Howling on Hold

by E. J. Russell

  “No. We took an Uber.” Chase winced. “Nobody’s going to let Gage in their car, are they?”

  “Not likely. Look.” He handed Chase an oak leaf imprinted with a gold Celtic knot. “Take this around the corner. Make sure you’re out of sight—that’s required—then press on the knot and say ‘Cludo.’”

  Chase glanced at Gage. “I think we’ve had enough magical intervention for the evening.”

  Hamish clapped Chase on the shoulder. “You’ll appreciate this one, trust me. That’s a token for the FTA.”

  “FTA?”

  “Fae Transportation Association. New service that my band leader’s boyfriend’s brother’s starting up.”

  “Band leader’s boyfriend’s brother?” Chase realized he sounded like an idiot parrot, but his attention was split between Gage and Jordan, who was creeping out of the alley until Dakota’s big brown hand yanked him back.

  “Yeah. You may have heard of the bloke. King of Faerie?”

  Chase blinked. “The King?”

  “Of Faerie. Yeah. He wants his subjects to have something to keep them occupied now that blood feuds and human kidnappings are right out. So he’s started this service. A fae . . . well, call ’em driver, I guess. Sounds better than escort, eh? They’ll meet you and take you through Faerie to your destination. It’ll be a bit of a hike—entrance and exit points are fixed inside Faerie, and the drivers have to keep to certain paths so they don’t disturb the residents—but it’s outdoors all the way, which”—he wrinkled his nose—“seems mandatory for this bloke.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Don’t worry about the rest of ’em.” Hamish pulled out his phone. “I’ll pile ’em in an Uber and they’ll be there when you get back.”

  Gage retched again, causing a passing human couple to veer almost into the street. Chase took the oak leaf. “Thank you. So much. You didn’t have to step in—”

  “Nah. Don’t mention it. I was young and stupid once myself.” A shadow moved in Hamish’s gray eyes. “Now I’m just stupid. Good luck, mate.”

  Hamish strode down the sidewalk and collected Hector, who’d made a break for it, following a guy holding a pink Voodoo Doughnuts box. As Chase guided a wretched Gage past them, deeper into the alley, all of them were gazing up at Hamish worshipfully. Nothing like a little star power to grab their attention. Chase hmmphed. Maybe I should have Hamish deliver the next warnings about misbehaving in public.

  But Chase had nobody to blame but himself. He’d let himself get distracted by something he’d wanted for so long. It wasn’t Tanner’s fault. It wasn’t Jordan’s fault either, or Gage’s. Chase was responsible for the juniors when they went out in a group, and he had failed—spectacularly. It was only right that he face the consequences.

  He maneuvered Gage behind a dumpster, then laid the oak leaf on his palm. He pressed his thumb on the Celtic knot and murmured, “Cludo,” hoping he got the inflection right. It must have been close enough, because an instant later, a burly duergar materialized next to the dumpster.

  “Destination?” he rumbled.

  Chase gave him the house address, while trying not to be concerned that duergar were famous for leading travelers astray. Not exactly a comforting choice for a guide.

  The duergar grunted, then pointed to Gage. “Not cleaning up after him. Not in my job description.”

  “Of course.” Chase pointed to the bucket. “That’s what this is for.”

  The duergar shook its head. “Plastic. Pfaugh. Only natural materials allowed past the threshold.”

  “But our cell phones. Our clothing—I’m not sure if it’s—”

  The duergar sighed, its breath blowing Chase’s hair off his forehead and sending the reek from Gage’s bucket gusting over him. “Not responsible for damage to clothing or possessions.” He jabbed a finger at the dumpster. “The bucket stays.”

  Gage hugged the bucket to his chest. “No,” he moaned.

  Chase tugged it out of his hands. “Try to hold it in until we get home. And next time you’re in a spell-protected bar? Stick to water.”

  Tanner managed to jump out of the car’s path without a spontaneous shift, even though the wind of its passing ruffled his hair and tugged on his jacket. But fifteen minutes later, his heart still hadn’t returned to its normal rhythm. He huddled in the doorway of John Helmer Haberdasher, staring at the window display of fedoras, understated neckties, and cashmere sweaters in muted tones. After he counted the tiny medallions in a navy patterned tie for the fifth time (227), his breathing finally settled enough to step out onto the sidewalk again.

