The noise of greeting she received from the occupants of the nearby cages was deafening. “Easy, Beaux, you have a new companion showing up soon. Be nice and don’t show your irritation at being usurped. All will go well if you behave.” The dog in the next pen leaned close to the metal separating him from the open pen. Giving the German Shepherd mix a good scratch behind the ear, she turned to mentally check off the necessary provisions she had placed in the pen.
A few more minutes passed as she stood, bowing back to ease the strain in her back. Caregiving was her way of giving back. A needed aspect of gratitude for being alive, she decided. There was a time before Shadow Company who had taken her in and fostered her after her parents had gone missing at the hands of the Sultan when she doubted she would see a new sunrise much less live to be twenty. Shadow Company had found her before the Sultan utilized her in his black-market human trafficking enterprise.
Her father and mother had been taken by the evil one known only as the Sultan when Meagan was no more than eighteen. She had struggled mightily with the longing for them. Growing up fast, she managed to find Shadow Company, a band of retired military operatives and the mystically talented women who loved them. Together they battled the Netherworld’s version of a vampire/shadow walker/skin-pimp in the Sultan. Meagan came to know this group of freedom fighters and called them family.
Three years had passed. Meagan blinked into middle-distance. In the aftermath of the battle between worlds, she had saved her parents, thanks to the help of Shadow Company. Things were going well – almost normal, and then tragedy had struck. Little more than a year after their escape, her dad had died. He had never been the same after returning from the cruel imprisonment by the Sultan. Her mother, heartbroken with losing him, had died the next year. Meagan, already a self-reliant woman of twenty had buried them side-by-side and moved forward. Visualizing their memory always made her sad. Better to keep busy than wallow in the past, she mused.
The sound of a truck backing up to the front entrance brought Meagan back. “Your new neighbor’s here.” She smiled down at the dog in the adjacent pen. “Beaux remember what I said, I want you on your best behavior.” Wagging her index finger at the black and tan shepherd, she turned to go. “Be nice,” she called back. Beaux’s barking followed her.
As Meagan neared the arrival area, she noticed the dog catcher struggling with a massive, dark maned dog. The capture pole jerked violently in his hands. Snarling, the large dog dug in, resisting the catcher’s attempts at removing him from the metal dog box anchored in the truck’s bed. The animal’s protest had the truck shaking with each pull on the pole by the canine.
“He’s got some strength to him. I doubt we’ll be able to do much with this one. Couldn’t even get a muzzle on him. Barely managed to get him into the cage. I probably should have darted him.” Carl, the dog catcher from Animal Control, wiped sweat from his thick jowls. “Gonna need a stun gun for this one.”
“Easy, boy.” Sue, the shelter manager and Meagan’s boss hurried forward.
Meagan watched as the dog whirled to snap at the woman. Glistening white canines flashed from a mouth peeled back in fearful anger. The low, humming growl of warning heralded danger for those attempting to subdue the beast. The dog stared at her wide-eyed from darkly feral eyes. A pang of sympathy hit her between the solarplexs. His disposition held aggression toward all comers. He was not familiar with people, she mused. Not one little bit.
The flash of canines, white and lethal, shot out with a lightning fast move. Sue was too close. Blood, bright and crimson bloomed from the welts already forming on her arm. “Son-of-a-bitch!” she cursed.
Meagan rushed forward. Stepping between Sue and the dog, she squared her shoulders and froze her stance before the animal.
“I’m getting my stun gun,” Sue grumbled as she gripped her bloody arm and stumbled backward toward the office.
“You filthy bastard,” Carl, the dog catcher growled under his breath. Yanking hard on the pole, tightened the noose causing the terrified dog to jerk and buck violently in protest as his airway constricted.
Meagan reached out. “Stop, please,” she commanded. It was one thing to control a frightened beast, but it was quite another to mistreat one whose only crime was acting out in fear.
