Call of the Lycan (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 3)

by Deidre Huesmann

  But what if he does die? You’ll be running for nothing.

  That single thought was enough to slow Holden to a stop. He stood in the midst of the woods, breathing heavily and trying to think.

  If Aaron didn’t die then he had to make himself scarce. Holden had no doubt his former alpha would plot out his revenge and that it would not end with mere scars on his stomach this time.

  Absently he rested his palm against the raised marks beneath his shirt, marveling how they no longer tingled when he grew angry at the temperamental man. It gave Holden confidence that Aaron’s death was necessary, regardless of the outcome of his latest attempt.

  And if he did die, Holden would have to step in as alpha. The others would hate him; no doubt Nathan would go into a rage and try to kill him as he’d slaughtered Holden’s parents so many years ago.

  But if Holden failed to step in that pack was lost.

  Holden had been completely honest with Aaron back in the clearing. Being a lycan was no fault of the pack. He wished he had seen that sooner instead of focusing on his own misery. Rachael’s words the other night had been what finally forced him to self-reflect on his choices thus far.

  He felt he could right his wrongs. If Holden worked hard enough, one day he could help them become less terrible and more human. As he was. As they should have been.

  Holden let out a low sigh. With renewed vigor he began his trek back toward the Moreno house. He had mostly run in a straight line, so getting lost was not a concern.

  Easily he got close enough to hear Jackson and Rachael’s voices. He paused behind a large fir, resting his back against the trunk and pricking his ears. Soon enough he heard a voice that made his stomach drop.

  “Aaron is still quite conscious and can speak for himself, thank you.”

  Well, great. Not only was he alive, he had retained his irritating sense of humor.

  Holden was screwed.

  He closed his eyes and continued to listen while wracking his brain for another plan. For the time being Rachael seemed determined to stick by the pack. If he didn’t want her to get any ideas of turning, he’d have to remain relatively close but distant enough so Aaron couldn’t come after him. Or Nathan or Jackson, he supposed, but their experience was not enough to worry him. Nathan was a skilled dirty fighter but too much of a child. Jackson was a very young lycan, which was automatically a weakness on his end. Holden could take him easily and had proven it more than once in the past.

  To his relief, they ultimately decided against taking Aaron to the hospital. This bought him at least an extra couple days and levied him some advantages. The wound would heal quicker than a human’s, but Aaron was bound to be restricted to the house for at least a few days. If Holden decided to strike before then, his former alpha would be weakened.

  At the sound of rustling his head shot up; they were moving. Holden waited until their footsteps began to fade before he snuck around and followed at a distance. Once at the clearing he paused to study his handiwork. There was disappointingly little blood on the ground, creating a morbid bit of mud where Aaron had fallen. Holden crouched near it and traced the tips of his fingers around the coppery substance.

  There wasn’t nearly enough for Aaron to bleed out, he decided grimly. A pint, maybe two was on the ground if he accounted for whatever the earth had absorbed. The average person needed to lose at least four pints of blood for it to be fatal, and it had to be rapid. Aaron had bled but not near quick enough, and as a lycan with some small measure of rapid healing ability he needed to lose at least six pints to get the desired result.

  In short, today Holden had committed an epic fail.

  He allowed himself a short growl of frustration. The pack’s only chance at rehabilitation was to oust the old leader and replace him with a new one. Holden was confident he could do the right thing, given the time. Resources and loyalty would come eventually. What he needed was to take over.

  The longer Aaron was alive, the harder that would be.

  Holden rose to the flats of his feet and crept his way toward the house again. Occasionally he’d catch a glimpse of Rachael walking alone. She kept looking around nervously.

  And her hands were suspiciously empty.

  He wasn’t foolish enough to cross the property line. Holden fell a few yards short. Confident Rachael was safe for the time being, he decided to make one more stop before leaving Douglas Park.

