by Eve Langlais
“Fuck the rules,” Lana snapped. “I hate rules.”
“I know,” placated her mate. “Have a donut.” The expression “feed the hungry beast” went triply so for a craving, hormonal siren/mermaid misfit.
While her mouth was full, I jumped in. “Given the restrictions on everyone else, this is why it makes the most sense for me to go. I know those mountains.”
“How do you know them?” Beth asked. “I’ve never seen you travel anywhere.”
Because travelling was scary. Another thing my therapist had me working on. “I might have kind of grown up in the Rockies,” I admitted.
Lana spat out her donut. Unheard of. “You mean your shithead family lives there?”
“I never said they were shitheads.” My mom and dad just didn’t understand how their perfect daughter ended up being such a disappointment.
Gone for more than a decade now, I wondered at times how they were doing. I’d only caved twice. I called them not long after I ran, only to tell them I wasn’t dead. I hung up before they could talk. The second time was years later before I met my besties and was living on the streets, having a hard time. My mother answered, and I froze. Didn’t say a word. When she whispered “Claire, is that you?” I hung up. I never let myself be that weak again.
Things hadn’t changed. I still wasn’t a wolf, and my parents deserved better than to have an embarrassment hanging around.
Oh, and a possible killer. But that wasn’t the problem of the day.
“You can’t confront your family alone,” Lana declared.
“Never said I would.” Uttered with a roll of my eyes. “No plans for a family reunion.” Even if I missed Mother’s strawberry rhubarb pie. “However, unlike you and everyone else in this room, I know those mountains.” Kind of. I’d grown up in a small town nestled among the peaks. “I can blend in.”
For some reason Beth snorted. “You, fit in? You draw attention everywhere you go.”
The curse of being adorable—and still very clumsy. But I’d had years to hone my skills in utilizing this aspect to my advantage. “You all need to stop arguing about this. I’m the most sensible solution, especially since we don’t even know if this lead is a good one.”
That coffee cup could have come from any of five locations. However, Lana wouldn’t see reason. She persisted in thinking me incapable. My fault really. I’d recently had stage fright during a demonic kidnapping where the legion of darkness and army of light wanted to kill us.
In my defense, I thought we were goners and saw no point in fighting. However, since that day, I’d made a vow that I would stop being a frightened rabbit. I’d try and be more like good ol’ Bugs Bunny, who wasn’t afraid of anything.
With that vow in mind, despite being forbidden, and without telling anyone, I packed a bag and snuck out that night. I had to do this, not just for Lana, but myself.
I made it to the hallway, where I found Jory waiting by the elevators, jangling a set of keys. “Lana said to drive you to the airport.”
I blinked at him. “She’s letting me go?”
“She isn’t happy about it and cursed quite a bit. Almost made my ears bleed, but she knows you’re the right choice to go scouting.”
Pursing my lips, I perused him before declaring, “You tied her to the bed, didn’t you?”
His lips quirked. “Maybe.”
“She’s going to kill you for helping me.”
“I can handle it. The question is, can you?” Jory’s gaze turned serious, and I appreciated his concern. For a big, war-mongering kind of fellow, he was nice.
“I can do this. I’m not planning on storming a secret base, just locate it. Then I’ll call in the cavalry.”
“Promise?”
I nodded. I knew my limitations. Floppy ears and a twitching nose were no match for guns and needles.
“You try and keep Lana calm and in bed. I’ll probably only be a few days looking. Week or two at the most.” Piece of delicious carrot cake.
Chapter 2
Weeks later, still in the Rockies.
I wanted to ignore the fact my period was late by a week. Given I was regular as clockwork down to the hour, every four weeks, Tuesday morning, five am-ish, this was unusual and concerning.
I had more important things to do than worry that shark week—a term Lana loved to use and that I’d adopted—decided to not make an appearance. My best friend wasn’t the only one to turn feral during that time. I went totally nuts for chocolate, to the point I was ashamed to say I slapped a hand reaching for the M&M’s in my bowl. To his credit, Jory didn’t slap me back, and Lana just about fell over she laughed so hard.
