by Leela Ash
Ash screamed as he crumbled to the shadow-soaked ground.
Then screamed again as that puddle of nightmare began to slither across the floor towards her.
Like ice, fear froze her in place. Cold terror numbed her fingers making her nearly drop the little cylinder – her only hope. Its fog chilled her mind, wrapping all of her thoughts in a gauze of horror.
Only one thought survived fear’s onslaught.
If I don’t run, I’m dead.
That truth was the sledgehammer that shattered fear’s deadly embrace.
Didn’t they say that the best defense was a good offense? From her purse, Ash whipped out the tiny can of pepper spray she’d been clasping and unloaded it in the face of the guard blocking the door.
Pepper spray wasn’t magical. Perhaps it couldn’t hurt these things, whatever they were. But it devastated their ‘clothes’. The guy in front of her screamed and staggered, clawing at his face. Giving her the second she needed to throw an arm across her own eyes and dart out the door.
Howls of outrage filled the air. Without a single glance back, Ash bolted for her car.
And spotted another bruiser waiting beside it.
She raised the pepper spray again and released another stream. But this man wasn’t caught off guard. He spun away, covering his face. Fumes surrounded him but, although he choked, his grip on the car door never wavered.
She couldn’t force her way past him. Even if she did, she’d be blinded by her own spray.
Footsteps thundered behind her. Without thinking, Ash sprinted away from the ruined cabin.
The road. A mile away, it was her only hope. She could run that far.
Couldn’t she?
Curses rang out behind her as she tore up the road. Then the sound of a Jeep engine roaring to life…
Outrunning mercenaries was iffy. Outrunning a car, impossible. Only the desert offered any hope. Ash abandoned the road, scrambling through the sage and scrub.
The Jeep did the same.
Desperate, she scanned the horizon for any obstacle that might slow her enemy. Boulders? Hills?
There!
A gully, five feet deep, split the parched land. A crevice far too deep for a Jeep to cross.
Ash dropped to the ground at its edge and slid down, hissing with pain as rocks slashed at her bare legs. With a bump she hit the bottom…
And found herself face to face with an enormous black wolf.
Chapter 3.
Even Metallica couldn’t salvage this day.
Surrounded by their pounding beat and wild guitar chords, Lucas Clay flew down the highway, fighting to escape himself.
Somewhere behind him a gaggle of tourists was no doubt stampeding into the office of Sunrise Tours simmering with outrage and intent on lodging a formal complaint.
Our guide abandoned us – abandoned us – halfway along the trail! Why, if we hadn’t been able to follow the path, we’d have gotten LOST in the desert and DIED!
Lucas snorted. A three-foot wide paved path was pretty hard to lose. But if anyone could pull that off, it was these bozos. A dad who would not shut up about derivative securities and how many boatloads of money they’d made him. A mom who’d apparently drowned in a vat of perfume that morning and soaked the desert in her sickly sweet stench. Then three little brats who only stopped complaining long enough to shove another candy bar in their gaping maws.
For a full two hours he had endured them. Their noise. Their stink. Picking up the garbage they flung about the desert and explaining, yet again, that no, it wasn’t much farther. No one gave a rat’s ass about his speech on the wonders of the desert or the tricks that animals used to survive in this harsh environment.
When they reached the scenic overlook at last, no one cared about the view. Everyone rushed straight for the outhouses – then staggered out, screeching about the smell.
“You said there’d be facilities!” Mrs. Smells-A-Lot wailed
“Ma’am, these outhouses are cleaned regularly and…”
“Momma I gotta go!” little Johnny howled. “I gotta go right now!”
“Unbelievable,” Mr. Derivatives moaned. “Who runs this hellhole?”
“The California Department…”
“Mommeeeee!!!!”
“…of Parks and…”
“Where is my son going to relieve himself?”
“…Recreation is responsible…”
“Mommeee I gotta peee!” Now Timmy and Jimbo joined the shrilling chorus.
