by L. E. Horn
“Are there more around here?”
Peter hesitated. “There are things you should know.” He glanced at Chloe. “Chloe wanted to tell you as soon as you’d been bitten, but Dillon wanted us to wait to see if the bite had transferred the virus. Dillon is . . . difficult.”
“He’s one scary dude,” I said. “But he didn’t mean to bite me, I know that. He lunged for Keen and I got in the way.”
“Wulfan have not lived for centuries with humans by being stupid,” Peter said with heat in his voice. “Dillon shouldn’t have been hunting, so we were trying to stop him. He didn’t smell you in time to avoid you.”
“I showered that morning,” I said automatically. I’d always used humor as a shield, why stop now?
Peter’s brows twitched, but he didn’t smile. “The virus is only active the night of the full moon. If he’d bitten you any other time, it would have been painful, but harmless. Dillon was out of control that night”—his gaze shifted to Chloe—“and he is only getting worse.”
Chloe made a small sound of denial, but when I glanced at her, she looked away.
“Where did you meet Dillon?” I asked. “In Texas?”
“We went to high school together.” She would not meet my eyes, as though she was embarrassed. “Dillon was human then. We were good friends but . . . could never be anything more.”
Are wulfan racists? I looked to Peter, questions in my eyes.
“Wulfan usually only mate with wulfan, and the pull between mates is very strong. But sometimes wulfan and humans mate. The virus can only be spread during the full moon. And any body fluid can transfer it.” Peter looked away. “There isn’t enough willpower in the world to stop an infection between mates on a full moon.”
“Okay.” But I was missing something. Would someone voluntarily become a wulf? Man, relationships are complicated enough without this. But if love really can conquer all? “If the human agrees to the change, is that a bad thing?”
By the expression on Peter’s face, I wasn’t going to like the answer. “Humans that are turned by the virus are called wulfleng.” Peter studied his hands, folded on the table. “When you’re born with the wulf inside you, the two of you grow together in balance. Our children go to the same schools as humans, with them never the wiser. That’s the level of control we achieve at a young age.” He hesitated, as though searching for words. “When an adult human is bitten, the outcome is uncertain.”
My heart pounded, and I tossed the rag into the bloody water. I didn’t think cleaning painful wounds was a good combination with this conversation.
“If a human only gets a small amount of the virus, they can live a relatively normal life. They are changed, though, becoming restless, moody, and more prone to violence, but it’s liveable. We’d hoped, at first, that you fell into that category.” Peter’s lips pressed together in a grim line. “When the animals started acting weird around you, it seemed likely you’d got a healthy dose of it. Animals are always the first to sense the wulf. Dillon wished to push the issue, to test you. The response you had to Dillon challenging your territory proves the virus has a firm grip.”
“Maybe I’m a territorial kind of guy,” I said, but I didn’t believe it any more than they did. I remembered the speed of my reaction, the rage. I’d never felt like that before. “Does that mean I’ll change into one of you?” I liked how steady my voice was, as though we were discussing the latest sports scores over a beer.
“Maybe.” Peter sighed. “Some wulfleng never achieve transformation, but the wulf prowls within them. Without the ability to shift, it fights to be free in other ways, making them moody and aggressive.” He hesitated but finally met my eyes. “Some go mad.”
My head spun and my stomach churned. Not flu sick, but mortally upset kind of sick. The animals already sensed something was wrong with me. Was that a sign I would lose my mind?
“That doesn’t have to happen to you. Until the next full moon, we won’t know if you can shift. So far, we’ve seen signs of the wulf within, so we know you’re infected. But that’s all.”
I took a deep breath. “What happens if I transform?”
Peter rubbed his face. “It’s a difficult process for one not born to it. Without guidance, wulfleng can die during their first change. They panic and can’t find their way through it to the wulf or back again to the human. Sometimes it goes bad when the virus doesn’t fully enable the shift and the heart can’t take the strain.” He leveled his pale stare at me. “For those that make it through, they still have to find balance with the wulf. The animal side drives, but the human must navigate, or they become a dangerous beast.” Who knows what he saw in my face, but he hurried to reassure. “Liam, you’re young, fit, and strong. You’re one of the sanest people I know. You’re gonna get through this.”
