Running Free (Northern Shifters)

by Jorrie Spencer

  “A horse?” Rory, Jancis’s twin, looked incredulous. Sally concluded that he was hearing this for the first time. Presumably then, Teo and Angus and Mala were the ones who’d so far discussed strategy and called the others in.

  “A horse that kicked out the brains of the adult wolf, Gray as we’d dubbed him, a killer we’ve been searching for.”

  “Hold it,” said Sally. “You’ve been looking for a wolf?”

  “Series of deaths in the GTA corridor,” Rory summed up. He turned back to his father. “You think he’s dead? That would be fucking brilliant. He was the ringleader, right?”

  “That’s what we think. You’re going to try to verify his death for me.”

  “With pleasure.”

  A part of Sally was thrilled because another male wolf was dead; that was a bad part of her. She shoved the thought away as soon as it formed. She was also blinking at the thought these adult male wolves at the table—who were trying to make Wolf Town a bastion of safety for wolves, child and adult, male and female—would be pleased by the news of such a death.

  For all male wolves are not the same. It was a mantra she repeated in her head often enough. One she believed at a theoretical level but couldn’t always feel. Maybe one day.

  “Perhaps the others in his gang will disperse now,” suggested Teo, “and do less damage.”

  Sally glanced at Jancis who took all this in as a matter of course. Jancis nodded as if to say she agreed with everything discussed so far, meaning she’d known about the killer and his buddies, if not the six-year-old.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Sally asked.

  “You’re not curious, that a horse saved a pup?” Rory was annoying, Sally decided yet again, because why would she be curious? She liked to mind her own business and keep her head down.

  “No,” came her answer.

  “I’m curious. That’s one hell of a pet horse to own. I’ve heard of dogs saving their owners’ lives, but horses?” Rory whistled. “I want to meet this creature.”

  Sally gazed at Jancis, trying not to plead.

  “Dad,” said Jancis. “Cut to the chase, then you can fill Sally in.”

  Angus turned his blue, compelling eyes on Sally, and she made a point to keep her shoulders squared, her chin up. She refused to cringe or flinch just because the alpha focused on her.

  “Sally, we want you to make contact with this pup, befriend him, and if the circumstances are right, bring him to Wolf Town for safekeeping. We hope he’s not in immediate danger, but we don’t know what his situation is. Especially given that Gray, the apparently dead wolf, worked with others who may know about the pup’s existence and may have targeted him.”

  She found herself darting her gaze all around the table, thinking, even though her name was at the beginning of his little speech, that Angus must have meant to address someone else. Sally didn’t do missions of any sort.

  Despite the stupidity of it, she ended up saying, “Me?”

  “You,” Angus concurred. “We don’t want to send a male wolf, given that Storm—that’s the pup’s name—”

  “I didn’t know Storm was a name,” murmured Rory.

  Teo turned to shut Rory up with his beta glare.

  “…given that Storm was very recently terrorized by a male wolf.”

  “Send Aileen,” Sally suggested, feeling a little desperate.

  Both Angus and Teo gave her such dubious looks, she backpedaled.

  “Yes, I know, Aileen doesn’t really leave Wolf Town.”

  “She isn’t comfortable away from here,” explained Teo. “We don’t think she’d be effective in human society.”

  “I would be effective? How am I supposed to meet this child?”

  “Well,” offered Rory brightly, “maybe you could teach him piano.”

  The house emptied out after a while, but when Sally tried to leave, Angus asked her to stay on with Jancis. Teo went off to his clinic, smartass Rory left to track down a dead wolf, and Mala slept on.

  Angus sat on the couch, his large frame spreading out comfortably while Sally perched on a chair, anxious to leave, even if it was the wrong thing to do when a child needed her. She asked, “Do we know how to find this pup?”

  “Mala got names from her dream, the child’s as well as his teacher’s. We’re hoping to find them that way. Once we do, Rory’s going out to search for Gray’s body and bury it.”

