by Terry Spear
"What about that nosey red?" Adams asked.
"Leidolf? You were supposed to question him. What did he say he was here for?"
"He explained he was on vacation. But he wouldn't say anything further."
"Vacation, my ass. And where's Hilson?"
"He's around. But making himself difficult to locate." Adams looked back at David and Owen. They both perked up. Adams turned his attention to Kintail. "We have another situation."
Before Adams said what it was, Kintail knew.
"Their partner, Gavin Summerfield, booked a flight and is on his way to Bangor."
Owen shook his head. David raised his brows at his friend.
Kintail pondered the situation before he spoke. "Where are Cameron and Faith now?"
"Michael Roux told us he sent his brother George with them to return to their cabin rentals. Charles wants them gone. He figures he's upset you."
"None of my people better have injured Charles." Kintail looked over at Trevor. "Faith wants to speak to you about her father's work. They won't fall into the same trap twice. Go to her. Make up a Bigfoot story. Appease her. Unless she's learned what we are. Then tell her what ever satisfies her. I want Cameron and Faith to stay right where they are. It's easier to monitor their movements than if they're back in Millinocket. Until we have some answers about the murders committed recently, I want their help. Gavin's, too, if he can provide it."
"What about them?" Adams asked, motioning to David and Owen.
"They stay here, out of sight, and away from harm. The four men together would be too much of a risk. Not when they're still learning pack rules." Kintail cast a small smile at Owen.
The guy was trouble, but at least he had David in line.
"I can't believe Gavin's coming here," Owen said to David as they were locked in the basement again, the windows barred, the room smelling of mold. Owen sneezed again. "I'm afraid I really blew it this time." He slumped on a mattress resting on an iron bed frame that looked like old Army issue—olive drab blanket, scratchy bed sheets. Hell, he was used to the kind with the silky high-numbered thread count—courtesy of a former girlfriend who'd hated his own rough sheets. Now he couldn't get used to anything else.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You were only trying to save Cameron's ass. You can't help it that communications are so spotty out here. And you know Gavin would have come out anyway if he never could get hold of Cameron. Besides, together, they'll be able to do more." He sighed. "You know the more you create problems, the more they watch you though."
"Yeah, and while you're doing nothing, they figure you're a real beta, complacent, willing to do whatever they say." Owen couldn't help sounding disgruntled. He was always a man of action, take control of a situation, push for a solution no matter how difficult the trials. In that respect, he was more like Cameron. David? He was the ultimate laid-back kind of guy. But Owen couldn't be like that, no matter how much he tried. And who has the heart attack? The no-stress guy. But on the other hand, maybe David's no-worries attitude was all a façade, and all this time he'd held the stress in.
"What do you think they'll do when Gavin reaches Cameron?" Owen asked, clenching his hands into fists, wishing the hell he had his gun, but recalling belatedly it wouldn't help anyway. Not against these wolf types.
David reclined in the bed, arms beneath his head, and stared up at the concrete block ceiling. "Not sure. Sounds like Cameron's got his hands full, protecting some new little lady in distress. I'm kind of surprised after the way Marjory stiffed him. I just hope Faith doesn't put him through the wringer, too."
"Hell, what about these werewolf hunters? At least if Kintail would let us, we could put our heads together and deal with them." He growled, hating to be locked in the basement for most of the time. At least he'd gotten the shapeshifting business pretty well under control. He wondered how Cameron was taking it. "Cameron's been turned," Owen said, tapping his fists on the bed frame. "He's got to be pissed."
David closed his eyes and yawned. "No more than you are. As for the werewolf hunters, we can't do anything about it. But as many people as Kintail has guarding us, we shouldn't have to worry. Relax. If we seem like we're not going any place, Kintail and his people will get sloppy. Then we'll make our move."
"What about Elizabeth?" Owen raised a brow at David. When David ignored Owen, he persisted. "She's got the hots for you. You might use it to our advantage." Although he knew David was the kind of man who wouldn't use a woman no matter what the circumstances. Owen took a different approach and shrugged. "Once we get out of here, you could always send for her if you're that interested." He knew David was. He'd seen the shared glances. The shy intrigue on Elizabeth's part. The way David tried to hide his interest in her. But Owen recognized she meant something to him.
