Drawn To The Alpha 2 (11 page)

Chapter 18

They didn’t waste any time going to find out. Wilbur borrowed a pair of Van’s tramping boots and they set off. On Van’s insistence, Sophia climbed on his back for the short hike. Although she preferred to do things herself, she understood that she should preserve her energy and in truth she very much enjoyed wrapping her thighs around Van’s firm body while his strong hands supported her butt.

‘I’ll lead you to the shack, then watch from afar while you both approach,’ Wilbur whispered while they made their way along as quietly as possible. ‘Like I said at Fir Lodge: a werewolf might not be comfortable with another shape shifter coming into his camp.’ The evergreen forest helped the trio as they crept along; their footsteps were dampened by fallen pine needles and there were no dry fall leaves to announce their passage. They didn’t want to alert the old man to their arrival, even though they knew there was a good chance he was already watching anyway.

‘He might not be comfortable with another werewolf on his turf either,’ Van commented grimly. Sophia could feel the tension build in his shoulders as they got closer and closer. She was nervous too. Despite being comforted by the thought of tiger-Wilbur as extra protection, everything else was unknown. The old man had already run from them at the campsite, what would he do when they came directly to him?

They made their way up the side of the hill and all crouched down together when they reached the top.  

‘See there?’ Wilbur pointed down the other side. ‘That’s the shack.’

Sophia spied a russet red tin roof through the greenery, but not much else.

‘I’ll come down with you a little further,’ Wilbur continued, ‘until I’m close enough to change and reach you quickly if needed.’

They cautiously made their way down the hill, Sophia on foot now. More of the structure gradually came into view. It was tiny, only a single room, and so old it seemed to rise from the damp earth as a living thing, rather than a manmade imposition on the landscape. Thick clumps of ivy grew up one side and over a third of the roof. The thick wooden walls were ash-grey with age, mossy and warped in places. A thin chimney stuck out of the roof and there was a narrow wooden balcony with a collection of firewood stacked beside a round piece of wood that appeared to be a seat. It was more rundown than rustic, and Sophia certainly had no desire to spend a cozy night in the woods in this residence, despite the inviting flashes of light that reflected from the river just beyond.

They stopped fifty yards back and crouched down once more. ‘You two go on alone from here,’ Wilbur whispered. He put a firm hand on Van’s shoulder. ‘I can feel your anger, son, and I understand. But try to contain it; the only sure thing that hatred creates is more hatred.’

Van took a deep and shaky breath. ‘I can’t guarantee it. But I’ll try.’ He stood cautiously, peering ahead at the shack. He held his hand out for Sophia and together they crept down the last section of slope. The closer they got to the house, the tighter Sophia gripped Van’s hand, despite the pain it caused her burns. Everything was still and silent. The only sounds were their footsteps, the odd bird twitter, and the gentle burble of the river. Sophia wished she had her gun, but the men had forbidden it when she suggested the idea at the campsite. They wanted to approach without the threat of violence and also rated their chances against an old grey wolf in a fight, but Sophia welcomed the steely security of the weapon nonetheless.

She wasn’t the only one.

As they rounded the side of the cottage, the old man was waiting for them. The barrel of his shotgun was pointed directly at Van’s chest. Van and Sophia stopped dead and there followed a horrible moment during which Sophia was certain that they’d both be blown off their feet before they had a chance to say a single word. Her heart thundered so loudly in her ears that all the other forest sounds were drowned out and all she could hear was the BOOM BOOM BOOM of her fear.

‘Please, don’t shoot,’ she heard herself cry out a second later. She held out both of her hands, pleading him. ‘Please. I’m Sophia, this is Van. We just want to talk to you.’

‘Who’s that up on the hill?’ the old man barked, jerking the gun in Wilbur’s direction.

‘That’s Wilbur. He’s with us too, but he didn’t want to scare you by coming down into your camp.’

‘Hasn’t stopped him prowling about these past two nights,’ the man said in a voice that sounded like a snarl. ‘A shape shifter.’ His words were a little mumbled and imprecise; the speech of a man who doesn’t have to make himself understood very often.

‘It’s true; he’s a shape shifter and he’s been watching you,’ Van said, his voice clear and confident. ‘But he meant you no harm.’