Carl's lip peeled back in a snarl. “This is Cujo come to life. Get out of my way, missy.” As he spoke, he pulled harder on the pole causing the dog to fall onto his back, his legs flailing in the air.
“Stop!” Meagan said. She could hear nothing except the dog’s cry for help. “You’re going to strangle him!”
Carl shot a startled glance at Meagan. “What do you think you’re going to do? He’ll bite your head off. Out of my way.”
Having none of the treatment, the dog gathered his feet under him and set up a defensive position. His fight or flight mode gave Meagan pause. She noted his pupils had dilated completely and his ears lay against his skull.
Despite her abilities being seriously questioned, Meagan tried again. “If you relax the tension on the pole, I think I can help,” Meagan offered with a chill in her tone. To emphasis her point, Meagan firmed her hands on her hips directly in front of the dog catcher giving him no room to advance.
The dog twisted as he leaned back in defiance of the dog catcher’s pole. The deep growling continued as he strained to escape.
“Easy, sister. Get the hell out of the way and let me do my fuckin’ job.” Carl snapped out the order as the dog gave one mighty tug on the pole. Carl lost his footing, toppling into Meagan who fell backward onto the pole.
Her spine sang out in painful protest. Something gave under their combined weight breaking the pole.
Wasting no time, the dog bolted for freedom.
Meagan’s last glimpse of the magnificent creature was his dark body racing into the woods.
“Ah, hell. Look what you’ve done now.” Carl tossed the rest of the broken pole aside as he wheeled on her. “I told you to stay out of the way, didn’t I?” Wiping sweat with a beefy hand, he glared after the animal. “Now, I have to go after him.” He didn’t try to hide his anger in the pithy stare he gave her. “Way to go, volunteer. Save the world, why don’t you?” Getting into the truck, he slammed the door. The word, ‘bitch,’ was the last thing he uttered as he peeled out in a cloud of dirt and dust.
Meagan’s heart constricted. Had she done the right thing? What if Carl captured the dog again and this time acted out his anger against the poor creature. “He won’t catch you again. I’m pretty sure you won’t let that happen.” A faint smile replaced her scowl. “I’ll see you again,” she whispered to no one. Soon, the sound of the other dogs confined to their cages washed out any voices or spoken words.
Pain, new and stinging, radiated through her hip and thigh. Certain a bruise would form where Carl had landed on her with all his weight made her wince. Dusting off the dirt, she made a quick study of the damage done to her chambray shirt and jeans. She grumbled under her breath, “At least he’s free of Carl.” The jeans had a small snag in the pocket. She could handle that. No, Meagan decided the worst injury was the blow to her pride. She had wanted to help the animal. A moment passed as she remembered how the animal had looked at her. His eyes were an unnatural shade of green, or were they blue? Muscles bulged from ripped biceps and shoulders. “I dare say, the wolfdog won’t make the same mistake a second time. Carl is wasting his time out there.”
Turning, she came close to walking straight into Sue.
“Where’s that damn dog?”
Meagan blinked before realizing Sue meant the wolfdog. So she had it in for the escapee as well. “He’s gone. The pole broke, and he fled.” Unable to contain the quiver of a smile, Meagan turned, hiding her pleasure in a glance in the direction the animal disappeared into the woods. “Carl’s gone after him.”
“That’s fuckin’ great.” Sue slapped the intake table with the flat of her uninjured hand. “I’ll probably have to have a rabies series and a tetanu
s shot because of that no-good, mangy mutt.” Her eyes blazed like heated coals in her head.
Meagan shivered slightly. The thought of what the dog could have endured because of one person’s temper disturbed her. A queasiness formed over the image of those two handling the creature. “I better finish my check of the cages before I leave. See you in the morning - eight sharp?”
