Shadow Wolf

by Aimee Easterling

  And premeditated action in addition. Because what were the chances of the horror happening in the bathroom if someone hadn’t been concerned with the eventual cleanup?

  Not wanting to look, Gunner had nonetheless leaned over to see into the shower. There should have been blood specks on the interior just as there were on the toilet and mirror.

  But the white ceramic surface was as pristine as ever. Clean, slick...and slightly damp.

  Chapter 30

  “Ransom killed her?” I didn’t even realize I was speaking until my words broke through the horrifying picture my companion had painted.

  Gunner nodded, opened his mouth to elaborate...then our secluded niche by the waterfall erupted into a maelstrom of wolves.

  They were our wolves, though. I could feel it even without trying to pick out individual aromas. Tank, Crow, and Allen being herded along by Elle in her Atwood-marked fur body. All of them shifted upwards in synchrony just as they came level with me, Kira, and Gunner. And at that moment, my sister finally woke up.

  “Ew, gross!” The teenager pushed away with so much force that my torso slammed backwards, only Gunner’s fast movement preventing my head from cracking open upon the rocks. “Clothes, dudes! How many times do I have to tell you we’re not all werewolves? Put on some clothes!”

  And that was the Kira I was used to. Bossy, annoying, and totally uninterested in the reality of situations beyond our ability to control.

  Only, apparently, the guys had come prepared for Kira’s sensitivities. Because Allen merely laughed, turning around to dig through a waterproof bag I hadn’t noticed tucked up against the cliff face. “We’ve got clothes....”

  Predictably, Kira wasn’t satisfied by this hopping-to. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips rather than covering her privates, looking as wolf-like as any of the males when she barked out: “I don’t want to see your ugly butt! Point that thing the other way!”

  Whatever further insults the teen planned to fling in Allen’s direction, however, were cut short when a lump of awful, puce-covered fabric slapped her in the face. A flurry of similar soft missiles slammed into the rest of us one after another. And when I glanced down at my own wad of fabric, I saw that Allen had come prepared with one-size-fits-all jogging pants and t-shirts, the latter with unique sayings lettered across the front.

  “I love Goofy?” I asked, unable to prevent myself from reading my shirt aloud.

  “Cute and cuddly,” Gunner noted, eyes on his own pink shirt that boasted a white kitten with brilliant blue eyes beside the three curlicue-laden words.

  “They were cheap,” Allen countered...then ruined the assertion when the corners of his mouth started twitching. “Or, at least, I thought of you when I saw them....”

  If our shirts were the buildup, I had a feeling Kira’s was the punchline. So I turned back toward my sister, then paled as I caught a glimpse of Tank’s torso seconds before “Lawyers have feelings too...allegedly” covered up the majority of his bare skin.

  The joke was borderline funny, but the scratches covering his chest and shoulders were far too familiar. Scratches so much like the ones I’d seen beneath our shared fingers while harvesting blood for the Master with my mother. Scratches like the ones Lucinda’s little sister must have left to end up with blood beneath her nails.

  I would have liked to think Tank had gotten stuck in a briar thicket to end up with so many skin abrasions. Unfortunately, the evidence pointed elsewhere. Our loyal pack mate was loyal no longer, not after suffering a run-in with my mom.

  “STEP BACK!” I DEMANDED, pushing myself between the source of danger and my snickering sister. Unfortunately, Kira failed to hear me as she pranced forward to engulf Allen in a full-body hug.

  “I love it! It’s perfect!” she emoted, twirling around to show off her t-shirt...which I didn’t bother looking at since the girl’s motion also sent her closer and closer to the scratched-up werewolf that the Master could now manipulate on a whim.

  I wasn’t fast enough to prevent their paths from crossing however. And Tank was oblivious to the danger he represented. His face crinkled up into a smile as Kira sprang from one werewolf to the other. Then the girl reached out to smack Tank in the chest...

  Only, seconds before her fingers touched, the male’s eyes reddened, his muscles tightened. His hand reached out even as my sword materialized one moment too late....

