Robin Wayne Bailey is the Nebula Award-nominated author of numerous novels, including the Dragonkin series, the Brothers of the Dragon trilogy, and the Frost saga, among others. His science fiction stories were recently collected in Turn Left to Tomorrow, and his work has appeared in many anthologies and magazines. He lives in Kansas City, Missouri. Visit him at his web-site: http://www.robinwaynebailey.net
Mary Harry moved quickly to take up her daily post at the front door. In the crook of her right arm, she carried three brown paper lunch bags. With her left hand, she adjusted the single string of pearls around her throat and smoothed her primly starched blue cotton dress. She glanced at the clock on the living room wall, sighed, took a deep breath, and put on a bright smile.
A noisy clatter sounded from upstairs, and a bedroom door slammed. A moment later, dragging his book bag behind, little Larry Harry bounded down the perfectly polished tiger oak staircase. His brown hair sprouted outward in all directions above a ruddy, freshly scrubbed face and round, liquid brown eyes that shone with youthful eagerness. "Morning, Mom!" he called.
Mary Harry held out one of the lunch bags, and little Larry stuffed it into his book bag. "Hurry, dear," Mary Harry gently urged. "You don't want to miss the school bus again!" She tried to smooth his stubborn cowlicks, but her fourth grader wouldn't stand still for that.
"Don't!" he insisted. "It took me half an hour and half of Sis's hair gel to get it to look this way!"
As if on cue, a high-pitched shriek ripped through the upstairs hallway. A door slammed again. "Mom!" Cary Harry appeared at the top of the stairs with an open jar in one hand. "You obscene little Chihuahua!" she shouted, glaring at her younger brother. "You used it all! Do you know how much this stuff costs? It's designer!"
Larry Harry grabbed for the doorknob. "Gotta go, Mom," he said, yanking open the door. "The Doberman's barking again."
At the top of the stairs, Cary Harry gave a low threatening growl, and her eyes blazed. She raised her arm as if to throw the empty jar, but the front door slammed as Larry Harry dashed out to meet his bus at the curb. "Oooh!" Cary Harry stamped her foot in frustration. "I swear, Mom, someday I'm going to eat him!" She spun away again, sputtering and mumbling, and the door of her bedroom slammed.
A look of utter confusion spoiled Mary Harry's perfectly made-up face, but she drew another deep breath and recomposed herself, putting on a fresh smile. Just in time, too.
Another bedroom door opened and closed, this time without any slamming, and Harry Harry started down the stairs in his best dark suit with his briefcase on a strap over his shoulder. He was a handsome man, tall and thin with an erect bearing, with bright, dark eyes that gleamed over a gently hooked nose and a strong chin. His hair was neatly groomed, and the smile on his face equaled his wife's as he bent to kiss her.
However, before his lips met her cheek, a tiny wolfen shape darted out from behind a living room chair. With a warning snarl, it gave a low flying leap, caught Harry's trouser leg in fanged teeth, and worried the upturned cuff like a bad-mannered puppy.
"Stop him! Stop him!" Harry cried in alarm. "I thought you put him in his crib?"
"Barry! Bad baby! Stop that!" Mary Harry dropped the lunch sacks and tried to scoop up the furry bundle, but Barry dodged her, scampering around Harry's leg, twisting the mouthful of worsted wool around Harry's ankle. Harry lost his balance and tried to catch himself without stepping on baby Barry. His briefcase went one way; he went another. Harry sprawled haplessly upon the floor. Barry yipped and jumped on Harry's back and chewed Harry's collar.
Before Mary could grab her infant, Barry hiked one little leg and let go a golden stream. "Oh, dear!" Mary exclaimed as she finally snatched up her baby. "He's out of his diaper again. I'll have to go change him!"
"Change him?" Harry sputtered as he rose to his knees. "What about me?"
"Now dear, you're old enough to change yourself." Mary hugged baby Barry in her arms and rocked him protectively, while Barry licked her face.
