by D. Fischer
“Go,” I say. When they don’t move, I point and yell, “Go!”
“Did Jinx make it out okay?” I ask Rex when Jeremy and Evo sprint to the front entrance. I pull at the hem of my shirt and use it to absorb the sweat on my forehead.
“I don’t know,” Rex says, calmly walking to the cafeteria exit that leads to the sloped back yard. Rain begins to pelt the windows, and we watch tiny pieces of hail bounce in the browning grass. “Have you tried mindspeech?”
“No. If I mindspeech with Cinder, Amelia, or Damien, they’ll turn around and head back.” We need her away from them. We need her to be safe. I need her to be safe, I realize.
“Bringing Jinx with them,” Rex echos my thoughts.
Exactly, I mindspeech to him. Mindspeech from here on out. Although if the weather keeps up, it won’t matter. They won’t be able to hear inside the compound with hail pelting their skulls. But at the same time, they’ll be more difficult the track. Any sound they make will be as absurd as our voices are to them, and any trailing scent to my wolves hunting them in the forest will be washed away.
Rex surveys me, eyeing me suspiciously. I breathe deep, using a useless technique Amelia taught me, and join him at the back door.
I’m fine, I whisper into his mind. I’m fine.
Jinx Whitethorn
A branch whips me in the face, and I curse under my breath, rubbing the sting along my cheek. I push through this thick part of the forest, following Cinder, Amelia, and Damien. All three are in wolf form. Damien’s is sleek and black, and with the dark rain clouds overhead, his wolf practically disappears at times. Amelia’s grey wolf nudges my side as she pushes past me, nose to the ground, and Cinder’s, grey as well, has his ears perked, twitching constantly to try and get past the sound of rain and hail. They’re faster than me on foot and outwardly unaffected by the tiny balls of ice pelting them. I suppose fur has its uses.
Amelia and Cinder head toward the compound, creeping slowly while I shuck my jacket. That’s fine. I’ll just follow Damien and make sure the forest is cleared before I head there to guard and defend with everyone else.
The hail against my jacket’s cloth is too loud, too different from the sounds it makes hitting the brittle vegetation. I want to curse at the hail’s sting to soft flesh, but instead, I wad it up and tuck it under a dry bush. The next time I look up, Damien is long gone.
Asshole. If they find me, capture me, and bring me to their so-called leader, Damien and the pack will remain safe. It doesn’t take a genius to know that’s exactly why Damien left me behind. He could even be using me as bait to lure them away from home. A lost, lonely little target in the woods, waiting to stumble across the big bad wolf.
I sniff. I don’t need protecting. Mercenary, magically-castrated shifters or not, I’ve known a day like this would come. I can’t hide forever.
The trees seemingly speak as the rain picks up, and the forest floor is darker than I would have expected, despite the forecast. There are no critters. No buzzing insects. This heightens the experience as though the trees know about the danger that lurks between their trunks and they sing about the promise of safety they’ll provide.
I quiet my breathing, harshened by adrenaline and fear and uncertainty. Even though Damien won’t stand beside me – won’t help protect me – I’ll protect the pack. The Bane think I’m inside the compound. They have no idea I’m out here, stalking them, I remind myself. Not yet, anyway. I have every intention of protecting what’s mine.
I blink over this. Mine. The pack is mine. My family. My friends. Mine.
We had passed their car minutes ago. It was haphazardly parked in the brush off the long driveway, but as I told them, there were only four men inside it. Cinder’s wolf only huffed as if to remind me that they’re trained killers and four could do a lot of damage to a pack who isn’t expecting them. There was a howl not long after that, and as chilling as it sounded, it also provided some relief. They’re aware the Bane is here.
A wolf yips, a soft sound that could have easily been mistaken for a bird’s chirp. I freeze, looking around, but I don’t see Cinder, Amelia, nor Damien.
I check the forest floor and pick up a stick as large as myself, thick enough to easily wield as a weapon. My adrenaline pumps in my veins, and my heart shrieks and ducks behind my spine.
