Powerless

by Catherine Johnson

  The rest o’ the pack are streamin’ out behind us. The moor is ours again. We’re takin’ it back from those that desecrated it with their vile ways. Michael and Donna are behind us, I can feel their joy, their relief that tonight did no’ end up with us all dead. I’d no’ be surprised if there’s no’ an addition tae their family in some months. Every member o’ the pack is shinin’ like a beacon tae me, right down tae Claire who’s trailin’ at the back, tryin’ tae keep her head down and her nose outae trouble.

  We run, stretchin’ sinew and muscle tae the fullest. We scramble along crags and intae cloughs. When we pause tae drink from one o’ the crystal streams that crosses the peat, there’s play fightin’, nippin’ and scentin’. It’s like the pack is brand new, like they’ve never met one another before tonight. It was heartenin’ tae see them enjoyin’ themselves as humans at the party we threw for Donna, it’s somethin’ else again tae see, tae experience, this abandon. By the time we’re runnin’ again, the pack is fully bonded. I can feel it in them, they’re no’ just individual lights in ma consciousness any more, it’s more like a blanket with a vibrant pattern. I can feel the links between them, the threads o’ connection weavin’ through.

  Eventually we’re back where we started out from. Three dead bodies are still lyin’ pale in the moonlight. There’s a fair bit o’ work for some o’ us tae do. Richie and Phillip offer tae help. We use some o’ the bags the pack brought tae keep their clothes in during the run tae wrap Daniel’s body in. We’re goin’ tae have tae take it down off the pike and find a place tae burn it. If we try and burn it up here, it’ll be seen for miles around, and it may well take a couple o’ acres o’ heather and peat with it.

  Me and Michael carry Daniel. Richie and Phillip take another body each, dress them and sling them over their shoulders in a fireman’s carry. They doona have tae worry about gettin’ blood all over themselves. We drop Rob’s body intae the boot o’ his car, and Daniel and Bryn’s intae the boot o’ Daniel’s. We’re goin’ tae have tae split some drivin’ between us. Fortunately, Michael’s a quick thinker and he’s been givin’ this some mind.

  “I’ll take Rob’s first. I’m going to head over to Snake Pass. I’ll rig it up and make it look like he came off the road whilst speeding. I’ll leave his seatbelt off, that should sort it. Bryn we can dump on some waste ground near Chorlton Street. A broken neck should be vague enough to stop anyone getting interested in finding a culprit, especially if a couple of the girls ID him. Daniel’s going to be harder to hide, but it’s mostly soft tissue damage. There’s an abandoned pub, the Horse and Jockey. If we dump him there, in the basement, and set light to it, it’ll be a while before the fire’s spotted, and even longer ‘til the body’s found. It’ll get blamed on kids messing around. We’ll be well clear of everything by then.”

  “Remind me no’ tae piss you off, fella. Sounds like you know your work.”

  “The cheek! It wasn’t me that killed two of them. You and your bloodthirsty missus.” Michel smile is wide.

  Some people might think it’s wrong tae be banterin’ over three bodies like this, but I’m no’ interested in knowin’ those people. Becca finally agrees tae go home with Donna, but only tae wait for me there. We narrow down some o’ the finer points o’ the plan and then set out tae take care o’ business. I’ll say one thing for bein’ a werewolf, it’s no’ borin’ at all.

  Chapter Thirty One

  There were three bodies, and yet we’re only attending one funeral. We never heard anything about Daniel’s body being found. The fire itself was only reported on briefly, a couple of lines if that. Michael was spot on; it was blamed on kids mucking around in a derelict building. Bryn’s body was found, as planned. Michael told us that there were a number of theories flying around; that he owed a pimp a debt or that it was drug deal gone wrong were the most popular. Neither was going to amount to an over-stretched force spending a lot of time looking for someone specific to blame.

  Michael managed to engineer the theory into the mix that maybe it was something to do with the woman in the canal. That raised a few eyebrows, enough to pass Bryn’s photo around the girls, enough for someone to ask for his bite radius to be compared to the recorded wounds. That pretty much sealed the deal. The girls confirmed that they’d seen Bryn lurking around regularly, that he was someone that scared them, that he’d treated some of them roughly a time or two. The forensic work came up with a match. The new popular theory was that some of the pimps had taken matters into their own hands. The local dignitary and his wife decide that it was justice enough for them, especially as it meant they wouldn’t have to endure the public scrutiny on their family brought about by a trial.

  We had to wait for the post mortem results once Rob’s body had been found. They returned the outcome that we knew, that I knew, they would, death caused by the severing of the spinal column. It was attributed to his car leaving the road at speed, a stretch well-known for such fatalities, and the fact that he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. I’m well aware of what really caused his broken neck. I did. I wonder at the fact that I don’t feel more guilty, that I don’t feel any remorse about what I did, but I can’t bring myself to be sorry for killing Rob.

