*****
When she woke – at 5.a.m, she saw, when she checked her phone – Dorian and Tooth lay beside her: human Dorian and Tooth. They snored lightly and looked almost childlike with their hands draped over her, their chests rising and falling in satisfied slumber. Daisy tried to sleep some more, but by half past five she knew it was no use. She got dressed and just watched them sleep for a while. She was too wired to sleep for herself. She had just had sex with Wolves!
It was madness, considering that not so long ago she hadn’t even known that Wolves existed, and now she had had sex with two of them. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t all some mad dream – that she hadn’t gone completely crazy – but the telling was unnecessary. If this was a hallucination, it was so vivid, so real, that it might as well have been reality. I think, therefore I am, and all that.
Soon Tooth and Dorian were awake. They sat in silence for a time and then Tooth and Dorian got dressed. Then they all sat on the couch together, not having to speak. After a time, Dorian said: “Daisy, I have something to ask you.”
Daisy listened with as much attention as she could muster after such a night, but as he talked, she had no trouble mustering more. “Daisy,” he said. “I think you might have Wolf blood in you. That’s phrasing it wrong.” He pursed his lips. “I know you have Wolf-blood in you, or we wouldn’t have Scented you. But I think you have more Wolf-blood that we originally thought.”
“So?” Daisy said, unsure of where he was going with this.
“So,” he continued, as Tooth sat placidly by. “I think you may have enough Wolf-blood in you to be changed by the Council of the Brethren by the Old Way.”
Daisy giggled: couldn’t help but giggle. “And what’s the Old Way?”
“Wolves are made in the normal way, like we were,” Tooth said, in his slow melodic voice. “Or they have ancestors who were once Wolves, which means they can be changed by the Council in a ceremony that does not require them to be scratched or bitten or harmed in any way. Wolves of the Old Way can also change whenever they want, are faster than people, are more inhuman, I guess, than most Wolves.”
Daisy laughed uncomfortably. “Why are you telling me this?” she said. “Why would I want to be a Wolf?”
Dorian shrugged. “I just thought I’d let you know,” he said. “You should have the choice, should you not? And if you do decide you would like to become a Wolf Prime – that’s another name for Old-Way Wolves – then Tooth and I can take you to the Council.”
“What, so I can become a Wolf once a month?”
“Oh, but you’ll be so much more than that,” Tooth said. “I’m jealous. I’ll tell it true. I’m jealous. I wish I’d had Wolf-blood in me. But I hadn’t. My Maker checked.”
They parted soon after that, and Daisy gave it little thought until she was at work the next day. Become a Wolf? Ha, it was crazy! Why would she trade in her normal, plain life for the life of the Wolf? Why, indeed?
She had been feeling happy as she came into work that day, because she had seen Dorian through the window. She had been half-afraid he wouldn’t be there: that he had gotten what he wanted and would now return to wherever it was that Wolves roamed. But he was sitting there, talking on the phone. Daisy seated herself and was about to start work when she looked up at her computer screen – how had she not seen it before? – and saw that it was plastered in sticky-notes.
Childish writing was scribbled all over them, and she sat up and saw that some of the guys in the office were sniggering. They read: Lover girl; Sexy office girl gets taught a lesson; Can I have a go?; What’s so special about him?; To be fair, you have got a great rack. She cleaned the notes away calmly and put them in the bin, keeping the rage and resentment that was building behind her calm exterior locked safely away in some deep dark pit. The guys in the office looked annoyed when she didn’t react, and soon went back to work.
But all that day, Daisy was thinking on it, turning it over. This was the great Humanity then, was it? This was the men humanity had to offer? Enlarged schoolboys scrawling pathetic notes? Jealous sexless cretins with flaccid cocks and even more flaccid wit? This was what she was aligned with? If an alien race came down, she’d have to say: “Yes, we are the same species, he and I.” What sort of sick world made her share the same label as them?
And that’s when Dorian’s offer came back to her, so hard she was sure she might fall from her chair. She didn’t have to be the same species as these morons. Of course, it was a silly reason, really, to change one’s entire makeup. But why not? Why not say F-it and fly into the light of Something Else? Why not just break the whole damn parameter into so many pieces her mother’s voice would never be able to return to her?
