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Call of the Hunt Book 3 By Paradox Salem, Indiana, Connors Property Most people might think that the first change for a young werewolf would be something of great pomp and ceremony. They would expect it to take place on a cloudless night under the full moon with people standing in long, ornately designed robes depicting ancient symbols of power gathered in a circle or semicircle around the young wolf. Maybe they would even be chanting, some otherworldly song that was a blending of human and lupine voices and sounds, as the new member of their society underwent a coming of age as old as time itself. Well, I was wearing a robe, but that was pretty much it. Granted, it was just a simple silk number in hunter green that Mom had picked out on our shopping trip earlier that day, but it was still a robe so that counted, right? It wasn't cloudless either, though it was still mostly clear, and the moon was a fine sliver of white instead of a full disk. The only other people there were Grandpa, Mom, and Dad, and the last two were standing back on the porch of the house while Grandpa and I stood barefoot in the grass before the edge of the forest lining the back of our property. So, yeah, that whole ceremony idea? Bullshit. Of course, my being a werewolf wasn't because of some ancient curse or magic spell cast upon my family. I was a mutant, plain and simple, with my mutation being specific to my family bloodline for some reason. Basically, I was born a werewolf, but unlike my Dad whose genes or DNA didn't align just right to activate, mine went together just fine and I manifested. Of course, changing into a girl because of it was still quite the mystery and Grandpa still hadn't figured that one out even after making some calls to some of the more scientific members of our extended family tree. But at the moment, that aspect of my mutation was immaterial. Right then, standing out in the night in nothing but a robe along with my grandfather, who was also only in just a tattered old brown robe (Grandpa naked...shudder), I was about to experience my first active shift into wolf form. I don't count the first time it happened because I was completely unaware of it and have no memory of it occurring, so this would really be my first true shift where I was an active participant. I was actually pretty hesitant to try it since, despite my grandfather's assurances that I would still retain my human mental capacity and thought processes, I still had my doubts. Already, before even attempting the change, it was already proven I wasn't your average werewolf. The accident earlier in the day where I pretty much obliterated my hand with my forging hammer, and then completely healed in roughly fifteen minutes, had shown that I had a greater capacity for healing than just about every other werewolf in my family. It wasn't outrageously better, but it was still twice as fast as what should have normally occurred. So, did that mean the wolf part of me would be stronger once I made the change? Well, no one could answer that, and that's what scared me. The absolute last thing I wanted to have happen was to change into a wolf and then become a wild, crazed animal that would attack anything that might look tasty, which included my parents. If I did that I'd never forgive myself and would probably end up going suicidal. The only reason why I was actually going through with this first change was because Grandpa would be right there to stop me if something went wrong, and even then a small part of me wondered if he would be able to if things went bad. Still, he made the very compelling argument that I couldn't keep the wolf locked inside me forever because there would come a time when it would force itself out either through extreme emotion or simple fatigue from fighting against it. Now I know what you're thinking, and you'd be wrong. No, I didn't have some kind of wolf spirit living in me like a mutant avatar would. For my family it was apparently more complicated than that. As Grandpa explained it, when we manifest as mutants, the primal part of our DNA that matches that of the wolf becomes active. Because of this, it basically represents itself as another manifestation of our personality. Think of it like the athlete who is really really aggressive when he plays, but outside of the game he's a lover of poetry or flower arranging. He's still the same person, he just has different aspects to his personality. That's how it was for me. I was still the same person I was before, albeit with far sexier curves now, but I also had that feral, wolf side within me that sometimes needed release. That was what tonight was about and why I was blushing like crazy because I was standing functionally naked in the middle of the night. "So," I finally said after what I considered far too much time had passed without a word being said, "do I sing a song or make a chant or something?" Grandpa chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing so dramatic. Pretty much all you have to do is will yourself to change. It'll be hard at first because you've never done it before, but as time goes on it'll basically become muscle memory and you'll be able to do it in an instant." "So just think wolfy thought?" He offered a gallic shrug, which wasn't all that helpful. "Whatever works best. Some of us found just thinking really hard did it while others actually got on all fours and started imitating what they thought a wolf should act like. There's no set in stone rules." "I am not crawling around on all fours," I grumbled and started trying to will myself to change. Unfortunately it didn't work that well. At first I tried to just, well, tell my body to change. When that didn't work I tried picturing my body shifting and changing into that of a wolf. Well, that didn't work either. I even tried growling a little like I thought a wolf might do, which got a chuckle out of Granpda, but that was it. I took a deep breath and was just about resigned to do the whole getting on all fours thing when the scent of the forest suddenly filled my nose. I don't know why, since I'd encountered these scents both before and after my mutation, but for some reason it now captivated me. Without actually intending to, I found myself dissecting the plethora of different tastes and textures within the scent, separating them into their individual parts and then those parts were broken down into their specific components. The smell of pine was distilled down to the specific scent of the needles, the branches, the bark, the pulp, and even the roots buried within the dirt. The air was crisp and clean while containing traces of woodsmoke from someone's fireplace that was currently burning dogwood and had so much carbon buildup they definitely needed to throw a sweeper log in there. All of these scents and more seemed to just wrap around me, draw me in, call out to me to come run free within their embrace. That was when I felt an almost physical click within my mind. It was as though the safety had been released from my mutation and I could feel the changes begin. I don't think I can really do justice to the description of what it felt like to undergo such a radical physical transformation. Suffice it to say it was one of the weirdest, yet most liberating feeling I'd ever known. Not only did I shed the robe I was wearing, but it felt like I was shedding my very flesh, as though it was another layer of clothing I had been wearing and the furred, muscular form beneath was the real me. I had no concept of time and I later found it that in total the change took maybe five or ten seconds, but before I knew it I was on all fours and on the receiving end of more sensory information than I ever had experienced in my life. I wasn't even sure I could handle it all, from the sensation of the grass under the pads of my feet, to the feeling of my limbs working in a completely different matter than before, to the odd