The Trouble with Beasts (Howl for the Damned: Book One)

by D. Fischer

  “I called the alpha to the Bane Pack.”

  “Wice?” I ask, flicking a blade of grass from my jeans. There’s a stain next to it – the sauce from the chicken parmesan of tonight’s meal. “How’d that go?”

  “Not well. I’m afraid it did more harm than good.”

  I look back at the wolves. “In other words, he knows I’m here.”

  “He indeed does.”

  I breathe deep, working to push my panic down, down, down, and swallow thickly. “I want to learn how to control what I am.”

  “So Amelia says.”

  I pluck a handful of grass and clutch their damp coolness in my palm. Instead of scolding him, I say, “Is there anyone here who can help me do that?”

  He rolls his shoulders. “Nobody here can help you – not in the way you need. We might be able to do a little, but no one understands what you are. It’s hard to help someone when we don’t understand it, but I promise you I will try. I can’t speak for the rest of them, but I certainly will try.”

  I look to the side of his face. His gaze, observing his pack’s antics, refuses to meet mine. He truly is beautiful, and the sunset reflects on his dark skin and his coffee irises as well as it does the compound. His jaw is strong, strokable, and the column of his throat is just the same. I look away, feeling the stirrings of interest swell and tighten in my lower abdomen.

  Damn him for being beautiful.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “You’re under my protection, Jinx. I will do what I can to help you, to make you feel like you belong somewhere.”

  I swallow thickly, touched.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He looks toward me now. “Sure.”

  “What did you do with my book? The leather one.” I gesture with my hands to the size of it, blades of grass sticking to the lines of my palm.

  He smiles. “It’s in my office. Against your stellar assumptions, I’m not a total asshole. I wouldn’t take something from you.”

  I roll my eyes, but relief settles my anxiety. Laying my palms flat behind me for support, I recline back and tip my face toward the last rays of warmth. I had thought I dropped my father’s book at the bar and it was left there for anyone to snatch.

  “You’re not an asshole. A bastard maybe. Is that a family trait or just a Jacob trait?”

  He matches my posture, and a small smile tugs on one side of his lips. “My father was a great alpha. When he got too old, he had me challenge him for the position. In order for an alpha to step down, he must die. He wanted me to have the position before someone came along and challenged him for it. So,” he puckers his lips. “I did. I didn’t want to, but I did. He was a great man. I’d be honored to follow in his footsteps and those before him.”

  “Someone here would have done that? Challenged your father?”

  “Before the war? Yes. We lost a lot of wolves that day, but before then, we didn’t have significant deaths to bring together.”

  “I heard,” I whisper. My gaze travels to the side of the clearing where graves are erected. “Was it as bad as everyone says?”

  “Yes,” he says breathily. “Worse. I – I‘ll never forget that day. I still dream about it. Because of the time differences on each realm, our pack had thought we all died. Cinder, Reese, and Amelia, who were left behind to guard this place, thought we had died because we were gone for several Earth Realm months. Cinder was half-feral when we came back, on the verge of becoming rogue due to his grief.” He pauses, struggling with himself. “My best friend died, and there was nothing I could do to save her.”

  “What was her name?” I ask softly, not wishing to interrupt this pouring of information. This is the longest he’s spoken to me civilly.

  Sitting fully up, he grins. There’s a faraway look that shadows it while he watches the wolves tackle each other. He tugs on the rubber band, snapping it as he says, “Allie. Allie Robins.”

  My eyes bulge. “Cinder’s –”

  “Sister,” he says and then hunches his shoulders.

  I’m a prick. I’m such a damned prick. That explains everything about Cinder. He masks his pain with jokes and charm, and he protects me as though I’m his – his sister.

  “Girlfriend? Mate?” I ask, afraid to use full sentences for fear my voice might crack.

  He shakes his head. “If she were my mate, I would have died with her. Before the Realms War, if a mated wolf died, so did their mate. It’s why our devastation was so great.” Before he continues, he licks his bottom lip. “Allie was just a friend. Someone who understood me on a level no one else has.”

