Wolfsong

by T. J. Klune

  “Ox?” Chris called out. “You—”

  The door to the waiting area slammed open, Robbie skittering through the garage as he ran toward the office. “Did you feel that?” he demanded as he came through the door. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth, even though it felt like my skin was electrified. “It was the wards. Something happened to them.”

  Robbie paled. “More Omegas?”

  I shook my head. “Something different. Something else.” The others crowded in the doorway, Chris’s phone already to his ear even as mine rang. I heard Chris say something to Jessie as soon as she picked up. “Elizabeth,” I breathed as I put my own phone to my ear.

  “You felt it,” she said.

  “Yes. What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Something is coming.”

  “Were the wards broken?”

  “No. I don’t think—it’s like they changed. Somehow.”

  “Robert?”

  “I don’t know. Ox. I think it’s coming this way.”

  “You stay there,” I growled. “With Mark. We’re coming.”

  “Be careful.”

  I hung up the phone.

  “You hear that?” Chris said to Jessie. “Get to the house.”

  “Keep her on the phone,” I told Chris. “I don’t want her there before us.” Chris nodded as I stood. “Robbie, Tanner, with me. Rico, go with Chris. You follow behind us. We get to Jessie, she leaves her car there and gets in with you. Understood?”

  They nodded, eyes narrowed, teeth bared.

  WE REACHED the dirt road without seeing anyone, though the electric feeling intensified the closer we got. I gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. My teeth were clenched and I was angry.

  Jessie was already waiting for us and she didn’t hesitate, moving from her vehicle in with Chris and Rico, hair pulled back, staff clutched in her hands. I watched in the rearview mirror until she shut the door, then took off down the road, dust kicking up in plumes behind us.

  We passed the old house first. It stood as it always did.

  The house at the end of the lane was the same. Elizabeth and Mark were waiting for us on the porch, half-shifted, eyes bright even in the sunlight.

  “Anything?” I demanded as I threw open the door to the truck.

  “No,” Mark said. “No one has approached the house.”

  “They will,” Elizabeth said, looking off into the trees.

  I walked backward toward the porch, scanning the tree line. Everything looked the same. The trees swayed, the birds sang. The territory felt like mine, like ours. But there was something else there, sliding along on top of it, not quite fitting, but close. I didn’t know if this was Richard and Robert, trying to trick us. Because even though my skin was crawling, it felt like something I should recognize, but it was making me anxious. Snappish. I wanted to prowl in front of the house, warning any intruders away.

  The others gathered behind us on the porch, spread out in the formation we had trained with so many times. They didn’t need to be told. They just knew. The wolves were spread out amongst the humans, claws out and ready. I could feel their strength at my back, all of them, and I hoped whoever was stupid enough to come at us felt it too before we made sure they wouldn’t do it again.

  The electricity intensified.

  “It’s coming from the north,” Mark muttered. “From the clearing.”

  It was also moving.

  “What is it?” Rico asked, sounding nervous.

  “I don’t know,” Mark said. “It’s almost like—”

  The wolves all tensed, hearing something that we couldn’t.

  “Four of them,” Robbie growled. “Moving fast.”

  “Stand together,” I said. “Whatever it is, we stand together—”

  I heard it now. In the forest. The footsteps, the running strides. A flash of color in the thick trees, something red and something orange and it—

  “Oh my god,” Elizabeth said, because she understood first.

  ONCE, WHEN it was just the two of us at the house, she’d decided it was time to play Dinah Shore again. Joe and the others had been gone for almost two years.

  She put the old record on, and while the singer crooned about being lonely, she looked at me and asked me to dance.

  “I don’t know how,” I said, trying not to blush.

  “Nonsense,” she said. “Everyone can if they can count.”

  She took my hand.

  She moved slowly with me as she counted out the steps, my hand dwarfing hers. She moved us in a circle, the song repeating over and over again.

  When she no longer needed to count, when I felt the song seep into my bones, she said, “We stayed behind because we had to.”

  I stuttered in my step, but caught myself before it got out of control. She smiled quietly at me as I counted under my breath.

  Then, “Did we?”

  We moved and swayed.

  She said, “We did. They didn’t want to leave us, Ox. None of them. Joe. Gordo. Carter and Kelly. Thomas. Your mother. None of them wanted to leave.”

  “They did, though. All of them.”

  “Sometimes,” she said as we spun lazily, “the choices are taken out of our hands. Sometimes, we don’t want to leave, even though we feel we must.”

  “He didn’t have—”

  “You think him selfish,” she said. “And you may be right. But never forget that everything he does, he also does for you. And there will come a time when you will see him again. It’ll be up to you what happens next.”

  “I’m angry,” I admitted. “So angry.”

  “I know,” she said, squeezing my hands. “It’s why we’re dancing. I find it hard to be angry when I’m dancing. There’s just something about it that doesn’t foster rage.”

  “Do you think…?”

  “What, Ox?”

  “Do you think he’ll come back?”

  She said, “Yes, I do. He’ll always come back for you.”

  And we danced.

  And danced.