  I should know better than to wear all black at night. But he hadn’t been in the mood for a brighter color this evening, or even for a boring old white button-down, not with the end of his freedom looming somewhere on the horizon. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, but when his fingers brushed the signet, he jerked them out again. He didn’t need any reminders.

  He trudged up the sidewalk, past the Heathman Hotel, past the Schnitzer Concert Hall, but paused outside the Newmark Theatre. Chase had brought them to a play at the Newmark in Tanner’s second year, before Jordan had joined the house. He’d always had vague dreams that he’d come back again, maybe with Chase alone, to see another show, or maybe a lecture. A couple of interesting events were coming in March. Maybe Chase would want to go with me.

  Tanner gulped. Chase won’t want to go to the freaking living room with me, not after I screwed up tonight. Maybe if Tanner apologized. Maybe if he promised never to do it again. Maybe if he swore that he only wanted to be friends. Maybe if I change into an entirely different person.

  Besides, who knew if Tanner would even be here come March? In a way, not knowing when the end would come was worse than having an exact date. If only Uncle Patrick didn’t believe so strongly in self-determination. At least as long as the self-determination in question kept to traditional Wallowa pack values. As Tanner wandered past the theater, he wondered if Uncle Patrick was waiting for him to call and announce that he was ready to come home.

  If that’s the case, he’ll be waiting until Sheol freezes over.

  Tanner paused at the corner of Jefferson, trying to decide whether to head through Goose Hollow and the hills or continue through the PSU campus. That would mean a longer walk, but the campus was another place he’d never see again. He’d dreamed of being a student there—or somewhere—since he’d taken his mandatory online course in his second year. Every were was required to take a college-level class during their Howling, so they could decide whether they wanted to matriculate to a human university after their service years. The other guys had complained about it nonstop, bemoaning homework and studying and exams. Even Hector, who’d been taking online programming classes for years, had objected because he’d had to take a literature class.

  Tanner had reveled in it because it would be his only chance—nobody from the Wallowa pack ever attended college. His cousin Finn had secretly applied to the University of Washington—and then taken his frustration out on Tanner when Uncle Patrick had forbidden him from going.

  So Tanner had covertly followed the other guys’ classes too—Hector’s Gothic lit, Gage’s calculus, Dakota’s film studies. All of them had looked at him like he was crazy to take on more schoolwork when he didn’t have to.

  The light changed. Before he stepped off the curb, Tanner checked all directions—even up, because with the way his luck was running tonight, he could get beaned by a falling brick or dive-bombed by a rogue harpy. Once he got on the other side and turned under the bare branches of the trees lining Jefferson, a black sedan slid by, its engine purring almost noiselessly. At least its lights are on now. Although it might not have been the car that nearly clipped him—black sedans all looked alike and they were everywhere. Hells, his pack had three, when the occasion warranted more formality than the pickups or the SUVs. The car stopped at the next signal, and Tanner almost caught up with it again, but as he was gazing absentmindedly at its taillight
s, he realized there was a small dent in the trunk a few inches above the bumper.

  He dodged into the shelter of a parking garage. That dent looked exactly like the one Finn had put in the pack’s new Lincoln when he’d backed into a tree stump while he was learning to drive. Tanner ducked down, trying to make out the driver, but couldn’t see anything other than wide shoulders and cropped dark hair—which could be any adult in the pack except his red-haired uncle. The person in the passenger seat had longer hair, styled, lighter.

  Tanner’s fingers went numb. It’s not . . . It couldn’t be . . .

  But then the passenger turned to say something to the driver, and for an instant, Tanner’s eyes locked with his.

  With Finn’s.

  Finn’s eyebrows snapped together and he mouthed Tanner’s name. Gods, no. Tanner had never walked away from an altercation with Finn without bruises. He wasn’t about to risk that tonight, not when his heart had already taken a beating.

