Wolf, en Garde [Wolf 2]

Chapter 2: On the Other Side of the Fence-1

Chapter 2: On the Other Side of the FenceAlthough there were houses, cars, and shops everywhere, most of the buildings had cramped alleyways that ran behind and between them. Lyle kept to them where he could, sinking into the shadows when the scent of humans got too strong, and slinking under the cover of bushes and tree-lined areas when the alleyways weren’t available. He investigated left-behind scents with the fervor of a puppy, relishing everything as though it were new to him. There was no strangeness to any of it, just the normal smells of people, trash, exhaust, and food, but there was so much of it that the combination was heady and awe-inspiring.

He found a creek, and spent some time teasing the small wildlife he found along its banks. They all stared at him in shock and wonder, and even in his less than perfect mindset, Lyle found a great deal of amusement in the fact that they all seemed to say, “What is this? Why are you here? Where have you come from?”

The game was too fun for him to find any interest in consuming anything he found, and Lyle found his body tiring quickly. He blamed it on the other part of him that weakened too easily, but even with his growing exhaustion, it was late before Lyle finally stepped clear of banks and growth, shook himself hard, and hunkered back to the streets. DC slept around him, the night was blissfully quiet and serene, and the traffic that had still been heavy on his trip from the townhouse was gone. Though he avoided the streetlights, he wandered the sidewalks openly.

Cats shrank out of his path, adrenaline and fear rolling off their bodies. Birds opened their beady little eyes and waddled deeper into the safety of the trees. Whether he noticed the silence or the hair lifting on his neck first, Lyle wasn’t sure. By the time he noticed the scent, though, he was already walking with his tail lowered and his ears back.

The street joined another half a dozen or so at a circle of greenery; a small park was Lyle’s guess. But even as instinct suggested that he turn and follow the trail back to the townhouse—preferably quickly—Lyle chose to continue moving closer. While the trees and the grass gave off a light, fresh scent, whatever it was stirring in the breeze with them was unlike anything Lyle had ever smelled before. It was dry and sweetly spiced, and although it smelled of age and wear, it was not an overtly unpleasant odor.

Below his paws, the pavement grumbled as something heavy travelled underneath them and Lyle paused to sniff at the railing that kept people safe from the drop on the other side of it. From the northwestern part of the city, a vehicle approached, seemingly headed straight towards Lyle, but in a design that was somewhat cool and definitely interesting, as the road approached the parkway, it sloped into an underpass that took the car first below and then beyond the circle on the other side.

Lyle walked along the railing, skulking low and out of view, testing the air as he crept alongside the disappearing roadway. The strange scent grew heavier there, but it wasn’t fresh, as though whatever or whomever Lyle scented was more of a frequent passerby than one who had just been by.

Lyle lifted his head, followed the part of his mind that made paths from smells, and trotted across the roadway that would lead toward the plaza. The area was surrounded by a low chain-drop fence that would keep only honest folks off the grass, and Lyle followed one of the four pathways that led both in and towards the central feature of the park. Lyle smelled the fountain before he heard it, and heard it before he saw it. The fountain sat on a dais that could be accessed by following either one of the sets of four stairs that surrounded it. The stairs were enclosed in a curb that encircled the fountain, and around that curb, the walkway leading up had been laid with cut blocks that also encircled it.

Lyle passed a round of benches that faced the fountain everywhere except where the walkways cut through them and then a ring of gardens that did the same thing. For some reason, the concept of circles within circles within circles within yet more circles made him feel uneasy. He knew it was a very old and unreasonable part of his psyche that was sending images of witchcraft and unearthly beings through his mind; he was even in control of himself enough to know that the off sensation he was feeling had nothing to do with park circles but the atmosphere itself. And still the idea made him nervous. For a moment, the other side of him recalled a nonsensical story of airlines and secret passages, and the unease that had been meandering through him flared into something more derailing.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

A voice caught Lyle by complete surprise. He could have sworn the park was empty, and he was never wrong about things like that. Not in this form. Though he whipped his head towards the voice quickly, he landed his paws gingerly, one at a time, as though the ground had suddenly become ice underneath him.

A man—tall, long, and eerily calm, considering he was speaking to a wolf—stood with one ankle crossed over the other. He leaned against the fountain as though in casual conversation with the angel carved into the marble beside him. Though the man would have had to have waded through the lower basin to get where he was standing, he appeared to be completely dry. His dark slacks and jacket made a sharp contrast against the wind-polished marble, but his skin was white enough to compete with the fountain for luminance.

“Or, should I say, what the dog dragged in?”

Lyle’s shoulders dipped, his head dropped, and his tail slipped between his legs. He didn’t control any of these movements; his body seemed to do them without any direction whatsoever. When the man straightened and slipped a hand into each pocket, Lyle curled his lip and bared his teeth.

“Relax, mutt,” the man said. “I know you’re no dog. Just as you, no doubt, know that I’m no man. And if we’re having a competition on whose teeth are prettier, I’d be happy to show you mine and win that round in a heartbeat.” He shrugged and flicked an eyebrow. “Or lack of heartbeat, as legend has it.”

