I forgot that I had clipped the earpiece to my vest. Unclipping it, I held the communicator close to my mouth and said, “You're supposed to be with the hunting party. Where's everyone else?"
"The three we chased veered off in another direction at the last second. I stayed with Pulaski to make sure those bastards didn't circle back to finish him off."
I shivered at the thought of that. One more teammate down. How many more would we have to go through tonight? I shook again, this time to clear my thoughts. “You're out there by yourself?"
"Yeah."
"Stay put. Fisk and I are coming to you.” I re-clipped the communicator to my vest.
When we regrouped with Decker, we found him gazing at Pulaski's remains and tossing the rest of his cigarette onto the ground. Stringy blond hair curtained around his head, giving me a tunnel vision view into his empty gray eyes. I couldn't help following his gaze.
A hazel eye and the corner of Pulaski's forehead were all that remained of his face. The rest of his head was a red, hollowed-out bowl of meat, skin, and bones. My guess, the monster bit his face off and kept digging for more.
Pulaski spat to the side as he reloaded his rifle and cocked the first bullet into place. Fisk turned away and vomited.
Something was off. If this monster had attacked Pulaski from the front, why didn't he go for the jugular or the throat, as instinct dictated? It was the quickest kill point when a werewolf wanted to bring someone down. Young pack? Perhaps. A werewolf had to let either the animal mind control him or the human one. It could never be both if they hoped to survive in this world. A veteran wolf like Matt or Dane knew how to balance them in any situation.
"We're heading to the den,” Decker announced in his mouthpiece.
My head flew up. “Are you insane?” I yelled. “We've got enough dead bodies on our hands from the past year. We sure as hell don't need another."
I grabbed his shoulder to turn him about-face, but he shrugged me off so hard that my nails scrapped across the mesh design on his jacket. He mumbled something under his breath and proceeded toward in the den with purpose in his step. Fisk skirted me and followed behind the taller man, shoulders hunched and a knuckle-white grip on his gun.
I hadn't seen it before because I was too caught up in my own problems. Dane was right about the team still reeling from eight months ago, I thought, watching those two walk away from me. They should have known this outing would bring back bad memories. Now was not the time to start acting stupid and making dumb decisions.
So what did I do? After kicking some dirt and slamming my fist against a tree, I took up the rear and jogged after them. I stood a better chance watching my own ass than entrusting it to their one-track minds.
We came to the edge of the den and noticed a light flickering inside the cavernous walls. Instead of taking any precautions, Decker slung his rifle over his shoulder and stormed inside. As grandmother Lenox would say, “A dumb-ass white man can see animals running in the opposite direction and he would be stupid enough to want to find out why.” Fisk followed, another dumb-ass white man in the making. I shook my head and entered the cave too. At least I recognized what an idiotic idea this was.
Before I could finish rounding a small bend, the guys embarked on a rampage as they tore and smashed anything in their paths. Tattered rugs and blankets scoured the filthy ground along with smudged newspapers and books. Crushed and broken bones riddled one section of the floor, enough to fill a bathtub. A dozen or so skulls sat in a line on a waist-high ledge. More lay crushed in a bone pile. The news reported six bodies, although judging from the looks of things, many more bodies had gone unnoticed. I doubted that they had refused runaways and derelicts, with so many remains littering the ground.
Other than the large crackling fire at the center of the cave, the whole atmosphere of the place made me feel uneasy, similar to the way I'd felt while standing over Pulaski's body. I picked up a teen magazine, dusted off the cover, and noticed another one in Spanish lying on the dusty floor not too far away. On my right, a high school yearbook with a few of pages torn out, a page of photos hanging halfway over the edge with two girls’ pictures circled. Potato chip bags, beer cans, and snack cake wrappers littered the ground with the bones and dirt.
"They're kids,” I said, flipping through the yearbook and noticing all the circled faces. Both men stopped their rampage and turned to listen. Gee, that was a start. “Look around. Fast food wrappers, teenage paraphernalia. I'll bet anything these kids are runaways themselves.” A piece of paper slipped out of the book and floated to the floor. I picked it up and glanced over the short, but sweet, prose. “A love note. At least one of these guys planned on biting his high school sweetheart."
