I felt a stab of shame. What was wrong with me? How long had I been lying here, touching myself and indulging in fantasies I had no business imagining? What would I do if Victor came back home right this minute? After all it was dawn—weres everywhere would be shaking off the call of the moon and going back to their human forms. A were or shape shifter can’t take their animal form during daylight hours—at least, none that I had ever heard of. So no matter where he was, Victor was probably human. And if he came home early and found me lounging in his tub, touching myself…
The thought was enough to send me up and out of the tub in record time. I pulled the plug, grabbed a towel (did the man own any linens that were not navy blue?) and dried myself off hurriedly.
I went to grab my clothes off the floor, only to find they had been soaked by the rush of tepid water I had sent over the side of the tub. Great—now what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t hang around Victor’s house naked or wrapped in a towel.
The howl sounded again, much closer than before. It made me jump and not just because of its proximity. There was something in the long, mournful sound—a note of pain I had heard often enough before in my old life working at the animal hospital. Pain. It’s in pain.
Immediately the vet part of me, the part that had loved animals from the first time I had brought my mother a tiny baby squirrel that had fallen out of a nest to nurse and raise, woke up. I have to help it. I have to.
Leaving my wet clothes in a sodden mass on the floor, I went back to the walk-in closet and grabbed a white t-shirt out of the laundry basket. I could smell Victor’s scent on it and when I pulled it on, the hem fell almost to my knees. The soft, worn cotton felt comforting against my bare skin.
The howl sounded again—this time closer to the house. I ran to the kitchen and heard a thumping sound coming from the other side of the door.
I peered out the half circle of glass located high in the kitchen door, standing on my tiptoes to do it. Just outside was the biggest wolf I had ever seen. It was whining and pushing its furry head against the door, causing it to rattle in its frame and making the thumping sound.
I stood back, gnawing my lower lip in indecision. Was it Victor? Should I let it in? But how could it be him? Dawn was definitely here. I could see the grayish-pink light growing slowly more golden and I could feel the sun, like a weight in the sky above me. Soon that weight would press me into the ground, wearing me out, forcing me to give in to sleep whether I wanted to or not. I still had a little while before I was literally knocked unconscious by the unseen ball of fire in the sky, but I needed to make a decision soon.
I looked out the high window at the top of the door again and saw that the wolf had backed up a little. It was looking up at the door with a mournful expression in its big golden eyes.
But it wasn’t the wolf’s eyes that drew my attention—it was holding one front paw carefully up and out from its body. Hanging from the paw was a trap—a thick, dull silver thing with sharp, wicked looking teeth. The teeth had pierced the wolf’s forepaw and rivulets of blood had run down its leg and matted its grayish-black fur.
That was it—my mind was made up. I couldn’t leave an animal to suffer like that—even a dangerous one that might hurt me.
I had to let it in.
Chapter Four—Wolf
Hurts. It hurts. Ithurts ithurts ithurts. Thoughts are not clear when I am Wolf but that is always true. I am running, trying to get away from the pain in my leg but I can’t, o, I can’t. The wind coming through the trees tells me other wolves are there, other wolves are following. Do they know I am hurt? Are they closing in for the kill?
Instinct sends me home, to the wooded house the man built. He/I—we share this body. Sometimes another shares it too but I don’t like to think of him. The almost Wolf. The in-between one. He frightens me until I want to bite someone, to gnaw my way out of the danger and run and run and run.
I reach the edge of the woods and see the man-house standing there in the first light of dawn. I want to go toward it but something tells me not to—a message, distant but direct, coming from the man who is somewhere far in the back of my head.
“Don’t go near the house. Leave the girl alone.”
I howl in pain and confusion.
What girl? Why should I care about her? The man-house means safety, refuge from the hunting pack that may or may not be chasing me. And maybe even a stop to the pain, the sharp, piercing agony that grips my left foreleg and won’t let go.
