Howling: The Directory

Below you can find links to all seven parts of the short story "Howling."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Howling (7)

It took some convincing but I eventually got out of the phasing trip. I don’t think that John really bought that I am sticking behind because of an early shift at the hospital the day we return. I had used that excuse once before, but this time I could tell by John’s eyes that he wasn’t buying it.

I’m not going to bother locking myself in the cage. I know that he’ll spot me in there if I do. Instead, I travel up to the spare bedroom and await the change. If this bedroom gets messed up, it really won’t bother me. I lay down on the bed and allow myself to drift asleep. The sleep should help ease me into my wolf state.

I wake many hours later to the setting sun outside my window. I pad to the window and place my front paws on the sill, taking in the beauty of the sunset. Below me, I can see James’ car. Someone is with him – an older man. It looks like it could be his father. They are pulling a swing up to the front porch. I hear various tools working to hang the swing on the front porch. I wait until the tools stop to pad down the stairs. I stop at the screen door, wishing I had installed a doggie door years ago.

I make a low bark of frustration before sitting down and looking out the window. James is at his car, about to get in. He suddenly turns and heads up the driveway to the house. I can hear him shouting to his friend that he left the front door open. He stops in his tracks at the front door.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” He asks, opening the door. I walk up to him and let out a low whine. He reaches down to pet the top of my head. “Wait here.”

I watch as he runs back to his truck. He whispers something to his companion and they both start back up the drive. The other man approaches, holding his hand out in front of him. He’s allowing me to get familiar with his scent, much like you would a dog. I gingerly sniff the air and his hand. It has a scent familiar to James, suggesting that I was right about the relations between the two men. I place my head under his hand and allow him to pet me.

James heads away from me. He stops a few yards from the river and motions for me to join him and sit beside him. His arm loosely droops around my shoulders and I enjoy the feel of his human arm on my wolf back. His companion has a camera in his hand, ready to take a picture. James smiles and I give the best grin I can without baring my teeth. Wolves look vicious when their teeth are bared. The camera flashes once. His friend takes two photos – one with and one without the flash.

* * * * *

James stays with me all weekend, sleeping in the guest bed, me curled at his feet. It is too hot to sleep beside him like I want to. He keeps me fed and talks to me, trying to make out the meaning of my responses. Eventually, I nudge him out of the room, knowing that I will phase soon. I can smell food cooking downstairs as I drift to sleep.

I wake to the smell of bacon and eggs and travel down the stairs to find James standing at my stove. When I first woke, I feared it had all been a dream. Things can be a bit hazy when you recall them from your wolf memory. But here he is – standing in my kitchen making me breakfast. I look out the window and can see the swing hanging from the porch roof. I instantly recognize it as the swing from the old house.

“Why don’t you go outside and take a look at it?” James asks from behind me. “I’ll be out there in a moment.”

I make my way out to the front porch. The swing seems to fit in perfectly – as though it has been there for years. As I watch James walk through the door, I realize that he is much like the swing that I was sitting on. He’s new to my life, but he seems like he has been here for years. It is so natural for me to watch him bringing breakfast through the door. He sits down beside me and spreads the food between us.

“John, would you want to move in?” I ask him suddenly. For once in my life, I’m seizing the moment and it felt nice.

“Under one condition.” His smile spreads across his face. He has something up his sleeve.

“What?” I ask between bites.

“You marry me.” He says simply.

“When?”

“The sooner the better.” He replies, pulling me close to him. I lean in to kiss him, sealing the deal.

* * * * *

We set the date for one month later in the backyard of my house. The moon is barely visible in the sky and the stars twinkle around us. All of my friends and his family are present at the wedding. His father gives us a framed photo for a gift. It is my favorite gift of them all. The photograph shows a happy man with his arms dangled around the wolf he loves.

When I climb into bed with James, I find the perfect place for my photograph. I set in on my bedside table. That way, James and his love for me will be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night before I drift off to sleep. I’m a werewolf married to a human – that’s rarer than you would think – and for me, every moment is like a fairy tale.

