"No, you can't come in," Shara said, her voice almost a plea. "You can't."

"Shara, this has gone far enough." Bryan was pushing on the door, but not as hard as he could; Shara knew he still worried he would hurt her. She pushed back, determined to keep the barrier between them. "Come on, Shara. I gave in when you refused to go to a doctor, and I called the midwife back and told her we didn't need her, but, dammit, I'm coming in there."

"No!" Suddenly Shara pushed with all her might and forced the door completely closed. She threw the first bolt then, more slowly, drew the last three into place. On the other side, her husband implored, then pounded, kicked, and finally cursed, but Shara did not open the door.

Another pain ripped through her body and Shara doubled over, her hands clutching her swollen abdomen. A short, sharp cry escaped her clenched lips. Bryan stopped yelling.

"Shara, please," he begged.

"No," she gasped. Thick black hair hung in her face and sweat dripped from her nose. Bryan had said he loved the feel and color of her hair once. Would he ever say it again? "There are things I didn't tell you, Bryan. I'm older than you think. I'll be all right. And--" Another labor pain sent her to her knees. "And when it's over, we'll have to talk. Now go. I'll call you when it's over. I'll tell you when the baby's here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Bryan answered stubbornly.

Had she startled him? Shara was in too much pain to tell.

She got to her feet and staggered across the small attic room she had been secretly preparing for the past few weeks. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the soft pallet of quilts. The pains came close and hard now. She struggled from her clothes and lie on her back, waiting.

Poor Bryan, Shara thought. Maybe I should have told him everything right from the beginning.

"I told you my monthlies were hell," she mumbled. Her mind drifted back to the early days of their relationship while her hands rested on her belly, feeling the lives within as they prepared to emerge into the world.

The problem hadn't been so bad when they were dating. Her monthies, or periods, or cycles, or whatever, only lasted three days. It could have been worse; she knew of others who went a full week and sometimes more. She wouldn't let Bryan anywhere around her when her monthly came. When it was time, she would make some excuse and run away, either to the mountains or to some dark, unloved part of the city where she was among cold-hearted strangers.

Bryan had learned to tolerate it, though he had never liked it. Shara had taken it as a sign that he really loved her; why else would a man want to be around his woman while she was on her period? If her monthlies had only consisted of blood, cramps, and a short temper …

Then they had married and Bryan had become more reluctant to allow her to leave him when her time came. She had always found a way to get out of the house, out of the area where her husband could be in danger. Often she escaped only after a bitter argument, but she endured that, thinking only of what the consequences might be if she remained. When she returned, he would sulk, but they would eventually make up their differences. At least for a month.

Then the monthlies stopped coming and Shara had known instantly she was pregnant. At first, she hadn't known what to do. They weren't ready for children. Bryan didn't know enough about her. She had considered abortion, but her motherly instincts wouldn't allow it. And besides, the doctor would have learned her secret.

Bryan had discovered her pregnancy, as she knew he must, and he was thrilled. Will he be so happy when this day is over?

"They're not yours," Shara sobbed, her hands balled into fists and pushing on the hard floor under the quilts. She tightened her muscles, straining to eject the new life from her body, felt one tiny lump leave her, and let herself relax, waiting for the next pain and the next of her offspring. She didn't look at the first, not yet.

These children weren't Bryan's. Shara was sure of that. Her condition caused her to be very in tune with her biological clock. She hadn't told Bryan. If it had been just another man, then maybe I could have told him, or pretended they were his. But I can't tell him the truth of what I did. He would see for himself soon enough.

Shara screamed as the second child squeezed from her loins, followed immediately by the third. It was finished. She lay still, exhausted and sweating, listening to their tiny, confused cries. Slowly, painfully, Shara curled her body around those of her children. They were beautiful, she thought, so like their father. She touched them, stroked them, whispered motherly words to them. Two sons and a daughter. Shara smiled.

She began cleaning her babies; the taste was like nectar to her elated tongue. She pulled them close to let them nurse, then she slept.

