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Support Your Local Werewolf

Karen Everson

Karen Everson is a jack of all arts. She has published fiction, non-fiction and poetry and is currently working on a novel based on her story, "Incognito Ergo Sum," as well as a novel centered around Olwen's family of werewolves. Along with her writing, she runs Moongate Designs, a small business showcasing her art and needlework designs. She lives in Michigan with her other great passions: her husband Mark, daughter Caitlyn, and numerous pets.

 

"Welcome to our humble abode," Kay said, as we bumped our bags over the threshold. She dropped her backpack on the floor and shut the front door with her rump. "It's not a mansion, but it's home."

"It's awesome," I said, looking around the cheerfully cluttered house. I slanted my eyes at her. "And my house is big and old, but it is not a mansion. At least in your house, plumbing wasn't an afterthought."

"Nope, the plumbing is fine." She gave me a strange look. "Um, is that why your nose is twitching? You checking the plumbing?"

Oops. "Sorry. Mr. Clean makes my nose twitch."

"Oh!" She sniffed, "Geez, Mom must have just washed the floor. We better take our shoes off."

One of the side effects of my peculiar heritage is that my sense of smell is extra-sensitive, and I tend to, literally, sniff things out. I quit trying to untangle all the animal scents—cat, fish tanks, and, oops, mice, let's hope they're pets—and gave Kay my best grin. "Seriously, Kay, I'm happy to be here. Thanks for putting me up over Thanksgiving break."

She grinned. "You just love me for my cable TV."

"Nah. It's the really big bookstore on the main drag, you spoiled suburbanite."

"Redneck refugee."

"It's a fair cop." I live in Landfair, Virginia, an hour and several decades from civilization as I wish to know it.

Kay's parental units were out, so Kay got me settled into the guest room, then took me on the obligatory tour of the house. Kay had described the decor as "Early Fantasy Writer," but I knew a Green-Witch's nest when I saw it. It was a lot like home, or like home might have been without Granddad's rule that he had to be able to do a 360 in his wolf without knocking something over with his tail.

Well-laden bookshelves loomed, squatted or squeezed into any space that could be made to hold one. Plants clustered in every source of sunlight, and statues of Gods, Goddesses, butterfly-wing fairies and animals, as well as candles, crystals, and a beach worth of seashells found display space in the interstices. My mom collected too. She'd never found her inner wolf, but Granddad used to joke that if we'd owned the secret of shifting to bird form, she'd have accessed her inner magpie, no problem.

"I think our mothers would have really liked each other," I said. Kay heard the wistfulness in my voice and put an arm around my shoulder.

"My dad isn't crazy about all the Elizabethan-style fairies," she said lightly, "Even though Mom tries to tuck them into the plants. He complained about them at work once and people started leaving Tinkerbell stuff in his cube."

I chuckled, allowing myself to be distracted. "He must be cool, though. You said he was Mr. Science-Guy, but hey, here he is married to a witch."

"He's great, and there goes that broom closet," Kay said.

"I'm down with it," I assured her. "My mom was Wiccan, too. She hid fairies in the plants, too, though they were more Brian Froud and less Amy Brown. Sometimes when I'm working in the solarium—I think you guys would call it a Florida room—I find one that I don't remember seeing before."

"That's kind of cool." She gave my arm a little squeeze. "Like your mom's reminding you she still loves you. Maybe she's looking out for you, O."

"The Welsh believe in that, you know," I said softly, "that our dead watch over us." I decided not to mention that my grandfather sometimes talks to my dead grandmother in the middle of the night, with pauses like he's listening to answers. Kay may be a witch's daughter, but I didn't want to strain her tolerances to the breaking point.

"So," I said brightly. "Take me for a walk. Show me the gardens, drag me around the neighborhood. My butt's asleep from that long drive. I need to walk."

Kay rolled her eyes. "Whatev', dude. You're the guest."

