“Okay,” he finally said, “the Ford is busted, how’s your pickup?”
“It works well enough,” Irma said, “I imagine Lorelei will turn back in a quarter of an hour. We should leave now, there’s likely not much time.”
“If I drive we can make the church by evening,” he said, and kissed Lia’s forehead, “and you, whatever you’re planning on doing, we should agree on some place to meet up.”
“I’ll join you… as soon as I can,” she said.
He felt another lump rise in his throat. He hated the feeling of helplessness, even if Lia could handle herself. But against four of them?” he said.
She grinned at him. “I think I’ll have to borrow your car, though. I’m fresh out of motorcycles this round,” she said, extending her hand. It was true, they’d had to abandon her bike back at the acreage. He reached in his pockets and placed the keys in her hand, and his fingers wrapped around her small fist. She nodded, and without looking back turned and walked out. Jake felt something pierce his heart and bit his tongue. He turned and faced Irma and the wolf in his living room.
“Alright. Let’s run,” he announced.
Chapter Ten
The road out of Barrelgrove was eerily absent of traffic, and as Jake maneuvered Irma’s pickup down the dusty road back out onto the freeway he couldn’t help but keep casting a sidelong glance in his side and rear view mirrors. What he hoped to see was obvious, even though he knew it was impossible – part of him wanted to believe that he’d see Lia pulling in behind him, but he knew that was only foolish hope.
He had a promise to fulfill to her, to bring Lorelei to safety at the church, and he’d do it. But he also wanted to get there as quickly as possible so he could return, even though he knew he’d be useless to Lia. What did she hope to do? He had deliberately not asked, but the sick sensation of worry continued to grip at his stomach and he felt sick thinking about it. Most likely she’d try to lure them away. He hoped that’s all she’d try to do.
In the back seat Irma was caring for Lorelei who had returned to her human form and was wrapped in a blanket he’d scoured from the pantry. Occasionally she’d look up and then promptly pass into unconsciousness again.
“Irma, tell me about this church,” he said at one point, hoping to distract his thoughts from Lia.
Irma reached into her Carhartt jacket and pulled out a small spherical flask. She had changed in personality, from the bumbling small-town baker with a big smile to a stolid soldier of a woman who barely cracked a grin and seemed constantly on edge. And yet there was a maturity to her, as if she’d suffered enough in the past to know exactly what to do now. She took a hearty sip from the flask, handed it to Jake who shook his head before finally accepting it. He tasted something caustic pour over his tongue and handed the flask back.
“What the hell is that?”
“Moonshine,” Irma replied, “mostly.”
“I see,”
“Doubles an antiseptic,” she pointed out, “but to answer your question, the church belongs to an old friend. He used to live in Barrelgrove.”
“I didn’t realize there was such an underground,”
“You didn’t realize there were individuals like Lia and Lorelei here until a few days ago,”
“Good point,” Jake said, “can we trust him?”
Irma nodded. “Barrelgrove isn’t the only sanctuary for exiles. Like I said, there are a number of small communes all up the West Coast, reaching as far into Canada. They keep a low profile, keep themselves off the grid… and for the most part they never have to worry about anything. Very occasionally they’ll have summits to share information… but they’ve managed to survive this long precisely because they just to be isolationists.”
“Where do people like you enter the equation?” Jake asked.
Irma’s pickup handled like a dream and he pressed his foot down harder on the gas as they zoomed up the freeway. “There are a few of us… who are trusted by them. We help them… try to keep them safe from the tribe. But we have to be equally careful… we’re just at their mercy, and they don’t take kindly to ‘normal folk’ abetting exiles.”
Jake shook his head. “I just don’t understand… what does it matter to them?”
“They’re an ancient lineage, Jake. And proud. To them, even the existence of exiles, individuals who turned their back on the tribe’s teaching, is an affront. They’ll stop at nothing to wipe us all out.”
