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"The reason you don't transform at will is because you resist it," Dr. Lecter said.
"I resist it because it hurts," Will said through his teeth.
"It hurts because you resist it," Dr. Lecter said again. "It hurts to resist our true natures. Easier to give into it."
"I'm not going to give into being an animal," Will snapped.
The last full moon had been one of the worst things he had ever experienced; worse even than being stabbed in New Orleans. Worse even than feeling Garret Jacob Hobbs' teeth tear through his arm, sending hot pain shooting up through his shoulder and into his core. He didn't remember much after that. Hobbs slumping back against the kitchen cabinets, his blue human eyes staring out at Will as his last words bubbled out from between his fangs: See? Blood everywhere, bubbling out from the rent in Abigail's neck. She wouldn't have been turned; the bite didn't work on family like that. She was either already a werewolf or she wasn't. Both her parents were--had been--werewolves, but not purebreds. Not native, sorry. They'd been turned. But they might have given birth to a native. That happened sometimes. She might have been hunting with her father. They might have been hunting as a pack, giving all the other peaceable werewolves a bad name. They wouldn't know until Abigail came out of her coma.
Will hoped she never came out.
But Dr. Lecter had been there, Will's blood and Abigail's all over his hands and soaking his sleeves. He probably wanted to put it all behind him, not counsel a neurotic new werewolf. But there was no one better, according to Alana Bloom, and Dr. Lecter had vouched for Will's return to the field.
"We're animals already," Dr. Lecter pointed out. "We eat, we sleep, we excrete, we reproduce. What separates us from pigs is...very little. That is why the wolf is a gift: an apex predator with great speed and strength and agility. You've been elevated, Will, not cursed."
"Tell that to my shed," Will muttered. He'd reinforced it with steel bars and he'd still almost torn the door off its hinges. He'd started rehoming his dogs one by one; they wouldn't come near him. Will left their food and water on the back porch and built dog houses for them to sleep in.
"The offer of spending the full moon at my home still stands," said Dr. Lecter. "My basement is very comfortable, and you could benefit from being around a native wolf."
"I don't need a babysitter," Will snapped.
"A companion," Dr. Lecter corrected, gently. "A packmate, if you will. I can show you how this is a gift, Will."
Will snorted. "I'm not going to accept it."
Dr. Lecter gave him a benign smile that almost reached his eyes. "You will."
***
But Will did take Dr. Lecter up on his offer, mostly because he was afraid he was going to break out of his shed and murder his remaining dogs. So he asked Alana to check on them (God, he hated the way she looked at him with large and sympathetic eyes these days, like he'd been given a terminal diagnosis--hadn't he, though?) and packed an overnight bag, not that he was going to need most of it. But it gave him a feeling of normality, like he was just going to his psychiatrist's house--for what, a sleepover? None of this was normal. But Will packed his toothpaste and toothbrush and aftershave and two changes of clothes anyway.
Dr. Lecter greeted him at the door with an apron on over his vest and tie, faint tantalizing smells coming off his collar and his hands. Will's mouth started watering. "Shit," he said, "did you make dinner?" He should have brought a bottle of wine.
"The shift is easier on a full stomach," Dr. Lecter explained as he led the way down the hall, across a dizzying marble floor. They passed a living room with all the grandiosity of the opera house lobby, a guest bath with an enormous gold-framed mirror--Jesus, this house was huge.
Dr. Lecter deposited Will in a cobalt blue dining room, where the smell of fragrant herbs rose up to mix with the savory smells from the nearby kitchen. Two glasses of wine had already been poured. Will sniffed his for lack of anything else to do--it smelled like wine--and took a sip. Blackberries and leather burst over his tongue, and Will licked his lips. Dr. Lecter reappeared with two plates, one of which he placed in front of Will with all the delicacy of a French waiter. Slices of meat, oozing red from their centers, fanned across the bottom of the plate, countered by a tangle of greens across the top, with a spoonful of woody-smelling mushrooms in the center.
"A wild plate," Dr. Lecter offered with a smile. "Venison tenderloin, fiddlehead ferns, and foraged wild mushrooms."