"Touching,” Decker mocked. Then he smashed his rifle into a boom box. “I don't give a damn who they are. As if killing Chris, Alan, and Josie weren't enough, the bastards took out Pulaski. You think I give a shit if one of them has a crush?"
Growling reverberated from the cave opening. We turned. A large salt and pepper wolf stood at the entrance to the cave, large brown eyes scanning the raided den. He looked like a hearty size werewolf: shoulders drawn, ears flat, and drool slipping from his peeled back lips. Based on the color of his fur, I'd bet he was much older than the wolves he sired. A drifter himself in search of a pack he could send out among the humans to scrounge for food and bring it back to their lair. He was the rogue Alpha. Cold eyes converged on me, an indication that he had recognized my exotic female scent.
Decker was the first to go for his gun, but his fumbling fingers couldn't get the weapon in position on time. The wolf turned his irate gaze on him and leapt through the air. Before Decker could get a shot off, the beast knocked him to the ground.
I got my crossbow up and Fisk had his gun. The rogue stood over Decker's terrified body, teeth snapping and a growl that dredged from the depth of his lungs emitting from his mouth. Right as the beast stepped forward, about to tear into Decker's cowing face, I pulled the trigger. An arrow sliced into his side. He yelped and skidded across the bone-littered floor, dust clouds smoking the air around his sickle claws. Fisk fired his rifle, nailing the wolf in the back. More yelps cut the air. The Alpha's eyes locked with mine and another guttural snarl rumbled deep in his throat. He wouldn't give up without a fight, so I didn't mind giving him one. I chambered another arrow in the holster, aiming for the head. The wolf leapt, and I shot him again. The arrow made a soft popping sound, skewering his eye and jetting out the back of his skull. He collapsed onto the dirt floor in a heap of salt and pepper fur. Big-talking Decker cowered a few feet from the rogue's body, his limbs pulled in tight around him, shaking to the point that it looked like convulsions.
Fisk kept the beast covered as I wandered to the other side of the cave to retrieve our “brave” comrade. Checking him for wounds was the farthest thing from my mind. Hooking my hand around his upper arm, I dragged his sorry behind away from the corpse in case the wolf decided to pull a B-movie trick and pop his head up.
Once I had him at a safe distance, Fisk radioed Graham, advising him of the situation in the cave. Over the communicator, I learned that the others had the three rogues backed into a corner. The humans put a bullet in each of them while our werewolves blocked their escape.
The whole idea of killing misguided teens abhorred me. Had I been there, I might have done something to stop it. But then again, the last time I stuck my neck out for a rogue, seven of our people died at the hands of her pack. Maybe I would have stepped away instead and let the bullets explode over my shoulder.
Since Decker had proved to have such lousy grace under pressure, I made him drag the leader's body out of the cave while Fisk and I accounted for all the other rogues.
I moved into a crawl position and swept my head from side to side, nose sniffing a few inches from the trash littered floor. Fisk raised an eyebrow and stared. Adopting a wolf persona sometimes helped me to block out my human instincts so I could dig deeper into my heightened
ones.
Examining every inch of the cavern floor, I looked in on their daily lives through my mind's eye. I pictured someone sitting in the corner of the cave, possibly cleaning off after a fight. A male and female rolled around in the dirt having sex in front of the fire while others showed little if any interest. Sitting further in the back of the cave, two more wolves fattened themselves on a fresh deer kill. Another walked in carrying a limp raccoon between its teeth, surveying who was present and who wasn't. Perhaps that wolf didn't feel like sharing. Five werewolves in total. More images played out in my mind's eye as I crawled in the dirt, focusing on the scents in the cave and oblivious to my surroundings. Yeah, I was sure of it. Five wolves in total, including the original four.
Without warning, someone grabbed me from behind, cocooning his masculine body against mine. Riley pinned my arms to my sides and I fell face first onto the dusty ground. He became a human straight jacket, not budging an inch. His naked body soaked my clothes in sweat from a recent change. Not only was his body heated, he was in heat, period. His respiration slackened, growing deeper as he nuzzled his nose against the back of my neck. Slow thrusts worked his lower body, grinding into my rear. The horny bastard! If he hadn't grabbed me from behind, I would have neutered him on the spot.
