How The Wolf Lost Her Heart

by Sarah Brownlee

  “Skye, right? Raphael’s chick? Looking sassy – love the hair! Hey ladies, this is Skye.”

  The gaggle of girls smiled and waved at her, as did Ricardo. Joey sipped on his drink, an inviting smile on his face.

  “Want to join us?”

  He gestured to a very narrow spot beside him on the sofa which wasn't occupied by the girls.

  “Ah, no thanks. I’m here with my friend, just getting some drinks for us. Erm … is Raphael here by the way?”

  “Raphael? Yeah, he was in the jazz room last time we saw him.”

  “OK. Well it was nice seeing you all. Enjoy the rest of your evening!”

  “Oh, we will, believe me!” exclaimed Ricardo, a devilish look on his features as he winked at the girls and they giggled.

  Skye returned to the bar, purchased the drinks and made her way to the jazz room where she was to wait for Daphne and (hopefully) say hello to Raphael. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and anxiously fluffed her hair a little before entering the room where smooth, saxophone music was emanating from the speakers. Tentatively, she gazed around, appreciating the neon lighting and calming atmosphere that this room projected, scanning her eyes about for the one person she had hoped to see tonight. Her eyes finally fell some ten feet in front of her and she could not mistake the shoulder-length, jet-black hair and toned torso that was covered by a black shirt; there was Raphael. But it was a sight that caused her to freeze in her tracks, her blood running cold and her head swimming in a dizzy, sickening way.

  Raphael was there but he was not alone. Wrapped in his arms in a tight embrace was Sasha and they were kissing. She could only see Sasha’s back, but there was no mistaking the red dress; nor was there any mistake in how tightly she was holding him and how their lips were locked together. Skye felt her breath shorten, struggling with respiration to her windpipe; her heart seemed as though hands were crushing it beneath their grip; her stomach twisted and coiled as she felt the sudden urge to vomit. Everything else disappeared in that instant and only the vision, the very real vision, of Raphael and Sasha remained.

  It can’t be, it can’t be …

  She was only there for a matter of seconds. With a great CLANG! she dropped her drinks, the glass smashing to the floor and several people cried out as juice splashed over them. Skye fled the room, that same feeling of needing to spew her guts overwhelming her; she had to get outside, she felt as though she was going to collapse. Barging her way past everyone in what seemed like a drunken stupor, she managed to reach the entrance where she was enveloped by the cool, night breeze. She felt so faint; sick and faint. The myriad of people and sounds of laughter surrounding her seemed to be from another realm; she felt so disconnected from them. She found a deserted spot by the car park. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she leaned against the wall for support. Her head was swimming and she could barely see straight. The image of Raphael and Sasha replayed over and over again in her mind.

  I was wrong … I was wrong … I was so, so wrong …

  Her heart, which was still being crushed beneath her chest, beat wildly. It was not jealousy that she felt this time; it was beyond that. The jealousy only had claim to her if she believed she had claim to him, but what she had just witnessed proved she did not. Despair and anguish flooded through her; how could she have been so stupid? To genuinely believe that he may have feelings for her … To have dared and hoped … To have mistaken his kindness and affection for something more … To have believed there was something beautiful between them from the times they spent together on Hampstead Heath, at his home, when he came to rescue her … To have allowed herself to fall in love with him … Only for the harsh reality to hit her so violently that she felt as though she might die in that very instant. Humiliation, self-reproach, rage but, most of all, the feeling of her heart shattering to pieces – all these emotions consumed her and the explosion that occurred was one of inevitability. With a cry of distress, she transformed. Her clothes ripped wildly from her body as the claws and powerful hind legs replaced her human ones. Her eyes flashed luminous blue; her chest distorted completely, but still it could not ease this devastating pain that was conquering her. With a great howl she raced off into the darkness, her outfit lying, shredded, where she had stood, a wreckage that could not even begin to compete with the heart inside her that had been torn to bits, ripped so brutally from its socket.

