by L. E. Horn
A gun.
A gun? I squinted at it as I walked up. As I watched, he screwed a cylinder onto the underside of the barrel.
“Dart gun,” he said. “Short range. Carbon dioxide powered.”
I’d seen one before, but nothing like this. Could have used that for Sherman. He then pulled out a box and opened it—there were six darts with color-coded ends laid in a row. He grabbed one, cracked the butt of the gun open, and loaded it.
“How fast will that put down a wulfan?” I asked.
His lips tightened. “Not fast enough. But it beats bullets.” He handed me a holster, which I clipped onto my belt as he continued. “This Taser can immobilize them while the tranq takes hold. Unless it just pisses them off. You can’t be sure. That model gives you two shots before reloading.”
He reached back into the cargo box and pulled out another holster. This time he pulled a real gun free and tucked it beneath the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back.
I was beginning to understand why lethal force might be the best way to put down a wulf; the nonlethal means could get you killed. But surely Peter and Josh will know us? Even if the human isn’t in control.
By the expression on Chris’s face, I thought it an unlikely scenario.
I placed the box of darts in an outer pocket of the backpack, climbed in and got Keen to jump in at my feet. Chris swung up behind the wheel and we headed along a trail leading to the forest behind his property. “Haven’t had Beast out in a while,” he said. “We prefer a more natural all-terrain travel.” He looked at me. “I transport this anywhere we might need to have mechanical backup in remote areas. It acts as a resource station when we hunt.”
I knew they weren’t hunting for the usual wildlife, so I just nodded and pulled out the tablet. Chris glanced at the screen and I tilted it for him.
“The ATV trails run through Mars Hill, but many areas are off limits or too densely forested for Beast to get through. There is one that runs on an angle closest to where they are. We’ll have to fly to have any chance of getting within earshot.”
I nodded and grabbed for the crash bar as he accelerated over ground that devolved from a sandy track to rock and gravel. Keen’s eyes bulged and she wedged herself tight between my legs as the dirt sped by beneath us. The bush became a bright green blur of spring leaves as Beast sent everything from gravel to mud flying up around it.
I watched the red dots as they moved deeper into the bush, angling away from the trail we drove on. Chris topped a hill. He skidded the vehicle to a halt and turned it off.
That’s our cue. Keen bailed without encouragement. I handed Chris the backpack, put Keen into a stay, and asked her to speak.
Her expression said she thought I was strange to be requesting this after the bouncing torment, but she complied. I had her do a long series of barks, pushing the limits of her tolerance for obedience sans reward.
Chris faced away from us, listening, but I noticed he held the gun ready and had the box of darts on Beast’s fender. Keen was prepared to quit by the time an answering bark floated on the breeze, deep enough to be from the throat of a big puppy yet finishing with the yip of youth.
Havoc. Now Keen lived up to her name, ears pricked as she answered. I had to hold on to her collar to keep her from running toward the sound. We have to lure them here.
I jumped when Chris raised his chin to the sky and howled raspy through human lungs and throat, almost a roar but definitely an invitation to join the party. Keen exploded with enthusiasm, her barks changing tone, the answer growing closer.
Something crashed through the underbrush toward us, and Keen bounced against my grip on her collar. With an explosion of broken branches, Havoc leaped free and ran to us. He’d been running so hard that foam covered his lips and flecked his neck and chest. I hoped he ran with his new friends and not away from them.
I let go of Keen and the two danced around each other like long-lost buds. Chris had grown still, staring off into the bush. Something stood there, in the shadows, and the hair on the back of my neck rose.
Judging by its silver fur, it must be Peter, but you couldn’t tell by looking in its eyes. They were those of a wild animal, intelligent but suspicious, and unaware of us as anything but outsiders. Shreds of his clothing still clung to his frame. His transformation to wulf had been so quick and violent that he hadn’t paused to strip.
Chris swore under his breath. “Liam, have the Taser ready. Peter is not home.”
