by D. Fischer
The image of the wolf stands and blinks once more as if she can sense what Sara’s doing. As if she can sense the anger boiling off my friend and matching my own.
“Someone cut Damien,” Sara whispers angrily. Her body trembles with it. The wolf takes a step toward me, white paws crunching against the image’s twigs. “Someone here for you.” The wolf bares her canines as anger bubbles in my chest, mixing the image with hues of red. “They cut him from here –” She trails her fisted knuckles to mimic the short path of his wound. “– to here.” The wolf snarls, a malicious rip of a sound. “Grab your anger, Jinx. Grab it.”
Jacob curses behind me as the image seeps closer and closer into my mind until I absorb it. The wolf’s eyes meld with mine in bright yellow lights. I gasp as the tingle spreads across my skin. I open my eyes to the night sky, mouth agape, arms open wide. Sara steps away from me and murmurs something I don’t hear.
A flash of light. A pop of ears. A flare of scents. Paws settle on cold grass.
I breathe in deep, tasting everything on a canine’s tongue, hearing everything with a canine’s senses. A familiar owl hoots from within the forest, and an answering hoot calls back somewhere far deeper in. I smell the mice before I hear them skitter through the barren bushes that line most of the outer edge of the forest.
I release the breath, and hot mist fogs my vision. The wind carries it away, and the murmurs of wise voices disintegrate with it. My eyes flutter about, touching on every detail a human would miss – the jagged ridges of the grass, the array of colors that make a brown leaf, and the bugs that take shelter under both. What was once a quiet night is now teaming with life.
“Jinx?” Jacob calls softly. I lift my head to face him. He returns a look of bewilderment, and then his nostrils flare in surprise. Sara’s hand is covering her mouth, but behind it, I can see the faint traces of a smile.
Jacob approaches tentatively as if I’m wild and untamed. I snort through my long snout and shake my fur to rid myself of the lingering tingle. The alpha bends to my level and cautiously runs his hands through my shimmering fur. It feels good like the relief of a thousand itches, and I lean into the touch, forgetting the complications between us. In this form, everything seems simpler. Black and white.
“She did it,” Sara says to Kaya.
“Indeed.”
I glance at my aunt. Her shawl is tightly around her shoulders, and her posture is rigid. In this form, I can smell her familiarity, but there’s something there. Something . . . untrusting. An extra sense perhaps, but I can feel the secrets as easily as I can feel the wind combing through my fur. I cock my head to the side, and Jacob softly laughs as one of my ears flops against his forearm.
“You’re still you?” he asks. The deep timbre of his voice pulls me from my further inquiry to my aunt’s weird demeanor.
I head butt his stomach, keenly aware of his closeness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jacob Trent
She did it. I can’t believe she finally did it. One minute, she had her eyes closed. The next, there was a pop of light, and then she was standing on all fours.
When I had seen her wolf in the woods, she had glowed. Each strand shimmered similarly to a full gleaming moon. Now, under the true moon and cover of darkness, she’s even more bright. A beam shining on a dark night.
“Jinx?” I call softly again. She had begun to wander around, trailing scents of the other wolves and things unseen to the naked eye. We had silently watched on as pride swelled in my chest. The feeling felt foreign when it pushed aside the other strong emotions that had ensnared me this evening.
She turns her head to me. I grin and tap the grass. Eyeing the motion, she flicks a glare up at me and snorts.
Hand to her stomach, Sara laughs. “I don’t think she likes being treated like a dog.”
“Well,” I begin, pushing the words past a grin. “If she would get her furry ass over here, I wouldn’t have to.”
Jinx rolls her bright yellow wolf eyes, and I marvel at how human she is, even in this form. When we shift, we’re giving ourselves over to our wolves. Everything is primal and animalistic, and all we can do is give suggestions and guidance. That doesn’t seem to be the case for skinwalkers. This wolf, this white magical wolf striding toward me is completely Jinx just . . . in a different form. Jinx – but wearing a different spirit. It makes me wonder what other spirits she can wear. Bear? Cat? Human? Mythical beasts like the ones in the Realms War?
