Underdogs

By Geonn Cannon

Ariadne Willow is a private investigator with a secret weapon. She's a canidae, a person with the ability to transform into a wolf at will. Using her heightened senses to track and her shapeshifting to follow people without being seen, she's made a decent business for herself and her associate Dale Frye. When one of the richest women in Seattle wishes to hire her, Ari and Dale think their ship has finally come in. All Ari has to do is observe the client's tabloid-friendly daughter, fresh out of rehab, and confirm that she's truly clean.
Ari thinks the case will be a piece of cake, but a moment of shocking violence changes everything. Soon Ari finds herself backed into a corner with no way out, forced to either run or risk losing everything she holds dear by fighting an enemy with unlimited power and resources. With Dale refusing to leave her side, Ari decides to make a stand to remind her enemies that there's only one rule in betting...
Always bet on the underdogs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Supposed Crimes, LLC
• Release date: Apr 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781938108020

Geonn Cannon

Geonn Cannon was born in a barn and raised to know better than that. He was born and raised in Oklahoma where he’s been enslaved by a series of cats, dogs, two birds and one unexpected turtle. He’s spent his entire life creating stories but only became serious about it when he realized it was a talent that could impress girls. Learning to write well was easier than learning to juggle, so a career was underway. His high school years were spent writing stories among a small group of friends and reading whatever books he could get his hands on.Geonn was inspired to create the fictional Squire’s Isle after a 2004 trip to San Juan Island in Washington State. His first novel set on the island, On the Air, was written almost as a side project to another story he wanted to tell. Reception to the story was so strong that the original story was put on the back burner to deal with the world created in On the Air. His second novel set in the same universe, Gemini, was also very well received and went on to win the Golden Crown Literary Society Award for Best Novel, Dramatic/General Fiction. Geonn was the first male author to receive the honor.While some of his novels haven’t focused as heavily on Squire’s Isle, the vast majority of Geonn’s works take place in the same universe and have connections back to the island and its cast of characters (the exception being the Riley Parra series). In addition to writing more novels based on the inhabitants of Squire’s Isle, Geonn hopes to one day move to the real-life equivalent to inspire further stories.Geonn is currently working on a tie-in novel to the television series Stargate SG-1, and a script for a webseries version of Riley Parra.

Book preview

Underdogs

Geonn Cannon

Smashwords Edition

Supposed Crimes LLC

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2012 Geonn Cannon

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1-938108-01-3

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

# #

This is an old story.

You've heard it countless times, starting in your childhood. Some of it changes, but the details remain the same. A young girl, innocent and brave. A sickly grandmother who lives in the woods. An encounter with a wolf. Everyone knows how it ends, the encounter in the grandmother's house and the heroic woodsman who comes to her eventual rescue. No one questions the obvious errors in this story. Why does the grandmother live alone in the dark and frightening woods? What sort of mother would allow a young girl to travel through these woods on her own with no protection other than a simple red shawl? Despite these obvious inaccuracies, the story remains largely unchanged through the centuries since it was first told. This is to be expected.

Lies rarely change.

The truth is far less sordid and lacks any sort of moral. There was a little girl who lived in a village near the woods. The name of her village does not matter, nor does the country where she resided. Unlike stories, names change constantly as battles are lost and wars are won. The woman in the woods is not her grandmother but a dear family friend. She is not ill with any disease even a modern doctor would recognize. The girl is given a basket of fresh bread and sent down a dark trail on her own. It's a trip she must take on her own, her mother says, though the girl is frightened.

The encounter with the wolf is far more frightening than the brothers Grimm would have their readers believe. The girl is attacked ferociously, forced to defend herself with whatever is at hand. A stick, a rock, her own hands. The wolf finally flees and the little girl continues on toward her destination.

Far from a simple rustic cabin, the woman she has been sent to lives in a lavish home. Smoke is rising from the chimney as she approaches, still trembling from her encounter, and she enters the home in search of warmth and comfort.

The woman is not confined to bed, does not appear ill at all. She bears the marks from a fight, bruised about the face and neck. Her eyebrow is split from a fierce blow, though her clothing bears no stain or tear. The woman invites the girl to sit, but the girl is frightened. Here comes the litany of observations from the astute young girl, which is included in each retelling of this time-worn tale.

