by Dani Harper
There was nothing he could do about it. His job was to make sure his own blood stayed right where it fucking belonged, and to do that, he had to get the hell out of here. Baker opened his eyes and blinked a few times before trying to sit up, which took a few tries. Discovery number one was that a wolfen body didn’t operate the same way—jeez, it didn’t even bend the same way—as a human body did. His head pounded horribly, and the world spun for a long, sickening moment before righting itself. He tried to get the ghastly taste of the thick white ash from his mouth, but that didn’t work. Discovery number two was that wolves couldn’t spit.
Dammit, he thought. There’d better be fucking something a wolf can do, like get my hairy ass out of here. He staggered over to where Tina’s body lay rigid. The dead wolf’s eyes were wide and staring, her head pulled back and the jaws frozen open as if she was howling. Saddened, Baker sighed and moved on, crossing the blackened border of the circle. On the other side, he shook the foul ash from his coat as best as he could and headed into the darkness on uncertain feet.
The dirt floor was black with decades of old motor oil and sawdust, but it felt cool to her abused feet as Neva crossed the threshold. Soft shadow enveloped her body, soothed her sun-reddened skin, and wrung a sigh of relief from her.
Otherwise, the barn looked nothing like the oasis she’d imagined it would be.
No livestock had ever been tucked in here at night. There were no stalls, no harnesses, no grain bins. More importantly, no horse blankets, no feed sacks—nothing she could use to cover herself with, and that was what she’d been hoping for most.
An ancient orange tractor with a flat tire slumped in a corner, next to a long row of rusted implements. Benches and shelves lined another wall, piled with tools and strange metal parts, ancient coffee cans, and endless jars filled with nails, screws, washers, etc. Thick cobwebs draped everything, and Neva jumped as one brushed her arm. Immediately her entire body broke out in goose bumps, and she swore vehemently. She’d seen people die, for heaven’s sake, and here she was still afraid of stupid spiders.
The ladder to the loft seemed solid, and she risked climbing up for a look. No sweet smell of hay greeted her, only the mustiness of decay and countless generations of mice. She could see a tangled mess of old furniture and car parts, even a collection of birdcages, and daylight shone through several sizeable holes in the sagging roof. Disappointed, she returned to the ground floor and sat on a rickety piano stool by the workbench.
Now what? Why couldn’t the guy who owned this old building have left a spare pair of coveralls hanging around instead of the badly stained denture uppers she’d spied amid the tools on the bench? Yuck. Plainly, she’d have been better off following the game trail by the creek. She was hungry, exhausted, sunburned, and thirsty, and her feet were bruised, cut, and bleeding. She had no idea where she was or where Travis had been taking her. And oh, by the way, she was still naked. Damn that big werewolf. She’d already reconciled herself that none of it was his fault, but right now she needed something, someone, to blame.
Why don’t you blame your sire?
Neva threw a hand across her breasts and crossed her legs as the enormous tawny wolf filled the doorway. “What do you want?”
I came to see if you’re okay. And I want to know why you aren’t ragging on your sire instead of me.
“It’s complicated.”
And I’m handy, right?
“Maybe,” she admitted. She could feel color flush her cheekbones.
The big wolf chuffed and wheeled to leave. Whatever. Let’s get going.
“No.”
Why the hell not?
“Look, I’m tired, I’m thirsty, and I’m hungry. So I’m staying here to rest.”
There’s no water, food, or anything else here. Travis came back, stuck his big-maned head through the doorway, and looked around. It’s nothing but a damn garage. So unless you’re a frickin’ car, you’re not going to find what you need here. Now come on.
Of course, he was right. Hadn’t she just come to the same conclusion herself? But the thought of trudging barefoot back across that field on the harsh stems of the stiff, dead grass just made her want to lie down and bawl. Damned if she was going to do that in front of Travis. She wasn’t the teary sort even when she was alone. With a deep breath, Neva stood up—and stumbled as soon as she tried to walk. Pain shot through her bleeding and battered feet and surprised a yelp from her. She stifled it almost immediately, but the great tawny wolf was by her side in a heartbeat.