  Sally pulled fingers through her hair. “Is there a reason why you don’t just swoop in and bring the child here for safekeeping?”

  Angus gazed at her. “While there are, of course, parents of wolves who take crap care of their children, there are also families who love these children fiercely. Storm could be traumatized by what would essentially be a kidnapping experience. Not how I want to introduce him to Wolf Town, even if I could ignore the PR implications of such a story. We need to assess his situation as it is now.

  “We want to send a wolf, and we want to send a woman. You’ve lived most of your life among humans.”

  “And done so well,” Sally muttered.

  Concern darkened Angus’s face. “You’re uncomfortable going out into suburbia and passing as human?”

  “Not really.” What was she uncomfortable with? Well, working with these wolves, if she was to be honest. It was one thing to work within the high school to provide education for wolves and wolf-related teens. It was another thing entirely to be part of an operation. She began thinking of this as Operation Storm.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “She doesn’t trust you,” said Jancis.

  “Not true,” Sally snapped, straightening up, annoyed her roommate was stirring the pot. She stared at Angus, daring him to question her on this. “That is not true.”

  “Who don’t you trust then?” Angus asked.

  Sally swallowed. Herself, but that sounded so…trite. “I’m just not great at meeting people, making connections. Which I’m going to have to do.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on knees, large hands dangling, expression intense. It occurred to her this was as close to pleading as the alpha got. “I believe you’re Storm’s best hope.”

  He cared so much for this pup who he’d only heard of through Mala’s dream. He cared enough to entreat her to help him. Sally supposed it was part of why he was alpha.

  It wasn’t in her to say no. She knew about wolves and terror, and she didn’t believe a six-year-old should. If she was able, she’d help Storm.

  She closed her eyes briefly before she said, “I’m in.”

  Chapter Three

  Zach wandered through the large house, feeling like a kept man. The sun shone on the wooden floors and the steel appliances, shone through the skylights and the high windows…

  It was a world away from what he’d had as a child. Serious money.

  He wasn’t entirely comfortable here, but after a year and half of this living arrangement, he’d become used to it.

  Storm slept on. It was a weekday, but no school for him after such a hellish night. Zach had already called the principal’s office and informed them the boy wasn’t well. They knew Storm easily took ill. Asthma, the Montessori school had been told, and they believed it, given the child’s thin frame and sometimes-pale countenance.

  Storm had no such thing as asthma. His shifter body would have fixed that up pronto. But his shifter metabolism was a drain at this age. An image came to Zach then, of his grandfather forcing him and his brother to shovel down food—his grandfather worried about Zach’s skinny, taller brother who could have starved he’d been so close to skin and bone.

  Zach shook his head free of yet another fractured memory. The memories had been hidden for a long time, and only after taking on Storm had they managed to rise to the surface. He now had visuals of the small house he’d grown up in—battered furniture, one bedroom, an old man who’d loved him, a twin brother he’d adored…

  He struggled with these memories that didn’t quite belong to him, that w
ere like someone else’s story being told. They made him miss being completely amnesiac. Almost.

  The phone rang. He’d been expecting it. Storm’s grandmother always called after a full moon. Zach didn’t answer though, still hadn’t figured out what he was going to say to her about the wolf he’d killed and what it meant for Storm’s future. Right now all he wanted to tell her was to leave them alone.

  Not helpful. Wrong attitude. Immature. Rude when she meant well. He wrestled down his misplaced anger. Connie was on his side, even if she never let him forget he had to answer to her.

  He paced the house and made himself eat. He’d always had a talent for that, forcing down food when he was tired of or disinterested in eating. It was how he managed to stay healthy.

  Last night he’d killed a person, he was sure of it. Zach blew out a breath, thinking he should feel remorse or a strong emotion of some kind.

  Mostly he just felt it was something that had had to be done. It wasn’t the first time someone had stalked or threatened Storm.

