He ran through the thick undergrowth, leaping over bushes and logs easily, seeing almost perfectly in the moonlight. The wolf wouldn't take full form until midnight, but until then he could feel every inch of the forest clearly, every fallen twig beneath his feet, the leaves and pine needles, the tracks of a deer, the passage of a raccoon. His skin crackled with energy, making him hot and fierce, all senses heightened. The forest was unusually quiet, the animals sensing the battle that was about to take place. He gnashed his teeth, enjoying the damp night air, imagining the satisfaction of tearing into flesh. Tonight was a good night to kill.
There. A strong trail to his left, Tabari's scent, weaving its way through a clump of bushes. He quickly changed course, his legs moving faster, adrenaline pumping. Tabari's smell filled his nose, calling to him, drawing him further and further into the wilderness. He knew that the black wolf was trying to draw him away from the house, but that was okay. Sirus would catch up with him soon.
Through a stream, over a fallen through, through a copse of birch trees... and then a sudden opening in the forest, a slight clearing, maybe twenty feet across. Sirus paused, feeling the hair suddenly raise on his neck, full moonlight shining down upon him. His eyes gleamed yellow in the night as he stopped in his tracks, glancing around at the surrounding trees, tasting the air.
“Tabari, why play this game? You knew I was coming,” Sirus called out, turning around slowly, his eyes searching the trees. The Tracker's scent was everywhere, confusing his senses, forcing him to rely on his eyes and ears. So far he heard nothing out of place.
Except....
Sirus whirled, just in time to catch the man as he dove from the low branches of a tree. He grabbed Tabari in mid-air and rolled with him, a knife already in hand.
“Bastard!” Tabari roared.
They fell to the ground. Sirus managed to toss the larger man off of him and rolled away, leaping smoothly to his feet.
Tabari faced him, his shirt off, dressed only in his pants. He didn't even have shoes on. “Let's go, Alpha,” the man growled, eyes glowing in the darkness. “Let's see what you got. I've been training this long to kill you... why wait any longer?”
Sirus let out a sharp laugh, then took a step back, judging the distance between them. “Well, if you insist, but I have a schedule to keep.”
Tabari let out another roar of fury and leapt at him, drawing a wickedly curved knife from his clothing. Sirus was ready for him and dove to one side, ducking and avoiding the broad swipes. The man moved fast, the blade glinting in the moonlight, barely visible to the human eye... but Sirus's wolf eyes could pick it out clearly, and he managed to move around it, deflect it with his own small knife. He landed a small knick on Tabari's shoulder and the man returned with a stab at his abdomen. Sirus leapt back, then sank into the shadows of the trees, disappearing out of the clearing and into the darkness.
Tabari stumbled after him, clumsy, not having expected that move. Without making any sound, Sirus doubled back on him and came up behind, grabbing him by the neck, holding the knife to his skin hard enough to draw blood.
“Done playing around yet?” Sirus asked.
“No!” Tabari grunted, and slammed backward, knocking Sirus into a tree. Sirus tried to stab downward with the knife but the man had knocked him off-balance, dragging him around to the ground. Sirus rolled under a patch of bushes and once again out of sight, choosing to retreat to the shadows, to draw the battle out just a little bit longer.
Tabari whirled around, his eyes searching the trees, not quite as keen as the Seneca Alpha. He growled in frustration. “You deserve this!” he roared to the darkness. “You killed my pack... you deserve to die!”
Sirus grinned in the night. “It's the life of a Tracker,” he called back. “You could have joined me.”
“Fuck that!”
Sirus laughed. Old rage, old pain. Tabari was no angel. Their pack had been dealing wolfsbane, a powerful drug, outlawed by werewolf law. Sirus had put a stop to the problem and he didn't regret it.
“So what were you going to do to her?” he called, slowly circling Tabari so the man couldn't track his voice. He moved farther back through the woods. “You know I vowed to kill any man who lay a hand on her.”
The black wolf laughed, trying to hide the stench of fear that seeped from his pores. “If that's what you're worried about, then you're wasting your time with me. You should be up at the house right now, before Magnus has his way with her.”