He gulped. He wondered what sort of a chance someone like him had against people who could turn into wolves. When he looked across at Irma she was wearing the same expression, one that was a grim acceptance that they were no match, and his heart followed its way back to Lia. She was their only hope now. “I don’t suppose there are any other wolves in Barrelgrove who are in danger?” he asked, but Irma was already shaking her head and took another sip from the flask before stuffing it back in the breast pocket of her coat.
“Not for a number of years, no. Some are on a pilgrimage in Europe, a few others live in the city or go to university. And we’ve had casualties, too. Lorelei and Lia are the only ones currently,” she said, “which makes it more dangerous for us. It means they can focus all their man power and resources just on us.”
“Well, it’ll be an exciting next forty-eight hours, I guess,” he said whimsically, and caught Irma’s frown out of the corner of his eye. It was a defensive mechanism – he had a tendency to try and make jokes or act sardonic when he was stressed as a way to lighten the mood and put things in perspective, but for people that didn’t know him it often came off as arrogance or irresponsibility.
“It’s not my business,” Irma began, “but I’ve never seen Lia act around anyone like she does around you.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I think I figured Lia was just the type that’d never fall in love. You must know, it was hard for her growing up. And even now… she has a guarded heart. She doesn’t let anyone in, and people often get frustrated and try to break in… but she’s so locked and reinforced that they can barely knick her. And now you,” she said, and trailed off.
Jake’s hands clenched on the steering wheel. “What’s your point?”
“Lia’s a survivor, and she’s survived by staying apart, never letting her emotions get in the way. But you’ve broken down those walls, now. She let you inside, and you’re still there… and that makes her vulnerable. I just want you to know how much faith she’s placed in you,” Irma said, and reached over Lorelei’s body between them. The arm looked a little better after having the opportunity to heal while she was in her wolf form, but it was still badly bruised.
“I won’t let her down,” he said, and stepped on the gas harder, “you just point me in the right direction.”
***
The sun was still a round orb ballasting on the horizon by time they made it to the church. It was a small out of the way community, and the church itself was another three miles down a back country road in the middle of nowhere. Jake had driven non-stop and ended up switching with Irma half way but he could still feel the muscles in his legs and arms heavy with exertion.
The church itself was a classic 1900’s artifact that had been meticulously restored, and he half expected to see a congregation in old pilgrim clothing come out of the big ornately carved oak doors. Irma brought her pickup to a halt outside the doors and Jake helped Lorelei out. She had woken up just before they turned off the freeway, but still had a sleepy disoriented look on her face. The thought of Lia facing off alone against the other wolves was unbearable to Jake, so he could only imagine how much it was straining at Lorelei’s heart to know her granddaughter was in imminent danger. She hid it well and bit back on her pain as Jake guided her toward the church. He could still smell the smoke and ash on both of them.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. I’m guessing the circumstances are less than amiable,” a low gravelly voice pronounced and Jake saw a bald man standing in the entrance. His face had a kindly
nature to it, and Irma walked up and gave him a bear hug.
“Jake, this is Father Arrel,” she said, and then faced the bald man, “We’re in trouble.”
“You always are. Come inside,” he said.
Father Arrel led them into the old wooden church and they put Lorelei down on a bed. As Jake was about to head out he felt her sharp skinny hand reach out and grab him by the sleeve. He turned and the fire in her eyes was enough to startle him.
“Jake,” she said and he kneeled down beside her. The small lines in her face seemed emphasized, as if she’d aged another twenty years since they’d pulled her out of the burning wreckage of the cottage. “Lia, she needs your help,” she whispered, “…she can’t face them alone.”
He suddenly felt short of breath, as if the air was cloying or too thick. “She won’t be alone,” he finally said, and that seemed to sate Lorelei. A small smile formed at the ridge of her black lips and she closed her eyes and passed out again.
Father Arrel stood behind him and cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about, Lorry, I’ve already made arrangements to get her out of her,” he said.
“I have to get back,” Jake said, standing up.
“Before you leave,” Father Arrel said, and motioned Jake to follow him into his study.
