Wolf for Hire

Chapter Twelve

The
gravel crunched beneath my padded feet as I bounded down the railroad
tracks. In my rush to escape the yard, I hadn't taken the time to
transform back to my human self. I had, instead, shoved the wolf into
the passenger's seat, and made my escape. For now, she was begrudgingly
along for the ride.

Monty
hung around my neck like a bizarre—and uncomfortably tight—scarf, her
head lifted, her tongue flickering as she tasted the air. My wet
fur was plastered and matted against a dress skirt that clung and
tugged with every awkward stride. Between my clothes lack of
give—tailored to fit a more human form—my sodden pelt, and the general
awkwardness of running on digitigrade legs for the first time, I felt
like a clumsy tangle of limbs, bounding tie to tie with the grace of a
half-drowned gazelle.

The
tracks, flanked by thick woods on either side, offered cover from
passing cars and pedestrians, ensuring I had a safe and secure route
home. I could secret Monty and myself back to Sandy's without drawing
more attention. Not that it could save me from the attention I'd already
garnered for myself. But, barring home videos, there was a slim chance
that someone in a passing train would come by and see me—a streaking
werewolf leading a pack of dogs.

My
purse jostled against one shoulder, while my rolled-up suit jacket sat
tucked under my other arm. Coy and Emma raced behind me, Emma's tongue
lolling as she bounded behind me, and Coy with his jaws clamped around
one of my ballet flats that had fallen off after my feet stopped being
feet.God knew that my other flat was still floating back in the
pool of the yard I'd just come from. I had Cinderella'd myself and, in
doing so, ensured that there was definitive proof tying me back to the
yard where the kids had recorded me.Behind Coy and Emma,
bringing up the rear, was the Jack Russell terrier—their tiny legs
pumping with a maniacal determination I couldn't fathom.

To
be clear, I wasn't running from the kids with the cameras. I was
running from the damn dog. The little Jack Russell terrorist was
barreling after us, seemingly intent on finishing their fight with Monty.
Getting the snake home, and back into her sun basket, was my top
priority, but the terrier was making it a nightmare. I had to constantly
command Monty to calm down so that she wouldn't go into a frenzy again.At
first I assumed that the terrier's beef was just with Monty, but,
despite having saved their life, I too had somehow incurred their wrath.
Back in the yard with the pool, the terrier had, at first, stood their
ground, yipping and snarling at Monty and me. But, just as I turned my
back to them, intending to leap the fence, sharp teeth sank into my tail,
and I didn't so much clear the fence as tumble over it, diving headfirst
into the foliage on the other side.

I
could only imagine that the terrier, with their nipped tail, envied Monty
and me for our long and intact tails, and sought to make us suffer
through them.

Spitting
out twigs and dirt from my teeth, I staggered to my feet, shaking
myself off like a wet dog. Monty damn-near strangled me as a result,
reacting unfavorably to the sudden and jarring jostling she'd just been
subjected to.

The
plan from there had been to trot home at a reasonable pace, but that
soon went out the window. The terrier, having apparently dug many a hole
under their fence, easily escaped containment, and pursued us.

"What's with this dog?" I growled through gritted teeth, sparing a glance behind me.

"Unparalleled
tenacity," Nevermore said, gliding effortlessly beside me. His wings
barely stirred the humid air, his pace infuriatingly unhurried. "It's a
characteristic of their breed."

"For
fuck's sake. Heel!" I hissed at Monty, projecting the command into her
mind, as I felt her beginning to grow herself again. My shoulder
throbbed from where she'd bitten me in her enlarged state, and my clumsy
feet stumble over a pair of the uneven railroad ties. I was juggling
too many things in the circus my life had become.

"Not to change the subject," he began, "but are you just going to leave those kids with the recordings?"

I
lost my balance as my foot sank into the gravel between the ties—I'd
over estimated my leap. Good thing I didn't have ankles to twist."What
am I supposed to do?" I shot back at him. "Break into their house and
steal their phones? I'd only be digging myself into a deeper hole."

"Well,"
he said lightly, "it couldn't be more risky than leaving them with
irrefutable evidence of your lycanthropy. I thought the plan was to
avoid attention."

"No
one's going to believe it's real," I said, my tone clipped. "People
will think it's a deepfake or a costume. Have you seen what people can
do with video editing these days?"

