Fangs

by Vella Munn

  Gun whined and placed a paw on her shoulder. Instantly alert, Smoke sank to her belly. Before their brother had been killed, before Lobo had joined Gun and her and she’d mated with him, she seen humans as an integral part of her world. Seeing Stone die had taught her a hard lesson, but she was still learning that humans were the enemy.

  “What is it?” she asked her brother.

  “We must wait,” Gun replied. “Then, when they are asleep, we will do what we must.”

  Surprised because the source had first spoken to her brother, she closed her eyes so what the humans were doing would no longer distract her. Knowing the source was reaching out to her was both comforting and unnerving, because it meant she’d have no control over what she was going to do.

  “He is down there,” the source told her. “The killer.”

  “The man who tried to kill the mother elk?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

  “Yes. He has been allowed to get away with his crime for too long. It is time for him to pay.”

  “What do you want done?” Gun asked. “To kill as we’ve done before?”

  “This time I will allow you to make the decision. What matters is that the lesson is learned. Never forgotten.”

  Confused, Smoke licked her brother’s muzzle. Using her fangs against the enemy completed her in ways that went deeper than the instinct to live, but in earlier attacks, she’d followed the source’s command. Now her brother and she would have to develop their own plan and act on it. She’d have to make the decision whether to involve her cubs and ask Lobo if he wanted to join them.

  So much. More than she’d ever contemplated.

  * * * *

  “I don’t know about our doing this,” Niko told Mia. “Now that I know what Jeff’s up to, I’m not sure our going up the mountain’s such a hot idea after all. What if he’s planning on returning? He might take Darick and reinforcements with him.”

  Mia groaned and turned the heat down under the grilled cheese with tomatoes that would serve as her dinner. Wine glass in one hand and her cell phone in the other, she slumped against her kitchen counter. “I’ve thought about that, but there’s no law against us being up there, if you want to go.”

  “Hell, you know I do. Chance of a lifetime and all that.”

  “That’s why I haven’t taken the trek off the table. Like you said, we’ll probably never do anything like this again. There’s nothing I’d like more than for you to see Ice, for both of us to. If we’re able to take pictures—I have a pretty good telephoto lens for my digital—you can show them to some tribe members. I’m torn between letting the world know about Ice and trying to keep that beauty our secret.”

  “What if we wait until we have a better idea about the investigation? A few more days shouldn’t make that big a difference.”

  “Whatever Jeff’s doing could take longer than a few days. The herd might move on.”

  Niko sighed. “There’s that. Ice has really gotten to you, hasn’t he?”

  More than I can explain even to myself. “He has—had one calf. I’d give a great deal to see if there’s more.”

  “So would I.” Niko grinned. “Okay, how’s this for consideration? Call Jeff in the morning. Turn on the charm. Maybe he’ll at least tell you what he’s up for the day. If he’s staying around here, you and I’ll slip away.”

  Charm? She barely knew the meaning of the word. “He might not tell me anything. Things didn’t end on the best terms the last time the two of us talked. I was pissed.”

  “Apologize. That should get the conversation going.”

  She didn’t want to apologize, darn it. As she saw it, Jeff was the one who should be asking for her forgiveness, because thanks to him, she’d had to see Ram. Jeff had to have known Ram would come straight to her for her side of the situation.

  But maybe Jeff wouldn’t have come to that conclusion. After all, he hadn’t known about her relationship with Ram, fortunately a former relationship.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she conceded. “But I can’t promise how it’ll turn out.”

  “Which is pretty much how life is.”

  * * * *

  “I’m done,” Lyle said. “Time to crash.”

  Kendall glanced at the small tent he and Summer were using as if to reassure himself that it was still there. He didn’t know what time it was—late. The four of them had been drinking and smoking weed, while playing multiple hands of strip poker. They’d all wound up naked, followed by putting their clothes back on and starting over. No one had said anything about why they were still upright instead of going to bed, but he suspected the others felt the same way he did. Being asleep was more vulnerable than staying awake.

  “I thought you’d never say that,” Melinda whined. “Damn, don’t you ever sleep?”

  “You could have gone to bed,” Lyle said. “No one forced you to—”

  “And have you crawl all over me getting into our tent? No, thank you. That’s the smallest piece of shit I’ve ever had the misfortune of being in.”

  “You could move your sleeping bag outside,” Summer suggested and poked Kendall in his side. “You’d have more than enough room that way.”

  “Hell no. I don’t want no damn bats in my hair.”

  With the moon and stars out to help the lamp, they’d seen bats flying about in search of insects. Lyle had told Melinda that bats ate more than their weight in mosquitoes, but that hadn’t stopped his girlfriend from grousing that one of the winged creatures would get tangled up in her hair. Truth was, Kendall would like nothing better than to see Melinda go apeshit trying to extricate a bat. Poor bat.

  “What about you?” Summer asked him. “You ready to pack it in?”

  “I guess.” As weary as his legs were and as much whiskey and pot was in his system, he should have passed out. Instead, he’d been straining so hard to catch night sounds that he hadn’t been able to relax. As many hunting trips as he’d been on, he should be used to sleeping away from civilization. Hell, he was. However, there was something different about tonight. A not-good different.