Sit down. Travis’s voice was loud in her head. Let me see your feet.
She didn’t sit, but leaned wearily on the workbench and held up a foot behind her. The wolf sniffed it, then did something totally unexpected. He licked it.
“Ew! What are you doing?” she said, yanking her foot away. “I don’t want dog germs!”
He snorted. FYI, Changelings don’t have as many germs as humans. In fact, our saliva has healing properties. So why don’t you just sit the hell down and let me look after this?
Neva hesitated, then finally shrugged. At least she’d get to rest a little longer. She returned to the piano stool and rested her feet on a milk crate, one hand in her lap hiding her mons and the other arm folded across her breasts. Mentally she braced herself for smart-ass commentary on her nakedness, or perhaps criticism of her decision to return to human form, but there were no words in her head but her own. The great wolf seemed completely focused on her feet. She was certain it would tickle unbearably or hurt like crazy. Instead, its tongue was like a warm, wet washcloth and soothed wherever it touched.
Its tongue? Strange—maybe it was her imagination or maybe it was part of her newfound Changeling abilities, but Neva sensed that Travis’s inner wolf was fully in charge of this procedure. Did he trust the creature that much? Was she safe with it? Usually Travis was front and center while in his lupine form, but at the moment he was definitely submerged within the animal persona. No sooner had she finished the thought than the animal persona looked up at her and slowly winked one vivid blue eye, as if they were sharing a secret. She relaxed and winked back, although she couldn’t help wondering exactly where Travis was. Asleep? Aware? Could he hear and see what was going on? Just in case, she repositioned her hands to make sure she was covered.
TEN
Travis lay in the tall grass, alert and watchful. With his golden tawny pelt, he was as perfectly camouflaged as a lion on the savannah. Behind him, the barn cast a long, dark shadow as the sun dipped toward the horizon. And his Changeling hearing could easily pick up the soft sounds from inside the building: Neva’s breathing, slow and even.
She’d fallen asleep with her head resting on her arm on the workbench while he (or rather, his alter ego) had bathed her injured feet. Travis had buried himself as deep as he could within the animal, hoping to be less aware of how appealing she was. Hoping to dampen the effects on him. But when her hands had relaxed and slipped from what she sought to hide…Well, better to just get his butt out of there.
Damn stubborn, obstinate, bullheaded woman. He should never have listened to her, should never have given in to her demands. He should have known she wouldn’t voluntarily shift back to wolf once she was human again. And he wasn’t her sire, so he probably couldn’t force her to Change either. He sighed heavily and rested his chin on his paws. Her poor feet had been a frickin’ mess, and he was forced to admire the grit and determination that drove Neva to keep walking on them—although goddess only knew how she’d managed it. It was a helluva lot easier to travel cross-country as a wolf than a naked human, yet she’d persisted in her chosen course. She’d neither complained nor asked for help. He snorted—hadn’t she decided it was his fault and that he was a jerk? Travis told himself he didn’t give a damn what she thought, although somewhere deep inside it bothered him. A lot.
All he could do now was hope that if Neva got some rest and regained some of her strength, she might be willing to listen to reason. And I might learn to fric
kin’ fly.
He sighed heavily, and in the very next breath detected a faint, nearly imperceptible trace of new scents in the breeze. Travis was on his feet in a heartbeat, peering over the top of the tall, dry grass and angling his ears toward the trees and brush of the distant creek. Changelings were on the game trail that he and Neva had left. Through a break in the foliage, he counted five wolves, moving fast. Shit. They would follow until the scent of their quarry ended abruptly…and then it was only a matter of time before they figured out that he and Neva had doubled back. He’d left the path exactly at the point that Neva had, by a fallen-down fence that practically pointed the way to the barn. We might as well have put up a goddamn neon sign.
Cursing himself, cursing Neva, and cursing whoever the hell was following them, he charged into the barn.