The conviction in his gaze sent a flicker of hope through me. “But I might not.”
“No.”
“But it would be better if I did.”
“Yes. When the virus is at full strength, the wulf must run free at times or it’ll drive you insane. Without the shift, you’d have limited options.” His mouth drew down at the corners and his brows shadowed his eyes. “In Texas, wulfan enforcers put down wulfleng that cannot find balance, whether they shift or not. Unbalanced wulfleng are a risk to every wulfan as well as to humans, and their decision has to reflect the greater good.”
I sat in my chair and nodded as though it made perfect sense, but I shook all over. “Are there enforcers in Manitoba?”
“Yes. But the rules are more relaxed up here.”
My mind raced, putting together the pieces. “Dillon is a wulfleng.”
Chloe flinched; the movement so obvious I looked over at her. Peter remained silent, letting her tell Dillon’s story.
“Like I said, Dillon and I were friends for a long time, but I was the only wulfan in our close-knit group, and none of the humans knew what I was.”
She gazed across the kitchen with unfocused eyes. “When we entered high school, Dillon changed the relationship. Or tried to. He didn’t understand why we couldn’t be more than friends, and I couldn’t tell him.” Her gaze sharpened as she looked at me. “What happened was my fault. Instead of ending our friendship, like my father wanted, I tried to save it. And that made Dillon try even harder. I didn’t realize he’d started following me.”
“Stalking you,” Peter corrected. “Not your fault. Dillon wasn’t balanced about it. He’s obsessed.”
“He was a teenager,” she shot back. Then added, as she looked down and twisted her hands together on the table. “My father sent me away. No one told Dillon where I’d gone, and it worked for a while. But one day, three years into my college program, I looked up in the library and there he was.”
She clenched her fingers together. “He asked me to dinner, and I didn’t know what to say. I should have said no, but he was my friend.” She bit her lip and looked away, and it made me uneasy. Something about this isn’t ringing true.
Peter took up the story, his tone laced with disgust. “Chloe’s father got wind of where Dillon had gone, and her brothers headed after him. By the time they found Chloe and Dillon . . .”
“We were only walking together,” she said, her voice hostile. “I knew it was a full moon and I needed to drive to somewhere remote for my run. It was already dark, and I was jumpy, like I always am when I have to shift. But I have excellent control and had time to let Dillon down gently. Then Tate and Will popped out of nowhere and got stupid right off, up in Dillon’s face.” She shook her head, but again, I had the distinct feeling she wasn’t telling everything. “They were idiots, too close to the change, looking for a fight. And Dillon was never one to back down.”
“Dillon was then, and always will be, an angry SOB,” Peter stated.
“He has a temper,” she corrected, “but he didn’t deserve this. They got into it, and Tate lost control for an instant. He bit Dillon.”
It explained a hell of a lot: Chloe
’s unhappiness, the fights, the lack of connection between them, yet her inability to throw him out. Chloe felt guilty, and Dillon—who in my limited opinion fit Peter’s description to a T—was now a highly unstable wulfleng.
But something niggled at me. I remembered the expression I’d seen for an instant in his eyes. The sick look of betrayal. Dillon is nuts, but he cares about Chloe. “You moved here to keep the enforcers from ending him.” I guessed, and saw by her face, I’d nailed it. I looked to Peter. “Is he getting worse?”
Before Peter could express the affirmation I saw in his gaze, Chloe jumped in. “He’s jealous of you. He knows you have the wulf in you, and he’ll kill you if he finds you here. And this time, I don’t know if we can stop him.”
