by Maria Lima
“It’s fine,” I said. “What brought your first reaction on?”
When he looked at me, his eyes reflected nothing but sorrow. “I saw, felt, what you were feeling,” he said. “Margery, Stephen, Maki—all shot, all dead.”
I nodded. “Someone was over there, at that blind.” I motioned to a pile of wood planks and debris, not twenty feet from where we were. “Only thing is, I never got the feeling of wolf, outside of Margery and your other two. I’m guessing hunters.”
“But it’s in pieces,” Lev argued as he stood up, now clothed and shod. “There’re no guns or machinery left. We took this apart at least three or four weeks ago—at the same time we came around to mark territory the first time.”
“You’re positive?”
“Absolutely. I was in charge of the teams and I checked each location out afterwards.”
“Then how was Gregor shot just two nights ago?” I asked. “He’s not fool enough to be out here, see hunters, and let them shoot him. Same goes for the others.”
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Lev said quietly, losing steam. “Poachers?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I said, somewhat distracted as I tried to figure out the scenario. Poachers could be night hunters, like the men who’d shot at us last night. Could they have driven out here, hidden their truck, and somehow avoided discovery by three wolves? It didn’t seem likely, but given the fact that two of those three were city-bred and the third was unfamiliar with this place, it wasn’t beyond the realm of belief.
I stared at what was left of the blind, some wood, mostly. The wolves really did a number on it. What was once a fairly comfy little shack to sit in while hunting, or to house a remote-hunting setup, was now only broken boards. They’d taken the machined pieces away, to sell at a scrap yard.
“C’mon, we’re going in closer,” I said. “I want to stand there. Tucker, Rhys, you guys want to keep searching on your side?”
“Not particularly,” Tucker said, voice still angry. He barely glanced at Lev. “I think we’ll stay right here.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, not wanting to get in the middle of another fight. He was right; despite what Lev had explained, Tucker and my other brothers would want to stay with me to protect me.
“Then come help me walk over here.” The ground, though bare in most spots, was littered with dying cacti and all sorts of brush, most of it sharp and ready to snag. Glad I’d worn my heavier jeans, even with the heat, I stepped carefully over some flattened prickly pear, using Tucker’s arm to keep my balance. I slid down the side of a chunk of limestone, grabbing on to Lev as best I could. “Damn it,” I exclaimed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to clutch so hard. This is fairly tough going.”
“Just hang tight,” Lev said. “We got over there in wolf form last time.”
“In the freaking daylight?” I practically shrieked the words at the man. Tucker growled at him.
“Well, yeah, it’s private property,” Lev said, trying not to cower.
“For fuck’s sake, Lev—I already chewed Mark out about this, but I’m about to tear you a new one, too. This is private property, yes, because y’all bought it. But property lines mean very little out here, especially if the property’s not posted or fenced. Neither of which y’all have done. Basically, the rule of the open range still applies: no signs, no fence means you’re okay with people wandering through. How long have y’all lived out here again?”
Lev managed to look sheepish. “Years.”
“And you didn’t know this?”
“Not really,” he said. “I mean, we only bought this land earlier in the year, and we’re too busy with the finances and stuff like that to really start checking out the place. Our place out at the Falls, where most of us live, is pretty much all fenced in or out.”
“In or out?” I asked as Tucker and I finally managed to maneuver our way next to where the blind originally sat, and among the debris. “What does that mean?”
“We fenced in some areas, but didn’t need to along certain boundaries on account of the state park is next to us and that’s already fenced.”
“Ah, I get it. You fenced yourselves in and the park fenced y’all out.”
“Yeah.”
Tucker scrambled the last few feet, trying to avoid a particularly nasty clump of mesquite.
“Didn’t really know we needed to do anything out here,” Lev continued.
I turned to face the clearing where I’d seen Margery get shot. “Nope, I don’t get a direct line from this blind,” I said. “You?”
