Pack and Coven

by Jody Wallace

  Harry didn’t see any cameras.

  “We should go.” He turned the key in the ignition, and the car’s engine sputtered. It had a little trouble catching.

  “Can’t,” June mumbled. “Told you that too. Goddess, I’m beat.”

  “Why can’t we?” With her hoodoo, nobody would stop them. Once they reached Staunton, he’d breathe easier. In this car it might take four freaking hours, but that was better than countless years of being pack. Then he and June could hole up somewhere until it was safe to return. That condo on the beach. It had a grill. And a hot tub. And a lot of privacy. “You like the beach?”

  Her hand tightened on his forearm. “Stay.”

  “I’m not a dog,” he said. “I don’t heel, either.”

  She hadn’t opened her eyes this whole time, but she did now, long enough to wink. “Arf.”

  “We’re going.” Harry bumped the car onto the curb and took off. They puttered through Cranberry Jetty, past Bianca’s guards, without a hitch. And onward, into the night.

  They passed clusters of pack vehicles on the road, on the sides of the road, and nobody gave chase. They all stared at June’s car, which was understandable, but made no move to follow.

  When Harry parked at an overlook to check her wound, a four-leg emerged from the forest. The wolf paced through the glow of the headlights, laughing into Harry’s face with canine humor.

  If he were alpha and found out one of his wolves had let himself be seen by humans, that wolf would have gotten into major trouble. Probably a youngling. They created the most messes for the pack to clean up and had the least control over their urges. Their wolves. Their rage.

  He knew that better than anyone besides his mother.

  With a grim smile, Harry restarted the engine and continued their escape. It had been three hours since the garage. Bianca must be desperate if she was sending younglings to work the grid. If another pack caught her runner, she’d owe them huge favors.

  How long would June’s spell last anyway? Harry needed to take a piss. In action movies, nobody ever had to stop to pee. Stop and bandage wounds, yes, but they’d done that. Stop and reload a gun, but they didn’t have one. Stop and have sex, but June hadn’t offered. Stop and get gas—which was becoming as necessary as peeing.

  No Business was the next town with a gas station.

  “June, wake up.” He touched her shoulder.

  “Nuh.” She batted at his hand.

  How long did she need to recharge? He could shift from two to four legs a couple times a day if he spaced it out. If he were sick or injured, swapping forms took care of it. It was the rare shifter who had a scar. He only knew of one, and the bastard deserved it.

  “June.” This time he patted her cheek. Her skin was soft and peachy. Her breath tickled his fingers. “We have to get gas.”

  She turned her head to the other side. Harry stroked her hair, flicking out a few pieces of grass. “Wake up, honey.”

  When she shrugged him off, he flipped out his phone and checked roaming. No service. Jesus. He’d gotten through to Sandie’s house a couple times with no answer. Had she gone ahead with movie night? Surely not. Harry was beginning to worry. If the pack had hurt her, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, but it might involve becoming their alpha so he could beat every one of their sorry asses.

  He just hoped he’d retain enough righteous anger to do so. A pack bond adjusted a shifter’s perception, bringing it in line with pack lifestyle. That might not include defending a human who’d gotten in the pack’s way.

  He wouldn’t lose himself entirely, but he wouldn’t be the same Harry.

  If he turned pack, Sandie wouldn’t be his friend anymore. June would be off limits too. He’d never finish teaching the grannies to play Texas Hold’em. His cats would desert him. The beach would be out of the question. He’d have to give up his shop since a pack alpha wouldn’t have time to maintain one. He’d probably have to marry Bianca. And those were just the small things.

  Damn it all to hairy human hell.

  “Wake up, June,” he commanded in an angrier voice than he intended.

  “What, huh?” Her head weaved back and forth and she blinked. “What?”

  “I need to get gas.”

  “Why? I have half a tank.” June leaned her head on the window, yawning. They neared the bottom of the valley at a white-hot sixty-eight miles per hour, the car jittering like a youngling on a first hunt.

