by M. J. O'Shea
Chapter 2: Wolf
MY HEART beat uncomfortably in my chest, thunking against my ribs in a wild drumming pattern. My eyes shifted around the street, cataloguing the darkened windows, the hulking shadows, the leaves and small pieces of trash that scuttled along in the chill autumn wind.
Something wicked this way comes….
The line from Macbeth popped into my head and I picked up my pace. What had I been thinking? When I asked for something exciting to happen, I didn’t mean scaring the crap out of myself! I felt stupid. It was just a book, Miles. Get a grip. But imaginary or not, the fear was real. I felt it, eerie and pricking at the hairs on the back of my head. I hated wishing I’d coughed up the money for a cab. I knew I needed to suck it up, act like a real New Yorker, and walk myself home, but everything I saw, every tiny little noise had me jumping out of my skin.
It was long after midnight and it had happened again. No matter how many times Ralph warned me to close up shop on time and get home, I never failed to get lost in the books, wishing I could be in their world instead of my own dull, gray one. That particular night, I’d been in the deep and eerie south, living with the vampires Lestat and Louis. Their dark, gorgeous world was fascinating, so different from my quiet routine of classes and work, only barely interrupted by a single new friend. I had been so completely immersed in my book that I didn’t realize how much time had passed until I looked up and realized it was way past any decent hour to be walking back to the dorms.
As soon as I noticed the quiet and the late hour, my nerves set in. The East Village became New Orleans in the time of the vampires and the familiarity of the bookstore suddenly teemed with sinister shadows. It was my imagination. I knew it was. The stupid thing tended to run away with me on a regular basis. But even if I told myself I was making things up, it didn’t really help. I still felt specters lurking just beyond my vision, vampires hiding in doorways and darkened corners. I knew I’d be shivering and nervous until I was safe inside my tiny dorm with the outside door bolted.
Live in the book world? Who are you kidding, Miles? You can’t even walk through New York at night without having a panic attack.
Shuffling footsteps drew nearer behind me. Fantastic. I knew I should’ve called Lisa. She hated when I walked home alone. Probably for a good reason. I didn’t know if I should run or if it would be best to keep walking and act like I wasn’t scared out of my mind. Quickly, I ducked into the next street I came to; hoping whoever had been behind me was just making their way home and wouldn’t follow. No such luck. The footsteps grew louder, echoing on the brick buildings, their walls close together in the narrow alley I’d inadvertently turned into.
Great job, moron. Narrow alley, old building with boarded-up windows. Jesus. Could you have picked a street that looked any more like a slasher film set?
I bent my head down and picked up the pace yet again. I nearly broke into a run, but I was so scared that I tripped over myself awkwardly. Without warning, I ran into something warm and solid blocking my path.
I looked up. What I saw stopped me short.
Two guys, both huge and beefy and reeking of alcohol, stood there looking at me like I was a late night snack. It was just not my week. The smaller one, who had a ski cap covering his forehead and most of his eyes, turned to the other guy. The second one was big enough that I had to crane my neck to look up at him.
“Look, it’s a little fairy,” the smaller one said. They both chuckled. “This should be no problem.”
Then the thug turned to me. “Give me your wallet.” His voice was obviously drunk―but angry drunk, not silly drunk. And it was the anger that scared me. He wasn’t going to be happy with the little bit of cash I had. With hands I tried to keep from trembling, I pulled my wallet from my back pocket.
Move to New York and get mugged. What a cliché. Hey, at least he’s not a vampire, right? Just a big douche.
“Here, take my cash. I don’t have any credit cards.”
He snatched the cash from my hands, looked at it, and threw it on the ground in disgust.
“Give me the damn wallet!”
“I told you, that’s all I got. Why don’t you go mess with someone who can give you actual money instead of pocket change?” I was scared, pissed, and everything in between.
“Why? Are you trying to get home so you can put on all your pink dresses?” They both laughed, impressed by their own wittiness. I wanted to roll my eyes.
