Never Cry Werewolf

by L. A. Banks

  “Oh, God, sir,” Sasha said in a rush. “Please let me in. I can help you, if you’ll let me explain.”

  “Okay,” Russell Conway said in a tone that sounded like that of a frightened child.

  This was exactly what Sasha was afraid of, and she hurried in behind Russell and shut the door.

  “Listen,” she said. “We know you aren’t crazy. There are definitely things out there that kill humans—things that aren’t human.”

  “Oh . . . I know,” he said and nodded, then calmly walked back toward the small kitchenette.

  “But . . . sometimes we have to make deals, make compromises for the greater good.”

  “I understand that, too,” Russell said. “I learned that as a young boy.”

  “I know this has been awfully difficult for you, sir . . . I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” he said, picking up a backpack and extracting a nine-millimeter. He quickly put it under his chin.

  “Please don’t do that, Russell,” Sasha said, walking toward him slowly. “It’s going to be all right. Please give me the gun . . . please.”

  “I understand about making deals,” he said with a peaceful smile. “I made a deal as a boy with something in that woods that night. It told me to take off the charm and it would keep the monsters, all of them, from coming back. Werewolves wouldn’t be able to hurt me, Vampires wouldn’t. I would be safe, so I took that deal. But when I wanted people to know, it kept saying, ‘Feed me. That was not a part of our deal.’ So I tried to cut my wrists and they just healed up. I was about to try this when you came.”

  Before she could move, he pulled the trigger. Horror consumed her as the back of his head hit the cabinets in a wet thud. Sasha backed away, her mind on a crash course to call 911, but Russell’s body never dropped, nor did it lose the sardonic smile on his face.

  “See,” he said. “Some deals are permanent.”

  Her back slammed against the door and then a force blew her through it. Sasha went over the rail backward, but flipped to land on all fours. A green serpent-like body bullwhipped at her over the railing, still wearing Russell Conway’s disfigured head.

  Sasha dove for the nearest shadow. She had to get this thing away from civilians and into the bayou. But the moment she entered the shadow lands, something sucked her into a hard spiral at breathtaking velocity. She clutched at her chest, searching for her amulet that wasn’t there. A scream left her lungs. She’d given Hunter the only thing that could keep her from the wrong side of a demon door.

  Tumbling, falling, she blindly reached for her sidearm and began firing. The shadows belched her out in a ground slam in the swamp, and she was up in a flash and running.

  Tree limbs snatched at her, yanking at her clothes and hair as she weaved and bobbed through the treacherous maze. Leaves became razor-sharp projectiles flying at her as she dodged behind trees, and then had to flee them as they came alive. Green slime was on the move, like a high-speed serpent, twisting and turning Russell’s bloodied skull in search of her.

  Unable to take to the shadows, she had to opt for wolf speed, but calling her wolf was a dangerous prospect. That would leave her unarmed; there was no way her wolf could take this thing that was chasing her.

  Releasing a howl to call for backup, she hoped she was in range of the sidhe as the thing chasing her thundered behind her, ripping up tree roots and swamp flooring.

  Hunter got up slowly, holding his side, pushing past Silver Hawk’s protests. “Something is not right.”

  “You are healing and allowing your worries to—”

  “No, Grandfather! She is in mortal danger.”

  “You promised her,” Silver Hawk said, holding Hunter by both arms. “You told her you wouldn’t interfere with the human maneuvers, except to help. You could put her in harm’s way by causing them to accidentally fire on you or her.”

  Hunter held on to a bedpost and leaned against it with a wince.

  “You are in no condition to act on an impulse that isn’t real. Rest.”

  “I just can’t seem to, Grandfather,” Hunter said, moving toward the chair to find his pants. “I cannot.”

  Woods had heard the howl first and relayed it to Fisher.

  “Showtime, people—incoming!” Fisher yelled as Marines took their positions.

  Colonel Madison watched through binoculars from a fallback position in an armored vehicle. “Hold your position,” he said into a walkie-talkie. “Fire only after Captain Trudeau is on the right side of the firefight.”

