Season of the Wolf Pt. 02

Van chuckled and quickly moved out of the way as Horse craned his neck and tried to take a hunk out of Van's backside with those big teeth of his. "Amateur," Van chastised Horse as he shot me a humored look. Yeah, I suppose if anyone knew about sinking his teeth into somebody. It was Van.

We went our separate ways after tending to the horses. Van returned to the shadows of the study and I into the sunlight outdoors to wait for Grace. The both of us had plenty of things to consider. I knew the talk we had purposely put off was at some point going to happen. Someday, we were going to have to confront each other and get down to the business of sorting out our relationship as grandfather and grandson. But, it wasn't going to happen today or anytime soon.

Chapter 44

Confronting this woman is not going to be as easy as a simple Q&A session. My emotions are like a thunderstorm on the verge of unleashing its fury. The only question I truly want answered is simple enough. I want to know why. Only, I want the truth and not the bullshit she has been trying to feed me. Oh, I'm sure she has told me some truths or at least versions of it, but I want to know it all.

This is the first time I've had my mother completely to myself since we first met. There isn't anyone to intervene as we sit staring at one another from our neutral corners of the study. She wants so much out of me. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Respect. Love. We're complete strangers and I don't have to give her anything. I don't owe her for giving birth to me. In so many ways I was just her means to an end. She wanted to get away from this place...this pack. I was just her way to do it.

The whole situation is so ironic. She used me to run from her destiny under the guise of protecting me from mine. And here we are, sitting in this room in the very house she fled from. It's difficult for me to remember that I'm not talking to a woman the same age as I am. To say that time has been kind to her is an understatement, considering she's actually over a century old. I suppose her age alone commands a certain level of respect. Let's face it. Anyone who is capable of surviving their own life, especially as long as hers has been, deserves a fucking medal.

I realize I hold so much power over her in the palm of my hand. With an unkind word I could crush her. I could reject her and send her packing. It is tempting, but I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't at least try to come to some sort of peace with this woman who gave me life.

Perhaps, I should have organized my thoughts on paper and written down my questions. My mind is full of them and it's difficult to decide which one I want answered first. Simply asking why is too vague. But, I don't know if I'm ready to hear the answers...the real answers to the question that has been eating at me since I learned I had a younger brother. "Why did you give me away? Why not Michael too? Why'd you keep him and not me?"

My mother shifts uncomfortably in her seat and lifts her eyes to meet mine. I hate that her eyes have the same shape and color as mine and that when I look into them I see so much of myself. "You were a Winona...a firstborn daughter. By now you understand what that means. Had you been born a boy...a Winono...your father and I would have done the same thing. I had my doubts about leaving, but when Han took one look at you...barely an hour old and I saw the expression on his face...I knew we had to go, for your sake. I wanted you to be able to choose your own path in life and not to have it chosen for you. I didn't want this life of duty and obligation for you. Remember, I had lived it for over a century by that point. I know, better than you do, what it is.

"Your father and I, we didn't love each other. We cared for one another deeply, but it was our duty to the pack that brought us together in the first place. We would not have...if we'd had a choice...been mated. He loved someone else, as did I. And it was hell, being forced together and watching them, the people we loved, give that love to someone else. The pack in California, running to them was our only means of escape.

"You know what it is to be a wolf, Grace. Can you imagine never being a wolf again? By fleeing for California, we thought we could have it all. You'd be safe. We'd have a pack to be part of. Only, it didn't quite work out the way we planned. But, then again, it never does.

"Your father and I planned everything so carefully. He stayed behind and played the part of the grieving husband. He tried to keep Nathaniel at bay. But, Nathaniel was unstoppable. He was coming, Grace, not for me, but for you. I staged my own death and hid you in the system to keep him from finding you. Once I was "dead", Josiah pretended to go the way of the wolf out of grief, but he came to California. For your sake, we left you to be raised by human parents. You were two months old, Grace. When I staged my own death...with Van's help. Do you have any idea what it was like to hand you over to someone else to raise?

