by Keri Hudson
But it was getting further away by the second. Lisa tried to guide the little boat around the aggressive hunters, but the current was working against them, the boat pitching dangerously. Paul knew the whales would capsize the boat eventually, and one glance at Peter told him that his brother knew it too.
Paul looked over at the yacht, where a man in a white uniform stood next to a man in some kind of civilian clothes. Two other men stood near them, both in the same khaki clothes the other gunmen wore. Each man held a rifle, one an AK-47 like the others and the other a longer rifle without a long extension from the bottom. They watched with pitched focus, Paul could tell even from that distance, and he knew why. They couldn’t fire on the orcas, lest they accidentally hit Lisa. They were helpless, almost as helpless as those in that little boat.
But they had Lisa, who was cagey and cunning even against the incredible and deadly intelligence of the orcas. She kept their boat weaving against the current and against their coordinated efforts. They were fixed on destroying the last two Landrys, Peter seemed to know it as well as Paul did.
One whale bumped them from the bottom, but the boat’s rigid shell had to be punishing on its unarmored flesh. The killer whales were too smart to damage themselves in the hunt. They didn’t need to.
Another orca hit them from the other side, Paul and Peter and Lisa all jostled to the side, the boat beginning to spin. The orcas were getting bolder, frustrated with Lisa’s deftness at the helm. They dipped into the water around them and Paul knew they were collecting for another type of attack. It would come quickly and horribly, and Paul’s stomach sank with the terrible possibilities.
He’d seen the orcas all his life, he’d always known they were there and had faced them on the south beach of the island more than once. But he’d never been on a boat, never moved so quickly unless it was under his own speed, and even then, he’d never had to do it. And he’d never been so far out on the water, the home territory of his family’s sworn enemy, and the absolute apex predator of that watery realm.
And they seemed to know it.
Paul held on, sharing a reassuring nod with his brother as Lisa moved them through the pod and the waves. The boat’s increasing speed came at the expense of stability, big waves pushing the RIB even higher, vulnerable to being capsized by an opportunistic orca. But they were missing their chances, and Lisa was able to steer them back toward the yacht.
But as the boat banked, on orca struck, lurching up out of the water with its terrific jaws gaping. It slammed into the side of the RIB, tipping the boat toward it. The beast hit Peter’s side of the boat, all three of them holding on as the craft listed heavily. Lisa fell from the engine, no more forward propulsion giving the orca full control. But Lisa clung to the side of the boat, the killer whale’s focus fixed on Peter.
Peter looked at Paul one last time, and Paul knew his brother anticipated what awaited him. He’d already started falling into the big mammal’s mouth, and all he could do was reach out in one pitiful attempt to reconnect one last time.
The orca clamped down over Peter’s upper body and one shoulder, his head on one side and his lower body dangling from the other as the orca pulled him over the side and into the ocean.
Lisa screamed and so did Paul, but Peter was gone and his death was terrible and certain. The boat sat idle on the waves, engine still running. Paul knew he had to act fact to save Lisa, to save himself, so that Peter’s sacrifice and those of the rest of his family weren’t in vain. Paul was the last of the Landry line, and the future of the world could indeed hang in the balance of his survival.
Another strike from the same side tipped the boat even more, Lisa waving her arms as she fell backward into the water.
Paul screamed out her name and lunged to that side of the boat. Lisa’s hand reached out of the water as she struggled to remain on the surface, another big orca swimming up fast. She’d been pulled into the water as bait, and now one of the wolves of the sea was coming in for the kill. Paul reached out, barely able to reach Lisa’s hands, fingers getting closer as he leaned out further. Their hands finally met and clasped, Paul leaning back to pull her back into the boat. They were too close for the orca to get in a good shot at Paul without hitting Lisa, which they seemed unwilling to do, for reasons entirely their own.
But another rammed the boat from the other side as Paul pulled Lisa up, very nearly sending both into the water. From there, picking Paul off would be an easy matter. But Paul leaned back and pulled hard, managing to keep the boat from tipping, Lisa scrambling into the RIB with him.
The boat settled and Lisa scrambled to the engine, still running. “Hold on!” She cranked the red handle, the RIB jumped forward on the waves, and they turned back toward the yacht, only ten yards off or less.
The man Paul took to be Lisa’s father was holding his hand out at one of the gunman, ensuring he wouldn’t fire anywhere near his beloved daughter. Paul was glad; he’d rather throw himself into one of those black-and-white bastards’ mouths than see Lisa be hurt in such a way.
They motored up to the yacht. Lisa piloted them to a big metal ladder hanging over the side of the yacht. The orcas seemed intimidated by the massive white boat, sleek and tall, rising up out of the ocean. Lisa guided them up to the yacht, but the waves kept pushing them further from the big craft and straight toward the orcas’ mouths.
Lisa’s father tossed down a big, round orange object Paul didn’t recognize. But it had a rope tied to it and Paul needed no further explanation. He grabbed the thing and braced himself against the inside of his side of the RIB, feet against the other. He pulled and one of the gunmen pulled too, drawing the boat to the side of the yacht.
The RIB bumped the side of the yacht, as close to the ladder as they were going to get. Paul said, “Go, Lisa!”
