by Siobhan Muir
Julianna almost felt them gliding over her now.
She heard the tines of her fork scrape her empty plate and blinked. When had she finished all her food? Visions of Jeff had absorbed all her attention and made her ravenous.
Yeah, ravenous for hot, sexy male!
Stop it. He’s not mine and never was. I’m sure he’s found someone to marry by now. I should just forget him.
But fury rippled through Julianna at the thought of his disregard, and she growled as she stood, yanking her plate so hard the silverware clattered to the floor. She closed her eyes and fumed, her hands tightening on the plate. What was wrong with her? Why did it matter if he’d married or not?
Because he’s yours! her Sister shouted. You’re going back. You can claim him.
She groaned and stomped into the kitchen, tossing her plate into the sink. She gripped the counter edge until her knuckles turned white and fought the fury building inside her.
I can’t. I’m going crazy, and I have to help my parents. I don’t have time for Jeff.
Only because you’re a coward.
Why was she arguing with herself? She was going home to help her parents and she’d just deal with the weird problems of the memory breaks.
Her stomach lurched, and her shoulders slumped.
Her father’s voice, so strong and confident, echoed in her head. Nobody gets anything done by moping. Pull yourself together and make strides, girl, no matter how small those strides are.
Using his advice as a shield against her distress, Julianna loaded her plate into the dishwasher and forced herself to focus on going home. She couldn’t just pick up and leave. She couldn’t do that to the staff she managed at the B&B, but she could call in sick to give herself a day to regroup. She spent the day packing and considering the fastest way to get her affairs in order to go home. By the time the cloak of night had descended, she collapsed on her bed in her PJs, too exhausted to even think. Sleep took her as soon as her head hit the pillow.
* * * *
Awareness came slowly, focusing into clarity from the darkness of subconscious. The scents of the evening enveloped Julianna—the heated concrete, burned oil from vehicles, mountain scents of fresh streams and cool trees. Darkness filled the valley, and the lights of the city obscured the stars, but the white-gold disk of the moon showed above the Sierra Nevada Mountains, its glow painting a tingling path of excitement down her body. She stretched her arms up to greet the moon in delight.
The air was cool enough to make her shiver, but the chill barely touched Julianna’s consciousness as she turned her gaze to the night-colored world. She’d be warm enough once she started moving. Her strides lengthened into a jog, stretching her muscles. The elation of being outside egged her on, teasing her with scents and sounds she’d never noticed before. When did ponderosa pines start smelling like vanilla? Why hadn’t she ever noticed the irises planted in her neighbor’s border garden? When had the family of raccoons moved into the trees by the retention pond? She pulled the scents in with great breaths, enjoying their tickling sensations in her nostrils. It was so exhilarating she threw her head back and laughed with sheer joy.
Julianna increased her pace, pushing herself faster until she pelted down the bike trail farther from her apartment. The moonlight washed over her, soothing the ragged edges of her life like a balm. Why hadn’t she ever noticed it before? It was almost better than sex! Well, better than sex with Terence.
Her breath sawed through her chest as a sense of unbalance gripped her. She needed to use her arms more, needed to feel the dirt on her hands. She turned sharply and dove off the path into the bushes, landing on her hands to scramble up the hillside. Branches from the shrubs caught at her clothes, and the scent of moist leaf litter filled her nose. But she couldn’t see clearly enough.
Julianna’s nose shot out in front of her face, her spine elongated from her buttocks and grew heavy with fur, and her fingers shortened and sprouted claws. Scents became sharper, her vision cleared, and the world intensified. Then the wolf inside her took over, threw back her head, and howled in jubilation at her new-found freedom.
* * * *
Julianna woke with a gasp and stared at the red numbers of her clock beside the bed, trying to slow her heartbeat.
Two thirty-seven a.m.
She’d been dreaming. At least she thought it was a dream. It had felt so real.
Was it a memory?
Please, God, tell me it wasn’t a memory.
