by H G Lynch
Spencer ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the unnaturally long fangs hidden under his top lip. The hairs on his arms bristled, anger pushing his wolf closer to the surface. Listening to the men cavalierly talking about killing his family and friends was pissing him off, and if he didn’t get out of there soon, the hunters were going to have a wolf to shoot right there in the bar.
“Excuse me,” Spencer muttered to nobody in particular, sliding off his stool and storming out of the bar. He felt Frank’s glower on his back for a brief moment, and heard him mutter something to Dominic. Spencer was out of the bar and halfway down the empty street before he stopped walking and leaned against the wall of a butcher’s shop. He didn’t look in the window, knowing the sight of meat would only rattle his wolf more.
Dominic caught up to his half-brother and hesitantly leaned against the wall next to him, tugging on his hair. Spencer had his hands in his pockets, his head down, glaring at the cracked pavement and the moss growing between the uneven slabs of concrete.
They were both silent for a long few minutes before Dominic spoke. “So…assholes, right?”
Spencer nodded. “Aye,” he growled. “Assholes.”
Dominic chewed his lip nervously for a moment, then said quietly, “Did…were either of those guys…you know, the guy who shot you?”
“Wouldn’t be standing here if they were,” Spencer said softly. “I’d be killing the bastard.”
Pressing his lips thin, Dominic nodded slowly. He was still tugging at his hair. Spencer wanted to tell him to quit it, but he didn’t. The silence grew uncomfortable between them. Dominic fidgeted uneasily, but Spencer just stood, not entirely disliking his half-brother’s discomfort. Sometimes, Spencer thought Dominic was scared of him, but it wasn’t fear exactly that Minnie exuded.
Suddenly, Dominic spoke again, and managing to surprise Spencer. “So what do you think of Tilly?” the curly headed boy asked, smiling under his curls.
Spencer didn’t want to talk about Tilly. He spent enough time thinking about her without having to talk about her too, especially to Dominic.
Aloud, Spencer groaned. “We’re not going to have a brotherly bonding moment here are we? ‘Cause if we are, I’ll need to go get another drink.” He tipped his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. Behind his lids, Tilly smiled at him, her grey eyes bright and thoughtful.
Dominic laughed, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts. He opened his blue eyes and fixed them on his half-brother, who was grinning.
“I was just wondering, because she doesn’t seem to hate you quite as much now. Weird, considering she knows about the whole werewolf thing now. You’d think she’d hate you more, hate me too, but she doesn’t.” There was a tone in Dominic’s voice, somewhere between awe and incredulity that Spencer didn’t want to hear. But Dominic kept talking. “She’s a weird girl, though, isn’t she?” It wasn’t really a question.
Spencer bit his tongue. You have no idea how weird she is, Minnie. I know how weird she is, and I know she hasn’t told you. I wonder what that means, he thought.
He wanted to say it, wanted to tell Dominic that Tilly wasn’t just a weird human girl, but he liked that Dominic didn’t know. He liked that he was the only one who knew Tilly’s secret. So he kept his mouth shut and stared past Dominic down the street to the bar, where Frank was just emerging onto the pavement.
“Did she tell you I kissed her?” Dominic asked quietly, a shy smile curling his mouth. He’d bowed his head, and was tugging on his curls again.
Once again, he’d managed to surprise Spencer, though he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d suspected, after all, that there was more than friendship going on between Dominic and Tilly. But the bite of jealousy dug deep, and his wolf snarled, raising the hairs on the back of his neck like hackles prickling. Dominic looked so damned happy with himself, too. For the first time he could remember, Spencer wanted to hit his cheerful half-brother.
Just then, Frank walked up to them, looking just as pissed off as Spencer felt, though for a very different reason. “Let’s go. I need to talk to Bob and Graham. And then I need to talk to the whole pack. We have a problem, and until it’s handled, I want you two and Desmond to be on the lookout.”
