“Angie. You weren’t invited.” His voice indicated he was slightly upset.
“Joseph let us know we might be needed.” She glanced at the young man, who stood. “This is my youngest, Nick. He turned 18 last month. He’s old enough to take the oath and give your woman her first meal.”
“Joseph let you in here. Instructed you to wait?” Angie nodded, and Vincent turned to Natalia. “Are you hungry, love?”
“Yes.” Natalia was staring at the human. He was smaller than Vincent, with brown hair and eyes. He was wearing tight jeans and a red t-shirt. He walked to Vincent and Natalia and bowed low before his masters. He straightened and spoke the oath for the first time in his life. None of the humans on the farms were allowed to take the oath or give their blood until they were legally adults. Vincent had his people abide by human laws whenever possible.
“Think of this carefully: is this really something you would have done on any other occasion? Has there been an occasion where you wondered if there was a hidden room?”
“Joseph, I don’t know. It’s never come up.”
“Why hasn’t it?”
She paused. “What?”
“In all the years you’ve lived in this house, why have you never wondered about a hidden room? You’ve seen that hallway thousands of times. Why did you never, until this instance, feel the need to question its lack of doors?”
Natalia turned and went to the bed. She sat down in silence for a moment. The moment grew longer, and Joseph’s voice came through.
People often don’t like when their significant other says they belong to each other. I think it depends on the relationship. In a good relationship, calling your partner ‘yours’ is a term of endearment. In my mind anyways. I think this stands true if you’re in polyamorous/open relationship as well.
From Protector of the Grey House:
“If you hadn’t stopped me in time…”
He inhaled sharply at the devastated look in her eyes. His eyes narrowed a touch as he caressed her cheek. He had never seen her this distraught. Vincent’s own expression grew soft as he drew her into his arms. He kissed his woman and held her tightly to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. After a moment he pulled away and whispered into her ear.
“Tell me you’re still mine.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me I’m still yours.”
He had never asked her that before. Vincent often referred to her as being ‘his’, but never questioned that she wanted him. Natalia wanted to draw back to look into his eyes, but he wouldn’t let her. His arms tightened around her and held her still. Natalia moved closer still and spoke softly. “Yes, you’re still mine.”
“Don’t. Until you can sustain the damage I am capable of, do not bite my jugular.” His words growled past her face, a chill wind threatening her cheeks.
“I thought to deter your passion until we arrived home.” Her voice was too innocent as was her look.
“Tell me another, weaver of tales.” He was growling into her neck, chilling her jugular. She shivered in anticipation, wanting his bite. She cried out in frustration when he pulled away and sat back down on the seat. She glowered at him as she sat up, using her arms to prop herself up.
“Which is it, Vincent? You act as if you’re going to ravish me despite my predilections against it at this time and in the same moment warn me against enticing you.”
She took a breath to calm herself. “The thing that bothers me is that after the police left, two men dressed in black suits claiming to be with the police asked to see me. I was placed in a private room and a nurse told me they wanted to talk to me. I saw them through the open door. They worried me, so I told the nurse that I was tired and didn’t want any more visitors. After she left, I was hit with paranoia and destroyed my phone. I flushed the pieces down the toilet, then laid down for a nap.
“I woke at sunset this evening. I had slept for more than 24 hours. Someone took my clothing. All I had was the gown the hospital gave me. I called the nurse, but she had no idea what happened to my stuff. She left, and said she would try and find out. As I didn’t want to stick around, I left the room. I stole my clothing from a doctor I met on the stairs. My luck his clothing fit.”
He placed his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder until she turned and looked at him. “Have you ever known her to fidget? When she’s agitated, or angry she shows it with anger. I don’t have a memory of her ever acting nervous.”
Rebecca’s mouth and eyes popped open wide as she thought for a moment. She took a deep breath. “Get a human. Joseph might be better in this situation. We take down with force. They do too, but he can subdue her better.”
Charlie nodded and headed out of the room. On the screens, Natalia walked through each of her rooms, but locked each door as she passed through it. The wolf frowned. Natalia never locked the doors. As Rebecca watched she realized Natalia did seem off. Her movements weren’t as decisive as they usually were. She seemed to hesitate a lot, as if dazed. Rebecca narrowed her eyes as Natalia went into the bathroom, lit a few candles, then turned off the overheads.
Rebecca slammed her hands on the counter. “Charlie!”
Why did I read this short story collection? Because a friend of mine is published in it. As I love his writing, I knew I needed to get it. Was it worth it? YES! All the stories are about werewolves. This is probably the first collection I’ve read where I enjoyed all the stories, as the writers are high caliber.
I usually read the introductions in collections, in the hopes of learning a bit about the authors. The intro was short, and contained a one sentence synopsis of each story. The intro was written by the editor and was well done.
The Mortsafe by Liam Hogan: The details in this story made it easy to see the scenes. I was rooting for the main character the entire time, and learned a new word, ‘mortsafe’. Fascinating thing, a mortsafe.
