Why a Wolf Cries by Julie Steimle (interesting books to read .TXT) 📕

“I see.” Will sighed. He nodded, peeking to Andrew.

Both of them were thinking similar things. It was a crying shame Audry could not wrap her brain around the possibility of the supernatural—that she was an incurable skeptical naturalist with low tolerance for the weird. If she could step beyond the pragmatic view she had, then possibly Rick might actually find someone to fill that void in his life which made him so damn lonely.

“The SRA would not leave her alone if she knew,” Rick said, as if answering the next question they had to face. “The best protection for her is that she never knows what I am.”

Will frowned, but did not argue. How could he? His sister was the only thing preventing the SRA from threatening his family. Not only was Eve the one of the most powerful demons out there, she was now death incarnate—a reaping angel. As for Andrew, he knew how unscrupulous the SRA were. And unfortunately, he did not have the power to protect every single soul on earth from that organization—though he tried his best. The SRA thought they were the good guys while hurting a lot of people.

“So, we stick to your Dad’s plan and steer clear of the Bruchenhauses,” Andrew concluded, taking them back full circle.

“For their sakes, yeah.” Rick looked to him in earnest, nodding.

As Will cut and tied off the bandage, he thought silently to himself over the heap of new information. He pulled up Rick’s hospital gown, letting Rick know he was done with a pat on his shoulder.

“So… what’s the verdict, doc.” Rick turned with raised eyebrows, cringing in pain as he leaned back into his pillow. “Am I gonna live?”

“Yeah.” Will chuckled, shaking his head at him, sighing. “But you may want to get plastic surgery—or we’re going to have to start calling you Frankenwolf.”

 Rick laughed, but then winced, grabbing his side stitches.

Getting up, Will said, “I’ll get someone to bring in food if they haven’t already.”

“Just—” Rick perked up, flushing at the cheeks.

“I know.” Will smiled. “Your allergies will be kept in mind.”

And he went out of the room again.

Andrew sat alone with Rick, watching his friend who shifted in his bed, all tales told out. Andrew didn’t say anything for a while, but just watched, his eyes still tracking to the FOO on Rick’s forehead.  

“Stop staring,” Rick finally said. “You’re making me nervous.”

But Andrew only scooted closer. “Remember when we were kids and none of this stuff had happened yet? You didn’t know you were a werewolf. I had no clue magic was real, including the witches…. We were just messing around at my place, and my mom one day called you a heartbreaker.” Andrew shook his head and chuckled. “She called us both that, but I knew she mostly meant you. Remember what she said to us?”

Rick nodded, sighing. “Yeah. It was three days before my first full moon. You mom told us to quit being rascals and start being gentlemen.”

Andrew nodded. It had been one of his last good memories of them together when they were still ‘Howie and Abey’, the two biggest hellions in Middleton Village.  He sighed. “You took it to heart.”

Nodding more, Rick shrugged. “Your mom’s cool. And she really cares about you. Besides, she was always nice to my mom despite all those witches who kept harassing her. She never gave into peer pressure to snub her.”

Andrew nodded. He lifted his eyes to Rick. “I know you are trying to be a gentleman to Audry right now. I just wish—”

“Don’t wish her into our world.” Rick heavily shook his head. “It was bad enough brining in your friend Arthur Condie. The transition was really hard on him.”

Nodding, Andrew sighed. But then he asked, “How is Art, by the way? Is he still working with Troy?”

“At a distance,” Rick replied with a wry chuckle. “Troy is still getting over his change to semi-vampirism—which makes him a bit more self-centered than normal, and he is still suffering from his disease of being knee-jerk judgmental as usual.”

“Aren’t we all?” Andrew asked, smirking.

Nodding, Rick smiled back. “Yeah. I guess. But Troy has his own issues and habits, which to be fair, bother Art as well.”

Andrew got a look in his eyes as this subject came up. He hesitated before saying, “Randon mentioned involving Doug Bruchenhaus in Troy’s blood investigations to cure the vampire bite. Considering he’s Audry’s brother, and knowing how you feel about involving her, maybe Art ought to work as a go between to keep Doug from the weird stuff?”

Rick stiffened. His eyes widening, he stared hard with a held breath at Andrew. “Randon wants to involve Audry’s brother in Troy’s research?” Rick shook his head. “No way.”

“I think Doug already agreed to it.” Andrew shrugged, looking to the door. “He’s an expert in blood pathology. And you know Randon has a cat psychology. He does whatever he wants anyway. That whole being a familiar thing does twist his brain that way.”

Rick shot a peevish look toward the door also. “That cat…”

“So, what do you say about using Art as a middleman?” Andrew raised his eyebrows. “And a reminder not to drag normies into ghoulie territory? Art would totally protect him.”

