by Red, Lynn
Low and fat and orange on the horizon, the moon seemed to light a path right in front of him. A shimmering street ran between the disc in the sky and his window. He threw one more glance back to Lily and drank in her purity, her beauty. She was breathtaking in the pale light that danced across her face as he moved back and forth in the shadow.
He wanted to return to her, to ignore the wolves. Damon wanted to abandon everything and just stay with her – be with her – and nothing else, from then until eternity claimed him took him home.
But he knew that couldn’t happen. Abandoning the pack wasn’t a choice Damon had. If he abandoned his duty, what would that say to Lily? She needed his strength. He needed hers.
He couldn’t abandon his duties, his responsibilities, not even for a night.
The wolves howled again, their ghostly voices stirring Damon’s wolf soul. He felt himself changing before he was outside. There was no thought to it, no conscious effort. One moment he was human, standing in the window, admiring Lily, and the next he was out, paws thumping across the ground
Running, ever running, on and on, always in one direction, to wherever the voices came from, he went. When Damon reached the edge of the scrub woods, something pulled his attention back.
He had to take one more look toward the house, which was already disappearing into the night; one last look back to where his beloved Lily lay, perfect and sweet and safe.
And then the voices reached him again.
Damon, finally, threw back his head and answered.
*
Damon didn’t notice the first wolf before it crashed into his side, a tidal wave of teeth and claws and sheer force. He gasped, fell to a side and skidded through a short, thorny bush before flipping back onto his feet.
He snarled. “Who’s there? Answer!”
The end of a tail disappear into the night.
Circling slowly, eyes sweeping from left to right, Damon squared himself, and spread his feet wide, waiting for the next blow.
“Show yourself!” he shouted into the dark. “Whoever you are, come out!”
The voice he heard blasting out of his chest didn’t seem like his own. It seemed distant, strong, and a whole lot fiercer than he felt. Inside, he was trembling, but as he scratched his claw on the ground and crushed the bush that had broken his slide a moment before, Damon steeled himself.
From the edges of his perception, one pair of pale, golden eyes appeared, followed by elongated jaws, and then sloped, hunched shoulders on top of a massive body. What he saw was no wolf, but instead a savage beast halfway between man and wolf.
“Who are you?” Damon demanded again.
“Someone who doesn’t believe you’re ready for the responsibility you’ve been given.” The huge wolfman scraped his claws across his chest, leaving a bloody mark that gleamed in the moon’s silver light. “I want to make sure the Skarachee are not in the hands of a cub.”
“I’m no boy,” Damon said. He crouched, visualizing his legs expanding, stretching into muscular pillars like those that stood in front of him.
A moment later, his bones wrenched, his muscles tore, and the Alpha stood upright, unleashing a roar that shook the whole earth. He scraped his foot backwards on the hard-scrabble dirt, waiting to drive forward.
But then, from his left and from his right, more eyes emerged. Wolves crept into his vision, then stood and changed into forms just like he and his aggressor shared. Damon could hardly make out any difference between the three, except that they were all slightly different in size.
“You’ve been gone too long, boy,” one of the new ones said. “You don’t know what this world is. You grew up outside it, outside us. How can the Skarachee Alpha not even be a proper Skarachee?” The voice was familiar, but only vaguely so.
“You,” Damon growled. “Who are you? Who are you to say I’m no Skarachee?”
The creature shook with laughter. “You don’t know me. If you’d not been hidden from us all your life, you would… but…”
“The old man,” he growled in recognition. “From the other day.”
“So he does remember. I thought you were so taken with your mate that you were dumbfounded.”
“What is this about?” Damon asked again.
“We’re going to make sure you’re ready.” The voice that spoke that time was unfamiliar, but Damon was sure it was another from the ice cream parlor that had seen him and Lily when they first arrived.
The three drew closer. The one with the mark on his chest squeezed his fists. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “I love you like a brother. I just want to make sure you’re not in over your head.”
