by Alex Kidwell
“Oh my goodness, Randall, you are a lifesaver,” Victor announced. “Tea is exactly what this morning calls for. Tea will solve everything.”
“Ah, yes,” Randall replied dryly, pulling out several travel mugs. “I heard about the recent Parkinson’s cure. Cup of tea and everything will be fine.”
Anthony’s happy chatter was cut short, and Victor rubbed a hand over his face, looking guilty. “My apologies,” Victor sighed. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, I do that a lot.”
Looking horrified at himself, Randall closed his eyes, forcing out a breath. “No. No, I’m sorry. That was completely uncalled for. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You’re thinking your brother is sick and you’re worried.” Jed’s brisk voice cut in, and he nudged Randall out of the way to rifle through his own bag. “Jesus, kid, if that’s the worst thing you say then you probably got something up your ass bigger than a Chinese stripper pole. It sucks, the whole situation sucks, but we’re going to fix it. That’s the point of this little operation.” He found the gun he was looking for and strapped it on. “Now have your tea. We’re moving out in ten.”
“And we’re nearly there,” Anthony said, giving Randall a playful shove. “So stop looking so down.”
Redford had to admit, he was starting to admire just how cheerful Anthony seemed most of the time. If he had a degenerative disease with no known cure, Redford knew he’d be incredibly depressed and probably wouldn’t work up the motivation to get out of bed. But Anthony had his brothers to take care of—whatever his own feelings on his illness were, he wasn’t indulging them.
Rolling his eyes, Randall bumped his shoulder against his brother’s. He poured the tea, which both Edwin and Jed promptly declined. “I’m afraid I only have the horrid powdered creamer.” He sighed heavily. “Anthony? Victor? Can I fix you something?” He gave Redford a slight smile. “How about you, Redford? It’s my favorite blend, and I think Victor is right, it’s exactly what’s called for this morning.”
Victor took a mug appreciatively, wrapping long fingers around it and taking a grateful sip. Jed brought out his instant coffee, and between himself and Randall they got everyone a hot morning beverage of choice. Redford tried the tea. It was better than coffee, not as bitter, but he still didn’t see the appeal.
Redford and Edwin gathered around the hot plate, joining Victor and Randall, while Anthony puttered around in the van, cleaning up, and Jed attempted to shave in the side-view mirror one-handed while never letting go of his coffee. After a brief discussion between Anthony and Jed, Anthony got into the driver’s seat, and Jed squeezed himself into one of the backseats, with Redford seated beside him. For a while, he watched Anthony’s driving closely, clearly not sure about giving up control. But Anthony handled the van well enough, and eventually Jed’s head dropped onto Redford’s shoulder and he drifted off, snoring quietly when sleep finally claimed him.
Redford woke Jed up as they pulled into the first diner they saw, and got breakfast to go. No one argued the chance to eat on the road and shorten their trip. They were cramped and exhausted, anxious to reach their destination. Once they were back on the road, Redford entertained himself by stealing pieces of Jed’s bacon out of his to-go box. Redford had ordered himself a gigantic breakfast platter, eggs and sausage and ham, and he hardly needed more, but Jed’s possessiveness over his bacon was too fun to not antagonize. The drive passed in peace, with Victor flipping through the pages of a book and Randall reading too, while Edwin and Anthony kept switching the radio channels.
The closer they got to their destination, the more nervous Redford was feeling. He liked the Lewises, and he was starting to feel relatively comfortable around them—but where they were heading, there would be a lot more wolves. Dozens, possibly hundreds. While Anthony had laughed at the idea of calling wolves by rank, like alpha and beta, Redford wasn’t sure if that was unique to their family or not. He’d already had one bad experience with a wolf who thought himself an alpha. What would happen if there were wolves like that at the compound?
As per the directions they had, they turned left at a lake and started heading down a long dirt road, walled in on either side by tall trees. Jed had taken over driving duties and was muttering under his breath every time the van hit a bump in the road. Edwin had stuck his head out the window, taking deep breaths. Randall was holding onto the back of his shirt with a long-suffering expression, nose still buried in his book.