From then on, as a sort of apology for touching my candy stash, when Jory fetched donuts for Lana, he brought me back a chocolate glazed one, too.
Why couldn’t I find a nice guy like that?
Then again, maybe I did find one. What had I done that caused my period to misbehave?
The calendar in the motel room I rented mocked me, the moon fat and round on the Saturday three weeks ago. What had I done that Saturday night by the light of the moon?
I didn’t remember. Ever since I’d returned to the Rockies, I’d been randomly shifting and not recalling a moment of it. Kind of concerning. Exactly what kind of stuff was I getting up to when I went floppy eared? And why did it always end in blood?
Not mine, I should add.
The worst part was I’d tried locking myself in my room after the first time it happened, then the time after. After all, a bunny out in the woods was a meal on four feet waiting to be eaten. But somehow, my best-laid plans never worked. I always woke up the following morning, huddled and naked in the woods. Alone with the taste of blood in my mouth.
What did I do? Or should I be asking, who did I do? I almost gagged. Please don’t tell me I’d seduced the wildlife. I’d heard horror stories of past examples of this happening. Babies born looking human but with the mind and instincts of an animal.
I peered down at my belly and almost lost my breakfast, which would have been a waste seeing as how it was a delicious chocolate croissant.
Surely there was a logical reason to explain why my period was late. Such as stress. After all, I was on a most important mission. A mission lasting much longer than expected, as each town took a week or more to thoroughly investigate for evidence of a secret medical installation hiding supernaturals.
Why couldn’t bad guys post a sign with an arrow stating, “This way to evil secret lab”?
Four towns later and I still had a few more to go because apparently the coffeeshop had expanded, even if their website didn’t reflect it. More towns to visit meant I couldn’t be pregnant, not only because I had a job to do but because I refused to believe I’d mated with the wildlife and I’d not slept with anyone in months.
So there was no reason to fear the stick I’d peed on.
No reason at all.
No way did I have a baby bunny in my belly.
My nose twitched. The seconds on the clock ticked.
The time was up. I glanced at the little window to see…a star. What the heck? It was supposed to be a line for no, a cross for yes. What was an eight-pointed star?
Defective junk. It probably explained why the pharmacy had the kit discounted along with the several-month-old Easter candies—which, unlike the pregnancy test, still tasted delicious.
I tossed the damned thing in the can and stretched. Something popped. My stomach cramped, and sure enough, there was my little friend.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
After taking care of business, I buckled down to get to work. AKA, go scouting for information. I had a feeling about this town. And no, it wasn’t like the feeling I’d gotten in the last two. Turned out that was too much candy on an empty belly.
Exiting my room, with earphones playing my tune—Rednex, “Cotton Eye Joe,” which always made me bouncy—I went for a jog. With no bra.
Slutty, I know, but I did have a reason for
it. A few actually. One, I was convinced bras were a tool of evil. I mean, who came up with the idea of putting wires in them and forcing our poor defenseless boobies to be squished and raised all for the visual pleasure of others? Sure, I got great tips when I shoved my girls into a wired contraption, pushing them high enough to rest my chin on. For some reason the men I waitressed for found this worthy of large tips—but nature never intended for our breasts to be imprisoned.
However, that wasn’t my main reason for jogging and jiggling my perfect C cups. Today was Friday, and at half past four, happy hour would begin at the pub a few blocks over from my motel. Despite it being late summer, creeping into fall, the patio remained open, mostly so the smokers could gather outside and tar their lungs. Usually, I’d cross the road and avoid that pall of carcinogens hanging in the air, but I was on a mission.
I jogged past and ignored the many whistles. Unlike Lana, I didn’t flip the cat callers a bird. Unlike Beth, I didn’t suck in all that sexual energy. I kept on going and hit the candy store I’d discovered. They made fresh fudge. Let that sink in.
