by Keri Hudson
They all attacked the ursine together, the collective force of three lupines driving it to a dizzied state. Caleb could sense the thing weakening under their assault. But it seemed to be drawing on a hidden reserve of strength, something Caleb couldn’t identify. And the question of who this shifter was in its human form was still plaguing him.
Is it the cop, Hume? Is it the Animal Control officer? Who else could it be? Not one of the staff, no question about that, not Jonathan Armstrong.
With no more time to think, the house lurched above them, entirely engulfed in flame. Jonathan looked at Caleb, and the younger knew just what the elder was thinking.
This was Jonathan Armstrong’s place of power, a thing almost with its own soul, its own life—or so it had struck Caleb at one time. Instead, he saw it as a weapon, the last great power the great man had to wield against his mortal foe. And Caleb couldn’t help but ask himself, Why not? It was the instrument of his rise, one source of his family’s power; and it’s his family which is at stake.
Caleb knew the gambit, and he did not object. But he knew it would require a sacrifice, and both lupines knew whose sacrifice would be the one required to get the job done.
Take care of my son, Jonathan’s voice echoed in the back of Caleb’s brain. Don’t tell him what I had to do to his mother. She ran scared, I couldn’t let her spread the word about us. You understand that, don’t you?
Caleb had no answer, and no answer was necessary. The end had come, and both knew what was going to happen.
Caleb did his part by leaping up and over the ursine. He did what the ursine couldn’t have expected and grabbed the cub shifter Daniel in his jaws, just tight enough to gain a good purchase. He dug his paws into the bear’s back and pulled Daniel free, the two of them jumping clear to let Jonathan redeem himself.
Jonathan dug into the ursine’s anus, already injured and the place of its greatest vulnerability. The bear spun, but Jonathan Armstrong was clearly pouring the last of his strength and his power and his wiles into that last stand. He would not relent, pulling at the weakened ursine from behind. The beast screamed out, thrashing and pulling at the ground as Jonathan himself pulled it backward. The creature had been so worn down, and Jonathan so inspired to new heights of heroism from the depths of his own depravity, that a most incredible feat played out before Caleb, Daniel, and Abigail’s eyes. The three stood together, a lupine in fighting trim, a cub of amazing promise, and the exquisite woman who would be the center of their new family, the nexus of their future family.
And in front of them, their new family’s past played out to its deadly, fiery conclusion. Jonathan dragged the ursine back as the house crumbled and creaked above and behind them. Caleb looked into the ursine’s round eyes, unaccustomed to fright, as the smaller lupine exerted the last of his strength and did what no ursine could have imagined possible.
Chunks of the burning house were already falling, planks landing like burning spears and shingles wafting down with the breeze, leaves of flame as they abandoned their fallen leader.
Abigail clung to Caleb, still in his lupine form, Daniel standing with them to watch Jonathan drag that beleaguered behemoth back into the crumbling inferno. Caleb could only stand there with the new incarnation of the great man’s legacy, thinking, Good luck, and goodbye.
But Jonathan Armstrong had said all, clearly using all his strength and focus to pull the exhausted ursine into the crumbling building. A big pine beam fell to block their exit, and Caleb knew that they were doomed. Chunks of burning plaster and wood fell on top of them like some righteous rain, Sodom and Gomorrah both going up in flame to cleanse their hateful and sinful past. There would be a new world, one without either of them.
A tremendous plank of the second floor fell down on both shifters, the ursine and the lupine alike, their death screams ringing out even through the creak and crack of the house’s collapse. The anguish in their mutual cries leaked out as their waning but unseen death struggle continued in that house of death.
It ended soon enough.
The fire raged on, the frame of the house soon the only part of it left standing. It was a hellish portrait of a family line corrupted and contorted, a noble concept which had been twisted by the basest instinct of man and beast.
But the house burned, consuming everything in it. Caleb wondered if he’d ever know the identity of the shifter, not that it mattered.
Whoever has suddenly vanished, he knew, that’s the one. We’ll know at the funeral.
But there were other questions, other souls whose fates were left undetermined. Caleb had to wonder, Where’s Lulu, or old Edith? Surely one of them at least escaped from that terrible fire? Or did Armstrong House claim them both as sacrifices to its own demise?
No house built here will ever make such a claim again, Caleb silently swore, not while I’m the patriarch here and not while my children reign behind me!
Caleb looked down at the pup who would be his adopted heir, the woman he would love forever. But before love had come death, a baptism of fire spelled out for them all in the crumbling construct of Armstrong House itself. The beast had fallen, the man had been engulfed by the very thing which had given him the power which had propelled him through life.
But his genes had lived on, and they would be guided by a man of greater moral compass and purpose, a family without stain or blemish. They were born anew of true love, forged by the fire of renewal, unstoppable in their combined powers. Human and lupine would create new fire, new life, a new future for their line and for all Fall River, Massachusetts, the Unites States, and even beyond.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Pastor Eric Newton stood dressed in black, King James Bible once again in his hands. Caleb could only stand there with a resolve, a calm he’d never known. He couldn’t wipe clean the memories of Jonathan Armstrong, a flawed man who struggled for redemption. It would be for Caleb to finish correcting the damage he’d done, to restoring the sheen and shimmer to the name of Armstrong House, a new world of smiles and games and long, happy summers.
