by Taft, Nicole
Blood for Wolves
By Nicole Taft
Copyright © 2013 Nicole Taft
All Rights Reserved
Cover design by Regina Wamba / MaeIDesign.com
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 1
“Come on.” I stared at the wolf from my hiding place. She was so close to being in my sights. “Just a little more.”
The alpha female scanned the area before encouraging her pups to leave the den. No doubt she smelled me, but I’d set up the blind long ago to ensure that my scent became commonplace. She shook her head, the radio collar jostling around her neck. I tried to shift without making too much noise. I didn’t want Isabeau to hear me. If she did, I’d never get to see the newest addition to the Blue Royal Pack.
One by one the pups padded out of the packed earthen den, gazing around in interest. They were so fuzzy and new, blinking in the early morning sunlight. I bit my lip in excitement. It was all I could do not to squeal in delight. I scribbled down notes on identifying marks and emerging personality traits. Isabeau had done so well nursing them—they all looked healthy with plenty of energy. Not one underweight pup among them. I started formulating names for them based on their marks and actions. One black pup stumbled over anything he could get his paws on, the spitting image of Navarre, the alpha male. A shy little female, a dark chocolate with white paws, hung back in the den and watched her siblings.
At length, Isabeau corralled them together and trotted off to introduce them to the rest of the pack. The pups obediently followed, bounding along behind her. Once they were gone I stood and stretched, turning my face into a patch of sun and grinning with utter joy. How many people could say they loved their job?
“I do, I do,” I sang to myself. My sisters Sasha and Brittany could have their high-end city jobs. All I’d wanted was a little cabin in the woods and an occupation that allowed me to study wolves. When I’d finally gotten it I was thrilled. I shouldered my pack just as my radio crackled.
“Caroline? You there?”
Good thing Isabeau had already left with her pups. No surprise that Alex would call while I was at work. “Yes, I’m here, and no, hunting season isn’t open yet.”
“Haha, very funny. I just wanted to know if you were bringing anything to your mom’s birthday party.”
Only Alex would radio me for something like this. I made for the little stream that eventually ran into the hiking path. The hike was an easy five miles, all downhill.
“I am working you know. Is this some sort of annoying step-brother protocol?”
“C’mon Care.”
“Ham casserole. Now get off the frequency sheriff.”
I giggled to myself, imagining Alex getting all pissy about being called sheriff. I never understood why he didn’t like it. After all, he was a Park County sheriff. He preferred being called a cop or Officer McKenna. My guess was that sheriff made him think of old-timey men with long mustaches, or maybe bumbling guys from old 1950s television shows.
“Fine,” Alex said. “But first, what’d you buy her?”
Oh my gosh. “A pearl bracelet. A baroque one.”
“The hell does ‘baroque’ mean?”
“Alex, get off the damn frequency. I have to—”
A flash of gold amidst the trees caught my eye. Bouncing, heading in the opposite direction, following the stream upriver. It looked like…hair. Frills of blue appeared and disappeared between the tree trunks and brush. I brought the radio up to my mouth.
“Alex, is there a bulletin out for a missing child?” I followed it, only able to catch glimpses through the forest. It looked like a girl in a dress. Was she running? Skipping? Was she lost? Even stupid parents that took their kids hiking didn’t bring them in little blue dresses.
“Negative on that,” Alex finally responded. “Why?”
I emerged from a patch of bushes. The stream apparently came from a little pond. I’d never bothered to find out. It must have been a spring. Beside it stood a little girl, her hair in the most perfect golden curls I’d ever seen on a human being, tied into two perfect pigtails. Sure enough, she wore a dainty blue dress, socks decorated with pink flowers, and laced-up black boots. She stared at the pond, looking as though she might cry any minute.
“Hey there honey,” I said quietly, hoping not to scare her. “Are you lost?”
“I thought I would be safe here,” she said.
I blinked. What did that mean?
“But there are wolves here too,” she continued.
“Oh honey, it’s all right. The wolves won’t hurt you,” I said, stepping closer. “They steer clear of people. Are you lost? Where are your parents?”
She leaned forward.
I reached out to her. “Be careful, you’ll fall in.”
“Caroline, you there?” Alex crackled over the radio.
The girl looked up at me, her eyes full of sorrow. “I know.”
She fell face first into the pond and before I knew it, sank out of sight.
“Oh my God!”
I jumped in after her, expecting to grab her dress or touch ground in the pond. Instead, the water rushed up over my head. I sputtered on pond water, flailing my arms. Where was the bottom? Where was the girl? How the hell could a pond be so deep?
Suddenly my feet found purchase. I pushed up and broke the surface, coughing and wiping pond scum off my face. I spun around, searching, swinging my hands through the water in search of the girl.
Nothing.
