Part I - CAUSE

“Virginia!”

“VIRGINIA!”

“VVVIIIIIRRRGGGIII--”

“What? What? Stop yelling!”

“I’M NOT YELLING!”

“Good Lord! What is your problem?”

Wolf stood in front of the open refrigerator, his arms folded. Virginia took in his expression of petulant annoyance and sighed deeply. “What is it now, Wolf?”

“What do you mean, ‘what is it now?’ I just have one little question. I’m entitled to ask questions, right? Or maybe I’m not? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Wolf --”

“How could you not buy milk when you know we’re out of it? You know I like it. You know --”

“You know, Wolf, this is beginning to get old. I apologize for forgetting to buy it. Next time write it down. Or go shopping yourself.”

“But it was your turn --”

“Don’t whine. I hate it when you whine.” She turned her back on him deliberately and started for the door.

Wolf slid ahead of her, cutting off her exit. He loomed over her, his eyes flashing angrily... “You hate me whining? How about my tail -- you hate that too, right? I bet you hate everything about me that’s wolf, don’t you?”

“Come on --”

He leaned in and showed his teeth. “Well, DON’T YOU?”

“Cut it out!” Virginia put her hands on his chest and shoved him away, exiting into the living room. Despite herself her heart was pounding. This was getting serious. He’d been edgy all day, and things clearly had been headed in this direction. But now he actually was beginning to frighten her. And it had only just gotten dark.

“Virginia!” Wolf was right behind her, and she jumped. He looked pained. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I don’t, I don’t even know what I’m saying. Don’t leave. Don’t.” Now there was genuine panic in his voice.

“I’m not going to leave. I just don’t like being yelled at.”

With a stricken expression he sat down heavily on the couch, burying his hands in his hair, tugging at it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m bad, I’m so bad! Why does this have to happen? I can’t I stop it! Why? I know why, it’s because I’m bad! Nasty! I don’t deserve --”

“Stop it, Wolf, you’ll hurt yourself.” Virginia could feel her fear and annoyance melt. More than his babbling apology, it was a memory that came to her suddenly, of herself yelling, SCREAMING at her father, “How could you forget to pick up coffee? What’s WRONG with you, Dad?” Though she hated to believe in PMS, she’d had a few episodes that were, well, suspiciously textbook. Hard as it was to accept, Wolf was exhibiting the same kind of behavior. And in his case, it really WAS moon-induced. She sat down next to him, rubbing his back.”Don’t pull your hair out. You won’t like being bald.”

She succeeded in making him smile, if wanly. He leaned against her shoulder with a shuddering sigh, and she could feel how hot he was. He seemed to read her thoughts. “I know,” he said, and allowed her to brush the hair off his sweaty brow. “Moonrise is close. Don’t feel too good.”.

“Look, why don’t you lie down here or in the bedroom and I’ll get you something cold to drink.”

“Virginia, you know what this is. I don’t think ice water is going to help.”

She bit her lip. “How about ice water and a leg of lamb?”

Interest flickered. “Better.”

Virginia went into the kitchen. When SHE was PMS-ing, the thought of food made her want to puke. So much for the similarity of their cycles. The huge leg of lamb, wrapped in butcher paper, lay on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. She had to laugh. He’d been so keyed up about the milk he hadn’t even noticed it. That was a first! She put some ice in a glass and filled it with water, then for good measure plunged a clean dishtowel into cold water too, and went back out to the living room. He’d taken her advice to stretch out on the couch, but she could tell from the way he was holding himself that the cramps had begun. He’d explained it to her, after that first full moon they’d been together, in Little Lamb Village. Although he was only a half-wolf, his body wanted to shift, to change into animal form, and the result was deep, painful spasms as his body fought itself. It would be a while before this torment stopped.

A thought struck her, and instead of going to him she went into the bathroom. She set the glass and towel down on the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. Surely there was something here that would make him feel better -- stop his fever, lessen his aches. She ignored a prescription for a sinus ailment that belonged to her Dad, ditched a bottle of cough syrup dated 1993 and considered what was left. She was concerned that something too strong might hurt him, due to his strange physiology. She briefly considered Midol, but discarded the idea. Bloating was not the issue. Ah — plain old generic ibuprofen. Just one couldn’t hurt, could it? And it might help.

