by Maria Lima
With a sad sigh and a boatload of cash deposited into a special account, he’d let her go, his dreams of a huge society wedding overshadowed and supplanted by a hurried trip to a justice of the peace and then back to their Upper East Side apartment to grab her suitcases. She hadn’t cared, too excited about her new life to look back, too exhausted trying to keep up appearances in the city to worry about anything else.
Now, out here where her new home was going to be built, she thanks all the powers that be that everything worked out. Stephen, handsome, stalwart, quiet Stephen started off as simply her guide, her escort to her new life; a stranger she’d married as an escape. By the time they’d reached Oklahoma, a drive of way too many miles, too many roadside Stuckey’s stops, and too few clean restrooms, Stephen had become more.
They’re still the best of friends. Stephen’s quiet demeanor hides a wicked sense of humor and an unfaltering belief that they are both much more than just a shared “condition.” He’s lived with it all his life, as have both his parents. They’ve learned not only to exist but to love who and what they are, to see the potential and the beauty of what she’d been given. When she and Stephen had crossed the Red River and hit Texas, she’d begun to agree with him.
Now, six weeks later, she’s as much an advocate as her husband. How quickly her worldview changed. For the better, she thinks, and smiles as she remembers, the new life inside her. She hasn’t told him yet—she just figured it out this morning thanks to a home test.
Stephen will be so happy. He told her a couple of days ago that he’s always wanted a lot of kids. He’s an only child, his mother accidentally killed by a lone hunter when he was just a toddler. His father, raddled with grief, never remarried and remained outside the pack, a loner for the rest of his life. He, too, was killed, another accident victim, climbing a mountain in the north, trying to prove … something. Probably trying to forget, she thinks. If Stephen’s parents had an iota of the camaraderie, the love she now felt, she could understand his father’s grief. If anything ever happened to Stephen …
A rank odor assaults her nostrils. Something wrong, very wrong, that can’t be … a thrill of fearcautiondread rushes through her, a shiver runs up her back, every hair on her body stands on end. A growl escapes her throat as she steps cautiously around a bad patch of prickly pear. Warn them, she thinks, warn—
The first shot skids a hot trail of friction across Margery’s spine. She whirls, and in the same fluid movement crouches low to the ground, ears pricking to listen for the source. A yip and bark behind her tells her that her companions are moving closer. She growls, a low threatening sound, more warning to the others than to the invisible shooter. She has to find him—her?—before he shoots again, before he shoots at the others. Crawling on her belly, she bites back sound as her hind leg brushes against the sharp spines of the same cactus she’d so carefully avoided just moments before.
The early evening remains quiet as she continues to slink forward, nose attempting to locate the source of the shot. A trap? Could be, that’s the only reason she would be smelling—A sudden flash of light blinds her as, too late, she trips a wire of some sort. She freezes, uncertain of her next move. Silence for three breaths, two, one.
The next shot hits her dead-on. Margery Flax Ashkarian, new wife to Stephen, six weeks pregnant with her first child, slumps to the arid Texas ground, her blood sinking into the parched earth. As her last breath escapes, she forces the Change, not wanting to die as a wolf. Her furry body shimmers, bones crack and bend, and wolf begins to change to a small, nude human female, cocoa-colored skin shining in the low-hanging sun, luxuriant curls of dark hair flopping forward to cover the ragged wound in the side of her head. She lies there, silent in her death, her body caught between wolf and human. Neither one nor the other. Both.
When the others reach her, they howl. Two more shots silence them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I CRINGED AS MY INNER ear heard the howling, then the deadly silence. I pulled my hand out of Lev’s, tears running down my face. We’d reached the place where Gregor was shot, and once again, I’d extended my senses.
“They’re all dead,” I whispered. “All three of them. Murdered.”
“Where?” Lev pulled away from me, tearing at his clothes, his anger visible. “Where are they?” He stumbled back several steps, lost his balance, and fell with a thump to the dry ground, a puff of dust raised as his backside contacted the earth. Hands gripped the ground as he fought with himself, struggling, twisting in what could only be agony, howling as loud as he could in human form.