Jinx stops before me and allows me to explore, study her with an intense interest. I reach out and rub my index finger and thumb over a few strands of fur. “Can you speak?”
Sara snorts at the same time Jinx nips at my forearm and growls softly.
“That may be Jinx, but this isn’t a children’s movie. Wolves aren’t built for human speech,” Kaya says softly. She is several paces back from Sara, but unlike the witch, she’s not smiling. There’s not a hint of success written across her face that’s as carefully blank as her tone.
Kaya meets my gaze. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to it.”
Sara, Jinx, and I watch her go, and when Sara turns back to us, I raise my eyebrows meaningfully. “Oh!” she says in a gasping sort of way. “I’m just – just.” She looks around as if the grass has the answers then points to the compound with her thumb. “I’m going to go back inside.”
The whiteness of her teeth gleams as she hurries past, and right before she enters, she yells over her shoulder, “Don’t stay out too late, kids.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes, and when I look back at Jinx, hers glint with the sort of happiness only an animal could show.
“You did it,” I whisper in awe, still marveling at how she glows – how majestic she looks. The door clicks shut, and we’re basking in the sea of absolute aloneness. She’s a legend made flesh. Her front paws prance in her excitement and glee for her own accomplishments.
“Do you have heightened senses?” I lift her head and examine her face. She nods against my hands. “Hearing, smell, taste?” She nods again.
“Excellent,” I murmur. My wolf surges forward, and my eyes cast a green hue against her soft fur. Jinx breathes in deep and grunts out the breath, seemingly communicating with my wolf.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “He’s curious.” I have half a mind to shift and let our wolves play together, but there are more immediate issues that need attention. Shifting wouldn’t be a good idea right now, not with the threats and the heavy weight of responsibility. Aside from that, I can’t have a conversation with her, and I need to have this conversation. I need things to resolve. I need things to be fixed.
I sit down in the grass and sprawl my legs on either side of her. This new position brings us to eye level – her wolf much smaller than any of my own pack but quite similar to a normal wolf roaming the wild.
We stare at one another for a while, listening to the soft sounds of the night. I sort out how I want to start this conversation. Every now and then, the breeze comes along and pushes through her fur. It stuffs her scent up my nose, further calming my nerves.
“I’m sorry, Jinx,” I finally whisper to her. “For whatever I did to make you uncomfortable.” For whatever I did to make you avoid me.
In a puff of white light, Jinx, now in her human skin, kneels before me. Miraculously, her clothes are still intact. When a shifter shifts fully clothed, the clothes don’t come with us. They stretch during the transformation. Ripped into pieces. In the woods the night the Bane attacked, I hadn’t noticed she kept her clothes. I was too busy trying to make sure she was safe, albeit unconscious.
“Hi,” I whisper to her, the right side of my lips tugging into a small smile.
“Hey,” she says then settles into a cross-legged position. She sighs and pushes her hair from her face. “You don’t have to be sorry. This – whatever I thought was going on between us –” she stops, stuttering over the words, and then bites her bottom lip. “You didn’t mate with me, and when you didn�
�t, I thought it was because you didn’t really want me.”
I blink at her. Then blink again, completely dumbfounded. I burst out laughing.
In good humor, she smacks me on the shoulder. “What is so funny?”
I sober at the same time she does. Leaning forward, I fold one of her hands into my own. My thumb traces small circles on the back of her soft hand. “I didn’t want to mate with you because it was too soon. In the shifter community, we grow up knowing once we’ve found our mate, that’s it. There’s no backing away from it. There’s no ignoring it. Now that those laws of nature are gone, we can mate with whoever we want.” Pausing, I look squarely into her eyes, searching them. “I didn’t want to push this on you. I may feel the urges, but those who aren’t shifters won’t feel it the way we do. I didn’t want to tie you into something you may end up regretting because we barely know one another. Humans take years to marry someone. Shifters take seconds.”
