Angel in Spikes - The Werewolf Saga
Smashwords eBook Edition
All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2011 by Aaron Pery
ISBN #978-1-4657-3431-0
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Angel in Spikes - The Werewolf Saga
Chapter One
Life's really good, I thought to myself as I lifted my eyes from my Kindle when I heard the sound of a pan being slammed on a burner in the kitchen and smiled at the sight of Sharon puttering in there looking very serious as she was in the process of making us dinner. Sharon, who claimed to be an expert gourmet cook after taking many courses in culinary schools, was actually lousy at it but I never had the heart to tell her that all her weird concoctions tasted awful and gave me stomach aches. I smiled at her when she somehow sensed that I was looking at her from across the living room of my magnificent condo that overlooked the entire Santa Monica Bay, which I was, of course, particularly the way she was dressed for her work in the kitchen.
For some reason, and to my great delight ever since we'd become lovers over a year ago, after every time that we had a particularly great lovemaking bout she insisted on paying me back in kind by being an utterly domestic partner by cooking me a special meal. I loved watching her work in the kitchen not, of course for her food, but because of her habit of going into the kitchen wearing nothing under her skimpy white apron. The sight of her glorious buns in motion with her every step always evoked in me such erotic desires that many times we ended up back in bed, dinner totally forgotten.
But not so this evening, because I needed to let Sharon's mind unwind after the devastating insults that she had suffered while visiting my family in Oxnard, when my mother threw us out of her house while screeching and calling us abominations in the eyes of Jesus when she found out that we were lovers. I had avoided visiting my mother and her husband in Oxnard until this weekend despite Sharon's requests that she'd like to find out more about my origins, not so much for fear of Mom's reaction to Sharon's part in my life but because I truly hated to go back there.
The visit started out nicely as we arrived and then had dinner with all my siblings, twelve in all, and Mom proudly told us that she was expecting another baby in six months. I actually had a lot of fun with them when everyone's mouth dropped when they saw my great sports car, and then when I told them that I was an attorney now and worked for an important law firm. Which kind of soured up my older brothers and sisters, all of whom followed the family tradition of farming on their own or working for an Oxnard area agricultural company.
And then, when we returned to the house for an early Sunday brunch, Mom's benevolent attitude of the previous day was gone as she greeted us quite coldly and I knew that one or more of my siblings must have told her the truth about Sharon's and my relationship. She confronted me with it once we entered her home, and asked me it we were lesbians, to which I responded by taking Sharon's hand in mine and told Mom that we were but that we preferred to be called gay.
That was when we were literally kicked out amidst horrible screeching and imprecations about being burnt in hell for being abominations under God. Needless to say, I pulled Sharon out of the house and drove away. She cried most of the way to Santa Monica, but finally relaxed as we neared the house and had be stop at the supermarket to buy a bunch of special groceries so she could make us a great dinner for tonight. Which, considering her state of mind after Mom's treatment, I thought would have a calming effect on her.
Despite my inner vow to let Sharon continue preparing her gastronomic marvel for the evening, I could not resist walking over to the kitchen when she turned around to to spice rack and I saw her ample buns quiver in an extremely suggestive manner. Once I reached her, I ran my hand over her butt while kissing her passionately as Sharon leaned hard into me, but a second later she slapped my hand away as it sank into her delicious crack, then giggled in a way that I always found quite enticing.
"Oh, no, you're not going to interfere with my cooking tonight, Honey. So if you want my ass, and I for sure want yours right now, it'll have to wait until after dinner."
"I hear and obey, oh Master Chef." I said with a chuckle as I tweaked one of her nipple before going back to my spot on the living room couch.
"Thank you, Sweety."
Once back with my Kindle, rather than read I closed my eyes and went over my life after the terrible accident that I had suffered, discovering my true sexual sexual leanings, and falling head-over-heels in love with Sharon.
Yes, I thought, life's turned really good for me particularly once I left Mom's house and came to live in Los Angeles. Heck, who would've ever imagined that I'd become an attorney, become quite wealthy, own this unusually beautiful apartment, and drive a Porsche. But most of all, despite Mom's disgust, my discovery of Sharon and physical and emotional love for her had been my crowning achievement in life.