Trying to shift to her wolfen form was like trying to coax a flame from a temperamental lighter. It was even harder while trying to scale a rocky hillside naked. Neva tried to keep close to the scrubby bushes, even though her unprotected skin bore fresh scratches and scrapes in several places. Above her, the big golden wolf led the way, choosing the path that would be easiest for her.
They’d run out the back of the barn, wedged a heavy wooden pallet against the door behind them, and headed straight up the hill, keeping the tall barn between them and their pursuers’ line of sight. Neva hoped that their enemies wouldn’t pick up their trail too quickly but—
Travis’s voice in her head was urgent. For Christ’s sake, Neva! You have to Change now! Call your wolf!
“I can’t,” she panted. “I can’t find it.”
Neva climbed up on a small shelf of rock and knelt behind an ancient, stunted pine that was more bush than tree. Its needles jabbed at her mercilessly, but she was past caring about present pain. She peered through the green branches and saw exactly what she didn’t want to see. Five wolves loping over the field, heading for the barn. Natural wolves would yip hunting calls to encourage each other and to frighten their prey into running blindly. The five Changelings, however, were silent as death itself.
Except it wasn’t death she was afraid of. No, instead of killing her, they’d drag her back to their leader, and she knew what that meant. Meredith would delight in making Neva do unspeakable things just to demonstrate her insane power—
Neva jumped as a great furry body suddenly squeezed in beside her. The great tawny wolf peered through the branches and snarled silently at their hunters. Neva, we’ve only got minutes at most before they find us. Get with the program!
“I’m sorry I pulled you into this,” she whispered, more calmly than she felt. “It’s me they want, and they won’t kill me.” Unfortunately. “There’s nothing else you can do here, Travis. You can still get away if I’m not slowing you down.”
Fuck that. And fuck you, too, for even suggesting it. The wolf turned its head, and its blue eyes, Travis’s eyes, flamed with fury. If you can’t make yourself shift, then we have to try something different. I’m not your sire, but maybe my wolf can talk to yours.
She sensed, rather than saw, Travis fading deep into the animal, and she was left alone facing his great golden wolf. To her shock the formerly gentle and protective creature bared its long fangs at her.
“What the hell is your problem?” She planted her back against the stunted tree, heedless of the abrasions to her unprotected skin. Bark and pine needles just didn’t compare to monster wolf teeth. “You were licking my feet a little while ago!”
Danger now. Be wolf.
“I can’t, I don’t know how.”
Danger. Be wolf now. The now was punctuated by a sudden, sharp nip to her arm.
“Quit that!” The skin wasn’t broken, although she could feel the scrape of teeth, but it still hurt like hell.
The wolf ignored her, and she held up her hands to fend off the big animal. Again and again, the tawny muzzle dove past her puny defenses to deliver another hard nip. “Dammit, I said quit!” she shouted, and punched the wolf full in the nose. Its answer was a bite to her fist that drew blood—
That’s when she felt the stirring inside, the all-too-familiar lupine presence, the other. The big tawny wolf sat back, apparently satisfied that it had succeeded in rousing its counterpart in her. Her wolf. Fear rose in her throat, threatening to choke her, but Neva wasn’t going to succumb to it this time. Without even looking, she could sense her enemies getting closer. Her choices had narrowed to exactly one, and she was going to take it. She’d become a goddamn giraffe if it meant escaping Meredith. “Okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes and reaching deep. Here wolfy, wolfy. I know you’re in here somewhere. Come and play.
There was a lightning-quick flash of recognition as she suddenly made contact with the animal that lived within her. An eruption of light and energy shot through every nerve fiber, every cell, followed by a curious inside-out sensation, as if soul and body had just switched places—
And just like that, she was wolf. Wolf was her. Scattered blue sparks fell to the ground, making tiny hissing noises as the remains of the enormous static charge winked out amid the dry grass. Neva staggered a little and nearly tripped over her own paws, then realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere as a human trying to manage the finer points of four-legged locomotion. She addressed her lupine self: All right, here’s the deal—as long as you don’t do anything weird, you can be in charge for a while. So how about getting us out of here?
