She didn’t buy it. “Wait here.” She dashed out of the room and returned less than a minute later with a plain paper print of a photo.
“How do you explain this?” she asked, handing him the thermographic shot she had taken some nights ago. Careless of her nakedness, she sat next to him on the bed as he studied the paper.
“I was out working on my study of the new construction behind the studio when I saw two guys face off. When I realized it was you, I snapped some pictures, but only this one from the thermographic camera came out.”
Liz watched his reaction and knew he was searching for a palatable lie. She reached to touch him, and his hand was cold, a sure reaction of fear. But why would he fear her?
“Armando, I can see you’re formulating a story to throw me off. Please don’t do that,” she said, stroking his cool fingertips.
“How much do you know about thermographic images?”
“Just tell me what this means,” she said. “I’ve never seen a person so totally saturated with heat.”
“And from that your conclusion is . . . ?”
“My first reaction was that you two were so angry at one another that you raised your total body temperature, but that can’t be the whole answer. Just tell me,” she said, her irritation growing.
Armando stared at the photo to avoid her eyes.
“What did you hear of our conversation?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m horrible at remembering words,” she said. “But I’m sure he was threatening you, and you said,” she paused, “you said something about being the law. Hey, are you an undercover cop?”
He sighed. “I’m a probation officer for some special cases and, uh, gangs,” he said.
Liz narrowed her eyes and stared at him, trying to figure the magnitude of the lie.
“No, that’s not right,” she said sarcastically, “not right at all.” She jerked back from him and stormed across the room. She planted her feet and stared him down. “The truth, please. Now.”
She watched him and saw him decide.
“Well, you’re invisible at night and I’m a shape shifter,” he said, studying her face.
“So you’re a werewolf? Damn, I knew all my late-night reading would come in handy one day.” She laughed loudly as she bounced back onto the bed. It hurt that he wasn’t going to answer her truthfully.
“No, no, I’m not a werewolf. I’m the Portal Guardian for the various packs because I’m not in their packs. I’m too different,” he replied with some formality. “But if you weren’t prepared to believe me, then why did you ask the question?” Some anger showed in his tone.
Liz realized her inane reaction wasn’t helping. She took a deep breath and regained control. She took a few more deep breaths, letting the new information circulate in her imagination. Armando was studying her, and though she liked it when his eyes drifted to her breasts, something else held his gaze.
The animals. She suddenly remembered the animals that had raced past her.
“So that’s why a cougar and a wolf ran right in front of me in the parking lot?” she said. “At least I can lay to rest my worries of hallucinations.” She collapsed on the bed, her head next to his, and stared at the ceiling.
“If you were there, that close, how come I didn’t see you?” He leaned up on his elbow to examine her reaction.
“I think you were too preoccupied with that thug.”
“Liz, aren’t you afraid to be out taking pictures at night? Las Vegas, especially back from the Strip, is not the safest place to wander after dark.”
Liz did the long-distance stare before she turned to meet his eyes.
“It’s like I told you,” she said. “I’m always comfortable in the dark. Just the other day, I was thinking about how I used to sneak out of my house late at night when I was a teenager. I could walk anywhere, and as long as I stayed quiet, no one bothered me . . . ever. For safety I carry my pistol, the one Sam trained me to shoot, but I’ve never needed it.”
Armando kept staring at her.
It made her edgy.
She deflected his next question with one of her own. “How are you different from the packs? You’ve come this far; tell me the whole story.” She softened the request by rolling to him and stroking his back. She was equal parts curious and, despite everything he’d said, ready to fuck again.
He paused, enjoying her caresses, then sighed. “You won’t believe me, but here goes,” he said finally.
“A Sioux shaman turned me about a hundred years ago as part of my initiation ceremony. My dream self was a cougar, and in my soul journey, I was a cougar. What I didn’t know was what my father kept hidden from me: He was a werewolf. He came to America to escape a death sentence from one of the Austrian packs for turning someone without permission. Away from the influence of the others, he was able to pass as human. He married a human and had children. Something in the shaman’s magic screwed up all that. Now I change to cougar each month. I can also change to my father’s form, but it takes planning and meditation, or extreme provocation.”
