Chapter 2: Midnight

Will had trouble sleeping that night. It had nothing to do with the call he'd had with Michael to warn him of their visit, and it wasn't even the excitement his daughter had shown at the thought of getting to properly meet her new friend. Both of them had expressed joy and determination that unsettled Will's nerves, but that wasn't the reason why he was tossing and turning, unable to close his eyes.

Eyes. That's what he remembered from his night when Clara pounced on him early the next morning to wake him up. The silver-tinged eyes of the wolf that glared at him when he tried to address his wounds. The eyes that gleamed with the same determination Clara and Mike had spoken with. The eyes that looked at Clara's crying face with a softness that hadn't matched up with any of the wounds that littered his body.

Will knew that in allowing Clara to take home the wolf, Will would also have to help take care of him. Buy him food, perhaps play with him if Clare demanded he do so, but that wasn't what Will felt sick about.

It was the wolf.

Will couldn't easily put what he had felt into words, but the wolf seemed to possess this frightening intelligence even in the simple glares and glances that he threw at Will. One that no wolf could ever hope to mimic. So why was Will allowing his daughter to bring home such a beast that might potentially become a danger to them?

That was a question he didn't know the answer to.

When Clara hopped and hopped on Will's bed giggling and calling for Daddy to wake up, Will was dazed with uncertainty. He could call all of this off—he could still protect the family he had left. All he had to do is call Michael and cancel the visit and to tell Clara they couldn't keep the wolf after all. He could come up with something. Some kind of excuse.

But Will dreaded the look of sadness that would overwhelm his daughter if he told her. After all, she didn't know the dangers he sensed from that wolf. She didn't know what she was getting herself into. She just wanted a friend.

Clara fell down on top of Will and forced a grunt from him. She giggled at his disheveled appearance, and Will couldn't help but smile a little. "It's nine o'clock, Daddy!" she informed him. He blinked in surprise—he'd never slept in so late before. "Time to get up! You promised!"

"Then you better get off, hun," Will said immediately. "I can't get ready with a heavy Clare on my chest."

Clara jumped off in a heartbeat, squealing with excitement.

Temporarily, Will was able to forget about the possible danger and just enjoy how happy his daughter looked. He was able to get up and get ready after he told the girl to get her stuff together and eat some breakfast—"I already have, Daddy! It's not my fault you're so slow!"—and soon he was calling Mike to warn him that they would be there within the hour. After a small breakfast, they were out the door.

And the fear began to settle back in.

~ΨΩΨ~

"I'm glad you're actually letting Clare bring him home," Mike said as he led the two of them into his home. It was smaller than Will's mansion, and by comparison it was much cozier. If it hadn't smelled like wet animal fur, Will might have offered his brother a trade. Let Mike be the favorite son for once.

Clara stooped to pet some young kittens, and Will watched her as he replied to his brother. "She told me she just wanted to watch over him until he had recovered. I supposed that I could deal with an animal temporarily."

Michael snorted in amusement, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Is that right?" he said. He grinned sideways at Will. "Always a sucker for tears, aren't you?"

Will scrunched up his nose and glared.

Mike immediately raised his hands in surrender. "I get it, I get it," he said, laughter clear in his voice. He turned his attention to his niece. "Clare, darling, your patient is this way!"

Clara looked up from the kittens and returned to them without much remorse. She bounded ahead in the direction Michael pointed to, and the two men had no choice but to follow her.

"Look," Michael said once Clara was once again out of earshot. He had a thoughtful look on his face. "I understand that what you're doing must pain you. I get that. And that's why I'm congratulating you here."

"Is that what this is?" Will muttered.

"So, just hear me out," he said. "I know you're a bit sensitive when it comes to money—why you are, though, I have no clue. Dad gave you that mansion for a reason. You have loads of the stuff."

"Get to the point, Michael."

"Right. So, this is concerning caring for the wolf," a strange look passed over his face before settling on an amused expression. "He won't eat dog food."