  When it came down to it, it was him or me, him or Callum. Whilst Daniel and Callum were fighting, Rob had crept around the pack and attacked me from behind. He intended to kill me, or at the very least cause me some serious harm, knowing that it would divert Callum’s attention. Any distraction would have led to Daniel gaining the upper paw and killing Callum. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen, I couldn’t allow that to happen. I wasn’t thinking any noble thoughts about the good of the pack and who was best to lead them, about who needed to win the fight. I was protecting my mate, the man, the wolf that I love, and that is all there is to it.

  Given the choice, I wouldn’t be here. My attendance is for the good of the pack, keeping up appearances as it were. After four years as a couple, it would be noticed if I hadn’t come. I’m not on my own, Donna and Michael are with me. I asked Callum not to come, it would be awkward for Rob’s parents to see him here, with me, and I don’t want that for them. It’s awkward enough for them to have had to meet Claire for the first time under these circumstances, for them to understand why it is that she’s here. He hadn’t told them that I’d moved out. His family are from Nottingham. It’s really not that far away, but in four years I only met them a handful of times. I have no idea why they weren’t closer, there never seemed to be any animosity. Certainly there’s been nothing in the air today except for the devastation of two parents losing a child suddenly; and yet I still can’t bring myself to feel bad. Perhaps because if I hadn’t fought back, if I hadn’t won, it would be my parents standing in their place.

  Fortunately they’re not a religious family. The funeral is a short, quiet affair in a small crematorium on the outskirts of Nottingham. What else can you say about a funeral for someone in their thirties? That there was a good turn out? That the eulogies were moving? That the choice of music was poignant? Does any of that really matter to the people who cared about him? We spend some time at the wake, but we’re out of place. His parents knew about our relationship, they knew about our friendship with Donna and Michael, but they don’t really know us, and there’s nothing to say now. We’re from another life as far as they’re concerned. We take our leave as soon as is reasonable.

  Claire has been keeping her distance from me all day. I should hope so, since she tried to back Rob up in his little assassination attempt. I haven’t spoken to her about that, there was no need to after the way that Beth put her in her place. Callum tells me that she has already requested to transfer to another pack. He’s going to help her with that as much as he can. She can make a fresh start elsewhere. The full moon is tomorrow night, but there’s a good chance that it will be the last one that she spends with our pack. A very timely opportunity has arisen at another branch of the firm that she works for. I heard that her bosses were pleasant
ly surprised by her desire to move away from the area on short notice.

  Even in these few short weeks, the pack has changed radically. There’s been far more communication, simply on an everyday ‘how how’re you doing?’ level. We’ve planned our own holiday celebration. The winter solstice is four days after the full moon. The plan is to go to a local restaurant for an extended Christmas dinner, and then for another run on the moors. I suspect, given the amount of food and alcohol that is likely to be consumed, that the run will be considerably shorter than the one on the full moon. There’s a better than average chance that there will actually be a lot of sleepy wolves rolling around in the moonlight.

  By the time I get back, Callum is already home. I’d texted him to let him know I was on my way back. As I walk in I can smell the tangy scent of vinegar. I might have known he’d have gone and got a chippy tea for us. It’s not that he can’t cook; only that he never turns down even the slightest excuse for any sort of takeaway.

  I drop my bag and my coat by the door so that I can go straight to him. I’m not exactly emotional after today, but I still need a hug. When he envelops me in his arms and holds me close against his body, it feels like the safest place in the world, as if nothing else exists.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks as he strokes my hair.

  “Yep, I am, really.” I rest my head on his shoulder, against his neck, and breathe in his scent and warmth. Let’s hear it for the advantages of wearing heels.

  “Hungry?”

  “I wasn’t until I smelled the chips.”

  We tip the food onto plates and settle down at the table to eat. There may be something to be said for eating chips straight from their newspaper packaging, it would be more relevant if they weren’t generally served in polystyrene trays.

  “We’re goin’ tae have some visitors for a couple o’ days, darlin’.”

  “We are? Who?”

  “Cooper and his wife Michelle. They’re lookin’ forward tae meetin’ you, and they’ve decided they cannae wait until I get around tae takin’ you tae London.”

  “So no pressure then. Will they be staying here? We’ve only got the bunk beds.”

  “No. Donna and Michael are goin’ tae put them up. It’ll only be for a couple o’ nights.”

  “When are they coming up?”

  “The day after Boxing Day. They want tae be back down south for New Year’s Eve. It’s a big thing with their pack. Aidan called as well. He’s invited us over tae Belfast in the new year.”

  I think about that while I eat some more. “Are we safe going over there?”

  “How’d’you mean, lass?”

  “With Bryn and Daniel being like, I don’t know, part of their pack royalty or something like. I know you said they didn’t like the risk of exposure, but aren’t they still going to be a bit pissed off with us?”

  “I cannae speak for Cameron, but the rest o’ the pack are happy enough that we’re no’ about tae be splashed across the front o’ every newspaper and website in the country.”

  “Okay. Belfast in January. That should be... damp.”

  “Best do it soon, lass. They’re no’ angry with us for the way we’ve handled business, but it’d be rude tae keep them waitin’.”

  “Are we going to have to play much politics with other packs?” I don’t relish the thought of having to suddenly become some sort of diplomat. I stop worrying when Callum starts to laugh.

