by Tamar Sloan
Josh walks over, studying the little bottle. "To help him fight whatever it is?"
Mom nods. "It'll provide immediate antibodies until he can respond to the vaccine and produce antibodies of its own. It's a long shot and not something I've done before, but worth a try."
Josh nods too, looking thoughtful, and my hopeful heart decides that must be a good thing.
Mom draws the white liquid into a syringe. Heading to the metal cage that holds Achak, still unconscious thanks to the multiple sedatives Dad pumped into him, she kneels. Through the bars she gently grasps his leg and stretching as far as she can, injects the vaccine into his shoulder. Stretching even further, she administers the second dose in his hind leg.
I glance at Joshua and his lips thin. He noticed that Mom didn't go in too. The Queen of the Fae, the leader of beings so deeply connected with animals that they can influence them, doesn't trust to go in the cage with him.
Straightening, she steps back. We stand there, staring at the gentle movement of his chest. His stillness is such a contrast to the violence that drove him just an hour ago. The cut on my arm, now sterilized and bandaged, still stings.
Joshua is the first to move. "Now what?"
Mom sighs. "We see how he is when he wakes up. If things are looking better, we quarantine for ten days. We monitor for restlessness, saliva production…aggression."
I tilt my chin up. "And when there's nothing?"
The door opens and Dad comes in. He takes in Mom's expression, probably reads the hope in mine, and comes to slip an arm around my shoulder. I feel like a child who's being braced for bad news.
Mom disposes of the syringe in the biohazard container. "If there's no other sign of illness," her tone says exactly how likely she thinks that is, "we decide whether he can return to the wild."
Because Achak attacked me. Even if there was a miracle and he woke up his old self, he still attacked someone. We can't afford to have a wolf out there confirming the human bias that already exists.
The window of this small building looks out onto an enclosure. It's a big one, as enclosures go, with eight-foot fencing. Inside are the wolves who work as ambassadors. They were the ones drawn to humans, the ones who are put on a lead and taken to schools and fairs. They show humans that wolves don't have to be a threat.
Is that where Achak will have to live? Contained and corralled?
That's not a life he’d want. Achak's name means 'spirit' in Native American. We chose it because there was no denying he's the essence of everything that is wolf. Wild, independent, and full of vitality. There's no way he can live in that overgrown cage.
Mom gets another syringe from the metal drawers. "And you need a shot too, Ava."
"Can I do it?"
We all turn to Joshua. He rubs the back of his head, sheepish as he tousles the dark hair he inherited from his father. "I've been practicing on oranges if that counts for something."
Joshua is my best friend. His passion for medicine started when we were children. When I wasn't at the Glade or the reserve with the wolves, we were at my house, using Mom's scarves as bandages for imaginary emergencies.
I shrug. "I trust you." But throw him a glare for good measure. "Plus, if you miss or make it super painful I'll tell the twins you probably fed them those oranges."
Joshua pales. His parents, Dad's twin and his wife, had not one set of twins, but two. Breanna and Belinda, Layla and Luna, are the reason Joshua first looked into medicine. When we were six he wanted to know whether you can sew lips shut with dissolvable stitches just to get some peace and quiet.
But then he grins. "It was only saline. I told them it was a new strain of sweet and salty oranges."
I shake my head. "You know we don't mess with Mother Nature, it's bad juju."
Mom looks between the two of us. She holds up the syringe, her eyebrows hiked in question. She's checking to see if I want to reconsider.
But I do trust Joshua. And if he's going to stick someone with a needle for the first time, it might as well be someone who isn't likely to deck him. "Go for it."
Josh takes the syringe and I look away before he moves closer. I don't want to see the tip pierce my skin, nor do I want to see Joshua's face as he does it. He'll either be terrified, which won't help my nervousness, or excited, which isn't normal if you ask me.
There's a sting, enough for my jaw to tense, and I wait for the real pain to start.
"All done." Josh sounds as surprised as I feel.
