I liked that about him. He was going to go with a frontal assault. He wasn’t one to grab from behind and that spoke of honor. He crept quietly and when he had stepped into the clearing I heard his low snarl.
When I saw him, his hind quarters were hunched and bent backwards like dog legs. The paws were wide like elongated toes and the claws were like those of a bear. His arms kept something of their human shape but his hands had savage gnarly fingers. His chest was broad and his belly slender. Sleek, dark hair swept along all of his flesh.
A wolf is a majestic animal with a noble, sometimes soft mane. But this thing was a cross between animal and human and was the stuff of nightmares. The snout was long, yet wide, as if a man’s nose and jaw had been pulled and stretched by some evil force. His teeth were hidden but the canines gleamed as his lips snarled. But his eyes were hauntingly human.
Still, I saw that deep in those round yellow eyes there was something beautiful, tender and loving. But wrapped as they were in that hideous skull, they became narrow, slanted and evil, and that evil was framed with silver hair sprouting over his brows.
He was lit by a light from no moon or star and as he loomed I saw that, even though he was a truly frightening vision, the vision I saw was a captive. He was someone’s slave and I could feel that in his heart.
He was a wily one. He was waiting for me to scream. He was waiting to draw from me my fear and so blind me with his power and strength and might, feeding on my terror as he fed on my flesh.
But I stood up.
I stood up and looked him right in his yellow wolf eyes. I focused my camera and the flash dazzled him a moment. As he howled and recovered I sang my soft chant and began to change myself. The werewolf froze. It is not in a wolf’s nature to back away but I felt him wanting to flee as I began to form into his likeness as I stared, unflinching, into his eyes.
My legs took on mass and muscle. I had to keep from crying out as my knees bent backwards but in a moment I felt as if I could leap like a gazelle. My chest tightened, the soft hair sprouted and the long bristly hair grew. I began to see in different hues; yellows and blues became dominant and his eyes were glowing in my sight.
He growled. I growled back. He suddenly rose up on his hind limbs and leapt at me. I bolted under him and he landed in the moon-flowers. I turned and sprang, landing on his back. He stood and howled, thrashing, but I clung and clutched my arms around his throat.
That’s when I found it.
There was a thin leather collar around his throat. My wolf muzzle dug through the hair as he went wild trying to cast me off. But when my teeth sank into the collar, he froze, dropping onto all fours.
He was panting. I was gnawing. I bit through and felt electric sparks. If I had been human I’d have immediately jumped away but I was an animal and my animal brain was focused on one thing and that was to chew through the collar. I smelled his fur burning as the collar sizzled and snapped. I shut my eyes against the flashes and kept biting and gnawing even as he howled.
Then I bit through. The collar cleaved in half and I took one end in my teeth and flung it off and away.
He collapsed.
I collapsed on top of him. I felt his fur fade and, beneath me, the strong muscles of a man formed. I slid off, exhausted. I was spent and I felt myself melting back into a human. I could feel him breathing hard, as though he was relishing every breath.
I opened my eyes. He was lying on his side gazing at me. His eyes were green.
“Thank you,” he said, “you freed me.”
“You’re a werewolf,” I said.
“And you are a most excellent shifter,” he smiled, his finger tracing my burned lips.
“And we,” I said hearing the police sirens, “we are so busted.”
*****
I rolled him onto his back as the cops played their flashlights around us.
“Okay wolf man,” I said. “Unless you want to spend the night in jail do what I say.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Cool. Your name is Steve O’Malley. You live with me at five-oh-one Clemons Avenue. Repeat that.”
“Steve O’Malley. Five-oh-one Clemons Avenue.”
“Excellent,” I said straddling him.
I paused a brief moment. It was as if my thighs were gripping a living tree, he was that solid and yet he was also so warm and . . . endowed.
“What are you doing?”
“Making it real,” I said, “lover.”
“But—“
“Shut up.”
I started rocking and groaning while he lay wide-eyed and amazed. The cop’s lights danced about us. I shrieked.
“It’s okay,” a woman’s voice called out. “We’re the police. Just stay calm, it’s okay.”
“Ohh gawd,” I groaned covering my breasts.
“It’s okay,” she said. I heard her partner chuckle. “Just want to know what’s going on.”
“Isn’t it obvious,” I said.
“Yeah, but . . .”
“It’s the Beltane Fires,” I said. “We were just – just saying goodbye to spring and welcoming summer.”
“Those your candles back there?”
“Yes. Look officers. We haven’t committed any crime.”
They had us stand, took us away from each other and asked their questions. Then they switched and we were grilled again. Then they left us to huddle in the pre-dawn chill while they conferred. They gave me back my sundress and purse and asked where his clothes were.
“He came this way,” I said. “It’s—it’s how it works. He needs to be—“
“Yeah, it’s okay,” she said. “So here’s the deal . . .”