"Van chose your parents. They knew...everything. They too, tried to protect you from this world, but all too quickly it became apparent there was no way to do it. Their deaths were no accident, Grace. Van has enemies. The pack has enemies. Van and I had been watching you blossom into a beautiful young woman. We didn't realize until it was almost too late that we weren't the only ones watching you. Your parents died trying to protect you from our enemies.

"If you were going to survive in this world. You needed your wolf. Christine and Rod...they were inserted into your life. We thought if you were around other wolves. Your wolf would rise to the surface. It was working, but not fast enough. Your wolf needed a jumpstart. I refused to let Van feed you his blood to make it happen. Pack magic is a powerful thing, Grace. You needed to tap into the source of that magic.

"I've always done what I needed to do...for you, Grace. Your father and I both have. Josiah returned to claim the pack from Nathaniel so that we could return to the source of our magic. As you know, his attempt failed. I don't blame Han and neither should you. He didn't know. He was only doing what he thought he needed to do to protect the pack.

"Everything I've told you from the very beginning has been the absolute truth. I truly have no reason to lie to you. I don't know you well, but I know you well enough. Don't think that Christine and Rod were only doing their jobs. They care for you, Grace. They are your friends.

"You may think I did the things I did...am doing are to save my own skin. It's true, I've benefited from returning to pack lands. The entire pack is stronger and I think coming here has saved their lives. But, I want you to know, I've lived a very long time and dying of old age...if you decide to go or you want me to go...having a limited lifespan isn't so bad. I've made mistakes. It's almost a comfort to know that I won't make as many with less time on my hands to make them.

"You weren't one of my many mistakes, Grace. Just seeing and getting to know you, Grace. It has been my salvation. I'm only sorry that we're starting out on the wrong foot and that I waited so long to say all the things I've needed to say. I love you, Grace. I always have."

My mother stares up into my face and I can see the begging for my forgiveness in her eyes. I'm trying to put myself in her shoes. What would I do? What would I sacrifice for my child? I don't think I'll ever envision my mother as the kindly, doting, cookie baking type of mom Coyote described. I'm trying to look past the plotting, scheming, self-serving woman I've come to know as my mother. I'm struggling to see her as a mom capable of loving me more than she loves herself. With her like this, her eyes soft and pleading for me to understand, I almost can.

I do believe her. The answers she has openly given me don't excuse the things that happened, but at least I do understand her reasons. "What about Michael?"

She smiles as I mention my brother. I can see the two of them have a bond that she and I will never share. Michael's disdain isn't for her, as I originally thought. He hates the situation they're in and not the woman who is in part responsible for it. Our mother has been the sole target for his anger. He blames her for things that aren't entirely her fault. The arrangement with the vampires has kept my mother and the pack young. The blood of the vampires provides their wolves with the magic they need. Michael resents offering his throat and his wolf's dependence on vampire blood. Michael knows, as do I, that without the vampire blood my mother ingested, he might not have been born at all. He owes the vampires his life and that's the thing he despises the most.

Michael hates the things our mother has done, but he loves her. I wonder if I can follow in his footsteps and do the same. Can I compartmentalize and separate her actions from her? "Michael was a gift. By the time he came along we were in too deep. I'd already lost one child and I wasn't about to lose another to this world in which we live. I guess in a way he was my means to correct all the mistakes I'd made with you."

I nod. I can see that in her. My mother needed to make amends and he was her way to do it. My mother has busy hands. Nervously, she fists the fabric of her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles with her palms, and then makes new ones to take their place.

"I've explained everything. I've apologized over and over to the both of you. I'll do it again, if it'll help. But, there's truly nothing left to say. The past can't be undone and truthfully, I don't know if I'd change a thing. You had a good childhood. Your parents gave you everything that I could not. You were safe and protected, and loved, more than you can ever imagine. You grew up to be a strong and brave woman though I doubt if you'd agree. I can see it in you.