Tucker stood on the opposite side of the piled-up boards. “Not really. There’s a bunch of branches from that live oak in the way.” He put up his arms as if holding a shotgun. “Even with a laser scope, it’d be a tricky shot. No way someone could have gotten all three of them.”
Assuming the someone was human, that is … which wasn’t yet a given.
“I’ve never gone hunting,” I said to Lev, “at least, not with a gun or any kind of human weapon, but I’m positive the shot came from over in this general direction. Margery was facing to our left, which means her right. The bullet hit her left flank.”
Tucker motioned to Rhys, who joined us. Ianto remained at Lev’s side. Tucker said, “There’s all sorts of scents here, human most likely. Three-wheeler tracks, too—these unimproved acres are often a mecca for jeeps, three-wheelers, kids having fun. Dirt’s so cracked from the drought it’s tough to distinguish anything, much less pinpoint dates or times. Like you said, Keira, this place isn’t fenced off or even posted; who knows who’s been running around here and when?” He shrugged. “I can shift, do some more sniffing around, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll turn up anything.”
“Tucker’s nose is a thousand times more sensitive than mine,” I explained to Lev. “Besides, he’s had centuries of being wolf. I’ve had all of a few months. I’d rather he search.”
“I can Change again,” Lev offered.
“After that last?” I asked. “No thanks.”
“I’m not likely to challenge you again,” he said quietly.
“It’s not that,” I said and took a gulp from my own canteen. “That’s over with, done, you submitted. It’s the fact that you seemed more animal than man, am I right?”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t that help?”
“Not if you can’t understand English directions, or take some less-than-verbal cues from me while you’re a wolf.”
“He can?”
“We all can. I’ve not yet Marked or blood-oathed my brothers, but we’re blood kin, and that connection allows us a certain level of communication when we’re in animal form. I don’t think I can do that with you.”
“Fair enough,” Lev conceded.
I scrambled back across the boards to allow my brothers room to work. “Tucker, why don’t you guys see if you can sort anything out from the debris?” Tucker nodded and I settled myself in a sort of shady spot, on top of a nearby rock. “I’m really glad we did this so early,” I said. “It’s not even ten and it’s bloody boiling out here.”
“This is when I start to really hate Texas,” Lev said. “When I wish we’d gone north to Canada and lived somewhere that didn’t get hundred-degree summers.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I’ve half a mind to talk to Adam and relocate our respective asses to Vancouver, or at least up to the family enclave. The weather’s a million times better.”
“So why don’t you?” Lev seemed legitimately puzzled.
“Good question,” I replied. “Sometimes, it’s because I’m too damned independent for my own good. Others, it’s because this is the only real home I’ve ever known. It’s a safe haven for me. Primarily, though, right now, it’s because this is my turf; the territory assigned to me and to Adam by my Clan leader. I promised to give it a shot here. So here I stay.”
“Do you guys think this has anything to do with last night?” Luka asked. “When you got shot at?”
Rhys and Ianto beg
an to methodically search around the debris as Tucker replied. “We need to be practical,” he said. “Two groups taking potshots at the wer? For what reason?”
“I’m not happy with even one group,” Lev said with a sad expression on his face. “We’ve lost three wolves, my nephew got shot. Why?”
A thought crossed my mind as I surveyed the area again, trying to get more of a sense of what had happened. “To that point, where?” I countered and indicated the area. “Where the hell are the bodies?”
“I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question,” Tucker said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
RHYS PULLED OFF another board and tossed it to the side, nose wrinkling. “Yeah, you really don’t.”
I stood and approached the debris. They’d pulled off most of the brush and several of the boards across the top. What was left could be the bottom part of the blind, just a few boards nailed together to form front, back, and sides, no higher than a couple of feet.
“Oh.” I turned to Lev. “I think you may want to step back,” I said. “Like away from scent distance. You, too, Luka.”
“Why?” Lev watched the boys curiously. “What did you find?”
