The Werewolf's Secret Baby

by T. S. Ryder

  She needed to get back to her car. She should never have got out of it. The wolf was growing angrier. Its hackles were raised as more drool slipped from the animal's mouth. It seemed to almost smile at her. Then it was moving, running towards her at a speed she could not have imagined.

  Agatha let out a terrified scream as she tripped and fell back. She was going to die. She was going to be eaten by a wolf in her own front yard. It lunged at her and all she could see was sharp teeth and matted fur before she closed her eyes and lifted her arm to protect her face as best she could.

  The animal let out a painful sounding yelp and Agatha managed to peek from behind her arm. To her horror, she saw that a second wolf had joined them. Agatha was shaking and crying as she pulled her knees up closer to her and wondered what she could have possibly done to deserve this.

  The second wolf was different. It was bigger and completely white. Where the brown wolf had mangy fur and a foul odor, this white wolf was like a well-kept pet. Its fur was clean and smooth, no drool slid from between its teeth.

  Agatha was frozen, stuck in that dangerous place between fight and flight. Her eyes were wide and white, her face was streaked with tears. A sob escaped her lips, then to her shock, the white wolf turned and looked at her. Right into her eyes. And then it nodded towards her car only a few feet away.

  Her jaw fell open, had he come to save her? Was that possible? The brown wolf growled and snapped its jaw at the white wolf who turned to face his opponent, getting down on his haunches in a dangerous pose. He stood between Agatha and the brown wolf, appearing poised to leap should the brown wolf make a move.

  He’s protecting me, she realized and then her brain snapped into gear and she was scrambling for her dropped keys. Agatha got up off the ground as the brown wolf glared at her. He growled and took a step towards her, but the white wolf was right there, blocking the other’s path, giving Agatha the chance to escape.

  “Thanks,” she whispered as she raced to her car, got in and locked the doors.

  Chapter Two

  Agatha’s wasn’t the only wolf sighting that night. The small seaside town of Cryer’s Bluff had over fourteen calls to the police station about a huge, shaggy wolf that had been seen in backyards and parks. Locals had been warned to stay indoors and avoid heavily wooded areas. They were reminded that if they saw a wild animal they should not try to engage with it, but should instead seek shelter and call the police. Agatha had been the only person to see a second white wolf.

  Agatha didn’t return home until the next afternoon. She went to a friend’s house and slept fitfully on the couch. Her nerves were on edge all night. Even the smallest of noises from outside, like leaves rustling or a twig snapping, would pull her from her sleep, jerking her awake, leaving her breathless. It was all too strange and too wild. Agatha’s life was a simple and quiet one. She worked in an office building, she drove a Ford, she just wasn’t used to this level of strange danger.

  It was a bright and sunny afternoon when she returned to her house, but the pleasant weather didn’t put her at ease. Stepping out of the car she could see a paw print in the mud. It was sunk deep down into the mud, the claw marks stood out in stark detail. Whatever had left this had been huge, it must have weighed a ton.

  Skirting the paw print Agatha looked around her. The wind whispered through the trees and the grass. She could hear birds chirping to each other in the forest and she watched as a squirrel skittered up a knobby oak tree. Her stomach churned. This was her home, her favorite place in the entire world, but it was tainted now. She had never been as afraid as she had been last night.

  Her hands were shaking as she pushed her key into the lock and opened the door. She closed the door and locked it behind her. Taking a deep breath, she moved through her kitchen and to her living room. Her heart was pounding and she was still shaking. It was driving her crazy. She was home now and she was safe, so what was making her so nervous?

  Agatha jumped when she heard a noise from outside. She peered through her sliding glass door to her wide back yard. On the back patio, there was a table, a few Adirondack chairs, and a couch. It sounded like something had just moved out there. Agatha moved towards the glass slowly, her cell phone clutched in one hand prepared to call the police.

  Step by inching step she moved closer to the door. Her heart was thundering in her chest as she peered around the curtains. At first, everything looked normal. The grass was a verdant green, her daffodils were in full bloom and the furniture was where she had left it.

  Then she saw it. There was a hand hanging over the back of the couch. Her heart skipped a beat when the hand moved. She moved to the side to try and get a better view of who might be out there. She raised her phone debating if she should call the police.

  The hand continued to move, it was pulled back to the other side of the couch. For a breathless moment, she waited and then a head came into view as whoever was out there sat up. He was tall and had a head full of dark black hair. She could tell by his build that he was strong, his shoulders were muscular and those muscles extended down his arms and back.

  Agatha’s mouth fell open as the man ran a hand through his hair and then turned around. With a gasp, Agatha quickly hid behind her curtain. It was her boss. Well, not really. He ran the company where Agatha worked. He was at the top of the totem pole and Agatha, who worked in accounting, barely merited a place on the pole at all.

  She was frozen, hiding behind a curtain when it occurred to her that this was her house and her land. It wasn’t her, but Mr. Crane who should be hiding. He was the one who had fallen asleep in someone else’s backyard, not her.

  Taking a deep breath Agatha pushed open her screen door and marched out onto the patio.