My heart accelerated as I moved my hand to the holster. Sensing our tension, both dogs had stopped bouncing and now stared at the wulfan. Keen whined low in her throat as I unclipped the Taser and pointed it at Peter.
The cold sapphire eyes slid toward me and back to Chris. I stepped closer to bring him within range and draw his attention off Chris and the dart gun.
“Peter, hey, it’s me, Liam.” I spoke as though he were a spooked horse. The wulfan focused on me. He lifted his lip to show fangs and let out a low rumble.
If Peter was in there, he was buried deep.
Keen answered him, moving up beside me. I sensed her confusion at Peter’s actions, but there was no doubt where her loyalty lay. Havoc hung back, uncertain, his tail stiff.
Josh stepped out of the bush from behind Peter, his dark fur blending with the shadows, bits of shredded cloth hanging from him, too. I looked into his unusual emerald eyes and my heart ached. I didn’t see anything there but wulf.
“Ready?” Chris asked.
No. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t think of another way.
“Peter first. Have no idea how Josh will react, so brace yourself.” The pain in his voice made me wince, but his grim resolution terrified me. I thought of the real gun tucked into his waistband and swallowed.
Wulfan mate for life.
The dart gun made the softest of sounds, and the dart appeared in Peter’s shoulder as though by magic.
And all hell broke loose.
If the human in Peter had been aware, he’d have known Chris fired the dart. But the animal in him was focused on me and Keen, and when the dart hit, he came at us with a roar. I fired the Taser.
Both probes hit him in the chest, and he convulsed in mid-leap, landing in a twitching heap almost at my feet. But it didn’t completely incapacitate him, and I yanked Keen back from his snarling, snapping teeth and slashing claws. Havoc barked hysterically, not understanding what was going on.
Chris had already reloaded the dart gun and raised it to cover Josh, who crouched low to the ground, lips peeled away from his fangs. I’m sure he growled but I couldn’t detect him over the ruckus Peter and Havoc made. Peter’s legs flailed and his back arched as he clawed the air with jaws wide open. His movements lost power as the dart’s drug took hold, and with a final cry, he collapsed.
My heart threatened to leap straight out of my body, but as Peter’s noise subsided, I became aware of Chris’s voice, and the emotion in it made me ache. I looked at the black-haired wulf and experienced the smallest blossoming of hope. For I could see what Peter’s eyes had lacked: recognition. Josh was in there and he was listening to Chris.
With my hand buried in Keen’s ruff, I felt her attention shift. Sniffing hard into the wind, my human nose caught the faintest of scents. Sam. She closed in behind Josh, moving into position in case we needed her. I couldn’t scent Garrett, but he must be there, likely moving up on the other side.
Chris took a step closer to Josh and crouched, lowering the gun to the ground. My heart skipped a beat, and I remembered Alec—he’d trusted him too. My finger trembled on the Taser’s trigger. If Josh went for him, Chris was too close for Sam to get there in time. I didn’t have a great Taser shot from this angle, but I would be the best chance of stopping the wulf.
Josh shook his head, and I spotted the heavily kinked human hair among the fur of his dense mane. Chris kept talking, his voice low. I winced at his pleading tone. “Come back to me, I’m here, please Josh, come back . . .” Ove
r and over he said it, putting every ounce of his heart out there for us to see. And something sparked in Josh’s wulfan eyes.
It’s working.
The change began so subtly that it was half over before I knew it had started. Josh huddled there, naked, covered in filth, but human.
In a fluid, swift motion Chris gathered Josh in his arms, wrapping around him so tightly I could barely see him. I let go of Keen and turned away to give them a moment of privacy, which was wrecked by Havoc attempting to lick any exposed part of Josh.
Sam stepped out of the bush in human form and I froze, transfixed by smooth skin and luscious curves. When Garrett emerged near her—six foot three of solid naked muscle—I barely restrained myself from snarling at the man.
He saw the intent in my eyes and held up his hands. “Hey, easy. Although I must point out, she will exact retribution.”
Castration. Right. Although from what I had just—accidentally—seen of Garrett, it was clear that the threat might be an empty one.