  So he took off back the way he’d come. The car couldn’t follow him until it navigated the one-way grid, so he had a little bit of a head start—assuming they were after him. He headed past Broadway, the lights of the Schnitz’s marquee flashing by in his peripheral vision. The smell of baking bread still lingered near the door of the Subway shop as he cut over on Sixth, where the clanging bell of an approaching MAX train made him nearly jump out of his skin. Too much traffic. Too many lights. I need cover.

  He rounded the next corner and raced back toward the Park blocks, barely registering that he was crossing against the light on Broadway because the haven of trees was in his sights at last. With a final burst of speed, he lurched under their blessed shelter and huddled at the base of an elm to catch his breath.

  Surely his cousin hadn’t tried to commit wolficide via Town Car. That was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? There was no real evidence that the car that had nearly hit Tanner was the same one, or that its driver hadn’t simply been careless about turning on their headlights.

  Even if it was, there’d be no reason to expect Finn to deliberately target Tanner for serious injury or . . . Tanner pressed a hand to his galloping heart. Or death. Yes, Finn was a bully. Yes, he and Tanner despised one another. But intentional vehicular manslaughter? Highly unlikely.

  But not impossible, his lizard brain murmured.

  “Stop it,” he muttered, startling one of the street kids smoking nearby. “Nobody’s trying to kill you.”

  “Uh, sure, dude,” the kid said. “Got any spare change?”

  Tanner was tempted to give him the damn ring, but that wouldn’t do the kid any good, and Uncle Patrick would look disappointed. So he dug into his jeans pocket and handed over a couple of crumpled bills and a handful of coins.

  He left the kid and his friends counting the money, his instincts still refusing to listen to reason. They can track me. If they get out of the car, they’ll catch my scent.

  He needed to get away. He needed to find safety. Although his heart screamed for Chase, for the sanctuary of the Doghouse, that was the last place he ought to go, because it was the first place they’d look.

  Even if Finn and his driver were only here to pick Tanner up, to take him back to the Wallowa compound, Tanner suddenly realized that he couldn’t face it. That life wasn’t worse than death—he was a privileged were and he knew it—but it was suddenly impossible to bear. How could he live without learning? Without wonder?

  Without Chase?

  Okay, given the epic fail of tonight’s kiss, he was doomed to live without Chase anyway, but could he handle living without someone like him?

  Although Tanner’s heart beat out a denial—that there couldn’t be anyone like Chase, not ever—he forced himself to think, to plan. If he couldn’t go back to the house and he refused to return to the compound, he still had to go somewhere. Somewhere the pack couldn’t find him. Somewhere nobody would think to look.

  Or if they did look, they wouldn’t see what they expect.

  But first, he needed to throw Finn off the scent. He pulled out his cell phone and called for an Uber. Luckily, there was one only two minutes away, although every second of those two minutes felt like days. When Tanner slid into the back seat, he greeted the driver absently.

  “You sure this is the right destination, man? I mean, there’s nothing there.”

  “Yes. I’m sure. It’ll be all right. I’m . . . meeting somebody.”

  “If you say so.”

  Tanner sat in the center of the seat, the better to watch out both windows while keeping his own face in shadow. It seemed as if every car they passed was a freaking black sedan, although he knew that wasn’t possible. By the time the driver dropped him off near the Lower Macleay trailhead, his nerves were sparking under his skin with the threat of a spontaneous shift. Not now. Not yet.

  “Here you go. If you’re sure—”

  “Yes, yes.” Tanner punched in an extra-large tip and scooted across the seat. “Thanks.”

  “No worries, man. Good luck.”

  I’ll need it.

  Tanner ran through the parking lot and into Forest Park, not slowing until he hit the Wildwood Trail near the Witch’s Castle. He cut up through the trees until he was hidden from any random passersby—although since the park was technically closed at dusk, there shouldn’t be anybody around. Except people who shouldn’t be here at all. Like me.

  But he’d fix that. Right now.

  With trembling fingers, he took off his jacket and spread it out on the ground, then toed off his sneakers. As he took off his shirt, pants, socks, he folded each compactly and arranged them on the jacket, then added his underwear. The shoes were a problem—they didn’t really fit, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry them easily. Reluctantly, he set them aside under an exposed tree root. He folded the jacket around the other clothes, cursing to himself when it was clearly not secure enough.