"Someday, Grace, you'll understand. Being a mom doesn't make you perfect. Sometimes, you do the best that you can and hope you've made the right decisions. You do your best and hope it's enough. Like it or not, I am your mother. Whether you think I made the right choices or not. I've made them and the outcome is what it is. I know you're angry with me. You have every right to be. But, I want us to have a relationship. Maybe, it can't be a true mother and daughter relationship. And if it can't, I understand. Possibly, starting out as friends would be a better place to start for the both of us."

"Friends." I roll the idea of me being friends with this woman around in my mind. Friends? I take a mental inventory of the people I truly consider as a friend and realize it's a very short list. I can't think of anyone but Suzanne, the woman I always thought was my mother as being my mom. Angela could never take her place and it seems she realizes this. I can't hate her forever. I simply don't have it in me. She says I'm bold and brave. I guess that's true. But, am I bold and brave enough to forgive and move ahead into the uncharted waters of friendship with a woman who through so many twists and turns of the truth basically deceived me? Maybe, I'm a fool, but I think I can.

"That sounds like a good place to start," I say. She smiles in relief and her hands still in her lap. I know one thing that would help forge the bond of friendship and perhaps more between us. I'm choking on the word, but I need to say it as badly as she needs to hear it. "Mom." She looks up at me and her face is beaming as brightly as a kid's on Christmas morning. It might be the only time I ever address her as mom. From this point on she might be known as Angela, my friend. But, I feel better for saying it aloud at least once. "I forgive you."

Tears she can't quite blink away escape from beneath her lashes. Whatever resentment and anger I had dissolves in the deluge of her hot, salty, tears. I'm on my feet and across the room doing something I never thought I'd do. I hug my mother, my friend and the dam breaks flooding us both with all the emotions we had kept bottled up inside.

I realize I have Coyote to thank yet again. He inspired me with his sarcasm, dry wit, and mockery to forgive my mother. His cajoling has worked and I've come to a peace, be it fragile, with her and also with myself. "I think you owe Coyote a batch of cookies."

Angela smiles and the smile is warm and tinted with memories of happier times and with love. I see the mom in her now that Coyote saw then, in her smile. "I'd forgotten about the cookies. I swear he could smell them from miles away. I'd be standing in the kitchen and there he'd be right on my heels snatching them right out of the oven and eating the dough with both fists."

"What was Coyote like as a kid?" I'm curious. I can't imagine him as a little boy. Well, I can since sometimes he still acts as rambunctious as a little kid.

"In a word...exhausting," she says on a chuckle. "Trust me, Grace. From what I've seen, he hasn't changed much. He's still..."

I'm laughing so hard I've got tears in my eyes. They're happy tears instead of sad ones and it's a relief to be free of the tension that has been building and building since the day I first met my real mother. I finish her sentence with the only word that truly describes Coyote. "Exhausting." She nods and we're on our way to bake the batch of cookies he has definitely earned.

Chapter 45

Han and Van have gathered the packs and vampires together in the back pasture. It's fall and the sun dips early beyond the horizon. The fading daylight is a deep grayish purple, not quite true dark yet. The bit of natural light lingering in the sky makes the vampires uncomfortable. They instinctively gravitate toward the shadows. But, out here in an open field, there isn't any respite to be found and Van's people are on edge.

It seems the pack has had little difficulty welcoming home their missing family. We don't quite have the sense of unity that comes with familiarity yet. And maybe it is the presence of the vampires that has caused these two packs to gravitate towards one another in the essence of safety in numbers. I don't really know. I wonder if it's more of an issue of trust. Once bitten twice shy, or so the saying goes. And Van's vampires, no matter how human they look, bite.

Somehow Van and Han are supposed to get these two predatory species to work together as one. I don't know how they're going to pull it off. It's the first time I've seen everyone in the same place at the same time. I do a quick head count and blink in disbelief at the sum. We, if we can manage to put aside our predatory natures and not kill one another, are over a hundred strong.

Preternatural energy ripples through the air. Wolf magic has a particular warmth to it and to me feels as comfortable as sliding into a pair of old sweats on a blustery winter's day. Vampire magic is cold and crisp, chilly and tingling, like grabbing a handful of ice cubes from the freezer and holding them in your fist till your fingertips go numb.

