Powerless

by Catherine Johnson

  “I doona hold it against you lad. I’ve met Cameron. He’s no’ someone you mess with lightly. Any idea what his interest in Bryn is?”

  “No he never gave any hint of that.”

  “Shit.” As if things were no’ bad enough already.

  “He’s not been in touch with you then?”

  “No. No’ yet. Probably playin’ the same game as Daniel, waitin’ for me tae go rabid from bein’ stuck inside. Pack’ll have tae deal with me then and Bryn gets away with it again.”

  “You don’t look like a loony.”

  “I doona feel like one. Feel better than I have in a long time.”

  “That Rebecca bird got anything to do with that?”

  I’m silent for a while, because he might be on tae somethin’ with that thought.

  “Perhaps. Only one problem with all that though, mate.” I say quietly.

  “Yeah, women are always a problem.” Cooper grunts as Michelle kicks his shin under the table.

  “Present company excepted,” Michelle nods and smiles. “I’ll no’ disagree. Problem is; there’s a couple o’ us know that Bryn was the one attacked Becca. It’s no just me Daniel’s got tae get rid of.”

  “Who else?”

  “You remember Donna and Michael?” Cooper nods. “Just them and Becca. Daniel’s kept everyone else in the dark.”

  “Ah, gotta keep your girl safe.”

  “Aye.”

  “I think you need to speak to Cameron then, fella. It’s not going to be easy, or pleasant, but it’s the only way you’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

  Michelle takes away our empty beer bottles and brings us a bottle o’ whisky and two glasses. It’s definitely goin’ tae be a long night.

  “Course,” says Cooper. “You know who else hails from the Emerald Isle don’t you?”

  The thought is in my head before the name leaves his mouth. “Daniel.”

  I open the whisky and start tae pour.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By Tuesday lunchtime I’ve decided that if I ever see Callum Lennox again I am going to rip his throat out. Two and a half days without so much as a text message. The intel he’s getting in London better be worth it. Michael did tell me a few stories about the London pack and most of them seem to revolve around their Alpha’s legendary drinking ability. If Callum hasn’t been in touch because he’s been too busy drinking or too busy being hung over, I‘m going to make him wish he was back in jail.

  I’m still mostly clueless as to what’s going on between us. It seems to be more serious than him just wanting to get his leg over. The one thing I know with any certainty is I that I can hardly sleep for missing him. I can feel that he’s too far away; it’s an ache in the centre of my chest that weighs me down. Each night that he’s been gone, I’ve had the same nightmare. I’ve only dreamt it once before. I’m running with Callum, two wolves in the night, but then he disappears and I can’t find him.

  There’s a connection there, both as humans and as wolves. I feel stronger, more together, more whole, when I’m near him. The way he looks at me feels like he’s promising me something. It makes my body tighten when I see his intense, dark eyes on me.

  Maybe I’m letting the drama with Bryn and Daniel get to me. It’s not that I don’t take the threat seriously, but they haven’t made any sort of move against any of us yet. Maybe they’ll leave us alone. No, I know that’s wishful, childlike thinking. I know they won’t. I know that they can’t. It would still be nice to be able to hide my head in the sand about all of this. I wish I could call Callum back and we could get on with whatever it is that we’re getting started. That we could just go back to running with the pack on a full moon and have everyone leave us alone. But I know that’s not possible. Nor should it be. Callum lost nearly six years of his life for something that Bryn did. The very thought makes me so angry that I need to stop and concentrate on my breathing. Bryn needs to be punished for what he did. A voice in the back of my mind keeps nagging that people don’t do things like that once and then stop. Whatever he did to me, he must be doing to other women. When I think about it, a cold finger of fear traces my spine as I wonder what damage he’s leaving in his wake. Are there a string of women across Manchester too scared to leave their homes now? Or is it worse? Are there women missing that we haven’t heard about? If Daniel’s helping him with this, then Daniel deserves punishment too.

  I can’t think up any logical reason why Daniel would cover for Bryn, as much as I’ve been trying. I’ve sent a couple of messages to Callum asking if he’s made any progress, but had nothing in response. It worries me as well that neither Donna nor Michael has heard from him. I’d have thought he would have at least kept in touch with Michael.

  I get through the afternoon on autopilot. As long as I’m not making mistakes, everyone leaves me to my own devices. It’s the usual cattle-truck-esque journey home. The whole day has been miserably cold and grey. There’s just nothing to lighten the heart at the moment. I’m putting my key into the door and thinking about calling Donna when my phone vibrates. I get a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when I pull my phone out and see Donna’s number on the screen. I answer whilst I’m still stood in the street.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Becca.” It’s a sob. I am instantly on alert.

  “Donna? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” I ask urgently.

  “Please... Becca.”