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Howling by Pamela MacLean is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Howling (6)

He arrives at my door at the exact time we agreed upon. I’m so excited that I’ve been dressed for hours. None of my friends know where I’m going. I know that over half of them will disapprove greatly.

We ride in his car, eventually ending up at an abandoned house. I don’t think I can find my way back here if I want to. It’s hidden somewhere in the depths of winding dirt roads.

I ask him about the house the second we pull up to it. He informs me that it is just an old house that he came across during a hike. There are no signs warning against trespassing and he knows nothing about the owners. Like me, he can only guess about the terrors this house has seen.

He pushes open the front door for us and I follow him inside. The living room is small and charred. In the middle, a picnic for two is set up. Champagne is positioned in the middle surrounded by two pillar candles. James immediately lights them and the room quickly aglow.

James cooked the dinner himself. It is a lavish spread of various Italian dishes. Some I have seen before, while many are new to me. I enjoy most of them greatly. Following dinner, James suggests exploring the house.

It isn’t a loved house. It’s a house that people forgot long ago. The wood is rotten and charred in many places. There’s an eerie smoke smell that lingers in the house. Mildewed furniture is scattered and strewn about the rooms. The only thing that is still useable is the front porch swing.

We fill the rooms with stories of times gone by and eventually end up snuggling on the porch swing. It is well into the night before we find our way back to the car and head home.

* * * * *

We go on five more dates before he takes me to the old house again. When I ask him why, he tells me that tonight is going to be a very special night. We eat a lavish spread once more and retire to the porch. He asks me what I like about the old house.

“I love this swing.” I tell him, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“So, this swing.” James rocks the swing slowly. “What else do you love about this house?”

“I love that I’m sharing it with you.” I smile up at him, bringing my lips to his.

“Anything else?”

“Why are you asking?” I’m completely intrigued by the randomness of his questions until something hits me. “You’re not planning on restoring this place are you? You’re not the owner.”

“No, I’m not the owner. But I am thinking of doing something – just not remodeling a dilapidated house.” James says, pushing the swing back with his feet. “I’m thinking of surprising you.”

“Good luck with that James,” I tell him, pushing the swing back with my own feet. We find ourselves deposited on the floor soon.

“You’ll be in the mountains for the next full moon, right?” He asks, with a gleam in his eye.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because that seems like the perfect opportunity to surprise you.” James obviously has a plan. And it is a good one if it involves the full moon and me. I’m going to have to find some way out of going to the mountains. I want to watch James try to pull off a surprise.

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Howling by Pamela MacLean is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Howling (5)

I wake the next morning refreshed and eager to start my day. When I look out the window, the sun is rising on the river. Light shimmers in red, orange, and pink hues across the water. I open the windows of the house and start breakfast.

I eat silently at the kitchen table thinking about the night before. With the fresh light of the sun streaming through the window, last night seems to a distant memory of a dream. I still can’t wrap my brain around the way James reacted. It was as though he had no fear, no human instincts.

I know that I’m not going to be able to let this rest. The other wolves will be back tonight and I have a lot of damage control to do before then. We aren’t supposed to expose ourselves to humans under any conditions. I have done worse than exposing, I allowed him to see the transformation. I may very well have put us all in danger.

I lock the door and head for my car. I roll the windows down to make up for the lack of air conditioning. I’m headed for the hospital downtown. The one the ambulance took me to after my motorcycle incident.

I walk up to the front desk and introduce myself, explaining to the receptionist that Dr. Sinclair had seen me following an accident and that I need to talk to him about something. She politely informs me that the doctor will not be in today – it is his day off. With that avenue now closed off to me, I head back outside to my car.

I reach into my purse and pull out a folded slip of paper. Opening it, I gaze at the number in my hand. One simple phone call and I will reach him. I look around for a pay phone. Finding none, I decide that I’m going to have to wait until I get home to call James. I frown and leave the hospital.

