Blood of the Wolf

by T. L. Shreffler

  Bam!

  Another earsplitting gun shot, a blinding flash of light, and the doorknob went tumbling across the floor. Then she was pulled through the door and into open air. Jaime finally gained control of her limbs and ran, not knowing where she was headed, only that she had to get away from the police station and find safety. She couldn't hear anything but the ringing from the bullets, and her head was still spinning — outside? But where?

  She opened her eyes, realizing that tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her surroundings came into sharp focus; she was behind the police station, running through the lot of impounded cars, the dirty asphalt beneath her bare feet. And next to her, his firm grip still on her arm, was her captor. Rescuer?

  “Run!” he yelled, though she could barely hear him through her ringing ears.

  What do you think I'm doing!? she wanted to scream, but she was too busy struggling to breathe. They wove between a maze of cars, passing run-down trucks and cheap sedans. Half a minute later, the door burst open behind them, three or four cops crowding around the exit. Their guns were pointed and ready.

  “Stop, in the name of the law!” a voice shouted over the intercom, echoing around the impound lot. “Stop or we will open fire!”

  Her captor kept running, holding her close to his side. They reached the back fence and he launched himself onto the bed of a truck, easily pulling her next to him. A few stray bullets bounced off of the cement near them and Jaime almost collapsed, shaking in terror.

  He crouched next to her in the truck bed and rubbed her arms, holding her close, then pushed her head into his shoulder and returned fire. She was screaming against him, terrified.

  “Jaime, Jaime you have to climb over the fence!” he yelled to her.

  She was breaking down, crying, unable to control her body. “I can't!” she moaned, huddling closer to the bed of the truck. “Oh god we're going to die....”

  “You have to! Now climb, I'll cover you!”

  She shivered, shaking her head, useless and sobbing. “No, I can't.... ouch!”

  The bite was sudden, nipping sharply at her ear. She yelped. “Climb, or we die here!” he roared.

  She knew it was true; it was too late to appeal to the cops. She would be sent to prison for sure, or shot down along with him. She gathered herself with the last of her strength, steadying her nerves, turning to look at the fence. It was a good fourteen feet high, barbed wire lining the top. “How the hell....”

  A bullet ricocheted off the car next to them, shattering the windshield. Her captor shoved her toward the fence. “Now!”

  Biting her lip, she flung herself onto the cold metal, relying fully on adrenaline. She climbed quickly, hand over hand, scaling the fence as fast as she could. She kept expecting a bullet to go through the back of her head, but instead her captor returned fire, forcing the cops to duck into the hallway.

  Finally she reached the barbed wire and she only hesitated for a second. She already knew that she had no choice. Frantic and desperate, she grabbed the wire, letting the spikes gouge into her hands as she swung one leg over. The steel thorns ripped at her feet, but she ignored the pain as she flung herself over the top of the fence, tearing long rents in her clothing. She fell limply over the other side, landing with a dead thud in the bushes. She was too numb to feel any pain.

  A body landed next to her a minute later. She looked up dazedly at her rescuer's silhouette.

  “Get up, we're not done yet!” he yelled, pulling her into a sitting position.

  She glared, feeling her head swim, tiny lights flashing before her eyes. The world was becoming a dark tunnel... she felt like she might throw up.

  “Fuck off....” she growled, trying to shove him off of her. Then she swooned backwards. Everything dipped and whirled. She felt blood streaming through her cut fingers.

  “Dammit, she's passing out!” a new voice said.

  She heard sirens somewhere in the background.

  “Somebody grab her!”

  She tried to focus, tried to get back up, but her body wouldn't listen. Sick and spinning, she saw white stars explode across her vision... then everything went black.

  Chapter 3

  “What do you mean, you missed her?”

  “Well... we had her, you see,” Stevie whined through the phone; his brother winced by his side. Their Alpha did not sound happy. “But the cops got in the way.”

  “The cops?”

