“What can we do to keep Kira safe without a star ball?”
“Nothing,” Mama murmured. And now her voice was a whisper on the breeze rather than an utterance from my body. “Kira fades as my magic is used elsewhere. Without a star ball, a kitsune cannot continue to exist.”
Chapter 21
I swayed, shaken by the realization that my mother had died of her own volition in an effort to keep Kira from doing the same. Nearly as bad was the fact that I’d dropped the protective-guardian ball quite literally. Still, at least I knew how to begin correcting my mistake.
“Whoever bought Mama’s star ball must be here at the gathering.” In fact, I had a very good guess who the Master might be. I just didn’t want to speak the words aloud in front of Gunner until I had more evidence that Ransom was the one with the rotten core. “I just need...”
Gunner cut off my words before I could state the obvious—that I needed to ingratiate myself to the larger group of Atwood werewolves in order to sleuth out the identity of the ‘Master.’ The werewolf beside me, unfortunately, had a different take on the matter at hand.
“You and Kira need to be somewhere off the radar,” he finished for me. “But Ransom will balk at any of us going along to protect you. And we’ve already discovered that Wildacres isn’t as safe as we’d initially presumed....”
His over-protectiveness was sweet in a way, but it also raised my independent fox ruff like nobody’s business. “So you want me and Kira to run away while, what? While you do the hunting for us?”
The vision of Lucinda clinging to Gunner rose, at that exact moment, in my mind. Only to be followed by the more realistic image of Gunner trusting his brother, trusting someone who only wished him ill....
I wasn’t the only one irritated by our lack of like-mindedness. My flaring nostrils picked up Gunner’s burst of alpha aggression, and the loaded silence between us was so tangible I could have cut it with a knife.
Then Gunner—despite being a dominant werewolf used to getting whatever he wanted—backpedaled quite gracefully. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” he offered. “You’re your own woman. I get that. I just want to help.”
“So help by telling me what I can do to get a toehold in this pack without compromising my sister’s safety,” I suggested. “Help by promising that you won’t let Kira out of your sight while I’m gone.”
I rose as I spoke, my feet carrying me back and forth between the trees that surrounded us. I didn’t want to stand here arguing with my supposed ally. Instead, I itched to run back and check on my sister, while at the same time I also wanted to forge ahead and keep Kira from weakening further yet.
Luckily for my patience—or lack thereof—Gunner didn’t wait long before he made a suggestion. Apparently the high point of the gathering was a Solstice Hunt, a time to restructure pack hierarchy without killing anything except local wildlife. “You’ll be accepted into the pack if you do well in the Hunt tomorrow,” Gunner admitted, voice low and reluctant. “But to be part of the chase, you’ll have to swear fealty to my brother....”
“Fealty like the oath that sent you to your knees?” A bad idea if the Master really was who I thought he was.
Air currents swirled between us as Gunner nodded rather than elaborating. He didn’t have to tell me that a bond like that to his fickle older brother was the height of lunacy for a lone fox like myself.
Or was it?
For one split second, a very different image flitted through my head. Not me submitting to a power-hungry alpha and possible serial killer. Instead, I saw Allen, Crow, Tank, and Elle running beside Gunner in wolf form...with my fox tail leading the chase.
Shaking my head against the daydream, I pushed myself back into the dangers of the present. No, I didn’t relish the idea of pinning myself down beneath Ransom’s thumb willingly. But if an oath was what it took to save my sister, I’d figure out the specifics on the fly.
“Alright. I’ll do it,” I decided. “And you’ll watch my sister every minute? All of you? Everyone you trust?”
I tasted the electricity of Gunner’s displeasure. Smelled his urge to gainsay me, to take over this hunt and manage it on his own terms...or at least send half of his trusted comrades along to guard my back.
But, again, the faintest breeze of a sigh flowed between us. “The pack will meet at dawn on a rounded hill west of here. It’s open to the air, grassy. You can’t miss the spot.”
