by JK Cooper
These weren’t wolves. They were too large. No, these were feral spawns of Hell, escaped from Lucifer’s kennels. Elias felt for the silver crucifix beneath his tattered fatigues.
“Whit dae wae do, Sarge?” Rhett yelled, voice trembling. “Sarge! A’ve nae ammo!” He slid the bolt back and forth as if ammo would magically appear inside. It did not.
A growl erupted behind them, and Elias heard fast moving footfalls. Paden. He turned to see Paden running from the bullet-ridden wolf. Blood streamed and dripped from its dark coat onto the snow as it darted after its prey. Paden leaped back over the fallen tree toward them, but the black wolf caught him midair. His eyes opened in surprise and he barely grunted as the wolf bit into his neck and tore viciously. Steam rose from crimson snow.
Elias breathed short and heavy through his nose. He counted. One, the largest, behind them at Paden’s corpse. He turned. Four more at Carney’s. “Alright, lads, we’re surrounded.”
“Wae’re dead, Sarge!” Rhett squealed. Elias smelled urine. “Dead!” Rhett said again.
“Bayonets,” Elias said flatly, the calm tenor of his voice surprising him. He did not have a standard rifle but drew his bayonet regardless and wielded it like a knife. Tavish drew his and fixed it to his Enfield with practiced efficiency.
“Come on, ye scunner!” Rhett cried, fumbling with his bayonet.
A wolf with a gray coat like an angry storm front pounced on Rhett.
“Rhett!” Tavish yelled.
“Get it off, Sarge! Get it—” His cries turned to gurgles.
Elias and Tavish slashed and stabbed at the wolf. It sprang back, dodging their attacks, snapping its jaws at their bayonets. Regardless, the wolf’s work was done. Rhett lay still, unblinking, the iron scent of blood mixing with the tang of urine. Elias held his bayonet out in front of him. He felt Tavish press his back to his. The wolves circled. With shaky legs, Elias stepped in a semi-circle, keeping his weapon extended in front of him. His arm wavered as the wolves licked their snouts, tasting the air.
“We’re nae back in the Highlands yet, are we Eli?”
“Nae, Tav,” Elias answered. A grim determination set upon him. “Ye’ll tak’ the high road. I’ll tak’ the low . . .”
“And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye . . .” Tavish finished.
“Steady now, Tav. Nae be’fraid. They’ll come as one.” Elias knew they only had one chance, and it would require more divine providence than skill or even luck. Again, he felt for the crucifix. “In the neck, bràthair, or the heart.”
As Elias slowly rotated, keeping his back firmly pressed against Tavish’s, he came face to face with the first wolf. Elias steeled himself, meeting the wolf’s dark amber eyes. Then, it changed. The wolf’s snout retracted along with the long ears. Freakishly large paws, almost like that of a bear’s, elongated and splayed into fingers. A human face emerged from the morphing lupine head, a human body from that of the wolf’s. Blue eyes now glared back at Elias. Light blonde eyebrows and hair bordered deep cut lines in the forehead. Naked, the wolf-transformed man rose from his crouched position. Bloody pockmarks covered his torso including one at the right side of his neck, just above the collarbone.
“Mary, save us,” Elias whispered.
“Whits happening?” Tavish asked. “Why do nae they attack?”
“It’s a man.”
“It’s a man? What’re ye saying, it’s a man?”
Elias swallowed. He didn’t know how this was possible, but he knew it to be true. “It’s the Germans, Tav. They be the wolves.”
“I do’nae know what yer saying, Eli. When did wolves join Hitler?”
“What ‘er ye?” Elias asked, trying to keep the tremor in his hand that held his bayonet from creeping into his voice.
“Willkommen zu der Höhlen,” the German man said.
“Why is the wolf talking?” Tavish asked, beginning to turn his head. Elias heard the wolves behind him, those Tavish faced, growl. Tavish’s head snapped back to face forward. “What is it saying?” Tavish hissed.
“Something about Hell,” Elias said.