Arrel’s study was a small room adjacent to the main church and Jake felt a wave of nostalgia rush over him as he entered. The walls were lined with books, dusty tomes that stretched to the small ceiling. There were piles of books on the floor as well, and the walls were hung with oddly shaped weapons. It reminded Jake more of an archaeologist’s study than a pastor’s.
“I appreciate your help, Father. But we’re running out of time. I need to get back on the road,” he said. Time was his enemy, and his whole body felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire. Images of Lia flooded his mind.
“I know, son. But you need all the advantages you can muster,” he said. His voice had the sound of a veteran chain smoker, and Jake saw him reaching into the top left hand drawer of his desk. He pulled out a black handled firearm and a clip and set them on the desk.
“I’m not a gunfighter,” Jake said, not trusting the weapon.
“Maybe not,” Father Arrel said, “but if you want to protect Lia, you’re going to have to become one. These have silver casings… whatever the legends of werewolves embellished or plain made up, they at least accounted for with one piece of accuracy. Silver is lethal to their kind.”
Jake gulped and picked up the gun. It felt unnaturally heavy in his hand and he dreaded the thought of actually having to use it. But if it meant protecting Lia, he’d do whatever it took. He pocketed the clip and put the gun in his jacket pocket. “Anything else?”
Father Arrel shook his head. “I figure if you need to confess your sins… you’ll have to wait,” he grinned. Jake didn’t reply and walked back out of the study.
Irma was kneeling down beside Irma and looked up at Jake. “Ready?” she asked. He could only nod.
The sun had finally dipped below the horizon by time they got back on the road, and Jake was quiet as he took the wheel and plowed into the deepening darkness. He could still feel the cold heft of the gun in his pocket through the fabric of his hoodie. The muscles along his jaw tightened as he thought about having to use it. He couldn’t bury a mental image of Lia, surrounded by smoke, the smell of blood in the air, and her scream of pain. It was enough to set his hair on end, and he narrowed his eyes and leveled the gas pedal to the floor. The pickup roared, and Irma raised an eyebrow at him.
“We’ll get there, Jake,” she said.
Chapter Eleven
By time they reached Barrelgrove again it was already night and the pickups lights could barely keep the darkness at bay. Without a word between them Jake turned onto the road that led back to the acreage. He felt his pulse quicken as they neared closer. He wasn’t sure what use he could possibly be, and glanced at Irma.
“I’m in this until the end,” she said softly, avoiding his eyes.
He cranked into fifth gear and rounded the corner into the valley. The smell of smoke was still heavy, but the fire had long since petered out and there were only a few scant embers left from the destroyed barn, their red heat glimmering like eyes.
They pulled up and stepped out, and Jake made a mental note that Lia’s bike was still where they’d left it. He reached into his hoodie and his hand unconsciously settled on the handle of the pistol. Irma rushed ahead of him and then bent over, examining something on the ground. When Jake got closer he noticed she was looking at several large wolf prints in the ash that had settled like snow on the grass. He looked around but the timberline was an inky amalgam, and he couldn’t detect any sounds other than the rasp of crickets.
“Where would they be?” he hissed, and pulled the gun out. Irma flinched when she saw the firearm but didn’t say anything. She pointed up the hill past the cottage where the tracks seemed to disappear into the forest.
“There’s a small clearing just beyond the trees,” she said.
They followed an indistinct path that led up through the woods and Jake had to stop several times to let his eyes continually adjust to the dark. He gulped again, realizing how much of a disadvantage it was not to be able to see in the dark.
Suddenly a howl tore through the blackness and he felt Irma freeze behind him. The long bleating howl was directly ahead and he could see a dim break in the trees. The clearing that Irma had spoken of was just beyond, and he steeled himself for the encounter. As they crept closer they heard the gnashing of teeth and loud yips. Several shapes where battling in the center of a rocky slope that was devoid of trees, and he heard what sounded like dogs attacking each other.