  “Tank, move away from the child!” Gunner’s words snapped over us harsh and sudden as a horse whip. And I felt my sword drifting downwards even as Tank scrambled backwards as if he’d been slapped.

  So maybe the Master didn’t have as much control over the wolves Mama harvested blood from as I’d imagined? Or perhaps those scratches really had been made by thorns and I’d just imagined the redness of Tank’s eyes?

  I wasn’t yet up to speaking in full sentences, unfortunately. Instead, I finally succeeded in angling myself into the gap between Kira and Tank that I’d been going for from the beginning. Then I leveled my sword against the latter’s shoulder, holding him away from my sister while letting Gunner do the talking for us both.

  Luckily, the alpha understood my reasoning as easily as if he possessed telepathy. “What’s with the scratches?” Gunner asked, his voice rougher than usual as he joined me in a solid wall separating Tank from the rest of our pack mates.

  For his part, Tank’s brows furrowed, his voice tentative as he angled his neck down so as not to provoke further attack...or perhaps to make 100% sure my sword wasn’t pressing in through his flesh. “The story isn’t really appropriate to tell around ladies...” he whispered, the husky words nearly as loud as a shout to my hypersensitive eardrums.

  “Tell us anyway,” Gunner countered.

  So Tank did, offering a tale pretty much like I’d expected. One of the pack princesses—no he didn’t remember her name—had come on to him this morning. She was cute, willing. “A vixen,” he started. Then, his eyes flitted toward me as he realized what he’d said.

  I would have laughed at the kitsune faux pas if the stakes hadn’t been so serious. Instead, I told Gunner: “We can’t trust him around Kira.” Then, with my eyes, I added an extra message: If Ransom is trying to turn your most loyal werewolves against us, you can’t keep supporting him the way you have in the past.

  In response, Gunner closed his eyes as if he’d heard my unspoken addendum. Then he nodded, twisting his shoulders so he was speaking to the entire pack.

  “Elle, Crow, and Allen—I need you to move camp and sugarcoat our situation for the social worker. Tank, you and I have a bear to kill.”

  Chapter 31

  “A bear?”

  I wasn’t sure if Gunner had turned metaphorical on me, or if he really was planning to shunt off his responsibilities and join in the Solstice Hunt after all. But I had no time to pin him down on the subject. Because the alpha was spearing his pack mates with a gaze that sent them tumbling to their knees one after the other.

  “Trust no one who isn’t here beside you at this moment. Protect Kira to your last breath. Feed her blood if she weakens. Keep Mai and the social worker safe also. Swear it.”

  Gunner’s demands came out in a staccato that peppered his underlings like bullets. They were so cowed, in fact, that no one managed to speak until their alpha provided a verbal nudge.

  “Allen?”

  “I swear, alpha.”

  “Crow.”

  “I promise.”

  “Elle?”

  “I will, Gunner. You know I will.”

  “Mai?”

  I didn’t realize Gunner had planned to include me in the oath-taking until his dark eyes turned to grab my own. And, for the first time in living memory, I felt fully caught by an alpha werewolf’s stare.

  “Mai?” he repeated when words failed me, this second speaking of my name somehow releasing my muscles so I could turn and take in the werewolves gathered on either side of us.

  Allen, Elle, and Crow were encircling my sister now, en
folding her within their pack as easily as if she was a pup and they were warriors. Tank, in contrast, waited five paces distant, his head averted as if he was afraid to even glance at the youngster he threatened due to the scratches on his back.

  Gunner was taking all of the danger with him and leaving Kira with twice the protection she truly needed. Which meant there was only one way to respond to the question in his sienna eyes.

  “Kira will be fine without me,” I noted as easily as if naysaying an alpha werewolf didn’t make my throat tighten and my muscles quiver. “I’m going with you to hunt this bear.”

  TO MY SURPRISE, GUNNER shrugged then nodded before turning to face Allen as if I hadn’t just disagreed with him when he was in full-on Scary Alpha mode. “Any bears that need killing?”

  “Actually, there is one.” A cell phone tumbled end over end as it flew between us, Gunner’s large palm snatching the device out of the air then tilting it so I could take in the screen.