"Wild," Will muttered. "Very funny." But he picked up his knife and fork, suddenly ravenous despite the Burger King in the car on the way over.
The mineral taste of the venison startled Will so much he almost coughed and spat out that first bite; his mouth watered fiercely around it. He chewed and made himself swallow, and it was all he could do to not gulp down the rest of the meat. The ferns burst in his mouth to coat his tongue and palate with sap, and he had to pause for a swallow of wine. The mushrooms, buttery and earthy, with a hint of sage, were almost a relief from the intensity of the rest of the plate.
Will looked up. Dr. Lecter smiled at him from across the table. It was kind of creepy, but Will supposed that if he'd made something this good, he'd want to watch his guest enjoy it.
"Not so bad, is it?" Dr. Lecter said. "The wild."
***
Dr. Lecter flicked on the switch at the bottom of the basement stairs. Will blinked. He'd expected...well, Dr. Lecter had said it was comfortable. Will's own basement was mostly raw concrete, illuminated by fluorescent tubes. Dr. Lecter's basement had the same marble flooring as the hallway above, crimson walls, and a ceiling painted deep blue shading into night, with pinpricks of stars and a golden-hued full moon. Sometimes purebreds were colorblind; that would explain a lot.
Three doors led off of the short hallway. Dr. Lecter opened one to reveal a luxurious golden-tiled bathroom, with an enormous soaking tub that could easily accommodate four people and a walk in shower. He opened the door across from it to show a fully furnished guest room, with mushroom-colored carpet so deep that Will could feel himself sink into it. The room was almost the size of Will's living room, with a queen-sized bed, a desk, a dresser, bookshelves already half-filled with books and art objects.
"The third door leads to my private sanctum, where I spend full moons," said Dr. Lecter. "I ask that it remain private."
"I can't stay here," Will said. He gestured at the bed, the desk, the dresser, the bookshelves. "I'm going to destroy this place."
"Material goods can always be replaced," said Dr. Lecter. "But I have no intention of leaving you alone."
"What?" Will said, before the words finally caught up with him. "What?"
Dr. Lecter shut the door behind him. He didn't lock it, Will noticed. "I intend to companion you through the shift. You will not become violent."
Will stared.
"I will shift just before you." Dr. Lecter clasped his hands behind his back. "You will recognize a fellow. You will not become violent. We will accompany each other."
"What if I do? Become violent."
Dr. Lecter gave the tiniest of smiles. "I'm more than capable of defending myself."
It was true that Will had never heard of two werewolves killing each other. At least, not as wolves, and it wasn't like humans never got into fights. In fact, humans did worse damage to each other with guns and knives. Will had a scar of his own to prove it. He took a deep breath. "Okay."
"Excellent." Dr. Lecter glanced at his watch. "The sun will set in just a few minutes. I recommend that we undress now."
"What?!" Will squawked.
Dr. Lecter's hands had already drifted down to his tie. "Surely you undress for the shift? It's very uncomfortable otherwise."
The first night of the last full moon, Will had been reluctant to undress down past his underwear, even though he'd been alone in his shed. It hadn't been excruciating, but the result had been a ruined pair of boxers. The next night, Will had left all clothes outside the shed. "I do, but--" He gestured at Dr. Lecter, and then at himself.
Dr. Lecter turned his back to Will. He was still in front of the door.
It was stupid to protest; Will didn't really want to shift with all his clothes on. He pulled off his shirt and his pants; he had to sit down on the bed to take his socks off. When he was down to his boxers, he stole a glance over at Dr. Lecter. Dr. Lecter was down to his boxer-briefs too, and if his back muscles were any indication, he was a guy who kept in really good shape. Maybe that, too, was a gift of the wolf. That would be nice. Will stood up and shucked his boxers while looking studiously at the wall. He hoped Dr. Lecter wasn't looking at him; he was nothing to look at.
"I'm going to shift now," Dr. Lecter said, behind him. Will swallowed.
