by Cheree Alsop
“Does that help?”
I let out a quiet chuckle at his perceptiveness. “Nope.”
He turned away from the forest. “You should go running.”
His comment surprised me. “Why?”
He looked up at the moon above us. “You used to run all the time. If I remember right, you were one of the few who volunteered to patrol extra shifts because you enjoyed the escape.”
I didn’t like the reminder of how life had been at the Lair, but knew it was the only thing we had to draw on. I gave in and nodded. “I did enjoy it.”
Mitch motioned toward the dirt road that ran in front of the Willard house. “So, do it again.”
I watched him suspiciously. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Mitch?”
A chuckle, the first I had ever heard from him, escaped and he grinned. “It didn’t cross my mind, but now that I hear my own words, it sure sounds like it.”
I appreciated his honesty. “It does.” The shadow of someone crossing into the kitchen showed through the blanket Mrs. Willard had hung there. I let out a breath and asked the question that bothered me, “Why are you so good at being human?”
He didn’t ask what I was talking about. We could both feel it. It had only taken a few minutes into dinner before he was chatting and laughing with the rest of them. I spent the time watching James joke with him about whether he had been afraid of coming away with pink hair after Janie’s haircut, and when he and Ian got into a discussion about whether a werewolf’s sense of taste was as good as their sense of smell.
I had studied conversation skills for years and practiced on my forays to gather targets for the Masters. I had even thought my own brief conversations with the family were very successful until I witnessed the ease with which Mitch integrated into family life. Jealousy wasn’t one of my usual traits, and its burn wasn’t something I relished.
“Because I’ve wanted it longer than you.”
The werewolf’s answer was the last thing I had expected. “What?”
Mitch kept his gaze on the house when he said, “At the Lair, you seemed fairly content with your fight to climb the ladder and get above the petty squabbles that came with being lower on the totem pole. You ran, you phased, and you trained with a drive I couldn’t even hope to match. You worked hard to obey the will of the Masters up until the end.” He shook his head and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “All I wanted to do was run away and pretend to be human.” He lowered his gaze as though his admission was embarrassing. “I used every minute of study time we got learning how to fit in. On our scoping missions, I spent my time chatting with the locals and learning how to be a casual member of society.” He faced me fully. “Zev, while you were busy trying to be the leader the Masters believed you could be, I was occupied with learning how to be human.”
The truth struck close. I had been so focused on not being at the bottom of the ranks that becoming one of the top three was all I could imagine. The thought that there was something else out there didn’t matter. It was only when I reached the top that I learned the truth. The ranking may have put me above the others, but I still had Masters to obey.
“Never again will I live under their rule,” I said more for myself than for Mitch.
“I know,” he replied. “So stop living by their rules.”
I stared at him. “What are you talking about?” His words made me want to growl and challenge him, but I told myself that was an ingrained need to prove my place and was not needed. Yet the wolf fought to break free so hard I had to clench my hands into fists to stop it.
“They want you to be afraid of their attacks,” Mitch said. “They want to be in your head as much as they were at the Lair, and you’re letting them.”
The fact that he was completely right rankled my pride. I wanted to pummel him and had to force myself to turn away. It was a moment before I could say, “So what do I do about it?”
A nearly silent outlet of breath told me that Mitch had expected me to fight him for his blunt words. The realization took the anger from me as quickly as if he had dumped a bucket of water on my head. I turned. “How do I stop worrying that at any moment I’m going to hear their voices commanding what I should do?”
Sympathy showed on the werewolf’s face when he said, “They still might show up, but you’re forgetting one thing.”
I watched him closely, wondering what he meant.
He smiled and said, “They can command whatever they want, you just don’t have to obey.”
I stood there for several minutes letting his words sink in. He was right. As much as I had been trained to listen to every word of the Masters’ command, I had broken free from them. I no longer had to listen. As hard and terrifying as it was to accept, I was away from their control. It was a freeing feeling as much as it was intimidating. It felt as though I stood on the edge of a precipice. Only instead of the Masters commanding me to step over, there was only my voice.
“Give yourself a break, Zev,” Mitch said, shaking me free from my thoughts. “Go for a run. I’ll keep an eye on the house.”
The thought was reassuring. As much as I felt a run in the darkness would help, the need to defend the Willard family remained. I didn’t know if it was instinct hinting that something was out there, or my need for some sort of purpose in this new life I had thrown myself into that kept me on alert. Either way, a run would certainly help lessen my tension.
“I’ll do that.”
I walked toward the forest. There was a clearing deeper within where I could undress before phasing. I was sure Mrs. Willard would appreciate it if I stopped tearing up the clothes she lent me. She had joked at dinner about going to a second-hand store to pick up more shirts and pants along with a pair of shoes for Mitch.
I was aware of Mitch’s gaze as I approached the fence. I stopped with a hand on it and looked back at him. “Thanks.”
A small, understanding smile crossed his face. “You’re welcome. I owe you.”
“I owed you first,” I replied.
I put a hand on the fence post and vaulted over. The welcoming darkness of the reaching trees fell on my shoulders as I crossed into the thicket.