"Get off me, you fucking pervert!” I kicked, but his werewolf strength kept my legs pinned to the ground.
"Come on, Angel,” he said, steaming up my ear, “I know you want it.” His slow thrusts worked their way into an erection, pressing against my favorite pair of black leggings. “You see what you do to me? I've waited eight long months for you to come back. All we need to do is get rid of those pants you're wearing.” He moved his hand to the back of my waistband, slipping his fingers underneath.
"Raping a werewolf's mate gets you a one-way ticket straight to hell. You do it, and this Club will be damned."
"Riley!” Dane shouted, voice crashing through the cave. “Get off her! Now!” Footsteps followed.
I felt heated sweat one second and a blast of cold air the next as Riley's body flew backwards. Goose bumps pimpled my neck and back from the sweeping chill. I turned over. A very naked Dane stood over his beta wolf in a dominant position, holding most of Riley's locks in one fist. Fury burned his dark eyes, the complete opposite of Riley's wide-eyed gape, as he gave his attention to his leader. Seeing that much fear banished any doubts in my mind about who the Alpha wolf was. All he needed to do was stake a claim on the title and become the Alpha.
"Did he hurt you?” Dane asked.
"No,” I seethed.
"Then throw those clothes away before you go home. If your husband smells—"
"If Matt smells another man on top of me, I'll give him the Club, Dane. Make no mistake about it."
I got to my feet and stormed out of the cave.
So much umbrage swarmed through my system that it wouldn't have surprised me if steam had blown out of my ears and my eyes had turned red. To think I drove hundreds of miles to help, and this was the shit I had to endure. Not only did my marriage mean nothing to Dane and Graham, but it meant nothing to the entire Club. How could I have called any of these people my friends?
I halted just outside of the cave. An eerie darkness enshrouded the huge forest before me. Rationality had set in. We were still on someone else's turf and had a wolf unaccounted for. Despite my fury, venturing out there was a foolish mistake and one that could cost me my life. Gulping in the cool night air and taking a few moments to calm my wildfire temper, I stepped several feet away from the entrance and leaned my back against a nearby tree. Tears welled in my eyes till they cascaded down my cheeks. I didn't bother wiping them away because I didn't care.
Footfalls scuffed the ground to my side, emanating from deep inside the cave. Fisk emerged from the opening, feet crunching the underbrush. His somber eyes fell on me right before he dropped his head, face hiding behind his Steelers cap.
"Between us,” he mumbled, “I sometimes wonder if getting back together was a good thing."
Facing him, I wiped the tears away. “I thought you liked the Club and all the shit it has to offer."
He lifted his head and stared at me dead on. “That's not fair. I like the challenge and camaraderie. Knowing what we do makes the whole thing worthwhile. But when I see shit like that go down ... I can't tell you how sick it makes me."
"Then why didn't you do anything to stop it?"
"Do you know how many times I've confronted Dane? Why do you think he keeps an eye on you as only a father would? Out of everyone in the Club, he can guarantee your safety better than any of us. Whenever I confronted Riley on my own, all he did was laugh. Thinks it's a big joke. Hell, he thinks everything is a big joke.” He took a tentative step closer, maintaining an unthreatening distance. “The only reason why I don't put a bullet in Riley is because he saved my life that night. Those rogues booby trapped the house to explode. Riley smelled the gas and tackled me straight out a side window. I was the only one in his reach at the time."
"And how does that make what he did to me right?"
"It doesn't."
A faint smell of human and werewolf blood blew in the crosswinds. The stillness of the woods opened up my hearing. Scanning the thick foliage, I visually tried peeling back trees and bushes, anything to make sense of the foreboding.
Then it hit me.
Decker had disappeared and so had the rogue leader's body. Shit. Why didn't I see it earlier? Well actually, I did, I just didn't put two and two together until now.
Fisk said something, but I never caught a word of it. Flinging my hand up, I shushed him to silence.
"Decker!” I yelled in the direction of the blood.
Nothing.
