The Shadows of Christmas Past

My neighbors wouldn't be so humane."

    "You were worried that a rancher would take a shot at me?"
    "Of course. That's why I hired you to find—you," she finished with an annoyed grimace. "I suppose you found that really funny?"
    He shook his head. "No. I found it sweet. And useful," he admitted. "I have been using you, but for the very best of reasons. I really am a missing persons—"
    "Werewolf."
    "Which gives me the perfect skills for the job. But it's my being a werewolf you want to know about first. I can feel your curiosity. You want explanations, assurances, background—all that stuff that's supposed to be secret. Stuff that has to be secret," he added. "We only have two choices in dealing with humans that learn it."
    He waited for her to ask what those two choices were.
    "Tell me about werewolves," was all she said.
    She was not paying attention to consequences. Harry didn't understand that, because Marj struck him as the sensible sort. He supposed that learning that the myths and legends of the supernatural world were real could shake even sensible people into reckless behavior.
    She knew he was a real shapeshifter, and had proved that he couldn't make her forget. That left him with those two choices—and he already knew that he wasn't going to kill her.
    He sighed. "Okay. You know all the ancient tribal stories about shamans taking on animal forms?" She nodded. "Well, a long, long time ago those shapeshifting abilities were a well-known and accepted part of the world. I'm talking prehistoric times. We evolved as humans, among humans. We were people with psychic gifts that could also be manifested with the physical ability to take on the form of certain totem animals—wolves, bears, foxes, tigers—just about any mammalian predators. The ability to turn into wolves has always been the most prevalent. But as humans stopped living in small tribes of hunter-gatherers and settled into farming communities, they didn't have any need for predators in their midst anymore. The were-folk were driven out. We ended up banding together into our own tribes and mating only with our own kinds. So, what was originally a rare mutation for a specific psychic gift turned into dominant traits in our offspring."
    "So, you have to be born a werewolf? What about the legends of people being becoming werewolves by being bitten by one?"
    Harry shrugged with discomfort. "Yeah, well, unfortunately that can happen. None of our scientists have been able to figure that out yet. But we've only really had the ability to study the infectious properties of—"
    "Werewolves have scientists?" she interrupted.
    This was not the time to explain to her that most of the real research into the scientific aspects of supernatural phenomena was being carried out by vampires. Information about his own kind would do for the time being.

    "There are werefolk involved in the research. We go to college," he added. "We're not animals, you know."
    Marj laughed. "Don't get your tail in a twist. Go on."
    He laughed, too, delighted to hear such a common werewolf joke from this human woman.
    Of course, it was probably a common sort of joke for a vet who ran an animal shelter, too.
    Either way, it reinforced the connection between them.
    "I wonder," he said, "if you would let me make love to you right now, knowing what I am."
    That wasn't what he'd meant to say, but suddenly it was very important for him to know. He was almost scared to look at her, afraid of seeing disgust openly on her face. Or, even worse, her trying to hide it.
    But she looked at him steadily, thoughtfully. Her emotions rippled around her. He picked up brief, overlaying shades of surprise, curiosity, anger, impatience, and lust. Harry especially liked that deep, rich ribbon of lust that wound through everything else Marj was feeling.
    "So, you still like me," he said. "I can feel it, even if you won't answer my question."
    "Because it's not a relevant question for the moment. It's a matter of trust," she said. "Liking has nothing to do with whether or not I should trust you."
    "I'm very trustworthy."
    "You didn't tell me you were a werewolf." She made a face at her own words. "Okay, if I were a werewolf, I wouldn't spread the news around, either. The world isn't safe for the radically different. I'm not forthcoming about my own—peculiarities."
    "There is nothing at all peculiar about you, lovely Marjorie."
    She waved off his flattery. "Tell me more about werewolves—or should I say