by Zoe Chant
Jason laughed. “I appreciate your dedication to this work.”
“Hey,” he said. “It’s what we do. So what happened in there? You smell…you smell like things went pretty well.”
He put his hand over his face and sighed. “Sort of,” he confessed. “But then, I don’t know. Her sister came down, I couldn’t tell her the truth….”
“You fucked it up?”
“I hope not,” he said. “She’s amazing, Ian. I’ve never met anyone like her. I don’t think I ever will. I can’t fuck this up. I can’t.”
“We’ll bring out Remus tomorrow,” Ian said. “Test the waters. She sees your real face, she’ll fall for you. Every girl does.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said.
***
Lucy made sure she was showered and dressed before she came down to breakfast. Just in case.
Last night felt like it had been a dream. Had Jason really—
Had he really wanted her? It had felt so real. So intense. She’d made some pathetic excuse to Ophelia and had run upstairs and locked the door behind her. She hadn’t even needed her vibrator to come, hadn’t even bothered pushing the sheets back on the bed.
Then she’d stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering what Jason really wanted, before she’d crawled into bed and fallen asleep.
She still felt strange as she went down the stairs. Not shaky, exactly, but no longer sure on her feet. Fragile. She’d taken too long picking out clothes. It was stupid. She didn’t have many good clothes at the house; a few work blouses, but those were too dressy to run errands around town. A bunch of big, baggy tshirts with slogans on them, but she felt weird wearing them in front of Jason.
She finally found a plain blue t-shirt. That would be good enough. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone anyway.
Sure you aren’t.
Ophelia usually slept in, but Dad was normally awake by now, and headed to work. Frieda was keeping odd hours, which she blamed on her time on the farm. If she was lucky, she’d be able to eat breakfast in a nice quiet kitchen by herself.
She pulled out the frying pan, some butter, two eggs. She wondered if she had the patience to fry the eggs right or just scramble them. She broke one yolk just cracking the egg in the pan, so she went with scrambled. She added in some cheese and some leftover onion from Tuesday’s dinner. She’d go, get her mail, do some errands. Not worry about Jason, or his big hands, or the way he smelled.
Definitely not. Furthest thing from her mind.
What was wrong with her? She’d almost been ready to give it up, right there in Dad’s kitchen. Just because he was hot, handsome, charming—
She’d just met him!
She pushed the eggs around. She needed to get out of the house. Get her stuff together. Maybe she should go back to her apartment and pick up her art supplies, like she’d thought of before she went downstairs and everything had gone crazy.
By the time she’d finished breakfast, she had a plan in place: go home, pick up some things, get the mail. Have a little time to herself. That was probably just what she needed.
When she left the house, Ian was walking in the front yard with a big gray-and-white dog on a leash. “Good morning,” she said. “I guess Jason wasn’t kidding about bringing over a dog.”
“Morning,” Ian said amiably. “This is Remus. We’re gonna do some sniffing around, we’ll see what he picks up.”
Remus was a big dog. He actually looked more like a wolf than that animal Jason had asked about the night before. He panted happily at the end of his leash.
“No animals last night, right?”
“Yeah, this is more getting him used to the place and the way it smells. Something goes wrong, he can help us smell it back to the source.” Ian scratched behind the dog’s ears. “You can pet him if you want.”
“What breed is he?”
“He’s a Malamute,” Ian said.
The dog looked up at her. It looked fiercely intelligent. Too intelligent. Something in her mind was going off like an alarm bell. “Don’t they have brown eyes?”
“Yeah,” Ian said. “Usually. Owner got this guy for a damn good price thanks to those baby blues. Probably some recessive gene, or some husky back in the family—”
No, she thought. It’s not possible. It can’t be.
Those were Jason’s eyes. It was Jason’s fur under her hand. She was sure of it. As sure as if he was standing in front of her.
What was going on? Was she losing her mind?
“Lucy? Everything all right?”
She ignored Ian and kneeled down to face the dog. The wolf. Jason. “Your name isn’t Remus,” she said, low. “Is it?”
The dog whimpered a little. His tail was wagging. Jason. It had to be. And he was trying to make her happy.
What the fuck.
“I’m…I’m going to my apartment,” she said. “I’ll see you guys later.” She didn’t even realize she’d said it that way until she was halfway into her car, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She had to get away from—from whatever the hell had just happened. Now. She shut the door behind her and didn’t look back any more than she had to.
She was halfway to her apartment before her brain finally found the word. Werewolf.
“They don’t exist,” she said, into the car.
How had she been so certain? It didn’t make any sense. She’d known the man for less than a day. And what kind of man—even if they were a werewolf—would let themselves be led around on a leash?
By the time she actually got to her apartment, she’d decided that it had just been her imagination. Maybe she was overtired. Maybe she was dreaming. She pinched her wrist for the hell of it, but nothing happened.
She checked her phone. There was a text from a number she didn’t recognize.
Hey it’s Jason, your dad gave me yr #. Sorry I missed u this am. U OK?
Why wouldn’t I be? she thought. You didn’t even see me this morning…right?