He'd never been around for someone else's shift before. Well, maybe Garret Jacob Hobbs, but that didn't count. Will felt it as a crackle of electricity in the air, lifting the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck. Maybe that was the wolf, uncurling and sniffing the air; maybe it really did recognize kin of some kind. Will curled his bare toes into the carpet.
"You can turn around, Will." Dr. Lecter sounded amused.
Will turned.
The room felt much, much smaller with a werewolf in it. Dr. Lecter was almost a full foot taller in his wolf form, with gray-brown fur the same color as his hair. His eyes were the same too, staring eerily out of a lupine face. He stood and walked easily on two legs, but after just a couple of steps he went down to all fours, maybe so that he wouldn't tower over Will so much. It did help, a little. Will swallowed, but he didn't budge, even though every fiber of his being screamed to run away from the apex predator with the mouthful of fangs. Well, not every fiber: something else in him wanted to rise to meet it.
"The sun is setting," Dr. Lecter said.
It was. Will could feel the old violence rising up in him. It wanted to howl and run naked outside in the moonlight. Well, that wasn't so far away, and the door was right there, and Dr. Lecter was even far enough away from it that Will might be able to get it open and dash outside. But Dr. Lecter was right here, and that was interesting, too. Maybe more interesting than the red blood that coursed through the veins of the living beings outside. Maybe he didn't need to go out hunting rabbits and deer, at least not right this moment.
A cry tore out of Will's throat. His bones rearranged themselves with a sickening crunch; his internal organs flip-flopped in his body; that good, wild dinner he'd eaten just now threatened to come up again. Will felt his skull warp as his teeth outgrew his jaw.
"Don't fight it." Dr. Lecter sounded very far away.
I'm not, Will wanted to say, but even his mental voice came out thready with panic. He couldn't breathe, but his breath came out in harsh, animal pants. He'd fallen to all fours, as his spine elongated and pushed a tail out behind him. Hard pads grew over his palms and the soles of his feet, and his nails thickened and curved out into claws. Fur pushed out of his skin, and half the color drained out of the world. Oh, he wanted to run! He wanted to run and run and never stop; he felt as if he could outrun the world. He wanted to chase and howl and jump as high as he could, just to see how high. But he was in this room. Couldn't he get out? He could get out, couldn't he? This room was so, so small.
"Will," said Dr. Lecter. "Can you hear me?"
There was another wolf here. He stood in front of the door. He was strong; he had the tall stance and self-assured stride of the king of this house. This room wasn't big enough for the both of them. There wasn't enough space to run in here; hardly even enough space to turn and pace. And there was no food.
The other wolf guarded the door. The other side of that door had space. There was fresh air out there, and the moon, and prey to chase.
"Will," said Dr. Lecter, just before Will sprang.
He didn't want to challenge the other wolf. He wasn't interested in the other wolf's territory. He just wanted the other wolf to let him leave. But the other wolf--a purebred, Will could smell it--rose on his hind legs and batted him back as easily as if he were a pup. Will smashed backward into the bed, cracking the frame. He shook his head and staggered back up.
The other wolf remained standing on his hind legs, looking at Will with a grave expression. "All right, then," he said. "Get it out of your system."
Will wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he still wanted out. A direct assault clearly wouldn't work, however. So he paced back and forth on all fours for a little bit, while the other wolf stood and watched him. It was foolish for the other wolf to stand like that; his belly was exposed. Will darted in, fangs bared. The other wolf brought up his forearm, probably to bat Will away again, but Will latched onto his wrist with his jaw and bit down hard. The other wolf gave a cry of surprise or pain or both; Will hung on grimly, feeling blood on his tongue and the grind of bone between his teeth. He raked his claws across the other wolf's chest. Now the other wolf bore them both down to the floor, his other arm over Will's throat, choking him. The smell of blood rose thick in the room, and a red haze came down over Will's vision. He couldn't breathe, and finally he had to let go of the other wolf's arm to try and gasp in a ragged breath.
"Easy," said the other wolf. Will kicked out with one hind leg; he wasn't sure what he connected with, but the other wolf grunted, and the pressure on Will's windpipe let up just enough that Will could squirm away. He gained his feet just as the other wolf gained his, but now the other wolf was no longer between him and the door. Will glanced at the door, the other wolf, and made a break for the door.