She paced across the office to where Dorian sat. “I’ve thought it over,” she said, ignoring the eyes that surrounded her, seeming to scream at her. “I want to become a Wolf,” she went on, heart thumping. “I want to become a Wolf. I don’t want anything to do with humanity anymore. I want to distance myself. I’ve been divorced twice, my mother was—wasn’t well. These…” And she swept her hand around the office. “These are the men of my species, and you are the men of the Wolves. I would much rather have you for kin. When can we leave?”
He was looking at her with more seriousness than she’d ever seen on his face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m certain.”
He rose to his feet. “Then we can leave right now,” he said. “We’ll pick up Tooth on the way.”
*****
That night, a casual observer might have seen a woman and two men drive West out of the city, going a leisurely speed; because these people were in no rush. The observer may or not may have seen the expression of complete calm on the woman’s face. The observer may or may not have seen that the man with the tooth around his neck and the long black hair was looking longingly up at the not-quite-full moon.
And the observer could never have guessed what was in that car: that all of non-humanity was in that car. Daisy was to be a Wolf; and then what?
And then what?
she thought, as her eyes closed against the night, a wide smile ushering her to sleep.
THE END
Bonus Story 3/10
Gabe held the slender blonde in his arms as they twirled around the dance floor, a smile painting his face for the first time since his sweet Violet passed away two years before. Mason was right. With Vi gone and her killer locked safely behind bars, it was time to get out there again and live again. Enough time had passed, and Vi wouldn’t want him sitting at home, withering away in his thirties.
He’d forgotten the blonde’s name already, his memory slightly fuzzy with the nights drinking to build up his courage. But she was a living, breathing woman, and dammit he was having
fun
. He wouldn’t take her home; he would probably never see her again. But for this one moment, all was bright in the world.
Mason spun past Gabe, who had a gorgeous brunette on his arm, and winked at his friend. The look on Gabe’s face said it all and Mason didn’t need the
thank you
that Gabe mouthed as they flew by. His best friend’s happiness was more than enough.
The chamber orchestra finished their song and the dancers stopped to clap. Live music and dancing were a rare thing in this modern world, but both Mason and Gabe loved the classics. The small group bowed graciously and sat down to play their last song. With a smirk, Gabe recognized the modern piece with a classical spin, letting everyone know closing time was upon them. Gabe wrapped his arm tight around the blonde’s waist and pulled her in for a slow-dance. He whispered his thanks in her ear for a sweet night on the town, and asked if he could call her a private car to drive her home. She blushed, but relief was evident on her face. When he’d first asked her if she would like to join him for dinner and dancing, you could tell this wasn’t what she’d expected. Sitting alone at a table in a restaurant, obviously stood up for a date, she looked like she needed a night on the town as much as Gabe did, and he’d told her so.
She’d been eager to join him, until they’d sat down for their meal in the most exclusive restaurant in Daytona Beach. It was clear from her face that she didn’t believe him when he’d reassured her that he expected nothing in return from her. Now, letting her know in the gentlest way he knew how that he had no intention of bringing her home, he felt the tension drain from her; tension he hadn’t even known was there until it was gone.
“You Gabe, whatever your last name is, are a true gentleman, and I’ve had the best night tonight.” She kissed Gabe on the cheek and rested her head on his chest.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t ever let a man make you think that you are worth any less.” She nodded into his chest.
She was a beautiful woman, but she’d been stood up more than once. She was about to give up on men altogether, staring angrily into an apple pie, when Gabe had sat down beside her and talked her into joining him for the evening. She surprised herself by saying yes and getting up to leave with him right then. She was already wearing her most luscious red dress, so why not? What had started out as the worst night of her dating career had turned magical. She knew that she would leave this man’s company believing in fairytale once more.
The song ended and the couples dispersed for the night. Gabe and Mason waited with their dates for their hired cars to arrive and tipped both drivers handsomely to make sure that they arrived at their homes safely. Gabe tossed Mason the keys to his Porsche 911 and hopped in the driver’s seat. Not much of a drinker, he knew that one was one too many for him. Mason chuckled at his friend and got into the driver’s seat. All that liquid courage had left his dear friend a little giddy, and Mason was glad for it. Gabe deserved a happy life.