  Jacob snaps the rubber band again, and I get the distinct impression that he’s causing himself pain to ignore an entirely different sort of pain.

  “Is that how your mother died?” I ask, putting two and two together. I can tell talking about Allie is stirring up feelings he’s not ready to deal with yet. “Because your father died?”

  He nods.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I blow it out through loose lips. “You shifters really got the short end of the supernatural stick.”

  “Says the woman who grew up with witches who refuse to fall in love.”

  I can’t help a small smile lifting my lips. “But she did fall in love. My mom, that is. She loved my father.”

  He frowns. “Did they marry?”

  I shake my head. “She said he died the day their love for one another was discovered – the day they found out she was pregnant with me.”

  “How’d he die?” he asks, his voice rough, accusing even.

  “Car crash.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I scowl and look to him. “That’s what my mom said. He died in a car crash before our coven could decide what to do with her. Why?”

  He shrugs. “Just seems odd that two people forbidden to fall in love are forever parted the day they were discovered.”

  I tip my head to the side. I hadn’t thought of that. Not at all. “You think he was murdered.”

  He shrugs. “Anything is possible. Speaking of your father, Chip mentioned it would be a good idea to track down those who are from his tribe. Maybe one of them has more information on what you are. They might be able to help.”

  I met Chip earlier today. He was quite nerdy, but he doesn’t have that air of nervousness about him. Instead, he confidently talked about his work in the lab. I was never shown the lab by Amelia, to which she informed me that I picked fights before she managed to escort me there. I could easily see Chip among beakers and Petri dishes, though. Him and his wide, bug-eyed glasses.

  “I’ll get ahold of Sara too, let her know I’m all right.” I’ve been reluctant to call her even though Cinder made it clear that I could. I think some small part of me was hoping my coven would come find me. Perhaps even Marian, the high priestess. I can see her wagging her finger at Jacob for keeping me here, and it almost – almost – puts a grin on my face.

  But the coven would have no reason to search for me. How would they when I left the way I did – bitten by secrets, determined for distance, broken by truths?

  “That’d be wise,” he says, smiling and passing me his cellphone. “The last thing we need is a witch’s wind blowing down our house.”

  I take the phone, palming it in my hand. He had teased me at breakfast today about not owning a cellphone myself.

  “So my book is in the office, huh?” I ask, getting back to the matter at hand.

  I can’t believe I was near it and didn’t see it. In my defense, the asshole who has ordered my death was staring up at me from a piece of paper clipped in a binder. Jacob is just as positive Wice is behind everything. Wice basically admitted it. Jacob is on my side now, though he won’t admit it. He likes the banter too much, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it as well. It’s been a long time since I’ve found someone I can swap my sass with, knowing I won’t hurt their feelings by doing so. I feel myself around him.

  His face sobers. “I did go throug
h it.”

  I stiffen, all humor gone.

  “It doesn’t say much about what you are. The symbol on their neck pops up every now and then, and what I can glean from it . . . It means evil. A ward against evil.” He swallows thickly, a lump of guilt, I imagine. “Most of it I couldn’t read. It was in another language. Sometimes not even whole sentences.”

  Posture slouching, I pucker my lips. At some point, I need to read my ancestral book. It’s a shaman’s tale. Generations of shamans. I know everything there is to know about being a witch except the experience of it, but I’m not ready to find out what it is to be a shaman. Or part shaman.

  “Why would they brand themselves with that symbol?” I ask, steering the conversation once more.

  He shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they want the book. Maybe it means something more to them than it does to us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Jacob says, rubbing his face vigorously. “So many theories, so few truths.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jacob Trent

  Later that night, in the middle of the night, I find myself unable to fall asleep. My stomach keeps grumbling, and my thoughts keep churning at a rate I can’t control nor stop. I know, without a doubt, that if I were to fall asleep, nightmares would plague my dreams. Talking about Allie always brings the nightmares.

