Chapter 9
July 3rd 2011 5:17 p.m.
It had been a pretty good day, all things considered. Marcellus said I was coming along nicely. A "real improvement" since he started teaching me six months ago. I never really pictured myself as the type of girl to take self-defense training, but with the shit that tended to get thrown my way, it really couldn't hurt. I already knew how to fight but it was the real dirty street-brawling type stuff.
Marcellus mentioned before that he was surprised at my speed and endurance when we started training, but that I lacked discipline. Go figure. I could chalk the speed and endurance up to the same thing responsible for the lack of discipline.
Running with Frank meant I needed to know how to handle myself. It was just part of the lifestyle. I didn’t go out looking for fights, but if I wanted to go out with the guys without running into the cops, then I had to know how to fight my way out of a shit-storm.
With the time and distance I’d put between us, I also came to many hard truths about how he manipulated me. He often encouraged my anger, antagonizing me or making bad situations worse until I let it take control of the wheel. You couldn't have both rage and control. It just didn't work.
McKinley's technically didn’t offer self-defense classes. Marcellus was just a regular weight-jockey that liked to spar other guys on the mats. It was just a happy circumstance I came in the same day he was kickboxing with someone. I guess my interest in the fighting style was what eventually led him to offer to teach me various techniques.
In truth, he wasn't just good at kick-boxing. Trained in aikido, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, judo, Muay Thai, and of course, karate, Marcellus was one scary mother fucker. I would never want to be on his bad side. And yet, there I was sparring him twice a week and letting him knock me around like a rag doll.
After drying off from a much needed shower and slipping into my pajama pants, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and get cracking on my homework. My arms and legs were sore, as they always were after the gym, but sore muscles would not be accepted as an excuse by my English-Lit professor.
I had already put off the assigned reading for two days. Any longer and I was pushing it. It was due in three days, and I still hadn't started reading it, let alone write a critique on it.
Hours ticked on as I hit the books, pouring over the copy of Pride and Prejudice I checked out from the public library. By nine o’clock, my head was pounding. There were so many obsolete words and forgotten language nuances.
And the day-to-day lives of women back in those times were horrible. Marriage was the most important thing for a girl to look forward to in her life. Watch her sisters get married off, marry a man, typically twice her age, and then marry off her own daughters.
While I had to admit Elizabeth Bennett was a woman ahead of her time, from what I’d been able to follow, even she was of the mind that a marriage was the main event. The only thing that set her apart from the rest was her bold tongue and desires to marry someone of her own preference. I couldn't imagine thinking of nothing else in the prime of my life than which man I would serve until death.
I slammed the novel shut, letting my frustrations out on it, and raised my arms above my head in a delicious stretch. I had sat down for far too long. My back was stiff and achy from the mixture of the afternoon training and not moving for the last couple of hours.
As I bent backwards, appreciating a good stretch to my tensed up back muscles, I caught a glimpse of my calendar out of the corner of my eye. Two very large brown eyes were staring back at me with a depressingly pathetic plea to be adopted. Liz was convinced I needed a pet or something to keep me company. Apparently, this Humane Society Puppy Calendar she bought me was supposed to convince me to save one of the animals in the local shelter.
"Shit," I cursed as today's date caught my eye.
Trash night. I had forgotten all about it last week. Honestly, I always forgot about it.
The truck was an invisible entity, a real ghost story because it came very early in the morning and I had never actually seen the thing. Lecturing myself to be a damn adult get it done while I was thinking about it, I moved about my apartment and collected the trash in every room and moved to the door.
The musical chime of my phone erupted in the kitchen, stopping me for a moment but the weight of the bags urged me forward. Let it go to voicemail. My hands were full.