Sirus snarled silently, barely able to keep the rumble from his throat. “And I suppose you're pretty fond of Magnus the Gray?”
“Naw,” Tabari muttered, teeth flashing. “But I am pretty fond of anyone who wants to kill you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. That's why I'm out here, you know. He hired me... to take out a small problem he was having.”
“Hah!” Sirus laughed, and lunged out of the shadows, straight at the man's back. As though Tabari could kill him. Not all Trackers were created equal.
He slammed the wolf to the ground but Tabari was ready for him, moving quickly and smoothly, taking his momentum and turning it against him. They tumbled across the earth, rolling and tearing at each other. Sirus felt his adrenaline surge, the wolf rising to the surface, fur rippling across his skin as his fangs lengthened. He held back, though — just enough to remain in control, to remember what he was doing. They fought somewhere between man and wolf, half hidden by the shadows of the night, oblong beasts in the darkness. Growling and snarling, they fought and slashed, jumping and climbing into trees before ripping each other to the ground. Sirus landed hit after hit, quickly pulling away if it seemed like Tabari was about to gain the upper hand. Yes, the Tracker was a trained fighter, but Sirus had faced much worse. He could remember taking out his pack, a small family in Farmington, Maine. There had been a drug problem in the area and Sirus had done what he had been hired to do — fix it. He couldn't blame the wolf for hating him... but he could blame him for touching Jaime.
Leaping back from the fight, Sirus turned on his heel and ran, dodging into the darkness and flinging himself through the bushes. Tabari let out a roar of frustration, Changing almost to his full wolf self, even as Sirus forced his muscles to remain human. It was a struggle to think through the power of the full moon, but worth it. He had a plan... one that would work if he could just focus.
Sprinting as fast as he could, Sirus heard the sound of Tabari's monstrous body thundering after him through the trees, racing around bushes and streams. He led the Tracker farther up the mountain, moving at a swift pace, as fast as his energized legs could carry him. He knew the other man had lost himself to the power of the Moon, the frenzy of the animal mind and surging instincts. Times like these, it was a battle of control, not of power.
Finally he saw what he had been looking for — a rocky ledge ahead of him, the beginning of the mountain's face. He split off to the right suddenly, dodging through the trees, moving so quickly that the massive wolf-beast roared past him, continuing in a straight line, coming to a skidding halt at the rock wall. The giant wolf scrambled to retain balance, tail stretched out behind him.
The transformed Tabari uncurled at the wall, peddling to his feet, turning and looking back at the trees. The golden eyes were wild with an insane hunger, his mouth stretched into a wide, dangling smile. His tongue lulled.
Bam!
Blood sprayed.
The body toppled to the ground. Sirus lowered his gun, the cold handle grasped firmly in his hand, his breath heaving in his lungs. He stared at the splatter of blood on the rock where the bullet had exited Tabari's head, flecks of skull and flesh spread over stone. Then he looked away. He didn't need to see any more corpses.
He stood for a moment in silence, feeling the air, the magical quality of the forest, as though it breathed back at him. He was on the verge of the Change — he would have to hurry to return to Jaime, before the wolf took over completely. Sirus returned to the woods, leaving the warm, twitc
hing body behind. The death had been harsh and sudden, an abrupt end to what could have been a long and tiring fight. He didn't have the time to mess around, and Tabari's acts had been inexcusable. Touching my lifemate — was the man insane?
Sirus paused about twenty feet away, drawing on just enough of his wolf-strength to reinforce his legs. The smell of blood was strong on the air, giving him a head rush, making his fangs elongate and his mouth water. There was no going back now. The full moon was climbing higher into the sky and he could feel it call to every bone of his body, making him ache, making him hunger for the fight. He would save his lifemate tonight... he would prove himself an Alpha.
* * * *
Jaime was awakened by the sudden uproar a floor below her. She heard voices calling, growls, and the sound of shattering glass. Gunshots. She sat up, her heart leaping to her throat. What the hell was going on?