Julianna held her breath, trying to figure out what she’d seen. A clear vision of hunting a lone raccoon surfaced, complete with the scents of blood and fear. She recalled the taste of the raccoon’s fury and desperation, and the texture of its fur along her tongue as it fought the grip of her jaws. Then she remembered the sweetness of its flesh as she fed from its warm belly.
Panic and dread swelled with her revulsion.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, horrified. “I’m a monster!”
Chapter Two:
Coming Home
Julianna stood beside her mother, Beth, and listened to the pastor drone on about returning to God’s side after a life lived righteously. The sun blazed over them, making the air too warm for black clothing, but she ignored the sweat trickling down her back as she waited for the service to finish.
Her dad lay in the closed coffin with a flowered wreath on top of it. Julianna tried to ignore the stench of his rotting body in the heat. God, can’t anyone else smell it? She glanced surreptitiously around at the other mourners. Most of the town of Callowwood was there to pay their respects to a man who had lived in the community for years. No one wrinkled their noses at the odor untouched by the scents of fresh lilies. She tried to focus on the flowers on the coffin rather than the reek coming from inside it.
Oh, Dad, I wish you were here. Grief ripped at her again, forcing more tears down her cheeks. Those bastards at the factory knew they were poisoning you and they did nothing but pay doctors’ bills and funeral costs! I wish you were here to make everything all right. Thank God you’re not hurting anymore.
Now she had one less person from whom to hide.
In the two months since her birthday and her unnerving discovery of her ability to shift into a wolf when the moon shone full, Julianna had lived in fear everyone would discover her secret. It had been relatively easy for her last month in Fresno where big city anonymity had shielded her from notice. But at home in her small town where everyone knew her, she’d spent the month holing up in her parents’ house, terrified they’d notice the changes in her. She’d avoided going out as much as possible.
Despite his illness, her dad was still observant and watched her with puzzlement, though he never asked why she was so skittish. She’d tried to be the daughter they remembered, but her guilt and fear held her back. She could scent their confusion, but it only made her more aware of her new differences.
She never told them she could hear them talking quietly in their bedroom at night, even when in the kitchen, noisily washing the dishes to drown out their voices. She tried to laugh off her ability to scent when her mother was sad, or frightened, or amused, or lying. Who knew lying had a scent? She wanted to confide in her dad, tell him everything, but she didn’t want him to look at her with fear or loathing, so she’d kept silent.
Please forgive me, Dad.
The only response was the wind shifting direction, blowing the death scent away.
Julianna had moved into the “mother-in-law” apartment over her parents’ detached garage to give them space to be together in his final days. It also gave her the freedom to come and go in whatever form she chose without them knowing her secret. Nursing her father had taken an emotional toll, and she had needed the small apartment as a retreat to regroup for another grueling day. She’d been too tired to even think about looking for a job.
Now she’d have the time but lacked the motivation. And Callowwood wasn’t a booming metropolis by any stretch of the imagination.
The town was exactly the way she’d remembered it, except a Super Walmart had sprung up in Leland between Callowwood and Wipple, and the cars were a little more up-to-date. The Wolf’s Den, the bar and pool hall, had grown, and she heard they’d put in a few big screen TVs to allow the patrons to scream at sports games. She’d considered it as a good job prospect to keep her close to home and her mom. Other than those few things, the town seemed to be caught in a time warp.
Only Jeff Lightfoot’s absence changed the atmosphere of Callowwood. Though she’d sensed him in town, she hadn’t seen him at all in the month she’d been home. Initially, she’d felt relieved, and some of her tension had eased. Still, curiosity ate at her, and she wondered how he’d changed. Her heart fluttered with the thought of seeing him. He was the dream she’d forsaken, but surely he wasn’t as good as she remembered.
The wind shifted again, and a new scent reached her sensitive nose. Was it streams swollen by spring runoff? Or the earthy scent of rain in the desert? It tasted like a combination of the two.