My apartment was actually one-fourth of a quadruplex sitting just on the edge of the city. I'd lived in the upper right apartment since moving to Houston. The area was quiet, a little more secluded than the hustle and bustle of the city proper, and rent was cheap. Perfect for a single gal trying to keep a low profile. The other upper level apartment was vacant, and had been for a few months, and the bottom two were rented by a couple of cousins or something. Actually, I wasn’t sure how they're related to one another, but I'd seen the massive get-togethers where people spill out from both apartments and into the courtyard between them.
The only thing I hated about my apartment, other than the time-bomb water-heater, was the stairs. Narrow staircases outside my front door lead to each of the top-level units. Hauling anything up or down the steps, especially in some of the shoes I own, is a near-death experience. Dragging down more than one 13 gallon trash bag was not my idea of a good time, either.
With one slung awkwardly over my left shoulder and the other dragging heavily across each step, I only just managed to not kill myself or tear the bottom of the bag open to rain trash down on my neighbor's porch.
It took a few tries but I was finally able to toss both bags into the dumpster just around the corner from my side of the building. Thank God the trucks were coming the next day since it seemed that they were fuller than normal. Last thing we needed was a bunch of wild animals scavenging from our trash.
I turned to make my way back upstairs but stopped as a glance upward brought the night sky to my attention. It was clear and beautiful.
This was another reason I preferred living on the edges of the city. While the stars weren't quite as brilliant as I had seen in smaller towns, this was as clear as I could see them out here. The trees were plentiful in this area but they were far enough from my building that it put me right in the middle of a broad clearing, leaving the sky to full exposure.
For whatever reason, the night always seemed to have a calming, sometimes clarifying effect on me. It soothed my mood and allowed me to shrink away from all those outside forces of trouble. Made me feel like there was no way trouble could find tiny insignificant me under something as large as the heavens.
A gentle rustling interrupted my moment of meditation. I glanced over my shoulder, looking out towards the trash cans with a deep sigh. I knew it. They were already attracting pests, probably a raccoon or stray cat looking for a quick meal. I made my way back to the dumpster and made a sharp hissing sound through my teeth in hopes of scaring the animal away.
"Pssst. Go on... no dinner here."
Another thunk against the side of the bin urged me closer, my eyes searching the darkness for the animal. I had no idea why it was so overflowing, maybe the neighbors had another party, but I couldn't just let it be ransacked by some animal when I could scare it away—mostly because I didn't feel like being the one to clean it up in the morning.
As I neared the edge of the trash, I gave one last attempt to scare it off, clapping my hands hoping to spook it away. Instead, I was met with two eerily glowing yellow eyes.
I stopped and stared at them. They were much higher off the ground than a raccoon or opossum would be, and their menacing glow raised the hair on my arms. Was it a dog? I'd never seen a dog's eyes reflect so brightly in the dark. I hadn't seen any animal's eyes do that. The thought barely passed through my brain when it hit me.
That wasn't exactly true.
I thought about running upstairs. For the moment, the thing seemed to be okay with just watching me. No sudden movements, I repeated to myself. Don't give it any reason to get worked
up. If I just stayed very still it might realize I wasn't a threat and move on.
The eyes shifted, and I hoped it was turning to scamper the other way. Instead, a large furry paw stepped out of the shadows and into the barely luminous glow of the neighbor's porch light. My skin tightened around me, a cool flush creeping down my skin as adrenaline mixed with dread as I watched this dog creep closer.
No, it was bigger than a dog. So much bigger. A low growl rolled from the animal's throat as it eased its face into the light.
Its advancing forced me back a step before I could stop myself, and I cursed under my breath. The animal stared at me, neither one of us making another move. Now that its front half was bathed in the soft light, I could tell that this was absolutely not a dog but, a wolf. Fear gripped me as I stared at it.
Ever since the night I left Frank, I'd been trying to convince myself I hadn't seen what I thought I'd seen. It couldn't have been real, and every time I thought about it I felt more and more crazy. It was a stress-induced hallucination, a terrible mix of too much drinking, too much fighting, and too much craziness in my life. Everything had finally caught up to me and created this wild and unfathomable delusion my mind used to make me finally do what I should have done long before. It gave me inarguable reason to leave Frank.
