Instinct (4 page)

Weak from the
agony, I finally crawled through brush to safety. There, I
collapsed, my tongue lolling, breaths steaming the air for many
minutes, as the shock of my forced change and after-tremors rocked
through me.

Once I had
gained control, what seemed like an eternity later despite being a
short pause, I pushed to my feet, my paws creating little sound as
I padded to the forest edge.

The
responsibility to ensure there were no witnesses fell on each of
our shoulders, as did the task of dealing with any such observers,
so when I peered out across the opening, I almost staggered
backward, my horror escaping as a small whimper.

Beside the
third oak, staring straight back at me, stood Jem’s mother, and I
growled without intention.

Eyes hard and
cold, she appeared undisturbed by the threat. Rather, head held
high, she spun to walk away with a defiant triumph in her
steps.

***

Changed back, I
stepped into the garden and paused on its periphery. From the
kitchen window, James stared out, and seconds later, the door
opened.

He strode
across the lawn, his pace increasing the closer he came. “What
happened?”

I opened my
mouth but closed it again. My mind refused to produce the words it
should.

James came
straight to me, tugged at the tattered remainders of my clothing.
His hands took my face. “Tell me what happened.” Placing his nose
to my throat, he sniffed.

I stiffened. If
he were to smell Jem upon me, there would be trouble—for her and
for me.

“You changed.”
He sniffed again, beneath my jaw, across my shoulder, before
pulling back to look at me. “Why?”

Only a witch
would know of the properties of Wolfsbane, just as only a witch
could know to plant them when wolves were near. Jem’s mother must
have known of our existence, and that should have been the point
when I informed my brother of my knowledge.

“I know you
have changed, Sean.” He growled. “You stink of it.”

If I told him
of Jem’s mother, it would not only be her they tracked. By speaking
alone, I would place Jem in danger, also.

“Why?” he asked
again.

“I do not
know,” I mumbled.

“Your clothing
tells me it was not of your will.”

I shook my
head, rubbing a hand across my frown.

“You shake your
head in refusal to tell me? Do you dare—”

“I do not know
why I changed, Brother. I lost my control. You advised me to remain
here, yet I did not listen when I should have. Forgive me.”

His glare
remained fixed on me. “You shall not leave this house on the full
moon again. Is that understood?”

I nodded,
dipping my head to the expected depth out of respect, before
shrugging free and striding away.

His attention
followed me across the grass and through the door. Past the stares
of the others, I did not stop until I had mounted the steps to my
bedroom and closed the door.

With little
else to destruct, I took my already torn clothing and shredded it
further, lips clamped to stifle the cries of anguish I so wished to
give.

Another lie had
been told.

Time had never
passed with such slowness before. Within the forest border, I
awaited her the following week.

She did not
arrive.

Stepping to the
path, I peered toward the modest stone structure beyond the
oaks.

Nothing.

My yearning for
her would not allow me to walk away, though. Like an ensnared
predator, I stalked left and right, eyes never once leaving where I
suspected her to be.

On the verge of
relinquishing hope, movement caught my eye from near the small
cottage.

Moving closer,
I watched the approach of the female, almost mistaking her identity
in my eagerness, despite the subtle difference I detected in her
scent.

She did not
stop walking until she reached me. “I come only to ask you to stay
away from my daughter.”

To see so much
of Jem’s expressions reflected within her mother’s features did
little to assist my yearning, and I peered beyond, to her home.

“She will not
be coming any longer.”

“Is that her
wish?” I asked, giving her my attention once more. “That she not
see me again?”

“Go home, Mr
Holloway.”

She turned to
leave, but I rushed forth into her path, my heart beating out in
panic. “Does she know of me?” Without allowing an answer, she went
to slip past, but I sidestepped once again to stall her. “I implore
you not to do this.”

She frowned,
yet appeared unafraid. “I shall not allow an animal such as
yourself to lure my daughter away.”

