How The Wolf Lost Her Heart

by Sarah Brownlee

  “Skye Archer, 814367.”

  “I’ll call you soon, Skye,” said Raphael, with a slight grin. He turned away from her and walked in the opposite direction and Skye tried not to stare at him as he walked away. Thoroughly disgruntled with the whole episode, she clutched her bag tightly and made her way towards the nearest shuttle bus-stop. Why, oh, why had she given her tag number to this man? She had no intention of socialising with any new ‘friends’, especially not one who was a Morpher like herself! Fair enough, he was very attractive …

  Did I just think that? she thought, horrified with herself.

  When it came to men, Skye put them somewhere near the bottom pile in her list of priorities. She’d had two boyfriends in her lifetime of eighteen years. The first was when she was eleven and it had lasted a day. The second, when she was fifteen, lasted for three months and he ended up ditching her for the local raven-haired beauty. Unfortunately, she was the last one to find out and she only did so when she caught them eating each other’s faces off behind the dustbins one lunch hour at school To add insult to injury, this particular stud-muffin of a boyfriend tag-texted her that same day to inform her that he had enjoyed their time together, but he felt that due to her ‘little problem’ (the morphing) everyone around him didn’t really agree with the relationship and it was better they remained ‘friends’. Safe to say, the humiliation and hurt that this rejection caused her had rather put her off the notion of boyfriends and she threw herself into her ambitions: her love of animals and the ultimate goal to travel to the other side of the world and contribute towards the restoration of several endangered species, many of which mankind had almost annihilated over the years.

  Back to the unusual events of the afternoon and her lingering mortification, this Raphael had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t find her attractive so she was deeply annoyed with herself for fleetingly thinking he was; and why in the world was she so bothered about what he thought anyway?

  To be fair, he did save you from those thugs, said a little voice in her head as she stood waiting at the bus-stop.

  No. Skye knew she could have easily saved herself. Had things turned any nastier, she would have transformed in an instant. One of the upsides to being a Morpher was that they were revered by the thugs of the city. Though there were very few Morphers in the city at all, should any Morpher show their inner beast to the general public, respect was automatically commanded. And as the thugs worked on the basis of primal animal aggression, they immediately ‘bowed’ to any who held the ability. But Skye did not want respect from thugs, who made it their primary duty to hurt and terrorize decent people. Dark memories that she had buried from her past spoke of the loathing and hatred she felt towards them, memories she needed to repress in order to function …

  But yes, she could easily have saved herself and there was no need for any other Morpher to come along and do it for her.

  But he didn’t know that, argued the little voice in her head. He put himself at risk for you, thinking you were just like everybody else …

  “Yes, yes, I know!” she said out loud in an irritable voice. Several people turned to stare curiously at her.

  Why she was even still thinking about this man bothered her in the extreme and she forced herself to think of something else. With one last thought about how she hoped that he would not call her and pushing the image of his striking green eyes out of her head, she hopped on the bus that had now arrived and took a seat at the back, slipping into a daydream about quitting her mind-numbing job in customer services and instead travelling to the other side of the world to work with endangered species, such as the beautiful Bengal tigers.

  Chapter Two

  “Wait, wait, wait! You met Raphael Renzo?”

  “Yes …?”

  “And he asked for your tag number?!”

  “Yes. Are you going somewhere with this?”

  “Well, don’t you know who he is?”

  “You clearly know much more than me, so why don’t you tell me what’s so fascinating about him?” was the impatient reply.

  It was evening. Skye had met with her good friend, Daphne, for dinner. The two had been friends for a number of years now. They had very different personalities – Skye was the quieter, more introverted one, while Daphne was the louder and more confident of the two; Daphne went through a stream of about three boyfriends a year; Skye, as mentioned earlier, had very little interest in boyfriends at all. But both accepted one another’s flaws, as well as virtues, without question and this created a strong bond between them. Daphne had Skye’s back whenever people said nasty things about her morphing ability, while Skye provided Daphne with that attentive ear whenever her friend went off on one of her wild stories about her latest love interest.