"Ah,
yes," he mused. "Let the internet decide you're merely a lunatic in an
elaborate getup. An interesting gamble, though it might complicate
things."

My ears twitched toward him. "How, exactly?"

He hesitated for only a moment. "Oh, I don't know—perhaps the trifling matter of exposing yourself to minors."

I stopped dead in my tracks, spinning around so quickly that gravel scattered beneath my claws. "Oh, shit!"

Coy
and Emma paused ahead of me, tails wagging in nervous anticipation.
Behind me, the terrier stopped too, barking furiously, watching for an
opening.

How
could I have missed this? Even if no one believed the video was real,
it didn't matter. I hadn't just trespassed—I'd left behind footage that
skirted dangerously close to NC-17 territory.

Trespassing and Indecent exposure were one thing. Barely a slap on the wrist if you could pay the fine.

But
this? This could qualify me for Section 16-15-140—Committing Lewd Acts
Upon a Minor. A single violation could earn me 15 years in prison.

Three kids. Three violations.This
entire time I thought lycanthropy would ruin my life, when I was more
than capable of doing it myself the entire time. With my own god damn
assets.

"Oh, God," I whispered, panic clawing at my throat "We have to go back!"

Nevermore
cocked his head, feathers ruffling in amusement. "Oh I wouldn't worry
that much about that. Aside from getting outed as a crazy lady, I can't

imagine that they could press any charges. They have to prove intent to
do that. And I am pretty sure you didn't intend to dive into that pool."

"You
don't get it!" I snapped, pacing in tight circles. "Intent doesn't
matter when you've got a record like mine! I already have priors for
trespassing and public indecency. I only avoided jail time because I was
diagnosed with narcolepsy and a hormonal disorder!"

"Hmm, a fair misdiagnosis," Nevermore said, with a dry chuckle. "Lycanthropy isn't exactly covered in med school."

I
ignored him. "Judge Childs already ordered me to get psychotherapy
because she thinks I'm neglecting my treatment. If the courts think I'm
doing this for YouTube clout, I'm fucked! Do you get that?"

"Perhaps a friendly scare might ensure their silence," he suggested. "Children are remarkably impressionable."

"No!" I shouted, spinning toward him again. "We can't go around threatening kids! That only makes it worse!"

"Well," he said mildly, "the boy likely plans to show the video to all his friends. At his age, it's practically inevitable."

I opened my mouth to retort, but pain shot up my spine before I could speak.

The
terrier had seized their chance, snapping their jaws shut around my tail
like a spring-loaded trap. I yelped and I spun in a frantic circle,
trying to dislodge the little menace.

"Let
go, you little—ack!" I gasped as Monty coiled tighter around my neck,
her golden scales tightening down on my windpipe. Staggering, I reached
for the terrier with one hand while trying to pry Monty's grip loose
with the other. Each spin only sent the dog swinging, their jaws
stubbornly clamped onto my tail.

"Chasing your tail, are we?" Nevermore glided down, his tone laced with dry amusement. "How delightfully on-brand."

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"Not...
helping!" I rasped. The pain in my ribs—from Monty's crushing me
earlier—flared as I strained myself in an attempt to grab the dog.
Monty's strength hadn't waned since our scuffle in the pool, it was only
being tapped down. I sent a sharp mental command to Monty: Heel.
She froze momentarily, loosening her grip just enough to let me
breathe, but I could since her agitation only simmered beneath the
surface.

The
terrier's presence was setting her off, and it was becoming clear that
my earlier escape plan had failed spectacularly. The terrier was free
and continued to trigger Monty's defensive behavior over and over again.
If I didn't get her home soon, I'd be gearing up for round two of Wolf
vs. Python.

Despite
the potential danger the situation entailed, the wolf yawned in the
back of my mind. Her indifference felt like a passenger leaning against
the window while the driver struggled to keep the car on the road. She
wanted to return to her nap and clearly believed her job was done.

I
wasn't sure what would happen if the wolf fully withdrew at this point,
but considering the fatigue I'd experience this morning when I tried to
transform by myself, I didn't want to find out what would happen now.
I'd probably black out only to find myself at the mercy of a hungry and
enraged Monty, too weak to fight back.

Don't you dare check out now, I thought, trying to drag her back into focus.

Her reply was a low growl, though, one that was more exasperated than angry.

