by Amanda Milo
“Wow,” Ginny says.
“I second that,” I agree.
“You two are casting aspersions on my character,” Finn informs us, hands folded and head bowed.
“That’d be the case if you weren’t full of it,” Deek tells him. To us, he indicates we should move ahead of them with a polite sweep of his arm. “Ladies, if you’d like to sit over here? Finn will join you between songs.”
“Wait, he’s really a choir boy?” Ginny squeaks, laughter in her voice.
“Have been since I was a virtuous and innocent eight years old. I can’t believe you question this about me.” Finn’s tone is taking a stab at sounding hurt but his troublemaker of a smile shows he’s loving our shock.
Second row from the front, Deek directs us to be seated along a partially filled pew that people are packing into on the far side of the room.
We slide in, with Ginny taking the end spot but leaving enough room for Finn to sit next to us later. On my other side, I smile when I see Liam, Rory, and their parents, Jenn and Dave.
(His name is so normal. ‘Dave the werewolf?’ You never read that in books.)
“Have you been to church before?” Ginny whispers to me, looking around at the now standing-room-only building.
“Yep, but it’s been a while,” I tell her. “And it wasn’t really like this.” I mean, the general elements are the same. But people are smiling and laughing. Kids are present and playing, staying respectfully hushed. The atmosphere is really… comfortable.
Deek is quietly standing at the end of our pew, and when our eyes find each other, he sends me a small smile. “You look nice,” he says.
I feel my cheeks heat. “Oh. Thank you.”
“You do look nice, Sue,” Ginny agrees.
“You both look great,” I return, meaning it. And inexplicably nervous, I blurt to Deek, “You’re not sitting with us?”
I want to slap my forehead once the words are out, because I know he won’t be. He teaches here; he told us so.
His smile says he’s aware that I spoke before I thought. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, looking self-conscious. “I’ll be up front.”
“Right,” I say. I smile weakly. “Well, enjoy the service from there then.”
He tips his head forward. “Thanks. You too.”
And then he turns, walks to the front of the church, moves behind the podium, and doesn’t have to adjust a microphone. Because there’s none there. “Ladies and gentleman,” he says, the acoustics of the old church causing his rumbling voice to project right into our bones. “It’s wonderful to have you here today.” His gaze moves around the room, and I’m pretty sure he’s staring at the level of everyone’s throats, not their eyes, even though I doubt I have the visual sharpness at this distance to determine such a thing. I guess it’s just a hunch because I feel like I know him well enough in this. “Let’s begin today’s service with a prayer and a group song.”
Ginny sends me a look of teenage alarm. We have to SING in front of strangers?
Never mind that given half the chance and with no alcohol as an inducement whatsoever, she and Charlotte will sing together no matter where we are and to heck with who’s watching.
With a reassuring smile, I point to Finn, who is at parade rest in front of the choir box, facing a similarly attired group of singers. “I hope he means that group…?”
“Whew,” Ginny whispers.
I smile at her before sliding off the pew to kneel with everybody else.
The prayer, led by Deek, is not long, but it’s thorough in its coverage asking for member direction, guidance in the study, and divine blessing for the congregation. “Amen,” he finishes, and everyone in the building rises to their feet, looks up, and locks eyes on him.
He swiftly lowers his gaze to the podium. “Now take your hymnbook and flip to page…”
With a furtive glance at each other, Ginny and I slide a songbook out of the tray that’s built into the back of the pew ahead of us. We lean in together, and when organ music fills the room—honest-to-goodness real-live organ music that has my head shooting up, searching for Davy Jones—
(Ah, organ pipes are standing tall behind Deek, and how they don’t deafen him and every other wolf here, I’m really not sure.)
—I’m so shocked that when everyone in the church starts singing, I look back to the music book and start singing too.
Ginny whispers the words beside me.
It’s “Amazing Grace,” so it’s pretty familiar. Finn, by the way, has a voice to match his handsome mug, and soon, Ginny is really singing along, and as always, her voice is stunning.