“No, you first!”
“No time to argue,” Paul spat back, “hurry!”
Her father shouted, “Hurry, Lisa!” She killed the engine and made her way across the little boat to the ladder. Before climbing, she turned once more. “I’ll follow you,” Paul said, “hurry!”
Lisa turned to climb up the ladder, pulling herself ably up as her father and the others reached down to help her over the side. She turned and reached out to him. “Hurry, Paul!”
Paul pulled himself up by the rope. The RIB bumped and turned beneath him, the rope his only real connection to the yacht. He pulled himself to the ladder and took the first rung before the RIB pushed up from beneath him, threatening to push him off the ladder and to a watery death. Paul climbed the ladder even as the boat beneath him pushed to the side. But Paul held on, clinging to the ladder as the boat pushed out from under him. He swung hard, the wet metal of the ladder too easy to slide off of.
Lisa screamed, “Paul!” She reached down for him, but she was too far to do him any good. Paul slipped a rung, hands coming loose. “Paul!” But he caught the next rung as the RIB splashed back down again against the side of the yacht. Paul’s fatigued muscles strained, fingers barely keeping their purchase on the slippery metal. But he found a footing as well, able to push himself up even as he pulled, the splashing Pacific Ocean further behind him.
He took another rung and turned to see one frustrated orca biting at the RIB as the others began to swim off.
Paul turned to climb the rest of the ladder and fall into Lisa’s eager embrace. She kissed him hard, pressing her face against his as she held him tightly. Paul’s heart was racing, his body trembling until they disengaged, staring into each other’s eyes.
They’d managed to survive their harrowing meeting, every danger which threatened their happy future together. The pigs were back on the island, Matthew dead, the orcas and octopi safely at a distance. They’d endured so many obstacles, so many near-misses, horrors, and wonders. But they’d survived together and they were free to be together, to live and to love at long last.
But there was more to come; Lisa seemed to know that as she looked deep into Paul’s eyes. There w
ould be challenges to loving a lupe, but she seemed ready to accept them in full, even partake if she could. There would be other alphas no matter where they went or what they did. There were still ursine shifters to contend with, and the upcoming shifter apocalypse, the battle for earthly dominance. There was no certainty of its immediacy, but Lisa seemed to know that, were it to come, the best place for her to be, the only place for her to be, was by Paul Landry’s side.
She would face whatever the future would bring by his side, and Paul’s mind and heart reeled to think that the nightmare of his life had actually become a dream come true. But it hadn’t come without a price.
Paul turned to take one last look at the island. He was leaving his family, the only life he’d ever known, the grave where his mother was buried. But they’d died so their family line could live on, so that he and Lisa could live on. And they would honor their sacrifice and their memory, and their children would always know the stories of their grandfather, their uncle and aunt, even their cousin. In a lot of ways, Matthew had been as much a victim of the island as anything else, certainly as much as anyone else. Paul spared a tender thought for the troubled soul, now finally at rest with the rest of the Landrys.
But they weren’t the last of the Landrys, and Paul could only look forward to a life he could have scarcely imagined before the amazing Lisa van Kamp’s arrival scarcely a week before.
“Excuse me,” Lisa’s father said. Paul turned with just a bit of a start, surprised to have been so distracted that he didn’t even thank the man who had saved his life and changed it forever.
“Oh, I… I’m sorry,” Paul said, extending his hand. “Paul Landry.”
Lisa said, “Paul, this is my father, Harold van Kamp.”
“It’s more than my pleasure,” Harold said, looking Paul over. “But… who are you? What were you doing on that rock?”
“He was shipwrecked there, Daddy,” Lisa explained, “with his whole family.”
“I see,” Harold said, clearly thinking things through. “I’ll send the other men back in the RIB then, and—”
“No,” Paul said with a shake of his head, “that’s… that’s not necessary.”
A somber moment passed among them, the elder man putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Paul nodded, but a smile could not survive on his face for long. Harold looked at Lisa to ask, “Any of our men?” Lisa shook his head, and he turned to look at the island, sitting like some great specter before them. “One hell of a place, eh?”
Paul knew it better than he, better than anyone. But he was facing a life of new things to learn, new things to see, new places to go. He would see them from the pinnacle of luxury, have the most of the very best that the world had to offer. And Paul felt that he’d earned it, that he could enjoy it as long as he had Lisa van Kamp by his side.
His heart and mind reeled to think of the lives his children would lead, and their children. They would never suffer the kind of isolation and misery that he’d grown up knowing. They would never be naked against harrowing typhoons or cold nights, scalding hot days. They would have the lives James simply couldn’t provide for them, despite his best intentions and amazing strengths. Fate had conspired against him, against them all, that wicked island capturing them in her near-eternal grip. But she’d lost that grip and both Paul and Lisa had escaped. They would make the most of their lives, of each other, each one changed by their brief time together and certain to go on changing, growing, evolving.
Harold said, “Well, let’s get you both cleaned up, fed, rested.” The captain had already retired to the cabin and the big engines started up. Harold went on, “We’ll be home in a few days, and until then we’ll have plenty to talk about.”
