“Look.” Jarrod pointed to a cave-like opening. “That’s the shaft the guide spoke about.” He sprinted toward the mine, stopped at the entrance and flashed the light around. “There’s the old chain and the bloodstains. I’m going in. You coming?”
Despite his better judgment, he followed his brother.
Inside the shaft, the atmosphere shrouded Cameron like a heavy blanket, making him uneasy. This time the churning of his stomach was from the apprehension of entering a place they shouldn’t be in to begin with. Not because he saw some good-looking guy.
A howl rent the quiet.
It’s only a breeze blowing into the shaft. Only a breeze.
Try as he might, the self-reassurance didn’t work. Another yowl proceeded by some yips and growls clamored outside.
Oh God, not a breeze.
Beads of sweat popped out on his upper lip. Flicking his attention from one part of the shaft to another to where Jarrod shone the light, he surveyed the area. Rock walls appeared to be buffered with old, weathered two-by-fours. A cockeyed sign, stating ‘Danger! No Trespassing,’ hung from one of the beams on a bent rusted nail.
They were breaking the law. Why did he let his brother talk him into doing such bad things? Bottle rockets and cherry bombs in the backyard setting fire to the grass. Go-carting along the cliff at the river and almost sliding down into the muddy water. Toilet papering Old Man Harris’s trees in his front lawn. Cameron crossed his arms.
More calls passed between the animals. They seemed to have grown in number.
“Jarrod, do you hear them?”
“Yeah. Probably just coyotes out hunting for food.”
“I don’t know, Jarrod. I don’t think coyotes sound like that.”
“Maybe what we’re hearing are the hell hounds.” Jarrod waved his hand and wiggled his fingers in front of Cameron’s face. “Ooooo.”
“Not funny, Jarrod.” Cameron swatted his brother’s arm. “The growls seem to be pretty close.” He kept his opinion of the two of them being the food to himself. “I feel like we’re being watched. Do me a favor and shine the light toward the opening.”
His brother did as he asked, and at the end of the white beam, several pairs of glowing red eyes stared at them.
Cameron leapt toward Jarrod and clutched his jacket. “P… Puh… Please, tell me you s… saw that.”
“Quiet,” Jarrod whispered, his voice shaking. He turned off the flashlight. “Maybe … maybe they’ll go away.”
Gaze pinned to the entrance of the shaft, Cameron held onto his brother in the inky darkness, hoping Jarrod was right.
Low and hateful snarls along with scratching echoed in the small area.
All Cameron could picture was a bull pawing the ground right before it charged. Was that what the animals were doing? Getting ready to spring forward? Were the hell hounds real and not ghost dogs? “It sounds like they’re about to attack us. Turn on the light again. Maybe it’ll scare them off.”
The switch clicked but nothing else happened. Jarrod banged on it. “Um, I hate to say this, but I think the batteries died.”
“Try again, Rod.” Cameron stepped back, dragging his brother with him. Tears welled in his eyes. “I think they’re coming inside. Hurry. Get the light back on.”
The chain jangled. The scratching turned into thumps. The air dropped several degrees, and Cameron stumbled when something big knocked into him. Still having a strong hold on Jarrod, his brother fell when he yanked on him, and without the anchor of his brother, