by Megan Morgan
“Shit.” Deacon huffed as the four of them marched down the yard. “So much for peace and quiet.”
As they approached the trees, a sense of dread swept through Lorena. Dangerous darkness clouded her vision.
“Wolvites,” she gasped. “I can feel it.” She raised her gun in both hands.
About fifty feet of tall grass lay beyond the dog pen, before the trees began. Though it was dark, there was enough light from the house to see the grisly scene spread out there.
The other three dogs had been brutally attacked. They had ragged holes in their throats, blood splashed across the grass. One was still writhing.
“Ah, hell,” Ray said miserably. “Shep!” He hurried toward the convulsing dog.
Lorena tried to push her horror aside and focus. The Wolvite—or Wolvites—that had done this were not gone. Something lurked in the trees, watching. Something that had every intention of tearing their throats out as well.
“You bastards!” Deacon pointed his gun into the trees. “Come out here and fight us.”
“Sons of bitches.” Zeke’s voice was tight. The other two dogs were his. “You cowardly bastards come out here and tangle with something more your size!”
Lorena swept her gun back and forth, and tried to control her powers so they wouldn’t distract her. The world around her had brightened, her vision gone sharp.
A shot rang out. Ray had put the mortally wounded dog out of its misery.
The second of distraction proved deadly. A dark shape sprang from the trees in front of Lorena. In an instant, huge, powerful limbs locked around her. She didn’t have time to pull the trigger.
She screamed as the thing lifted her off her feet. Her gun flew from her hands. As it spun around toward the trees, she caught a glimpse of other massive shapes. It was an ambush.
“Lorena!” Deacon’s voice, before it was drowned out by a volley of gunfire.
The Wolvite that had her squeezed so tight she could barely breathe. She struggled and kicked, and dug her nails into one of the hairy limbs locked around her middle. A huge, hot, reeking body pressed against her back.
“Let me go!”
The creature heaved and panted, its snout pressed against her spine. Instead of biting her, it carried her into the darkness of the trees. At first, in blind terror, she assumed it intended to drag her off and eat her, but it kept going. Deeper and deeper into the trees they ran, until the blasts and shouting were muffled by the dense foliage.
She screamed as loud as she could. “Deacon!”
The Wolvite continued to run, carrying her effortlessly. Where the hell was it taking her?
Chapter 3
Deacon pushed his superhuman strength to the point of exhaustion searching the forest, the entire time frantic and desperate, terrified at any moment he’d find Lorena’s bloodied-up corpse done the way those bastards had done the dogs. His sense of smell took him only so far. The stink of Wolvites was too strong and it covered up her tracks. He lost all trace of her in the dense trees, not a sniff of her on the wind.
He paced the backyard now, raking his hands through his hair, his heart fit to pound out of his chest.
“It ain’t like them to drag it out,” his Daddy said. He stood on the deck. “They just kill and leave them, most times. They’ve taken her off somewhere.”
Stacy sat in the grass, head in her hands, next to the remains of her dogs in two plastic sacks. Jack sat on the steps, looking pale and dazed.
“If they killed her, we would have found her,” his Daddy continued. “Even if we didn’t stumble on her, we would have smelled it.”
Deacon stopped pacing. “We gotta go back out there. We gotta keep searching.”
His Daddy sighed. “Deacon, in the past year we’ve had to relearn everything we thought we knew about Wolvites. We ain’t dealing with idiot animals now. They’ve taken her hostage, and we’re not going to find her until they want us to.”
Deacon gripped his hair again. “Why? Why the hell would they take her hostage?”
“Maybe they want something.” Jack spoke flatly. “Maybe they want me.”
Deacon lowered his hands.
Jack shrugged. “I just come back to town. Maybe they know that. Maybe they want me to pay for what happened to Mel. They probably expected me to come down there with you, but like a damn fool, I didn’t bring my shotgun. So they nabbed Lorena instead, to bargain for me.”
