Chapter Five
A cough stirred Clare awake. Her shoulders shook as she struggled for breath and the coughing grew worse. She sat up in bed, the room filled with smoke in the early evening light. Instinct drove her to roll onto the floor where the air seemed fresher.
Penny still hadn’t stirred.
On hands and knees, Clare crept low on her stomach and pulled the omega female from her bed. The impact on the unfinished hardwood floor startled Penny awake. She flailed like duckling learning how to fly. Clare gave her a shake. “Stop it.” She poured her alpha command into the order.
The omega went still and coughed.
While she waited for Penny to catch her breath, Clare crawled to the bedroom door. “I think there’s a fire.” She touched the surface, gaging for heat. How ironic, they’d been trying to make fire for days. She’d seen firemen check of heat behind doors in movies and prayed they were based on real skills, or she and Penny were about to be caught in a backdraft. The wood felt warm but not fire-on-the-other-side hot. She turned the door knob that felt cool to touch and peeked out into the hall.
The front stairwell acted like a natural chimney. Smoke rose through it to the second and third floor. It blanketed the ceiling and filled three quarters of the hall. If it was bad here, it would be worse on the third floor. Smoke always gathered at the highest point.
She twisted to find Penny next to her. “We have to wake everyone. Use your big-girl voice. Head toward the back of the manor and exit the building. I think the fire is in the front.” She gave the omega an encouraging push. “You can do it.”
“What about you?” Penny gripped Clare’s sleeping t-shirt.
“I’ll wake those in this direction and evacuate the third floor.” Clare banged on bedroom doors, shouting as loud as she could. Penny did the same in the other direction. Shifter hearing being so sensitive, it didn’t take long for the floor to breakout into chaos.
Clare blocked the exit to the front staircase, directing everyone to stay low and crawl to the backstairs. Hopefully they wouldn’t meet any problems exiting. She was tempted to follow but there still wasn’t any movement on the third floor where a wounded Ian slept. With one last glance at the female shifters escaping, she climbed the smoke filled staircase and began the process of banging on the first door.
The smoke was thicker, almost to the floor. The response was slower.
Coughing…
She twisted the doorknob and opened the door.
Four shifter males crept toward her—Theo, Jonathan, Yanis, and Vince. She tried to shout but took in a lung full of smoke. All that came out was more coughing. She pointed them toward the back staircase. What if the fire burned out the supports and this floor collapsed? They needed to move faster. “Go,” she croaked, her voice cracking.
Vince and Theo joined her in waking the others until soon the hall was filled with crawling and coughing males. Clare couldn’t spot Ian. It was too difficult to see through the smoke-filled air. She herded the shifters ahead of her to keep moving until she reached Ian’s open bedroom door.
Her heart raced. The press of bodies shoved her inside. She sprawled onto her stomach, face scrapping the rough wood. She spun around with sharp words on her tongue, but the panicked expressions on their faces stalled her words.
There were more shifters on the third floor and less air. They needed less oxygen than humans but they still needed breathe.
She tried to squeeze into the crush of bodies, all headed in the same direction. The shifters housed on this floor were male and at least twice her size. She couldn’t edge out. They must have met the females and crowded below into the narrow escape out to the yard. Maybe they should attempt going out front?
A hand shot out of the mass of flesh, grabbing her upper and dragging her forward. She was pressed against a bare chest before being set in motion on her hands and knees toward the stairs. She tossed a look behind her.
Ian. His face pale, sweat trickling along his forehead. He gave her ass a little shove as if to say get moving. His touch left a burning hand print. Only then did she realize she only wore her t-shirt and panties. From his position behind her, he’d have an eye full.
“Keep going forward.” She proceeded to move with the pack down the stairs. “Stay together,” she called over the panicked voices. The further they moved from the front of the house the less smoke-polluted the air. She half tumbled down the stairs as she was swept into a stampede of shifters determined to reach the outside. “Slow down.”
