Showing posts with label Virgil the wolf shifter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Virgil the wolf shifter. Show all posts

Monday, March 2, 2015

On the Bandwagon


A little while back we had a baby boom at Talbot’s Peak, and a subsequent scramble to find suitable names for all those rugrats (or rugsquirrels, or rugwolves, etc.). I couldn’t join in because none of my characters are in the family way. Then I remembered Virgil, the runaway werewolf, and Destiny, his partner on the lam. Destiny was pregnant at the start of the story. Sooner or later she’d have to give birth. It only takes about five-six days to drive cross-country (I’ve done it myself. Twice.), so either she was farther along than I thought or wolves don’t carry as long as we do. I’ll have to figure out shapeshifter gestation periods.

At any rate, eventually the kid arrives, and finding a name becomes paramount, for a number of reasons …

# # #

Destiny stood in the doorway of the little beach cottage. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m taking Goober down to the beach,” Virgil said. “He does like to dig. Want us to look for clams?”

“His name is not Goober. He’s the son of alphas. No alpha in the history of any pack has ever been named Goober.”

“G’wan. He’s been a little Goober from the minute he popped out. Haven’t you, buddy?” Virgil made wet, sloppy noises against the baby’s belly. The baby crowed happily.

Destiny stamped her foot. “I will not let you name my son Goober!”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “You name him, then. It’s just a nickname anyway. I had to call him something, and ‘here, boy’ only works on dogs.”

Destiny practically snatched the baby out of Virgil’s arms. Startled, the infant yowled. She rocked him gently. “There, there, sweetie, mommy didn’t mean it. Listen to him howl! Those are alpha lungs. He’s going to have a commanding voice. He needs a commanding name.”

“He’s gone a week without one. He’ll last a while longer.”

“I’ve been thinking this over carefully,” Destiny said. “You don’t just slap any old name on an alpha. We have to think of the future.”

“Better pick something Italian, then, if we’re going to stay in New Jersey.”

Destiny’s expression let him know how little help he was being. “I said alpha, not mob boss. It has to be something classy. What was that city we passed when we got on the parkway?”

“Perth Amboy?”

“Be serious. Camden. That was it. I like the sound of that.” She held the baby against her breast. He immediately latched on for a snack. “Camden Gregory Hancock,” she cooed. “That’s the name of an alpha.”

“That’s the name of a kid who gets beat up behind the swings in fifth-period recess. If you’re going to go in that direction, why not call him Princeton?”

“Because I like Camden. It has strength. Quit pouting, will you? It’s not like he’s yours.”

She knew she’d hit the wound head-on the second she said it. Both of them looked out separate windows. The newly-christened Camden finished his meal and slid his lips off his mother’s teat. Destiny handed him back to Virgil. “If you’re taking him to the beach, he’ll need protection,” she said briskly. “A hat or something. Let me see what I can find.” She darted out of the room.

The baby hiccupped. Virgil set the infant against his shoulder and patted his back. “Don’t listen to her, Goober,” he murmured.

Monday, September 22, 2014

The Wolf-Shifter's Destiny


Well, if this didn’t suck elk antlers. Virgil had put a lot of time and miles behind him, and now he’d have to drive right back to the compound and start all over, this time with Darnell breathing down his neck. All because some bitch in a snit had used him as an impulsive escape route.

She had to go back, of course. That was never in doubt. Virgil tried to explain this to her, but she wasn’t having any. “You’re low-rank,” she said bluntly. “I don’t have to listen to you. You have to do what I say.”

“I’m packless,” Virgil corrected. “If anything, that makes me an alpha, head of the pack of me.” Hey, he realized. It did, didn’t it? He’d left his rank-obsessed pack behind. He was in charge of himself now. He sat up a little straighter. “If you stay away too long, you’ll end up packless too. You have to go back, right now.”

“Maybe I want to be packless.” They were seated at a creaky picnic table at the rest stop. Virgil had gotten them snacks from the machines. The she-wolf crammed coconut candy bars and peanut-butter crackers into her mouth in between refusals to cooperate. “Maybe I’m tired of being used and told who I have to mate with. Maybe the whole upper echelon should get stuffed and mounted on some human’s wall. Maybe alpha privilege sucks.”

He certainly couldn’t argue with that. Nevertheless … “They’ll come looking for you. I don’t want them finding me. You realize this looks like a kidnapping, don’t you? Do you know what they’ll do to me if they catch me with you?”

She daintily licked chocolate off her fingers. “Then we’d better make sure they don’t catch either of us, hadn’t we?”

Scat-damned high-ranks. Virgil munched gloomily on a cheese puff. Lupa save him, how long had these wretched things sat in the snack machine? He flicked it into the grass, where a magpie pounced on it. “What’s your name?”

“Destiny.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Hey, I didn’t choose it. We’re a wolf pack. Big family. Sooner or later they start running out of decent names.” She glared across the picnic table at him. “What’s your name?”