  “Ties, ties. I need ties.” His gaze caught on the trailing shoelace from his sneakers. A little short, but I’ll make it work. He unlaced both shoes and used the laces to bind his jacket into a tight ball with the sleeves protruding. Shivering in the chill wind, he tied the sleeves around his neck and let his shift, vibrating under his skin since he’d dodged the car, take over at last.

  He was still inexperienced enough—he’d only passed his level two shifting certification last month—that the change was uncomfortable, despite the shifter magic that facilitated the transformation. Nevertheless, he sighed with relief when his fur was fully sprouted, thick and warm and proof against far more severe weather than Portland on the brink of winter. The clothing pack was awkward, dangling down between his legs, but he knew from experience that he couldn’t carry anything in his mouth for long distances, and he couldn’t abandon it altogether. He’d have to morph back at some point, and most humans didn’t take kindly to a naked guy walking into their yard or place of business. It would be bad enough without shoes.

  Tanner bounded down the hill again and onto the path. He eyed Balch Creek, burbling over stones and under fallen logs. It’s probably colder than a frost giant’s balls. He should wade into it anyway, though, and follow it as long as possible to confuse any trackers. He glanced down at his clothes. They’d get soaked and never dry out.

  If the Uber trip didn’t do the trick, walking around in the water won’t do any better.

  So he climbed back off the trail and started to make his way through the brush. His belly felt so empty it was practically cleaving to his spine. I should have eaten some of those nachos after all. Then his nose twitched, the scent of game drifting on the night air. His ears pricked forward, and he crouched low, creeping toward the rustling underbrush. Leap. Pounce. Snap. So easy. Then blood and flesh and—

  Tanner met the wide, terrified eyes of the rabbit cowering under a thimbleberry bush and froze. I can’t. His human emotions crashed into him hard, overpowering his wolf instincts, just like they’d always done whenever he’d attempted a shifted hunt.

  He hadn’t eve
r confessed that to anyone—that he could never fully surrender to his wolf, never leave humanity completely behind. But it would be obvious when he got back to the compound. As part of assuming the alpha mantle, he’d have to run with the pack at the next full moon and bring down a deer.

  He retched into a pile of leaves, purging himself of everything in his stomach until there was nothing but bile. I’m never going to do that.

  Tanner dropped onto his haunches, panting. I’m really never going to do that. I’m not suited to be a pack alpha. I’m never going back. Somehow, I’ll find another way. Another life.

  And in the meantime, nearly two years of living alongside Hector, with his cheerful disregard of the five-second rule and his conviction that washboard abs were highly overrated, had taught Tanner a lot about scavenging from trash cans.

  He took off, loping easily through the trees, heading for Skyline Boulevard and a smorgasbord of restaurant garbage bins.

  The trip through Faerie with a retching Gage was not something Chase ever wanted to repeat—especially with the same FTA driver. The duergar had not been amused by how often Gage had to stop and decorate the preternaturally beautiful Faerie landscape with vomit.

  At least the other guys had gotten home safely, Jordan bombarding them with tales of Hamish’s awesomeness the instant they walked in the door. “Dude, he gave us all tickets. To the next Hunter’s Moon concert. He said—”

  Gage clapped his hands over his mouth and bolted for the first-floor bathroom.

  Jordan stared after him, wide-eyed. “Wow. I guess it’s a good thing he wasn’t in the Uber with us, huh?”

  Chase stripped off his jacket, which, along with his shoes and pants, hadn’t escaped Gage’s spell-induced technicolor yawn. “What makes you think after tonight that you’ll be allowed to go anywhere for the next two years?”

  Jordan’s brown eyes grew wide and seemed to droop. “Chase. You wouldn’t. This is Hunter’s Moon. In the front row. With VIP access.”

  “I don’t really care if you’re about to be knighted by the Queen of Faerie herself. You broke the rules, Jordan. So did Gage.” The sounds emanating from the closed bathroom door indicated that Gage might feel much less inclined to break any rules in the future. At least any that involved beer. “Don’t you think there should be consequences?”