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“So what if we are?” Obviously, it wasn’t a problem for Wes. “It’s not like we’re going to damage anything, and we’re wild animals, right? We don’t obey no stinkin’ laws.”
I laughed. “Okay.” He was my tour guide on this run after all, or at least he was helping me to rediscover myself.
“Just a little further. There’s a small woods up here.”
I followed him and as we entered the trees, we stopped again. “Now what?”
“Now,” he said, “we howl.”
I almost laughed. “Howl?”
But Wes didn’t response. Instead, he sat back, opened his mouth, and raised his head to the sky. The noise that came from him was a perfect note of sorrow and mourning, and I shivered just from being in his presence.
He didn’t look at me again, but as he continued to howl, instinct took over, and I joined him, adding the depths of my grief to his already sad song.
As we both continued to howl, other wolves appeared from between the trees, sank back onto their haunches, and joined us. It was both the most natural thing in the world and something that made me question everything I’d ever experienced.
I’d never experienced this type of connection to a group of wolves, or even another wolf.
There was something almost entirely mystical about it. Every hair on my body stood up as I surrendered myself to an unexpected sense of belonging.
I pushed it down. It was a symptom of my grief. I missed my dad and I’d take a connection from anywhere, even an imagined one.
My song grew stronger, the notes in it vibrating with my sadness as I told the world my news, and the other wolves raised their voices in acceptance of that news.
Finally, I was the only one still howling, and they all bowed as it died away, their submission one of respect for the departed.
I glanced at Wes and he nodded before we watched the other wolves walk away, disappearing as quietly as they’d appeared. When Wes and I retraced our steps, it was at a slower pace, as though the urge to let something free had gone.
* * *
Eventually,we stood beside my car in human form again, and I considered the next stage of the evening — meeting Charmaine at Clover’s.
“Fastest way to get there?” I made a mistake asking that question as we stood beside my car again, my breathing still a little heavier with sheer exhilaration from the run, and Wes grinned.
“Run again?”
“I meant quickest route, dumbass.”
He shrugged, the innocence fake. “I know.”
“Get in the car.” I shoved it into gear and we rolled quietly away, back towards downtown.
Clover’s was dimly lit, but I managed to spot Charmaine sitting at the bar, her profile barely discernible from the shadows around her.
I looked around. I hadn’t been in here before, but then I hadn’t needed to. I rarely met anyone outside work, and it didn’t seem like the kind of place that served up coffee and gossip.
The walls were dark cherry wood, the booth seating was black velvet, and so were the stools spaced along the light oak-crafted bar.
A bartender with an air of all-too-casual observation wiped glasses behind the bar, standing in front of a mirror lined with bottles of spirits. The whole place was upscale, with some of the tables on top of what was clearly a dance floor later in the evenings.
“You stay by the door,” I instructed Wes, “I want to talk to her alone. I get the feeling she might be spooked if we both go over there.”
She looked up as I approached her, her gaze flitting left and right as if to assure herself I hadn’t brought company. I’d been right to tell Wes to stay farther away, but I was glad he was here in case anything went wrong. I didn’t get any sort of bad vibe from Charmaine, though.
I lifted myself onto the stool next to her and signaled for a drink. “Gin, please,” I said as the bartender approached.
He nodded and reached for a glass.