shaping of my jaws that were now filled with rows of teeth designed for one purpose, to kill and eat that kill. When you add that on top of the greatly increased clarity of scents that now filled my nasal passages, I was worried I might go out of my mind trying to cope with all of it. And the moment I thought that, I realized that one: I wasn't going out of my mind, and two: I was still thinking like me for the most part. There was a niggling sense of wildness edging along my mind, but I was still me where it counted. Holy Shit! You're lucky your mother didn't hear that. I heard beside me. Looking over, I blinked in shock as I saw the large form of a grey wolf with small streaks of red here and there in its fur. What the hell? You're talking, The wolf...well...said. Actually it didn't truly speak, it sort of made several shuffling-type sounds which, in conjunction with subtle head, body, and tail movements. Yet in my head I could hear an odd, animalistic, growling voice. Grandpa? I asked hesitantly, or at least as hesitantly as a wolf can, which basically meant I communicated that question while simultaneously ducking my head a bit to indicate confusion and caution. Yup, he replied in that wolfish way of talking, Your mind is basically translating what would normally be non-speech communication that wolves and most other animals use into something your mind can understand. To your mother and father we're just staring at each other and occasionally chuffing or making some other kind of noise. Looking over at my parents I saw Mom clinging tightly to Dad and looking at me with open worry on her face. I might have wondered if she was worried for their safety but the moment I tasted her scent on the air it was obvious that her concern was for me and my safety. How can I tell them I'm okay? That I haven't gone nuts or anything? Best bet is to very slowly walk over with your head a bit low and give her a gentle nuzzle. Smooth movements, nothing aggressive, and for the love of god don't growl! I nodded, well a wolf nod which consisted of a tail flick, and slowly padded my way over to where Mom and Dad stood. Even though I heeded Grandpa's advice and kept my movements slow and ducked my head a bit so I would seem meek, it was clear by the tension in their bodies and their scents that they just weren't sure about me yet. It was in that moment that I decided to add on to Grandpa's suggestion and sat down on my haunches at their feet before slowly leaning forward and gently licking at Mom's elbow. While that caused her to gasp, it was clear the reaction was born out of surprise and not fear. When I licked again and gently bumped her elbow with the top of my snout she finally seemed to realize what I was doing and relaxed one hand that had been gripping my father to slowly reach down and carefully run her fingers through the fur on the top of my head. Oooooh woooooow. That felt sooo good. It was just like when Grandpa had stroked my hair just after I'd woken up as a girl, only like ten times better. I actually nudged myself a little closer so she could stroke from my head down the back of my neck, which elicited a small giggle from her. "Adien?" she asked carefully. "Can you understand me?" I nodded my head, actually nodded it up and down instead of doing a subtle body cue that she wouldn't understand, which probably looked really weird coming from a wolf. "Are you okay?" Again, I nodded. "Any feelings of aggression or loss of control?" Dad asked as he slowly crouched down in front of me. I carefully shook my head, and I say carefully because unlike nodding, the physical structure of a wolf isn't designed to do something like that the way two-leggeds can. Did I just call humans two-legged? In the end, it was more of a head, neck, and shoulders back and forth movement all at once. I punctuated my answer of still being in control by stretching up slowly and gently licking his chin. Instinctively I knew this was the action of a wolf paying submissive homage to its pack alpha. Dad, also well versed in wolf behavior because of his family history, understood this immediately and lightly rubbed at my cheek scruff, eliciting a small grunt of pleasure from me. "All right," he said with a smile in his voice after giving me a good scratching. "Go on and go explore, but be careful," he warned, "the police are on the lookout for that rabid dog. Stick to our section of the forest and stay close to your grandfather." I gave him a nod and trotted back over to where Grandpa was patiently waiting for me in a rather regal-looking sitting position. Ready to go young pup? I gave a sigh, which is actually damn close to what a human sigh sounds like, at being called 'pup'. Whenever you are, old man, I replied with a cheeky grin. Welp, he grunted with obvious affection in his communication before turning and loping into the forest with me easily following behind. For a while that's all we did, just leisurely run through the forest so I could get a better, more intimate understanding of how my wolf form worked. It allowed me to acquaint myself with the difference in muscle movement and range, how my bone structure had changed, and how my perceptions had drastically altered. My vision was still present, of course, but it was black and white and not nearly as refined and detailed as my human vision had been. Normally that might have been a problem, except now my hearing and sense of smell were so far advanced they more than easily took over where my eyesight failed. In fact, the combination of those two served to create a far more rich and detailed understanding of my environment that even my human eyes couldn't compete with. For example, when I jumped over a log, I already knew well in advance because of the way in which sound reached me combined with a subtle change in the scent coming from that area that there was a depression on the other side lightly covered with branches, allowing me to angle my leap to not only take me over the log, but the depression as well. Had I relied on only my eyesight like when I was human I would never have known about that depression and would have likely ended up on my ass or face because of it. It was all both surreal and exhilarating to feel this kind of primal freedom. There was no worries about school on Monday, no concerns about dealing with Henry after what happened at the party, no fears about the test in History that was coming on Thursday. There was only me, Grandpa, and the wild. Is it always like this? I asked as we trotted over to a babbling brook to get a drink, Just so...free? Pretty much, other than when the urge to hunt comes up. Does that happen often? I asked with a curious tilt of my head. If you keep yourself well fed with meat in two-legged form you don't need to worry about it, but it's a good idea to hunt reasonably often so the wolf doesn't get antsy, He advised. After lapping up some water and slaking my thirst after such a spirited run, I looked around and tilted my head back a bit to take in the scents surrounding us. While I wasn't yet wholly familiar with all the intricate smells that incorporated our town, I was able to tell we'd traveled about six miles from home and that we were nearing the edge of the area of Fox Woods. Hey Grandpa, we're pretty close to where Ed was attacked by that dog. Maybe we should go see if we can find its scent and track it down. I'd barely finished communicating that when suddenly his larger form was directly in my path looming over me. No, came the definitive answer, You are not to go looking for that animal. Now that was a confusing. After all, a dog was no match for a wolf, everyone knew that. But why not? I mean between the two of us there's no way it would stand a chance. Besides, we don't want it terrorizing the town. He shifted position slightly so he rose a little higher, eliciting an instinctive reaction in me in which I cowered down slightly with my tail beginning to creep between my legs. Being your elder