Whoa. Lots to think about there, serious stuff, but my silly heart did a double beat and flipped over. Does Dillon have a reason to be jealous? Maybe now I’m wulfleng, he does. Right. Like that was my only take away from all this. And to tell the truth, I wasn’t sure I wanted to start anything with Chloe. Her beauty drew me in, but I remembered the sick look in Dillon’s eyes. And was she worth getting hammered by those enormous fists?
Peter pulled his shirt closed over the mincemeat that was his chest and stood up. “Pack clothes for the next few weeks. Book time off work—they owe you for all the vacations you never take.”
I looked at him, uncomprehending.
“I have somewhere to keep you safe until we know where you stand,” he explained.
Until they find out how much of the wulf lives inside me. “But I can’t leave you here to face Dillon.”
“He’ll calm down without you around,” Chloe said, and I winced at the hope in her voice. “If he makes it through the next full moon, it’ll help him get control.”
Peter stood, walked to the cabinet near the door, and reached in to pull out his shotgun. I knew he had one, but I’d never seen him use it.
“I can handle Dillon.”
Chloe gasped.
“Do you have silver bullets in that thing?” My wisecrack came on autopilot.
“Don’t need ’em,” he growled, and for a second, I saw the wulf behind the pale-blue eyes.
* * *
Getting hold of Darlene on Easter Monday was a challenge. I managed it after a few false leads and negotiated a vacation with zero notice, based on the provision of yet another dinner for herself and her husband. And at an expensive restaurant of course.
I hoped I could keep that promise.
It took me longer to pack for Keen than it did for myself; her bed, toys, chew sticks, treats, and box of food occupied most of Peter’s back seat. When I argued that I should follow him in my SUV, he gave me a look.
“You won’t need it,” he said.
My mouth dropped open, and shut without saying another word. What could I say? If everything went south, this would be a one-way trip. Still, it wasn’t like me not to argue. As I let Keen into the bench seat in back, I wondered if he’d pulled some alpha wulf mojo on me.
We headed off on Highway 12, north of Beausejour. Peter drove with his usual close concentration, both hands gripping the wheel. Considering he spent part of his time running wild with big teeth and claws, he was a remarkably careful driver.
“So where are you taking me?”
“Chris is a friend. Ex-RCMP. Recently retired.”
“Wulfan?”
Peter shot me a look. “Wouldn’t do you much good if he wasn’t.”
“So, he’s going to what . . . help me? How?”
“You have seventeen days until the next full moon.” His brow furrowed but he kept his gaze on the highway. “I’ve seen the wulfleng change in action. The closer you get to your first moon, the more things start happening. The fever often returns. Your skin’ll itch and your bones’ll ache. You can suffer mood swings, sometimes violent. That’s for starters.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“I’ll not candy coat this, Liam. There are a hundred ways this could go wrong. Even if you make it through the transition to wulf, you still have to find the balance between human and beast. But I meant what I said: you’re young and fit, and you’re strong mentally. I believe you have a real shot at getting through the next few weeks, just don’t lose faith.”
When my jaw began to ache, I realized I’d clamped it tight. I worked to loosen it and forced my thoughts to him and Chloe. “Are you sure you can handle Dillon?”
“No,” he admitted. “He’s a loose cannon, and much as I hate to say it, Chloe should have let the enforcers do their job.”
My heart raced at the thought of Dillon hurting Peter or Chloe.
Peter sensed my angst. “Chloe is right that you being gone will ease things.” He sighed. “Dillon’s picked up on something between you two.”
“There’s nothing between us. She kissed me the other day, but it wasn’t serious. When we returned, he was waiting for her, and she . . . well, she’s obviously got feelings for him.” But if he hurts her or you, I’ll rip out his throat. The resulting visual startled me. Would I have craved such a visceral thing if I weren’t on the downslide to becoming a wulf?
Peter glanced at me. “She told me about that. Chloe worries about Dillon shredding you. She tried to reassure him there was nothing going on. Might have worked too, if you hadn’t challenged him in the backyard with a walking stick.”
