Winter Howl (Sanctuary) (6 page)

She retrieved her trusty silver-coloured vibrator from her bedside drawer and escaped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her without turning on the lights. She unzipped her jeans and pushed them down a little bit. She did not bother pushing down her underwear.

Renee turned the vibrator on its highest setting and pressed it against herself, feeling the vibrations up her arm and all around the flesh between her legs. She didn’t need anything fancy right now. All she wanted was to come, and come soon. It wouldn’t take long.

She thought of what Britt and Jake would have been like if they had not been in the loft. She had heard their noises muted through the logs when they were in Jake’s room, and she knew they liked to be vocal. They never screamed, but there were so many other noises to make. She thought of Jake whipping Britt around and plunging deep into her, taking control, whispering dirty things in her ear and losing himself in her warmth as she held him close. If Renee felt anything approaching shame for imagining her friends having sex in order for her to get off, it was lost in the quick tightening, then release, with her cunt clutching at emptiness. It was always over too soon, no matter how much she tried to savour the moment.

Sighing, she stood up, then went to the bathroom while she was there, in part to wipe off the strong-smelling juices that seeped out of her. Now that she knew her friends could smell her after she’d orgasmed, it made her slightly self-conscious.

If she thought of Britt and Jake while touching herself, the world of possibilities for the others suddenly opened up—maybe they thought of her when they were doing the same. It was an odd, slightly sideways thought. She would not let it bother her. They were her friends, and they were loyal friends at that. And she thought she might love them like that. A little thing like sexual fantasy should be nothing. She washed her hands, replaced her vibrator, and went downstairs to check the sanctuary blog and feed the cats.

* * * *

She’d had a wonderful night with the pack. A game of Monopoly could be boring, but it had been worthwhile for the company and being able to bankrupt people and have strange rules like eating a piece of chocolate on every third double or drinking whenever someone got into jail. Not for some of them, on that last part, although it had never been a problem for Jake or Renee. Britt was a surprising lightweight. But of course, any of the imbibing had been optional.

Leslie had won, laughing in his quiet way as the group had showered him with fake money and promised to do some of his chores over the weekend, like vacuuming the rugs in the house and cleaning the bathrooms.

No, no one had forced him into doing those chores—he had chosen them himself, wanting to help out but not really wanting to leave the house. He was very much a homebody when he was in human skin. As a boxer, however, he would run and run and run through the woods until he was frothing and mud was embedded in his paws. So having his chores done for the weekend meant that he could work on his book and a few articles before taking his run.

Leslie was the kind of man—forty-two years old and looking like a fifty-year-old professor—with whom Renee felt completely comfortable just sitting silently in the same room, without feeling the pressure to talk or listen. They sometimes spent hours together doing their respective tasks on the computer. When she needed to use the phone, Leslie was usually so lost in whatever he was writing that he barely noticed. He could not be considered a surrogate father—it was more accurate to say he was a surrogate eccentric uncle.

Leslie, though, was an early bird whereas she was a night owl, so now she was alone in the computer room with the quiet hum of technology around her. The only illumination came from the computer in front of her and various LED lights from the other machines. She was updating information about the various dogs in the sanctuary, and she wanted to add a post on Butch Cassidy. Butch Cassidy, while an unfortunately unadoptable cat to so many ignorant people, seemed to be vastly entertaining nonetheless. People who stopped by her blog loved him and the pictures she’d taken of him. People subscribed. Advertisers asked whether they could advertise on her blog and her website. And it made her money. Not much, but for a non-profit organisation, a little was a lot.

Building her website and keeping her blog updated helped with that. She received donations through the blog and the website. Whenever the Chambers Dog Sanctuary had a little press release in one town or another, either through the newspaper or through a reporter on a news station, donations saw a spike. That was always nice.

Renee’s eyelids were finally beginning to droop when she heard the commotion outside. Grabbing her own plush, purple dressing gown, she threw it on over her pyjama tank and navy-striped lounge pants. Running and tying a knot at the same time, her hair loose around her face, she ran to the front door. Just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard something she had only heard maybe twice in her life, and never so close to the sanctuary. Part of the racket was the barking of the dogs—the sound both territorial and fearful. But over the barking, a single, extended piercing howl rent the air and literally made her hairs stand on end. She had heard of that phrase, but had never known the experience until that moment. It was too close, right-outside-her-house close. Too close for Renee to open the door.

“What the hell?” Britt said blearily, running down the stairs.

Renee was paralysed with her hand on the doorknob, but she whispered, “Wolf.”

“Are you kidding?” Britt said.

Jake did not even bother with the stairs. He swung down from the top stair and landed hard on the wooden floor. “She’s not kidding,” Jake said grimly.

The howl keened again, and the noise from the dogs quieted for a moment before coming back in full force.

Jake’s hand covered hers on the doorknob. “It’s okay. We’ll protect you.” She felt the muzzle of a rifle against her arm, cold even through the bathrobe sleeve. “It’s probably the animal that’s been doing all those killings. But if it comes after you, it won’t have a second thought. All right?”

She nodded, but it took Jake’s help to break through her panicked paralysis. The warmth of Jake and Britt helped, and Ki, Max, and Malcolm were padding over to join them. Leslie was probably sleeping—he could sleep through almost anything.

Heart jerking in arrhythmic beats, she pulled open the door and peeked out. She could not see anything in the yard but shadows, although the waxing silver coin of a moon at least made some shapes visible in the darkness. Jake pulled the door open some more and cocked the gun, ready. Renee cautiously stepped onto the wraparound porch, peering into the yard.