Abigail looked into Caleb’s eyes, and seemed to read his intense reflection, taking his hand in hers.
“Whatever is has already been, and what will be has been before; and God will call the past to account. And I saw something else under the sun: In the place of judgment, wickedness was there; in the place of justice wickedness was there.”
Lulu and Edith sat together in the front row, hand in hand. Lulu had managed to escape the house through the kitchen and tucked away to safety. But Edith had drawn on her long years of experience and tied bedsheets together to slither down the side of the burning building unseen. The wheelchair under her spoke of her relative success. But she was alive, and in her old friend Lulu’s company she was resplendent. They’d had little more than each other, and Daniel, and now had a future they could enjoy, a house they could live in without oppression, without fear.
The pastor read, “I said to myself, ‘God will bring into judgment both the righteous and the wicked, for there will be a time for every activity, a time to judge every deed.’ I also said to myself, ‘As for humans, God tests them so that they may see that they are like the animals. Surely the fate of human beings is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath; humans have no advantage over animals. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?’”
They’d selected the scripture deliberately, a fitting salute to the long, winding journey which had brought them to the pastor on that hallowed day. Caleb turned to see the face of Fall River PD detective Paul Hume, offering him a friendly nod from the pews. Caleb was glad to know the man was his ally if not his friend; he knew he’d need plenty of both in the years to come. Things were only meaningless on a certain level, Caleb knew. On another level, they contained all the meanin
g in the world, in the Universe. And somewhere between enemy and ally, between threat and promise, between human and shifter, between love and hate, that was where the balance would be found. That was where the hope of the human race rested, and of the shifters as well. As if it could be found, as if such a thing could ever be accomplished. But that was the hope of their races, of the entire world.
One notable absence was the Animal Control officer, Jane Baxter. Her two assistants were in attendance, and they glared at the altar with barely contained disgust and anger. It was clear to Caleb who the ursine had been, and he wasn’t surprised. He was also ready for any retaliation. One glare at them seemed to make the point clear, the two looking away as soon as they felt his attention turned to them.
“I have seen that there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his work,” Pastor Newton went on reading, “because that is his lot. For who can bring him to see what will come after him?”
Caleb and Abigail shared a glance, then looked down at little Daniel. Resilient, full of promise and love, Daniel looked back at them and smiled. The pastor looked over the crowd of friends and family gathered in the yard of the newly rebuilt Tudor mansion standing where Armstrong House had been.
“We’re gathered here today to join these two in holy matrimony. One family becomes another, love endures and prevails. We have said goodbye to one great member of our community, who died heroically fighting to protect his family. Now we say hello to the family which rises from the ashes of the other. But the name of Armstrong still lives, the next generation to be joined by new siblings, new life, new hope. That is the gift of the Christ, after all. And in His name, we witness this vow.”
Caleb looked down into her lovely face, the image of pure beauty. “Do you, Caleb Kahr, take this woman, Abigail Sanderson, to be your lawfully wedded wife; to have and to hold for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
Caleb smiled, eyes locked on Abigail’s. “I do.”
Daniel stood there in a smart tuxedo, holding a velvet pillow with two rings, one bigger than the other. He picked up the smaller one and slipped it over her delicate, pale finger.
Pastor Newton went on, “Do you, Abigail Sanderson, take this man, Caleb Kahr, to be your lawfully wedded husband; to have and to hold for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
A little tear crawled down that precious face. “I do.”
“Then by the power vested in me by the Great State of Massachusetts, and by the power of the Lord Almighty, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Caleb pushed Abigail’s white wedding veil aside and leaned down for a supple little kiss, a wondrous sensation that thrilled him down to the tip of his toes. He pulled back, her eyes on his, and he could feel her excitement matching his.
Caleb reached out and took Daniel’s hand. With Abigail on one side and Daniel on the other, the three walked down the aisle together, a new family. Their family and friends nodded and smiled and clapped for the next generation of Armstrong House, a new reign of peace over Fall River and all of Massachusetts.
The End
Wolf’s Obsession
CHAPTER ONE
Paul Landry surveyed his island home. The spring breeze blew over the Pacific, palm trees reaching out into the clear blue sky above. It was another glorious day, his long, brown hair blowing in the ocean breeze. Paul took a deep breath, salty air filling his nostrils, his throat, his lungs, chest expanding to take it in and then release it. A seagull called to him, but it had little to say.
After spending all of his twenty-five years on that isolated patch of rock and trees and grasses, Paul felt he knew the place as well as he knew the members of his own family, as well as he knew himself. But he knew more than the rocks and crags, more than the best fishing spots and tidepools and where the parrots laid their eggs, because that island was more than a compendium of flora and fauna. It was his home, but even more than that. It was his prison and his warden, it was his constant tormentor, forever holding him and his family hostage, for a ransom that nobody would ever pay.