  She did not know how long she ran for, nor how far. All she knew was that everything she had believed for the past few months had been a lie. She could not believe that she had thought he might have fallen for her the same way she had fallen for him; nor that she had truly thought he would be able to resist Sasha. Sadness flooded through her amidst the anger, the mortification and the grief. Always she had prided herself on her realism, but for the first time she had allowed herself to float into a world of fantasy. Now she was to suffer the consequences for it. How could she even be angry at him? He had not led her on, she had led herself on. Yes, he had told her that Sasha wasn’t his type and he had informed her that he no longer found her attractive. But he was free to feel as he wished; if his feelings towards the girl changed then that was his prerogative. He was not bound to Skye, nor she to him; and the only person who could be blamed was herself for falling so hard … And when you fall hard there was only one outcome: to crash and burn.

  When she returned home, she jumped in through her window as she always did whenever she transformed at night. She morphed back into her human self, self-hatred surging through her.

  That was the only reason he wanted to know me, she thought bitterly, because I’m a Morpher. It’s my own fault for thinking there was something more … Haha, joke’s on me …

  She climbed into bed and ignored the soft calling of her mother who wanted to see if she was upstairs. Closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep, Skye was unable to prevent the steady stream of tears that trickled down her cheeks. She could never allow Raphael to know that she saw him with Sasha, nor the feelings she had held for him. She could not let him suspect that anything was wrong for she simply couldn’t bear to add further humiliation to her plight. No, she would carry on as normal. But she would never again let herself develop feelings for him, no matter what. The very thing she had feared had come true. It just wasn’t worth it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Skye! What happened to you yesterday? Where did you go?”

  It was Sunday morning and Daphne had burst into Skye’s room, her face alight with concern. Skye was still in bed and groaned, yawning loudly, that sick feeling still lying in the bottom of her stomach as she recalled the events of the night before. There was nothing worse than having something horrible happen to you and then waking up to immediately have it flash back into your mind.

  “Daphne …” she croaked, peering blurringly at her friend. “How did you get in?”

  “Your mum let me in of course! I’ve been really worried! You were supposed to meet me and Edge in the jazz room, but you weren’t there! Been trying to call your tag device, but no reply –”

  “My tag device,” said Skye in horror, only just realizing that, in light of the terrible situation yesterday, she had left her bag containing all her things in the car park.

  “Yes, your tag device!” said Daphne, a great frown creasing her forehead. “What happened? We went to the jazz room and looked everywhere; we saw Raphael and asked him if he’d seen you, but he hadn’t.”

  Raphael? Her stomach lurched.

  “Yes, well you shouldn’t have bothered him, he was probably busy,” said Skye dully, turning her back and facing the wall.

  “Actually, when we mentioned you were supposed to meet us there he helped us look for you. He said he was going to come to your house and see if you were OK. Did you speak to him?”

  “No I did not. And I’m really tired. I want to go back to sleep.”

  “But Skye,” said Daphne in a frustrated voice, “what happened? Where did you go? And why weren’t you pick
ing up your device?”

  “Because I just wasn’t, OK? I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Fine!” Daphne threw her hands in the air. “Be like that!”

  And she stormed out of the room, slamming the door. Skye pulled the covers over her head, feeling even more miserable than she had before.

  Five minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

  “Skye? It’s Raphael. Can I come in?”

  Her eyes magnified in amazement. Raphael? What was he doing here? She couldn’t believe he was in her house, outside her room, nor that he would have the nerve to show his face after last night. But she had vowed to herself not to allow him to know that anything was wrong so, after a minute, she called out,

  “Come in.”

  The door opened and Raphael entered the room. Skye peered out from underneath the covers, but her eyes fixated firmly on his shoes. There was no way she would be able to look him in the face without feeling sick.