It took all his will not to shout Lia’s name as he ran forward. Two of the wolves were lying on their side, and in the dim moonlight he could see dark patches on their light tawny coats. Either they were dead or incapacitated, and he brought his attention to the remaining three. He saw a black wolf huddled between a small boulder, its back leaning heavily against it. He realized he was looking at Lia’s wolf-form, and he let out a gasp. The two remaining wolves, both with grey-white fur, had surrounded her and he understood he was witnessing the final battle between them.
“LIA!” he finally shouted, his voice wracking the night air.
All of the wolves turned at his voice and he saw the larger of the white wolves bare its teeth and growl at him. There was a strange dark discoloring down its shoulder, and he realized it wasn’t a natural pigment. His mind flashed back to the encounter with the biker and the tattoo.
“Leave her alone,” he said, raising the gun. The two white wolves looked once at each other and then back at Jake. “If I get you to Lia, you have to get her out of here,” he whispered back to Irma, who had taken up a position behind him.
“I’ll punch ‘em out if they get too close, Jake, but I can’t run as fast as you.”
“Do what you can. I’ll distract them,” he hissed back and raised the gun again.
The white wolf raises its head and its lips peeled back over its teeth. In a flash both wolves raced toward him. He barely had time to pull the trigger, aiming at the lead wolf. He saw a bright spurt of blood and the wolf yelped and staggered to the left. The second smaller grey wolf lunged at them and he pushed Irma forward toward Lia as he rolled out of the way, barely missing its gnashing teeth. He aimed and fired again, and the wolf dodged behind a small rocky jut.
Irma had made it to Lia who was limping heavily and bleeding from several deep wounds around her neck and back. Her wolf eyes were half closed and he could hear it whimper as Irma tried to use the heft of her body to support its massive body.
“Irma, watch out!” Jake screamed, and shot again at the white wolf who was advancing toward them.
Just then he saw a flash of grey and the smaller wolf lunged toward him. Somehow it had maneuvered around the rocky jut and managed to get the element of height on him. He felt the weight of wolf crush into him and the
air escape his lungs as he toppled down the slope. A small outcrop of rock saved him from tumbling all the way down but he felt the impact bruise one of his ribs and let out a groan.
He stared back up the hill and time seemed to slow down as the grey wolf lunged at him. He could make out every detail – the wrinkled skin of its muzzle, the gleaming white fangs, the dark gape of its mouth moving toward his unprotected neck. He yelled and what happened next became a blur of moments and adrenaline. Three shots rang out and he felt the wolf collapse on top of him and roll off.
The gun in his hand smoked and he felt his arm quivering with the recoil. He looked over and heard one last protracted breath leave the wolf’s lips as it closed its eyes.
“Lia,” he whispered, and got to his feet. He held his side. There was blood, and he’d definitely broken a rib. It hurt every time he tried to breathe, but he began to climb back up the hill. There was a scream, and just as quickly it was cut short.
Jake’s heart dropped and he began to run, the gun hanging limply in his hand.
As he pulled himself up the outcrop and stared over it he saw the white wolf bent over another figure. Tears burned at his eyes as he realized it was Irma. She had kept her word, and bravely stood against the white wolf, even as it had advanced. He let out a blood-curdling yell and ran toward the white wolf, who turned at his approach, its muzzle soaked with fresh blood and its eyes lit with an unnatural lust. He aimed the barrel at the wolf and felt, rather than heard, the last two bullets leave the chamber. His whole arm shook with the effort and he felt the muscles straining.
There was a sound like someone punching a pillow and the white wolf recoiled, as if being struck by some invisible foe, and growled fiercely at him as it staggered back and finally collapsed on its side. Jake sprinted toward the black shape that was unconscious against the rock. He stifled a feeling of nausea as he passed over Irma’s corpse and huddled down beside Lia. She opened one of her yellow eyes and he heard a painful whimper escape from her mouth.
Shifter's Moon (Paranormal Shifter Romance) Page 8
