Chapter 9 #3
I feel suddenly quite spooked, realising how isolated I am.
I know there’s a road on the other side of the land, but it’s a long way from where I am right now.
What if something’s happened? What if he’s been murdered and he’s lying in a pool of his own blood?
What if there’s been an accident, or the house is rigged with a bomb, or he’s about to emerge with bloodshot eyes, infected with a virus that makes him want to tear people limb from limb?
What if the rumours were true, and he is a werewolf or a vampire?
What if you get a grip, you daft cow? I physically slap myself lightly on the forehead.
It really is exhausting having this kind of brain.
It’s like a mouse in a microwave, being chased by a cat on acid.
A never-ending carousel of mental chaos.
Just because Martin/Scott turned out to be a genuinely nasty guy doesn’t mean all my crazy fears will come true.
I have so many crazy fears that it was really just a case of even a stopped clock being right.
It was bound to happen at some point or another, and one bad experience does not a pattern make.
Feeling a little calmer, I knock once more and peer through the window.
I consider trying the door, but that is a step too far.
I’d never, ever leave mine unlocked, but if I did, I’d still be outraged if someone simply walked in without permission.
For all of my creative explanations for there being no response, the truth is undoubtedly something a lot more prosaic, like he’s out on his property somewhere, or in the shower.
Or maybe he has spotted me already, and he’s lying on the floor hoping I go away.
That humiliating idea takes root, of course, and I hastily pull Edie’s silver envelope from my bag, intending to simply post it through the letterbox and leave as quickly as possible.
I’m just bending down to do exactly that when I hear the most bloodcurdling noise.
A long, piercing… howl. There’s no other word for it.
It’s not just me imagining things. I freeze, and feel the familiar paralysing terror starting to creep over me.
I force myself to stand up straight, and manage to suck in a long, deep breath, my nostrils trembling.
The noise continues, eerie and almost beautiful.
At least it would be if I wasn’t so afraid.
Another howl joins in, a slightly different tone, and then another and another.
They wail and yowl together, the plaintive notes climbing higher and lasting longer.
They seem to tumble over each other, rising and soaring and falling in a glorious and heart-stopping song.
It triggers a primal fear in me that tells me to run, run, run, but even though I know I should, I am rooted to the spot, feet in blocks of cement.
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to face whatever it is behind me. My heart is thudding in my chest, and I feel lightheaded and shaky. I’ve been scared before, usually without good cause, but this is it, I know. This is finally it. Eaten alive by wolves.
I turn my head slightly, and see blurs of movement in the treeline.
Flashes of white, glimpses of lean bodies, the rustle of branches.
The howling stops. The greenery is pushed aside…
and Aidan emerges. I stare at him, and more than half of me expects him to suddenly fall to the ground and morph into a gigantic slavering beast.
‘Hey!’ he shouts over, waving at me. Do werewolves wave? Could he have changed back into his human form that quickly? Why oh why didn’t I think to buy a gun loaded with silver bullets?
I don’t even reply, because as he comes out from the trees, he is followed by four enormous animals.
They stay by his side, jostling for position, all of them fixing their eyes on me in a way that makes me lose the ability to breathe.
I love dogs, and I’ve always thought that wolves were exceptionally beautiful, but standing here confronted by them I realise that I underestimated their power.
Each one of these creatures is huge, all massive paws and athletic muscle.
And teeth, of course. They’ll have lots and lots of teeth.
As Aidan continues to walk slowly towards me, three of them fall back, lurking instead at the treeline, watching carefully.
They dig at the ground, and let out snarls, but they don’t follow him.
The fourth one, though… The fourth one has different ideas.
It streaks towards me, eating up the ground between us, terrifyingly fast. I flatten myself back against the door, my hands hitting the wood.
The envelope drops to the ground at my feet.
‘Don’t worry,’ Aidan calls, jogging towards us now, ‘she’s harmless, I promise!’
I note the ‘she’, and a still hysterical corner of my mind wonders if it’s his sister or his mother. If in fact his entire family are werewolves, and they all live out here in the woods together…
His sister/mother/aunt barrels into my legs, then snatches up the envelope I dropped.