  Sure enough, he found the Remington where he had given it to her. She must have dropped it. Holden shook his head and retrieved the weapon, tucking it into his jacket once more. Since Aaron refused to get human authorities involved, he wasn’t concerned about the ballistics of the bullet tracing back to him.

  Silly girl, he thought sadly. It could have at least offered her a sliver of protection against the unknown. Though at the same time, he couldn’t picture Rachael pulling a trigger. She was too gentle-hearted for such a cold kill.

  Rachael was infinitely a better person than him. It was something Holden continued to love about her, even as it irritated him to the core.

  It took nearly two hours on foot for Holden to hike out of the forest and emerge on the other side of town. He hurried to his beat-up car, still left untouched in a parking lot crammed full of soccer moms attending a school sport in the adjoining field. Holden kept his cool as he pulled out and drove away, careful not to draw attention to himself.

  His new place was almost three hours away by car and he knew he had a long night ahead of him. Different plans had to be made and he needed a new outfit. He’d been living out of his suitcase long enough.

  Holden drove until the sun set. He had underestimated the potential for traffic, unfortunately. Tonight he would not find a department store open so late, but he did decide he was hungry. So he pulled into a fast food restaurant parking lot and turned off the engine.

  Just as Holden stepped out of the vehicle a familiar face caught his eye. He blinked, wondering who he could possibly know so far away from Keeton. They were well into the big city, after all.

  The other person appeared to recognize him as well. She made a few quick motions to the middle-aged couple walking with her—likely her parents—and strode over to him. The couple walked inside the restaurant, vanishing into its inviting warmth and greasy aroma.

  “Holden Cavanaugh,” said Coleen with prim disgust. “What a lovely surprise.”

  He nodded, dismayed by her presence. “Hey.”

  She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “And just what are you doing all the way out here? Did the police finally catch on that you’re a murderer?”

  Her voice was painfully loud, but in that moment the parking lot was empty. Holden sighed and said, “Can we talk somewhere else?”

  Coleen wrapped her plaid scarf tighter. “Why, so you can break my neck, too?” she demanded.

  The cold reminder of the gun tapped his side as Holden shifted his weight. He shook his head. “We can go stand by the drive-thru, just... I can’t have you talking so loud.”

  Whether Coleen’s willingness to follow him was bravery or stupidity, Holden wasn’t certain. But she did follow him, though she remained cautious enough to stay a couple feet away.

  Just as he turned to face her she snapped, “I knew you were a problem the instant you slapped me. Don’t think I forgot that.”

  Exasperated, he said, “You slapped me first.”

  “So what? I’m a girl.” She stomped a well-heeled foot. “And you dare to talk to me like that after what you did to Vera? She didn’t deserve that!” As she spoke tears brimmed in her eyes. “And believe me, coming from the girl who got her boyfriend to cheat on her, I think I know what I’m talking about.”

  Holden shook his head, subtly feeling the gun with his arm as he reached across to scratch his side. “I think your perspective is a little confused,” he muttered. “What do you even want, Coleen?”

  She leaned forward, her eyes sparking and hostile. “To warn you,” she declared. “I’m going to th
e police. I don’t care anymore, not about the lycans, not about the consequences, not if everybody thinks I’m crazy, none of it. I’m telling the world what really killed Vera.”

  Holden frowned uneasily. “Why tell me?”

  “Because,” she said with mocking patience. “Unlike you, I am not a monster.”

  The word stiffened Holden’s spine. “You should really rethink that plan, Coleen.”

  With a snort, Coleen turned to stalk off—only for Holden to grab her by the arms. He practically threw himself backward, causing them to tumble into a bunch of sticker bushes. He easily wrestled the girl to the prickly ground. Coleen opened her mouth to scream but Holden pulled out the gun and aimed it at her head.

  He hissed, “I’m telling you only once: shut up.”

  Coleen finally had the good sense to look terrified.

  Holden pressed his forearm against her throat, using his weight to choke off her words but not her air. “I’m sorry about Vera,” he said. “I really am. She was a great girl and she made Rachael so happy. And you’re right. I screwed up by killing her. I should have given her a chance.”