  “Shit. Donna, I’ll be there in five.”

  I cut her off and change keys. I run to my car and nearly lose my driver’s side door to oncoming traffic in my panic to get to Donna. The bus driver coming up behind me isn’t too happy as I pull out into the road with a squeal of tyres. I have to wait on the traffic until I get to the junction at the bottom of this hill, where the rail station is. Once I’m through the lights, I’m on a road I can overtake on if I’m stupid enough. I floor it.

  In just less than the promised five minutes I’m outside Donna and Michael’s house. Michael’s car is missing, but Donna’s is in the driveway. I hope to God that means Michael’s at work. When I try the door it’s locked, which terrifies and amazes me. Donna never keeps the door locked when she knows I’m coming over. I can see her shape through the glass as she arrives to unlock the door. When she finally opens the door, I can’t move. Her face is a mess. One eye is swollen shut by an ugly bruise that’s beginning to colour one side of her face from jaw to temple. Both of her lips are split and there’s an ugly red mark around her neck.

  “Fuck!”

  She steps back and lets me in, locking the door behind me.

  “Where are the kids, Donna?”

  “At a friend’s for tea. I’m s’posed to pick them up at six thirty.” She’s mumbling and almost whispering, coupled with her swollen lips, it’s hard to catch all the words.

  I look at the clock in the living room; it’s almost six o’ clock.

  “We’ll they’re not going to see you looking like this, it’ll scare the shit out of them. I’ll go for them.”

  She’s still stood there, her arms wrapped around her, as if she’s holding herself together.

  “Donna. Was this Bryn?”

  She only nods.

  Shit, shit and double shit! I take a small step closer to her and ask as gently as I can.

  “Donna, are you hurt anywhere I can’t see?”

  She shakes her head, but a tear slides down her cheek.

  “Fucking hell, come here.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. She’s a good half a foot shorter than me; it’s like hugging a child.

  “Where’s Michael?”

  “Working,” she mumbles into my coat.

  “Have you tried to get in touch with him?”

  I can feel her shake her head, but she doesn’t speak.

  “Donna you need to change before the boys see you. I’ll pick them up, but you need to be healed for when they see you.”

  She sobs again and starts shaking. I realise she’s cryi
ng, hard.

  “I don’t think I can. I’m too scared. There’s too much noise in my head. I can’t find my wolf.”

  “Which friend are the boys with?”

  Donna gives me the address. I know it; I’ve been there before with the boys to a birthday party. I check the clock again, we still have some time. I’m about to try something that I’ve never tried before. I don’t even know if I can do this. It’s not like you get a fucking handbook when you get turned. Donna and Michael told me as much as they could, but I know there’s so much more I don’t know.

  “Come on. Upstairs.”

  I keep my arm around her as best I can as I guide her out of the room and up the stairs to the master bedroom. She’s still shaking. I’m beginning to suspect that she’s hurt a lot worse than she’s letting on and the thought turns my blood to ice in my veins. I try not to dwell on that thought until I know for sure.

  “Right Don’, come on. We need to get you undressed.”

  She’s still shivering and seems to have gone into some sort of catatonic state. As carefully as I can, I start to undress her. I pull her top over her head and find handprint shaped bruises around her upper arms. I start to undo her jeans and I can feel the bile rise with fear about what I might find. I don’t breathe again until I see that her thighs are clear of bruises and blood. It occurs to me that I would have known, should have been able to smell it if she’d been hurt that way, but in the horror of seeing her face I literally lost some of my senses. Damn my human self.

  Despite the lack of injury, I know something bad has happened for her to be in this state. There’s no point questioning her now. We don’t have time and I don’t think she can answer anyway. I finish pulling her socks off and throw them in the general direction that I’ve flung her other clothes. I’m not bothered about being neat and tidy.

  I pull my hair free of its tie and shrug my coat off, letting it drop to the floor. I pull Donna to me. I’ve seen this done, but from more of a distance. I’m not sure I can do it without touch and I don’t want to waste time.

  “Okay Don’, you’re going to change now, alright?”

  There’s no response except for the trembling.

  I push my own fear and anger down and reach into that part of myself that is permanently furry. I think about the moors, about the feeling of running, about howling. I’m trying to feel the pack but my thoughts go off on different tangent and it’s Callum I end up thinking about. I remember our run. I remember how it felt to be close to him, pelt to pelt. I recall his scent, the sense of power that I always feel around him. As I recall all these sensations I try and push them outwards, almost like trying to create a bubble around Donna and me. I concentrate on fur, musk and moonlight and I will those thoughts at Donna. I can feel the energy begin to roll from her. The next thing I know, she’s no longer in my embrace, but is stood as her glorious, golden-furred, uninjured self in front of me. Her fear hasn’t dissipated, I can still sense it.

