The emergency responders would put out the fire first. Then they’d look for our bodies. Then…my throat closed. They would find Mama’s remains. If they discovered my body wasn’t in the heap with Mama’s, they’d look for me. If they couldn’t find me, they’d form a search party. I would be the prime suspect, or the suspected victim of a kidnapping. The helicopters could pick up a heat source on infrared, but the search team would have to go on foot to catch me in here—which gave me another little lead. If they needed to run DNA tests on the remains to see whose they were, it would give me at least a day. My internship was good for something.
I could get away with building a fire tonight.
I searched the surrounding area, feeling around for dead wood which wasn’t too wet. I constructed a little tinder tepee and I sat crossed-legged in front of it. I summoned my magic to start the fire and held my hands out. They remained damp and unlit in the darkness. I struggled for a moment, squinting my eyes and tried to force my will. Nothing. Bruised, cold, and exhausted, I sat there. After setting fire to our home and laying waste to our yard, I couldn’t even produce a flame?
The emptiness in my chest started to fill with anger. A tiny ball of warmth grew inside me. I thrust the feeling into my palms. Magic hummed down to my hands glowing faintly in the dark. A spark formed on the wood. I dipped my head down and blew, stoking the flame to catch the rest of the wood. A circle of light immersed me and the surrounding dirt. I leaned back against the tree trunk in the fire’s warmth, trying to fill the hollow feeling in my chest. The quiet of the surrounding woods taunted me, as if screaming, “you are alone.”
A wolf howl echoed out in the distance. I closed my eyes and listened. Branches rustled in the wind. Another howl sounded from miles away. It was hard to believe that, before dawn, despite the miles between them, they’d meet each other. I looked up and felt the magnetic lure of the full moon above me. Its company was unusually empty. Despite the fire, a shiver crept through the night air.
I fumbled with the sleeves of my jacket—avoiding the silver—and unwrapped the wooden chest the size of a jewelry box. I ran my fingers over the carved wood again, remembering what Mama fought to teach me. Learning the tools of earth magic was Mama’s dullest lesson, but some of the symbols I recognized as wards—spells of protection. I used a corner of my jacket to undo the catch and opened the lid. Stillness. Not even a faint glow. Since the box was meant for Mama and me, perhaps by nothing happening it did its job of telling friend from foe?
The top layer of the box was a can of cooking spray and thick stacks of money. I counted four bundles of Canadian one-hundred-dollar bills. The stacks were heavy in my hands. I guessed they totaled at least eight-thousand dollars. My passport and birth certificate were underneath. My back straightened. The next row was six stacks of Russian rubles, marked one thousand rubles per bill. I placed them on the ground, and then leaned forward holding the last remaining item in the firelight. It was a torn piece of paper which read Kurortniy Bulevard 14, Kislovodsk 357700, Russia.
The paper was hard cardstock, but it felt so delicate in my hand, it might disintegrate under my touch. At last, I had a clue. I read the address repeatedly, each time coming up with a different scenario where I appear at the address and my father’s family takes me into their arms. Assuming the address was connected to my father was reasonable—given the country—but thoughts of a loving family were indulgent. I packed up the box and lay down with it tight against my chest like a teddy bear. I told myself I could have an hour to rest and sleep.
****
I blinked at the dying fire. The moon was in the southern sky. I had slept for hours. The exhalation of a large snout drew my gaze across the fire. A strange smell hung in the air. I crept to a sitting position.
A low reverberating growl sounded out. Glowing eyes appeared above the fire. Clawed paws skulked out of the darkness and into the dim light of the embers. A brown wolf emerged, baring a huge snarling snout. Its threatening stance registered in my brain. It wasn’t a wolf. It was too big. Its legs were too long, disfigured at the joint hinges. The mouth was too large. Foam dripped from its snarl, exposing its long-jagged fangs.
I sat, staring down the werewolf.
The beast’s weight shifted to its hind legs. I jumped up on one knee. My senses flooded in. The werewolf sprang. I braced myself and leaped forward, intercepting it midair. My hands planted on the underside of its belly. In one motion, I gathered the strength I had and tossed the wolf over my shoulder.
It slammed against a tree trunk and fell sprawling to the ground. The werewolf’s eyes blazed with need, hunger. It circled me. Its jaws darted toward my leg repeatedly. Sidestepping its bite and hammering my fist into its neck was my defense. But our dance grew tiresome. It yelped when I landed another blow. As our stalemate continued, my footing faltered. My guard drooped.
The werewolf charged me head on. Its eyes shone in the firelight, looking brown rather than yellow. Its gawky legs were uncoordinated, elongating as they tore through the dirt. Patches of hair fell in hunks from its skin.
This time I had no defenses. Dead tired, I held my forearms in front of my face as the wolf hurled into me. I fell onto my back, and the werewolf dove for my neck.
I fought against its now fluidly changing body, trying to keep my neck from its bite range. Its large jaws shortened and morphed into something between human and wolf. They snapped like a rabid dog’s jaws, inches from my face. I closed my eyes in reflex, but the sting of its teeth in my throat never landed. I shoved back on its shoulders of pure muscle, now covered with smooth skin. I opened my eyes and gasped, caught in the gaze of beautiful amber brown eyes.
It was Roman, panting and covered in sweat from the transformation. He trembled as he shifted his weight to look down at me. “Karo, oh my God, I could have killed you,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I…” I looked down and saw his bare chest. I gazed down farther. He was completely naked. My face heated.
“I’m on the run,” I said.
“On the run from what? What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?” Roman wiped my cheek where I could feel dirt stuck to my dried tears.
I stared at him. “You’re a werewolf.”
He stroked my hair with his thumb. “Really, Karo…” he whispered. “I thought you always knew.” His touch, his concern, all broke through the shock—and it was exactly what I needed.
I kissed him.
He froze, then kissed me back.
His hands trailed down my body, and since my vampiric senses were still alive, his touch felt extreme. My clothes dropped off in a haze. The horrors in my mind melted away. The night heightened my sense of smell and taste, which made his skin a salty wonderland. My fangs barely poked through the roof of my mouth. Too weak with exhaustion and not quite blood-starved enough to be ravenous. Instead of dominating him in a fit of blood lust, I let him take control of my body.
He held me down. Where my body bucked against him, he squeezed harder. His mouth traveled to my chest and then between my legs. I writhed against the forest floor. My hips searched for his, but he held me back.
“Not yet.” His words came on a heated breath.
His closeness was torture, until he finally slid inside me.
****
I awoke in Roman’s warm arms. His heat kept the chill of the morning dew away, until this moment. The sun’s dim light peeked through the trees. Bird song broke the forest silence.