How The Wolf Lost Her Heart Page 4

  “That’s an Ipod,” explained Mrs. Archer, coming over and examining the object. “I believe it belonged to your great-great Grandmother’s brother. He was also a Morpher; an Eagle I believe. It plays music. Apparently, the story goes that he received it on the day they took the test to determine what their inner animals were. There were three of them in total: our ancestor, her brother and their friend. The things those three got up to! One time, the brother was attacked by a gang of racist thugs. His sister and their friend jumped right in to help him – apparently, their friend knocked out someone’s tooth and your ancestor ended up with a permanent bald spot because one of the thugs took a chunk of her hair out; it’s said that she had to continually hide it with fake hair or hats!”

  Skye had heard many stories of what her ancestor used to do while growing up and the truth was that she never grew tired of the tales. Though there were times where she felt her ability to morph was more of a burden than a blessing, she loved to hear of the adventures that her ancestor had. Compared to her own life, which was so mundane, and the desire she felt for more excitement (hence her ambition to work with endangered animals), the lives of those from the past often left her in awe and longing.

  “Hey, there’s a photo album here.”

  Reaching down, she picked up a very dusty photo album and opened it in great curiosity. The first photo was of three teenagers, two girls and a boy. The first girl was undoubtedly her ancestor; she could tell by the mane of colourful hair and large, fierce eyes. Exactly how her mother had described her when she recanted the stories. The other girl must have been her friend, shorter and with a kind look about her. The boy had to be her other relative, her ancestor’s brother. They both shared slight similarities, but his features were a lot sharper and he looked more relaxed than his sister. Skye continued to flip through the pictures, fascinated by this discovery and finally seeing a physical form of her ancestors, but it was the last picture that really intrigued her.

  It was a picture of her great-great Grandmother and an unknown boy. But the striking thing about this boy was that he looked almost exactly like Raphael. Apart from the fact that the boy in the photograph had brown hair tied in a ponytail and a slightly longer face, he could easily have been Raphael’s double. In the photograph, her ancestor’s fierce look was absent for once; there was something mysterious and tranquil about her expression and a slight smile hovered about her lips. The boy was also smiling and the shoulders of the two were touching.

  “Mum, who’s that?”

  Mrs. Archer looked closely at the photograph her daughter was pointing to.

  “Hmmm, I have no idea. Her friend perhaps? Hold on … he looks a lot like your boyfriend!”

  “Yes, he does,” Skye murmured, not bothering to correct her mother on the ‘boyfriend’ part.

  “Perhaps they are related?” suggested Mrs. Archer. “After all, you said that Raphael is a Morpher too. Perhaps this is a relation of his, one that your great-great Grandmother met from the experiment. Wouldn’t it be fascinating to find out?”

  They took a break for lunch and, true to her promise, Mrs. Archer bought her daughter a 20oz rump steak from the local butchers and served it raw just the way she liked it, along with crunchy salad and French bread. They discussed some more about Skye’s ancestor and the adventures she had experienced before continuing with the attic and finally finishing at about 2pm.

  “Now have you decided what you’re going to wear for later?” said Mrs. Archer, a big beam on her face.

  “Mum, don’t start.”

  “I’m just saying, dear! You have a lovely figure so make the most of it while you’re still young. Now, I’m going out this evening, too. I want you to make sure you’re not coming home late; if you are, tag me and I will pick you up. Was it Notting Hill that your boyfriend invited you to? That’s a relief, at least. It’s one of the safest areas in London. I don’t want you in a situation like you were in the other day! Though of course if you are with Raphael, I’m sure you will be fine! What a wonderful young gentleman that boy is!”

  Skye eventually managed to escape her mother’s glowing reviews about Raphael Renzo and she retreated to her room, deciding to spend a couple of hours catching up on some well-needed sleep. Two hours later, she was woken by the sound of her alarm. Groggy-eyed and wishing she could just go back to sleep, she did the whole growling and stretching thing before eventually climbing out of bed and getting ready for her meeting (she refused to acknowledge it as a date) with Raphael.