She wanted to turn her head to chase the delicious smell, but the pastor finished his eulogy, and her mother stepped forward to drop a calla lily on the coffin’s lid. Julianna jerked back into the moment and followed her, resting one hand on the coffin as she bowed her head. Be well, Dad. Well, as well as you can be. I love you.
She took her mother’s arm and moved aside so others could say their good-byes.
“Well, that’s over now,” her mother sighed, resignation and relief filling her voice. “All that’s left is the respects party.”
“You don’t want to talk to anyone here?”
“No, let’s just go. There will be enough people wanting to talk to us at the party.”
“Thank goodness it’s not at the house,” Julianna admitted as they nodded at a few folks on the way to her Camaro. “I don’t think I could stand to clean up after saying good-bye to Dad.”
Beth laughed softly. “Me either.”
“Are you going to be okay, Mom?”
Beth’s silence lasted for several steps, and Julianna worried for her mother.
“I think it will take me a while to get used to being alone in that house.”
“Did you want me to move into the house with you?”
“No, dear one, you don’t have to. I think I should get used to the silence. You’re right outside the door, literally, and you need your own space. You’re a grown woman and don’t need your mother hanging over you.”
Julianna snorted. “Mom, you don’t hang over me. I don’t mind. Really.”
Beth squeezed her arm. “Thanks, dear one. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.” They stopped at the car, the burgundy red 2010 Chevy Camaro she’d won from her philandering ex, and Julianna opened the passenger door. “Speaking of changing my mind, the town hall was booked for an emergency budgetary meeting this evening and we had to move the respects party at the last minute. It’s now being held at the Wolf’s Den. The Lightfoots offered, and I couldn’t say no. You don’t mind?”
“No, not at all.” Tension filled Julianna’s body as she closed the door.
Oh, God, I’ll have to see him now, for sure.
It’ll be okay. He won’t be like I remember. It’ll be okay.
Julianna took a deep breath and walked around the front of the car. It’ll be okay.
The sunlight and light breeze continued indifferent to her anxiety, and she tried to let her worries go. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. Her gaze swept over the cemetery and stopped on a couple standing a little apart from the other mourners. They both looked back at her with intensity, and she felt her face freeze into impassiveness as a fine tremor shimmered through her body.
One of them was an older woman, her silver hair pulled into two long braids on either side of her head, draping over her shoulders. She had the features of the Paiute Tribe of First Peoples who had lived in Nevada long before it got the name. Though the woman barely came up to her escort’s chest as he held her arm, she stood straight and alert.
The second person was Jeff Lightfoot. He nodded to something the old woman said as his eyes bored holes into Julianna, simultaneously making her blood heat and her heart freeze.
He’s still the same. Broad unbowed shoulders stretched his suit jacket, which hung over a flat belly. His hair showed no gray in the rich brown, and his face remained unlined around the neatly trimmed beard. Julianna felt his eyes take in every detail about her as he stared. How can he still be the same? He’d only gained muscle weight as far as she could tell, and her inner voice shrilled a wolf whistle. Her nipples tightened under her black dress, and the scent of her arousal filled the car.
Damn! How does he do that?
She turned her gaze away from Jeff and quickly glanced at her mother, but Beth stared out her own window, unaware of Julianna’s reaction.
As the only guy in town who’d ever made her hot and wet, Jeff had starred in all her teenage fantasies. Mostly they featured him saving her from bad guys by driving up in his black 1977 Chevy Camaro and whisking her away. As she got older, she’d fantasized about kissing him, feeling his arms wrapped around her, and his body pressed against her. By the time she’d reached eighteen, the fantasies had become much more graphic and enjoyable, giving her wet dreams and soaked panties.
Not much has changed, then.
Julianna swallowed hard and pulled the car out onto the road, looking carefully over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming, and even more carefully not looking back at where Jeff and the old woman stood. Despite her determined ignorance, she felt their gazes all the way out of the cemetery and along the fence that “kept in the dead,” as her father used to say. Now he rested among them.