Nevermore
landed lightly on a low-hanging branch, tilting his head as he studied
me. "You seem to be unraveling, Miss Avery. Might I suggest delegating
some responsibility to me?"

"What...
do you mean?" I managed, still wrestling with Monty as my vision
blurred—a supernatural being I may be, but immune to a lack of blood
flow to the brain I was not.

"Well,
you're clearly preoccupied," he said, flicking a wing as if to point at
the snake around my neck. "Perhaps I can handle our young
documentarians. Children are quite imaginative creatures, and a little
narrative intervention can do wonders."

"You're suggesting we scare them?" I tightened my grip on Monty as she squirmed, her scales grating against my skin.

"Scare?
No, no," he said, his tone mockingly affronted. "Merely provide them
with a story. Something fantastical enough to sate their curiosity such
that they won't go looking for their own answers."

"How does that help me?" I demanded, panting as Monty began to relax.

"Children's
minds are like little fires—they burn brightest when fueled. What I
propose will redirect the blaze." Nevermore spread his wings wide, like
the arms of a preacher giving a sermon. "Think about it, those children
are still young enough to believe in the monsters and boogeyman that
their parents tell them don't exist. Yet, now, they've seen something
that only validates what their minds want to believe is true."

Nevermore
hopped off the branch, alighting onto my shoulder, the energy in his
voice growing by the second—contrasting with the growing feeling of
apprehension in my gut.

"Now
enter me, and talking bird, spinning tales of wonder to explain what
they've seen such that their secrecy becomes of the utmost importance.
It's a simpler solution than leaving them to find the truth themselves.
Don't you think?"

"That… that actually sounds worse than threatening them," I shot back.

"Bah. Worse is subjective," he said with infuriating calm.

I
commanded Monty to heel once again, and her grip finally loosened.
Seizing the opportunity, I let go of her and immediately reversed the
direction I'd been turning. This shook Nevermore off my shoulder—forcing
him to flutter back to the branch—and flung the terrier forward. I
caught them with my suit jacket and I began swaddling the little dog,
who was still dead set on chewing on my tail. Soon, I had them in a
tightly bound bundle. I then pried them off my tail and tucked them under
one arm, keeping them restrained as they yipped and wriggled futilely."See, Monty," I panted, gesturing towards the dog, "nothing to worry about anymore. Now calm the fuck down."
I could feel my knees buckling, and I slumped against a tree as
exhaustion washed over me. It wasn't just mine, but the wolf's. Whatever
she was doing to allow us to transform like this was taxing for the
both of us.

"Fine," I said, returning my attention back to Nevermore. "But this better not come back to bite me in the ass."

"An inevitability, I think, but one we can hopefully delay," he replied glibly, taking off the way we'd come.I eventually pushed myself off the tree and stumbled forward in the direction of home.

I
made it back to Sandy's yard and barely mustered the strength to hop
this fence as well—I hadn't the keys to open the gate. I instructed Coy
to let Emma and himself through the front door as I began to unwrap the
terrier.

"Alley-oop,"
I said, and tossed the terrier back over the fence. If landing
unceremoniously in the bushes fazed them at all, they showed no sign.

Instead, they bolted off barking, running the fence's length as if
trying to find another way in. My hope was that they'd eventually lose
interest and return home.

The wolf stirred, yawning in a silent stretch before she curled up and withdrew, receding into the recesses of my mind.

I didn't get far before the dizziness hit.

The
sensation hadn't a gradual onset or some kind of warning. Instead, it
hit more like a freight train. One moment I was upright; the next, the
world tilted violently, and I barely had time to register the damp grass
before my face made contact, slamming into it.

My
body had become lead, and it suddenly hurt to breathe. Monty's earlier
grip had done a number on my ribs and now my body, which was now in the
process of reshaping my bones, only made it worse.

Oh God, I am dying.

I
could feel the strain of the transformation grinding through me, my
body trying to shift back to human. The wolf present must've prevented
the process from occurring while I was still in trouble. But now it was
trying to make up for lost time.

No wonder she'd wanted out: this was unbearable.

Every
muscle burned, caught in a losing battle, trying to force my body to
change, but not quite having the strength to do it. Like trying to lift a
weight that was just beyond your limits: where success could only be
achieved at the cost of severe injury.

