by Lori King
Bursting with excitement, she woofed and waited. Daniel didn't come. She barked again but lacked the patience to see if he'd attend. Damn it, she really needed to work on the man's obedience training if they were going to hunt together on a regular basis. Irritated, she doubled back to fetch Daniel and found him still trying to jimmy the door.
"Yeah, just give me a second."
"Nnnnooooohhhh..." Victoria bayed, vocalizing her annoyance, a couple octaves shy of a full howl. She darted toward him and placed a sharp nip on the back of his calf. Not hard enough to pierce denim but definitely to be felt.
He jumped and spun around, aiming the flashlight at her. "All right already! I'm coming. Geez, being nagged by a she-wolf..."
She huffed in satisfaction and reared her front quarters. Twisting about, she returned to where she'd picked up the scent, found it again, and hurried along in a roughly northeastern direction. The ground got rougher—steep slopes covered in loose dirt and gravel. For almost a couple miles, give or take, their route ran parallel to the northeastern arroyo that eventually flowed into the headwaters of Slaughterhouse Gulch.
Out of consideration for Daniel, she kept her pace slow and steady. She sought the safest route even when it took them away from the shortest possible route. Fortunately, Macan had done his best to negotiate an easy course so they seldom strayed more than a few yards from his trail.
Capriciously, the scent trail rose along the base of a butte. Victoria ascended at a hard scramble which sent loose debris shooting out from beneath her paws. She worried about making the ascent worse for Daniel, who was behind and below her, but a glance over her shoulder confirmed the hunter was keeping up.
She paused, giving him a chance to catch his breath. "Ruff."
"Do you think we're getting close?" Daniel asked, panting with exertion.
"Rrruunnoohhh," she said, doing her best Scooby-Dooism. Dog speech was more difficult than she'd imagined.
"Sorry?" Daniel cocked his head and grinned at her, obviously enjoying himself despite the rough going.
"Roh-roh-roo."
"Hey! No need to be rude."
Muttley wound up being much easier to impersonate—she snickered. After a short break, she resumed hiking. The nearer they got to the summit, the more difficult the climb. Behind her, Daniel muttered a few more choice phrases beneath his breath. She caught the general gist—What the fuck had possessed Macan to come out here alone in the first place? She didn't blame the man for his ire; frankly, she agreed with him.
Cresting a sharp incline, Victoria ground to a sudden halt. A few inches before her front paws, the earth gave way to a precipitous drop off—not the plateau she'd been expecting. She stared at the spot on the ridge that'd been flattened when something—or someone—landed atop it. To her, it looked as though Macan had tripped and fallen, tumbling down the other side.
Daniel stopped beside her and aimed the flashlight at the patch of disturbed ground. Clearly, his conclusion paralleled hers. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted—"Macan!" He repeated the call twice more.
His voice carried on the deceptively quiet night. It seemed like they were the only living things around but her sensitive ears read between the sound waves. She detected the too-silent hush of wary prey become aware of predators in their midst.
"Damn." Daniel lowered his hands and took a step forward.
A man's hoarse voice cried out across a great distance. "Hey! I'm here! Don't leave!"
They exchanged an urgent glance and then scrambled to peer over the crest of the hill. Their combined weight sent an alarming amount of dry earth tumbling down the slick slides of the mount. It was fifty feet down at least.
Daniel called out. "Macan!"
"Yeah! I'm down here!" A second later a red flare shot into the air, illuminating the sides of a canyon below. "Danny, is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me—"
"Oh, hell. I've never been so happy to hear another person's voice."
"Victoria Storm is with me. Hang in there. We're coming."
"Watch that last step!" Macan croaked, barely audible. "...a doozy."
With a howl of enthusiasm, Victoria leaped over the summit and plunged headlong down the other side. She took it at breakneck speed. Her front paws crashed into the slope, bringing down an avalanche of rubble. Her rear feet touched earth and she rode the cascade for several paces before she pushed off again. The miniature landslide gathered volume as it progressed along the hill.