“Virgil.”

“Ha! You see? When I have my pup, she’s going to have a real name, like Mary or Sarah or something. Not—”

The she-wolf suddenly clapped a hand to her mouth. She bolted up and darted into the bushes. Magpies scattered. Virgil’s ears picked up on the unmistakable noises of yarking. “Um … Destiny?”

He hesitated to get up and go over there, but it seemed required. He compromised by going to the edge of the brush, with her hunched back just within reach. He hovered his hand uncertainly over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No.” She straightened but didn’t turn around. “No, I’m not scatting okay. I’m pregnant.”

# # #

They sat side by side on the bench, with their hips just brushing. Destiny sipped water from a bottle. Little by little, the story came out. “You remember the alpha conclave last month?”

Virgil nodded sourly. As if he could forget. A bunch of puffed-up alpha assholes paying lip service to unity and cooperation while jockeying for the role of top dog. Hell on earth for any pack member under the rank of beta. Virgil had spent the better part of those two weeks out in the woods in wolf form.

“A lot of the males took off for the woods,” Destiny went on. Virgil nodded again, this time with guilt attached. “They could do that. We girls couldn’t. We were expected to entertain our guests.” She actually used air quotes for entertain. “Our esteemed leader, Ozbourne the Great and Powerful, had hopes of mating off one of us to an unattached alpha. Get a toehold into another pack through blood ties. We were ordered to do whatever it took to win the alphas’ favor.”

Virgil gulped. He’d always assumed the she-wolves had it easy, especially those up the ladder. All they had to do was look pretty and allow the males to pant after them. This aspect of their existence caught him off guard. All of a sudden his own life in the pack, with all its restrictions on mating, didn’t look so bad.

“I was one of the bitches assigned to that yelp from Michigan. You remember him? With the hair?” Virgil didn’t, but he made himself look knowledgeable. “He was cute, but grabby. Nice smile, though. And unattached, or so he said. Ozzy wanted to attach him, and trust me, he cooperated fully. And then … ” Her upper lip twisted, showing teeth. “He went home to the wife he’d neglected to mention. Three weeks later I’m barfing up my kibble and Ozzy’s telling me how lucky I am.”

“Didn’t you use … ?” Virgil stopped himself. He knew humans had methods to prevent accidental whelping. He’d never really thought about it regarding his own situation. Having cubs, establishing a pack, was pretty much the point.

Her bitter words confirmed it. “We weren’t allowed to. Ozzy wanted us fertile. Pregnancy was Plan B.” Again with the air quotes. “My aunt gave me this awful tea to drink. I guess it didn’t work.” She snorted. “Now I’ve got an alpha’s bun in my oven, a possible heir to their pack, and Ozzy’s got leverage. But first he wanted me securely mated to a wolf of his choosing. Somebody who could be his eyes, ears and nose in the Michigan pack. Needless to say, I was not consulted.”

Enter Virgil and his truck, with its convenient tarp over the bed. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t hold it against her. He’d have done the same. He was doing the same. “So where are you headed? Michigan?”

“Are you kidding? I’m headed away. Someplace with woods. I’d rather live as a lone wolf than let the pack push me around any more. I heard you telling Darnitall you were headed for Wyoming. Works for me. Just drop me off wherever.”

“Um. We’re not going to Wyoming. That was just my cover story. I left the pack too."

“Yeah? Why?”

They wouldn’t let me mate. He had a feeling Destiny wouldn’t appreciate hearing that. “I wanted a change of scenery,” he said.

She nodded knowingly. “Yeah. I hear that a lot from the low-ranks. Where are you headed?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll go all the way to the coast. I’ve never seen the ocean.”

“Me either. You don’t mind the company, do you? I mean, at least until I find a good spot. Someplace Ozzy wouldn’t think of looking for me.”

Or me, Virgil thought. They’d skin him alive and use his tail to decorate a motorcycle. Even if he took her back, they’d rip him to pieces on principle. But he couldn’t just dump a pregnant she-wolf at the side of the road.

Anyway, wasn’t the whole point of his great escape to find himself a she-wolf? Well, now he could check that off his to-do list. Not that he could keep her. Way too much baggage, not to mention the threat to his life. But he could hone his shaky dating skills on a real live girl, at least until she ditched him. Then he’d be better prepared when the real thing came along.

Besides, he’d been part of a pack his whole life. Shaking off life in a crowd might not be as easy as he’d figured. He couldn’t deny his relief at knowing he’d have another wolf around, if only temporarily. All of a sudden the big, bad world outside the pack looked a lot smaller and less scary.

“I pick the radio station,” he said.

She made a face. “You better like rock. Not that emo easy listening crap.”

“There is no other music than rock. Not even country western.”

Destiny brightened immediately. “Oh-kay.”

Smiling, Virgil clinked his bag of cheese puffs against her pack of crackers. Technically they didn’t clink, but he could tell she’d caught the gist. “East Coast, here we come.”