Chapter 5
I raised my head and glanced over my shoulder at the door. How dare it knock when I was trying to rest! There was another knock. The door was mocking me.
"Hello?" a pleasant male voice called through the door.
"Go away!" I called out.
"I'd like to speak to you about something very important, Miss Lyman," the voice replied.
"I don't want any catalogs or vacuums," I argued. There was still a volume on the coffee table that came in the mail yesterday.
I swore I heard a chuckle. "Not quite on that subject. It's about your visit to the precinct this morning."
My heart stopped and my blood ran cold. The first word through my head was 'shit.' The second one was much less polite, and did nothing to calm me. I sat up and frowned at the door. "What about it?" I asked him.
"I'm not an officer, nor am I affiliated with the lieutenant," he assured me.
"Uh-huh, and I'm supposed to believe that why?" I wondered. I stood, tiptoed over to the door, and peered through the peephole. A man with short dark hair stood on the other side, but he was turned away from the door and wore a long, thick dark trench coat.
"Do I pass inspection?" the man asked me without turning around.
"How are you supposed to pass if I can't see who you are?" I returned.
The man sighed and turned toward me. I gasped and stumbled back. It was the same man from the party, the one who had stared at me. "Will you let me in now?" he called through the door.
"Y-you don't pass inspection," I replied.
The door flew open with a bang that told me the lock was now broken, and the man stepped inside. "Sorry about the door, but you must come with me," he ordered.
I raced around the other side of the couch and glared at him. "Put that door back and get the hell out of here!" I yelled, hoping one of my neighbors would come to my rescue. No such luck. They were all at work, and the apartment manager was never around when you needed him.
"I'm not leaving without you," he argued. He took a step toward me, and I glanced around the room for something with which to fend him off. My eyes fell on the Christmas catalog close at hand.
I lunged for the tome and he lunged for me. He was much faster, but had to cover more ground. I grabbed the catalog and swung the Tolstoy-sized paperback into his face. The pages flapped his nose and disoriented him for a split-second. I shoved him to the couch and raced past him and through the open door. My feet pounded against the thin commercial carpet and down the stairs to the lobby. I pushed open the door and flew down the steps before I realized Roger was still parked at the curb.
I jumped inside and clutched the back of the seat between us. The heater blasted me with warm air. "Step on it, Roger!" I yelled at the cabbie. I expected us to roar out into the street narrowly missing pedestrians and cars alike. Instead we just sat there with him staring at the door to my apartment building. "What are you waiting for? One of those werewolf guys is after me!" I yelled at him.
"I'm waiting for my fare," he replied.
The door to the apartment building opened and out stepped the young man. He strode down the steps toward the taxi. For the first time Roger had failed to save me, so I would have to save myself. I slid over to the far door and grabbed at the handle, but at that moment the door locked. Only the driver could lock it. "Roger, let me out!" I cried to the cabbie.
"I can't do that, Miss Lyman. The boss wants to take you with us," Roger told me.
The 'boss' slid into the taxi beside me and shut the door. Roger pulled out into the street and we sped down the road. I pressed myself against the door and whipped my head between Roger and the stranger. "What the hell is going on here?" I yelled.
"Please remain calm. We're not going to harm you," the stranger assured me. I was so assured I drew back my arm to slam my elbow into the glass of the door. If I was going to die I'd rather do it beneath a car than in the jaws of a monster.
The stranger grabbed me and we grappled for a whole two seconds before he folded my arms across my front and pinned them to my chest with his own. He pressed my back against his chest and I whipped my head up and glared at him.
"Fine, eat me and get it over with!" I growled.
He only smiled. "I have no intention of becoming a cannibal," he replied.
"Why not, the others ate those humans, why not you?" I countered.
"Humans and werewolves are two different species," he corrected me.
I couldn't follow his logic, and didn't care. "Then get it over with! Eat me and share me with Roger, unless he's a human minion of yours," I snapped, sending spittle toward my former friend in the front seat.
Roger cringed and the stranger frowned. "He is human, yes, but loyal to me and your savior twice," he argued.
"Uh-huh, just so he could save me as a snack for you?" I quipped.
"I believe this relationship is off on the wrong foot," the stranger commented.
I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes. "If you're going to eat me at least start with the head so I don't suffer."
Rather than munching on me from one end or the other, the stranger opened his hands and arms. I was free from his grasp, so I shoved myself off him and against the locked door. "That was an action of good faith. Have I earned any?" he wondered.
I frowned, but didn't attempt to break the window and make my escape. "If you're not going to eat me then what do you want me for?" I questioned him.
"To take you home with me," he replied.
I snorted. "Like I'm some sort of a lost puppy?" I returned.
He chuckled. "Not exactly, but the comparison is very appropriate for what we are," he mused.
"And what exactly are we?" I wondered.
"We are werewolves," he informed me.
I glanced between him and the back of Roger's head. "You said Roger was human," I reminded him.
"I did, and he is. I was referring to you and myself," he replied.