After I had sincerely admired the "National Wildlife Federation Backyard Habitat" gardens, the faux-stone bench, and the beautifully private and perfect for Changing back porch, we toured the small neighborhood. With exams and papers due before vacation, it had been the better part of a month since I'd been able to go for a run in my wolf shape. (Try finding a college with werewolf accessibility. It's not in the brochures.) My wolf needed out. The moon was waxing into full tonight, and that was NOT going to help.

My wolf is as much a part of my heritage as my brown eyes and hair. I Change at will, not according to the lunar cycle. But certain circumstances can bring the Wolf closer to the surface. Being in danger. Having someone I care about in danger. Or, if I've been neglecting my inner furball, a full moon.

Long story short, I needed to run, so I needed to know where the dogs were.

Dogs notice me. Some yip and run. Some go insane, barking and growling, while some recognize me as alpha and flop over on their backs, whining and waving their fours in the air.

Fortunately, the neighborhood seemed to run heavily toward yap dogs and pussycats.

Cats are no problem—nobody can predict what a cat will do. Whether the cat stares at me like I contain the mysteries of the universe and she's sussing them out, or if she hisses and runs, hey, dude, it's a cat.

I don't worry too much about little dogs, either. Little dog for "OMG! OMG! It's a WEREWOLF!" sounds pretty much like "OMG! OMG! It's a SQUIRREL!"

Big dogs are the worry. As a wolf I can handle myself. Mass translates directly, so I'm a well-fed 120-pound wolf. I've great teeth, (look, no cavities!) thick glossy fur, (that smells of rosemary shampoo, thank you), and my nails are sharper than a natural wolf's because I don't spend all my time trotting around on my fours. But wolfing out in the suburbs was not likely to be an option, and I'd just as soon not get bitten. Besides, I'd feel really bad if someone's pet was put down for biting me. In human form I don't smell like a wolf, but to a dog, I don't smell human, either. I smell wrong. Dangerous.

My first big dog was a flopper, a leashed German shepherd out for a walk with "Mom." As soon as it got close enough to really get my scent, it dropped to the ground with a whimper, offering its throat. Kay and the owner stopped dead, gaping.

"Oh, my, what a beautiful doggie!" I gushed. I knelt, grinning like an idiot at the owner. With one hand I did a quick muzzle squeeze, canid for "your submission has been accepted," while I made a big show of rubbing the dog's tummy with the other.

"Dogs just seem to know that I'm a champion tummy rubber," I babbled. I do give good tummy rubs, and the shepherd helped me out by giving a blissful wiggle. The view supplied a pronoun. "He's just gorgeous, and so well-socialized! How old is he?"

Nothing puts a dog owner at ease like having their baby praised. Fifteen minutes later, the dog remembered why he'd wanted to go walkies in the first place, and we all parted friends.

The next two encounters were a little more disconcerting. On the next street over a woman had just stepped out of her door, walking a fluff dog on a retractable lead. The little dog was trotting along the walk ahead of her, snuffling noisily. Then he caught a whiff of me.

The fluff ball gave a single yip and squatted, just missing his mistress's pristine pink sneaker. Then he did a 180, and shot between his mistress's legs, disappearing back in the house through the doggie door. His owner stood staring at the steaming heap on her nice white walkway. The leash stretched behind her like she was trying to take her house for a walk.

"Hi, Mrs. Krumm!" Kay called sweetly, waving. Mrs. Krumm shot us a dirty look.

"That's probably the first time Cookie has actually taken a dump in his own yard!" Kay whispered gleefully. "Mrs. Krumm's notorious for not picking up after him, but she has a fit if anyone else's dog soils her grass."

I had a moment of culture shock. Unless they happen to be raising serious hunting dogs, folks where I live don't do leashes, let alone scoop poop. Use the bathroom before run, check. Then I did a double take. "Her name is Krumm, and she named her dog Cookie?"

"Wondered if you'd catch that," Kay said.

Three doors down from the incontinent Cookie was a bigger problem. A young girl was kneeling in her front yard, playing tug-of-war with an enormous shepherd. The girl was, I guessed, about eight years old, and stunningly beautiful in pure Nordic fashion, with silky flaxen hair and big chicory-flower-blue eyes. But it was her dog that held my attention.