  Sasha whizzed past Woods, grabbing him by the arm. “Go, go, go! Fall back!”

  Fisher lifted a rocket-propelled grenade launcher and fired into the green slime, blowing Russell’s head off the end of it.

  “Fall back!” Colonel Madison shouted.

  But panicked troops released hot bursts of machine-gun fire that only seemed to make the creature angrier. Sending out tentacles, it bullwhipped a jeep into the trees, sending soldiers running for cover.

  Fae archers dropped down behind the demon and began a rain of silver torment that made the creature loop back and lash out at them. Before a Fae archer could be grabbed, a Marine sharpshooter hit a quick-moving tentacle with a silver-loaded bazooka shell. The archer fell; another Marine dragged him to safety as the hit tentacle burst into flames, then withered, screeching. Respect flashed between the two beings, one Fae, one human, but there wasn’t time for it to mature.

  Fisher pulled up the Marine, who then got the Fae archer to his feet.

  “Good looking out, mate,” the archer said, and then ran for the tree line.

  “They’ve got Brits out here with us?” the young soldier asked, running for cover behind another tree.

  “Something like that,” Fisher said, yanking the young man out of the way of another tentacle slash.

  A special forces unit was pinned down in black water as Sasha made another pass. She sprayed the tentacles behind them with a handheld Uzi burst and yelled for them to reverse their direction.

  “Get out of the water!” she shouted, trying to give the men cover.

  Hunter came out of a shadow holding on to a tree, then jumped out of the way when the branches tried to take his head off.

  “Sasha!”

  She turned to the sound of his voice. It all felt like it was happening so slowly, but time had no meaning as she dove to push Hunter out of the way of a thick root that would gore him through his back. He caught her going down into the spill of a shadow’s edge. She screamed “No” as the demon left the swamp and followed behind her.

  Spiraling wildly, she’d expected them to come out on the wrong side of a demon door, and clearly so had the demon. But instead they came out in the courtyard of the sidhe—apparently her lack of an amulet, combined with Hunter’s having two on, had screwed up his trajectory, and now a demon was inside the garrison.

  Sir Rodney was on the front line with his men as chaos broke loose. “Battle stations!”

  Wolves transformed to chase the entity into the courtyard, containing the lashing tentacles with their ferocious jaws as Gnomes rushed around the perimeter with silver, sealing off its ability to gain purchase on any being. Wizard wands came out, sending hard arcs of magic discharges with lightning-bolt accuracy.

  The demon burst into a cold green flame, attempting to run, and then hit the silver-dust circle and screamed a horrifying wail. Dragons from the castle turrets swooped down and kept the nemesis from an airborne escape, and it could not penetrate the group—the circle had done its job.

  Garth stepped forward, his wand poised. “I command you back to Hell from whence you came—a creature lured by Vampires and conjured by covens to wreak havoc among our alliance—never to inhabit another being, never to be able to escape the dark cauldron again!”

  An explosion rocked the castle, toppling Fae infantrymen and leaving a smoking black hole in the ground. Sasha transformed back slowly and touched Hunter’s cheek, inspecting his wounds that had begun to bleed again.

>   “You shouldn’t have come for me . . . but I’m glad you did.”

  CHAPTER 25

  “You sure I can’t convince you otherwise, Captain?” Colonel Madison said in a wistful tone. “That was some serious firefighting back there, Trudeau, and we could definitely use a soldier like you in uniform.”

  “Thank you, sir . . . but this is it for me.” She smiled and glanced out the window. “As soon as my resignation papers go through, I’m gonna take a trip to China . . . my brother-in-law is thinking seriously about getting married. We need a little R and R; Hunter’s ribs are still pretty banged up. Our Fae allies are in tense negotiations . . . Vampires are still an unstable regional element. Plus, I’m gonna be an aunt.” She looked at him with a big smile. “You know, sir. Life.”

  “I hear you, Captain. I can’t argue with that. But I admit that I’m glad that you won’t be too far away from us. We’re getting your contracts drawn up to have your firm be our sole source consultant on paranormal activity. Mark Winters is your primary contact while you’re gone?”

