by Maria Lima
“The church? I thought White Rock was a public school.” At least it had been in my day, as Tucker liked to put it. Built around an actual white rock—a large chunk of limestone that protruded from the earth after some prehistoric earthquake—the town of White Rock’s foundation was its church, eponymically called The Church of the White Rock. Despite the name, its preacher and members were less of the TV-Holy-Roller persuasion than of the good old-fashioned Sunday school kind of folk. Loads of community service, teen groups, and so forth. I knew very little about the church. Church, any church, wasn’t exactly somewhere you’d find a Kelly. We were around before most of these sects, including the big one centered in Rome, were founded.
“It is. It’s just that they’ve got lots of pull in running the school. Board members and all that.”
“I don’t recall it being quite that pushy,” I said. “Tucker, do you? I mean, it’s not like we know all that much about how White Rock handles school administration, but word gets around.”
Tucker shook his head. “Not really. I think there’s a fairly new leadership there. Didn’t the old pastor retire?”
“Yeah, about four or five years ago,” Gregor said. “Least that’s what I seem to remember. We’re not really churchgoers.” He grinned. “Don’t think they’d take too kindly to a bunch of wolves.”
“Nor to us,” Ianto remarked. “But I do recall that those folks at the church were pretty low-key. Not the usual fire-and-brimstone types.”
“Far as I know it’s the same,” Gregor replied, “but the new pastor seems to be filling up the school board with his folks. Doesn’t really matter too much to me. I’ve got this upcoming year and then I’m trying for a slot at A&M.”
“Really? That’s a bit surprising,” I said. “You don’t exactly seem the Aggie type.” I pointed to his long hair.
“The hair? Naw, that’s just a phase … or at least that’s what I keep telling Uncle Mark.”
Rhys burst out laughing. “You’re doing it to piss him off?”
“Pretty much. He’s fairly middle-middle, you know. Middle class, middle of the road, middle values. He doesn’t like to rock the boat.”
“And you’re a boat rocker.” I looked the boy in the eye, amused at his attitude.
“A little motion is fun,” he said. “S’long as I keep up my grades and stuff, I’m good.”
We all laughed. “Okay, kid, you’re on. We’ll be at the game tomorrow night.”
“Cool, make sure to watch out for me. Number twenty-two.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I FELT THE FENRIR LONG before I laid eyes on him. A tangle of energy pulsated within a shell of normality, of blandness. Not angry energy: it wasn’t snarled, nor did it evoke caution so much as complexity. If this were a science fiction movie, I’d have called it a disturbance in the Force; in a traditional faery tale it would be a disorder, an intrusion but, perhaps, not precisely unwelcome.
He tasted of greenery and spring at the back of my throat, a cool void within the red-orange humidity of the summer, not unlike the flavor of my own brothers’ auras, their preferred wolf shape part of their particular traits. This man was true wolf in nature, tooth and claw of animal when changed.
I understood him more than I could possibly have ever imagined. Having been wolf attuned me to others of that species. I’d learned this the hard way on a visit to the Greater Vancouver Zoo a few weeks ago with one of my trainers. She’d intended that I demonstrate my enhanced sensory capabilities, learning to sense the animals, learning to sense humans and differentiate. Unfortunately, when I’d gotten about two meters from the wolf den, the howling began. We’d had to leave immediately, as even the other animals had shown signs of anxiety at my presence. My trainer attributed that to the fact that I was a Kelly heir, not because of the wolf shape I liked to use.
“You can shapeshift, Keira, but you’re no more a real wolf than this plastic toy is a true lion.” She’d held one of those injected plastic animals from a machine, a red lion, still reeking of hot melted wax, its poor head smashed along one side, a reject. My trainer had wanted to ask for her money back, but it amused me greatly, so I kept it as a souvenir. She was right, though, I wasn’t an actual wolf. During a shift, I could play at being whatever animal I chose to be. I’d done wolf (by far my favorite), dog, leopard, cheetah, panther. Predator rather than prey. Perhaps it was ingrained in me by my upbringing, as my father and all six of my brothers were shapeshifters themselves and nearly always chose wolf form. I’d not done well at the more domesticated animals such as house cat and cow. Frankly, I was glad, because beef was dinner, not something whose shape I wanted to take.