What big ears...

What big eyes...

What big hands...

In the stories, the grandmother's place has been usurped by the wolf. In truth, the older woman and the wolf are one and the same. She waited many years until she decided the girl was ready to reveal her true nature. She transforms in front of the girl to prove what she is saying is the truth. The girl attempts to flee but, in her fright, feels the Change coming over her as well. She becomes a wolf, like the older woman.

She wakes later, unsure of what has transpired. The older woman feeds her, soothes her, and wraps her in the only clothing that didn't tear when the girl transformed: her red hooded cloak. She promises to keep the girl safe and teach her to properly use her gift.

In the stories that are told to children, the little girl and her 'grandmother' are cast as victims. The naïve little girl is fooled, the grandmother devoured, the brave hunter saves the day.

In reality, the girl and her mentor are the darkness that lurks in the woods. The women are what the hunter fears when the sky begins to darken. They are the things other children are told to fear when the sun goes down.

There have always been wolves in the woods.

Beware.

-- excerpt from Karl Magnusson's unpublished collection of essays, Canidae in the Modern World, collected 1933

Chapter One

Ariadne Willow was technically a wolf, with thick brown fur and eyes that tended toward yellow under the correct lighting. Her face and muzzle were dark brown and could make it look as if she was wearing a mask. She was two and a half feet tall at the shoulder when standing at full height. Under ordinary circumstances she could pass for a domestic pet, maybe a German shepherd or a husky, but passing wouldn't help her now.

The back of the lot was marked by a fence that had fallen into disrepair. Ari didn't slow down as she scanned for an opening. The one she found was just barely big enough for her to fit through, although she left behind a few hairs on the splintering slats. The man pursuing her cried out wordlessly in frustration and she heard his bulk slam into the fence when he couldn't stop quickly enough. Ari didn't pause to look back as he started trying to clamber over the fence to continue his chase.

Ari was in a dirt lot now. She found tire ruts and followed them to the street, turned right, and ran into the neighborhood. She passed the Animal Control truck, which was idling at the curb with her overweight predator's partner sitting in the passenger seat with a cup of coffee. Ari crossed the street just before he saw her and shouted for her to stop through his open window.

Dogs in the neighborhood barked in response to her presence to warn her away from their territory. She had gone three blocks before she stopped on the corner and risked a look back. No signs of pursuit. Ari looked around her as she caught her breath. The intersection stretched off into darkness on both sides with no sign of people.

She started walking north, moving at a fast clip in case the animal control guys were trying to catch up with her. The houses and trimmed lawns gave way to a strip mall and Ari walked between the tall stone wall and the back of the building. The pavement was cracked and dirty and stained with old grease and motor oil that formed an almost visible wall in front of her. She moved through the pungent curtain and ignored the delicious odors coming from the dumpsters she passed.

There was a concrete ditch that ended in a narrow tunnel that led under the street. Ari stepped carefully into the ditch and sat on her haunches. There was no real switch she had to flick and no magic button to start the transformation. She simply willed it to begin and she felt her body changing. Her paws twitched against the pavement, her head bowed, and a pitiful whine rose at the back of her throat.

The thick brown pelt receded into her body as her limbs retracted. She stretched her neck out as her face was rearranged into a more human visage. Her bones broke. Both shoulders, every bone in her hand, her hip. Her body assumed its new form and the bones snapped back into their correct arrangement. Ari gasped in pain and relief, baring her now blunt teeth as her muscles twisted under her skin. Sweat poured down her body, dripping off her nose and running down the middle of her back as she crouched on all fours in the drainage ditch.

In place of the wolf was a lithe brunette woman. Her eyes were bright blue, the same as the wolf. The muscles of her arms and legs flexed, her lean stomach ballooned in and out with her rough breathing. Sweat beaded a face that belonged a Renaissance painting rather than crouching naked in a filthy drainage ditch. Her fingers flexed as if testing the texture of the ground on which she was kneeling. Her mouth had reformed into a Cupid's bow, and they trembled as she tried to catch her breath.

Lank hair hung loose in front of her face, her nostrils flaring as she waited for the vice-like pain to relax around her muscles. The aches ran down to the bone, making her tremble as she finally rose up and scooted forward. She reached into the tunnel, past the leaves and twigs and mud that accumulated against the grate after every rain until she found the nylon strap of a duffel bag. She pulled it free and dropped it onto the concrete.