I want to go to the house. I can feel the man in the back of my head, watching me, telling me no. The impulse he sends to stay away tries to stop me again but this time I ignore it. The house is safety. The house means no more pain.
But when I get there, the wooden door is shut. Why is it shut? The man always leaves it open for me. He knows I walk the day sometimes, keeping the body we share longer than I truly should. He leaves the door open and some meat on the floor, in case I haven’t caught anything during my hunt. But not this time—this time it is shut.
I push against the door, rattling it in the frame. The silver biter digging its teeth into my paw hurts more with every minute. Why can’t I come in? I want to come in!
I lift my head and howl, giving voice to my frustration and pain. Let me in! Please let me in!
Suddenly, a miracle—the door opens. I start to go to it…and stop. Standing there is a girl, but not just any girl—a dead one. A growl starts to build in my throat. Wolves don’t like dead ones. They are not right—not natural. My instincts say they shouldn’t exist. I do not like things that should not exist—they confuse and frighten me.
The dead one is pale with big, sky-colored eyes—a pale girl. What is she doing in the man-house? Why is she in the place the man and I share?
I growl at her again but the pale girl doesn’t seem frightened—or at least, I don’t catch the scent of fear from her. She crouches down and whispers to me, calling me by a name that sounds familiar. The man’s name? I cock my head to one side, trying to understand. Slowly, I limp-hop a step forward.
“That’s it.” The pale girl’s voice is soft and coaxing. It sounds nice…soothing. She calls me from the doorway and I take another hobbling step forward. Her scent is stronger now and I take a deep whiff. Funny, she doesn’t smell much like a dead one. But she doesn’t smell human either. She smells…she smells almost like another Wolf. Which doesn’t make any sense. How can a dead one be a Wolf?
“Come on, boy. Come on,” the pale girl coaxes. I am almost to the door now but when she reaches for me I am suddenly frightened. I don’t know her—how can I trust her?
I jump back out into the yard and give a short, painful yip as the silver biter grinds its teeth in my paw. Hurts. O, it hurts and hurts and hurts. Please, make it stop. Make it stop hurting!
The pale girl is still crouched in the doorway. She looks up at the sky and now I smell a fear scent on her. But she isn’t frightened of me—she is scared of something in the sky. The sun? The light? It is getting brighter and brighter—soon it will be day. I should leave and let the man take over but somehow I can’t. I am stuck, as I have been many times before.
The pale girl looks stuck too. She wants me to come to her but I cannot—I fear her touch. I fear the pain in my paw. I fear I will be stuck forever and the man will never come forward again.
The girl looks up at the sky once more and seems to make up her mind. Slowly, carefully, she steps outside, past the doorway. At once her fair skin begins to blister. I see the pain in her eyes and smell the hurt in her scent but she doesn’t shout or cry or run away. Instead, she walks slowly toward me, talking softly in that soothing voice.
I am beginning to like that voice. Beginning to like it very much.
“Come on, boy,” the pale girl whispers, holding out her hand to me. “Please come in. I can’t be out here much longer, the sun is almost up. Please, just come in and let me help you.”
Her voice is kind and her scent is right. I make a decisio
n. Going forward, I butt my head gently against her knees. The pale girl strokes me, her fingers gentle in my fur. I shiver all over—she is good. I know it now—the pale girl means me no harm. She will help me—she is part of the house. Part of the safety and the end of pain.
I let her lead me in.
* * * * *
Taylor
I sighed in relief when the wolf finally moved past me into the house. I didn’t know if it was Victor or not but I couldn’t leave it out there with that cruel trap on its paw. If it wasn’t Victor, I hoped he wouldn’t mind me having a strange animal in his house. But I would have to deal with that later. Right then I had a patient to treat.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about the treatment though. This animal was huge—as big as a mastiff if not bigger. It seemed quiet enough now, sitting there on the kitchen floor with its hurt paw held stiffly out in front of it. But what would happen when I tried to remove the trap?