Mason guided the Porsche through the streets, heading for large townhome they shared. Gabe hadn’t set foot inside his own home since that day he’d found Violet murdered in their living room, the words “Tiger lover” spray-painted on all the walls. Vi had died because she loved a shifter, and Gabe couldn’t bring himself to walk the halls that once held framed photos of their happy life anymore.
A few blocks away, Gabe could see flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the neighboring houses. The police. Mason slowed the car and turned down an alley, taking the back way to the townhouse.
He crossed a small side-street and discovered that the alley-way was also blocked.
“What in the hell is going on?” said Mason.
Gabe shrugged. His guess was as good as any. Mason pulled down another alley and killed the engine, pulling out his smart phone to check the local news. There was a breaking news bulletin that began playing as soon as he clicked on the icon.
“Breaking news tonight out of a quiet suburb of Daytona Beach. A gruesome murder scene has been found at the home of Mason Kaplan, CEO and majority owner of Kaplan Innovations. Details are sketchy at this time, but authorities are searching for Mr. Kaplan, and a known associate, Gabe Nemr, for questioning. Mr. Kaplan and Mr. Nemr are only persons of interest at this point, though Channel 12 news has learned that Mr. Nemr’s wife, Violet Nemr was also murdered two years ago. This, of course, raising questions as to whether the right man has been incarcerated for Violet Nemr’s murder. The pair are described as—”
Mason turned the phone off, his hand shaking. The camera had panned away several times, showing the front yard of the townhome crawling with forensic investigators and law enforcement. During the reporter’s clip, two body bags had been removed from the residence, and what Mason could see of the scene behind was a grisly scene.
With a calm he didn’t feel, Mason drove the Porsche away from the house, heading for an apartment he kept near his office for emergencies. It was only a matter of time before the authorities would find the apartment. But by then, Mason and Gabe would be long gone.
****
Stacy watched the furniture van unload the last of its cargo and drive away, leaving the rustic cabin and its new inhabitants to settle into their new home. The cabin, large for the area with three spacious rooms, had been vacant for years, so Stacy had been surprised when a modest sedan had pulled onto the private drive, stopping to remove the battered
for sale
sign at its entrance. Willing to admit that she was quite nosy, but preferring to think of it as friendly curiosity, Stacy had wandered down the trail that eventually led past the cabin to get a look at her new neighbors. She was surprised to see two men, both looking like they belonged in the big city in a flashy car, not Stephenville, Oregon. Population 500, if you counted the entire, unnamed, mostly forested area surrounding the tiny town.
Stacy’s closest neighbor besides the two strangers was Brad, a 37-year-old divorcee who could find darkness on the brightest day. Stacy could only handle so much negativity, so she was hoping that these two new guys were at least cheery. Brad had already called her yesterday, within minutes of the strangers driving down the easement, to let her know that she should avoid the new neighbors until he’d had a chance to “vet” them. She had rolled her eyes when he’d said that. Brad really was trying to be nice, but he only knew how to be Brad.
Stacy headed back down the trail towards her house, skipping in the sunshine and enjoying the beautiful weather and the clean scent of the recently rain-washed forest just beyond her property line. Some might tease her for being too peppy, but Stacy didn’t care. She had a fresh basket of fruit and a homemade pie from her shop in the neighboring city of Pikesville to bring to her new neighbors. The rest of the wide-spread neighbors could be as aloof as they wanted, she had some new friends to make.
She pulled her car next to theirs, her engine knocking loudly as she killed it, and dragged the heavy basket across the seats. The curtain beside the door fluttered as she walked up the paved sidewalk to the door. Before she could knock, a tall, well-muscled man opened the door, a huge grin spread across his face.
“All you need is a red hood and cape and this could be the sexiest fairytale ever written.”
Stacy laughed as another man elbowed his friend in the ribs.
“Mason, mind your manners. We want people here to like us, not to hide their daughters every time we step outside our door.” This man winked at Stacy, her heart fluttering with a million butterfly wings at the sight of him. They walked onto the porch and offered her a seat on the plush swing as they leaned against the porch rails.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” said Mason, grinning at her, completely ignoring the obvious house-warming present she’d brought them. The other man sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His comical expression drew a laugh from Stacy, who was finding the pair much more amusing than she’d ever imagined.