Once again, a hand caught her by the elbow and kept her upright so she wouldn’t be crushed. Ian pressed against her back with Darrell right behind, guiding Blain.
She twisted around more. “Where’s Jake?” He shared a room with the three of them.
Darrell swung around and almost lost his footing. “He was right behind us. He must have been cut off. We’ll wait for him outside.”
They broke out of the manor onto the back porch. She sucked in a chest full of fresh air and kept on down the stairs until she reached the lawn. Flames glowed in the distance. Everyone was scattered on the overgrown lawn staring in a daze as if they were watching a bonfire. Sticking two fingers in her mouth, she gave a piercing whistle. The closest shifter winced at the sharp noise. “Listen up!” she shouted. “Anyone have a cellphone?”
Ten raised their hands.
“That works.” Ian shouted as he stood behind her.
Six dropped their hands.
She pointed at them. “Call 9-1-1.” She twisted around to face Ian. Panic squeezed her gut.
He set his hands on her shoulders. “There’s a garden hose.” He pointed to the side of the manor. “I’ll use it to contain the fire until the fire trucks arrive.”
“The house is real old and will be dust by then.” Darrell frowned. “I bet as far as the locals know, this place has been abandoned for years.”
“Pallas is trapped in there until the sun sets.” Ian glared at the horizon. “I’d say at least another thirty minutes.”
“The well.” Clare turned to face the others. The manor’s water source was well water and it still had the old bucket hoist. “Make a line to the well. Gather as many buckets as you can from the shed and the garage. Anything that can hold water.”
Ian raced to the garden hose and turned it on full blast. His gaze traveled to Clare, the little female with the heart of lion. She took control of the chaos, dividing the shifters into groups. Not a single one argued, that’s how strong his little wolf was.
No doubting it now. Ever since she sewed him up, he’d known. She belonged to him.
He dragged the hose over the weeds and stones surrounding the manor until it reached the front of the house. Flames ate the front porch, leaving the supports blackened and weak. The fire licked at the stone walls but hadn’t penetrated the building yet. The smoke must have leaked through the open windows and traveled along the stairs in the foyer.
Using the hose, Ian aimed the water at the base of the flames. He knew nothing of fighting fire. The first line of bucket carriers arrived. He pointed to the front door. “Aim there.” Steam tangled into the smoke, making the air difficult to breath. The heat singed his skin, making the hairs on his arm curl. His gaze darted to the setting sun. Not much longer.
Come on, Pallas. The vampire was old and smart but a little house fire would fry him. He wasn’t sure why he worried about the bloodsucker, who only two days ago strangled him, but it seemed like the world would lose something valuable if someone that ancient died. He shuddered. If the vampire lived through this, Ian would keep those thoughts to himself.
The battle continued. Lines of water buckets, carried by soot smeared shifters, arrived in waves. Ian managed to extinguish the worst of the flames eating at the porch roof and supports.
What felt like hours later, the front door slammed open and Pallas strode out. He stomped on some residual flames with his boot.
Ian released his grip on the hose’s handle and dropped it to
the ground.
Clare brushed up against him, gaze traveling to Ian’s already healed wounds. She’d have to pull out his stitches later. “Are you okay?”
“Just hot.” He wiped the sweat trickling along his face. The sun had set while he’d been fighting the flames. “How long?”
She shrugged. “At least thirty minutes.” She stared out at the road. “Still no sign of help. I know for a fact two of our calls made it to 9-1-1 dispatch.”
Ian recalled Harold’s prejudiced words as he shot Ian point blank. “Yeah, I’m not shocked.” He ran his hand over the fresh scar and the stitches. “I got the distinct impression shifters are not welcome around here.”
She pulled his hand away from the healed wound. “We’ll tell the others to avoid the town until we know for sure they ignored our call for help.”
He set his arm around her shoulder but she shrugged from his touch. Prickly female. She liked to comfort and take care of others, but didn’t like being on the receiving end.
