"I asked him what he was doing out here, and then he pounced." Lenore glared at him, and Nick grinned back and continued. "I wasn't a werewolf yet, but I could see this man meant trouble and threw the trap at him. It broke in his face, but hardly slowed him down. At that point he was half transformed and as I tried to stand one of his claws swiped my stomach. It was a deep cut and I fell into the shallow edge of the stream. He jumped in after me, but I rolled away and grabbed my gun. The first bullet fired, but the other cartridges were soaked from the stream. They wouldn't fire. The single bullet tore through his gut, but he only howled in pain and dove at me. I'd never seen anything so fierce. Not even the bears fought like he did. He got off a few bites and scratches before I slammed the silver butt of my rifle into his face."
"Silver butt? Isn't that a little expensive for a beaver trap to have?" she pointed out.
He smiled. "Living in the woods without anyone you spend your money where it would help you the most. A good rifle is worth its weight in gold," he argued.
"Or in this case silver," she added.
"Yes, and it did save my life. The silver burned his face and he stumbled off me clutching his head. I knocked him down and didn't let up the beating until I noticed he was changing back into a human." Nick closed his eyes and shuddered. "I'd killed him and become what I am."
Chapter 14
"It sounds like a clear case of self-defense," she argued.
He shook his head. "That hardly comforted me."
"What did you do after you killed the werewolf?" she asked him.
"Nothing. I collapsed. I woke up after sunrise with my wounds healed, but I was left with the scar from my encounter. The stranger's body lay nearby, and I quickly buried the thing and hurried back to my cabin."
"So you didn't go to town or another cabin because they wouldn't have believe you?" she surmised.
Nick chuckled. "No, I didn't go because I thought they would believe me, and in believing me they would have killed me and buried me next to the stranger. To tell the truth, I was the only one who doubted what happened the previous night because, much like you, I didn't wish for it to be true." His soft eyes gazed at her and he bitterly smiled. "Why would anyone want to believe they were a monster?"
She returned the smile and squeezed his hand. "You're not a monster, you're just-well, just not very good at asking people if they want to be a monster."
"I swear to you I believed there was no other-"
"I know, I know. You saved my life. I believe you, but you're still bad about giving a girl a choice," she scolded him.
He grinned. "I will accept your amendment."
"Good, so what happened after you dragged yourself to your cabin?"
"I discovered my new senses and, for lack of a better word, panicked. I shut myself in my cabin and hid myself in a far corner until night. With such strong emotions I lost control and became the wolf."
She frowned. "Strong emotions? Any strong emotions can change you?"
"Very few emotions can perform the change. Anger is one of them, and a strong sexual need is another. No doubt because the wolf naturally wishes to procreate."
"Wait, procreate? Are we talking wolf babies?" she asked him.
"They would be called pups, but yes. Werewolves have a nearly insatiable desire to reproduce with their own kind."
She narrowed her eyes. "So how come I want to kill you instead of make out with you?"
"The urge is strongest when you're transformed, and weakest when you're in your human form," he explained.
"All right, so any other strong emotions I need to worry about? I don't want to go wolfing out because somebody dropped a can of tomato juice on my foot," she commented.
He chuckled. "None so long as you remain calm."
Lenore's face fell. "I'm not sure I can do that. I did just try to kill you," she reminded him.
Nick froze and blinked. "A very good point, but we'll assume no other person will turn you into a werewolf and spark your ire as I have," he replied.
"Fair enough, now back to the story. You wolfed out and then what? Ate a few squirrels?"
"And rabbits," he added. "I recall them being very delicious, and fortunately there was enough wild game around the cabin that I didn't need to forage for neighbors."
She raised an eyebrow. "If there was enough game than why did that guy try to kill you?"
Nick frowned. "Not all of our kind are so kind. Some would rather take advantage of a weak human than forage for a weak animal," he told her. "The next morning I awoke naked in the woods and hurried back to my cabin. Once there I presented myself with two options. One was to use my own gun against me, and the other was to live my life as best I could."
