The Sound and the Furry Read online

  When I was living in Austin I’d leased Graystone to a civilian couple who had no idea that the house had been built by a family of Weres. The estate agent had showed them the two rooms, but asked that they keep them locked. I know, for a fact, that they hadn’t adhered to those rules. I suspect that they’d also showed off Graystone’s secrets to a number of their friends. Thankfully, there’d been nothing in either room to reveal that our ancestors had been Scottish Furries.

  My grandfather had evidently been a canny man and had created a special hiding place for other weapons — the ones that weren’t medieval or Scottish. My grandmother had done her part by purchasing some dangerous looking firepower. Her adage? Prepare for anything. Trust me, I was prepared.

  What some people didn’t know wouldn’t worry them.

  That’s the one thing about the world learning about Weres that concerned me. How did we convince civilians that we offered them no harm? That we’d lived among them since the beginning of time and had never done one thing to harm them? Nor were we about to start.

  Being able to live freely among humans would mean that we could create our own laws as well as a legal system that would be recognized by civilians. We wouldn't have to hide any longer or live in a constant state of fear. That, alone, was incentive enough to come forward.

  The whole thing was way above my pay grade and I was grateful for that. It would fall to men like my father to iron out the details and decide when and how Weres made ourselves known.

  I could hear the dogs as I neared the kitchen. I parked the car in one of the spaces by the back door. The garage was across the yard and I didn't feel like schlepping through the mud and the rain.

  The dogs were in their enclosed porch where I put them when I had to leave the house. It was climate controlled with a view of the expansive back yard and an entrance to their outside run, fenced in for their protection.

  All three of them began to bark hysterically as I got out of the car and ran for the house. I didn’t even get a chance to close the door before they made a beeline for me.

  It wasn't just that I was the Keeper of the Kibble, I was the Giver of the Cuddles and their rescuer. Actually, I hadn't saved them. I’d been getting my transfusion when Dorothy, one of my clients at the clinic, found the three dogs.

  Pepper was the Chihuahua and schnauzer mix. Dalton was the yellow lab with hints of something else, and Cherry Pip was the true mutt. She looked like a border collie had mated with a corgi. She was short, too plump, but had the coloring and smarts of a border collie. Dorothy had named all three dogs, but I’d never gotten a straight answer out of her as to what Cherry Pip meant.

  I hadn't been prepared for three dogs when I came home from the transfusion. In fact, I hadn't even heard them the first night. The next day, after all the tumult and shenanigans at the River Parade, I’d opened my bedroom door and there they were, all three of them, each looking up at me expectantly.

  "Sorry, Torrance," Simon said, bounding up the stairs. "I didn't mean to let them in."

  I came out into the hall, glad that I was wearing my old ratty bathrobe, the white terrycloth one that fell to the floor. It had been through the wars, but that morning I’d felt the same way.

  To my great disappointment, Mark hadn't come into the house the night before even after I’d invited him. Instead, we’d made out like teenagers in the front seat of his car until the windows fogged up. Then he escorted me to the door, kissed me on the forehead, and left.

  “So these are the three strays Dorothy picked up,” I said, sitting on the bench in the hall.

  Simon nodded. “Let me put them in the yard, Torrance,” he said, beginning to shoo the dogs down the stairs.

  “Let them stay,” I said.

  I felt my heart open just a little bit. As a vet I loved animals, but I’d delayed getting myself a pet for the longest time. There were a couple of reasons for that, not the least of which was my schedule. But these three were true rescues, saved from the Animal Control Facility that would euthanize them after three days. Most strays don’t find a home in that time.

  I held out my hand, wondering if they could smell that I was different from other humans.

  Cats evidently can and they don't greet me with a great deal of warmth, love, and affection. Instead, they sit back on their haunches and hiss.

  Can I tell you how often I’ve heard a variation on this theme?