I took a deep, testing breath. There was no scent of strange werewolves in the air. Instead, the warm decay of the undergrowth mingled with the crisp, thought-clearing aroma of the evergreens. The fresh, windswept smell of a grouse was tangled with the musk of a martin. A gray and white tuft of hair clung to a bramble and waved in the moonlight. The scent said it was the cottony fur of a rabbit in the middle of changing color for the cooler temperatures.
A shudder ran down my spine. It wasn’t from the cold I barely felt or from any fear of attack. It was the want to be a part of the forest, to be a creature who belonged within the trees, to be embraced by the moonlight, to be one with the wildness that beckoned to me from within and without.
I pulled off my shirt and hid it with my pants and shoes beneath a pile of leaves at the base of a tree. Though I didn’t think anyone would really bother them, stealing clothes at the Lair was a particularly embarrassing form of being hazed. I had never forgotten the one time I had come home early in the morning exhausted from a run only to phase and find that my clothes had been taken by one of the lesser ranks. I had made the mistake of wearing out my energy stores to the point that I couldn’t phase back to wolf form. The memory of my trek through the Lair and my chambers to retrieve my other set of clothes still stung.
It took only the thought of my wolf form to bring on the phase. The moonlight was strong overhead and my body had been away from fur and fangs for too long. I dropped to my knees and allowed the change to come without fighting it. The thoughts of the wolf overtook the human whirlwind of emotions, ideas, drive, and doubt. My senses heightened and pushed away the fears and worries I couldn’t control. The present became what was most important. I didn’t forget the potential dangers of the world; I was just better able to wonder in reality instead of being bogged down by things
I was unable to change.
A breeze tickled the fur of my right ear. I stood and shook to adjust my muscles and bones to the familiar shape. I stretched and felt the urgent need to push my muscles to the limit.
I leaped into a run, chasing the wind that toyed tantalizingly through my fur. The promise of rabbits, unexplored lands, midnight ponds, and moonlit clearings drove me forward.
I ran without fear of reaching the Masters’ boundaries. I didn’t need to worry about when to turn back. My life was my own. A feeling of peace settled onto my shoulders. No matter what happened, I was in control of my own fate. I could run forever.
The feeling of the soft loam beneath my paws spurred me onward. I raced across small creeks and over fallen logs. I chased deer and left them far in my wake. I startled a gaggle of sleeping geese and found myself lost in a wash of white feathers. I pushed myself further and faster, soaking in the way my muscles worked without thought and my heart pounded with the thrill of the run. I relished the fall of moonlight across my back, more comforting at that moment than I had ever known before. All the aches and pains of the past few days were wiped away by the forgiving rays, leaving peace in their wake.
I ran with my heart. I drove forward with the knowledge that I was a free wolf, that I could leave the Lair far behind and never look back. I owed them nothing; the life before me was everything. I had freedom for the first time ever. My lungs threatened to burst with it, my heart raced and the sound of each beat was music to my ears. I felt as though I no longer fled away from something, but that I ran toward the beginning of the rest of my life. The distant mountains beckoned with the promise of safety and peace away from the violent path I had traveled. I could reach their purple heights and never again fall captive to the werewolf I once was.
A scent touched my nose. It was barely there, a whiff that was gone the moment it washed over me; yet it was enough to make me slow and then stop in the clearing. My lungs worked like a bellows and my heartbeat thundered in my ears. I waited until I caught my breath before I looked around.
Small, white flowers filled the clearing from shrubs that swayed in the gentle midnight breeze. The white flower spires smelled of almond and vanilla. The scent surrounded me, tickling through my fur and swirling around my head in a teasing eddy that brought me back to earth.
I had failed to protect one girl who looked to me for safety. The memory of vanilla was all that remained of her plea for protection. There was nothing fair about her death or the pain she had gone through, pain I had tried so hard to prevent, but had failed in the end. I had nearly died as punishment for trying to protect her, but it wasn’t enough. She had deserved to live far more than I, yet it was my shoulders the moonlight fell on. Sadness filled me along with the haunting whisper of her vanilla memories.
I wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. I had promised when the Willards took me in that I would protect them. As much as I wanted to run like a wild and free creature, I was anything but. My decision to break free had ricocheted into something far greater than a lone werewolf. I could feel it in the air and beneath my skin. Things were changing, and my place was to be in the middle of it. The danger wasn’t gone, it had just changed, and I wouldn’t leave them now.
Focusing on my surroundings, I turned and made my way back toward Brickwell. The run was a little less enjoyable with the thought of what might lay ahead if Mitch was right. I kept an eye on the shadows and forbade myself from losing my thoughts in the warm blanket of moonlight that called to me from each clearing. Instead, I ran the perimeter of the forest with a mind toward defense, mapping out how I would protect the town the way I did the Lair. It pounded home the realization that I was one werewolf and our enemies could be many.
I cut through the trees around the south side of town and was making my way through the outlying neighborhoods toward the Willards’ when another scent touched my nose. At the smell of it, a chill ran through my bones and settled deep into my chest. My lips pulled back in a silent snarl.