I took a deep breath. I’m a vampire, I reminded myself. I’ll heal if it injures me. Of course, that didn’t mean having my face torn off by an angry, hurt wolf wouldn’t hurt like hell, but I could deal with it. I had dealt with worse pain in the past six years.
Speaking of pain, I cast a quick look at the blistered skin of my hands, arms and legs. My hair had mostly shielded my face but it was going to take a little while for the marks of the sun to fade from my body. Victor’s blood was helping some though—already the blisters were going down, fading to angry red marks that didn’t feel nearly as bad as they looked. In a day or two my skin would probably be as pale and smooth as it had been before I had ventured out into the dawn’s early light.
The wolf whined softly and I felt a stab of guilt. Here I was worried about a few blisters when this poor animal was in excruciating pain. I had to get that trap off its leg and I had to do it fast—before the sun outside forced me to sleep.
I wished briefly for the instruments and materials I’d had back at veterinary college. What I really needed was a syringe full of Lidocaine to numb the paw before I tried to remove the trap. But there was nothing like that here—I would have to do my best and hope the wolf understood.
“Hey, sweet boy,” I said soothingly. “I need to take that nasty mean trap off your leg. I’ll try not to hurt you but I’m afraid it won’t be easy. Can you be a good wolf and let me try?”
The wolf cocked its head to one side as though it was trying hard to understand me. Was it Victor in there? If so, he might not appreciate the way I was baby-talking him. But I couldn’t help myself—this was how I dealt with all my animal patients. Or had, anyway, back before I was turned.
“I need to see your paw now, boy. Can you let me do that?” I took a slow step forward and held out my hand, as though I was asking the wolf to “shake.”
The wolf looked at me a long time from its golden eyes and then, slowly, extended the hurt paw.
“Good boy,” I said soothingly. “Who’s the sweetest, best boy? Everything is going to be all right, fella. You’ll see.”
Slowly, trying not to startle him, I got a grip on the cruel silver trap. There was something malicious about it—something evil that gave me a shiver when I touched it. God, I hadn’t even known anyone still made these horrible things. What sick bastard would have put one out where some poor, wild animal would step in it and probably lose a leg or a paw? I had gotten the impression that Victor owned all the land around his house—so who was putting traps out on his property?
Well, that was a question for whenever my new husband came home. Unless he was sitting right here in front of me, in which case, I really hoped he didn’t chew my face off when I released the trap.
I searched for some kind of release mechanism but the silver metal was slick with blood and I wasn’t having any luck. Plus, I was getting worried about the circulation to the paw. How deeply had the trap sunk into the wolf’s flesh? Were any of the bones broken? Outside, I could feel the sun climbing in the sky, weighing heavily on me. I needed to get the damn trap off and fast.
There was only one thing to do—I would simply have to try and pull it apart. I was certain I couldn’t have done it back when I was human but as a vampire, I might have a chance.
Gripping the two sides of the trap as firmly as I could, I looked at the wolf.
“Okay, sweet boy,” I told him. “Here goes. I’m going to try and set you free. Please don’t bite me if it hurts.” Then I pulled, using a long, slow, steady motion I hoped would release the silver jaws smoothly and with as little pain as possible.
At first I didn’t think the trap would come loose—it was really gripped tight around the wolf’s leg—probably some of the silver teeth were buried in bone. But I wasn’t about to give up. I increased the pressure steadily until finally it sprang loose.
Several things happened at once. The wolf jumped backward with a howl of pain, just as the jaws parted. Its paw yanked free and the blood-slick trap slipped and sprang out of my hands almost like a live thing. For a moment I thought it was going to snap shut on my arm and again I had the feeling that it was evil—that there was actual malicious intent behind those bloody silver teeth. I pulled my hand back just in time, though—sometimes vampire speed comes in handy—and it clattered harmlessly to the floor, its jaws snapping shut on empty air.
I had an impulse to kick it away but I didn’t want to do that with bare feet. Instead, I grabbed the broom from behind the kitchen door and pushed it into the corner where it would hopefully be out of harm's way. Then I looked at the wolf, which was licking its hurt paw.