Let them insult you. Maybe then they’ll feel like big strong men and they can take their drunk asses home and leave you alone.
A surprisingly rough shove caught me off guard and sent me reeling to the ground.
Then again, maybe not.
“I said give me the goddamn wallet. Maybe this will convince you.” He dripped spittle in my face as he talked.
The silent thug straddled me on the ground, trapping my arms between thick, muscled thighs. It’s always the quiet ones who are the craziest. Chatty wasn’t nearly as big. It would’ve been a lot easier to get him off me. I cringed and closed my eyes when he pulled his fist back to punch. I didn’t have to wait long. One crashing blow and the pain pulsed violently in my eye socket, radiating out through my cheekbones and the back of my head, which had slammed against the concrete from the force of his fist.
I managed to pull my arms free and tried to sit up. I shoved at the much bigger guy and lunged to get at his eyes or his throat with my fingers, the only weapons I had at the moment. He put his hand around my neck and slammed my head back into the concrete. Jesus. These guys didn’t give a shit about my money! They were just drunk and after someone smaller than them to beat on. I didn’t have a chance of reasoning with them. I tried to shove again, bucked my hips up against him in the hopes of unbalancing him, but he didn’t budge.
“Get off me, you asshole!” I dug my heels into the street and bucked again, trying with all my strength to push him off. If only I can get free, there’s no way they can run faster….
He did stumble a bit, bracing himself on the pavement with one meaty palm. But then he had control again and he looked pissed. He drew his big fist back even with his face.
I readied myself for another punch, but it never came. Suddenly the weight of my assailant was lifted and I heard the loud crunch of his shoulder colliding with the bricks of the building across the alley. A deafening growl shook the air.
It was then I saw who’d rescued me… or more like what had rescued me.
My mouth dropped open. Slinking down the alley and herding the now terrified and running thugs out to the main street was a wolf. Yeah, I said wolf. But it was no ordinary wolf. The thing was huge. His back had to be nearly even with my waist, his shoulders were wide and sleek with muscle, paws nearly the size of my palm. I should have been afraid. Should’ve been running for my life like the guy he’d just rammed into a wall. But I wasn’t afraid of him at all. In fact, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
I didn’t know what to do, so I sat there on the cold, hard ground and watched him. There was something about the way he moved, the set of his eyes, the rolling grace of his gait. Everything. Like something out of a fairy tale, he looked magical, regal, and masculine. I was captivated. Barely breathing, I watched him the entire time he chased my attackers away. Finally, when they had disappeared around the corner, the wolf came loping back to me. I stumbled to my feet, never breaking my stare, and he stopped a few arm’s lengths in front of me and dropped casually to a sitting position.
I blinked a few times; then, when it was clear he wasn’t going to disappear, I simply stared. It seemed impossible, but he was real. I wasn’t imagining it. There was a huge wolf sitting in the alley and gazing calmly at me with luminous gold eyes. That same wolf had just rammed a drunk and very large man against a brick wall, then chased him and his friend down the alley, and I wanted to get closer? But I felt this inexplicable pulling sensation that made me want to lean in. The feeling compelled me more than any I’d ever felt.
I w
ant to touch him….
“I won’t hurt you,” I whispered. “You aren’t going to hurt me either, are you?”
The wolf cocked his head as if he were listening; then his stance relaxed and I stepped closer, reaching out and burying my fingers in his red-gold coat. It was soft and warm and when I leaned closer, it smelled strangely like… coconut?
I sank down into a cross-legged position, and the animal lowered his head so we were eye to eye. Logic told me I should be afraid, that it was stupid to be sitting on the street with a wild animal only centimeters away from me, but he felt so impossibly familiar. Common sense be damned; I knew this wolf. My hand went up, almost of its own volition, and I stroked his soft, warm fur. Then I wrapped my arms around his wide, downy shoulders and buried my face into the sweet-smelling warmth.