  That evening they were sitting in a dimly-lit French restaurant with a rather smoky, mellow atmosphere. Over a selection of cheeses and grapes, Skye had informed her friend (albeit reluctantly) of what had happened to her that afternoon in the market place. Daphne was not so much interested in the danger Skye had been in (or lack, thereof, for she was also well-aware of Skye’s fearsome inner beast) as she was about the young man who had come to her rescue.

  “What’s so fascinating about him?” repeated Daphne in a shrieking voice. “Skye, do you live under a rock or something? The Renzo family are incredibly wealthy, they pretty much rule the majority of West London; their mansion is situated at the heart of Notting Hill. The Renzos actually own an island in the Pacific Ocean! They’ve got four sons – ALL of them amazingly good-looking! Especially Raphael – he’s just hot!”

  “And you know this how?” said Skye, chewing on a piece of Camembert.

  “Because I talk to people, Skye, that’s how. Besides, I’ve seen Raphael – once. At Justine’s birthday last year, he was there. She invited a load of elite people and I just remember everyone swooning over him! Not that anyone stood a chance – someone that good-looking and that wealthy isn’t going to go for any college girl, no matter how pretty she is! Trust me, I tried. I was trying to catch his eye the whole night.”

  “Yes, well, he’s alright, I suppose,” shrugged Skye. “How’s things at college anyway? Did you manage to finish that history essay you were stressing about, the one about World Cup 2014? I saw an interesting documentary the other day that could give you some ideas if you’re still struggling with it.”

  “Alright, you suppose?” said Daphne, a flabbergasted expression on her face. “Skye, I’ve been meaning to ask you for years – are you a lesbian?”

  “No I am not!” snapped Skye. “It’s just I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Yes, he’s good-looking and has a bit of money. So what?”

  “Why’d you exchange tag numbers anyway?” asked Daphne nosily.

  Skye hesitated.

  “He knows I’m a Morpher.”

  Daphne’s eyes almost popped out of her head.

  “No way! How did he find that out? You’re always so secretive about it!”

  “Well … I told him; it sort of slipped out.”

  “This is amazing! Is he fascinated by Morphers or something?”

  “Well, sort of. He is one.”

  “He is?”

  “Yeah. I should’ve known from when I first saw him actually, his eyes kept switching colour …”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know this! What animal is he?”

  “No idea, didn’t find out. Shall we order our mains now?”

  “So are you going to see him again? You’ve got to, Skye! How many other Morphers do you know? Exactly, zilch. This is your chance to have a morphing friend.”

  “I don’t want a morphing friend,” said Skye coldly. “I’m happy with the friend I’ve got – at least, I was until she kept going on and on about this guy who I don’t have any interest in whatsoever!”

  “Oh come on! A Morpher, gorgeous, rich and willing to put his life on the line for someone he doesn’t even know? Even you aren’t immune to falling under that type of s
pell!”

  “Actually, I think you’ll find I’ve already resisted it. And besides, I doubt he’ll call me. If he’s as amazing as you say he is, he’s bound to have a hectic social life. Now can we please order our mains? I’m craving for some rare steak.”

  Just like her ancestor of the past, Skye had a penchant for meat that was extremely rare or not cooked at all. Her morphing ability meant that she acquired some of the characteristics of her animal in her human form. A liking for rare, bloody steak was one of them. When dining out, Skye asked for her steak to be cooked ‘rare’ or ‘blue’, but when in the comfort of her own home, she ate it completely raw.

  The rest of the conversation consisted of Daphne continuously urging her friend to meet up with Raphael again and Skye stubbornly shaking her head. They spoke a little of Daphne’s latest boyfriend (an exchange student from Brazil) who had suggested marriage three times in the course of their two month relationship, with Daphne pondering on whether or not she should just end it there and then.

