The Prisoner

by D. M. Turner

  The Prisoner

  By D.M. Turner

  Copyright 2015 by D.M. Turner

  Cover designed by the author

  Man behind bars photo by “BortN66” of DPC

  Wolf photo by “satori” of DPC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or any information retrieval or storage system without the prior written permission of the author.

  BISAC: Fiction/Christian/Fantasy

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Prisoner

  Monday, April 30, 2018

  Home of Ian Campbell, Pack Alpha

  Campbell Wildlife Preserve

  Outside Flagstaff, Arizona

  A hollow thump from beyond the cell made Michael Phillips shudder. He shook his head, swallowing disgust so strong it pushed bile into his throat. You weren’t always such a coward. Knock it off. No one here will hurt you. They aren’t Brimfield or his pack. They’ve done nothing to harm you so far. They haven’t even threatened you.

  Well, except Carlos. That one didn’t like him at all. Growled and snarled every time he passed the door to the vault where Michael hid. Not that Michael blamed him much. Carlos had lost his best friend in the attack by Brimfield’s pack. Michael’s pack. Michael hadn’t wanted to be part of that pack or the assault they’d rained down on the Campbell Preserve pack. As the lowest ranking member of the pack, he’d had no choice but to follow orders.

  He listened for more sounds to indicate someone’s presence, barely able to breathe.

  A knock on the heavy metal door made him jump, despite being prepared for it. It swung open partway, leaving a barred door as a barrier between Michael and his guest.

  He swallowed hard.

  Ian Campbell, the local alpha, studied him through the bars. “We have a problem.” His gaze swept the twelve-by-twelve metal room that contained only a narrow cot, a small bedside table, a toilet, and a tiny sink more suited to an RV than a living space. He pinned Michael with a narrow look. “Are you truly content to live in such a prison?”

  “No.” How could he admit how much he feared leaving the tiny room? He lowered his gaze to the floor, locking it on a scuff in the concrete. Would the alpha force him to leave? He’d thought for the first few days that the man would follow through on his original dictate for Michael to be put down for his part in Brimfield’s assault, but that hadn’t happened. The alpha’s mate had interceded on his behalf, or so he’d been told.

  “It certainly seems that you are. You haven’t left this room since you arrived.” Ian grimaced. “And it smells like it.”

  Heat rushed to Michael’s face. He couldn’t deny the accusation. It had been months since he’d showered on even an irregular basis, but he hadn’t bathed properly since before the night of the attack. Almost two weeks ago. Max Johnson and Dr. Jeremy Richardson, the two lowest-ranking males in the pack, had visited, and Carlos had stared through the bars off and on for the first few days, always growling. A man known only to him as O’Neil had visited during the first couple of days, while recovering from a broken leg. Everyone else had left him alone. He’d even stayed in his room the previous night when the moon was full.

  A long silence followed.

  Michael finally lifted his head enough to look up at the alpha.

  “You’re out of time. My mate will come into heat in the next few days. We’ll lock ourselves into the compound for the duration. You can’t stay here.”

  With a frown of confusion, Michael raised his head and tilted it to one side. “Why not?”

  Ian’s gray eyes narrowed. “That’s right. Jeremy said you were turned last fall, so you weren’t with Brimfield the last time Clara went into heat.”

  He shook his head.

  “It may not have mattered even if you had,” the alpha muttered as though thinking out loud rather than speaking directly to Michael. “They probably didn’t handle things as we do.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I won’t risk you being hurt.” Ian frowned. “During heats, tempers run hot, and fights are more likely to occur between males. To avoid possible conflicts and resulting injuries, mated pairs in this pack separate from the rest during heat cycles. No one but Sophia and I will be permitted here until her heat passes.”

  Oh. “Where am I supposed to go?”

  “To Brett’s.” No hesitation. No indecision. “He’s second in the pack. There’s a cabin on his and Kelly’s part of the Preserve. They’ve offered use of it. You’ll be safe there, with the added benefit of being in a real home”—his annoyed gaze flicked around the steel room again—“instead of a prison.”

  “A cabin?” Alone? That didn’t seem particularly safe. What if others came? What if Carlos— The scent of his own fear made him want to sneeze to clear his nose. Heat filled his face again, and he studied the concrete. Ian must think him a total coward.

  “You’ll be safe there.” The repeated assurance was surprisingly gentle. “No one comes onto that land without Brett and/or Kelly knowing about it.”

  Michael nodded and raised his head again.

  “You’ll need to go to the main house to eat, but otherwise, you can stay at the cabin, if you want.” Gray eyes pinned him with a stern look. “I’d suggest you spend time with them, though, get to know them, because come next full moon, I expect you to run with the pack. I don’t believe in caging wolves any more than absolutely necessary.”

  His breath caught. Run with the pack? Memories surged. Running until his legs couldn’t run anymore. Slashing teeth. Nips and bites meant to terrify and draw blood. The metallic taste and smell of blood as he’d curled up in a corner of a concrete cell to clean his wounds. Violence and horror had filled his time with Brimfield’s pack.

