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Nights like this, though, chill and dark, I could convince myself that I heard footsteps. Heavy steps on the concrete, claws scraping with every movement as some hulking beast stalked me. Since Vegas, I’d done a lot of reading on Tiamat and her band of demons. None of it was pretty. She was supposed to be the mother of the elder gods, one of the creators of the cosmos, a personification of salt water, who blended with Apsu, the personification of fresh water, to create life. It was all very symbolic and Freudian. Then war came, with the founding gods and the newer gods trying to destroy each other. Tiamat created a horde of serpents, dragons, and monsters to do battle for her. They were defeated. She was cut in half to form heaven and earth, and her tears formed the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.
I had to ask: Was this supposed to be literal? Did this really happen at the dawn of civilization, inhuman demons lumbering across the landscape, doing battle? Or was it a metaphor, and if so, a metaphor for what? I’d spent a lot of time discovering how many of those old stories of gods, demons, witches, vampires—werewolves—and magic were true. Not all the stories were. So much of an ancient myth like this was metaphor that was repeated across stories and cultures. What metaphor was the Tiamat cult worshipping? How far would they go to get me?
I had to get my mind off this or I’d completely freeze up. I pulled out my cell phone and hit speed dial.
“What’s wrong?” Ben said, before hello, even. Just the sound of his voice made my shoulders relax a notch. He was okay, no one had gotten him.
Smiling, I said, “You always assume something’s wrong.”
He chuckled. “Because it usually is.”
“Nothing’s wrong. This time,” I said, hating the whine in my voice. “At least, I don’t think it’s anything. It’s dark. I got lonely.”
“Are you on the way home?”
“Yeah.” Finally, I reached my car. I took one last look around, up and down the street, at parked cars, hunched buildings, and weird shadows cast by old streetlamps. Anything could be hiding here. Rick’s patterns, waiting to strike. My nose wasn’t helping. All I smelled was oil, concrete, city.
“Nothing’s gone after you yet, it probably won’t start right this minute,” Ben said. He was a lawyer, always the
practical one, able to rationalize just about anything.
“It’s waiting for me to let my guard down.”
“Is your guard down?”
Safe in my car, I said, “How would I know? Though if my guard was down, I suppose I’d stop thinking about it. I kind of like that idea.”
“Just hurry home. I haven’t seen you all day.” I heard the twinge in his voice. He couldn’t hide it. He was nervous, too.
“Roger,” I said and waited for him to hang up before I did.
We were a pack, and we needed to be together, so I raced home, maybe a little faster than was safe. Wolf needed her pack, after all.
Chapter 3
A couple of days before my next show, when I would tag along with the Paradox PI team, we had a full moon to get through.
I stood at the front door and called back to Ben. “Aren’t you ready yet?”
“Stop nagging, I’m coming.” He marched from the bedroom, with no revealing evidence of what had delayed him.
“I’m not nagging,” I complained. Nagged, actually. We were late. The sun was setting. We were due in the mountains soon. With my luck, we’d get stuck in traffic on the way there. Shift into wolves behind the dash of my hatchback. Wouldn’t that be exciting?
“Yes, you are.” Ben joined me and dropped a kiss on my forehead.
“You think that makes everything better?” But the warm flush in my gut said that yes, it did make things quite a bit better.
What all the stories and romances don’t say is that happily ever after doesn’t just happen. You have to work at it. You have to keep working at it.
We still argued.
“I don’t want to do this,” he said as we made our way to the car. By “this” he meant the full-moon ritual that drew our werewolf pack together, to Change, to run, to hunt. To stop being human.
“You say that every time.”
“And it’s true every time.”
“But do you have to keep saying it?”