The corners of her lips twitched. "So you chose to bite the bullet?" she teased.
He grinned. "Not exactly. The easy path was tempting, but I wasn't prepared for death and had also been brought up to fear suicide. I forsook my trapping and focused on taming the creature inside of me. It took a few months before I could change at will, and many decades before I learned all the workings of my new strengths and limitations. By that time the world had changed, but I wasn't changing with it. It was in 1915 that I realized I had stopped aging. It was a blessing and a curse."
"What have you been doing with yourself all these years? Learning to drive and buying rundown old houses to renovate them?" she wondered.
"Not quite. I threw myself into learning all I could about blood so I could study myself and, it was hoped, one day cure myself."
"I'm guessing that explains the box of wolf blood in the basement. You're storing your blood to experiment on yourself?" she guessed.
"Yes. I never expected to use the vials on a human, but you came into my life. The first I saw of you you were mowing your lawn," he told her.
"Mowing my yard?" she repeated.
He smiled. "The grocery store was where I first met you, but not where I first saw you," he admitted. "I came often to your yard and stood on the lawn at night looking up at your lovely house. You over-water your flowers, by the way," he teased.
"You were. . .you stalked me?" she asked him.
He sheepishly grinned. "Maybe," he replied.
She frowned and pulled her hand from his grasp. "Was I going to end up dinner on your plate?"
Nick snorted and shook his head. "Not at all. My interest was at first entirely platonic. You looked nice. Then I met you and realized you were lovely." He brushed a hand against her cheek and smiled at her blushing cheeks. "The final push to realize my love was when I saw you lying in the road after your accident. I knew I couldn't lose you."
"So you gave me some of your blood?" she guessed.
"Yes. I won't blame you for hating me for all eternity, but I will still help you all I can," he offered.
Lenore sighed and laid her hand over his that held her cheek. "I'll be fine. I've been through worse." He raised an eyebrow, and she chuckled. "Have you ever been a checker on the day before Thanksgiving? Now that's worse."
He smiled. "You can find the humor even in terrible situations."
"Yeah, well, I have a feeling I'm going to need it over these next few days. You said it took you that long to figure out how to control your wolfishness, right?" she asked him.
"A few weeks, but you have me by your side, and I'll help you how I can," he told her.
She dropped her hand and stood. "Good. You can start by getting the hell out of here," she told him.
Nick blinked. "You. . .you want me to leave?" he wondered.
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I might not be trying to kill you now, but a girl needs time to accept that she's got another monthly problem to deal with. In the meantime you get out." She lifted him off the table, spun him around so he pointed toward the door, and gave him a push forward. "Now shoo before I change my mind and decide that you haven't been using your head lately and won't miss me whacking ot off your shoulders."
Nick chuckled and allowed himself to
be hauled to the door. "Very well, but come nightfall watch your emotions. They may get the better of you and the change might happen," he warned her.
"If I feel the urge I'll go soak myself in a cold shower, now shoo." They reached the door and she pushed him through the open doorway. "And if you see Stan tell him I have something important to tell him."
Nick froze and swung around to her with narrowed eyes. "You can't tell him anything," he insisted.
"I have to tell somebody. I'm a woman, keeping secrets just isn't in my nature," she argued.
He stepped up and grasped her shoulders. "Not this secret. You must keep this a secret from even Stan. Do you understand?"
She frowned and shrugged off his hands. "I trust him with my life," she insisted.
Nick chuckled. "But do you trust him with mine? How will he react when he learns I've done this to his little sister?" Lenore turned away, but he clasped her chin between his fingers and pulled her back to face him. "I understand how you feel, but-"
"How can you? You had no one to talk to when you changed, and I have Stan," she pointed out.
Nick sighed. "I can see I won't change that beautifully stubborn mind of yours, but be careful. Even a brother may not accept what you have to say." He leaned down and caught her lips in a gentle, teasing kiss. "But I'll be at my house if you need anything."
