Punish (Feral Justice Book 1)

by Vella Munn

  Scared but determined, she parked behind the vehicles, got out and crawled under the nearby fencing. Trying not to twist or break an ankle on the rutted ground prevented her from looking around as much as she wanted to. Only one thing mattered. She’d spotted three men near a corral filled with horses.

  “Damn it, Nate, get back here.”

  Startled by the command, she stopped. The uniformed officer was maybe a hundred feet from her, but his back was to her and it looked as if he wasn’t aware of her presence. His weapon was drawn. A large man stood nearby.

  Both of them were staring at Nate.

  And the grays.

  And the wolf-dog.

  “Nate, I’m ordering you,” the officer said, “come back.”

  Nate angled toward the officer. She knew the instant he spotted her by the change in his body language. A mostly open pasture surrounded him, making him appear lonely.

  No, he wasn’t alone. The grays were with him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked her. “How did you find me?”

  Smoke, Stone and the wolf-dog had already spotted her. With Nate’s question, Gun acknowledged her, as did the two other men.

  “It doesn’t matter. What’s going on?”

  “Who the hell are you?” the big man demanded.

  “Rachelle Reames. My dad raised the grays.”

  Before the man could respond, if he’d been going to, the officer introduced himself as a friend of Nate’s. She didn’t know enough. Needed more.

  A horse whinnied. Several others took up the call. The animals appeared undernourished and neglected but, as far as she could tell in a glance, not abused. That’s why Nate and Douglas were here, but what had summoned the grays?

  Had they come to exact revenge on the horses’ owner?

  As if answering her question, Smoke and Stone started toward Douglas and the other man. The deputy aimed his weapon at the group.

  “I don’t want to have to do this, but I will. Nate, call them off.”

  “The beasts are after me!” the fat man blubbered. “Shoot them. Goddamn, shoot!”

  “Shut up, Marti,” Douglas snapped. “Nate, make them stop.”

  Didn’t the grays know what guns were capable of? That couldn’t be right because Smoke had been struck by pellets. The only explanation left was that they considered their mission more important than their lives.

  “Let me try,” she said. Beasts, yes, that’s what they were right now. “They know me.”

  “Do something,” Douglas said. “Just don’t get in my line of fire.”

  Dad had begged her not to go looking for the grays. At the same time, his love for the animals had played out in his expression and the way he’d continued to squeeze her fingers. She hadn’t told him that knowing Nate was with them meant as much as trying to keep the dogs alive.

  “Leave,” Nate ordered. “I don’t want you in danger.”

  “They won’t hurt me.” I hope.

  “Lobo might.”

  The wolf-dog was no longer where she’d first seen him. He was moving in a wide arc designed to take him behind the others and her.

  Smoke growled at Lobo, prompting Rachelle to move past Douglas to where the young female was. She wrapped her arms around Smoke’s neck. Only then did she ask herself what she was doing. A low rumbling rolled up from Smoke’s throat.

  “It’s all right. I won’t let anything happen to you. Dad—he said to tell you he loves you.”

  Smoke whined, then the growling started again. Thinking to get her full attention, Rachelle placed her hand against Smoke’s mouth. The fur there was stiff and coated with something.

  Dread stopped her. She couldn’t breathe. Then, because she had no choice, she studied the big female’s muzzle. Blood maybe? Yes, blood.

  “What did you do?” she whispered. “Who did you kill?”

  “Rachelle.” Douglas’ tone was both no-nonsense and shaken. “Look at the wolf mix. Try not to react.”

  Lobo was closer than before. Seeing him made her think of when wolves were part of the landscape. Hundreds of years ago the word predator had conjured up both fear and respect among the early residents. Even though only half of Lobo’s blood was wolf, right now it seemed much more.

  Lobo wasn’t just walking toward the tall, husky man she’d surmised owned the horses. He was stalking Marti.

  Suddenly Marti catapulted himself at Douglas. Grabbing the officer’s arm, he struggled to aim the weapon at the wolf-dog.

  “No!”

  Even with Nate’s cry tearing at her, she didn’t dare take her attention off the approaching hybrid. Every line of Lobo’s body said he wanted to kill. Would kill. Smoke’s growl increased in volume. It was matched by a warning growl from Stone.

  Babbling, Marti continued struggling with Douglas. Despite Marti’s greater size, Douglas was stronger. However, in addition to trying to hold onto his weapon, the officer appeared more concerned about Lobo than his opponent.

  One instant Nate was a dark blur. The next he slammed into the big man and knocked him to the ground. The deputy nearly fell himself.

  “No!” Marti cried. “Someone help me!”

  “Stay where you are,” Douglas commanded. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She could have answered that. Maybe Marti didn’t know it on a conscious level but he understood he’d done something the predators couldn’t and wouldn’t forgive. He was fighting for his life.

  “Let the bastard go,” Nate ordered Douglas. “Make him face the consequences.”

  She’d never seen an expression like the one that had transformed Nate’s features. Even more startling, the way he stood over Marti made her think of a predator. Throwing caution aside, she killed the space between them and tried to grab Nate’s hand. When he cussed and pushed her off him, she backed away. Feared him.