Harry Harry shook himself. "That kid's a menace!" he scowled, as he started back upstairs. "Mary, you've got to do something! I'm running out of suits! He's already chewed my best shoes to ribbons!"
"Just hurry, dear," Mary soothed as she shifted Barry to one arm and bent to retrieve the lunch sacks. They only contained sandwiches, and Barry's "accident" had missed them, so no harm was done. She watched as Harry stomped up the last step. "You don't want to be late."
As her husband moved one way down the upstairs hall, a door slammed, and Cary Harry came the other way. She paused at the top of the stairs, daring her mother to say something as she adjusted a backpack on her shoulders with clawed hands. Cary wore tight black slacks and a black, navel-bearing midriff top, and sleek blond fur sprouted from every exposed inch of her winsome body. Some of that fur was dyed a punkish purple, and a spiked leather collar adorned her throat.
Mary took the bait. "Oh, no you don't!" she scolded. "You're not leaving this house in that collar! A collar, of all things! You go right back to your room and change!" Everybody was changing today, it seemed, or at least on edge. The full moon surely was approaching. "Have you no pride?"
"I have tons of pride!" Cary barked. "In fact, I'm coming out! No more hiding for me! This is what I am, and I'm proud of it!"
Mary admired her daughter's rebelliousness sometimes, even if she found it exhausting. "You come out like that, and they'll lock you up! The world really isn't all that accepting yet, Cary."
Cary struck a brazen pose. Then the air seemed to shift around her, and as she descended the stairs, she metamorphosized. Her face flattened into a more human shape and all the fur retreated until she resembled a mostly normal, if chronically angry teenaged girl again. "But I'm wearing the collar!" she snapped as she snatched one of the lunch sacks. "Alpo again, I presume."
"On whole wheat with mayonnaise, the way you like it," Mary answered, trying to sound agreeable. "And Kibbles to snack on."
"It's just so Rin-Tin-Tin!" Cary snarled. Suddenly, she slipped awkwardly on the wet floor and caught herself. "What the . . . ?" She stared downward. Then she glanced at her baby brother and crinkled her face in disgust. "Oh . . . Mother!" Wiping her feet, she jerked open the door, stomped out, and slammed the door behind.
Harry Harry reappeared at the top of the stairs and came bounding down. He had changed into his brown suit, and he cut a wide swath around baby Barry as he looked around and found his briefcase. Mary sniffed delicately. He'd showered again, too. Baby Barry squirmed, wiggled, and snarled, but Mary hugged the little ball of fur securely.
"He just doesn't like me!" Harry said as he took his lunch sack from his wife.
"Of course, he likes you," Mary said with gentle forbearance. "You're his father. You were probably chasing cars at his age." She gave Barry a motherly shake.
"I never chased cars," Harry protested as he opened the door. "I had too much dignity."
"You had a choke chain," Mary muttered under her breath as the door closed.
Alone at last, Mary gave a contented sigh. Barry fell instantly asleep, and for a brief time all was quiet. This was her favorite time of the morning, her time. She turned the lock on the door and checked to make sure the blinds were pulled.
The skin on her arms peeled back, seeming to turn inside out, and a soft auburn fur sprouted over her shapely limbs. Her face elongated; she ran a rough tongue over perfect fangs and licked her chops. Yes, it was her favorite time of the morning, before the postman appeared or the ladies called for bridge, when she could just be herself. Bouncing her baby, she glanced down at her free hand and smiled. Today, maybe she would do her nails.
Larry Harry sat attentively at his desk, watching as his teacher, Mr. Morgenstern, scrawled compound sentences on the white board in big black letters. Suddenly, something struck Larry a tiny stinging blow just behind the right ear. Clapping a hand to the back of his head, he twisted in his seat.
Tommy Thompson grinned at him from the back row.
Larry glared. Thompson was a troublemaker, a fat redheaded bully, and the worst student in the class. The two locked gazes for a moment, then Larry gave his attention back to the sentence on the board: Squashed flat by a passing beer truck, a dog sniffed and nibbled at the remains of an old hamburger. Larry scratched his head and frowned as Mr. Morgenstern continued to write. Larry raised his hand with a question. If the dog was squashed flat . . .