No matter which shape, though, as Ianto and I had discussed, my brain was still human, still the most developed brain of the entire animal kingdom. Even though I couldn’t talk because of the physical restrictions, I could think, reason, and react as a human. As wolf, I did gather scents as wolves did and could run as one. Another training session, this time in the Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, proved that. We’d run across some scat and found ourselves in the midst of a local wolf pack. After the requisite submissive behavior, they’d accepted and then ignored us. Fascinating experience. Part of me wondered if we were actually Homo sapiens and not some other branch of said human family. Homo kelliius? Who the hell knew? There were scientists among our clan members, but none in North America. I’d been given logins and passwords to the entire Clan database and had amused myself one rain-filled day doing some random searching of Clan members and locations. Kind of my own version of geotagging or “Where’s Waldo?” A herd of Gigi’s pet scientists lived in Switzerland, some others in England and France. No one here, though. It was one of those things that arose in the back of my thoughts when I was studying. The human genome had been mapped, but had ours? Plenty of time to think about that in the coming years. Not a bad project for an heir, either.
As with my experience in the Reserve, I knew the moment we’d stepped close to the stadium that my upcoming meeting with the pack’s Fenrir might be more than I’d bargained for. We were just standing in line at the Will Call window when his animal energy roiled through me, calling to my own wolf to come join him. Tucker, a few steps behind me, huffed, nostrils flaring. I didn’t have to ask him to know he was just as aware of the energy as I was. Neither of the two vampires seemed at all fazed. I revised my thought as I watched the back of Niko’s neck tense. They, too, knew something was up.
Though there seemed to be no challenge, my hackles rose as we drew nearer to the entrance once we’d gotten our tickets. A fairly large crowd tonight, even with the temperature still in the mid-nineties at close to nine p.m. Sitting in a football stadium full of too many humans radiating excitement, leaking it like the Three Mile Island reactor, in this heat was not my idea of fun. But I’d promised, and we were here. My personal shields set to maximum, I’d even gone as far as to deliberately dampen my senses, dulling the possibility of a breach.
“He’s up there. Somewhere on the right,” I whispered to Adam, who stood next to me in the line waiting to hand over our tickets. “Can’t see him but I feel him. Itchy, like crackling.”
“You, too?” Tucker was on my right, already naturally flanking me and Adam. Niko was on Adam’s left and a little to the back, his sharp gaze sweeping the crowd of nearly two hundred. We’d elected to bring only the two of them, figuring that any more would be flashing fang. Any fewer and we’d expose ourselves to potential danger. Despite my instant like of young Gregor, his Fenrir was an unknown quantity. He might be “middle-middle,” as the boy said, but he was the alpha’s alpha, leader of a wolf pack. In any book, that meant power and strength and many things not mundane.
This crowd of a couple of hundred didn’t add up to a crowd by most city reckonings, but in White Rock, this equaled most of the available adults and children who weren’t actually participating in the game or weren’t part of the cheerleading squad, the pep squad, marching band, twirlers, flag team, concession
stand sellers, or faculty. Compared to Rio Seco, White Rock was a bustling metropolis. It actually was large enough to have a football team, unlike my hometown, though not quite large enough for a Dairy Queen.
I narrowed my focus on the wolf’s energy and answered my brother. “Yeah. He’s somewhere up and to the right. Probably right under the announcer’s booth. He’s got at least two others with him.” I concentrated my focus. “Lots of room around him, though. Like he’s not only saving seats for us but created a perimeter. Can’t really tell how big.”
“How do you both know this?” Niko slid closer, his hand almost cupping my elbow, wariness in his very stance. “I feel nothing.”
“Nor I,” said Adam. “Only humans, all around.”
“You tensed up earlier,” I said to Niko, who nodded.
“Too many people,” he said. “However, I feel no wolf.”
“It’s a pretty big crowd tonight,” Tucker agreed. “Fund-raising exhibition game. Besides, not much else going on around these parts unless you want to drive into San Antonio or Austin.”
