Thomas
“Joey?” Thomas called as everyone moved back toward the vehicles. When the boy turned around, his arm still around the waist of Jenny, Thomas hurried to his side. “Has your mom called yet?”
The morning was wearing on. Because of Merin being in wolf shape, they’d ordered a lot of food to go from a McDonald’s and stopped in a park to get out of the vehicles and stretch their legs. It was good to be out, but Thomas was nervous about stopping, worried that Shara would arrive in Minnesota first, grow impatient, and go on if they couldn’t get there in time.
“No,” Joey answered.
Thomas couldn’t help but feel awkward around the boy. What would he think all these years later about the man who got his mom pregnant while his dad was presumed dead? Still, his worry for Shara was too much to let that stop him.
“Do you mind if I ride with you for the rest of the trip?” Thomas asked. “I’d like to be close when she calls.”
Joey shrugged and looked toward the Hummer. “You’ll have to talk somebody into riding with Fenris,” he said.
“I’ll do it.”
Thomas turned around to find Cheryl had come up behind him. The short blonde smiled and patted him on his shoulder. “You go on,” she said. “I’ll ride with Fenris.”
“Thank you, Cheryl,” Thomas said. She waved him off and went to get in the car. Fenris had given up the driver’s seat to Alex, his former driver.
“We better go,” Jenny said.
In the Hummer, Kelley took the wheel again and Chris went back to the passenger seat to try to get some more sleep. Thomas sat in the middle, with Jenny between him and Joey. They rolled back onto the highway and were quickly speeding along, going north again.
The internal pull they’d all felt for the past few days was still there. But it had lessened as they gave in to it, Thomas noted. It was unbelievable the control Morrigan already had on them, he thought as he remembered the trip to Reno. Is that what it would be like from now on? He brought up the dream-image of his little girl with her arms raised, demanding the Pack come to her. Was that really the same girl he’d held in his arms as a baby? The same child he’d played hide-and-seek with through Ulrik’s big old house?
No, he told himself. It isn’t. The girl he’d seen was his daughter filled with Holle’s pollution.
Can she be saved?
That was the question. Had Holle done permanent damage? Could Morrigan be rescued and reprogrammed like those teenagers he’d once seen on the news who had been brainwashed by cults? Would it be that easy?
And what of Cerdwyn and her desire to train Morrigan to be some kind of high priestess?
Thomas was reluctant to trust her. They had trusted Holle. When Holle first came to them she had seemed almost like a capable grandmother to Morrigan, taking control of the child while Shara tended to Ulrik in his final days, then helping with her schooling, then teaching her to hunt, telling her stories, until pretty soon the Old One was spending more time with the girl than her own parents.
And Morrigan had seemed to prefer it that way.
That was the part that hurt Thomas the most. His daughter had preferred to be with someone who wasn’t even family. Of course, Holle had probably seemed like family to the girl. And Holle was always telling her how she would be queen of the werewolves. What child wouldn’t love that?
Maybe she could be saved.
Maybe not.
Thomas thought about poor Faolan, killed in the womb by his sister.
Maybe Morrigan is a bad seed.
That was the worst of it. What if she truly was bad? Just bad. What if she had been born to fulfill some malevolent destiny? Could she stop herself even if she wanted to?
Thomas sighed. He missed Shara. Sitting behind her former husband and sharing a seat with her son by that husband, he felt very alone.
The sun rose steadily from their right and moved over toward the left. Kelley and Chris traded places, though Thomas had offered to drive for a while. The Minnesota state line fell away behind them. And still Shara did not call.
“Is your battery still charged?” Thomas asked Joey.
“Yeah, it’s still charged.” His voice gave away his exasperation. “She just hasn’t called yet.”
“I’m calling her,” Thomas declared. He pulled out his own cell phone and pushed Shara’s speed dial number. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. “Shara? Please call me. Or call Joey like you promised you would. Please, Shara. I’m worried about you. Please.” Thomas looked at the phone for a moment, gripping it tightly in his hand, then slipped it back into his pocket.
