Howling on Hold

by E. J. Russell

  Mal bowed, flipping his palm with a flourish. “Always a pleasure, Grizel.” He straightened up and grabbed Chase by the elbow, then towed him up the hill with Hugh scrambling behind. “Next time you face a bean-nighe, Chase, think before you speak. You almost wasted today’s only chance.”

  Chase jerked his arm out of Mal’s hold. “It was wasted anyway. That was nothing but nonsense.”

  “Hardly.” Mal tucked Tanner’s signet into his pocket. “He’s in Forest Park, near the Wildwood Trail where it loops past the headwaters of a stream.”

  “That could be anywhere!”

  “Nah. There’s only one spot that’s close to the intersection of Skyline and Waterline. We’ve got him.”

  Grizel’s creaky laugh reached them at the top of the hill. “Maldwyn Kendrick,” she called, “tha great ninny, tha’ve asked the wrong question again.”

  Chase wanted to follow Grizel’s directions immediately, but instead of gating directly to the coordinates in Forest Park, Mal took them back to the Quest offices.

  “Why are we wasting time?” Chase demanded, dogging Mal’s heels as he clattered down the stairs from the Faerie gate on the building’s fourth floor. “He could be gone by the time we get there. Then we’d have to ask again, and you said—”

  “Calm yourself, boyo.” Mal strode down the third-floor hallway. “You heard what Grizel said in answer to your impetuous and not very precise question about Tanner’s condition: ‘that’s as may be.’ In other words, he’s not exactly chirping merry, and after three months living rough, most of them in the dead of winter, he might need a bit of cosseting. Assuming he wants to be found at all, he might thank us for arriving with something other than empty hands and a how-d’ye-do.” Mal flung open a door just past the first curve. Or maybe it was the second. With a curved corridor, how could you tell?

  Chase stumbled to a halt, suddenly dizzy. “What do you mean, ‘assuming he wants to be found’?”

  Mal braced his hand against a doorframe, his wide shoulder lifting in a sigh. “He left, Chase. He hasn’t returned, despite how miserable it must have been living out there alone, with no money, no ready source of food, no shelter. If he didn’t come back, maybe he doesn’t want to.” He faced Chase, his blue eyes kind. “He’s an adult were with alpha potential now, the same as you, not one of your charges. If he doesn’t choose to come back, you’ll have to let him go.”

  Chase’s knees gave out, but Hugh and Mal each caught one of his arms and eased him to the ground. “He—” But he kissed me. Could he really not want to come back? Chase clenched his eyes shut and banged his head against the wall once. I didn’t kiss him back. I didn’t explain. Maybe I only had one chance and I blew it, like I almost did with Grizel.

  Mal dropped to his haunches next to Chase. “If I’d had the opportunity, I’d have asked Grizel two things. One: Is Tanner being held against his will?”

  Chase’s belly clenched in terror. “You mean he might be—”

  “Settle down. I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to ask. And two: Where does he want to go?” Mal’s mouth tucked in, a buried smile. “Actually, that would have been question three, after we found out where he was. But now, we’ll have to find out the answers when we speak to Tanner.”

  Mal stood and stepped through the door. “Damn, Zeke is good. I think he’s got us stocked to survive the apocalypse. Hugh, come here.”

  With one last worried glance at Chase, Hugh followed Mal into what was apparently a storage closet. Chase let his head fall back against the wall again, although with less force. I should be able to answer that question. The answer should be that Tanner wants to go back to the Doghouse. Back to me. But Chase was starting to realize that in his efforts to fight his own unprofessional attraction to Tanner, he’d gone the other direction. He’d purposely spent less time with him because he wanted to spend more. He’d kept their weekly half-hour counseling sessions impersonal and focused on Tanner’s progress and outcomes, not his—their—feelings.

  He hadn’t done that with any of the other guys. He knew exactly how Hector felt about being the odd one out in his pack, the only were who wanted to specialize in information instead of agriculture, the only one of his brothers and sisters who struggled with his weight and fitness because being the odd one out caused him to stress-eat.

  He knew how Gage covered up serious self-esteem issues. Because coastal wolves were in the minority and smaller than inland wolves, and because inland packs couldn’t understand the coastals’ love of the ocean, they were often treated as second-class citizens.