She’s working so hard to keep her head down, she doesn’t notice when eyes slide our way appreciatively. She also doesn’t see Finn’s blinding, delighted, bright-white smile.
When the song ends, Finn declares in a voice that bounces off of stone, “Fair play, Ginny! You have the voice of an angel!”
Ginny sinks down into her seat like she hopes she can disappear.
Deek clears his throat, causing all the attention in the room to slam on him, which is an instant reprieve for Ginny, but forces him to immediately lower his gaze. Unbothered, his eyes move to the book in front of him. “Open your Bibles with me to Ruth,” he instructs his flock, and when everyone has found a Bible from the trays and the whispery sound of what sounds like hundreds of onion skins being rustled ceases, he begins to recap this book they’ve read together so far.
As he does, people from the choir box exit and find their spot on pews with family. Finn makes his way to us, grinning broadly and scooting into the place Ginny saved for him. She doesn’t look at him and he makes an “och” sound of dismay—I don’t even know how to describe it—and he whispers, “Didn’t mean to embarrass you. I swear it.”
She’s beet red. “I know. It’s okay.”
Next to me, Liam is quietly sitting beside his family, occupied with a book that appears to be made entirely of felt. Each page has a scene printed on it, and right now, he’s looking at the Ark. Out of the door that is actually a cleverly designed pocket, he tugs a pile of little felt animals. Lots and lots of animals.
“That is so cute,” I whisper to him, and when he glances up at me, I nod to his assembly of soft creatures.
Ginny leans into me and murmurs, “Isn’t it supposed to be the animals going in ‘two by two?’ Why are there so many sheep?”
Finn, his hands folded demurely in front of his holy-looking robes, can hear us fine and answers, “In Genesis, the scripture makes the distinction that clean beasts should come by sevens. Only the beasts that weren’t clean entered by two.” He shrugs. “Makes sense. The people on the Ark ate the clean animals.”
Deek instructs everyone to find the verse and chapter where they left off on their last session, and Ginny passes Finn a Bible so that all of us have one open on our laps to follow along with.
Deek interjects some history and interesting facts as he reads. It’s an hour of actual study, and I’m glad we’re covering this story, as Ruth is a feel-good book and ends really sweet.
“Did Ruth sit back and wait for something to happen? No. She anointed, and then she got up and went after what she wanted,” Deek says. “And think about that. These were perilous times for a woman. She was instructed to stay close to Boaz’s men because the concern she’d be molested was that great. And yet she trusted Boaz. She believed in his character, believed that he’d do the honorable thing by her. Which,” Deek’s gaze flashes up to meet ours for the briefest beat before dropping again, “he did. He kept her reputation intact and loaded her down with enough food for two widows, because he didn’t want her to go unto her mother in law empty handed.” Deek flips a fraction of his Bible’s pages and stops. “Turn to 1 Samuel 25:14. Abigail is married to a total dic—”
Finn coughs a chortle.
“—tator,” Deek finishes, rolling his downcast eyes, smiling as the whole church seems to chuckle, “and when her shepherds rush in to tell her how badl
y her husband has ticked off David—railed at him, offended him, this great warrior and all his powerful men who protected them—does she sit back quietly?” Deek shakes his head. “Skip to verse eighteen, where it says she quickly takes action.” He reads until the twenty-fourth verse, and then summarizes. “Abigail literally jumps off her ass to get things done.”
The congregation laughs softly.
“Head with me to Judges 4:8,” Deek instructs, “where we’ll read about Deborah managing Israel before God has her leading an army, and this woman named Jael, whose husband was very careful not to go to sleep with her mad...”
Ginny grins as she reads along and finds out why. “Brutal,” she murmurs of the tent peg to the temple.
“Terrifying,” Finn agrees.
“I like her,” I declare.
Finn stares at me over Ginny. “You’re scary.”
People around us shush him (because he doesn’t whisper this), prompting him to grin and hunker over his Bible.
The overall lesson surprises me. You want something? Be brave and work for it.
Deek wraps the book of Ruth up, then Finn and the choir pop up front to sing a song. But this time, the choir howls their notes.