  “Yeah, she flagged down a cop car. We couldn't get her in time.”

  There was a long pause. Stevie started to sweat, as did his pack mate, Jones. They shared a worried glance; silence was never a good sign. They had been trailing the girl for months now, waiting for the perfect time to abduct her, but so far she had shown a high level of intuition. She had always seemed to sense whenever they were watching her, and had kept to public places. Last night had seemed like a done deal. Alone in a deserted park, miles out of town, surely kidnapping her would have been like taking candy from a baby.... So how had everything gone so wrong?

  “We don't have time,” their Alpha finally growled. “She is beginning her wolf-moon and we can't let any other packs claim her. We have to get her first.”

  Stevie and Jones shared a look; now would not be the time to admit that the Seneca wolf pack was already in possession of the girl. It would cost them their lives.

  “We'll get her, Alpha,” Stevie said. The words sounded empty.

  “No,” the dark voice responded over the phone. “No, you won't. I am sending you someone, a Tracker, to make sure you get the job done.”

  This time it was Jones who frowned. “A Tracker? Sir, is that really necessary—”

  “Shut up, Jones,” the voice snapped. “You worthless dogs are obviously not capable of capturing a little girl. Tabari will be arriving at the bus stop in Davenport tomorrow at eleven in the morning. I expect your next report to be much more satisfying.”

  Jones swallowed, hard. “Of course, sir.”

  “And remember, we can't risk her knowing the truth, so make sure she doesn't go anywhere near the local packs. Keep her isolated.”

  “As we have been, sir.”

  “Good. Oh, and Stevie?” the dark voice murmured.

  “Yes?”

  “You fuck up this time, and you and your brother will be mounted on my wall.”

  “Y-yes sir.”

  Click.

  Stevie and Jones looked at each other in the darkness of the hotel room, their faces pale against the early morning light. There was no need to speak; they both shared the same thought — they never should have gotten mixed up with a pack leader as ruthless as Magnus the Gray. His reputation for cruelty was notorious, practically legendary. If anything, they almost felt sorry for the poor girl who he wanted as his mate. Stevie set down the phone, hand shaking.

  “We're fucked,” he muttered.

  “Naw, don't say that. We're not fucked yet... next week we'll be fucked.”

  “Thank you. That's real encouraging.”

  The two brothers lapsed into silence, quietly reflecting on the hopelessness of the situation.

  “Breakfast?” Jones offered, raising an eyebrow.

  “If you pay,” Stevie replied.

  Solemn and silent, the two brothers left their hotel room for the café downstairs. They could spend the day wasting time, waiting for Tabari, but that would be a deadly mistake. Since the incident at the police station, their position had gone from bad to worse. They had to find the girl's trail, and figure out what Sirus' plans were... the Seneca Alpha had traveled a long way just for some girl.

  After breakfast they would track them down and figure out how to get the little she-wolf back from Sirus, virginity still in tact.

  * * * *

  Jaime woke up slowly, sore all over. Her head felt like it was full of cobwebs, and her muscles ached like wildfire. It was as though she had run a marathon the night before. At first she tried to roll over, wanting to go back to sleep, but then she realized s
he couldn't move. Her arms were restricted.

  A trickle of dread slipped through her, clearing her mind and snapping her back to reality. The police station, the shooting, the shattered glass... and him, he had come for her. Finally, he had shown himself. She tried to steady her breathing; now was not the time to panic. Barely moving, she cracked open an eyelid, glancing around through her eyelashes.

  She was in a dimly lit room, and she appeared to be alone.

  She tested the air with her nose, getting the scent of the place. Dust, mothballs, the heaviness of unwashed sheets... old, old cigarettes. And underneath it all, the scent that he had been here recently, in this room, standing at the foot of the bed. Maybe half an hour ago? It was hard to tell in a room with little ventilation; his odor could stay for hours.