Liz watched him in slack-jawed amazement. Her eyes darted over his features, looking for all the usual tells of the lie, the story made up to entertain or confuse.
But the truth was in his voice. She could hear the frustration, bitterness, and sadness in his confession. He must always feel alone, a fate all the more so damning for being at least in part a pack animal. Not sure whether she should offer comfort or distraction, or if she should run away, she lay still. How much strange could she accept in one night?
“I promised you a hot tub,” she finally said, “and I could use it now myself. Let’s go.” She paused and arched a wiseass smile at him. “Do cougars like to get wet?”
He didn’t answer her, but after a moment he followed her, naked, into the night.
* * *
Liz stepped back into the house to grab robes and towels, while Armando opened the hot tub and moved aside its lid. As she approached the open door of the patio off her bedroom, she stopped cold. A rather large wolf, cast in silhouette, crouched on the low roof of the shed.
Armando was setting the lid on the grass and seemed unaware of the intruder, but he spun suddenly when the wolf jumped into the courtyard. It changed to human form in midflight, and landed, naked, on two feet.
“Damn it to hell, Armando, why are you with a human like this?” the intruder said. “How can you expect respect from any pack anywhere if you can’t keep away from the humans? Every time you veer away from our rules, you know you get further from being allowed to join a pack.”
“Your pack doesn’t belong here, Georg, so you matter not to me,” he replied, stepping closer to the man form.
Distracted by his body, it took Liz a moment to recognize the powerful threat rolling off this guy. She dropped the towels quietly and padded over to her dresser. She slowly pulled the pistol from its holster in the bottom drawer.
She stood in the doorway, quiet and ready to move. For no good reason, she believed Armando could handle himself, but a little backup couldn’t hurt.
“I told your punks to tell you to leave town. Didn’t they give you the message?” Armando said.
Liz appreciated that he was steering the conversation away from her.
“Yeah, they told me, and I took them down for failing to deliver my message,” Georg snarled. “I’m taking over this region, and your lame coalition of packs needs to just get over it.”
“Look, if we changed pack structure every time some lame-ass traveling troupe from Europe came through this town, we’d have moon-rage every month,” Armando explained, clearly exasperated. “Just pack up and move on.” With apparent disdain, he turned his back on the man.
Liz was surprised at his move and clutched the pistol. She released the safety.
Georg turned at the metallic snap and stared into the house.
“You think your human play-pet will keep you safe?” Georg said, keeping an eye on the doorway. “You keep polluting the pac
k with them, and they let you get away with it for reasons beyond my comprehension. That’s why this region needs me. You forget the old ways, the important lessons we all must heed.”
Liz kept to the shadow but did not drop her aim.
“Georg, just leave it,” Armando sighed, clearly trying to sound placating and lower the tension. “I’ve already spoken to the council, but I couldn’t endorse you. Your old-world style won’t play here in Vegas. I mean really, letting your pups run through the city at night? What kind of leadership is that in a town flush with security cameras every hundred yards or so. You haven’t adapted, have you?”
Stiff with pride, Georg said, “We have survived, have we not? What better proof of our ways than that?”
“Then why do they keep sending you out of Europe? Could it be that your lack of adjusting isn’t safe in a crowded continent,” Armando countered. “But enough. Pack up your troupe, and leave us alone. When your show closes, I want you all gone.”
“This isn’t over, not at all. But I leave you to your human,” Georg said. And in a blink, he was wolf again. In one bound, he was back on the roof and gone.
Liz shook herself: She was sure the immediate danger had passed, and now she needed to stop ogling the lovely, naked man in her garden.
Liz stepped out into the atrium, her pistol down, safety back on.