“Lev, get a grip!” I yelled. “This isn’t going to help anything.” I approached him, cautious in my every move. If he was shifting to wolf, he might not be in his right mind. I’d heard stories, tales of wer so caught up in the body change that they struck out and wounded, even killed.
“Lev!” I put all my command voice into the word, letting the subharmonics and strength carry it to his ears. He whined and whimpered but still writhed on the ground, his feet pushing off his shoes, hands ripping at his shirt and jeans. Crap. “Tucker!” I called physically and mentally with everything I had, then quickly stripped off my own clothes and shifted to my wolf form, a smooth, quick Change, causing me no pain.
Lev continued to howl and twist; by now he’d torn off his T-shirt and jeans, and was on all fours panting and growling, back arching as he raised his head to the sky and howled again. I growled at him, a soothing sound, trying to calm him. He was too lost in his Change to hear me. Keeping my distance, I watched as dark brown-black hairs sprouted from his skin, first along his back, then everywhere, a Chia Pet gone nuclear. His face lengthened into a snout and then suddenly, there was Lev-the-wolf, smaller than I was by about an inch or two at the shoulder, but broader and heavier. He threw up his head once again, sending a howl of grief and anger to the skies. When he dropped it, his expression turned from grief to attack mode.
I growled a deep warning, alpha to beta. In wolf-speak, I’d pretty much just commanded him to yield. He bared his teeth, ignoring me, paws scrabbling at the dusty ground, not yet willing to invoke full challenge.
You dare me, do you? I caught his amber-eyed gaze in my own silver-gray, white wolf to brown wolf, my teeth bared in warning. This was where the shapeshifter met the wer, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. Whatever set him off—was it my vision? the scent of old blood? the urine smell?—he’d internalized it as some sort of territorial challenge. This could get pretty damned messy in less than no time, as his pack had not yet sworn fealty to me and mine. To Gigi, yes, but she wasn’t here.
With a leap, he was on me, teeth reaching for my throat, paws scrabbling to pin me with his considerable weight. With a lithe twist, I slipped free from him, my human brain and fighting Talent still present, even in wolf shape. I nipped his shoulder as I threw myself against his side in warning. Don’t fuck with me, werewolf, I said in wolf-speak. I own you.
Again, he twisted and leaped, we rolled together, first one of us on top, then the other, as we scrambled for dominance. In the background, I vaguely heard sounds of feet running, human voices calling, but I couldn’t lose concentration or Lev would be at my throat. He bit my shoulder, teeth slowed by my thick white fur, still enough to scratch deeply. I yelped and pushed against him harder, twisting my body and angling to get hold of the scruff of his neck, to make him bow down and accept me as alpha. I’d barely gotten leverage when my head hit a rock, hard. Reeling from the blow, I dropped my guard, and Lev managed to gain position again. As I tried to scootch away, pushing against the large rock with my hind legs, I saw Tucker, running naked toward us, leaping into the air and landing as wolf, a cannonball against Lev’s side, pushing the brown wolf away from me. Rhys stopped to shift into his wolf form as Ianto came to my side to help me, still in wolfhound shape. Lev and Tucker tussled not two feet from us, the larger, more experienced wolf quickly gaining advantage. Tucker’s red wolf quickly subdued Lev, who turned belly up and expose
d his throat. As Tucker leaned down, I barked at him in warning.
I stood up and shook my head to clear it, then trotted over to the now cowering Lev. Tucker sat next to him, Rhys on the opposite side. I stared into Lev’s eyes long enough to see submission, then bowed my head and took his throat in my jaws. A heartbeat, two, three … all the way up to fifteen, just so he understood I meant it. I owned him now. Mark might be his Fenrir, but I was even more powerful—and wasn’t afraid to take it all the way, if need be.
Luka stepped forward, after silently asking permission with a look. I nodded. He crouched down next to Lev, who sniffed the boy’s hand and rubbed his snout along the skin. Luka bent down farther and whispered into Lev’s ear. The wolf whined, skittering a little as if wanting to continue his challenge, but then settled. Luka stood, still staring at his uncle.