Will frowned.

Michael nodded. "Yeah. Probably a thing from being wild. The best I could do for him was some leftover chicken and steak. Even then he seemed like he was being forced to eat."

Will sighed. Of course the wolf would have issues. He couldn't get off easy with anything, could he? Like a normal dog or something. He was suddenly regretting turning down Clara's other adopted pets. At least they could survive on cheap food. "I'll deal with it," he said with difficulty. "It's only temporary."

Mike nodded again.

Clara was bouncing on her toes when they finally caught up with her, facing them with an impatient look on her face.

"Easy, tiger," Mike said when he saw her expression. "He's just in the room over here. I had to separate him from the other animals for precautionary reasons. Oh, also." Michael turned back to Will. "I've given him a few customary vaccinations. Rabies, diseases, worms, parasites…all of the like. But he's not fixed. Keep that in mind if you're going to let him roam free."

Will's mouth felt sealed shut by some invisible force. He barely managed to nod at his brother's words.

Thankfully Michael had already turned back to Clara, barely acknowledging Will's nod. "Come on, Clare," he told her cheerfully. "Let's go see how your friend is doing."

They disappeared through the door, leaving Will to follow behind at a slower pace. He was already starting to regret his decision—even though he wasn't really given much of a choice.

Will stopped in the doorway, and his eyes locked on the wolf.

Well, to call him a "wolf" now would be a bit of an overstatement. He was larger than the average dog with fur the color of midnight and piercing eyes just a few shades lighter than his fur, but other than that the wolf looked no more intimidating than a kitten. Though, that might've had something to do with the white cone around his neck.

As though the wolf had heard Will's thoughts, he reached up with a hind paw and scratched at the plastic angrily, straining to remove it. His tail was tucked between his legs and his ears were folded flat against his head, clear body language that said: get this off of me or kill me now.

Will was concerned that the wolf might snap at Clara if she got too close, but he merely grumbled as the girl kneeled beside him, his head held low.

"Hi Ghosty," Clara said, smiling at the wolf. "Are you feeling better?"

As answer, the wolf scratched at his cone again.

Clara turned to Michael. "Why does he have a cone on, Uncle Mike?" she asked, as though she hadn't noticed it until the wolf had pointed it out.

"It's to make sure he doesn't lick his wounds," Mike answered. "Not all animals do it, but it's best not to take that chance. He might break the stitches closing his wounds if he could reach them."

Clara frowned and looked at Will. "How long will he need the cone?"

Will honestly had no clue, but Michael stepped in and saved the day. "A week more at least."

The wolf grumbled some more.

Clara looked back at Michael. "If he won't lick his wounds, then could you take it off?"

Michael blinked, surprised at the request. "Uh, I suppose so? But it's usually just safest to let them wear it, whether they'll lick themselves or not. It's in his best interests, Clare."

The wolf scratched the cone.

"He wants it off," Clara translated the wolf's actions.

"All animals do," Mike replied.

Clara's eyes turned pleading. "If you take it off while we're here and he doesn't lick himself, could he perhaps not have to wear it?"

Michael seemed to be as immune to Clara's begging as Will was. He sighed, defeated. "He's your friend, I guess," he mumbled. "Just understand that if he does lick his wounds, he'll need the cone so he doesn't break the stitches."

Clara nodded in understanding, and Michael walked over and undid the wolf's cone, freeing him. With it gone, Will noticed a collar and leash binding the wolf to a small area—probably also to keep the wolf from straining the stitches. If Clara was also upset about the leash, she didn't let on.

The wolf stretched slowly and relaxed his posture, his ears pricking up at Clara. She talked to him and sat beside him on the doggy bed he was confined to, her fingers combing through the uninjured areas of fur of his neck. The wolf let her, his eyelids sliding closed until they were half-lidded.

She told him about how she saw him walking along the woods near her window, and how she noticed his limping and grew concerned. How she wrote Judith a note and went out to try and help him. And how, after they saved him, she had lost a lot of sleep worrying about him. At that point Will had become stunned by his daughter—he had no clue that she had been so upset at the prospect of not being able to see the wolf recover, even for a couple of days.