Damon almost fell backwards when that voice hit his ears. “Hunter?” he said, unable to believe what he heard. “Why are you…?”
“I don’t like it,” the beast, Hunter, replied. “I didn’t want to do this but… but they convinced me. And they’re right. You were gone for so long, so far away from anything that we are.”
“I was with the elder,” Damon said. “The oldest of all Skarachee Alphas chose me. And I had to go. I had to go be with him, and I had to go claim my mate.”
The mention of Lily got the eldest of the three attackers excited. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Your mate. You care more for her than you do your pack. If you don’t have a strong heart, if you don’t have the stomach for combat, you’ll never be my Alpha.”
“Nor mine,” the second voice joined in. “Unless you prove yourself.”
Damon tensed.
Hunter shrugged then charged.
In the instant before his friend slammed into him like an out of control Volvo, Damon saw that in a ring around the four combatants, eyes of every color glimmered in the darkness. Some were yellow, some pale red, some green, some gold, but the one thing they had in common was that they were all glowing softly. Patiently watching, none of them moved.
The split second between Hunter’s feet leaving the ground and the impact against Damon’s chest felt like it stretched into minutes, but then the entire world went savage red first with impact and then with pain.
Shooting through his chest, Damon felt the blow rattle him to the core, but he didn’t fall. Curling his toes into immobile fists, he dug in, refusing to give any ground.
“Well,” Hunter grunted as he and Damon tied up in a wrestler’s clash to gain leverage, “you’re strong as shit. You got that going for you.”
Their faces inches apart, Damon groaned with effort, driving his knee up underneath Hunter’s ribcage. Hunter recoiled slightly and grimaced in satisfied pain.
Without even realizing it, Damon twisted himself to the left, just barely avoiding a punch he never saw coming. One of the wolfmen – he didn’t know which – swung wildly and let out a deep grunt when the second blow sailed wide too.
The next one that came from the right met its mark.
A fist, or an elbow, or something else, crunched against the side of his head, sending Damon’s vision wobbling and lurching as he fought to keep his balance. If it weren’t for the hand he had locked on Hunter’s forearm, he would have fallen.
Another blow caught him in the stomach, but with the sharp, lurching pain creeping down his neck from the first one, he hardly noticed. A claw raked down his back, finally forcing him to release the deathgrip he had on Hunter’s shoulder and elbow.
The slick burning of his skin healing itself quickly followed, but even if the wound closed, the pain still bit deep. Damon fell to one knee.
“Left,” a voice that was felt more than it was heard, urged him. “Now.”
Damon ignored it, and a round, awful pain blasted through his ribs. “Too… much,” he groaned, as he covered his head with his arms, deflecting a punch just in time. “Can’t… see…”
Blood ran from an unfelt wound down into his eye, momentarily blinding Damon. When he wiped it away, another fist caught him in the chest and forced the air out of his lungs in a whoosh.
“How ca
n I… I can’t fight, I can’t…”
Wildly, Damon thrashed out with a fist, and then with another. The first one caught one of his attackers solidly on the side of the face. Whichever one of them it was yelped in surprise, but wasn’t distracted for more than a second before pummeling Damon with another flurry of blows.
“Left. Now.” The voice, again, commanded him, but Damon reacted an instant too slow. He moved, but not in time to avoid a knee that caught him square in the ribs. Damon grunted and extended an arm just in time to grab whoever it was that kneed him.
Damon had all of a half-second to catch his breath.
“Fist coming from the left.”
That time, he didn’t think. Letting his instincts carry him, and driven by whatever ghost voice it was he heard inside his mind, Damon turned his head just in time to feel the air from a punch slide right past. He countered. A deep, heavy crunch followed by Hunter howling let him know he’d done it right.
Blood pumped heavily in Damon’s temples. Every sense he had flared to life, as though he had entered another level of consciousness. Time moved slower around him as he slashed his claws.