I hardly need to explain myself to you, he practically sneered, But since you're so new I will. That animal is likely rabid, which makes it incredibly unpredictable and dangerous even to us. Like I told you before, you can't heal from being eaten to the point there's nothing left to heal. Plus, we don't know if it's alone. If there's a pack of them then it wouldn't take much for us to get swarmed and you have zero combat experience as a wolf. This isn't like in the movies where the werewolf is invincible. We're top of the food chain and tough as hell, but we're still mortal and can still die if we're hurt bad enough. I didn't like it, especially since that animal posed a very serious threat to my family as well as the whole town, but I couldn't argue Grandpa's logic. Well, I probably could have argued the hell out of it, but that commanding presence he was exuding was triggering some kind of submissive response in me that prevented me from doing anything other than cowing to his wishes. It took me a minute to realize it was pack instinct that I'd already established in my own head before I'd ever become a mutant. Dad was alpha, Mom was beta, and Grandpa was gemma, or default adult, and while I wasn't in the omega, or bitch-boy category, I was definitely considered a pup or at least an adolescent. Wait, how did I know all of that? Of course, my wolf instincts. Since they'd been activated by my mutation they must have flooded my subconscious with at least the very basic understanding of pack dynamics so I could properly function. If I hadn't possessed that knowledge I could potentially be ostracized from the pack for making numerous faux pas, or at least that's how my instincts worked. The fact that only two members of my 'pack' were actually wolves was immaterial apparently. Still, despite my lupine instincts that actually had me on my back in a submissive posture that was designed to placate the upset gemma male (how freakin' sexist), I still had my full two-legged mental faculties to question why Grandpa would be so upset about the mere suggestion that we try to track that dog. Sure, his points made sense, but the reaction itself seemed kind of out of place. I suppose he was being a bit overprotective since Dad wasn't capable of doing so in this case and maybe it wasn't translating well to wolf-speak. I guess we should head back then, I suggested and rolled back up to my feet. Probably a good idea, he grunted and turned back towards the house, You'll have plenty of chances to explore your wolf side now that we know you're still in full control. But until this dog issue is taken care of by the two-legged I want you to stick close to the house when in wolf form, got it? Yes sir, I grumbled, not bothering to hide my disappointment that I wouldn't get the chance to hunt, and took off at a lope for home. He soon followed and in short order we were trotting up to the back of the house. My instincts told me we'd been gone for about four hours even though it barely felt like twenty minutes. I guess that's the story of everyone's life when they're having fun, time just flies by. It was those same instincts that had me walking up to the corner of the house, squatting down, lifting my hind leg slightly, and spraying the siding of the house. Almost immediately I was horrified by what I was doing and nearly stopped, until I realized why I was doing it. I was marking my territory to make it known to any and all predators in the area that this place was mine and would be defended. It made sense, but to my two-legged way of thinking it was still pretty disgusting. With my marking now complete, along with a look of approval from Grandpa, we trotted over to our robes and, after a few hiccups on my part (hey I was still new at this), reverted to our human forms and quickly slipped into our robes before heading inside. Mom and Dad were waiting on the couch in the living room even though it was close to one in the morning. Both had pensive looks on their face that didn't relax until I came walking in beaming happily. "So," Dad asked, "how'd it go?" "It was great!" I cried. "All of those different scents and the feeling of just running free like that. I definitely could get used to being a werewolf." While Grandpa looked at me proudly with that proclamation, I only got a far more tepid response from my parents in the form of a pair of thin, tight smiles. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself honey," Mom said, sounding suspiciously like she was pandering to me, "But your father and I think you need to be careful using your new abilities. With that dog attack we heard about this morning we don't want some trigger-happy hunter shooting you by mistake." I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "I know Mom," I sigh in exasperation, "I'm not stupid enough to go running the streets in wolf form you know." "Aiden," Dad said quietly, though the tone of his voice immediately had me hunching my shoulders defensively. He might have said more but instead he sighed heavily and approached me, placing one hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Let's talk." I gulped nervously as I was led off towards the study that had long since been converted into a office that Mom used to run Dad's business. I cast one last look back at Mom and Grandpa, probably to try and convey the silent message 'save me', before he closed the doors and had me sit in one of the comfortable leather chairs. Instead of taking one himself, he perched himself on the edge of the desk and braced himself on his hands while looking down on me silently for several very long, silent moments. "Dad," I said, unable to pitch my voice much higher than a timid softness, "I was only joking around. I wasn't trying to get smart with Mom or anything." "I know that Aiden," he assured me, "I just wanted a few minutes to talk with you about this whole thing. Unlike your mother, I'm more familiar with what this particular aspect of our family and how it can sometimes be overwhelming. I also wanted to find out just how you were doing with the whole becoming a girl thing." When he said the last I was able to relax a little since that was something I was actually starting to come to grips with. "I'm still adjusting," I admitted, "but honestly it isn't as world-shattering as I thought it might be when I woke up this morning." That got more of a smile from him. "I'm sure your mother will be happy to hear that, though you might want to keep it quiet for now unless you want her to start up on how half the world lives just fine being female." "Noted." "You're also going to need her help once you start going through those uniquely feminine things that are now a part of your life." I shuddered a little and made a face. "You mean like periods and stuff, right?" "Yup." It was pretty clear that he was more than happy to relinquish that particular aspect of parenting to Mom. "Joy," I mumbled before glancing back up at him. "But really Dad, I don't know why, but I think I'm getting used to being a girl pretty quickly. It was pretty annoying having my tits-" "Aiden..." I winced at the warning tone in his voice. "Sorry, my breasts, getting in the way, but I've actually gotten kind of used to it. The sitting to pee thing is a bit annoying too but it's no big deal, but it's all this hair that is getting to be a pain." I illustrated by pulling a hank of it off my shoulder and holding it in front of my face by way of example. "That's another thing you should talk with your mother about," he advised, "but I don't suggest you talk about cutting it. She's already mentioned a few times how shiny and thick it is and how so many women would be jealous of it." "See," I pointed out, "now that kind of bothers me. I didn't ask for any of this," I indicated myself. "And yet I'm constantly hearing about how so many women would be jealous of how I won't ever gain weight, how firm my breasts are, how thick and shiny my hair is, and so on. It's