It turned out that we were trespassing on State property. The park closed at 10 pm. The cops made noises about public indecency but I argued that it was four in the morning and the public was restricted. They laughed. I felt that we were going to skate.
“So listen,” the woman said, “there are rumors about this place.”
“The werewolf?” I chuckled.
“Yeah.” she said. “Someone called in a disturbance in here. Said something about animals fighting. Big animals. You know anything about that?”
“Someone?” I said. “There was someone here? Watching?”
“A couple of teenagers looking for the werewolf. You two see or hear anything like that?”
“No,” I said. “But then we were – you know.”
“Right. Okay then. Go finish your ceremony at home.”
***
In Wisconsin you always carry an extra sweater, a blanket, a shovel and a bunch of rock salt in your car during the winter. I gave the wolf man the blanket and drove him back to my house. Neither of us said anything the whole drive. I led him to my kitchen where I cracked open a beer. I offered him one but he asked for water.
I got to check him out in real light. He was . . . attractive. His hair was dark brown and grizzled. He had a widow’s peak and long sideburns. His face was chiseled with sharp lines and yet he had such a soft and gentle look. His eyes were light green and piercing, but with an almost innocent air. He had a week’s worth of beard growth and he was built like a boxer.
“Okay wolf man,” I said nodding. “What’s your story?”
“You,” he said.
“What?”
“May I have another glass?”
I stood away. I took my can of mace from my purse. I nodded him toward the sink and he drank three more glasses.
“So,” I said as he breathed deep. “Why is your story me?”
“I am in your debt.”
I looked at him somewhat perplexed.
“I was enslaved,” he said. “That collar. It kept me from my human form, and you freed me. How did you know?”
“I guessed,” I said “A werewolf wearing a collar is a bit unusual.”
“So is a woman who believes in and seeks out a werewolf. It makes me wonder about your story.”
“I’m asking the questions.” I said.
“So who enslaved you?”
“I cannot say.”
“You don’t know?”
“I cannot say,” he repeated. “I have been sworn.”
“To whom? To what?”
“I cannot—“
“Right,” I said, “I know, you cannot say. Can you at least tell me what you were doing haunting the Arboretum.”
“I was protecting.”
“Protecting?” I said. “Protecting who from what?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” he said, “I was a slave. The collar enslaved me. You broke that. I am in your debt.”
“Look.” I said.
“What matters now is that you saved my life, and now I owe you that life until you release me.”
“Is that some kind of werewolf code or something?”
“No. It’s my code. I believe in honor. I have been in this world long enough to see how vital that particular virtue truly is. So I am in your debt.”
I thought about that. My first thought was to release him then and there, trusting his own honor to help me. But I’m just not that kind of girl.
“Okay then,” I said, “what’s your name?”
“Donovan.”
“Okay Donovan, you’re in my debt. But first you could use a bath. We both could actually.”
I saw his face light up.
“Not together,” I said.
*****
After Donovan had bathed I dug out an old bathrobe that a former friend had left behind. Donovan zonked out on the couch while I luxuriated in a hot bath. Then I found my bed. In the morning I woke to the wonderful aroma of coffee and bacon.
That was so sweet.
A good breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast and coffee is a lovely thing. It’s pretty hard to mess up but I had known men who could. This guy wasn’t one of those.
“I’m beginning to like this indebted thing,” I said as we ate, “but we both know that it’s not going to last. Slavery is not my thing.”
“I am glad,” he said with a small smile, “but even a brief slavery would not be so bad. You are a very beautiful woman.”
I blushed a little and I thought a little. He was, if nothing else, fit and he did have such pretty eyes. I might have batted my own a little.
“Thank you,” I said, “but right now I could use your help.”
I explained about the children. I turned a little as I spoke and my robe parted just a bit; I’m not above using my body now and then. I asked if he knew anything and I got a stoic look.
“Right,” I said “It has something to do with your former slave master – but you can’t say.”
He stayed quiet.
“Silence is affirmation.” I said. “You know something.”
He silently ate his eggs, but all the while he had his green eyes on me.
“What would a werewolf want with--,”
But he shook his head and bit his toast.
“Okay,” I said, “so what would a werewolf’s slave master want with children?”
“Not children,” he said, “a child.”
“A special child,” I said, “something in its blood. Of course. Curiouser and curiouser.”
He gathered the plates and began doing the dishes.
If there was one thing that I had learned in my life it was that a man who would do the dishes on his own was worth something. I sipped my coffee as he made my kitchen sparkle. He was rare and he was mine.
“Tell me something,” I asked, “how was it that you were enslaved?”
“I was seduced,” he said.
“Seduced by who?”
“By whom,” he corrected.
“So,” I laughed, “by whom?”
“A woman.”
“Well that’s reassuring,” I said.
He turned and looked at me. I saw in his eyes such desperation and yet such hope. I knew that he had so much that he wanted to say and I also knew that he had so much that he couldn’t say. I also saw that his green eyes were drinking me in. That was when I knew that I had him. I smiled.