“I watched the whole thing, from a wolf jumping off my shed to two very naked men talking. Do you have any idea how weird that is in our culture, two straight guys who can hold a comfortable conversation in the buff?” she babbled.
“You are one unusual woman, Ms. Liz,” he laughed with relief. “You see a transformation and focus on the nudity. Wow!” He paused to stroke her shoulder and calm her shivers. “Why couldn’t either of us see you?”
She shrugged. “I told you; it’s the night.”
She glanced out into the garden. “The big, bad wolf is gone. I really need to soak—with you—in the hot tub. Will you join me?”
Armando picked up the forgotten towels and took her hand.
With the warm, bubbling water relaxing her, Armando pulled her into the cradle of his lap, his arms holding her, offering comfort.
“So here we sit, a shape shifter and the invisible woman,” he said. She turned her head to look him in the face and laughed out loud.
“Yes, I guess that sums up the discovery,” she said with a shiver. “But you left out the really worrying part: There’s some kind of trouble brewing.” She paused and stared at him. “I’m clearly part of it now, so I want to help.”
She kissed him before he could respond.
* * *
Her plan was simple. Armando hated it.
“Look,” she said as they headed to the studio, “we already discussed it. If Georg knows where my house is, how long before he comes back? I’m involved now, and I can help, so get over yourself and your overbearing loner-guy pose.”
Armando shook his head but finally gave up arguing with her. He dropped her at the front of the studio.
She let herself in, disarmed the alarm, and headed to the rear. She quietly went to the door and checked the peephole. She jumped back at the sight of an amber eyeball completely filling the view. She stood back.
“Liz, open the door,” Armando said.
“Don’t play games,” she scolded in a low whisper.
“Sorry,” he said.
Before he could continue, his ears pulled back, and he shoved her into the dark doorway. He turned to face the silhouetted figure coming down the alleyway.
“Working late tonight?” the man sneered. He kept coming. “I’m done talking to you. It’s time your packs accepted our leadership.”
“Georg, you can’t really expect seven fully autonomous packs to suddenly accept your rule.” Armando stood his ground, planted like a tree.
Georg shook his head. “I can’t believe the continued insolence of you curs.” He sighed loudly, as if in mourning for a time gone by. “Do those weak pups appreciate that you will die for them tonight? Would they even care?” He dropped his overcoat casually over a garbage barrel. He motioned to someone down the alley.
Liz wondered how bad the trash talk would hit Armando, but she remained still. As they glared at each other, she slowly pulled her pistol from her pocket. In their planning argument, Armando warned her off bringing the weapon, but lacking wolf claws and jaws, she was determined to protect him as best she could.
Raging howls stopped her cold. Tricked by the shadows, she took a moment to focus on the sudden swirl of dust and fog that resolved into two huge wolves staring each other down. Matched in size, they differed only in color, one solid gray in the dim light, and the other darker with an odd white tip on his ears.
Liz’s heart raced. Armando had not transformed into the cougar. How the hell was she supposed to know which wolf was him?
The animals circled one another, snarling, teeth bared, each looking for the other to back down.
Her heart pounded and she struggled to stay still as their circling stopped. White-tip leapt at the throat of the gray. It faked high, then dove low and grabbed the exposed flesh below the jaw. It lost its grip as Gray shook his head and rolled at the same time, forcing White-tip onto his back. Before White-tip could get up, Gray clamped its jaws on the exposed throat of White-tip, growled, and increased the pressure.
Liz was nearly paralyzed in confusion. She had to break up the fight enough to figure out which wolf was Armando. She dropped her gun back into her pocket and grabbed the broom from inside the doorway. As Gray shook his head, she planted her feet behind him and swung for all she was worth with her improvised bat. She bounced from the impact and fell back into the shadow.
The gray wolf released his opponent and fell back, more shocked than hurt by her blow. It spun, looking for its attacker. Liz froze and held her breath, wishing frantically that it would move before she passed out.
