Bright sunlight bounced from white walls, dazzling Tore. Through the window he could see the sun high in the sky.
What had happened, where was he?
The room came into focus. The bed he lay on felt solid and real, the view from the window all too familiar. He tried to recount what happened. There was an angel. A raven-haired beautiful angel that had knelt beside him. She’d held his hand, stroked his face. He glanced around the room. The afterworld sure was more homely than he’d imagined.
Tore attempted to move his sluggish body and wished he hadn’t. Dizziness, pain, nausea spiked through him. The room became unbalanced as his head pounded. Realization set in. This was too real for the afterlife. Somehow, he’d survived his brothers’ attack.
What had his brothers done?
Images of blood, claws and fangs made him retch.
There was a lot of blood. His blood? They’d mauled him. He should be dead.
A dull ache thumped against his temples.
If he was alive, did Annike live also?
A tight morbid feeling squeezed at his heart. Pictures flashed into his head. Tore gasped for air and cried out her name. The memories flooded his mind with images he didn’t want to see; his mate lying silent and motionless in a pool of blood. He saw once again, Erik’s teeth ripping into her flesh and Annike’s attempt to transition. Tore watched the replay in his head. Her labored breathing slipped from near lifeless lips, as her last words came back to him. “Look after our sons.”
Tore struggled to pull himself upright. He exhaled as pain ricocheted through his protesting body.
A young woman ran into the room, “What is it?” He continued to pull himself upright, unable to answer, the pain making him tongue-tied. “Here let me help.” She put her arms around his chest and under his arms, heaving him upwards. Once he was high enough, she piled large pillows behind him. “Now rest a moment, then tell me what is the matter?”
When the pain subsided, he took a deep breath. He had only one thing to say. “Where is she… I had someone with me? A woman, she was hurt…”
The young woman shook her head, a genuine sadness in her exotic eyes.
“I’m sorry. She died a few moments after we arrived. My father worked on her but there was nothing he could do.” She adjusted the pillows behind him and he sank back, the finality of the news exhausting him. “The wolf girl…she was your mate?” the angel asked.
Another pain shot through him, this time stabbing at his chest, making it impossible to breathe. Deep down, he’d known Annike was dead but the confirmation was too great a burden to bear.
Tears formed in the angel’s eyes. “I’m sorry, there was nothing we could do. We’ll take you to her when you’re able to say goodbye.”
He nodded and blinked back tears that threatened to fall. His stomach roiled, as a new horror formed in his mind. Rune and Kjell? “What about the boys, my sons? They were in the car.”
This time the angel smiled. “Both are fine, they’re sleeping in the next room. Let me clean you up, get all the blood off your face so you don’t scare them, then I’ll fetch them.”
Relief flooded through Tore, but it was short lived. Tears ran down his cheek. A tight ball of emotion grew heavy in his chest. The physical pain wracking his body, paled in comparison to the feeling in his heart. Annike was dead but his sons were safe. He tried to find a way to cling to the good and use it to prop up his heart against the bad.
But Annike was gone, and Tore wanted to close his eyes. Close them and never open them again.
Anger surged through his veins. He should be dead. If this woman and her father had left him there, he wouldn’t have to bear this pain. Why hadn’t they let him die? He couldn’t go on without Annike.
The young girl rested her hand on his head. “Lie still, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Tore slowly became conscious of his surroundings. The room was small and narrow. It could only be about nine feet by six, and squeezed into every inch was furniture and nick knacks. Making another attempt to lift himself further up the bed, he let out a string of curses.
The door clicked open and the woman returned carrying a bowl. She had a towel draped over her arm. “I told you to keep still.” Her soft voice had a trace of an accent that Tore didn’t recognize.
The girl was around twenty, maybe a little younger. He noticed for the first time how unusual her eyes were. Almond shaped, a rich shade of hazel with a thin darker pigment ringing her iris.
The angel dipped the washcloth into the bowl and wiped his face. “How’s your pain?” Her voice was soft, her sultry eyes showed genuine concern.