Although I was due a three-month disability compensation leave after the accident a year ago, when Sharon and I returned from our short stay in Palm Springs at the incredible Sappho Club and moving in together, I had decided to go back to work right afterwards. Ed Harvey, the senior partner at Harvey, Bellman, and Cronin law firm in Century City, was quite surprised but sounded very pleased when I called to tell him that I intended to return to work rather than loll around doing nothing for such a long time.
James Bellman, a rather famous criminal defense attorney, greeted me quite warmly when I showed up to work the next Monday, and loaded me with heavy work immediately. It was mostly researching his most important cases, and I quickly discovered that I possessed an unusual ability to sift through mounds of paperwork and zero in on pertinent information that had eluded everyone else. Appreciating my talents, Bellman began taking me to court with him where I listened carefully to the proceedings and was able to point to him important discrepancies in witnesses' testimonies and prosecution assertions, which greatly improved his ratio of won cases.
I loved my job since it allowed me to use my mind in navigating through useless information and then pinpoint strings of small but related important facts and factors. I so liked it that I took a few criminology courses and quickly became quite well known in the field, gaining the respect and often fear, of many of the area prosecutors and low enforcement agencies.
My life with Sharon was truly marvelous since, as time progressed, my feelings for her grew deeper and we became truly a couple. She left her job as a paralegal soon after I went back to work and took on a job with a law firm in Santa Monica, as far away as possible from my job so as to separate ourselves from each other in our professional careers. I greatly appreciated that and told her so, but Sharon dismissed it as an exigency of our special relationship, which I hated but had to accept even though I'd never hidden my sexual preferences from anyone at work.
We spent many of our weekends traveling to special places much like the Sappho Club all over our area, where I could freely and openly practice my predilection for wearing fetish leathers and spikes in addition to wearing nothing, which Sharon appreciated as well. In fact, ever since our first time at the Sappho, I became totally enamored with wearing spikes in public, the normal kind of course, which I wore even to work and greatly enjoyed my enhanced appearance in them.
I woke out of my pleasant reverie when Sharon shook my shoulder gently. "Come on, sleepyhead, dinner is ready."
"I wasn't sleeping," I said as I followed her to the grandly set table in the dining room. "I was kind of ruminating, actually."
"About what happened in your Mom's house."
"Not at all. You know I've been avoiding them all for quite a while, and not just because of you but since I'd outgrown them all a while back after coming to LA. What I was thinking about was my life ever since I left Oxnard and how much I'd accomplished since then."
"You mean not ending up picking tomatoes in the fields like some of them do?"
"That's part of it, but mostly about becoming an attorney and then discovering you and how much I love you."
Sharon blushed with pleasure. "Thanks for saying that. So no second thoughts about being a social pariah?"
"That's a dumb thing to say, Sharon, because you know that I don't give a shit about how anyone views my private life."
"I stand corrected, Honey. Anyway, I better start serving before everything I'd worked so hard on either burns or gets cold."
"Yeah, you better."
Just as I'd feared, Sharon's concoction was much too complicated to taste as great as she had hoped but, again, I praised everything as I ate it. When we finally finished eating, she gave me a rather sad look. "You hated it, didn't you, Angie?"
"Hate is a much too strong word, don't you think?"
"Maybe, but from your expression it seems to me that you didn't like it too much."
Deciding to finally tell her the truth, I said. "Honestly, Shar, I didn't. I hate to hurt you after all your hard work, but the fact is that apparently gourmet cooking requires too many herbs, particularly onions and garlic for which I have little tolerance because it kills my stomach."
Sharon's face literally fell. "Then why didn't you tell me that before and saved yourself all the stomach pains."
I took her hand and stroked it gently. "Because you try so hard to please me that I didn't wasn't to hurt your feelings."
"You love me so much that you're willing to suffer to make me happy, Angie?"
There were tears in her eyes when she said it, so I wiped them off with my napkin. "You bet I do, but can you cook simple stuff from now on, with little garlic and no onions?"
Sharon smiled suddenly. "Is that why you fart so much after every one of my special dinners?"
"You got it kid, violently so."