I look down at my shoulder as he presses a cotton ball onto it. "I barely felt a thing."
Josh waggles the fingers of his other hand. "Doctor's hands," he grins. "Let me know if you ever feel any twinges in your appendix or something."
I push off the table, holding down the cotton myself. The thought of surgery on anyone, including myself, makes me queasy. "I'll keep you in mind."
There's a rustle from the cage behind me, and the subtle sound arrests all movement in the room. Achak is waking up.
The step forward is instinctual for me, and I guess Dad's arm shooting out to stop me is too. He shakes his head before returning to watch the wolf stirring in the cage.
I'm about to brush off Dad's arm and move forward when Achak opens his golden eyes. Flashes of the last time they were close pierce my mind like a machine gun. Furious speed. Deadly teeth too close. Violence without restraint.
Shame fills me as I stay where I am.
I've never felt more human or Fae than right now. My frozen fear is a glaring reminder of how little Were there is in me.
Achak slowly pushes himself up. I'm not surprised he's uncomfortable remaining prone. He looks arthritic as his front legs straighten, the back legs taking seconds to mirror them and bring up his haunches. His nostrils work, registering where he is. He would recognize the smells from when he was a pup.
He's about to realize he's in a cage.
Images of this wolf, violent and furious all over again, slamming himself against the bars, snarling, snapping, salivating, almost have me closing my eyes. If that happens, it will be his death sentence.
Achak glances around, seeing the humans all still, all waiting. His lips twitch up, there's a flash of teeth. A noise is strangled in his throat.
"Stay back," my mother warns. It seems the same pictures are being painted in her mind.
It's the briefest lick of his nose, the pink tongue flicking over his black snout, that has me moving forward.
I've seen that little tick many times before. Just before he left his cage, an army of unfamiliar trees waiting for him. When he first met his Alpha mate, Kiowa. When he sees another human. It's all this proud wolf will do to show that he's nervous. Probably scared.
Dad tries to grab me, but I push his hand away. They need to see he's not dangerous.
I kneel at the cage, extending my hand slowly, but without hesitation. Dad is standing right behind me, coiled and waiting to use his Were reflexes.
"Ava…" It's Mom this time, her voice quiet but urgent.
"He's okay. You're going to have to trust me."
Achak's yellow eyes, black pupils at their center, dark circles surrounding them, reach out to me. So familiar. So full of confusion. Our connection glows and thickens, a thread that can never be broken. My hand sinks into his fur, past the greys and into the deep reds. He's no longer hot. He's no longer angry.
I can feel the collective sigh in the room.
I relax, crossing my legs and resting my forehead on the bars. "You feeling better, Achak?"
Achak's tongue laps my fingers. He pushes himself closer, forehead coming to rest on mine. The bars between us feel alien and unwanted.
"You still need to be careful, Ava." Dad's voice is low, calm, but heavy with warning.
But he doesn't see what I see. Our thread is back to the shining, gossamer strand that's alive with love.
Achak's head droops as his eyes close. I stroke his head. "Have a sleep, friend. Tomorrow you'll be better."
Like h
e's exhausted, rather than having spent almost an hour asleep, Achak's body folds down. His regular breathing fills the room within moments.
I stand up and turn toward my parents and Joshua. "The vaccine and the other thingy must've worked."
Mom shakes her head. "There's no such thing as a therapeutic vaccine for rabies, Ava."
"I have no idea what that is, but you just saw that, he wasn't aggressive or sick at all."
Josh's eyes light up with recognition. "They're trying to develop those for cancer."
Dad rubs his chin with his finger. "A vaccine for cancer?"
"Not quite." Josh's eyes are bright with interest. This is the guy who pours over medical texts just for fun. "A therapeutic vaccine is given after the disease has started. It triggers an immune reaction that attacks the active virus."
"And like I said, there's no such thing for rabies." Mom crosses her arms. "And I'm not convinced that's what it was. Rabies doesn't work that quick."