Deacon shook his head. “They ain’t getting any of us. We gotta find her and bring her back.”
Jack stared across the yard. “Maybe I should go in the woods and give myself up.”
Deacon’s Daddy held out a hand. “We ain’t doing nothing rash. If they got her hostage and they want something from us, they’re bound to send a message. Then maybe we can track where they took her.”
The house door opened and Zeke stepped out. “I called my army buddies. They’ll be here in about an hour and they’re gonna bring their equipment so we can sweep the woods better.” He walked over to the railing and looked down at Stacy.
Stacy sniffed. Clem sat near the bags and gazed at them.
“I can’t wait no hour.” Deacon strode to the steps. “I gotta go back out there.” His muscles burned, his chest ached, and his senses were whittled down, but he would keep moving until he collapsed.
“I’m coming too,” Jack said as Deacon thundered up the steps past him. “If they want me, I’ll hand myself over and you can get her back.”
“Them monsters ain’t taking you.” Deacon snatched up his rifle. “I don’t know how many of them are left, but we’re getting rid of them.”
The door to the house opened again and Grammy tottered out, a bottle of murky green liquid in her hand. “You need to drink this.” She held it out to Zeke. “All of you. It’ll keep your strength up. I put it together just now, but it ought to be potent enough.”
Zeke took a swig and winced. He handed it to Deacon’s Daddy.
Grammy walked over to Deacon. “She likes to get my back up, but I don’t wish her no harm. You find her, and find them Wolvites and make them pay.”
Deacon took a hit of the potion after it was passed to him, and grimaced. It was oily and bitter, but he got a surge of renewed energy from it.
They returned to the woods—Deacon, his Daddy, Zeke, and Jack, who took one of the extra rifles. Deacon couldn’t sit on his hands and wait for the Wolvites to “negotiate,” or for something much worse to happen, like Lorena’s body turning up.
His Grammy’s restorative gave him pep, for a bit, anyhow. As before, all they could smell was the lingering stink of Wolvites. Beneath that, Lorena’s faint scent led him through the trees, but quickly faded out. He tried to hold on to hope his Daddy was right. If they’d killed her, he’d pick up the scent of death right away.
Zeke’s friends arrived with much stronger flashlights, and a few infrared gadgets and thermal detectors.
Deacon plunked down in the grass at the bottom of the yard and gave the search over to them. The stink of dog’s blood hung thick on the air, curling in his nostrils and making his stomach turn.
His Daddy sat down beside him, rifle across his knees. “We’re gonna find her, Deacon. I don’t believe they’ve killed her. Maybe Jack’s right, maybe it’s him they want. That cursed wife of his, I bet she’s still out there, conniving.” He spat in the grass.
Deacon couldn’t imagine killing his own blood, but if Chelsea was out there and she had a hand in this…
“Lorena had a dream about her last night,” Deacon said. “Maybe it was an omen.”
“Your Mama has dreams about things what haven’t come to pass. So maybe it was.” He squeezed Deacon’s shoulder. “We’re gonna find her.”
Deacon gazed at the spot where she’d last been standing, before the monster snatched her off her feet, faster than he could aim. Deacon found her gun in the grass, after. She was somewhere out there, at their mercy, with no way to fight them.
He flopped back and stared up
at the night sky, splashed with thick ribbons of stars. The moon was waning. In the distance, he caught the rustling of people moving through the trees on their search.
“Where you at, girl?” he murmured.
He wished he could feel her the way she felt him, that funny little connection she had that told her when he was in danger. He wished he could fly to her rescue the way she’d flown to his so many times.
Zeke’s friends went farther out than they had, and searched more thoroughly than they could even with their heightened senses. The holler where the Wolvites used to live was a good five miles off and a few of them drove out there, too.
Shortly before dawn, they came back bedraggled and empty-handed.
“Jesus.” Deacon sat on his parent’s couch, nearly delirious for want of sleep, but no part of him could settle down enough for it. “How damn far could they have taken her? Where could they be?”