Something stung him in the neck. Larry twisted in his seat again only to see Tommy Thompson grinning the same innocently stupid grin. Larry glanced at the oblivious Morgenstern, who was now writing, Flying through the air, the dog barked and caught the red Frisbee, then back at Thompson, who shrugged and mouthed the word, "What?"
Looking around, Larry spied a small green pea on the floor. He gave a low, private snarl of annoyance, but decided to ignore Thompson. He returned his attention once again to the board. He really wanted to know how a dog could fly through the air.
Yet a third sharp sting—the hard little pea struck him in the ear this time, causing a tiny explosion of pain. Larry yipped. Forgetting himself, he sprang out of his chair, over the head of the student seated behind him, and tackled fat Tommy Thompson at his desk. A red and white striped peashooter flew through the air as the two boys crashed to the floor.
Tommy screamed. Larry let go a high-pitched howl, baring small wet fangs as he raised a hairy, clawed hand and ripped the bigger boy's shirt open. Buttons popped and clattered all around. Desks and chairs scooted as other students shot to their feet and scrambled out of the way.
Mr. Morgenstern grabbed one of the students by the shoulder and shouted, "Who let that dog in here? Get it out of here right now! Thompson, is that your mutt?"
Pinning his squirming and nearly naked enemy to the floor with his paws, Larry Harry froze. He stared at his claws, ran a slavering tongue over his teeth, and growled. Without thinking, he had transformed into his wolfen shape, something he was never supposed to do in public!
He looked around at his angry teacher and his wide-eyed classmates as his mind raced. Sally Jenkins, in her yellow dress, dropped to her knees and snapped her fingers. "Nice doggy!" she called.
Under his furry whiskers, Larry Harry flushed red. He had something of a crush on Sally Jenkins, but she wasn't important now. His dad was going to kill him! What was he supposed to do?
His teacher loomed closer. Larry gave a sharp warning bark and snapped his jaws, causing Mr. Morgenstern to recoil. However, Mr. Morgenstern stepped on one of the loose rolling peas. With an awkward yelp, his feet flew upward, and his arms spread wide. He hit the floor flat on his back, and all the students burst out laughing. "Good doggy!" Sally Jenkins cried.
Larry's heart pounded. Some of his classmates were starting to circle him, and still pinned, Tommy Thompson, the school bully, was bawling like a baby. Larry looked down at Thompson and snarled. He knew he was in deep trouble, but he didn't regret getting even at all. He licked the bully's face with the wettest, slimiest tongue he could manage, and Tommy Thompson let go a long wail.
With that, Larry looked around quickly, and spying an open window, he jumped through, over a hedge and flowerbed, and to the school's expansive lawn, running as fast as he could run.
The alley Dumpsters made a perfect place to hide and think. Behind one of the big steel containers and in boy form again, Larry Harry shivered as he sat on his haunches in the deep shadows and watched the traffic zoom by at the far end of the alley. The gray buildings towered above him, allowing only a thin shaft of afternoon sunlight to penetrate the smelly gloom.
Larry had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he didn't dare go home. His father would kill him for breaking the family's strictest rule, and then his mom would kill him all over again. It wasn't fair! He'd always been so careful not to let anybody know that he was different.
The traffic whizzed by, and suddenly police sirens screamed. The piercing sounds seemed to intensify as they echoed off the close walls. Red and blue lights flashed madly as a trio of squad cars shot past the alley entrance.
Larry Harry cowered. Mr. Morgenstern had called the police! They were looking for him! Larry's pulse raced, and he fought the urge to transform again. He was in enough trouble already. Sniffling, he wiped his nose with the back of one hand.
He would run away, he decided. He would become famous—an actor, maybe, or a singer, or a well-known interior decorator with his own home cable show. The Tommy Thompsons of the world would never pick on him again, and maybe his parents would be proud enough to let him come home someday.