  “No’ at all. There might be some visitors from other packs tae ours, and we might go, or send someone tae spend a few days elsewhere, but it’s no’ like a werewolf version of the United Nations. It’s just tae keep the ties goin’ between packs. It’s mostly pretty casual.”

  “Okay, that’s sounds good. On a slightly more inconvenient note, my parents have decided that they want to come over for the day on Sunday.”

  “It makes sense. We’ll be home.”

  “I know, but I was hoping to get rid of my hangover by vegetating on the sofa all day.” It’s not that I don’t want to see them, we usually arrange some sort of visit like this before Christmas so that we can swap presents and cards because we don’t spend Christmas Day together. It started out as a sort of mutual agreement, if we weren’t going to spend Christmas with Rob’s family, then I wasn’t going to drag him to spend Christmas with mine. Instead we set up family get-togethers before Christmas Day, and spent the main event itself with Donna and Michael and the kids. I had decided that it was a good tradition to continue.

  But let’s face it; it’s not going to be without its problems. I’ve given them some of the headlines, but now I have to explain how it came to be that I’m living with the man who spent time in jail for attacking me, without being able to explain that he killed the man who actually did attack me, and that he moved in within a couple of months, oh, and that he’s twenty years older than me. It’s not the sort of conversation you want to have with a hangover.

  Oh sorry!” I can’t stifle the yawn that escapes from me. Just thinking about my family visiting overloads me with exhaustion.

  “Ah lass, you’re done in. You go and get yourself intae bed. I’ll sort this lot out.” Callum motions at what’s left of our meal.

  “You won’t be long though?”

  “No darlin’, I’ll be there soon enough tae keep you warm.” I’m feeling warm already from the effects of his lascivious grin.

  “Good.” I’m happy to see the back of today, but I could be persuaded to extend it slightly.

  In the bedroom I start to undress. I kick off my black high heels and wriggle out of the grey polo neck jumper and the black pencil skirt that I wore for the funeral. I catch sight of myself in the long mirror that covers one of the wardrobe doors. I’m down to my stockings and underwear. I can hear the clink of the plates and cutlery as Callum washes up, and suddenly I don’t feel quiet as tired. I slip my shoes back on and walk out to the other room as quietly possible. I have no illusions about being able to surprise Callum, even if we didn’t have the mate bond telegraphing our feelings to each other, it’s a bitch to tiptoe on spike heels across laminate flooring.

  He turns as he hears me walk over, probably to ask if I need anything. His face is a picture when he sees me. The underwear is candy floss pink lace; the stockings are sheer and black. He drops the dishtowel he was holding and grips the counter behind him, waiting for me to come to him. I stand in front of him, but he doesn’t attempt to touch me. I slip my fingers underneath the t-shirt he’s wearing so that I can stroke the warm, smooth skin over his hips, above his low-slung jeans. I run my palms over his solid torso, under the cotton. Callum simply watches me from under hooded eyes.

  I take hold of the hem of the t-shirt and pull it up. Callum lets go of the counter and raises his arms so that I can pull the garment off, but then he returns his hands to the counter, allowing me to take control, for now. I continue to let my hands roam over his body as I lean forward to taste the skin of his neck, licking at first, then sucking gently. As I make my way over his shoulder and down his chest, I start to undo his jeans. I have absolutely no problem with Callum’s apparent allergy to wearing any underwear of his own. If anything, it only causes a problem because when I’m sat at work I’ll get the odd mental image or thought about him going about his business, knowing what’s tucked behind the denim he’s wearing, and then I get all flustered and usually make some sort of mistake.

  He’s already hard and springs free as I release him. I step closer so that our bodies are almost touching, there’s barely enough room for me to move my hand as I take him in my fist and start to stroke him. The body heat between us is a furnace. The way that Callum is looking at me just adds fuel to the fire. We’re close enough that we’re sharing breaths. I’m about to sink to my knees, but Callum decides that he’s had enough of being the passive player. He buries is hands in my hair and pulls me in the last few inches for a brutal kiss.

  He backs me up to the opposite counter as he’s kissing me. When my backside hits i
t, he pulls one hand from my hair and slides it into the front of my thong. I already know that he’s going to find me wet for him. I gasp into his mouth as he slides two fingers into me, cupping me in his palm.

  This time it’s me that grips the counter, so that I can push myself up until I’m perched on the edge of it. Callum doesn’t lose his grip on me at all. He’s curling his fingers inside me, hitting a wonderfully sensitive spot, causing me to grind onto the heel of his hand and moan with the need for more. When he slips his hand from my body, I can’t help the sound of loss that I make.

  I’m not disappointed for long though. He doesn’t bother to pull my thong off, just tugs it to one side before pushing himself into me. He grips my hips and pulls me forward on the counter a little. I’m not so much perched on it as trapped between it and him. I lift my legs higher and cross my ankles behind his back to steady myself a little. I have to leave all the movement to him. I want to lean back, but his other hand is still threaded into my hair, cupping the back of my head and he’s keeping me close enough to kiss. He’s speeding up, and as he does so he moves his free hand so that he can start massaging my clit with his thumb.