  But she was definitely alone. Jaime opened her eyes and looked around. She was laying on a twin-sized bed, half covered by a thin, flower print quilt. Everything held the yellow tint of old paint, one wall crusted with the ugliest pink and white-striped wallpaper she had ever seen. The corners were stuffed with boxes of unused clothes and linens. Aside from her bed and the crooked nightstand next to it, there was little space for anything else. A high, narrow window lined the top of the ceiling, revealing the barest glint of blue sky outside. She was underground, in a basement.

  Jaime sat up, frowning when she tried to move her right arm and found it tied to something. When she looked down, she was surprised to see that she was still wearing the handcuffs; one end was securely around her right wrist, the other latched firmly to the bed post. She grunted in frustration, tugging at the chain as quietly as possible. She doubted she was alone in the house, and she didn't want to alert anyone that she was awake. The cuffs seemed securely locked.

  She sighed, wishing she had a hair pin or a paper clip. She thought to check her pockets, then remembered that she was wearing the itchy jail-bait suit. Great. She looked around the room, hoping for anything that would help her get the cuffs off, but nothing presented itself, not so much as a pencil or pen cap. She slid from the bed carefully, trying out her legs, flexing her feet and then wincing as a sharp pain lanced through her. When she pulled up her pant leg, she found that the bottom of her left leg was bandaged, and there were blood stains on her clothes. It took her a long moment to remember the barbed wire from the night before, how it had torn and ripped at her clothing. In all the panic and adrenaline, she must have injured herself a lot worse than she had thought. Thinking of that, she realized that her hands were bandaged as well where she had gripped the wire. A little blood stained the white medical tape; apparently moving and flexing her fingers had reopened some of the wounds. They must have given her some sort of pain killer because she couldn't feel it... and she didn't want to.

  Jaime stood up carefully and limped to the window, but was disheartened to find that she couldn't get close enough to reach it, not even to get a clear view of where she was. By the quality of the light and the lack of traffic outside, she figured she was in some sort of residential district, but where...? For all she knew, they could be in Davenport by now, or anywhere else on the map. She turned back to the bed frame and studied it. Wooden, solid, it appeared antique... oddly out of place in a basement. She studied where the cuffs were attached to the bed post, locked in by wood on either side. After a moment more of consideration, a slow smile spread across her face. “Do they seriously think wood can hold me?” she muttered. Having been on the run for so long, she was good at escaping from almost any situation.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the adrenaline of the previous night, the gunshots, the screaming, the blood....

  She focused her energy, felt the surge of power through her limbs as the experience recreated itself in front of her. The wolf writhed in her chest, fighting to be released, to come to the surface. Jaime resisted, instead directing the energy into her arms, into her ears and eyes... just enough for her to take advantage of her increased strength. Her ears elongated slightly, her teeth extended, her eyes tinted yellow.

  With a deft movement, she grabbed the wooden bedpost and wrenched it sideways, snapping the wood easily in two. Crack! The noise was loud and she winced—ugh, she hadn't thought of that! It was even louder to her heightened wolf ears. Immediately she slipped the cuff from the bed frame and stood up from the bed, looking around for any means of escape. The window. She leapt over to it, reaching up to check the glass, grabbing the sides of the window and pushing upward... stuck. Frantically she ran her fingers around the frame, searching for some sort of latch or lever, but there was nothing. A window that wouldn't open? She frowned in annoyance—apparently someone had thought this through.

  For a moment she thought she heard footsteps and she paused, staring wide-eyed at the door, twitching her ears to pick up any stray sounds. It took a moment for the quiet of the house to settle around her, then she could hear the distant murmur of voices. There were footsteps, but they were far off, somewhere else in the house. By their lazy meandering, she figured that she hadn't been heard. She let out a breath of relief and turned back to the window, wondering if she should break the glass... but no, then they would definitely hear her and come running, and they were werewolves too, after all. Her extra strength would be no use in a fight.