  When Dakota first arrived at the house at almost the same time as Tanner, he’d been more scattered than Jordan, with a cast on his leg from an ill-advised snowboarding trick. But now, his control was nearly as good as Chase’s. As soon as he passed his exams—which Chase didn’t doubt he’d do—and turned twenty-one in June, he was more than ready to return to his home compound and assume an active role at his pack’s resort at last. He’d even admitted his secret dream to Chase—to teach skiing and snowboarding to kids, both supe and human. Chase had no doubt he’d excel.

  And Jordan—there was no way Chase could prevent Jordan from spilling his feelings. But Tanner? The shy, brilliant were who’d captured Chase’s attention from the first day? Chase needed Hector to tell him that Tanner didn’t want to be a pack alpha, and Jordan of all people to tell him that Tanner never returned to his compound for breaks.

  I failed him because of my own insecurities. I owed him so much more.

  Mal emerged from the closet, followed by Hugh, who was stuffing a compact silver square into a backpack. “Protein bars, water bottles, space blanket, spare cash. That’ll do for now. You lot head upstairs to the translocation door. I’ll meet you there in a minute.” He took off down the hall.

  Chase trudged up the stairs in Hugh’s wake. When they reached the door, which was bracketed by prosaic vending machines, Hugh held the backpack out to Chase. “Do you want to give it to him?”

  Chase stared at it for a moment. No. Not if it means he leaves me. But that would be Tanner’s choice, and if the contents of the pack fed him, nourished him, healed him, then hells yes Chase wanted to be the one to hand it over. “Thanks.”

  “I get it, you know.” Hugh hunched his shoulders. “What it’s like to want to take care of somebody, even if they don’t necessarily want to take care of you back. For what it’s worth, I really hope he’ll come home with us.”

  Chase forced a tentative smile, the corners of his eyes prickling. “Thank you. So do I.”

  Mal came trotting down the corridor toward them—with his broadsword strapped to his back. Hugh goggled at him. “A sword, Mal? Really?”

  Mal keyed in a code on the keypad next to the translocation door. “Since we couldn’t ask whether he was being held against his will, I figured I’d best be prepared for a bit of a scuffle.” He opened the door onto a thicket of shadowed trunks and drooping fir branches, browning needles carpeting the ground. Forest Park. “Now let’s go.”

  The thick blue mats that covered the Doghouse’s basement workout room had to be at least an acre across. Tanner tightened the drawstring of his sweatpants until the waistband pinched his skin. He winced as Gary, a third-year resident, hit the vinyl with a splat.

  Two more minutes. If that. Two more minutes and everyone will know how pathetic I am.

  “Tanner?” Chase’s warm voice soothed Tanner’s nerves like a stroke down his fur. “Are you nervous?”

  “What do you think?” He toyed with his drawstring again. “I’m about to humiliate myself in front of everyone.” In front of you. “I may never recover.”

  Chase chuckled. “Everyone’s nervous the first time. In my first hand-to-hand session, I nearly peed all over the mat like the youngest untried pup.”

  “Submissive peeing? You? But you’re so . . . so . . .” Strong. Beautiful. Perfect.

  “I was just an average junior, realizing exactly how big the Wider World was outside th
e compound walls or a cozy supe schoolroom. We all go through it.”

  Tanner eyed Lord Maldwyn Kendrick—a freaking fae lord. The Queen’s Enforcer. Gods, his shoulders were at least a mile across. “Do we all come out the other side?”

  Chase grinned at him. “Yep. Mostly intact too.” Tanner sucked in a breath and took a step back, but Chase steadied him with a hand on his elbow. “Hey. Just kidding. Mal may look like an animate brick wall, but he’s a great guy. It’s his job to help you learn to protect yourself out in the Wider World where you won’t always have your pack at your back.”

  “Oh.” Tanner gulped. There were some members of his insular pack—his cousin, for instance—that he’d prefer never to be at his back because he didn’t trust them where he couldn’t see them. And sometimes not even then. “How much does learning to protect yourself hurt?”