I stood in the pond at a loss, gazing through the forest around me. She was nowhere to be found. And for some reason now the pond was no longer as deep as when I’d first jumped in. Weird. I crawled out of the water and stood on the bank, assessing my situation. Pack, wet. Me, wet. Radio, gone. Little girl, vanished.
I gazed around. Funny—nothing looked quite like when I went in. At least as far as forests went. The trees were more open here, less underbrush. Dead leaves carpeted the ground but the treetops above were still relatively green and not in full blown autumn color change. Disquieted, I looked back at the pond. The stream led the other way now; north, not south. I frowned and then shook my head. No. I was just confusing myself. Everything was the same; I’d just gotten all turned around after nearly drowning in a frigging pond.
“Ugh.” I found a flat rock to sit on and undressed, wringing out my socks and garments before going through my daypack. At least my notes would still be intact. Thank goodness for waterproof notebooks and pens.
I sat there for a while, running my hands through my brown hair and flipping it around to try and get as much water out as possible. It would dry
well enough as I walked, but it was still going to be a bit annoying. At least my socks weren’t too wet; waterproof boots had done their job, not only repelling the water but the collar keeping it from going down inside the shoe. Hooray for high quality.
At length I slipped back into my damp clothes. I held my daypack at my side; it was still much too wet to put on my back. I stared at the stream. I’d head down it, meet up with the path, hike the few miles out and go home to a nice hot shower and explain to Alex later that I must have been seeing things, because there certainly was no girl here. I stared in the direction the stream led off to. That was the way I needed to go, and yet, I really didn’t want to go that way. A nagging sensation pricked at the back of my neck. Something bad was down that way. Something very bad.
I shook it off, grunting. Stupid. Stupid. Everything is fine.
And that’s when I spotted the little girl out of the corner of my eye, running away through the trees. I bolted after her.
“Hey!” She’d tried to commit suicide in a pond and I’d tried to save her and now she was running around like everything was hunky dory? Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her get away again. I sprinted after her. She was so far ahead I was afraid I might lose her. But the underbrush was almost nonexistent in this part of the forest and her blue dress was too bright to miss.
“Come back here,” I shouted, more angry than concerned. What was she playing at?
“He’s after me. They’re after me,” she cried.
Oh man, what was her problem? Maybe she had some mental illness and her rich parents took her for a walk through the woods and she’d gotten away. She’d mentioned wolves earlier—maybe she’d manifested some wild idea in her mind and was now running amok.
Goody for me.
She headed toward a cottage that emerged from the trees. Thatched roof, whitewashed stone walls. A wooden door and round windows. Like something from a fairy tale. She swung open the door and disappeared inside. I followed after, shutting the door behind me so she couldn’t get out. Whatever her problem was, I needed to calm her down and keep her from getting out again. I didn’t want her dying of exposure in the woods. I wished my radio wasn’t waterlogged at the bottom of the pond.
I heard crying in the next room. I took slow steps to try not to scare her and peeked around the doorway. She sat on an old, mouse-eaten bed, a few mushrooms growing out of the bedpost in the corner. She had her knees tucked up with her arms over them, her face buried in her arms as she cried.
“Hey there honey,” I said as softly as I could. She didn’t respond. “Are you okay?”
“The wolves are after me. They want to get me. He already tried to eat me.”
Whoa. They? A little extreme. At most a wolf might bark or growl at an unwanted guest, but there were too few wolf attacks on humans to take her seriously. A person had better odds of getting struck by lightning than being attacked by a wolf. Unless, of course, he was rabid, but when was the last case of a rabid wolf? Not in the last three years at least.
“It’s okay,” I cooed. “Wolfies aren’t mean honey, maybe you just startled him. Where are your parents?”
“They are so mean!” she shouted, looking up and slamming her little fists into the bed at her sides. “They’re always trying to eat me and I never did anything to them. Wolves are always mean.”
Forget the wolves, she needed to go home. “All right. Well, where do you live? Did your parents take you out for a hike?”
“They wanted to take me to the kingdom, but I didn’t want to go. I want to stay with all my friends, but they said it was too dangerous for all the wolves.” She sniffled. “I ran away instead. I tried to run really far, but there are wolves everywhere.”
I bit my lower lip. This was extreme. I knew how to handle wolves not people.
“Do you know how to get home?”
She shook her head, more tears building up in her startlingly blue eyes.
“Okay, well why don’t you come with me to the ranger’s station, hmm? We can call your mommy and daddy from there and they can come and get you. How’s that sound?”
“What’s a ranger’s station?”
Feeling more confident now, I walked up to her and knelt on the wood floorboards, which were thick with dust.
“A ranger’s station is where all the rangers work. Rangers make sure the forest is safe from people, and that people are safe from the forest.”
She gave me a hard look. “There is no such place.”
Okay, different tactic. But before I got the chance to implement it, there was a faint bang at the cottage door. The girl’s eyes went wide.