  Her hands were bleeding from all the movement, and she winced as the cuts stung against the gauze. She needed to escape, but there definitely wasn't any exit in this room. She would have to find a way out through the house. The idea seemed risky, but she had no other choice; staying here was not an option.

  Creeping up to the door, she tried the knob, finding that it was unlocked. Good, so they hadn't thought of everything. Apparently no one had been expecting her to wake up so soon. She cracked the door open, peering around the edge and squinting up the stairwell. It was dark, but she could see light from up above. She listened carefully, the voices now distinct; two separate people, but she could already tell that neither of them were the Alpha. Good, at least he was gone... she was sure she could handle the rest. Creeping forward and up the cement stairway, she kept herself pressed tightly against one wall, as close to the shadows as possible. Her heightened senses warned her of every creaky floorboard, every stray current of air.

  When she reached the top of the staircase, Jaime carefully peered around the corner, detecting no movement. She found herself at the entrance of a long hallway, flooded with sunlight; the floor was wooden and solid, with the slightly uneven patterns of an old house. The walls were painted white, and she could see a poster of the ocean hanging a little ways to her left... and beyond that picture, past a few doorways, was a screen door to the back yard. Perfect! What luck... she wouldn't even need to traverse the house. She started to move in that direction when a sudden noise caught her attention, and she remembered the voices she had heard earlier. They were coming from the opposite hall, to her right, behind a closed door about ten feet away.

  “...corner him... senseless to do otherwise... dispose of him as he did the rest,” she heard one voice say, a gruff tenor. “I mean, we're starting to run out of options.”

  Jaime's ears perked and she inched into the hallway, carefully glancing around her to make sure that she was safe. She held on to the metal cuffs to stop them from clinking together and padded closer to the voices, testing each board before putting weight on it. Her wolf-senses guided her. As she got closer, the conversation became clear.

  “Huh, that's why he nabbed the girl, or so I thought,” another voice answered. “He's gambling for territory.”

  Jaime's brows furrowed. Territory?

  “She ain't got no territory, Darren.”

  “But it's different this time. Now he's got a claim to it.”

  “He don't need to claim what's already his.”

  A silent pause, almost ominous; they were obviously done speaking. Jaime hovered anxiously, confused. She had to suppress the silent snarl that twisted her lips. What territory? Her home that had already been stolen from her? S
he wished she had overheard the conversation sooner; now she was left with too many questions.

  “By the way, how is the girl?” the younger voice, Darren, asked. Jaime thought she remembered the name from last night.

  “Out like a light... been like that for hours. I'm not surprised, she got pretty bashed up.”

  “Sirus was pissed....”

  That statement was met by a wry laugh. “Yeah, good thing he went out. I can't stand all that pacing.”

  Sirus... who was Sirus? Their Alpha? She couldn't think of who else they would be referring to. Jaime heard bodies shifting behind the closed door and decided it was her cue to leave. She had learned as much as she was going to. She turned and padded quickly down the hall, heading toward the back door.

  She had just reached the screen when another sound met her ears: a door opening at the other side of the house. It slammed loudly against the wall, alerting her to someone's arrival. She paused at the screen, undoing the latch quietly and listening just long enough to hear Darren's voice. “Oh no, back so soon?”

  Jaime knew exactly who he was talking about. Without hesitation, she fled out the back door and into a yard that was coarse and overgrown, with a few gardening tools and lawn chairs scattered about. The yard was large and deep, closed in by thick bushes as tall and wide as trees, but she could see the fence along the back of the property; it was low and easily climbable. She sprinted through the giant yard and dove through the thick ring of bushes to reach the back fence, wincing as her wounded hands came into contact with the rough branches. Her wolf strength was making up for her injuries, but the strength wouldn't last long, and she knew that afterward every cut would hurt worse. Her bandaged leg was supporting her, but she could feel the muscles shake and quiver with each step—the gash must have been deeper than she had originally thought.