Given everything I’d seen, real or otherwise, my anxiety skyrocketed any time I saw a wolf. This one in front of me was real, it was huge, and it was slowly coming toward me.
If I ran, it would most likely chase me down. However, the longer I stood here the louder and more menacing its growling became. It was going to attack me no matter what. I could feel it in my bones. That impending dread pulsed against my brain like a buzzer telling me I hit the nail on the head.
I scanned around me and the wolf in search of a weapon, shielding, something. I whimpered as the animal drew closer. He was about to pounce. My skin was cold, my brow damp, and my heart raced impossibly fast.
Beneath the stairs leading up to my apartment, I noticed a disruption in the shadows. It was a piece of shoddy wood, about 3 feet in length and the only thing within reach that might persuade this wolf to leave me alone. I knew it would be on top of me the instant I moved for the board. I had to be quick.
With one last glance to the wolf, I shifted my weight to my left foot twisting my body so that I could jump over to the piece of wood. A ferocious snarl erupted behind me. My arm stretched out for the board, but I judged short. My fingertips brushed the edge of the plank seconds before I felt a powerful jerk at my pant leg, dragging me backward.
I watched the plank retreat from reach and flipped over on my back, staring down the line of my body at the wolf as he dragged me across the ground. My throat burned, but I didn't remember screaming. My eyes darted to the driveway, hope filling my chest. I thought maybe my neighbor would have heard and come running to my aid.
He wasn't home. I was all alone. My ankle suddenly dropped to the ground, and I snapped my attention back to the rabid animal. The wolf leapt, all strong muscle moving under that coarse fur, and lunged toward me. My foot connected hard against its ribcage, sending it flying in the other direction.
I didn't waste a precious second to see where it landed. I scrambled to my stomach and crawled as fast as my hands and knees would let me until I snatched up the plank of wood. I flipped back onto my back, grabbed the board near the ends with both hands, and held it across my chest. Once more the wolf leapt toward me. I held the board at arm's length, hoping to block its snarling, drooling snout.
The board nearly connected with it, but another growling bark erupted at my side, and a light-colored blur crashed against the side of the wolf, knocking it to its side on the ground and skidding the pair of them across the pavement.
I stayed on the ground, paralyzed by fear, confusion, and adrenaline and strained to see what was happening in the shadows of the driveway. Another wolf had intervened. The snarling, the snapping, the sound of teeth and claw and solid muscle hitting the ground echoed as the two animals fought. The lighter-colored wolf kept the darker one at bay, pouncing on it and clenching teeth around its neck.
Slowly, my senses came back to me, and I glanced up to the staircase. The second wolf had given me an opening to get away, and I needed to take it before they both turned on me. Scrambling to my feet, board in hand, I clamored to my stairs and climbed as quickly as my feet could carry me. When I neared the top, my legs turned to jelly beneath me. My door was within reach; only a couple more steps to safety.
A sharp, sudden, whine sounded from the driveway below, forcing me to turn around. The darker wolf was running away from the apartments towards the line of trees across the road, the other...
I stared down past the railing and watched the second animal limp around the driveway. She was hurt. Hurt from protecting me. I stared down at her, unsure of what to do. It was just another wild animal, right? Just like the first one that had tried to rip my throat out.
Large blue eyes turned up and stared at me, imploring. Pleading. My hand gripped the rail as I tried to convince myself that it would know what to do for itself. It's lasted this long on its own. Obviously it wouldn't have survived if it didn't know how to take care of itself. No sooner than I moved toward my door, the wolf fell to its side.
There was no more thinking, no more debating. I gripped the board in my hand and fumbled down the stairs, alert for signs of movement. If that other wolf came back, I wanted to be ready this time.