  “Yes, sir. Mark is setting up the LLC . . . and you know all of our areas of expertise. Doc Holland and Clarissa McGill are your bio experts, in the event you run into any more green slime. Bradley has the dark arts on lock. Silver Hawk is the number-one shaman and tracker in North America, and also has wolf access, and of course Woods and Fisher are at the ready for training special units,” she added with a big grin. “I won’t be gone long—a month tops.”

  “So, this is it,” he said, standing. “I wish we had met under better circumstances, Captain. Thank you for sitting in on that final meeting with the Joint Chiefs this morning. And I can’t blame you, after what I saw, for needing some time off . . . I’m just glad you’re not leaving us altogether.”

  “Couldn’t do that, Colonel.”

  He smiled and looked out the window, where Hunter had just shown up to casually lean against a jeep. “I admire how you guys can do that.” He shook his head. “He’s also a damned lucky man.”

  Sasha tilted her head slightly, surprised that Colonel Madison of all people would have made such a comment.

  The colonel smiled. “I might be in uniform, Captain, but I’m not blind.”

  EPILOGUE

  She held up her left hand and watched the sunlight dazzle in the prisms, catching colors in a gorgeous kaleidescope display. A beautiful three-carat emerald-cut diamond was set aloft ancient turquoise and amber baguettes all wrapped in unique fusion of silver and platinum. Hunter smiled and gently brought her hand to his lips.

  “There was never time to get this made and given to you properly for your birthday . . . and then all hell broke loose again.” He let go of her hand and looked at her. “Do you really like it? I know it’s strange—the combination of metals—but I wanted the old stones from our people, the silver merged with the human tradition of a diamond and the—”

  She kissed him and stopped his awkward explanation. “It’s perfect and it’s beautiful.”

  “But do you accept it . . . in the way humans give such a token?” he said, his deep voice a rumble inside his chest and hers.

  “With all my heart and soul,” she murmured, kissing the naked plane of his chest.

  “Good . . . then I’m glad we came here,” he said quietly and closed his eyes.

  “What made you choose New Hampshire?” she asked sleepily, beginning to doze on Hunter’s bare chest as she breathed in his scent.

  “I was tired of the Louisiana heat and all the sordid regional politics . . . just wanted to be away from the pack, away from the sidhe . . . away from other people’s problems for a while.” He stroked her hair with his eyes still closed, allowing it to repeatedly flow through his fingers on each pass. “This reminds me so much of the North Country, without actually being in the Uncompahgre.”

  It was hard to disagree as she looked out the large bay window at the glassy surface of the lake and breathed in fresh mountain air. “This is moose country,” she murmured, kissing his chest. “Great trout and salmon runs up here, too, they say. Maybe later, wanna take a run . . . let our wolves out a bit?”

  He smiled with his eyes closed. “Most definitely . . . that’s why I wanted to come up here.”

  “I’m so glad you’re feeling better and that you wanted to get away. I needed this, too. Thank you.”

  “Yeah . . . both of us did. In the fall, they tell me that the leaves turn fire red and yellow and orange—only rivaled by Japan’s forests.”

  Sasha chuckled and then moved up his body to take his mouth. “It’s early August. Mid-September is more than a month away and we’ve already been gone a couple of weeks.”

  “So . . . I rented the cabin for a bit longer than I mentioned,” he said, giving her a peck on the lips and a sly half smile. “If the pack needs us, they know where to find us, and the woods here are loaded with Fae—so no chance of missing an important missive. Besides, your team still has you on an electronic leash, if anything crazy happens.”

  She bit his bottom lip and tugged it. “You are so not right,” she said, when she released it, laughing. “And I’m not on a leash!”

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. It is just a tactical observation, Captain. All I’m saying is that I wanted time for just us before we headed to China or wherever the next mission calls for first.”