As much as I detested him, I couldn't wait on this. None of this felt right. Instead of calling out again or waiting for an answer, I set out following the blood-scented wind.
"Wait,” Fisk said. “You don't have your crossbow."
Good point. Unsheathing my bowie knife, I crept through the woods. My head swayed from side to side in the barest of movements as I surveyed the surroundings with my nose. Eyes, ears, all of my senses opened up to any potential ambushes. Underbrush crunched the soles of my hiking boots and wind whispered around my ears. My face wrinkled as the metallic smell of blood and carrion grew thicker.
Fisk jogged up from behind me in silence, stirring up as little noise as possible. More footfalls caught up to us, accompanied by two more noses whiffing in the air. Dane and Riley smelled the blood too. Their concentrated glares burned with anxiety. As we stalked through the foliage, Dane moved into the lead and Riley took up a place in front and off to the side of me. I stayed close to Fisk because he had no idea of what he was getting into and stood more of a chance at dying.
A large tree came into view. Glancing from the back at the base of the tree, a pair of shoulders with a beige mesh jacket stuck out on either side. They moved up and down as ragged breaths panted for precious oxygen. Decker sat on the ground, clutching his shredded bludgeoned forearm and rocking back and forth. The salt and pepper wolf lay next to him, blood still leaking from the wounds.
Dane got to him first and dropped to his knees right beside the tree. He clutched the lapel on Decker's jacket and began shredding it. Tying a noose and putting a stick through one end, he put Decker's arm through the other end and started twisting the tourniquet.
Thank goodness one of us was good with the first-aid stuff. Had it been left up to me, I would have chopped off Decker's arm and cauterized the wound.
Decker's face blanched and his trembling lips turned pale blue. Riley picked up a stick and began poking the carcass in the head.
"The wolf,” Decker babbled, staring straight ahead. “The wolf."
"What wolf?” Dane asked, touching his fingers to the pulse in his neck.
"Attack ... came from nowhere! Bit me!” Decker paled another shade as sweat dripped off his face and neck like a leaky faucet. Insane terror glazed over his gray eyes.<
br />
I looked around. “What the hell are you doing out here?"
"Move the body. T-t-to the truck."
"You cracked, brained numbskull! When did I say move the wolf out of the cave and take the body to the SUV? Did you forget where we are and who has the upper hand out here?” I clutched my fist to keep from slugging him. Could a person be any dumber?
Convulsions racked Decker's body. Frothing white foam spurted from his mouth and leaked down his chin. Dane and Riley jumped on top of him. Fisk stepped forward to help, but I yanked him backwards, almost jerking him off his feet. We already had one person infected, another would make things worse.
"I need something to shove in his mouth,” Dane shouted, fighting the flailing appendages and trying to keep him from hurting himself.
I handed him my bowing knife.
Dane stuck the hilt between Decker's teeth to keep him from biting off his tongue and swallowing it. The guys held him down for more than five minutes as his spasms subsided into less violent seizures. I unclipped my earpiece and apprised everyone of how the situation had gone from bad to drop-dead worse.
We had one more rogue to find, an infected person, removal of four carcasses, and one very dead human on our hands. Gee whiz, I couldn't imagine why someone would want to leave this awesomely incredible world behind. Give me a break.
First things first. Dane scooped up the newest, unconscious member of the werewolf family and carried him through the woods. Riley and Fisk tossed the leader's carcass back in the den because there was more room in there for preparing his hide.
I stood around and watched. Call me high and mighty, but they brought this mess upon themselves. I wasn't about to dirty my hands.
Speaking of which, everyone spoke over the communicators worrying about the stray rogue returning to the den and stealing the carcass. Oh well, thousands of dollars down the drain. It truly broke my heart. I went to help the others and left the money vultures brainstorming other plans for hiding their dead loot. Fisk and Riley got the hint and caught up. By the time we reached the rest of our group, they had turned back into their bare-skinned human forms. Each had a wolf slung across his shoulders for transport back to the cave. Two of the men volunteered to stay overnight, keeping watch over their treasure, but Dane refused them all and ordered us back to the vehicles. We found Pulaski's body along the way and carried it to the 4X4.
Half-Breed Page 13