  There was the asshole who had almost coaxed Storm into a car, promising to take him to his mother, and Zach had wanted to smash the predator’s head in when big-eyed Storm had given an accounting of it.

  Zach could guess why the wolf had been after Storm that day, and it hadn’t been to tear him to shreds—unlike a thwarted wolf under a full moon who could do many unpredictable things. People wanted to take control of Storm, and Storm’s grandparents being filthy rich was an important bonus, no doubt. Ransom and blackmail was easier when people hesitated to call in the local law enforcement. Shifter families, for example.

  An hour later, instead of a phone call, a knock came at the door. That, he didn’t ignore. Zach was more comfortable talking in person than on the phone. Over a decade of running free did that to a person.

  Or, it did that to a horse shifter.

  He opened the front door and stood on the threshold to gaze at his visitor. She was well dressed, as usual, with meticulous makeup. Her gray hair was carefully curled.

  He let her speak first.

  “Are you not going to allow me into my own house?” There was an undercurrent of sadness he supposed he should respond to, but it wasn’t in him today. He was numb. Numb or angry. Only Storm allowed him a greater range of emotion.

  “Storm is sleeping.” Zach refused to describe last night to her right now. He’d taken care of the immediate threat. Storm was safe. By the end of the week, he promised himself he would speak to Connie of it.

  “I’ve come to see you too, Zach,” Storm’s grandmother said quietly, bringing him back to the woman who stood before him.

  Someone had instilled manners in him because he stepped away and gestured her inside.

  “I’m going to make coffee,” she told him, and he nodded. He didn’t touch the stuff; it made him jittery. Instead he worked on drinking his liter of milk.

  He strolled down the long hall to stand outside Storm’s door. No sound except the faint noise of the boy breathing.

  Good. He wasn’t yet ready for Storm to talk to his grandmother. Though he’d have to deal with it when the time came. Zach didn’t coach Storm in his dealings with Gramma, what to reveal, what to hide. The boy had enough on his plate without being controlled by Zach in such a way.

  She waited until her coffee was brewed, poured it and sat opposite Zach at the kitchen table. “Was last night the final night of Storm’s moon run?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t see why she had to ask questions she knew the answer to, but it was her way into a conversation with him.

  “Will he be able to go to school tomorrow?”

  “We’ll see when he gets up. He’s pretty worn out this month.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It happens. Especially in winter with the colder temperatures.”

  She sighed at his answer. If Zach had ever been voluble, that was long gone, with his memory.

  “Arch and I would still like to have him this weekend.”

  “Fine.” The grandparents took Storm most weekends and holidays—outside the week of the full moon. “That’s four days away. Shouldn’t be a problem. Just keep a close eye on him.”

  “We always do. We have more security there than here.”

  Zach didn’t want security, or need it. An elderly couple was more vulnerable. “Make sure Storm eats.”

  “I always make sure he eats.” There was a slight edge she didn’t usually allow herself to show. Though he hadn’t been baiting her. It was a constant worry of his. “I wish he liked meat more. That’s your influence.”

  Zach was vegetarian. It came of being horse, he knew that. He couldn’t change it either. He shrugged. “Eggs, dairy, nuts.”

  “I know, I know.” She waved a hand, as if they’d stumbled into murky, unfruitful waters. Placing down her mug of coffee, she leaned forward. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve decided to pay off Stewart Hambly.”

  Zach stilled. The wolf had almost succeeded in blackmailing Connie. This morning he probably lay dead in a clearing, if Zach’s ability to identify through scent was at all accurate.

  Connie had agreed to accede to Hambly’s demands? Well, now she didn’t have to. “Wait until you hear from him again before you take that step.”

  “Why?”

  He crossed his arms. “In case he decides to leave you alone.”

  She was observant, he’d give her that, because she said, “What do you know that I don’t?”

  The pause lengthened, and Zach looked out the window. Damn. He’d have to speak during this visit after all. Earlier musings about keeping quiet had been wishful thinking on his part.

