SHADOW PACK (Michael Biörn Book 1)

by Marc Daniel

  “Did you notice how pale she looked?” asked Sheila.

  “No… but I wasn’t really looking,” answered Michael, who was absorbed in an Agatha Christie novel.

  “I think I’ll go talk to her for a minute. Just to make sure she’s OK,” said Sheila, heading for the stairs.

  Michael uttered a sound which could have been interpreted as assent, but which more likely meant he wasn’t listening.

  Olivia and Michael had both been staying with Sheila over the past few weeks. The young woman had helped Sheila tend to Michael, and now that he was better, she remained in the house because Michael refused to let her out of his sight. It wasn’t that he was overprotective of his friend’s daughter; he simply didn’t trust her. The woman had recently been turned into a werewolf, and he knew from experience that it would take her a long time to be fully in control of her furry alter ego.

  Lucy Harrington had gone back to college two weeks earlier, unaware of her sisters’ lycanthropy. Ignorance truly was bliss in certain cases. The student would have been ill-equipped to act as a werewolf-sitter, even for her own sister, and Michael had taken upon himself to assume that particular duty. He was struggling with the fact the young woman was now a werewolf—a sworn enemy of his species—but he was feeling responsible for what had happened to Olivia under his watch.

  After thinking things over, Michael had decided the best option would be for Olivia to go back with him to Yellowstone. He could not think of a better place for a pup to learn control. The park was virtually deserted in winter and she would have plenty of time and space to learn to resist her instincts. He estimated they had about six months to a year before Olivia’s instinct kicked in and she saw him as the hereditary enemy. Then things would get interesting.

  They were scheduled to depart the following week. Sheila was to remain in Houston for her job, but she would go and visit them on weekends as often as possible. At least that was the plan.

  As he finished reading the last page of his novel, Michael suddenly became aware that Sheila still hadn’t returned. He seemed to recollect she had said something about going to talk to Olivia, but she had been gone at least twenty minutes now… He supposed this was not very long for two women to discuss feelings, but since he was not a specialist on the subject, he decided to go check things out and make sure everything was all right. He realized things were everything but all right as soon as he entered Olivia’s bedroom.

  Sheila was standing livid and utterly still in a corner of the bedroom, while a 170-pound wolf named Olivia was growling at her, all fangs out. It took Michael less than a minute to control the beast, but he had the feeling it would take a lot longer for Sheila to recover from the shock.

  “What happened here?” asked Michael, sitting on the floor and stroking Olivia’s mane gently. The arm he had around the wolf’s neck was meant to look more like an embrace than a hold, but Sheila was not fooled.

  “The room was empty and the curtains were drawn as I entered. I went to pull them open and the next thing I know there is a wolf standing between me and the door,” answered Sheila, her voice still vibrating with fear and barely contained anger. “Now you tell me what just happened!”

  It didn’t take a Ph.D. in psychology to see Sheila was very upset by the incident. It was one thing to be threatened by a pack made of dangerous criminals and quite another to be threatened by a guest in your own house.

  “Olivia’s not responsible for her behavior,” pleaded Michael. “She has close to no control over the morphing at this point… and she spent the little control she had stopping her beast from attacking you.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful for that…” retorted Sheila, only half earnestly. Michael remained silent; there was nothing to reply.

  “How long will it take before she has full control over her impulses and instincts?” enquired Sheila.

  “It’s hard to say. I’m not very intimate with the intricacies of self-control in werewolves. I know they learn faster than we do, but I don’t know how much faster. It could be months, or even years I suppose.”

  “How long before you were able to control your beast? How long did it take you, Michael?” asked Sheila. She was shaken by what had just happened, but she didn’t truly hold it against Olivia. She knew the poor woman was not responsible for her actions, but she could read Michael’s face and saw how responsible and guilty he felt. There would never be a better time to get him to talk about his past.

  “Over thirty years…” replied Michael who did not like the turn the discussion was taking. Before he had a chance to wonder where Sheila was going with this, she asked the question he dreaded the most.

  “What happened to Isibel? Why did she kill herself?” Sheila was pretty sure she knew the answer to that question, but she needed to hear it from Michael’s mouth. The guilt in his eyes was like a confession: he was responsible for his wife’s death. In a fit of rage he had attacked her and she had been unable to cope with the psychological trauma.

  Michael looked at Sheila for a long moment. His hand was now resting still on Olivia’s fur. He did not even bother asking her how she had learned about Isibel. When he finally started talking, his voice sounded resigned and almost mechanical. “My wife killed herself because she could not accept the death of our son.”

  Sheila suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over her. Michael hadn’t attacked his wife… she had only lost her son… But her relief was short-lived as Michael continued.

  “A grizzly sow is only in heat when she has no cub to care for. This is why a grizzly boar will kill any cub that isn’t his own. For his genes to spread, he needs the female to be in heat, and killing her offspring will trigger her cycle.” Michael paused an instant to give Sheila time to understand what he was saying. She was looking at him intently, drinking in every word he pronounced. He saw in her eyes the instant she connected the dots. All he had to do now was confirm what she already suspected. “Unfortunately my son was born a human, and my bear form never recognized him as his own. My son was only three when I killed him… he was only three.”

  The End