  “Not anymore,” he told her. “We’re in No Business.”

  That woke her up. “What? I told you to stay. This is too far.”

  “Too far for what?” Harry slowed. The air smelled like rain.

  “Too far for the spell.” June grabbed his forearm, as if a little thing like her could overpower him.

  “Don’t worry. I stayed in the car.”

  “I used local components. Turn this car around right now, sir,” she said, sounding just like her grandmother.

  “We’re close to the border. Everything’s fine.”

  As soon as he uttered those fateful words, Harry spotted some trucks surrounding the No Business gas station. Each one boasted several large persons in the bed. Many were dressed in camouflage.

  Shifters. Shifters he didn’t immediately recognize.

  They all turned to watch the Smart car limp toward them. Who were they?

  Two wolves bolted across the road, one chasing the other, and Harry slammed on the brakes. June was flung against her seat belt, her hands striking the dash. He heard something pop. The car fishtailed—astounding when there was no back end—and skidded into the city’s brick welcome sign.

  With a horrible crunch, bricks scattered every direction. The car rebounded with a stomach-lurching jounce. An airbag slammed into Harry, shoving him into his seat.

  “Shit!” He fought the tough vinyl of the bag. The front end seemed to have completely crumpled though the doors remained intact. A brick slid down the cracked windshield like a skier. “Are you okay, June?”

  “I’m alive.” Her voice was tight with pain. “What’d you do that for? My poor car. It’s less than six weeks old.”

  “I didn’t want to hit the…never mind.” He should have ignored the wolves. The four-legs would have dodged the car. He batted the airbag into his lap. “You’re not okay.”

  June rubbed her wrist. “It’s sprained. I can fix it.”

  “You didn’t have an airbag. You could have been hurt a lot worse.”

  “I disabled this side. Long story.” She glanced at him, her blue eyes wide. “I told you to stay in Millington. Goddess, now what are we supposed to do?”

  “You didn’t tell me in a way I could understand,” he growled in a low voice.

  His anger wasn’t directed at her. Their audience had noticed the crash, and a truck with Virginia tags had bounced onto the highway to head their way.

  Virginia was split into two territories—the Roanoke pack claimed the majority, with D.C. at the top. What were the chances those shifters were from D.C.?

  “Is the car spell still working?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know. I swan, why couldn’t I have sprained my bad wrist?” June started scrambling in her purse. “Where’s my compact? Harry, where’s my compact?”

  “Don’t say my name.” He checked under his seat, under the floor mat. He found some white twists of paper he assumed contained herbs, a raincoat wadded into a packet, some silverware and a tube of lipstick.

  The monster truck closed in on them. If it held wannabe alpha candidates, he and June would be fine. They wouldn’t want the competition.

  If it held neighbors helping with the lockdown, they were screwed.

  “Here it is.” June whipped open a gold compact and clawed the powder, hissing as her wrist bent. She rubbed streaks of talc on her nose.

  Harry twisted away from the window, pretending to check June for wounds. If these shifters had his photo from the lockdown report, he couldn’t let them see his face.

/>   “You and the missus okay in there?” asked the driver in a rumbling voice. In the background, thunder growled in counterpoint.

  Harry waved a hand but didn’t speak. Bricks from the sign thunked to the ground, and a piece of the car clanked into the gravel. June’s eyes were closed, her lips moving.

  A familiar pressure built in Harry’s ears. He’d trekked up and down several mountains in the past hours.

  “If you owned a good, American-made car, you folks would be in better shape,” the driver commented. Had Harry met him before? He thought he recognized the voice, as well as the authority in it. Alpha.

  Candidate?

  “Gavin,” said the speaker, “get down there and see if you can help.”

  Cold dread borne of long-ago trauma settled in Harry’s gut. He knew a Gavin from when he’d been a child in the Roanoke pack, and that guy had been the sorriest son of a dog who’d ever shifted into fur.

  The name was either coincidence or the worst kind of fate.

