The Marradith Ryder Series: The Art of Shadows, Part: 30

“So, something I never understood,” Nora said. “How exactly was it that you managed to meet this man you got pregnant by? I thought the Graymoor didn’t allow anyone else to get close to their ranks.”

“Many of their people live in the outside world these days,” Fiona said. I was raised in a small town that consisted of other Shifters. My father, Liam, was well respected, and our family was allowed dispensation to travel. I left Ireland for the first time when I was in my teens, to attend University in New York. It was considered a gift to be trusted outside one of the seperatist communities.

“My Father gave me a long talk before I left; I could have friends, but I must avoid romantic entanglements. If I wanted to get married, or to have a boyfriend, I was expected to come home and chose someone. If that man agreed that he wanted to live on the outside, then we could do that together. They didn’t care who you associated with, but having a mate who was not a Shifter was out of the question. The Graymoor believe that mixing will eventually destroy our kind.

“At the time, that was fine with me. I’d come to New York to study dance. The last thing I’d even have wanted at the time was to get pregnant.”

“That’s always the way,” Nora said.

“I met Evan through a friend from one of my classes. As it turned out, he could tell that I was Other right away, though I wasn’t sure about him. He was a Sidhari; an earthbound demon. We talked. He knew exactly why I shouldn’t see him. He knew enough about the history of our people to make my head spin. But I thought that was why he pursued me; because he knew that I would be breaking the rules.”

“How long did it go on?”

“A few months. You know, after a while, I got relaxed about the whole thing. We were dating, I was far from home, and it didn’t seem there was any way for my Father to find out.”

“Were you in love with Evan?”

Fiona sighed. “Well, I suppose. But it wasn’t that kind of love at first sight thing.  I was attracted to him right away, but trusting him was a different matter.  Once I really knew him, I realized that I liked him a lot. He was well versed in history and had an appreciation for the arts, something that I hadn’t experienced with the young men back home. He owned a little bookstore in New Jersey, and he told me that was how he made his living. It wasn’t. If I had known what he was doing and what he was really into, I’d have stayed away from him.”

“I think I know what you’re going to tell me,” Nora said. “But don’t stop now.”

“Evan started talking about moving me in with him. I said no. We had gotten to the point where we spent most of our time in my apartment. But I feared that my Father might show up, or send me a letter or something, and find out I’d left the apartment he secured for me.

“We agreed to leave things as they were. It was more of an irritation to Evan than anything; he was the one that had to commute back and forth.

“I went downstairs to pick up my mail one afternoon, and found a single envelope made of thick, expensive parchment. There was no postage stamp, and even before I opened the thing, I knew that it was bad.”

Fiona shivered. She imagined the feel of the paper brushing her fingertips as she retold the story.

“The message was very simple, and written in the old language of my people. It said, ” ‘There is a solution for those that disobey the law. Death is for those who violate our directive. ‘ ”

“When Evan came over that night, I showed him the letter and told him that it was over. I asked him how anyone could possibly know about us. The only thing that I could think was that my Father had me under surveilance, which was heavy handed, even for him.

“So that’s when Evan told me the truth. He was a Sojourner, and had been working on finding a group of Shapeshifters that were in the city. These men were former Graymoor, soldiers who had left the group to live on the outside. They were earning money as thieves, shifting into the form of innocent humans and pinning the crimes on them. Evan had been working on the case for more than a year. In the beginning, he thought that I might be associated with those people, but of course, he’d found out better.

“Our theory was that these men must have realized that they were under surveilance at some point, and decided to turn the tables on their pursuer.  How pleased they must have been to realize that Evan had a girlfriend who was the same as they were. All they had to do was get in touch with someone back home. An assasin would be sent to kill Evan and I both, and they would never have to lift a finger.

“Evan had to leave. There were others involved with his case, and he told me that he feared what would happen if he were caught.  We took a cab uptown to a church. And he told me that he would wait until one of his friends met me there. Someone that could help protect me from our enemies.”

“Let me guess. Rafael.”

“Yes.”

“Wait, did you know you were pregnant?”

“Not then. But I soon found out.”

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©2011 Lori Titus

Lori is the author of Lazarus, Green Water Lullaby, and Hailey’s Shadow. Green Water Lullaby is being released on March 25, 2011. Hailey’s Shadow is scheduled for Fall, 2011. Lazarus is available on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.  Keep up with the latest on her blog: http://loribeth215.wordpress.com/ or on Twitter as Loribeth215.

Fate is a seriously twisted bitch.  Why else would she put in a fight at Morrie’s Pub at 2:00 a.m.? There I was on the run, again, with rain pouring like banshee tears.  I wanted to put some distance behind me but the roads were slick.  Lying low made more sense.  There was a light maybe a couple hundred yards west.  Off road looked like the best choice –until a wolf ran out in front of me.  I swerved, laying my Harley down in a stinking gravel patch.  I was busy counting body parts and picking pebbles out of my skin, when a voice came out of nowhere.
 
“Some spill, kid.”
 