Of course I couldn’t miss it when Kira and I had come from there that same morning. I shivered, suddenly remembering the dream of blood on grass that had been set on a hill so much like that one. Then I shook my head, thinking three steps ahead.
It would take half the night to return to the hilltop. And I needed food in my belly and at least a few hours of sleep if I hoped to win a place in the Atwood pack....
Still I lingered, not wanting to leave while a barrier hovered between me and Gunner. I was shunting the male aside through my own fox nature as much as to protect my sister, and we both knew it. But I couldn’t quite turn myself into a wolf and act like any other pack mate.
So—“Thank you,” I told him one second before shifting into my fleet-footed animal. But I heard no answer before I lost myself to the darkness of the night.
SITTING DUCKS WERE, indeed, easy to slaughter. Their feathers, on the other hand, took an eternity to gnaw off with vulpine teeth. So I ended up shifting into human form to skin the waterfowl, shifting back to fox form to chew raw meat off bones, then collapsing in exhaustion not far from the spot where Gunner and I had split up.
Kira’s court date is tomorrow. I woke hours later into instant alertness. And if I’d had human vocal cords to swear with, I would definitely have used one of the words Kira’s social worker hated so much.
No two ways about it, I was burning bridges back in the city. And I was running late for my intended goal of making a good impression on Ransom’s pack as well.
Luckily, I was a fox and my animal instincts left little room for self-recrimination. Instead, I rose, stretched once to ease aching muscles...then I ran like the fires of hell were licking at my heels.
Kira was right—sticking to the stream made the journey from campground valley to meeting hill far less strenuous. Meanwhile, the dim pre-dawn light was plenty sufficient to let me pick out easy routes I’d been unable to follow with a sick and weary human child dragging along behind. I scampered across a gully on a fallen tree trunk, listening to bird songs growing louder by the second in the woodland version of a bedroom alarm clock.
I was nearly there though. Meanwhile, the howl of excited wolves flowing downhill toward me promised that the pack hadn’t divided up into hunting parties quite yet.
So I wasn’t too late after all. I wasn’t too late...but I wasn’t paying sufficient attention to my surroundings either. One moment I was sprinting flat out to join up with the gathered werewolves. The next I was yelping as huge fangs cut into the soft skin of my flank.
Perhaps, I noted even as I spun sideways, the pack is no more excited to meet me than I am to meet them.
Chapter 22
Only, apparently I was wrong. Because even as I twisted upwards and lashed out at the attacking shifter with my newly materialized sword, someone behind my back noted, “Not too bad on the reaction front.”
Meanwhile, another voice was less approving. “Still not good enough to be an Atwood wolf.”
So I was being judged. Or hazed. Or perhaps there was really no difference between the two motivations. Because the wolf-form shifter in front of me didn’t pull his subsequent attack one iota. Instead, he dove under my sword so rapidly that I was hard-pressed to force him back.
Or I would have been hard-pressed had Gunner’s blood not fueled my footsteps. As it was, my feet pivoted and lunged faster than I’d thought possible, my muscles flexing even more quickly than kitsune strength should have allowed. Unfortunately, the boost could only do so much against an uncountable sea of attackers.
Because I was no longer facing a single werewolf intent upon disemboweling me. No, there were dozens of ozone-tainted opponents, their sharp scents biting into my skin as I whirled to stab at a werewolf leaping toward my unprotected back.
Instinct told me to play dirty and end this, to lower the odds against me by hook or by crook. To that end, I could have twisted my sword to the right and turned a scratch into a serious injury, taking my opponent out of the fight for good.
But, instead, I pulled the thrust after it skimmed epidermis, uncertain whether I’d lose my place in the Atwood pack if I disemboweled one of these wolves. If this was a test, I intended to pass it. Too bad evading my attackers without causing serious injury was akin to fighting with one arm tied behind me.