  “You don’t know what he did,” Nate said as Marti fought to get his legs under him. “The hell he put his horses through.”

  Maybe she didn’t, but the grays and Lobo did.

  Anyone seeing the grays for the first time would believe their greater size meant they were in charge. It might take a while to recognize the wolf in Lobo but once that person did, he’d realize he’d been wrong. Not only were the grays content to stare at Marti, she saw nothing of a born killer in their demeanor.

  Lobo was different. Aggressive.

  “Shoot them!” Marti yelled. “Do your damn job.”

  “No, don’t.”

  Nate’s command nearly tore her apart. His attention shifted from his friend’s weapon to the still-approaching wolf-dog.

  “Do as he says!” she insisted. Where had those words come from? No matter, she meant them. “Let it happen.”

  “Did you hear them?” Douglas asked Marti. “They’re telling me to let justice play itself out. Primitive justice.”

  “No! You can’t—my God, please!”

  She had no idea how Nate had reached her, cared only that he now stood next to her and seemed more alive than it was possible for a human being to be.

  Still begging for help, Marti took off running toward a quad. A long, low howl cut through the air. Nate clutched her to his side. Together they watched the force that was Lobo charge Marti. The grays did the same. Their deadly purpose was beautiful, perfection, predators closing in on their prey.

  No! She couldn’t want to see Marti torn apart! The helpless and terrified man deserved to live.

  Or did he?

  Marti managed to reach the quad. It roared to life, started moving.

  “Attack!” Nate commanded. “Kill him!”

  “No!” She hit Nate as hard as she could.

  A scream stopped her from hitting him again. All four animals had caught up with the machine, but instead of knocking Marti off, they loped alongside it while biting and clawing at the man. Marti’s screams cut deep into her, made all the more awful because Nate wanted the man dead.

  So, maybe, did she.

  It di
dn’t matter what caused Marti to fall off the quad, just that suddenly he was on the ground. The grays and Lobo stood over him.

  Beefy hands pounded Lobo’s side as panic turned Marti into a fighter. Lowering his head, the wolf-dog attacked. A heartbeat later, the grays joined him. Rachelle couldn’t see Marti for the churning bodies.

  Snarls and screams killed what remained of the once peaceful setting. Some of those cries might have been coming from her. Nate panted, sounding like a man—or animal—who’d been running for hours. Cursing, Douglas approached the uneven battle. With every step he took, his weapon became larger and deadlier in Rachelle’s mind’s eye.

  “Too late,” she blurted even though probably the deputy couldn’t hear her for the snarling. “It’s done. Justice. Justice.”

  Marti was dead. Or dying. Beyond help. The grays’ latest victim, and he represented the fatal nail on their coffins.

  She was still trying to make her peace with that awful reality when Douglas fired. Fired again. A dog squealed. Another shrieked.

  The deputy stumbled and sank to his knees. He continued to grip the pistol as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. His attention locked on the mass of fur and bodies.

  “No!” she sobbed.

  Only one thing mattered—getting to the grays, trying to keep them alive and, in doing so, giving her dad a reason to live. She didn’t care what they’d done to Marti. Nate, damn him, should understand what she was going through, so why was he wrapping his arms around her? Why, despite her violent struggling, wouldn’t he let her go?

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry.”

  She stopped fighting his greater strength and, with him keeping her from collapsing, watched.

  The frozen moments ended as Lobo and two of the grays untangled themselves from Marti. As one they faced the deputy.

  “Don’t make me do it,” Douglas ground out. “Just—don’t make me do it.”

  Lobo howled. Smoke growled. Gun whined and tried to lick his flank where blood glistened.

  “Please.” She couldn’t think what else to say.

  To her soul-deep relief, the trio turned and started running back the way they’d come. Clutching his weapon, Douglas got to his feet. He didn’t fire.

  Stone lay on the ground. His legs twitched. Marti, who was near the downed gray, didn’t move.

  Dying. One of Dad’s beloved babies dying.

  “Let me go,” she ordered Nate. “I have to help—”

  “It’s too late,” Douglas whispered.

  “Why did you—”

  “It’s my job. My goddamn job. Marti was on the ground, the dogs over him. I figured I wouldn’t hit him, that the bullets would— Oh, shit.”

  “No,” she whimpered. The deputy knew what his weapon was capable of, so why was she praying for a miracle?

  Breathing unsteadily, Nate released her and held out his hand. After what felt like a long time, she took it and together they approached. Stone’s legs occasionally jerked, but one glance at his ruined and bloody side told her the truth. Nate and she sank to their knees and began stroking Stone’s rough, rich coat. The gray didn’t respond.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate whispered. “I did this, killed you.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “I wanted that bastard to pay for what he did.” He jabbed a finger at Marti, who was trying to sit up. Marti’s clothes were shredded. Blood bubbled from numerous bites, and he was missing part of an ear. “I ordered the dogs to attack,” Nate continued. “My doing, mine.”

  “I shot them, not you.”

  Despite his impressive physique, uniform and weapon, Douglas was a man in shock. He obviously hadn’t wanted to do what he had, but he’d been trained to protect and defend. Instinct had pulled the trigger. Now he was facing the consequences of his actions.