  What was she going to wear? That was the question. Much as she would have loved to admit to herself that she really didn’t care if she looked nice that evening or not, the honest truth was that she did care; the fact that she had been so bothered this morning when Raphael had seen her in her bed-ridden state had been an obvious indication of her concern. This rather confused her, as she had been continuously telling herself (and others) that she didn’t find him attractive in the slightest. She wasn’t really interested in him, was she? Of course not! He certainly wasn’t interested in her, not like that. And she definitely wasn’t going to suffer the humiliation of unrequited feelings just in case she did start to find herself becoming attracted to him!

  He only wants to know more about the morphing, nothing else!

  She scolded herself for getting so worked up about the whole thing and, in the end, opted for leggings, furry knee-high boots, a long orange top and her black biker jacket, which was her usual attire. At least this way it didn’t look like she was trying to impress him and, at the same time, she could still come across as relatively stylish, even if it was a rather unorthodox way of dressing. Brushing her hair into a bushy mane (another thing that she and her great-great Grandmother had in common) she took one last look at herself in the mirror, said goodbye to her mother and left the house, not sure why her heart was thumping unusually fast beneath her chest and vaguely wondering what exactly it was he wanted to discuss with her.

  Chapter Four

  “You found it alright then? I’m glad you’re here, I thought you weren’t going to show up because of your cold.”

  Skye looked up to see Raphael who had just arrived through the door of Burt’s Bubble Tea, a quaint little place situated right on the corner of Notting Hill Meadows. There was soft, soothing Chinese music playing in the background. It had taken her two buses to get there and, due to her obsession with time, she had arrived five minutes before five.

  “Er … hi. Yeah, I’m feeling better now.”

  “Mr Renzo,” smiled a waiter, who rushed over and pulled up a chair for Raphael. Raphael thanked him and the waiter placed a couple of menus before them, bowing slightly and then leaving.

  Skye raised her eyebrows.

  “Five star treatment for you, huh?”

  Raphael shrugged.

  “My dad helped to fund the place. Bert and my dad go way back; my dad’s a bit like you, really. Likes his tea. The two of them thought it would be a great idea to open up a little tea shop. You ever tried bubble tea before?”

  “No …”

  “Hey, Alfred!” called Raphael to the waiter who had pulled up his chair. “Bring us a couple of your finest bubble teas, thanks!”

  He turned to Skye with a grin,

  “Wait 'til you try this. It’s delicious. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried bubble tea.”

  Skye smiled slightly before clearing her throat.

  “So”, she said, picking up the menu and scanning through it, “what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  Raphael shrugged.

  “Well, nothing specific. Just want to get to know you a bit better. Find out more about your morphing; for example, what animal are you?”

  “I’m a wolf,” said Skye.

  Raphael’s eyes lightened up.

  “A wolf? That’s a great animal to be. Especially as they’ve been wiped out in this country now. How long have you been able to transform?”

  “Since I was about three.”

&
nbsp; “You started earlier than me. I was able to transform from about the age of seven. Guess which animal I am?”

  “Erm … well judging by what those thugs said, some kind of cat?”

  “Those idiots … Yeah. I’m a tiger. So was my great-great Grandfather. He was the one who took part in the experiment.”

  Remembering the picture she had found in the attic, Skye enquired curiously,

  “What was he like? I mean, have your parents ever told you stories about him?”

  Raphael nodded.

  “Yep. His name was Janus – he looked a lot like me, judging by the portraits we have of him in our hall. He was a very powerful man; it’s because of him that we’re so well-off. He came from a place called Chiswick which isn't too far from here; back in the day, it was quite a populated town. Now it’s mainly just fields and wasteland. Anyway, he lived there with his brother and he more or less built an empire over the years. He was on the front page of every newspaper – you know, back when newspapers actually existed and they weren’t abolished like they are now. He had to keep his morphing ability a secret though. They all did apparently.”