  “Mr. Crane?” Her voice came out high-pitched and more scared sounding than she had intended. He turned to look at her and all of her bravado left as she stumbled on the grass.

  The couch was between them and he turned around to face her. Agatha saw that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She tried not to stare, but she couldn't help but notice the many scars that marked his strong chest. Some were deep and old, with the skin wrinkled and puckered around them, while others still had a tinge of red that marked them as new. She wondered how a man as rich as Mr. Crane had come to have so many scars.

  He looked her up and down and then sheepishly looked away.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked.

  “I um... must have had a little more fun than I expected to, last night. I’m so sorry that you found me like this...” He looked around and gestured to himself and said. “Do you have a robe I could wear and could I trouble you for your phone so I could call a car?”

  Was he naked? She wondered. Was he actually naked on her back patio? That didn’t sound like Mr. Crane at all. His family was famous in Cryer’s Bluff, the town had almost been named after them. Crane Antiques were considered the best antique and custom furniture outlet in the world. Henry Crane, who was currently sitting naked in front of her, was the CEO and principal shareholder. He had graduated from Harvard. His family had never had even a whiff of impropriety against them. The Cranes were perfect. They were rich, intelligent, well-travelled and, above all, incredibly attractive.

  “Sure, just a sec,” Agatha managed to sputter as she hurried inside, grabbed her bathrobe and headed back outside. Her eyes focused on the treetops behind them as Agatha handed Mr. Crane her robe which he quickly belted around himself.

  She still couldn’t believe that Henry Crane was in her backyard. She had worked for him for the last eight years and had only ever seen him in passing. He was notoriously private. He wasn’t an actively social man and people rarely saw him outside of his mansion up on the bluff.

  “Here,” Agatha said holding out her phone. It hung in the air between them as he looked first at it and then up at her.

  “I am sorry, Agatha. I am sorry that you have had to see me like this. I promise I don’t make a habit of sleeping in my employees’ backyar
ds.”

  If only he did, she thought wistfully. A naked man on the property sounded very dangerous unless it was this man. Henry Crane could show up in her backyard naked any day he pleased.

  “You know my name?” She stammered tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he took her phone.

  “Of course, I know your name. You’re one of my best employees.” He said it in such a casual manner that Agatha for a moment thought she had imagined it. Mr. Crane actually knew her? It seemed impossible.

  She knew him of course. She knew everything about him. He was thirty-four years old. He had been born here in Cryer’s Bluff. He had inherited the family business from his father and it had only grown more successful under Henry. He wore dark suits to work and drove fancy cars.

  Agatha rarely had a reason to speak to Mr. Crane at work. He had a fabulously attractive assistant that did most of his communication for him. He always seemed so far away and untouchable, but that had never stopped Agatha from dreaming about him. She had several elaborate fantasies that involved Mr. Crane sweeping her off her feet and taking her away to some private island where the two of them could be alone to do whatever dirty deeds she could imagine.

  “You’re lucky, you know. When I came home last night there were these two huge wolves fighting on my property. It's a wonder you didn't run into them.” Agatha said with a shake of her head.

  It was at that moment that a stunning realization hit her. It was like a ton of bricks had just been thrown directly at her stomach. She lost her breath and the world spun in front of her as the thought seeped into her brain.

  Huge wolves acting strangely at night. A naked man in the backyard. No. It was impossible. They were just stories, not real. There was no such thing as Werewolves and to even say that word in front of Henry Crane would be madness.

  Chapter Three

  “This is a nice house,” Henry said as he walked inside. Agatha knew she should say something, but what? She wasn’t going to actually ask Henry Crane if he was a Werewolf. No, she could never do that. He dialed a number from memory and spoke quietly into the phone in a language she couldn’t understand.

  “Did you see the wolves last night? They were spotted all over town.” She stared at his face watching his reaction. His eyes narrowed and he gave her a stern look. The problem was, a stern look was much less effective when the person giving the look was wearing a bathrobe.

  When she didn’t look away first, he did.

  “My mother used to tell me stories that her grandmother told her,” Agatha continued. His silence had emboldened her. “When my grandmother was just a little girl, Cryer’s Bluff was beset by a huge wolf. It was only ever seen at night and was three times larger than any normal animal. It killed livestock: sheep, cows and pigs. But livestock wasn’t enough. It started hunting people.”

  Without asking, Henry moved into the kitchen and began to open cabinet doors until he found one with water glasses. He quickly filled it from the tap, guzzled it down and filled the glass again.

  “Then it came for people. It knew how to break into houses. People would bar their doors at night, but it wasn’t enough, the wolf would get in anyway. It would break down doors and dive through windows. One horrible night it killed and ate an entire family: the father, mother, and four children all under the age of ten. The Hempstocks they were called.”

  Henry braced himself against the counter as she spoke. He clenched his jaw. His eyes flicked to her, but only for a second before he was compelled to look away. She wanted him to tell her that he had heard the story as well. Everyone in town knew the story. She wanted him to say that it was just a silly myth, a tall tale to frighten children.