I shifted back and got dressed as the boy gathered his thoughts.
“He should be okay now,” Luka said. “It’s tough, really. We’re more animal than human in wolf form. He’s used to it, so can maintain a little better.”
“What did you say to him?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Nothing really, just nonsense sounds so he could register my voice, focus on me. I think I should let him mark territory, though. If you don’t mind, that is. I think it will help.” Luka waited until I responded.
“No, sure, that’s fine,” I said. “We’ll move back some, let him do his thing and leave you lots of room. Ianto, why don’t you shift back and keep me company, just in case.”
Ianto nodded and quickly changed back. He picked up his discarded pants and shirt but didn’t bother donning them. “We’ll give them a goodly space.” The four of us walked away at least forty feet, remaining as much upwind as we could. I wanted to make sure Lev’s wolf was comfortable. Luka, smart boy, realized right away that marking territory would give Lev back some face, let him keep some dignity.
After five or so minutes of staring and sniffing, Lev began to growl/howl. This time, no one waited. We all ran toward the wolf, Tucker and Rhys shifting as they ran into human shape. Lev crouched low just left of the spot where we’d begun tussling. “What is it, what’s wrong?” I gasped, exhausted from running in the heat.
Luka seemed positively terrified, his eyes wide and mouth open. “I don’t know, I don’t know how to stop him.”
“Lev,” I commanded, letting my voice go into command mode, subsonic tones weaving through the sounds. “Stop. Calm.”
The wolf struggled against my command, a whine replacing the growl. He shook all over, nosing against the dirt, paws on either side. Another whine and a glance in my direction.
“What is it? Tucker, go, please, look.”
My brother shifted again as Luka pulled on Lev’s shoulder, attempting to move him away. “Is it blood scent? I know there was some earlier, but so very little.”
“No,” Ianto said. “It’s wolf urine. Just like you told us before. I don’t see why—”
Tucker growled/whined and stepped away from the area, shifting back. “Fuck,” was the only thing he said. He shook his head. “Luka, can you get your uncle to shift back?”
The boy, though shaking himself, nodded. “I’ll do my best.” He crouched low again, palm smoothing over Lev’s back, soft, slow whisper coaxing.
“What is it, Tucker?” I asked as I watched over Lev, who’d begun to shudder.
“That’s not their scent,” he said, panting and groaning.
“The urine? Not whose scent?”
“It’s not Ashkarian scent markers. They all have them, even the new people,” Tucker said. “Something to do with the blood bonding that happens during acceptance into the pack. That urine is from another source.”
“I know,” Lev croaked out, as his human form took over. He dropped from all fours to his knees and bent his head. “Some other wolf has been here.”
Another wolf? “Rhys, what other packs are in Southwest territory that might be on the invite list?”
“Only one,” Rhys answered, “but they’re in southern Arizona and aren’t even coming. They sent word that they’re only sending one representative and that she can’t get here until the day of the reception. That’s still nearly a week away.”
“Isn’t that too convenient?” I asked. “Can we call this pack’s Fenrir? Do you know them?”
My three brothers each nodded. “We all know them from before,” Ianto said. “Back in Gigi’s day—”
“It still is Gigi’s day,” I reminded them. “She’s still our Clan chief and will be for a very long time to come.” I prayed to the powers that be that this was the unvarnished truth, as I’d gotten it from that old horse’s mouth and very specifically.
“Do you want me to finish, or did you need to spell that out just one more time?” Ianto stood patiently.
I waved a hand for him to continue.
“We all hung out with them some years back. Before you were born. They came visiting when the current Fenrir was new. He’s in his seventies now and rather arthritic, which is why he’s sending his emissary. Could it be him—the emissary, I mean?”
“He’s sending his daughter, Teresa,” Rhys said. “I did say ‘she’—besides, I’ve known her a long time and she’s a good person.”