  "I swear, Dr. Boyd, I don't know what's gotten into Betty. She never acts like that with anyone. Maybe it's because she knows you're a vet."

  No, it's because Betty knew I was a Were and got hairy from time to time.

  All three dogs sniffed me and then licked my hand.

  Simon didn't know what I was and it looked as if the three dogs didn't either. Or they didn’t care. That was the beginning of a group love affair.

  Now the Brood was registering their displeasure at my absence. I’d fed them before I left for the hotel, so they weren’t starving. They were just in need of a little affection.

  I bent down and managed to pet all three of them at the same time, getting wet fingers from all the licks.

  I’d spent the past months training them in basic etiquette. They no longer jumped up to welcome me. Nor did they throw themselves at the door like they had in their first days at Graystone.

  Instead of using the doghouses Simon had built, I had him finish off the back porch, creating a climate controlled oasis for them. Their crates were out here in case they wanted their own space during the day, along with soft rugs and an assortment of toys. At night they followed me around the house, giving me orders, and genuinely being vocal companions.

  I went into the kitchen with the Brood following. The first thing I did was close the curtains over the sink. I was still weirded out by what had happened in Kerrville. I’d been an idiot to go on the Hunt by myself. If I'd been surrounded by people I knew, I could have screamed and someone would have come to my aid in minutes. Instead, I’d been alone.

  Here at Graystone I was on my own, too, but I had the Brood, even though Pepper sometimes spooked me out. He had a habit of going into the dining room, sitting about five feet from an empty corner and barking as if he saw something there. I’d already informed him numerous times that I didn't do ghosts, thank you very much, and that even if he saw something I’d appreciate it if he’d keep it to himself.

  I opened the refrigerator, paradoxically grateful that I was out of ice cream and wishing I had some.

  I loved oatmeal cookies with raisins for a snack, but I didn't keep raisins in the house after the dogs arrived. Or grapes for that matter, both of which were poisonous to them. Even chocolate was on my no buy list, but there were times when I stopped at a convenience store and got a candy bar. No one had to know.

  "Well, what do you think? I've got stuff for a sandwich.”

  They all whined in appreciation, but they weren’t going to get any people food. I was a stickler about their diets. I don't know what they’d eaten when they were on the streets, probably anything they could find, but in the first month at Graystone I’d frankly overfed them. Cherry Pip was now borderline obese and was on a special diet dog food. Dalton was his correct weight but that's because he expended lots of energy doing a frenetic back-and-forth in the dog run. It was like he was looking for gaps in the fence, anything that might allow a stranger to enter.

  Pepper, who had been named by Dorothy because of his black-and-white and almost brindle like ruff, was a ball of energy. He didn't have a weight problem either.

  I looked at Cherry Pip and sighed. "I don't need anything, do I?"

  I certainly didn't need a glass of wine. Or a quick and dirty margarita. I settled for a decaf cup of coffee with a little fake brown sugar and a splash of cream. Do I know how to live or what?

  Dalton let out a bark and I nearly spilled my coffee. He never barked inside the house. The porch was a different matter. He made sure that every squirrel, bird, gopher, leaf, or airplane knew that he was
there and guarding Graystone.

  I dared myself to leave the kitchen and enter the darkened porch. I stared out at the expanse of yard. The rain had eased for the moment and the fast moving clouds revealed the full moon once more. Graystone had acres of land around it. It was the largest private home in our little city within San Antonio. Right now I was wishing it was smaller.

  The wind had picked up, a sign that we weren’t done with the storm. It careened around the back of Graystone, whining as if it wanted in. I shivered and sipped at my coffee, wishing I could shake off the feeling I had.

  There was nothing strange in my yard. No Weres with odd heads. Nothing was out of place. I was just on edge.

  I looked down at the Brood.

  “Have you all gone potty?"

  They knew the drill. We were all pretty much settled in our three month old routines. I could swear each of them nodded slightly. At least that's what I wanted to see.