Felgul. The name filled my mouth with a bitter taste. I crouched and slunk through the shadows. The ruff of my neck stood up and tingles ran along my limbs. Every muscle was taut as I followed the odor that clung to the inside of my nostrils like a noxious grease.
“Get away from me!”
The scream tinged in terror set me running. I dodged a car, dove over a trailer loaded with four wheelers, and rounded the corner of a house to see a girl backed against a closed garage. Three shadow creatures stalked up the driveway. The sound that rumbled from the felguls’ throats was a cross between wind tangling through bare branches and the low, repetitive chug of a train that was felt more than heard.
My eyes widened when I recognized the girl. Isley wore jogging clothes, ear muffs, gloves, and a light jacket against the chill of the night. Her long blonde hair had been held back by a band around her forehead, but in her terror, it had slipped up and her hair was a wild mess. Rips in her jacket showed where one of the creatures had jumped at her. I could only hope she hadn’t been bit.
“Leave me alone,” she shrieked.
I had never seen a felgul before, but the Masters had taught us plenty about them in the Lair. It was enough to put me on edge and make me hesitate about my course of action. My paws felt as though they were frozen to the ground. I couldn’t get my body to move.
The three felguls crept forward in unison. They were sleek and black with outlines that weren’t quite solid as though they were made of the shadows from which they came. But I knew their claws and fangs were real. The poison of their teeth was deadly if not treated. Their forms were catlike, their ears held tight against their skulls and muscles bunched for attack. If I didn’t do something, Isley would be rendered helpless by the poison of their teeth and carried back to the vampire Masters the shadow creatures served.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Isley begged.
The terror in her voice loosened my muscles. A growl tore from my throat and I leapt at the shadow cats.
Chapter Eight
The felguls fought like vicious demons. Their claws sunk into my skin and their fangs scored my shoulders and back. The three of them moved as one, striking and withdrawing, only to dart forward again with the lethal grace of their feline heritage. I caught the forearm of one and crushed it with my fangs, only to have another jump on my back and sink its claws deep into my skin. I rolled to dislodge it and managed to hamstring another with a quick snap. Yowls loud enough to make my ears bleed shattered the night.
A glance at Isley showed her cowering against the garage door. Her eyes were wide and pain reflected in her green irises. She sunk to her knees with her arm clutched against her chest. Bright red blood flowed from a deep bite. My heart fell at the sight of it. She didn’t have much time.
I rushed at one of the felguls and caught it mid-jump with my shoulder against its own. The force slammed it into the side of the garage before it fell to the ground and lay unmoving. The shadow cat I had hamstrung limped to its side. The third placed itself between the other two and me, a move which surprised me. I had never thought of felguls as pack animals, but they were clearly defending each other. It was the one thing that may save us.
I took a step forward and growled. The felgul I faced crouched lower and hissed. Dark red blood dripped from the paw it held away from the ground. The bones were visible through the gnarled flesh. I heard the patter of blood trickling from my own wounds. If it wasn’t for the lucky blow, the three would be tearing me to pieces. Fire burned along the multiple lacerations in my skin. I was sure I had been bitten several times, but I knew I couldn’t let the pain show. Felguls could sense weakness.
I rose to my full height and growled again. My ruff stood out thick and rigid, making me appear even larger. Slowly, carefully, I took another step forward.
The felgul closest to the fallen one grabbed the loose skin at its neck and pulled it backwards. The form slid across the ground and only a weak yowl escaped from it. The other felgul
backed up while still facing me. I paced forward, leaving bloody pawprints in my wake.
They continued to retreat until they reached the edge of the trees. I kept pace with them, mirroring each footstep to ensure that they truly left the neighborhood. It was easy to smell the hunger that wafted from them. They weren’t only hunting for their Masters, but for themselves. Hungry creatures were far more dangerous than those that were well-fed. I wondered if it reflected the state of the vampires headed for Brickwell. If so, we were in serious trouble.
The last felgul vanished into the cover of the foliage. The sound of the two of them dragging their companion lingered. I waited to make sure they wouldn’t change their minds and return in the hopes of an easy kill. I trusted I had proven to be anything but.
When I was positive they were gone, I retreated back to Isley. She didn’t look good at all. Her eyes were closed and her head was tipped back against the garage door. Strands of her blonde hair were matted in the blood that was thickening on her arm. Black streaks ran from the bite toward her heart. If the poison reached it, she wouldn’t have a chance.
I rushed through my options. I could drag her to the Willards the way the felguls had done to their companion, but I would certainly do more damage than good and my ability to do so quickly would be hampered. I could scratch on the door to the house beside us and hope somebody would answer, but if they hadn’t been awakened by the sound of the felgul’s yowl or Isley’s screams, I doubted much would catch their attention.
I had one route left. I ducked behind the two garbage cans next to the garage and phased. It was quick and painful. My breath caught in my throat at the way the wounds from the felgul claws stretched and shifted, and I was sure more red than skin color showed by the time I was in human form. I reached out a shaky hand and snagged the cellphone from Isley’s jacket pocket.