It makes for spine-chilling vocals—because werewolves sing spooky. Beautiful… but spooky. Everything sounds so haunting and exotic out of werewolf throats, like they’re all singing in an echoing concrete stairwell. They harmonize and cry the music in the manner of well, wolves—not mere men and women.
They follow up their unique performance with another howled number, prompting my mind to replay Bruno Mars and Michael Bolton songs, and consider every other singer who’s famous for howl-crooning in their songs.
Next, the choir leads all of us into gospel music performed normally, and I wouldn’t say it’s like the magic left the building, but the sound of human voices rejoining the mix doesn’t make me shivery like the wolves-only sessions.
We kneel for a final prayer, and then church is done.
Werewolves are barely out the church doors before they’re stripping clothes off.
Finn is shucking his choir vestment and leads our charge out of the pew by loping past and calling, “You lads coming along?”
Ginny makes a face. “Shouldn’t we be ‘lassies?’”
“Where I’m from, that’s a collie. You’re thinking Scotland.”
“But lads?” she asks—and then she’s looking down at his messily folded robes, because he’s pressing it at her.
“Lads goes for garls, blokes,” Finn shrugs. “Everybody is a lad. Anyways, Gin, let’s get you changed and then we’ll head out to the woods, yeah?” He’s following the crowd spilling out of pews. “And prepare yourself. We’re going to get you in the choir.”
I’m glancing back at Deek, seeing him swamped with people in the aisle. He catches my eye and gives me a tiny wave.
I send it back, smiling to myself.
“I don’t think so,” Ginny says to Finn. She’s still holding his robes though, and she gives them a considering look before asking, “What should I wear to the woods? Can Susan come with me?”
“Sure,” Finn agrees with no hesitation, which visibly settles Ginny. “Grab something we can slide you out of if you end up on four legs. Stretchy, loose clothes.”
“Got it.”
The series of werewolf houses aren’t visible from the church, but it’s technically all the same property. We have to walk about a half-mile into the tree line and out the other side to arrive at the open land that gently rolls with hills all the way up to the various dens. The path is smoothed by countless feet tromping on it and my borrowed heels really aren’t hurting me, but I slip them off to save them from getting dirty. I see ahead of us that many women have opted to do the same thing.
Ginny is wearing flats and she keeps hers on.
“So what did you think of our Lucan?” Finn asks.
I assume he’s addressing me, if not both of us. “He was great.”
“He was awesome,” Ginny says.
“He was really confident in the material,” I add, because it was more than a little stunning to see him so self-assured.
Finn is smiling softly, watching our feet. It’s a little strange to see him with his gaze below the horizon line, so to speak. “He’s a good lad.” He nods slightly to himself. “I’m glad you… I’m happy for you.”
I shoot a questioning look his way.
“I’m happy you’re working out,” he explains, waving his hand.
Just then, a body moves up at my side, and I look over and find the topic of conversation himself. “Lucan!” I say without thinking, using his first name I guess because Finn just did.
Deek—Lucan—startles, his gaze shooting up to mine. “Hello,” he rumbles. “I’m glad you came, Susan.” He nods to Ginny. “You too, Ginny.” There’s a pause. “Finn,” he adds like this last greeting is an afterthought.
“Awf, feck off.”
Ginny and I both send him horrified looks.
Finn throws back his head, chuckling. “Ladies, we’re not standing in the church anymore. Give me some credit.”
“Can you swear after church?” Ginny asks.
“Yeah, Finn, wow,” I agree. “Seems wrong.”
“Oh, stuff it, both of you. I’m respectful in church, and I say that’s what counts. If we were holding potluck or something, I’d be as well behaved as the seraphim. But look—we’re clear of the church. So take your clucking for a long walk off a short dock,” he finishes cheekily.
“Potluck?” Ginny asks. We’ve emerged from the trees. I spot the London House waaay up ahead of us.
“Where everybody brings a dish,” Deek answers.
She leans forward to see around me. “I know what a potluck is. I meant ‘and we’re not doing that today because why?’”