Redford didn’t know how far away they were, but with the window opened, he could smell it. Wolves. A lot of them. He couldn’t pin down exact numbers, but there had to be at least a hundred. Probably more.
But showing nervousness wasn’t going to help, so he gritted his teeth and kept watching out the side window. He just had to trust that these wolves wouldn’t be like Filtiarn.
The van jolted to a stop, and Jed muttered, “Fuck.” There was a steel and wire gate across the dirt road, overgrowth heavy around it. The whole thing looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. There was even a rusty No Trespassing sign hanging crookedly from one side.
For a moment they all just sat there, considering it. Jed unbuckled his seat belt. “Stay in the car,” he ordered, opening the door and stepping out. There was the quiet ping, ping, ping of the van alerting them he’d left the keys in the dash, echoing in the eerie stillness of the woods. Jed’s boots were loud against the gravel as he walked closer to the gate. Redford watched as Jed slipped his gun from his holster, the tense set of Jed’s shoulders easy to read, even through the dusty windows of the van.
Anthony huffed a sigh. “Humans,” he muttered, climbing out of the van and grabbing Jed’s shoulder to tug him back from the gate. “You might want to let me do this, Jed,” Anthony said, an amused little smile on his lips. “They might not be all too happy about a human just stomping up to their gates.”
He tested the gate with a brief push, but it didn’t budge. Then Anthony tipped his head back and howled. It was long, wavering only slightly at the end, and Redford could pick up on the meaning of it right away.
I need help, the howl said.
It faded into the stillness of the air, echoing slightly off the trees. Surely, Redford figured, someone would hear that. Jed had jumped a little at the howl, just a quick jerk of his shoulders, and growled under his breath. “Fucking freaky loud wolves,” he muttered, but he took a step back, just behind Anthony, though his grip hadn’t loosened on the gun.
For a long moment, there was simply stillness. Edwin and Randall were tense, leaning into the quiet, as if waiting for something. Knievel’s ears pricked forward. The cat was sitting on Edwin’s lap, tail lashing in irritation. After seconds ticked by with nothing but the faint rustle of tree limbs, Randall sagged back in his seat, slumping in disappointment. But Edwin grinned, eyes flashing. “They’re here.”
Five wolves appeared, flashing in between the trunks at the tree line like ghosts half-seen. As they came closer, the drumbeat of their run turned into stalking forward, ears flat back against their heads. They stopped a ways away, teeth bared, a low, menacing growl rippling through the pack. Anthony held up his hands, showing that he wasn’t armed and he wasn’t going to shift, and put himself between them and Jed. “Jed, it might be a really good time to put away the gun,” he muttered. Then, to the wolves, with a pleasant grin, he said, “I’m Anthony Lewis. Our parents used to be part of the Gray Lady’s pack.”
Redford directed his gaze away from the growling wolves. If his instincts had been perfectly happy this morning, they were clamoring for attention now, rattling in anger at the back of his mind, snarling protect Mate-Jed-Journey, no other wolves. He shut it out as best he could, because the last thing that anybody wanted was a fight to break out.
Well. The last thing anyone but Jed wanted. Because he still was holding his gun, though he had, surprisingly, lowered it to point at the ground. Which was pretty much as relaxed as he ever got in these situations.
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��Inside the van are my brothers, Randall and Edwin,” Anthony continued. “The other wolf you can smell is Redford Reed; he’s a friend. The two non-Canos are Jed Walker, Redford’s mate, and Victor Rathbone, also a friend.”
“Whoa, whoa, not a mate. Not… mating.” Jed glanced at Anthony, who gave him a baffled look in return. “But we’re just here to do a little business with the boss lady. Want to drop the furry act so we can talk?”
One of the wolves sneezed, a sound that almost might have been a laugh. It took a step forward, and then it was a man with red hair past his shoulders, arms folded across his bare chest, completely unconcerned that his altogether was, well. Swinging in the altogether. “We could talk before, two-legs. And that one”—clear blue eyes darted over at Victor—“isn’t Canos and definitely isn’t human. Though he does smell rather—” The wolf huffed out a laugh. “—scrawny.”