I rushed over to the wounded animal, slowing just out of reach of it. It looked so helpless lying on the ground, its side rising and falling in long breaths. Slowly in, quickly out. It was struggling to breathe. She was much smaller than the other one, about the size of a normal wolf. Not small, exactly, but not the same as the massive monsters that had been haunting my dreams for months now. Not as big as the one she had saved me from.
Her eyes stared out in front of her, unfocused. Her cream-colored fur looked so soft until it reached her front paw and the side of her neck where light fur became matted in dark crimson tangles. My heart hurt for the animal. All of this pain, all this damage, was because she tried to save me.
I would consider the 'whys' later. Right now, I needed to see if I could help her. I thought about throwing her into my car and driving to the animal shelter off the highway, but Liz popped into my mind. She was completely anti-shelter. The more I thought about it, I knew they would put this wolf down. I couldn't deliver her into the hands of death now.
I glanced upstairs and sighed. Maybe the damage wasn't as bad as it looked. If I cleaned her up, wrapped a bandage around her leg, maybe she could heal on her own in the woods. If anything, she seemed exhausted from the fight, and I could at least keep her safe until she was ready to fight off whatever came after her. Sleeping out there, wounded and fatigued, the other wolf might come back and finish the job.
I was upstairs only five minutes before I came back down with a belt and an old sheet. I laid the sheet out behind her back and walked back around to her head, kneeling slowly with the belt in hand. If I was going to do this I wasn't going to take any chances. I needed all of my fingers after all.
I laced the tip of the belt through the silver buckle. The wolf's eyes moved to me, watching me as I inched the loop towards her muzzle. She locked eyes with me and we stared at each other for what seemed like eternity before she moved her eyes away from mine. It seemed like she was giving me permission. God, I hoped so.
I moved the belt and wrapped it around her snout, pulling the loop tight until it was snug to her muzzle, and clasped it shut. Her eyelids closed and I let out a shaky breath.
"I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to roll you over onto the sheet." I said.
I didn't want to touch the injured leg, and I wasn't sure grabbing a wild, already skittish, animal by the hind legs was a smart move. Hell, moving a wild animal was already stupid, but I was left with few options.
I decided to use her mid-section to roll her over onto the sheet.
I wasn't strong enough to lift the animal in my arms and carry her upstairs but the sheet would allow me to drag her a little easier. I would have to take extra care on the steps. Images of the poor thing rolling down the stairs played through my head, made me hesitate, but what else could I do? Crouching down between her front and back legs, I placed my hands onto her belly, her fur surprisingly soft under my hands. With a small prayer, I shoved her, rolling her over with little protesting on her part.
I held the corners of the sheet in both hands as I stared up the narrow and tall flight of stairs. What the hell was I doing? I could barely take two trash bags down these stairs. Now I was trying to drag a good 70 pounds up them. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Alley-oop," I whispered before taking the first step and tugging on the sheet. She was so heavy and I thought, for a moment, I wouldn’t be able to get her to the top. My shoulders screamed at me. I released my breath and relaxed my grip on the sheet. I hadn't even gotten her off the ground. I stood two steps above her and shook my head. It wasn't going to be easy but I was going to do it, dammit.
About thirty-five minutes later, I managed to climb up the 20ish steps with the wolf in tow and dragged her through the threshold of my apartment. I slammed the door behind us and rested against it, sliding down to the ground. My lungs ached, and my breathing came out in harried pants; my skin was coated in sweat.
Remembering the reason for the whole test of strength, I jumped to my feet and went to the bathroom to find anything that could help me with her. A few minutes later, I emerged with a bowl of warm water, a small stack of wash cloths, and an old clean t-shirt. I set the bowl of water down on the floor and knelt next to it, dipping a wash cloth into the water and ringing it out.
I'd never done wound care on an animal before, unless we’re talking animals of the human variety. There were countless times I’d patched up Frank after one incident or another. Still, I doubted triple antibiotic and Band Aids were going to be of much help.