“Wolf, how’re you doing?” She knelt in front of the couch and gave him the glass. He kept one hand clenched to his stomach as he took a few tiny sips. He was breathing shallowly, making little panting sounds, and his eyes had taken on a glassy feverish sheen. “Listen, try this pill. It might make you feel better.”

He took it from her, examining and sniffing the pill dubiously. “Smells disgusting.”

“Don’t smell it, swallow it.” She hesitated. “You have taken pills before, haven’t you?”

His answer was a withering glance. He swallowed the pill with a theatrical expression of distaste. “Yuucchh.” He let his head flop back down.

Virginia put the towel on his forehead but after a moment he shook it off. He glared at her suddenly. “Don’t. Want. That. Just...leave me alone, okay?” The words were practically a snarl. He shoved the glass into her hands.

“Now, Wolf, we’re not going to start that again,” she said firmly. “You promised to let me take care of you, remember?”

“Yeah, and you promised you’d tie me up, and you didn’t!” There was anger in his voice, but also a note bordering on panic.

“I didn’t promise, I said I’d think about it. I told you. If we’re going to be together, we have to learn to live with this.”

“I HAVE lived with this. You should tie me up. Before it’s too late.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

His reply was a low, angry growl. “You’re worse than my mother!” he muttered under his breath.

“Good!” She put the glass down on the table and leaned over him so she could look him right in the face. “Wolf, I’m not tying you up. That’s just — just weird. I know you. This time can’t be as bad as it was in Little Lamb Village. There was other stuff going on. You were under a lot of stress. The Queen -- I didn’t understand then --”

“And you think you do now?” He made a really unpleasant face.

Virginia fought to keep her tone even. “I’m trying to. You explained it, to me, remember? There’s nobody trying to control you now. You’re a good person, Wolf. I love you, Just remember that. Anything you do is okay with me. Just trust me. I trust you.”

His eyes changed and she thought they began to tear up. He turned away to bury his face in a throw pillow. More of the emotional roller coaster. Deep sympathy welled up inside her. She hated to see him feel so raw, and she gave him a hug, “I’m going to start dinner,” she said softly. He nodded mutely, still not meeting her eyes.

In the kitchen she seasoned the lamb, stuck it in a pan and threw it in the oven. It wouldn’t take long — he liked meat barely warm. She was having left-over spaghetti that was waiting to be warmed up. She set the table, then opened the fridge. Let’s see — what goes with lamb or spaghetti? Amend that: what goes with lamb or spaghetti that both of us will eat? She bent over to poke through the crisper bin.

“Virginia.”

He was in the kitchen? “I thought you were lying down.” Virginia sorted through zucchini, corn, potatoes, tomatoes “— boy, these are really overripe —”

“Hungry.”

“Dinner will be ready soon --”

“Now.”

His mercurial changes were certainly hard to follow! There was an entirely new sound in his voice; he was almost growling, but there was velvet in his tone, too. Intrigued, Virginia started to straighten up, two ripe tomatoes in her hands, to find Wolf standing so close that her back bumped him as she rose. She could feel him shiver at the touch, though he was radiating heat like a furnace. He didn’t move to let her pass, in fact, he leaned forward, and she was effectively trapped against the open refrigerator. The combination of cold in front of her and intense heat from him made her catch her breath. “You’re feeling better.” He certainly was — his hands came up around her waist and pulled her tightly against him . The cold air — and the warmth of him against her — were exciting her. And the way he was snuffling at her neck —

THIS IS CRAZY! she thought wildly. He was nearly passed out on the couch a few minutes ago, and now -- he was horny as hell, breathing in her ear, which tickled and --

Wait. Wait. Wait. “Wolf — uh, Wolf, could we move away from the fridge? I’m about to fall in.”

He growled in reply, but released his hold enough to allow her to move. But he didn’t let go entirely, and as she closed the refrigerator door with her hip, he spun her around and slowly pushed her back until her rear end bumped against the table.

She got a look at his face and had a rush of panic. He was staring at her with a frightening intensity; his cheek bones and jaw looked somehow altered, sharper. His eyes seemed more acutely angled, though she knew that couldn’t really, possibly be true -- could it? and they glowed that peculiar green-gold color that meant the animal was in charge.