She wasn’t sure how to answer, so she left the phone on her kitchen counter while she found her art supplies. Some watercolors, a pack of paper—not her best stuff, but she didn’t really want to carry that back and forth to the house—and some more pencils. She grabbed a few books off the counter.
She’d missed her own apartment, her own space. She loved her family but she loved her space, too, and her building was quiet and sunny. It was on the ground floor and opened out to a little deck.
Maybe she’d just take some time to sketch, get in a better headspace. She could stop thinking crazy things about werewolves and hot blue-eyed men. Just go out in the backyard in the sun and draw for a while.
She opened up the back door…and then shut it again.
There were—she wasn’t sure how many animals in her little courtyard. Too many. And they definitely weren’t alive. She ran to her phone.
There weren’t any other messages. She called Jason’s number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Lucy?” He sounded worried. “You okay?”
“You…you need to come to my apartment. The…the animals. There’s—there’s animals here too.”
“Okay,” he said. “Do you—do you feel safe? Are you all right?”
“I—I think so,” she said. “But…they’re gross. And—”
“I’m on my way,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.” Just hearing him make the promise made her feel better. Safer.
How did that make any sense? She’d seen him as—
As a wolf.
She’d just asked a werewolf to come to her rescue. She wanted to laugh. Or maybe cry. Who was doing this? Why would anyone do this to her? To her family? And how did she end up relying on a blue-eyed man she was pretty sure was also a blue-eyed wolf?
Be calm. Calm. She could do that. She could just sit at the table and draw…draw a still life. That was fine. But when she got back to her table, she didn’t want to put her back to the window, and she didn’t want to
look out on the deck. She put her arms around herself. What the hell—who the hell—would do that? Why would anyone want to?
Was it connected to the….
Werewolves killed animals, didn’t they? Were they like cats? Did leaving dead shit on your deck mean they liked you?
She shivered. Part of her couldn’t believe that Jason would do anything like that. But she kept reminding herself that she didn’t really know Jason at all. He hadn’t told her anything about himself. Though she guessed she couldn’t really blame him for not saying, “hey, I’m a werewolf” the day he met her.
She didn’t know what to think. Didn’t even know where she would start. She checked her phone. Nothing. She sent Frieda a text. Animals at my place too. Jason coming 2 check out.
At least if he was up to something…bad, someone would know what had happened to her. She walked back and forth from the back of the apartment to the front. What the hell should she do?
Be calm. Calm. She could do that. She could just sit at the table and draw…draw a still life. That was fine. But when she got back to her table, she didn’t want to put her back to the window, and she didn’t want to look out on the deck. She put her arms around herself. What the hell—who the hell—would do that? Why would anyone want to?
Was it connected to the….
Werewolves killed animals, didn’t they? Were they like cats? Did leaving dead shit on your deck mean they liked you?
She shivered. Part of her couldn’t believe that Jason would do anything like that. But she kept reminding herself that she didn’t really know Jason at all. He hadn’t told her anything about himself. Though she guessed she couldn’t really blame him for not saying, “hey, I’m a werewolf” the day he met her.
She didn’t know what to think. Didn’t even know where she would start. She checked her phone. Nothing. She sent Frieda a text. Animals at my place too. Jason coming 2 check out.
At least if he was up to something…bad, someone would know what had happened to her. She walked back and forth from the back of the apartment to the front. What the hell should she do? What could she do? God, could werewolves track people like dogs? That was what “Remus” was supposed to be doing, right?
She forced herself to breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just breathe. She could get through this. Couldn’t she?
Okay. Werewolves. What did they—silver. She had a silver bracelet somewhere. It might be stupid, but at least she’d have some sense of control over what was happening. At least she could have a little bit of armor, no matter what small a difference it would make. She sorted through her jewelry. Lots of cheap costume jewelry. A pair of pearl earrings that were a graduation present. She couldn’t remember if the old charm bracelet that had been her mother’s was silver or not; it wasn’t tarnished, so probably not.
Ah, there it was. An old ID bracelet. It was almost black with tarnish. Silver for sure. She slid it on her wrist. It was a little too tight, but it stayed on. She could live with a little discomfort. It might be her life at stake.
She was still looking for anything else that might be silver when there was a knock at her door. She took a deep breath.
“What do you want me to do first?” he asked when she opened the door, his blue eyes just as steady and clear as they’d been earlier in the morning.
“I—” She wasn’t sure. She stepped back and let him into the apartment. “It was you,” she said. “Wasn’t it? This morning?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s not an easy thing to explain to someone you’ve just met. Doesn’t come up that often, really.” Jason was wearing a tight—way too tight—gray t-shirt. His jeans were pretty snug too. He looked way too good. Especially for a werewolf. Weren’t they supposed to be hairy? I mean, he didn’t look bald but she figured they were only model-handsome in the movies. That they were scruffier.
He reached up and scratched at the back of his head, looking for all the world like a puppy that had just been reprimanded. How was that so cute? “You can’t really start a conversation with ‘Hey, do you believe in werewolves? Do you think maybe you could?’ But you…you recognized me. That doesn’t usually happen. Even most women in the werewolf line won’t recognize one at first.”