Wash it up, wrap it, and let the wolf tear the rags away at her leisure. That seemed to be the best I could offer. So I spent the next hour trying to clean the blood away from the wound and return her fur back to the beautiful cream color it had been. When I looked closer at her leg, I found a set of small punctures in a row. The other wolf hadn't appeared to rip any of the skin, thankfully. It should heal easily.
I grabbed my shirt, ripped a three-inch-wide strip from it, and wrapped it around the wolf's front leg. Happy with my work, I tended the other wound. I could clean it, but I wouldn't be able to bandage around her neck. Just cleaning it out would have to work. Her fur still had an orange tint around the neck and leg, but I’d done my best.
"There you go, girl," I whispered, sliding my fingers through her fur.
I had always imagined wolves having coarse, brittle fur. Hers was surprisingly soft. She stared up at me as I pet her and I smiled down at her, amazed that she was allowing it.
I stood and stretched my back. It was almost midnight, and I needed some sleep. The wolf lifted her head, watching me sidelong while I locked my door and picked up the soiled cloths and the bowl.
"You can sleep in my house tonight so that big bad wolf doesn't take advantage of your injury." Again, I was talking to a freaking animal. "Just... Don't eat me. Please."
I put the washcloths in my hamper and dumped the red water in the bathroom sink before heading to bed. I froze as I passed the television on my dresser.
The volume was set low enough so it didn't distract me from studying, but loud enough to give me that comforting white noise in the background. What I saw staring back at me, though, was as far from comforting as one could get.
Braedon's handsome face was on the screen. Seeing his picture on TV was enough to distract me, but the headline accompanying it made my heart stop.
"Area Man Found Dead in Alley Behind Castro's Bistro."
"Holy... Shit," I whispered.
While they interviewed the police on the scene, I ran into the other room and snatched my phone, dialing Liz while I returned to the television. The news had already moved on to the next story, but Liz had to have seen it. He was her friend. Surely she'd know what had happened.
She didn't pick up. I cursed and plugged my phone into the charger as questions whirled around in my mind. What had happened to him? Was he mugged? And right after he saw me off? The thought made me sick to my stomach with all the 'what-ifs' that revelation created.
I crawled into bed and pulled the comforter up, and dropped onto my pillow. What should have been a sweet, blissful sleep turned into tossing and turning. I reached an arm over to my nightstand through the darkness and started to nestle back into my bed, but the sound of my door creaking shot me up again.
"Hello?" I called out into the empty darkness. My heart began to race again. A thousand possibilities rolled around my imagination. I lived alone so there was no reason for my door to be moving. All of my windows were shut, my door locked, and I hadn't heard anyone trying to get in. My blood went cold as I thought of other possibilities, and Frank suddenly popped in at the top of the list.
Oh God, had he found out where I was? I didn't want to think of what he would do if he ever did.
I slowly reached my arm back, squeezing my hand between the headboard and the wall. My fingers brushed the holster, and I was a hair's breadth from pulling my gun, when a soft whine squealed from the side of my bed.
I looked down to find the wolf staring at me, her eyes flicking to my awkwardly angled arm. My relief blew out of me on the end of a deep sigh, and I pulled my arm back in front of me toreach down and pet the wolf.
"Okay. But on the floor," I conceded to that imploring stare. As if understanding me, she padded in a circle, limping slightly, and lowered herself gracefully to the ground. I laid back on the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, ready to welcome the greedy clutches of unconsciousness.
I hadn't thought of Frank in a while. I mean really thought of him, as opposed to a fleeting memory here and there. He was always in the back of my mind. If I let my guard down too much, I was just asking for trouble, but the longer I'd gone without him the easier it was getting to move on with my life. It had also gotten easier to forget just how much he scared me until moments like this.
With that all too familiar paranoia clutching at my chest, I drifted into a restless sleep.
Deny the Moon Page 17