The German cocked his head to the side. “Die Hölle? Nein, Bruder.” Then, in English with a thick accent, “I speak of the Hollows, but for you it might be Hell. I must admit, I am impressed you were able to get this close to my pack. Brave, but foolish, I think.” He touched the wound on his neck. It seemed to be smaller than just moments earlier. “This one hurt. How did you know to look for us here? Are you Hunters?”
“We nae ware hunting you.” Elias said. He blinked as his mind tried to comprehend what was happening. He was speaking with a man that had been a wolf only seconds earlier. “There wae a battle. We were separated from our regiment. Black Watch.”
The German’s lip sneered for only a fraction of a second. “Die Schotten.” Scottish.
“What are ye?” Elias asked again. He felt Tavish stepping backward suddenly, pushing him forward.
“Tha’re advancing, Eli,” Tavish said. “One step a’time. Their eyes, lik’ torches.”
“Who are ye?” Elias demanded.
“Tha’re playing wit us, Eli. Taunting us proper.” Tavish jabbed his bayonet toward one of the wolves he faced. Elias heard it snap and bark but stop short of attacking. Still, Tavish backed away, pushing Elias toward the naked German. He held his own bayonet between him and the German, but the gap shortened. The man smiled, his chin nearly touching his sternum as he glared wickedly from beneath his eyebrows. Flecks of dark yellow flared in his blue eyes, like bursts of tainted sunlight. Elias stumbled as he heard a growl rumble from the man, something low but vicious.
“The Advent is coming, der Schotte,” the German said. “The small squabbles of men mean nothing. The Alpha Prime has shown these things to me.”
Elias swallowed hard, trying to force down the bulge in his throat. “The whole world is on faire with war. How kin ye say ’tis a small squabble?” Elias heard the click of new rounds being loaded into Tavish’s Enfield as they were shoved down into the ten-round magazine. “Whits this Advent? A new plan of your Führer?”
Hitler’s obsession with the occult was well-known. Had Hitler figured a way to merge man and wolf? An actual werewolf?
“Tha’re bigger than lions, Eli,” Tavish whispered.
“Steady, Tav. Steady.”
“Yure not facin’ whit a’am.”
True, with his back to Tavish, Elias only faced this single German man before him. But the way the man stared, the sadistic thin grin on his face . . . Elias wondered if Tavish might have the less frightening view.
“Alricht then, bastard,” Elias said, his voice husky, “get on with it.”
The German sneered and, in seemingly the blink of an eye, transformed back into the wolf. Elias’s heart nearly failed him, seeing the change in reverse. Mary, what has come upon us?
He saw Paden’s corpse beyond the black wolf now facing him, Rhett’s from his periphery, and Carney’s, who had been near death. Perhaps the quicker end had been a mercy. “Ye’ll not put us daun in the cauld groon sae easily, demon.” From beneath his worn fatigues, Elias tore the crucifix free from his neck and wrapped it around his bayonet.
The wolf sprang for Elias, lips pulled back tight, fangs bared, yellow eyes narrowed. Elias kept his feet planted but leaned left just enough that the wolf’s jaws missed his face. The beast’s breath was hot and wet. Elias reversed his grip on the bayonet and jabbed the blade at the wolf’s neck. The wolf jerked his head away. Elias missed his target. He lost his balance and tumbled hard to the ground as the wolf’s body collided with his. Elias rolled and came to one knee.
The black wolf landed spryly and kept its shoulders hunched, head lowered. It hesitated. Elias saw a flicker in the wolf’s eyes toward the four facing Tavish, and swore, in that moment, he sensed some kind of communication.
Tha’re holding bek, Elias thought. Why?
The bottom fell out from his stomach as he felt the air change along with the look of the other wolves. Elias couldn
’t explain how he knew—perhaps the glint in their amber eyes or the thickened saliva that hung from their lips—but he knew whatever hold that had kept them back had been lifted.
“No!”
Tavish swung his rifle at the four that faced him, wielding it from the buttstock like a sword, holding them at bay—but only for an instant. They lunged for Tavish. Elias scrambled to his feet. As the first wolf reached his brother, its maw gaping wide, Tavish shoved his rifle into its mouth. The bayonet’s tip pierced the roof of the wolf’s mouth and came out through the top of its skull. Tavish pulled the trigger, and the bullet exploded through the crown of the wolf’s head, leaving a bloody mess. The beast fell still and Tavish ripped his bayonet free. The remaining three wolves seemed frozen in place.