  “Skye, are you alright? Daphne said you went missing yesterday and I helped her look for you. I found your bag near the parking lot and thought I’d bring it here, I was worried because it was just lying there. I came by last night to check if you were here and your mum told me you were sleeping. Are you feeling OK?”

  Skye found it very difficult to engage in conversation with him; that same heartbreak and resentment was overriding her and she struggled to contain her emotions, thoroughly glad that her face was covered by the bed sheets.

  “I’m fine,” she said in a muffled voice. “Thanks for bringing my things over.”

  “That’s OK. I was hoping to see you yesterday. My brother told me he spoke to you and told you I was in the jazz room. I thought maybe you would have come by …”

  Oh, did you? Skye was unable to keep out the hostility that flooded through her thoughts. Hoping to see what I fool I’d look like at catching you and Sasha eating each other’s faces, you mean? Don’t know why you couldn’t have just told me that you like her, rather than pretending you don’t!

  “Yeah, sorry, I just started feeling a bit sick,” she said with difficulty.

  “But why was your bag in the parking lot?”

  “Because … I dropped it. And didn’t realize. Anyway … sorry, I’m still feeling a bit ill and should probably get a bit more sleep. Thanks again for bringing my bag to me.”

  With that abrupt farewell, Skye pulled the covers over her so that they now shielded her eyes. She felt Raphael shift hesitantly and then heard his footsteps leave the room, closing the door quietly behind him. After a moment, that same crushing feeling and despair flooded through her once more and she burst into tears, her pillow drenched from tears of sorrow that could not be restrained.

  *

  It was a month before Skye was able to look Raphael in the eye again. Time really was a masterful healer – or at least, burier. The more she told herself that the connection she had genuinely thought was there had actually been in her mind, the less painful it was to deal with the heartache, even if it was a slow and laborious process. Looking back, she could see that he had never been anything more than friendly towards her; in a way she was grateful for the solid evidence that he had no romantic interest in her. The only issue was that her feelings had been given time to grow in prior months and there was still always that aching burn whenever she spoke to him or that twisted knot in her stomach whenever she looked at him. But the power of the human mind was a remarkable thing, especially for someone who relied on mind-power to willingly transform into her inner beast. She had sunk into a deep depression in the days following that dreadful night; at first, the moping around and excessive consumption of ice cream seemed to help. Her ability to morph was also disturbingly affected, as were her senses. On several occasions when she had gone for her nightly runs, transformation proved difficult. Once, she found herself stuck in a sort of hybrid form, half human and half wolf, with the face and body of a human, yet ears, tail and fur sprouting from head to toe. There were a few times in Raphael’s company (which she tried to avoid at all costs) whereby she almost blew up at him, but detained it with screaming questions in her mind; why he hadn’t told her the truth about Sasha? For he never mentioned the kiss to her and she certainly couldn’t ask, for pride always stopped her from making a further fool of herself. After all … she was not his girlfriend and had no right to ask. But days passed and Skye tried to regain her spirit. She continued to talk occasionally with Raphael as she attempted to simply get on with life. Yet the dull stinging sensation of a broken heart was always there.

  There was only one time when she saw Sasha since that night and it was as she was walking down the road to collect some milk for her mother. A shuttle bus chugged past and she lazily raised her eyes to look at it. As she scanned it, her gaze fell straight into the malevolent glare of Sasha, who was sitting on the bus and staring at her with a look of pure venom.

  No change there, Skye thought, diverting her eyes, the glum emotion washing over her as the bus rolled away.

  Having not told anyone about the reason for her sudden bout of melancholy, Skye neither expected nor wanted sympathy from anyone. But Daphne could sense something was wrong and was constantly trying to engage her in frivolous activities. While Skye appreciated her friend’s concern, she did not think that speed-dating, for example, was likely to hearten her.

  “Erm, yes … Not really my thing,” she said in response to Daphne’s suggestion about speed-dating one night.