There were so many opponents moving so quickly now that I could barely make out anything beyond a blur of fur and fangs. Speaking of fangs, one set bit down into my ankle, knocking me off my stride. Instinctively, I pushed a shard of magic out of my sword and into an ankle cuff to protect me. Was relieved when my opponent erupted into humanity, his dull incisors glancing off my skin.
“You bitch,” the shifter growled, wiping my blood away from his mouth with the back of one hand. “You’ll regret...”
I didn’t have time to listen to further recriminations, however. Because the other Atwood shifters were still four-legged, still slobbering with the urge to fight. And they now appeared to be banding together. Joining up into pairs and trios in preparation for hitting me from multiple fronts.
As much as I hated to change my tactics, Kira’s face rose in front of my mind at that point. When given a choice between dying or killing, I had to choose the latter for my sister’s sake. I couldn’t simply surrender and hope for the best.
So I took a deep breath and selected my first quarry. I’d start with the small wolf on my left side, proceed to his partner then work my way through the wolf pack.
Before I could put my plan into action, however, warm skin slid up against my naked backside. Large fingers settled over my sword hand, clenching down and freezing my weapon into place.
Once again, someone had slipped through a gap in my defenses. And this time I was quite thoroughly caught.
“IT’S ME. LIAM,” MY jailer offered as I tried and failed to elbow him in the kidneys. Then, when my tensed muscles proved I had no clue who he was referring to, the male sighed and elaborated even as he released my sword-bearing hand: “Elle’s brother. I have your back.”
Right. My brain unfroze as terror slid off my shoulders. For some reason, Liam’s name was eminently forgettable, but I found myself glad that Gunner had disregarded my orders to keep everyone watching over Kira and had instead sent his cousin to ensure I made it through the day intact.
Because it was ten times easier to fend off attackers using teamwork, especially since a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye promised that Liam had come prepared with a weapon much like my own. For thirty seconds, we both attacked and parried, the yelping of wounded four-leggers proving that my sword mate wasn’t being as sparing as I’d been with his slashes. Apparently I’d misunderstood the level of injury allowed within a pack.
“Since when do werewolves carry weapons?” I asked after a few moments, when my panting had eased into regular inhales and exhales. Meanwhile, without looking back over my shoulder, I twisted counter-clockwise to jab at a white-furred shifter who was attempting to sneak up on Liam’s right side.
“Since Atwood tempers made fighting in fur form a threat to pack cohesivity,” Liam answered, pivoting right alongside me while his words flowed as easily as his sword hand had.
“You’re an Atwood? Related to Gunner and Ransom on your father’s side?”
I’d meant the questions to be idle conversation, but something about the silence behind me suggested I’d struck yet another nerve. Yes, great idea. Insult your sole ally, I berated myself, kicking out at one werewolf while swiping a great puff of fur off the back of another. “I’m sorry,” I offered as I riposted. “None of my business. I’m just glad you’ve had sword training and are willing to help me out.”
I half expected that to be the end of our partnership. But, to my relief, the close-mouthed shifter accepted my apology and opened up to me far more than he’d ever done before. “Gunner, Ransom, and I are double cousins,” he offered. “Two sisters married two brothers. Very romantic...until you ask yourself who ended up with the consolation prize.”
The haze of fur, I noted, now came from my human companion as much as from the werewolves behind us. “Liam...” I started, trying to remember every trick I’d developed to soothe ruffled lupine fur over the last three months spent in wolf company.
But before I could put my new skills to the test, yet another shifter stepped out of the trees beside us. I was half-turned away from him, yet I still recognized Ransom by his size and bearing one second before the pack leader opened his mouth to berate us.
And despite my best intentions to stand tall, my shoulders hunched against the tongue-lashing I knew would be forthcoming. After all, our brawl had made a significant proportion of the pack—not just myself—quite definitively late. Meanwhile, Liam had just told me that Atwoods couldn’t stomach being disrespected....