“If you are
afraid for her—”

“Yes, Mr
Holloway, that is exactly it.” Her voice held nothing but steel,
piercing me with the implication of her words.

“How could I
hurt what my heart holds so dear?”

“What your
heart holds? Jem was never yours to take. Now, step from my
path.”

Fisting my
hands within the strands of my hair, I moved aside. I did not turn
to watch her leave, though, but tracked the fade of her sweeping
steps. Once she’d neared the house, my cry of frustration erupted
from me, and I struck out at the nearest tree, oblivious to the
unsettled leaves that rained down across my shoulders.

How could she
expect me to walk away? Jem had become as vital to me as air, as
water, as changing, even if I did not understand why. Prepared to
wait, I dropped to the floor.

***

With the
passing of time, and the waning of light, came the grumbling of my
stomach.

I ignored them
all.

As I watched
the shifting of shadows, I did not move, even once coated in their
shroud, and the day’s quiet eventually disappeared, to be replaced
with the call of nocturnal creatures—as well as encroaching
footsteps.

“Sean?” James’s
low voice cut through the dark.

I remained
still, praying he would leave. I could not answer his questions,
nor deal with his searching stare—not then.

His footsteps
neared, and he dropped to a crouch beside me. “What troubles you so
these past weeks?”

I dragged my
attention from the break in the trees to look at him, and his eyes
shifted toward where mine had left. When he heaved a deep sigh, and
his fingers brushed through his hair, I knew realisation had sunk
in.

“Come home,” he
said.

“I cannot.”

He blew out a
long breath, raising his face to the sullied and darkening sky, to
the almost black leaves hanging overhead, before settling his gaze
on me. “I order you to come home.”

I shook my
head. “Do not—”

“It was an
order
, Sean.”

The force in
his deep voice left no room for argument, and my groan of despair
joined the rough rub of my hands across my face.

When I pushed
to my feet, James stood, his hand providing support. I stared for a
moment through the night, at the cottage standing in darkness,
until my brother’s prompt urged me along.

We did not
speak throughout the walk back. That, and the tension in his
shoulders, indicated his weighted disapproval.

***

I intended to
wake early but did not sleep to begin. On my return the eve before,
James had asked of the purpose for my behaviour. I had met his
questions with silence, and, huffing with exasperation, he told me
to turn in. Yet, I knew that would not be the end of it, knew he
would insist I tell all.

For that
reason, my departure came before sunrise.

Once more, I
sat with Jem’s home in my sights, ignorant of the cool breeze
calling for the downy hairs of my arms to stand tall, and of the
dewiness of the ground dampening the seat of my trousers.

However, from
morning to night, no one entered. No one left. If anyone came as
far as the window, they did so undetected.

Unwilling to
face his wrath, I ensured I returned home before James could seek
me, hiding my despondency beneath the veil of hunger and a smile.
His frowned stares suggested I did not hide it well.

Thursday turned
out to be fruitless, also, as did Friday. On Saturday morning,
exhausted from sleepless nights, I almost missed the quiet steps
that kicked the dirt of the path.

Snapping out of
my reverie, I leaped to my feet and raced out to see the rear of
Jem’s sister, as she hurried toward the village.

Lest their
mother see, I ducked back into the forest to pursue until alongside
her, where I hissed out, “Miss Stonehouse?”

She did not
look my way, as her feet continued to move, her head to bob, her
hair to bounce.

I called a
further four times before understanding her hearing would not bear
the sharpness of my own and, raising my voice, barked,
“
Jessica
?”

Her entire body
jerked, her head snapping up and round toward my hiding spot.

Peeping around
an obscuring trunk, the rough bark scraping at the skin on my arms,
I gestured her to come nearer.

She glanced
left and right before approaching. “Mr Holloway, you cannot be
here. If Mother sees—”

“Jem—how is
she?”

After a moment
of quiet, she said, “If Mother knows you still loiter ... I am
sorry, I can be of no assistance to you.” Although regret lined her
features, she spun back for the path and continued her journey.