 My head spun around so fast it damn near fell off.  Some old dude, ugly as sin, was standing right next to me.  He grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet.  We were face to face - his eyes locked onto mine.  Then he started sniffing long and slow. The corners of his mouth twitched.
 
“The steamed clams at Wharf 61 are good aren’t they? Me, I prefer meat, warm and juicy.”
 
Freak.   I took a step back; my knees buckled. How could he know I ate clams?
 
“Careful there, Mike. See the light over that rise? That’s my place. Let’s get you there and clean you up.”
 
“How’d you know my name?”
 
“It’s on your jacket,” he said. His mouth formed a grin but his eyes forgot to join in.
 
He hauled me there through knee high brush and plopped me into an antique aluminum lawn chair with moldy green nylon webbing.  We were under a makeshift lean-to butted up against his doublewide. A blazing trash barrel wafted heat my way. I was soaked to the bone. It felt good.
 
He handed me a cup. “Here you go, kid. Take a big swig.  It’ll cure what ails you.”
 
Toxic fumes singed my nose hairs.  “What the hell is this?”
 
“Home brew.  You’ll like it.  It’ll take the burn out of that road rash.”
 
I figuredwhat the hell, bottoms up.
 
“I’m Charlie Two Socks. Welcome to my hunting ground.  Anyone you need to call?  Anyone missing you about now?”
 
“No man. No one’s missed me in a whole lot of years.” 
 
Charlie smiled.   His lean-to was plastered wall to wall with dream-catchers.
“Bad dreams, old man?” I asked.
 
“Never.”
 
“So where’re the rest of your…people?”
 
“Afraid I’m the last of my kind, around here anyway.”  He had a weird look in his eyes. “How you feeling, Mikey?”
 
“Wicked-good man.”  And I was — warm, relaxed, half drunk. He was right, that drink was good shit, but it was gone.  He refilled my cup. “Charlie, you trying to get me drunk?” Think you’re gonna roll me, old man?
 
He leaned forward with a crazy twisted smile.  “Ever wonder what it’s like to be free, Mikey? Really free, like a bird or an animal, like a wolf- strong, fast, fearless?  Taking what you want when you want it, being in control?”
 
“What are you talking about, old man?”
 
“Shapeshifting- freedom, power, domination. It’s a rush.”
 
“You been drinking too much of your own hooch,” you freaking nut job. I shook my head then drained my cup. 
 
Charlie poured another, winked and shouted, “Atta boy, Mikey, drink it all up ‘cause now it’s time to howl!”
 
He walked into the pouring rain, sauntered really, his arms swinging free, his legs striding slow, confident.  He turned to face me.  Lightening flashed and I could see his eyes had gone blood red.  The rain steamed off his body in a swirling haze.  Thick fur covered his skin.  Then there was this ripping sound.  Sure, his clothes were busting apart but it was a different kind of ripping sound, a sick, nasty muscles tearing and bones breaking kind of sound. His joints were twisting, grinding, and separating.  When they snapped back together there was no sign of the old man - just a 200 pound wolf, sitting on his haunches, waiting for me to make a move.  We sized each other up. I had to admit, Charlie made a bitchin’ wolf, huge, sleek, and fearsome.  He was jet black, so black he had that midnight blue tint, except for patches of white fur on his front legs.  Ears laid back and hackles raised, he bared his teeth.  A low growl hummed in his throat.   I tried to scramble out my lawn chair, but hey, I was hammered.  The best I could manage was falling flat on my face, pulling that antique aluminum piece of crap lawn chair over on top of me.   Charlie lunged and bit my forearm.  I closed my eyes waiting for the kill but it never came.  When I finally did look, Charlie was gone.  His bite had barely broken my skin.  The last thing I remember was laying on my back under the lean-to listening to the rain drumming on the roof and staring up at the dream-catchers, praying they’d work, that this was all just a bad dream -  that I wouldn’t wake up dead.
In the morning, I woke up to find the old Indian staring down at me.  God, I felt great!  And hungry.  An insanely good smell, even better than coffee, got me to my feet.  “First hooch and now breakfast.  You’re okay, Charlie.  That hooch was kick-ass!  Man, the dreams I had! What smells so good anyway?”
 
“Fresh meat, kid.”
 
Whatever it was, I wanted it bad. Drool slid down my chin. “Bacon, sausage, ham?” 
 
“Something like that.”
 
“I could get used to this life, good hooch, good eats.  Hell yes!”
 
“Stick around. I’ll take you hunting with me tonight. Show you the ropes.”
 
“I know how to hunt.”
 
“Not like me.”
 
“Awesome.  Count me in.”
 
We walked into Charlie’s trailer to chow down.  His crazy lopsided face looked happy.  Lonely old coot, I thought to myself. He likes having me around.

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© 2011 Mary Ann Back

Ms. Back, of Mason, Ohio, was awarded the 2009 short story Bilbo Award by Thomas More College.  Her writing has appeared in many publications, including: Eclectic Flash, Short Story America, The Loyalhanna Review, Flash Shot, Earth Joy, Words, and Flash Me.