Paul could only imagine what life was like off that island. His father and older siblings had memories of it, though Ruth and Peter and their cousin Matthew were quite young when they were castaway a year before Paul was born. His father had told them stories of the bright lights in places like Las Vegas and New York and Hollywood, about grand palaces where people gathered to watch fantastic stories created by actors and other professionals and recorded to be seen later, over and over again. These things could also be seen on things called televisions, which people apparently watched in their manmade caves, some of which were very luxurious and expensive. Because, as James had explained it, people all over the world used something called money, which they exchanged for things they needed or wanted.
Paul and the rest of the Landry family had no need for such things. The island gave them everything they needed to survive quite handily: passionfruit and breadfruit, conger and flathead and crab in the shallows, parrots to provide eggs and meat, even a population of wild hogs which had somehow established itself on that remote plot of land, no other land anywhere in sight in any direction.
And that was just what it would not provide: company, new blood, community, society. Paul had been born on that island and had never experienced any such thing. His mind reeled to imagine it all, to think that they could have lived such lives, among such people, in spite of who and what they were.
Paul thought of the others like them, some living among others and some choosing to live alone, as Paul and his family had to do. He struggled to understand how anybody could willingly decide to live as he and his family did, set aside and never knowing the friendly smiles or tender love of a normal human being.
He struggled because he knew there were reasons, good reasons for his type to be removed from those his father called the normalos, which he pronounced nor-mah-lows. It was a term he said everybody of their kind used, though some considered it a disparaging remark. Paul couldn’t imagine why.
Paul envied the normalos, he longed to live among them, to partake of all the glorious wonders of human society. He wanted to go to one of those places his father called restaurants, or slightly different places called night clubs, where people shared nights of loud music his father described as synthetic, though Paul had a hard time knowing just what he meant. False, unreal, those were the words his father had used to explain, but Paul had never heard the things the synthetic music was false about, or how it was unreal.
But he was interested in finding out.
He wanted to ride in one of the things called cars, hurled along faster than any creature on Earth could run or swim. He wanted to live as they did, despite his circumstance and his nature. But he knew he could not, and he never would. Because not only were his circumstances not going to change, his nature would never change either.
It had shocked him to learn that most people in the world weren’t like Paul and his family, that they retained their human form at all times. It was a natural limitation for them, something else Paul came to understand as he got older. The parrots didn’t transform into monkeys, the pigs did not shift into parrots. The crabs were always crabs, the conch remained a conch for every day of its life.
But as his father had explained, these were lesser creatures, just as the normalos were lesser creatures. They were creatures of God, of course, just as Paul and his family were, they were important to the natural balance of life and death on the planet.
But so were shifters, and Paul’s father had been careful to explain that to them as well.
Paul sighed, breathing in a lungful of that salty air. He could still recall his first shift, which had happened spontaneously when he was thirteen. His family had calmed him and trained him in the ways of their kind, and since then he’d come to savor the strength his lupine form gave him; from six feet tall to ten feet long, long snout
snapping, thick brown hide sprouting to protect. There was a certain vulnerability to being in his human form, though there was little enough reason to shift on that isolated island. There were times when the pigs got out of line, but they feared Paul and his family, at least when isolated. The alpha males were often outraged in their presence and had attacked before, but they’d never prevailed and they seemed to know that, unless they attacked en masse, they never would. Paul often reflected on how lucky the Landrys were that, despite their porcine intelligence, the hogs would forever be too unsophisticated to organize such an attack.
But if they did, no number of wild hogs, no matter how vicious, would stand much of a chance against a family of lupine shifters.
So the natural balance of life continued on their little island as it did everywhere else—often challenging, sometimes rewarding, and often frustratingly dull. And there was even more to be frustrated about on their island prison, one reason in particular that sent chills up Paul’s spine.
There were other shifters out there, Paul knew by his father’s telling, and not merely lupine shifters. Instead of taking a wolf form, there were ursine shifters as well, who took the shape of great bears. They were the sworn enemy of the lupes, as Paul’s father, James, referred to their own kind, and there was a constant struggle between the two clans. The bear shifters were bigger, stronger, and they longed to dominate the human race. No creature of the wild could stand against them, and they’d become emboldened over generations.
The only force keeping them at bay were the lupine shifters, who were smaller but also quicker and more numerous. Most lupes lived in packs, James had explained. Both shifters integrated humans for breeding purposes, most of them willingly, like Paul’s own mother. But the ursines were well known for taking human women and forcing them to mate, then killing them after the cubs were born. They were brutal and vicious and had to be kept in check. That was the reason the lupes existed in terms of the natural balance of the Earth. And that island was holding five powerful shifters, keeping them out of the fight. Shifters were not that common, Paul knew that, only one in five hundred thousand or so. Five of them could make a tipping-point difference in the balance of life and death for every shifter.