It was locked! Will gave a howl of frustration and struck the door hard enough that it made an ominous cracking sound. The other wolf hauled Will away from the door, and Will made a blind swipe for his face, which the other wolf evaded easily. Will lunged forward, his teeth snapping shut on empty air. The other wolf leapt up onto the bed, and when Will paused in confusion, took the opportunity to spring and tackle Will to the floor by the shoulders.
Will found himself on his back again, the other wolf's arm over his throat again. This time he didn't try to struggle. He couldn't help a little bit of thrashing when darkness crept in around the edges of his vision--that was pure instinct--but the other wolf didn't relent; if anything, he pressed down harder, making a low, soothing sound.
***
Will realized that he was conscious before he really understood why he was conscious, much the same way that someone rising from sleep is, at first, unsure whether or not they're really asleep or awake. He became aware, first, of not inconsiderable pain: a flare of it in his windpipe and lungs, various aches and pains in his back and shoulder. He could smell blood. Will licked his lips and opened his eyes.
He was in bed, or rather, on the bed, which sagged badly to one side from having had a full grown werewolf thrown into it. Dr. Lecter sat on the floor, watching Will. He didn't seem alarmed in the least to see Will awake; he just cocked his head and pricked his ears like an attentive dog.
"You said I wouldn't be violent," Will rasped.
Dr. Lecter couldn't really smile in this form, but he somehow gave the impression of it with his eyes. "I was wrong."
Will rolled onto his side and realized that he was still a wolf. He stared down at his massive, clawed hands, and further down to his body, covered in dark brown fur. His tail twitched behind him. Will swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared down at them, too. He looked up at Dr. Lecter, who continued to give him the same imperturbable look. "What did you do?" he blurted.
"What makes you think I did anything?" said Dr. Lecter. "This is all you, Will. You've accepted your nature."
Will flattened his ears and hated, for a moment, that in this form he was more expressive than ever. "A violent, bestial nature," he snarled, and he could feel his lips roll up around sharp, curved teeth the length of his human fingers. "I bit you." Dr. Lecter's forearm didn't look as bad as Will expected, given he'd been gnawing on it just a few minutes earlier. In fact, it didn't look like he'd been hurt at all, though there was blood drying in the carpet.
"A minor wound," said Dr. Lecter. "I shifted, after I was sure you were unconscious, and then shifted back. You'll be able to do it too, when you have more control. And isn't that what you want? More control over your animal impulses?"
"So that's how this works, then?" Will snarled. "I accept that I'm a monster, and I have more control over my monstrosity?"
"Yes," replied Dr. Lecter.
Will swung his legs back up onto the bed, disregarding how it listed drunkenly to one side, and stared at the ceiling. He thought he heard Dr. Lecter sigh.
"As you like," said Dr. Lecter. Will heard him get to his feet. He could hear everything, it seemed: the rustle of Dr. Lecter's fur; the slight creaks and groans as the house settled; he thought he heard a mouse or a rat scurry outside the house, even. "You have free rein of the basement, although I'll thank you to stay out of my private quarters," Dr. Lecter continued. "I am going out."
Will looked up, startled. "You're going out?"
Dr. Lecter looked down at Will. "I nearly always go out."
Will stared. Werewolves weren't allowed out in wolf form, except under very tightly regulated circumstances, like if they were needed for law enforcement or emergency services reasons. You couldn't just roam the streets as a wolf, no matter how well controlled you supposedly were. There was just too much--danger.
Dr. Lecter must have interpreted whatever expression Will was making, because he rolled his tongue out for just a moment in a lupine laugh and said, "Who could catch me, Will? How would they even know who I am? They glimpse a werewolf from a distance, and by the time they catch up with their police car the wolf is gone. Of course, this neighborhood isn't terribly interesting for a wolf; I usually go down to the river, or to one of the parks. Is there somewhere near your home that you could run, Will?"
