The Wolves

It was 1947. Giacomina had gotten little sleep for months. The once warm and light oak skin grew dull and lifeless. Her normally dark, luscious curls became thinner, and her body did the same. She no longer painted, no longer read, and rarely even spoke. At just twenty, she seemed to care for nothing at all.

Her brother had returned from the war severely wounded, in body and mind. He had terrible fits in the night and could no longer do much for himself in the day, and the remedies that seemed to help became expensive very quickly. Giacomina's father worked almost constantly, as she and her mother at home cared for her brother.

It was simply too much.

Her parents decided it best for her to stay with her cousin's widow Eloisa for a while, and Giacomina made no attempt to protest as they made the arrangements. Perhaps it was just what she needed. After all, she'd always cared for Eloisa.

She told her family she loved them, and made the journey from her home in Florence to the Sicilian countryside.

--------

"Ah, Giacomina! Come in, come in!"

Eloisa greeted her in Sicilian, but quickly switched to the common Italian. At least Pietro wasn't there to scold Giacomina for forgetting her roots.

No, that was a terrible thing to think! And in his own home, too.

Eloisa gave her kisses and a strong embrace, then grabbed the twenty-year-old's bags in a single hand--the very same bags Giacomina had lugged one at a time from the car to the front of the door--and ran up the stairs, turning again to Giacomina at the top.

"You're coming, aren't you? Shoes are in the same place."

The old house of wood and stone seemed somehow bigger on the inside, even more than Giacomina remembered. Aside from the hint of dust and spiders here and there, it was immaculate. Everything was neater, and much quieter, without him.

It only made sense, yet she couldn't help but remember the stories he used to tell her about the place. Things that crept about in the night, tunnels hidden beneath the house, beasts that bite.

But those were just stories.

Giacomina took a breath and removed her shoes, placing them not far from the door in that same little stone shelf they were always kept, and started for the stairs.

Apparently, Eloisa took this as a sign to continue, and was out of sight until Giacomina reached the top and discovered her at the end of a hall.

Eloisa had the same warm, honey-oak skin she always had, and shining, well-defined black curls that reached just below the chin. Even her simple, berry dress seemed crafted by the hands of God when upon that hourglass figure.

Giacomina must've truly become lifeless. Even as she couldn't see herself, the starkness of the contrast crept into her very soul.

"Uh, thank you. For letting me stay."

Eloisa waved her off. "You're family."

Her cousin's widow reached Giacomina's hand, and gently tugged her to the room in which she'd be staying. Plenty was stated when they got there--where different rooms in the house were and a host of other details Giacomina already knew. But then, there was Reine.

A woman of deep, russet skin and fluffy, black hair, curls tight and immense, tied back. She wore a light robe.

Reine happened to walk near and Eloisa was quick to introduce her.

Apparently, she was a friend who'd been staying there for a while, though Giacomina caught herself glaring at Eloisa's unusual hand movements as she spoke.

Then Eloisa's brows went up.

"Oh! She can't hear. This is how she speaks." Eloisa continued to gesture.

Reine made her own movements, and Eloisa spoke.

"She says it's very nice to meet you."

"Well, it's nice to meet her--it's nice to meet you too."

Eloisa translated, or at least, Giacomina assumed she was translating, and Reine ended with a polite smile and a vaguely awkward departure.

Giacomina turned to her host.

"...I'll admit, I'm a bit surprised that your friend is, uh--"

"French, I know. But you know me. Reine and I are more alike than we are different."

Eloisa smiled and continued.

"Let's get you some food, and then you'll join me in painting, won't you? Animals, I assume?"

She did love painting animals. It was a passion she and her cousin had had in common.

"Uh, yes. Yes, of course."

That was how it began. She'd eat with the women, she'd paint, she'd read aloud to Eloisa; things seemed to improve, though the nights were different in that house. Perhaps it was because she could finally sleep, which was certainly a relief. Perhaps that was even why she had such strange dreams. Perhaps it was those silly stories her cousin used to tell her.

Perhaps it was nothing. Surely, it was nothing.

--------

It was a crisp and raining night, a little under a month into her stay. Giacomina had been saying the first Hail Mary before bed, her hair braided, pale nightgown on, and cross around her neck, same as usual.

Shattering glass shot through the house.

Then a scream.

The young woman jumped up, palms on her mouth. With shaky breaths through the nose, she slowly lowered her hands.

Giacomina frantically scanned the room.

The paperweight.

She rushed to grab it, and carefully crept out the door, internally praying there wasn't a murderer or rapist about the place.

"Eloisa?" she whispered.

"...Eloisa?"

The house seemed a great deal bigger than it ever had in the calm daylight as she tip-toed over creaking wood in darkness--darkness more extreme than she anticipated, that was certain.

Attempting to navigate a house she no longer knew, all she could do was hold tight the paperweight, and her cross tighter still, moving with notable slowness.

A tinge of light came from beneath a door.

"Eloisa?"

Whimpers were her only response.

"Are you all right?"

A groan started, and seemed to be quickly muffled.

"Eloisa?!"

She grasped the knob and turned it fast, whipping through the doorway.

The women's heads jerked in her direction, eyes an unnatural, flickering glow.

Giacomina froze.

Eloisa and Reine were hardly dressed, embracing on the bed, and staring right at her with eyes that flowed between their normal, and absolutely frightening state.

Nobody moved.