Tore tried to lift his arm again, wanting to halt the washcloth as it moved across his chest. But it seared through him once more and he stifled a groan, giving her his answer.
“Lie still. I need to clean your wounds to prevent infection. My father will be back soon. He’s gone to get stronger medication. Try to relax.”
He rested his arm on the bed and allowed her to fold back the blankets and sheet, exposing his torso down to his hips. Scratches crisscrossed his skin, and he cried out as her hand touched the huge purple bruises.
“I’m sorry, do you need a moment?” He shook his head, stealing himself for the next dab of the cloth. “The scratches on your body are superficial. They’re healing fast but you’ve got several broken ribs. My father will strap them when he returns. Our main concerns are the puncture wounds to your neck and thigh. You lost a lot of blood, sir. We just hope there isn’t any infection. There are also fractures to your wrist and shoulder.”
She finished cleaning him and collected together the soiled cloths. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
When the girl returned, she had Kjell balanced on her hip and Rune’s hand wrapped in hers. His heart lurched seeing his own son in her arms. He looked so much like his mother, he’d remind him of her everyday. Tore scanned his face and limbs for injury. When he found none, his eyes moved to Rune. The child’s scared face pulled at Tore’s heartstrings. The poor boy had lost both his mother and Annike in the space of a few hours.
He put out his arms and invited the boys to come to him. Ignoring the pain their small wriggling bodies caused, he pushed his nose into their hair. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of each of their heads. “Thank you for saving my boys.” The girl smiled back at him, and got up to leave. “I don’t even know your name?”
“Kachina. Hania is my father. You’ll meet him later.”
“I’m Tore and this is Kjell and Rune.”
He indicated the boys in turn and she gave them a wave and a pretty smile. “I’ll bring you some soup and sandwiches for your beautiful boys. We need to get some food inside you, to help you heal.”
***
Later, Kachina fed him. Tore felt embarrassed by his helplessness. Sitting upright exhausted him, there was no way he could wield the spoon. She smiled and chatted to his sons. Tore thought back to what she’d said earlier. Kachina called Annike the wolf girl. Alarm bells sounded in his head. This girl had known what Annike was; did she see her shift? Did she know what he was? She was too calm and matter of fact for a human who had seen a woman transform from wolf to female. A thought crossed his mind. Maybe she wasn’t human. It was possible. Other hybrids existed. He inhaled. No other humanoid scent hung around her.
***
Over the next few days Kachina bathed him, dressed his wounds, and brought his sons to visit. He ate and drank but apart from that, he slept.
By the fourth day, Hania insisted he get up. With a lot of help, he managed to sit and swing his legs to the floor.
“I’ll do it.” He took the T-shirt from Kachina. It took him half an hour to pull on a pair of sweats and slide the tee over his head. In the end he had to call for help when he couldn’t pull the shirt over his damaged shoulder.
Kachina and Hania helped him to his feet, supporting him as he walked out onto the porch. The bright warm sunshine felt good against his skin. He stumbled the last few paces as they hel
ped him into an old wicker chair. Kachina covered Tore’s legs with a blanket. Fussing around him, she tucked cushions behind his back and raised his feet onto a small table. Tore was too exhausted to protest.
Despite the pain, his body had made a dramatic recovery. The scratches had healed, the bruises gone. The gashes to his thigh and neck had knitted together, leaving pink scars against his skin. His ribs, shoulder and broken wrist were starting to mend. His high metabolism and Lycanthrope predisposition for fast healing was a bonus, but it was not a miracle worker. Tore closed his eyes and drifted in and out of a fitful sleep.
***
When he woke, Kachina was playing ball with the boys. For a moment she reminded him of Annike in the way she scooped them up and tickled their stomachs. A nauseating pain burnt through his chest once more, as Annike’s pretty face appeared in his head. He rubbed his hands across his week-old beard and concentrated on bringing his breathing under control. Would thoughts of his mate always bring such pain?