“Try getting up from that!” Tavish yelled. He dodged a bite to his leg and stabbed the wolf. It yelped and pulled back, but only for a moment.
Elias made to run to Tavish’s side, but the black wolf, their apparent leader, blocked his advance. Elias jabbed with his bayonet, the crucifix jangling dully, but the wolf dodged and stood on its hind legs, towering over Elias before knocking him forcefully to the snowy ground.
As the wolf’s weight pressed upon him, Elias desperately shoved up with his bayonet and caught the wolf full in the chest even as its jaws clamped down on his left shoulder. Elias screamed. The wolf’s breaths became labored as it stilled, going limp and pinning Elias. He felt the warm wetness of blood wash over his hands from the wound in the wolf’s chest. Neck muscles taut, Elias turned his head to meet the German wolf’s gaze from the corner of his left eye, merely an inch from his. The amber orb glared back at him with hatred, but the fangs that pierced his shoulder released.
Elias, with nothing but adrenaline, kicked out from under the wounded creature and scooted away on his rear, leaving the bayonet impaled in the wolf. The wound steamed and leaked blood, but the wolf’s chest continued to rise and fall with deep breaths. Elias’s shoulder bled more than a bayonet through the heart. “Nae today.”
He clutched his wound with his right hand, surged forward, and ripped his bayonet free with his left. Blood dripped from the crucifix.
Bleed out, ye demon bastard. Elias raised his eyes. “Tav!”
But Tavish lay on the ground, unmoving. Three wolves with bloody snouts stood over him.
“No, Tav!”
The wolves looked south, ears perked. The ground rumbled. A Tank, Elias realized. Then he heard the shouts of men. The sounds drew closer.
Slowly, as if from a deep slumber, the black wolf regained his feet. The other three growled at their leader. Elias thought they sensed weakness.
But the larger black wolf straightened himself and returned the growl, his deeper, more menacing. Commanding. The other three flattened their ears. Driblets of blood fell from the black wolf’s wound—too few in Elias’s mind for the gash he had scored against the beast. It’s healing, he realized, his lungs refusing to work momentarily from the shock of what he was observing.
Elias heard the rattle of the tank—no, tanks—drawing nearer.
“The shot came from here!” someone in the distance shouted. An Englishmen. Allied forces had pushed through the German lines.
Too late.
The black wolf glanced briefly back at Elias, then sprinted away, the other three trailing quickly after it. In the distance, Elias heard three howls merge into a larger chorus. Oh, sweet Heaven above, thare wae more. They would never have survived, even if they killed the five. Seven had been ‘round the fire, he remembered, plus the shadow Paden had first spotted. Eight. Elias exhaled, then shuddered as he tried to take a new breath. He attempted to stand, but his legs failed him and his whole frame shook with nervous energy.
“Tav. Tavish, lad.”
Elias crawled to his brother, letting the pain in his left shoulder focus him through his sudden weariness. He reached Tavish. His brother lay there with glassy eyes. He raised Tavish’s body and hugged it to his own, rocking back and forth. He sang quietly.
“Ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road, and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye . . .”
Scores of British soldiers flooded the area, saying words he could not understand. They ran past him, shouting commands that sounded distant and muted. A medic knelt before him. Still, he sang.
“. . . on the bonnie, bonnie banks o’Loch Lomond . . .”
The medic put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. Something in Elias Copeland’s body lurched as fire spread from the wound down his arm and into his chest.
Meet me at the southern base of my hill at midnight. Last night of freedom before school starts. Shelby stared at the text for the hundredth time with excitement and terror mingling inside her stomach. She kept a tight rein on her projecting this time, not wanting the pack to sense her eager distress and mistake it for something else and come running, or, worse yet, guess what it truly meant.
She hadn’t texted him back. She wasn’t sure what she should say. Her decision wavered from one moment to the next.
When the alarm she had set on her phone went off, buzzing against her chest, she knew her decision. She would risk anything to see Kale. They hadn’t had any alone time since the Hunters had raided his home. So, I guess I’m doing something stupid. But stupid could be fun, right?