That was it. One high, childish shriek too many. The next thing Lucas knew he was jogging back up the trail towards the road and away from these idiots. Shrill complaints faded into the distance until nothing remained except the desert breeze and the slap of his hiking boots on the hot pavement.
Criminal. Completely irresponsible. That’s what Sunrise Tours would call him.
Just like Moab Outfitters. And Grand Canyon Adventures. And every other company he’d ever worked for.
Well, that’s what they got for hiring a monster.
Metallica agreed. Sad But True wailed out of the speakers. That was his life in three words.
Regular people put their education to work. They paid off their debts and held down steady jobs. Their girlfriends became wives. They settled down and raised families and everyone around them marveled at how wonderful their lives were.
But Lucas? He wasn’t a person.
He was a monster. A werewolf.
Monsters didn’t do 9-to-5.
Oh, he tried. Charming when he wanted to be, lean and fit, he had no trouble landing jobs in outdoor recreation. Could he keep them, though? No. Because it was always there.
He could see it now out of the corner of his eye, the spirit that haunted him. A long-legged, shaggy wolf, coat as black as midnight, always lurking near. He felt its rebellion every time his boss gave him an order. Routine bored the Monster. It dreamed of the hunt, of singing under the moon. No matter how hard he tried to keep his nose to the grindstone, sooner or later his mind followed the Monster into the wilderness. Duties, work, obligations… all was forgotten. Until he came back to his senses and found a pink slip waiting for him.
The Monster wasn’t some delusion, either. It was a demon, a supernatural creature. On bad days, it seized control of his body. Its hunger, its longing grew too fierce to be denied. When that happened, Lucas lost himself. Fur burst out all over his body. He sprouted claws, fangs. When no trace of his human self remained, he escaped into the wilderness. Running, sniffing, howling. Lost in the simple, animal pleasures.
He lived in terror of the day he lost control and shifted shape in front of someone. They’d shoot him down like a dog. Or like a wolf, he mused.
That was what happened to monsters in the movies, right? Normal people killed them.
So he drifted through life, from one job to another. Never staying anyplace long. Girlfriends? None. He couldn’t let anyone near him, not with the secret he held.
Nope. He was a loner, a loser. Some days he wished his grandparents had drowned him when they found out he was a werewolf.
Of course he knew what Gramps would say to that. He’d slap him upside the head and snort, “Quit being an idiot and get back to work.” And Gramma would be worse. She’d just sigh his name. “Oh, Lucas.” Disappointed. Like he didn’t have the common sense God gave a red hen.
Damn, he missed them. Gazing out at the barren land streaming by, Lucas realized he hadn’t been home in over a year. Hell, he hadn’t even called in two months.
Time to fix that.
He abandoned the interstate, opting for the slower back roads. Metallica got replaced by some mournful country song that (he hoped) would cool his anger. Settle his nerves, quiet the Beast, before he went home.
It was a good plan. If home had been closer, it might have worked. But three hours in the car drove the Monster berserk with boredom. In his head it whined, it fretted. It threatened to shift right then and there, safe driving be damned!
In a little pull over a ways north of Yuma, Arizona, he stepped out and let the first evening breeze ruffle his dark, unruly hair. The Beast pranced with excitement, more like a playful dog than a monster. He found it hard to hate the Thing when it got like this.
With a quick glance to make sure he was alone, he undressed, tossed his clothes in the back of his Honda, and shifted.
The world around him bloomed. Sharp ears pricked up, catching the soft scurries of mice and lizards. His keen nose drank in the scents of the desert. His whole body welcomed the wind’s caress as it swept through his fur.
Then Lucas surrendered himself to the Monster and ran. Loping through the rocks and juniper, muscles singing with power and strength. Consumed by the joy of running free.
How long that lasted, he didn’t know. But the sun was still above the horizon when he heard a woman scream. Not far away.
He paused, panting, ears perked.
Another scream.
Lucas trotted forward, slowly at first, then faster, breaking into a lope. Someone was in trouble. His human half cared deeply. Even the Monster, eager for a fight, twitched with excitement.
