by Lori Drake
Chris sprang to his feet, shaking off the last tattered remnants of clothing that clung to his limbs and fur. Hackles raised, he growled and tensed to spring as his eyes took in the prone form of his enemy. The scent of Eric’s blood was heavy in the air. Chris longed to taste it, coppery and hot on his tongue.
“Christopher!”
He was a whisker’s-width away from attacking, but Adelaide’s voice cut through the blood haze like no others. Mother. Alpha. She pushed her way through the crowd to get to him and put herself between predator and prey.
“Christopher, that’s enough.”
Their eyes locked in challenge and Chris growled low in his throat, remembering now. She wasn’t his Alpha, not anymore. He bared his teeth in warning, relishing the gasps of the humans around him. They were afraid. Good. They should be afraid.
Adelaide bared her teeth in return, but it looked funny on a human. It took some of the fire out of Chris’s fury. He gave his head a toss and paced back and forth.
Adelaide motioned at Eric. “Get him out of here.”
Two men came forward, and Chris growled as they picked Eric up and carried him off. The others kept their distance.
Adelaide caught Chris’s gaze again and pointed imperiously toward the front door. “Outside. Now.”
Chris eyed her and huffed, then padded off in that direction. The door was open, and he pushed past the screen door without incident.
Once he got outside, Chris ran until he couldn’t run anymore, then flopped on the grass in the sun and rolled around, scratching his back. That was where Adelaide finally caught up to him, looking down at him with a frown as he lay on his back with all four paws up in the air. Sighing, she sank down to sit beside him in the grass, setting the change of clothes she’d brought in her lap.
She held out a hand. Chris rolled onto his side, woofed and nosed her hand, then licked at her fingers. She ruffled his ears, and he lay his head on her leg. Quiet settled between them before she finally spoke.
“I can’t believe you lost control like that. What’s gotten into you?” She stroked his head, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to go back. It was so much simpler, being a wolf. Liberated from the complexity of human emotion, he wasn’t even angry at her for stealing his kill.
“You need to come back, son.”
He sighed heavily and opened his eyes, gazing up at her without moving his head.
Adelaide snorted. “Don’t you go giving me puppy eyes.” She shifted her hand like she might push his head away, but instead gave his ears another stroke and gazed down at him for a long, thoughtful pause. “I’m sorry, Christopher. I’m sorry for the distance between us. I was angry with you, for taking over that pack without so much as talking to me first. I was hurt because you left us, and I didn’t know how to interact with you as peers. I still don’t, but I’m willing to try.”
Chris woofed softly again and nuzzled her hand, understanding what she was saying, if not the intricacies of the emotion behind the words.
“I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you better, didn’t teach you the things you need to know to handle this sort of responsibility. I was always so focused on Josephine, and now I fear she’ll leave me too. But that’s not your fault, and right now we have to—”
Shifting back to human form was effortless. Chris lay there for a little longer, the sun warm on his bare skin as he lay there with his head on his mother’s leg. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to her without being a wolf, but it had a soothing effect on him even after his human emotions welled to the surface.
He sat up after a minute and reached for the clothes she’d brought him, conscious of the compound full of strangers that didn’t share his family’s lack of concern about nudity. Chris dressed in silence, then sat beside his mother and took her hand.
“I’m sorry too,” he said. “Not for challenging Eric—that had to be done—but for letting things get so bad between us afterward. I really could’ve used your advice, but I couldn’t ask. I don’t know if it was pride or stubbornness.”
Adelaide squeezed his hand. “It’s not like both of those don’t run in the family, hmm?”
Chris laughed and folded her hand in both of his. “I love you, Mom. We’re going to get out of this. I’m working on a plan. I volunteered to—”
Footsteps in the grass behind them brought him up short, and he twisted to find a thin-lipped Karina and sulking Rob coming up behind them. Rob carried his shoes, probably the only article of clothing that’d survived his rage-induced shift. A jolt of alarm raced through Chris as he realized that Cathy’s charm was still in the pocket of his shredded pants. At best. At worst, whoever had cleaned up the mess had found it.