I pull into my driveway to be met by a surprise. A figure is sitting on my porch hidden by the shadows. I’m guessing that John must have come back early from the phasing trip and is checking on me. I approach the porch quickly, ready to send him on his way.

As I reach the porch, the figure stands up. He steps from the shadows and I can see his face easily now. It’s James and he holds a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Who are the flowers for?” I ask, unlocking the front door.

“This lovely girl I met a few days ago. Have you seen her around?” His mood is light and quirky. He smiles his special smile and I realize that I haven’t seen him in a relaxed setting before. I like it.

“Depends. What does she look like?” I turn and ask him. I motion for him to follow me into the house.

“She has striking topaz eyes, long chocolate hair, and smooth skin.” He smiles and then winks. “Sometimes she even has a tail.”

“Are you always this elegant in your descriptions or have you been thinking about that one for a while?” I tease, setting a pitcher of lemonade on the table. James still holds the bouquet in his hands.

“I thought about it all night.” He says, his face motionless. I can’t read him. I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking.

“And that was the best you came up with? Seems like a lot of effort.” I comment, pouring the lemonade.

“It does. But I’m hoping it’s worth it.” He says, holding the bouquet out to me. I take it with one hand, surprised to find that the flowers are silk. They are the most realistic looking silk flowers that I had ever seen.

“These are lovely,” I say, as I search for a vase under the sink.

“I agree. That’s why I picked them out.” He’s smiling again. I’m beginning to love his smile and quick wit.

“Well, for a guy, you have great taste.” I say as I finally locate a vase and set them in the center of the table.

“I just thought of you as I was picking them out.” He says.

“And why do I deserve flowers?” I ask him, still trying to figure out why he’s here again.

“Because you’re beautiful. And because I was hoping they would soften you up.”

“For what?” I can’t help but be intrigued by his secrecy.

“Well, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?” He asks me, fiddling with a string on his shirt.

“I would love to, but you have to answer a question for me first.” I bargain. He has seen me phase and yet he’s still here.

“Go for it.” He looks intrigued.

“Are you sure you want to date a werewolf?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ve actually done a lot of thinking on the matter.” He tells me, changing seats to be closer to me. “And I’ve come up with a theory. You don’t get a choice in who you love. They may be crazy; they may be different. But they are still the one you love. They are still the one that you keep coming back to.”

“Are you saying you love me?” I ask. Was it possible that I had found my one? John had told me that I would know it when I found him. He said it was a trait of werewolves – the ability to recognize love at first sight, even if they didn’t realize it at first.

“I guess I am.” James says, pulling at the string again. “I’m finding it impossible to do anything but think about you Molly. I want to know every inch of you – the human you and the wolf you.”

“That’s great James, but I don’t think that you know what you’re getting yourself into.” I tell him, thinking about the consequences that could come from falling for a human.

“I know that. And I don’t care. I would rather spend an eternity with you and never fully understand everything happening around me than spend an eternity wondering what might have been.”

“You’re scaring me.” I tell him, shocked by the sincerity of his words.

“That’s a switch. I would think it should be you scaring me, not the other way around.” His hand is cupping my chin now. I tilt my head back as his lips approach mine. His lips are soft against mine. He’s kissing me and I’m kissing him back.

“I don’t believe it.” I say, coming up for breath.

“Believe what?”

“I’ve found a man who can love me for who I am. Who can see my darkness and still get past it.” I tell him, cupping his chin. I whisper to him before kissing him. “I think you might be my one, James Sinclair.”

“I would like that very much.” He says, smiling back down at me.

“You would, would you?” I ask. I pull him to me for another kiss. This one is longer and deeper. We allow our bodies to take control. They seem to fit so perfectly.

I finally pull myself away and look into James eyes. They are full of love and trust, something that I haven’t seen in a long time. My father certainly never looked at my mother that way.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with you.” I tell him. We talk for several more hours and make plans for our first date. As I show him to the door, I inquire about the location and he tells me it will be a surprise.