  I headed for the back stairs, turning on lights and turning them off as I went. I was still a little spooked, plus I got a feeling of suffocation when I was in a blackened room, something that was relatively new. I couldn’t remember being afraid of the dark before. It dated from my transfusion, one of those weird side effects I’d been warned to expect.

  Had the hallucinations been another side effect? I had no idea, but I wasn’t willing to experience another one right at the moment.

  I made quick work of my shower, disappointing the Brood as I did every time by locking them out of the bathroom. I also didn't sleep with my dogs. They each maintained a post on three sides of the bed. Despite the fact that Pepper was definitely the alpha dog, Dalton insisted on sleeping closer to me than the other two.

  I crawled into bed, hearing thunder again and wondering if the storm was going to continue all night. Instead of feeling cozy as I slipped beneath the covers and despite the presence of the Brood, I felt isolated and alone, almost as if I were still running by myself in Kerrville.

  Chapter Four

  I've never been pure in the Wolfie way

  The next morning I reluctantly woke at the sound of the alarm. I shut it off and lay there for a moment, taking inventory. Two legs, check. Two feet, check, even though they felt sore. Two arms, two hands, intact torso with throbbing breasts. Head on straight. I wiggled a little and immediately wished I hadn’t.

  That was a question answered. I hurt and I hurt a lot.

  One of the Brood whined and I raised my head to see three alert dogs staring back at me. They could reach the porch and their doggy door during the night so I didn’t have to break my neck to take them outside. Feeding them, however, was a different matter. They hadn’t yet — thank heavens — learned how to open the cabinets or the refrigerator.

  I sat up, slowly, feeling as if I’d been pummeled by a thousand fists. I really shouldn’t have treated a full grown male Were like a sling stone the previous night. The pain I felt now was my penance for arrogance.

  Were the hallucinations going to come back today? I didn’t know and the uncertainty annoyed me. Maybe what I’d seen last night was a result of going cold turkey on the Waxinine. Or maybe it was because I was Pranic now. Or maybe it was both those things. Or something totally different.

  I had to get my head on straight, quick.

  I stood, feeling sore and a little bit shaky. After I did my thing in the bathroom, I went downstairs, the Brood following. Dalton chose to explore the extent of the dog run before breakfast in case any burglars had approached during the night. Pepper finally barked at him. He turned and obligingly followed him back into the house.

  Last night’s storm had made the ground spongy and I checked everyone's paws before I let them back into the kitchen. The white linoleum was appropriate for the retro style of the room, but it had been a stupid purchase on my part because it showed everything. Of course that decision had been made pre-Brood.

  I put Dalton on the porch, Pepper in the kitchen, and Cherry Pip in the butler's pantry before feeding them. Otherwise, they would explore each other's bowls before eating their own food. Cherry Pip needed her diet dog food more than anyone else. For some reason, the other two dogs liked it better than their own kibble.

  Once they were finished — after much slobbering and bowl skidding — I went out to the porch, sat on the stool there and one by one did their teeth, starting with Pepper and ending with Dalton. I’d been surprised by how easily they’d acclimated to a battery-operated toothbrush. They each had one, in different colors, but they had the same poultry toothpaste. They were so good at getting their teeth brushed that they’d been featured in a video on canine teeth health for our clinic clients.

  Every morning, regardless of my schedule, Cherry Pip came to me for a full body hug. I started at her ears, my fists rubbing against the inside of them. She made a low throated guttural sound that was almost like a purr. I continued all the way down to her derrière, scratching in a circular motion, my fingers sliding through the thick fur to her skin. She needed the reassurance and the connection and I liked starting my day that way.

  Simon and Wilson would both come and check on the Brood during the day in case they overturned their water bowls or needed something. I also had a small camera mounted on the end of the porch that I could access with my phone.

  After I brushed my teeth, I got dressed. I wore jeans to work most days, because I always changed into scrubs once I was at the clinic. Today I grabbed a bright red three quarters sleeved tee. Maybe the color would make me feel bright and cheery.