David slipped his hands behind his head. "Lots of guys in Kintail's pack are interested in her."
"Yet she only has eyes for you. You heard that police officer, Adams. He was peeved as hell. Said she hadn't made those fudge brownies or that special stew of hers for anyone in the pack until the two of us arrived."
David smiled. "Damn good, too. But who says she made them for me, and not because of some whim of hers? For you, even?"
"She watched you to see what you thought of her cooking. Of course you made a big impression when you went back for thirds."
"They were good."
"Yep. And she has the hots for you. So you ought to use it to our advantage."
Don't jump to conclusions, Faith warned herself as she stared in disbelief at her clothes strewn all over the cabin while Leidolf Wildhaven stood on the braided rug among a pink bra and four pairs of panties ranging from matching pink to black. He didn't look like a guilty man caught in the act, which may have been the reason for her thinking he had nothing to do with messing with her stuff. But he did have a hint of a smile on his lips and in his gaze, which irritated the hell out of her.
She noted, too, that not one thing of Cameron's had been touched.
"What are you doing in my cabin?" She stormed into the place and started to grab up a sweater, when she smelled the odor of urine.
"You've made an enemy," Leidolf said, matter-of factly. "Female. She left her calling card."
Now, Faith was really ticked off. "Who?" But as soon as the word was out of her mouth, she figured who. Lila Grayson. And despite being the type who was always civilized even under the most uncivilized conditions, Faith wanted to pay her back.
"Don't know the woman to match her with the scent." Leidolf sniffed the air and raised his brows. "We need to talk."
"You don't smell like one of us," Cameron said, yanking a plastic bag out from under the kitchen sink. "What's your story?"
Faith stared at Leidolf. He was from Portland. He couldn't be an Arctic wolf also.
"You saw me the other day. In my wolf form."
"A red wolf?" Cameron's eyes widened.
"A red wolf?" Faith parroted, helping Cameron to pick up her things. Clothes that hadn't been peed on, she deposited on the bed. The rest of the stuff went into the plastic trash bag, while she cursed silently to herself. "You said you were bitten by a wolf, too. Not one of Kintail's?"
"No. He and his people are Arctic wolves. I'm a red. Then there are grays. Arctic wolves are a subspecies of the gray. Beyond that, I wasn't bitten and changed like the two of you. Not that I haven't been bitten before. That comes along with the territory as a pack leader."
Faith snapped her gaping mouth shut.
Cameron flicked his gaze Faith's way.
"The two of us? You know for sure I'm one also now?" She collapsed on one of the dining room chairs. She didn't feel any differently, well, except for a sudden bit of light-headedness, but that wasn't from being a wolf, but being told she was one. "How… are you certain?"
"It's subtle. You have a special scent. You're one of us now. Guaranteed."
Faith looked a little ill. Cameron had prayed he hadn't infected her. He guessed it was as she said,
everyone's system reacted differently to the change, although he'd been trying to sense anything that might have altered about her. He'd hoped since her wound had been nearly superficial that she might not have been infected. But he couldn't break free of the gnawing at his gut that he was responsible for her condition.
Part of him felt like he had to keep and protect her, since she was like him and he'd made her that way. Part of him worried she'd hate him for what he had done to her. And since they had both recently weathered dissolved relationships, he figured that might create even more problems. Yet he couldn't deny how much he wanted her.
He joined her and rubbed her back. She relaxed a little, but just stared at the floor, and he assumed she was thinking about how much this was going to affect her. At least for himself, he couldn't quit thinking about how he could live amongst humans and continue to work with his partners the way he was now.
"How could you have been born this way?" he asked Leidolf.
"My mother and father and all their ancestors, or most of them, were lupus garous. So that makes me one, too. Or rather a royal, one who has barely any human genes." He gave a small smile, arrogant, as if everyone could figure that out.