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Howling by Pamela MacLean is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Howling (4)

The three days of my phasing period pass slowly. James doesn’t return again until late on the eve of the third day. By this point, the wolf is beginning to take sway over me as it always does near a transformation. It is only the familiarity of his scent that stops me from reacting furiously when he approaches the cage.

I watch as he slides something on a newspaper under the gate. I sniff the air, taking in the smell of the raw meat. I approach the package, hungry and eager for the food. John left me some food, but not quite enough. He always underestimates how much the wolf in me likes to eat. After eating the meat, I stare up at James. In his hands is a brown paper bag with the logo of a nearby butcher printed on it. I can smell more meat inside and wonder if any of it was meant for me.

James takes a seat by the cage. He looks around the yard anxiously, as though he is waiting for someone. I follow the direction of his head and allow my gaze to circle the yard with him. His gaze keeps landing on the house and its emptiness. I hear him ask where “she” could be aloud to the night air.

The moon is almost overhead and I know that my transformation will be happening soon. I can’t have this human hanging around during that. I rear back on my hind legs and let out a loud growl. I continue to growl as James slowly backs away from the cage, whispering soothing phrases.

He doesn’t leave though. He simply backs away and stands staring, trying to process the sudden shift in my temperament. The moon creeps higher and higher in the sky. I can tell that there are only moments left before the shift from wolf to human will occur. There is no way that I can let James see that. I can vaguely remember from my younger years before I was able to change what the phasing process looked like.

To me, it had always looked like a fairy-tale. The body of the wolf would shake and twist as a deep magic surged through it. The animal’s eyes would go blank and no sound would be heard. Not the beating of the heart. Not the soft breathing of the lungs. It was as though time stood still as the animal lifted up on its hind legs and allowed the bones to fall in and out of place. Eventually, a human would be standing where the animal once stood. The human would be stark naked and a bit dazed from the experience. The experience was painful, but the pain was more than bearable.

The moon is quickly approaching the top of the night sky and I am all out of options for sending James away. He stands several yards from the cage still staring at me. Every time he thinks it’s safe to approach and begins crossing the yard, I let out a low growl. Each time, he backs away and waits again.

My body begins to shake uncontrollably. I sit down and allow myself to be hoisted onto my hind legs. Time stands still for a moment and I black-out for a fraction of a second. I come to and find myself staring into the eyes of James, who had now come directly up to the cage at some point. I stare at him from human eyes for a moment before the fact that I am stark naked registers with me.

I scurry to the corner of the cage and grab a blanket to wrap around myself. I am thankful to John at this very moment because he actually thought to give me a blanket. James continues to stare.

“Do you think you could advert your eyes?” I ask harshly.

“Sorry.” He places his hands over his eyes and turns away from the cage. “What just happened?”

“You saw?” I ask, astonished that he had watched me transform. I am more astonished that he stuck around.

“Yeah.” He seems to be waiting for an explanation.

“That’s who I am.” I say, fumbling to unlock the cage. Luckily, wolves can’t use keys so it’s safe to leave it in the cage for after the transformation.

“Let me help.” He cups his hands over mine and takes the key from me. From the outside of the cage, it is much easier for him to unlock it.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask while he unlocks the cage.

“Sure.”

“Why haven’t you run yet?”

“Let’s just say I’m a sucker for animals.” He says with a crooked smile.

“Have you been around a werewolf before or something?” I am thoroughly confused by his calm reaction.

“Is that what you are?” He asks, following me to the house.

“Yes. It is.” I reply, waiting for him to run. He doesn’t.

“Then, now I’ve met a werewolf.” His smile is lopsided again.

“And you’re not afraid?”

“Should I be?”

“I don’t know.” I give him the honest answer. “Why are you here anyways?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to catch you all weekend. I hope you don’t mind – I found your address in your wallet.”

“Why did you look in my wallet?” I ask confused.

“Because you left in such a hurry that you forgot it. I was trying to find a way to reach you.” He says, holding the wallet out to me. I take it carefully and finger it for a moment.

“Thank you.” I say, politely. I am standing in the open door. He seems to be waiting for an invite despite the late hour.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” He asks, seeming to have given up.