She slipped on dark, loose clothing, opened her window, and slipped out into the cool of night. She didn’t tell Grant. She was still too angry with him for lying to her for years about who he was. She thought about leaving a note, just in case he checked on her. No, let him worry.
She’d only done something so rash with one other person, and that lead to assault, shifting, disfiguring, and eventually death. What does that say about this little excursion? Sure, stupid could be fun . . . and get you killed. But this is Kale. You’re bonded to him. This has to be different. Still, she hesitated again.
Who was she kidding? She was going. She sent a text. On my way. But she sent the message along the thrumming connection she felt with him for good measure. Our bond? Is Sadie right? The happy feeling she got back told her everything she needed to know. This is very different.
He was pacing when she came around the corner. Cute when he’s nervous. Walking had taken her longer than she expected. “Sorry, I’m late.”
He looked up and beamed. “Just a few minutes. It’s fine.” He rushed to her side and took her hand.
She was glad the night hid her blush. His simple touch continued to be electric, setting off fireworks inside her. “So, what’s the plan here?”
“It’s a full moon tonight, once the clouds move.” He grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “I thought we’d live up to some of the stereotypes and go for a run in the woods.”
The woods were dark, and Shelby gave in to some flickering doubt as they stepped beneath the canopy. “I’m not sure . . .”
Kale stopped and squeezed her hand. “Stupid clouds. It wasn’t supposed to be this scary. Ah, there they go.”
The moon peeked out and the woods blossomed into a silvery glow. “Wow.”
“Use your wolf eyes.”
She allowed her eyes to shift, the burning sensation passing quickly when she let it happen, rather than fight it. “Wowee wow!”
The woods took on a cheerier appearance, almost magical in the bright silver brushstrokes of moonlight. Each leaf flickered a dance of light and dark, celebrating shadows with kisses from the goddess of night.
Kale pulled his shirt off and Shelby froze. “Um, what are you doing?”
He blinked at her. “I’m going to shift. I wasn’t planning a midnight run as a human. I get plenty of that during games and practice.”
“The football team does midnight runs?”
“Seriously, Brooks? I mean normal running. As a human.”
“Yeah, I got that part, but you need to go behind a tree or something.” Her face felt hot. I know we’ve seen each other naked, but that was kind of life-threatening, out of the ordin
ary, in front of my dad weirdness. Please understand.
She hadn’t sent that through their bond, but he smiled and nodded without argument as he slung his shirt over his shoulder.
“Just one quick thing first.” He rushed forward and kissed her.
Shelby melted into him. Eira howled happily inside her. She was sure they looked like something on Sadie’s latest romance novel: him, shirtless with a chest like a Greek god of mythology; her, helplessly molding into him, his shape, his smell, his—
He pulled away and stared at her eyes. “Hi.”
Shelby laughed. “Hi there. Now go away! I can’t shift in front of you. It’s too weird.”
“Really? We were naked together just a few—”
“Don’t remind me!” She threw a stick from the forest floor in his direction.
He dodged behind a tree, and she could hear the rustling of his clothing.
She stepped behind another tree in the opposite direction, pulling off her clothes slowly and folding them neatly before stashing them next to a rock beside her Converse All Stars. I hope I can find these again. This could get awkward fast.
The soft padding of feet brought her back to the present and reminded her that she was now very naked in the woods. With a boy . . . who was now a wolf, but still very much a boy.
“I’m not ready yet. Give me a second.”
She shifted. The process took seconds this time and was far less painful than it had been in the past. Guess it helps when you’re not chained to a chair in a dark warehouse with sodium thiopental running through your veins. A heat flashed through her body, and then she was padding out from behind the tree to meet her wolf-shaped boyfriend, Eira eager to see her mate, Skotha, as well.
You are beautiful, Kale thought to her through the bond.
Aw, you make a wolf blush. I thought you promised a run?
She raced out into the night. He followed, barking his laughter.
They loped through the moonlit forest, guided by instinct and a need to see how fast they could chase one another. It had turned into an impromptu game of tag.