  Now Coleen just looked confused. Her hair was a mess. Thorns and leaves clung to her tired tresses. She was lucky she’d bundled up for the weather; it protected her from pokes and prods of the natural needles around her. Holden wouldn’t get away quite so easily. And, he knew, they were both going to smell like blackberries for a few hours.

  He hated blackberries.

  Holden exhaled carefully. “I’m not going to shoot you,” he promised as he lowered the gun. “But you can’t scream, or I might have to.”

  Before she could question him, Holden bared his teeth and welcomed the bittersweet pain of a willing change. The cartilage in and around his jaw snapped and crunched as his ineffective human teeth were replaced by deadly incisors.

  Coleen ignored his warning and screamed. So Holden did exactly what he didn’t want to do, and that was to clamp his teeth down around her throat. Her screams turned to horrified, gasping whoops.

  Holden released her once he was certain she’d been infected. He welcomed the even sweeter pain of becoming human again. In a sense just transforming in the face wasn’t so bad.

  It was so strange how the usual agony of the change hadn’t accompanied everything. Transforming still hurt, of course, but since his decision to become the new alpha, Holden had noticed how much less painful it was to become a wolf.

  Though he detested what he’d just had to do, in the end it was going to be for the betterment of everyone.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, brushing Coleen’s hair back as she choked on her blood. Her skin rapidly became feverish as the infection set in. “But this is going to hurt for a while. I need you to fight and live. I promise, once this part’s done you won’t suffer.”

  Coleen burst into quiet sobs. Quickly she had to stop as her throat began to swell and restrict her air. She gasped desperately several times before falling unconscious.

  Holden sighed and tucked his gun back into his jacket. He stood and brushed himself off, stepping out of the bushes.

  Nobody. Thank the heavens. There were no witnesses to what had happened, so he could at least grab a bite to eat before stuffing her in the trunk and leaving.

  Holden carefully adjusted the area where they’d fallen so that the branches and leaves covered Coleen in a shroud of nature. In the blackness of night, nobody was likely to find her so long as she remained out cold.

  He had to admit he was a little surprised her parents hadn’t once come to check on her. Too bad that her abrasive nature made even her parents not care where she was at any given moment.

  Holden shook his head and made his way toward the restaurant. Inside a sickening yellow glow coated the walls and patchy booths. The middle-aged couple Coleen had been with sat off in a booth, chatting about their inane visit to the city. They didn’t seem to notice their daughter was gone.

  They even glanced at him once and didn’t register anything beyond bored disinterest.

  Holden made his way to the front counter and flashed his crooked smile at the girl behind the counter. “Hey,” he said cheerfully. “Can I get a Number 3?”

  Chapter Ten

  Rachael was unable to return to the Moreno house for the rest of the week. Each time she called she always got Jackson, and he would gently insist that the pack needed a couple days to regroup. He didn’t say much else, but she could imagine with Aaron so badly wounded that Nathan was handling it poorly.

  In fact, the entire pack was. Jackson sounded exhausted, and with Nathan upset there was little chance Ana Sofia was taking it well.

  Those few days were agonizing. School seemed like a foreign country where nobody spoke the same language as her. She did dimly note Coleen was absent, but all she heard were rumors that she had run off with a young lover.

  Considering the gossip Coleen had once spread of her, Rachael didn’t bother putting any stock into them. The truth would come out in due time.

  Saturday passed and Coleen never showed or called. Rachael figured there was some grain of truth to the rumors and decided to let it go. Coleen was tough in her own way. She had a penchant for ruin, but always came out clawing and biting.

  Sunday morning Rachael made breakfast of peppered eggs over rice. Simple but filling. She had hardly shoveled a forkful into her mouth when the phone rang.

  In her hurry to answer it before it woke her father from his drunken stupor Rachael slipped on the kitchen linoleum and collided with the refrigerator. She muttered a scornful insult to her clumsiness and picked up the receiver without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

  “Hi, RayRay.”

