Windham Werewolves

by Shawntelle Madison

  “Stop stalling, Cyn. Why were you in Prince George?”

  She shuffled backwards to the bed and put on the socks. She stiffly feigned arrogance. “Unlike you, Zach gave a shit and wanted me to live. He found an alpha and made a deal for my life. The alpha agreed to heal me to prolong my life a bit.” She left out details like mating with that alpha and becoming a werewolf, and prayed Zach hadn’t spilled such.

  “So you’ve been there this whole time?” His eyes were incredulous. “You didn’t try to escape?”

  Now that she had finished with the socks, she stood again and approached him. “Do I look like I’m in any condition to face a pack of werewolves? Let alone an alpha male?”

  “You’ve gained weight and your color is back.”

  “How kind of you to notice.” She angled past him and left the room. Just a few more feet to the nearest phone. “Other than the fact I had to live with those freaks, I managed to tolerate the alpha’s presence so I could recover. I can’t run away if I’m a half-starved hunter who can barely hold up a toothpick.”

  “You’ve been gone for a while, Cyn. Long enough to raise suspicion.”

  “Bullshit. The moment I pulled back from the clan because of my cancer, nobody came for me. I was knocking on death’s door, and everyone knew it.” She twisted to confront him and had to remember to slow her movements. It was far too easy to get angry over this topic. “Clive and Quincy came to see me a few times at my apartment, but when I really started going downhill and didn’t attend any functions, you disappeared and so did everyone else.”

  His jaw twitched.

  “This is the world we live in, Ty. Hunters do their job and some die in the field. Unlike our parents, I was going to die slowly and painfully. Nobody but Zach took the time to witness that. He made a choice—a stupid one—and I have to live with it.”

  The phone, which should have been next to the television in the living room, was gone. The living room was sparsely decorated. Unlike the home Eva had, the McGinnises didn’t have as many memories after moving so many times. What they did have were weapons. A set of spears on the wall. A crossbow in a locked cabinet in the corner. Another cabinet with shotguns.

  Would she be fast enough to escape if necessary? Or would she have to fight? Anticipation crept up her spine as she scanned the room for the phone’s new location.

  Ty stalked behind her. There was a new scent she hadn’t smelled before. It emanated from him and hit her back in waves. Almost as strong as black pepper. Enough to make her nose twitch, but she kept herself in check.

  Until Ty tapped her shoulder. “Stop treating me this way! I know I messed up—”

  The unexpected touch came faster than she expected. She caught the whistle of his movement, but her reaction couldn’t be controlled. One moment, he touched her shoulder, and in the next, she turned to growl at him.

  ***

  Of all the foolish things for her to do, a growl was what did her in. The very act had to be instinctual. She controlled everything else, from her stance to the way she walked. But never in a million years did she think she’d open her mouth and a growl would come out.

  Ty froze and she did, too.

  His heartbeat, which belted her ears from where he stood, stuttered for a moment and then beat faster like a cornered rabbit. A feeling of incredulity washed over him, and the sour stench from the sweat along his brow flared in her direction.

  He inhaled sharply and his shoulder jerked forward half an inch.

  Holy moly, he was about to strike, and she could see it coming. The subtle muscle twitch of an arm about to extend.

  He reached out to snatch her shirt along her shoulder, but she slid out of the way with ease.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she whispered.

  The loud scrapes of his footsteps on the hardwood were like someone raking their fingernails on a chalkboard. The long muscle that stretched from his collarbone to his ear twitched. Even with blinks, she didn’t miss a damn thing.

  He took another step toward her. His fingers flexed open and shut, a miniscule initial movement to reach for the knife at his hip.

  “What did you do, Cyn?” his voice was stiff.

  She crept backwards toward the front door. “I chose life and love.”

  His hand was closer to the knife hilt. A blade lined with silver.