My eyes widened and I slowly shook my head. "Oh hell no. I am not one of those monsters," I argued.
"I'm afraid it's true," he insisted.
My hands balled into fists. "I am not a werewolf! There is no way-"
"What about the scar on your shoulder? Roger tells me it's healed," the stranger commented. I paused and my hand flew to my shoulder. The scar, the wound, the teeth in my shoulder. None of my fellow terrified humans bit me. A werewolf did. He sighed and leaned back in the seat. "Yes, the bite from a werewolf changes another into a werewolf. You can imagine how difficult it is for our children to play with humans," he added.
"This. . .this can't be," I murmured.
"I'm afraid it is. You're a werewolf now, and I'm the one who bit you," he revealed.
That put him as Enemy Number One on my short list of people to kill. I roared and lunged at him with my hands curled like claws. My anger fueled my attack and I got off a couple of scratches with my fingernails before he had me pinned as before. I squirmed and thrashed, but he held me tight.
"It was the only way to save your life!" he told me.
"Save my life? You've ruined my life! You've made me into a monster!" I argued.
"It's better to live as a werewolf than die by the hands of those insane people!" he insisted.
"You're one of them! You were there!" I reminded him.
"Only because attendance is mandatory. Participation is voluntary," he countered.
"Like I'm going to believe you! You're the one who bit me!" I growled and pulled against his arms, but only ended up exhausting myself. I slumped in his lap and ground my teeth together.
"Are you finished?" he wondered.
"Let me go and we'll find out," I dared him.
"I would rather not risk it. You seem to have an inexhaustible energy when you're focused on killing someone," he complimented.
"And you're a monster," I returned.
"Perhaps, but I intend to keep you alive. If
you believe I'm a monster than you don't want to meet any more from the Foundation like the lieutenant," he warned me.
I blinked. "Foundation? Is this a trust fund for werewolves?" I asked him.
"The Foundation is what we call ourselves, those of us who were gathered in that building the night we met."
"Fancy name for a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters."
"We aren't all like that," he argued.
I turned away and glowered at the floor. It needed vacuuming badly. "Like I'm going to believe a bloodthirsty monster."
"Then you've put me in quite a conundrum. I can't disprove I'm a bloodthirsty monster because you believe I am."
"Life sucks, doesn't it?" I quipped.
"Often, but I'll make sure you live a life long enough that there will be fewer sucky moments than good ones," he promised.
I glanced back at him. "What do you care how I feel?"
"Because I've chosen you as my mate, and even if you don't feel the same for me I can't stop my feelings for you," he told me.
I tilted my head to one side. "Mate? As in husband-and-wife? Pairing for life? Until-death-do-us-part? Old man and woman rocking on the porch swapping insults?"
He smiled. "All of the above, and I am very much looking forward to the last one," he replied.
"Maybe I'm not," I countered. "Maybe I'm not going to accept you as my mate."
"Then I will still protect you from the Foundation," he insisted.
"What do they want with me, anyway? I'm one of you now," I pointed out.
"But you are not an official member, and a werewolf who isn't a member is more dangerous than a human who knows of their existence," he explained. "A human can be disbelieved and even silenced, but a werewolf can wreak havoc on the human populace and bring attention to our existence."
"So let me get this straight. I was going to be fodder for them at the Foundation banquet and you bit me to save me because you what? Fell in love with me at first sight?" I guessed.
"At first scent, but continue," he corrected me.
"Uh-huh, at first scent. So I escape and they know I'm a werewolf somehow-"
"The trail you left told them you had been attacked by one of us, but they haven't isolated the scent. There were too many of us in the room to get a definite smell," he told me.
"And now they want me to become a member in their murderous organization or what?"
He frowned. "Or be killed."
I rolled my eyes. "So it's either membership in a death cult or death? Being a werewolf is worse than being in a sorority," I quipped.
"I will help you make the transition as smooth as possible. That's why I'm taking you to your new home," he told me.
"My new home?" I glanced out the window and saw we were in an older part of the city. The tall skyscrapers were far behind us, and all around us stood ancient homes with lawns larger than football stadiums. The lawns were surrounded by tall brick walls and accessed via iron-barred gates. Treetops could be seen over the walls, and I glimpsed the pointed roofs of Victorian mansions and copies of medieval castles.
Roger turned into the driveway of one of the grounds and stopped in front of a black wrought-iron gate. He pressed a button on the dash and the gate opened to allow admittance. We pulled through the gate and I glimpsed a large green lawn filled with fruit and shade trees. The gravel driveway wound its way through the lawn to a large Tudor-style mansion complete with stone and wood exterior. Vines supported by lattice covered many of the walls, and bushes surrounded the base of the home.
Roger stopped the vehicle in front of the large double doors. The stranger gently took my hand and opened the door. We stepped out and he stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders. "Welcome to your new home," he whispered.
I looked over the extreme signs of wealth and a goofy grin slid onto my lips. It looked like things weren't going to be completely awful as a werewolf.
or visit Mac Flynn's website.
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