"Okay, no more of it from now on, but can I cook for you anyway? It makes me feel so good to do things for you."
"Which I appreciate, Shar. Yes, of course you can, but with no frigging herbs."
"That's a deal, Mistress." Sharon said, sounding very earnest about calling me that.
"Good. Then let's go to bed."
We didn't make love that night, only held each other closely naked skin against naked skin.
Chapter Two
The day after New Year, Bellman asked me to step into his office, looking very disturbed so I sat across from him and waited to hear what it was. It took him a while before he spoke, and I could sense great pain in his words. "Did I ever tell you, Angie, that I have a God-daughter?"
"No, Jim, you never did. Is anything wrong with her?"
"Worse that wrong. What happened to her was that a month ago she was involved in a real terrible car accident."
"Like mine?"
"Not quite, Angie. About a month ago, Kristina left home, which is in the Hollywood Hills, on the way to work, and when she reached the first switchback her car suddenly went out of control and plunged into a deep ravine where the gas tank exploded in a ball of fire. Luckily, it happened during morning rush hour and it was observed by other people going downhill, so emergency crews arrived there barely a moment after the crash. Luckily, the burning car landed on a lower road so Kris was pulled out before she was burnt to a crisp. Oh, maybe it would've been better if she did because she'd been in coma ever since with just about every bone in her body broken and severe burns on most of the lower torso."
"What are her chances to survive?"
"Dim to none, but let me tell you more about it because I suspect that despite the police's thorough investigation the case had been judged to be an unfortunate accident after they went through the car with a fine-tooth comb and discovered no tampering with any of its components. They also tested Kris for any drugs or alcohol in her blood and found nothing abnormal."
"But you suspect foul play, don't you?"
"I certainly do, which is why I need your help in sifting through everything we have and see if you can glean any information from it."
"Of course. Can you tell me why you think something's wrong with all the reports?"
"Sure, so let me give you a few factors. Richard Douglas was my client for many years before I moved into the criminal field, and I continued serving as his attorney and family friend afterwards as well. Dick was president and CEO of Bangor Industries, which he had started fifty years ago and turned into a multi-national, multi-product conglomerate worth over twenty-billion dollars currently. To his utter dismay, as much as he and his wife Marie tried to have children Marie finally got pregnant but died at childbirth because of complications due to her advanced age. Because of that, and because Kris was truly a marvelous kid and adult, he doted on her constantly, and once she graduated from college he brought her into the company, where she rose through the ranks quickly as she proved to be a brilliant executive. The problem was, though, that because of her involvement in the business for fifteen years, starting even before going to college, she had had virtually no social life until Dick, by then Eighty years old, insisted that she start circulating outside work and find herself a husband. Which she did, and soon fell in love with George Douglas, who proved to be an ideal candidate."
"You said that kind of tongue-in-cheek."
Jim smiled for the first time. "You and your amazing senses. Yes, he did seem that on the surface and then when I had his background checked. George is Douglas is a rather handsome devil with a natural easy charm, which is probably why Kris fell in love with him almost immediately. He is also a scion of an old aristocratic New England family who was educated in the best private schools and then in Harvard before his family lost all their fortunes ten years ago."
"In other words, he was an obnoxious fortune hunter who was looking for the right woman to latch on to?"
"That's exactly how both Dick and I saw it but couldn't stop Kris from marrying him because she was utterly smitten with the man and agreed to elope with him to Las Vegas where they got married. In his fear that Kris had gotten herself into a mess and with the knowledge that his days were numbered, Dick set me up as her guardian and administrator of his will soon after their return from Vegas, which was when George first showed his true character when he had a huge fit upon discovering that he was blocked from inheriting any of his new wife's fortunes. Which, I assume, was when Kris finally realized her mistake and did not contest her father's will arrangement. However, hoping to remain in her marriage, she gave in to many of George's wishes by buying a grand mansion atop Hollywood Hills, giving him a substantial monthly allowance, and buying him a Ferrari for around a quarter of a million dollars."
"Which wasn't exactly what he wanted, was it?"