Although Sam had to be conscious of my stare, she didn’t issue her usual warning. Instead, she reached to rearrange Peter’s wulf legs, which further tested my resolve to keep my eyes where they should be. Fine silver lines traced along her back and across her right buttock—more scars, old ones, barely visible against her pale skin. She turned and caught me looking, and for once I stared straight at her, daring her to say something.
She did, but not what I expected. “Let’s get him into Beast.” How many wulfan—or wulfleng bodies—had the vehicle pulled out of the field?
We lifted Peter into the box, and Garrett fetched thick metal cuffs from the storage compartment. He fastened them around the limp wulf legs and then snapped them onto loops welded to the box. Were they custom jobs or designed to tie other things? Perhaps it was best not to know. Once he secured Peter, he pulled out a tarp. We covered the silver-furred form and strapped it down like cargo. I doubted there was much human traffic in this area, but I guess one never knew.
Chris helped Josh to his feet, and Garrett plucked a pair of sweats and a tee shirt out of the compartment before closing it. What other secrets had that little cubby concealed? But I supposed a spare set of clothes to be a necessity for errant wulfan. After helping him dress, Chris buckled a silent Josh into the passenger seat. The smaller man’s eyes appeared unfocused.
Garrett swung to face me. “I’m going to run with them. Can you jog back?”
I nodded. “I’ll bring the dogs.”
“And I’m staying with Liam,” Sam said.
Garrett turned and moved into the bushes, I assumed to shift. Chris shot me a look—I noticed deep lines of strain around his eyes and mouth—before firing up Beast, turning it on the narrow path with inches to spare, and moving at a good clip down the trail.
I had to grab Havoc’s collar to keep him from pursuing. I looked at Sam, my eyes involuntarily dropping. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, a movement that didn’t assist with my distraction. I raised my eyes in time to see her flush a brilliant shade of scarlet. She didn’t offer to rearrange my body parts; rather, she seemed bereft of speech as her brows lowered and her eyes sparked silver.
My own skin heated as I released Havoc and forced myself to turn away, walking in Beast’s wake. I began to jog, my senses hyper alert to her presence, and a moment later, I caught the occasional flash of russet hair pacing me. The wulf within me clamored for release, hammering at my will, desiring to burst free and run with her through the cool forest shadows. Shoulder to shoulder, stride for stride. Heart to heart.
But the virus stood between us. I jogged on.
24
Even taking a shortcut off the trail, it took us over an hour to get back to Chris’s. By that time, Peter, or rather, his wulf, had come out of the tranq mad as hell.
As we ran clear of the bush and onto the sandy path behind the house, snarling, roaring, pounding noises exploded from the barn. From the cage, I realized. Sam raced to her clothes on the back patio, and I let the nervous dogs into the house before heading to the barn.
Garrett stood in the aisle, out of reach of the silver-haired limbs that flailed through the bars, long claws scissoring through the air. Foam flecked the lips that pulled back from the huge canines, and as I approached, the creature lunged again, snarling and snapping. I couldn’t find my old friend in the wulf’s crazed eyes.
I wanted to speak, although if Peter was in there, he was buried so deep I doubted I could ever reach him. He slammed against the door, long claws scrabbling against the metal. He crashed around all four walls, ripping and shredding at the wood covering the metal of the lower wall, making the cage tremble with the force of his rage.
“My God,” Garrett said, his voice constricted. “Is this what Dillon was like?”
“No.” I struggled to grasp the fine details of what I’d seen that night with Dillon, which now seemed a lifetime ago. “Even at the end, Dillon could speak. His eyes were . . . intense, not human, but not like this.”
Garrett frowned. “Dillon was wulfleng.”
Something about the enforcer made me do a double take, and I realized he looked . . . rumpled. His hair stood on end like he’d run frantic fingers through it, and he’d redressed in his gym gear, but it hung from his frame as though he’d tugged his clothes on in a hurry. I could barely hear him and moved closer. “Peter was wulfan. The virus must affect us differently.”