She handed the second man the basket of food. He thanked her and set it aside, looking her over in a way that said he was used to attracting the ladies, but still a consummate gentleman. Stacy stuck her hand out, introducing herself and explaining where her home was.
“I’m Gabe, and I guess you know where I live,” said Gabe. He winked, his tone teasing her. Stacy blushed. He knew the basket was an excuse to be nosy, but she’d lay money that he didn’t mind. He shook her hand.
His grip was firm but gentle, his large hand swallowing hers whole as he held her gaze. His eyes were a deep, dark, chocolate brown, nearly as black as his pupils. Stacy lost herself in those eyes, forgetting that she was sitting with her hand outstretched, even as he let her go. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. These two were trouble, but not the kind of trouble Brad had wanted her to believe.
Ha! Maybe they
are
the kind of trouble Brad is worried about.
Stacy made small-talk with them for a while, noting how they avoided any mention of their lives prior to arriving in Stephenville. Stacy took in their manicured hands and gentle tone and imagined that they were secretly rich, just trying to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life.
The sun started dipping down towards the horizon when Stacy stood to leave. They promised to return her basket, though she insisted they keep it. Mason made a flirty remark about having an excuse to see her again, making Stacy blush again as she climbed into her car and drove away.
What is wrong with me,
she wondered.
I’m like a horny teenager.
Maybe Brad was onto something. Luckily, Stacy didn’t have to drive by his home to get back to hers. Brad had always been a good neighbor, but he was too forceful. What he thought came off as concern felt more controlling than anything, and she wasn’t in the mood for his brand of caring tonight.
***
Stacy awakened to a knock on her door, not in the least bit surprised to see Brad, arms crossed and a perturbed look on his face standing on her porch. She left the chain secured, not interested in visitors this early in the morning.
“Yes, Brad?”
“I see those two
men
brought back your basket this morning. Am I to assume that you went to their house yesterday, unescorted?”
Was he for real? It’s 2015 for cripes sake, not 1915.
Stacy didn’t answer him, just closed the door softly and padded back to bed. It was 8:00am on a Sunday. Her café was closed today, and only today. She wasn’t going to let sour-puss Brad ruin today for her. She crawled back into bed, moaning when the still-warm sheets wrapped around her bare skin. Brad knocked a few times in quick little bursts, then finally gave up and left. She’d hear about it tomorrow. But for now, she faded into a blissful sleep.
She awoke completely refreshed, several hours later. She rolled over and looked at the clock, surprised to see that it was nearly noon. Usually, Brad attempted to drag her to church, even though she insisted that she found her faith in the beauty and grandeur of the forest surrounding them. Brad had ridiculed her, claiming that she was living a heathen’s existence.
Maybe he finally gave up on that, especially after this morning.
Stacy rolled over and saw the list of missed calls flashing on her cell phone. 51 missed calls in all. She was wrong that Brad had given up on dragging her to town to save her soul. It turned out that she was just a really heavy sleeper.
Oh well, Brad will get over it. I have a life to live!
After breakfast, she pulled on her hiking pants and laced up her boots. The sleek, black fabric clung to her every curve, but still allowed her to move freely. Developed specifically for hiking in the rough climate of the Pacific Northwest, the pants were her favorite hiking accessory. She could jog through brambles without them tearing, yet she didn’t overheat in them.
She put on a ball cap and headed out the door, a camel pack filled with water strapped to her back. She knew these woods like her own reflection and she would only be out for a few hours. The water would be enough after her full meal this morning. No need to weigh herself down with more. Aside from her cellphone, it was the only thing she brought with her.
Walking down the path towards the forest, Stacy wondered about her new neighbors. Who were they really? Why had they chosen Stephenville of all places to settle down? They had told her they weren’t brothers, so what was their deal?
I wonder how much sleep Brad is losing over our new neighbors.
She smiled. Brad meant well, at least she thought he did, but he was just so over-bearing. He was from another planet, where women still needed men to hold their hands and tell them what to do. He wasn’t her type, though he couldn’t seem to understand that.