"True, but he didn't express his disappointed even when Dick passed away and Kris took over from him and had been running Bangor Industries with great skill that even her father wasn't equal to, but kept George out of the company despite his constant pestering. Yet, despite his disappointment, George kept on doting on Kris in an attempt to change her mind about letting him into the company, all of which she openly expressed to me a few times."
"But refused to give up the great piece of ass she possessed?"
"Yes, and she wasn't shy about admitting it to me. In any case, after the Kris's accident at what all the area residents call 'dead man's curve' and being so badly hurt that few doctors doubted her survival, good ole' George literally rammed his way into Bangor, where he showed the board of directors a document that he claimed Kris had given him, appointing him as her replacement in the event of her demise. It was a forgery, I know because I sit on the board, but I didn't want to contest it in the hope that Kris will recover and then get rid of George for good."
"But she didn't recover?"
"That's right, and George's been having the time of his life running Bangor and probably siphoning a lot of its cash reserves to off-shore accounts. He's also been openly running around the Hollywood crowd with a typical wanna-be gorgeous blond on his arm while Kris languishes in the hospital, who I found out, had been his hidden mistress for the past two years and living in an apartment he'd been paying for."
"Stupid thing to do when you hope to cash in on a gold mine."
"Call it hubris because George isn't a stupid man. However, in his eagerness he appeared at the hospital two days ago with his lawyer and a well known Beverly Hills physician and requested that Kris be taken off life support. Which the hospital refused to do because based on their records, which I had had the hospital insert in her file, only I can make such a request based on her father's will since I'm her official guardian and therefore am considered her closest relative. In addition, even if I wasn't part of the equation, Kris's brain waves, although rather weak, show that she's not altogether brain-dead."
"That was real dumb of them to do. So what happened next?"
"It was worse than dumb because I, and the hospital as well, see it as an attempted murder, which I'd immediately informed the police about. Then, to make matters worse for them, all three showed up here yesterday and pounced on me claiming extreme cruelty toward Kris by not letting her die with dignity, and ended up with threats against me if I didn't acquiesce to pulling her plug, so to speak."
"Now, that was really stupid. Don't they realize what kind of trouble they were getting themselves into by doing that?"
"I guess greed has a tendency to blind real smart people, and in this case we're talking about billions of dollars worth of greediness."
"Apparently, which totally blinded them from seeing it. So what would you like me to do?"
"Apart from what is going on right now, my original suspicion of foul play is now even higher that it was before so I'd like you to use any and all of your talents to reinvestigate this possibility. As to the current situation, I'd hired a security company to guard Kris around the clock so I feel comfortable about her safety. I also spoke to Detective Shaun Felser of the Hollywood Division who was the investigator on the case originally and told him about the latest developments, which didn't sit too well with him so he's kind of ticked off with the whole thing and is eager to reopen the case. And he's quite eager to work with you on the same side for once."
"I'm not surprised that he does because his eyes have a tendency to wander to my décolleté whenever we are close enough to one another."
"Which is no wonder considering your tendency to wear such open cleavage blouses and dresses over your beautiful chest that drive any red-blooded male to utter distraction."
"I'll admit to that, Jim, which is a weapon I like to use so men tend to forget that I have a brain. Anyway, I like Shaun because of his fairness, professionalism, and sharp mind, so working with him will be a pleasure."
"I'm glad to hear that. So, if you agree to take this on, I set you up with an appointment with him for ten o'clock this morning."
"Of course I do, Jim. And please let me have everything you got on this so I can read it before I go."
"Thanks, Angie."
It took me thirty minutes to go through Jim's file before driving over to Hollywood, and the more I read the angrier I got about poor Kris's misfortune and almost certain case of originally attempted murder and George Douglas's efforts to finalize his failed killing.
Shaun Felser was a bear of a man with a body of a weight lifter and all muscle, yet despite his brutish appearance I knew from experience that his mind was as sharp and keen as mine was. He welcomed me with literally open arms when I arrived, then sat me down at his visitor's chair and ran to get us both coffee.
"I must tell you," He started our conversation. "That this case has been pissing me off from the start."
"Why, other than the obvious attempt to kill the woman?"