  “Not much at all. Mal’s the best. And Tanner?” Chase gazed into Tanner’s eyes. “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you. Not while you’re here. That’s my job.”

  But what if I don’t want to be a job to you? What if I want more? What if I want to kiss you?

  Tanner kept his eyes fixed on Chase’s and leaned closer . . . closer . . . closer, the scent intoxicating. A breath away and then—

  “Pfaugh!” Tanner jerked his muzzle out of the mud, whacking his head on the top of his hideout. As usual, the memory of Chase’s scent lingered in his nose, although this time it was mixed with Mal’s and the smell of the human-manufactured mats. Gods. These dreams are gonna kill me.

  If his hideout didn’t kill him first. He couldn’t call the dugout under the edge of the creek bank a cave—it wasn’t big enough to qualify for anything so official—but it offered minimal shelter. He curled up, his spine against the damp clay. His fur was a muddy mess. He should really take the opportunity of the mild weather to wash off in the creek. Tonight. After dark. When there’s no chance of anyone seeing me.

  He sighed and rested his chin on the bedraggled bundle of his clothes. Living packless was a lot more interesting in theory than it was in practice. The last weeks blurred together in Tanner’s mind, a kaleidoscope of cold, hunger, and terror. He’d managed to find enough food to survive by scavenging restaurant garbage bins and the trash cans along Germantown Road on trash day, but only barely. He’d never gotten quite desperate enough to kill squirrels or rabbits. And as for raccoons? He gave those maniacs a very wide berth.

  Despite the hardship, though, he’d never been tempted to go back.

  If it had only been his embarrassment over his misstep with Chase, he’d have given in after the first couple of days because he missed Chase with a constant ache, as if his heart had gotten caught in one of the illegal traps he’d found and destroyed.

  And in a way, that ache was one of the reasons he didn’t return. As long as he was here, the ache was still something that he controlled. He almost welcomed it because he’d chosen to distance himself from his heart’s desire before he’d been forced to abandon it for a life he didn’t want. At least out here, he was responsible for his own condition, as pathetic as it was.

  But he hadn’t been able to completely bury that other fear, the one that had prompted him to run in the first place: the certainty that if Finn and that driver found him, Tanner wouldn’t see another dawn, let alone another birthday.

  Which is probably stupid. Finn was a jerk and a bully, but it wasn’t as though he could suborn the other pack members to murder their alpha.

  Could he?

  Technically, Tanner wouldn’t be the pack alpha until after that first hunt and the Ascension ceremony. Another reason not to go back—as long as I don’t hunt with them, kill with them, I’m not really a part of them. But he was acknowledged as the heir, something his uncle reinforced to the others at every full moon. There hadn’t been a pack mutiny, the pack overthrowing their alpha either by consensus or force, since . . . forever, as far Tanner knew. Great. I can be a precedent. A footnote in history. Except North American weres didn’t keep history: they only followed tradition.

  Tanner gazed past the trailing weeds that masked his hideout, listening to birds squabble in the trees, although the branches were too thick to see them. He raised his head and paid closer attention. Those are the sounds of nesting. I’ve been hiding out all winter.

  Would spring and summer be easier? Warmer, certainly, but with milder weather and longer days, came more people hiking the trails. Later sunsets meant he’d have fewer nighttime hours to scavenge under cover of darkness. Can I keep going? The last time he’d shifted back to human, shivering in the frigid wind as he undid the latches on the dumpster behind the Skyline Tavern, he’d been able to see his ribs, and his stomach had been almost concave. Maybe it’s time to admit that I’m not as self-sufficient as I thought I’d be.

  After all, there were reasons wild wolves lived in packs—communal hunting, communal protection. Communal companionship.

  Because beyond the hunger and the cold, it was the loneliness that made Tanner regret his decision. Also boredom. When he wasn’t searching for food, the long hours dragged. Squirrels and opossums were not exactly brilliant conversationalists.

  Loneliness and boredom will probably make me give in at last. Even if it meant returning to the Wallowa compound and everything he didn’t want. The dreams, although they gutted him when he woke up, were actually some of the best parts. I can almost believe I still smell Chase.