Her footing remained deft the entire descent—a predator's surefootedness and strength. She was free of fear—even a severe fall couldn't kill her. Broken bones healed at an accelerated rate. But even then, she noticed her own depleted reserves. The evening, including the wight fight and two shifts, had drained her energy. She verged on exhaustion. It concerned her, but there was no opportunity for such indulgences. The humans worried her more. The difficult descent would be dangerous for Daniel. She hoped he had the sense to proceed with caution. Ideally, she should have stayed with him, but Macan sounded as though he was in serious distress.
She arrived at the bottom of the slope amid a landslide of loose earth. Bounding along at a full run, she found herself heading straight for the opposite side of the canyon at an alarming rate. She dug in her claws, entering an uncontrolled skid in her effort to avoid a head-on collision with the rock wall. She spun in a full rotation, skating on the tips of her nails, and pulled out only to find herself barreling straight at Macan—a flash of gray bristle attached to a beastly huge man.
"Fur fuck's sake!" The old-timer flapped his arms overhead, his accent strong in his agitation.
A wolf's chortle built in her chest. Huffing, Victoria gathered herself and executed a neat leap that carried her clean over Mac. Though, one of his waving hands brushed her rear leg. She landed and executed a tight turn.
By the time she came around, Macan had recovered his sensibilities. His infliction settled into his Americanized-norm. "You're a mad rocket, Lassie, but I'm damn glad to see you. Is Danny on his way down?"
She barked affirmative, assuming it to be true, but left the task of interpretation to Macan. The hunter rested on the ground beneath a camouflage tarp with a backpack beside him. He hadn't made any effort to stand so she walked over to greet him, wagging her tail.
"Hey! Everyone okay down there?" Daniel called out from above.
"Aye, t'was a close call. I almost got trampled!" Macan answered. "My ankle's broken."
"Stay put. I'm coming down."
"Yeah, right. Where else am I gonna go?"
"What's that?" Daniel asked.
"Naw, never mind!" Macan swept his arms wide in exasperation. "Hurry! The beast might come back at any time."
Beast? Victoria spun in a slow circle, seeking any sign of another creature. But aside from a few insects skittering across the rocky earth, she found nothing. Puzzled, she returned her attention to Macan, wondering if the hunter had hurt his head when he'd fallen. A concussion or dehydration could account for hallucinations, though the man sounded lucid enough. From a hunter, talk of menacing creatures hardly qualified as outside the norm.
Her priorities divided between performing an examination of Macan's injuries and securing the area. Ultimately, concern for external threats won out. The hunter had already been down here for hours. He'd survive another couple minutes until she could get to him. Besides, Macan and Daniel remained engaged in a shouted exchange of information she was reluctant to interrupt. In passing, she gleaned that Macan believed a menacing apparition inhabited the canyon.
"Hang in there. I'm securing a rope. Beast, you say? What'd it look like?"
"I didnae get a good look at it 'cause I was hiding under the tarp. It was big."
"Big?" Whatever he was doing, Daniel's activities sent a rain of loose soil falling into the canyon onto their heads.
"Aye, big."
Victoria performed a thorough inspection of the area, walking a circuit from one side of the canyon to the other
—a distance of no more than sixty feet at its farthest point. A conspicuous furrow against the cliff caught her attention. Although it was only a couple feet across, it ran deep—much further back than the other grooves in the gully. Its straight lines had the look of being manmade rather than natural. Thistle bushes and scrubs clung by determined roots from hard-packed earth, forming a curtain of overgrowth. Additionally, the trail was strewn with good-sized rocks.
She picked a path around the debris, navigating it with relative ease thanks to her small size. Her suspicions were rewarded when she located a recessed mine entrance set about twenty feet back. Eureka! Could this be the lost gold mine that so many men had sought and failed to find? She wanted it to be just so she could gloat later.
Three weathered wooden beams formed an irregular entrance—narrower at the top than the bottom. The soil had eroded away, exposing a couple large boulders that overhung the opening. No mine cart tracks or "No trespassing" signs, as many a movie had led her to expect. Still, she considered the discovery really damn cool. As soon as she got the chance—and more urgent matters got dealt with—she intended to show it off.