White-tip stood and faced her. She saw the glowing amber eyes. She clung to the wall, hoping the harsh breathing of the two wolves covered her sudden gasp.
Gray backed to the opposite wall and swiveled between Armando and her location. The broom lay on the pavement. Gray clearly couldn’t see her.
White-tip faced her direction still, sniffing deeply.
Without warning, Gray leapt over Armando and grabbed his neck from behind. It buried his teeth in the flesh behind Armando’s head and shook its whole body, ripping into Armando. Armando struggled to roll or swing his head to throw off Gray, whimpering in rage and pain. Gray forced Armando down, stood on him, and raised its head in a triumphant howl. It bent and opened its jaws wide to bite Armando another time—maybe, Liz realized, for the last time.
With more calm than she thought she possessed, Liz pulled the pistol from her pocket. She aimed for the biggest target, its chest, and calmly squeezed the trigger. She prayed the gray did not have amber eyes, too.
The impact of the close-range shot blew the gray wolf off Armando and tossed him on the pavement in a tangled heap. Armando jumped up and over him, nuzzling into the wound, assessing the damage.
As if the pain forced a change, the gray returned to his human shape. Its body slowly extended, stretched, and changed color. Jaw dropping, Liz watched as fur slowly became flesh. The gaping hole in the shoulder of the wolf now was a wound in a man’s right shoulder trickling blood. The man panted, but his eyes were alert.
Liz ran into the studio and grabbed a wad of towels. She ran into Armando, naked and himself, as she charged back out.
“What are you doing?” he growled, his voice raspy and deep.
“Oh, get the hell out of the way,” she yelled back. “I hurt him, and he’s bleeding. I just want to staunch the blood.” She shouldered past him and stopped when she realized the other man was gone.
“Where is he?” she said.
“Why would he stay?” Armando said. “Georg doesn’t know exactly how, but he lost. And he won’t be back.” His words carried a tone of finality.
“His pups saw him lose to me.”
Liz looked around as Armando picked up his clothes and realized Georg’s clothes were also gone.
“We get a boost in recovery from the transition,” he explained as he dressed. “He’ll be fine in a few hours, but his pack will know I beat him.” He paused. “It’ll be interesting to see how the situation plays out. Maybe we should go see their show tomorrow night.”
“More importantly, I won,” he grinned down at her, “because I had you, my secret weapon.”
Liz backed away from his intense gaze and disappeared into the dark, then reappeared to grab his hand.
“No,” she said. “We won, and I have you.” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “Before we go to any show, though, you still owe me a slow, slow time in the tub.”
* * *
GINA MASSEL-CASTATER works at a marketing and technology assessment company in the Research Triangle Park area of North Carolina. She is a mother and grandmother who has come late to the discipline of actually writing, instead of talking about writing.
She responded to my request for an afterword with the following:
* * *
Liz is a reaction to one of the oddities of aging: becoming slowly invisible in a youth-driven culture. I noticed that I could walk through a department store without causing a stir or even a “May I help you, ma’am,” from a salesclerk. On various trips to Las Vegas for business and pleasure, I noticed the effect was even more pronounced.
I wanted to see what would happen if the invisibility became an asset rather than a brutal rite of passage into the second half of life. Liz learns to embrace the power she has been granted.
I look forward to revealing more about Liz.
FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL . . .
TONI L.P. KELNER
Witch’s Haven had been customer-free for most of the day when the phone rang. It was the middle of November, so the yahoos who thought Salem would be the perfect place to spend Halloween had taken their SUVs back to whatever suburban nightmare they’d come from, and I’d already packed up all the tacky souvenir crap they would have wanted to buy. The local practitioners and practitioner-wannabes who kept the store going the rest of the year knew that my family—grandmother, mother, aunts, sister, cousins and all—were all off on their post-Halloween vacation. Excuse me, their Renewal Retreat.
The Wild Side: Urban Fantasy with an Erotic Edge Page 6