Sure enough, the pack leader flattened his underlings against the soil in a wordless burst of pure, unadulterated rage. Then, turning to face me—the only one still standing—he demanded, “Why do you disrupt my Hunt?”
Chapter 23
I knew that cowering would have eased the pack leader’s displeasure, but a fox can’t afford to submit in the face of a larger predator. Instead, I squared my shoulders and stood a little taller. Then I told Ransom—and all of the werewolves arrayed around us: “I didn’t come to disrupt. I came to join.”
Bracing myself for another eardrum-shattering roar, I was surprised to instead see Ransom’s lips curling upward into the same subtle smile Gunner graced me with whenever I fell for one of his practical jokes. Only, the younger sibling had always been laughing with me during those past episodes. At the moment, I got the distinct impression I was about to become the butt of the older brother’s joke.
“Did you now?” the pack leader purred, pacing toward me and slipping one finger beneath my chin so he could tip my head from side to side until the intensity of his gaze heated my features. “Because my brother couldn’t get the job done, eh? Left you cold last night just as he did with Mirabelle and would have with Lucinda had she stuck around to go home with the victor after our little game.”
A feminine growl emerged from behind me—Lucinda if I didn’t miss my guess. But I was instead struggling against a grin that wanted to split my features. Of course Gunner wouldn’t fight to bed a pack princess. But he would fight to ensure she didn’t end up stuck having sex with some male against her will. The realization that Gunner’s actions had been honorable rather than caddish the previous evening made me want to laugh and dance.
“Hmm?” Ransom nudged me verbally, hand still on my chin. And this time I mustered up a jerky nod in response.
“I’m here to join, alpha,” I reiterated. And my answer must have been sufficient. Because, releasing my chin, Ransom turned his back on all of us and strode off in the direction from which he’d initially come.
Which left me and the lesser werewolves scrambling to keep pace with their leader, some rubbing shoulders in human form while others slunk forward in the skins of their beasts. Several knocked against my shins in the process, trying to topple me over subtly enough that they could swear the jab had been accidental. But I was too elated to take offense.
Because not only had Gunner been absolved, I’d also succeeded in my mission. I was in, and without having to swear an oath to the unpredictable pack leader either. Now I just had to determine whether Ransom was also the Master....
In search of confirmation, I felt for a sign from Mama in my belly, only to be met with complete silence on that front. Not that the Master in question was likely to let
his servant off her leash again after such a show the previous evening. Instead, I’d need to use my wits to regain Mama’s star ball. But at least I was here in the midst of the action where the solution to the mystery was within reach.
By this point, we’d reached the hill where the Solstice Hunt began and ended, a rounded knoll lit by sunlight that had brightened several lumens past official dawn. The orange on the horizon was already softening into true morning so the mass of werewolves arrayed before me showed up as individuals rather than as silhouettes. There were so many of them, though, and most were strangers. The chances of picking out the Master in this milling crowd of not-quite-humanity seemed far less possible than it had one moment before.
Of course, I wasn’t entirely human. So I closed my eyes, pulled up my fox instincts, and proceeded to hunt with my nose.
Because shouldn’t the Master smell a little like Mama? If Ransom was utilizing a kitsune’s magic, shouldn’t her jasmine perfume wreath the pack leader just as it always had my mother?
And, sure enough, the faintest aroma of jasmine drifted in over my left shoulder even as Ransom’s voice broke into my thoughts. “I know you’re all excited to determine who will serve as my second-in-command for the year ahead of us,” he called, proving that he was the kind of leader who liked giving speeches. I wasn’t particularly surprised by that realization either. In fact, I was glad of the leeway to squint my eyes more tightly shut and continue working on the tricky puzzle of instinct and scent.
“But we have another item on our agenda before I turn you loose to hunt this morning,” Ransom continued. His voice, I noted, was deep and mellifluous when not competing with his brother’s. As if he really was a pack leader as long as Gunner wasn’t there to throw him off his stride.
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