Darting around
trunks and branches, I followed beside her in a refusal to give up.
“At least give her a message.”

Her feet
continued to move; her head remained facing forward.

A twig, twisted
and gnarled, scratched at my face, but I persisted in my pursuit.
“Please, Jessica. I need her to know this is not of my doing.”

Still, she
failed to stop. Her pace increased, as did her breaths.

“Tell Jem I
think of her.” I dismissed the blood I smelled upon my cheek with a
swipe of my hand. “Would you do that for me? Tell her—”

Jessica
stopped, and I almost went right past her as I stumbled to a
halt.

Lips thinned
and hands curled at her waist, she seemed to contend with an inner
battle, before her eyes rolled to the sky and frustration blew from
her mouth. She strode over, fast, as though afraid of changing her
mind, and pushed past the low thicket to join me. “I know I should
not tell you this, but ...” She expelled another breath. “She asks
for you in her sleep, Mr Holloway.”

My smile
followed my sigh. “Tell her I think of her, also. That my days
appear quite meaningless without her. If she is able, I shall wait
for her on Tuesday. Tell her—”

“I will do my
best. That is all I can offer.”

I nodded. “That
is all I ask.”

***

I returned home
lighter that afternoon, though the scrutiny of the pack followed my
movements from door to hall, to bathroom, to table.

“You seem
better today,” James said, as I sat.

I reached for a
lamb shank. “I was just fine to begin.”

“Do you have
plans for the next few days?”

Studying him
over the meat, I bit down and tore off a chunk, whilst he held my
gaze, hand poised with food midway to his own mouth.

If I said yes,
he would insist on the details; if I said no, I would be committed
to staying home.

My shoulders
shrugged, as I grunted out a sound which gave neither answer.

“Repairs are
needed to the barn,” he said. “Your help would be welcomed.”

Three days
until Tuesday meant I could give him a day or more, so I nodded and
went back to my meal.

***

Clumsiness did
not often visit me—an advantage to having heightened senses and
reflexes. However, I, more than once, missed my target when
hammering to fill the holes that winter had created.

At my fifth
curse, Giles took the plank from my hand, the dropped tool from the
floor, and proceeded to do the job given to me. “When are you going
to tell me?” he asked between blows.

The cloying
scent of damp wood filled the air, as I sucked on the flesh between
my thumb and forefinger, remaining quiet.

With hammer
poised, he aimed green eyes at me through the spattering of rain.
“Who is she?”

“I do not know
of whom you speak.”

His laughter
contained no amusement. “You arrive home with a new tale every
week. When was the last time you told us of a female you have taken
as your own?”

“There are only
so many females in the village,” I said, meeting his stare. “I have
become weary of them.”

“I see it in
your eyes.” He dropped his arm and turned to me. “You have met one,
haven’t you? One who holds your interest?”

“You and I both
know it is forbidden.” I wiped at the moisture cooling my brow and
peered away.

“It does not
mean you cannot find her, even if pack rules state you may not keep
her.” When I did not answer, he said, “It is hard, but not
impossible to walk away.”

I turned back
to Giles, four years my senior. “You would know this, how?”

“You are not
the first of us to find a female whose scent holds the appeal which
others lack.”

My attention
remained riveted to him. “Did you continue to see the one you
found?”

He shook his
head. “It is against pack rules, Sean.”

“What if the
female in question was worthy of breaking the rules? Would
you—”

“The rules are
not only set in place for our safety, but also for theirs.” He
hesitated before adding, “That does not mean it has never entered
my mind.” He nodded before handing me my tools, and his rain soaked
back faced me as he headed for the house.

Some of the
heaviness hauling down on my shoulders eased as I watched him
go.

Finally, I had
found a possible ally.

James found
further repairs, shackling me at home throughout Monday, and I did
them without complaint. When Tuesday morning arrived, it held hope
of escape.