Using the trunks, I quietly sneak through the forest, searching for movement and straining to hear the slightest sounds. Not a sound other than the elements. Not a sound but my own soft footfalls and muffled breathing. Not a wolf either. Where did the yip come from?
After a few minutes which feel more like hours, I nearly jump out of my skin when I see a black wolf – Damien’s wolf – creep through one shadow and into another. His ears are perked, and when my foot snaps a twig, his head snaps to mine. Glowing green eyes study my own, and he huffs. My attention flicks to the man who drops from the tree right behind Damien.
I don’t have time to shout his name and warn him. Instead, I go on pure instinct alone, grip the stick correctly, and hurl it like an arrow at the man’s head.
It hits the man square in the forehead, and his head snaps back. A knife tumbles from the Bane’s hand. I dash to him, jump over Damien’s ducked wolf, and hit him square in the jaw. My wrist and knuckles sing. I plant my feet firmly on the ground at a crouch, twirl, and trip his feet out from under him. With an oof, the Bane member falls to his back.
I scramble for the knife, vulnerable with my back to him. Crunchy wet leaves rustle as he works to get to his feet. Fear spikes in my veins, and a sense of knowing overcomes me. Everything begins moving in slow motion, and I can feel it – feel the skinwalker in me rise to the challenge as the attacker lunges for me. But not quickly enough.
A ball of black fur leaps through the air. His paws hit the man in the chest, and Damien snarls before sinking his canines into the man’s throat. The Bane screams, giving away our location entirely. Blood sprays, and I sit there, crouched, unable to take my eyes away. Wolf and human hit the ground, but Damien doesn’t let go. His growl is so low and deep that I swear I can feel the vibrations in my feet, different from that of the rain and pieces of hail.
When the man’s leg stops twitching, Damien’s black wolf releases his neck, and he steps off his chest. Blood drips from Damien’s maw, and he looks at me. I don’t move. One second, the black wolf was feral, tearing into the man’s throat, and the next, he calmly considers my wellbeing. Blinks slowly even as he looks me up and down. I flinch when he strides forward, and my breathing stops when his face is inches from mine. He smells like wet, fresh air, and his soaked fur drips from his belly and chest. The rain tickles my cheeks as it slides down, dripping from my chin, but still, I don’t move. I barely breathe, gripping the knife so tightly my knuckles hurt.
And then, the wolf rests his forehead against mine. Damien – the man who’s hated me since I had arrived, is . . . thanking me? Is this gratitude? I don’t know, nor do I have time to ask before the wolf turns and dashes into the trees once more, leaving me with nothing but a dead body and puddles of blood and rain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jacob Trent
“None of the Bane has reached the compound yet,” Rex mutters to me. He had taken a full sweep through the building, making sure no one had snuck in through windows or other, less guarded entrances. “I swung by your office too. Glenda hasn’t seen anyone in the yard besides our own.”
I nod once, peering out the window. Two of our wolves guard the cafeteria door from the outside in wolf form. Their posture remains alert, watchful to the forest down the hill. The hill is a good defense. It’ll take anyone climbing them twice as long to reach the top than it would for anyone meeting them from the top.
Moments ago, one of my wolves had reported only one unknown car parked on our territory. They had tried to hide it in tall grass at the edge of the forest. The color of the car even blended with its surroundings, from what I was told.
Evo slides into the cafeteria.
“What are you doing?” I bark at him. “You and Jeremy are supposed to be guarding the front door.”
“Shut up and listen, Jacob,” Evo growls, taking thundering steps to me. “I sent Jeremy in wolf form down your driveway to watch the main road to make sure no one else arrives.”
I blink to this. I hadn’t thought of that. Concerned with my own panic, with possible ideas and strategies as problems arise, I hadn’t thought to make sure there weren’t more Bane members that would come and join their pack. After all, four isn’t a lot of men to send.
Evo continues, placing his hands on my shoulders. “He found another car.”
I stiffen under his touch. “More Bane members?”
He shakes his head. “The car is yours. And empty.”