like I should be grateful for turning into this when I never complained about not having it in the first place!" Dad's expression quickly changed from concern to understanding as he crouched down in front of me and placed his hands over mine that were resting on my knees. "Honey," damn he said that way too easily, "I understand where you're coming from and why you might think that way. I also know that while it doesn't feel like it, your mother is trying to compliment you on your looks. She knows this isn't easy on you and the things she's been saying have been her way of trying to make you feel better about yourself." "Well it sure isn't working," I grumbled. "How about this?" he said as his mouth twisted into one of his more characteristic roguish grins. "If you have to be a chick, at least you're a hot one." I sighed and shrugged my now slim shoulders a little. "Yeah, I know, but it isn't going to do much for my social life." "You had a social life?" Unable to help it I giggled a little and lightly slapped him on the shoulder. "Wiseass." "I'll let that slide," he said wryly, "But I'd be careful saying it around your mother. The way she's been talking it sounds like she has plans to turn you into a proper young lady." "Fat chance of that," I declared with authority as I stood up, "I might be a girl now, but she can forget about me being some girly girl." With that I turned and strode out of the office. I didn't realize it at the time, and if I did I probably would have groaned, but when I did that not only had I tossed my hair just like a girl would and sashayed my way out like a girl who knew she had a body that rocked the house. Salem, Indiana, St. Vincent Hospital When the elevator doors opened to permit Jeremy Holt entry into the sub basement of the hospital, he immediately wished he was somewhere else. In his three year tenure as a detective on the Salem Police Department, he, like many of his colleagues, never liked the part of the job that involved dealing with the bodies of the deceased. It wasn't the physical gore that was so gut wrenching, it was the knowledge that someone had lost their life to drugs, violence, stupidity, and so many other possibilities. In this particular case, the life that had been robbed was so young and, by his parents' accounts, such a good person. Of course, Detective Holt knew far better than to only trust a parent's judgement of their child, particularly in this day and age. That instinct had once again proven true when a few discreet queries of fellow classmates started painting a picture of a young man who was a staple within the high school power chain and seemed to take a certain amount of pleasure in utilizing that power against fellow classmates. It didn't make him a monster, but he wasn't the angel of light and good his family had painted him as. Regardless, whether he was a saint or a sinner, he had been far too young to be deprived of the chance to make something better of himself as he grew older and that was the part of the job Holt hated. So as he approached the stainless steel table with the naked body of the sixteen year old boy lain upon it while being hovered over by an older man in puke green scrubs, he made sure to take a moment and offer a quick prayer that the boy did enough good in his life to grant him a place in Heaven. After that, he made a conscious effort to pull his emotions back so he could focus on doing his job. "Hey doc, you said you have something for me?" The man in the scrubs looked over at the detective with a somewhat grim expression and nodded before straightening from where it appeared he was examining the grievous injury to the corpse's neck. "Indeed I do Detective." Carefully sealing the cover on the forensic cotton swab he'd just used, he slipped it into a clear plastic bag before sealing it and making several notations on the printed label. "I haven't had a chance to get these DNA swabs off to the state lab for processing yet, and given how backed up they are they probably won't even test them for at least a year, but I did note a few things about the boy's injury that struck me as odd." While the medical examiner had been properly securing his collected evidence, Holt had approached the body and, with his hands firmly in his pockets, had been leaning over to look carefully at the wounds the boy had suffered. "Well we don't get many dog attacks around here so I'd say that's pretty odd itself." "That's just it," the doctor said as he set the evidence bag in a small tub along with several other, "I'm not so sure this was a dog attack." Turning his head slightly, Holt cocked an eyebrow at the man. "We have three eye witnesses that say they saw a dog come after this kid." "And we all know how reliable eyewitness testimony is," the medical examiner retorted smoothly, "But the evidence can't make mistakes. I took a measurement of the bite marks," he went on to explain, "And when I did something seemed off about them so I sent the measurements to one of the local veterinarians who has experience in treating patients that suffer from bite injuries. He confirmed what I'd already suspected, that these bite marks didn't come from a dog." That statement had the detective frowning and once again leaning down to look closely at the wounds in question. Unfortunately, to him they just looked like an act of savagery that had ended the boy's life and there was nothing discernibly odd about them other than their very presence. "So what was it then? A bear?" "No, a bear would have probably created a much larger and deeper wound, plus there would have been evidence of claw injuries and crush injuries from when the bear was on top of him. No, according to the vet, these bite marks are from a wolf." "A wolf?" Holt cast a critical look at the medical examiner as he straightened. "Doctor, there are no active wolf packs anywhere near this area and haven't been in probably decades. Are you sure this wasn't maybe a dog or maybe even a coyote?" The doctor shook his head definatively. "Definitely not a coyote, the bite marks are far too large and the spacing of the teeth doesn't conform to even the largest coyote's jaw structure. I'll have to wait for the state lab to run the DNA tests on the swabs I took from the sites of the bite marks and a small sample of fur I was able to collect from his clothes, but based on what the veterinarian I spoke with told me I'm pretty confident that we're looking for a wolf." "If that's the case," Holt considered as he took out his notepad and started jotting down this information, "then that could mean we have a rogue on our hands or one that's rabid, which is a hell of alot worse than a rabid dog." "You still have people looking through the woods, right?" Holt shook his head. "It got called off after several hours once the trackers lost the trail at Fox River. We've put out a general advisory to hunters to be careful but there really isn't much more we can do other than pass this info along to Fish and Wildlife. Wild animals fall under their purview." "Well you'll want to tell them to watch their asses," the medical examiner warned. "If this is a wolf, it's dangerous." "Well it killed a kid," Holt remarked sarcastically. "So, yeah, I'd classify that as being dangerous." The doctor shook his head and when he looked the detective squarely in the eye, the younger man could see a real fear there. "It didn't simply kill this boy, it savaged him. According to an expert I contacted an hour ago, the typical wolf pack will usually harass its prey, darting in and inflicting multiple wounds to cause blood loss and tire it out until it's too weak to fight and eventually succumbs to the pack. In the case of a lone wolf, it would still attempt these kinds of hunting tactics because they are ingrained behaviors. By and large it would have less success since it doesn't have the support of the pack, leading it to hunting smaller game like rabbits and foxes and the like, but in theory it could still take