Wolf at the Door

chapter Thirty-six



“Once upon a time, about a zillion years ago, there was a great ape and a dire wolf. Or a hominid and a canis.”

“Rachael . . .”

“Shut up!” she screeched. “Shut up, it’s my turn, you had your turn and now it’s mine so you be quiet and let me talk now!”

Edward flinched back. He looked awful, pale and drawn; his face looked as bad as hers probably did. For certain, he was as stressed. Her teeth had been on edge the moment she’d opened the door. But she had never considered leaving the door closed, never considered ignoring him until she was ready for him.

And why would she? It wasn’t his fault. None of it. But that didn’t change the fact that it was her, har-de-har-har, time of the month. Not just that but her time in a strange city with no friends, no friendly faces. She knew she would have to endure her Change alone, and just that fact made it something to dread.

How stupid we all are, she thought. Many a month on the Cape she had made plans to stay in and spend her Change quietly on a rug in front of the fireplace, and it had been nothing to her. Now that she had to stay in, had to hide, suddenly it was a hindrance, a burden, a cage.

Thus she was a teensy bit on edge. PMS? Sure . . . times a bajillion. She didn’t worry she’d pick a fight with Edward. She was worried she’d pull his nose off his face and stuff it down his throat.

“So.” She tried to force calm as she formed another hamburger patty. They were sitting at the picnic table in the backyard. Her landlords, thankfully, were out—they and the son were attending a family reunion in Mahtomedi, wherever the hell that was. They were out until the wee hours, maybe even overnight, and by then things would be . . . would be settled. Yes. By then Edward would be made to understand, and he’d also be gone.

You can’t keep him, she reminded herself, nibbling on the hamburger. You mustn’t try. Tell him and show him and then stay out of his way. It will be all right. His opinion is nothing to you. A week ago, you didn’t even know his face, never mind his scent. A stranger’s opinion is nothing to you.

The back yard was small, and fenced, and overlooked a clothesline and a fire pit that hadn’t been used in at least ten years. The small yard and accompanying view were sort of dreary, but it was outside. Soon enough she’d have to closet herself into the hobbit hole for the night, so she would take what night air she could, while she could, and she wouldn’t be a picky snot about the view, either.

And while she did, she would snack and tell stories. Edward probably liked stories. And if he didn’t, or wasn’t in the mood because of his absurd theory, who the f*ck cared, and if he had half a brain, he wouldn’t come up with stupid ideas about vampires, forcing her to change her plans for the evening at the last second when it really wasn’t a good time goddammit!

Whoa.

She took a breath. And another. And another. Stop panting. “And there was nothing special about that ape or that dire wolf, except the ape lived in Africa, and the dire wolf was native to North America. And over the course of many, many years, the ape evolved into a man who used tools, and the dire wolf evolved into a woman who hunted in packs. And the man was human, and the woman was Pack. I’m Pack.”

“Uh-huh.” Edward was sitting across from her at the picnic table, watching her. She knew he—

anger anger anger lust anger confusion sad anger anger

—was still upset. But not afraid. At least he wasn’t afraid of her. God, never let him be afraid of me, oh please, never that.

“Great story, Rache.”

“It’s not a story,” she snapped, momentarily forgetting that she had told it to him exactly like a story. “Okay, it was. It is, but it’s also relevant to now. I’m not a vampire, Edward. I’m Pack. A werewolf.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Say something besides uh-huh!”

“Okay. How much more of that raw hamburger are you going to eat?”

“What?” She looked down. The burger she’d formed into a patty, then nibbled, was the fourth in three minutes. Her bag o’ meat was now empty. “Oh. I’m . . . I guess you could say I’m a stress eater.”

For the first time that afternoon, he smiled. “Then you’re stressed every minute of every day. Look, I get that you didn’t want me to figure out your secret. And I don’t know why you set out to meet me at all, except maybe it’s got something to do with Boo. It’s the only thing I can figure. But it doesn’t matter now. I don’t think I can call Boo off, she’s sort of like a button you can’t un-push, so you’ve got to—”

“I don’t care.”