“Jinx,” Rex mutters and then curses. His hands are on his hips, and he paces, muttering threats under his breath. I stand there, dazed, my mind working around all the possibilities, but my heart . . . my heart screams inside my ears, making them ring.
“She’s in the forest?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Evo nods. “Now are you going to tell me that she’s nothing but a woman needing protection?”
“Fuck off,” Rex says in my defense. “Now isn’t the time.”
“What are you going to do about that, Jacob?” Evo asks me, ignoring Rex’s warning. He leans closer, eyes searching my own. Again, I get that sense that he’s reading my mind, searching my soul, and then I remember . . . his mate is an empath. When they mated, her gift also became his.
He knows even if I pretend that I don’t. He knows that my interest in Jinx goes further than protection and my own wolf’s satisfaction. He knows.
“What are you going to do?” he asks quietly.
Allie comes to mind. A best friend I assumed could take care of herself. My best friend, who I had thought was invincible. It got her killed in the end. Choosing to believe she didn’t need my hovering got her killed in the end. And then I think of Jinx; as if the two women are so similar, they blend together in my mind.
I rush to the cafeteria exit, twist the handle, and slam my weight into the door. I push past the two wolves. They whirl to face me, ears pinned. Mid sprint, I leap into the air and shift so hard that it sings into my teeth. My soaking clothes rip at the seams and drop to a patch of mud. When I land back on squishy soft grass, it’s on two pairs of paws. Rex calls my name from behind, but I snarl in my dead run for the trees.
She has no idea what she’s up against.
Jinx Whitethorn
I hadn’t lingered long. On shaky legs, I stood. I had picked up my stick, peeked at the dead Bane member, and continued in the direction Damien's wolf had gone. As my feet slosh against mud, I wait for my conscience to whisper and bully and taunt, but it never does. It never does. I had saved a member of my new family. I had saved Damien. Somehow, this is enough. Enough regret. Enough seeing myself as a beast. Enough trying to change.
I am who I am, and that’s enough.
At some point, I had picked up my pace. There’s supposed to be Riva Pack wolves roaming this forest, but I haven’t seen anyone since Damien. His plan had worked. Though I would have gone about it differently – not used the desires of the hunters as bait – it still worked.
One down, three more to go.
A leaf falls softly from the branches above the tree I touch upon passing, and I freeze as a man drops as fast as the rain. Within that half of a heartbeat, it hits me: They’re in the trees. That’s why we haven’t run into more of them. They’re all in the trees . . . waiting for me.
He lands softly on his feet, smiling with brilliant white teeth. Righting himself, he squares his wide shoulders.
“That’s a lot of wolves just to protect one. Little. Shaman.”
With both hands, I grip my stick tighter. The bark bites into my skin. “Is that a short joke? Or are you implying that I’m a helpless woman? Because I’m sure your dead friends would disagree.” I manage to keep the tremble from my voice.
Since witnessing his friend’s brutal death – an occurrence that probably looked exactly the way it did when I killed the others in the city, my emotions have gone pleasantly numb. The adrenaline, the warmth I felt when Damien had thanked me, all mixes together to create this aesthetic. It makes me feel unnervingly invincible. It isn’t from fear. No. This is from rage.
His grin widens, and he takes one slow step toward me. “Am I supposed to be scared of that stick?”
“If you had any common sense,” I say sweetly.
A calm settles over me despite his enormous size and twitching muscles. The dead Bane shifter was just as large, and a part of me wonders what they feed these guys to get so big. I’ve taken on two of these guys at once. Two, and I walked away from it. Surely, this one will be just as easy, and now that I know they can’t shift . . .
Well, if a wolf is declawed and de-toothed, then they’re not so scary anymore.
“This would be a lot easier if you came willingly. No one else would get hurt.” He prowls as he begins to circle me, but I don’t pivot. I listen to his bare feet in the puddles of mud. It’s best to let him believe he has the upper hand. I’ve trained with men as large as him. Maybe not as feral or primal, but in my mind, this match is even.
“No one will have to die,” he adds.
I tip my head to the side. My soaked hair sticks to my chest and neck. “What is it, exactly, that you and your beasts want from me?”