Will had purchased his home solely for the location: close to a river where he could fish, and surrounded by open fields and woods. He missed walking his dogs there; it felt stupid to walk aimlessly across the acreage without them. He recalled, now, that he'd used to watch his dogs run and sniff and wonder what the world seemed like to them. A place filled with adventure, it seemed like, rather than danger.
"Perhaps next time we'll go there," Dr. Lecter suggested.
"Next time?" Will frowned, but his feet were on the floor again.
"Running is always better with company."
Dr. Lecter opened the door. He led the way out the back door and into what turned out to be an immaculately landscaped Japanese garden, complete with koi pond and a carefully raked sand pit. Dr. Lecter paused by the koi pond and peered down into it, so Will did the same: he spied what he was fairly certain were gold and white fish, though the colors were muted to him.
"There are no lights back here," Dr. Lecter said; Will looked up and around and sure enough, he spotted only empty sockets meant for floodlights. "A human wouldn't be able to see these fish in the dark. But a wolf can." He took a deep breath. "Can you smell that?"
Will drew in a lungful of air through his nose. He smelled the pond itself: the green mossy smell of water plants, the slight tang of fish, the freshness of the water. He smelled the dusty sand pit; the pine and leaf and bark of the shrubs and trees; and there, to the left, bright and acrid: a cat had been through the garden. It hadn't paused, despite what must have been the great temptation of the sand pit, but Will could smell the bright trail it had left as it trotted through. Probably it knew a wolf lived here and didn't want to linger.
"Cats go where they will." Dr. Lecter sounded undisturbed by this fact. "As do we. Here." He paused by the wall and, as Will watched, bounded over in one great leap. He didn't even touch the top of the wall on his way over.
Silence. Will paced back and forth, his tail twitching. That wall had to be eight feet high; Will couldn't see over it even in wolf form. Suddenly, Dr. Lecter appeared, crouched on the top of the wall like a gargoyle. Will took a step back, his hackles rising. Dr. Lecter's eyes gave off an uneasy glow in the moonlight. He vanished again, and this time Will could hear the gentle thump as Dr. Lecter landed on the other side. Will paced back and forth once more, took a deep breath, crouched, and sprang.
Was this what it had been like for the men on the moon? The ground kept rushing away from Will, and for a moment he was afraid that he was going to keep going and end up among the clouds. But no, the wall was passing underneath him, and there was the ground--the neighbor's yard, covered in grass--coming to meet him. Will landed on all fours, expecting to feel the juddering shock of impact. His joints didn't protest at all. Will stood up, slowly, expecting his back or hips to twinge. Nothing.
"Congratulations," said Dr. Lecter.
The neighbors were still up; Will could see yellow light spilling out from between the curtains. He shrank away from them.
"They won't look out their windows if we give them no reason to," said Dr. Lecter. "This way."
They had to leap a few more fences, but from there to made it to a main road, which had a deep ditch that ran alongside it. They stayed in that ditch for quite a while, until it ran out. Then it was more backyards, over more fences and walls. Will kept close to Dr. Lecter, but he kept getting distracted by all the things he could see and hear: the tiny high-pitched cries of bats; owls on their not-quite-noiseless wings; soft-footed cats and almost-silent rats. Will thought that he could even smell the hot blood that coursed through their little furry bodies, and more than once he felt saliva filling his mouth and had to swallow. And he could hear, too, all that was going on in the houses: television sets blaring the news or the latest scripted drama; worried couples making plans for ailing relatives or financial troubles; children putting up a fuss about going to bed. It sometimes took Will a moment to realize that he had stopped, but Dr. Lecter always seemed to know, and Will always found him in the shadows.
Once, Will froze behind a garage as a prickle ran down the back of his neck and spine. His jaws parted and his tail went up.
"Yes," Dr. Lecter said. "Another wolf lives here."
Will didn't know if he wanted to run toward the impulse or away from it.
"I find him very tedious, actually," said Dr. Lecter. "He's a client of mine. I'm thinking about referring him. He wants too badly to be pack."
"Don't wolves always want to be part of a pack?"
"Do you?"
Dr. Lecter looked at Will. Will didn't answer, and Dr. Lecter turned with a flick of the tail. Will shook himself and followed.