“What does that mean, werewolf line?”
“Werewolves exist,” he said. “But they’re usually only men. It’s like colorblindness, I guess. Every once in a while you can get someone who’s the exception, but mostly, it’s guys.”
“So…how does it happen? Did you get bitten or something?”
He shook his head. “It’s genetic. If there’s a way of making a werewolf, it was lost a long time ago.”
“But it doesn’t happen to women?”
“Not usually, no. But women carry on the bloodline. They’re just as important as the men are to our clans. Maybe more. Every clan has an Alpha male and a Queen. That’s the most powerful woman in the clan. She can…see what other people don’t.”
Lucy did not like the way this was heading. “Like what?”
“Like recognizing a werewolf as a human and a wolf,” he said. “Lucy, I don’t even know how to begin to tell you—your mother was the clan heir. You’re a Queen.”
“That’s not possible,” she said.
“Your uncle—our Clans were talking about an alliance. When he died, I wasn’t even sure how we’d be able to talk to you. How we’d even start. But then your father was looking for protection, and Ian was looking to expand—I thought it was our lucky break. For both of our clans. I could meet the three of you, and we’d be able to explain what was going on, keep you all safe….” He chuckled. “Shows what I know. Instead, we’ve just freaked you out.”
“The animals—”
“We’re honestly not sure yet,” he said. “It might be werewolves paying you tribute—they can smell a Queen, pretty easy. But that might just be coincidence. Whatever’s out back there—” He nodded at her porch— “should help. I…I hope you can still trust me, trust us, to do that.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But…I guess I’ll give you a chance.”
“Lucy,” he said, and it sounded sincere, at least. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
He reached out for her hand and took it. “You’re…I know it sounds crazy, but I can—I just know. I know how strong you are. I know we can get through this. And we can figure out…we can figure out everything.”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Just trust me,” he said. “I’ll…just wait here and I’ll see what’s out there. You don’t have to look or anything. I’ll come back in just a minute.”
“Okay,” she said. She still wasn’t certain…but she was pretty certain it was the best option for now. She sat down at the table and took out her pencils. “Are you going to—to change?”
He smiled. “Can’t when the sun is shining. Too strong. Only the dark or moonlight. New moon’s best, actually, that full moon thing’s a myth. Just hang tight, though, I can still give it a sniff.”
Give it a sniff. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was in some hidden camera show. It was ridiculous.
Having Jason in the apartment helped, though. She took down a pottery pitcher from the kitchen cabinet and started to sketch it. She didn’t forget what Jason was doing, much less the dead animals back there, but at least she could do the work.
She heard the sliding glass door open, and didn’t turn her head. “Well,” he said, “good news and bad news.” He walked over to the kitchen sink and started washing his hands. “Good news is there’s werewolf all over those animals, so my guess is they smelled you and are paying tribute.”
“Tribute? Like…like a cat would leave a dead animal on the doormat?”
“Yeah, more or less. It’s an old tradition. Not every clan does it any more. But with your uncle gone, you’re next in line, and they can smell it. Most of them looked a couple of days old, have you been around much?”
“Not at all,�
�� she said.
“Yeah, your scent isn’t fresh, so the animals aren’t.” He looked thoughtful. “So…I’m gonna dispose of those, and we’ll put a signal out that you got the message and you don’t need any tribute for a little while.”
“Please don’t tell me that the signal involves pee,” she said.
“What would make you think that?”
She shrugged. “Werewolves? Dogs? They pee a lot, right? Mark their territory?”
“You pick up fast,” he said. “Do you think if I put these in some garbage bags anyone’s gonna ask questions?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I…haven’t ever dealt with this before.”
“It’s mostly squirrels,” he said. “We’ll risk it. You have heavy duty bags?”
“Under the sink,” she said. “Wait. What is the signal?”
He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a trash bag. “You told me not to tell you.”
“Not my pee?”
“I told you,” he said. “Just sit down and sketch. Don’t worry about anything. I got this.” He put a hand on her shoulder. It calmed her immediately. Maybe she could believe him.
At least she could give it a shot.
***
He hadn’t fucked it up completely, at least. She believed him, or at least had believed him enough to calm down and let him get to work.
It hadn’t been that bad—squirrels and a rabbit—and he figured if he double-bagged the garbage, it wouldn’t be suspicious.
By the time he was done, she had drawn a bunch of sketches of the pitcher on her table, a pretty pottery one with blue flowers. Jason didn’t know much about art, but they looked really nice. He washed his hands again, really damn well, and sat down at the table. “Okay,” he said. “I smelled more than one werewolf for sure, maybe three.”
She put her pencil down, and thought over his words for a minute. “Are they…like, what does this tribute mean? Does that mean they want me to be their girlfriend? Or mate? Or…is it just like a friendship bracelet made out of dead squirrels?”
He laughed in spite of himself. “No,” he said. “It’s literally a tribute. Like you would to royalty back in the day.”