“He found me. He’s going to eat me up,” she whispered, frozen in fear.
“No,” I said, smoothing her hair. “It’s just the wind moving the door. Come look sweetie.”
I got up and headed out of the room. The cottage door hung open on a single hinge, swinging faintly in the breeze. It must have fallen off, too old to handle even its own weight.
“Come on out here honey, it’s okay.” Then I had a thought. “I’ll protect you from all the wolves, don’t worry.”
I turned and thought I saw movement disappear behind a second doorway. Unease crawled up my spine. I dismissed it and headed back to the girl’s room.
“See? It’s all right—”
She screamed.
I lunged for the door. Inside the room the little girl was pressed against the wall. A man in a brown overcoat stood in front of her holding a freakishly long knife.
“Look,” he said, a displeased expression on his face, “I really don’t want to do this—”
“Hey!” I yelled. Without giving it a second thought I dove at the man and tackled him around the waist. The two of us crashed into the wall. Behind me I heard the girl scramble off the bed and out of the room. The man snarled and pushed me off him. I tumbled to the floor, kicking at him as I fell to keep him away from me. Then I leapt to my feet and ran from the room. I didn’t get far. He tackled me from behind and this time we fell onto a table with him at my back. Panic rushed through me. He still had a knife—where was it?
Suddenly he flipped me over, and I saw it. The knife was coming down at my face, but at the last second it shifted and instead the blade sank into the table. The man’s eyes were wide with surprise, and for several very long minutes all we did was stare at each other. They were hazel, a forest-mix of green, blue, and brown, but I could have sworn that for a moment they held a hint of golden red. Even more bizarre was that, except for the knife, he didn’t look like a lunatic. A little wild with a five o’clock shadow lingering on his face, but well-dressed and well-groomed for a nutcase. Something inside my heart did a bizarre flip-flop. He had me trapped with his body against the table. One of his hands was on my throat, but he’d gone completely still. I panted, crazy ideas of possible escape attempts tumbling through my mind.
“Oh,” he said as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked a few times. “You’re certainly not a sentry. My apologies.”
I had no idea what to say to that. I wasn’t even sure if speaking would be a good idea. Who was this guy?
“I thought…” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. You have to understand, I’m a bit jumpy as of late.”
Right. Because jumpy was the right word for coming at me with a knife. I couldn’t help it and glanced at the blade near my face.
He noticed and winced. “Sorry.” He knocked it away and I squealed. “Honestly, I don’t even like knives. When you hit me I just thought…well I suppose it doesn’t matter what I thought. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His gaze moved over me as though checking for any injuries.
“No,” I said in a tiny voice. I was still stuck lying on a table though.
He eyed me strangely and then cocked his head as though realizing something. “You’re different.”
I didn’t know what to say to that either. He moved his hand away from my neck at least. His thumb trailed over th
e skin, somehow making me feel even more vulnerable and sending a strange shiver through me at the same time.
“Um.” I risked putting a hand to his chest. Maybe being polite and gentle could ease me out of this. “Can you let me up?”
“Yes. Of course.” He looked embarrassed he hadn’t thought of that sooner. He placed his hand over mine and held it there while he pulled me to my feet. We were uncomfortably close together; one of his arms wrapped around my waist to hold me against him. Under my hand his heart beat almost as fast as mine.
Then he grinned. Holy shit. His canine teeth were longer and sharper than any I’d ever seen in a person’s mouth. He dipped his head and inhaled slowly. I pushed down the panic and tried to think of how heavy he might be. How hard it would be to push him away and run?
“Very different,” he said, his breath fanning my neck. “You smell very good. You’re saturated with the forest. Water and frogs, leaves and pine, small animals and…” A delighted look crossed his face. “Wolves. Tell me, are you half or whole?”
I gaped at him. What was he talking about? Did he want to chat? Why couldn’t it be hunting season and I had some kind of panic button and Alex could come and get me and shoot this guy?
“Come, come, lovely. Don’t be afraid. Tell me. Half or whole?”
Don’t be afraid? Was he kidding? And the press of his body against mine was really distracting. I made a few little huffing noises before I managed to respond, “H-Half or whole what?”
“Wolf of course. I’m half myself. Never had a pack. Sad thing that half-wolves don’t have packs.”
Oh. My. God. His good looks were definitely deceiving.
“Well then, what are you?” he persisted, cocking his head to one side.
“Ha…I’m neither. I’m human.” Dear God, let that be a safe answer.
Surprise took hold of his features again. “Not half nor whole? Hmm. You do so smell like us. Such a shame you’re not.”
Fuck. Wrong answer.
But he didn’t do anything. Instead he kept staring at me like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. If only I’d known there was a psycho in the woods I would have brought something stronger than bear spray. As it was, I couldn’t even reach the stupid bear spray. At least for the moment he seemed to forget all about the girl.