They crossed a road and jogged down a long slope toward the river at the bottom, so steep that it was easier to navigate it upright than risk going head over heels on all fours. It felt good to really stretch out his limbs; Will's entire body felt tight and cramped from slinking through yards and bellying down in ditches. The moon hung bright and full overhead, gilding everything in silver. Will knelt and cupped his paws to drink from the river, gave up, and finally just stuck his muzzle into the water and gulped. It was cold and tasted fresh and good. He could sense fish in there, and he pawed at the water half-heartedly.
When Will looked up again, it was to see Dr. Lecter standing at the edge of the water, scenting the wind. He looked like a werewolf on a movie poster, head silhouetted against the moon. Will snorted and went back to splashing in the water.
"Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?" Dr. Lecter asked.
Will didn't bother dignifying that question with an answer.
"It looks quite black," said Dr. Lecter. "Of course, that might be because in this form we're not very good at seeing color. But there's something beautiful about it all the same, like an ink painting."
"It all smells the same, I'm sure," Will muttered.
Dr. Lecter dropped back to all fours. "This way," he said, and loped off toward the trees.
Will considered not following, but it wasn't as if he was going to catch any fish anyway.
There was a multipurpose trail through the trees, in view of the water, and Dr. Lecter trotted along that--at first, anyhow. After a few hundred yards he left the trail to head farther into the trees, somehow managing not to disturb what felt like several seasons' worth of fallen leaves. Will felt like a huge and clumsy ogre by comparison, twigs snapping underneath him and pebbles digging into his pawpads. Dr. Lecter kept his head down, ears swiveling back and forth. He halted so suddenly that Will almost ran into him.
Antlers arched toward the moon.
The stag lifted its head from grazing and pricked its ears, but not in their direction. Will held his breath. Dr. Lecter had dropped into a crouch, so low that his belly was almost on the ground. The deer looked around, took a step, and resumed nibbling at the shrubbery. Will looked at Dr. Lecter. He couldn't make out the other wolf's face, but he could see his flanks moving, deeply and easily, and he could smell Dr. Lecter's excitement.
Dr. Lecter sprang, and the very next moment, the stag bolted. Will ran too, and it amazed him how much ground he covered in just a single bound. A tree loomed up in front of him, but it was as if Will just had to think it and his body responded--he twitched to the left, and he felt the whiff of a tree branch just barely skimming the fur of his ears. Dr. Lecter leapt over a fallen tree, and so did Will. The stag--beautiful, young, healthy, Will could smell it--remained always one bound ahead of them, the white flick of its tail a beacon. Will could hear the rush of blood in his ears, his own panted breath a counterpoint to Dr. Lecter's. His paws hit the ground in a ragged rhythm.
The stag stumbled. Maybe he tripped on a hidden root, or maybe it was one of those loose stones in the earth. It didn't matter. Dr. Lecter leapt, jaws open and arms wide like a bear. Blood sprayed onto Will's face, warm and coppery tasting. The deer was still struggling, snorting, hooves lashing out; Dr. Lecter was holding it down with its entire weight. One of those sharp antlers glanced off Will's face. He pinned the deer's face down with one giant paw and went for the throat. Hot blood gushed over Will's tongue and between his teeth, wetting the fur of his muzzle. The stag thrashed once more and went still with one long, gurgling breath. Will gave the stag one more shake and let go. He licked his lips.
Dr. Lecter was staring at him with eyes that glowed faintly. "What do you see, Will?"
Will looked down at the dead deer. He'd ripped out its throat pretty thoroughly, and it lay on its side with its neck arched back and tongue sticking out. Blood pooled around it in a dark, spreading blot. Will could feel blood, warm and sticky, on his paws and partway up his arms, just like the day he'd been bitten. He lifted one paw and looked at it. Only shades of gray and charcoal existed to his wolf eyes, here in the woods at night. The smell of blood rose all around him, red and powerful, and he could feel that same blood in his mouth, warming his belly, running through his veins. He wanted to howl. He wondered if Dr. Lecter would howl with him.
"It's beautiful," he said.