  With a grumble, I snap back the covers of the guest bedroom bed, leave the room, and pad softly down the hallway to the cafeteria in nothing but my bare feet. The floor is cool against my soles, chasing away my exhaustion as well as any caffeine would do.

  Jinx is in my room still. I hadn’t the heart to make her move to the guest room, not when she strode inside after a brief goodnight as though the room had always belonged to her. Besides, I’m a gentleman, and my bed is far more comfortable than the guest bedroom.

  In nothing but my shorts, I make my way into the cafeteria and laugh when I see Cinder sitting in the dark with a saucer of cookies piled high before him. Glenda would have a fit, and I glance around just to make sure she isn’t in the shadows somewhere, waiting to scold.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” I ask, approaching the table and sliding into a chair.

  “You couldn’t either,” he points at me, half-eaten cookie in hand. “Still having those dreams?”

  “Lately, yes.”

  He nods as if understanding all that’s on my mind. With the new information, Cinder had called into the bar, changed the voicemail, and proclaimed to all possible patrons that the bar wouldn’t be open tonight. He assured me it would be a slow night anyway, and with all that’s going on, I prefer my pack to be around the territory than out where the Bane wolves roam. He was all too eager to do so, and I know exactly why. An alpha always knows, my father had once told me when I snuck a girl into my room for the first time.

  “Can I ask you something?” I ask, snatching a cookie from the plate.

  “Yeah, sure,” Cinder says distractedly.

  “Do you love her?” I carefully watch his face. Surprise settles over his features first, even in the darkness, and then offense. Victorious, I bite into my cookie. Crumbs sprinkle the table.

  “Jinx?” His voice is high-pitched like a mouse caught in a trap, squealing in fear to the cat hovering nearby. “No!”

  “Really? You could have fooled me.” I chew, and he watches me closely. “You’re defensive of her. You protect her physically and mentally. You challenge anyone who questions her intentions. You accepted her before you even knew what she was. You took her in without a second of consideration . . . You care for her. It’s very clear. If Damien can see it . . .”

  Damien is often quite self-absorbed. Most of the time, he’s an asshole, but he’s an effective addition to the pack. Right now, he’s out in wolf form, roaming the territory and making sure intruders don’t step foot on our soil. With the threat going on, more wolves were added to guard duty. Most obliged without any protest, but Damien had glared at me. He wants nothing to do with Jinx, and I can’t fault him for it. In his mind, when a witch is around, trouble follows. I don’t think it’s sunk in with him yet that Jinx isn’t technically a witch. Nonetheless, I still had to grab him by the collar, taller though he is, and practically shove him out the door.

  “Why does it matter?” Cinder asks, one eye pinched tighter than the other. He drums his fingers on the table, scattering crumbs.

  “Because your judgment is clouded.” I invade his space. “We will protect her, Cinder, but I can’t have you going around and guarding her from the rest of us. She needs to find her place, and I won’t have you standing in her way to do so.”

  He leans forward, too, and whispers, “Now who’s defending her.”

  My eyes flash wolf to his challenging words and posture. “If you’re implying I have feelings for Jinx, pup, you’re sorely mistaken. She’s under my care, my protection, and I won’t have one of my wolves standing in my way. Understand? She is not Allie, and you can’t expect her to be. She may seem just like her, but I assure you, your sister is in a grave behind our compound. Jinx is mine to protect. Not yours. Not anymore.”

  Glaring, he reluctantly submits and pulls away. Snatching a cookie, he stands and saunters his way out of the cafeteria. I watch him leave, my top lip twitching in a snarl. It wasn’t long before I left too, heading to bed.

  I manage to get in a few hours’ sleep, I think. Sort of. I’m not sure if I actually slept because the next morning, before the sun has risen and the smell of breakfast wafts from the cafeteria, I have risen early. It isn’t at all difficult to hop out of my bed and wander down the hall to my room to fetch my clothes.