  She blinked. “Jackie. Hey. What’s going on?”

  “Not much.” He sounded tired but relieved. “Aaron says you can come over to train if you want.”

  So he was pulling through. She sighed and smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

  “Cool.” Jackson went quiet for a moment. “Um... I have to work this afternoon, but Nathan will be with you. Heads up: I think he wants to work on evasion.”

  Rachael hadn’t told any of them about Holden grabbing her. There had never been the time. So she found Nathan’s choice in lesson as fortuitous as she did peculiar.

  She nodded before remembering he couldn’t see her and said aloud, “That’s cool. But... I mean, you’re okay with this?”

  She could picture her brother shrugging with his words. “No. But with things the way they are we sort of called a truce.”

  That was a relief. Rachael tugged at a lock of her hair. “Good. I’m glad.”

  Jackson didn’t respond at first. Then he said, “I’ll come get you in an hour.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be careful.”

  He hung up.

  Rachael’s appetite increased a little. Once she finished her breakfast she rummaged the fridge for some fruit. Her father was, at the very least, following the list when she left requests for groceries taped to his door. She found a container of pre-cut cantaloupe and took it to the living room. While waiting for Jackson she watched a television movie premier and devoured over half the container.

  It made her feel a little better.

  Her father was still asleep when Jackson arrived, so she left a note stating where she’d be. Not that it mattered; Henry always assumed she was with Jackson these days. He’d actually found it odd she’d been home for the latter half of the week.

  Rachael slipped out the front door and tried to hide the beer cans from Jackson’s point of view, but from the pained expression he wore she didn’t think she was successful. Still, he didn’t ask questions and silently took her away.

  At the Moreno house Nathan waited for her outside. Rachael wasn’t sure if she was looking for something that wasn’t there, but she could have sworn that he and Jackson traded coldly civil glances.

  Her brother had not been mistaken. Nathan refused to allow her into the house before they started, and almo
st immediately he charged her. First he attempted to tackle her knees, but Rachael was able to avoid that. What she wasn’t able to avoid was the sneak attack from Ana Sofia, who was in lycan form and perfectly happy to pounce her from behind. Rachael quickly realized this was going to hurt a lot worse than the weapons training.

  For her, at least.

  Rachael was unable to make it inside before Jackson took off. But when she finally did Ana Sofia scrambled upstairs to change before begging for her to make lunch.

  “Please,” said the small girl in her thick accent. Her grasp on English was still rudimentary, but it was understandable. “Jackson so bad at food. He cook ramen with mayo. Not even pepper.”

  Rachael bit down on a horrified giggle. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” She gave Ana Sofia a comforting hug, ignoring her aching muscles. In some stroke of good fortune, she’d never actually been forced to consume her brother’s idea of food. “What about peanut butter and honey sandwiches?”

  Ana Sofia nodded eagerly. “Pickles!”

  Nathan joined them with a sheepish smile. “She means on the side. Fia really likes ‘em.”

  “Okay,” agreed Rachael. “Sandwiches and pickles. And juice.”

  “Don’t got juice,” said Nathan as he pulled Ana Sofia to sit at the dining table.

  “You do not have juice.”

  Rachael stiffened at the voice but tried to pretend she had barely noticed as she pulled milk from the refrigerator. “Milk should be fine.” She tried to sound breezy but her tone was more like a wavering sour note that hung in the air.

  Wearing only jeans and a dark blue T-shirt—which was odd enough—Aaron entered the kitchen and turned his attention to his younger brother. “Nathan,” he said expectantly.

  Nathan rolled his eyes. “We don’t have juice,” he intoned.

  “Thank you,” said Aaron.

  Rachael gathered the things she needed to start lunch. As she spread the peanut butter on bread she shot surreptitious glances at the pack alpha. He stood casually, without hint of his injury. If Aaron wore bandages they weren’t visible under his current attire.