Paul looked at Lisa and then back at Harold. “Home.”
Lisa broke a sweet smile, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Home.”
The End
Wolf’s Passion
CHAPTER ONE
Quinton Williams kept low, breath collecting in a frosty cloud in front of him. The big caribou stag knew he was following him, but Quinton wasn’t alone. A pack of arctic wolves were hunting the beast as well, and Quinton needed the meat and hide.
The wolves didn’t seem to understand. Expert pack hunters, wolves would normally stay well away from Quinton by sheer natural instinct. But these animals were so fixed on the hunt that they seemed to have overlooked and overstepped. It was more than a minor annoyance.
Either way, it was a race to the prey, and Quinton did not accept competition. His snowshoes kept him from sinking into the powder, but he still could not compete with the pack of lupine warriors bearing down on the stag.
Quinton pressed on, the mountainside just outside the boundaries of Chugach State Park, making the trek arduous. The wolves were keeping low, ducking in and out of the white and black spruce as they closed in. Quinton knew that even a kill shot would only deliver the caribou to them. He would have to kill the wolves, all of them, or chase them off. But the prospect of fresh prey would drive the lupines into a fever, and a lone man against a pack of enraged, bloodthirsty wolves would need a lot more than just a Winchester rifle and a .357 Magnum revolver.
His strong legs pushed Quinton further up the hill, wind pushing him back. Everything seemed to be working against him on that day, in a way he didn’t quite understand. The Alaskan wilderness could be a fierce foe, taking countless lives every year. But she and Quinton had an understanding, they had an alliance. She was rarely so stubborn about things.
The wolves’ aggression continued to trouble him. The other alphas were getting more aggressive, and Quinton’s bones told him why.
The great war was coming.
He’d known it for years, told by his late parents that the ursines were coming for the lupines, that there would be a final struggle for control of the Earth. The humans were of little consideration, and the non-shifting animals of the world seemed to know it. That wasn’t the question.
The humans were a strange breed, generally held in low regard by the animals. Wolves, whales, bears, deer, even dogs didn’t quite understand that odd, hairless ape. It had no natural defenses or any natural tools; no fangs or claws, no hide, a body that was barely capable of standing up, much less anything more impressive than that. The human couldn’t run with any considerable speed, had little endurance, couldn’t climb, couldn’t smell unless something was right in front of it.
No alphas quite understood how the human came to ascend to a place of mastery over them, but none of them felt that the race deserved the mantle.
They were eager to see things change.
But these great beasts had a plan of their own. And though they universally seemed to loathe the human race, they hated shifters even more. Because they knew that their own great strength could never match a shifter’s, at least most of them couldn’t. Not even a fully grown polar bear could match itself against a shifter lupine, bigger and stronger in every way. In the same way, the local wolves would cower at taking on a lupine shifter. They stayed well away.
But things were changing, they were more emboldened.
The alphas of Earth’s animal species seemed to have collectively understood that their own fate was tied to the planet’s, that the outcome of the war could yet go to them. They had no wish to be ruled by shifters, wolf or bear, any more than they wanted to be ruled by the humans.
They also lacked the intellect of a shifter. However cunning or clever, however gifted with senses and strengths, a wolf was just a wolf, a bear was just a bear.
But a shifter was an altogether different creature, and they all naturally knew it. But they weren’t all of the same mind. A wolf, even a pack of wolves, would be wary of a shifter. Even a polar bear might balk at a conflict with a lone wolf shifter. Quinton had backed them down more than once.
But the orcas didn’t care. That was the creature of ultimate strength and intelligence. That was the creature any shifter feared. That was the animal with every
advantage: communal hunting, viciousness, and cunning, and a hatred of shifters commensurate with its intelligence. After the poisoning of the planet’s seas, the obliteration of her fruits, even sharks being mutilated for their fins before being tossed back into the depths, the orcas had had enough.
So if there was going to be a war between the lupine and the ursine shifters for control over the planet, the animals of Earth were determined to exploit that and kill every shifter. After that, Quinton and the other shifters could only imagine what they would do. Because if the wolves and bears and snakes and whales could destroy the two most singularly powerful and secretive species on the planet, there would be almost nothing they couldn’t do.
That all seemed far off. The orcas where nowhere near that snowy mountain; the shifter apocalypse was still a gathering storm.
There were other things to deal with, other things to kill.
One wolf jumped out at Quinton as if from nowhere, its big, grey body flying at him from between two quaking aspens. It snapped those terrible jaws, barely missing his right arm. Quinton pulled back and let the wolf fall past. It landed hard and spun for another attack. Quinton’s Winchester was cocked and ready to fire.
Bang!
The wolf snapped back with a yelp, but it wasn’t alone. The pack had decided to hunt him instead of the caribou, and they did it with a relish Quinton understood. He shared it.
Another wolf charged him from behind, but Quinton sensed it coming. There was no time to cock, aim, and shoot the rifle. So he gripped it like a baseball bat and swung it around to meet the wolf head-on. Quinton swung the rifle with such force that the wooden butt smashed to splinters against the wolf’s head. The animal’s head turned sharply to the side, its body spinning with the force of the blow.