Chapter 5 #2
Complete with red gingham tablecloths and old school Formica tables, the place wasn’t much to look at.
But it smelled incredible—yeasty and cheesy with all sorts of goodness.
My stomach rumbled. I settled into a chair and Dante sat on the other side.
As I shrugged off my jacket, a flash of lightning lit up the air and thunder rumbled not far behind.
“Summer storm,” Dante said. “All the hairs on my arms are standing up.”
“Good thing you’re not in wolf form,” I said with a laugh. “You’d look like a cotton ball.”
In his wolf form, Dante was gorgeous—a huge white wolf. I knew that he went out for runs on his own in the state parks, streaking along at full speed. I had seen him transform over the years, but it had been a little while.
“That’s just what I need. You should see me during shedding season,” he added.
“I have. A few years after I moved in with you, remember? You were shedding so bad that you asked if I’d brush you. That was fun, actually.”
I’d been around seventeen, and Dante was miserable.
It was spring shedding season, and even in his human form, he’d felt weighted down by the fur.
I offered to groom him and so he’d changed and I’d taken the brush to him.
First, though, I gave him a bath with a de-shedding shampoo, and then I’d used a heavy-duty blow dryer on him.
He’d blown coat like crazy, and—after a good go-round with the brush—I was standing next to a pile of fur big enough to make another wolf.
“I remember,” he said, with a laugh.
“Who gives you a bath and blowout now?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I haven’t had one for awhile.
I could use one. In the Packs, we take care of each other that way.
But, for lone wolves? No such luck. You know, someone could make a lot of money if they opened a business dedicated to grooming wolf and dog shifters when they were in their alt forms. What about Benny? He could use a steady job.”
I stared at him. “You’d be willing to let Benny rub you all over and give you a bath, even in your wolf form?”
Dante hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I see what you mean. But if you know anybody who can do the work, it might be worth mentioning.”
I picked up the menu. “If you want, I can give you a blowout this weekend.”
Dante met my eyes. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t mind. It’s a date. Do you know what you want to eat?” I asked.
“I’m good with anything. Even pineapple,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind a beer to go with the pizza.”
“I’m on it.” I approached the counter. We’d been here a number of times and we knew the owner. He was half-human, half-wolf shifter, and his parents were from Italy, so he was first generation American. “Hey Ricard, how are you doing?”
“Business is good,” he said. “The wife is good, health is good, what more can I ask for?” He was short and thin, wiry you might call him, and he wore round John Lennon glasses.
The voluminous apron he wore seemed to swallow him up, but it was clean as a pin—the pizzeria had always passed its health inspections. “And yourself?”
“It’s going,” I said. “I want a large pizza. Sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese. Pineapple on half, olives on the other half. One beer, and a glass of red wine.”
I paid and, taking the number board that Ricard handed me, returned to Dante. As I placed the number board on the edge of the table, a waiter came over and set us up with plates, silverware, and poured us water. She scooted over to the counter and returned with our drinks.
“Your pizza will be up in about fifteen minutes,” she said, adding a basket of bread sticks and a trio of dipping sauces to the table. “Enjoy!”
As we relaxed with our drinks and the bread sticks—which were Parmesan flavored—I let out a long breath. The ambience, the soft background music, the aromas, and of course—Dante—all brought together an atmosphere that took the edge off.
Another thunderclap hit and I counted to three. “Storm’s close, but not right over us.”
“We can use it. It will clean the air,” Dante said. “So tell me, how are things? Really? I know we talk about them in the office, but how are you doing with all of the chaos that’s happened over the past couple of months?”
I sighed. There were two people in the world that I couldn’t lie to—Penn and Dante. They caught on every time I tried.
“To be honest, I’m still feeling a little overwhelmed. First my uncle, then a brother and a father, and now…I’ve integrated a part of myself that I kept at arm’s length all my life.” I hesitated a moment, then said, “I had a breakthrough with Devon.”
“How so?” Dante asked.
I held his gaze. “I remembered something that happened when I was just four years old. That event was the point where I split off—pushed my demon side down and caged her.”
Dante shifted position, leaning his elbows on the table as he cupped his beer in his hands. “Okay, tell me.”
So I told him about my mother and her boyfriend, and how I’d killed yet another man who was intent on taking advantage of me and hurting me.
Dante blinked, and I could feel his wolf rising. “The bastard tried to kidnap you?”
I nodded. “He did. And I knew he was dangerous. So, apparently I killed him. I have no clue what happened. I’ve been trying to find some notice about it in the newspaper archives, but so far, no luck.
But I know it happened. I wish I could ask my mother, but I’d have to hire someone who could call up her spirit.
Penn warned me not to try—that sometimes we find out things we really don’t want to know.
I’m not sure what could be worse than that, though. ”
Reaching across the table, Dante took my hand in his.
“Kyann, I’m not going to say you’re strong enough to handle anything, but look at how far you’ve come.
If you did want to ask your mother about it, I’m pretty sure she couldn’t tell you anything so bad it would shake you more than you already have been.
But either way, I think it’s good you know.
You needed to find out what made you wall off your powers.
A demonic heritage doesn’t necessarily mean automatic chaos.
And now you have control over that side of yourself, instead of being at its mercy. ” He squeezed my hand.
I squeezed back, then took another bread stick.
