by Lynn Lorenz
“If the pack finds out his plans…” Scott let that fade. Bobby didn’t want to give voice to that fear either.
Both of them knew the law of the pack. Protect the pack above all.
Chapter Nineteen
Mark added the shake to the bag of trash from his meal, grabbed his flashlight from the glove compartment, locked up the car, and headed to the camp. As he walked, he swung the beam of light back and forth, raking the ground so he could see his way.
Of course, he should have marked the trail better. Basic camping and hiking stuff. What was wrong with him forgetting something like that?
He trudged on, fairly certain he was on the right path.
Ahead, the trail opened up, and he pointed his flashlight straight ahead, catching his tent in the beam.
Mark exhaled. He’d have to get a fire going and check out the equipment for the night. Maybe tonight he’d have better luck.
He lit the firewood using a few starters, put on a pot of water for some coffee, and went to listen to the rest of the audio tapes. He sat in his folding camp chair as the noises of the night came through his headphones.
There. Something like a howl. He leaned forward, ran the audio back a bit, and then hit Play. Nothing. Weird.
He must be hearing things.
Mark slipped the headphones off his head and tossed them onto the ground. Damn, he was getting loopy.
Aaaaaoooouuuuuu.
“Holy shit!” Mark jumped out of his chair, fumbling for the audio recorder. That was definitely a wolf! And he’d missed it!
“Fuck.” He switched it on, heart pounding and chest heaving, as he waited for it to repeat.
Just as he’d caught his breath… Aaaaaooooouuuuuu!
This time the recorder got it! “Yes!” Mark jumped, pumped his fist, and then rushed over to the video camera to check it.
The howl had sounded close. But noises echoed in the swamp, and he couldn’t tell which direction it had come from. The video light was green—all set.
Nothing to do but sit back and let the equipment do all the work.
If he got this, his career was made, and his theory of swamp wolves would make history. He crossed his fingers. This was just what he needed to boost him to the next level.
Aaaaaoooouuuuu!
Okay, that was much closer. Mark glanced at his tent. Small protection, but better than none at all. He looked over his equipment again. For safety’s sake, he should get into the tent.
Mark got out of the chair and turned toward the tent.
A low growling froze the blood in his veins, and he couldn’t move. His eyes scanned the darkness all around him, but he saw nothing.
More growling.
There was more than one animal. Two, maybe three?
He had it! Unmistakable growling of a wolf. His trained ear could hear it, knew the difference between a wolf and a dog, and yet it chilled him to the bone. He rubbed his hands over his arms and stared out into the swamp.
There, in the dark, a pair of eyes watched him. They reflected light. Mark bent down, moving as slow as he could, picked up his flashlight, and switched it on. He kept it by his side, but played it over the bushes.
The growling continued.
A sharp yip off to the side. Mark swung the beam over there, but all he could see in the halo of the light was a bush moving where something had been.
Okay. This wasn’t good.
Aaaaaaoooooouuuuuu!
The sound filled the clearing. Mark’s heart leaped into his throat, and he backpedaled away from the woods, the flashlight still in his hand. He had to get into the tent. He stumbled backward, tripped over one of the tent stakes, and went down.
The air whooshed out of his chest, he dropped the flashlight, and it went off. He twisted onto his side, using his hands to search for it. Without the light, he was barely able to make out shapes in the darkness.
The growling got louder.
Mark groped wildly, his fingers digging into the soft litter of leaves, and squinted into the darkness for the flashlight.
He touched the cool of metal, and he snatched it back up, hit the button, and swung it around him in an arc.
On the edge of the clearing, a wolf stood, watching him.
A scream bubbled up in his throat, but he clamped his lips together, afraid any sound he made would make the wolf attack.
Just like his father.
Oh, God. He’d wanted to find them. Wanted to prove they existed. Mark feared his remains would be the only thing to tell the world swamp wolves were real.
He had to do something.
“Go away!” he shouted.