I had no rationale for my behavior other than it just felt right. My heart seemed to beat a little bit differently, and I felt strangely content. I don’t know how long we sat there in that cold alley, the wolf silent and still, me holding on to him and absorbing his quiet strength. I think I may have even started to drift off for a moment, so relaxed in his presence that I could easily sleep. But he shifted and touched my neck with his cool wet nose, waking me from my half doze.
When my butt was frozen from the cement and I was sure someone would be probably coming down the street soon anyway, I gently pulled away from him. It almost hurt, that split second when we lost all physical contact. I nearly leaned forward to wrap my arms around him again. He was impossible to resist. But I didn’t do it, no matter how much I wanted to.
We connected gazes for a moment. I was entranced by his eyes, big and wise and gold. He whined quietly and laid his muzzle on my shoulder as if to say good-bye. Then he stood, pushed my dropped wallet toward me with his muzzle, and with one more small, ticklish nudge of his cool nose against my neck, he loped off into the night, graceful and nearly silent, with only the slight retreating click of his nails signaling he’d ever been there at all.
I know I walked home. I had to have, because without even knowing how I got there, I was in my small room staring at the dingy wall I’d tried to decorate with posters and printed fabric. I had no idea what had happened out there in the alley, but the feel of the big animal beneath my arms, the sweet scent of his hair, those wild but somehow wise eyes―they haunted me. I sat there looking into space until the faint, grainy predawn light pushed itself around the edges of my curtains. It was only the realization that I had to work in a few hours that made me move at all.
I found myself smiling as I dreamily gathered pajamas and a towel. I felt giddy, odd, like something in me had changed irrevocably during those few brief minutes in the alley. There was a lightness in my belly, like I could laugh or float away. I looked out the window to the dark, shadowy walkway below and squinted, thinking I might have seen a momentary flash of ginger fur disappearing around the corner of my building. But I dismissed it as wishful thinking and sighed before heading into my bathroom.
The pounding heat of a shower helped a little, on my sore body if nothing else. I felt a bit more like myself when it was over―but not completely. The balloons bouncing around in my stomach refused to subside. In bed, I curled my arms around my pillow, not wanting to admit to myself that I wished it was the wolf. I wanted to feel his warmth again, absorb his calm strength.
I needed to see him. I only wished I knew how.
I WAS glad for work the next day. If I hadn’t had anything to do, I probably would’ve gone nuts. But even though my hands were busy, my brain was still spinning, trying to rationalize the previous night: I was tired, I’d had a really vivid dream… it was a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation? No. I would’ve had to be on drugs a lot more expensive than I could ever afford to hallucinate something that strange and have it be so vivid. Besides, there were scuff marks on my shoes and the knees of my jeans were black and dirty from kneeling on the street.
There was no dream. It had really happened.
I barely spared a thought for the thugs who’d knocked me to the ground and given me the shining purple bruise on my eye. The only thing I could think about was him. The wolf. My wolf.
What was he? I’d seen documentaries about uncanny animal behavior before, about them saving people and other animals, but what had happened in that alley was more than uncanny. It was human. He’d chased those thugs off and come to comfort me, let me hug him, and nuzzled me with his nose. It wasn’t normal, no matter how I looked at it. All morning at the shop I listened for reports of escaped wolves, zoo break-ins, Area 51 sightings… invaders from Transylvania, maybe? Even I had to laugh at that last wild theory. I did, however, listen for any real information, something that would give me a clue to where my savior had come from. It seemed impossible to believe there was nothing. Surely someone else had seen the wolf.
My mind spun constantly. Even though I was grateful for work, it was nearly unbearable to be there. It would have been unbearable to be anywhere. I felt antsy, uncomfortable in my skin. At the same time I felt like giggling at the weirdest moments, and sometimes it was almost like I was watching myself perform my everyday tasks but not actually doing them. It was a weird feeling, and one I vaguely recognized.
Sometime around lunch, it hit me: the giggly uncomfortable restless bubbly feeling was a crush.