Victor gave a muffled squawk of indignation, but seeing as he remained inside the van, he didn’t seem set on protesting that hard. “He’s a medusa half blood,” Anthony explained, smirking at the wolf’s description. “Just don’t accidentally meet his eyes, and you’ll be fine.”
“My name is Mallory. We patrol these woods.” Mallory studied Anthony carefully. “How do I know we can trust you, Lewis?”
Far from the posturing and growling that Redford had expected from two wolves of their status, Anthony and Mallory were merely calmly studying each other—a little defensive, perhaps, but they didn’t look close to starting a fight to prove dominance. Anthony lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I can’t really say anything that’ll make you trust me,” he apologized. “But I need help. That’s why we’re here, and you know it, because you can smell it. I’m not in any condition to start fights.” He sounded pained to say it.
Mallory simply nodded, circling Anthony, ignoring Jed altogether. Anthony stood still under the study, meeting Mallory’s eyes when he could. “Why is the rest of your pack hiding in the van?”
“Hardly hiding.” Randall climbed out, Edwin following him, Knievel fast on his heels. Apparently she felt as if she had to keep him in line. Both of the remaining Lewises shed their clothes easily and shifted, flanking Anthony even as Mallory’s group did him. Edwin glanced over at the van, yipping softly. Victor clambered out to stand beside Randall, and Redford was last, shoulders hunched. If Edwin expected him to turn, he wasn’t going to. Not here. Jed was right there, arm pressed against Redford, seemingly unfazed by all the wolves.
Randall stood in front of Victor, keeping his place by Anthony’s side. Mallory looked at each of them by turn, gaze lingering on Redford for a long moment, a twitch of a smile appearing when he studied the cat, who was mildly staring them all down, unimpressed. Then he chuckled softly. “You definitely need help,” he told Anthony. “This is the sorriest pack I’ve ever seen.” But he smiled, holding out his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you to see the Lady.”
Laughing at the comment, Anthony reached out to clasp Mallory’s hand. “Thank you,” he said gratefully. “Jed, Victor, Redford, you guys follow us in the van. We’ll go on foot with Mallory.”
Relieved—and still a little nervous about why the wolf’s gaze had lingered on him for so long—Redford got back into the van. Once Jed had scooped up Knievel and gotten himself behind the wheel, he checked to be sure both Redford and Victor were settled. They watched out the dusty window as Mallory swung the gate open. The wolves started trotting their way down the road, flanking the Lewises on all sides, though Redford didn’t know if that was for protection of the Lewises or their own security.
“Well, that went okay,” Redford said hopefully as the van slowly crept along behind the wolves, Jed keeping his foot just barely on the gas. “I think. That went okay, right?”
“No one’s dead, bleeding, or spewing out either end” was Jed’s reply. “I count it as a win.”
Redford rubbed his nose as the scent of wolf grew stronger. The dirt road started to falter as the trees grew denser, and Jed began to curse under his breath as the path became harder to find. The wolves obviously didn’t have vehicles come in very often, because the only trail looked to be worn by foot. Occasionally, the wolves leading them would look back, a distinctly amused glint in their eyes at Jed’s struggles with the van.
It seemed that the camp came into sight very suddenly. One minute the view outside the van had been nothing but trees. Then they emerged into a clearing which Redford hadn’t even seen glimpses of through the forest. The scents hit him like a truck—wolves, a nearby river, fire, the smells of an entire community of hundreds living in secret.
Victor leaned forward to peer out the windshield. “Goodness,” he remarked, looking fascinated.
“Holy fucking LARPers, batnerd.” Jed hung his head out the window, staring around, eyes wide. “What the hell is this place?”
Redford thought that might be a good question. He leaned over alongside Victor as they continued to drive, his gaze darting back and forth, trying to take everything in. The clearing the camp was set in was massive, circled by thick tree cover. As far as Redford could see, there were cabins lining the edge of the circle, rough-hewn, hand built but sturdy looking, some so small they must only be a single room, some that must surely fit a few dozen people.
To the right stood larger buildings that Redford thought might be for community use. He twisted his head to look through the windows of one as they drove past, and stared in stunned silence at the rows of desks covered with books and pencils, young children attentively watching a teacher write on a blackboard.