He glanced at Spencer, who looked as calm on the outside as ever. But inside, he was thrumming with the need to let out his wolf and kill something—a rabbit, a squirrel, a hunter. It didn’t matter what it was. He just wanted blood.
As if he knew what Spencer was thinking, the alpha grimaced. “Spencer, no more Changing without my permission. That’s an order. I can’t have you running around as a wolf when there are men with guns looking for wolves to kill. You hear me?” Frank said sternly, his steely glower heavy on Spencer, pressing down on him with the weight of a command from his alpha.
It was difficult to fight—not impossible, but difficult. He didn’t fight it…for the moment. He bowed his head, lowering his gaze and nodding once, sharply, unable to speak for fear his voice would come out as a growl. He hated to be ordered. He couldn’t stand the idea of having to ask Frank’s permission before Changing, of being refused the Change just because there were some idiots with guns going around the woods. It made fury rise, hot and thick, in his throat, but he swallowed it. He took solace in the fact that he didn’t plan on obeying his alpha’s order for long.
** Tilly **
“What the hell?” I said to my reflection in the mirror. Confused grey eyes stared back at me from under a nest of pale hair that looked as if it had been whipped into knots and jewelled with crumbling leaves as accessories. There was also a thin red line across my forehead, as if I’d scratched myself in my sleep—which might have been possible if I had long nails. I didn’t. I was in the habit of biting my nails when they started to get too long, because long nails annoyed me.
In addition, the soles of my bare feet were black with dirt. I had no idea how I’d gotten so filthy just lying in bed. I hadn’t even left the window open, so it wasn’t as if leaves could have just blown in and miraculously buried themselves in my hair.
Flipping on the shower and waiting for the water to heat up, I pulled my nightshirt over my head, and a curled green leaf fell out from between my breasts. Dropping the nightshirt to the floor, I stared at the little green leaf, then bent to pick it up. I examined it curiously, frowning. I had the sudden nasty idea that I’d been pranked. That one of the boys had decided to toy with me while I slept, and the leaf in my cleavage had been their calling card.
I shook the thought away quickly, mostly because it was too mortifying to think of. I knew Dominic at least would never do that to me—but I wasn’t so sure about Des or Spencer. But no, I refused to believe it. Werewolves or not, they wouldn’t dare. There was another explanation. I just didn’t know what it was yet.
“Maybe I’ll come up with the answer in the shower,” I muttered to myself doubtfully, glancing in the mirror one last time before the steam fogged up the glass. I stepped into the hot spray of water and tried not to think about Spencer.
And here I thought I was sworn away from boy trouble. Apparently, with the decision to stay there, I’d stopped resisting the idea of having ‘boy trouble’ and it was already creeping up on me. I sighed and began working on the leafy nest of my hair.
After breakfast, I went to find Dominic, but instead, I ran into Sarah—who looked more than a little surprised that I was still willing to talk to her, knowing what I did. She was decked out in dozens of clinking bangles and a pair of beaded flip-flops under a swirling black skirt. Her red hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, making her face look sharper and her dark green eyes look wider.
“Hi, Sarah,” I greeted her with a smile, and she turned from her game of tic-tac-toe with Annie.
Her bracelets chinked as she laid her hand on the table. “Oh, hi, Tilly. Um, how are you doing? I mean, with…the new information and everything? I hope you’re not freaked out,” Sarah said, looking at me worriedly.
I shook my head. “I’m okay. I know none of you would hurt me—well, I’m not sure about Spencer. I think he got a kick out of scaring the hell of me.” I grinned to show I didn’t really mean it. In a strange way, I trusted Spencer most of all.
Across the table, Annie chewed on the end of her pen thoughtfully, before marking an X in one of the empty boxes on the page. Her face lit up, and I grinned, seeing she’d gotten three crosses in a row. She looked delighted by her victory. I nodded over Sarah’s shoulder, and she glanced back at the game board scribbled on the paper, shook her head at her little sister in defeat.
“Looks like you got beat, Sarah,” I said, winking at Annie, who giggled.