‘Could’ve fooled me,’ he said, gun still squarely pointed at Van. ‘Let me know what you think next time a five hundred pound tiger stalks you through the woods at night. Sure as hell felt like he meant me harm.’

Sophia piped up. ‘He didn’t, I swear it. We asked him to help us find someone; someone very important. We think that someone might be you.’ The man was silent so Sophia pressed on. ‘We’re looking for a grey werewolf who has lived in these parts for more than one hundred years.’ She paused and when he still didn’t move or speak she continued. ‘Please; we just want to talk with you. I’m begging you, put down the gun.’

He regarded them for several more long seconds before, very slowly, he began to lower the weapon. ‘You can stay,’ he said gruffly. ‘But that tiger’s got to go.’

Van immediately turned and wolf-whistled to Wilbur. Sophia saw Wilbur’s grey suit pop up out of the bushes and disappear away up the hill. She instantly felt more vulnerable and hoped that he would decide to stay nearby, just out of sight and smell.

Sophia and Van followed the old man around to the porch where he sat on the steps and leaned his gun against the wall. Sophia and Van sat down too. Sophia peered around Van, taking a close-up look at the man for the first time. He was certainly no stranger to the outdoors.

He had leathery skin, wrinkles so deep they looked as if they’d been carved out of his face with a hammer and chisel and a deep tan that endured despite the heat of summer being a distant memory. His eyes were bright and watchful, darting from Van’s face to a splash in the river and back to Sophia’s new sneakers that seemed outrageously clean and bright compared with the dull yellow of his long, thick toenails on his dirty, bare feet. His beige shirt and pants were ragged and threadbare; only a single layer to Sophia’s four. He was wiry, fit, but not starving. There was a fullness to his face and a breadth to his chest that suggested he hunted and ate frequently and well.

Sophia waited quietly; it seemed appropriate to wait for him to speak first, seeing as they were sitting on his porch. Van did the same. A minute ticked by, then another until she could barely stand it anymore. She’d just opened her mouth to say something – she wasn’t entirely sure what – when the man finally fixed his gaze on Van.

‘I know you,’ he said. Sophia held her breath. ‘I’d know your face anywhere. It’s haunted me for a hundred and fifty years.’

‘It
is
you,’ Sophia breathed. ‘You’re the grey wolf.’ Her heart pounded, with excitement this time. She glanced at Van, who was staring at the man with his jaw and fists clenched. She could almost see the resentment wafting from his pores. She placed what she hoped was a reassuring hand on his thigh.

The old man stood up and walked slowly down the steps until he was directly in front of Van. He drew himself up to his full height, facing what was clearly a difficult situation with courage. When he spoke his speech was clear and strong. Sophia was certain that these were words he’d practiced in his head many times. ‘I am Thomas and I am the grey werewolf you speak of. I am the one who bit you and cursed you to the life of a shadow-heart forever more.’

Chapter 19

‘A shadow-heart,’ Sophia whispered.

‘Yes,’ Thomas replied. ‘One with darkness in his heart. This is what it means to be a werewolf, more than the fur on our backs during full moon or the speed in our feet when we’re men. It’s that evil within that defines us, what kills us slowly from the inside even when our bodies are immortal.’ To Van he said, ‘You understand, even if the name you call it is different.’

‘I do,’ he replied, teeth still clenched. ‘I understand it well. And I’ve got you to thank for that.’ He was so tightly coiled that it looked as if he was about to jump up and exact revenge at any moment. Sophia prayed that he could keep control of himself. They couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip away. This old man called Thomas was their only hope.

‘Believe me when I say that I’ve regretted it every day since,’ Thomas said.

Van looked left and right; at the river and the hill behind. ‘This is the exact place where it happened, isn’t it? Beside this river?’ It was confirmation rather than a question, as if a piece of an old puzzle had just fallen into position for him. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t recognize it before now. This is the place.’

‘Yes, this is where it happened,’ Thomas said. ‘There was no road nearby then, no town a few miles away. The forest was vast and this clearing was near dead in the center of it.’

Van frowned at him. ‘Did you track me here that night? Did you follow me with the intention of biting me?’