  “Our pack won’t treat you as Brimfield’s did.”

  He stared at the man. How had the alpha guessed what he was thinking?

  “I smell your fear. You have nothing to be afraid of here.” Ian laid a hand on the bars then gently opened the barred door. “None of my pack will harm you. I don’t put up with bullies. Never have. Never will.”

  Michael nodded, unable to form words around the knot of panic cutting off air to his lungs.

  “It’s not good for any of us to be alone too much. Messes with our heads. Makes us do stupid things.” Ian leaned against the doorframe. “Max tells me you studied werewolves before you were Turned.”

  He nodded again.

  “What made you interested in us to begin with?”

  “A camping trip I took with my parents when I was eight,” Michael muttered. “We visited the Cascades, and I got lost in the woods. I was still lost when the full moon rose. I sat under a bush, freezing, scared half out of my mind, and praying someone would find me. This huge wolf came silently through the trees. He stopped and looked at me. I thought he’d kill me. My father had told me as far back as I can remember that wild animals would kill me if I left camp alone.”

  Ian snorted. “Apparently such claims didn’t scare you enough to keep you from wandering.”

  “No.” Michael laughed softly then sobered. “I wanted to explore and see things. My parents hung out in camp all the time. They enjoyed camping but didn’t like hiking.” He shrugged. “Anyway, there was something in that wolf’s eyes…. The only way I can think to describe it is intelligence. I’d been around dogs all my life, including some really smart ones, but the wolf was different. More intelligent-looking.” He wasn’t sure how else to explain.


  Ian nodded.

  “It walked right up to me, licked my nose, and curled around me.” He could still close his eyes and recall the warmth that furry coat had emanated. That a wild animal would protect him from the cold instead of biting him, or worse, had stilled his fear. “After I quit shivering, he got up, gently grabbed my shirt sleeve, and led me back to camp. He stopped short of my parents being able to see him but made sure I was close enough to see them and hear them calling to me. He let me go and disappeared back into the woods.”

  “I’ll bet your parents were relieved when you showed up.”

  Michael smiled. “They yelled at me for what felt like hours.” Even then, he’d known their anger was a result of fear. “They made me promise to stay in camp from then on. Said if I wandered off again, no more camping trips. Ever. Period.”

  “Did you tell them how you got back?”

  “I told them I saw a wolf. My dad yelled at me some more for lying. They never heard a wolf howl, and they were sure if there’d been any about, they’d have heard howls.” He shrugged. “I didn’t say any more about it. We stayed for a couple more days before going home. When we were leaving, I saw a man standing in the woods watching us. He smiled and nodded before ducking back into the woods. He reminded me of a mountain man. Like Grizzly Adams. He didn’t look anything like a wolf, of course, but I knew by the look in his eyes that it was him. I just… knew.”

  Ian grunted.

  “We went back every year after that, but I never saw him again. I even returned a couple of times after I went to college, looking for him. Nothing.” Michael frowned. “Do you suppose he’s still alive up there somewhere?” Maybe they knew each other? Did wolves in different areas communicate with each other?

  “No way of knowing.” The alpha shrugged. “Brett and I haven’t been anywhere near the Cascades since before we joined the pack here in 1980.”

  “Oh.” Disappointed, he nodded. So much for that possibility. He would’ve loved the opportunity to thank the man-wolf for saving him that night, for guiding him back to his parents.

  “You do realize there’s a very strong possibility the man you saw and the wolf who helped you weren’t the same individual, right?”

  “I know how crazy it sounds, but I just know they were the same person. Something about the look in the eyes.”

  Ian ran a hand over his short-trimmed beard. “And you decided to study werewolves as a result of that?”

  He nodded. “I wanted to learn more about them, about the man who’d helped me. He hadn’t acted like the werewolves I saw in movies or read about in books. Yet myth and legend claimed wolves were violent and dangerous.”

  “We can be.” Ian’s eyes narrowed. “But I assume you realize that by now.”

  Another nod. “I think wolves like Brimfield are the ones myths and legends are based on. The scary evil that lurks in the dark, seeking to devour the unsuspecting.”

  A shadow passed over the alpha’s face, and his eyes clouded with memory. “Considering the things I know our kind is capable of, I’m inclined to agree.” The cloud passed, and Ian shook his head. His gaze settled on Michael. “I do what I can to make this pack a safe place.”

  He hated to mention…. “What about Carlos? He doesn’t like me.”

  “Carlos is angry right now, but he won’t harm you. Neither Brett nor I would allow it, even if he tried. Colin and Graham won’t either. They’re third and fourth in the pack.” Ian cocked his head and studied him with frightening intensity.

  Michael lowered his gaze and suppressed a cringe.

  “Most of us have never dealt with a wolf like you before, so we’ll learn as we go.” He snorted. “We always seem to be on a learning curve these days.”

  Michael cocked his head. “A wolf like me?”

  “A true submissive.”

  Heat flushed his neck and face again. “Is that another way of pointing out what a coward I am?”