"Because I knew in my gut that the bastard tried to kill her, but there's absolutely no proof of it that I or any of my crew came up with that could point at him. The fact is that on the morning of the accident all the factors involved were exactly the same as they were for the past four years--both got up early and had breakfast on their veranda, after which Ms. Graham got dressed and drove away to work in her Cadillac while Mr. Graham remained on the veranda sipping coffee a while longer, exactly as they both did every weekday. I talked to everyone on the staff, and all confirmed this fact."
"How about the Cadillac, any signs of tampering with any of its vital mechanisms?"
"None. And what's worse is that Ms. Graham's system was clean of any drugs or booze, not even the medical sort, and that she was a notoriously cautious driver on all the curves going down to Hollywood Boulevard. In fact, some of the neighbors complained to us that getting stuck behind her in the morning cost them ten minutes of additional driving time, which they all hated."
"And then, so uncharacteristically, she speeds up on the most dangerous curve in the road and loses control so badly that she plunges into the ravine. Why, what made her do it?"
"That's the sixty-four dollar question, Angie, because she's been in a coma ever since she was pulled out of her car. Which luckily was so big and heavy that the plunge didn't kill her outright."
"I see. Can I take a look at all the vehicle inspections and tests?"
"Of course. But we'd done it thoroughly twice and found nothing viable to point us at foul play."
"I understand, but the way I see it there must be some insignificant factor connected with the car that no one can see."
"Okay, I guess we got nothing else to try hang our hats on."
The folder that Shaun handed me was well organized and both reports seemed quite thorough and I went through them in great detail but found nothing unusual. Then, to make it even more systematic, I laid down both reports next to each other and compared them item by item until I found an insignificant discrepancy half-way down and asked Shaun to come around the desk and look at it.
"What is it, Angie?"
"The contents of the car's console. The first report details some normal odds and ends in it, but when the second team looked at it physically they found a small pile of dried little pellets that apparently weren't there on the first go around. What were these things?"
"Oh, the rat shit. Yes, we noticed it but quickly discounted their viability because while the car was in the impound yard the console was left open after its contents were removed, and we figured that with all of the pests running around the yard some rats found it convenient to nest in it. Besides, why would there be rats in the console of such a meticulously kept luxury car?"
"Makes sense, but it's still strange because if it happened that way the rats would've gathered bits of straw or cloth to pad their little nest, expecting to raise a new brood in it."
"Jesus, Angie, we hadn't thought about that." Shaun exclaimed as he returned to his seat, looking a bit perturbed, and when he tried to say something else I raised a hand to stop him.
"It could be very significant, but let me think about it while I continue comparing the reports."
Shaun remained quiet while I did that, until I closed the folder and looked at him. "Discover anything else of significance?"
"Nothing, I'm afraid, but I'm sure something about it will hit me, especially about the rats."
"I hope so."
It was unusually cold outside even for Los Angeles in January, and I shivered quite badly when I left the police station. On the way back to the office, I suddenly decided on an impulse to go visit see Kris at the small private hospital near Century City to where she had been transferred from huge Cedar-Sinai, where she could receive more personal medical attention. To my delight, the security personnel guarding her were quite diligent and called Bellman before allowing me into her room, where I saw Kris for the first time.
I was quite shaken by the sight of the immobile gaunt face above a body that was completely covered with bandages, which now looked nearly half the size of the person I had seen in the picture that Jim had kept in her file. When the doctor who escorted me in saw the expression on my face he took me outside the room and made me sit down before talking to me.
"Shocking, isn't it, to see such a previously robust person looking like that."
"It is, and thank you for getting me out here or I would've fainted in the room. So what's Ms. Graham's state?"
"Better now, much better than when she was brought in."
"Sounds frightening."
"She was, and in danger of expiring momentarily from her severe burns and multiple broken bones. But the lady must have an iron will to live so nothing untowardly happened to her as she underwent the healing process."
"Then why is she still wrapped up like a mummy?"
"To prevent any possible infection while her skin is restored to health, which we intend to remove by Friday. And her bones, according to the X-rays we took, seem to be knitting quite well, too. The only problem that remains is the fact that she's in a coma and we have no idea how to pull her out of it short of shock therapy, which might cause her further mental damage rather that snap her out of it."
"I see. What about her skin, will she have bad scarring once it's healed completely?"