  She slid her body up to blanket his. “So, just because it’s quiet for now, you’ve just taken me hostage and are holding me captive—using great little country fairs, great wild game, fantastic blueberry pancakes at the 1785 Inn off Highway Sixteen-N, huh . . . and have handcuffed me to the region by the dazzling lakes and trails. Not fair.”

  “Frankly, I thought you might be handcuffed to me, but if it’s the blueberry pancakes . . .” He quick-flipped her over onto her back and held her hands above her head against the goose-down mattress, and then took her mouth hard. “Not trying to be fair,” he said, breaking their kiss and loving her laughter. His eyes began to glow amber as his smile widened. “Especially not this fall when you go into season. So just work with a brother, all right?”

  Read on for a preview of

  LEFT FOR UNDEAD

  Coming from St. Martin’s Press in Fall 2010

  New Orleans . . . Fall

  Fae archers stood at the sidhe wall and trained their arrows toward the tree line as a slow, unseasonable frost overtook the branches. A sudden hard chill sliced through the humid air all around them, keening their senses for a potential Unseelie onslaught.

  The captain of the guards held up one hand, silently cautioning his archers to wait until they could tell the true direction of the enemy’s approach. Skilled eyes remained focused on the minute changes in the flora as they picked up on a telltale clue. Thicker ice was forming on the branches that faced the glamour-hidden golden path to the drawbridge. But as the captain lifted an arrow from his quiver, a regal female voice rang out.

  “Friend, not foe! I beseech you—I have come to seek asylum from Sir Rodney!”

  The entire garrison exchanged confused but skeptical glances. Again, using hand signals, the captain sent his men into better positions while cautioning them with his eyes to look alive and not to fall for a possible Unseelie ambush.

  “Then show ye-selves,” the captain shouted around a stone pillar. “All of you!”

  The stone path instantly glazed over with a thin covering of ice and Queen Cerridwen stood between two formidable-looking gnome bodyguards. Her hands were concealed within a white mink muff, and she was shrouded in a luxurious, full-length, hooded white mink coat that flowed out in a long train behind her. Perspiration rolled down her gnomes’ faces from beneath their heavy Cossack-styled hats and furs. But the queen’s composure remained eerily cool despite the Louisiana heat as she simply pushed back her hood with ease, moving slowly so that the nervous captain could observe her hands. Not a platinum strand of hair was out of place as she turned her delicate face up to the captain’s and made her appeal while her inten
se, ice blue eyes beheld him.

  “We have traveled far under dangerous conditions,” she said calmly. “I need to confer with my husband on matters of national security to our Fae way of life.”

  “Ex-husband,” an elderly, disembodied voice stated bluntly. Within seconds Garth became visible as he joined the standoff on the fortress outer wall.

  “No matter what you may think of me, dear Garth,” Queen Cerridwen cooed, “in the end, Rodney and I have a link that goes back as long as—”

  “Too long,” Garth snapped, cutting her off. He pulled out a wand with crooked fingers from the sleeve of his monk habit styled robe; it was a thinly veiled threat—one that, wisely, neither Cerridwen nor her gnomes responded to. “As his top advisor, there are some things that our monarch may be blind to, but that I will always see.”

  Queen Cerridwen allowed a tight smile to form on her pale, rosebud-shaped lips while she studied the ancient wizard. “Then see that I have come with limited guards and did not arm myself to match your rude challenge just now. My mission is much too important to be derailed at the foot of your monarch’s drawbridge.”

  Garth arched an eyebrow and glanced at the captain of the guards, then let out a little snort of disgust. “This is not the Cerridwen I am used to. Something is clearly awry.”

  “There could be more of them in the trees awaiting an ambush,” the worried captain murmured to Garth.

  Garth nodded but spoke quietly. “But if we have their queen and a full garrison at our walls, then the odds that they will besiege the palace are tremendously reduced.”

  As though reading their minds, Queen Cerridwen stepped forward. Using a simple hand signal, as one would command well-trained hunting dogs, she bade her guards to stay where they stood.

  “I need to speak to Rodney,” she said, never blinking as she fixed her gaze on Garth. “It is a matter of utmost importance.”