The boys ran across the grass, giggling, lost in their game. His chest tightened further. Did they miss their mother? Did they even know she was gone?
He hoped they hadn’t seen what happened to her.
Hania handed him a hot cup of something herbal. “To help with the healing.” He settled back in his chair. He was a man of few words, but his silence spoke volumes.
A sudden desire for knowledge took hold of Tore. “Did she suffer?”
“Your girl? Only the living suffer, Tore. Her death was quick, if that is what you mean. Did she feel pain? None of us can know how much, but there must have been some. Did she regret her decision to help you? I believe she has peace knowing you survived.”
Tore closed his eyes. His voice cracked as emotion took over him. “What happened to her body?”
Hania put his hand over Tore’s. The warmth and comfort it brought was surprising. “We kept her safe. When you’re ready, you can bury her.” Tore sought solace in Hania’s almond shaped eyes. They were striking, full of empathy and identical to those of his daughter’s. They calmed Tore’s soul. “We weren’t sure how you’d want to say goodbye, so we have preserved her as best we can.”
Hania’s eyes drifted to the horizon. Tore gazed at his profile. His long greying hair, braided down his back, suggested old age but his face had an ambiguity to it. Wrinkles and puffy bags around his eyes, a testament to what he had seen in this world. Yet smooth skin across his forehead, attested to strength in the way he dealt with the stresses of life.
Hania’s mouth moved over silent words. Even if he’d spoken them out loud, Tore would not have understood the Hopi phrases - another prayer, no doubt. Tore had lost faith in his own Goddess, and there was no space in his broken heart for a new one. Despite Tore’s loss of faith, Hania’s silent offerings brought an uneasy peace and bolstered his courage. “Is she…Is Annike here?”
Hania rose, his tall frame eclipsing the sun. Tore was no stranger to tall men. His brothers were all more than six-foot. But Hania’s size had unimaginable power and strength behind it. Although his build was slim and wiry, it was imposing, even fearsome.
“Can you walk a little further?” Hania helped Tore to his feet and walked by his side, towards a group of outbuildings.
They paused in front of the door of the last building, a small storage unit that was nothing more than a lean-to. Innocuous in itself, but the enormity of what was in there, caused Tore to shiver in the summer heat. Pushing it open, Hania reached for the light switch. The lone bulb in the center flickered to life, it’s eerie glow made more so by the monotonous hum of an old chest freezer. Tore grasped the doorframe and choked back the flood of emotions that bubbled in his belly and rose up into his throat. He stifled the howl that threatened to leave his lips.
“I’m sorry this was the best we could do. We couldn’t get the authorities involved under the circumstances. We have treated her with the utmost respect.”
Hania opened the freezer.
Tight bands constricted Tore’s chest. He gathered his strength, pushing his reluctant body forwards. Hania reached his arm around Tore as he leaned over the freezer. One hand went to his mouth, his knees collapsed under him, but Hania held him upright.
Annike lay prone in her wolf form, looking like she was sleeping. Someone had placed her on top of cushions and scattered flowers around her. Amongst the meadow flowers, were sprigs of delicate purple phacelia. They were her favorite and Tore wept at the sight of them.
Hania continued to be his rock, bearing Tore’s weight with astounding ease. Hania’s face was passive as he regarded Annike. Tore found it hard to understand why Hania could accept what they were. Perhaps Hania didn’t know that Tore and the boys were Lycan too. “Do you know what I am?”
Hania nodded. He helped Tore back through the door into the harsh sunlight and sat him on a tree stump. “You shifted a few times while I was treating you on the road. Your mate tried to shift, she took on her human likeness for a few moments but returned to wolf.” Hania closed the freezer lid, shaking his head as he recalled the memory.
Tore rested his arms on his legs and kept his eyes on the ground. “We are born as wolves and leave life in the same way. She would have changed back into her wolf form moments before she died.”
Hania moved to Tore, supporting him as he struggled to his feet. “Gandhi tells us that birth and death are different aspects of the same state. It is fitting that the beginning and the end of your cycle on earth, should come full circle.”