There it was—a large, slouching shape, a hulking silver creature with eyes that mirrored the moon greenly in the glare. Britt fumbled with the light switch near the door, and she turned on the great room light before the porch light. For one terrifying moment, Renee could not see past the steps of her house, but then the porch lights came on, illuminating the part of the yard in front of it. Then she could see the creature even better, and that did not help at all.

At first, Renee thought it was too large to be a wolf, but the mannerisms, the shape, the mouth…they seemed to fit. It looked a bit like a dark version of Britt in her malamute skin, though several times as large. Even as her mind interpreted what she saw as a wolf, she
knew
it was far too big. But she had no other explanation.

From what she could see, there was no foam around its mouth, but foam was only one indicator of one disease, and its gaping maw seemed to be grinning hungrily at her, although she was silly to impart it with some kind of homicidal intent. If it was a wolf, it did not have homicidal intent—it had instincts and wants and needs, and that was all. It did not feel malice.

Jake brought the rifle to his shoulder and pointed it at the wolf. The wolf just sat there, panting slightly. There was no apparent agitation, no anger or pain. Even knowing it was impossible, Renee thought that it
did
appear malicious.

The animal began to walk towards the porch, still grinning. Its mouth was clean of blood, and that was encouraging, but wolves were not supposed to just walk up to humans. It should not have even been so close to the compound in the first place. Something was clearly wrong, and Jake muttered, “If he gets within ten yards of the porch, I may have to shoot.”

“Go ahead,” Renee said quietly. They were all staring, unable to do much more, since as dogs they could only attack it in numbers because it was too big for them to attack singly. Not that they would want to attack, not with the indifference that the wolf seemed to have for the rising barks of the dogs in the dog barn, some of which had come out but not come any closer. They were not reckless. It was the wolf that was reckless, and when the dogs could not smell fear, they knew something was terribly wrong.

“What is it?” Ki asked, even though she could see it fine. “How can it…?”

“I have no idea,” Jake said. “And it’s still coming closer. What the hell?”

It stopped at just past ten yards from the porch and grinned at them. Then, not in a blink of an eye, but in a twist of flesh, bone, and sinew and with a creaking that seemed to come from the ground itself, the wolf began to change into a man. A man more completely unashamed of his body than any of the shapeshifters, some of whom had to adjust to living in a place where they were allowed to indulge in their pure human skin. He stood naked in the yellow light from the porch, touched in his shadows by silver from the moon. He was short for a man, maybe five feet and eight inches, but he was built in such a way that his presence was greater than his height. His dark hair was thick, with enough length to show a slight wave. His facial hair was neatly trimmed around his mouth and up the lines of his jaw, which was neither prominent nor weak but structured, like the rest of him. He was strong, compactly proportioned. In spite of the chill of the evening, he did not seem to be cold, with the exception of the tightness of his nipples along the ridges of his chest.

He gave his onlookers a smirk and said, “So, does a place like this have an opening for a guy like me?”

Chapter Two

They were all in the shapeshifters’ barn. Malcolm had woken Leslie up so he could join them. But Britt wouldn’t let Renee get near the man. He was sitting on the edge of a cot in a pair of jeans and a dark red, worn dress shirt that was about one size too big. They were his own clothes—he had brought a bag with him. From the wear marks on the sides, he’d held it in his teeth. Before the shapeshifters had ushered him into the shifters’ barn, he had retrieved it from the edge of the road where he had left it to meet them and put on the clothes while they watched. Renee didn’t think he’d put on clothes for the modesty, but perhaps to make himself appear less threatening. If that was the case, he’d failed miserably. He never seemed to stop grinning—even if it was just a slight curve of his mouth or a crease of skin near his eyes.

Jake sat opposite him on another cot, and the other shapeshifters stood awkwardly along the edge of the room. Jake’s gun was still trained on the man.

“Judge, jury, and all we’re missing is the executioner,” the man said. “Unless you’d be that black-hooded man, my friend.”

“More like prosecuting attorney, really,” Jake replied. He tried to relax his frame, but he could not seem to shake the tension out of his shoulders. The other man, however, lounged in his seat.

“Then where’s my defence lawyer?” the man asked.

“This isn’t a fair trial.”

The man laughed a little. “Look, if you all don’t want me here, you can just tell me,” he said.

“Tell you the truth, I
don’t
want you here. But it’s not up to me to decide,” Jake said.

“No,” the man murmured. “It’s hers, isn’t it?” He looked over at Renee, before Britt pushed Renee behind her.

“Hey!” Renee tried to move to the side again, but Britt stood in her way. “Brittany, what’s going on?”

“She’s just trying to protect you, love,” the man said, “from big, bad me.”

“Protect me from what?” Renee asked.

“Look, Renee, trust me,” Britt said. “I’m just trying to—”

“Protect me from
what
?” Renee grabbed Britt’s arm and whirled her around. “What are you trying to protect me from? So he shapeshifts into a wolf. What about it?”

“Oh no, honey, that’s not how it works,” Britt said. She led Renee to a cot and sat her down. Renee felt more than a little patronised, and she did not like it.

“Look,” Britt said, sitting down next to her and looking her straight in the eye, too intently for Renee’s comfort. “Canine shapeshifters aren’t the only breed out there. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. Other shapeshifters turn into bears, ferrets, raccoons, house flies, sparrows, warthogs, just about everything out there. Even wolves. But
that
—” She pointed at the man. “That is not just a wolf shapeshifter. If he was, he would look like every other wolf around, and maybe a few that have recently gone extinct. But he doesn’t, and he’s not. That’s not a wolf shapeshifter. That’s a werewolf.”

“What difference does it make?” Renee asked.

“Long story short—werewolves are bad news. Shapeshifters are born, werewolves are made. And how are they made? By other werewolves attacking and biting people. They’re the shapeshifting equivalent of a plague. They’re evil, and you don’t want one here.”