. Gordon was now out on his porch, surrounded by a sea pack mates. He wouldn't let him take another step as they loudly questioned him.
He looked small and helpless in their midst. Anne couldn’t remember having ever seen him like this. Likely brought on by his own surprise at having his usually docile subjects up in arms at him.
His usual impatient visage returned as he threw his hands into the air and pointed his finger in the direction of their little cabin.
Mike jerked away from the window, pushing Anne with him. "Did they see us?"
They must have since she heard them coming. Heard their feet padding against the dirt and grass as they ran like a stampede on the move, their loud murmurs penetrating the thin cabin walls. "Whether they saw us or not, they're coming in."
A pathetic whine followed by loud scratching reminded her that Brock was still outside, now begging to get in to avoid being stepped on by any excited person wishing to see Mike.
She rushed to the door, opened it a crack so he could slink in, and slammed it shut and flipping the tiny metal lock.
"If they want in here they can just break it down," Mike said.
She rolled her eyes. "I know that."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Counting on the fact that they'll have more respect for Gordon's property than that."
Brock leapt onto the couch and curled himself up before whining when the pounding on the door started. She knew why. He couldn't protect them from his own pack.
***
Mike wanted to curl up and hide somewhere too. Unfortunately, this tiny, square cottage had nowhere to hide his giant body.
The calls from outside the door increased their level in desperation the longer he ignored them.
He sighted a teenager peering in through the window, watching with his mouth open, his hands above his eyes and cupping the glass.
Anne yanked the curtains shut on him. “Perverted brat.”
“We’re not doing anything,” he said.
Her cheeks turned pink. “He didn’t know that.”
Pounding started on the door. Mike seethed from the center of the cabin. "I thought only a few people were going to show up."
They scratched and moaned like zombies. Anne was right, they didn't break it in out of respect for their pack master's property. Too bad that didn't make him feel any better.
Anne sat next to Brock and stroked the reddish brown fur. “I thought so too. I don’t know what happened.”
The muffled voice of a man Mike never met before pleaded to him from outside. "Are you really the first werewolf?"
"Tell us!"
"How did you come to be here? Are you in danger?"
"We'll keep you safe."
His eyes found Anne's. Unlike the fire he saw in her whenever she became angry enough to attack, all he saw was a calm, collected woman staring back up at him. "I told you, for most werewolves this is like their religion. Getting to meet you is almost as good as meeting Jesus."
“As good as meeting Jesus?”
“Almost.”
He was supposed to be the psychic, but it still made no sense to him. "How can they worship me? Say I really was who they think I am, who you think I am, what is there to adore? According to all of you, I'm the reason you're all werewolves to begin with." He looked at the door again, the only thing separating him from them. "I’d think they'd want to tear my head off."
Brock cocked his furry head. Anne rolled her eyes and then stared at the wolf long enough for Mike to know she was telling him something. Something Mike was not prone to hear since he wasn't a wolf.
She stood up, hesitated, and then touched his arm. Her blue eyes, ocean blue, were soft, like the storm had receded and all that was left were calm waters.
He felt a brief stab of sharp stupidity that he could ever think of her as being dangerous.
"Lycanthrope’s aren’t the same as they were two hundred years ago. If this happened back then, then yes, they would probably want to kill you. Lucky for you, ever since werewolves learned control, they learned to like what they were.
“I couldn't stand the thought of not being who I am now. More people are born werewolves than they were since then. They want in here so bad because they want to thank you for being the cause of what they are."
It didn't sound so ridiculous when she said it like that. If Mike had the option of meeting his great-great-great-grandfather, he would. Meeting the man who came from such a long time ago, who had a part in Mike's very existence, would be an interesting experience.
Gordon's voice rose above the crowd outside. “Get away from the door! All of you! What makes you all think you can come here and harass my guests?” They hushed as Gordon demanded order among them using shame tactics.
Mike couldn’t believe he heard the man refer to him as a guest.
Mike looked at Anne, she looked at him. Brock hopped off his resting spot to trot back to the door, waiting for them to come.
He kept his groan to himself. Now that the crowd was settled he was expected to come out and meet them. Ugh, they all thought he was a God or something. He didn’t know if he could let them believe he was something he wasn’t.
Anne sighed and cleared her throat. "I know you don't like me—"
He winced. "I never said that."
She continued as if he said nothing at all, sticking her hand out. "But I was hoping we still had a deal."
Of course they did. He’d made her a promise.
He took her small hand and watched it disappear into his when he shook it. "I never go back on my word."
Anne glanced towards the door, towards the sound of Gordon's voice, then back at him, a nervous panic sending the ocean of her eyes into turmoil. "And remember, we have to convince them to not set Westley back up with someone else."
Mike picked his hat up from under the coffee table and placed it snugly on his head. "I wouldn't forget him. Maybe when this is over you'll tell me why his father's forcing him to get married in the first place."
She laughed only once. “It’s not as complicated as you think,” she said, scratching her pretty head of curly hair before following him out the door to greet his awaiting fans.