A Werewolf’s Lament by Holly Rae Garcia: I’m a widow. I felt the loss in this story as if it were my own.
Howling on the Moon by Christopher R. Muscato: Werewolf and his wife move to the moon in the hopes that living there will stop him from turning into a werewolf. I loved the ending. Brilliant concept.
Ivanwolf by M.T. Johnson: I want to know more of the character Ivanwolf. The story is about the people who hunt him. Ivanwolf deserves to be written about more. He is intriguing, regal, and proper.
Rabbit Ears in the Laundry by Holly Barratt: A wife laments her werewolf husband and the habits she has put up with for years.
Rewilding by Eric Nash: A woman is pursued by a man she said ‘no’ to. A lovely ending to a common stalker story.
The Lodger by Laura Garritty: I like this story, but I was a bit confused as to whether there were two antagonists or one. It didn’t detract from the story, and I still felt the story was resolved at the end. I might have missed clues that answered my confusion, therefore do not let my confusion color your read through of this fine story.
The Wolf is Always at Your Door by E.J. Sidle: A heart wrenching, beautiful love story. I cried. There are several stories of love/couples in this book, all are good. This one is by far my favorite. I wanted to say more about this story, but to describe it too much would give all of it away.
To Prey by C.H. Knyght: Supernatural creatures clash. The one with the biggest claws – and the most knowledge – wins. Twice. I’m smirking right now as the second win is a fun one for the character.
Walking Dog David J. Rank: What do you do when your werewolf needs to go for a walk and you’re a kid? Anything you can.
Werewolf Eulogy by Adam Stemple: I live in Illinois and this story takes place in Minnesota, where it gets much colder. I could still feel what the character was describing and found myself nodding along with a lot of the outdoor descriptions. A very sweet story set in the cold north. It made my heart happy and sad.
The Big L by Richard Pulfer: Richard uses puns for his story titles on a regular basis. I almost never get the pun until the end, even when it should be obvious. This is a tale of a senior citizen trying desperately to get out of a nursing home and his journey to find out why he’s not being allowed to leave.
To sum up, I’ll say again that all the stories are worth it. Give it a read. You can get it here:
Natalia did not head for her old house right away, but went to the corner market first. She bought a water pistol, and two small empty jars with cork stoppers. She went to the Catholic Church up the street and filled the jars and water pistol with holy water. She read that holy water affected younger vampires, and hoped Donald wasn’t ancient. There was a table filled with candles and wooden crosses. She took a wooden cross and stuffed some money in the donation box, not sure if a cross would work. Her research wasn’t too clear on holy symbols and their effect on vampires. She stuffed the jars in her pocket and made sure the paring knife she took earlier had not fallen out of her jacket pocket. If she were wrong about Donald and he was just some asshole human, a knife would be more effective than the holy items.
Natalia walked the mile to her old house, wishing she knew how to drive. The walk was not pleasant. She was too worried about being caught unawares, but it still did not take her long to reach the house. The sun had not yet set behind the mountains, and she still had two hours before it did.
The doors were closed but he could hear voices. Joseph was standing in front of one door; hand on the knob waiting for his master to compose himself. Vincent stood for a moment staring at the mirrored door. He had not yet eaten; his reflection was slightly ghostly. A smile floated to his lips as he thought of the many vampires that had been unprepared for the mirrors. Not many of his kind had them in their homes. Vincent thought mirrors a useful tool against his enemies. He could tell if they had eaten or not depending on their reflection. Those who trusted him usually didn’t arrive at full blood. They knew Vincent would offer them blood. Those who did not trust him, almost always showed up full. Vincent felt they either didn’t trust the blood or didn’t trust him not to kill them. It made him smile.
Vincent stood before the mirror making himself look more imposing and trying to collect his thoughts. He was almost as tall as the door and his shoulders were almost as wide as the mirror. Using his fingers, he messed up his blond hair even more than it already was, making it look wild. His hair had been compared to a lion’s mane on several occasions, even though he usually kept it short. At the moment he was rather perturbed; looking wild was probably to his advantage.
The doors were closed but he could hear voices. Joseph was standing in front of one door; hand on the knob waiting for his master to compose himself. Vincent stood for a moment staring at the mirrored door. He had not yet eaten; his reflection was slightly ghostly. A smile floated to his lips as he thought of the many vampires that had been unprepared for the mirrors. Not many of his kind had them in their homes. Vincent thought mirrors a useful tool against his enemies. He could tell if they had eaten or not depending on their reflection. Those who trusted him usually didn’t arrive at full blood. They knew Vincent would offer them blood. Those who did not trust him, almost always showed up full. Vincent felt they either didn’t trust the blood or didn’t trust him not to kill them. It made him smile.
Vincent stood before the mirror making himself look more imposing and trying to collect his thoughts. He was almost as tall as the door and his shoulders were almost as wide as the mirror. Using his fingers, he messed up his blond hair even more than it already was, making it look wild. His hair had been compared to a lion’s mane on several occasions, even though he usually kept it short. At the moment he was rather perturbed; looking wild was probably to his advantage.
