Powerless

by Catherine Johnson

  “Becca, what’re you no’ tellin’ me, lass?”

  “Nothing. Really. I’ll miss you, but it sounds like you need to be there.”

  “There’s somethin’ goin’ on lass, tell me.”

  “Callum, there really isn’t. Have you spoken to Donna and Michael? Do you want me to let them know you’re staying in Ireland?”

  “I already phoned Michael, he knows I cannae leave just yet. He’s goin’ tae pick me up from the airport Sunday afternoon.”

  That little voice is growing louder, fuelled by the notion that I was second on his list of people to contact. I silently berate myself for being foolish, imagining something that wasn’t there. I make my tone as bright as I can manage.

  “Great. Okay. I’ll see you Sunday then.”

  “Becca, are you sure you’re alright, lass?”

  “Of course, I’m fine. Bye”

  I just about catch the sound of his own farewell as I’m ending the call. Sunday seems like an age away. I wish I’d had the foresight to pick up a bottle of wine when I was stocking up on Thursday. Rationally thinking, I know that getting drunk would be a bad idea, I need all my wits about me until we find a way that we can all be safe. Emotionally, I’m ready for two bottles of red, a Celine Dion album or two, maybe even some Michael Bolton, and a film with lots of half naked, muscled men in it. I settle for the films and a cup of hot chocolate. I start to watch Rocky, but the scenes with Adrian don’t fit well with my mood tonight, so I switch to the Rambo box set. Despite the shouting and the gun fire, I fall asleep on the sofa.

  Saturday dawns, or at least it tries to. There’s a thick, misty drizzle shrouding the entire valley. I can’t see the hills from my window, only a curtain of dank grey. My wolf side isn’t very fussy about the weather, but the thick cloud cover over the moors makes a run much less enjoyable because the visibility is so poor. I shower and change in a weak attempt to improve my mood. Having decided that Celine and Michael really need alcohol to become credible musical choices, I opt for Katy Perry to give me some energy, roll up my sleeves and tackle some housework.

  It’s October, but the clocks don’t turn back until next week. The evening concedes to the night at around six o’clock, but the moon won’t be at its zenith until much later. Donna and Michael call to pick me up at around ten o’clock, having cleverly coerced some unsuspecting parent into inviting their boys over for a sleep-over. In some cruel twist of coincidence, the meeting point that Daniel has chosen is roughly the same place that Callum and I went for our run together. I can’t see the lights of the city tonight, though; I can’t see much of anything at all, even with my enhanced night vision.

  Due to the fact that we can’t see more than about twenty feet in any direction, the pack are grouped together more closely than usual. The three of us are the last to arrive, and I can see as well as feel Daniel’s surprise that Callum isn’t with us. I’m confused by what I sense from Bryn, though, that man is like an open book of emotion. At first I sense disappointment, but that is swiftly replaced with excitement. I would have thought that he would have been looking forward to taking a snap at Callum tonight, so I can’t think why it thrills him so much that his target is missing.

  Michael is almost vibrating with his desire to knock Bryn out. I put my hand on his arm to try and calm him and hold him back. It seems to work a little. Now is very definitely not the time. For one, we have no idea what information Callum has that we need to consider; for another, Rob is stood with Daniel and Bryn; and it is blindingly obvious that if Michael tries to take Bryn out, that it’s going to be three on one.

  “Callum not joining us tonight?” Daniel calls out, loud enough for the rest of the pack to hear.

  I beat Michael to the answer, speaking almost before I know what I’m going to say. “No. He’s working away. He sends his regards though.”

  “Well I hope he manages to keep himself together or at least stay out of sight.” It’s a cheap blow to insinuate that Callum will suddenly lose all self control now after maintaining it for so long.

  “He’s managed for the past few years. I’m sure he won’t disgrace the pack.”

  I probably should have been more restrained with my choice of words. The fact that I’m speaking up for Callum and my not-so-subtle innuendo visibly strikes a chord with Daniel and he gives me a hard look, but at least he drops the subject of Callum. He does his best to change the subject.

  “Well let’s not stand here getting wet, shall we.”

  We all go through the usual routine of shedding our human sides and releasing our wolves. As soon as my paws are on the ground I have the urge to shake the moisture off my thick fur. My pelt is dense enough that the mist won’t reach my skin, not even if I decide to go swimming, but the instinct is there nonetheless. Daniel sets off and we follow like good little wolves. Michael, Donna and I keep to the flank, as far away as is practicable given the terrain and the weather. I open my senses to the rest of the pack. I can feel their confusion and unease about what’s happening. I can feel that they’re picking up on the undercurrent of tension. It’s not surprising. One moon everything’s normal, the next they’re told they have to accommodate a rabid wolf who’s attacked one of their own, the next, said victim is standing up for the visibly sane newcomer. Add to that the strain between Daniel, Bryn, Rob and the three of us tonight, and you have some very baffled wolves.