She doubled back and emerged from the alley just as Daniel completed his descent. He released the climbing rope, took the flashlight from his backpack, and walked toward Macan.
"Damn, Macan—look at you. Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass this is gonna be to explain to my old man?"
Macan huffed. "Don't be a wee clipe! Ye just leave your father outta this. Nuthin's happened here he needs to know aboot."
Head held high, Victoria trotted over to join them. While Macan grumbled, she nudged aside the tarp to get a better look at his legs. A foul odor assaulted her nose. Groaning, she pointed her nose to the side.
"I'm bowfing, Lassie—been down here all day sitting on my bahooky in the dirt beneath thon merciless sun." He obliged her and dragged the cover off his lower legs. His left pant leg had been rolled up and his shoe removed, exposing his ankle which was swollen and bruised.
"Can you heal him?" Daniel asked, stroking his hand from her shoulders to her hips. His touch raised the hairs across her back.
She huffed in exasperation because she lacked the energy necessary to undertake a full shift back to human. Hindsight being 20/20, she regretted her decision to change to a wolf. For tracking and travel, it had been her top choice, but it'd have been really good to be able to communicate with the guys.
Lacking words, she tried the next best thing. "Roof."
"Thon naw or aye?" Macan puzzled. "I dinnae speak woof."
"Not sure," Daniel said, laughing.
"Roof." As her goddess would've said, Always leave 'em wondering. Taking a deep breath for fortitude, Victoria leaned in for a closer look. Her eyes cast a goldish glow, illuminating the wound for better viewing, and her professional opinion aligned with Macan's prior conclusion—it was broken. A frustrating development but one they'd have to deal with using traditional first aid. Freya had already forgiven her once for breaking the rules by using her magic to help Daniel. To do so again was simply unacceptable. She refused to cross that line for a man she wasn't intimately involved with.
She glanced up and found both men watching her intently. Her ears flattened against her skull and her tail dropped. With an apologetic whine, she shook her head.
Understanding lit Daniel's face. He clapped his hands. "Okay, looks like we do this the old fashioned way. Macan, let's find some straight branches and get a splint on that leg. We're going to have to make a rig with the ropes and lift you out of here."
"No offense, Danny, but I've got a good hunner pounds on ye."
"It's a good thing we've got a wolf on our side then." Daniel looked straight at Victoria and grinned. She wolf-smiled in return.
"Let's get out of here before that beastie comes back," Macan scolded them with waving arms. Abruptly, he froze. His pie eyes locked upon a distant point and his mouth gaped wide. A bellow erupted from him.
"Ach, ye bastard! 'Mon then, ye hairy bawbag!"
Victoria jerked and pulled back. She opened her mouth to scold the Scotsman but forgot she couldn't speak. Only a rumbling snarl rolled from her muzzle.
"What the—" Daniel also reacted with mixed aggression and confusion. His arms shot up in a defensive stance against the unknown threat.
An eerie green glow appeared behind her and Daniel. She registered movement—shifting shadows—and the brittle crunch of dry dirt. Before she could react, a fist walloped Victoria upside the head. The force of the blow knocked her off her feet and sent her flying. She tumbled through the air.
A cacophony: men's shouts, a piercing, inhuman shriek, and then a rifle boomed.
She smacked into the wall of the canyon and tumbled straight into blackness.
10
Victoria regained consciousness, feeling like she'd gone rounds with a freight train—and lost. Her head throbbed, bloated and burstable, while queasiness swam laps in her gut. Groaning, she twitched her nose and had immediate cause for regret when she snorted a snoutful of dust. She was upside down, muzzle buried in the dirt. Coughing, she slumped over and accidentally pushed into a somersault that sent her rolling ass over teacup. No dignity, but the end justified the means as it righted her so she could breathe properly again.