Scrambling to the window, the chain locked and Jaime couldn't quite reach it to see out, but she could see flashes of bullets, tiny explosions against her sensitive eyes. She sniffed the air, breathing in wildly, trying to catch the identity of the wolves who were attacking. Did she recognize them? No... they didn't seem familiar, and yet she knew she was being rescued. Thank God, finally someone had come....
A cloud moved across her, then suddenly a huge, luminous moon appeared on the horizon, hanging low in the sky. The night turned silver. She gazed, transfixed by the gleaming orb, her eyes bright and round, trapped... something deep inside started to stir....
Bam! Thud! It was the sound of the steel latch covering the basement door. She turned, looking toward the trap door, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn't sure what to expect. Did all the noise outside mean that Sirus was here? Was he behind the attack? She couldn't know.
A woman's head came into view — not the person she had hoped to see. Debora's dark, wafting hair was shiny black in the moonlight, her eyes as piercing as a hawk. There was a cruel twist to her lips. In one hand, she held a knife.
She stepped into the room, kicking the wooden latch shut behind her, then turned to face her. Jaime waited, her mouth dry, not knowing what to expect.
“So it would seem we are alone,” the woman said slowly, as she walked across the room. She was still in heels, and they clicked across the floor tauntingly. The knife in her hand gleamed in the moonlight.
Jaime stared at her, surprised. “Well obviously,” she growled. “What are you going to do with that knife, cut my hair?”
The woman's eyes narrowed. “Actually, dear, I was thinking of cutting your throat, seeing as nobody's watching.”
Jaime glared, her heart beginning to pound. The situation wouldn't have worried her so much if her hands hadn't been tied behind her back. She was helpless... and this woman looked perfectly capable of committing murder. Debora's dark eyes were narrow and full of hate; Jaime could sense the energy coming off of her, the anger, the bloodlust. They were both more animal than human, now, controlled by instinct.
“You can't do that!” she said, realizing the Beta meant business. “Magnus is going to be pissed!”
“Oh? And how's he going to know it was me?” she grinned, walking closer. Jaime tried not to scoot backward, tried not to show that she was afraid. “With you out the way, guess who Magnus will choose as his mate? No, actually, I don't think you have to guess. It's all quite simple, dear. We're under attack by a group of rebels. They killed you in a frenzy, wild from the full moon... nothing to find but a body in the morning.”
“That's fucked up.”
“Really? I thought it was brilliant.”
Jaime felt a bead of cold sweat slide down her forehead. She glanced around the room, trying to think of something, anything to defend herself with. But there was nothing... she was chained, tied, helpless.
Debora took another step toward her, closing the distance between them slowly, obviously enjoying her fear. The knife was poised at her side. She grinned, showing off her long, sharp fangs. “Nice knowing you, bitch,” she murmured.
Wham!
The slab of wood came out of nowhere, smashing into the back of Debora's head, swinging out of the darkness as though materializing out of thin air. Jaime screamed, curling up into a ball. Debora grunted and fell forward, letting out a tiny howl of pain. The wood didn't hit just once though — it continued to fall, over and over again, cracking against the woman's head until blood splashed across the floor and there was no chance that Debora would be getting up any time soon. Jaime shook and whimpered, unable to control it, her entire body shaking as she huddled in the corner. For a long moment she closed her eyes, half expecting the wood to fall on her next....
But nothing happened. Jaime cracked open an eyelid after a long moment, glancing around the room, trying to get a look at her attacker... savior? She blinked in surprise.
Christine stood in the light from the attic door, a piece of wood dangling from one hand, looking as though she had ripped it from a banister. Her hair was askew, her eyeliner smeared, gold light from the trap door spilling against her back. She was staring at Debora's limp body, as though shocked by what she had just done, her mouth slightly open. There was a spray of blood on one of her arms. After a moment, she shook her head and kicked shut the wooden latch, blocking out the light. Christine dropped the wooden post and started towards Jaime, moving with jerking steps. Jaime could see that her legs were shaking.