  “But it will be so much fun!” exclaimed Daphne. “Come on, why not? You’ve been down ever since the night of the celebrations. A little speed-dating is bound to cheer you up!”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, what about Edge? I don’t think he’d be too happy if he found out you went to something like that …”

  Daphne threw her nose in the air.

  “Hmpf. Forget him. I’m going to finish with him. He’s been driving me insane. At first I thought the protectiveness thing was cute. Now it’s just bugging me. I can’t even take a shower without him questioning what I’m doing! Besides, I’ve met someone else.”

  Skye was mildly curious.

  “Really? Who?”

  “Can’t say. Anyway, you up for this speed-dating thing or not?”

  “Not. Sorry. Anyway, I want to just stay in tonight … Got a few books to read. Next week we’ll go for a drink or something … Speak to you later.”

  She walked into her house, switched on the lights and made her way up the stairs. Her mother was not yet back (apparently she was out with a ‘friend’ from work and Skye suspected this friend was a little more than a friend considering it was a ‘he’ and she had gone out with him every week for the past month). She entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, disappointed to find there was no meat lying around. There were a couple tins of tuna, though, which would have to do and she made a mental note to remind herself to buy some steak tomorrow.

  “Well, well. Look what we have here. Dinner time for the doggy.”

  Skye froze, her blood turning to ice. She spun round and found a man grinning nastily at her. There was no mistaking the scar on his face – it was Finn Pearson. Out of the shadows, behind the door and emerging from the corridors, followed four other men who blocked off her exit and surrounded her.

  Shock and fear flooded through her.

  “How did you get in my house?” she growled, instinctively grabbing hold of a frying pan that was lying on the counter.

  “We go anywhere we choose to,” sneered Pearson, moving closer to her. “So! It seems that the girl Renzo came to rescue is a Morpher herself. Amazing how things turn out that way.”

  “You sure this is her, Finn?” said one of the thugs. “The Morphers are supposed to sense intrusion, but she didn’t know we were here.”

  “That’s definitely her,” said another thug, glaring at Skye. “That’s the one who transformed and attacked us.”

  “You were one of the scum who hurt that boy!” said Skye furiously, recog
nizing the man.

  “Yeah, it’s definitely her,” grinned Pearson. “Looks like we’ve been tailing the right girl after all.”

  He edged nearer threateningly.

  “My friends and I are getting tired of you Morphers spoiling our fun,” he said in a quiet voice. “Renzo is a bit more difficult to get to; the kid is protected by his daddy, you see. The fortress means we can’t get in. You on the other hand … Some little nobody in her cheap little house. Who’s going to protect you? Even if you do transform, it’s five on one. Plus, we have a couple of things that will keep you in check in case you get out of hand.”

  And simultaneously, he and his gang pulled knives out from their pockets, wicked leers masking their faces. Skye’s heart pounded.

  “You should know better than to mess with a Morpher,” she said, in an attempt to appear braver than she felt. In a commanding voice she added: “Maybe if you see what I’m capable of, you’ll wish you’d given me the respect I deserve!”

  Pearson snorted.

  “Respect? Why should we respect you? All this crap about how Morphers should be respected just because they can turn into a bunch of fluffy animals. Well not anymore. I wonder how everyone will feel once they find out that one of the great Morphers was killed in her own home?”

  “We’ll see,” Skye snarled and she willed herself to transform in that instant.

  But to her absolute horror, she remained human.

  No, she thought in dismay, not now. Come on, transform! Transform!

  It appeared that the depression she had felt over the past few weeks and the difficulties she had experienced in morphing were still prevalent. Desperately, she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on turning into a wolf, beads of sweat dripping down her face. But all that happened was her face grew slightly longer, her eyes switching from brown to blue and ears sprouting from her head.

  The thugs howled with laughter.

  “What’s the matter, pooch?” screeched Pearson as the men doubled up in hysterics. “Having problems transforming? Even better. This’ll be easier than I thought.”