“The master requests your presence,” Karina said.
“Figured as much,” Chris said, playing it cool even as his stomach twisted in knots. He’d barely had a chance to talk to his mother, and Marc’s study was the last place he wanted to be. Maybe he should’ve thought of that before he let his anger get the best of him. Refusal would get him nowhere, so he put his shoes on, sans socks, and went with them.
“Be strong, my boy,” Adelaide murmured as he walked away, her words just on the edge of his hearing.
I’m trying, Mom. I swear, I’m trying.
20
Joey dragged her eyes open and blinked blearily up at the ceiling. Unremarkable white plaster greeted her. Her tongue felt too thick, and her mouth was dryer than a sand dune. She lifted a hand to rub her face but paused when she saw an IV line taped to the back of it.
Where am I? What happened?
She sat up, or tried to. Pain lanced her stomach. She hissed and dropped back down again, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. Footsteps approached. She looked around the room quickly, surveying what she could see from the bed. Despite the IV in her arm, it wasn’t a hospital room. It was a smallish bedroom with a rather large bed. The bag of clear liquid at the other end of her IV line hung on a nail on the wall over the headboard. The room was spartan, but clean.
Justin pushed open the mostly closed door and came into the room. Memories came flooding back. The meeting with the cultists. Her failed effort at negotiation. Blondie’s—Tina’s wicked switchblade.
They took Dean.
Chest tight, she tried to sit up again.
Justin was at her side in a flash, a strong hand at her shoulder holding her down. “Whoa, there,” he said. His quiet voice might have been soothing in another situation, but despite lingering grogginess, Joey was amped up. “Doc said you need to take it easy. You don’t want to pop a stitch, do you?”
“Doc?” The word came out as a hoarse croak. “You said he wasn’t an MD”
“He’s not, but I figure after stitching you up, he’s earned a nod. Besides, he is a doctor. Just not a people doctor.”
Joey blinked slowly. Not all of her synapses were firing just yet. “Huh?”
“He’s a vet.”
“Oh. I guess that explains the horse tranquilizers.”
A chuckle rumbled from Justin’s chest, and he nodded. “Can I get you anything?”
Joey tried to moisten her mouth with her tongue, but it didn’t do much good. “Water.”
“Be right back.” He left the room and returned with a glass. “I don’t have any straws, sorry. Let me help you sit up a little.”
Though it pained her, mentally as well as physically, Joey let him help her up enough that she could take a couple mouthfuls of water from the glass. Joey swallowed it gratefully, but by the time he eased a pillow behind her and let her recline against the headboard, her stomach was on fire.
She pressed a hand lightly over the thick bandage and frowned. “What happened? Why haven’t I healed more?”
Justin reached for something she hadn’t noticed sitting on the nightstand. Blondie’s switchblade. He pressed the button and the blade sprang out. It looked like an ordinary knife, but Joey knew better.
“It’s spelled, isn’t it?” she asked.
>
“No,” Justin said, his expression grim. “Silver.”
Joey’s hand went to her stomach again. She had to stop herself from trying to crawl to the other side of the bed to get away from the knife. “Fuck. Am I going to be okay?”
“Doc thinks so, but it’s going to be a slow recovery. No shifting until the stitches dissolve, either.”
“I can’t afford a slow recovery.” Joey pulled herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling less groggy by the second. The heavy-duty tranquilizers had done their job, but now that the effects were fading, they were fading fast.
Justin watched her impassively, using the edge of the nightstand to fold the dangerous blade closed. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I can’t just lie here while— Where are my pants?”
He motioned at the dresser across the room. “If you can get to ‘em, you can have ‘em.”