  And danced.

  “OH MY god,” Elizabeth Bennett said.

  “What is it?” Rico asked, voice higher than normal. “Is it the bad guys? Is it the bad wolves—”

  “No,” Mark said. “It’s not. It’s an Alpha. It’s—”

  Robbie’s hand dropped onto my shoulder, claws piercing through my work shirt and dimpling my skin. It grounded me, made me realize I wasn’t dreaming, that I was awake, since I couldn’t feel pain in a dream. There was pain. Sharp pain that was mostly bearable.

  “Ox,” Tanner said in a low voice. “What do we do? What do we—”

  They didn’t need to do anything.

  Four men walked from among the trees. All of them had their heads shaved. The one in the front, the Alpha, had a beard, dirty blond and full. He was the same size as the other two wolves, large and intimidating, moving with a grace he hadn’t had before. The fourth man moved with them, smaller than the others, but his tattoos were as bright as they’d ever been, the raven fluttering on his arm.

  They all looked similar to each other. They wore dusty black jeans, scuffed boots. Worn jackets. The man with the tattoos had his sleeves pushed up, exposing the bright colors on his arms.

  The other two wolves moved like they were orbiting their Alpha, never more than a foot or two away.

  They approached slowly but surely, only stopping once their feet touched dirt. They took a formation much like our own, moving in sync with each other, the witch next to the Alpha, the two Betas on either side of them. It was practiced. They’d done it before. Many, many times.

  They stopped.

  We breathed.

  Joe.

  Carter.

  Kelly.

  Gordo.

  Hey! Hey there! You! Hey, guy!

  None of my pack moved from behind me, though I could feel how much Elizabeth and Mark wanted to. They were waiting.

&nb
sp; For me.

  Who are you?

  Because we weren’t one pack.

  We were two.

  Ox? Ox! Do you smell that?

  Robbie’s hand tightened on my shoulder.

  Joe, whose eyes had never left me from the moment he’d broken the tree line, glanced at Robbie’s hand. His hands twitched slightly and the skin around his eyes tightened briefly, but nothing more.

  No, no, no. It’s something bigger.

  The others were there. I understood that. My brothers Carter and Kelly. My friend and brother and father Gordo. They were there. I hadn’t seen them in thirty-eight months. They’d disappeared into the wild and left us behind.

  But at that moment, I only saw Joe.

  It’s you! Why do you smell like that?

  He was larger than he’d ever been in the life I’d known him. Before. He was roughly my size, and carried the weight of the Alpha well. He’d once been tall and lean, still growing into the man he’d become. Now, he was thick, the muscles in his arms and legs straining against the coat and sleeves. His chest was broad and wide. We were probably the same height now.

  Where did you come from? Do you live in the woods? What are you? We just got here. Finally. Where is your house?

  This wasn’t the boy I’d known. The one I’d first found on the dirt road. This was an Alpha, pure and true. He was road worn, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin, but his strength showed even as he stood there. The clumsy boy I’d known was gone, at least physically. I didn’t know how much else of him remained.

  We have to go see my mom and dad. They’ll know what this is. They know everything.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  I didn’t want to speak first.

  Because I was sure I’d say something I’d regret.

  Because I was so goddamned angry.

  Seeing him here. Safe. Sound. Alive. It should have made me happier than I’d ever been. And it did.

  But the anger was stronger.

  My pack sighed behind me as my fury washed over them.

  And then, like he could hear the memory in my head of the day we’d first met, Joe Bennett said, “I’m sorry.” His voice was deep. Rough. Strong.

  I played my part. “For?”

  He said, “For whatever just made you sad.”

  “I dream. Sometimes it feels like I’m awake. And then I’m not.” And I had to remind myself we were not who we were then, the little boy on the dirt road and the big dumb Ox who was gonna get shit all his life.

  His voice cracked when he said, “You’re awake now. Ox. Ox. Ox. Don’t you see?”

  “See what?”

  He whispered, as if saying it any louder would make it untrue. “We’re so close to each other.”

  And it wasn’t the same as before. As what he’d said when he was the little tornado on my back, but it was enough. Because we were. We were so goddamn close to each other, closer than we’d been in over three years, and all I had to do was take that first step. All I had to do was open my arms and he could be there. If he wanted to be. If I wanted him to be.

  I didn’t move.

  But he wasn’t done. “Mom,” he said, though his eyes never left mine. “Mom. You have to smell him. It’s like… I don’t even know what it’s like. I was walking in the woods to scope out our territory so I could be like Dad and then it was like….” He closed his eyes for a moment. We all held our breaths. He continued. “And then he was all standing there and he didn’t see me at first because I’m getting so good at hunting. I was all like rawr and grr but then I smelled it again and it was him and it was all kaboom.” He opened his eyes again. They were filling with the red of the Alpha. “I don’t even know. You gotta smell him and then tell me why it’s all candy canes and pinecones. All epic and awesome.”

  His voice died out.

  A lark sang from the trees.

  The grass swayed with the breeze.

  He said, “Ox.”