  I pulled back my hair and secured it with a scrunchy, added mascara and lipstick. That was it. I was ready for the day.

  No one at my clinic had any inkling that I was a Were. At least I didn’t think so. I had my suspicions about Alice, however. She was one of the older vets and I was beginning to suspect that Alice was a little more than simply human. I was guessing a witch. Not that I was actually sure she was a witch. She just acted like it, if you get my drift. We were just prickly around each other.

  There were such things as card-carrying witches, but I didn’t know how to identify them. Vampires were easier. They had very pale skin and you didn’t see one until it got dark. To the best of my knowledge the rest of the world knew about vampires and witches, but not Weres.

  Humans had accepted the fact that vampires walked among them. I think it was a halfhearted acceptance, myself, the way that some people look at tattoos and facial piercings. Humans didn’t know anything about Weres, although I suspect our days were numbered as far as anonymity went.

  Weres had five different clans, from the five families, all of them with a certain geographical jurisdiction. Ours, the Celtic Clan — originating from Scotland — was the largest, which meant that we had a certain amount of influence. That also meant my father was a big muckety muck.

  My third Council meeting was tonight. I had no idea why my father insisted that they be scheduled the day after a full moon. Maybe he wanted to make sure that being a Were was firmly etched in each of the Council member’s minds. As if you could ever truly forget. I’d sometimes gone years without changing, but it didn't mean that I ever forgot who I was. Our culture emphasized our uniqueness.

  There were some who thought that being a Were was the best thing on earth. I called Weres who went off the deep end like that Wolfies. To them all other life forms were inferior. That attitude smacked so much of elitism that it gave me hives. Wolfies were originalists, wanting the Were culture to stay the same as it had been two thousand years ago. No evolving allowed. Women weren’t allowed to work outside the home. They didn’t speak, were considered chattel, and were treated that way.

  The majority of Weres saw Wolfies’ behavior as prehistoric and ridiculous which forced them into the background. Just because they didn’t announce themselves, however, didn’t mean they’d disappeared. I’d be willing to bet that one or two members of the Council were Wolfies.

  My ex-boyfriend Craig had been one. He hadn’t approved of my getting th
e transfusion. None of the Wolfies would have. I’d tainted my Were blood by becoming Pranic. I was no longer pure.

  I had news for him. I’d never been pure in the Wolfie way. I’d been fighting against my nature from the moment I figured out exactly who and what I was. I didn’t want to change to a wolf because of a biological imperative. I didn’t want to live in a culture that diminished me just because I was female. I didn’t want to have to follow a lot of rules that didn’t make any sense.

  Being Pranic hadn’t changed my life all that much. All it had done was put me in the crosshairs of the Wolfies in the clan. If they’d known about it. There were only a few people who knew about my transfusion or my expanded abilities other than Mark and I wasn’t about to broadcast that fact.

  Fortunately, my father had banished Craig, the alpha male of the Palmer family. I don’t know who’d stepped in to head it. Part of my new I’m-not-asking-and-don’t-tell-me policy. At least I didn’t have to worry about Craig telling any of the other Wolfies about me. Once you’re banished, you lose everything, including credibility with other members of your clan.

  The rules we lived by were immutable. Some of them were old fashioned. I’d lived in the civilian world so long that I almost felt human. At least enough that I could view the whole Were situation with some degree of detachment.

  If I were my father, I’d be doing everything I could to keep Weres secret. I suspected, however, that he was leaning toward revealing our existence.

  I could just imagine what would happen the day the news came out.

  “A startling development in the evolutionary front has just been announced. In addition to Homo Sapiens there is another branch of the human family, Homo Wereson. Werewolves. These creatures live among us. We will switch now to an interview with our reporter and one of the first documented werewolves to appear on camera.”

  Right. That wouldn’t cause any panic.