  After we’ve covered several miles, I start to hang back from Donna and Michael. They haven’t had a chance to be together in wolf form since Bryn attacked Donna. I can feel their yearning for that connection, the need to run side by side and just be free together. I’m only a little jealous, but that’s no reason not to give them some privacy. I can’t see any of them but I can still sense the pack as a whole, so I know I’m not being left behind or heading in the wrong direction.

  I’m thinking about Callum, musing about what the moon looks like to him tonight, if he can see it. I’m wondering about the wolves that he’s running with and what they’re like. An irrationally sharp shard of jealousy gets me thinking about any unattached females that he might be running with. I’m trying to reconcile the man, the wolf that I ran through the night with, that sets me on fire, with the phone call of yesterday and my feelings of disappointment; when my nightmare comes to life.

  Bryn speeds out of the foggy darkness and runs straight into me, knocking me over and winding me. His momentum keeps him moving and I use the opportunity to stagger back up. He wheels around and comes for me again, snapping at my shoulders and head. I need to find my footing and fast. We aren’t near the worst of the peat bogs, but the constant wet of the day has left the soil between the clumps of heather like black glue. As a female, I’m slightly smaller and less bulky than Bryn, but the ground is stripping me of my advantages of speed and agility.

  I snap back at him, whirling, trying to keep him from getting behind me. I don’t want to give him access to my neck or my belly, both vulnerable spots. He darts around me again, a grey blur in the moonlight, and I feel his hot breath by my tail. When I twist around so that I can see him again, his tongue is smacking his lips. I stumble as the realisation hits me that he’s not going for the soft skin, he’s not going to try and bleed me or kill me. He’s scenting me, he’s trying to wear me out, exhaust me because he’s trying to get me into position to mount me.

  Over my dead little wolf body is that going to happen. I’m still trying to recover from having the breath knocked out of me, I’m panting, trying to take in as much air as possible whilst trying to keep moving. I know that if I go down, he’ll pounce, and with the extra weight he has on me, there’s a good chance I won’t be able to shake him off. I snarl and snap when he comes anywhere near me. I’m aiming for his shoulders, preferably his neck. If I can’t get a lucky bite near his throat then I need to cripple him at a joint or a large muscle.

  He circles again, this time I manage to whip my hindquarters out of the way before he can get close, but he closes in again almost
immediately. This time he aims for my neck, trying to catch the point between my shoulders that’s like a natural tranquiliser. If he can close his mouth around a particular spot, my body will relax several degrees whether I want it to or not. I pull back, out of his reach, but not quite quickly enough. His teeth catch my shoulder, tearing into the muscle.

  In a close match like this, injured, unable to catch my breath properly, I have no superior traits. He has the strength and the stamina to keep going until I hit exhaustion. There’s only one talent, one strength, left to me, my speed on a full run. It runs counter to every wolf instinct that I have to turn my back on a threat, but I have no choice. It would be idiocy to try and outfight Bryn, ultimately he will win and then he’ll get his chance. He’ll finish as a wolf what he started six years ago as a human.

  He comes in for my neck again and I dart away, but instead of trying to keep him in my field of vision, I run. I reach out to the pack, I let every sense that I have find them, and I head towards that shining beacon of safety. Unfortunately, doing this means I can also feel Bryn behind me as he gives chase, I can feel the base essence of his intentions. Fear of being caught spurs me on.

  I’m not concentrating on where I’m headed; my only aim is to reach the pack before Bryn can catch me. I’m focussing hard on maintaining my speed and trying to resist the compulsion to look behind me, so I don’t realise that the pack isn’t moving until I run into the middle of them and smack into Daniel. He staggers, but doesn’t fall under my lighter weight. Bryn is literally snapping at my tail as he barrels into the midst of the pack.

  I have a moment of utter confusion. My wolf instincts are looking for my Alpha to protect me, but they don’t recognise Daniel as such, they barely even recognise him as anything except an enemy. I reel, caught between trying to breathe and trying to find a centering point in the pack. My legs give way as I realise that the wolf I consider to be my Alpha, the wolf that I need, isn’t here. Bryn darting forward compels me back onto my shaking paws. I seek refuge in the next best thing; I lurch towards Michael and Donna.

  Michael moves in front of me, baring his teeth and growling at Bryn in warning. Donna comes up to my side, almost trying to prop me up. When she encounters the wound in my shoulder, she lets out a high whine. Daniel barks at Bryn, but Bryn is still so intent on me that he doesn’t pay his Alpha any attention. Daniel growls and snaps at the air close to Bryn’s muzzle, startling Bryn out of his fighting stance and causing him to drop to his belly in a gesture of submission. Whilst Bryn is on the ground, Daniel sniffs at his muzzle; he must be able to smell my blood there. If he noticed it, then the rest of the pack, grouped tightly together as they are, will be able to smell it too. If I was in human form I would probably be letting out a hysterical laugh at the thought that Callum probably looks like a pussy cat to the pack right about now. However, I’m still in wolf form, which means my instincts are still leading, which means my main focus is on getting the hell away from the thing that tried to attack me.