  “Marriage, would you believe?” Daphne said in disbelief, amidst Skye’s chuckles. “Much as I like to believe that my beauty has entranced him, I can’t help feeling he has something else on his mind!”

  They said their goodbyes and by this time the sky outside had darkened. Skye made her way home. The restaurant was only a fifteen minute walk from her house and she saw no point in spending a fortune taking the shuttle-bus. Humming to herself, she wrapped her jacket around herself tightly (Spring may as well have been Winter, for all the chilling weather it produced) and walked off down the quiet road.

  It was about five minutes into the walk that there was a sudden scream of agony in the distance. Coming to an abrupt halt, her wolf senses magnifying to an extreme, Skye stood frozen to the spot and listened carefully. The one who had screamed continued to make dreadful shrieking noises; it was a woman. The raucous, jubilant yells of men could also be heard. Skye started to make her way towards the direction of these terrifying sounds, her senses kicking in. But she hadn’t gone more than a few feet before the screaming stopped, there were sudden shouts of panic from the men, an ear-splitting roar from something that wasn’t human, and then, complete silence.

  Not knowing what to do, Skye stood rooted to the spot for several minutes. It had sounded like someone was in trouble – probably from a gang of thugs – and someone (or rather, something) had intervened. Eventually telling herself that there was nothing she could do for now, she continued her journey home, frowning as she wondered what had happened and pondering, rather guiltily, on whether there was anything she could have done to help.

  *

  The House of Renzo sat majestically in the heart of Notting Hill, its beautiful marble-white exterior illuminated by the moonlit night sky and various streetlamps that surrounded the building. Acres of land lay behind the mansion, all of it belonging to the affluent Renzo family. The high gates were guarded by the latest electronic devices, as well as the good old-fashioned range of guard dogs, who were ready and willing to bite into the skin of any stranger foolish enough to try and enter the grounds.

  Only a handful of people were permitted access to this prestigious establishment and they, of course, consisted of the Renzo family and their many servants, butlers, cooks and companions. So when a stranger from the other side of the city came to visit, requesting an audience with the famed Lord Renzo, he had to go through several astringent checks and measures before being permitted this honour.

  “Greetings, Sir,” bowed the visitor once he had made it into the Lord’s chambers.

  “Please, be seated,” said Lord Renzo. He turned to a butler who was standing nearby.

  “Bring our guest a drink. You are hungry after your journey?”

  “No, my Lord, a drink is fine.”

  The butler bowed and left the room. Lord Renzo eyed the stranger for several moments before speaking.

  “So. What business does the House of Pearson have with us on this fine night?”

  “I am afraid it concerns your son, Raphael, Sir.”

  Lord Renzo’s gaze was unfathomable.

  “Indeed? And my son is a concern to you for what reason?”

  “Lord Pearson’s son has been greatly offended by him, Sir,” replied the servant of the Pearson household. “It appears that today they participated in some form of confrontation.”

  “And what kind of confrontation would that be?”

  “It appears that Lord Pearson’s son was engaging in some jovial, harmless banter with an unknown female. Your son, misreading the situation, involved himself and it is reported that he struck Lord Pearson’s son on the left shoulder.”

  “I see.”

  There was silence in the room for a moment. The butler re-entered with a tray consisting of two small glasses and a bottle of vintage whiskey, pouring some into the glasses and handing them to each of the men.

  “Thank you, Forbes. You may go.”

  With one last bow, the butler left the room again. Lord Renzo took a sip of his whiskey, his expression still unreadable beneath his greying, golden beard and the many lines on his face.

  “I must confess, this is all rather strange,” Lord Renzo said, twirling the glass in his palm. “Raphael is headstrong, but his heart is in the right place. He is not one to dash into a potentially dangerous situation, unless he feels there is good cause to do so.”