She managed to get to her feet, but only teetered there a few seconds before dropping back on the edge of the bed. Stubbornness was something Joey had in abundance, but even she knew her limits. Her eyes stung, but she held the tears at bay through sheer force of will. If there was anything an alpha female couldn’t afford to let an unfamiliar male see her do, it was cry.
“I need my phone,” she said. He didn’t move. “Please, can I have my phone?”
Justin brought it to her and helped her to recline again, tucking her bare legs beneath the blanket without a word. At least she was wearing a shirt, even if it wasn’t her own. She refused to think too hard about how she came to be wearing it as she checked her phone.
There were twenty-one missed calls from Sam.
“Christ. How long have I been out?” she asked.
“About six hours.”
As if on cue, a noisy boom sounded from the front of the… house? Apartment? Joey wasn’t sure. She tensed, which her recently stitched stomach protested with a fresh wave of nauseating pain. Justin’s figure practically blurred as he vanished through the bedroom door.
“Hey, what do you think you’re—”
Thump!
“Where is she?”
Joey groaned, recognizing her eldest brother’s voice immediately. “Sam! I’m back here!”
Heavy footsteps thumped through the domicile, and Ben rushed into the room with her father and Jon at his heels. Sam swiftly followed, shoving Justin ahead of him with an arm twisted behind his back.
Joey’s eyes filled with tears, and this time she couldn’t hold them back. Her father hurried over to sit on the edge of the bed, and she reached for him. He gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair.
“Are you okay, kitten?” he asked. “What happened? When you didn’t check in, we feared the worst.”
“I failed, Daddy. I lost them all. Mom, Chris, Dean…”
“Shhh, we’ll get them back.”
He rubbed her back, and she fought to hold back sobs that she knew full well would aggravate her wound even more. Someone climbed onto the bed from the other side, and Joey found herself wrapped in another pair of arms. She breathed in her father and Ben’s familiar scents and started to pull herself together.
A throat cleared across the room. “Excuse me, if you wouldn’t mind—”
“Shut up, mongrel.” Sam’s voice held a hint of a barely controlled growl.
Joey lifted her head from her father’s shoulder, looking past him to Sam and Justin. “Sam, let him go. He saved my life.”
“Oh.” Sam released Justin promptly and stepped back. “My apologies.”
A spike of fear shot through her. “Where’s Sara?” Joey asked.
“She’s safe,” Jon said.
Joey’s eyes flicked frantically between her brothers and father. “You didn’t bring her, did you?”
“No, of course not.” Jon came over and sat beside Reginald. Joey held a hand out to him, and he wrapped his fingers around hers. “She’s in good hands, I promise.”
“Cathy?” Joey guessed.
“Yes, child?”
Sam moved aside so Cathy could join them in the now-crowded room.
Joey stared open-mouthed, then shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here. This is exactly what he wants.”
“Gentlemen, if you’d give us the room, please,” Cathy said.
Reginald and Ben made sure Joey was settled back amongst the pillows again before they filed out with the others. Justin was the last to go, standing there uncertainly. It was his room, after all.
“You okay?” he asked.
Joey nodded, and he withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Cathy sat on the edge of the bed and took Joey’s hand. “What happened?” she asked, indicating the IV bag. “Just the medical particulars. You’ll want your family here for the rest, I’m sure. Rather than going over it all twice.”
Joey flicked a glance at the knife on the nightstand. “I was stabbed with a silver blade. Justin’s vet friend stitched me up, but it was pretty bad. I thought—I thought I was going to die.” Emotion welled in her chest once more, and she dashed fresh tears from her cheeks with her free hand.
“May I?” Cathy motioned at her stomach.
Joey nodded and lay quietly while Cathy turned down the blanket, lifted the borrowed shirt, and peeled back the bandage. She studied the wound, then laid her hands on Joey’s stomach, framing the inflamed, angry flesh with her fingers but not touching it.
Cathy lifted her eyes, meeting Joey’s again. “I think I can help. I won’t be able to heal it fully. There’s only so much I can do when silver is involved, but I should be able to kick-start your healing and ease some of your discomfort.”