“Maybe.” I say before heading into the house.

I head straight for the upstairs and my bed. A phasing period always wears me out. It takes a lot of energy to shift your body from one shape to another.

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Howling by Pamela MacLean is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Howling (3)

John drives me home. My home is a simple two story, three bedroom structure on John’s Island. A river runs directly behind it and I enjoy spending nights sitting out on the dock staring at the moon that has control over my life. John is fumbling around in the garage as I stretch my newly-healed legs. He comes out carrying a large metal pen. It looks like the ones you find at a hardware store for keeping dogs penned in. I know where this is headed and I am not going to be a happy camper. No wolf wants to spend three days caged in when she could be roaming the mountainsides.

“You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” I ask John.

“It’s for your own safety and you know it. We could all be in danger if someone saw you wandering free.” He points out to me.

“I know, I know. It just doesn’t seem fair.” I tell him as I step through the open door. He shuts it behind me and places a small lock through the hole.

“Well, maybe this will teach you not to steal motorcycles.” He says with a laugh.

“Borrow.” I retort. “I borrowed your bike. I had every intention of returning it.”

“But you can’t now, huh?” His smile is reaching from ear to ear now. His canine teeth stand out amongst the rest. His smile could be viewed as scary at its widest point. “I have to go. Sleep tight.”

His car peels out of the driveway. I listen as it pulls into the driveway next door, where my friends are barraging him with hurried expressions. They are running late and they need to reach the mountains before midnight – before we phase. I have about four hours to wait out the night before it will be the midnight hour. I decide to take advantage of this time and sleep. Phasing is always easiest when you were asleep. I prefer going to sleep a human and waking a wolf. It cuts down on the pain you experience during transformation.

* * * * *

I wake to the changing colors of the sunrise and footsteps approaching from across the yard. I remain with my stomach against the ground and my head between my paws, allowing my eyes to follow the sound of the footsteps. What I see shocks me more than I could have thought possible.

Dr. Sinclair is walking up the driveway. He is swinging his keys in a circular motion around his pointer finger. He whistles a small tune that I can’t make out. He is no longer wearing the white lab coat of the hospital. He walks quickly to the door. I can hear the knock from my cage across the yard. There are two more knocks before he starts heading down the driveway. About halfway down the drive, he turns to look around the yard.

In a matter of moments, his eyes have found my cage. He is staring at me carefully, a puzzled expression taking over his face. He slowly begins walking toward me. I keep my head between my paws. I can’t bring myself to close my eyes, even though I know I should. I reason that he will be more likely to leave me alone if he thinks I am sleeping. His eyes take hold of mine and he continues to hold my gaze as he approaches.

He’s holding his hand out in front of him, as you would for a dog. He is probably hoping to keep me calm by approaching gently. I’m not even sure if he realizes that I am a wolf and not a dog. He is inches away from the pen now and his hand is as near to the fence as possible without going through its tiny holes.

I don’t need to sniff him in order to know that I trust him. I recognize him from the way he walks and gently says “nice doggy”. The familiar smell of his shampoo is comforting as I struggle with my inner wolf. I press my nose against the fence near his hand.

He slips two fingers through the hole and gently pets the side of my nose. His eyes are traveling towards the door of the cage. He moves his other hand towards it, fingering the lock. What was it about humans that make them ignore the warning signs? Such as a cage with a padlock?

He mumbles good-bye and pulls his hand back. I almost let out a whimper, but think better of it. No need to put this man in danger because I want him to stay. He walks to his car and I watch him go, placing my head between my paws once more.

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Howling by Pamela MacLean is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Howling (2)

I wake to find John’s face staring at me. Rails line my bed and a swivel table looms above me with an interesting array of mystery food items positioned neatly on a green tray. John’s eyes are a mix of anger and regret. Anger because I have put us all in grave danger. Regret because he did not stop me from taking his motorcycle.

“Looks like you won’t be coming to the mountains with us.” He says with a gleaming smile full of teeth. “You’ll miss our first hunt with Maria.” Maria is John’s new mate. They have set the wedding date for a month from yesterday. This will elevate John’s status among us.