"Unfortunately, she will, but we nowadays possess the means to fix that with plastic surgery. It'll be a long and painful process, but it can be done."
"I'm glad to hear that. Would you say, Doctor, that she might wake up if she somehow received a real shocking piece of news?"
"Possibly. Such as?"
"The fact that I know who did this to her, how it was done, and that the police is investigating it to find out the truth."
"That could very well do it because we know that she can hear and understand everything said around her despite the comatose state she appears to be in. But I wouldn't tell her the news until these facts were proven to be the absolute truth."
"Makes sense so I won't even hint about it in her presence."
"I'm glad you understand. Would you like to go in and see her now?"
"Yes. I would."
"And while in there I think it would be a good idea to tell her who you are and about Mr. Bellman's love and concern for her. Oh, and it would also be good if you held her hand while talking because it seems to make her feel better because her brain waves climb up quite high."
"I will."
When I returned to her room and started talking to her about who I was her wave brains, which the nurse pointed at, began climbing and rose even higher when I took her hand in mine an whispered encouraging words to her. Just before I left, I could have sworn that I saw a smidgen of a smile around her mouth, which made me promise to come see her again very soon.
During the next few days I visited Kris at every opportunity I had, which depressed me more and more every time. Then, when I came home apparently looking terrible, Sharon confronted me during dinner. "You can't do that to yourself, Angie, getting so run down after every time you visit Kristina."
"Sorry, but I can't help it."
"Then let me suggest that getting out of town for the weekend will cheer you up considerably."
"I'd like us to do that, but where? Half of Southern California is suffering from a cold front that even Palm Springs temperatures are barely above freezing."
"I thought about that and did a bit of exploring on the internet, finding that most places are just about frozen over. So I wondered if maybe the place to go to is a sort of pristine winter wonderland with very few people around, and found what I think is a perfect place for us to spend a weekend at."
"Not Big Bear I hope, because it'll be full of skiers. Or Julian, which I really dislike."
"Neither. What I discovered is Frazier Park, where it's been snowing like hell all week. Know where it is?"
"Sure, in Cajon Pass about half way between LA and Bakersfield. But it's like a godforsaken place so the highway people wouldn't have cleared the road leading to it."
"The operative word is Cajon, where the snow plows were clearing the main road in Frazier on their turnaround circle back to the pass. Besides, we can take my four-wheel drive Ford Escape and if there's snow on the ground we can navigate there easily."
"Sounds exciting. But do they have any hotels there?"
"There's a motel right off the main road that's open for business, kind of rustic and primitive but each room has a fireplace and bear rugs in front of them. Business isn't exactly booming so they got plenty of accommodations available, but I didn't make any reservations because I figured that if it's too awful to stay in we'll just turn around and get back home."
"I'd like to try it. How about food?"
"They have a small coffee shop on the premises, and there's a small country store next door where we can buy stuff if the coffee shop is crappy."
"Sounds very exciting actually."
"That's how I see it. So let's leave early tomorrow morning, before the pass gets full of cars stuck without snow chains or proper tires."
"Great, let's do that and have breakfast around Six Flags,"
Chapter Three
We reached Cajon Pass at noon, after a harrowing drive among slipping and sliding cars that didn't have the right equipment for this kind of weather, and finally reached a roadblock that stopped everyone who didn't have our kind of car, where we were waived through when the highway patrol officer glanced at our car. We didn't mind the slow drive too much because we'd filled a large thermos with hot coffee at the restaurant where we had breakfast, and kept passing it and sipping from it. Even the treacherous road was kind of fun as Sharon kept dodging idiot drivers who were clueless about driving in snow and ice.
"Oops," I exclaimed as Sharon got onto the road leading to the park. "I got to pee in the worst way after all the coffee I drank."
" Me, too, so I better stop an do it behind a snow mound in one of the passing turnoffs and let you off to do it."
"That'll be great. But what about you?"
"I'll have to hold it until we get to a civilized place and find a toilet because wearing jeans isn't the kind of garment I'd be comfortable with if I crouched in snow. But you're wearing a long flowing flannel skirt so it shouldn't be a problem for you to hike it up to your waist and take care of business. Just take a few of the napkins we got at the coffee shop and then rub your hands with a bunch of snow to clean them and you'll be fine."