This dog was not going to be a flopper. If I'd been four-footed, I might have had to acknowledge him as dominant, a fact that was raising the hair on the back of my neck. I guessed him at 180 pounds, and he could easily have wrested the rope toy away from his small mistress if he'd wanted to. He probably could have picked her up in his jaws and walked off with her.

My first thought was that he might be a hybrid, part wolf. They're illegal in most states, but it's hard to tell without running DNA. His fur was thick, pale grey with darker grey markings, with a white ruff, belly and legs.

"Hey, Marley-Mouse," Kay called, genuine liking in her voice. "How's it going?"

The blonde girl raised a hand to return Kay's wave. The dog let go of the rope toy and moved to stand between his young mistress and us.

"It's okay, I guess." Marley said. She had to rise up on her knees to see us over her protector. She slapped his flank gently. "Get down, you silly dog. You know Kay."

Wolfie lay down but got right back up again. Kay went to him without hesitation. He gave her hand a sniff and greeted her pat with a tail sweep, but his attention was all on me.

"Nice dog," I said. I stayed on the sidewalk and kept my eyes steady. I didn't want to antagonize the big animal, but I wasn't going to concede dominance, either. Besides being a bad idea, it went against the grain. The dog's head was held just at shoulder level, tail straight out behind him, neither threatening nor submissive. His eyes, focused unblinking on my face, were an unnerving blue.

Husky blood, I told myself, and the browlike markings of darker grey were probably what made the blue seem so vivid. So knowing.

"His name is Wolfie," Marley said. "You can pet him, he won't bite. But you have to come in to the yard. Mom makes him wear one of those electric collars, and he knows just where the fence is. It's got a thing that opens the doggie door for him, too, so he can go in and out whenever he wants."

"Okay." I drew a careful breath as I stepped into his territory. He watched.

I held out my hand. He sniffed me carefully, then permitted me to stroke him. Truce. Kay had dropped into the grass beside Marley, so after a moment, I sat down, too. Wolfie lay down in the middle and settled his head on Marley's knee. After a while he decided that having three people to admire and pet him wasn't entirely a bad thing.

"Do you have another show soon?" Kay asked, her hand buried wrist-deep in Wolfie's fur. "Marley does Junior Beauty Pageants," she added for my benefit. "Hey, Marley, maybe O and I will come and see you strut your stuff."

"Oh, puh-leese don't!" Marley said immediately. "Seriously, it is so totally lame, I would die if anybody cool was there."

"Well, glad to hear I'm cool, anyway," Kay grinned. "You still singing and dancing?"

"Singing. I've got a kind of cowgirl rig for this talent set, and you so don't want to tap in cowboy boots. I tried it and my feet got all over blisters. And you won't believe what Mom's got me singing!"

"What?"

" 'Stand by Your Man'! Do you believe? I'm like, Mom! I'm nine! If I have a man there's serious bad kink happening. And she got all bent and told me not to talk filth, it was just a song to show off my voice, like there aren't other songs that would do that."

"That sucks. She should at least let you help pick what you sing."

"I like singing," Marley sighed. She buried her hands in Wolfie's ruff like she needed something to hold onto. "The contests were fun when I was little. It was something Mom and I could do together after the divorce. But now Mom gets so completely wound. And I think it's mean for her to make me sing that song when she left my dad."

This was way more sharing than either Kay or I had bargained for, but Marley looked so grim that we hugged her and hung with her for a while. Kay asked her about Wolfie and Marley perked up talking about how smart he was. She asked me if I was named "O" for the lady in the movie, and after I unswallowed my tongue and quit blushing I explained that Kay called me "O" because she was too lazy to say Olwen. And yes, it was a funny name, it was Welsh and I was named after an ancestress back in Wales.

Then we all played with Wolfie until Marley's stage mom called her into supper.

When we got back to Kay's house her parents were home, and on the front porch there was a rabbit eating the last blossoms off a rather sad looking pot of petunias. "There's a bunny," I said to Kay. "It's eating your petunias."