SEVEN
Anne watched the subtle changes in Mike's face and body. How his jaw became tight even though he smiled at questions asked three at a time. How he crossed his huge arms defensively over his chest to keep the children at bay, yet didn’t say anything when some yanked at his shirt and yelled his name.
The adults were no better. Like a bunch of tweens meeting their favorite rock star. They pressed closer and closer, everyone demanding a piece of his time, a shake of his hand or nod of his head in their direction. Anything that would acknowledge them as special among the crowd. They backed him into the wall.
Aside from the little things, there was no outright hint of panic. Anne saw it, though. The way his nostrils flared and eyes dilated.
Never did she think her pack would be like this. Of course she also hadn't expected the entire pack to arrive. Now Mike was panicking and Anne felt sick that she was the one who urged him play the part of the innocent, accidental God.
Despite his discomfort, he played it well.
Fanny was the most eager of the lot. For a tall, stick figure of a woman, she managed to shove her way to the front of the crowd, demanding answers to her questions. "Are you really the reincarnation of the first werewolf?"
Anne growled deep in her throat as Fanny all but leaned against Mike, forcing him to squish himself even further into the wall behind him. "I don't know. I could be."
She blinked her mud color eyes adoringly at him. "That man who tried to kill you, did he have shadows with him?"
Even though they’d all spoken ten at a time, now that Fanny was up front and taking charge, everyone went quiet and listened.
Probably because she was the bossiest woman in the pack.
Mike sent Anne a sideways glance. S
he could practically see the wheels turning in his head. How could anyone be so excited and delighted for someone being hunted like wild game?
Anne didn’t need to be a psychic like Mike to know that’s what he thought. She wanted to know the same thing. Was Mike reading Fanny's thoughts right now? What would he see inside of her head?
He cleared his throat, returning to the pack’s game of Q&A. "Yes, they were long and dark, in the shapes of people for the most part."
“The most part?”
“They stretched like Mr. Fantastic.”
Fanny fanned herself with her hand. “Exciting.”
Anne wanted to be sick. Where the Hell was her husband?
She scanned the rest of the crowd and saw Zeke in the back, arms crossed over a broad chest, lip curled into a high snarl on his square jaw. Sending Mike the same jealous look Anne had been sending to Fanny for standing so close.
She narrowed her eyes into slits. Don't even think about it.
He jerked, sneer melting from his face and was replaced with shock. He searched around for the source of the voice in his head before he found her. His eyes narrowed again in defiance. I don't care who he is. He has no right to encourage this.
If Fanny’s eager to bat her eyes and rub up against him then it's your fault for letting her.
The statement stunned him, then sent him charging into the crowd, pushing everyone out of his way until he made it to the front. He snatched Fanny by her wrists and pulled her away from Mike mid-question, towing her out of the war zone.
Fanny dug her heals into the grass and gravel. Even though Zeke was shorter than his wife by nearly a head with the high heels she wore, he was still the stronger of the two. The heels snapped off of her shoes as he continued to drag her away.
Fanny was born a werewolf, she had a crescent moon somewhere on her body. Naturally, between herself and her husband, considering he was turned, by Fanny, she would be the most excited.
Mike shot her a grateful glance. The psychic thing probably told him that Anne was his little helper. She couldn't help the heat in her cheeks as she nodded her head to him.
"How much longer should I let this continue?"
Anne jumped, then blew air out of her mouth when Gordon materialized beside her. She should’ve heard him trying to sneak up on her but she'd been preoccupied with smiling at Mike. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, please," he snapped. Anne jumped again at the bark in his voice before he pointed an angry finger between her eyes. "Don't think I don't know for a second what's going on here. Earlier today he insisted that he wasn't the first, now look at him!"
Anne did look. One of the pups, a girl who couldn't be older than ten, stepped up to him, holding out a purple spiral Selena Gomez notebook and pen. Mike bent down and hesitantly indulged her with an autograph.
Anne winced.
"Get the point now, huh?" Gordon crossed his arms and circled her once. Anne obediently held still while he tried to make her crack with intimidation. Like an idiot, she couldn't hold her mouth shut.
"I didn't bring these people here."
He shocked her by agreeing. "No, of course not. My own dumb shit mistake. I told Zeke, he told Fanny. She's a gossip and a believer like you couldn't imagine. She phoned everyone else and here they are. And, there he is, not denying it so much now. You figure you're going to get out of this wedding, don't you?"
She couldn't lie to him. She wanted to, so bad, but she had to be truthful. Fucking werewolf habits. "Yes, so was Westley."
He nodded. "Of that I have no doubt. But let’s get one thing straight, Princess. I chose you as a favor to him. You’re both close. Something could come of it. But, if you find a way out, I will choose another girl for him. Wouldn’t be so much better if it were a complete stranger from another pack, would it?”
She swallowed and shook her head. “No.”
“And, if either of you think for a second that I'll let him inherit any of this unless he gets married, you're out of your mind, Princess."
