Charlaine Harris: Wolfsbane and Mistletoe

The only good part of the evening was that Brian mostly ignored him. Instead he and Ruby laughed their way through watching Christmas videos, eating gingerbread men, and actually hanging a row of piece-of-crap stockings by the fireplace. Felicia stayed gone, and though she and Dave called in a few times, he didn’t bother to ask what was happening and he sure as hell didn’t eavesdrop.

When Jake finally escaped into the guest room, he refused to look out the window at the fat moon hanging in the sky, calling to him. What was the point of changing in the house? What was he supposed to do then? Curl up like a puppy on a tweenaged girls’ poster? Maybe Brian had a Santa hat for him, and would take cutesy pictures for next year’s Christmas card. Hell, why didn’t they just get him fixed?

Finally he couldn’t resist it any longer, and drew the blinds to at least see the moon. That was all it took, the one look, and he lost it. Jake knew the change felt different for different people—for him it felt like the best stretch anybody could ever have, the kind where you feel longer and looser when you’re done. Ten minutes after that, without ever actually making a decision, he was downstairs, pushing the specially designed back door open to escape into the night.

He scurried off quickly, but once he was safely out of earshot, he stopped to breathe in deep. This was the life he was supposed to lead. Out in the wild, hearing and smelling and tasting things he’d never notice as a human. Why would he want to choose any other form when he could be a wolf? Hell, if it hadn’t been for computer games and McDonald’s, he’d have chosen to stay a wolf forever.

Of course, he was still going to obey pack laws, more or less, and that meant getting farther from the house. Fortunately, the house edged onto an open area and it was easy enough for him to lope through the woods, avoiding houses and roads and any humans who might spot him. Then he let himself go, running and howling and chasing rabbits. Okay, he didn’t catch any, but it was early yet. He’d show Brian he was ready to solo, and was imagining telling the other young wolves at the next night’s Christmas party when he ran right into a clearing. And smelled humans.

He skidded to a halt in the leaves, unable to stop himself from giving off a puppyish whimper. Standing stock-still, he listened and looked and sniffed. There was no sign that anybody had seen him.

Funny place for people to be on Christmas Eve, he thought. It was just an old shack, and he didn’t think the place even had electricity hooked up. There was no fire, either, and while it was plenty warm for a wolf, it was awfully cold for humans.

Car trouble? Nobody was outside or looking out the window, so he crept around to the front of the shack, where a new-looking SUV was parked on a narrow dirt road. He got close enough to feel that the engine was still warm, and the tires intact.

What did he care anyway? The humans could handle their own problems. He was about to go back to the woods when he smelled something else. Somebody in that shack had a hard-on. He’d been surprised, and more than a little embarrassed, when he’d realized that arousal had its own smell, but there was no way anybody attending a coed school full of randy teenagers wasn’t going to learn that smell.

Jake grinned the closest he could get to a grin as a wolf. Though he’d been way too nervous to try to spy on any of his amorous classmates at Dogwarts, this was different. He bet he could get a better show than anything on YouTube, and wouldn’t the guys be jealous when they heard about it? He couldn’t smell the guy’s partner yet, but she had to be in there. Nobody would go to the trouble of sneaking out to the woods just to jerk off.

He was still within the rules, he told himself. The humans didn’t know he was there, and wouldn’t see him if he was careful. Chances were that they’d be too busy to notice anything but what they were doing.

He scouted around and found an old woodpile near a window that had some of the glass in place, and carefully put his front paws on it so he could peer inside. The humans had thoughtfully set out a couple of kerosene lanterns, making it easy for him to see them and hard for them to see him. And what he saw nearly made Jake bark with laughter. Standing with his back to him was a guy in a freaking Santa Claus suit! The hat, the beard, the whole nine yards. Yeah, this was going to be something to see.

Then Santa moved to one side, and Jake saw who it was with him. It was a kid. A little kid, a girl who looked even younger than Ruby. She was staring up at Santa with big brown eyes, and saying, “I thought there’d be snow at the North Pole. And reindeer.”

“Don’t worry about that, Cindy,” the guy said in a creepy voice. “Just come sit on Santa’s lap.” Then the son of a bitch started to pull down his pants.

Jake knew a pedo when he saw one. He’d seen too damned much of that kind of thing at the foster homes he’d been stuck in, too many crying kids and smirking old men. One dude had made a play for him, but Brian had gotten him out in time. That guy still showed up in his bad dreams every once in a while.

Well, he’d be damned if this guy was going to get away with it. Every pack rule was forgotten as he howled and threw himself through the shreds of glass remaining in the window frame and onto the back of the pervert.

The phony Santa screamed as Jake snapped at him, ripping at the fake fur collar and drawing blood. The guy twisted around and managed to push Jake from him, then grabbed a piece of broken furniture to club at him. Jake backed off, but was tensing himself to spring when he felt the little girl tugging at his tail with all her might.

“Don’t hurt Santa Claus,” she yelled. “Bad dog, bad dog!”

Santa was on his feet by then, waving the chair leg, and Jake smelled the acrid piss as the man wet himself.

God, he wanted to rip at his throat, or better, tear into his crotch so he’d never hurt another kid. But the girl was still holding his tail, keeping him from his prey, and even as a wolf, he couldn’t bring himself to bite her. All he could do was growl at the man backing toward the door.

Damn it, he was going to get away. The kid realized it, too, and sobbed, “Santa, don’t leave me.”

The bastard kept moving backward, ignoring the girl’s pleas. She was crying so hard that her grip loosened, and Jake threw himself forward and toward Santa. At the last second, he felt her grab hold again, and his teeth closed on nothing more than the cheesy beard as he ripped it off the man’s face.

Then Santa was gone, scrambling for his car while the kid held Jake back. All he could do was let loose a howl of frustration while the bastard drove away.

The little girl was still crying hysterically. When she finally let go of Jake’s tail, she curled up into a ball of misery, her hands over her head as if to fend off the attack she was sure was coming.

Jake stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just leave her. What if the pedo came back? Even if he didn’t, how would the kid get home?

He got down on his belly, the same as he would for a superior wolf in the pack, and crawled over to her. She jerked when he touched her, but he didn’t move any closer, just lay there on the warped wooden floor as her crying slowed. She must have finally realized he wasn’t going to bite her, because she sat up. Though she scooted away from him, she didn’t scream or try to hit him.

After a long moment, she said, “You bit Santa Claus.”

Jake shook his head vigorously, wishing he could talk in wolf form the way Felicia could. Inspiration struck, and he grabbed the beard with his teeth and put it down in front of the girl.