Somewhere a car started. Low to the ground in his wolf form, he couldn’t see it. As it purred closer, however, he spotted the plume of dust it kicked up. He hopped down into a small ravine and trotted along its floor, keeping out of sight of the car.
Suddenly a figure appeared at the lip of the drop.
A woman stood above him – one who wasn’t dressed for traipsing through the desert. A rather severe blue pleated skirt and white starched blouse left both arms and legs exposed to the desert’s hidden thorns. Already he could see a fine web of bloody scratches marring those shapely calves.
Her face, soft and round, would have been sweet if not for the terror that twisted her delightful features into a mask. She hadn’t even spotted him yet. Whatever chased her scared her more than the risk of rocks and rattlesnakes before her.
With a hiss of pain, the girl slid down the gully, earning herself another sprinkling of cuts. Wincing, she scrambled to her knees…
…and froze when she finally saw the Monster waiting for her.
Oh hell. Now what? Lucas found himself at a loss. Even the Monster, finding nothing to attack, fell quiet.
Not the girl, though. She snarled in defiance and waved a small canister at him. The stench wafting up from it set the Monster’s nose on fire. “Leave me alone,” she yelled, “or so help me I’ll empty this thing on you!”
Whining, Lucas edged back. What kind of a lunatic talked to a wolf? The Monster urged him to run; it wanted nothing to do with something that smelled that bad. Tempting as it was, Lucas fought that impulse. The woman had screamed. She needed his help – even if she didn’t know he was on her side. Instead of fleeing, he wagged his tail a bit, hoping to calm the frantic woman down.
Above them, a Jeep slid to a halt in a spray of gravel. Two enormous bad asses piled out. The woman shied away from them. Her arm swung back and forth as she tried to cover both men and wolf with her pepper spray.
Rapists, probably. The Monster’s teeth wrinkled back from his fangs as red fury swelled in his heart. Scum of the earth.
Well, he knew how to deal with rapists. He could even see the headlines now.
Rabid Wolf Bites Would-Be Rapists.
The Monster loved this plan.
Bite! Chase! Attack!
Powerful haunches launched him into the air. He landed beside one man and sank his teeth into the guy’s calf, sharp fangs tearing effortlessly through his thick jeans.
Enjoy your rabies shots, jackass!
The thug screamed, an immensely satisfying sound. His buddy, however, just cursed with annoyance.
Not the normal reaction to a wolf attack! The first cold current of doubt swept over Lucas. And it deepened when he spotted two more figures.
Beside each man stood a big grey wolf. Not a real wolf. No, these creatures were ghosts. Things like the Beast that only he could see.
Did that mean they were monsters like him? That he wasn’t the only werewolf on Earth?
The guy he’d bitten collapsed, clutching his leg. His shrieks grew louder, more desperate, and some kind of weird silvery light spilled out from under his fingers. Lucas was about to write him off as a complete wimp when the man’s back arched sharply, his jaws gaped wide, and suddenly a geyser of black filth erupted into the air.
Rage swept over Lucas. The world went red as the Monster seized control and lunged forward. Horrified, he fought back, ordering his body away. This time his wolf could not be denied. Its anger flooded him, washing away all conscious thought as he attacked.
Snap! His teeth passed through the spray and clicked together. Foulness, oil and rot, filled his mouth. The taste sickened Lucas, yet the Monster’s heart sang with joy.
This! This is what we do! This is what we are!
The filth exploded, black slime disappearing in a puff of noxious smoke. As it did, the bitten man’s screams died away and he collapsed, barely conscious.
His buddy, however, swore and whipped out a gun.
Unfortunately for the thug, the Monster wasn’t easy to kill. As Lucas struggled to regain his wits, his wolf was already flying in for the next kill. A gun shot rang out. It dodged nimbly and he felt a bullet graze his fur. Then he was close, too close to shoot. Leaping for the man’s arm, he knocked the gun up, teeth clamping down on a hairy wrist.
Another terrible scream. Another fountain of filth rocketing into the air. The Monster leaped to meet it, fangs flashing. Once more the disgusting mess evaporated as he tore it apart.
