The Shadows of Christmas Past

known all her life was hard enough, and Harrison Blethyin was downright disconcerting. Being with the dogs and cats, and having the slight distance of the table between her and others, soothed her.
    She had found a home for one tabby kitten, and a brown-and-black puppy of dubious ancestry. She'd urged children to write down a suggestion for a name for the greyhound and put their slips of paper in the fishbowl on the table. She was going to draw one of the folded pieces soon and award the winner of the Name the Greyhound contest a prize.
    The greyhound was sitting on her haunches, her huge eyes gazing upward. She looked something like the image of an ancient Egyptian statue of Anubis with velvety furled ears.
    Taffy was lying next to the black dog, and he had eyes only for her. His tongue was lolling out, and he was drooling, which wasn't something he did very often. Never dignified, right now he was downright ridiculous.
    "Yep," she said. "It must be love."
    "He's totally smitten."
    Marj jumped in surprise and realized that Harry was now standing beside her. And it was at Harry that the greyhound's worshipful gaze was directed.
    Marj could feel the waves of emotion the animal directed at the man. The feelings weren't complex, but strong, and hard to put into words—gratitude? Love? Something that wasn't quite fear, but close—wary respect?
    "I think Taffy might have competition for her affections," she said. "Are you thinking of taking her home?"
    And I think she recognizes you, but front where?
    Harry laughed. "Oh, no, not me."
    For a moment, Marj wasn't sure which of her questions he was answering. There were more important questions that she wanted to ask him, too.
    "Have a seat," she offered.
    He'd already pulled up another of the folding chairs and set it very close to hers. He settled his big form onto the seat, then leaned close to her.
    "All right," he said, affable, but hard-eyed. "What exactly do you want from me?"
    Anger bubbled through her. She had the temper that went along with her red hair, and she fought not to let it get the best of her now. She couldn't afford to snarl at this man, to tell him he was arrogant and far too sure of himself.
    A lost animal needed help, and it was up to her to provide it.
    So she whispered when she wanted to shout. "I'm looking for a wolf, Mr. Blethyin."
    "You've found one," he whispered back.
    She sighed and looked around to make sure they were not overheard. "I did find a wolf—but I lost it."

    He lifted one dark, heavy eyebrow. "Lost?"
    "It escaped," she corrected. "And I'm afraid it's not going to survive out there on its own."

    Harry wanted to take Marj's hand and tell her, There, there, the wolf's just fine . Actually, he wanted to take her hand, then take the rest of her. Her concern for his were-self touched him, and it turned him on.
    "What makes you think your wolf won't survive?"
    "He doesn't have thumbs. Which means he can't shoot back when ranchers shoot at him. He probably doesn't have a license to carry a gun, either."
    Oh, I wouldn't bet on that.
    She blinked. "What?"
    "Wolves don't carry concealed weapons," he said. "Claws, fangs, and muscles have served them well for thousands of years."
    "They're endangered now," she reminded him. "They don't exist well in the same areas that people live."
    "That's right," he agreed. "And you're telling me you have a wolf loose in the environs of Kennedyville?"
    She nodded and gave him a very anxious look. "Please don't tell anyone."
    "And you haven't informed the local authorities?"
    She gave him a faint smile. "Of course I have."
    "Meaning—that you are the local authority." She nodded. "And why are you asking for my help?"
    He was half-tempted to tell her that to find her big black wolf, all he had to do was look in a mirror. This was scary, because being tempted to reveal anything to a human was far more than was safe or sane for his kind. Such honesty was only possible when a were took a human mate, which rarely happened these days.
    At least, it wasn't supposed to happen these days. He believed one of the reasons the teenagers had gone missing was because someone in the group had trespassed that unwritten taboo.
    "I want to hire you to find the missing wolf for several reasons," she answered, once again looking around furtively.

    "We're alone," he said. He moved closer to her, reveling in her warmth and scent. "Your boyfriend is glaring at us, but he's stuck dancing with that little old lady." Somebody had