  “Bear eats toddler. Authorities left scrambling,” read the headline. Below that was a grainy image that might or might not have been a wild animal.

  “Are...?” I started, still not understanding why it was worth tracking down dangerous wildlife today rather than tomorrow.

  But Gunner shrugged off my half-question. “Can you carry this in your magical pouch thingy?” he demanded, the words sounding strangely official in his deep, gravelly growl.

  “Sure,” I agreed, twisting my sword into a fanny pack even as the phone was handed off to me. Then, with no time wasted on farewells, Tank and Gunner were lupine and running, my fox form having to sprint to keep up.

  Just like before, branches lashed me in the face while wet mud slipped dangerously beneath my paw pads, leaving me little energy to worry about my sister or wonder about bears. Instead, I just ran. Between Tank and Gunner. My speed slowing the pack who likely could have covered ground twice as quickly if I hadn’t been in their midst.

  Despite my shorter legs, however, we were all panting equally by the time we stepped out of the trees at the edge of what had to be the Atwood clan home. It looked like a settlement in suburbia, all rocking chairs and flowers. But the air smelled of ozone and wolves.

  And no wonder, because a pup no larger than a house cat slid out an open doorway seconds after we stepped onto the pavement. I didn’t know werewolves came in sizes that minuscule. But, oblivious to its puny status, the youngster yipped in excitement...then ran straight for Tank.

  I shifted and lunged, half expecting the Master to somehow sense the opportunity to wreak havoc upon wolves his brother cared about. But Gunner was there and grabbing the puppy before I could insert myself between them. The alpha opened his jaws wide enough to fit the youngster’s head inside, lowered his eyebrows, roared...

  ...And the puppy laughed in counterpoint. Or it barked out what passed for laughter in a young werewolf, wriggling its plump body and wagging its tail uncontrollably.

  Only then did it leap out of Gunner’s grip and into the arms of a female I hadn’t even noticed approaching. “Is the hunt over?” she asked, her eyes hooded with worry even though she barely spared a second glance for the pup. “Is Marcus alright?”

  “Your mate is in perfect condition,” Gunner answered. “But we’re hunting bear....”

  The female, apparently, understood the implications of that sentence where I didn’t. “Then you don’t want to walk through town and be bombarded with questions. Here, let me grab my keys.”

  Clutching the puppy closer, she speed walked back up to her residence. Took, apparently, one moment longer than necessary because Tank shifted to join us two-legged, reached out to grip his alpha’s bicep. “You trust her not to send someone to warn your brother?”

  “Becky is my third cousin. She won’t break.”

  Of course, Becky had to be Ransom’s third cousin also. And what did bears and brothers have in common anyway?

  Then the female in question was back, pup absent but keys dangling from outstretched fingers. “Marcus’s SUV has four-wheel drive. It’ll get you wherever you need to go. There’s emergency gear and clothes behind the back seat...”

  “Thank you,” Gunner answered, cutting into her refrain. Still, he wasted one moment stepping forward and bending his head down to kiss her on the forehead. In a millisecond, Becky’s stringent scent sweetened as worry slid off her shoulders, proving that the tall, broad Atwood before me was 100% pack-leader material.

  He might be pack-leader material, but his role wasn’t yet official. And that, I gathered, was why we leapt into the vehicle and drove off in search of a bear.

  Chapter 32

  “Alpha, may I speak?”

  I’d never before seen Gunner’s inner circle so tentative around him. But I wasn’t entirely surprised by Tank’s behavior either, not after Gunner had nearly bitten off his head when the lawyer made the egregious mistake of...offering me the passenger seat. Tank probably had no idea why the scratches on his shoulders meant he was no longer trusted to sit or stand behind me. Sometime soon, I’d have to pull him aside and clue him in.

  Not right now though. Because Gunner was growling permission for further conversation even as he steered us off clan central’s small gravel driveway and onto a paved, two-lane road. Pressing hard on the gas pedal, he zipped up to and past the speed limit in a matter of seconds. Then, when Tank still hesitated, he bit out: “Speak.”