“Lift your knee,” the voice said, only it sounded different, as though there were more than one voice echoing in Damon’s head. It was an old voice, worn smooth with age. He suddenly remembered watching curiously as the great elder Poko talked to all sorts of things Damon couldn’t see.
Flexing his legs, then exploding upward, the point of his knee slammed into a wolfman’s solar plexus, which immediately sent that one – the smallest of the three attackers – sprawling into the dirt. He watched the creature writhe and double up before he turned back to the other two, who were standing square with each other, three feet from Damon.
He flashed out one of his claws, purposefully missing both. Hunter flinched backward, distracting the old werewolf for a split second.
That instant was enough time for Damon to throw an elbow that crunched the old wolf’s cheek.
Fire coursed through Damon’s veins.
All at once, he saw the moon through the trees and remembered Lily lying there, perfect and safe in those blankets. “You’re already everything you need to be,” she had told him the night before they got to town, the night before all this confusion started. “You just have to believe it.”
“I… do,” he said under his breath.
“He comes,” the ghost voice said. “Dodge low.”
Without thinking, Damon ducked a wild blow from Hunter that probably would have spun his head around on his neck, and gave his friend a sharp uppercut in return. Damon’s friend grunted and came at him again, but with a little stagger in his step.
Damon flexed his massive shoulders, drawing them almost up to his ears, and was about to deliver the blow that would send his friend to the ground in a heap with the other two, he saw Hunter stumble, and lunged forward to catch him instead of to strike.
“I can’t believe this,” Hunter said, out of breath and clearly hurt. “You… three of us. How?”
Damon grabbed his friend under the arms and laid him down slowly on the ground.
The eyes ringing the makeshift arena had all vanished, and the older of the two werewolves was just climbing to his feet. “I…”
Damon turned his attention to the voice. “What was the meaning of this? You really felt like you needed to test me in a fight?”
“It’s… our way,” the old man said. His tone had gone much softer than it was when he screamed and dove for Damon’s throat. “None of us knew you were… able.” He swallowed with a painful click. “We heard about you, we knew you’d been chosen, but none of us knew why. Last we knew, you were just a child, secreted away from the pack.”
Thinking for a moment, Damon chose his next words carefully and spoke in a near-whisper. “Then you’re satisfied? The elder chose me. I didn’t ask for this. And I’ve already been tested once, in case somehow you were aware of all the other details of my life except that one.”
“You have tainted blood,” the old man said. “Pokorann must have plans for you that we can’t understand.”
“Tainted?” Damon snarled, leapt to his feet and grabbed the old man by the neck, jerking him off the ground. “Tainted blood? You’re talking about my brother?”
“Not just your brother,” he said and then fell silent. “It’s… my throat, you’re… choking…”
Hunter interrupted the old man with a ragged breath and a groan. “Can you lift me, Damon? I’m… my ribs ache… I think they’re broken.” He let out a laugh that obviously hurt. “You’ve got a hell of a left hook, no matter what Nat says about your heredity.”
Damon shot the old man one more vile-filled glance and then replaced him on the ground. “Nat?” Damon asked. “That is your name, old one?”
The old man nodded. “Nathaniel. But… yes, Alpha, that is my name.”
Hearing that word, that title, sent a shock crawling through Damon. It was the first time anyone had referred to him with that kind of deference, that sort of respect.
His thoughts turned to Lily, then to Poko in his cave, then finally back to the discomfort of reality, to the leaves under his bare, clawed feet, and to his friend asking him for help.
Damon nodded. “Good. Then I’ve proven myself to you, Nathaniel? My family’s past no longer bothers you? If it’s the Carak you’re worried about…” Damon paused, noticing the man shifted his weight from one clawed foot to another. “Know that I exiled my brother. I am aware of my past. I won’t pretend to know all the details, or even most of them. But know that you, the Skarachee, are my true family.”