“I know,” she says, nodding. “Sara lectured me about it.”
“Did she now?”
She frowns. “I think she likes you.”
I huff. “Glad to have her approval.”
“You should be,” she grins wickedly. “The best friend’s approval is what seals a deal.”
Rubbing my hand along the stubble of my jaw, I draw in a deep breath, allowing it to fill my lungs, swirl around, and when I release, to push out my anxiety. “Why did you leave? You know, the morning after? Why did you leave the bed so quickly?”
“For that reason alone, I guess. I didn’t want you to think you were saddled with me. I didn’t want it to seem like I was clinging and was going to push myself on you.”
I close my eyes loosely. “So you’re saying we both were self-conscious about the same thing?”
Her hand tugs on mine. “It would appear so.”
“Do you still want to be with me?” I whisper after some time of silence.
“Yes,” she says quietly. The stars twinkle in her eyes, and for a second, I get lost in them. She holds my world. Her voice was filled with so much truth, my skin pricked with goosebumps. “Do you?”
Ducking my chin, I look at her from under my lashes. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you at the bar. That doesn’t go away even with a few days of standoffish behavior.” I lick my bottom lip. “I wanted you, Jinx. I can’t get you outta my head. I can’t get your scent out of my nose.” I shake my head. “You consume me.”
She bats her lashes, and I stiffen, waiting for the sarcasm. There’s a tremble in her lips though, and I know my words have truly sunk into somewhere deep inside her. “There’s still time to make you regret it then.”
I chuckle and pull her to me. She fits perfectly against my chest, and I lay my back against the grass. The chill of the ground seeps through my shirt, and I relish the abrupt change. Tucking her head under my chin, I relax as she lays across my stomach while I watch the stars. It’s odd how out here in the wild, we can see a million times more stars than can be seen in town. I understand the science behind it. The town’s lights drown the stars. But for some odd reason, it still fascinates me. It’s like all the stars come out only when it's darkest.
My skin quivers when she traces a finger in circles over the side of my ribs. They’re lazy idle strokes which fill me with a sense of comfort that chases away the last few days of loneliness.
“Are you happy?” I ask, slipping an arm under my head. “With me, I mean. With this choice.”
She nods against me. “I was such an ass.”
“Never apologize to me,” I whisper back and kiss the top of her head. “Not unless it’s truly deserved.”
I hear a door close, the soft echo of it, meaning it shut on the other side of the compound. Whoever slipped out had done so quietly, probably to not ruin our private conversation. Jinx didn’t hear it – she couldn’t have. She snuggles deeper into my chest anyway.
“I do love you,” she whispers to me. “I never thought this sort of life would be for me. I don’t think I thought anyone would love someone so . . . different. I was used to being different, but with you, I don’t feel that way. I feel like I belong. I feel like you fill a pocket inside me that’s been empty my whole life. I wouldn’t have regretted it if you started the mating. I would have celebrated it.”
The way she says that one word makes me swallow hard. There’s such conviction behind it. Such determination.
I breathe in the scent of her hair as her circles become less lazy, distracted. “You’re worried about Damien,” I guess.
“I am.”
“Don’t be,” I say against her hair. “He’s been through worse. He’ll pull through this, and when he wakes, he’ll tell us everything.”
Her fingers flatten against my ribs, and she grips my side. “When will this end? This feud between me and the Bane, and now the pack and the Bane. When will it end? And to what end?”
I sigh and she props her elbows on my chest to peer down at me. “I imagine when they get what they want.”
“I won’t give it to them.” Such anger in her voice, a decision now firm. “I won’t break their curse.”
I brush the back of my fingers against her cheek. “I’d never let you. Your father did what he did with good reason. Packs like the Bane shouldn’t exist. They’re a threat to the other species, especially humans. I think you’re right. After seeing this tonight, I don’t doubt you. You can break that curse, but I won’t let them get anywhere near you.”