“Yeah, why the hell would the Fenrir of a nearby wolf clan ask us to meet with him tonight? What can’t wait until our reception?”
“I’m sure we’ll find out, sis,” Tucker answered. “Energy doesn’t seem antagonistic, by any means, just … there. Don’t overthink it. We’ll have an answer soon enough.” He pushed past a couple of women, brightly dressed in shorts and tees, soft drinks in one hand, cigarettes in the other, gossiping madly and blocking the way. They turned to scowl, then saw my brother’s extremely handsome face and muscular form. They both began to smile flirtatiously. Tucker never even noticed. “I think I’d best come up closer to you all,” he said, taking his place at Adam’s side. “It’s a hellacious crowd tonight, and I’d rather that Niko and I stick close while we maneuver.”
“Exactly,” Niko agreed. “If all seems well when we meet the Fenrir, then we can go back to our usual places, before and behind.”
I rolled my eyes at the two of them, yet, at the same time, a burst of pride filled me. My Protectors, soon to be Marked as such during the official ceremonies of the reception, acting as our bodyguards—no matter how unlikely anything was going to happen at a high school football game. Pretty damned ridiculous if one thought about it. Archaic, even. But what the hell, it’s not like I could give it all back. I’d Changed, inherited all the Kelly Talents and now was heir … well, along with Gideon. He was no longer a threat, at least not as long as he remained Below, in the halls of his father’s Unseelie Court.
I’d managed to survive finding out that my very attractive and bordering-on-evil distant cousin and former lover was Adam’s half brother, a product of my Clan leader’s breeding experiment, without too much mental scarring. I’d lived through three months of intensive training at the Kelly enclave. Surely I could get through tonight.
Adam peered into the crowd, his vision blocked by the many bobbing heads and ridiculous football paraphernalia being carried by the crowd. Even though this was only a local exhibition game by the high school—offense vs. defense—too damn many people sported large foam hats, bright yellow cardboard signs proclaiming “We’re #1,” and various other overpriced gear.
“Is this normal?” Adam asked. “This many people?”
“Depends,” I said. “Since White Rock is the only high school in the area large enough to even have a football team, I imagine so. It’s a holiday and a special fund-raising game, so there’s probably a few more folks tonight than would show up for a regular season game. Of course if they were playing another school, their fans would be here, too. From what I recall, games here are usually fairly well attended. It’s been years since I’ve come this way, though. Since my own high school days. Less populated then.”
Tucker let out a laugh. “Yeah, I remember coming along with you, Bea, Carlton, and a couple of others,” he said. “I seem to recall you and Bea had some pretty good times here.” He looked pointedly at the bleachers. They were the old painted metal and wood kind, with plenty of room underneath to get in shitloads of trouble … and many kids had. I can recall at least eight or nine pregnancies in various high schools that I could directly attribute to action beneath the stands. Luckily, neither me nor my particular friends had been that ignorant or incautious. I’d limited my own activities to human boys—absolutely no chance of pregnancy or STDs—and I’d handed out condoms and advice to my human friends, thanks to my wonderful aunts, who’d been happy to give me as many and as much as I wanted. My dalliances with Clan kin required forethought. I’d saved those activities until I’d left high school. Easier that way.
However, I had lost my virginity right here, under these very same bleachers, sometime early in my junior year. Not to anyone I knew. I’d been drinking Coke with a very generous portion of 151, the bottle of over-proof rum acquired by one of Bea’s cousins. Bea had poured hers into a thirty-two-ounce mug of Big Red. Less than an hour later, she was puking up pink liquid in the women’s bathroom while I had my panties around one ankle, legs wrapped around the waist of one of the most gorgeous boys I’d ever laid eyes on—and considering the beauty of the men in my Clan, that was saying a hell of a lot. He’d had the most beautiful light amber eyes set off by dark, dark lashes and thick dark hair. All I remembered about him, other than his beauty, was that he’d been in town visiting someone and wasn’t a resident of White Rock. Was he a senior in Lubbock? Waco? Somewhere not around here. By the time we’d gotten to “hey, where are you from?” I was way too into what we were about to do to pay much attention.