It was how I’d felt back in high school when I had a huge thing for this guy I knew. When we weren’t together, I’d feel like I needed to be somewhere else and couldn’t stand to sit still. When we were together, I’d laugh and grin like a nutball and feel like everything was perfect… well, at least it felt like everything was perfect, until he’d found out I liked him and stopped talking to me. But how could I have a crush like that when I didn’t even know who it would be on? Could it be?
Jesus Christ, Miles. Don’t even think it. You absolutely do not have a crush on a wolf.
Of course I didn’t. But that didn’t stop me from feeling that odd effervescent discomfort or from remembering how content I felt, how perfect it was to be wrapped around him and breathing his warmth. I needed a reality check.
“WHAT HAPPENED to you yesterday?” Lisa looked horrified. She reached out to brush a thumb along my bruise.
“It’s a long story. Here―coffee.”
She sat and shuffled her purse and coat off to the side before lifting her cup to Megan in a “thank you” gesture. Megan rolled her eyes and started closing her till.
“I’m leaving, Miles. Don’t touch any of my stuff.” She said that to me every day. Like I would. Someday I was going to go behind her precious counter and turn every single knob I could find and open all her syrups just to piss her off, or at least I’d have fun planning it. She’d probably spike my coffee with cyanide if I ever actually did anything.
“Hey. Yo. Earth to Miles. Quit planning revenge on the latte wench and tell me what happened to you!”
“Uh, last night I kind of got lost in Anne Rice, and before I knew it I’d stayed at the store until nearly one in the morning.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess the next part. You walked home alone?” I nodded and she picked up a pen from the register display and thwacked me on the head. “Don’t do that again. I know we just met, but I’d like to be friends with you for a long time. Did you know that some homeless guy got murdered in this neighborhood last night? Got all his blood drained by some psycho―Dracula style, with neck holes and everything.”
“Really?” My spine chilled. I still had a lot to learn about big city life, apparently.
“Yes, really. So no more solo tours. I don’t want to have to ID your remains in an alley somewhere.”
“’Kay. I’ll call you next time I’m here too late.”
“You better. Seriously, though. What’s with the black eye?”
“It’s nothing. Just ran into some not-so-nice guys.”
“And?”
“And nothing. They wanted my wallet. Got pissed when there wasn’t much in there
and hit the crap out of me. Don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Shit! I shouldn’t have said I didn’t want to talk about it. Talk about a flashing neon sign that says “Dig for dirt! Dig for dirt!”
Of course she did. “Oh my gosh! Did you get a good look at the creeps? Where did it happen? Do you want me to take you to the cops?”
“Just drop it, Lis. Is your coffee good?”
Lisa simply raised her eyebrows. She knew perfectly well I’d changed the subject, but she let it drop like I’d asked. I was surprised and grateful.
“HEY, MILES, you okay? You looked a little worn out on Wednesday and you had that awful black eye. I was worried about you.” TA Zack’s black bangs swung over noticeably concerned eyes when he leaned over my desk. He’s so nice.
It was a lot easier to talk to him than it used to be. Even though he was still, well, him, he’d lost some of the mystique that had made him so untouchable. The thought of talking to him didn’t give me a heart attack like it had only a few days before. But he was right. I hadn’t been sleeping very well at all. It took effort to smile up at him.
“I’m all right. Thanks for asking, though.”
“You sure you don’t want to talk about it? We have a few minutes.” I sighed. I did want to talk about it. I just had to be careful what I said.
“I kinda got jumped last weekend and this really, um, fascinating guy came to my rescue. Then he just disappeared. I’ve been looking for him but I’m running out of places to look and I’ve had that weird feeling all week, like when you want to be near someone and you can’t so nothing you do seems to be what you want.”
Zack smiled. “I know what you mean. I get like that all the time when I’m away from my boyfriend.” So he is gay… interesting.
I hesitated. “This is going to sound weird, but he kind of reminds me of a wolf. He has these really cool golden eyes.”