Without hesitation, the slim, dark wolf sprang forward on sure feet and raced swiftly up the rocky slope as if it was level ground. Neva’s initial surprise was followed by relief, and then she allowed herself to feel honest-to-god exhilaration. There was simply no comparison between the effortless strength and agility she now had at her disposal, and the miserable struggle it had been to cover the same terrain as a human. Well, to be fair, she’d been a naked human. She might have done better with hiking shoes and—oh, what the hell, this was downright glorious.
The tawny wolf closed the gap between them, and they crested the hill together. They’d barely started down the opposite side, however, when a long, lingering howl sounded from the valley they’d just left.
The hunters had found their trail.
Neva’s wolfen form was as fast and as agile as it had been at the lake, and she seemed to keep pace with Travis without effort. He just wished she had given up the I-don’t-wanna-be-a-wolf crap a helluva lot sooner. They were in serious trouble. A Changeling could elude almost any other creature on the planet—but escaping from other Changelings posed a huge challenge. Although Travis surpassed most shape-shifters in strength and speed, and had the experience to employ cunning and strategy, Neva didn’t. She was keeping up with him now, but he knew it couldn’t last. They needed an edge, a human one, and fast.
Wheels.
Travis went over his mental map, trying to figure out where the hell they were. Not only was this a different valley, he could tell by the sky that they had veered off from his original direction. Their pursuers hadn’t topped the hill yet, but it was only a matter of time before the wolves picked up Neva’s trail from the barn. He was certain now that she was the quarry, not him. He’d like to believe it was a rescue party coming for her, but Neva’s story made that unlikely. At first he’d thought she’d been misinformed about “werewolves,” or perhaps misconstrued something she saw. It ran against everything he’d ever been taught to think that a pack would allow harm to come to humans, never mind cause that harm. He was much more inclined to believe Neva now. There was no denying that his own wolf was openly hostile toward the strangers. Even his human side was forced to admit that something about them felt just plain wrong.
The mounting number of whys was giving him a headache. Why send five wolves, for Christ’s sake? Why spend so much effort on a newly turned Changeling? Why was it so damn important to chase Neva down at all? He grumbled to himself that if Neva’s sire had wanted her, she should have taken more responsibility in the first place, spent some time teachin
g Neva about her new life. At the very least, Meredith could have assigned somebody to see Neva through her first shift if Meredith wasn’t interested in doing it herself. It would have been far more efficient than sending out five Changelings now.
Travis chuffed out a breath in disgust. None of it added up. And he hated things that didn’t add up.
There were farms now, green and gold and brown fields patchworked across the valley floor with a scattering of tiny bright squares that were houses and barns. As a wolf, Travis would normally stay as far away as possible from human habitations, silently skirting the properties like a ghost. Now he headed straight for the little farms, and for the beaten-dirt road that wound through them like a dusty river.
Shit. A quick glance behind showed two of their pursuers topping the hill. It was going to be a race now, and he hoped like hell that Neva could keep up. Ahead, Travis scanned the farms for anything that might be useful. Hefty grain trucks, rusted pickup trucks, and egg-shaped minivans that had seen better days seemed to be the only choices, and none of them were likely to outrun a pack of motivated Changelings. Or withstand an assault by them. Then a glint of polished chrome caught his eye…
What the hell are you doing? I thought we were supposed to hide from humans! Neva tried to look in every direction at once as she followed the big tawny wolf across an open farmyard. Luckily no one appeared to be home, and even the dogs were strangely quiet, slinking away from the Changelings that had invaded their territory.
Move back from me.
Neva dropped back barely in time before Travis resumed his human form on the run. She dodged the trail of sparks he left as he headed straight for a very shiny, very new, and very large vehicle. To her surprise, he jumped up and flung open the door.
“Get in, quick.”
She pulled up abruptly. You gotta be kidding. A dump truck? Really?
