The Wolf's Song

In the Midst of Declarations

Diana

The conversation with Martha that we had the day before is still going around in my head, but surprisingly, it’s not that which wakes me up the next morning, but the insistent ringing of my phone, which is filled with messages scattered between Sandra and my mother. They are already starting to plan what my return to New York will be like; what we will do, where we will go and what we will see.

I sigh as I look at my cell phone, with drowsiness still clinging to my eyes. It’s strange to feel what has been your whole life as so distant, as if a part of you can no longer reconcile with the person you once were. The love for my family, for the city I grew up in and for my friends is still there, yes, but the feeling of longing, of waiting to return home, is no longer the same. Perhaps because a part of me has established Bamberg, and especially Michael’s house, as my home.

I sigh and stand up, as I look at the messages. It’s still a few weeks before I return, but to them it feels like I’ll be back in a few hours. I brush my teeth while answering a message from my mother, and laugh as I read Sandra’s reaction to the photo of Michael that I sent her the day before--a photo that, it’s worth mentioning, he doesn’t know I took of him.

“Isn’t there a model like him but in a blonde version?” Sandra asks me between messages, and I laugh.

“I don’t think so. From what I understand Michael is one of a kind, but he has a couple of friends you might like.”

I immediately think of Robert and the explosive Sandra together, and I can’t help but laugh. The two of them are like polar opposites, and I don’t know how well they could fit together, but for sure Sandra would give it a shot.

It’s funny. Come to think of it, all the shapeshifters I’ve met are beautiful and perfect. Creatures with well-shaped bodies and not a hint of fat on their bodies, and the most attractive features in the world. Why is that? Is there something about the shift that edits you to bring out the best in you?

I think about it as I get dressed, and noticing that in fact, there are many things about shapeshifters that I don’t know. In fact, there are many things about Michael himself that I don’t know. His specific age, for example, or his birthday. I don’t know what happened to his parents and if he was ever able to find them, or how he made his fortune, or if he even heard from Anna’s parents again after the event that turned him and Damien and ended the girl’s life…

The list is long, and my questions pile up one after another. I decide that I will talk to Michael and ask him about all this, although it won’t be right now. There are other things pending at the moment.

As if he can read my mind, the doorbell rings, and just then I hear Martha’s footsteps, heading for the door. My heart skips a beat and I rush downstairs in time for Martha to open the door and I can see him: Black hair tousled by the breeze, the look of blue and his body sheathed in a smart ensemble of dark pants and black trench coat.

Michael looks up, sees me and smiles, and I smile back. Martha, however, deprives me of his attention, and instead draws it to herself.

“Well, I see we meet at last, Mr. Wolf Protector of Bamberg,” she says, and from here I can sense her smile, that enigma-laden smile.

Michael purses his lips slightly but restrains himself from saying anything.”Martha... It’s always a pleasure to see you,” he affirms.

“This way,” she says, inviting him into the kitchen. I come down the stairs two at a time and rush to meet her, resting my hands on Michael’s chest as I stand on tiptoe to kiss him softly on the lips. He smiles against my mouth, more than willing to receive this kind of welcome.

“Good morning to you too,” he whispers against my lips, then pulls away from me.

We walk together to the kitchen and Michael sits down as Martha pours the tea. It feels strange to see him in this environment, but I hold back from commenting.

“You want tea, don’t you, Michael? Wolves don’t drink coffee, of course,” Martha says, and I frown, looking at her curiously.

“They don’t?” I ask.

“No,” Michael answers, with a grimace on his lips.

“Their metabolism is already very accelerated. Coffee stimulates them unnecessarily,” says Martha, pouring tea.

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” I say, but it makes sense. Michael barely sleeps, so it’s logical to think that he doesn’t actually drink coffee. “What else don’t you consume?” I ask curiously.

“Well...” he begins, thinking carefully before answering. “Sugar; salt, very concentrated spices... I’ve really learned to cook for you, because I know that as a human, your senses are different from mine, but we don’t consume many things with strong flavors, or loaded. Our palate is very intense, so we don’t need it. It saturates our senses,” he states.

I gape at him, noting another detail unknown to me about wolves, and as Martha stares at him.

“It’s interesting that you know that,” Michael then says, looking at Martha intently, with one eyebrow raised.

“I know many things, dear. You may not believe it, but I’ve lived almost as many years as you, Bamberg wolf. And in my life, I have seen and done many things,” she says, and she winks at him. “You would do well not to underestimate me.”

“I don’t,” Michael replies.

“Oh, dear, but you do. You think I’m lying when I say you need Diana to solve this mess about the new wolves, don’t you?”

“I think of what’s best for Diana, regardless of the situation. What happens in the forest and with my wolves is something I can handle myself.”

“But it’s not,” Martha laughs and takes a sip of tea, and I look at her, incredulous that she speaks like this to Michael, and I’msomehow understanding from whom I have inherited my determined character. “The situation has gotten beyond you, wolf, and you don’t understand that you won’t be able to solve it alone. By the next full moon, you’ll have so many wolves prowling the forest that you and your friends won’t be able to fight them off,” she says, gazing into Michael’s eyes. “And we both know what that means. You don’t want to see it, but you need Diana to solve this. Her music is the key.”

“But she doesn’t know how to control her gift yet,” he says, “and it would be putting her at risk. A pack of moon-crazed, newly turned wolves is not the best prospect to place your human granddaughter in, if you ask me.” Michael’s voice is hard, cold as metal.

“And that’s why you have to convert her,” Martha states, and I stare at her, unable to believe what she has said. “You don’t understand, but Diana’s gift is related to the blood of the wolves that runs through her veins.”

“A heritage about which you, until now, have kept her blind.”

“As a matter of pure necessity,” says Martha. “If you knew what I know, you would understand that the secrets have been necessary.”

“And if you knew what I know you would understand that I only have Diana’s best interests at heart when I say I want her out of the woods.”

“What do you think I don’t know, wolf?” Martha raises an eyebrow. “Do you think I don’t know about the Bamberg packs, that I didn’t know about what you are long before my granddaughter came here, or that I even suspected that she might strongly draw your attention?” she laughs. “You don’t know anything. You don’t even know what’s roaming these woods.”

“Do you, grandmother?” I ask with a dry throat.

“I have a good idea,” she says. “The creature that haunts the woods has come for a darker motive than revenge. You’d be reasonable if you’d learn to listen to an old woman’s advice.”

“Not that old.” Michael smiles a bitter, dark smile. “How old are you, seventy, seventy-five?” He snorts under his breath. “Looks can be deceiving sometimes, Martha...”

I look at the two of them, mute for a moment, trying to process the information, the way these two challenge each other, and especially what I discover when I hear them talking.It seems to me that at the very least, I can cross a question or two off my list. Their words have given me enough answers.