The wolf seemed to listen intently, watching Clara as she began to speak energetically with her hands, gesturing far and wide along with the stories she told about telling her friends all about "Ghosty". He did not act alarmed by any of the sudden movements she made. In fact, he didn't even blink whenever a hand flew close to his face. He just sat there, tall and attentive. Silent.

"I was scared that Daddy wasn't going to let me take you home," she admitted, the tone of her voice hinting that her monologue was nearing its end. Her eyes flickered to her father, who was still standing in the doorway. "Um, I had to make sure it was only temporary, though. You probably have a family out there somewhere, but I'm glad Daddy is letting me be your friend for at least a little while. After Mommy went away, he never let me have a friend at home."

Will stood shock-still. Was Clara talking about her mother to the wolf?

To make matters even worse, the wolf turned his head to Will. The man felt cold chills running down his spine—those eyes. They were still intelligent. Calm. Calculating. Too human-like for a wolf. A stone of dread settled at the base of Will's gut, making him feel nauseated.

A sigh shuddered down the wolf's flanks. He nosed Clara's shoulder.

Clara had stopped talking, frozen with guilt. At the gentle touch she shook herself off and brightened again. She tried to, at least. "Anyway," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "I hope we can be good friends until you have to go home. Is that okay, Ghosty?"

The wolf made another soft grunt in response, his ear twitching.

Clara's smile turned genuine. She petted the wolf's midnight fur and turned to her father. "When can we take him home, Daddy?"

Will exchanged looks with Michael. "We probably should let Uncle Mike hold onto him for a couple more days, Clare," he said. His gut twisted at the sad look he received. "You know, to make sure that, ah, Ghosty won't hurt himself again so soon after his accident. How does that sound, Mike?"

Michael's lips were twisted up in an odd way. Will would have found the look funny under any other circumstances. But not then.

"I'm not entirely certain," Michael admitted. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If I were to be completely honest with you, Will, the wolf has been acting much tamer now than he was when he first awoke. Meaning Clara's time with him seems to be productive for him. It might actually be a good idea to take him home now, and let you call me if any problems come up."

Will frowned. "What do you mean, tamer?"

Mike smiled. "Meaning the poor devil was angry as Hades when he found himself stitched up, bound to a small area with a cone on, and all alone. I have a lot of animals here and at work to care for, Will, just as you do with people at the hospital. Maybe if he has someone like Clara to be home for longer and just sit with him and talk to him, then he might be able to stay complacent enough for him to heal."

Will looked at the wolf only to find him already looking right at him. His dark eyes bore right through the man, seeming to agree with Michael's statement. Though calm, Will could picture the wolf thinking, get me the hell out of here.

Clara was also looking at Will. "Can we please, Daddy?" she pleaded. "Can we take him home?"

Will looked from Clara to Michael to the wolf. It looked like he didn't have a choice. Again.

He exhaled slowly. "…Alright. We can take him home."

The wolf cocked his head at Clara's squeal of joy. She bounded over to Will and slung her arms around his waist in a tight bear hug. "Thank you, Daddy! Thank you!"

Will laughed weakly and patted her head. "Of course, Clare."

Clara darted to Michael and dragged him to the wolf. "Come on, Uncle Mike! Come on!"

Michael unwrapped the leash and handed it to Clara at her demanding look. Her uncle seemed concerned about her safety, but the wolf moved too stiffly to handle walking fast enough to drag her along. He could only push himself for a few steps before his ears cocked back against his head, revealing his annoyance and pain.

Will stepped aside to let them pass, and the wolf looked up at him for a long moment, already trying to catch his breath. He pressed his nose against Will's knee and eased onward with Clara. The touch tingled even through Will's jeans.

Will and Mike exchanged wary looks, and they followed Clara and the limping wolf with midnight fur.