  She’d never reach the front door in time. The windows all had bars over them. The McGinnises weren’t stupid when it came to home defense. Instead of family game night, they sharpened knives and munched on popcorn.

  She placed her hand on her hip and settled her weight on one leg. Gotta keep things cool. “Was your plan to shoot first and talk second when you stormed into the cabin?”

  His right eyebrow rose. “I knocked. Zach answered with a gun.”

  She would’ve done the same in such circumstances, but that was the past. “Dad told us to always analyze the situation. Ask questions before we react in a manner that could potentially kill us.”

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. Long enough for the sinking feeling gathering in her stomach to fall to the floor. How often in the past had they fought to where she thought they’d never speak to each other again? Countless times. But they always forgave and forgot.

  So why was she deathly afraid this time? He is my brother. I’m his sister.

  With practiced ease, Ty pulled a gun from behind his back and pointed it at her. For the first time in her life, she could see inside the barrel.

  Might as well skip the knife and get the gun.

  Would Ty even consider shooting his own sister? “Stop being an asshole and put the gun away.”

  “Dad would want me to end your suffering.”

  Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have caught it, but a muscle in Ty’s arm twitched. He released the safety.

  Oh shit, he’s actually trying to save me by shooting me. In a way, that’s kind of twisted...yeah, he didn’t take our parents’ death well at all...

  By the time he placed his finger on the trigger, she sprang forward with a front snap kick, jettisoning the end table in the gun’s direction. Forced to duck or get hit, Ty shot into the ceiling. With a roar, Cyn surged forward and pushed his back to the front door. The gun fell to the floor. Ty grunted from the blow, but he didn’t stop struggling. The fire in his eyes grew brighter.

  “So everything I did for you meant nothing? All those gigs I had to work to put food in your mouth after Mom and Dad died?” The strength in her limbs seemed never ending. She held him by the arms against the door with ease until she caught the sound of an audible click and jumped back. Right before he tried to kick her with his knife-tipped boots.

  She added space between them. Would he pick up the gun? “Before you became a hunter, I was cleaning up the bed you wet every night.”

  Instead of grabbing the gun, he feinted to the left, but spun right over to the spear case. He used his elbow to break through the glass and yanked the escrima sticks from the top.

  “Oh, c’mon,” she groaned. Damn, he knew she preferred long spears to those little toothpicks.

  With a snarl, he came at her swinging with the short bamboo sticks and she vaulted to the couch to avoid a wild swing. He kept coming, forcing her to roll over the coffee table when he followed up with a high jab. The sticks whistled with each swing, each strike barely missing her head. Twice he hit her forearms as she blocked.

  Raw pain shot up her arms, but she ignored it. No broken bones yet. Pain wasn’t anything new, but when he managed to thrust the tip into her stomach, she grabbed the end and twisted the stick from his grip.

  Now the big bad wolf had a toy, too.

  He came at her again, forcing her to retreat. She took backward shuffling steps, avoiding furniture while she kept her eyes on him. She mirrored his actions down to the last twitch, but now she had nowhere to go but the kitchen.

  The need to hold back overwhelmed her to the point where she had to stop herself from swinging her w
eapon to the side of his face. Again and again, she pushed him out of the way. “Stop it, Ty!”

  Ty edged her past the breakfast nook and she kept backpedaling until her side hit the granite countertop.

  He tried to reach for the knife on his hip, but she kicked his forearm. Then he changed tactics, diving for the knife holder on the counter and tossed the holder at her. She dodged the holder before swinging out with her right leg, catching his arm, and knocking his remaining stick from his grasp.

  The look on his face was feral. This wasn’t the brother she remembered.

  He isn’t playing. This is for real. No more games. She turned to find a way out.

  He leaned down and pulled up his pants leg.

  Oh, hell no…

  That tricky little shit had another gun.

  She dove to get out of the way, but not fast enough. The pop bounced against the walls and pain blossomed in her upper thigh.