  “So then your ancestor got married and built your house in Notting Hill?”

  “Something like that. Well, there’s a couple of stories surrounding his personal life. Apparently, there was a girl he loved, but they couldn’t be together. I’m not sure why. There were even rumours that she was one of the Morphers from the experiment, too, but I’m not sure how much truth there is in that. Then he met my great-great Grandmother and they had a few kids. He died quite young though … In his forties.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  The waiter came over with two tall glasses of bubble tea at that moment and placed them in front of the couple.

  “Will you and the lady be ordering food, Sir?” asked the waiter.

  “Check out the menu,” said Raphael, nodding to Skye. “The food is quite nice here. You hungry?”

  “Do they serve steak?” said Skye, peering at the menu.

  Raphael grinned.

  “You too? Let me guess, you like it raw? Hey, Alfred. You have any steak?”

  “We have sandwich steak, Sir.”

  “Any chance we could get a few of those without the bread?”

  “Certainly, Sir. How would you like it cooked?”

  “Raw.”

  Skye cleared her throat.

  “I don’t actually eat my meat raw in public,” she said in a low voice so the waiter couldn’t hear.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I just don’t like people asking questions. It’s not exactly common to order raw steak …”

  “Why do you care what people think? Alfred, a few raw steaks please. Two separate plates. Thanks.”

  The waiter bowed and scurried off. Skye stayed quiet, not knowing quite what to say. A part of her was annoyed that he had taken charge of her decision like that and gone against her wishes, but another more hidden part felt strangely liberated and, for the first time, she felt a sense of real camaraderie with someone – even if it was just over a slab of raw meat. This connection she felt with him made her feel rather uncomfortable and confused, so she sipped away on her bubble tea and focussed on the relaxing Chinese music which was emitting gentle waterfall sounds.

  “So,” said Raphael, taking a sip of his own bubble tea and running a hand through his shoulder-length hair, “where do you live anyway? I would have come to get you if you weren’t so certain you wanted to take the bus.”

  “In Brentfordshire. No, it’s OK – I was always told not to get into cars with strangers.”

  “Strangers? Come on, I’m hardly a stranger!”

  “Well, to me you are. I barely know you.”

  “You know me well enough to come out for coffee with me … or rather, bubble tea.”

  “Only because you kept pestering.”

  She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but there seemed to be a strange look behind Raphael’s eyes, though she couldn’t quite interpret what it was.

  “I guess you’re wishing you didn’t come?”

  “I didn’t say that. To be honest, this bubble tea is amazing.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I thought you might.”

  “Really? What made you think that?”

  “Well, you seem to be a lot like me. A Morpher, you like your meat raw, quite stubborn and hard-headed. I figured you’d like bubble tea too.”

  “Stubborn and hard-headed? Me? I am anything but!”

  Raphael chuckled.

  “Yeah … right. First word I think of when I think of you is ‘stubborn’. It took a lot of effort to convince you to come out with me at all. Secondly, you completely deny that I saved you –”

  “Well, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You really didn’t,” Skye glared. “One more second and I would have switched into a wolf.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know that, did I? I don’t know why you don’t just admit it …”

  “Because it’s not true. Anyway, where’s the bathroom?” she said, hastily changing the subject. The topic of being saved always made her feel highly uncomfortable. She knew why, but she wasn’t about to discuss it with this guy.