The wolf took another step toward him just as four wolves emerged from the bushes and into the clearing.
»»•««
“Okay, where do we start looking?” Scott asked.
Bobby rolled down his window. “Pull over.” He leaned out as Scott eased the car off the road and to a stop. Scott rolled down his window and turned down his radio.
“Hear that?” Bobby asked.
Scott listened.
In the distance, the cry of a lone wolf echoed in the night.
“It’s the pack. They’re on to something.” Scott cursed. “Which direction?”
“He’s camping. Remember that old dirt lane off the road up ahead? At the end of it is that clearing.”
“Got it. I’ve seen campers there.” Scott pulled the car back onto the road and hit the gas. They almost passed the lane in the dark, but Bobby spotted it, and Scott hit the brakes.
“Drive in?”
Bobby nodded. “Yeah. Then park, and we shift.”
After ten minutes, Scott pulled over and shut off the cruiser. “This is far enough.”
They got out and then shut the door. They didn’t bother to take off their clothes; whatever magic changed them also changed whatever they wore. With a quick nod, Bobby called the change, and Scott went right behind him.
Bobby’s wolf scented the air. There. The smell of his mate. In that direction. He started off into the woods, running at an easy lope, leaping over fallen trees and skirting around bushes, with Scott’s wolf hot on his heels.
Another howl.
He stopped, whimpered, and sniffed again.
His mate’s scent had changed. Laced with fear, it tasted bitter on his tongue.
The wolf growled low in his throat. An answering growl sounded next to him. His fellow wolf had caught the scent also. Together they broke into a hard run, heading straight for his mate.
The wolf worried he’d not make it in time. He was prepared to fight every member of his pack. To warn them, he let out a long howl.
Chapter Twenty
Mark got to his feet, holding his flashlight out with two hands like a weapon. What good it would do him against this many wolves, he had no idea, but he had nothing else.
If he were going to die, he’d do it fighting like his dad. And perhaps the cameras and audio would be found, and his theory would be proven. Postmortem. His gut tightened at the thought of dying, but he’d been in a few tight spots before with wolves and survived.
Only these wolves weren’t acting like wolves.
Just like the one that had attacked his father.
Mark swung the light back and forth from one wolf to another, seeing only white fangs and glowing eyes. It would have freaked him out, only he’d seen wolves’ eyes reflected at night before.
“Get outta here!” he shouted, hoping they’d turn and run. He had nothing to throw at them other than the light, and he wasn’t going to give that up. Hell no.
A distant howl cut the air. The wolves froze, ears cocked to the sound. Something deep inside Mark’s chest leaped. The sound filled him with hope of survival and safety although he had no idea why it would. There was something about that particular howl, like the bugle call of the cavalry in the distance in an old western film.
“Go on! Get!” he yelled again. The wolves didn’t back down, but they stopped advancing. They lo
oked at one another as if silently asking what to do next.
Go away, Mark thought.
Two howls, one on top of the other. They sounded so close. Two more wolves?
No way would he survive this. Sweat broke out all over Mark’s body, and it trickled down his back and his face. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve so he could see. He needed to watch for the first sign of attack, not that he’d be able to do anything about it.
The growling started again. One of the wolves started forward in a crouch, teeth bared and ears flattened as if prepared to lunge. Mark braced himself. He knew the wolf could rip his throat out, tear out his soft belly, and kill him without much effort. The others would feast on what was left of him, his body torn apart and scattered through the woods.
The clearing vibrated, and bushes shook. A series of barks, then a huge gray wolf burst through the brush line, closely followed by a dark wolf. They leaped into the camp, and instead of attacking Mark, they faced the other wolves, teeth bared and heads down in a challenge Mark understood all too well.
“What the hell?” Mark took a step back but didn’t lower the light.
The attacking wolves whimpered. The gray wolf growled again, the hair on its back standing straight up in a ridge down its spine. The other wolf next to it added its growl, and the wolves threatening Mark backed up.