“Peter is wulfan,” I corrected, my heart aching for the man who I regarded as a father. “He can beat this.”
Garrett looked at me, incredulity on his face. But he made the effort for my sake, and that surprised me. “Perhaps the doc will have answers.”
“The doc says to drug him.” A familiar voice came from the barn entrance, and Chris appeared. Sam jogged in on his heels, now clothed. She noticed the red box Chris held, and her face went white.
“Can you sit with Josh?” Chris asked her. “He’s taking a shower, but he needs someone with him. I’ll be in soon.”
Sam nodded and shot me an unreadable glance before turning and jogging back out of the barn.
The dart gun dangled from Chris’s hands as he put the small red box on the table near the cage. I noticed Garrett’s brows rise when he saw it.
“Is the doc sure that’s necessary?”
The red box opened to reveal darts, but very different ones from those Chris used before. These were larger, wider, and colored red to match the container.
Red. For danger?
“What are those?” I asked. Judging by Sam and Garrett’s reaction, they weren’t good. Like being hit with a dart is ever good.
Chris loaded the gun and glanced at me. “Some old tales have a hint of truth in them. This is a sedative laced with silver; it puts the wulfan virus into a tailspin and will make him sicker than a dog for the next day. By delaying his natural ability to heal, it enables the drug to keep him under.”
“Silver won’t kill him, though, will it?” I couldn’t help the quiver of tension in my voice, and I was relieved when the last part got drowned in another crashing frenzy from the cage.
“It shouldn’t. But there is a risk.” Chris’s expression was bleak. “If there were another way, I’d take it, believe me. But he’ll injure and, eventually, kill himself trying to get free. That cage might not yield, but his body will.”
I winced as Peter’s long arms scrabbled through the narrow bar openings toward us. I met Chris’s eyes and saw the pain in them. His bond with Josh had talked the younger wulfan back from the brink, but it would be a temporary reprieve. Days or hours from this moment, it could be Josh in that cage. Peter might be a close friend, but Josh was Chris’s mate.
I stepped aside. Chris chose his moment, waiting until Peter started another round of the walls, before slipping forward to shoot through the bars with barely a pause to aim.
Pandemonium.
The walls shook as screams rent the air, and I thought Peter would bring the barn down around us. I coul
dn’t believe the cage could hold that much pure, molten rage. The silver-haired wulfan moved as a blur, his claws striking sparks off the metal and shredding the heavy planks that lined it. It seemed to go on and on. He faltered, at first a missed strike with claws, then a misstep that sent him careening into the wall. So slowly it wrenched at my heart, he lost control of his limbs until he could only writhe on the floor. Finally, he lay panting, lips sliding to cover his teeth, eyes blazing with impotent fury.
I blinked back the moisture in my eyes. Was it better to die than to go through this? Was Peter trapped inside that animal body, aware of what transpired, or was he truly gone? I turned at a sniff beside me. Garrett rubbed his face, glanced at me, and then looked away again.
Chris’s eyes also looked reddened as he placed the gun on the table beside the red box. He opened an overhead cupboard and shuffled things around, extracting and pulling on gloves and a mask. He hit the recessed button that unlocked the door and cranked on the long handle to rotate the latches out of the steel plate, before slipping in to check on Peter’s vitals.
“Hand me that blanket.”
I looked to where he pointed and retrieved the blanket thrown across the chair. Chris covered Peter with a tenderness that almost undid me, tucking the cloth around his still form. The drugged wulfan breathed heavily, but evenly.
“I’ll watch him for a while,” Garrett offered, pulling the chair closer to the open door. “You guys go get something to eat.”
My stomach twisted; food was so not on the agenda.
“Don’t touch him without protection,” Chris said, peeling his gloves off and throwing them and his mask into a plastic Ziploc bag before sealing it. Garrett didn’t meet his eyes but nodded.
I stared through the bars at Peter until Chris’s hand landed on my shoulder and he guided me out the door. “Garrett needs time with him.” His voice was hoarse. “He blames himself for this.”