“Lev, please.” I turned to him. “I know your sense of smell is lessened as human, but it’s been really, really hot out here.” I knew what was in the remains of the blind had to be covered in pretty heavy-duty plastic, because I only caught a faint whiff, even with my enhanced senses. We’d definitely found the dead wolves … I hoped. The smell was bearable, someone had obviously done a good job in trying to cover it up, but still …
Lev did as I asked, taking Luka with him. Tucker and Rhys waited until they got about fifty feet away, then leaned over.
“Heavy-duty lawn and leaf bags, it seems like—at least triple bagged, in fact, or else the odor would be greater. Inside of the pit is coated with lime,” Tucker said. “Damn it. We can’t burn, it’s too dry out here and we’re likely to get unwanted sheriff’s department attention. We’re under brush burn ban.”
“I know,” I said. “We’ll just have to take them with us and dispose of them at the Wild Moon. All three in there?”
“I’ll check.” Rhys squatted down and felt through the plastic. “Definitely two, maybe three.”
“Lev, how big was Margery?” I yelled out to him.
“Smallish, about five two or three,” he answered. “Is that them?”
“Don’t know for sure. It seems like only two—one in each bag, but I could be wrong. I really don’t want to open these out here. Ianto, could you please go get the Rover? We’ll just have to load up and check out the insides when we get back. I’m not in the mood for postmortems in the middle of nonposted property in broad daylight.”
“On it.” Ianto turned and loped away.
“What are you doing?” Lev asked.
I left Rhys and Tucker to maneuver the bag out of the hole and walked over to Lev to explain. “We’re taking them back to the Wild Moon,” I said. “I want to be sure that it’s them and I’d rather not do that here.”
As Ianto drove up, Rhys bent down and picked something up off the ground next to the blind. “Hey, I found something.”
He climbed back over to me, something shiny in his hand. “Seems to me like this was smashed or run over,” I said. “Some kind of pin?” The object was small, about a half inch wide, but scarred and scraped as if someone had run over it with a car. “Maybe some sort of religious pin,” I said. “Some initials, maybe?”
Rhys took it from me and held it close. “Looks like a curlicue letter ‘B’ in the center, a ‘W’ and ‘R’ on either side.” He flipped it over. “‘Forever,’” he read. “That’s about all I can tell, but yeah, this is a pin of some sort. Definitely religious, see the cross symbol?” He pointed to some lines engraved behind the initials. Definitely a cross.
“Oh, great, that’s all we need, religious hunters,” I joked. “Not that they don’t exist, mind you. A good Baptist boy’ll go to church on Sunday, then off to hunt during the season. It’s expected.”
“They’re not much for medals, though, are they?” Rhys asked. “Baptists.”
“I was making a generic analogy,” I said. “I have no idea what Christian group this medal belongs to. It’s not a crucifix, so probably not Catholic. Could be any one of these church groups out here. Didn’t this used to be a campground or something?”
“Years ago,” Tucker said. “Not religious based, but some sort of community group over at White Rock. They lost their funding about twenty years or more back. Somebody bought it for next to nothing back then and eventually couldn’t keep up the taxes. It wound up in receivership a year or two ago. Mark probably got this for a pretty good deal. It’s not really worth much for the weekend resort folks. Not close enough to the water or to any of the golf courses … and all unimproved. Would take a lot of money to make this a subdivision or even a nice weekend ranch.”
“Which is great for the pack,” I said. “I can see why they wanted it. It’s fairly well isolated.”
“Could be a gift,” I ventured. “Lev, could it be Margery’s?”
“Doubt it,” Lev answered. “She and Stephen are—were—Jewish. Culturally, but not so religious. None of us are. No established traditional religion has room for our kind.” He said the words as if they tasted of ash in his mouth.
“What’s up, Lev? You sound, well, bitter. I thought Armenians are Christians, right? It’s what led to the genocide, the eventual Diaspora last century. But most Armenians aren’t werewolves,” I argued. “Or are they?”
“No, they’re not.”
“Does that stop you from your faith? Your being wer?”
“It shouldn’t,” Lev answered. “But it has.”
“How so?”