“Such a pity.” I know that there is sarcasm in my voice and I don’t care. I don’t see a reason for me to like Maria. John took a trip back to the mountains of Canada several weeks ago to visit his family. He returned last week with a dark-haired beauty on his arm. I could instantly tell that she was one of us: half human and half wolf. I could tell that she was going to fit in with no problem and yet make our group different in so many ways. She was lovely and nice. She had given me no reason to hate her. No reason other than the mutual love between her and John.

Since John had found his mate first, he would be elevated to the alpha position – a position that I would have inherited if we had stayed in Canada. Since we had agreed unanimously to start our own pack and move to the city of Charleston that meant that anyone was able to attain the position of pack leader. John had done just that by finding his mate first. He would be our alpha and she would be his – forever. His children would inherit the title and it will leave my line forever. My father will be even more disappointed in his only child.

“You’re going to have to accept her, Molly. She’s going to be a part of our family.” John tells me, pushing a strand of dark hair behind my ear.

“I know that. I’m just being petty. It’ll pass.” I tell him. I realize that I am acting like a child, but I can’t help it. My feelings are running rampant and I feel like I have no control over them. “I hope anyways.”

“It will.” John says, in a soothing voice.

“But, why won’t I be joining you?” I ask, the realization of his initial words finally sinking in. I love the three day trip to the mountains to phase from human to wolf. I look forward to it each month. I don’t want to miss it.

“Because you won’t be healed enough to survive in the wild. We’ll leave you on the island.” John replies, as though it should be obvious.

“But my bones are already healing.” I argue. “In fact, they are mostly healed now.”

“The full moon’s only two days away, Molly. We leave in a couple of hours. You won’t be ready by then.” John points out. His fingers trace the dates on the calendar posted near the bed. It has been a whole day since I stole his bike and wrecked it.

“So I won’t be phasing this month?” I feel a pout coming to my lips. I try to fight it. I can’t let him see me weak.

“You’ll be healed enough by midnight to phase.” John tells me. “That’s why we have to figure a way out of here.” His hands motion around the room. I can tell by his voice that there is no conceived plan for an escape.

“The doctor.” I say in a whisper.

“What about him? He can’t help you now. Your body will finish the healing process. You know that no drugs or technology could work faster.” He wears a puzzle of confusion on his face.

“I know that.” I respond quickly. “But maybe he could help me escape.”

“He’s human, Molly. He’s not going to just let you walk out of here. It’s bad enough that your bones were almost healed when you arrived here. You’re lucky he knew to re-break them or you would be a pretzel right now.” John recounts what he knows of the emergency room for me.

“He didn’t know. I told him to re-break the bones, John.” I inform him, feeling in some of the gaps in his story. “He listened.”

“And you think he’d help?” John asks, surprised by my blatant trust in a complete stranger. I can’t explain it, even to myself, but I feel compelled to trust this human that I have barely met.

“I do. Could you be a good dog and fetch him for me?” I tease lightly. He quickly hurries away.

Moments later, a doctor appears in the room. For the first time, I am able to see my savior with my own eyes. The smell of Crest has been replaced with a husky cologne. He looks to be in his late twenties. His hair is dark and freshly showered. I’m guessing that he just arrived for duty.

“May I help you Miss Brekenridge?” He looks at me, carefully surveying my body. John has not accompanied him.

“I need to get out of here soon.” I tell him, motioning for him to come closer.

“How soon?” He asks as he crosses the room to stand next to the bed.

“By midnight.” I watch his face for a reaction and find that there is none.

“Why?” He isn’t going to make this easy.

“Because I have something important to do. Something that can’t be postponed.” I answer, trying to evade anymore questions.

“And you want me to help you?” A lopsided smile is forming on his face. I can see pearly whites between his lips. “You’re not scheduled to be released for another two days, Miss Brekenridge.”

“It’s Molly and I know that Dr. Sinclair.”