  “Right. You curl up on the bed and stay in here. I’m going to bring Jacob and Jonathan home. I’ll sort them out for bed. I’ll tell them that you’re not feeling well and that you don’t want them to catch it. Then I’m coming back in and you can change back and tell me what happened. Got it?”

  In answer she huffs and then jumps up onto the bed, turning in circles to pad the duvet into that perfect, acceptable shape before dropping down and curling up. She hides her nose under her tail.

  “Good girl.”

  I go downstairs and tug her house keys from the back of the door. I lock the door behind me before I set off.

  Fortunately, after a day of school and an evening playing with their friend, the boys are absolutely wiped out. There are no arguments as I get them washed and changed into their pyjamas. I get them a mug of warm milk each as a bit of a treat since they aren’t allowed to see their mum. They don’t question that under the novelty of Aunty Becca being around on a school night. Instead they let me put them to bed without complaint, but with two stories rather than the one that they’re usually allowed. They’re both fast asleep before I’ve finished the second request.

  I creep out of their room and close the door behind me as quietly as possible. When I go into Donna and Michael’s room, Doona is still in the bed, but she’s managed to turn back by herself. She’s dressed herself in some pyjamas and crawled under the duvet. That makes me feel better. I was so worried about how broken she seemed to be. She’s facing away from the door. I tiptoe around the bed in case she’s asleep, but when I can see her face, I can se her eyes are open, if a little glazed.

  “Hey.” I say softly.

  I can see her come back to herself. “Hey” she whispers back.

  I sit on the floor next to the bed, leaning one arm on top of the covers.

  “You ready to tell me what happened?”

  Donna seems to shake off her melancholy and I can see her usual personality begin to peek out as she turns over and pushes herself up so that she’s sat against the headboard. All traces of the bruising and split lips are gone. She scrubs her hands over her face and seems to come into herself a little more. I push myself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, Becca.”

  “No need babes. It’s what I’m here for.”

  “I can’t believe I let that.... fuck! Okay I’ll start from the beginning. I was going to get some shopping done whilst the boys were out. I was running around getting my keys and shit. I go to open the door and walk straight fucking into him. I wasn’t even looking. He pushed me back into the house. First thing he did was slap me. Fucking hard. It knocked me into the wall. I think he punched me a couple of times I’m not sure, my head was spinning. I know he grabbed my arms and pinned me against the wall. I couldn’t fucking see out of one eye. He....fuck....”

  I wait whilst she finds the words.

  “I thought he was going to. He didn’t but I really thought he was going to rape me, Becca. I could feel, fuck... he was ...”

  She covers her mouth with the back of her hand and gags. I put my hand on her leg over the duvet and rub to let her know that I’m still here.

  She chokes out the rest of the sentence. “He was hard.”

  I try to keep calm. Blowing up at this point won’t help her at all; but all I can see is red and I can barely stay still for the need to get the biggest knife I can lay my hands on and go and find the sick fuck. It’s not that I’m not angry for Donna for her own sake, but I’m surprised by the strength of the rage that comes over me at the idea that someone tried to hurt one of mine. One of my what? I can’t chase that thought down yet so I ignore it.

  “What happened next?” I ask quietly, but even I can hear the rage in my voice.

  “He got right up close to my face, put a hand around my throat and said “Just a fucking taste you bitch.” He let go of my arms and back handed me, sent me flying again. Then he just walked out. I didn’t know what to do Bex. I couldn’t call Michael; he’s not due off shift ‘till midnight. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “It’s alright. I’m going to stay here ‘till Michael gets home.”

  “Fuck! I am so pissed off at myself, Becca! I was so scared. How did I let myself get so scared like that? I went to fucking pieces.”

  “No you didn’t. You couldn’t have done anything, Donna. There’s no way you could have hurt him and if you’d tried to, he would have hurt you worse. Not fighting back was the smart move. It was your instinct.”

  “Yeah, but I was a fucking mess afterwards as well.”

  “Of course you were. Look, I’ve been there, remember? I understand.”

  She smiles a small smile and nods. I know she’s going to be okay eventually.

  “I’m going to brew up, unless you want to come downstairs?”

  “Do you mind if I don’t?”

  “Not at all. As long as I get the other half of the bed.”

  I go and make us both a cup of tea. I bring them upstairs and put the mugs on the
bedside tables before settling myself on the other half of the bed, mirroring Donna, propped up against the headboard.

  “Feeling better?” I ask as she takes a drink.

  “Yep. Thanks, Becca. For everything.”

  “I told you. It’s what I’m here for.”

  “Yeah, about that. When did you learn to help someone change?” Donna cocks her head to one side and studies me.

  “Erm... I didn’t know I could before tonight.”

  “Well you handled it like a pro.”