‘Not at all. I was here in the forest trying to keep as far away from humans as possible. I’m an old wolf – I was already an old man when I was turned. I’d done a good job at hiding for a long, long time until you stumbled through.’

Van’s voice went up an octave and he stood up to square off with Thomas. ‘And you couldn’t control yourself when you saw me? You just had to have a taste? Believe me; I know what it’s like to have dark desires, to be driven to do harm, to force others to suffer as I’ve suffered. But I control it. I take those feelings and force them deep down, so far down into my gut that they make me sick each time my stomach is empty but that’s just what I have to do; what other werewolves do every time the moon’s full in the sky.’ He was shouting now.

‘What would the world be like if every werewolf infected a mortal each time that longing ached at his bones? I’ll tell you what. Fear would contaminate every human who wasn’t already affected by the curse. There’d be wars, vendettas, anarchy. That’s why every werewolf who has an ounce of decency in his cursed body does whatever he can do to stop it happening. But not you. You’re one of
them.
The ones who lack steel, lack mettle. The ones who screw it up for everyone. You made your choice that night; you let your body rule your head and I’m the one who’s had to pay the price.’ 

Thomas, who had remained calm throughout the outburst, nodded gently. His eyes shone with tears. ‘You’re right to be angry and everything you say is true.’ Van blinked, taken aback by this display of passivity in the face of his anger.

‘I was angry for many decades after I was bitten too. In all my time you remain the only mortal I’ve bitten. I know that doesn’t take away what you’ve suffered, doesn’t make it right. But believe me when I say that I did everything I could to avoid delivering such a fate. I knew my weakness. I knew my desires were greater than my restraint. That’s why I came to the woods, to live as a loner during my weeks as a man so that no humans would suffer in the hours that I was a wolf. As the forest shrinks and the outside world draws nearer, I know I should move further into the woods, but I can’t bring myself to move from this spot, where it happened. I’m tortured too. Forced to be alone, never able to forget who I am and what I’ve done. I’ve been afraid of this day for a long time. Somehow I always knew that you’d find me again and I feared having to face you. But now that you’re standing before me there’s a sense of relief. You’re here, I have to endure your reaction, and that’s preferable to the limbo of waiting.’

Sophia raised her eyebrows, connecting with the old man more and more as he spoke. She’d felt as if she was suffering while waiting at the campsite, but that was only a single day of limbo. She couldn’t even imagine two whole lifetimes of that kind of torture. Forced to survive alone in the woods because of the fear of what you might do to someone else? That’s no life for anyone. He’d endured enough in this personal hell and it was time for forgiveness. She looked at Van and saw that he was affected by Thomas’s appeal as well. The fire was gone from his eyes and his arms were hanging loosely by his sides. She silently begged him to offer clemency, to finally release the burden on himself and Thomas as well.

Thomas squared his jaw. ‘So, I invite you to do your worst. Let’s settle this score, once and for all.’

Van sighed and pushed his hair back roughly. ‘I don’t want to punch you, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I’m surprised to hear myself saying that. I would’ve thought that I’d like nothing more than to slug you right in the nose and watch you bleed. But I don’t.’

Thomas looked a little relieved. He shuffled his feet side to side in the dirt as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself if a fight wasn’t on the cards. ‘I’ll admit to being pleased about that,’ he said a few moments later. ‘Not sure how this old face would stand up too well to a hit from the likes of you. You’re a strong looking man.’

‘You look pretty fit yourself,’ Van replied with the hint of a smile. ‘For an old-timer.’

Thomas chuckled. He stuck out a calloused hand. ‘Shake instead?’

Van hesitated. Sophia silently urged him on, but she also knew that decades of hatred don’t dissolve instantly. They leave scars that take time to fade. Van flexed his fingers then stuck them out to meet Thomas’s. Sophia released a breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding. The ice wasn’t thawed yet, but it was a start.

That evening Sophia looked on with great interest as Thomas prepared their dinner. Following the tense handshake that signaled a ceasefire between him and Van, all three had looked at each other awkwardly. What should they do now? Despite living alone for all those years, Thomas seemed to still appreciate the rules of life as Sophia understood them: if in doubt, eat.