The only wolf that still threatened was the one in front. It growled again, and the gray wolf stalked forward until they were nose to nose. The gray stared the wolf down, fangs bared, growling, until it backed away, tail between its legs.
With a sharp bark, the gray dismissed them, and they bolted for the bushes.
Only the gray, the black, and Mark were left in the campsite clearing.
Mark exhaled. A weakness came over him, and he barely stopped his knees from buckling and hitting the ground. He wasn’t going to die.
The two wolves turned to face him.
Then again, maybe he was.
“Hey, boys.” Mark held out his hands to ward them off. “Let’s keep calm.” The flashlight wavered in his hand, spilling light over both of the beasts.
Swamp wolves. A rush of joy went through him, replacing the fear.
He’d done it. Gotten the proof he needed to show the rest of the scientific community that wolves existed in the swamps. Mark glanced over at his equipment, wondering how much it had captured. If he could edge over there, he could turn the camera fully on the two wolves.
He took a step to the side.
The gray wolf growled.
Mark froze.
“Okay, not moving.”
The dark wolf nuzzled the gray, whined, and then turned around and bounded off.
The last wolf stared at Mark for what seemed to Mark minutes, but had to be only seconds.
It sat, licked its chops, and waited.
For what? Mark didn’t know what to do next. He’d never had a wolf encounter like this one. Ever. The wolf seemed perfectly comfortable to sit on the other side of the campsite, staring at him as if fascinated. Wolves did not do this.
Mark huffed. “Okay. You’ve got my attention. You scared off the others and now we’re all alone. What do you want from me?” He kept his voice low so as not to startle the animal, all the while thinking, What am I doing talking to a wolf?
Bright yellow eyes watched his every move. Its tongue lolled, and the animal slid down to its belly, resting its head on its front paws.
Were these the same sort of wolf that attacked and caused his father’s death and Mark’s streak of white hair?
The creature was beautiful. But Mark thought all wolves beautiful. This one, however, was a little on the thin side, older than the others, but it’d probably be the alpha or pack leader, at least until one of the others challenged him for right to mate with the females.
Mark eased his body down into a crouch to get on the same level as the wolf, acting as if he weren’t a threat. Not that he was without a weapon.
“Okay. What do we do now?”
The wolf huffed, returned to sitting, and yipped. All around Mark the air vibrated as if someone had struck a tuning fork. His gaze darted from the wolf to the rest of the campsite, looking for what was causing it, but he kept coming back to the wolf.
The air around the wolf bent, as if Mark looked through old-fashioned glass, watery and wavy.
And in the next moment, Bobby stood in the clearing, and the wolf was gone. Bobby from that weekend in Lake Charles. The man he’d been looking for, dreaming of, for the last month or so.
Mark fell backward onto his ass, his mouth open in a silent yell.
“Mark.” Bobby reached out his hand. “Now, before you think you’re crazy, let me explain.”
“Ex-ex-explain?” Mark stuttered. “Where’s the wolf?” He looked around the clearing, but no wolf. Just Bobby. “And what the hell are you doing here?” Mark’s mind swam, caught in an eddy that circled around the same point—the wolf.
The wolf was there. Now Bobby was there. In the exact same place.
“I had to stop the others.” Bobby took a step forward, but Mark scooted away. This was not how he’d seen the meeting between them going. Not in the middle of the woods. Not the wolf attack. Not his sudden fear of the big man.
“The wolves?” Bobby could only mean them, right? “How could you stop them? How did you stop them? The wolf stopped them. Then it sat down. And then you appeared, and I have no idea what the fuck is going on!” Mark shouted.
Bobby crouched and lowered his voice. “I’m the wolf. Those wolves were my pack. We’re werewolves. Shifters. And we’ve lived here in St. Jerome for generations.”