  He supposed his fear was she’d take Storm away from him. While Zach would suffer for it, his bigger concern lay with Storm who needed a shifter to guide him.

  He turned his gaze to Storm’s grandmother. The werewolf gene had come through her, or so she claimed. She had certainly put the most energy into protecting and loving Storm. “I kicked in Hambly’s head last night.”

  She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away either. “Human or wolf?”

  “Wolf. It was a full moon.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “It’s hard to know, given the wolf can no longer tell us what he planned. He was stalking Storm. He attacked me. It was necessary to keep Storm safe.”

  “Yes.”

  Connie didn’t usually agree so easily. He wasn’t good at getting people to see his point of view, but he found himself asking her the question anyway, the question he’d asked a number of times over the past year and a half since he’d become Storm’s guardian. “Have you reconsidered contacting Wolf Town?”

  “No.” The denial was swift and emphatic. While the press was mostly good—wolves working together to have healthy, happy lives in healthy, happy families—Zach didn’t trust it, didn’t trust wolves. And yet, he had to wonder if Storm might be safest among his own kind.

  “It wouldn’t have worked, you know. Paying Hambly off,” Zach added when Connie looked at him. “He would have taken the money and still tried to take Storm.”

  “Did he hurt Storm?” Her well-manicured hands curled around her mug.

  “Frightened him.” When Storm didn’t need to be frightened. No six-year-old did.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” Zach scoffed. The stupid wolf hadn’t understood he was in danger. Wolves underestimated horses. Unconsciously his hand rubbed his hip, the one involved in the lethal kick.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said.

  Zach sensed she was, but she was also uneasy. He’d been upfront when they’d first met, about what he was, what his life had been. She knew he’d killed two wolves previously. He supposed the reality of last night was different.

  She finished her coffee and stood. “I’m just going to peek in on Storm.” She liked to watch her grandson sleep. She’d told Zach once it was the one time she felt he was truly safe, an
d he knew exactly what she meant.

  When she returned, she picked up her purse. “Is there anything you need?”

  He shook his head. She always asked, even while she catered to his every need. Groceries were delivered. One of her men provided for anything else the house, or Storm, required.

  Zach tried not to require anything. He didn’t want to feel he owed her anything.

  Connie was not his friend. She was someone who needed him despite wishing it were otherwise.

  “Zach,” she said quietly.

  “Yes?”

  “Look after yourself.”

  He blinked once, stopped himself, then drawled, “I always do.”

  “We’ll talk at the end of the week.” She laid her hand on his arm, and he made an effort not to flinch. He wished she didn’t insist on these occasional points of physical contact. Perhaps she thought it a grandmotherly thing to do.

  “Talk to you then,” he said.

  When her car retreated down the long drive, he let out a breath of relief.

  Next he methodically ate more food before allowing himself to fall asleep on the couch. His body was worn out by the moon run; he wasn’t made to shift to horse every night. The moon didn’t call horses the way it called wolves.

  Sometime later, as he rose from a deep sleep, he became aware of movement near him, and Zach smiled, eyes still closed.

  He heard Storm start his pounce before he landed, that small, thin body atop him, wanting to wrestle. Zach allowed his eyes to fly open and see his towheaded first-grader grinning in delight. He grinned back and clamped arms around Storm.

  “Gotcha.”

  Storm writhed, and Zach eased up so the pup could get away, pounce again.

  Rinse and repeat.

  When Storm tired of the activity, and it took a while, he spoke. “I beat you,” he announced as he perched proudly on Zach’s chest.

  “I guess you did.” Zach sat up quickly, causing Storm to squeal in delight as he toppled backwards, Zach catching him before he hit the floor. Then he took that small hand and led his charge to the kitchen.

  Connie had left homemade muffins on the table, and Storm pounced on them as vigorously as he had Zach. “Missed Gramma,” he said around his mouthful.