His Mama handed him a cup of coffee and he took it, too washed out to do anything but nod at her in thanks.
“It’s hard to say.” Jack sat in a chair across from him, drooping and glassy-eyed. “Maybe they got vehicles now. I mean, they got human forms.”
“Them boys turned over every leaf.” Zeke stood in the doorway. “I mean, the good news is we didn’t find no sign she’s dead. Not a drop of blood. We need to go out in the holler when it gets light, search them caves. I’d bet my paycheck that’s where they took her.”
His Mama sat down next to him and stroked his hair. “Deacon, you need to try to get some rest, at least a few hours. You can’t keep going.”
He sipped the coffee. Decaf, he could tell straight away. His Mama wasn’t no fool.
“Maybe Hazel can give you something to help you sleep,” she said. His Mama didn’t do herbalism. She was an elemental witch. “Go on and ask her. If you’re fresh, you can search better. You need your senses.”
Deacon handed her the cup. He got to his feet and swayed. He might just pass out and take care of it. “We all ought to get some shut eye. First thing when we wake up, we’re heading out to the holler.”
* * * *
Lorena had no idea where she was.
Her Wolvite captor had carried her a long distance, never seeming to tire, the iron grip of its arms unfaltering. She kicked and screamed at first, which earned warning growls and squeezes that nearly crushed her ribs, but eventually she just hung there, limp and baffled. The sound of trickling water stayed on her right, like they were following a creek or stream. The Wolvite pushed through the thick foliage effortlessly. She kept her head down to prevent her face from being whacked by branches.
Finally, they stopped. Before she could react or say anything, she realized they weren’t alone. Other forms stepped from the shadows. The Wolvite holding her panted, its great chest heaving against her back.
Something was pulled over her head—a thin fabric sack that blanked out her vision. She yelped. The Wolvite released her and other hands gripped her. Human hands. Her arms were jerked behind her back and her wrists tied.
“Where am I?” she demanded. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
No one answered. She was picked up again, this time by both her ankles and shoulders. They walked again.
She jerked her head around, but no light penetrated the sack. At least she could breathe, even if it was stuffy inside. She tried to kick her feet but the grip on them was solid.
“Put me down! Where are you taking me?”
“Silence,” a deep male voice said. “If you do not fight, you will not be harmed.”
She whipped her head in the direction of the voice. “Who are you? Dafydd? Abernathy?”
No reply. She tried to squirm against those holding her.
The man spoke again. “This is your last warning. Be still.”
She sagged. Her gun was gone and her witch powers were still no match against Wolvites. Even if she could break free, where would she run, what could she do?
They carried her for a while, though not nearly as long as before. Eventually, she was deposited gently on a soft patch of grass. The sack was pulled off her head.
She saw no faces, only retreating forms in the darkness. She lay beneath a tree.
Though getting into a sitting position with her hands tied behind her wasn’t easy, she managed to do so. Her senses were sharp due to stress and the pulse of nature that infused her. Everything stood out in detail, the night shining, and she felt the presence of others. She didn’t sense anger or hostility, though. Just a strong vibration of…fear? Anxiety?
Beneath her own trepidation, beneath the sensation of others around her, distantly, she felt Deacon. He was terrified, frantic. She wished she could call out to him, connect with him and tell him she was all right. Was he following her trail? Hopefully not. If he came upon the Wolvites, she had a feeling they would not be so kind to him.
Why were they being kind to her?
Someone walked toward her. She felt their approach before she heard footsteps.
A man appeared. He was tall and muscular, shirtless with a pair of pants on, made from some kind of animal hide. Black hair spilled over his shoulders. He had a golden glow about him, as all Wolvites in human form did.
He knelt next to her, a canteen in hand. His eyes were black like obsidian.
“You’re a Wolvite.” She caught a fresh whiff of their repulsive odor, now that her nose had been cleared with fresh air. “What are you going to do to me?”