“What?”

“I don’t care that you can’t call Boo off. Let her come.” She licked her fingers. “She can’t hurt me. She’ll see I’m not a vampire, and even if she doesn’t, she won’t be able to hurt me. Then she’ll probably lay into you for a while for sending her on a wild vampire chase, which I’m going to find hilarious. And then she’ll go away. Leaving me to figure out who’s killing everybody.”

“What?”

“Which part of that freaked you out?”

“All of it! Jesus! Okay, first off, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“That’s true, but only for one of us.”

He ignored her, too busy waving his arms around and ranting. “Because second off, Boo can absolutely hurt you, all right? Boo can hurt the bejeezus out of you! Third off, she’s not going to ‘go away’ until she . . . and who’s killing everybody? I think you skipped a step. Who’s a killer?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I have to find out. The vampires might help.” She thought about it. “Might. Her if it doesn’t interrupt Smoothie Time, and him if he thinks it might be a danger to her, or them. I haven’t decided if they’ll be a hindrance or not. I don’t have that data. You definitely will be, running around telling Pack members they’re vampires . . . that’s just not helpful, Edward. It’s not. You’re staring at me again.”

He was. “And there’s a good reason for that! I can’t believe we’re having this . . . okay. Look, I’m not mad—” anger anger anger concern anger fear anger

“—anymore. I mean, I am, but, but we’ve got to talk about this. We’ve got to figure it out. At the very least, you’re delusional. At best, Boo’s on her way to kill you a lot. Either way, you’re in trouble.”

Either way, I’m blessed. You are a darling, Edward, a darling pain in my ass. What a fool this Boo must be to have let you leave her!

“Have you ever known a vampire to eat full meals? To eat solid foods of any type?” she asked, waving the now-empty Ziploc gallon bag at him. She’d been tempted to turn it inside out and lick it clean but reminded herself Edward had been through enough already. No need to put him through that. Just one of those nasty things we only do when we’re alone. “Ever? Hmmm?”

“You’re the queen vampire,” he said stubbornly. “You can do stuff the others can’t. We went through all this. That un-vampire-y stuff, it goes with the territory.”

“Not at all. I’m Pack. I’m sent by my leader to watch their queen. And I don’t know why you’re here at all . . . except it’s not just to enjoy a change of scenery, is it? Edward? I was sent, and I never thought to question why you were. Did your Boo send you?”

He was shaking his head. “She’s not my anything, and no. I sent myself. Should have done it sooner, frankly, because I had to get the hell—we’re not talking about me, dammit! We’re talking about you.”

She peeked at the moon. Soon. Soon. It was almost time to go inside for the night. Because she had to, she didn’t want to. She could be so stupid sometimes, so contrary to herself. Because I have to, I don’t wanna. Wanna stay out here with Edward and feel his anger and lick empty Ziploc bags. Waaaah! Pathetic.

“—why you picked me, but it’s not like we didn’t have some fun. I don’t want to have to tell you these things, Rache, but I don’t want to keep them corked inside me, either. I don’t want to think about how even that kiss in the bookstore was a lie, just like—”

C-R-A-C-K!

“That kiss was not a lie!”

She didn’t understand the noise right away. Then she felt the spreading numbness in her hands and realized she’d brought her fists down on the tabletop, hard enough to smash a crack right through it. And Edward had listened to his inner ape, quite sensibly, and was now on his feet.

The look on his face. It was almost funny. It wasn’t just what she’d done to the table. She knew what it was; she could feel the tension in her jaw. She hadn’t shouted, exactly. She’d sort of . . . sort of squeezed the words out through her clenched teeth. It was closer to a growl than a shout.

“I—I don’t know how to lie in a kiss,” she said, and burst into tears.