Fresh. Fudge.
If the owner weren’t a happily married woman with grandkids, I’d have proposed. As it was, I had to content myself with buying a huge bag of treats.
I took my time sauntering back, enjoying the fall of twilight as lights came on, giving the world a softer appearance. The sights and smells in this town reminded me an awful lot of the one I grew up in. A bunch of homes built in the sixties and seventies, with brick and vinyl siding to accommodate the factory that supplied the bulk of the jobs, pulp mills being the most common.
Then the save-the-environment folk began to make a stink, and the trade over the border got harder, leading to the demise of those jobs, decimating many towns. I still remembered my dad’s face when the mill shut down and everyone was given a pink slip and told to apply for unemployment. But the pack didn’t let that setback chase them from the only place they ever knew. Instead, they dipped into their savings and picked up buildings and land for cheap. Including the defunct mill.
When I left, the town was pretty self-sufficient, with most homes retrofitted with solar and wells. The mayor of town, for legal purposes, being my dad. The sheriff, his brother. As to how they earned money? They began new careers in custom furniture and wood carving art.
Weird, right? And yet people would pay big bucks for authentic stuff. And with a thriving trapping trade by the members of the pack who could claim indigenous status, the pack did all right.
This town reminded me of the one I left except it had returned to a bustling era again. Not because of a booming lumber industry. Some kind of research institute was the new bread and butter for this town.
Weird thing, though, Chymera Tech didn’t appear on any Google search or map. I didn’t even know it existed until I rolled into town and started poking my nose around.
Another interesting fact? None of the locals worked inside the institute itself. Chymera brought in outsiders to man all its medical positions. As to the other jobs such as the guards and cleaning positions? They relied on a temp agency to fulfill the roles and rotated staff every six months.
The town folk didn’t seem to mind. The newbies brought their dollars and infused new economic life into local stores, restaurants, and bars.
Bars like the one I had to pass again with my belly full of chocolate and my boobs doing a little bounce. The men were still outside, drinking and smoking. They spotted me right away, but this time when they called me over with whistles and a “Hey, baby, looking fine,” I smiled and approached.
“Hi there, fellows, what are you celebrating?”
“It’s Friday,” exclaimed a corpulent man, raising his bottle of beer in a toast.
“End of the work week?” I teased. “Sounds like a reason to party. Where you guys work?”
“At the medical place in the woods. I’m a scientist,” said my new leering friend, only to be jabbed by his buddy.
“Shut it, Larry. NDA,” the guy with the comb-over yell-whispered.
Non-disclosure agreement. Sweet. These were just the guys I was looking for, and it looked like Larry probably had the loosest lips of the three. He also had his eyes on my rack, not my face. Predictable.
I worked my flirting magic and soon was sitting with the boys, pretending to drink—because I really didn’t have a head for booze—and laughing at their sexist jokes.
Having worked in a bar, I’d heard them all. Especially the blonde ones.
What did the blonde say when she saw Cheerios for the first time? Donut seeds!
Why did the blonde have a hard time dialling 911? She couldn’t find the eleven.
What do you call a brunette standing in the middle of a group of blondes? Central intelligence.
Ha. Ha. I pretended to laugh. Some of them were kind of funny. Others just proved why I remained single.
At one point, when I figured my new friend had drunk enough, I leaned in close to Larry and whispered, “Want to go somewhere more private?” Because I had some questions to ask. Questions his annoying friend Johnny—who seriously needed a Tic Tac—and his other bud Fred—who could have used better friends to tell him that the comb-over wasn’t working—might object to.
“Yeah. Sure. Now?” Larry’s chair tipped over in his excitement to follow me into the dark, quiet alley between the bar and the building next door. The fact he wore a wedding ring didn’t slow him one bit. Kind of sad, really, but I couldn’t let it stop me.
Larry was my ace in the hole to discovering what happened inside the medical institute since I could find nothing online.