  “She said that night was the last straw. The men of the village gathered together. They got their guns and torches and set a trap. They chose the sweetest looking white lamb and broke its back legs. They brought it to the center of town and left it on the steps of city hall. It was bleating and crying as the men set their trap.

  The wolf came, as they knew it would. At first, they tried to catch it in a trap, but it was too big and it broke through the ropes. But while it was struggling they came out with tar and torches and they burned it there in the center of the town. They thought their nightmare was over, but when the smoke cleared they did not see the body of a wolf, but that of-”

  “A man,” he finished. He grimaced and gripped the countertop as he glared at her. “The body was too burned for anyone to figure out who it was.”

  He stared at her. There was a challenge in his gaze.

  Agatha opened her mouth. She was actually going to do this. She was going to ask if her incredibly hot boss was a Shapeshifter. She took a deep breath, but before she could speak the doorbell rang.

  Without a word, Henry strode to the door and threw it open. His painfully stylish assistant was standing there with a clean suit on a hanger in one hand.

  “Grazie,” he said as he grabbed the suit and walked to Agatha’s bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  “Come in,” Agatha said to Letizia. She was six feet tall and all legs and voluminous hair. She always had the perfect blowout and her make-up always matched her shoes. Even now, after her boss had called her unexpectedly, it looked like she had spent hours getting ready.

  With her arms crossed, Letizia entered the house and walked to the bathroom door, where she began to speak in hurried Italian. Occasionally Agatha could hear Henry responding from the other side, his voice growing angrier with every second that passed.

  “What’s going on?” Agatha asked. She was starting to get annoyed. This was her house after all. She hadn’t invited Henry over. She had just found him, possibly post-transition, in her own backyard. Her questions were only growing. She needed someone to tell her that Werewolves weren’t real and never had been. They needed to tell her that there was no magic in the world, only science. She needed to hear that or she just might very well lose her mind.

  “We’re very sorry to trouble you,” Letizia said through a thick accent. “We will be gone soon.”

  At that moment, Henry exited the bathroom. He looked like his old self again. He was wearing a perfectly fitting black suit with a black tie which he straightened as he glanced at her. His dark black hair was smoothed down and styled to the side. He spoke quickly to Letizia who glared at Agatha in response.

  “You shouldn’t stay here,” Henry said, his voice crisp and clean. He was the boss again, which was a shame, she had liked seeing him in her bathrobe. “It isn’t safe. Those animals could come back. I think you would be better at the Thompson Inn. I’ll have Letizia book you a room and don’t worry, I will cover all expenses.”

  “What?” Agatha demanded. “I’m not leaving my house. Wolves can’t get through doors. That was just a story my grandmother told to scare us. Unless there’s something else going on that I don’t know about.” Letizia and Henry shared a look.

  Letizia opened her mouth to say something, but Henry cut her off with a raised hand. “Let’s go get some breakfast,” he said. “We can all think clearer with a full stomach.”

  “I need to return to the house and prepare a few.... things,” Letizia said.

  “We’ll drop you off on the way,” Henry said. “Come on,” he said to Agatha. He took her by the elbow and guided her outside. His voice and manners were so commanding, that Agatha offered no resistance as he led her out of her own house. There was a black town car sitting in her driveway next to her little red Ford. Once outside Henry was on high alert, his eyes scanning the tree line and the road as if he was expecting someone to be there.

  He opened the back door and then Agatha felt his firm hand on the small of her back guiding her. A tingle went up her spine at his touch and she couldn’t look him in the eye once she was seated.

  He drove with Letizia on the passenger side. She was speaking in rushed Italian and Agatha struggled to pick up on any familiar sounding words, but it was nothing but gibberish. He dropped Letizia off on Main Street an
d when she exited the car, Agatha got out as well.

  “Where are you going?” Henry demanded. But Agatha was just moving to the front seat.

  “You’re not my driver,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

  Chapter Four

  They drove down Main Street, an awkward silence hanging between them. Agatha couldn’t stop fiddling with the hem of her shirt. She wished she was dressed better. Her closet was filled with cute dresses and skirts, but instead, she was wearing a simple pair of tight jeans and a black t-shirt. Next to Henry, in his perfectly fitting, magically unwrinkled suit, she felt painfully bland and ugly.

  She glanced up at him a few times, but his eyes never left the road. He was frowning and shaking his head as if he were having some internal argument with himself.

  The Thompson Inn was over two hundred years old. The original building had burnt down in the thirties, but it had been rebuilt with gilded splendor. It was a large building with white colonnades and a wrap-around porch dotted with planters filled with brightly colorful flowers.

  Henry parked the car and walked around to the other side to open the door for Agatha. She wasn’t sure what to make of that gesture. She had never met a man who opened her doors for her. Most of the guys she met had never heard of chivalry and her last relationship had ended after she realized that she was never going to get back the two thousand dollars she lent him.

  Henry was taller than she was and she hurried to keep up with him as he took the steps two at a time into the Inn.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Crane,” a fawning waiter said, coming around from his stand to personally shake Henry’s hand while Agatha shifted from foot to foot. The waiter barely even glanced at her before he led them to a table near the window.