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Joey said. “I was rude. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, lad. It’s okay. I know I’ve been a nuisance.” He tried to smile at the boy.
“You really love her a lot,” Jenny said.
“Aye.”
“Why do you say it like that?” the girl asked. “You have an accent. British?”
“Irish,” he answered. “I was born in Ireland. I do not notice my own accent most of the time now.”
“It isn’t strong,” Jenny said. “But when you say ‘aye’ for ‘yes’ it stands out more. It’s cool, though.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“I’ll call her,” Joey offered. “Do you want me to give it a try?”
“Aye, if you would. I mean, yes,” Thomas said, and this time his smile felt more real.
Joey made the call, but got the same result. “Hey Mom, it’s Joey. You said you’d call me today. It’s way after noon already. You promised. Don’t forget me.” He put the phone away and shook his head at Thomas. “Sorry.”
“Thank you,” Thomas told him.
Twenty minutes later, a cell phone rang. Thomas jerked upright and reached for his, although he knew it wasn’t his phone ringing. He looked to Joey, who shook his head.
“Hello?” Kelley said into her phone. “Good. That’s good.” Thomas watched the back of her head, wondering who it was. “You did? Leave it to you.” She chuckled for a second. “That’s something I’ve wondered. It was a weakness Ulrik had, too, from what I’ve been told. Yes, you probably could have.” She paused and listened again. Thomas waited. “We’re going right through town and parking at one of the hiking campsites. We’ll hike in on a trail, then leave it and set up a camp to take care of our ammunition.” After listening for another minute, she hung up the phone.
“Who was it?” Thomas asked, knowing already that it wasn’t Shara.
“Fenris,” Kelley answered. “His people are in Babbitt. He had them charter a plane, so they were able to come in with automatic weapons. That should help.”
“Automatic weapons?” Thomas asked.
“Don’t worry,” Kelley reassured him. “Holle isn’t likely to let Morrigan anywhere near the fighting. I just wonder what kind of weapons her people will have. Are they even anticipating the possibility of an attack? There are a lot of variables here.”
They went through the city and found a place to park the vehicles, just as Kelley had said, and stayed on a designated trail for almost a mile before breaking away and moving deep into the forest of firs and pines. Thomas couldn’t help but think about the cars that had been around theirs in the parking lot. They’d had license plates from numerous states. Tourists? Or shapeshifters answering Morrigan’s call?
“Thomas?”
He broke off his reverie to face Chris, who stood near him, holding some sticks of wood in his hands. “I’m sorry,” Thomas said. “I was just thinking.”
“Will you help us get some firewood? We need to get that silver melted down.”
The sun dropped out of sight and the forest became dark. To the east came the sound of a wolf howling. Everyone in camp stopped and looked at each other. The call was answered from deeper in the forest.
“She has sentries out,” Cerdwyn said. “Or greeters, maybe. At any rate, she has wolves stationed out here to guide the newcomers in deeper to wherever she is.”
>
“The fire?” Chris asked. They’d built it at the bottom of a small depression and it wasn’t giving off much smoke. “Will it give us away?”
“There’s nothing to be done about it,” Fenris said. “Two can play her game. I’ll take Merin here and we’ll prowl around this area to make sure no one notices us and gets away to tell about it.” That said, he quickly undressed, changed into a great white wolf, and led Merin away from the camp.
Thomas took his place at the fire. Chris, the artist, had a steady hand, so he was the one to dip the melted silver from the pot and dribble a drop into the hollow end of the .22 bullets. He then passed them to the right and left, where the silver was allowed to cool before getting a quick buff with light sandpaper, then being passed on again to be loaded into a weapon or put into cloth bags that would be distributed to everyone when they set out to find Morrigan. Thomas’s task was to smooth the silver on the top of the bullets and he did it numbly, mindlessly, his thoughts elsewhere.
They’d been at it for over an hour when Joey’s cell phone rang.