She called the others to gather some drinking water and sent a team into the kitchen for food. He had to admire a woman who could give orders though. His alpha didn’t have half her fortitude. Ian was in over his head when it came to Clare.
He blew out a frustrated sigh and approached Pallas.
The vampire squatted on the charred porch. He plucked something off the surface, but in the dim light Ian couldn’t make out what it was. Pallas pointed at another spot. “Look.”
Ian crouched and spotted broken glass. Instinct drove him to sniff. He shook his head as the chemical smell curled his nose hair. “Molotov.” He’d seen a shifter killed with one during a gang fight a few months ago. It was a cheap weapon for humans to use against paranormals.
“What is that?” He crept to Ian and sniffed at the same spot very shifter-like, then wiped his nose. “Petrol.”
“Fire bomb. People fill breakable glass bottles with gasoline or other flammable liquid then stuff a cloth into the neck before lighting it. They toss the bottle at something they want to burn.” Ian rose and stretched his back. Everything ached right to his hair roots. “Glad to see you’re not roasted.”
“Me too.” Pallas tossed the glass aside. “Not much can harm me but…” He glared at the damage. “I chose stone walls for a reason. Can’t tell you how many times a stone castle saved my life.” He joined Ian on the edge of the porch, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Listen up. We need a head count. Everyone stay put out front while Penny does the deed.”
Clare carried over a glass of water to Ian. “Still no sign of help.” She looked disgusted.
“You actually seemed hurt. Did the humans around your pack treat you nicely?” Ian drank the cool drink and eased the burn in his throat. He hadn’t realized how much it hurts.
“We weren’t exchanging cups of sugar, but they would have come for a fire.”
“Wait.” Pallas held his hands up between them. “What are you discussing? Did you call for help?”
They both nodded.
Pallas grew still, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she watched Penny frantically running through the shifters. She called a name repeatedly.
Jake…
Ian dropped his glass and sprinted inside the house. They’d all been together in the hall on the third floor. Clare in front, Darrell leading Blain, Jake bringing up the rear. Fuck. He should have placed the weaker male between him and Darrell. Ian took the stairs two at time. The fire was out but the place still remained filled with smoke. He coughed and fell to his knees.
Pallas shoved passed him. “Get back outside. I don’t have to breathe.”
Clare was waiting for Ian at the bottom of the steps. She slapped his shoulder. “That was foolhardy.” Yet she leaned forward on tiptoes peering up the stairs as if fighting back the urge to follow the vampire. “Did you see him?”
“No.” He cleared his throat. Penny hovered at the front door. Tears stained her cheeks.
Darrell and Blain joined her. “We should check the backstairs. That’s where we lost track of him.”
As a group they surged across the first floor. The sound of heavy boots descending reached their ears as they approached.
Pallas ducked out of the narrow passage way. He carried a body.
Penny cried out, escaping Clare’s hold. “No, no, no…”
The vampire carried Jake out to the front porch. “He’s dead. I found him curled in a corner at the top of the stairs. The smoke must have overcome him.” He set him on the scorched flooring.
Penny rested her head on Jake’s chest, shoulders shaking as she cried.
“Someone set that fire on purpose.” Ian shouted to the other shifters. “This wasn’t an accident.”
Pallas gave him a quelling glare over his shoulder, the kind that froze a male’s balls. “Believing you’re safe is the first mistake all paranormals make. Is it only the fault of those who tried to burn us that Jake is dead?”
Some shouted agreement.
“Or does the blame also fall on his pack that left him behind?” The hum of voices went silent. “Why wasn’t his absence noticed until now?”
“We were busy putting out the fire.” Clare’s voice was soft yet carried in the silent night.
“As a pack you should have sensed him missing.” Pallas hissed the words at her.
Ian stepped between them. “But we’re not pack.” The vampire hadn’t been there during the chaos of the fire. Clare was the one who had organized everyone. Pallas owed her his life.