"Yeah, that's Diamond," Kay said. "That's okay, you can have them," she said to the rabbit. "They're pretty much spent, and they never last indoors."

Green-Witch daughter, Green-Witch's house, I reminded myself. Kay went in. I paused, watching the rabbit watching me as it munched down the last flower. "Diamond," I said, "most of the folk back home would call you dinner."

The rabbit looked at me with its dark, liquid eyes, unconcerned. You're not in Landfair anymore, Toto.

The rabbit swallowed and hopped off the porch, disappearing into a mass of lilies. Every muscle in my body twitched with the desire to follow.

I so needed a run.

 

It helped that Kay's mom was a witch, and that Kay was too tired from driving for a pajama party.

I explained to Kay's mom that I have trouble sleeping, and could I go out and sit on the porch or walk around the yard if I got restless? "Of course, dear," she answered. She got a wry smile on her face. "But don't howl at the moon, or my neighbors will call the police."

I blanched, but Kay's mom didn't notice. Her eyes had gone distant. I was sure she'd once been the sort of witch to sing naked beneath the esbat moon. From the wistful sadness in her face, she missed it.

At two in the morning I slipped out onto the porch with its screen of turning trees. Though it was a clear night, the sky was alien looking, with a sickly greenish cast from the lights of the distant city. There were barely any stars, but the full moon bleached the grass silver, and painted black pools beneath the trees and shrubs. Moonlight spilled over the top of the trees, lighting me, making me feel exposed despite their shelter.

I thought of Kay's mom and her wistful eyes, and forced myself to strip. I hid my clothes in the shadows. Then, for a moment I simply stood, letting the night and the moon settle over my skin until they became all the garment I required.

I crouched, touched my palms to the cool wood, and bid my Wolf come.

I felt the soft fire of that other Self beneath my skin, felt the slight pressure of my canines growing just a little longer, a little sharper. I knew a flash of amber fire came and went behind my eyes. Then the Change took me completely, the Wolf flowing out and over and the human Olwen flowing within.

When the gift first came to me I tried to watch that transformation, Changing over and over in front of a mirror. I could see my eyes flash golden, and perhaps, just perhaps, my lips curl away from a first hint of fangs. Then my eyes—or my mind—would just slide away, cease to see, until the Wolf was all, and the only clue to the person within lay in the color of the wolf's fur and eyes.

As for the Change itself, imagine being dropped unprepared into an ocean wave, having it tumble you about so that you lose all sense of up and down, water flooding your nose and eyes and ears so that you lose all your senses, even the breath in your lungs, to that rush of alien element. Then, just as you believe you are drowning, the wave ebbs. You see the stars, and know that is up, and you find your head up and your feet down. Your breath returns and the world is comprehensible once more. That's what it is like. The wolf's senses, maybe the wolf's brain, tumble the world until somehow your human mind, your self that is human and wolf both, pulls the world aright again and makes sense of it all.

The chaos of scents and sounds resolved into clarity. That low grumble beneath the creeping juniper was a groundhog and a possum, objecting to each other and even more to me. I heard the thump of an alarmed rabbit, and the sonar stitches the bats sewed into the night. In the clear fall air every scent and sound was a cry of life against the coming of the cold.

I sprang out joyfully into the living night, and ran.

You would think that there would be more wildlife where I live, out in the country, than here in Kay's suburbs. But back home wildlife are "varmints," considered food or competition for food. It was nice being somewhere that a shotgun wasn't a standard home furnishing.

It was wonderful to run where people call animal control for a stray dog, instead of shooting at it.

Life was jubilant here. Beside cats and dogs my nose told me tales of life, from mice to foxes and sparrows to raptors. A concrete ditch channeled an ancient, twisted creek around the subdivision, coaxing the wide quiet water into a swift flow less hospitable to mosquitos. Where the subdivisions switched over to the commercial district, however, the creek had been allowed to be itself. There was one spot of perhaps an acre that was a "wetlands preserve" where I'd seen ducks and geese and herons. My nose was leading me there. I planned to follow my nose, get wonderfully filthy and perhaps have a swim. The wolf didn't mind the cool night, and the dirt would fall off when I Changed.