“Really? That’d be… Yes, please. Whatever you can do.”
A golden glow surrounded Cathy, and she closed her eyes. Joey’s skin began to tingle under her hands. Cathy tilted her head, as if listening to something only she could hear. Warmth spread through Joey’s abdomen and chest, all around the wound but not quite touching it.
“Brace yourself, child. This will hurt.”
Cathy didn’t give Joey much time to do so. The warm energy surrounding the wounded area swiftly rushed in to fill it. It burned like fire, the pain as bad as it had been when she’d been stabbed in the first place. Maybe worse. She clenched handfuls of the blanket and a scream tore from her throat. She half expected her brothers to come storming in, but the door remained closed. Agonizing seconds ticked by, but the burning sensation finally receded, leaving Joey limp, her forehead damp with sweat.
“Any better?” Cathy asked.
“I’m afraid to move,” Joey admitted. “Also, you may have undersold the ‘this may hurt’ thing.”
Cathy pressed her lips together, but they still twitched with suppressed laughter. “You’re smarting off, so I must’ve done something right.”
Joey chuckled, wincing from expected pain, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it’d be. She pushed herself carefully into a sitting position and bit her lip. It still hurt, but it was miles better from where it had been. As if she’d done a couple of weeks’ worth of healing in a minute or so.
She met Cathy’s eyes, then scooted over and gave her a hug. “Thank you. I’m so grateful, but I meant what I said. You shouldn’t be here.”
Cathy held on to Joey and stroked her hair. “I knew this day would come, child. I’m not unprepared.”
Joey pulled back. “Oh? Tell me more.”
Cathy did, and for the first time since she woke up, Joey felt the odds start to shift in her favor.
Chris stood in the late afternoon sun, sweat rolling off his brow. The wooden rod across his broad shoulders was getting heavier with each stone cast into one of its six buckets. A scant six feet away, Eric stood with an identical contraption across his shoulders. They’d spent the first hour of their mutual punishment staring each other down, but it hadn’t made matters any easier for either of them.
One by one, the cultists came forward to drop a stone in each bucket, then walked off to
retrieve two more stones and get back in line. It took more than a single pass to fill twelve buckets. Chris shifted the weight of the rod on his aching shoulders to compensate for one side being heavier than the other and wished he could take his shirt off. He didn’t know if it was an unseasonably warm day for this area or not, but his shirt was nearly soaked through.
Still, he’d take this over another session with Marc. Anything was better than that.
Karina put in an appearance every half-hour or so to check on how full the buckets were. Chris hoped this was over soon. He had other things to do, plans to set in motion, and being punished wasn’t making him want to punch Eric any less. Judging from the openly hostile looks still cast his way, the feeling was mutual.
“That’s enough,” Karina said, after about three hours. The cultists in line dispersed, and Chris started to ease the rod from his shoulders but stopped when Karina held up a hand. “Not you.”
Then she made them stand there for another hour.
Chris’s muscles started to cramp, but he gritted his teeth and remained upright through sheer force of will. Eric fell to his knees with a cry, and the smug satisfaction that filled Chris almost made this all worthwhile. No, that wasn’t right. Turning Eric’s face into a puffy, black-and-blue mess had made it worthwhile, but by the time they finished with their punishment, Eric’s face was mostly healed, aside from a lingering black eye.
When given leave to do so, Chris shrugged off the rod and let the whole mess crash noisily to the ground. His shoulders, arms, and torso burned as he pulled off his shirt and used it to mop his face. Eric collapsed in the grass along with his rig and lay back, but Chris had had more than enough sun for one day. He dragged himself toward the front steps.
“Where are you going?” Karina said sharply.
Chris halted, eyes glued to the beckoning shade, then reluctantly turned back. Karina stood with her hands on her hips, looking down her nose at him. He liked the dream Karina better. She was more fun. Right about then, an angry badger might have been more fun.