“You don’t fear us? Do you know what they say about us?”
Hania smiled, compassion reaching his eyes. “I’ve heard stories. On the Hopi reservation, where I grew up, there were many tales about men who could shift into animals. Some of them were told to elicit fear, others to give comfort and hope. Who am I to judge whether your race is on this earth to strike fear or not? I’ve met many whose actions have warranted fear and I have also met others who earn respect and trust. You only find out what type of man someone is by being open to him. I’ve only known you and the boys a few days. So far there has been nothing that has made me fearful of you.”
“It’s not like the stories. We don’t run mad at the full moon or bite innocent men to turn them. We’re born Lycan and live side by side with humans. If they were more open, we wouldn’t have to hide our real selves.”
Hania smiled at him. “Humans have closed minds. They like to create theater around things they don’t understand. I know that more than most. Who you are, doesn’t matter to me. Only fools judge people on the color of their skin, their culture, or their religion. I judge a man on how he behaves towards me and my family.” Tore was grateful for Hania’s outlook on life. “I don’t believe you would endanger me or my daughter. You’re welcome to stay in my home for as long as you need to. Whatever I have, is yours.”
Tore looked back to where Annike lay. “I want to bury her where she can see these.” He held out one of the frozen phacelia stems. “They were her favorites. They’ll remind her of home.”
Hania pointed behind them. “There is a meadow around the back of the cabins, it turns completely blue with them each May and June. She’ll be happy there. The blooms are disappearing now, but they will be back next year to remind us of her.”
15
The Next Day.
Burying a loved one is never easy, and Tore did not want it to be.
He wanted his body to hurt as he struggled into his clothes. Wanted each step towards the meadow to jar the stitches in his thigh. Tore needed to feel every muscle throb and each wound smart as he dug spades full of dirt.
As the five-by-three-foot hole took shape, the ache in his limbs was nothing compared to that in his heart.
By the fourth day, the hole was deep enough for Annike’s corpse but not deep enough to bury his sadness.
He finished digging the grave and carried Annike to her final resting place.
The journey was too short. The few hundred yards, he carried his mate coul
d never be far enough to distance himself from his gnawing grief. He lifted spade after spade of earth to cover her. No matter how much wretchedness, dirt, sorrow, or stones he poured into the grave, he never seemed to fill it. His shoulder screamed in agony and his ribs cursed each bend and stretch, yet there still was not enough pain.
Late that afternoon, Kachina came to find him. In her gentle way, she removed the shovel from his hand and finished the job. He was too exhausted to object. He no longer felt physical pain. Every limb was numbed by grief, and he wished he could anesthetize the hurt in his chest as well.
When she’d finished, Kachina brought his sons. They had small bunches of flowers clasped in their tiny hands. She encouraged them to lay them down for their mother. Kjell and Rune said their goodbyes while Tore closed his eyes to the scene.
Children should never have to stand at the grave of a mother before they reach adulthood. For this and a thousand other things, he hated Erik.
Kachina sent the boys back to Hania. She knelt beside Tore, taking his hand. He continued to look into the distance, unaware of her presence, his eyes and his heart looking to the past.
“Do you want to say anything?” Kachina’s voice yanked him from his thoughts.
What could he say?
Tore didn’t have any words left; his brother took them when he ripped out Annike’s throat. He shook his head and tried to stand. Kachina helped him to his feet, insisting he put his arm around her shoulder. Unable to protest, he accepted and she helped him back to his room.
Tore sat dazed on the edge of the bed. Kachina fussed around him. She removed his sweat-stained shirt, pulled off his boots, and helped him into fresh pants. She fetched a basin of water and wiped away the grave dirt. Afterwards she sat with him, his head resting on her lap, her hand stroking his hair.
Annike used to do that.
Tore closed his eyes. Annike’s touch caressed his skin through Kachina’s fingers and he wept.
The Wolf You Feed Arc Page 11