Then I crossed behind the Krumms' house, and suddenly found myself awash in floodlights. Oops.

I tucked my tail and ran. I was nearly clear of the lights when Cookie began to bark. By time Mrs. Krumm stepped out onto her patio, Cookie tucked under one arm and a large flashlight in her other hand, I had made it into Marley's backyard. Trying to ignore the fact that I was fleeing from a fluff dog and a middle-aged lady in curlers, I went to ground, ears flattened and eyes shut, trying my best to look like a hump of grass.

After a bit, both dog and mistress were satisfied that whatever had set off the motion sensors was safely gone, Cookie making that satisfied, "I am a brave protector" rumble. I waited a few minutes after I heard the sliding door shut before I lifted my head and glanced around. The floodlights had been extinguished, and the house was dark.

Marley's house was dark, too, which is why the sound of a door closing drew my attention. Curious, I crept around the side of the house, ears pricked.

A dark van was parked in the driveway of Marley's house, and a woman was loading a child-sized bundle into the back passenger seat. The woman's scent meant nothing, but I caught Marley's scent, and something else that had my hair rising and a growl starting in my throat, a sharp, acrid stink that did not belong in the clean autumn night.

The woman got into the driver's seat and shut the door. Silently, without headlights, the van began to roll backwards down the driveway into the street.

I began to run, snarling an alarm. In the street, the van's engine growled back and it pulled away, still without lights.

I smelled Wolfie before I saw him. I was going too fast to stop so I jumped the limp form and spun to snuffle at him. He was breathing, but his eyes were rolled halfway back in his head. His collar was missing, and a dart was lodged in his shoulder. I caught it in my teeth and jerked it out, but that was all the time I could spare him.

I turned my nose to the driveway. The tires on the van had been new or almost so, and whoever had last filled the tank had spilled when they withdrew the nozzle, for there was a smell of gasoline mixed with the scent of new rubber.

Fainter, but calling like the moon, was the scent of the child.

I followed.

I was lucky. With the late hour, there was no other traffic, and my quarry did not go too far before going to ground. It was still well dark when the trail took me into the drive of a house with a FOR SALE sign in the front yard, though my pads were sore from running on blacktop. The house was older and more isolated that the ones in Kay's neighborhood, and even in the moonlight, it looked badly kept.

The van was gone, but it had stopped here. My nose said the woman, Marley, and one other female had gotten out. The woman's scent was stronger than the other two, and I thought she might have returned to the van and driven away.

It was Marley I wanted. She'd been taken in the front door, but that was locked now. When I circled the house, however, I found a window had been broken and unlocked. A little effort raised the sash enough for me to squeeze through.

The third person, the one I hadn't seen, had come this way too. I followed the scent until it crossed and joined with Marley's, then followed both to a closed door that showed a light underneath. A key lay on the floor outside. I was trying the knob with paws and teeth when someone cried, "Go away!"

It was a girl's voice, but not Marley's. Was the damned woman starting a collection? I swallowed a growl at the thought, and sat down and scratched at the door, whining.

The door opened a crack. A girl of about Marley's age, and as dark as Marley was fair, peeked out at me. I whined again, ducking my head, trying to look harmless.

The door opened wider. "Wolfie? Are you Marley's Wolfie?" The door opened all the way and the girl threw her arms around my neck and pressed a tear-stained face into my fur. "Marley won't wake up and I'm really scared!"

I nuzzled her neck, then backed away, and Changed. "Take me to her," I said gently, and reached for her hand.

The girl's eyes went huge, but she bravely took my hand and drew me through the door into a windowless bathroom. In a moment I saw Marley.

She lay on the cracked yellow tile, but someone had tucked a blanket around her, and there was a girl's robe tucked under her head. The robe matched the dark-skinned girl's terry bedroom slippers.