  “Yes, alpha.” Tank’s eyes were firmly focused on the cell phone I’d handed over after we all shifted, and not due to his usual internet addiction either. Instead, I got the distinct impression that the male was submitting in the only way possible before a stronger werewolf whose behavior was even more terrifying for apparently lacking cause.

  Without thinking, I reached forward and placed four fingertips against the lawyer’s neck by way of consolation. And, wolf-like, Tank relaxed in an instant, flashing me a grateful half-smile before finally spitting out what he had to say.

  “It’s your prerogative to change your mind, alpha. And I’m not saying it’s a bad idea to go after the bear. But last week, you told us you had no plan to challenge your brother. So we don’t actually know where this animal is located. Perhaps it would be simpler to skip ahead to the sword fight....”

  “No.” Gunner’s negation pushed me and Tank back in our seats as admirably as if he’d accelerated the vehicle. Noting our reaction, he smoothed out his tone as he explained: “Ransom deserves the chance to step down gracefully. Proving prowess at a hunt worked at deciding dominance between our father and our uncle, and it will work for me and Ransom as well. We’ll find the bear.”

  The highway we were on reached a T then, and Gunner turned left without bothering to pause at the stop sign. There were no other vehicles around to make the traffic violation dangerous. And yet, the motion sent a spear of agony cutting through my head.

  Pressing my fingers against my temples, I murmured, “Wait....”

  My words were too quiet to impinge upon the loaded conversation taking place in the front seat. But as the SUV began accelerating, leaving my stomach behind at the crossroads, I realized what my body was trying to express.

  We’re going the wrong way. Yes, that was the problem. So, forcing a little volume into my voice, I added: “Turn around.”

  I didn’t expect them to listen. Not when the pair’s current conversation was loaded with implications, weighed down by Tank’s scratches and whatever difficult brotherly decisions were flowing through Gunner’s head.

  But the alpha heard me anyway. Slammed on the brakes. Then made a U-turn that depended rather strongly upon Becky’s promised four-wheel-drive feature as the passenger-side wheels ended up in—then out of—the ditch.

  I barely felt the bumping beneath me, however. Instead, my breath was coming faster as I reached forward to tap Tank on the shoulder. “The phone...” I started.

  Then the device was in my hand, the news article I’d only glanced at previously filling the screen. The image wa
s somehow clearer than it had been previously, as if I was present there in that secluded residence by the photographer’s side. There was blood on the animal’s hind leg, I noted. Had it cut itself breaking in?

  And suddenly I was consumed by the bear’s body. Was stomping through leaf litter, heavy pads and thick claws scraping against rough rock.

  Slinging my weight around, I didn’t spare a thought for predators. Instead, when I smelled the stink of a weasel, I merely laughed....

  Then I was back in my human body, my head so light and dizzy I felt like I hadn’t eaten in three days. “He’s to the west,” I noted. Then, rolling down the window, I vomited up my guts.

  “NO,” GUNNER GROWLED.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Save me from lovers’ squabbles,” Tank muttered. “If you two keep arguing, we won’t get back before dark.”

  I sighed and tried to get a stronger hold on my temper. On the plus side, my first merging with the bear’s consciousness had been enough to guide us toward a dead-end road at the edge of a vast wilderness area. But my magic was too weak to allow for a repeat of the endeavor. And Gunner stubbornly refused to allow me to boost the signal by consuming Tank’s blood.

  “You’ll drink mine,” the Atwood leader repeated through gritted teeth that appeared to be sharpening. But I’d drunk from Gunner multiple times over the last twenty-four hours. And, from what I’d read between the lines recently, he planned to kill a bear singlehandedly, drag it back to the meeting hill, then possibly fight his brother—to the death?—in an effort to wrench control of the Atwood pack out of Ransom’s hands. I didn’t particularly want to weaken him with a third bloodletting if there was another willing werewolf on hand.

  I didn’t say any of that, however. After all, I’d been around werewolves long enough to understand the alpha’s well-deserved pride.