It was a good plan, he told himself.
A raucous clangor of bells sounded. Startled nearly out of his skin, Larry shot to his feet. A door at the back of the alley slammed open. Five tough-looking men charged out. The first man out the door fell over Larry. The second man fell over the first. They all toppled like dominoes, and bags of cash went sliding over the greasy pavement. One of the bags broke open, scattering bills.
"Oh, cool!" Larry exclaimed as he lifted his chin. "Bank robbers!"
The man on top of him looked furious. "It's a kid, boss!" he shouted. "What'll we do now? He can identify us!"
"What d'ya think, Jonesy, ya idiot?" The boss got to his feet and brushed the knees of his suit. "Snatch him, and bring him along! You others, get those bags and be quick!" The boss looked down at Larry, then smiled and patted Larry's head. "We're not bank robbers, junior," he lied. "We're, uh, bank examiners. But we got a tip, see, that some real bank robbers were gonna be along any minute to rob the place, so we gotta take the cash and hide it, see? And it ain't safe to leave a kid like you hangin' around with a bunch of bank robbers on the loose!"
The one called Jonesy picked Larry up and tucked him under a muscular arm while the remaining thugs grabbed up the bags of cash. Larry felt a surge of excitement. Here was a chance to redeem himself. Everyone would forgive him if he was a hero and saved the bank. "Let me help!" he insisted. "I can carry something!"
"You can help, alright, kid," the boss said. He winked at Jonesy. "We need a place to hide the cash, and quick. Where do you live?"
Larry Harry gave his address. "Oh boy, my parents are gonna be so surprised!"
"They sure are, kid, they sure are," Jonesy answered as the goons darted down the alley with their recovered loot to a big black car parked near the curb.
Over the drone of her vacuum cleaner, Mary Harry heard the jangle of the telephone. With a frown, she glanced toward the kitchen where she also had a chocolate cake timing in the oven. Who could be calling?
She picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Mrs. Harry, this is Mr. Morgenstern, your son's fourth grade teacher. I'm afraid we've had an incident!"
Mary Harry caught her breath. "Is Larry all right?"
"I'm afraid he's missing," Mr. Morgenstern answered, obviously distraught. "Somebody's dog leaped through the window this afternoon and attacked a student. The students were terrified. In all the chaos, Larry disappeared! I'm afraid the dog frightened him! I took a terrible fall, myself!"
"I'll call his father right now, and we'll come down!" Mary hung up and quickly punched up her husband's office number. "You have to come home at once, dear!" she explained. "Something's happened to Larry!"
Before she could hang up, the front door slammed forcefully. Cary Harry, home early from school, threw down her books, but she caught her mother's final words. "What's happened to Larry?" she demanded. "Is it that bully, Tommy Thompson?"
Mary gave her daughter a look. "Tommy who?" Then she waved her hands dismissively. She'd get the details of that later. "Never mind, dear. All we know is that your brother has disappeared. Your father and I have to go down to the school, and that means you'll have to watch Barry."
Cary shrieked. "You're leaving me with that little monster after the way he chewed my best motorcycle jacket last week?"
"You don't have a motorcycle, anyway, young lady, and there's no one else. Oh, and watch the cake in the oven. The timer should go off any minute now."
Cary's protests ended at the mention of a cake, and Mary hurriedly put away the vacuum cleaner. Drawing a deep breath, she fingered the string of pearls around her neck, as she often did when she worried. There was so much to do! It would be ten minutes before Harry got home, and she needed to look perfect when she met him at the door.
Brakes squealed suddenly outside. Car doors slammed. Startled, Mary Harry rushed to the living room window, parted the curtains, and gazed outward. Four men strode up the sidewalk as a big car pulled away again. One of the men had her son under his arm!
Mary dashed to the front door and pulled it open. "Larry!" She held out her arms to take her son. "You found him! Everybody's been so worried! How can I ever thank you?"