  I said, “Alpha,” and my voice barely contained my anger.

  He winced the slightest bit before nodding in return. “Alpha,” he said.

  It wasn’t repetition. It was acknowledgment.

  Because this wasn’t his territory anymore.

  Somehow, it’d become mine.

  Robbie flexed his hand gently on my shoulder.

  Joe’s eyes darted to Robbie again. To his face. Where he was touching me. Back to me.

  He growled. A warning. This was a strange wolf he did not know touching me.

  Everyone tensed.

  Robbie snarled in response and, before I could stop him, vaulted over me, landing in front of the pack, crouched down and teeth bared at the others.

  Carter and Kelly popped claws and fangs in response, crowding around Joe, waiting to see what Robbie would do. The others began to move behind, assuming tactical poses, ready to fight if need be, to protect their Alpha should the others come after me.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

  None of this was.

  I wasn’t dreaming.

  I wasn’t dreaming.

  I said, “Enough.”

  Robbie sagged.

  As did Carter and Kelly.

  They stepped back, away from Joe.

  Gordo still hadn’t moved, either to attack or to defend.

  Robbie looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his head as he stood. “I would do it again,” he muttered.

  “I know,” I said. “But you don’t have to.”

  He brushed against my shoulder as he resumed his place behind me.

  I looked back at Joe. “You’re here.” Short. To the point.

  “I am. We are.”

  “Did you do what you set out to do?”

  A brief hesitation. Then, “No.”

  That… I didn’t know what to do with that. “Why not?”

  “Things change.”

  “So all of this was for nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Look at you.”

  “Look at me,” I echoed.

  “Are we welcome?” he asked, and that was the most important question. Because an Alpha of the territory had to give his consent to another pack. It was how things worked.

  But it shouldn’t have to be with him. With them.

  “This is your home,” I said through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to ask that.”

  “We do,” Joe said, the red in his eyes fading to their normal blue, bright and wide. “You know that as well as I do, Ox. Especially now that you’re… you.”

  For the briefest of moments, I thought about saying no. No, you aren’t welcome here. No, we don’t need you. No, we don’t want to see you. Because you’ve been gone so long. You left us alone. You put others in front of us. You were selfish. And cruel. We needed you. I needed you. I fucking needed you and you left—

  I said, “You’re welcome here. All of you.”

  Everyone relaxed the smallest amounts.

  Except for Joe and me.

  “For how long?” Joe asked.

  A crack in the wall. “As long as it takes for you to decide to run again.”

  It was out before I could stop it.

  The four of them looked as if I’d slapped them.

  I should have felt better about that.

  I didn’t.

  “You can go to them,” I said.

  And Elizabeth and Mark surged forward, brushing past me to get to their family. Gordo took a step back as Elizabeth grabbed her sons, holding them as close as she could, her arms barely able to reach across all three of them at the same time. She rubbed her face against each of their cheeks, wanting her scent on them and theirs on her. The Alpha in me bristled at the thought of my pack smelling like another, but I pushed it away. It wasn’t about that. Not for her.

  Mark ran his hands over their shorn heads, mingling his scent on top of Elizabeth’s.

  Carter and Kelly were crying as they clung to their mother.

  Mark moved toward Gordo. G
ordo didn’t move. They stood staring at each other, speaking a silent language I wasn’t a part of.

  Joe still hadn’t looked away from me, even as his mother held him close.

  I said, “Your rooms are still yours. I expect you’ll want to get some rest.”

  And because I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take his proximity anymore, I walked away.

  I CLOSED the door to the old house behind me and sagged against it, trying to breathe.

  I hadn’t been in here in the longest time. The house was in my name. Robbie had moved into the main house a while ago, so this one usually sat empty. We kept it, though, in case it was needed. In case we’d needed more room. If the pack expanded. If people came seeking sanctuary.

  If others came home.

  Elizabeth and the rest of the pack took turns cleaning the house. Made sure it was aired out. While we usually shared responsibilities, this was one thing they wouldn’t let me do. They knew how I felt here. About this place.

  Because even though it’d long since been scrubbed away, I knew my mother’s blood had soaked into the bones of the house.

  She was everywhere here.

  Most of her clothes had been donated after I’d given the okay.

  But there was more to her than what she wore.

  She was in every corner of this house.

  There were soap bubbles on my ear.

  She was nervous, because the Bennetts were coming over and they were so fancy.

  She signed her name and dissolved her marriage.

  She stood with me in the kitchen, asking why I was crying. I told her I couldn’t be crying, because I had to be a man now.

  She pointed on a map, showing where my friend had moved, saying no one ever really stayed in Green Creek.

  She was my pack. My first pack.

  “Ah,” I said, trying to take in another breath. “Ah. Ah.”

  I slid down to the floor, my back against the door.

  I put my head on my knees.

  From where I sat, I knew I could look up and see the spot where she’d died. Where she’d looked up at me with such steel in her eyes. She’d known she was going to go, and she went out on her own terms, giving me the smallest of chances to escape and howl for our pack.

  The shadows lengthened as the day wore on.