by Lilly Cain
There had been a slight hesitation before Sherry had said Helen left. She knew something but did she trust David with it? “I’m worried about her, Sherry. I think you’re worried too. There must have been something.”
The hesitation was longer this time. “Well, she did make arrangements to take a cab to Cabela’s, that big hunting and camping superstore. That was unusual.”
“Thanks, Sherry.”
“But, Mr. Sherman, please, she’s always been wonderful to work for. It’s only been in the last little bit that things have been off, and she looks so stressed, so tired. If you aren’t going to help her, don’t get involved.”
“I’m going to help. Thank you.” He hung up. He was already involved, his interest piqued, and something inside him told him she could be something very special. How could he not try to help her?
Cabela’s wasn’t far from the outskirts of the city. He could be there in twenty minutes with the light traffic at this time of day. And if she were after the kind of camping gear that he suspected, then his idea about where she could be headed might be true. A few minutes with the salespeople who had been on duty the day before would be enough to let him know. Who would be able to forget a perfectly dressed business woman, a beautiful one, coming in for camping gear and probably asking all sorts of questions?
He’d go home, pack his own gear, and then head over to the store. If he was right, he’d head for the hunting cabin and catch up with her there and find out what was wrong. But, if he wasn’t right and she wasn’t there, well, it had been a while since he’d seen the old cabin or taken a vacation.
Considering the crazy ideas he’d been having about what could be going on with Helen, maybe he needed one.
* * *
Helen stuck her bookmark in her novel and dropped the book with a sigh. Last night had been cozy in the cabin and she’d slept well enough on the couch. In the morning she’d spent a good bit of time figuring out the camp stove and making a light brunch, but after a day with nothing but her books, the boredom might soon kill her. Time to go out. She’d had no signs of the change since she’d arrived; obviously she was free of the stress that had been bringing them on early. The stress from one particular man and all his questions.
She stood and paced. There were only a few days left until the change would become too strong to resist. She stopped and stared out the window at the forest. She could bring the change on now by going into the woods and simply let it happen. She’d never done that before. Never consciously brought it on or tried to control it, only tried to stop it. It was in the back of her mind, always, nagging at her to let go and let it happen.
There was new growth out there in the woods near the cabin, mixed with old, old trees. Enough leaf cover above that the brush was thin underneath the canopy only a few yards past the first trees. She could walk out there, strip off her clothes, and feel the breeze on her skin. It wasn’t cold, not really, and never to her. She wouldn’t be naked for long, but for a few minutes she’d be exposed. She shivered. There was something exciting about the idea, although she’d never considered the change to be sensual at all. That part hurt a bit, though not as much as she’d imagined from watching movies. Blood and bone changing shape, senses sharpening, the power of sudden strength…these things should have been accompanied by agony. But the pain was more like an awakening.
Would bringing the change on be like giving into it? Would it make things harder next time when she wanted to stop it? Would she lose control? Lose herself to the other? She bit her lip and paced the room again. This was the argument that she’d had several times with herself already today.
Maybe changing early would make it easier to stop later. This was the flip side of the debate. Maybe if she got to know this thing better, understand herself after the change, she could control it longer, and change only when she wanted. Like she’d ever want to. She’d have to deal with it until she dealt with the Rom and made them remove the curse.
“Control is power, Helen. Get used to that.” Her father never let go of his control. Not up until the day he died, although if he had, they might have realized his little headaches were a sign of something far worse. So, yeah, he hadn’t always been right. Was he right now? If she had control over the change, would she be more powerful?
She’d have to be.
She took a deep breath and headed for the door. She hesitated for a second then slipped outside, leaving the inner door open and the just the screen door shut to let in some air. At times during the night, the faint scent of David had been enough to wake her from dreams that seemed too impossible, yet were also real.
The tall grass brushed at her knees as she walked across the overgrown yard to the woods. She breathed deeply. The smells here were fantastic, so fresh and alive. The grass, new and old. The loamy ground beneath it. The trees ahead, most with big green leaves and some with dark needles, none of which she could name but she definitely could smell. And the exciting scents of little animals—mice, squirrels, rabbits. She licked her lips.
Now that she had made up her mind she was going to do this, it seemed so easy. Her nails were already hardening, growing longer and darker. She cocked her head at a small sound, but it was only a few birds, crows maybe, gathering to perch in the trees nearby. Were they watching her? She had to laugh at herself. They were only birds.
She grabbed the edge of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. The breeze tickled her skin just as she’d imagined. She quickly folded her shirt and laid it on a flat rock. She looked back. She could still see the house. It was so simple to step out of her shoes. To pull off her socks and pull down her jeans. She folded them and laid them beside the shirt. Her bra and underwear were a little harder. She bit her lip as the breeze tickled her everywhere, as attentive as any lover.
She could feel the change hovering, just off the point of actualization. Sometimes it seemed as if it had always been there, waiting to pounce, to bring her into a world so different from her day-to-day life.