“And another besides,” Tucker said. “If you’d stopped to pay attention, this urine is male wolf. Alpha male.”
Thus Lev’s reaction, I thought. “Damn it,” I said. “Do we have a rogue wolf on our hands?”
“Doesn’t feel right,” Tucker disagreed. “I don’t know why, but …” He leaned over and sniffed the ground again. “There’s something off about the scent. It’s wolf, yes, but stale. Like it’s been there for a long time.”
“How stale could it be?” I said. “These guys have been marking this place every few days or so. Lev, you’d have noticed, right?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. We made sure to mark the corners and each of the sections where we found deer blinds and tore them down. This was not here three days ago.”
“Okay, then what’s the answer, O brilliant ones?” I addressed all five men, even Luka. “If it’s not a new wolf or a rogue wolf, and the urine is stale—but it wasn’t there three days ago.” Something pinged in the back of my thoughts: urine. Of course. Stale like one might buy in a box at Walmart. Like Miller had in his shopping cart. Something used as a training tool by hunters. Damn it.
“Lures,” I said. “Remember Walmart? Could it be so simple as hunters using this place to train dogs?”
Tucker frowned. “Simple explanation is usually best, but …” He turned to survey the area and shook his head. “I don’t know. Could they have thought they were wild dogs?”
“The hunters?” I asked. “It’s possible. But why would they then shoot the two others? If my vision was correct, Margery shifted to human as she died.”
“I’m thinking we should get out of this heat and go back and tell Mark,” Ianto said. “Sitting here theorizing won’t help us.” He leaned down and scraped some of the dirt up. “Keira, do you have a paper napkin or something I could put this in?”
I pulled a clean tissue from my pocket and gave it to him. He wrapped up the dirt and gave it back to me, seeing as how he and Tucker were still starkers. “Thanks. Maybe Mark will have a clue,” I said.
“Or you could see what kind of divining you can do once we’re in a more secluded area,” Tucker suggested.
“Or that, too,” I said. “Why don’t you two change back, maybe dogs this time? Lev, Luka’s got your clothes.”
Lev took his pants and shoes from his nephew and put them back on. “I’m extremely disturbed by this, Keira,” he said as he laced up his sneakers. “This is creeping me out.”
“I know, Lev. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” I said. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”
“’Fraid the T-shirt’s too torn up,” Luka said. “I’ve got another one in the pack, though.” He rummaged through it and
handed Lev a black shirt with an AC/DC logo on it.
As Lev put on the shirt, Tucker spoke. “That answered the main question, I think,” he said. “There’s just one more thing.” Tucker turned to Lev. “Why the hell did you attack my sister?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“I HAVE NO IDEA,” I answered for Lev. “I had a vision right here.” I pointed to the ground and then indicated the surrounding area. “This is the place the three wolves were shot. Right here,” I said. “From the direction of what’s left of that hunting blind. I tripped and fell down, so when I had the vision, Lev was touching me, helping me up. I think he shared it.” I turned my attention to Lev. “He immediately started to howl and Change, then attacked me.”
Tucker growled, baring his teeth. It wasn’t quite as dangerous as in wolf shape, but still, poor Luka, who’d been standing in the background through all this, shivered.
“Cool it, Tucker,” I said. “He’s grieving. Get dressed, will you?”
Tucker nodded to Luka, who held a set of clothes in his hands. “Here,” Luka said. “I picked them up when you guys shifted.” He handed a second set to Rhys, pulling the clothes out of his backpack.
“Thanks, kid,” Rhys said. “Appreciate it.”
“I’ve never seen Lev do that before,” the boy whispered. “Is he okay?”
“I think so,” I said. “Is your Change always this painful?”
“Mostly.” Luka stepped forward and handed his uncle a canteen of water. Lev took it and gulped deeply.
“You okay there?” Rhys asked, still not leaving Lev’s side—more to guard against him springing at me again, than to help Lev.
Lev nodded and handed the canteen back to Luka.
“Keira, I’m so sorry.” Lev hung his head and buried his face in his hands. “I never meant to—”