She closes her eyes against my touch. “Do you think it’s all of the Bane?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who are this sadistic? Who want their curse broken for whatever stupid reason they have? Do you think the entire pack is that way?”
“I don’t know.” I tilt my head to the side, feeling the back of my skull rubbing against the soft grass. “I doubt it. Every member of a pack has their own minds, personalities, thoughts, and ideas. An alpha’s command can go pretty far, but it can’t change how someone feels. It can’t change their morals.”
“So you think they may have decent shifters within the pack?”
I think this over for a moment. “Yeah, I do. It’s quite possible.” For such a sarcastic and witty woman, I’m genuinely shocked at the selfless thought. The pack wants her to break the curse or die trying. They’ve been after her, hunted her, and she still thinks there might be some good within them. That quality is rare. That quality is pure. My heart swells.
She nibbles at her bottom lip, chewing this over. “If I ever get the chance, I won’t destroy them. Not entirely. I don’t want innocent people to be caught in the middle of this.” She lowers her voice. “My father wouldn’t want that.”
I pull her back against me, suppressing the urge to correct her. She won’t get anywhere near having to make such a choice.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jinx Whitethorn
I’m almost asleep on Jacob’s chest when the door opens and bangs against the compound’s outer bricks. We both startle at the abrupt sound that cuts into our comfortable peace.
“Jacob!” a familiar voice shouts. We snap up our heads and peer, eyes shielded, at the silhouette of Reese. The soft radiance of the cafeteria lights pool around her frame. It leaves her face entirely shadowed, but her hair is wild as if she’s been tugging the hell out of it.
Stiffly, I climb off Jacob, and we both sit in the grass, frowning at our friend.
“What is it?” Jacob asks.
“It’s Damien!” she shouts, waving us in. “He’s awake!”
“The hell?” I grunt. She said he might be out for days! It’s only been hours!
Jacob and I both look at one another. My heart thumps and then skips a beat. In a burst of movement, we’re dashing toward the compound. Once inside the welcoming warmth of the cafeteria, we hear soft voices murmuring in surprise at Reese’s news. Jacob orders them all to stay where they’re at as we jog through, following Reese up the stairs and to the floor the hospital room is on
.
“How is he?” Jacob asks breathlessly. I know he’s not out of shape. I know his breathlessness is due to adrenaline and fear. He must have been burying his worry, and now that it’s directly in front of him, dangling hope, it’s all catching up to him. My throat stiffens with held back tears, and I find myself quivering with the same emotions as Jacob.
“Groggy,” Reese rushes and then pushes the door open with her shoulder once we reach it. She holds it open for us, and we both stride in. My breath catches when Damien’s wolf eyes tremble with the effort to open. A soft whine comes from him, but he doesn’t stir. Quickly, we reach the side of his bed. The tears finally release, trickling hotly down my chilled cheeks.
The tear to his spirit I felt earlier is nearly mended.
“Can he shift back?” Jacob asks. He touches Damien’s paw poked out from the edge of the white blanket still draped over him.
Reese crosses her arms on the other side of the bed, ready to defend her medical degree. “I already told you. Not until he’s healed.”
Jacob’s nostrils flare. “What about mindspeech?”
Reese shrugs. “You can try, but he’s still quite groggy. I don’t think –”
She stops talking when Jacob holds up his hand, effectively silencing her. The movement stirs the air, and the scent of the medical stuff sticks unpleasantly to the inside of my nose. I watch as he squints, wondering if he’s trying it. I get my answer when he sighs in disappointment. The wolf is already falling back asleep.
“He’s very weak,” Reese whispers in his defense. “He lost a lot of blood, Jacob. If you try again tomorrow –”
“I understand,” Jacob says. His tone holds so much disappointment, however.
I frown at the side of Jacob’s face and then look to Reese apologetically. “Thank you, Reese, for all you’ve done for Damien.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispers, tucking her head in a grateful sort of way. She straightens Damien’s blanket, fidgeting like a mother hen.