  Instinct, not orders from Nate, had made the dogs attack. She had to believe that for Nate’s sake as well as hers.

  “Be at peace,” she whispered to Stone. “Let your soul find the underworld where all Hopi souls go at death. Dwell in peace with your ancestors.”

  “You believe—” Nate started.

  “I do.” I have to.

  “What’s this about Hopi?” Douglas started to reach for the phone clipped to his shoulder. “I didn’t want to have to do that.”

  “We know,” she said. “Nate, Douglas, please hear me out. Just—listen and don’t judge. In time Stone will return.”

  “He…”

  “As a Hopi kachina. If our hearts are good he’ll forgive and accept us.” And if a human heart isn’t good, what then?

  She wasn’t sure she fully understood let alone believed what she’d just told the men, but they needed to hear the words. More than that, Nate needed to embrace them if he was ever going to find peace.

  * * * *

  A half hour later, an ambulance took off with a barely coherent Marti in it. Several law enforcement officers, including the two deputies Nate had met the night he talked to the poacher’s son, were going over the scene. The press had started arriving, but so far they hadn’t breached the quickly erected crime tape. A still-shaken Douglas was talking to the sheriff, who’d already told Nate to make sure his fellow animal control officers held off doing anything with the horses until the investigation was completed. Hopefully Rachelle understood why she couldn’t have Stone’s body.

  Gun wasn’t dead. The earlier connection between the gray and himself had only lasted a few minutes, but the young male had become precious to him. If he could slip away he’d start tracking the gray’s blood spots. Try to find him. Help him.

  “You’re all right?” Rachelle asked. “Please tell me you aren’t blaming yourself for what happened.”

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t trust himself to touch her.

  “I hit you,” she said. “It was the only way I could think of to try to reach you.”

  He felt dizzy and disjointed, somewhere between now and a half hour ago. “I didn’t notice.”

  “I know. You—looked and acted like a predator.”

  “Did I? I’m sorry. I’m having trouble thinking.”

  “That’s all right. I did too, but we’ll talk about it later.”

  Later.

  The detectives had told them not to go anywhere until they’d been interviewed, but right now the only thing required of them was that they not get in the way or talk to the press, as if they would. They’d retreated to the horse corral where he should get started documenting the animals’ conditions. Instead, he stood.

  Try to pull his pieces back together so he could determine what Rachelle and he were to each other.

  “How’d you know to come here?” he belatedly thought to ask.

  “Dad told me.” She followed her simple words with an explanation he didn’t question about a man’s connection with the creatures he loved. The grays had intelligence and purpose, a need to right wrongs and exact their own brand of justice. Who was he to say they couldn’t communicate with the man responsible for their being alive?

  “After Dad told me the grays were near a large number of horses and that you were there, I called the humane society. I pretended I was thinking about lodging a complaint about some neglected horses. I asked if anyone had already called about them. Whoever I was talking with looked it up. She told me the horses were on Ball Road. I said I’d seen the same animals and was relieved they were going to get help.”

  “You could have gotten the police involved or told my manager what—”

  “Told them what? That my dad was psychic? That I wanted armed officers…”

  All too soon Stone’s death would hit her, but his guess was that, like him, she was still trying to process everything.

  “I’ll help you tell your dad,” he offered.

  “Maybe he already knows.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I wish he wasn’t alone,” she muttered. “He’ll take Stone’s death hard and Gun—maybe he’s feelin
g Gun’s pain. Knows how bad he’s been hurt.”

  “Whether Gun stands a chance of surviving.”

  She swiped at tears. “He won’t get the vet care he needs. I just…”

  “Just what?”

  She ducked her head. “From now on they’re on their own. They’ll never again be able to turn to humans.”

  Her words briefly stole his breath. “And you’re concerned they know that, aren’t you?”

  “So are you.”

  He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Finally, embracing her felt right. She must have felt the same way because her arms were strong around him. Even so, he couldn’t shake the realization that their relationship was as fragile as their emotions.

  “We need time,” she said as if reading his mind. “So much—today isn’t the end of it.”

  “No, it isn’t. Whether Marti survives or not, the end result will be the same. The legal system will prevail. There has to be justice.”

  “The grays’ heads on display.”

  If it comes to that, I hope we and Joe are strong enough.

  They’d been told it would be at least an hour before detectives got around to talking to them. In the meantime they had no choice but to stand with the nightmare all around. Despite that, the setting had a peacefulness to it, in part because Opal Sather’s place was the only manmade structure in sight.

  Opal.

  “What is it?” Rachelle asked.

  “Marti’s nemesis should be here.” He nodded at the hundred-year-old farmhouse. “Nosy as she is, she had to have seen— She’d have heard the shots.”

  “Unless she isn’t home.”

  That was possible, but the longer he studied the house, the stronger his need to go there became.

  “Nate?” Rachelle whispered. “Smoke had dried blood on her.”

  “So did Gun.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  They found what remained of Opal in her shed next to the bludgeoned body of a red heeler. Rachelle recoiled when she spotted the dog. In contrast, Nate knelt beside the lean cattle dog.