God she wished he’d stop calling her that. It was like he was so sure she wouldn’t get out of the marriage that there was no point in not calling her that.
Westley did say this would happen, didn’t he? It shouldn't be a shock, but she had hoped so much that he was wrong. That his own father would know when to relent. "I'm getting out of this marriage so you don't need to call me that anymore."
He shrugged one shoulder. "Princesses tend to get what they want, regardless of who it hurts. I don't see why the name should change."
She cringed away from him. In her weakness, her straight posture turned into a slouching show of defense. "You’re only punishing him. He doesn't love me, Gordon."
"You're his best friend. Why wouldn't it eventually turn into love?"
"You know why."
With her head down, she saw his nails extending themselves before she heard the growl. Looking up, she caught a flash of gold in his eyes as he struggled to hold in his temper and the wolf that wanted to burst free. "It's not true."
She opened her mouth to argue but his eyes left hers, looking just beyond her head, he stormed off.
Anne watched him stomp his feet back to his own house before she turned. Westley stood there, arms folded and face sad. "I told you he wouldn't let me get away with it."
She rushed to hug him but only made it halfway before a shadow knocked her twenty feet in the air.
Her body spun like a top before she crashed to the hard ground with a thud. She was pretty sure screams followed but couldn't be sure as everything flashed white then went black.
***
Mike watched her from the corner of his eye as he attempted to discourage one of the men from taking pictures. He tried dipping into her head when Gordon circled.
Being a werewolf made it difficult. The fact that her emotions were in chaos eased the way.
They were talking about him. Figured. Then he caught a flash of Westley. Mike put together the rest on his own.
Ah, the wedding. Gordon figured out Anne's plan and he was fuming. Westley had been right when he said his father wouldn't allow him to not get married.
Did it have anything to do with Westley’s sexuality? If it did then Mike would lose what little respect he had for Gordon. Forcing your kid to marry a woman because he was gay was a lame-ass attempt at control.
Anne rushed to embrace her friend. Mike saw the shadow before it hit her.
"Anne!"
She was already in the sky. The force of her spinning caused her arms and legs to thrust outward. His breath caught in his throat as her body fell like a limp rag, head first towards an old ford truck. Mike’s lungs seized up as her body evened out so that she landed on her back, missing the hood of the truck by inches and hitting the grass.
Mike regained control, shoved pastssed the stunned pack of wolves and launched himself towards her like a rocket, sliding to his knees before her body, praying she lived.
Westley met him there but he couldn't pay any attention to him or the screams of the people behind him as they were attacked.
His heart stopped and exploded when Westley grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her into his arms.
Mike lost it. "You idiot! She could have a neck injury!"
"She's fine. We have to get her inside right now."
That was right, a werewolf would be able to sense an injury like that a lot better than any paramedic. Still, it didn't stop him from being angry about it. "Fine, give her to me."
He knew he only managed to take her because he'd shocked the other man with his disregard. Otherwise, it was likely Westley wouldn't have released his pack mate so easily.
Once Mike had her, he was finally able assess the situation. Several men had already thrown their clothes off in the midst of a change. An attempt to defend their territory. Their wives took their children indoors where it would be safe with the lights.
Hadrian was behind this. Mike growled and looked up into the stars but the Wa
rlock wasn’t there.
Goddamn cowardly bastard. The man had the cojones of a friggin’ mouse.
It was Mike’s fault. He should've expected this when Chris flew in with his wings nearly cut off. But, no. When all those people showed up, he let his guard down, expecting there would be safety in numbers.
Any injury these people sustained would be on his head.
The men who stopped to fight were getting their asses kicked. One wolf attacked in a flying leap, claws out and jaws open, but he jumped right through the shadow thing he was trying to fight against.
Another wolf was dragged around by the tail, his efforts to twist and bite his attacker as useless as Mike's efforts had been that night in the bar. Aside from the way they moved and attacked, they were like real shadows, invincible to everything but the light.
Westley growled and moved to help his pack mates but Mike snatched his arm before he could leave. "Wait! Something's wrong."
Why weren't they coming for him and Westley?
He turned and ended up looking right into a pair of high beams from a truck. He blinked and turned away. Whoever owned this truck accidentally left the lights on in their excitement to see Mike.
Mike tuned out the snarls of the one sided fight and look around the area of the ranch he was on. There were some lights on poles above him, but they served to make the shadows longer and deeper. There were plenty of cars and trucks that had not been so neatly parked outside of Gordon's house. "We need to turn all these lights on."
Westley spun around and immediately understood. "I'll get the keys." He threw off his clothes and leapt forward, his arms becoming long, thin and fury as paws replaced his feet and hands.
He was completely changed before he hit the ground and took off running, grabbing up any pair of jeans strewn about on the ground with his jaws as he ducked, weaved, and leapt out of the way of any attack.
Mike refused to hold still. Even if Westley had no trouble retrieving the keys from every pair of pockets there was, he wouldn't know whose trucks belonged to who. Those things were here for him and, even if they weren't, it was his responsibility to make sure that no one was hurt.