‘I’ll make dinner,’ he said. Van looked like he would protest or offer to go back to the campsite for cans of soup, but Sophia was more than happy to accept the offer. Thomas deftly lit the campfire and then strode away from the hut, calling over his shoulder that he was going to check his traps for meat. He was unaware that there was more on his visitors’ minds than a confrontation about the past, and Sophia needed more time to decide how to bring up the next item on the agenda. She wandered down to the river and mulled it over, but no matter how many times she ran the conversation over in her head, it never sounded any better.
Oh, by the way, we’re hoping to kill you on the next full moon. Do you mind?
It wasn’t going to be easy.

Van made his way slowly up the river away from Sophia. She wanted to ask him if he’d arranged a plan with Wilbur if they got separated like this. Would he stay nearby or make his way back to town and home on his jet? She presumed he’d leave them the car, at least. But all her questions could wait. The angle of Van’s head and his slow, directionless footsteps told Sophia that he needed time alone to think and come to terms with the new normal. The grey werewolf was no longer a distant figure, shadowy and evil like a demon; a representation of all the wrong that had been done. He was right before them in full Technicolor. His name was Thomas and he was living with his demons as best he could, just like everybody else. Sometimes it was easier to hate blindly than accept the bonds that joined us all and Sophia suspected it would take Van awhile to adjust.   

When Thomas returned from the traps, Sophia sat down beside the fire and watched with interest as he briskly skinned two fat squirrels and skewered the bodies with clean tree limbs. He set them over the hot coals of the camp fire and on a rough wire rack just above the coals he set a pile of small brown vegetables that looked like ginger root.

‘Not sure what they’re called,’ Thomas said, noticing her curiosity. ‘But they taste pretty good. They grow wild all around here.’

‘They’re Jerusalem artichokes,’ Sophia replied. She recognized the roots from her local farmer’s market. ‘It’s the tuber from a plant related to the sunflower. Not sure where the name comes from as they’re not from Jerusalem, not related to an artichoke.’

Thomas raised his eyebrows. ‘You like food, huh?’

‘Do I ever. It’s my passion. They call those sunchokes where I live. I never knew they grew wild; I presumed they were commercial crops.’

‘Nature gives us everything we need to survive,’ said Thomas. ‘We’ve just got to learn how to find it.’ To complete his meal he steamed some wild asparagus in a beaten up pot that looked as if it’d cooked ten thousand meals, and probably had. ‘Tomorrow morning I’ll aim for a wild turkey,’ he said while dishing the meal up. ‘I like to build a fire pit and cook it underground. The meat’s so tender and juicy that way, but I hardly ever do it because there’s just too much meat for one man and I hate to waste it. I tend to stick to smaller game; rabbit and squirrel mainly.’ 

‘Sounds amazing,’ Sophia enthused. ‘Don’t you think, Van?’ He was back from his walk and sitting on the porch steps, looking on without comment.

‘Sure,’ he replied. He sat next to Sophia on a thick log beside the fire when the meal was ready. Thomas honored Van by dishing his meal on the single beaten up enamel plate. Sophia used the pot and Thomas ate directly from the spit and metal rack. The food turned out to be so tasty that even Van’s mood brightened as he ate.

‘Wow,’ Sophia said, closing her eyes and letting the flavors of the gamey, smoky squirrel and the sweet sunchoke mingle over her palate. This meal, taken fireside in the crisp air, rivaled the gourmet fare she’d sampled aboard Wilbur’s private jet a few days before.

‘All we need is some red wine jus and I’d be in heaven.’ She grinned at Thomas.

‘I won’t pretend to know what jus is,’ he replied. ‘But I’m pleased you like it.’

Afterwards Thomas brewed some pine needle tea and they shared sips from his mug. ‘Rich in vitamin C,’ he said. ‘Good when winter’s on the way.’

For a while nobody talked. Thomas folded his arms over his chest and stared out at the sky as more and more stars began to prick the darkening sky. He seemed contented, sleepy almost. Sophia knew that it was time. Next thing he’d be asleep and they’d have to wait until tomorrow. She glanced at Van, who nodded, and then spoke. ‘Thomas, there’s something we need to talk with you about. The real reason we’re here.’