Dad hasn't lost his frown. "So, what are we dealing with, love?"
Mom moves to him, like the undeniable thread that connects them is a line reeling her in. He opens his arms and she tucks herself in. "I'm not sure."
I look at Josh, who gives the smallest of shrugs. He's not sure what happens next either.
I swallow down the hope building in my chest. "If Achak is better, then it can't have been rabies."
Which is a relief. There's no cure for rabies. Apart from death.
Josh comes to stand beside me. "And that's got to be a good thing."
Dad has his I'm-not-convinced face on. "He was going to kill you, Ava."
There's no point saying I could have reached him. It's not my ability to connect with animals that has me standing here now. It seems I'm only part Fae after all. I rub my upper arms like I'm cold, then stop. Weres don't feel the cold. In fact, I'm even less Fae than I am Were, and I don't do that part of me so well.
I look back at the wolf asleep in the cage. There's no sign that he was so sick he attacked the one who helped raise him. No frothing mouth, no agitated energy.
None of this makes sense.
"Let's get home, get a good night's rest." Dad is already fishing the car keys out of his pocket.
Sleep. The place of dreams and possibilities. The place where my wolf is.
Mom comes over to wrap an arm around my shoulder. She squeezes and I pull up a tiny smile. She tucks a stray blonde hair behind my ear. "Let's let him rest, see where things are in the morning."
I sigh. "Okay."
We head to the door, and it’s Dad who looks back one last time. I know exactly what he's thinking, and it has nothing to do with how close we are. Everyone who will hear this story is going to think the same thing.
Even if Achak completely recovers, what had him acting like that in the first place?
Ava
As my head sinks into the marshmallow that’s my pillow, I smile. Not because anything is resolved. Definitely not, because the serious expression on my parents’ faces never changed, even when Uncle Mitch and Aunt Tara brought all the twins over.
And certainly despite the fact that I'm lying on a cold, tiled floor with just a blanket around me.
This isn't the first time I’ll sleep at the lab, nor the first time I've spent beside Achak. I just couldn't leave him alone tonight.
If I'd actually changed at sixteen like I was supposed to, I could have shifted and been here in minutes. But I haven't, so I rode my bike like some lame human, as I have so many times before. The lab, the wolves and their plight, have always drawn me. There's plenty of times I've snuck out to visit pups or sick wolves. Mom actually bought this pillow just to stay at the lab for nights like these.
The smile is because when I'm asleep, I'm actually free of threads and responsibility and expectations. And yet I'm more connected than I've ever felt.
I'm with him.
Between the big day and late-night bicycle ride, I'm asleep quickly. Maybe it's because I welcome the dreams. It doesn't really matter, because I'm with my white wolf almost instantly.
He's with them, like he usually is.
He turns when I arrive, sensing me. His copper eyes catch me and draw me in like no other connection could. I don't see the threads in my dreams, but I don't have to.
My soul is connected to this wolf.
I walk forward, not feeling the cold in this snowy landscape, and touch my forehead to his. I wish I could smell here, but I can’t. I feel my lungs inflate anyway and my whole chest fills with enough emotion to make up for the loss.
He comes around so we're standing side by side. His size dwarfs me as I sink into his thick fur. So many nights have been spent like this—standing, touching, just being. But I can already tell tonight isn't going to be one of those nights.
The wolf pack several yards away is restless. The alpha, big, but not as big as my wolf, is pacing. The others, five of them including the alpha’s mate, have taken his cue. They move around each other, zigzagging in and out, weaving an invisible mat of unease.
My wolf moves forward a few steps and looks back at me. He arches a canine brow. Excitement coils through my muscles—I know that challenge and the answer is a resounding yes.
He circles the pack and I follow him. Looks like we're heading west this time. Once he's on the other side he throws back his head. I close my eyes as the howl fills the night sky. Deep and profound, it carries the power that I feel deep in this animal. Full of authority and passion, it tells the wolves that they aren't alone.