Her tears and sorrow managed to divert her attention from the hard stares, and she focused on driving safely through town to the Wolf’s Den Bar. The bar resided in a squat building taking up most of a town block with a parking lot filling the rest. Dark windows filled with the inevitable neon signs advertised different kinds of beer, from Michelob and Coors to Fat Tire and Moose Drool. Newspaper canisters guarded the glass double doors and a smoking bin/trash can stood a few feet away for the people who were still part of the “black lung club”. The Wolf’s Den was a non-smoking bar, odd for a drinking establishment, but it’d always been that way. Still, people flocked there from several miles around, including the nearby rural towns.
Julianna parked the Camaro in the shade of a large tree daring to grow at the edge of the parking lot. Julianna appreciated it now with summer in full swing. She and her mother paused, gathering their courage to face the well-wishers.
“Ready?” Julianna asked.
Beth snorted ruefully. “Not hardly.”
“Yeah, me either.”
She pushed the door open and stood in the oven-heat of the July afternoon. Sweat poured down her back from more than just the heat.
Take a deep breath. You can do this, Julianna thought wearily. You’ve done this kind of thing before. You’ve smiled when you’ve wanted to snarl. You’ve laughed when you wanted to cry. You can get through anything! You’ve had a lying, cheating husband. This will be easy.
Somehow, her pep talk didn’t alleviate her worries as they walked across the parking lot. The cars from the funeral rolled slowly down Main Street, the hiss of the tires more threatening with their slow speed. She didn’t want to face anyone, didn’t want them staring, assessing, judging her. She knew there’d be questions. What are you doing these days? How was California? Didn’t you get married? Where’s your husband?
She inhaled deeply to calm herself down, sucking in the scents of hot oil on asphalt. Not only had she failed in marriage, but she’d returned to a town she’d triumphantly escaped, just to get away from a man who’d ignored her. Now she walked into his bar as if everything was fine.
But it wasn’t fine.
Her father was dead and she still had to face Jeff Lightfoot. Jeff might not have known what his rejection had
done to her, but facing him still soured her stomach. Hell, none of that even covered her peculiar new problem of running four-legged for three days a month.
Telling herself sternly to relax, she pushed open the front doors of the Wolf’s Den and stepped through. Julianna gritted her teeth, preparing herself for the curious and judgmental stares she knew she’d face. The bar had never been sexy or stylish, but it had a few quirky accents that gave it flair.
The bar top was steel, covered in black lacquer with polished brass rails from Callowwood’s first fire engine. The bar stools had red vinyl cushions fraying in spots, but the brass tacks holding the fabric in place matched the rails. Yellow faux-wood panels from the 1970s constructed the stained walls, with enough holes to be reminiscent of Swiss cheese, especially around the dartboards. Old stained glass lamps hung in various places around the rooms, including over the pool tables and booths on the outside walls, while candles in their red lantern holders sat on each table in the center of the room.
The bar had changed little since she’d left, but instead of the back wall where a juke box had held court, the room opened to accommodate pool tables squatting like tortoises waiting for the days to pass them by. Today, all the tables wore black satin covers in mourning.
The place smelled like stale beer, sweat, and furniture polish, and Julianna’s heart leapt with homesickness. Everything was familiar but more pronounced, stronger. New scents of sorrow and anticipation mixed with the eau de bar, and she stilled her face to keep from wrinkling her nose. She shoved her shoulders back and held her head up as she walked with her mother to the bar, praying no one could hear her heart pounding.
Richard and Tawny Lightfoot worked behind the bar, preparing for the wake. Jeff’s father looked like a taller, older, more refined version of his son. He had deep brown eyes, and chestnut hair showing gray at the temples, but other than that, he hadn’t aged much in the eighteen years Julianna had been gone.
