by Tamar Sloan
Chapter Nine
The Sacrifice
The walk through the trees to the clearing, coming from the direction of the Glade, is slow, hampered by the warm weight Dad carries.
I’ve been hunting with Dad countless times. It was my indoctrination into understanding where we stand on the food chain — way above the deer that dropped when a bullet ripped through its heart…far stronger than the humans due to arrive here in less than half an hour.
We come to the clearing to find the place is already set up. A table stands to the side and lights are strung up in the arms of the pines. I can already see the gingham table-cloth, champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres that will arrive with the guests.
Heading to the far side of the table Dad drops the deer with a grunt, its body landing on the ground with a heavy thwump. He glances at it, and I know it’s not with pity. For him it’s simply the natural order of things. “We do this and then we head to the trees.”
I only have a general idea what Dad’s plan is — my role is to follow and obey. No questions asked. My eyes widen when he shifts and a massive russet wolf stands over the dead body of the deer. They stretch even further when he bares his teeth, canines bright in the twilight, and his open jaws arc toward its throat. The millisecond I realize what he’s about to do I look away, but I can’t escape the squelching sound of bloody muscles being macerated by massive jaws.
It doesn’t take long before Dad steps back. Like a car wreck I can’t help but look. The deer looks like it’s been ravaged by a violent predator…because it just was. Dad starts circling the bloodied carcass, glancing at me and inclining his broad, bloody head.
I know what I’m supposed to do, tracking skills go hand in hand with hunting. I pad around, slowly and purposefully, ignoring the gaping, bleeding flesh, the blank wide-eyed stare that never knew it was giving itself up for a cause. Our paw prints press over the other, making it look like there were far more than two wolves here, their size intimidating even without the sheer number of prints.
Dad wipes the majority of the blood from his face in the grass before heading for the pines and the safety of their shadows. I’m relieved I don’t have to look at the warning we’ve left behind, not sure why it’s bothered me so much. We lope further into the forest, but even this far away the coppery smell of blood still dominates my wolf senses.
Dad stops and shifts so I follow, for once grateful for duller human senses which can’t smell the blood pooling so many yards away. We turn and face the clearing, side by side. Obscured by layers of trees, it’s nothing more than a fragmented picture of open grass, the tree trunks like bars of a prison cell window.
Dad crosses his arms, one hand coming up to rustle in his beard. “Now, we wait.”
“Did you tell the Phelans we were doing this?” I ask, already guessing the answer.
Dad’s arm comes down to cross over his chest. “No.”
I suck in a breath, “It’s just that —”
“It is the Channons that will make this right.”
I turn my face away so Dad can’t see the frown threatening to bloom. Why does it have to be us and them? Surely the path to strength and greatness doesn’t have to be so competitive. So lonely. As smiling deepwater eyes promising a future founded on connection and equality flash before my eyes I pull in another breath of pine.
“Maybe we’re better off…”
My embryonic courage evaporates as Dad turns his gaze to me. His breathing is slow and controlled. There’s no sharp movements or angry scowls. But his hazel eyes say it all. Consider your words, Tara. Think of what I’ve spent your life teaching you.
You, and only you, know why this is so important.
Flashes of the wolf statue Dad has been carving for years rise in my mind. The sculpture of the Channons. Strong. Enduring.
He waits for me to finish my sentence.
I wonder whether I can begin to imagine the consequences of what I’m considering right now.
Twigs crack and boughs rustle, subtly but undeniably breaching the tension. Effectively halting the trajectory of where that was going.
“Well hello you two.”
Adelle and Seth materialize through the trees, Adelle smiling, her son mirroring the seriousness of what we plan on doing tonight.
Dad shifts gears like the leader he is. “Good to see you, I’ll show you what we’ve done.”
He takes them a few trees deeper toward the clearing, hushed words like ‘circling’ and ‘intimidate’ and ‘heard but not seen’ shifting amongst the pines. I stay where I am, surrounded by a deepening sense of hopelessness. Wondering if I’m going to be forced to make a choice I don’t know I can make.
When Dad starts walking left, probably marking out the semi-circle we’ll be framing the clearing in, Adelle steps back. Dad glances at her, but doesn’t seem worried when she heads back to me. Seth seems to be hanging on Dad’s every word.
Adelle comes to stand beside me, the subtle, smoky scent of incense merging with the earthy smells of the forest. I smile a greeting, emotions still boiling and roiling.
She hugs herself. “I do love the forest at twilight, it’s my favorite time.”
“Me too.” Colors cloaked in mystery, shadows creeping forward, reaching out toward the promise of night.
“I can see why they want to build here.”
My eyes widen and I glance at Dad, but his figure is broken by the rows of trees counting the distance between us.
Adelle straightens. “Of course, they need to be stopped.”