“Because we only do that about once a month. If you fancy surfing the fare at other houses though, you can always feel free. Just stop in to any one of them and the first thing they’ll do is feed ye. The Ōkami is that one,” Finn tells her, ducking under a low-hanging branch and pointing to an impressively arched roof covered in red tiles. “You can get Japanese food.” But then he makes a face. “Avoid the geoduck.”
“Why?”
He and Deek both look at each other and shudder.
Finn pins Ginny and me with a disturbed look. “Ever seen a geoduck get peeled of its skin?”
Puzzled, Ginny shakes her head.
He shivers theatrically and states, “It’s rather phallic-like, and maybe it doesn’t bother any of you ladies, but as a man, watching it get skinned is just wrong.”
Deek nods vehemently.
Finn jerks his chin to a far-off house similar in style, but built even more symmetrically. “Lángrén has Chinese food. Delicious. Loup-garou and Lupo Mannaro’s cuisine is the stuff of dreams.”
“Same with Vlkolak House. They have every Slavic dish you could hope for,” Deek offers.
He and Finn both groan, and Finn says, “Maybe we should stop in there. I haven’t had sarma in a yonk.”
Ginny clutches at her temples. “Are you even speaking English?”
Finn makes a puffing noise; he’s amused. “Naw, you’re right. I’m not. I’m speaking Irish.”
“Sarma…” Deek moans, and he brings up the back of his wrist and drags it across his mouth like he’s drooling.
I laugh—but then I see that his skin is glistening. He really is drooling.
He shoots me a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
I shrug. “Hey, that’s a strong indicator that we need to try sarma.”
“Yeah,” Ginny agrees. “What is it?”
“Cabbage stuffed with rice and beef. And this time of year, served with a heap of cherry tomatoes,” Deek says dreamily.
“Heh, I wouldn’t count on it,” Finn says with a grin. “I’ve been robbing their tomato cages blind.”
“You’re going to be sorry if Chessa catches you,” Deek warns.
; “She already has,” Finn assures him with an unrepentant grin. “Was worth it.” Then his face, although still holding a smile, sobers. “Speaking of Chessa, when we cross paths with her, we’re going to introduce you, Ginny.”
Ginny eyes him. “Okaaay…”
Finn doesn’t say more on the subject, instead changing the topic entirely with a clap of his hands. “Get your change of clothes and meet me over there.” He points to a gazebo by the edge of the woods. “And when we’re done with your practice, we’re heading to Vlkolak House for sarma!”
CHAPTER 33
LUCAN
We all end up stopping at the house to change from our church clothes. Seeing Susan’s pantyhose and dress laid out on my covers, waiting to be returned, makes me feel something I’ve never felt for anyone else who has rested their things on my bed. A quiet satisfaction—and it’s sinking bone deep.
I like having Susan sharing my space.
I ask Ginny if she’s comfortable with me following along. I’d be happy to show her support. I want to be there to see her succeed.
I also want to be near Susan, but I won’t crowd Ginny just to satisfy myself with Susan’s presence.
Ginny shrugs at me. “If you want.”
But what I hear is I trust you enough.
I give her a smile. “Thanks.”
Finn leads us to a quiet spot away from everybody else. There are wolves and people running around, frolicking, enjoying their weekend. Deep in the trees though, it’s nice. Peaceful.
Finn hunkers down next to Ginny, who he instructs to crouch on all fours. He lays out a lot of information for her, condensing lessons that most of us have the benefit of growing up knowing.
Ginny is like a sponge though, absorbing his every word, and she’s eager to test herself.
At first, she’s excited, nervous. But after several minutes, she begins to grow restless with her complete lack of progress. Her wolf refuses to come to the fore. But then, all Ginny’s life, she’s had to force her wolf down, unknowingly collaring herself. She’s very good at keeping her other side caged.
Too good.
“Here,” I murmur to Susan, indicating a log that doesn’t smell terribly of decay. Which, I hope, means it doesn’t have a ton of critters creeping over its bark. We both drop onto it, content to stay quiet, and wait. Susan’s hands are clutched in her lap, her eyes locked on Ginny’s discouraged back.