She holds it in her mouth and looks up at me, her bushy tail swinging from side to side.
She’s absolutely exquisite, mainly white with streaks and stripes of light brown, and striking amber eyes peering up at me from a mask of darker brown fur.
She comes up past my knees, and her ears are twitching around like they might be antennae.
There is absolutely no sign of aggression from her, and as soon as my mind accepts that, my body starts to relax.
I reach out a very slow hand in her direction, and she drops the envelope so she can give my fingers a good sniff.
Her tail continues to wag, and Aidan is now right by her side, looking on.
‘That’s okay,’ he says softly, I suspect more for my sake than the animal’s.
‘It’s fine to touch her. She likes you, I can tell.
Plus, Juno is a major goofball. She won’t hurt you. ’
I look up at him, see how calm he is, and nod.
Okay. I can do this. I gently run my fingers through the thick fur around her head, and smile at how it feels.
Like a combination of thick and silky soft.
She leans into it, and I scratch behind her ears.
A sensation of complete joy swoops through me, and I crouch down to get a better look at her.
She licks my face, and then collapses down on the floor with her belly facing up.
I laugh and give her the rub she so obviously demands.
It feels incredibly special, being so close to this spectacular creature. A total privilege.
‘I warn you, she’ll let you do that all day,’ Aidan says, as I reluctantly stand up. He’s yet again not wearing a top, but the silly grin I have on my face has nothing to do with him, no matter how glorious his bare chest looks. I only have eyes for Juno. ‘You want to come inside?’
‘Only if she does,’ I reply, and he laughs as he opens the door.
Juno prowls through and proceeds to give everything a sniff.
I follow. The hallway is spacious with a paved stone floor.
There’s a wooden cabinet full of dog things– leads, harnesses, grooming brushes, plastic chew toys in the shape of bones, tug-of-war ropes.
It smells like his car: clean, but with a distinct eau de canine. I inhale, loving it.
‘Sorry about the stink,’ he says, noticing me. ‘Comes with the territory. Coffee?’
Juno pads through into what turns out to be the kitchen, and jumps up into an old sofa that is very obviously hers.
She stretches out, watching us both with those amazing amber eyes.
Aidan starts up a coffee machine that looks like it could be from a steampunk movie, and grabs a sweatshirt from the back of a chair.
‘Sorry about the state of me, too,’ he adds.
‘No need to be sorry about anything,’ I say hastily. ‘I’ve turned up uninvited. And anyway, I love the stink. What… What is she? Juno? And will the others come in?’
‘They’re all Wolfdogs. And the clue’s kinda in the name. They’re a hybrid of wolf and domestic dogs, usually German Shepherds, Huskies, that kind of thing.’
‘Wow. Is that… Um, I don’t mean to accuse you of being a criminal, but is that legal?’
‘As long as they’re what’s called third generation, yeah, here in the UK.
Different rules in the States. My family always had Shepherds and Malinois, great guard dogs, super intelligent.
When I moved to England, I came across a rescue centre that looked after these guys, and I was smitten.
It took time and a lot of training– for me– but eventually I adopted Juno.
Lucked out with her; she was only young when she was abandoned, so she was able to bond with me, and generally socialised well with humans. As you can see now, she’s a killer…’
Juno raises one eyebrow at him and thumps her tail once, as though acknowledging that he is talking about her.
‘What about the others?’ I ask, fascinated. ‘They don’t come inside?’
‘They do, yes, but they won’t when you’re here, not until they’re sure about you.
They’re a little more wolf in their behaviour.
All three of them ended up in the rescue as adults, and that can be hard for them.
Like with wolves in the wild, they’re pack animals, and their owners are their pack, their entire world.
If that goes wrong, there can be problems. They’re more likely to run at the sight of a strange human, and it takes them a long time to trust one.
They’re good with me, but I need to start introducing others into the mix now.
It helps that they’re together, but they’ve still got a way to go.
It’s… Well, it’s a commitment. One I’ve made to them. ’
He talks with such passion that I find myself looking at him in something akin to wonder. How many layers are there to this guy?