Chloe’s trying to protect me? I remembered her rigidity when he’d kissed her. Right before she’d grabbed his neck and rubbed his chest with her hand. “Anyway, it’s her choice. I won’t interfere.”
Peter’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “She insists they’re only good friends.”
“You believe that?” I thought about the tone in Chloe’s voice when she defended Dillon.
“She feels guilty about what happened to Dillon.”
“She’s in over her head with him.” I was afraid for her and for Peter. “What if he loses it and hurts her? Or you?”
“Don’t have an answer for you,” Peter said. “Keep hoping she’ll see that the friend she had disappeared long before Tate bit him. Dillon was a sweet kid with an alcoholic mother and a father who beat him. That was before I moved here, and even then, he was focused on Chloe.”
“That explains why he has issues but doesn’t excuse his obsession.”
“No. Obsession’s another issue. But his behavior means more exposure than is safe for us—biting you, beating up a client at the shop.”
I remembered the day jogging in the woods, and Chloe’s reaction to what we’d found. “Not to mention two dead coyotes and possibly a deer.”
“Coyotes?”
“Chloe didn’t tell you?” She’s protecting Dillon.
“No.” Peter’s voice indicated this was worse news than I knew. “That’s bad.”
“He killed a hare the night he scared the horses. And two bison. Tore them to pieces.”
“When did that happen?”
When I told him, a spasm passed across his face. “That was the night Dillon and Chloe arrived. They’d been traveling for days to get here. Likely the first time he was able to shift in at least a week.”
“That makes it worse?”
“It can.” He hesitated. “Don’t mention any of that to anyone, especially Chris, okay?’
“But . . .”
“I’ll handle it.” His tone brooked no argument.
Peter shot me a glance and a muscle jumped in his cheek. “Hunting requires strict control over the beast, since it brings out our animal urges. Wulfan are careful when we hunt, and youngsters must prove they have a handle on their wulf first.”
“So is this another sign that Dillon is losing it?”
“He had no reason to kill the coyotes other than territorial instinct. I’ve lived with them for years. The bison—I have no explanation for that. It’s a sure sign his wulf is winning.”
“Other than beating the hell out of you? I also saw him pin Chloe one night, on the front lawn. It wasn’t pretty.” Thin
king back on it, my fingers curled into fists.
Peter’s expression darkened, but his eyes dropped to my hands. “Liam, you take him on now, and you’ll die. If you want to help, get through this sane and alive.”
Keen whined and thrust her head between the seats, poking at my arm with her nose. My heart hurt. “Peter, if something happens to me . . .”
“You’ll make it through this.” His lips tightened in a grim line. “But yes, if you’re hit by lightning or kidnapped by aliens, I’ll look after Keen for you.” We slowed and turned down a long drive that wound between dense evergreens.
Peter stopped the truck and faced me, pausing to gather his thoughts. It shocked me to see the sorrow in his eyes. “I swear, if I had any idea that Dillon was this bad, I would never have let him come here. Now you’re paying the price for my stupidity.”
“It’s not your fault. Isn’t even Dillon’s, really. I tried to save Keen and got in the way.”
“He shouldn’t have been chasing that deer. And he sure as shooting shouldn’t have gone after your dog.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I’ve never told you this, but I think of you as a son.”
I opened my mouth to tell him it was okay, but my throat closed. Peter was the only person who knew my full story, and he understood what the comment meant to me.
“You know you’re like a father to me.” He nodded. “And this isn’t on you, Peter. Dillon has to take responsibility for his actions.”
Peter put the truck back into gear and continued up the drive. “You say that now. Wait’ll your spine pulls apart and sprouts a tail.”
My jaw dropped. “My spine will pull apart?”
Peter chuckled low in his throat. “Not really. But it sure as hell feels like it.”
* * *
I admired the sprawling single-story house as we climbed the steps to a wide, covered porch. The entire place appeared like something out of a gardening magazine, with sculpted paths, perfectly placed trees and shrubs pruned to enhance the substantial front gardens.