"You took good care of her," I said. I knelt to check Marley. I could smell that sharp medicinal smell around her mouth and nose. But she breathed as though simply asleep, and her heartbeat was steady and strong. "She's drugged, but she'll be fine. We just have to be patient and wait for her to wake up. What's your name?"

"Talia. Why were you a dog, and why don't you have any clothes?"

"It's a long story." I took a quick glance around the room. The house smelled like it had been empty a while, but clearly the electricity was on. There was a roll of toilet paper and several bottles of water on the sink, as well as a couple of Snickers bars. The room was chilly, but it looked like whoever had put the girls here hadn't meant for them to be too uncomfortable. "Talia, why don't you tell me what happened? That's really what's important."

Talia looked like she was going to cry again, and she reached to take Marley's hand in her own. "My mom kidnapped Marley so that she can't go to the Junior Miss County Wide Beauty and Talent Pageant tomorrow. She said Marley was my only real competition. But I was afraid Marley would be scared, so I hid in the back of the van, and then I snuck in and waited until my mom left. I wanted Marley to know nobody would hurt her and that she'd be able to go right home after the pageant was over. But then she wouldn't wake up, and I got cold, and I got scared. I'm really glad you're here, even if you are naked. Maybe later, you can turn back into a dog and keep us warm." She eyed me. "Marley makes Wolfie sound kind of magical, but you aren't Wolfie, are you?"

"No. Wolfie is a boy, for one thing. And he's really a dog. What you saw me do—it's very rare, and very secret. I'll help you no matter what, but it would help me if you didn't tell anyone what I can do."

She smiled then. "Well, duh! Like anyone would believe me anyway! It's bad enough my mom makes me do this pageant stuff, I don't want to have to see a shrink on top of school and music lessons!"

"You don't like it either, huh?"

"It is sooo totally lame," Talia said, rolling her eyes and looking and sounding so much like Marley that I laughed. "I'd rather play soccer, or even just do my music without it having to be a contest all the time. But at least my mom isn't making me sing 'Stand By Your Man."'

I smiled. "Listen, you stay here with Marley, and I'll see if I can find anything to keep us warm until she wakes up. Then we can figure out what to do."

Talia nodded. "Okay. I know my mom pulled a really bone-head move, but she's my mom, you know? I don't want her to get in trouble."

"I understand," I said. "I'll think real hard, okay? Why don't you see if you can't cuddle down with Marley under the blanket? I'm going to close the door to keep out the draft, but I'll be back soon."

The first floor, at least, was pretty stripped, but in the front closet I found a handful of hangers and a battered heater. I plugged the heater into the nearest outlet to test it. It worked. There was a smell of burning dust and a noisy rattle from the fan, but it would serve to warm the single room the girls were in.

I had unplugged it to take back to the girls when I heard glass crunch.

As quietly as possible I set the heater down and took a battered wooden hanger from the closet. I slipped toward the room with the broken window, hoping I wouldn't have to Change to defend myself and the children. I can't just slip back and forth between forms indefinitely—too often, too close together, and I could incapacitate myself.

I clutched my makeshift weapon, and peeked into the room.

The moon had shifted, throwing light through the broken window. Against that patch of moonlight something hulked. I saw the light glint off pale fur.

The shape was wrong for a dog—wrong for anything I could think of. It was taller and bulkier than a dog, but more squat than a man, and it was making a wet, snuffling sound. Its smell was a mix of wet dog and boys' locker-room funk. My mind conjured Lovecraftian visions as my neck prickled and adrenaline pumped through me.

Eyes shone briefly in the dark and the figure grew taller. It spoke, a snarl chopped into words.

"Bitch! What have you done with my child?!"

Slowly I straightened. "Wolfie?"

I fumbled for a light switch, found one, and flicked it on.

We stood there blinking at each other in the weak light of a dirty 40 watt bulb. Unlike me, Wolfie was not naked. His muscular legs were clad in heavy denim, and he had something like a diver's rubber-soled shoes on his feet. Thick greying chest hair peeked through the V-neck of a long-sleeved silk T-shirt. Over it all was the heavy mantle of his Wolf-Skin, the hollow-eyed pelt drawn up like a hood over his head. Blue eyes as vivid as chicory flowers glared at me.