“I think you know exactly what we want.”
I look at him. “How do you know that killing me will solve your problem?”
He snickers, and the sound of it is anything but comforting. Goosebumps rise over my skin. “Kill you? What problem would that solve?”
I frown. “To break your curse.”
“Ah,” he says breathlessly. Lightning strikes across the sky and brightens his features. It’s sharp-angled, and a scar reaches from his eye to his chin, sunken but only a shade lighter than his creamy skin. “So you’ve figured out our plight.”
Thunder booms.
“I assure you, killing you is not why we are here,” another male voice says. He’s behind me, and I whirl to face him. There’s a pocket of darkness in his grin where a missing tooth was once tucked between the others. Against culture's popular opinion, he’s quite handsome despite the missing tooth.
“Do you like stories, shaman?” the toothless one asks, joining his pack member in circling me. He doesn’t wait for my answer. “Once upon a time, there was a shaman.”
“My father,” I interrupt. I keep my posture relaxed, but underneath my skin, my muscles are coiled, ready to spring.
He smiles. “Very good.” Lightning cracks, and thunder immediately rumbles overhead. He begins to gesture with his hands, keeping his torso facing me while he slowly circles. “Your father. You see, Wice says he stumbled across us once. He didn’t like what he saw, and before we could see him as a threat, he had cursed the entire pack with magic.” He spits that word, the spittle easily soaring through the gap of his missing tooth.
“You do know that shamans have a gift for animals?” the other says. “They can control them. Take over their minds.” He taps his temple for extra emphasis.
“And that’s what he did to you guys?” I say. “I have to say, I don’t think he made a mistake.”
“He did,” Scarface continues. “He got out his little shaman book and cursed us. Our wolves are trapped, you see. Their spirits. In a necklace of all things.”
My fingers itch to touch the pendant in my pocket. I refrain from touching it, from showing any recognition of what he’s talking about.
The pendant holds their wolf’s spirits? Is that the hum of magic I feel when I touch it? A recognition of the beasts within? I had always thought that because it was my father’s, I felt some sort of kinship to the necklace. Some sort of recognition to his memory.
What the hell did my father do?
“Do you know how we know tha
t killing you wouldn’t solve our problem?” the toothless one asks.
I swallow thickly, refocusing back on the two men. “Because you killed my father.”
He claps once. “Very good.”
“It wasn’t a normal car accident,” I whisper out loud.
Scarface laughs, and it grates against every nerve in my spine. “She’s smarter than she looks with that stick in her hand. Wet as a drowned rat. Confused as a baby deer.”
“Give us the necklace, and we’ll let you live,” Toothless says. “We’ll let all of you live. Once we have it, we will leave.”
I blink at him, forcing my mind to work past the creeping numbness. My father had done this. And they had killed him for it. He had stolen their wolves from them. Before . . . Before, this wouldn’t have bothered me, but I’ve spent time with shifters. I know how vital their wolves are to their way of life. Thoughts and actions are as much a part of them as much as their wolves, and my father took away that piece of them. Took away that vital half of them.
“I can hear it calling to me,” Scarface says. His eyes travel the length of my body and settle on my pocket. “I can hear my wolf whisper.”
As if I’m on autopilot, I begin to reach for the necklace. My fingers tremble as I release the stick, holding it with the other. They will likely kill me once they have the necklace.
My father cursed them. He cursed them and then passed this responsibility to me. There has to be a reason. They wouldn’t be chasing me, waiting for me in the trees, otherwise. Waiting for me. They were waiting for me, and until I set foot in these woods, I hadn’t realized that I was waiting for me too. Waiting for me to forgive myself and make a choice. Waiting for me to find . . . me.
My nostrils flare, and my hand grips the stick once more.
All along, these branded men have been chasing me. All along, they wanted this necklace whether I was dead or alive. They didn’t care how they got it. They didn’t care at all. But my father did. He saw what the pack was capable of – what they did to whomever they wanted. He saw their danger, saw the threat to society, and damned the only half of them he could – the animal inside.