  Instead of standing and slipping into the night for a final pee like the others were doing, he stared at the lantern and wished there were a dozen instead of just one. His old man knew where he was, a little fact he hadn’t shared with the girls. Carl Taft would never let his son live it down if Kendall admitted he was spooked, which had factored into his decision not to convince his cousin and the girls to leave this afternoon. They probably would have gone along with his suggestion, but no way was he going to let his old man so much as think of him as a whipped pup.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” Summer said when she returned. “Empty that bladder of yours and show me one final striptease.”

  He pasted on a smile and heaved himself to his feet. The more Summer had smoked tonight, the more self-assured she’d become. “Hold on to that thought. I’ll be right back.”

  No one would say anything if he pulled it out and sent a stream onto the ground with the lantern highlighting the show, but damn it, if the others could slip into the night to do their business, so could he. He just wished he could take the lantern or a flashlight with him.

  They’d chosen a flat and mostly open area to set up their camp, but the clearing was surrounded by trees that looked as if they’d like nothing better than to swallow him. Pushing down the thought, he walked in his socks toward where Lyle had been. Not glancing over his shoulders or staring too closely into the night, he pulled down the zipper and freed himself. The smell of hot urine filled his nostrils. He’d finished what he needed to do and was tucking himself back in when he heard a low bark.

  With his heart ratcheting into overdrive, he spun around, thinking to get his ass back to the others. Before he could take the first step, something on the ground jammed into his right instep. He grunted.

  “What the hell’s that?” Lyle demanded.

  “What the fuck do you think it is?” Summer replied. “A dog. Kendall, where the hell
are you?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Lyle snapped. “You’re letting the mutt know where we are.”

  “Too late. Where’s a weapon?”

  His companions were close, just out of sight, easily heard. The only thing he had to do was tenderfoot it a few more feet and he’d be back with them. He’d grab the rifle he should have carried with him and—

  Another bark, more a growl than a woof, closer.

  Afraid his heart might explode or stop, he clenched his teeth against the pain in his instep and plowed forward.

  Yet another bark-growl, deep throated and signifying a large animal. His mind clicked through possibilities, none of them good and narrowing down to one thing. A carnivore, more than one, had torn into the elk he’d shot. The damned beasts were still around.

  “Kendall?” Summer yelled. “Where are you?”

  “Here,” he announced unnecessarily as lantern light surrounded him. Damn it, where had he left his rifle? The others were staring into the night, mouths sagging and eyes huge.

  “Someone’s here,” Melinda said. “All this time we thought we were alone and—”

  Two bark-growls interrupted her. Kendall had no doubt that they were dealing with more than one dog. His old man had always insisted on having dogs with issues. Maintaining a hands-off approach, Carl Taft believed, resulted in the best guard dogs, which were the only kind he wanted. As a result, Kendall knew what a dog that had little use for humans beyond suppliers of food sounded like. That was what the bark and growls reminded him of.

  He didn’t care what anyone thought as he scooped up his loaded rifle and pressed the butt against his shoulder.

  “You can’t shoot—” Melinda started.

  “Just shut the fuck up,” Summer snapped.

  Kendall and Lyle exchanged glances, followed by Lyle grabbing his own weapon. The cousins positioned themselves so they were back to back with only a few feet separating them. He felt a little foolish being freaked by dogs, but what if they had blood lust or something?

  “Don’t tell me to shut up,” Melinda said after a short silence. “I have every right to—”

  “Don’t you get it?” Lyle interrupted. “Wild dogs have been feeding on that elk carcass. They aren’t here to have their bellies rubbed.”

  “You think they might attack?” she asked.

  Summer snorted.

  Melinda hugged herself and started sliding toward the tent—as if going in there would protect her. Kendall wasn’t interested in seeing what the dogs looked like, but it bothered him that the creatures hadn’t made an appearance. Unless they were afraid of them or antisocial, dogs approached humans.

  Maybe these had another agenda.

  Like what?

  “We’ve hardly been quiet,” Lyle whispered, even though it was too late for that to matter. “Don’t you think, if other people are around they would have let us know?”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Trying to stare a hole in the night while carrying on a conversation with his cousin was almost more than Kendall could concentrate on. He wished everyone would shut up and that his heart would stop sounding like a drum on crack. The dogs—had to be dogs, right?—had stopped barking, which meant who the hell knew what.

  “Are you crazy?” Summer’s question made him start. “That isn’t going to do any good.”

  A glance at the girls let him see that Melinda had grabbed the fork she’d been using on the potatoes and was holding it in front of her. He almost laughed.

  A person, he was discovering, couldn’t stay tense forever. At least he couldn’t. His muscles were threatening to cramp, and despite his effort not let it happen, his fingers had already relaxed their hold on the rifle a little. He took several long breaths. He was tempted to whistle to see if he could get the dogs to come into the light. Seeing them might make everything right again.

  Yeah, right.

  “How many do you think are out there?” Lyle asked.

  “We heard two, I think, but there could be more.”