  Run. That was the only thought she had left. Get the hell out of there. She’d never unlock the front door in time, so she raced for the door to the basement and thundered down the steps.

  The darkness swallowed her whole, but she knew her destination without an afterthought. Her hands encountered the cold metal door to the safe room, which she quickly opened and locked herself inside.

  All the while, she couldn’t shake the uneasy thought running through her head: He shot me. Oh, God. He shot me.

  Chapter 3

  Wet warmth continued to course down her leg. The gunshot wound burned and nothing she could do eased the discomfort.

  Muffled footsteps moved outside of the door.

  “I never expected you to come here,” Ty shouted.

  She caught the sound of a blade scratching the metal door from one side to the other. Almost as if he were cutting someone’s neck.

  “So honor trumps family?” she bit out. “The clan trumps family?”

  “After you left me behind, it was the clan who supported me. When you took our parents’ place, it was the other mothers who comforted me. Don’t you dare try to play the martyr!” His rage battered her. “Our parents died for our way of life. If I let you out of this house alive, I’m not honoring them!”

  Their dad would never do this. Neither would their mother. But no matter what she said, she’d never get through to him. He’d been a fervent supporter of the hunting clans. She encouraged the behavior, never thinking that every word, every action, would drive him to this point: a man bent on killing any werewolf who crossed his path, even if that werewolf were his sister.

  She bumped the back of her head against the door. “I’m sorry I made you like this.”

  That got her silence back.

  “After Mom and Dad died, I should’ve taken you and Zach away from all this.” She closed her eyes as her leg throbbed. The silver in the bullet slowly melted away her muscles as it sank toward the bone, but she kept speaking. “We could’ve gone anywhere. A farm in Utah. A ranch in Texas.” A tear fell down her cheek. “But I made you stay. I let you become the man you are today. A killer.”

  The faint sound of someone prying open the lock box jolted her insides, but she kept talking. There was no place for her to go. Ty knew that.

  She got up and stumbled to the first aid kit on one of the shelves. She kept talking while she took out tweezers from the kit. Time to repeat what she saw Kaden do to Zach.

  It wouldn’t hurt that bad, right?

  “I should have taught you how to find—” She opened the wound wider.

  Hot damn that hurt.

  She dug into the bleeding wound with the tweezers, cringing from each jab until she hit the pain source. That stubborn bullet refused to come out until the fourth try. Even after she got rid of the bullet, the burning didn’t stop. It was as if she’d placed her leg over an open flame.

  She finished speaking. “I should have taught you how to find the beauty in the beasts we chased.” There had been countless bodies in Ty’s wake. He’d learned well from the Red hunting clan. He’d learned well from her.

  Once that door opened, she’d have to face him and she’d have to subdue him. What sucked was that she’d have to use a body that seemed foreign to her right now.

  The bullet tumbled to the floor and rolled away. With a hint of light from the overhead bulb, the silver glinted. A few months ago, such a sight was salvation. Any werewolf she tracked could be found using the blood trail.

  Now she was the shot werewolf. Using her teeth, she ripped open a few packages of gauze. Then she unscrewed the cap to a bottle of peroxide. Dousing the wound to clean it out didn’t make the burning end.

  She shook her head with disgust. The bullet must have fragmented a bit. Now she had silver filaments in her leg. Until her body forced them out, they’d burn like hell.

  The click of the first lock drew her out of the moment. The door had four locks. All of them could be triggered with manual levers. In case someone got stuck inside, someone else could fish them out. She had less than a minute until he released all the lock mechanisms.

  She glanced around the room, searching for ideas. The room had nothing more than two beds, a bookcase with supplies, and a weapon rack.

  The rack was empty. Lovely. How was this room a safe room?

  Using tape, she quickly secured the gauze on the wound. That would have to make do for now. Keep moving, she told herself. She hummed softly to herself as the second lock disengaged. She flipped the mattresses over and placed them in a protective pile as far away from the door as possible. She turned over the rack, praying he wouldn’t notice that the rack was empty. Maybe he’d think she had an Uzi or something.