“I still need to examine you,” I told him, using my softest voice. “We need to get that cleaned up and bandaged. Can you come with me?”
It didn’t object when I came forward and put my hand on its ruff, though it did whine a little when I tried to coax it out of the kitchen.
“What boy? What is it?” I asked as it gazed up at me with those liquid gold eyes. “What do you want?” Then I had an idea—maybe it was hungry.
Going to the fridge, I got a pack of precooked bacon, then changed my mind and added two more packs. I ripped one open and pulled out several stiff slices. Holding them enticingly in front of the wolf’s nose, I began to lead him out of the kitchen.
“Come on, boy. Is this what you want? Is it?”
He snapped up the first two pieces of bacon, woofed happily and followed me for more. Good, now we were getting somewhere.
The wolf must have been really hungry because he had nearly finished the first pack of bacon by the time I got him to the bathroom. I blessed the forethought that had told me to bring two more packs and set to work.
I needed to get the paw washed and dressed and I needed to do it quickly. The sun was rising higher by the minute and I was fading quickly. I could feel the need to sleep pressing down on me, dragging at my eyelids like lead weights. God, I was tired.
I splashed some cold water in my face as I ran some in the sink, which helped to wake me up a little. Then I found a washcloth (navy blue, what else) and got it wet before turning back to the wolf.
He looked at me warily when I approached him with the cloth but I spoke soothingly and—more importantly—opened the second pack of bacon. It was a tricky situation but by the time he had finished the second pack, I had managed to clean the wounds and ascertain that the bones seemed to be intact. That was a relief—I was so tired by now I was yawning continuously and there was no way I could take him out to a vet to get it set if it had been broken.
Stumbling with weariness, I got the first aid kit out of the closet, and came back to the wolf, who had finished pack two and was looking longingly at pack three of the precooked bacon.
“You’re going to have a stomach ache tomorrow,” I predicted as I opened the last pack with a yawn. “But if it keeps you quiet while I work, I guess you can have some more.” I dug the roll of gauze out of the kit and got started dressing the wound.
My eyes were nearly closing as I finished winding the gauze around the
wolf’s massive paw and secured it in place with a little tape.
“Okay now,” I told him sternly. “I’m going to let you back outside but don’t chew on that. Be…” I yawned. “Be a good boy—all right?”
He whined softly and I had the idea that somehow he understood. Well, goody for me—I could apparently now speak wolf language. The thought struck me as funny and I giggled foolishly. Have you ever been so tired it was like you were drunk? That was me just then. Dawn was past and the morning was well advanced—I was so sleepy I could barely stand up from the floor where I had been sitting to treat the wolf’s injuries.
In fact, I couldn’t stand. When I finally got to my feet, I swayed alarmingly. I’m sure I would have fallen if the wolf hadn’t come up beside me and put his back just under my seeking hand. I threaded my fingers through his fur as though he was a Seeing Eye dog and I was blind.
“C’mon, boy,” I mumbled, staggering out of the bathroom. “Time to go…outside.”
I had every intention of taking him back to the kitchen door and letting him out. After all, I was about to be dead to the world—there was no telling how much damage the animal might do while I was asleep. Plus, I couldn’t keep a wild wolf in Victor’s house without his permission.
“C’mon,” I mumbled again and started to lead the wolf to the kitchen. Only, I soon found I was no longer the one leading. The wolf pressed against my legs, guiding me toward the bed.
“Hey, no,” I protested with another bone-cracking yawn. “Can’t…can’t let you stay. Have to go outside now…boy.”
I started for the kitchen again but again the wolf cut me off. He pressed hard against me, herding me as though I was a stupid sheep going the wrong way.
Finally I gave up.
“All right, you win,” I muttered, allowing him to push me to the king sized bed. The sides seemed higher than I remembered. I tried for almost a minute to climb in before I felt the wolf’s furry head nudging me in the bottom, giving me a boost.
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