down larger prey." "This is a great little lesson on wolf behavior," Holt commented impatiently. "But what does it have to do with my victim?" As a way of responding, the doctor walked over to the corpse on the examination table and pulled back the remainder of the sheet, fully exposing the body. "Tell me what you see." "A dead kid." Because it was clear in the detective's voice that the sight of the dead body was very disturbing, the medical examiner chose not to comment on the rather unobservant nature of the statement. "Yes, but you'll notice a distinct lack of other injuries. The only wound this poor boy suffered was the trauma to his neck. Essentially," he went on, recovering the body with the sheet up to the shoulders, "if this was a wolf attack, it went directly for the throat on its first go and quite literally tore it out. Plus, there's no evidence that the wolf tried to eat him. To me that says this wasn't a wolf that was hunting for food." It took a moment for Holt to realize what the doctor was saying and when it finally hit he looked at the man in shocked disbelief. "Doctor, are you telling me that this was a targeted attack? That the wolf murdered this kid?" The man sighed and shrugged helplessly as he walked over to the small tub of physical evidence he'd recovered. Picking up several sealed evidence bags he held them out to the detective, who took possession of them before signing the evidence transfer sheet. "I'm afraid that's up to you and Wildlife to determine, but if you want my off the record opinion, yes, it looks very specific." "Great," Holt muttered as he turned to head back towards the elevator, "I wonder there's any openings left in the Indianapolis Fire Department." Salem, Indiana, Salem High School It's always a fairly strong point of embarrassment whenever your parents drive you to school. Most of the time the other kids will look at you and think of you as being coddled or too scared to ride the bus with everyone else. However, in my case, it was kind of a requirement when Monday morning came. Because of my, well, life-altering experience, Mom had called the principal's office the moment we'd woken up and explained how we would need an emergency meeting. Neither she nor Dad anticipated any real problems since, as I said before, Salem was fairly progressive when it came to mutants and an individual's manifestation causing a sex change was far from being unheard of. It was really just a means of getting my school records properly adjusted as a precursor to Mom and Dad heading for the courts to begin the process of getting my legal records adjusted as well. Of course, that would also require a doctor's report, which Dad had already set up for me after school. Basically, it was a lot of work to announce to the world I was now a girl. Yay. That was how I found myself sitting in the head office at school between my parents nervously plucking at the pant leg of my jeans and constantly shifting in my seat. Mom had tried to convince me to wear one of the dresses she'd picked out for me when we'd gone shopping but I instantly veto'ed that idea and thankfully was backed up by Dad. Just because I was a girl now didn't mean I was suddenly going to go all girly and prance around in little dresses and high heels. So, much to Mom's feminine chagrin, I chose a simple pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Okay, so the jeans were pretty snug fitting and the shirt had a lower, scooped neckline instead of the traditional high, close fitting one guys typically wore, but it sure wasn't girly. I don't know when I'd be ready for that, if ever. When the receptionist finally told us the principal was ready, I had an immediate and almost uncontrollable urge to run out the door and never stop. It was one thing to be a girl with my family and even with my best and only friend, it was something else entirely to pretty much be exposed to the rest of the world. Oh sure I'd been seen by plenty of people when we'd gone clothes shopping, but I'd never really been identified by name. I was more of an unknown curiosity that I'm sure people were still speculated on. Now, I was expected to take my first steps in telling the world that Aiden the boy was gone and Aiden the girl was taking his place. This was not going to be fun. The moment we walked into the principal's office Dr. Carson's face instantly told me that, despite his conversation with Mom, he wasn't truly prepared for the sight that was me which greeted him. "Aiden?" he asked hesitantly, almost as though he was expecting to be punked any moment. "Yes sir," I confirmed quietly while keeping my eyes firmly on my new tan work boots. He didn't say anything else for a couple of moments before the pretty much average-looking man shook his head and indicated the seats before his desk. "My apologies. Your mother told me about what occurred over the weekend but it's quite something else to see your...change in person." "How do you think it feels on this end," I mumbled. "Dr. Carson," Mom said quickly in an effort to cover up my quip, "as I'm sure you've guessed, Aiden is having something of a difficult time adjusting to her dramatic change, but she still wants to keep up her studies. I trust there won't be any problem with that." Though it was said pleasantly, I knew that Mom was winding up with a few really good blasts just in case the principal decided to try and pull some kind of bureaucratic nonsense to keep me from school. "Not at all," the man assured us. "While I will admit Aiden is the first mutant we've had attending Salem High, every member of the faculty has gone through extensive training in regard to how to deal with any students who do indeed manifest." "Deal with?" Dad asked and it was pretty much obvious to everyone in the room that there was a fine thread of warning in his tone. Hell, he was pumping danger signals through his scent that practically had me cowering. "Sorry," Dr. Carson apologized with a chagrined look, "That was a poor choice of words. What I mean is that all of our staff have been given a good, functioning knowledge of what it means for a person to be a mutant and that they are to be treated just as they would any student. Simply because they have manifested does not mean they are not thinking, feeling individuals or that they are no longer human beings. I can assure you not one teacher will treat Aiden any different from before and any attempts at bullying because of her mutation will be swiftly and decisively dealt with." While Mom seemed to relax upon hearing this, there was still a tension vibrating faintly through Dad that anyone else without heightened senses wouldn't have been able to pick up. "We're pleased to hear that," Mom told him, "I assume all of the appropriate corrections will be made to her school records and class schedule?" Dr. Carson nodded and took a slip of paper from his desk, sliding it across towards me. "The appropriate notation has been made in Aiden's student file indicating a change of sex due to mutant manifestation and Ms. Barlow is waiting outside to take a current photo for her student I.D. The only change that will be required for her classes is that she will simply be using the girl's locker room for gym instead of the boy's. And Aiden," he said, finally addressing me directly, "if you do encounter any problems please don't hesitate to speak with one of your teachers or come to me directly. I realize this will be a difficult transition for you and I want you to know we are prepared to offer you whatever supports you need." "Thanks Dr. Carson," I said quietly but honestly. Of course, I had absolutely no plans to do any of that. Teachers, faculty, and all of the bureaucrats involved in education never seem to really figure out the intricacies of high school societal standards. If I got harassed or bullied, and I went running to a teacher, I'd be even more of a social pariah than I already was. What's worse, that could easily translate into