Thomas felt his heart drain into his stomach as he watched Joey put a cartridge into the cylinder of a nickel-plated revolver and hand the weapon to Jenny before pulling out the phone.
“Mom?” he asked, then nodded at Thomas. “Yeah, we’re here. Where are you?” He listened. “I love you, too, Mom. But where are you?” His brow crinkled up in the firelight and Thomas was reminded of the line that formed over Shara’s nose when she concentrated or was upset. “Okay. Here he is.” He handed the phone over to Thomas. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Shara? Where are you?” he asked, pressing the phone hard against his ear.
“If you had to guess, how many bullets would you say you’ve sanded so far tonight?” she asked.
“Where are you?” he asked again, jumping to his feet and looking around the camp for her.
“Sit down, Thomas,” she said.
He did, but did it slowly, with everyone watching him while he kept scanning the woods around the light of the fire. “Are you coming in?” he asked. “Please, Shara, come in here with us.”
“I can’t, Thomas. I’m her mother, and I have to go to her. I have to protect her from Fenris. I don’t trust him.”
“Then let me come with you. I am her father.”
He heard her sigh before she answered. “I wish I could let you, but it’s too dangerous.”
“Shara, you’re being crazy. If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s too dangerous for you.”
“Look around you, Thomas,” she argued. “Do you think Holle won’t keep Morrigan away from that group when you all come in together? And Joey? I don’t want Joey going in there. I’ll go in and get Morrigan and end this … this thing that is pulling everyone to her. I’ll get her to end it, and we’ll figure out what’s next. I’m her mother. She’ll listen to me.”
“No, Shara,” he said. “You more than anyone can’t get close to her. Holle won’t allow it. You know that.”
“Morrigan will listen to me,” Shara insisted. “She loves me more than Holle. I’m sure she does.”
“Shara, I hope to God that’s true,” Thomas argued. “But think about it. If there is a chance it is, Holle will have you killed before you get close to Morrigan. You … Shara, I fear that with the Alpha in her hands, Holle will think you are expendable. Please stay with us.”
“I want to tell you a few things,” Shara said. “First, I want you to know that I could have shot Fenris in the back, but I didn’t. Tell him I spared his life. I’ve been following you guys from the parking lot.”
“You have? But, we would have scented you …”
“Ulrik didn’t train a dummy,” Shara interrupted. “Now, if something happens to me, you tell Chris and Joey that there is something for them in the truck I left behind. It’s the blue-and-white Ford four-by-four. Tell Joey – tell them both – tell them I love them. Okay? Don’t be jealous of Chris.”
“Shara, no – ”
“Thomas, listen,” she cut him off. “I love you. You’ve always been there for me, even when I was with Chris, even when I didn’t know you. You have been the perfect mate and I love you. No matter what happens next, you remember that.”
“Shara, don’t talk like that. We have our plan. Stick to our plan. Help us. We can get our daughter out of there.”
There was no answer.
“Shara?”
Nothing.
Thomas checked the phone and saw the “Call Ended” message. He fumbled with some buttons, then shoved the phone back at Joey. “Call her back!”
“What’s going on?” Kelley asked.
“She’s here,” Thomas gasped. “She’s close enough she can see us. She tracked us and has been watching us, but she won’t join us. She … she’s going in by herself.”
Behind Thomas, he heard the sound of the old Journey song “Don’t Stop Believin’”. He jumped to his feet and ran toward the sound, scrambling up the slope that hid their fire, until he stood over the glowing cell phone.
Shara was gone.
Shara
Thomas might follow her, Shara knew. They all might come after her. If any of them did, throwing the cell phone in a different direction than the one she was now running wouldn’t throw them off for long.
She didn’t think they would, though. Cerdwyn would talk them out of it. Except maybe Thomas. He was the wild card.
Or so she thought.