She should run. She should apologize and close the door behind her. She should go back to bed and forget about it. She should see a doctor. She should scream. She should try to wake up from whatever this was. She should...

All she did was stare.

But even with those ever-changing eyes, Eloisa didn't look like a monster. She seemed all too like herself for that. Even as those deep and dark eyes were met with specks of gold and silver flickering throughout, they were familiar. They were as they should be.

And Reine. Giacomina had only just met the woman a few weeks ago, but the glow of her russet skin and the tight kink of her own black, tied-back hair seemed somehow right.

"I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I--" Giacomina turned for the door.

"Are you okay?"

Eloisa's voice was certainly the same, gentle sound it'd always been.

"Yes."

The twenty-year-old did not turn to face her, but she had stopped.

"Did you... hear anything?" Eloisa asked.

What could she possibly have heard that would've made a difference?

...what could she possibly have heard?

"Giacomina?"

Giacomina jumped at Eloisa's voice practically creeping down her neck. She turned to her, shaking and trying to look only at her face, though it was clear Eloisa had grabbed a small sheet and wrapped it around her hourglass form.

Eloisa's eyes became more like that of an animal, some wild beast that had cornered her very soul. But the hands that rose and gently held Giacomina's face were soft. Kind.

"You know me."

That's all she'd said, and however it happened, Giacomina had put the paperweight down, and their faces were a lips' distance apart.

They shared the same air, breathing warmly through the noses, which touched ever so slightly. Giacomina found her hands caressing the dark curls. Her eyes closed and their lips met.

...what was she doing?

The question vanished quick as it appeared; it hadn't mattered at all.

Eloisa carefully drew away from her, turning to the French woman who'd been watching from the bed. The former moved her hands and arms in rapid motion.

Reine signed in response and gave a wink.

The two giggled, Reine's seeming a little off to Giacomina, but pleasant nonetheless.

Eloisa turned back to Giacomina.

"We have an idea. If you'd like to... well, three is better than two for long nights."

"Yes," Giacomina said, even though she wasn't sure what she was agreeing to. It seemed somehow right.

The women helped Giacomina out of her nightgown. She'd never thought of the fabric as heavy before, but upon its removal, a deep sigh escaped her, and soon, she was on her back in the center of Eloisa's bed, completely naked.

Eloisa and Reine trailed their mouths down either side of her body, going back and forth between kisses and playful bites.

The vice was unimaginable! How fortunate that she didn't have to imagine.

Reine would press her plump lips just beneath Giacomina's earlobe as Eloisa's teeth would graze the other side and gently pull at the skin before giving a release both relieving and wanting more. Then, they'd go slightly lower where Reine would give her own bite, and Eloisa her kiss.

Giacomina held her breath in sets, each time giving shuddering gasps after however long. She hadn't even meant to, but she didn't mind.

Instead, the young woman allowed her palms to drift over each woman's hair, even softer than she'd imagined. She rested hands upon their heads as they continued moving downward, teasing at her collarbone to the tops of her breasts.

The cool night grew hot as Giacomina's legs spread, the space between them wet and soft as silk.

Reine's fingers gave a spidery crawl toward the intimate curls. Giacomina looked up at her, Reine's hair made wilder, her wide nose darker, more upturned than before. Her eyes were now a consistent deep honey shade, and looked as though they were lined with black.

The two leaned in close and gave a soft, tender kiss as Reine's fingers gently circled around the young woman's clit.

Giacomina tightened at the touch, body so hot and wet that her slickness slid down to the base of her anus.

Eloisa's tongue made its way downward, flicking on Giacomina's clitoris, and Reine soon did the same.

Their tongues pressed against each other on that clit, and their hands moved to pleasure the other as they did so.

The twenty-year-old had never felt quite like this before. This warmth washed over her, her body quivering at its presence, as though she released her very dreams into the atmosphere.

She gripped her cross in one hand, and caressed Eloisa's black curls with the other, finding pointed ears at the top of her head,

Intense heat surged through her as moans of the other women turned to howls.

Giacomina couldn't hold back her squeals and squeaks. She pillowed her face as her core repeatedly clenched and unclenched, her sex widening and narrowing.

She ignored the slight cramping of her thighs, even the hands that grew claws and soft, padded palms that rested against them.

This. This was everything.

She was capable of feeling this way? The whole time?!

It was simply too much.

Giacomina threw the pillow aside and grabbed the women.

"It's too much--I--"

She gasped. They were far less human than before.

"Eloisa? Reine?"

Giacomina looked between the two creatures, mouth agape. They were changing rapidly then, fur growing much thicker before her eyes, and they were huge.

Wolves.

They were wolves. And they were right in front of her.

The young woman held her cross tight.

"You still recognize me, don't you?"

It was more of a plea than a question.

But the two creatures just looked at each other, and pawed at a crack in the floorboards.

It opened.

The wolves walked down a set of stairs into darkness, and the wood snapped shut behind them.

Giacomina stayed still.

She stayed still.

Still.

Still.

...still.

And it occurred to her.

The tunnels.

--------

After some time, she left the bed, narrowly avoiding stepping on a pile of broken glass next to the bed. It'd been a picture frame of Pietro. How bittersweet it was to see his smile.

...he likely wouldn't be too happy with her right now. Perhaps he even knew.

She picked her nightgown off the floor and tried again navigating the strange house, now back to her room. This night would take a great many Hail Marys.

At least she knew what animal to paint next.