“Of course.” I sigh, hoping I’m keeping the sadness out of my voice.
Dad is pointing while Seth is nodding, enthusiasm driving the motion. That’s probably what I should be doing, listening and loving it. It’s probably what Kurt Junior will do in a few short years.
Adelle doesn’t seem to notice, because she smiles a little. “Passion burns bright in Seth.”
Kind of like my Dad. “He would make a good Alpha.”
“Maybe.”
That one word has me looking back at Adelle. It’s not what I was expecting to hear.
She looks at me, eyes candid and honest. “Passion can be misdirected…” She glances back, and for some reason, even though we’re talking about Seth, her eyes track Dad. “It can be mistaken for truth.”
I frown, not sure what she’s telling me. Dad and Seth turn, purposeful strides and serious frowns bringing them back towards us. But I need to know. “What do you mean?”
Adelle’s hand comes up to grip my arm. She smiles then looks back at Seth. “I love a good cause Tara, because it gives my life purpose, but also because it brings people together.” Which isn’t what we’re doing here. “That’s why I came, because I worry about him sometimes.” Her eyes come back to me. “I’m just not sure that he’s figured out there’s more than one way to make a pack strong.”
What the fudgesticks does that mean?
But there’s no time for answers. Dad and Seth are beside us just as the green flag drops. The investors have arrived. Cars crunch over the pine needles, doors open then shut.
Dad instantly shifts and we follow suit. In a split second four humans transform into four wolves - Dad a massive russet red, me a slighter, lighter squirrel-red, Seth an earthy brown, and Adelle all shifting colors of greys and browns. Although our line of sight is obstructed by pines, their scents and sounds are unmistakable - a mix of female laughter and too much male cologne. Charles is there, instructing crisply dressed helpers carrying cliché cane picnic baskets. It doesn’t look like Jimmy was invited.
Gold jewelry flashes on a reed thin brunette, wearing the most impractical heels I’ve ever seen. She teeters over to Charles. “Oh Charles, it’s gorgeous.”
Charles gestures with the two champagne flutes he’s holding. “Can’t you just picture it, Sylvia?” The champagne bottle in his other hand sweeps the clearing. “Boutique eco-cabins in this glorious setting, it’s a niche market waiting to be mine
d.”
Sylvia flicks her groomed hair. I can almost hear the cash register ringing in her head. “I see what you’re talking about.”
“And you’re preserving this amazing place - the plants, the animals.”
She turns to the suited man who has come up beside her. “I love animals, don’t I Victor?”
Dad rustles beside me, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. Sylvia glances up, and I wonder how much she heard and how much she felt the ripples of his hatred.
She slips a little closer to Victor. “There’s no bears here, are there?”
Charles laughs, passing the glasses to the two future income streams. “Bears haven’t been sighted around here Sylvia, but you don’t need to worry. We have precautions in place.”
Precautions?
But that seems to be our cue. Dad throws his head back and howls, and we follow. I feel the sound climbing up my throat and rising to the blue-black sky. I don’t have to fake the anguish that is clawing its way out. We spread out, each of us finding an out-post, the eerie sound weaving and winding through the trees.
We stay far enough away so the humans can’t see that we’re no normal wolf, but close enough for the wild sound of our howls, each from a slightly different direction, to sound threateningly close. Throughout, nature’s warning siren never completely stops, as one primal voice dies another picks up the symphony, but you can tell the humans have gone silent.
Dad stops and one by one our voices fade away. Silently we pad back to Dad and hunch down, watching. A breeze ruffles the silence.
“What a wonderful demonstration of what our guests would hear.” Charles’ voice is full of false enthusiasm.
“They sounded very close.” This voice is a male, maybe Victor, and he’s looking around like something is going to jump him any second.
Charles laughs. “Sound does that in the forest. I think it just adds ambiance. Come, we have a wonderful selection from some of Jacksonville’s finest restaurants.”
Dad’s eyes are intense as he tracks their movements. He knows they’re about to find their next surprise.
We know the moment they do because Sylvia screams. It’s a high pitched mix of horror and fear. I can just imagine Charles cursing in that British head of his. This would not be how he saw this night going.
“I want to go Victor. Take me home.”
Charles is already escorting Sylvia away from the gruesome sight. “Sylvia, this is highly unusual. I say we move over here and allow the food to come to us. There’s some amazing —”
But Sylvia is already walking away.
“It’s perfectly safe, we have pre—”
“I want to go home.”
The finality in Sylvia’s tone says that no matter what Charles promises, she’s leaving. Charles must hear it too because he doesn’t try convincing anymore. Pine needles crack and rustle as they turn to leave.
The tension knotted between my shoulder blades loosens. Mission accomplished — it looks like Charles won’t be getting his investors after all. What’s more, that’s gotta be our cue to leave.