One deep breath, a moment of relaxation, and it was on her. She shifted in moments, her skin and bones forming a new shape, one filled with power and strength. The pain was there, unsurprising and yet somehow less than usual. Was this because she wasn’t fighting it? Because she’d let it happen? If that was the case the experiment was so far bringing positive results.
Her senses opened; the sights and sounds and smells became so much stronger. The vegetation beneath her feet was too hard to resist and she rolled in it, stretching and scratching her new body. Then she was up and off, running. Even when she’d fought the change there was nothing better than those first hours, when she ran and ran, stretching like she’d been cramped in her office for years.
Which she had.
Twilight had settled in and the forest was open to her. She’d been right—there was little scrub under the largest part of the canopy and the speed she brought on made her giggle. God only knew what that sounded like. She let her tongue loll out and tasted the air. There was so much life around her, so much freedom before her.
It was too bad that David intended to develop this land. Running here was the best she’d found. That thought brought her run to an end. She slowed. Accepting the change was dangerous after all. How easy it would be to make this her life. This freedom. She’d lose everything she’d built—her career. And then what would she do when she was herself? When she was human and her reason for getting up every morning was gone?
A strange scent wafted past her, and her hackles drew up. Predator. More than one. And close. She scanned the shadows, and a flicker of movement drew her attention to the left. Then it was gone, and a hint of motion caught her peripheral vision on the other side. Danger.
A howl soared through the air, carrying threat and promise like a deadly song. She raced again, running back the way she came, back toward David’s cabin. Then it hit her, a wave of otherness, a power she felt like a cold wave of water, hitting her and knocking her off balance. She stumbled, fell,
and screamed as her body tore open and her human form was yanked into the open in a bloody, pain-filled instant.
For a second she lay dazed on the ground.
Then the howl came again, joined by a second voice, and a third. A chorus of animal and human mixed together and her heart dropped into her belly.
She got up, and she ran.
7
David’s headlights cut through the darkness, but they never did much on this part of the mountain other than make him feel claustrophobic. Why the hell was he doing this? Curiosity he could understand—that was a feeling he’d followed often both as a child and as a man, and it often led him toward good things. And yes, he’d admit he had a serious attraction for a mystery and Helen Mathews was definitely that. Not to mention beautiful and he’d always had a weakness for a beautiful woman.
But had he ever gone after a woman with this kind of intense need to help? Nope. That was a new one for him. She needed him. Whatever was going on, he could feel it. And maybe, that was it. His mother called him a good man, and his brothers called him Boy Scout. So, there was that.
He could count on his hands the last time he’d chased a woman. Yet here he was chasing after the mysterious and needy Helen. What did that say about him? That he needed to be needed. No kidding. The last time anyone had needed him was Sharon. That had ended badly. She’d needed what he couldn’t give—a way back to reality. She’d had psychological problems he’d known nothing about and in the end, had taken her own life. He knew it wasn’t his fault, wasn’t anyone’s fault, but… He hadn’t been able to protect her no matter how much he cared for her.
“No wonder you’ve been hanging out with simple, curvy blondes,” he muttered. And now he was self analyzing as he drove halfway up a mountain after a woman who might not be there, and might not want him around if she was.
“It’s my bloody place, for God’s sake.” He’d be at the turn off soon, just a little farther. “You’re talking to yourself.” He shook his head and then slammed on the brakes as a figure dashed into the road ahead of him. “Jesus Christ!”
The figure, a woman, naked and bloody, switched direction and ran straight up the road. Helen. For a second his mind flashed back to the dream he’d had recently. But this was reality. He put his Jeep in park and opened the door, shouted her name. She faltered slightly, but kept running.
“Goddammit!” He slammed the door and ran after her, leaving the engine running.
She ran like the wind, like death was chasing her. What had happened? Had she been attacked? He’d been in track in university and had kept up his running since then, but he had to give it everything he had to catch up to her. He grabbed her by the elbow and she jerked in his grasp, and stumbled.
“Helen, stop!”
“They’re coming! We’ve got to run—”
“Who? Are you hurt? Whose blood is this?”
“Mine.” Her eyes were wild. He grabbed her again and tried to check for wounds but she squirmed away. “We have to go!”
She was losing it, the fear in her eyes uncontrolled. A hundred questions flooded his mind, but first things first; he had to get her somewhere safe. “Come on then, my car is back on the road.”
Her gaze darted to the woods and she struggled harder to get free of him. “Can’t go back. They’re coming. The wolves.”
He frowned and his heart pounded harder than it had from the run. There were no wolves on the mountain. None in the state that he knew of. Was she having a mental break? “Come with me, Helen. You’re okay now. You’re safe. Let’s take my car back to the cabin.” He spoke soothingly, keeping his tone gentle. Someone must have attacked her and she was somehow associating the attack with the most frightening image she could think of, wolves.
She stared at him for a second, really focusing in on him for the first time since he’d caught up with her. “You go back to your car. Maybe they won’t do anything to you. They’re after me.”