“We’re an abomination.”
Stunned, I studied Lev’s face to see if he was in any way being facetious. He stood steady, his face placid and determined.
“You’re dead serious,” I said in wonder. “You really think that.”
His face flushed and he hung his head. “I do,” he whispered.
“Lev, your brother is the Fenrir of the pack. You’re the Loki, the second: How does this mesh for you?”
“It doesn’t,” he said. “Mark is my brother, the only blood relative outside of Dixxi that I have left. I will stand by his side as long as he needs me—but, I’m torn. My faith is stronger than Mark’s. He’s a scholar, a questioner. I’m a fairly simple guy. I believe with everything I have. And I believe that we’re cursed. How else do you explain why we get these diseases, why our wolf natures don’t burn them out of us?”
How could I answer those questions? This was nothing I’d ever had to face. My family had no disease, nothing like this. We’d never cared for religion, no matter whose traditions. We tended to follow our own pipers and create what we wanted.
“Jacob’s pretty religious, though,” Luka piped up. “He and Bea were talking about stuff.”
Lev’s head whipped around as he stared at his nephew. “Jacob was talking to Bea about religion?”
Luka shrugged. “Something. I dunno, I got bored so I went back to the deli to help Mark.”
Lev’s face fell as he took in the news.
Poor man, he was beta wolf but not at all strong in personality. His looks, though fine for any regular group, were certainly less amazing than Jacob’s or even the young boys’. I was sure that part of his attraction to Bea was finding a way of establishing a normal life, a chance at being part of another community. Bea wasn’t much for churchgoing, but she did occasionally attend Rio Seco’s one and only church—a nondenominational service held Sunday mornings over at the Bar-K ranch. They traded off between priests, preachers, and rabbis.
I began to understand Lev a little, his obvious feeling of being an outsider, even though integral to the pack. After all, his case wasn’t dissimilar to mine—at least before I Changed.
“I was hoping Bea and I …” He paused
for a moment, staring off into the distance. “When I was a kid, I grew up listening to stories from my grandpop. Stories about his great-uncles, our homeland. He’d say things like ‘We stay together in adversity. We were Christian in the heart of the Ottoman Empire—strong leaders, strong culture.’” Lev sighed. “You know the rest of the story—the Young Turks came in and everything changed. So many dead; so many slaughtered. No ovens, no camps, just death, and Diaspora. When Grandpop told me these stories, they became kind of my touchstone. I knew I was never going to be Fenrir. Knew I was always second to Mark, but our history, our religion, made me part of something whole.”
“Mark doesn’t seem to be that embedded into religion,” I said softly.
“Mark,” he snorted. “Like I said, he’s a scholar, a thinker. We’ve had way too many fights over the years. He’s such ‘a modern diversity of knowledge’ guy.” Lev shrugged and walked over to the car. “I think I’d rather sit here while you guys …” He motioned toward the plastic bags, now on the ground.
As I watched him walk away, a thought struck me. Could he be the one responsible for this? He wouldn’t be the first of a group to resent incomers, but was he resentful enough to kill? This was definitely something I wanted to discuss with my own family as soon as we returned.
Tucker and Rhys hefted the bags, each taking one end at a time, and placed them in the back of the Rover.
“I’m sorry it’s so tight back here,” I apologized. “My car’s an old-style one. Not really meant for a lot of people or cargo. Lev, why don’t you ride shotgun? Tucker, you drive and the rest of us can sit back here.” With the bodies. Two bags, three bodies. As we got situated, I pulled out the two bags of ice we had in the cooler and placed them across the top of the plastic bags.
Luka nodded and threw me a shy smile. “Thanks,” he whispered.
As Tucker threw the car into gear, the unmistakable sound of gunfire and an accompanying ricochet rang out.
“Fuck.” Tucker slammed the car back into park and leaned his head out the window. Being smarter than the average bear or person in a B movie, instead of running toward the gunshots, he yelled, “People here, hold your fire.” He then honked the horn and yelled again.