  I open the door slowly, intent on sneaking in and grabbing my gym shorts without disturbing the tiny, sleeping dragon-woman in my bed. The door swings open and reveals that the bed is made and no one is in it.

  Panic settles into my bones.

  I dash from the hall, racing from room to room, and when I still don’t find her, I head to where I know the majority of the pack will be.

  Bumping my shoulder into the gym door, I search wildly for Rex, and when I spy the group of shifters peering in the same direction, I follow their gaze to a woman’s taunting laugh.

  Sparring with my beta is Jinx. One of her hands is occupied with a mug of coffee while the other blocks all of Rex’s blows. She’s quick, smiling, her braid whipping every time she sidesteps him. I relax but only slightly.

  Breathing hard, Rex backs away, glee puffing his chest for a rare, worthy opponent. The only one of the shifters who has bested Rex is me. There’s a reason he’s the beta, having originally fought for the position once I killed my father. I hadn’t watched that fight even though I was there for it. My attention was glued to the two men sparring in the center – him and Damien – but the grief of both my father and mother’s death had clouded any thought. Their dead, unseeing eyes had been the only thing I could see.

  Instead of killing Damien, per tradition, Rex had peeled him from the floor and slapped him on the back. It was then I truly knew what kind of beta Rex would end up being.

  “Are you slow because you didn’t sleep well?” Jinx taunts. She sips her sloshing coffee. “Or are you slow because you’re getting old, Ginger.”

  “I’m maybe ten years older than you, child,” he spits, though his voice is teasing. They circle one another, and when Jinx’s smile widens, she hands her mug to a waiting Amelia on the sidelines. Amelia’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and she drinks from Jinx’s coffee, watching over the rim.

  I step into the gym, quiet enough to where the only keen-eyed shifters who notice my entrance are Travis and Trevor. They dip their heads to me out of respect when I settle my stance next to them. The rest of the wolves remain unaware, and I cross my arms as I watch and wait for whatever move Jinx plans to pull next.

  I’ve noticed she’s almost always a woman with a plan. It’s a trait I admire, but to give up her coffee means trouble. Not the bad kind of troubl
e. The kind that will surely land Rex on his ass.

  “So, in your assessment, a child will kick your ass.”

  “Taunting gets you nowhere,” Rex says. “Taunting is a sign of weakness.”

  He lunges, swinging his fist too wide and giving her time to duck and punch him in the gut. Rex doubles over, the breath leaving his lungs in an audible whoosh, and spittle hits the mat. He quickly rights himself. As he does, Jinx’s foot connects to his jaw. I hadn’t even seen the telling signs of that move before she made it, though. I was watching Rex, finding some small satisfaction in my beta getting pushed around a mat.

  The pack members laugh at this, some even going as far as clapping. I survey them, finding joy in their own enjoyment. Everyone that is, except for Damien, who watches, scowling against the wall.

  Leaving the twins’ side, I approach Damien, slithering between the gathered shifters to reach his side. He immediately straightens, blanking his expression.

  “How long has this been going on?” I ask.

  He huffs. “They were here before I was. Maybe twenty minutes ago.”

  Sweat rivulets trail down Rex’s neck, and his cheeks are bright red. I flinch as soon as Jinx lays him flat on his back. The thud of his weight is felt in my feet. Every strike, dodge, or countermove Jinx makes is done with such precision.

  “Jinx isn’t the one who got Simon killed, Damien,” I whisper to him. I know exactly what his problem is with Jinx. The entire pack does. It isn’t a secret, and he makes no pains showing it. “She wasn’t in the Realms War. None of her coven was.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Damien hisses.

  “It wasn’t even the witch's fault that Simon died. He was hit by a wave of fire. The witches had cast spells to douse the flames, but they couldn’t have –”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he says and then walks away. I watch him until he’s gone from the gym, the walls vibrating from the slammed door.