  Raphael pointed to the left and she rose from her seat, entering the ladies room. She opened one of the cubicles and just sat there for a while, wondering what was happening. She hardly knew this person and yet he was having an almost profound effect on her; she was having a conversation with him that she'd not had with anyone before and it was very unnerving. Yet, while this disturbed her, there was something jittery in the pit of her stomach that felt endeared – thrilled almost. To think that she could actually discuss her morphing ability with him. It was different talking to Daphne or her mother about it; they were not Morphers and, much as they tried to understand (bless them) they could never quite relate. But Raphael could – what’s more, he didn’t seem at all abashed about being a Morpher. He seemed to stroll around, quite freely admitting it. That was something that Skye did not feel able to do. And just now, when Raphael was light-heartedly teasing her about being saved, it almost opened up an old wound that she had worked so hard to bury over the years …

  The door of the bathroom swung open and several high-heeled footsteps entered. Two female voices could be heard.

  “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe he’s here!”

  “Tell me about it, Lila. It gives me the perfect opportunity to work on him; I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since Sir Meplin’s dinner party a week ago.”

  “How did it go at the actual dinner party?”

  “Not too bad. We spoke for a while. He was definitely checking me out. I can always tell when a guy’s into me.”

  “Well, let’s face it, who isn’t into you? You weren’t voted ‘Autumn University Queen’ for nothing.”

  “True. Plus, I doubt anyone else stands a chance with him. We make the perfect couple. His father adores me too. Lord Renzo plays golf with my own father so you can imagine he’d be very happy about a match between us.”

  Skye’s eyebrows flew into her hair. The girls, whoever they were, were talking about Raphael. One of them clearly fancied him … and according to her, he liked her, too. With a cough and feeling rather uncomfortable, she opened the door and made her way towards the sink.

  “Excuse me,” she muttered, as the girls fell quiet. One of them, a stunning blonde girl with large blue eyes and a trim, slender figure in a tight blue dress with very high kitten heels, shot her friend – who was of similar appearance except she was a brunette – a smirking look, which Skye didn’t fail to notice. She had no doubt that they were secretly sniggering at her outfit which, while it was to Skye’s personal taste, did not fit in with the current fashion trend. Skye washed her hands quickly, avoiding their gaze. She left the bathroom, not missing the shriek of laughter and loud whisper of, “Did you see what she was wearing?” on her way out. She burned inside. She had never been
fond of such girls and they didn’t like her either; they were the same narcissistic, popular girls from school who expected everyone to act the same, dress the same, speak the same and, above all, worship them. Skye had always been more of a rebel and had resented such sheep-like behaviour. It seemed that, even after school, it was impossible to get away from them.

  She slumped back into her seat opposite Raphael, not speaking.

  “You were gone a while,” he said. “You alright?”

  “Erm, yeah, fine,” Skye said, staring at her empty glass of bubble tea. “You know, I should probably get going …”

  “What? But we haven’t even been here an hour. And the steaks are on their way. Come on, stay a bit longer. You sure you’re alright?”

  His green eyes were alight with concern.

  “Yes … I’m fine, really.”

  “Raph!”

  It was the girl in the tight blue dress, her friend trailing along behind her. With one superior, rather disbelieving look towards Skye, she flounced over and placed a hand on Raphael’s shoulder, posing in a rather provocative manner.

  “Fancy seeing you here!” she said, with a great flick of her silky long blonde hair.

  “Oh – hey Sasha,” said Raphael, looking up at the girl.

  “You know my friend, Lila?” said Sasha sweetly.

  “Don’t think we’ve met?”

  “We’ve met twice before,” said Lila with a giggle. “Once at Justine’s birthday; the other at the Christmas party.”

  “Oh right, of course – sorry.”

  “Is this your friend?” said Sasha, smiling at Skye, though her eyes betrayed a look of disdain.

  “Yes – this is my friend, Skye.”

  “Sooo nice to meet you, Skye,” simpered Sasha. “And can I just say, I love your boots!”

  But Skye remained stony-faced, not prepared to put on any fake airs. She couldn’t believe the audacity of this girl, whom she had already felt a strong dislike towards in the bathroom, and she could feel the anger bubbling inside her. She looked downwards just in case her emotions should betray themselves in physical form.