Inside, old clothes from Goodwill were wrapped in white plastic bags from Wal-Mart. The words SHIRT, PANTS, UNDERWEAR were written on the outside of the bags so she knew what was inside without ripping it open. She chose a T-shirt and cargo pants. The army boots that took up the bottom of the bag didn't have laces, but they were tight enough that they stayed on. Her T-shirt had a picture of Daisy Duck on the chest, her faded face distorted by the curve of even Ari's modest bust.

Ari ran her fingers through the rat's nest of her hair, returning it to a semblance of style so she didn't look homeless. An outer zipper on the bag had change, which Ari pocketed before she zipped the bag up again and returned it to her stash. When she stood, pain shot down her spine and she had to bite back a shout. She rubbed the small of her back until the spotlight of anguish turned into a pinprick of light. When she climbed out of the ditch, she saw the Animal Control truck driving slowly down a side street. The passenger was shining a flashlight out his window, shining into bushes and along fences but shying away from porches and windows.

She walked casually away from the ditch with her hands in her pockets. The truck approached her slowly and she acted wary as the passenger called out to her. Excuse me, miss. Have you seen a big ol' dog running around out here?

No, I'm sorry. Is it dangerous?

Not that we know of. Just a big son of a gun. Got a call from a lady worried it was gonna eat her cat. Be careful if you see it, all right?

She nodded and waved as the truck continued on its journey. Once it was out of sight, Ari crossed the street and walked close to half a mile before she found an all-night diner. It was lit from within, like the rest of the street was a theatre and the interior of the diner was the stage. Ari stepped inside, into the warmth and quiet chatter.

There were two other customers present. A man with a beaten fedora was turned around in his booth to talk with a hunchbacked black man seated at the end of the bar. Both men turned their heads toward her as she came in, nodded their hellos, and went back to their conversation. A waitress started moving as soon as Ari came through the door and they reached the same spot at the same time. She placed a napkin in front of Ari and smiled. What can I get for ya, hon?

I'd really like to use your phone, if I could. I need to call for a ride.

Here. The hunchbacked black man stood up and moved close enough to offer his phone to her. Betty don't like lettin' people use the house phone. You callin' someone to take you back home?

Yeah.

Good for you. Ain't no shame in goin' back to where you loved.

Ari realized they thought she was a runaway. She wasn't that young. She smiled and took the phone with her thanks.

Betty said, I'll get you a glass of milk while you're waiting, hon.

She was going to protest and ask for coffee instead, but milk sounded very appetizing to her. She thanked Betty and dialed Dale Frye's number. It only rang once before it was answered.

Ariadne Willow cab service.

You're going to make me feel guilty.

Dale chuckled. Where are you?

She picked up the menu tucked between the ketchup bottle and the napkin dispenser. The diner's address was written at the bottom, and she read it over the phone. Take your time. The folks here are pretty nice.

Okay. Do you know what time it is?

There was a neon clock hanging over the kitchen pass-through. A little past four.

Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes.

Thanks, Dale. I'll keep an eye out. She hung up and held the phone back to its owner. Thanks. You're a lifesaver.

I do what I can. He smiled and offered his hand. Friends call me Boss Tweed, on account of my style. He plucked the collar of his jacket which was, naturally, tweed. That over there is Rooster 'cause he's always up 'fore the dawn.

Ari smiled and waved to the other man. I'm Ariadne.

Tweed straightened as much as his stooped shoulders would let him. The finder of ways, the guide through the maze. Nice strong name for a lovely young lady.

Ari shrugged. I do all right. She took a sip of the milk Betty had delivered. The taste of ice cold milk while the sky was still dark outside brought her back to the days when she was a little girl getting ready for school. Her mother in the kitchen, dressed in her robe and looking exhausted. At the time Ari had just assumed her mother was like all the other kids' parents. Too much to do and not enough hours. But now she knew the truth. Her mother had been canidae, and spent a vast majority of nights out roaming the neighborhood. Some nights she had transformed mere minutes before Ari came downstairs for her breakfast, forcing a smile even as her body ached.