“Call me James.” His reply is short and hurried. “If I’m going to help you out of here, then we’re going to have to be on first name basis.” The smile is back as he hurries for the door. He is gone before I even have a chance to say anything.

I sit alert, listening to every little sound, while I wait for him to return. Feet are hurrying by in the hallway as doctors and nurses rush from one room to another tending to their patients. I can hear coughing several rooms down and a couple having a teary reunion. Further down, in the waiting room, I can hear my group of friends talking about their upcoming trip. Six will be going on this trip as always; except my spot in the van will be filled by Maria. Footsteps continue to hurry in every direction. I can make out one pair of feet approaching the door of my room.

His husky scent enters the room before he does. I breath it in, trying to remember every ounce of this moment. This will quite possibly be the last time I see him and I want to remember it forever. There is something remarkable about this human. Something different.

“Put this on.” He tells me, pulling a long white lab coat from behind his back. A forged name badge reads Mrs. Sinclair, RN. I slide the coat on and look him in the eyes.

“Is your wife a nurse?” I ask, curious as to why he has used his own last name for the badge.

“No. I just couldn’t think of any other last name to use. I guess you would call that a mind blank.” He replies, placing a stethoscope around my neck. “Follow me.”

I follow him out into the hallway. My bones seem to be completely healed and I have no trouble keeping up with him. He leads me to a back elevator and pushes the down arrow. He politely asks how I’m feeling and I reassure him that I am doing just fine. The elevator arrives and we ride it to the ground floor. It’s crowded so we neither one bother to speak, barely even making eye contact.

I follow him across the busy emergency room and out into the parking lot. He pauses for a second, checking behind him to make sure I’m fine. We continue until we’re about mid-way through the parking lot. My friends are waiting to take me home. They are parked in the darkest corner of the lot under a large tree. All of their eyes are staring intently and I am sure their ears are listening as well.

“Here’s your coat, Dr. Sinclair.” I say, peeling the coat from my body and reaching it across to him, making sure to keep my distance.

“Keep it.” He says, with a smile. “I have plenty.” I start to turn away but change my mind. There is still one more question that I want answered.

“So, what does your wife do?” I ask.

“I’m not married.” He says in the simplest of tones. “What does your husband do?”

“I’m not married.” I mirror his comment and tone of voice.

“In that case,” his eyes light up. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m busy. Maybe some other time.” I let him down as gently as I can. Things could never work between us. Werewolves and humans aren’t meant to be compatible. We might live in the same city, but our lives are in two completely different worlds. Worlds that aren’t meant to merge.

I turn to leave. My friends are still waiting patiently for me. I know that they will be heading out soon. I feel a hand grasp mine from behind. It is cool and firm. An electric current shoots through my body as our skin met. A small slip of paper is nestled between his fingers and he smoothly slips it between mine. It is over in an instant. He is headed back inside and I continue to join my friends. I can feel the raised paper from where he had written his phone number for me.

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Howling by Pamela MacLean is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Howling (1)

I had known that I shouldn’t take John’s motorcycle, but that hadn’t stopped me. I had been too angry to listen to the voice of reason inside my head. John had found his true love – his mate for life. This meant that my life was ruined.

Instead of rationally thinking about the consequences, I had dived right into John’s garage searching for the motorcycle that I knew was in there. I had straddled the bike and taken off in a matter of minutes. The bike had twisted and sped through town, roaring beneath me. I had been reckless and caught up in my thoughts. I had missed the headlights looming bright in front of me.

The sound of metal crushing still echoes in my head. I can feel that my body is wrapped around the bike’s twisted frame in a grotesque fashion. I can feel the breaks in the bones throughout my body. Only my right arm has come through unscathed.

I silently survey my body. A broken arm, two broken legs, a broken rib or two. I try desperately to move my neck, which is uncomfortably positioned between two tires. I barely move it when I hear a slight snapping of the bone. Seems my spine is a bit damaged too. I am going to have to stay put since I’m wedged between the tire of a semi and John’s totaled bike.