Irritated frustration filtered over Sue’s face. “Yeah, eight. Be ready to clean cages tomorrow. I’m fixing to call it a day myself.” Sue turned for the comfort of her climate-controlled office. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya.” Meagan waved over her shoulder. A crisp breeze swept through the open-air kennels as she checked each occupant. She wanted to remove herself from Sue’s temper and negative attitude. “God loves you guys,” she whispered to her furry friends behind the bars of the cages. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Slowly, she made her way through the runs checking for feces and gathering any she located. The chore had to be done, but most of the volunteers figured the poo-poo fairy accomplished the task. Rolling her eyes skyward, she sighed and tossed her discoveries in the outgoing bin. Her arms ached, and her back grew tight with the pain of the fall. When she reached the truck, she stopped. The sun was still warm in the dusky clouds of a pre-spring day as she bowed her lean body backward in an attempt at relaxing some of the tension of a long day. A good twist left then right before snatching back up her jacket had the nerves along her spine protesting. Her snort filled the air. “Well, I didn’t leave anything in the fridge for dinner. Guess it’s frozen egg rolls for me,” she muttered to no one as she unlocked her truck.
Chapter 3
The wolf’s senses directed his escape. Wasting no time, he managed to reach the wood line. Darting into the thick undergrowth of the heavily wooded area surrounding the shelter, the wolf didn’t slack up. His breath came in pants as he bound through the briars and tangle of the densely vegetated haven. He needed solitude, a place he could shift. But he was still too close to danger, so he kept going. Deeper into the maze of vines and thorns he delved. After miles, he slowed. With his body fatigued and flagging, he came to a spot he remembered.
A small barn rested in an overgrown thicket of trees. Not quite a forest yet, but certainly more than a cutover, the tree trunks jutted up toward the sky from within the barn’s frame with branches breaking through the weathered walls. Far from prying eyes, the wolf was confident the dog catcher had long ago given up the search for him. He was safe. It was time.
The shift took minutes – no more than four or five. but if a werewolf were unlucky enough to be seen during the transformation, the consequences could be staggering. Without further delay, Dorran started to change. Hair receded, skin texture softened, claws retracted, and bones moved under flesh. Contours reformed and redefined the molecular structure of the wolf. Soon, his muzzle became a face – a man’s face with two legs instead of four. The man stretched as if giving his bones a final slide into their respective slots. The man’s only remaining trait was his bicolored eyes – one pool green and the other a rich sapphire blue. Gathering clothes he had stashed inside the ancient structure, the man shrugged into a sweatshirt and fatigues. He shoved into the black combat boots before glancing up at the canopy of trees. Pines, dark green in color, towered over Dorran, the werewolf in man form.
The council had seen to his creature comforts by providing him with a meal. The meat was seared to perfection, and he ate greedily. When a wolf shifts, his energy levels go through a massive amount of strain. His were no different. How long had it been since his last meal? He shrugged off the notion and broke the seal on the packet of blood. Fresh – his satisfaction in that fact made him warm somewhat toward the shadow walkers council from whom he derived his orders and his existence. The pig’s blood was as fresh as if he had killed the meal himself – the need proved a long-ago by-product of a near-death experience which made him what he was and forged the bond he shared with the vampire, J.T.
He was safe. Gratitude washed over him in a quick wave. The capture had been an extremely close call. Though the Sultan’s blood scent was strongest there, Dorran would have to wait before attempting another visit to the shelter. Yes, he had gotten too close, and his cover had been blown. The dog catcher must have discovered him lurking near the property’s parameter. Sloppy is what his SEAL team bud, J.T. would say about his performance. Daylight recons were risky at best, but he had been caught off his guard by the catcher. His reasoning was no excuse, but he had lingered too long looking at the woman. Even now he stood on shaky ground when his mind thought of her. Off limits was his warning shot to the rest of his body. She was out of his league. Hands off!
Time to move out. The tracking device beeped from his wrist unit signaling his target must be on the move. Gathering his trash, he cleared the area of any hint of his being there and wiped his hands on his fatigues. Dorran piled limbs on the bike, his Harley to keep the machine safe from gleaming chrome and the shiny silver paint job he had just recently managed on a bounty hunters’ pay. Firing the engine could bring the enemy looking for him, so he headed for the highway on foot.