The vampire poked Ian in the chest with a stabbing nail. “Who said?” He waved his hand over the group. “The first lesson every warrior learns is that you must work as one. You’re wolves. That means you must learn to be pack.” He turned his back on them and stared at the house. “First things first. We air the manor and clean.” Sighing, he glanced at Jake’s body. “I have to make a few phone calls.” He stroked Penny’s hair and glanced at Clare. “You’ll take care of her?”
“Always.” She sat next to Penny.
Pallas frowned. “Who’s his roommate?”
Ian, Darrell, and Blain held up their hands.
He nodded. “You dig the grave.”
Chapter Six
Dirt rolled over the fresh surface of Jake’s grave. Ian planted his shovel into the ground and leaned against the handle. His body ached before, now it was numb from his hair roots to his toenails. He wiped the sweat off his brow and stared at the ribbon of sunlight cresting between the dark trunks of the forest.
The night had dragged after the adrenaline of fighting the fire. He and Darrell dug Jake’s grave while Pallas set Clare on damage assessment and control.
Blain apparently had a bloodhound’s nose and tracked three distinct human scents by the porch. He couldn’t identify them, but he had the capacity to store that information for future reference. All shifters had a good sense of smell, but against popular belief, not all of them had Blain’s gifts.
Tossing his shovel aside, Darrell sat down hard on the ground next to Penny who knelt by Jake’s grave weaving wild flowers into a wreath. She’d been quiet, even for her. They’d chosen a spot on the edge of the woods for Jake’s burial site, where the sun would shine during the day and the sky would be filled with stars at night.
Ian stretched a cramp in his lower back and spotted Clare striding across the lawn, leading Blain. He gave her a solemn nod, at a loss for words. He hadn’t known Jake well. Heck, none of them had, but as the strongest wolf in their room, the meek male had been Ian’s responsibility. He’d failed Jake. Burying someone his age seemed a crime of nature.
Clare stopped about ten feet from the grave. Dark circles surrounded her fierce green eyes. She’d pulled her golden brown hair into a ponytail but a few strands had escaped and hung around her rounded face.
Blain sank to the ground by Penny and Darrell. He rested his hand on the omega’s shoulder.
Penny glanced at Clare. “He’s an orphan. I mean, he w—was an orphan.” She hung
her head, but Ian could see the tears dripping onto her lap. “His pack won’t care if he’s dead.”
Ian met Clare’s fierce glare over the grave. She gave him a curt nod as if confirming Penny’s assessment. Ian’s alpha might have dropped him off here against his will, but he thought the bastard would care enough if he died to come collect his body.
“How is the manor fairing?” The last he’d seen Pallas, the vampire had been taking measurements of the porch frame.
“It’s mostly superficial. Pallas thinks we can fix the damage on our own.” She paced, back forth in front of the group, like a caged animal, except their cage was an open field. “I can’t believe they don’t care.” Her voice carried clearly over the grounds.
Ian glanced at the empty porch and lawn. All the other shifters had gone to bed for the day after a night filled with cleaning and repairs. He and the others weren’t the only ones exhausted, but their weariness was compounded by grief—and guilt.
Clare’s gait grew more aggressive. She fisted and relaxed her hands. “Pack is family. There’s no such thing as an orphan for shifters.” A growl rumbled in her chest.
Penny folded in upon herself, eyes downcast. The other two males kept their gazes pinned to Clare as if preparing to defend themselves or the omega.
“We should have done a head count as soon as exiting the manor.” Clare raked her hands over her hair and Ian glimpsed the tips of claws poking from her fingertips. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
Ian dropped the shovel and grasped Clare by the shoulders, giving her a hard shake. “Snap out of it.” Her wolf was so close to the surface, he could see the animal staring back at him. “We didn’t set the fire. We’re all strangers here and never worked together.” He pulled her into a tight hug before she could resist. “I’m amazed we didn’t lose more.”
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