She felt a fluttery surge of adrenaline. Suddenly nervous, ill at ease, she fought to calm herself: THIS IS RIDICULOUS -- GET A GRIP! This was no blind date with a suspicious character. This was the man -- the wolf --- the man -- she loved! Hadn’t she just told him anything he did was fine with her? She did trust him.

Didn’t she?

She realized she was still clutching the vegetables, and laughed, a little breathlessly . “Let me put these down --”

His response was to grab her suddenly by the shoulders and bite her on the neck.

Virginia was so startled she fell backwards with a cry onto the kitchen table. Her hands clenched convulsively, squeezing the overripe tomatoes into tomato sauce. Her neck stung and a plate was sticking into her back. She hoped he actually hadn’t broken the skin. A few love bites were great, but that had been more painful than erotic.

“Wolf — you hurt -- oof!”

The breath was knocked out of her for a moment as his body landed on top of hers. She heard the sound of breaking china as plates flew onto the floor. The salt and pepper shakers slid sideways, sent flying by an errant elbow. Silverware jangled as it catapulted onto the linoleum.

“Wolf! Stop it! This isn’t fair!”

Wolf didn’t respond, at least not in words, but instead slammed his mouth onto hers, kissing her savagely. She felt the sharp points of his teeth but he didn’t bite her, just crushed his lips to hers in a frenzy. He half-supported himself, half lay across her, and with her feet dangling over the edge Virginia had no leverage to push him off. But somewhere in the middle of the kiss she discovered she had no desire to shove him away. The edge of his lengthened canines raked her skin as he kissed her neck, but despite the ferocity of his actions he wasn’t hurting her at all.

She tried to catch her breath. THIS IS INSANE! I’M MAKING DINNER AND HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE FEELING LOUSY WHAT ARE WE DOING OH WHO CARES! She’d forgotten the tomato guts that covered her hands, and left sticky red hand prints everywhere she touched. After a while -- a long, rapturous while -- she didn’t notice.

Wolf pulled away from her for one agonizing moment, and it seemed to Virginia that his strange eyes looked more wolf-like than ever. There was a moment of suspended movement as he regarded her as if she were his prey — excitingly succulent, sexy prey — and she waited, breath drawn-- and then he pounced, leaping bodily onto the table.

The table had had enough. There was a creaking noise, then the sound of splintering wood, and with a deafening crash the entire table collapsed onto the kitchen floor. Virginia was sandwiched between the table and Wolf, and this time the breath really was forced from her so thoroughly that she strained to draw air into her lungs. A moment later the kitchen clock fell off its perch, hitting her on her forehead. Stunned, she put up a tomato-covered hand to touch her head, and then everything went dark.

Wolf had not really been thinking in an organized way — or even a human one — since he’d walked back into the kitchen. Any shred of clear thought that remained after that had been driven out of his head the moment he drew Virginia’s scent into his nostrils. After that, the moon and his own desire had driven him on, his brain tuned only to Virginia.

The crash was like a slap in his face — dazed though he was, his fog cleared for a moment, and he realized he was lying on the floor, atop a pile of wood and china and food, and -- where was he? A flash of alarm penetrated the haziness, then a stab of panic as he focused and saw his mate unconscious on the floor underneath him.

“Vir-: his voice was thick, and he cleared his throat. “Virginia --” To his horror, she didn’t move, didn’t react at all. And he noticed smears of red across her forehead. Blood? Was she hurt? -- or -- not -- DEAD? His heart pounded out a staccato drumbeat. He leaned close and sniffed at her, but his senses, usually so acute at the full moon that they were nearly painful, seemed to have shut down, overloaded. Fear, terror, PANIC filled him. Something was wrong, something different than just the moon. His ears were filled with white noise — he couldn’t hear her heartbeat, couldn’t detect the cub, and when he touched her, looking for signs of life, it was if he felt her through padded gloves. What was happening?

His vision blurred as he hyperventilated; he felt dizzy and nauseated. His hands tingled and he trembled all over, close to fainting. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move beyond the relentless cry of Virginia! like a howl in his brain. And then he began to howl aloud, kneeling by his mate, head back; not a howl of passion, but one of loss.