Mark stared, his mouth open, but nothing came out. He wanted to scream, but at last all that came out was a harsh, bitter laugh. “Werewolves? What the hell are you trying to pull on me? Is this some sort of joke? Who put you up to this?” Was the dean behind this? Had he sent someone to fuck with him? But the wolves? No, that made no sense.
“It’s no joke. Please. Just listen to me.” Bobby’s blue eyes looked so sad, so lost. Mark wanted to go to him, wrap him in his arms, but for the life of him, he couldn’t move, but he could at least hear Bobby out.
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t know how, but some of the pack found out you were here, trying to prove the existence of swamp wolves. See, the first law of the pack is to protect the pack at all costs. That means…” Bobby exhaled. “That means if someone is trying to expose us, we have to stop them. Stop that person from letting the world know we exist.”
Mark stared at Bobby, the man he thought he’d fallen for and more. “You’re telling me those wolves were going to kill me?”
“Yes. Maybe. God, I hope not.” Bobby ran his hand over his face. “Not on my watch, anyway. I used to be pack alpha, but that’s Scott’s role now. He was the other wolf with me.” Bobby gave a small smile. “He knows about you and me. I told him when I realized…”
“You and me?” Mark shook his head. “There is no you and me. I don’t know what game you’re playing but…”
Bobby grimaced. “You don’t believe that, do you? Tell me you haven’t thought about me? About our time together?”
Mark didn’t answer. How could he? This whole night was fucked up. Had fucked him up. The wolves. Bobby. Bobby was a werewolf? Fuck.
“I have. Thought of you, day and night. You consume me, Mark.”
“Consume? No pun intended.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Your buddies were going to consume me too.” Mark trembled. Must have been his adrenaline seeping from him now that the danger was over.
“Yeah. Well, like I said. Pack law.”
“Right. You’re a werewolf and that was your pack and they were going to kill me for trying to prove they exist.” Mark repeated it, not believing a word of it. “It sounds so rational now that I think about it.”
Bobby was insane.
Mark wanted to throw up, but he fought it down and got to his feet. He had to get out of there. He g
lanced over to his equipment. There was a lot of ground between it and Mark, and Bobby stood right in the middle.
Bobby followed his gaze. “Your equipment. I can’t let you do it, Mark.” His voice got very quiet. “I can’t let you expose us. We’ll be destroyed. Dozens of families. Women and kids. Good men.” He shook his head.
“You can’t—“ Mark fisted his hands. “Oh no. I spent my life trying to prove swamp wolves exist. My entire professional career. I’m going to show it. I’m going to prove that my father was killed by a wolf, even if I have to die to do it!” Mark’s voice shook, and he tried to get control.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Bobby turned and headed to the camera.
Mark’s reserve broke, and he bolted for it. Bobby swung around and launched himself off the ground, slamming into Mark and taking him down. Mark rolled, tangled up in Bobby’s arms and legs. He beat at the bigger man, trying to get away to reach his camera and save the evidence.
“Mark! Stop! I don’t want to hurt you!” Bobby grabbed one of Mark’s hands and fastened on to it by the wrist. The flashlight slipped out of it, sending light arcing upward. Mark punched Bobby, just a glancing blow to his chin, but Bobby shook it off and locked his hand around Mark’s other arm. He shifted his weight and threw his leg over Mark.
Bobby straddled Mark. “Listen to me. If you have any feelings for me, please don’t do this.” Mark had never heard Bobby beg for anything before, and it struck like a knife in his heart.
Mark looked up at him. “Are you insane?” he whispered. “Are you going to kill me?”
Bobby howled as if in pain. “How could you ask me that? Do you want me to change again? I’ll do it, as many times as you need me to before you believe me. If there was any other way, I’d take it. If I didn’t have to make this choice—”
Mark looked over at the equipment. His life’s work. He looked back at Bobby—the man he’d fallen in love with—and something inside him broke.
“My father was killed by one of your wolves.” Mark’s bottom lip trembled, but he swore he wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let out the pain and frustration of being so close to proving it.