“Where y’all going?” Silly me, I didn’t expect his two friends to join us.
I didn’t panic. Working in a strip club for years meant I’d learned how to fend off drunken guys who got grabby. Funny how the sight of an owl in a park could freeze me—I hid during the scary parts in Harry Potter. But give me a guy who thought I should drop my panties because he said so and I was cool as a frog in a pond.
I turned a faint smile on Johnny and Fred. “Sorry, boys, I wasn’t looking for a threesome.”
“No worries. I ain’t dipping my junk beside Larry’s. We’ll take turns,” said Johnny with a leer.
Ew. That, in my mind, was as bad as sharing a toothbrush, and this was not going according to plan at all. I never intended to actually seduce Larry, just get him to talk. Now that all three of them eyed me with lusty intent, I realized I’d have to abandon my original idea.
“You know what, maybe another time. I have to get up early for work in the morning.” I went to move past them, but the men formed a half-circle to ring me in.
“Not so fast, honey. We’re not done having fun.” Fred no longer looked so drunk, or stupid. His eyes took on a mean cast, bolstered by alcohol. He reached for me.
I slapped his hand. “Excuse me. I don’t think so.”
It didn’t stop them from trying again, and my inner bunny quivered, but I still didn’t worry. Past experience proved I might freeze initially when confronted with violence, but I knew at one point I’d snap out of it and save myself.
Before I could go ninja bunny on their asses, a fourth dude appeared. A behemoth to rival Lana’s beau.
He might prove to be a problem.
Except he wasn’t here to take a turn. “I do believe the lady said she wanted to leave.”
“Screw off— Argh.” Johnny and his bad breath never finished that sentence since the big dude grabbed and tossed him as if he weighed nothing. Then, with one hand, he shoved Fred with the squinty eyes right into the dumpster. As for Larry with the flat-top hair? He ran. Smart guy.
Except that left only me.
With a guy who’d not yet stated his intentions.
“Thank you,” I said, but when I went to move around him, he sidestepped into my path.
Uh-oh. I looked up. Way. Way. Up.
And gasped as I saw his face. “Derek? Is that you?”
Chapter 3
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br /> Thinking he’d spotted Claire and actually confronting her were two vastly different things. For one, Derek had been mistakenly seeing her for years now, ever since she ran away from home. As a side note, grabbing a woman by the arm and exclaiming, “Claire, where you been?” didn’t go over well with strangers. Luckily, his dad knew the arresting officer, and he’d gotten off with a warning.
But he wasn’t hallucinating this time. It really was Claire, in the flesh. She remained just as cute, just as enticing, and just as dumb as before.
Rather than do the nice thing and respond with a “Hey, how you doing?” in a suave voice, he barked, “What the fuck were you thinking, Claire Mahoney? Going into an alley with three drunken asshats? Do you know what might have happened if I’d not come along?”
“Goodness, have you been hitting the juice since I left? Because someone has rage issues,” was her sassy reply.
“I am not taking steroids.” However, there was no denying he’d gotten big. Working as a logger for a few years had a way of packing muscle on a guy.
“Then you really should see someone about the anger thing.”
“I’m angry because you foolishly did something dangerous. You were about to get raped. Or worse.” The very thought caused his rage to continue to boil. A minute later and…
“There’s something worse than rape?” she asked.
“Yeah. Getting killed.”
“But if I were dead, I wouldn’t really care, so can you really say it’s worse?”
Did she seriously ask him that? “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” she countered.
“I live in this town.”
“Since when?”
“Since I needed a job. Now, your turn. What are you doing here?”
“I am passing through.”
“To where? You going back to see your parents? They’ve been looking for you.” What he didn’t say was her parents had grieved hard after she ran. Grieved, searched, and then resolved themselves to losing their child. Thing was, they understood why she’d left. Everyone did. Claire was different than everyone else. Funny thing was he never cared. He liked her quirkiness. He only wished he’d had a chance to tell her.