The effort also brought a whole new sort of suffering in the form of aches and pains. Based on the stabbity-stab in her side and her initial shortness of breath, she had at least a couple broken ribs. She hadn't healed yet and probably wouldn't for some time considering her crippling exhaustion. Mentally, she composed and offered up a fragmented prayer to Freya. Until her regeneration kicked in, she determined to employ careful movement.
Memory returned—Macan and Daniel—and restored her motivation to get back on her feet. No doubt she resembled nothing more than a zombie-wolf as she righted herself on taffy legs. The world swung far to the right—and then returned on a wide arc to the left. Wobbling, she took an experimental step and managed to remain upright.
She lifted her head and glanced about the area in a wary search for the thing that had attacked her. Not just her... Them. She retained a vague recollection of the clash between the hunters and their unknown assailant. Her concern grew urgent—she had no idea how long she'd been out. Apparently long enough for the conflict to play through.
She spied Macan's prone figure on the ground near where he'd been sitting. Daniel was nowhere in sight. Fear for his safety suffocated her. Her protective instincts clamored for her to rush to his rescue. Without a better understanding of what'd happened though, she couldn't do anyone any good. Fighting rising panic, she headed over to investigate.
Reaching the Scotsman, she sniffed him and huffed in relief to discover he was only unconscious, thanks to a nasty injury on the side of his head. If their attacker returned, he was helpless. Her best bet was to hide him. She seized the edge of the tarp in her teeth and dragged it to cover the hunter. Hardly ideal camouflage but he'd said it'd fooled the creature before. Hopefully, it'd work again.
Putting her nose to the ground, she caught the sulfuric scent of a discharged firearm and fresh blood—Daniel's. She searched and found a splatter trail and signs of a person having been dragged into the gulley that dead-ended in the hidden mine entrance. For whatever mysterious reason, the mine monster had chosen to take Daniel while leaving Macan and Victoria behind. Who knew? Maybe it was a random thing. Or perhaps the hunter had seemed like a better prize than an old man with a broken leg or a coyote-sized wolf.
A handgun fired on full auto.
Victoria stopped. The sound originated from deep within the earth, a muffled echo that carried from the craggy opening. She counted five bursts before she recovered her senses and then she stopped counting.
Victoria lunged into action. She dug in her claws, tearing up the soil to acquire traction. Gathering momentum, she shot down the narrow alley, running flat out at her full speed. Lancing pain shot through her side, but she bore down with renewed
resolve. She locked on the mine entrance—straight ahead of her—with tunnel vision born of single-minded determination.
The firearm's boom ceased—replaced by an otherworldly bellow and a man's combative shout—Daniel. Victoria passed the weathered beams of the mine's ingress. The path sloped downward into the ground. It grew cooler—darker. The rocky sides were narrow and the roof low. Her stride shortened as a matter of necessity to avoid running straight into a wall.
Following the clamor of the battle ahead, she rounded a blind corner and dropped straight into the cold, muddy water of an underground river. Startled, she exhaled a fountain of bubbles but retained enough sense not to inhale. Her feet brushed a rocky bottom, which she used to push off. It sent her shooting upward. The second her head broke the surface, she gulped air and paddled for all she was worth. The depth was about three to three-and-a-half feet. She couldn't touch bottom without diving, which put her at a distinct disadvantage.
A garish green glow lit up the interior of the water-hewn cavern. Victoria cast about for the source, located it, and stumbled into absolute bafflement. She stopped paddling and sank. Her nose submersed, flooding her nostrils with water, and startled her back to her senses. Frantic, she resumed swimming.
When she read Patrick Guffin's journal account of a giant ghost-skeleton guarding a lost gold mine, she'd naturally taken it with a grain of salt and approached the matter with a healthy degree of skepticism. Guess no one had told it.
Old Skelly—a ten-foot-tall skeleton with an unusually thick and heavy bone structure. The water came to its knees, and it hunched over because its head and shoulders scraped the ceiling. The thing faced away from her, granting Victoria a clear view of its knobby spine. It held an enormous pickaxe—the kind used in excavation. Stringy pieces of moss clung to its frame. As described in the journal—a copper mine lantern hung suspended within its ribcage, the source of the eerie haze.