Shara awoke an hour later. Bryan was knocking on the door again. He was begging to be let in, and he sounded near tears. Shara checked her children and saw they were asleep. She rose and hurried to the door.

"Just a minute," she called softly. "They're asleep. Let me get cleaned up." Bryan was quiet. Shara hurried to the washbasin she had prepared and quickly scrubbed the dried blood and afterbirth from her thighs, crotch, and breasts, then dressed in a long, loose gown of white satin. She went to the door and released the bolts that held it closed.

Bryan rushed into the room, glanced hurriedly at her, then turned his attention to the pallet on the floor, to the babies lying in peaceful slumber. He seemed suddenly frozen. Shara moved behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I have to tell you something," she whispered. "First, they'll learn to control their shape. The teeth, the contours of the head, even the hair can be shed and re-grown at will once they learn control. Except during their monthlies. They'll have to give in to their other half then. Now you understand why I have to get away once a month."

Bryan remained statue-still.

"I'm sorry, Bryan," Shara offered. "It was during my last period. I was in the mountains, and I was running with a pack. The alpha male wanted me, and who was I, a stray omega bitch with a strange scent, to refuse the chief? It was wrong of me, I know, and I regret letting it happen. But, Bryan, they're still half me. Isn't that good enough?"

"They're animals." His voice was low, choked, scared. He finally turned his eyes back to her. "What the hell are you? Why me?" He ran from the room.

Shara slumped to the floor, crying. She had loved her husband so much until this very moment. And now … She knew it was over. She could hear him moving around in the room below her. He was in the closet. Is he packing? His own clothes, or hers? Shara heard a sharp, familiar noise that brought her head up and stopped her tears.

Bryan was coming back up the stairs, and he was running.

Shara sprang to her feet and rushed at the door, trying to close it and get the bolts into place before Bryan got to the top of the steps. She didn't make it. The door was flung aside and Shara slammed into the wall. She sank to the floor, barely aware of the scream rising in her throat.

Bryan stood in the doorway, his shotgun in his hands, his eyes fixed on the squirming pups; they were awake now and crying for food. Shara watched him raise the gun. She felt her hands thicken and her jaw stretch.

She let an enraged roar fill the room. Bryan turned to face her. Shara's transformation was only half complete. She was terribly vulnerable at this time, she knew, but her husband had to be stopped. She was still the size of a woman, still stood on her hind legs. Her body itched as thick, glossy black hair sprouted from every pore. She saw the fear in Bryan's eyes, and it only angered her more.

The white satin robe billowed like a banner as Shara pounced. She grabbed the shotgun with hands that were somewhere between human and canine. Bryan tried to pull the weapon away from her; they moved as if dancing for a moment. Their faces nearly touched, and Shara could scent the terror coming from the man in sickening waves.

Shara only wanted to take the shotgun away from him. Bryan wouldn't let go. The gun twisted around, Bryan's finger caught in the trigger guard. The babies were frightened and calling for her. Shara jerked on the gun and the room filled with thunder and the smell of smoke and fresh blood.

Bryan staggered away from her, his hands now free of the gun, his stomach splattered on the wall behind him. He turned surprised, pain-filled eyes on her, and then fell dead at Shara's feet.

Shara dropped the gun and returned to her children. Her shape shifted, and she was once again the woman the dead man on the floor had married. She gathered her whimpering offspring into her arms and stepped over the corpse, pausing in the doorway.

"We'll go back to the mountains," she whispered to her young. "I'll teach you everything you need to know. We'll have a good life." Then she looked at the body of her husband.

"I'm sorry, Bryan," she said. "I should have told you everything right from the start. I'll always try to think of you for what you were, and not what you became. It's partly my fault. Maybe you wouldn't have reacted that way if I had told you … everything." A last tear fell from her eye onto the head of one of the pups. "Good-bye."

Shara closed the door on her husband and the life they had shared.

If you liked this story, consider buying the novel SHARA by Steven E. Wedel. It is available now from 3F Publications and Shocklines bookstore.