troubles outside of school as well, where the teachers would have zero jurisdiction. Yeah, high school really sucked like that. With the meeting done we headed out of the principal's office and I got my updated school ID before we paused in the hallway prior to going our separate ways. "I won't make a scene," Mom promised. "But remember we both love you." "I know Mom," I said with only a touch of embarrassment when she kissed my cheek. "Just keep your grades up like you have been," Dad told me with a squeeze to my shoulder and that was it. "I will," I promised with a nod, and that was it. We went our separate ways with Mom and Dad heading off to the courthouse and me heading to class. Fortunately we'd gotten to school earlier than the buses so as I traversed the hallways the remaining student body had only just arrived and were gathering their things together from their lockers. I followed suit by heading for my own locker and dumping off the majority of my books except what I needed for my first class. "Hey Aiden," I heard and saw Jake's smiling face when I closed the locker door. He didn't look quite so cheery as he normally did, but his expression was open and friendly so I was pretty certain he wasn't going to wig out on me. "Hey Jake," I returned as we both turned and headed for our first class, which we happened to share. "How's it going?" "Not bad," he allowed. "So how did it go last night?" I had to bite my lip to keep from hissing at him to shut up about that since I didn't want everyone in school to know my mutation had turned me into a werewolf. With the town on edge because of the dog attack I really didn't need people giving me accusatory glares. "It was fine," I said tightly. I guess it was my tone that clued in my best bud to the fact that this kind of discussion wasn't really designed to take place in public hallways because he quickly shut up. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed so I took a little pity on him. "It was a lot of fun," I allowed, "I'll tell you more about it later. We can hang out at my place after I get back from the doctor." "Doctor?" Immediately his expression went from contrite to concerned. "Are you okay?" "Oh sure," I told him, waving away any worries he had, "I just need a note from a licensed physician about my...umm...change so my parents can get my birth records properly adjusted." "Ah." He nodded his comprehension and for a brief time we walked through the halls silently. "You know you're moving differently." Well that sure came out of the blue. "What are you talking about?" "Hate to tell you buddy, but you're damn near prowling when you walk." Instantly I froze in place and looked down at myself, which was admittedly stupid because I couldn't see how I was 'prowling' if I was standing still. "Seriously?" "Yup." And there was no mistaking that shit-eating grin on his face, "If I didn't know better, and believe me I do, I'd say you were putting out some serious 'come hither' signals." "Fuck," I growled and started walking again, this time making a concerted effort not not look like I was sex on two legs. "Honestly, it's no worse than any other girl you see around here," he assured me. "You've just got something...I don't know...extra that gives it a little more omph." That got me thinking. Was the wolf part of me so strong that it was coming out more when I was in human form? That might explain why Jake described my movements looking like I was prowling. After all, how else did a wolf look when it moved? I'd like to think I could be careful with doing that but something told me it was just a normal part of who I was now and there was probably no controlling it. Of course, that sure as hell didn't mean I wouldn't try. And then there was the scents Jake was throwing off. Regardless of the fact that he knew I was a guy before this weekend, he was clearly putting out very subtle signals that he was attracted to me now. No one would ever notice it unless they had mutant enhanced senses that could pick up subtle pheromone cues, but I did and they were loud and clear. "Just remember who you're talking about bub," I warned him and somehow managed to keep from growling it. "I know, I know, and I'll behave," he promised, though the twinkle in his eye promised plenty of teasing. That was fine, I'd taken good- natured shit from him for years but I wasn't offended by it. Besides, I knew how to give as good as I got. "I really am worried though," I confided in him quietly, looking around for what must have been the hundredth time in the last ten minutes to see if anyone was overhearing our conversation, "I don't know how people are going to react to me." "You'll probably catch some heat," he conceded, "but by and large I don't think it should be too bad. Not too many people really knew you so they might not even notice the change. The only one you really have to worry about is Henry." My groan was long and audible. "I really don't want to deal with him today," I moaned. "Well, you're probably pretty safe," Jake theorized. "After all not only are you now a girl, and people don't usually take kindly to guys hitting girls, but he's probably still dealing with Ed dying this weekend." Jake mentioning Ed's death made me realize that the majority of the student body we'd been passing didn't really seem overly affected by that news. Oh sure there were a few here and there that looked like they were pretty broken up about it, but for the most part no one really seemed to care. I suppose that could be explained by the fact that Ed had been just as big a bully as Henry and had often used the social power he'd gained from riding the football player's coat tails to make people feel like dirt. Truth be told, there were times he worried me more than Henry because of the sadistic look I often caught in his eye when the pair of them ganged up on me. I suppose now that he was gone the students of Salem High could breathe a little easier, at least until it came to pass whether Ed's death would mellow Henry out or make him even worse. I didn't like thinking about a worse Henry. When we got to our first class, while Jake headed back towards our regular seats I immediately approached the teacher and handed her the informational slip of paper Dr. Carson had given me. At first she seemed confused, especially when she saw my name at the top, but realization quickly set in and she nodded her understanding before smiling to me and indicating I should take my seat. That was it, no muss, no fuss, no standing in front of the class being humiliated. In fact, I was in my seat and getting my book out before everyone had even gotten into the room, and other than a few odd or confused looks no one said a word. I'd never even dreamed it would go this smoothly. Which is why I probably should have seen it coming. My first three classes went fine and I was actually feeling pretty good about myself while heading for lunch when something rammed into my shoulder hard enough to send me careening into the nearby wall lockers and send my books flying. When I looked to see just what the hell had hit me I saw Henry, Clay, and Robert walking passed. It was obvious from the way they were moving that A) Henry had been the one to ram me, and B) he didn't even seem to realize he'd done it. It was only after about three steps that he stopped and looked back with a confused expression on his face. When he saw me crouching down gathering up my books while simultaneously glaring at him did he suddenly grasp what had happened. That moment transitioned into a lecherous smile as his eyes did a quick head-to-toe check out maneuver of me, or at least as much as he could considering the position I was in. "Well hey there," he drawled as he backtracked towards me, "I'm sorry about that sweet thing, my mind's just been elsewhere today." If there was any more sickly-sweet syrup in his voice he'd be sued for copyright infringement on Aunt Jemima's recipe. "Uh huh," I grumbled as I hastily