Susana - Sins of the Mothers

If they had been full wolves they would most certainly would have bagged at least a rabbit for their breakfast. But they were Wolfies-part wolf, part human, thus the natural choice for breakfast was bacon. As Wolf deliriously fried up two great pans of bacon - one for each of course - young Wolfie gathered up the great round loaves of bread they preferred for their sandwiches. Father and son often shared these cosy, wee-hour feasts after a "run". This morning was somehow different. Silence lay heavy between them. Their usual teasing rapport gave way to long silences. Even the brisk exercise and tempting aroma of bacon could not exorcize the demons of the night before. Though neither voiced their nightmares to the other, they understood each other's need for silence in the instinctive way of blood-related wolves.

Wolf frowned as he watched his son pour ketchup on his bacon. The boy had picked up a ketchup addiction in New York. "Uh son," Wolf started diplomatically "Word of advice - uh, don't do that in front of the pack Okay?"

"Papi, doncha know that ketchup is perfect on bacon sandwiches? It kinda looks like blood!" He flashed his eyes, then dove into his dripping sandwich, all the while laughing so hard he began to choke.

"Where does he come up with this stuff?" Wolf thought, laughing aloud in spite of himself. His own childhood had been full of poverty, pain, and prejudice. Thanks to Wendell and his generosity, he was raising his children as affluent children of nobility. He and Virginia took pains not to spoil them, and did not let them forget their roots. They had frequent visits with the pack. Sometimes they spent weeks at a time with them hunting, camping, and just generally learning "wolf stuff." He had planned a happy uncomplicated childhood for his cubs. Lately he had begun to ask himself what happened.

Wolf opened the half-door to the garden to let some fresh air into the smoky kitchen. As the draft drew the air from the house something hit his nose like a brick fallen from the sky. He was halfway up the stairs when his voice caught up to his nose. "Virginia!!!" he howled, taking the stairs three at a time, his son at his heels. The scents assaulted his mind. Death-poison-Christine-death. Wrapped around his Virginia's aroma there was a collection of his worst nightmares. His mind jumped as he recognized -old metal-magic- death and a trace of Victoria and her fever.

They stormed into the room. She lay soundly asleep on her side, hands stretching upwards toward her pillow. In a heart-stopping liquid movement Wolf scooped her from the bed and held her in his arms, confused but safe. He touched her hair and face and whispered "Thank God you're all right"

"Wolf- what is the matter?" Virginia yawned.

"Mummy, can't you smell it? It stinks like something evil- what is it?" Wolfie growled softly as he pulled the pillow back by one corner to reveal Victoria's 'gift.'

"My God it's the poison comb," Virginia gasped as the color drained from her face.

"Mummy how could you sleep with that horrible smell next to your nose?"

Still staring at the comb, she answered numbly, "I'm not wolfie - I can't smell anything, not like that anyway."

A small nasal voice piped up "I can't smell anything either-my nose is broke." Victoria stood in the hallway in her white nightgown, sucking her thumb and stroking something with her other hand. As she stepped into the light it became clear. The little magenta scrap was the bit of lining Virginia had torn from her coat when she had taken the magic comb so many years ago.