The boss reached inside his suit and pulled out a .45 pistol. He stuck it under Mary's nose. "You can thank us by letting us stay with you a couple of days, lady. And don't worry, we're great houseguests." He beckoned to his accomplices. "Pete, Mac, Doobie—bring in the bags, but don't bother unpacking."
Cary gave a low growl and took a step forward.
"Don't!" Mary Harry warned in a stern voice as she retreated from the doorway with Larry's hand clutched firmly in hers. "Everybody remain calm. Your father will be home soon. He'll know what to do!"
"Smart girl," the boss said. "Nice pearls, too. You look just like June Cleaver." He stepped inside and looked around approvingly. "Nice comfy place you got here. Doobie, be sure to let Jonesy in after he's done stashing the car. Mac, find some rope or cord or something, and make our hosts uncomfortable."
Ignoring the boss's gun, Cary shot forward. "Mom, let me . . . !"
Mary caught Cary by the leather collar around her daughter's neck. Cary made a gurgling sound as her eyes shot wide with surprise. "Heel!" Mary ordered. "Wait for your father!"
Larry pulled away from his mother and grinned. "It's okay, Mom. They're bank examiners! We're saving the cash from the real bank robbers!"
Cary sneered. "You moron. They are the real bank robbers!"
Larry looked confused. For once, he didn't have a smart comeback for his big sister, and the idea that she might actually be right scared him more than the boss's big gun.
Pete emerged from the basement with a length of clothesline. With methodical precision, he tied Mary, Larry and Cary up in neat packages and dumped them on the living room sofa.
Larry looked crestfallen. "I really screwed the pooch, didn't I, Mom. I don't know what that means, but Dad always says it."
Cary muttered under her breath. "Just let me change! I can eat these guys for dinner without even breathing hard!"
Mary shook her head and tried to remain calm. The robbers had actually done an efficient job of tying them up, and the clothesline with its nylon core would be tough to break. However, she had bigger worries. The robbers had not gone upstairs yet. They had not discovered Barry.
A car pulled into the driveway. The robbers quickly hid themselves. The boss waved his gun meaningfully at Mary, and then hid behind the door just as it burst open. Harry sprang over the threshold. "Honey, I'm home! What's this about Larry?"
The boss brought the butt of his pistol down, and Harry hit the floor like a twenty-five-pound sack of dry dog chow. The crooks wasted no time, and in short order they tied Harry hand and foot and deposited him on the now very crowded sofa.
"Well, Dad's home," Cary muttered, glowering in disgust. "Is there a backup plan?"
Mary chewed her lip and tried to think. She worried about her baby in the crib upstairs, and she worried about her husband's poor head. Harry wouldn't be in a good mood when he woke up. Most of all, she worried about the family secret. Everything depended upon secrecy—Harry's job, their idyllic suburban life-style, even their lives. There were still too many people in the world that considered folks like the Harrys abnormal, perverts, abominations.
Mary had always done everything she could to hide who she really was, for her husband's sake and for her children's.
Maybe her daughter was right.
The crook called Doobie rattled around in the kitchen. Mary heard the oven door open and bang closed. "Cake!" she heard the robber call. Pete and Mac immediately went to join Doobie. At the same time, the doorbell sounded. The boss cautiously cracked the front door open and admitted Jonesy. "About time," the boss murmured. "After dark, we're getting outta here. Let's get some cake before the others eat it all."
Despite herself, Mary gave a low snarl. She had worked all afternoon making that cake from scratch for her family. She hadn't even iced it yet. Now there were five crooks, instead of four, and they were tracking the carpet she had just vacuumed. It was just more than she could bear.
With all five robbers in the kitchen, Mary lost control. Her body contorted, grew, and sprouted thick fur. Her face elongated into a snout, and her ears lengthened. Her lips curled back to reveal vicious fangs. With a determined effort, she strained to break her bonds.
Yet the clothesline around her wrists and ankles held firm.