Sarah sighed. “Yeah, third time in a row.” She smiled fondly at her little sister.
Annie beamed proudly, her round cheeks glowing faintly pink, her brown eyes bright with pleasure. I laughed.
“I guess you’re looking for Dominic, huh?” Sarah asked, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger. I nodded. She pursed her lips for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I think he said he was going somewhere with his dad and Spencer—but Desmond’s around here somewhere if you want to hang out with him. Or,” she added hastily, seeing my expression, “you can have the next game against Annie. Maybe you can beat her, but I warn you, she’s a sore loser. She gets all pouty.” Sarah splayed a hand at the fresh sheet of paper that Annie was drawing a tic-tac-toe grid on.
The little girl looked up, scowling.“I do not get pouty,” she said.
I started to draw out another grid for the next game, but a shadow fell across the page, and I looked up with a smile, expecting to see Dominic. I blinked in surprise as Spencer loomed over me, looking all dark and brooding as usual, only somehow more so. I opened my mouth to ask him where Dominic was, but he spoke first, his voice brisk and serious.
“We need to talk. Now.”
Startled by the look on his face, I just nodded and stood up. Next to me, Sarah touched my arm, making me hesitate. I looked at her, confused, but she was looking at Spencer—pouting.
“Spencer, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” she said, chastising.
Spencer glanced at her, his mouth quirking, and she smiled at him playfully. It made me want to knock out some of her perfect teeth, which surprised me, because I wasn’t generally a violent person. I wasn’t normally jealous either. I had no right being jealous.
Smiling thinly, I said, “It’s okay. If he needs to talk to me, he can. Just as long as he remembers his manners.” I hated the sickly sweet tone to my voice, and hoped Sarah couldn’t hear the bitter edge to it.
Sarah’s smile tightened and she flipped her hair. “I’m sure he will,” she said, then turned back to Annie, who was watching the whole exchange with a small frown, as if she didn’t understand what was happening.
I turned back to Spencer, who appeared to be trying to hide a smirk, and he gestured for me to follow him. Scowling, I did.
Spencer led me to the stream, and sat down on the boulder he’d been on that first night I’d found him there. He stretched out his legs, his heels resting on the grass, and I sat down next to the boulder. He looked down at me with a pensive frown, his eyes shadowed by his hair.
Unerringly, I stared right back at him, curious and impatient, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t. He stayed silent, and I ran out of patience.
With a sigh, I asked, “Where’s Dominic?”
He blinked, his frown deepening. “He and Frank are giving the rest of the pack orders regarding the hunters wandering around the woods with silver bullets.” His jaw tensed and he looked up into the trees.
The sunlight filtered through the leaves, creating dancing patterns on the dry brown dirt. Reflections from the water sparkled on the grass like fireflies darting between the blades. The sky was a washed out, pale blue, with wispy grey clouds moving in across the treetops. The slight bite to the wind was a hint that autumn was just around the corner.
“The witches hired the hunters, didn’t they?” I asked quietly. I knew Olivia would have told the others where I was by then, and they would try to get me back however they could. I didn’t know how they knew the people protecting me were werewolves, but it didn’t matter. It just mattered that they knew, they wanted the werewolves dead, and it was my fault.
Without looking at me, Spencer nodded. “I think so. The men don’t know what they’re hunting, though. The witches supply the bullets, and the men just want their money, so they don’t ask questions.” He pulled one of his legs up to his chest and clasped his fingers loosely around his knee. His eyes moved as he stared into the trees, and I spotted the little red squirrel he was tracking. I wondered if he was considering grabbing lunch.
I frowned. “You haven’t told Frank or the others that you know who’s hiring the hunters?”
He glanced at me, and shook his head. “If I told them, they’d want to know why the witches were after us, and then I’d have to tell them about you. It isn’t my secret to tell, and if Frank knew you were the reason we’re being hunted, he’d hand you over in a heartbeat.” Spencer’s eyes flashed gold, and his upper lip peeled back over his teeth. “I won’t let them hand you over to the witches, Tilly,” he said, his voice so dark it was almost a growl.