“I don’t want any Bruchenhauses even near—”

“He handled your blood,” Andrew reminded him, his eyes flickering to the smudged FOO on his forehead again.

Rick peeked to him sideways. “I hope he wore gloves.”

Andrew smirked. “He’s a doctor. Of course he did.”

Chapter Twelve

The media was still outside the hospital that night. Not that they had not attempted to sneak in to get visuals on their target, or better still, send someone in with a hidden camera. They did attempt it. But Tom Brown truly was the best security guard a friend could have. 

He caught the guy who somehow took a route through the cafeteria and got a hospital smock and mask, attempting to bring food to the room—though he had no clue which room to go to. Tom caught the gal who was dressed as a candy-striper with a hidden camera when she was following a nurse into recovery. And he was able to stop one guy presenting himself as an orderly, seeking to clean up the rooms. And lastly, he even caught the one lady daring to present herself as a doctor.

He did, however, let through a number of Rick’s friends who showed up with gifts, condolences, and severe chastisement for being an idiot. None of them, by the way, erased the FOO from his forehead—though a few took pictures.

And when they left, the media prodded them with questions.

“You came here to visit H. Richard Deacon. How is he? Did they say what happened?”

Most rolled their eyes and walked past, though one gal who looked like an Amada Seyfried clone with curly blonde hair halted with a wide grin, and she openly answered, “Oh, it was a car accident. Totally bad. I heard the car rolled twice. Luckily his airbag deployed and he only has, like, scratches and stuff from climbing out of the car. Thankfully, no broken bones.”

 “How do you know H. Richard Deacon?” They held up the microphone to her, hoping for more.

“Me?” The gal blinked her long eyelashes and smiled. “Oh, I met him while camping with my family years ago. He is totally into camping. That was probably what he was doing in Yellowstone.”

“Did you get to speak with him?”

“Yes, I did!” She smiled, showing her lovely white and straight teeth. “He was awake and alert and doing great.”

“Do you have a relationship with him?” One eager person asked.

She blushed. “Oh, I wish! But no. Totally friend zoned. He actually had more of a thing for my sister, but… you know. She friend zoned him, which is like, go figure. You know? She’s, like, totally engaged to her true love anyway—and that’s totally going to work out. But, hey, Rick, if you’re watching this, I’m still open.”

And she laughed, trotting away on her heels.

They let her go, amazed. The most amazing thing about it was they had not caught her name.

They only got one other person to talk. And that was Henry who delivered the official statement, and did not deviate. “Howard Deacon the Third lost control of his car on a bend going from Mt. Washburn through the Dunhaven pass toward the canyon. The car rolled twice. However, his air bag deployed, and he was dutifully wearing his seatbelt. But because the door was crushed inward and would not open, while trying to get out of the car, he pushed through a window and cut his back on glass and bent metal. He only has flesh wounds from that, which were promptly and properly treated. And he will recover at home once discharged from the hospital. Thank you for your time.”

It was not satisfying. It was not enough. But it was all they were going to get.

Those still inside connected to the ‘car accident’ as well as the cougar attack, were well sheltered from inspection, but prepared to head back to their hotels. Silvia and Randon were waiting for Audry to take them to the hotel since they could not fly back to New York until the next morning. Skyler was burnt out, but he did not want to leave until his father did. They decided to wait for him while he was making a deal with not just Randon, but also Andrew Cartwright whom Audry finally met up with while in the cafeteria, Andrew intending to bring Rick some dinner.

As they ate, Andrew happily provided Audry with an update on Ivy’s growth while showing pics from his cellphone. He was such a proud father. Randon and Doug resumed their conversation about helping out his good friend Troy on his research. Audry picked up, while overhearing, on the general situation that Troy had an acquired blood condition which was presumed incurable—but he was seeking a cure to a kind of infection, as a pathologist himself. He was organizing a method of treatment as well as seeking a possible surgical cure.

 Andrew eventually left, carrying off dinner to his friend, but Audry watched, wondering where Rick was being kept.

“Down the hall, to the end. Turn right. There’s a man at the door, though,” Doug whispered. “His name is Tom. He claims to know you.”

Audry looked to him, blinking.

Randon winked, then texted on his phone something. She sat there, wondering if it would be wise to go. Tom probably would still stop her.

But then Andrew came back and said to Randon. “You’re right. I didn’t tell him about Art.” He sat down and started the conversation again. He was without the dinner tray, though.

Then Tom came into the cafeteria, just moseying as if something or someone lured him away from his door. He was peering over the pies.

Randon winked again, reminding her of a cat.

Blushing, Audry got up and left her cafeteria tray. She wasn’t really that hungry anyway. None of it was vegan, besides… she told herself.

But she did not go to Maris’s