Lenore watched him walk across her yard, down the sidewalk and out of sight. She sighed and leaned against the door frame. "That wolf is a lot of trouble. . ." she murmured.
A different kind of trouble drove up and slammed the driver's side wheels of their busted-looking truck into the curb in front of her house.
Chapter 15
Lenore curiously watched as her brother jumped out of his vehicle and strode across the lawn. He pushed her inside and closed the door behind himself. "Where is he?" he asked her.
She blinked. "Where is who?"
"Nick. Where is he?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. He was-" She stopped herself from saying where he'd just been, but Stan caught her pause.
"So he was here. What did he want?" he questioned.
"He. . .he wanted to tell me something, but how'd you know he'd be here?" she wondered.
"He left a note telling me he'd be out for a while. Where else would he go besides here?" he pointed out.
"The store? The park?" she suggested.
"But he didn't. He was here. What did he have to tell you?" Stan asked her.
Lenore bit her lip and turned away. "It's. . .well, it's kind of unbelievable."
"Try me."
She turned and wandered toward the living room. Stan followed her. "Well, he said that he was a-well, that he was a werewolf." She heard Stan stop behind her and turned to find him standing there not with a surprised look, but with crashed eyebrows and pursed lips.
"And?" he hoarsely asked her.
"And-well, and that I was one, too. He'd given me some of his-" Lenore yelped when Stan strode forward and grasped her shoulders. He looked down into her eyes searching for any humor, any hint that this was a joke.
"You're serious, aren't you?" he whispered.
She stuck her face in his and glared at him. "I've got a lot better jokes than this, but as I was saying, he gave me his blood to save me from the fall."
"Prove it."
Lenore blinked. "Huh?" He shook her, and she knocked his hands from her. "I'm not a bobble-head doll," she scolded him.
"Prove to me you're a werewolf. I need proof," he insisted.
"Um, I don't really know how to change," she told him.
Stan stepped back and cross his arms. "Try."
Lenore pursed her lips and glanced down at her hand. Nick had changed his, maybe she could do the same. "All right, but don't laugh if nothing happens," she warned him. She raised her hand, and focused on her short fingers and small hand. Nothing happened. Her eyes flickered to Nick and she sheepishly grinned. "I don't really know how to get this thing going. Maybe if you came back later-"
"Keep trying. I'll wait," he offered.
Her face fell. "Fine, but don't push me." Lenore turned her attention to her hand and glared at the unhelpful limb. She was annoyed by her brother watching and waiting. Nick hadn't taught her to do anything yet, but noooo. Stan wanted results right now. It made her blood boil, more than it should have. Slowly, without her knowing, her hand transformed. The fingers lengthened and her nails sharpened. Hair sprouted from the skin and her muscles thickened.
Stan's arms fell to his side and his eyes widened. "My god. . ." he murmured.
Lenore snapped herself from her angered thoughts and noticed her changed hand. "Wow, I did it," she wondered.
Stan clasped her transformed hand in his own and shuddered. "And he did this to you?" Stan asked her. She didn't like his tense tone.
"Yeah, but there wasn't any other choice," she insisted. Stan stiffened and set his mouth in a firm, straight line. He turned and marched toward the door. "Stan? Stan, don't do anything homicidal," she warned him. He opened the door and didn't bother to shut it as he strode toward his truck that sat with the driver's side door against the curb. Lenore raced to the entrance and watched him open the door of his truck and pull out his shotgun. He opened the barrels, was satisfied with the contents, and snapped it shut. "Stan!"
Stan turned toward her and she gasped at the anger in his eyes. "I'll be right back," he told her.
He slid into the driver's seat and started the truck. Lenore raced out the door just as he pulled away from the curb. She stumbled into the road and sprinted after him. Stan pressed down on the gas to lose her, but she caught the side of the truck at the rear and pulled herself into the bed. Lenore crawled across the boards and trash to the rear window which she flung open. Stan scowled at her as she crawled into the cab and popped onto the seat.