“This still doesn't mean we're friends,” she growled low. “But I just got a good look at Magnus, and nobody deserves that. It's crazy out there, wolves and guns, not a good combination.” She pulled a keychain from her pocket, the chink of metal a welcomed sound. “Now hold still, I have to get you out of here, there's a lock....”
Christine knelt next to her, taking a small knife and quickly slitting the duct tape around her wrists. Jaime watched in silence, still stunned, amazed at how quickly things were moving. Wasn't her neck supposed to be slit? She rubbed her wrists, trying to get the circulation moving again, her arms sore and stiff. Christine went to the chain at her neck, fumbling with a set of keys in her hands.
“It's Christine, right?” Jaime asked hoarsely through her bruised throat.
“Yeah,” she responded. Jaime could hear the desperation in her voice. “A bit late for introductions. Last I saw, he was heading this way....”
The girl was panicking, fumbling too much with the keys. Jaime was about to tell her to calm down when she heard a sudden shout from the floor below — she thought she recognized the voice. Her gut clenched; there was a sudden thump on the stairs. Christine jumped, startled, her hands shaking.
“Hey!” Jaime hissed, trying to get the girl's attention.
Christine was staring in horror at the attic door, tears gathering in her eyes, her lip quivering. “Oh no....”
“Hey, quick, snap out of it! Unlock me!”
The girl dropped the keys suddenly; they skittered across the floor, just out of reach. She scooted to one side, trying to get away. Jaime rolled her eyes and made a grab for the keys, but the chain was too short.
Out of time. The trap door swung open again, slamming hard, making the entire floor shake. Jaime suddenly felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her. Her knees began to tremble, her breathing quick and shallow. The Alpha's presence was intense, terrifying in the full moon, so charged with power that her tiny arm hairs were standing on end. She wanted to run, wanted to hide, wanted to somehow get out of his sight... but there was nowhere to go.
Magnus the Gray climbed the steps into the room, pulling himself up through the ceiling, his form broad and powerful, somehow stretching beyond what was physical. Jaime felt like he stood on every side of her, crowding her in, making her choke. His gray, glowing eyes first went to Debora's still body at the back of the room, then they fell on Christine, who was quaking on the floor a few feet away.
“Oh dear,” he said slowly, softly, his voice sounding genuinely hurt.
The girl spasmed with fear, turning deathl
y pale. “N-n-no, it's nothing like that! I was just — just making her ready—”
“Don't lie to me,” he said again, walking slowly towards her. Christine cringed backward, dragging herself slowly towards the wall, her bottom lip trembling pathetically. Jaime pitied the girl, even as she was thankful that those piercing eyes weren't turned on her. She pushed herself into the opposite corner, trying to avoid Magnus' notice. The giant werewolf stalked towards the girl, each footstep sending a tiny shock of power through the floor. The strength of the Change was almost upon them. Jaime felt her wolf-moon so strongly that it was painful, pulsing through her body, making her wet and dripping between her legs, despite her lack of stimulation. She felt wild, primal, strong and ready to explode at any moment. Damn, but she couldn't Change now... that would be a recipe for disaster.
She tried to reach the keys again, but they were just beyond her grasp, hidden in a dark nook between wall and floor. She was just relieved that Magnus hadn't noticed them yet. The man moved again and Jaime looked up, eyes wide, horrified when the Alpha grabbed Christine harshly by her hair, dragging her to the ground, pulling her under him. She couldn't look away as he ripped her clothes off, fisting her body with his hands, making her scream as he pinched and gripped her, leaving bruises, his nails digging cuts into her arms. She saw his claws rake across her cheek.
She forced her eyes away when the Alpha lifted the girl's skirt, not willing to watch the rest. Her screams echoed in her ears. Dammit, Sirus, she thought, tears of desperation on her cheeks. Hurry!
* * * *
Gareth watched the wolves attack the house, darting through the bushes as the last rays of evening faded to night. They had managed to infiltrate all the way up to the border of the property, almost forty wolves leaping up at the same time, running into the house and charging the enemy pack. It wasn't the most strategic of plans, but this was how battles were fought in the wild. Deep in the forest, where it came down to instincts and survival.
Blood of the Wolf Page 21