“Okay,” I said, “first thing is that we need to get you some clothes.”
I called my secretary, Brandy. Brandy’s a good friend. She understands my work as a reporter and she’s bailed me out a jail a few times and pulled me from some other scrapes. But this one was new. I asked her to drop everything and go shopping.
“Say what?” she said.
“Sweetie, it’s part of the story. Please.”
“You see today’s copy edit?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then I suggest that you do so.”
“Brandy—“
“Now.”
I went to my computer and logged onto the paper’s edit. The composition board had a pic of me next to my man all naked in the woods. Fortunately, it was censored. The headline was cute:
Exposé Exposer Exposed!
“You bastards,” I breathed.
“Hey, I’m just a flunky,” she chuckled, “so what gives? Is that really you?”
“Long story,” I said, “just do this for me.”
“I’m getting lunch for this one,” she said, “and I’m going to the Goodwill.”
I shut my phone and then checked messages. It was packed with things from the paper’s night shift saying “whassup?” and “that u” and “any comments?” and the like.
I went to find Donovan.
“I gotta go to work,” I said. “You be here when I get back?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Cool.”
When I got to the office I figured that Nick would be there waiting to dress me down. But the man was sly to the point of nasty. Right there in the entrance to the editorial room hung a huge glossy of the pic – without the censor stripes. I got whistles and cat-calls and applauds as I stared at it.
Then Nick yelled for me.
“What the hell?” I demanded as I stormed into his office.
“It’s news baby,” he chuckled, “any comments for the record?”
“You slimy bastard.”
“I believe that has already been established.”
“You’re going to go with that?”
“Look,” he said, “this is big. I got the police statements and I got—“
“That’s me!” I cried. “Are you going to destroy me like this for some quick sales?”
“It’s not destroying you” he said. “Eileen, with the other pics I got we’re gonna make you a celebrity. This is our Bat-Boy.”
“What other pics?”
He tossed three sheets on his desk and my heart stopped a moment. They were grainy and it was obvious that the photographer didn’t know how to use a camera at night, but they were clear enough- two animal-like creatures wrestling, one with its neck deep on the other’s.
“Where’d you get these?” I asked.
“Same high school kids,” he said.
“Kill ‘em,” I said. “They’re fake. I was there. I didn’t see any animals in combat.”
“Look,” he laughed, “we can take these pics and bleed them out for weeks. It’s a friggin’ gold-mine. And with you as a witness—“
“Nick no,” I said, “this is just some stupid stunt. It’ll turn out that Frat Boys did it. And when that comes out—“
“The Frat boys set you up with that guy?”
“That’s – that’s personal. The real story is—“
“I know,” he said flopping into his chair, “the real story is your disappearing kids. But there ain’t no story there. Disgruntled father snags ‘em and get’s ‘em back before the Feds enter the scene. Eileen, without a werewolf your story is just a milk carton.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay,” he said, “what do you got?”
“I got a live werewolf sleeping on my couch.”
He shook his head.
“Nick,” I said. “I found out that there is someone out there looking for the just-right kid.”
“And when that someone
finds the kid?”
I looked at his smug face. I wanted to grab his ears and yell that there would be one less child. I wanted – but I didn’t.
“Kill the damned pics,” I said, “for now. I got a lead.”
“What lead?”
“A werewolf on my couch.”
He sighed. He leaned back in his chair and took up the photos.
“I got the rights,” he said, “for forty-eight hours. In forty-nine hours the kids can plaster these on Facebook or sell to the Globe. I do not like being upstaged.”
“Trust me on this,” I said, “please.”
“You got twenty-four hours. Then I start the presses.”
*****
I left the office and drove to the Arboretum. I wanted to check out the place in sunlight. I had to see if I could figure out what had lured Donovan there or what he was protecting. I walked the Mound Trail for a while, not sure what I was looking for. I doubt if I could track an elephant through, let alone a wolf. I guess that I was just trying to get a sense, a feeling or something.
And I did get a sense and a feeling and it was not good. The deeper I walked through the sparse pines the more it felt that something was off. Something just wasn’t right. If there were any signs of a child being held there those signs escaped me. Still I had a weird feeling.
I saw an elderly woman on the trail and so I stopped to chat. She was a birder and she was frustrated.
“I come here every spring,” she said, “looking for the Northern Waterthrush. They pause here by the lake on their way to Canada but I’ve seen neither beak nor feather.”
“Maybe they took a different route,” I said.
“Well that’s just it,” she said, “they’re all over the other lakes. Just not here. There are no birds here.”
She was right. I heard no chirping, no singing, not even a flutter of a wing. There were also no squirrels or raccoons or anything else in the woods. There was something unnatural in the air, and if anyone would know what was up Donovan would. I took Arboretum Drive to town and I got that weird feeling all the way to the beltline.
THE HEALING HEART Page 5