The man stepped forward. Lyle stepped away quickly and the sudden scrabble of his back paws made the man grin. “It’s kind of a shame, you know. Here I thought dinner was on its way, and instead I get you. Not that a meal of dog would have been fine dining, mind you, but it would have made my life simpler. Now I’m going to have to find a new place to hunt for the night. Not even the saddest or drunkest sot will wander in here with the two of us around. There will be way, way too much creepy factor weighing on their instincts. I’d be annoyed by that if I wasn’t so intrigued by you, my furry friend.”

The words the man spoke rumbled inside Lyle’s head. While Lyle usually had no trouble deciphering the tone of conversation when he was in shifted form, translating sound into actual sentences could be difficult. His mind registered it, and something in the farthest corners of his brain was able to interpret it and file the meaning away in his memory, but all this took time and concentration. Vaughn was not nearly as skilled in that sense as Lyle was, but then Vaughn hadn’t spent as much time in wolf form as Lyle had. Still…even with all of Lyle’s practice and learning, the man’s pattern of speech and inflection—as if every word he spoke was a joke—was confusing.

“I haven’t seen one of you around here in ages.” The man had moved closer while Lyle had paused to sort out his thoughts, and Lyle flinched noticeably when the man squatted down to get a better look. The man’s pants were still dry, even though the water of the fountain was behind him. “I know you’re not from around here. A wolf in my territory would not have been missed.”

For the first time, the man’s voice veered away from its charming tone. Lyle flicked his ears, trying to catch the new nuance in the man’s tone. Anger? Annoyance?

“No.” The man shook his head, and just like that, the tension was gone. “I would not have missed it. You’ve come from somewhere else. And I will lay bets on the fact that they don’t even know you’re gone.”

He leaned forward, surprisingly close and impossibly unflustered to be so near to a wolf. “You have a scent on you that I’ve come across before,” the man whispered. “Shift so you can speak to me.”

The fact that the man knew what Lyle was dawned on Lyle so suddenly that he huffed a breath and shook his head. He knows me. He sees me. The wolf and the man. How?

“Don’t test me,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. “It’s not a full moon so you are not bound to that form, and I am not an i***t when it comes to these things. Shift, and tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

The demand was so sharp that Lyle almost did just that. For a second, the submissive role he’d been shoved into took over and Lyle felt powerless to question the command. Then anger flared. There were enough people in his life mandating, insisting, and forcing consequences on him. This stranger would not.

Lyle planted all four paws squarely and he lowered his head again, but this time he firmed his shoulders and sharpened his ears. He made sure the low growl he replied with came all the way up from his guts.

Although the flash of pleasure Lyle got from the man’s widening eyes and quick flinch warmed Lyle from tail to nose, it was so short-lived that it might never existed. The man reached forward with both hands, caught each side of Lyle’s muzzle and dug his fingers into Lyle’s fur. He yanked Lyle’s head forward, bared his own teeth in a sneer, and screamed. The sound ripped through the night—something cat-like and demonic, both ear-splitting and mind-numbing—and a long, sharp set of canines and laterals glinted star-white behind the man’s drawn lips. Lyle didn’t hear his own yelp—he only recalled it hearing it later—and he pulled back so hard that his fur tore out in the man’s hand.

Vampire! Run!

The instinct was so strong that Lyle’s heart began to beat as though he’d already started running. Real! They were real. Not just something his father had told him to scare him! And yes, that thought had crossed his mind; he remembered the anger he had felt as he’d listened to his father speak and how he had scoffed mentally at his father’s words. The instinctual side of him wasn’t surprised, though. It was, however, intrigued.

The vampire smacked his fur-covered hands together as if to clear them, and his sudden laughter only piqued Lyle’s interest further. The scent in the air had intensified—a dusty, bloody agedness that was so unlike human and yet too close to human to be anything else, pumping off the vampire’s skin as if he, too, had felt a rush of adrenaline at the exchange between them.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” the vampire asked, narrowing his eyes as Lyle stepped back and to one side. They stared at one another, Lyle letting go of thought and using senses alone to see if the vampire was going to make a move or if he should…watching for the tightening of muscles, smelling the hormones building, listening for the rustle of cloth that came with movement.

“What are you doing, pup?” The vampire straightened slowly, cautiously, seeming to regard Lyle with just as much intensity as Lyle was giving him. “Are you getting ready to jump me? Because if that is the case, I would highly, oh so very highly recommend that you use whatever is left of the intelligence you normally have to reconsider.”

Lyle sidestepped, huffed a soft breath, and twitched his ears. The vampire’s tone, even heavily spiced with arrogance, was melodic.

“I know where I recognize that scent from. It’s not strong, though. Not strong at all. But it’s there.” The vampire paused, eying Lyle closer still. “Interesting. For decades, nothing. Then in a matter of…” The vampire stopped, as though to think. “Months? It couldn’t be years, could it? Surely not…It’s hard to say, though. The Father is so inconsequential to my existence now that I doubt he even recalls my name.”