I revel in the feeling that I'm not either.
The pack joins in, voices marrying with his, telling him they're ready to follow. With that, my wolf starts to move, plotting out a trajectory across the snow.
I love when we run just as much as when we do nothing but stand. It must be the dream world, because despite my limbo existence between Fae, Were and human, I can keep up with him. No matter how fast his powerful legs propel him, I'm by his side. His copper gaze catches mine, alight like a comet and my heart feels the same. A sunrise is blooming in my chest. I step to the side, brushing him, and he does the same, bringing us closer. His face, all wild lines and soft fur, dominates my vision before he steps out again. With a burst of speed, he shoots ahead.
So that's how we're playing it, huh?
The snow doesn't slow me, seeming to compact and become a springboard for every step. Air injects into my lungs as I gain speed. In seconds I've caught up. This time when I step in our contact has more impact. With a playful push, I use our joint speed to give me the advantage and power past him.
It doesn't last long, although I knew it wouldn't. It probably doesn't help that I want to be caught.
He shoots past me and swerves in front. I twist right and we fan out, only to angle in again. Neither of us wants to be apart for long. We start up this rhythm of in and out, our tracks weaving a double helix in the snow behind us.
I'm not sure how long we do this dance of excitement and exhilaration, but we eventually slow. The wolves behind us are panting heavily when we reach a rocky outcropping. My wolf slows and I come to stand beside him as the others spread out. They begin scenting their new area and I wonder if they've been here before.
I feel a nudge and turn to find my wolf close. I don't know why, but I never seem to be able to reach up and touch him. In this space, I'm the surreal mix of sensations but no body. I long to feel the velvet of his muzzle, to trace those copper eyes, to know every inch of him. Instead our heads come forward to rest, two halves of a whole fitting into each other.
He sits and I feel his body wrap around me as I sink in. This is how we usually end, whether we've run or just reveled in the stillness and silence we weave. A sense of completeness floods my senses. It's a wonderful merging of a future I can't see and an emotion that is undeniable. I've only ever felt like this with my wolf.
With him, I'm everything I'm meant to be.
Bam! The slamming of a door jars me awake.
"
Thank goodness. There you are, Ava."
I struggle to sit up, not wanting to leave the realm of sleep. What’s going on?
There's a flick of a switch and light fills the room. I shield my eyes with my arm. "Mom?"
Mom seems to stop in the doorway, taking me in lying on the floor, and Achak who is now wide awake in the cage beside me. She doesn't move. In fact, she seems to sag.
I stand up and shuffle back, for some reason feeling the need to protect Achak. "Mom, I told you he wasn't dangerous anymore."
My words seem to diminish her even more. Her stooped shoulders speak of bad news. They have me stepping backward until the bars jam between my shoulder blades. Achak licks at my fingers and I let the sensation calm me.
I pull in a soothing breath. "Yesterday was some weird glitch, you can see he's back to normal now."
"This isn't about Achak. I need you to come to the main lab."
Achak whines. He's picked up on the tension Mom's words keep dialing up. I turn around and bend down. "I'll be back, beautiful boy. This won't take long."
I follow Mom down the hall, noticing how tense her shoulders are. The windows along the way tell me it's barely morning. Our steady steps feel like an ominous, slow drumroll.
It's the other end of the building that houses the real deal. Metal and white, microscopes that make the one Mom was using yesterday look like a child's toy, frosted fridges and glass shelves the main decor. This is where Dawn, my mother's friend and the oldest and most respected of the Fae elders, worked her magic.
The most surprising sight is finding my father there. His arms are braced along one of the benches, his head hanging down. He shoots up when we walk through the door, wiping his hands down his face. As a local police officer, I've seen him look like this before—after particularly harrowing night shifts.
But never in the lab.
And never directed at me.
"What's going on?" I make a conscious effort not to cross my arms.
Mom and Dad glance at each other before Mom reaches out to grasp my arm. "Kiowa was shot last night."