tried to get my things together. He didn't recognize me, which was good, and I didn't want to push my luck that Jake might be right about him not hitting a girl. "No problem," I muttered as I scrambled to my feet and (goddammit) clutched my books to my chest like a girl. I think he would have probably tried to smooth talk me a little more while I made my escape, except Clay's eyes narrowed on me for a moment before widening in shocked realization. "Holy shit Henry, that's Aiden! Tommy Gillespie told me about him last period and how he turned into a girl this weekend." It was as though all sound in the hallway had been sucked into a vacuum. As cliche as it sounds, you could have literally heard a pin drop. All around us students had come to a halt and were watching the exchange with wide eyes and bated breath. This would be the defining moment whether or not the rumors of Henry's generalized cruelty were true or not. "Are you really Aiden?" he finally asked in a slightly quieter than normal voice. I nodded and clutched my books tighter while every muscle in my body bunched up in preparation to bolt for safety. "So you're a mutant?" Again, I nodded while my eyes darted about looking for the best avenue of escape for when things eventually went bad. "What's your power?" Now that I hadn't expected to be asked, even though I had a canned response ready. Still, it took my mind a second to find the right gear before I answered meekly, "I don't know yet. So far all that's happened is I turned into a girl." It was the safest answer for the time being since Mom, Dad, and Grandpa wisely thought that telling people I was a werewolf would undoubtedly cause people to assume the worst. At best I would be shunned, at worst...I tried not to think about that. "Hmmmm," Henry considered as he once again gave me a once over now that I was standing and I was eternally grateful that my books were clutched to my chest so he couldn't ogle my breasts. "You were a loser before, but now... you're definitely one of the hottest girls in school. Maybe we should go out sometime." Okay, out of all of the possible outcomes involving dealing with Henry, getting hit on by him hadn't even made the list. I was so stunned I couldn't even think of a response, I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. Apparently he seemed to think that was a sign of me being awestruck because he leaned in close and placed on hand on the locker beside my head. "So," he damn near purred, "Is that a yes?" "No," I blurted and quickly shook my head, "it's a no. Henry, as far as I can tell I still like girls." Obviously that was the wrong thing to say because his expression clouded over and I could see that familiar, bullying Henry start coming out. "Oh, so you think you're too good for me?" He said it so smoothly that if you weren't actually listening to his words you'd think he was trying to seduce me instead of pretty much threaten me. "I didn't say that," I tried to assert. "This only just happened. I'm still trying to come to grips with it for fuck's sake." Uh oh, that narrowing of his eyes made it clear that I was not doing myself any favors right now. "Well maybe we should find out which you prefer." By this point I was completely baffled by what was happening. Henry knew I'd been a boy just days ago and now he was acting not only like he wanted to go out with me, but unless I was wrong, and I prayed to god I was, it sounded like he was threatening to rape me. "Henry, I was a boy, remember?" His shrug was careless and unconcerned. "And now you're a hot girl, with what I assume are all of the proper working parts." He started to lean in a little closer and unless I missed my guess he was fully intending to kiss me! Right then I felt a stirring deep inside of me. It was the kind of physical sensation you can really describe, like your stomach rumbling when it's hungry or your lungs burning after you've been running really hard. This was more like a deep-set knowledge that translated into a sensation of deepness, and within that deep dark of my soul that the wolf that now resided within me awoke. It recognized what was occurring, that I felt threatened and my chances of flight were gone. That left only one recourse, attack. Already I could feel the movements of my muscles that would have me suddenly shooting forward, sinking my teeth into that soft, tender flesh, and tearing out Henry's oh so vulnerable throat to leave him with blood cascading down his shirt as the life left his eyes while I howled in frenzied victory. That's why I forcibly quashed those predatory instincts, peered up directly into Henry's gaze, and whispered, "I'm sorry about Ed." To this day I don't know if any other words I could have spoken would have caused him to freeze the way he did. For a moment, there was real conflict in his eyes ranging from blazing anger to raw sadness. I'm not sure even he knew what he was feeling in that moment but when I caught a familiar tang in the air I knew which emotion had won out. Slowly drawing back, I could tell that Henry realized what he'd been doing and there was a small, but definite sense of shame that he'd been practically forcing himself on me just moments ago. Despite what I might think of the guy, I'd never once heard of him forcing a girl to do anything. He might con her or manipulate her, that I'd heard about, but he'd never used force. I think maybe he knew he'd been about to cross a boundary that he shouldn't have. "Yeah," he muttered with his eyes now downcast. "Thanks." I could have left it at that and just been on my way, but damned if I never knew to leave well enough alone. "Have you talked with anyone yet?" To his credit, he seemed to know exactly what I was talking about and shook his head. "My Dad wants me to see some shrink in town but I don't know what good it's going to do." Okay, I'd done my good deed and expressed my sympathies to the one guy who'd been making my life miserable for years. Job done, there was nothing more I needed to say or do. "Well, I'm pretty good at listening if you ever want to talk about it." What the fuck was wrong with me? I could have just shut up and let the whole thing go away. Before I'd opened my big fucking mouth I was pretty sure Henry would have just gone on his way and forgotten about me. Hell, there was a good chance he'd never bully me again after this. So why in the sweet fuck did I just offer to let him bend my ear about his feelings? The small, boyish smile that he gave me sent an odd little tingle down my spine. "Thanks," he said honestly, "Maybe sometime I will. Sorry about knocking you into the locker," he apologized and I swear there was a note to his voice that I'd never in my life heard. It was a sincerity that just didn't fit with my long-established perception of the guy. He should be mocking me or making fun of my sex change, not being...nice. "It's alright," I said by way of accepting his apology, "I'm guessing you have a lot on your mind." "That's an understatement. Look, I'd better let you get going before lunch is over. I'll see you around Aiden." And with that he gave me a small wave and headed off with his dumbfounded friends in tow, leaving me with a hallway of equally dumbfounded people looking like they'd just witnessed the arrival of an alien species. "Holy shit!" I heard quietly beside me. When I looked over I saw Jake standing there slack-jawed and blinking rapidly. "Did I just see what I think I just saw?" "You mean Henry actually being nice to me? Yup, I think you did." "What the hell did you do to him?" my friend demanded to know as I put my books in my locker and grabbed my small purse (ugh) for lunch. "I just told him I was sorry to hear about Ed," I explained, closing my locker and heading for the cafeteria. "You're sorry to hear about Ed?" he parroted. "The same Ed who not only helped Henry give you swirlies back in junior high but sometimes did them all on his own?" I sighed and rolled my eyes in exasperation as I got