  “Yeah, there could. Why are they sticking around?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You remember that crazy mutt your old man brought home a couple of years ago?”

  He thought. “Oh yeah, psycho dog. What about it?”

  “Maybe that’s what we’re dealing with here. The damned things aren’t smart enough to know we aren’t the enemy.”

  Maybe tonight’s dogs were the enemy. Between the darkness and mind-altering substances in his system, there was no way he could convince himself those were lap dogs. Instinct sometimes made the difference between a successful hunt and getting skunked. If the back of a man’s neck said something was out there watching, the man had better heed the warning.

  Determined to do more than stand there, he whistled. “Come here you. Come on. Show yourself. What do you want?” He whistled again. “A bone? We don’t have any, but there’s hot dogs.” Another whistle, this one not as tentative. “A couple of big ones are you? Nothing wrong with that. We can still be friends.”

  He thought the others might call him crazy. When they didn’t, he figured they didn’t have any better ideas.

  “We have hot dogs. Made with real beef, not floor sweepings.” He wasn’t sure that was true, but most dogs didn’t care. “A bun to go with them, if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s right,” Lyle said, followed by a pathetic excuse for a whistle. “Are you guys hungry? Maybe you’re tired of nothing but raw meat.”

  Thank goodness dogs didn’t understand English—at least he hoped they didn’t—because that was a pretty stupid thing for his cousin to say. His bladder was burning, and he needed to take a dump.

  Thinking to improve on Lyle’s sad whistle, he flattened his lower lip. He’d started to push out air when a blur of movement to his right grabbed his attention. He had just enough time to spot a massive, short-haired dog before the beast slammed into him and knocked him to the ground. He landed on his side with his arm and rifle under him.

  Someone was screaming. He didn’t think it was him.

  A weight settled on his shoulders, followed by the pain of his hair being pulled. “Help! Help!” he hollered.

  Fresh weight, on his hips, pinned him even more firmly into the ground. The wrist under him was deeply bent, and his forefinger was trapped in the trigger guard. A river of rumbling growls surrounded him. The sounds came in waves, impossible to comprehend or escape. A dog—the biggest he’d ever seen—had gotten hold of his hair and was pulling. Tears born of pain and terror flooded his eyes. Between that and the massive shape blocking out the lantern, moon and stars, he felt as if he’d been cut off from the world.

  “Help! Oh god, please!”

  Feminine voices warred with deep-throated rumblings. He couldn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t get his mind to wrap around why two huge dogs were on top of him. There was hatred in the animals’ sounds, but it was more than that, violent power. Determination.

  Lyle! Where was his cousin? Why wasn’t he shooting?

  Bear-trap strong jaws clamped down on his right foot and forced a scream from him. He was still trying to make sense of the latest assault when his captor started pulling on his foot, dragging him away from the tents and the girls, but mostly from his armed cousin. The more relentless the effort to steal him away became, the greater the stress on his arm became. Fear it would be ripped from its socket prompted him to try to twist first onto his stomach then his back. He couldn’t because a beast still had hold of his hair. Somehow, his arm twisted around so it was over his head and bouncing on the ground. He’d lost his grip on his rifle, lost his only defense against hell.

  His foot was on fire.

  He cried, sobbed, begged.

  He didn’t know how it had happened, but now he was on his back staring up at the stars. Rocks and other debris dug into his spine and ass. He couldn’t see the beast that had latched onto his foot. The other continued to scalp him while walking beside him, th
e pace languid as if the creature had forever in which to do this.

  “Shoot! Damn it, shoot!” he begged.

  Several explosions of sound filled him with brief hope, but if his attackers so much as flinched, he didn’t tell. They still had hold of him. Either Lyle had missed or his cousin had been afraid to aim at the monsters for fear of hitting him.

  “Don’t let them have me! Oh god, kill them!”

  There was another clap of sound accompanied by wailing from one or both of the women. Lyle was screaming without saying anything Kendall could understand. His tears continued to flow. And night closed around him.

  “Make them stop!”

  Now that he’d been in his attackers’ grasp for a while—he had no idea how much time had passed—he decided there was something ludicrous about what was happening. If there’d been snow on the ground, it would feel almost like being pulled on a sled.

  Much as his scalp burned, the pain in his foot was at least twice as bad. Both silently and in a high, shrill voice, he begged the dogs to take pity on him. He promised to spend the rest of his life feeding them steaks and making their lives as comfortable as possible.

  He also cursed them.

  Cried for his mommy and daddy.

  No more artificial light. Just him, the wilderness, and two killing beasts.

  “Please, please, please, oh god, please.”

  What had happened? In fits and starts he realized he was no longer being dragged. His hair was no longer being ripped from his scalp. The dog that had been attacking him there straddled him and placed its muzzle inches from his face. A sour, wet breath rolled over his cheeks and nose. The beast licked his tears. He wished he could stop shaking so he could maybe wrap his mind around what had just happened, but where the hell was the other dog and what did they intend to do with him?

  This wasn’t an unprovoked attack by a pair of dumb enraged animals. He’d been singled out because—why?

  “What do you want with me?” His throat felt as if it was on fire. “I haven’t done…”