"Sorry to drop in on you like this, but we need to talk," she insisted.
"We've talked. You told me all I needed to know," he replied.
"So you're going to do what? Go kill a werewolf with your shotgun?" she guessed.
"And my silver bullets," he added.
Lenore's eyes widened. "What in the world are you doing with silver bullets?"
"Killing a werewolf," he quipped.
"But what are you doing with them in the first place?" she persisted.
"Killing a werewolf," he repeated.
"How'd you know there was a werewolf so you could make the bullets and use them on the werewolf?" she rephrased.
"Think about it. The rumors about the large dog, the wolf blood in his basement, and your miraculous healing after the accident," he pointed out.
"So you put three and three together and got folklore?" she wondered.
"I had a hunch, so I prepared myself," he countered.
"And now you're going to go commit premeditated murder on Nick," she finished.
"Whatever I'm going to do is none of your business," he argued.
"It will be when I'm on the witness stand giving proof against my brother because you're being charged with murder," she shot back. Stan pursed his lips together and pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal. They flew over the road and potholes into the older neighborhoods. "Stan, this is crazy! You can't just go murdering people because they changed your sister into a werewolf!"
"There's no law that says I can't," he countered.
"I'm saying you can't, and the command of a little sister is law," she told him. Stan jerked the wheel to the right and they slid to a stop in front of Nick's house. He grabbed the gun beside him and stepped out of the vehicle. Lenore jumped out and raced around the front where she met him near the steps to the weed-choked path. She stepped between Stan and the steps and pressed her hands against his chest. "You don't need to do this. I'm not dying like you thought," she pointed out.
"No, you're worse," he growled. He pushed her to the side and stalked toward the house.
"Stan, come on! You can't do this!" she persisted. She raced after him, but did
n't catch up to his stride until he reached the door. Stan shoved the door open and they saw Nick coming out of the basement. Stan raised his gun and pointed both barrels at Nick. "No!" Lenore screamed. She grabbed the barrel and shoved it to the ground, but the shot was fired. Nick deftly stepped back into the basement and the spray pattern covered the walls around the basement doorway.
Stan tossed the gun and Lenore toward the living room entrance and stalked toward the basement. Nick stepped out and was in time to duck a hard swing from Stan. The werewolf swung his leg and knocked it into the back of Stan's knees. Stan collapsed, but swung his fist upward to catch Nick under the jaw. Nick stumbled back and wiped a smidge of blood from his cut lip. The wound healed itself within seconds and his lips pressed together in a sharp frown.
"I don't want to hurt you, Stan," Nick told his opponent.
"Then hold still and let me hurt you," Stan replied. Stan rushed him and tried another swing, but Nick caught the fist in his hand and squeezed Stan's fingers.
Lenore winced when she heard a painful crack from Stan's fist. She wasn't sure who to root for. Her brother was the instigator, but was still her brother, and Nick was the one who'd changed her into a monster, but he did it for love. Nick grabbed Stan's throat and swung him into the wall. The wind was knocked from her brother's lungs. Stan coughed and wheezed, but used the wall behind him to stand.
Lenore rushed to his side and grabbed his shoulders. "Stop being an idiot! He's faster and stronger than you!" she pointed out.
Stan brushed her off and glared at Nick. "You bastard! How could you do that to her? How could you make her into a monster?"
"It was the only way to save her," Nick insisted.
"Stan, stop this before he uses you as a punching bag," Lenore scolded him.
"I would rather die," Stan argued.
"And then where will I be?" she countered. She stepped between him and Nick, and glared at her brother. "Where would I be without my big brother to protect me and scold me, and call me stupid?" she told him.
Stan trembled. "If I was doing a good job of protecting you than this monster wouldn't have done this to you," he pointed out.
"I'm fine. Nothing is going to change. I'm not going to turn into a bloodthirsty creature every full moon and hunt the neighborhoods looking for tasty cat cuisine and human hamburger."