A small shiver of pleasure ran down my spine as I remembered that night two decades ago. Unlike most girls’ first experience, mine had been fantastic. He was no virgin, and I was no shy Southern Miss. One thing my Clan taught very well was to enjoy life to its fullest … and I’d been a very attentive student.
“Hey, y’all came!” Gregor bounded up to us as we strode down the track, heading for the steps that led up the sides of the bleachers. The boy was barechested, all tail-waggy energy. I swallowed hard, still overwhelmed by his sheer beauty. Next to me, Niko went stock-still, as did Adam. I didn’t even have to glance at either of them to know they’d been as bowled over as I had earlier today. Tucker, on the other hand, relaxed and assumed the loose, friendly posture that was more his style.
“Nice uniform you’ve got there, Gregor.” My brother then treated the boy to the full-on Tucker Kelly charm, accompanied by an extremely obvious once-over. Tucker was not the shy one of the family.
The boy blushed, his bare chest turning as rosy as his face. He was wearing only the bottom half of a football uniform—pants, hip pads, socks, and cleats. His jersey and shoulder pads were in his hands, the “22” on the back of the jersey just visible.
I gulped, the combination of Tucker charm and sixteen-year-old wolf pup pheromones nearly overwhelming me. I had to stifle my continued very inappropriate urges as I looked into Gregor’s wolf eyes. Damn it, he made me feel sixteen again, enamored of a strange boy and aching to go make out under the bleachers. Get a grip, Keira, I warned myself. Gregor is still far too young for you. Besides, you have your own extremely gorgeous man—and he’s standing right beside you.
“I saw y’all walk by, so I came out to say hi.” The boy nearly bounced in his excitement.
“Hello, Gregor,” Adam said, extending a hand. “Thank you for coming out to greet us.”
Gregor dropped his jersey and shoulder pads onto the grass and shook Adam’s hand. “Thank you, sir, for coming. My uncle’s gonna be really glad you came.” He bowed his head at me. “M’lady.”
“Gregor,” I said. “I told you that I’m not as formal as all that. Please. Just call me Keira.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I mean—” He stopped, eyes widening. “Oh shit. I gotta go. Coach’ll have my head if I don’t finish suiting up.”
“Ashkarian, get your pansy ass back into the locker room ’fore I bench you.”
“Coa
ch Miller,” Gregor wailed. “It’s only an exhibition—”
“I could bench you before the season even starts, boy.” The harsh words came from a man of medium height dressed like all football coaches I’d ever seen: polo shirt, shorts made from a fabric unknown to nature, a clipboard in one hand, full of vinegar and pure-D assitude. The man wasn’t even close to smiling. In fact, from the grim lines around his eyes, this coach wouldn’t recognize a pleasant expression if someone carved it into his face. I gritted my teeth against a sarcastic remark. I wasn’t here to interfere.
“Yes, Coach, right away, sir.” Gregor whirled and took off at a gallop, disappearing into the athletic building, a squat concrete rectangle attached to the left side of the stadium. The coach scowled after him, taking off his cap with one hand and scratching his head. Well, that certainly said a lot, I realized. Should’ve figured from the man’s stance. When he lifted his arm, he exposed a tat-too on the inside of his right arm: USMC Semper Fi. I would have known from the haircut alone, high and tight, showing mostly scalp. A million words of explanation in two physical traits. Dude was not only former military but an ex-marine so obviously used to saying frog and having his minions leap that he didn’t even think twice about barking orders, even in front of strangers. Without another word, the man put his cap back on his head and followed Gregor into the building.
The four of us just looked at one another and shook our heads as we walked into the stadium proper.
CHAPTER SIX
THE STADIUM LIGHTS seared my eyeballs as I searched for the source of the wolf energy, wanting to establish Mark’s exact location before we started climbing steps. “Fuck, fuck,” I said through gritted teeth as I wiped my tearing eyes. “That was stupid.” I berated myself for not thinking ahead.
“Dial it down, Keira,” Tucker warned. “You can’t go searching for the guy with your usual—”