He landed lightly beside the Jeep. Crouching. Ready to take down the next threat.
None came. The two men writhed on the ground, groaning and dazed. Those ghostly Monster-wolves huddled close to them, heads bowed submissively before his own raging Monster.
Somewhere in the distance a shot fired. A bullet whined off a rock to his right.
Six more thugs were charging across the desert towards him, all heavily armed. Out of gun range for now—though that wouldn’t last.
Time to leave!
Ducking behind the Jeep, he banished the Monster. For once, sated by its ‘kills’, the wolf didn’t argue. Fur and fangs shrank away and when he was human again Lucas cautiously stepped to the gully’s edge.
“Lady? Don’t shoot! I’m on your side.”
She’d already tucked the pepper spray away and was scrambling up to meet him. “I know. I’m not blind.”
What the hell did that mean? She couldn’t know he was a werewolf.
Could she?
Time to worry about that later. “We got bad guys incoming. We need to get out of here.”
“Right.” She tore past him and leaped behind the wheel of the still-running Jeep not even seeming to notice or care that he was stark naked, having left his clothes back in his Honda.
Um, okay, cool. So she was going to drive and…
Another bullet pinged off the Jeep’s fender. “Get in already!” the woman yelled.
Good idea. Lucas hopped in. Before his door even closed, she threw the Jeep into gear and floored the gas pedal.
So much for him rescuing a damsel in distress. As they bounced across the desert he clicked his seat belt in and then held on for dear life.
And wondered what kind of woman he’d just ‘rescued’.
Chapter 4.
Screeching at the top of her lungs, Mom’s lecturing did nothing to settle Ash’s nerves. By the time she hung up the phone, she knew that she was an idiot a dozen times over. For believing that a Warren would want her. For agreeing to some secret ‘interview’. For not accepting the natural limitations of Shifter Kin. No, there was nothing left for her to do but forget this incident ever occurred. The Sedona Warren would follow up. No, she could not help. No, they didn’t need anything from her. No.
Ju
st…no.
The stranger’s Honda was an oven, heated to the boiling point by the late afternoon sun. Closing her eyes, she banged her head softly against the dashboard. From the radio, a country singer groaned about the woman who’d left him.
The door banged open and her savior, now full dressed, jumped in. “Okay, Jeep tires slashed. Just to be safe I’ll chuck the keys into the bushes a couple miles down the road. Let’s get out of here before those people show up.”
Sounded good to her. Ash offered him a tired smile. “I’m Ash Anderson, by the way. Thanks for saving me back there.”
He blinked, like her gratitude surprised him. “I guess I did, didn’t I? Lucas Clay. Pleased to meet you.”
True to Wolf Kind, he was rangy and lean. Wind-swept brown hair spilled around a face chiseled out of sandstone. Sun had burned his skin to a dark honey-brown. Unlike most Wolves he drove a Honda, not a Harley. And his clothes were… strange. Beige shorts that revealed his long, muscle-corded legs. A matching shirt with the name ‘Sunset Tours’ and ‘Lucas’ embroidered on it. No jewelry except for a large silver ring, like a graduation ring, on his left hand.
Not the usual biker-regalia Wolves loved. Also, ‘Sunset Tours’ sounded shockingly mundane. Kind of odd to think of a Wolf holding down a steady job. Mom hated their Kind. She’d left Ash with the impression that all Wolves made their livings in robbery and drug running.
Lucas pulled out onto the empty highway and turned the music down. “Why don’t you Google where the Yuma police station is? That’s probably closest.”
Was he joking? “Why would we want to talk to the police?”
“Uh, because those guys were shooting at us? And I assume they did something to make you scream like that.”
“Well yes but they’re Shifters. You don’t ever get mortals involved in Shifter troubles.” Ash snorted with disbelief. “Didn’t your parents teach you that as soon as you could walk?”
He cast her a wary glance as if she was the one talking nonsense! “My parents are dead but no, my grandparents never mentioned that.”