“Jed, they have a school,” he said, reluctantly turning away when he could no longer see through the windows. He caught a glimpse of a playground at the back of the school, a clearly hand-built slide and a seesaw, kids in human and wolf form alike playing happily.
There was a painful kind of sadness on Jed’s face as he watched them, one fuzzy wolf darting around underneath the slide, apparently on the receiving end of a game of tag. For a long moment, Jed didn’t say anything, fingers tightening on the wheel as he followed their escort to park the van alongside a building. “Yeah, Fido,” Jed finally answered, quiet, voice thick as he ducked his head, checking his weapons, tightening the straps on his chest holster. “I see it.”
Redford moved aside as Victor got out of the van, but didn’t follow. “What’s wrong?” Redford frowned at Jed. “Did you not like the school you went to?”
Jed seemed to be taking quite a long time to check all his guns. “My school was just fine,” he said, words clipped, jaw tight. “Not my school that I’m thinkin’ about, here.” Before Redford could form the next question, Jed was swinging out of the van, tossing the keys to Anthony with a sharp whistle. “Come on, Red. Time to meet the furries.”
Redford, as he hopped out of the van, worriedly hoped that the wolves wouldn’t be insulted by Jed calling them furries. Knievel seemed content to march alongside their feet, tail thrashing in irritation when Jed attempted to pick her up. Randall was grabbing his clothes out of his bag, having changed back. Edwin didn’t seem so inclined. Hopping on one foot as he got his shoes back on, Randall gave him a slight smile as Redford closed the van door behind him and looked out into the camp. They had parked near one of the bigger buildings, though Redford couldn’t guess what it was used for—his gaze was more drawn to the bonfire set in what looked to be the direct center of the camp. There were wolves gathered around it, relaxing, reading, some of them curiously looking back at the newcomers. Redford instinctively hunched his shoulders and put himself near Jed’s side.
“The Gray Lady is expecting us,” Anthony called, absently dodging as Edwin—still a wolf—ran past his legs. “Jed, lose the weapons. This isn’t a war meeting.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening, Lassie.” Jed didn’t even look at Anthony, his eyes restlessly roaming over the camp, the buildings, his shoulders tense. Jed didn’t like to be put in situations where he didn’t know the lay of the land ahead of time. Redford could see his ga
ze darting to the shadows of buildings, the edges of the bonfire, the thick darkness of the trees beyond the camp.
“Jed,” Anthony tried again.
“You got fangs, princess fluffy?” Jed snapped. “You got teeth? Well I’ve got my damn guns. So shut up and keep walking.” Redford could hear Anthony give a sigh, but he let the conversation drop. With every step, Jed seemed to get more irritated, fingers tight around the butt of one of his guns. He dropped to the back of the group, suspiciously studying the wolves they passed.
Edwin found this all rather funny, apparently, chuffing at Jed’s knees before taking off in a run toward the large cabin they were approaching. “Edwin,” Anthony barked, a sharp tone of urgency to his words.
It was echoed in Randall’s more desperate, “Edwin!” His ears going back, Edwin skidded to a halt, looking over his shoulder mournfully. Redford glanced between the brothers and saw Victor doing the same out of the corner of his eye, wondering what was happening.
Anthony put a hand on Edwin’s nape. “We’re in unfamiliar company.” Redford could only barely make out Anthony’s words. “What’s more, we’re in the home of the oldest wolf alive. You can stay as you are, but please don’t run around like a pup who thinks he owns the place.”
Edwin’s ears were pointed back, his tail still for the first time Redford could remember. After a moment, Edwin huffed a sigh and rolled over, showing his stomach with a whine. Randall rolled his eyes. “And stop acting like we’re beating you, just because we want you to behave.”
Wriggling his body, Edwin arched his head up, blowing a huff of air into Randall’s face. Randall’s stern expression didn’t falter, but he, along with Anthony, gave Edwin’s stomach a pat. “I know, I know. Lots of stuff to smell,” Randall agreed with a sigh. “But later, okay? They might kick us out.”