I shrunk back, swallowing nervously, and I asked in a small voice, “Why not?” His words made my heart flutter a little faster, not entirely with just relief, and I couldn’t be sure if he could hear that or not. I hoped not.
His expression changed, but his eyes remained the strange gold of a wolf’s. Meeting his eyes was like staring into the heart of the beast inside him. It made a prickle of fear run over the back of my neck, and I bit my lip.
“I told you,” he said roughly, “I’m not a monster.” Then he smiled, a tiny wry twist of his lips.
He blinked, and his eyes were blue again, but my sense of fear didn’t entirely abate. There was still something primal inside me screaming that he was dangerous, and another primal part of me was screaming that it didn’t care if he was dangerous.
I ignored both shrieking voices, and said, “No, you aren’t. But I think you don’t really care whether people believe that or not. Do you?” I saw from his face that I’d surprised him. I added, “The rest of your pack act like you should be avoided, like you’re more dangerous than all of them, and you let them act that way. You don’t try to interact with them or make nice with them. You just…wander around by yourself at night, all shadowy and mysterious and quiet. You act like that, and it creeps them out, but you don’t try to change it.”
I realised, as I said it, that I wasn’t criticising him. I envied him. I wished I could hide out in the quiet night time trees and not care what anyone else thought of me. But the thing was, I didn’t know how to feel about myself, so I needed other people to think I was good and kind. Otherwise, I might start to believe I was evil for the things I’d been made to do for the witches. For what I was, whatever I was, with my inexplicable connection to the Underworld. If being tied to Their World didn’t make me evil, what did? If risking my life to save a wolf didn’t make me good, what did?
For a long moment, Spencer just looked at me, and I couldn’t tell if he was surprised, annoyed, confused, or some combination of the three. I found it disconcerting.
Then he said, “I’m not a monster, but I am a werewolf.” He said it as if it explained his behaviour, his strange manner and attitude.
I understood. There was a wolf inside him, a creature who roamed the night with silent steps under the moonlight. Spencer was more wolf than person in that he reflected a predator more than he reflected the people he faced. If you put him in front of a mirror, I was sure yellow eyes and long fangs would look back from the silvery glass.
I smiled with one side of my mouth, thinking, You’re definitely something alright.
Chapter Eleven
** Spencer **
Two days until the full moon. Just two more days, and then he was free. Two more days until e
ven Frank couldn’t stop him from Changing. It had only been a single day since he’d last wolfed out, and already his skin was itching, his muscles feeling cramped. He looked up at the slightly asymmetrical silver coin in the sky, digging his nails into the soft bark of the rotting log he was sitting on. The night smelled of shadows, moss and wild things lurking in the bushes. Spencer sighed, lowering his face into his hands. Looking at the moon only made his wolf twitchier, but even without looking at it, he could feel the pull of it calling to him.
He was sitting further own the stream than usual, mostly because he’d walked out of his cabin half an hour before, and had found himself heading in the wrong direction. Not toward the stream, but toward another cabin, the one he could see out his bedroom window. He’d gotten halfway through the trees, before he realised what he was doing, shook his head, and turned away in frustration. He didn’t even know what he’d been thinking. Okay, no, that was a lie. He hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d been wanting to see Tilly, to talk to her again—he liked talking to her.
Earlier, she’d surprised him. It was a rare occurrence when someone managed to surprise him, and it had happened more than once lately. But Tilly seemed to do it on a daily basis. It was both discomfiting and intriguing. Talking to her was always a little like playing chess. Sometimes he could predict what she was going to say, he thought he knew what she was thinking, but sometimes she would pull out a move that totally threw him. His conversation with her today had been one of the occasions where she’d said something that snatched one of his protective pawns away from him, leaving him feeling vulnerable.
I told you, I’m not a monster, he’d said, and she’d stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, her grey eyes uncomfortably piercing on his. Something about those grey eyes made his stomach twist and his wolf purr.