"She's your daughter," I said. D'oh! "Marley's your daughter."

"Yes. Now where is she? If you have hurt her, I will kill you."

"She's fine! Just sleeping. There's another girl with her, and if you use your nose, you know I'm not the one who took her. Look, I came to help, so can you put away the teeth? They're still, um, wolfy."

He ran his tongue over his fangs and winced. His face crunched up in a snarl as he concentrated, but when he relaxed again he had human teeth. "Sorry," he said in a more normal voice. "Is that better?"

"Much. Look, you are Wolfie, right? I'm Olwen. We played fetch today? I rubbed your belly?"

He colored, but recovered quickly. His eyes flicked down my body. "I can return the favor if you'd like," he said. He didn't quite manage not to smirk.

My turn to blush. I'd actually forgotten that I was naked. My family isn't big on modesty, it just isn't practical. And Wolfie was being a gentleman. He kept his eyes on my face. Mostly.

"In this shape I am Erik," he said. "An old name from an old heritage—like your own, I think. For seven years I've worn my other shape. It was all I could think of to stay close to my daughter and keep her safe. Because I did not think my heritage would carry another generation, I'd kept this side of me from my wife, Marley's mother."

I winced. "Bad move."

"As you say. And when I did show her the truth—" he shrugged—"she accused me of drugging her, making her hallucinate. She left me, as was her right, but someday Marley will need knowledge only I can give her."

"You're sure she inherited your . . . gift? In my family, we don't know until adolescence."

"There are signs for us. When Marley was born I asked the nurse for the placenta, and examined it privately. I've carried this ever since, against the day of her need." He reached up and pulled something from beneath his own Wolf-Skin. It was another, but this one was white, and of a size to cover a nine-year-old girl.

"It grows as she does," he said, tucking it away again. "Though she will not hear the moon for another three or four years. You have no Skin? I wondered about you today. I smelled your magic, but not your Wolf."

I shrugged. "I'm Welsh, not Norse. I carry my wolf inside."

He smiled, but his eye teeth were growing again, and it was a scary effect. "So we are both the bastard children of forgotten gods. Now, let me put on my other Self, and take me to my daughter."

I tried to watch him change, but it proved as impossible to watch as my own transformation. "Got a tip for you, Wolfie," I said when he was back on all fours. "When the time comes to tell Marley about her heritage, try to sound a little less like an escapee from Lord of the Rings."

I'm alpha enough to want the last word.

I took him to the girls, detouring for the heater. "Look who found us!" I said brightly. "Talia, this is Marley's Wolfie. Wolfie, this is Talia, who came to help Marley."

Talia ran wondering hands over Wolfie's back while Wolfie licked and nosed at his daughter. Marley responded enough to put her arm around his neck.

"Listen, now, before Marley wakes up," I told Talia. "I think I know what you need to do, but you'll have to do a little acting, okay?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Okay, this is what happened. You fell asleep at home, and then you woke up here with Marley. You don't have any idea how you got here. You tried to look through the keyhole and you saw that the key was in the lock, so you pushed toilet paper under the door and poked the key until it fell on the paper and you could pull it inside and unlock the door. Got that? Then Wolfie found you. As soon as it starts to get light, you and Marley and Wolfie walk to the police station. I'm not going to be able to go with you . . . ."

Talia nodded vigorously, "Because you're naked, and you're a dog." She considered that statement for a moment. "Sorry."

"No problem. If someone stops for you, have them call the police. Absolutely keep Wolfie with you, okay? He'll keep you safe. The police will get your moms."

"What about the pageant?" Talia asked timidly.

"By the time everything is done with the police, it will be over, or at least too late for you to go."

"Good!" Talia said firmly. Wolfie added a low bark, agreeing.

"Hopefully, your moms will be so happy that the two of you are safe they won't even care about the pageant."

"I hope so," Talia said. She gave me a sly, even wolfish grin. "If not, guess I have some pretty good blackmail material, huh?"

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Framed