I can hear an ambulance racing down the street. Seconds later I hear footsteps on the pavement and two men talking.

“No one could have survived that crash.” A voice says.

“Is s-she O-K?” A voice stammers. The footsteps are shakily coming towards the rubble of the motorcycle. I picture how my body must look. The goal is to remain still. I can’t risk frightening anyone.

“Fred here will check you out over at the ambulance, sir.” The first voice says, trying to remain calm. “Let us take care of the rest.” More sirens are sounding in the distance – a fire truck and two police cars. I can hear the man approaching the rubble slowly. My guess is that he is checking for any fuel leakage that could put him in danger.

I hear his boots stop by the bike. He bends over its twisted frame, gasping as he gets a look at my body. It must be worse than I thought if it shocked the EMT. He reaches two fingers to my neck, checking for a pulse.

“Fred! Fred!” He shouts into the distance. The sirens are getting closer. “Come quick! I need another set of hands.”

“Why?” Fred sprints across the road, his feet sounding on the pavement.

“She has a heartbeat.” The surprise in his voice is understandable. Any normal human wouldn’t have survived a crash between a motorcycle and an eighteen-wheeler.

“She does?” Fred is incredulous as well. He reacts quicker than his counterpart though. “Let’s get this bike off of her then.” The sirens stop and more feet join the pavement, their footsteps beating rhythmically in my head.

It takes four men to lift and twist the bike off of me. My bones groan as they move with the bike. They hurt less with each second and I find myself worrying about the shape that I will be in when I come out of this disaster.

“We need to get her into the ambulance.” Fred’s voice sounds in my head once more as I hear a stretcher clanging to the ground. The wheels clatter along the cement and stop inches away from me. I am rolled onto a plastic board and feel something close around my neck. Three sets of hands lift me onto the stretcher and everything goes black as a sharp pain shoots through my back.

* * * * *

When I regain consciousness, I cannot pinpoint the time of day or the location of my body. For all I know, I have been pronounced dead and placed in a morgue somewhere. I can just make out a bright light shining beyond my eyelids and feet hurrying around me. A pair of gloved hands is going up and down my body, checking for breaks and other damage.

“It’s incredible.” A deep voice breathes. “Her bones are already starting to heal. They’re healing wrong but they’re healing.” His voice was barely audible to a human ear, but I can make it out as though he had spoken the words clearly. “She should never have survived that crash.”

“Doctor?” A female voice asks. “What do we do next?”

“I’m not sure.” He answers sincerely.

“He’s too young to be handling this. They should’ve put a more trained surgeon on the case.” A voice whispers across the room.

“He was the only one free. Sometimes you have to take what you can get.” A female voice murmurs in return.

“Her bones are already healing. I guess we’re going to have to set them as they are.” The doctor says under his breath. I can smell Crest on his lips as he speaks.

I fear for the shape I am twisted into. I can not allow my bones to set as they are. I wiggle the fingers on my right hand before reaching it up to meet his. I expect him to jump. He doesn’t. He stands perfectly still, allowing my hand to grasp his.

“Re-break them.” My voice comes out harsh and dry. He leans closer to hear what I am trying to say. I repeat myself. “Re-break them. Then set them fast.”

There had been enough broken bones among my friends in the past 22 years that I knew what had to be done. My bones would heal and they would heal quickly, no matter what shape they were in. The only way to restore my shape was to re-break the bones and set them quickly.

A pain shoots through my body as the doctor cracks my left arm. I can feel the extra strength he had to use. Adrenaline is coursing through his body, making the veins in his hands pulse as he works through all of my bones – breaking and setting them to save me. His colleagues whisper many things about the impractical practices he is using at this particular moment. No one moves to help him or to get help. They are all rooted in place.

He finishes my last bone and I lay perfectly still for a moment. My eyes are still closed and my heartbeat is still slow. I can feel the bones molding to join each other and the joints that had once held them together. My heartbeat begins to pick up and I allow myself to drift into a dream world, where everything is the way it is supposed to be.

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Howling by Pamela MacLean is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

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