Faith looked up at Leidolf. "Why are you here? Charles's cousin, George, said that Kintail's pack controls this area. Since you're a red from Portland…" She didn't say anything further.
Portland, where Faith was from. As much of an alpha as Leidolf appeared to be in his wolf form, Cameron assumed he ran his own pack in Portland.
"You've seen the killings. The one at Kintail's offices, and the one out here. What did you make of it?" Leidolf questioned in response.
"You're investigating them? With Kintail's permission?" Cameron asked, not figuring that Kintail would have given it, unless Leidolf had special qualifications to deal with something like this.
Leidolf offered another subdued smile. "Not exactly. But it's my business because it also involves my pack, so…" He shrugged.
Cameron frowned. "Your pack out of Portland?"
"That's where I'm from, now. Do you want her?" Leidolf asked Cameron, but before he could answer, Leidolf responded for him. "It's obvious you do."
The pheromones Cameron was giving off must have clued Leidolf. Cameron could smell Faith's, too. Although he wasn't sure if that was purely a biological issue, or if something deeper down triggered it.
"What I'm getting at is do you want her for your mate? Permanently? We take a mate for life, no adulterous affairs, no divorces. Once we've mated with one of our own kind, that's it. Although in a couple of rare cases, researchers discovered pack leaders among the wolves with two mates at the same time; it's not the case with us. Partly it's an inborn thing with us—one mate at a time, no desire for another. Maybe our genetic predisposition evolved that way because we haven't had enough females to go around as it is. But I've always suspected it goes a lot deeper. My sister would say it has to do with finding your soul mate. Although I'm not certain I'd go as far as believing that."
Leidolf seemed deep in thought for a minute. "Then again, maybe she's right. With our werewolf kind, if we can find one, we're able to select a mate. It's not just left up to the alpha leaders like in most real wolf packs. And if we're able, we can have our own offspring. But like with real wolves, in a rare instance, one of our kind might deviate from the norm and take a second mate while already having one. Just like with any species where one of its kind does something that isn't normally done."
From Leidolf's glum expression, Cameron assumed he knew someone who had deviated from the norm. Which made Cameron curious as to the outcome.
"I take it you know someone who had a couple of mates at the same time. What happened?"
Leidolf's face darkened. "Let's just say it didn't have a happy ending." Taking a deep breath, he added, "Before you're mated with one of our kind, you can have sex with any number of humans. We're immune to their sexually transmitted diseases and normally can't get a human pregnant. As long as we don't get ourselves killed off accidentally, we live long lives, aging a year for every thirty once we reach eighteen. So be sure of what you want. I only mention all this because I assume the one who bit you and intended to kill you didn't give you any insight into the way we live."
Not saying a word, Faith left her chair and began heating the water in the tea kettle.
Cameron wondered what kind of a mess he'd gotten himself into. He figured there'd be a big learning curve, but not that he would have to adapt that much. Mainly, control the timing of the shifts, but the werewolf politics was another matter.
As far as taking a mate for life… he glanced at Faith, saw the vulnerability in her sparkling green eyes. Whether it was right or wrong, he craved having her for his own. From the moment he had walked out of his bathroom and saw her standing in his hotel room, her boots on the floor as if she was getting ready to stay, he'd wanted her.
"I don't know how it is with Arctic lupus garous, but with red and grays, we have a severe shortage of females. So…" Leidolf shrugged. "… finding another mate could be difficult, if you and Faith aren't itching to become mates. Once Kintail's bachelor males discover a new, unclaimed female lupus garou is in his territory, better watch out. Of course, that's saying there's a shortage of females in his pack."
Crap, what else? He had intended to send her home for her own protection from Kintail and his people as soon as Cameron knew for sure she hadn't been turned. But he'd never expected the unmated population of Arctic magical wolves in the area might try to claim her for their own.
"If a pack leader had it in mind to kill me and I was newly turned, I'd be leaving this area pronto." Leidolf removed his parka. After folding it over the couch back, he took a seat on one of the kitchen chairs. "So what can you tell me about Kintail and his people?"