Oh, those magical days of blissful ignorance. Ari sipped her milk and sucked her top lip into her mouth as she stared into the glass. Tweed seemed to sense her reluctance to talk and returned to his conversation with Rooster. She listened half-mindedly, smiling when one of them made a joke and nodding when Betty offered her a refill.

Twenty minutes after she returned Tweed's phone, he nudged her arm. Hey, thread-girl. Is that your friend?

Ari twisted on the stool and saw Dale's car pulling up in front of the diner. Thanks, Tweed. She reached into her pocket and began counting out change.

Tweed put his hand on her arm. Do me a favor, thread-girl. Let me say I bought a drink for a beautiful woman. It's been so long.

Boss Tweed, I don't believe that for a second. But it's a deal. She bid goodnight to Rooster and Betty before she headed out to where Dale had parked.

Dale smiled when she saw Ari and she waved her fingers in greeting. Dale's hair was hidden under a baseball cap, and she wore eyeglasses with thick black frames. When Ari got into the passenger seat, she saw Dale was wearing a long-sleeved blue shirt with a cartoon duck on the front, and her pajama pants had tiny yellow ducks cavorting over her thighs.

Hey. We match.

Ari looked down at the Walt Disney duck on her own chest. Luck of the draw, I guess. Sorry to wake you.

It's okay. My dreams weren't that interesting anyway. Your apartment or the office?

Home, please. She leaned back and closed her eyes to take full advantage of the lumbar support. Dale pulled away from the curb.

After they had gone a few blocks, Ari could sense Dale glancing over at her. Are you okay?

Mm-hmm. Just a little rough around the edges. I got chased by Animal Control.

You didn't hurt them, did you?

Ari smiled. Just their pride. She remembered the reason she wolfed out in the first place. Oh, Mrs. Beancounter's husband is definitely cheating on her. Mrs. Beancounter, actually Lynn Pettit, had hired them to find out if her accountant husband was cheating. Ari had discovered people tended to notice when she sat across from their house with a camera, so she always did her first stakeout as the wolf. No one acted secretive around dogs. Two hours in the front yard of Mr. Pettit's secretary's house and Ari saw them drive up. He gave her a little grope as they walked into the garage, completely ignoring the stray dog trotting across the lawn and glancing in at them. Now that she knew there was a reason for the stakeout, she just had to go back at a later date and get the photographic evidence.

Another day, another cheater. Dale sighed. What's forever for?

Hm?

Old song. Dale shook her head and watched the street out the window. These people actually have someone who cares about them, who agrees to marry them, but it's not enough. No, they have to have girlfriends and boyfriends and a little piece of tail on the side. When some of us who would kill for someone to spend some time with have to go to bed alone.

Ari shrank in her seat. Dale's last relationship had failed, and it was partially Ari's fault. It was tough to date a werewolf's assistant. Ari looked out the window, her guilt implicit in her silence. She pressed her feet against the floorboards and let her head fall back against the headrest.

I'm sorry. Dale cleared her throat. I didn't get a lot of sleep, so I'm grumpy.

S'okay. Ari's voice was soft.

Dale reached down and turned on the stereo. A Keb' Mo' CD was in the player, a remnant from a former girlfriend that Dale had decided to keep around. Ari closed her eyes as she listened to the music, and all too soon the car had slowed to a stop. Ari sat up before Dale tried to wake her. Home?

I've heard there's no place like it.

Ari spontaneously decided to hug Dale. Thanks for the ride.

Hey. Yeah. No problem. Dale put her arms around Ari and held the hug. After a moment she said, I wasn't blaming you. Natalie wasn't your fault.

I know. Ari returned to her own seat. But I don't think I thank you enough for everything you do.

Answer the phone, make appointments and coffee, drive around town in the middle of the night. All part of the job description. See you in a few hours.

Ari nodded and climbed stiffly from the car. She stretched and groaned as she forced her body out of its comfortable seated position, and Dale leaned forward. She rested her hand in the passenger seat recently warmed by Ari's rump and looked up at her. Hey. You're hurting.

It's not too bad.

Let me come up and give you a rubdown.

Ari shook her head before Dale finished speaking. "You've done enough. Go

Reviews for Underdogs

[Wallis Smith · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It was good. Sad and exciting. I’m looking forward to the next one.