Tonight is the first night of training. Han and Van stand in the center of the preternatural melee of opposing forces, of the wolf's heat and vampire's cold. I want to go to him, but Coyote keeps a hand planted on my shoulder to hold me in place. Not only is Coyote planted at my side to protect me, but to protect Han as well. Tonight, Han needs to prove himself as master of this pack and show his strengths, not flaunt his only vulnerability to the enemy. I know I'm his greatest weakness. Coyote's presence serves to solidify that fact.

If Van has a weakness he's careful not to show it. I scan the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces looking for someone he might be connected to. The vampires show Van the deference and respect due any leader. The pack he has basically relinquished to Han's command give Van a wide birth and their eyes glimmer with a tinge of mistrust. Though some of the pack are still loyal to him and he has their respect It's not respect earned through loyalty. It's the kind of respect any wise person would show a rattlesnake poised to strike. Only a fool would poke a rattlesnake with a stick and so it is with Van.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that tonight is an exposition. Van and Han are only sparring. The vampires have never viewed the wolves as anything other than a source of blood and their precious daylight. They've never seen us as a threat. Van has kept his pack on a short leash for decades. They've always been the hunted and never the hunter. As for our pack, they've never seen a vampire as anything other than a figment of an overactive imagination. They know the vampires are dangerous, but there's a difference between knowing something and really seeing it first hand. To us, vampires have never been real. Tonight, all that changes.

I grit my teeth as Han strips. The vampires aren't comfortable with nudity and I smile at the sound of embarrassed throat clearing. But, Han has earned more than one appreciative stare from the crowd of onlookers as he lowers his boxers and kicks them out of the way. Jealousy rears its ugly head and if not for Coyote's fingers pressing into my shoulders. I'd march across the field and poke more than one set of eyes out for ogling my mate. "Easy girl," he cautions under his breath.

Han calls preternatural energy to him. I can feel it. The power flowing from all this life, from the pack and vampires, ripples over my skin like an electrical current and steals my breath. Coyote feels it too, as does the rest of the pack. Together we inhale a collective gasp as the magic builds and builds to the point of no return.

I've seen Han's wolf through my human eyes before. I've watched him shift while I've stayed in my human skin. It's poetry made of flesh and bone to witness him slide from one form into the other. The shift takes only seconds and to someone who hasn't undergone such beautiful agony it appears to happen in the blink of an eye. But, to the person changing shape, it seems like hours.

Han's theory is that the size of the person determines the size of the wolf. I think he's right. After all, our body mass only changes shape. It doesn't disappear. My wolf is decidedly smaller, one of the smallest in the pack. Han stands about six foot for and two hundred and thirty pounds. His wolf is one of the largest in the pack and it's an impressive animal.

Han's wolf is beautiful. He's huge, about as big as a mastiff, but without the unwieldy bulk. His wolf is lean and lithe. I know beneath his gray/black thick, luxurious pelt is muscle as hard and unyielding as steel. His eyes, tinged golden and glimmering with human intellect scan the crowd and focus for a moment on me before locking onto Van. He curls his upper lip and flashes his canines at Van in warning. His ears are pinned to his skull and the fur along his back stands erect in a ridge of aggression. Han's wolf studies Van and paces in a slow arc, evaluating for potential weaknesses.

Han is in there, controlling his wolf. I'm sure of it. I'm breathless and my heart pounds as I witness the battle of power taking place. Van counters Han's every move, sidestepping Han's lunges with the grace of a cat. I've never seen anything move as fast as Van. One moment he's here and the next, before I've batted an eyelash, he's there. Han's wolf is beginning to figure it out. Generally, a wolf attacks in a specific pattern, but Han has grown unpredictable and with every bit of a wolf's endless patience, dancing the dance just waiting to wear Van down.

Van is in full vampire mode and it's a terrifying thing to see. His fangs are long and sharp, two fine needle points flashing blinding white from beneath his upper lip. Every move he makes is calculated and precise. He is a creature built for speed and for attack. I sense it, as he draws more power into him from the atmosphere around us. Magic sizzles in the air and it's as cold as an artic blast.