The concept was probably preposterous, but Cameron had to ask. "There's no cure for this condition?"
Chapter 15
FAITH JERKED HER HEAD AROUND TO SEE LEIDOLF'S RESPONSE, but the smile on his lips told her all she needed to know. No cure existed for the werewolf condition.
"No sense in fighting what we are. You are what you are. Of course being a red would be preferable to an Arctic wolf. Limits where you can live in some regards."
"Red wolves aren't all that common either," Cameron said, sarcasm in his voice and Faith smiled at him, thankful he'd had a swift comeback when she couldn't think of one for the life of her.
Leidolf shrugged. "You're right of course. I'd still rather be a red than anything else. You'll both have a new lifestyle to an extent, but for the most part, I'm sure you'll adjust well enough. However, you'll need to live with an established pack while you learn our ways. You might have to go to Alaska to find one. Since Kintail's from the Canadian Arctic, from what I understand, you won't be able to join his pack up there. Unless there are others in the area."
"So what exactly are you here for?" Faith asked, offering Cameron a cup of hot cocoa, then another to Leidolf. She was not in the least bit interested in joining a werewolf pack in Alaska or anywhere else.
"Have you heard of the Dark Angels?"
Faith already didn't like the sound of them as she
sat down at the dining table and sipped her cocoa, then shook her head.
"I discovered them on the Internet, describing some group that searches for abominations—Bigfoot mainly. No problem. But then there was some interest in were wolves. Usually someone in a pack monitors stuff like that. This group listed some information about real were wolf trials, which and of itself could mean nothing. But they are extremely focused on the possibility we exist."
"Real werewolf trials?" Of course Faith knew about real witch trials, but trials for werewolves?
"Sure. For centuries, trials have been conducted all over the world. Really bad in France during the witch hunts in medieval times. One of the documented cases was about a John Grenier, only thirteen, who confessed to being a werewolf. No torture involved. At the time a reddish feral
dog had been attacking villagers. But because of his age, and that he came freely to the court to confess, they didn't sentence him to death." Leidolf shook his head. "The boy wore a wolf skin and confessed to killing a dog, a baby, and a young girl. He tried to kill another, but she beat him off with her staff while she was shepherding. He tried to murder a young boy, but his uncle rescued him."
"But… werewolves aren't supposed to kill just for the sake of killing, are they? If he was a real werewolf…"
Leidolf drank his cocoa and set the cup aside. "Most of our kind believe he wanted to be one of us, probably saw a lupus garou changing and thought killing innocents was what it took to become a werewolf. He was nothing more than a murderer, a cannibal."
"But, they released him? How could they?"
"The president of the court said that lycanthropy—the ability to change into a wolf, and kuanthropy, someone who changes into a dog, were hallucinations, that the boy was of too tender an age, and that he was too dull-witted to know what he had done was wrong. So instead, he was incarcerated for life at the monastery of Bordeaux, where he could learn morals and Christian teachings. They say he ran around the cloister and garden on all fours, devouring a bloody pile of offal—you know, the entrails and internal organs of a butchered animal."
Cameron shook his head.
"He died when he was twenty, his mind completely gone. So that's why we figured he wasn't truly one of us, just a mad youngster who wished to be."
Faith let out her breath. She'd never considered people would turn to cannibalism in the guise of being werewolves. "Still, he wasn't really a werewolf."
"Right, but the problem is that people like that give us a bad name. Some think that we truly exist. Some think those tried for being werewolves, truly were werewolves, but the authorities wouldn't believe it because of church doctrine. Then hunters of werewolves suddenly appear from time to time, reciting these old trials. Another case was Gilles Garnier," Leidolf said, getting up from the table and making himself another cup of cocoa. "He was a poor farmer who had been a hermit, then married and moved his wife to an isolated home. But he wasn't used to feeding more than himself, and he couldn't afford to feed a wife, so he started foraging for food. That's when he killed a girl, a boy, wounded another girl who was rescued but died later, and again was caught after murdering another boy. What shocked the court the most was that he planned to eat the boy on a Friday, against Catholic doctrine."