in one of the food lines that was offering meat products for lunch. "Jake, just because Henry's been an asshole to me for years, along with Ed, doesn't mean I can't be sorry that his friend was ripped apart by a rabid dog. That's just...inhumane." "I suppose," he muttered, though I wasn't so sure he was buying into it. "At least it kept him from pounding you." I thought about that for a moment, which brought a resurgence of that uncomfortable closeness Henry had effected when stupidly trying to 'seduce' me. "Actually," I mused, "I think he was trying to ask me out on a date." The sound of the tray and silverware hitting the ground had everyone around us looking over in surprise and Jake blushing profusely as he scrambled to collect his fallen lunchware. "I'm sorry, I think I may have gone momentarily insane. Did you just say he asked you out on a date?" "In a really, stupid, overbearing way, yeah, I think he did." "Ummmm, he remembers you were a guy like two days ago, right?" I shrugged and asked the line cook behind the food choices for a very rare hamburger before answering. "Oh I made sure to remind him, but it didn't seem to matter. I guess that's because guys are pretty visual." "What do you mean?" The discussion came to a lull as we paid for our meals and made our way over to our normal table before starting it back up again. "Okay, look, when it comes to how people view things in the world, guys are much more focused on how things look. It's why we, or I guess you now, are always attracted to the hot-bodied model versus the stereotypical dumpy housewife." "What, you don't like girls anymore?" he accused. "Don't know yet," I shrugged around a mouthful of tasty burger. "I haven't really delved into it yet. But I knew when I was a guy that's kind of how my brain worked. I think the same was true with Henry just now. Yeah, he knew I was a guy on an intellectual level, but his eyes were telling him I'm a girl so that's the instinct he followed." "I suppose that's possible," Jake allowed, "but I mean I don't look at you like that and I'm a guy. I don't," he insisted when I gave him a sly smile. "Jake," I told him patiently. "Have forgotten that I can smell arousal?" His face went pure white for a moment before filling in with a heated blush that had him looking straight down at his food. "Fuck!" he murmured. I couldn't help but laugh a little and patted his hand reassuringly. "It's okay Jake, didn't I just explain how guys are visual? It's not your fault." "It isn't weird is it?" he asked, looking at me like a shy little kid. "It's a little weird," I admitted. "But then this whole thing is weird to me. I'm also not blind and I happened to have looked in a mirror at some point in the last two days so it's understandable. Just...don't go hitting on me like Henry did, at least until I can figure out just what the hell is going on with my hormones and which way the door's swinging." "Fair enough, as long as you don't go trying to snake Mary away from me. We've got another date on Wednesday." "You too? Well how about that." His fork was halfway to his mouth when it stopped and he simply stared at me in open disbelief. I let that drag out for a moment or two before grinning and telling him, "Didn't I ever tell you I named my forge Mary?" I barely managed to duck the fries that came flying my way. Chicago, Illinois Shadows were the man's only friends as he sat in the dark before the bank of computer monitors and let his eyes scan the various pieces of data displayed on the multi-display. A multitude of information was presented for his perusal ranging from bank statements to topographical satellite displays of the West Sixty-Fourth Street and South Woods St. area notated with various pieces of informational data such as building height, material structure, mean vehicular and foot traffic, standard police response time, and current families presiding in the area with small children. All of this information was taken in within the blink of an eye and factored into the conceived tactical planning that had begun two days ago. So far, this was the optimal location for the convoy strike to occur. Sadly, the last child living in the area had been slain by a hit squad tasked with eliminating the child's father because of a perceived slight on the local gang four weeks ago. He had dealt with the hit squad shortly after and now it was time to eliminate the members within the gang. Had they actually attempted intelligent planning, they might have not made their whereabouts so blatantly known to the entire community. It was almost pathetically easy not only to find them, but to established a patterned route for their little two-vehicle convoy that conducted a territory survey every other day. The whispers on the street indicated they were wise enough to use bullet-proof vests and had possibly enhanced their vehicles with armored capabilities, but these issues were easy enough to bypass once he conducted his recon that evening. Once that was completed it would be a simple matter of preparing the area for the strike. Even if they have taken such precautions, and others, the entire operation would be concluded sixty seconds after initiation with the area vacated a full four minutes before the fastest police response could arrive. With his preparations concluded, for the moment at least, he shifted the information on the upper right display down to the center monitor and carefully looked it over while resting his chin on folded hands. He had gone halfway through it when he heard the faint hiss of movement behind him and couldn't hold back the very small smile from curving his lips. "What can I do for you Gear?" "Dammit," he heard from doorway twenty feet back before footsteps approached from behind, "How the hell do you do that?" Slowly turning his chair, Ashe offered his colleague an approving look. "You're improving," he allowed, "the door movement was nearly silent." Sighing heavily, the weapon and tactical equipment specialist dropped into the empty chair beside his friend and looked at the menagerie of computer monitors. "I'm guessing everything is good to go for the op?" "I'm doing one last recon tonight," Ashe informed him, "just to confirm whether or not there'll be armor to contend with, but I've already factored the possibility into the operations protocols." Not surprised in the least that his friend and boss was already thinking lightyears ahead in the tactical planning process, he caught sight of the center screen and leaned forward with a narrowing of his eyes. "What's Tearmann Institute?" "A private academy in Newfoundland, Canada that specializes in the education of...unique individuals. I've been looking into for several years now." Gear frowned and cast a sidelong glance at Ashe. "Another Whateley? For criminals maybe?" Ashe shook his head and clicked through several screens that showed images of the various parts of the school. "No, that was my first thought as well, but upon investigation I found it is very selective in the individuals chosen to attend and none of them can have any form of affiliation with any criminals or criminal organization." "So they're not as inclusive as Whateley is. That's a bit short-sighted isn't it?" Ashe took a slow breath and prepared his words carefully. "Gear, I realize Whateley is your alma mater, and I'm sure you have plenty of good memories from there, but it's because of that inclusion of both law abiding and criminal students that has led to a steady uptick in criminal activity occurring there. That along with the steadfast requirement that students must partake in rather extensive combat training, I've been having my doubts about its viability as being an effective education institution." Gear sat back and just blinked in surprise at his longtime friend. "Wait a second, are you telling me that you don't approve of students being combat trained?" "No I'm not," he corrected, "teaching combat and tactics at a young age can make for very