While waiting for Nat to answer, Damon turned and helped his friend to his feet. Hunter moaned and then grabbed his ribs, hunching over to ease the pain.
“I can see that,” Nat said. “But there are others who would challenge you. There are others who have doubts.”
Damon rolled his head around on his neck, cracking it. “You speak for many, Nathaniel. You have the pack’s respect. Is this right?”
The old man nodded slowly and then anticipated Damon’s next words. “I will tell them that you’re no pretender. As far as I’m concerned, Pokorann’s choice for successor was a wise one.”
Damon and Nathaniel exchanged another long glance before Damon nodded his acceptance. “I’m counting on you,” he said finally. Then, something else struck him. “Is there one of us named Carrell?”
Nat looked taken aback. “Yes… well, in a way. He’s been withdrawn from the pack for years. If we’re talking about the same person, he’s in charge of the town records, under the courthouse.”
Damon’s jaw tightened, but he decided that caution was for the best, and said no more. “Thank you. Go now to the others.”
“I will Alpha. And thank you.”
With that, the old man retreated a few steps, then crouched and went fully lupine before running. Hunter’s ragged breathing caught Damon’s attention.
“Let’s get you back home,” Damon said. “Sorry for the ribs.”
Hunter shook his head, laughing. “You’ll have a sore jaw,” he said. “I got at least one good shot at you. I hope, anyway.”
Damon cracked a smile. “Yeah,” he rubbed a place on his chin that had just started throbbing a moment before. “I think you got a good one. Can you walk?”
“I can walk, but I can’t run. These ribs aren’t gonna let me move very fast.”
Looking up, Damon realized there were only a couple of hours before the sun came up. He didn’t want to be away from Lily for any longer than he absolutely had to be. And, aside from that, he knew he needed to warn her about Carrell. Undoubtedly, the rogue werewolf had some way to know who she was.
It was all Damon could do to not resolve to stop her from going to the courthouse. But he wasn’t going to let her go without at least knowing that there was a danger, no matter how vague.
“If you want to go ahead,” Hunter said, “I can make it on my own.”
“Ride?”
Damon replied. “I’m strong enough to carry you.”
That got a laugh from Hunter that made him grab his ribs again. “The thought of riding you home is… Oh God, this hurts. Don’t make me laugh. Thank you,” he said, “but no, I think that would be too big of a blow to my dignity.”
“You’re sure? No one would know,” Damon said.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ve been hurt worse and made it home. You go on. You got someone you need to see. Oh, Damon?”
“Yeah?” he said, turning back to his friend. With the adrenaline subsiding, Damon’s side had started to ache, and so had his stomach from where he’d been pummeled.
“Why’d you ask about Carrell? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Guy just stays in those dusty archives all day. Wait a minute. Courthouse.” Damon saw the lines begin to connect in Hunter’s mind. “That’s where Lily… There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Damon shook his head. “Just a hunch,” he said. “I don’t know why, but that name… something in the back of my mind made me think of that name, but I can’t say what it was.”
Searching his mind, trying to remember what happened, Damon felt a strange, slick, purple heat caress the inside of his skull. The memory that only seconds before had been on the edge of his grasp, slid away.
“You all right?” Hunter asked. “You got this weird look on your face and got all glassy-eyed for a second.”
“Yeah,” Damon said. “Sorry, I just… I was thinking.”
“See you later? I’ll be behind you a couple of hours.” Hunter crouched and took his wolf form, loping slowly after Damon, who did the same, but took off like a shot across the ground.
With the moon lighting his way, a silver trail led him home.
Lily. I’m coming for you.
The only thing on his mind, the only thing that mattered filled his mind. As Damon charged toward home, wind whipped through his fur, and his paws pounded across the dirt, but all he could think about was feeling his mate’s warmth against him.
His need for Lily, to make sure she was safe, was what drove him harder and faster than he’d ever gone before.