"Good idea."
Sharon found the right spot a few miles down the road and parked at the end of the turnoff. Once she did, I jumped out of the car and quickly reached a spot behind one of the big piles of snow that the plows had pushed over, quickly lifted my skirt as I crouched, and sighed with relief once my urine came out with a great gush. It looked strange, I thought, like a big steaming yellow stain on the clean white snow. A moment later, as I started crossing the short roadway toward the car I saw a huge German Sheppard, no I quickly corrected myself, a real wolf, coming out from between two piles of snow a short distance down the road.
We both stopped and looked at each other for a moment. I wasn't afraid of the wolf, just startled by the sudden appearance of the huge, beautiful animal, and it seemed to be interested in inspecting me for some reason. We stood motionless for a short while until I heard a loud car engine revving up and then saw a truck hurtling toward us and veering toward the wolf at great speed. When it saw the truck coming at it, the wolf tried to run back into the woods but it was too late and it was hit by it with great force while the truck sped away as though nothing had happened.
The force of the collision was so strong that the wolf actually flew into the air, then landed with a loud thud virtually at my feet, where it lay apparently dead and covered with blood. To my surprise, I suddenly realized that it was badly hurt but not dead because I saw its ribs moving as he panted laboriously for breath. By then Sharon, who must've seen everything that had happened, was running toward me so I yelled at her to bring the blanket that she kept in the back seat, which she did without saying anything and brought it over.
"What d'you intend to do with the poor dead animal, Angie?" She asked as she handed me the blanket.
"It's not dead, Shar, but it's badly hurt so I'd like to wrap it up in the blanket and take it somewhere to a vet and maybe save its life. So let's spread the blanket on the ground next to it and wrap it in it so we can carry it to the car and keep it warm as well."
"Good idea, and I'm glad it survived the accident." Sharon said while be spread the blanket on the ground.
"It was no accident, Shar, but a deliberate act of cruelty because whoever drove the truck intended to kill it."
"Son of a bitch. Okay, let's roll it into the blanket and carry it to the car, where we can put it between the front and back seats."
The effort of carrying the wolf and putting him in the car was quite strenuous but five minutes later we were back in our seats and Sharon quickly started the car.
"Where are you going? We need to go back to the freeway and find a vet in one of the small towns around here, which I'll look for on my iPod while you drive."
"No need to do that," Sharon replied as she got back on the road going north. "When I looked up the information about this place I found that there's a small commercial center near the motel, and I clearly remember seeing a vet's clinic near it."
"That'll be great. How far are we from it?"
"About seven to eight miles, which we should reach quickly even with the fog and snow that suddenly started coming down."
"Yeah, so drive very carefully," I said when I looked out and could barely see the road.
It must have been no more than fifteen minutes later when we suddenly heard movement behind us and then a voice. "No need for a vet because I'm okay now."
Sharon was so startled that she slammed on the brakes and stopped in the middle of the road, and the two of us turned around to look at the source of the voice where there shouldn't have been one, only a badly hurt wolf. To our utter surprise we found that it came from the mouth of a young man whose shoulders were covered by Sharon's blanket. His face and hair was smeared with blood, yet he smiled at us warmly while sitting up in the seat.
"Oh, yes, it's me, kind ladies. And you better not stay on the road because someone is liable to slam into us from behind in this atrocious weather."
Sharon responded automatically and drove a short distance to the next turnoff, where she shut off the engine and turned around to face our unexpected guest. We both kept looking at him with fascination until I said with a shaky voice. "Who, actually, what are you?"
"My name is Frank Reid." He answered with a most charming grin in a deep baritone. "And since you seem to be two rather intelligent ladies, I bet you'd already figured out what I am."
"A werewolf?" Sharon asked in a whisper.
"Give the lady a cigar," He responded. "Sorry but I couldn't resist saying that, I guess because I'm prone to being a comedian which most people who know me hate. "Yes, Sharon, I'm a true blue werewolf and I come from a long line of werewolves."
"So the existence of your kind isn't just a myth?" I asked, totally baffled by the information.