He gripped the back of her head and pressed the canteen to her lips. She struggled; however, when the cool liquid splashed into her mouth it was just water. She drank.
He withdrew the canteen and she licked her lips, staring at him. He was handsome, strikingly so. As attractive as any deadly shape shifting creature could be.
“Who are you?” She sensed anger in him, roiling and malevolent, but it wasn’t directed at her. His emotion was deep and resonant. He’d suffered a great loss.
“My name is Kendrick.” He was the man who had spoken before, she recognized his voice. “You are the witch known as Lorena. We do not harm witches.”
“I can’t imagine you hold any respect for me. Not that I’m complaining, but why wouldn’t you tear me apart, for what my people did to yours?”
His face seemed to harden, though it was already sculpted from stone. “We do not harm witches,” he repeated. “We were sent to fetch you.”
“Who sent you to fetch me?” She looked around. “And where have I been fetched to?”
“This is still our land. Though there are few of us left, this is our home and we will not leave it.”
She looked back at him. “How many of you are still here?”
His eyes burned with the glow that permeated the rest of his form. “Too few, but enough for revenge on the Lycans.”
She sucked in a breath. “No. What happened, the Lycans didn’t do that to you. That was a terrible accident. My agency did that. They didn’t know you were human.”
He sneered. His eyeteeth curved into thick fangs. “We are not human. We take on this form, but we are not this form.”
She found herself caught between fear and fascination. “Things have changed. My agency—they’re not even really my agency anymore, I’m not with them—has put a moratorium on breaches into Wolvite territory and forceful actions against them until your nature is better understood. The scientist I work for, he’s trying to understand, he’s trying to better grasp what you are and—”
He snarled. “We will never give you our secrets. You only mean us harm.”
“We can come to understand each other, can’t we? We can have peace between us.”
“You have never been interested in peace. You come into our homes and attack us. Lycans hunt us down.”
“You attacked people too.” She sat tense, ready to lurch away if he lunged at her. “Your kind have attacked many people, for many years.” The bite on her mother’s thigh swam into her mind. “Without provocation, even.”
; “Many of those times we were retaliating for Lycan violence against us. We never murdered to murder, as you have done.”
“No?” She lowered her voice. “Is a woman asleep in a tent a threat to you? Were you protecting yourself then?”
He narrowed his eyes. Of course, that happened far away from here, years ago. He had nothing to do with it. None of them did, probably.
“My mother,” she said. “Your kind killed her, in her sleep, on a camping trip.”
Before he could respond, voices came from the trees. Lorena looked around. She jerked her aching, numb wrists in their bonds.
“Someone wishes to speak to you.” Kendrick rose. “That is why you have been fetched. You are necessary.”
She looked up at him wide-eyed. “Who wishes to speak to me?”
He walked away.
The sense of fear and anxiety intensified. The forest brightened. Then, a figure filled her vision, glowing white.
“Neala,” Lorena gasped.
She wore the white dress from Lorena’s dreams, but it wasn’t flowing and ethereal. Instead, it drooped shaggy and thin around her gaunt frame, the hem blackened with dirt. Her hair hung tangled over her shoulders. Her face was ashen and skeletal. She didn’t look like an angel or a ghost, but a sad, defeated, sickly and starving young woman.
“Lorena,” she said. “I need your help.”
Chapter 4
Lorena was allowed to walk this time, though her hands remained tied behind her. They followed a wide path. In the distance, light filtered through the trees.
Neala walked in front, leading Lorena and a group of Wolvites in human form. “I couldn’t let you see the way here.” She spoke to Lorena. “Or else you might show the Lycans how to get here.”
Did that mean they would allow her to go back?
They stepped out of the trees and into a long ravine with a stream flowing through the center of it. The walls were tall and trees hung over it, creating a sort of roof of leaves and branches. Ramshackle wooden huts and sagging lean-tos populated the floor of the ravine. Most had campfires flickering in front of them, which filled the ravine with an orange glow. It looked like some sort of shanty town.