  The first aid kit didn’t have anything resembling a weapon. Unless she planned to burn his eyes out with rubbing alcohol or stab him with the tweezers.

  The third lock disengaged.

  Next, lights out. She smashed the light bulb.

  Her leg hurt like hell, but she bit down on her bottom lip and scaled the wall next to the door. As a human, she wouldn’t have been able to place her weakened fingertips into the crevices in the wall and pull herself up, but now she stretched upward with ease.

  The fourth lock clicked.

  Time’s up.

  With her legs locked, she formed at T right above the doorway. Her stomach muscles tightened to keep herself in position. She held her breath as the door yawned a bit. Wait for it. Wait for it.

  Would he creep inside?

  Ty stormed into the room with a flashlight and the dark corners filled with light. He spotted the pile of mattresses and that cocky shit opened fire with a shotgun. After two rounds, he waited.

  Slowly, he approached the mattresses.

  “I want to make this easy for you,” he whispered. “I couldn’t turn you over to the Red clan, but I want you to have the mercy you deserve. The sister I knew from a year ago would want me to end your life.”

  Fury clutched her throat. How dare he make such a choice for her? Just like Zach did when he left her behind at the werewolf camp.

  Sweat gathered on her forehead as her anger skyrocketed. The need to spring on him grew stronger. Almost like something inside of her churned and gathered. A spring waiting to be released. A rumble gathered in her throat, but she quieted herself.

  The stench of gunpowder from the fired weapon forced her back under control. That was what the foolish werewolves did. They struck first and thought about the consequences later.

  When Ty cleared the door, she held her breath. It was now or never. She could hear his rapid heartbeat. Smell the fear coursing down his back. He truly thought she would hurt him.

  Hurt him was too kind. She planned to beat his ass first.

  She tucked in her legs and propelled herself from the ceiling to the floor. She landed hard on his back and they tumbled to the concrete floor. Her leg screamed in pain from the movement, but she ignored it. Medicine later. Ass-beating first.

  Once she had him down, she plucked the shotgun from his grasp. There wasn’t
much space to move around the small room. He tried to throw a punch, but she dodged the swing with ease and kicked him in the gut. He still made the same mistakes when he fought.

  “I told you not to expose your life side when you swing,” she whispered.

  “Like this,” he roared. He tried to swing again, but instead of exposing his side, he jerked into a front kick. She jumped out of the way of that one, too.

  “I’m faster now, Ty. I’m bleeding and cornered, too.” She caught his fist in mid-swing. “The thing that separates us from them is this.” She used her other hand to tap her heart. “I could be on top of you right now and it would be all over.”

  He wrenched his hand free and twisted sharply to the left with his elbow. He caught her on the chin, but she glanced off the blow to slap him across the face.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Ty!”

  “Then I guess you’re weak now. Maybe you forgot about Ketter.”

  The name made her start for a moment, but she gathered her composure as Ty stepped back, clutching the side of his reddened face. She hadn’t meant to hit him so hard. Hopefully, she hadn’t broken his cheekbone.

  “He made the choice to not harm a child.”

  “And he ended up dead for it,” he spat. There was a reason why Ty was willing to kill younger pack members, and Ketter was the reason. He’d been one of Ty’s mentors.

  “It was a freak incident,” Cyn said. “You just can’t let it go, can you?”

  “That little boy ripped Ketter’s throat out and left him to bleed on the street.”

  “Not all pups are that way.”

  “Pups?” His eyes widened, Ty backed out of the room toward the basement. “Those things aren’t pups.”

  Cyn eyed the shelves outside of the room. There was a .45 sitting on the washing machine, tucked under soiled clothes. He had about eight feet to reach the weapon.

  “They are still innocents in the middle of an adults’ game. They are people who have learned hate from their parents. From the very people who have hunted them.”