  “No. Submissives aren’t cowards. They simply approach conflict differently than the rest of us do.”

  Cautiously, Michael raised his head enough to look into the other man’s face.

  Ian smiled. “When there’s a conflict, our first impulse is to fight or put the other wolf in its place.”

  He shuddered. “I didn’t like to argue even before I became a wolf.”

  “If you ran into a tense situation, how did you handle it?”

  “Talk my way around it until people calmed down, or joke around to make light of the situation.”

  “If I understand submissive wolves correctly, that’s pretty much how they deal with conflict within the pack. Talk to calm people down, or incite play to distract others until tempers settle.”

  The man actually sounded… envious. “Is that a good thing?”

  “Absolutely.” Ian nodded. “Unless one of us is truly enraged, it’s unlikely that we’ll attack you. As a bonus, you can help keep violence in the pack to a minimum.”

  Michael snorted. “Yeah, well, a fat lot of good I did before.”

  “Cruelty and evil are the same, regardless of species.” Ian shook his head. “What happened with Brimfield’s pack wasn’t your fault or your failure. It was Brimfield’s. A good leader would never have allowed the pack to torture you the way they did. Is it true he encouraged it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was his failure as a leader. His evil. His pack’s evil. Nothing to do with you.” Ian pushed away from the doorframe. “I don’t know what all of this means for you or my pack, but you’re welcome to stay. Then we’ll learn together. When you’re ready, if you desire it, we’ll help you get an apartment in Flagstaff and reclaim your life.”

  “And if I decide I want to leave Flagstaff?”

  “We’ll help you get established wherever you want to be. You’ll be on your own when you get there, but we can help you that much anyway.” The alpha shrugged. “Just something to think about over the next weeks or months. You’re not a prisoner here. Nor are you a target. I won’t tolerate anyone treating you as either. Neither will Brett.” For the first time since he’d arrived, a half-grin cocked up the right corner of his mouth. “I suggest you shower before you go to Brett’s, though. Otherwise, his mate Kelly might scrub you down herself.”

  “When do I have to go?”

  “Brett will be here to pick you up in an hour or so.”

  So soon. They weren’t giving him much time.

  “The more time we have to be afraid, the worse fear gets.”

  Michael shivered at how accurately the man kept guessing his thoughts. He cocked his head and gave Ian a questioning look. “Are you psychic?”

  Ian laughed, a deep, rich, warm sound. “No. I’ve just lived long enough to be fairly good at reading people. That’s also why I know you aren’t suicidal, despite being fearful because of harsh treatment by Brimfield’s pack.”

  True. As much as he hated how the past several months had unfolded, something deep inside reminded him constantly of the man-wolf who had saved him as a child and made him cling to hope that he could be more than his tormentors. Also, he wanted to live.

  “Fear can be overcome.”

  More truth. If he could find the courage to do it. “How old are you?”

  “I was born in 1843.” The half-grin widened, revealing a double canine. “You do the math.”

  Wow. “I didn’t know werewolves lived so long.”

  “Most don’t. I don’t know any close to my age, but I know one who’s older.”

  “Who?”

  “Brett. He fought in the militia in the War of 1812.”

  Holy cow. That meant the pack second was over 200 years old. “I had no idea….”

  “Few do until they meet us.” Ian shrugged. “I’m not sure why God’s allowed us to live so long and win so many battles. I’m sure He has His reasons though.”

  Michael frowned. “You really think God has anything to do with it? What if He’s not even real?” He grimaced. Had he really just challeng
ed the alpha about his faith? Just because you lack faith doesn’t mean others do, and challenging someone who could kill you in a heartbeat isn’t smart.

  Ian chuckled, surprising him again. “Live as long as I have, you’ll have no doubt not only that God exists, but that He’s intimately involved with our lives.” He pushed both doors open farther. “After you shower, you might talk to my wife about borrowing her werewolf books. She won’t need them for a couple of weeks or so.”

  “I’ve probably read them already. I think I’ve read every non-fiction book available on the subject.”

  The alpha glanced over his shoulder and quirked a brow. “Non-fiction. Have you read a series of fiction books by T.S. Campbell?”

  “No. The name doesn’t ring a bell, except with regards to you. Any relation?”

  Another lopsided grin flashed. “You could say that. Ask Sophia about them. It’ll give you something to read when you’re alone in the cabin.”

  Before Michael could formulate another comment or question, Ian was gone. He stared at the open door.

  The alpha hadn’t proven so scary after all. The night of the fight, the rage rolling off of him had been terrifying. When calm and rational, he was downright comfortable to be around.

  Ian’s right. I should go upstairs, take a shower, and put on clean clothes.

  He continued to sit on the cot, his body frozen.

  You weren’t always a coward. You avoided conflict, but you were never a coward. Why act like one now? You need a bath in the worst way. Brett’s coming soon. You can’t let fear run your life.

  He slowly got to bare feet and padded to the door. His lungs locked up. Panic threatened. The first small step to freedom shouldn’t feel so huge. Taking a deep breath, he stepped beyond the confines of metal bars.

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