  “As I said, my Lord, it appears your son misunderstood the nature of the circumstances between Pearson Jr. and this young lady. Surely quite by accident … but, nevertheless, it has created a resentful grudge in my lord's son. Lord Pearson has requested that you speak to your son, perhaps also reminding him of the agreements our two houses have set up.”

  The messenger said this last bit rather nervously, well aware that he may be coming across as impertinent. Lord Renzo did not speak for several minutes, as though in deep thought. Finally, with a nod of his head, he said,

  “Tell your lord that I shall indeed speak to my son. Was there anything else you wished to discuss with me?”

  “Just one other thing, Sir. As you may be aware, there have been a number of reported disappearances in London; all of the victims are young men, most hailing from East London and on speaking terms with the Pearson family. Some reports have spoken of a huge beast that has been at the scene of several of the crimes, right before the disappearances.”

  “And you wish to discuss this with me for what purpose?”

  “Lord Pearson has expressed … concerns over the identity of the beast, if indeed it does exist.”

  Lord Renzo’s eyes narrowed and for the first time there was a hint of danger in his voice.

  “I am not sure what you are saying exactly, messenger, but please speak in clearer terms.”

  The messenger shifted nervously.

  “My lord is aware of the – the gift that your son possesses … Of course, he very much doubts that such suspicions hold any truth, but –”

  “I can assure you that any suspicions of this nature concerning my son are completely unfounded and untrue,” interrupted Lord Renzo icily, that same dangerous glint in his eyes. The messenger gulped. “Please report this to your lord upon your return. And now, you must forgive me. My back has been giving me pain and I must retire to my room. My butler will give you a room for the night; it is too late for you to travel back to your premises now. Farewell.”

  Interpreting this for what it was, a dismissal, the servant rose from his chair. Lord Renzo rang a nearby bell and the butler entered the room. The servant bowed and thanked the lord for his time and hospitality and left the room first. The butler made way to follow, but before he closed the door, Lord Renzo said,

  “Forbes … bring me Raphael once you are done.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the butler, shutting the doors behind him while his master sank into the luxurious velvet chair beside the crackling fire, the lines on his face more prominent.

  There was a knock on the door ten minutes later.
r />   “Enter.”

  Raphael entered the room, his green eyes luminous from the light of the fire, oblivious to what this was about.

  “Dad? You wanted to see me?”

  “Sit down, Raphael.”

  Taking a chair next to his father, Raphael sat down, slight concern creasing his forehead.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Tell me what happened today between you and Lord Pearson’s son.”

  A shadow crossed over Raphael’s face.

  “Nothing … I just saw him and his gang picking on a girl so I went to stop them.”

  “The boy claims that he and this girl bantered in good spirits and that you misunderstood the situation.”

  Raphael laughed humourlessly.

  “Yeah? I don’t think it’s in ‘good spirits’ for him and his boys to corner a girl and threaten her to give them money; or for him to stroke her face with his finger when she clearly didn’t like it, making it obvious what he was thinking about. Yeah, that sounds like bantering to me.”

  There was unmistakeable anger in his voice. Lord Renzo watched him for several seconds before speaking again.

  “You know full well about the agreement between our houses. We leave them alone, they leave us alone. The agreement was forged because of the number of deaths that occurred during the rioting twelve years ago. You know this. Actively seeking a fight with Lord Pearson’s son is nothing short of folly.”

  “So what was I supposed to do? Sit back and do nothing?” said Raphael, a hard tone to his voice.

  “Did the girl come to any actual harm?”

  “No. But she would have if I hadn’t stepped in. Well … maybe not. She’s a Morpher.”

  “A Morpher? Then presumably she could have taken care of them on her own. What is her inner beast?”

  “I don’t know. But I plan on finding out. The point is, if it hadn’t been her it could have been someone else. Someone who doesn’t have the ability to turn into a wild animal and scare off the thugs. How can you sit there and tell me that I shouldn’t do anything when someone is in trouble? You know what Pearson and his men are like; they terrorize this city!”