Page 43 of Father of the Wolf

He didn’t answer her, but simply placed his arm around her shoulders in a supportive, or perhaps possessive, gesture. And he might have he said something directly to Rath using telepathy, because Rath nodded at her with a humorless smile.

It was hard for Hope to see the intimidating man as Athair’s adopted son. Athair was warm and friendly, while Rath was hostile and abrasive. And when it came to age, Athair looked more like an older brother with only a few years separating them.

Athair drew her attention to Dàn, who stood at the base of the steps not quite within the light from the kitchen. “Dàn, please come meet Hope. She helped save my life.”

Stepping into the circle of light, Dàn said, “Thank you. Your courage and actions may yet save us all.”

At the sight of his appalling injuries, Hope felt an overwhelming need to comfort the young man. He must have suffered the injuries while protecting Athair. He was tall, but slightly built, compared to Athair and Rath. He seemed much younger and more vulnerable than the others, even though she remembered that he was only a year younger than Rath. He shouldn’t have to carry his burden alone. Hope left Athair’s side and reached up to cup Dàn’s face in her palm.

Athair gripped her arm and pulled back her hand at the same time Dàn flinched as if burned by her touch.

“No…” Dàn moaned, in a pain filled voice.

She watched as the red mist around him thickened and swirled over the skin of his arms, throat, and face. His image fluttered. With each flicker, a strong shock wave of energy rolled off him and vibrated through the others. Each wave raised their hair, caused their muscles to tense, and their skin to tingle. Dàn’s body stiffened, and his vivid blue eyes rolled back in his head. The mist swirled in agitation, shooting tiny sparks in every direction. His shoulders trembled violently. Then, soft as a sigh, Dàn collapsed, his body seeming to simply fold in upon itself.

Before he hit the ground, Rath leapt to his side and caught him. With a low growl, Rath carried Dàn tenderly to the padded bench against the wall of the porch. Athair and Hope hurried to assist him, but stopped short when Rath ordered them to stay back.

“We cannot help him with this.” Rath explained, as he held out his arms showing horrendous burns where he had held Dàn.

“He will not allow even you to touch him,” he said to Athair.

“Perhaps the healing ritual—” Athair began. Maybe he could do little for Dàn, but he could help Rath. He reached for one of Rath’s arms and began healing his burns.

“No ritual.” Dàn said from his prostrate position.

“He fears the ceremonies will cause further instability,” Rath said. “The healing that Sgrios started was done while he was still unconscious. He believes his trauma has begun some sort of change in him.” With a half-hearted smile at Dàn, he said, “And we know how weird he was to begin with.”

Dàn gave a slight nod and opened his eyes. Hope gasped at their strange new appearance. They were now an iridescent, sparkling blue. Still vivid in color, but almost pulsing as if the previously fluctuating power was now contained within them. It was a relief to all when he let his eyes drift closed again.

Regretting her impulsive act, Hope told him quietly, “I’m sorry. I only intended to comfort you.”

“Please save your healing touch,” he said, his voice becoming slightly stronger. “My injuries are from within, and from within they must be healed. If they can at all.”

“I don’t have any magic,” she said.

“You do not yet know what you can do. But in time, your strength will grow.”

His response confused her. She didn’t have any magic, regardless of what had happened during Athair’s healing ceremony. What had he meant by saying his injuries were from within? Had he done all that damage himself? Surely not. She thought the other ones had hurt him. In his own way he was much scarier than Rath.

She needed to regroup and check on Steve. “Athair, I’m going to see how Steve is holding up. Call me if you need anything.”

As she entered the kitchen, she thought about what had just happened on her porch. What had she just seen? What were these people? How was she supposed to deal with this? She had given up the promising excuse that she’d lost her marbles after last night’s ceremony. So, this must be real. Weird, but real. Really, really weird.

How was she going to explain this to Steve? She didn’t understand any of it herself.

Okay. They were werewolves. But not like in the movies. Not dangerous.

It might be a little hard to convince Steve that they weren’t dangerous after having one of them attack him. Which meant they were dangerous, but only when trying to protect each other. That might be a good spin for the story. Werewolves with morals.

She decided she’d better not mention their true ages, or the whole thing with Dàn going nuclear on the porch. It would definitely be better for her to start with small details. She would help Steve learn about them one step at a time. It would be easier that way, to start with less of the scare-the-snot-out-of-you information. More of the they-are-just-like-us type. If she could convince Steve they were good guys after what he’d seen, she might have to start a career in politics.

Steve wasn’t in the kitchen, the living room, the den, or the bathroom. Where was he?

Aha. Voices could be heard in Granny’s apartment. Steve was talking, and he sounded stressed. Way stressed, and with very good reason.

There were three werewolves hanging out on her back porch.

So maybe the direct approach wouldn’t be best. She knocked lightly and opened the door.

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