  “Don’t need help.” Harry pitched his voice high and waved again. If they were who he feared, there might be no escape. How the hell was he going to get June out of this if they realized who he was?

  “Son, do I know you?” The truck door creaked. Boots hit the pavement.

  June’s eyes flew open. Harry’s ears popped. And then she gave him an order he was only too happy to obey.

  “Kiss me.”

  Chapter Five

  While she’d often wanted to kiss Harry during her unguarded moments, this wasn’t how June imagined it would happen.

  But he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her by the back of the head, his fingers plowing through her hair, and pressed his lips to hers.

  She’d thought he’d be bristly. He was a wolf, right? His lips and skin were almost as smooth as hers, a mere hint of whisker to make things exciting.

  Their lips parted. Touched again and lingered. June rubbed the talc from her nose and fingers into his skin. She hadn’t napped enough to replenish all her power, but she had some.

  Then he angled his head, tilted hers where he wanted it and parted her lips with demanding pressure. Their tongues met in a hot, wet tangle that quickly consumed her. The desire she shunted aside for eight years blasted her like heat from an oven.

  “God, you’re sexy,” he whispered. His long fingers dropped from her head to release her seat belt. He pulled her toward him, but she got stuck on the center console.

  “Nothing like a near miss to make you appreciate life,” the shifter outside Harry’s window commented. “I take it this means you folks are still breathing?”

  Phooey. The shifters. They weren’t Millington wolves, but they would recognize Harry as a shifter as soon as he got out of the car. Alphas broadcast signals. It was part of what made them alphas. June had to shut those signals off.

  She lifted her fingers, the ones with talc under the nails, and shoved them into Harry’s mouth.

  He spluttered, but she kissed his cheek, hoping he’d understand. She didn’t have time to hone her talc mix to Harry’s chemistry. Goddess, she hated adlibbing. For this to have a chance of working, the talc and its ingredients needed to be in his body. The burn cream on her hand was bitter, but this wasn’t supposed to be delicious.

  Actually, kissing Harry was supposed to be delicious. Delicious and sinful and everything a witch with half a brain would avoid.

  So it just figured.

  “Swallow,” she whispered.

  He did. She did, as well. He nibbled on another fingertip, licking off the talc.

  He caught on fast. She opened her magic and pushed her disguise spell into both of them.

  Weakness threatened as her power rushed forth. The spell must have done something—a dud wouldn’t have taken as much out of her.

  Maybe she’d pushed too hard. She struggled to remain upright. Witches could add guarana to spells to offset the droop that came with depletion, but there’d been no time.

  Harry abruptly stopped kissing her fingers to shake his head. It was dark inside the car but they could see one another’s faces, hear the laughter of the shifters. Harry gave her a tense grin and tugged her into his lap.

  The emergency brake jabbed her heinie. The steering wheel had retracted into the console when the airbag deployed, leaving room in the driver’s seat for both of them.

  Fighting the urge to curl up and sleep, she pushed Harry’s face into her neck and peered at the old shifter awaiting an answer. A pure white beard and moustache surrounded his face, and his head hair had given in to the recessive gene not even shifters were able to avoid. He looked like Santa Claus, if Santa wore flannel and denim instead of red and white.

  Should she know him? She didn’t get out of Millington much, and covens mostly concentrated on shifters inside their territories as part of their monitoring function.

  “I’ve never been in an accident before,” she gushed in her best dumb-blonde voice, careful not to lie. “That was so scary.”

  Santa peered into their car. She heard him sniff. “Did something cut you in the wreck, missy? Your skirt’s bloody.”

  “No, yes, well,” she stammered. “I ran into something sharp.”

  “I can’t believe this toy car kept you safe.” The others hopped out of the truck bed and started prowling around while June and Harry huddled in the seat. She didn’t know what she and Harry were going to do, but whatever it was, it would be easier if the shifters went away.

  “Your front end is totally destroyed,” one of them said.

  Her poor car. Best not to think about that. She had good insurance.