With a yelp of disappointment, Mary quickly reverted to human form before any of the robbers could come back into the living room and see her. All she had managed to do was get hair on the sofa. "Let me try!" Cary offered, but Mary shook her head again. "Wait," she said in a tight whisper as her gaze turned toward the stairway.
Barry stood on the bottom step—and he looked hungry. Dark hair covered his tiny, diaperless body, and his little jaws drooled. He twitched his ears, wiggled his nose, and yipped.
Licking crumbs off his face, the one called Jonesy stepped out of the kitchen. "Hey boss! They got a dog! Cute little fella, too!"
Barry yipped again, then leaped upon the bags of money piled by the door. Raising one leg, he peed a golden stream. Jonesy gave a horrified look and dropped the last bite of his cake. "You crazy mutt! Stop!" He lunged at Barry as the other crooks emerged from the kitchen.
Mary screamed. Cary and Larry both growled viciously and began to transform. "Leave him alone!" Mary cried. Struggling against the clothesline, she also started to change.
The boss shot her a wide-eyed look. "What the hell?"
Barry dodged the outstretched hands that reached for him. Like furred lightning, he ran straight for the boss and sank his fangs into the leg of the robber's suit pants. "Get him off! Get him off!" the boss yelled, shaking his leg. Barry clung tenaciously. "What the hell are you people?"
Jonesy picked up one of the pee-soaked bags of money and held it out with a disgusted expression. "Boss! They're . . . ! They're . . . !"
Fully transformed, Cary snapped her bonds and sprang for Jonesy. Her claws flashed. With one stroke, she slashed open the bag of money he held, and bills fluttered everywhere. "We're what?" she demanded, as she pinned Jonesey back against the wall.
Larry wiggled out of his bonds, too. "We're rich!" he shouted, as he pounced upon another bag of money. "I won't have to be an actor, a singer, or even an interior decorator after all!"
A gunshot exploded, and a bullet dug deep into the carpeted floor. Barry growled viciously as he climbed up the boss's leg, his tiny claws digging deep, doing damage. "Get off! Get off!" the boss continued to scream as he danced around in a circle. He tried to aim the gun again—straight at Barry.
Free at last, Mary leaped across the couch, colliding with her daughter as Cary also sprang to her baby brother's rescue. Their combined weight smashed the crook back into the kitchen. Cary snatched Barry as Mary knocked the gun away and rolled on top of the boss. "You want some cake?" she demanded as they sprawled across the kitchen table. The remains of her chocolate cake were nearby. She raised it over the boss's face. "Well, do ya, punk?" She pressed it down with a firm splat, grinding it into eyes and nose and mouth as the crook sputtered.
Cary finally pulled her off. "Enough, Mom! He's had enough! They've all had enough!"
Panting and salivating, Mary stood back. Larry stood close by, rocking Barry in his arms. One of the robbers lay stretched across the money bags by the door. The three others lay draped indecorously across various pieces of furniture. "I got one of 'em," Larry bragged.
"It didn't take a lot," Cary admitted. "I just growled, and they rolled over and played dead."
Mary resumed human form again and picked up the gun. "Tie them up, and let's call the police." She sighed as she glanced at Harry who finally showed signs of stirring on the couch. "And for heaven's sake, let's try to act normal."
They did not have to call the police. One of the neighbors had heard the gunshot and saved them the trouble. Sirens screeched outside and flashing lights lit up the entire block as Larry yanked open the front door. The Harrys' neatly manicured lawn was rapidly filling up with officers and assorted gawkers. Mr. Morgenstern came rushing up the sidewalk right behind the police, but the officers held him back. Larry, in boy form once again, gave a yelp as he spied Sally Jenkins while Cary, also in human form, preened in self-satisfaction.
Harry, finally awake, looked dazed as the police untied him. He looked at Mary. "Is it bondage night already?" he mumbled.
"No dear," she sighed with an amused expression. She turned to the officers and to all the people pressing through her front door for a look. Then she winked at her daughter. "I baked a cake. It's a coming-out party."
Slowly, deliberately, for all to see, Mary Harry began to change.