Virginia! Dead? Cub! Dead?
Wait
Heartbeat?
-- SOMETHING? I HAVE TO — WHAT?
AWROOOOOOOOOO!
No! Stop! Do! Something! Help!
That was it, get help.
That thing — the phone — Virginia --- said --- emergency --
HOW?

Even in his calmest moments, Wolf hated using the phone, the one piece of technology he just couldn’t handle naturally (unlike the blender, microwave, oven or television). He had a tendency to hold it too far away and shout into the mouthpiece. This was not one of his calm moments, and whatever Virginia might have told him about calling 911 in an emergency was now lost in his frenzy. He stumbled from the kitchen to the living room.
Where?
Where is it?
He blinked and shook his head. Something was wrong with his eyes -- why couldn’t he see well in the darkened room? His hands fell onto the cordless phone by mere chance, and he held it in one hand, shaking it, shouting “Help!” towards it, but nothing was happening and in frustration he hurled it across the room, where it smashed into the radio.

“--- Yankees! Theeeeeeeeeee Yankees take the lead!”

A man was shouting in the apartment, and people were screaming, a crowd of them, like the crowd that had tried to kill him in Little Lamb Village, and Wolf felt the hair— and fur— stand up all over his body. He pressed himself back against the wall, trying to make himself invisible, and slid down to the carpet.
Hide. They were coming for him — why? He hadn’t done anything!
Had he?
HAD HE?
VIRGINIA?
No no no no no no
Calm down, calm down
GET HELP
That’s right, yes, yes. That’s what he had to do.
Need to get help
WHAT DID I DO?
NO!
Get someone!
WHERE?
Go. GO FOR HELP!
That was it, yes, help was OUT THERE someplace.

Wolf pulled himself upright and fled towards the door and vaulted down the staircase towards the lobby.

Nineteen flights later, panting, Wolf crashed through the front door into the street. The night was full of sounds — sirens, traffic, distant music, voices — all of which reverberated in his ears. He felt completely disoriented, and, whimpering a little, he turned left towards Fifth Avenue for no apparent reason except it was more brightly lighted than Madison.

Where?
What?
Help Virginia!
He chewed his lip in confusion. Thoughts were not coming to him in any sort of coherent way. He knew he was looking for help, but the capable Wolf who could navigate the Disenchanted Forest and save the Nine Kingdoms had gone AWOL. Blindly he ran across the street, oblivious to the M2 bus that honked and nearly flattened him. He looked up. There was a mountain before him, a granite mountain with footholds and a castle on top, maybe help was up there, and he started to climb, tripping and pulling himself up as he went.
Help!
Get Help!
But when he reached the summit, dizzy and breathing heavily from the climb, he realized numbly he’d only scaled the huge staircase at the front of the Metropolitan Museum, and it was closed, abandoned for the night.

With a groan of impatience Wolf lurched back down the steps, pausing at the bottom, swiveling left and right, trying to figure out where to go, what to do. There was a long rectangular fountain at sidewalk level, and looking at it made him thirsty, so he bent over to drink. The water felt good, cooling, and he gulped it down greedily.

“Eeuuww — that guy is drinking out of the fountain!” A small group of teenagers stopped on the sidewalk to gape at him.

“Gross me out. Yo, what is he, a dog?”

“Hey -- ‘Who let the dog out? Woof — woof — woof --’”

Laughter.

Cruel laughter. The schoolyard. They were laughing at him again, the children of the town, laughing at the misfit half-wolf boy who dared to show his face among them. Stop it! Wolf had to make it STOP. He straightened up in a swift movement, snarling, lunging at them. The boys yelped in surprise, scattering...

“Shit, man, you’re CRAZY!”

“I’m outta here, Kevin.”

The teenagers disappeared, still laughing, but nervously. Wolf leaned against a lamppost, his eyes darting around. They were after him. He had to get away. He had to get --
What did he have to get?

What was he forgetting?

The lamp above him shut off suddenly, following the timer that flashed the avenue’s lamps on and off in sequence. Wolf looked up, and his eye caught the moon through the trees. Oh, it was so beautiful! It wrenched his heart to see something so lovely, so perfect, so ---

Virginia! Beautiful, perfect Virginia!
Where was she?
Panic, heart thumping, searching for --
Searching for...?
OH
THE
MOON!

His mind shutting down, Wolf lurched off into the park.
Towards the rising moon.