I straighten my legs, turning to look at Dad, waiting for the cue to retreat.
But Dad doesn’t move, his gaze is zeroed on the humans as they begin to head to the cars. I follow his line of sight, Sylvia is glancing over her shoulder, hand resting at her throat, like she can feel the gaze centered on her.
Dad’s eyes narrow, and I don’t know if they’re smiling or plotting.
He glances at Seth and Adelle, his broad russet head nodding once. The three wolves are gone in an instant. Confused, I straighten. Adelle looks back once, and I can’t tell what the intensity in her gaze is trying to convey.
I stand uncertainly — surely our job here is done. The investors are running, spooked. Then why is my pack spreading out is some sort of attack formation? A feeling, tight and hot, starts to clench around my chest.
A rustle, not far behind me, has me spinning, heart in my throat. My eyes widen when I see two more wolves have joined us. One, a proud grey figure, the other his midnight black son.
Adam and Mitch are here?
Adam’s broad head glances around, sharp blue eyes taking in that I’m alone. He nods at Mitch and is gone.
The relief that they’re here, inexplicable as it is, is quickly replaced by my first view of Mitch as a wolf. Big, black and bold, he’s breathtaking.
I pad over, like an invisible tether has attached to the blue eyes watching me from that midnight face. In that amazing way the world melts away and it’s just Mitch and me and our love. When I’m close, so close our noses are almost touching, our eyes locked, I stop. With the self-control of Christa in a candy shop I can’t help but touch. I tuck my head and curl into him, my head beneath his chin. The sensation of his soft fur, his stable warmth, his amazing wild scent, floods my senses. I feel his head bow, maximizing the contact, making me feel cherished.
I can’t live in a world without this.
As much as I love the whole other level our animal senses bring to this, I wish I could talk. I’d tell him how breathtaking, heartshaking this feels. How mind blowing my love is for him. How much I want to fight for this.
Barks, growls and howls puncture our moment. I hear Charles calling out to Jimmy. Jimmy’s here? I spin around, things aren’t going like I thought they would. When I look up I see Dad coming towards me. I run ahead, shifting as I go because I need some answers.
It’s his human form that grabs both my arms. “Did you tell the Phelans?”
“Dad —”
“Tell me! Why are they here?” His voice is intense, hard.
“I don’t know. I never said a word. Maybe they wanted to see this for themselves.”
Dad pauses, seeing the logic in my words. I don’t know why I get the sense that Mitch’s Alpha father came here as a peacekeeper. I open my mouth, he doesn’t realize Mitch is close enough to hear this.
“I want you to stay away from them. That pack isn’t what I thought they were.”
“W-what?”
“A first born who didn’t change? From what I can see, they now have no Alpha heir and a Beta who’s never trained for it. The Channons will not align with that.”
His tone is heavy with ‘we’re better than that’.
I say nothing. The band of pain constricting my throat doesn’t let me. Mitch would have heard every single word that just doomed my future.
As my silence stretches out, Dad assumes agreement. “One last statement and we leave.”
With that he shifts again and is gone. I stay where I am, not wanting to be a part of whatever this ‘statement’ is, but hurting at the idea of what I might find behind me. I turn to find Mitch’s blue eyes on me, blazing from a human face, his silhouette lined with shock, grief…understanding. My hand comes up, palm open, not knowing what I’m pleading for.
He steps forward then stops. “That’s why.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
He shakes his head, I’m not sure if he’s denying my words or if he’s angry at his own stupidity. “It had nothing to do with Noah, or the Glade.”
“I thought that if I gave him time —”
His hand comes up, my words a feeble balm for what he’s just realized. “I was born seven minutes too late, wasn’t I?”
“Mitch.” My voice is pleading, hoping.
“Were we ever going to be possible?” He swallows. “Were you even going to try?”
I have nothing. Even if I could lie I wouldn’t.
Mitch steps back. “I didn’t think so.”
Mitch turns, shifts and runs, his body melding with the darkness that matches my mind.
I’m frozen with indecision. Was I kidding myself? I step forward, not knowing what I’m going to say, but not wanting this pain blossoming in my chest.
All of a sudden there are shouts, the sounds of movement.
A crack.
I spin, I know that sound. I grew up with that sound. I heard t
hat sound just earlier today when the deer dropped to the ground.
I race forward then grasp a tree trunk to steady me.
Seth is kneeling on the pine-littered ground, Dad is standing over him, holding his shoulders. Seth’s whispered words are laced with agony. “No, no, no.”
Up ahead the humans are congregating, Jimmy’s shocked voice carries through the trees. “I saw a wolf. I swear that’s what I saw.”
My knees give out when I see what has the humans in a flurry.
Adelle’s still form lies crumpled on the ground.
