Crouching underneath Callahan’s porch, the snarling beast flared his nostrils as the storm’s howling wind blew Alexandra’s scent into his face. The thick, brown fur upon the ridge of his spine raised as his bulging muscles tensed for a strike.
From his muzzle, a low growl escaped into the night. Alexandra turned her rain-soaked face toward the porch, fighting the misty rain to judge his distance. Stretching his paws and arching his back, the wolf howled with anticipation.
She could not look to Callahan to help her. Callahan was in the stairwell to the attic. He climbed toward the top step, while above his head he heard the sound of scratching mingle with the echo of thunder and heavy rain.
“What madness has befallen us?” he shouted into the darkness. The steps seemed to sway beneath his feet.
Steadying himself against the wall, he dropped the flashlight. He saw its beam flicker and bounce down the narrow stairwell behind him. As he twisted around, Callahan felt the left heel of his leather shoes slip against the tail of his cape. He fell, tumbling down the stairs. The sharp edge of each step stabbed his back. Finally he landed with a thud on the landing below, next to the flashlight. Grasping clumsily for the light, he heard the scratching sound once more on the roof. He pointed the beam on the attic door at the top of the stairs.
Again on his feet, pain seared through his left ankle. “Let’s try this over,” he said aloud, resting his foot gingerly on the first step. But he never got up the stairs in time to see what was so noisy on the top of the house.
If Callahan would have made it to the roof of the old Victorian, he would have seen a solemn figure standing on the roof’s peaked ridge, as steady as a bird perched on a wire.
“Destiny,” the figure on the roof called into the rain. “This is why I am still alive.”
Below in the road, Alexandra stood alone. Then the wolf abruptly leapt into the yard, his paws striking the muddy ground on his way to the street. Alexandra froze, seeing the massive wolf racing straight for her.
She recognized the hungry glint of his fiery eyes. The mongrel from the parking lot at school, she thought. Why did I think I could face him? In only a few seconds, he would be upon her. She saw the Jeep parked at the curb, but she realized that Callahan had the keys. Hoping it wasn’t locked, she sprinted for the Jeep’s door.
But it was too late. The wolf pounced on the hood of the car. The beast snarled, frothing at the mouth, watching his prey tremble. She smelled the pungent odor of his wet, musky fur. Alexandra closed her eyes, wishing for a miracle.
Help me, she cried silently in her head.
High above them on the top of the house, the silent figure arched his back, rage burning in his chest. “If only I could, I would die for you,” he shouted as he spread his arms wide from his sides and bent his knees. With eyes wide open, he leapt from the roof into the rain, wings rising from his back.
The wolf reared on his haunches and swiftly pounced from the hood of the Jeep, landing at Alexandra’s feet. “What do you want from me?” she moaned. His answer was to thrust at her neck with his jaws. The beast’s hot, putrid breath stirred the fight smoldering within her. She clawed at the wolf’s frothing muzzle and beat her hands against his massive head. He grabbed her hair in his mouth. Quickly dragging her to the gutter, he dropped her head, and her skull slammed against the pavement. Consumed with fury, the wolf ripped at her shirt and stripped the medallion away from her neck, hooking it in his teeth. Leaving her limp in the gutter, he bounded toward the cemetery wall.
But the wolf didn’t get far. As he jumped over the stones, a fist yanked his tail and sent him soaring back into the street. Struggling to his four feet, he was slammed by a kick to his ribs. Panting hard, he bared his teeth. The wolf snapped his jaws as a hand reached for the medallion dangling from his mouth.
“Give me that,” said the winged figure, standing over the wolf. The wolf’s fur melted away to reveal naked human skin.
The rain pelted down.
“Shape shifter,” hissed the winged figure.
The bruised and bloody man spat the medallion from his mouth into the gutter beside him. “What are you?” he shouted at the winged figure looming over him.
“Your reckoning,” the figure said, raising his fist over the man.
“Not yet,” the man said, as he rose on his haunches. “Dat girl a thief,” he said, pointing a long, bony finger at Alexandra, motionless in the gutter, water swirling around her.
“You fool!” hissed the figure, as he went to kneel beside her. His wings folded into his back and disappeared into his flesh under a ripped and faded black t-shirt.
“You da fool,” cried the shape shifter as he rose to his bare feet. He leapt past the kneeling figure and headed toward the cemetery wall. As he sailed into the air, his skin changed back into thick, brown fur.
Bounding hastily over the wall, the wolf sprinted into the dark, wet shadows of the cemetery. He ran deep into a bank of magnolia trees, stopping to recover his breath. The girl’s scent lingered in his nostrils; and turning his nose into the wind, he sucked in the smell greedily. Her sweat and blood taunted his desperation.
His beaten body morphed at his will, shape shifting back into the form of a man. As a human, he still was as wild as an animal, with the desire to rip flesh from bone. Clutching his chest, he heaved in violent spasms from his broken ribs.
“Mine,” he spat, sniffing the air. Hunger and desire growled in his belly. Examining his bloody wounds, he hissed, his tongue tasting the air while he willed his body to spasm and shape itself once again into a wolf.