I
needed it to get my body to stop, to relax, but I had no idea how to
tell it to stand down. Yet, if I didn't get to settle down, I'd probably
start having seizures or something equally unpleasant

I groaned, the image of the wolf vivid in my mind—curled up and snoring. She'd abandoned me to suffer.

"Wake up," I growled. "Don't just leave me like this."

Nothing.

"Get up and help me!" I shoved the command toward her, my frustration sharpening the edges of the thought.

Her
response was swift—a mental snap. A sharp pain that was rather muted,
give the circumstances: just one little agony to add to a heaping pile.

"You've got to be kidding me," I hissed through gritted teeth, letting my head drop back against the grass.

Every
inch of my body trembled, as if every muscle was trying to pull itself
apart. Which, I suppose, was what they did normally during a
transformation. But now the process lacked—for want of a better word—the
moon's magic, and the process had gotten all gummed up.I
managed to roll onto my back, panting, and stared up at the sky, my
vision becoming watery. Monty, oblivious to my suffering, slithered into
a more comfortable position, basking in the sun atop my mane. It wasn't
a basket of velvet pillows by any stretch of the imagination, but it
was apparently sufficient.

Meanwhile, I was actively trying not to die from my first attempt at a midday transformation.

But, hey, at least one of us was happy.

Testing
an idea, I let go of my mind's metaphorical wheel, as I had the night
before when I let the wolf have the controls. But now, without her there
to take over, the car just coasted. No one to direct anything—just the
painful inertia staying the course.

It
also occurred to me that if my life was truly in danger, the wolf
would've stepped in, just like she had when Monty tried to eat me. She
probably knew this process—painful as it was—was more or less foolproof
and opted to let me suffer through it on my own—the bitch.

I
lay there in the grass, blinded by the noon day sun, willing my body to
wind down. The spasms and twisting slowly ebbed, though the ache
continued to linger. It seemed like the effort required to transform was
tied to the act itself—the reshaping of bone and muscle—but not in
maintaining the form once it was achieved. That once things were settled
into place, they could stay that way.

But that only begged more questions. Such as: How did my body decide which form to take?

I'd
never consciously willed myself back into a human shape after a night
under the moon. It just... happened. Initially, my thought had been that
my body would revert to human, my default form, once the supernatural
force behind the transformations ebbed—after the moon set. Just like in
every werewolf movie.

But
the fact that I now found myself more or less stuck as a werewolf
seemed to contradict that hypothesis. Energy, will, or something, was
required to transform my body from one form to another.

It
wasn't conscious thought, that was for sure. Otherwise, I'd have found
myself stuck as a wolf after every full moon. Perhaps, the form I took
was dependent on the identity of the one behind the wheel. When I
believed myself human, my body worked to return to that state. When the
wolf took over, everything shifted to match her. This half-way form
being the result when we both were behind the wheel—be it through our
combined effort or refusal to let go.Whichever the case, the
wolf seemed to have a more intuitive, or perhaps instinctual,
understanding of this process. Not surprising considering that she was
basically a manifestation of my curse: the other side of the coin. As
for me, the process was an uphill battle. I didn't know shit about what I
was doing.

My
chest rose and fell as I stared at my clawed hands, imagining them as
mine—not foreign, not wrong, just part of me. Assuming the identity
hypothesis held, then, if I wanted to move forward, I'd have to accept
this halfway form as who I was.

At least for now.

Slowly,
I tried convincing myself that my pawed feet and furred limbs were
natural, something that belonged to me. There was no need to change into
something else.

And, it seemed to be working—until a thought stopped me cold.

What if I convinced myself too well?

What if I truly believed I wasn't human anymore? Would I ever be able to change back?

Panic
flared in my chest, and with it, the shifting began again. Bones ground
against each other, and my body protested with a sharp, splitting pain.

"Dammit," I hissed, frustrated at my own subconscious. "Get it together."

I
took a steadying breath, forcing the panic down. People wore masks all
the time, didn't they? Every day, I clocked in at the Moxy, smiled at
customers I didn't care about, and played the part of the perfect
employee. Once you joined the workforce, pretending to be someone you
weren't was something ground into you, eventually becoming second
nature.

So why would pretending to be that which goes bump in the night be any different?

If
I needed to play a role to get through the day, then that was fine. I
could be AJ, an accountant in wolf-clothes, as long as needed to.