  The birds in the tree suddenly took wing at the same time. Tanner’s ears shot forward. Were those voices? He gathered his feet under him and raised himself to a crouch, draggled belly fur brushing the ground. There! That was definitely the crack of a twig. Someone’s coming. Maybe more than one someone. If it’s Finn, and if he’s out for my blood, I won’t stand a chance. Not in this state.

  But that’s stupid. How would Finn find me, assuming he’s even looking?

  Tanner whipped his head back and forth, searching for an escape route, but there was none. The overhang that sheltered him didn’t provide enough purchase for him to scramble over. The only way out was the way in—straight down to the creek bed twenty feet below. He could make for the creek, run through the woods on the other side, but was that even the best idea? Maybe whoever was out there would pass by, going on about whatever business had brought them to this remote part of the park.

  In his last few nighttime dumpster-diving sorties, he’d heard a couple of restaurant employees on a smoke break gossiping about a possible wolf sighting. One of them had scoffed, “Nah. Couldn’t be a wolf. Probably a coyote. Those guys’re all over the place.”

  Shooting wolves was illegal in Oregon except in certain cases involving livestock predation, but not everybody abided by the law—and humans retained a stubborn, visceral fear of wolves. As Tanner had weakened, he’d gotten careless about covering his tracks. Gods, if humans are after me, there’s no way I could fend them off.

  So Tanner shrank back, pressing himself as far from the dappled sunlight as possible. He could make out footsteps, more than one set, tramping along the path above. Tanner closed his eyes and shivered. Please pass by. Please don’t notice me. Immature, maybe, but at the moment, he had nothing else. Nothing left.

  Someone dropped to the ground directly in front of his hideout, sending rocks skittering down the hill to plop into the water. Tanner cringed, eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable blow.

  Another thud. Oh gods. There are two of them. It is Finn. Somehow he figured out where I was and brought an enforcer and—

  “Tanner?”

  Tanner’s eyes flew open.

  Chase.

  Sure enough, Chase was hunkered down on the hillside, peering in at Tanner in all his woeful glory. And next to him? Mal Kendrick.

  “Come on out now, boyo,” Mal said. “We just want to talk. We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but we’ve been worried.” Mal beckoned. Tanner’s instinct was to obey, because this was Mal. But he kept his gaze fixed on Chase’s face as he crept
out of the hideout, blinking in the pale spring sunshine that was suddenly too bright.

  Tanner squinted against the glare. Three people? Yes, somebody else was on the bank overhead, but before his instincts kicked in and urged him to flee, he caught the third man’s scent: not Finn. In fact, not supe. For some reason, Mal and Chase were accompanied by a human.

  “We’ve brought some things for you,” Mal said. “Water. Food.” As Mal spoke, Chase fumbled in the backpack he was carrying and pulled out a protein bar. Tanner’s mouth watered and he whined. “You might want to shift first though. The water bottle isn’t configured for a wolf.”

  Shift? Now? Here? In front of a human? Was this a test? If it was, Tanner was about to fail miserably. The scent of the protein bar unraveled the last of his self-control. If anybody but Chase had been holding it, Tanner would have snapped the bar up, wrapper and all, and if a couple of fingers were collateral damage? He could spit them out. But he couldn’t risk hurting Chase. He glanced up at the human and whined again.

  Mal seemed to understand. “Don’t mind Hugh. He works for Quest. He knows all about the supe community.”

  Okay. That was . . . unusual. Make that unheard of. So shifting was allowed, but then Tanner would be naked. In front of the strange human. In front of Mal. In front of Chase. They’d see the sad state of his body.

  “It’s okay, Tanner.” Chase reached out, holding his free hand a safe foot from Tanner’s muzzle. “I promise.”

  Tanner huffed, then butted his head against Chase’s hand. At least I can touch him this way, even if it’s for the last time. He huddled on the bank and let his human form shiver across him, the magic both easier because he’d had more practice now, and more difficult because he was weak from months of malnourishment.

  Hugh’s ooohhh was barely voiced, Chase’s gasp thankfully muted by the loss of Tanner’s more sensitive wolf hearing. Once he was fully transformed, Mal shook out a silvery cloth and draped it over Tanner’s back.