She sounded in control. But wolves? David and Helen were both breathing heavily and the chill in the air formed a fog from their breath. It brought his attention back to the fact that she was naked in the cold fall air. Wherever all the blood was coming from, she didn’t seem to have any major wounds that he could see. Not that he was staring. He let her go for a moment and pulled off his jacket. He put it over her shoulders and turned her around toward the car, where he could see the headlights glowing.
He looked back at her but pointed down the road. “Look, see my car? Let’s just go back, get in, and drive to the cabin. We can get you cleaned up and we can figure out what happened and if we should call the police.”
She looked at him, trembled. Fear radiated from her, and a little shiver slid down his spine.
They both looked at the glowing headlights. They blinked out.
“What?” He couldn’t have lost battery power already. He’d barely let the thing idle a few minutes. A moment later he realized he could still hear the engine. In fact it was roaring. Toward them.
“Run! They’ve got your car!” Helen grabbed his hand, dragged him along with her while she ran up the road toward the cabin. His jacket slipped from her shoulders and fell to the ground as her long strides ate up the ground and he ran with her.
“Who? Who is it?”
“The wolves! Now run!” She veered into the woods and he followed. The car roared closer, then past, a waft of air rushing over them in its wake.
“Wolves have my car?” The woman ran like the wind and he could barely keep up and get the words out. But disbelief at the whole situation raced even faster through his mind. He jumped a fallen log. He could barely see now they were off the road, but the nearly full moon gave just enough light to keep them moving. Something terrible had happened to Helen, or was still happening. She needed help, but maybe more than he could give her, because somebody had his car. He could get her somewhere safe, but then she would need professional help. The police and a doctor. She was suffering from delusions.
* * *
The cabin wasn’t far now, but David was slowing them down. She couldn’t leave him out in the woods, the dark, not really understanding who was after them or how much danger he was in. They might not be after him, but they’d taken his car. Whoever they were, they were cursed like her. Shifting forms to hunt her in as both human and wolf. She knew they wanted her, had sensed their hostility before she’d changed back, but who were they? Why did they want to hurt her?
She’d find out later. Right now she needed to get David safe inside, before he got deeper into trouble. That had to be why he was here. He’d come after her, too curious to stay away. She pulled on his arm and he grunted and poured on a little speed. They were getting close.
The sound of David’s Jeep grew stronger. The wolves had turned around on the road and were rushing back toward them. “They’re coming back!”
This time David jerked on her arm. He pulled them deeper into the woods as the Jeep crashed through the bush only yards from where they’d been. She glanced over her shoulder. The Jeep was lodged between trees, unable to go deeper into the woods after them. The lights were still out but she could see the driver through the front window. A man with a snarl on his face—a stranger whose teeth were growing longer every second.
David led them deeper into the trees. “Where are we going?” she yelled.
“Shortcut,” he panted. “Come on.”
They ran.
Long minutes later they burst into the relatively clear area around the cabin. There’d been no sign of the wolves, no hint of their hunting howl. No sound of anything at all. The night was eerily silent. What did they say in the movies? Quiet—too quiet. Every second she expected them to burst from the shadows of the trees and fling themselves on her, ripping her to shreds.
They pounded across the lawn and up the stairs of the cabin porch. David staggered and she pulled him upright and to the door. He pulled the screen door open and then burst inside. She slammed the door shut behind them, and slapped the bo
lt across. For a moment they stood there, panting. David bent over and pressed his palms to his knees while he did his best to breathe. Then she rushed to the widow and peered outside.
The night stayed quiet.
A small sound caught her attention. David had recovered enough to walk to the table beside the sofa. He opened a drawer and pulled out a set of keys. Then he grabbed the blanket off the sofa that she’d been using as a bed and came to her. He looked away as he handed her the wool cover and she flushed as she took it and covered herself. “Thank you.” The words came from her in a tone she barely recognized as her own. Soft, quavering.
He nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something to her, or maybe he was waiting for her to speak first. His eyes searched hers. But what could she say to him? How could she explain this mess? He was in danger because he’d followed her. She glanced at the floor.
He sighed and walked away, toward the direction of the master bedroom. She stared after him, and then returned her stare to the window. Who was out there? Why had they attacked her? What had they done to change her back so suddenly? Had they somehow taken the curse from her?
“I’m sure they’ve gone, or they would have been at the cabin by now.” David had returned and stood behind her. She changed her focus and looked at him in the reflection of the window. Then she turned and looked at him for real. He held a shotgun and a box of shells. “Just in case they come back.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“What? This is a hunting cabin.” He grinned at her and she giggled, but the noise quickly began to sound hysterical.
He frowned and set the shell box down, reached out to touch her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
She looked down at herself. Was she hurt? How could she not know? She looked down at her arm and was surprised at the amount of blood covering it. There was blood everywhere. And now that she could see it, she could smell it. The coppery tang of her own life. “Just…just scratches I think. I… I…”