  When Michael growls at Bryn again, Daniel snaps at him too, but not with nearly as much authority. He might be Alpha and responsible for control and discipline in the pack, but he hasn’t chastised Bryn yet for attacking a member. Until he does that, he can’t very well protect him by preventing other wolves from standing up for one of their own. This situation isn’t going to be resolved easily whilst everyone is furry and thinking with their animal brains. Daniel is the first one to turn back, closely followed by me. I might not be happy about being naked in front of Bryn right now, but I’m guessing, hoping, I’ll be safer in human form from his assault than if I stay wolf. The fleeting thought that I might not be is going to haunt my nightmares for some time.

  The wound on my shoulder heals as I change, but it was deeper than I realised. The adrenaline masked much of the pain. As soon as Donna turns she starts to gently palpate the skin around the new, shiny, pink scar on my right shoulder blade. It’s tender and painful in places where it must be deeper. I’m going to need a mirror to examine it myself.

  “He’s pulled a flap of skin back. It’ll leave a permanent scar, but it’s healed well enough.” Donna’s voice carries across the silent group.

  It’s unnerving to see Bryn in human form with my blood still smeared up his cheek. Between Donna’s statement and the evidence on Bryn’s face, there’s no dispute about who attacked who tonight. I glance around. Donna realises what I’m looking for and hands me my clothes. I take them with a grateful smile and start to dress immediately. I disregard the fact that my sweatshirt sticks to the blood on my back. This is absolutely the last time I am going to be voluntarily naked in front of Bryn. I don’t care if I have to run round a bloody park on the night of the full moon.

  “Everyone home. I’ll deal with this.”

  Daniel’s voice motivates the other members of the pack to stop staring and to start recovering their own clothes. I’m still in a heightened state though and I can feel the unease rippling through them. Surely Daniel must be able to as well. The pack are not happy that discipline is going to be served behind closed doors.

  As soon as Michael is dressed he puts his arm around my shoulders and hugs me to him. He starts walking us back towards where we’re parked. I think he realises that I need help standing, let alone moving in any direction. Donna stays close to my other side, they’re surrounding me with the feel of pack, my pack, and it’s a comfort.

  Michael leans down and murmurs soothingly, close to my ear, “He’ll be home tomorrow. You’re staying with us tonight.”

  It’s all I can do to nod. I just want to be somewhere warm and dry with the world, or more specifically, Bryn, locked outside.

  “Becca!”

  The shout from behind startles all three of us. I stumble as I turn but Michael hugs me closer and keeps me from falling. My brain refuses to compute that it’s Claire hurrying to catch us up. I think we’re all a little stunned because no one says anything.

  “Becca, I just wanted to... I don’t know, say I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? For what? Sleeping with her boyfriend behind her back?” I can feel Donna’s indignation on my behalf.

  “Yes, that. And for... I thought, that is, Rob told me, that Callum was the one that attacked you, Becca, that turned you. He said, he told me...”

  She jams her hands into the pockets of her jeans and looks down, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “He told me that Callum... raped you, when he... that’s why I couldn’t understand why you could even stand to be in the same room as him last week. I’m sorry I acted like such a fucking idiot.”

  She looks up, and this time looks me in the eye. “I guess it’s pretty obvious now, to me at least, who the real psycho in the pack is. I know that I’ve been lied to.”

  “Thank you.” It’s the only thing I can think to say. At least my voice comes out a little stronger than I thought it would.

  “I just wanted you to know.” She shrugs and then turns and heads back to the rest of the pack.

  “Come on. Let’s get you dried out and under a warm duvet.” Donna slips her arm around my waist and we continue on our way to the car. Tomorrow, as they say, is another day. Tomorrow Callum will be home. I need to be close to him, to bury myself in his scent, to touch him. I can be strong on my own, but his strength fuels mine. I’m not the Duracell bunny; I need a recharge from time to time. There’s no weakness in admitting that.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  I’ve only been gone a week. It’s no’ such a long time, and I’ve no’ even gone so far; but as soon as I step off that plane, back in the city I consider my home, and see Michael waitin’ for me I know that I’m where I need tae be. He greets me with a slap on the back that’s damn close tae a hug, almost as enthusiastic as when he greeted me from jail. I’d been away six years then, now I’ve only been gone a week. Concern rides heavy on me. There’s somethin’ wrong. I should have known from the stilted conversation with Becca on Friday that all was no’ well here. I’ve no’ h
eard anythin’ from any o’ them for the past day or so, but I was hopin’ that was because there was nothin’ tae tell. It doesnae look like that was the case.

  “I’ll get that.” Michael takes ma bag and slings it over his shoulder as we walk out o’ the airport, headin’ tae wherever he’s parked the car.

  I wait for him tae speak, but he doesnae say anythin’ more. My patience is no’ at its full strength at the moment. “You goin’ tae tell me what’s goin’ on fella?”

  “No. Not yet. I’ve nothing to tell you particularly. It’s Donna and Becca you need to speak to.”

  We’re in the car park. Michael continues, unlockin’ his car and throws ma bag ontae the back seat, slammin’ the door after it. I stop, frozen. “The lasses have no’ been hurt have they?”