“Yeah, I’m grateful for what Devon’s done for me, although it’s been hard.
He’s helped me hone my physical strength, and he’s helped me accept the side of me that I’ve always been terrified of.
” I paused, then added, “To be honest, right now the person I’m most frightened of is Ezerian.
He’s a demon lord. I don’t think being his daughter’s going to garner me any special dispensation in case he should find out that I’m spying on him. ”
At that moment, the waiter brought over our pizza and set it in the center of the table, along with a shaker of parmesan. He handed me a spatula, although the pie had been sliced, and then excused himself after a warning that the food was extremely hot.
I served myself a slice, and then offered Dante the spatula. He took a slice from the olive-side, and we sat in a comfortable silence as we ate. I was hungrier than I thought and wolfed down the first slice, but then—after taking another—I slowed down and savored the tastes.
“So, how is Tilly?” I asked.
Aunt Tilly—actually his great-aunt—was a wonderful old matriarch of Dante’s family, and the only one who kept contact with him.
He’d been excommunicated from the Pack many years before, but his aunt was powerful enough in her standing that she could fraternize with him and nobody—not even Dante’s father—could say a word.
“She’s doing okay. We found her a new doctor, and by that I mean I found her a new doctor, who’s been able to counter some of her arthritis, and he’s got her back in shape enough that she can shift forms again without much pain.
It’s devastating when the body interferes with something so tied to your nature. ”
That was a shocker. “I didn’t even know she was having problems,” I said.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything until we knew what was going on.
Tilly was having trouble shifting form, and it really screwed with her sense of self.
Her doctor kept saying that it was just nerves, or anxiety.
We finally found one who ran a battery of tests and discovered that she’s got the beginnings of Wulfine Arthritis, an arthritis specific to canine shifters.
There are medications to counter it, and so she’s doing better now. ”
“That’s a relief,” I said. “You’d think her primary doctor would have figured that out. Isn’t he a specialist in shifter health?”
“You’d think, but apparently, not so much.
He was the good ole boy type, you know—buck up, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, if you’re not feeling well it’s probably anxiety so do something to take your mind off of it.
Needless to say, he’s no longer treating her.
In fact, she told me that once the Elders found out, they dismissed him from treating anybody inside the Pack.
He wasn’t excommunicated, but he was stripped of his title, and he’s never allowed to treat anyone again, to hold any office, or to attend Pack meetings. ”
I grimaced. “Isn’t that going to mean a lonely life for him?”
“Yeah,” Dante said. “If he’s smart, he’ll move out of the Pack on his own.
This kind of punishment’s known as societal shunning.
His neighbors will say hello, he’ll be waited on in stores, he’ll be allowed to go to restaurants, shows, all the normal activities, but nobody will ever really talk to him or his family again.
His wife won’t be invited to her friends for coffee, they won’t be extended private dinner invitations.
Without his medical license, he won’t be able to work.
I think he’s old enough to retire, so he’s going to have to step aside.
It’s hard enough when you’re younger, but he and his wife are older, and this will turn their lives upside down.
I think they have a daughter somewhere, so they might want to move away to be near her. ”
I understood why Dante’s old Pack might do that, but it seemed harsh.
And yet, if he wasn’t doing his job right, and if he refused to listen to anybody, I could see why it was enacted.
But the Pack seemed harsh on members who stepped outside the lines, and I found myself grateful that I wasn’t a shifter. At least, not a wolf shifter.
“Well, I’m glad Tilly found the treatment she needed. I know not being able to shift is a huge problem for shifters.” I paused, then asked, “Tell me, if you’re allowed, what happens when a shifter truly is too old to shift? Do they just live out the rest of their lives as human?”
He shook his head. “Not always—and since I’m pariah, I can say anything I want. Usually, when you reach that period in your life, you’re given the choice: receive assistance in shifting, and live the rest of your life in your alt form, or live the rest of your life in human form.”
“What choice to your people usually make?”
He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure, but most that I know—if they have a spouse, they decide together.
I think it’s about half and half. Life in our animal forms can be harsh when you’re old.
Most Packs have a private sanctuary that they keep hidden.
Older shifters can go there and live out the end years in wolf form, being taken care of by younger Pack members.
They get fed, they’re brushed, they have comfortable beds to sleep in, and they’re watched over until the end.
Then, if they’re in more pain than they can handle, they’re gently guided over the threshold. ”
“Euthanized?” I was surprised to hear that, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Yeah, you could say that. It’s done in a ritual, with family and friends around.
It’s not nearly as terrible as it sounds.
I think a lot of people would hope for such an end—family and friends there to say goodbye as you leave this earth.
” Dante chose another slice of pizza. “When I was a young pup, I went to a Threshold Ceremony, as it’s called.
It was beautiful and sad, and I remember hoping that I’d be in the company of loved ones at the end. ”
He sighed, then added, “But now, there’s no chance that will happen. Not once you’re excommunicated.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I imagine though, you’ll have friends around you, at the least. I’ll be there, if I can—if I’m still alive.”
He gave one of those half-shrugs, half laughs. “Thanks, Kyann. I imagine you’ll outlive me. Demons are a lot longer-lived than shifters.”
We sat there, quietly, as outside the rain poured and the lightning crashed. I tried to keep my mind off of subjects like dying, but some days, all efforts were in vain, and confrontations with mortality refused to be ignored.