***
The ratty, old clunker was paid for. That was the nicest part of driving the aged and crippled Ford. “Wish I had the money for a Chevy. Even a used one would make three of this heap.” As if the truck understood the dish, the motor sputtered before rolling over. Dark smoke puffed out of the tailpipe. “God, help me. I’m polluting the air as well. One of the days, the EPA is going to knock on my door.” Megan glanced in the rearview mirror at her reflection. The large brown eyes blinked back at her. Shoving a stray, dark curl back, she gripped the wheel before putting the truck in reverse and backing out of the gravel parking lot. She wanted a good long soak in the tub. Her limbs tensed in response to a gust of chilled wind coming through the truck’s lowered window. “Damn, where is spring?”
Before Meagan could manage the soaking-in-the-tub dream, she had chores to do. Hunkering down in her thin pea coat, she fixed her eyes on the road ahead. Curvy and winding, the country road was rough and bumpy. “Damn log trucks,” she muttered to the empty passenger seat. Her house-sitting gig provided extra money and came with the added responsibilities of tending the Latimars’ horse, Traveler along with their two dogs, Copper and Gracie. The farm was miles out of town on an extra bumpy road. She didn’t mind though. That’s what friends did.
Meagan owed them a dept of gratitude she realized she could never repay. They had rescued her from the clutches of the diabolical tyrant known as the Sultan. Then they had gone all Rambo on his soldiers and brought her parents back home safe and sound. When your life is stolen from you like hers had been, the fact that someone like the members of Shadow Company would risk their next breath to save yours made them special. Hell, they were more than friends in her eyes, they were family.
The drive out to their farm gave her time to rehash the drama involving the gorgeous black and silver canine she had tried to calm before Carl botched everything with his hard-handed approach to dog control.
If she was not mistaken, the animal had the most marvelous eyes. A magnetic blue that switched to an aquamarine green and back again depending on the amount of light. A mesmerizing hypnotic eye color she decided. Had he looked directly at her? She sensed his gaze fall on her as he stood his ground under Carl’s cruel hand. Something stirred inside her. “I wish I had been quicker,” she murmured. “Surely he’ll find shelter for the night. Tomorrow I plan on walking the property line surrounding the shelter. Perhaps he is still out there somewhere.” The words were out, and there was no one to hear. Silly girl. Talking to one’s self signaled a bad habit she needed to break. Her laugh came out hollow. Oh well. At least she did not answer herself.
Sitting about eight hundred yards off the highway, the house looked small but cozy. Dust rose as the ancient Ford drove up the gravel drive. Meagan noticed immediately that the massive barn doors were rolled back. She could have sworn she had shut them after feedi
ng Traveler that morning. The Ford rolled to a stop and coughed a black plumb of smoke before the clattering stopped and the clunker died. Without opening her driver’s side door, she examined the doors and then the interior of the weather worn barn which was home to Traveler. Seeing nothing out of place, she cut the ignition and stepped out. The argument with herself over whether she had closed the doors before leaving that morning faded in the waning light and weight of her frazzled nerves. “Oh, well,” she sighed. Closing them this time wasn’t so much of a foregone conclusion.
Her ritual was to feed Traveler. While he ate, she took the opportunity to brush his long mane. So much hair but she loved him. Since she had always dreamed of owning a horse, Meagan took a special interest in tending to this one. Perhaps one day she would. In the meantime, she vowed to enjoy Traveler and the dogs.
Copper and Gracie came bounding toward her as she picked up the scoop and gathered a portion of grain for Traveler. “How are you guys doing?” Glancing from the Mountain Cur to the Catahoula Cur, she smiled. “You two never age,” she marveled. Reaching down, she gave each a good scratch behind the ears. Copper reached up with his paw as she drew back. “Oh, you’re so rotten. Want some more loving?”
The Mountain Cur’s tail wagged swiftly in reply.
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