She was about two hundred yards from her friends when she saw the white wolf running beside her through the dark forest. Dodging trees and jumping rocks and fallen limbs, Shara risked a look to her left and saw Fenris loping along, easily keeping pace with her, watching her. She skidded to a stop and aimed her pistol.
The wolf faded out of sight.
Shara ran on. It wasn’t easy travelling. The forest was filled with streams, creeks, and lakes, all of which had to be jumped, forded, or gone around. Shara finally stopped, put her pistol and extra clips into one of the plastic bags she’d saved, and put that into the canvas bag with the loose shells. Using the strap of the bag, she tied it closed, then threw off her clothes, changed into a wolf, picked the bag up in her mouth and ran on.
Fenris reappeared then, moving closer to her, but still maintaining a safe distance. What did he want? Was he going to attack her? Was he just watching her to report back to the others? She tried to ignore him, but that wasn’t easy.
After a few hours of travelling, she heard another wolf howl off to her right. It was answered from deeper within the forest. A question and answer. A pilgrim being drawn to the source of that feeling that pulled them all into the dark depths of these woods.
The Pack is gathering …
Ulrik’s words rang in her ears.
If only you were here to guide me, Ulrik.
She altered her course, angling toward the second of the howls. As the night wore on, the pilgrim called over and over and was answered each time by another wolf, urging the first on. Shara wondered if she knew either of them.
It was while she was wondering who might be off to her right that she nearly ran into the big gray wolf standing in her path, watching her. Shara was so startled she dropped her bag, backing up a step, her hair rising along her back as she snarled a warning. The wolf only looked at her for a moment, then raised its head to howl.
Fenris plowed into the wolf from the side away from Shara, knocking the gray off its feet. The sentry wolf rolled over once and was on his feet, but it was too late. Fenris had him by the throat and was shaking the life out of him. When the body became limp from blood lose, Fenris changed to his in-between shape, stood on his thick, hairy legs and tore the head off the wolf. He dropped the two pieces to the ground, where they quickly transformed themselves into the body and head of a middle-aged man Shara didn’t recognize.
Fenris let his transformation finish and stood in front of Shara, naked, white hair falling from his pale skin. “Unless you want to be disarmed and taken to thei
r camp under their terms, you better watch where you’re going.”
Shara snatched up her bundle and ran past the white-haired man. She expected him to change shape and fall in behind her, but he didn’t. Looking back once, she saw the white wolf running the other way.
Listening closely, she homed in on the wolf answering the call of the pilgrim. Now, however, she did keep her senses alert to make sure she didn’t stumble onto another outlying sentry. After about an hour, she was close enough she could see the answering wolf. She watched as the wolf – a female – raised her head and called to the newcomer.
Shara carefully put down her bundle and changed her shape. She untied the bag, slipped the strap over her shoulder and pulled out her handgun, flicking off the safety. A moment later, the new wolf joined the sentry and they greeted one another. Shara stepped out of her hiding place behind some brush, the gun held loosely at her side as she approached the two wolves. Both animals stood watching her, their eyes moving from her face to the weapon at her side. Finally, the sentry changed shape and stood up.
“Who are you?” Shara demanded.
“Ali Tranum,” she answered, her voice accented with the Scandinavian dialect still common locally. “Who are you?”
“You don’t know me?” Shara asked.
“I can’t know everyone,” the woman said. Beside her, the other wolf’s shape melted and transformed. He stood up, a tall black man with a scar slicing his left cheek from just below his eye to his jaw.
“She is Shara Wellington. The Mother,” the man said in a rich baritone. He looked at Shara and nodded slightly. “Ulrik once asked me to watch over you when you lived in Montana.”
“We’ve been waiting on you, Mother,” Ali said. She was young, looking to be no more than 25 years old, with blonde hair and a very fit figure with high, full breasts. “Why are you carrying a gun?”
“I always try to be prepared,” Shara answered. She turned her attention to the man. “What is your name?”
“Luke Fenwick,” he answered. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“I can’t take you to the Alpha while you’re armed,” Ali interrupted.
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