  June wriggled closer to Harry, careful not to bend her aching wrist. For a moment, she enjoyed the sensation of his muscular body wrapped protectively around hers. Even surrounded by nosy werewolves, his solidity reassured her.

  Ironic. He was in more danger than she was.

  Speaking of danger, the only way to find out if her spell had worked was to let the shifters see him. Postponing the inevitable would raise the suspicions of individuals already inclined to be suspicious.

  “Honey,” she said to Harry, “we should get out. What if the car blows up?”

  He nipped her neck. She wasn’t sure if it was in play or warning, but it sent shivers through her. June hugged him and kissed the warm skin next to his ear before she fumbled for the door latch.

  Santa helpfully ripped the door off its hinges. It was about to fall off anyway. He set it to the side, leaning it against the crumpled front.

  “Miss?” Santa held out his hand. She wasn’t wearing gloves, but a human wouldn’t refuse. She allowed him to help her. When she saw how flat the front of her car was, her knees buckled.

  Danger came in all forms, even for witches and weres.

  Harry caught her. “Watch that first step, babe. It’s a doozy.”

  June remained between the two men after Harry released her. Nobody gasped. Nobody offered any secret shifter handshakes. So far, so good.

  Santa had a pack alpha’s air of command. That was odd. A pack alpha wouldn’t have come to offer himself to Bianca as a candidate, and this large of a group wouldn’t be welcome in the neighbor’s backyard.

  So why were they in Millington territory?

  “As you can see,” Harry said, “we’re fine.”

  “You two need a ride?” Santa asked.

  Harry shook his head. “We’ll wait for the police so we can file a report.”

  June inhaled a deep breath to calm her nerves. The air was crisp, threatening rain, and clouds obscured the moon and stars.

  “Millington tags,” a shifter behind the car commented.

  “It just so happens we’re headed to Millington,” Santa said. “You sure we can’t give you a ride?”

  Santa seemed nice enough, but she and Harry didn’t need to get mixed up with whatever these guys had going on. Were they Roanoke? She’d read something about Roanoke in a regional newsletter recently, reported by the Wytheville coven. What had it been…te
rritorial squabbles? Trouble with indies? They might be claim jumping part of Millington’s territory in the chaos created by Bert’s arrest.

  Talk about a mess.

  June sidled up to Harry and nudged herself under his arm. The closer she stayed to him, the better. He could hold her upright, and the proximity of her own glamour could enhance his if she hadn’t gotten it right.

  “That’s so nice of you to offer,” she gushed. “We should take our chances with the cops. It’s the right thing to do. We need to pay to replace the sign.”

  “You drove right into the sign like you were aiming for it,” a shifter commented. He was a stocky, brown-haired man with a cruel look about him and a scar down one cheek. To June he tasted alpha, as well. Not recessive, but a full-blown natural. His eyes gleamed with meanness. “Did something spook you or are you just a shitty driver?”

  Beside her, Harry tensed—either because the shifter was challenging him or because the shifter was a prick. Maybe both.

  “A giant…possum ran across the road,” June said, drawing the attention to herself. “Looked like it had mange.”

  “Possum?” Several shifters guffawed. “Did you hear that? A giant possum.”

  “I hear there’s a wolf problem in these parts,” the younger alpha said. “You sure you didn’t see wolves?”

  “Wolves?” June widened her eyes. “West Virginia only has coyotes.”

  “I’m sure it was a possum with mange.” The man’s sharp gaze raked her body. “Or spring fever. That’s going around.” He licked his lips.

  “Knock it off, Gavin,” Santa warned.

  Harry slipped his arm around her, which gave June a perverse thrill. “It was just some dogs,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Gavin approached Harry and June, his nostrils flaring. “Have we met?”

  Harry’s fingers tightened on her arm. “No.”

  She’d never heard so much hostility contained in a single word. June huddled closer to him. The talc spell only hid genetics. If Gavin knew Harry, they were in trouble.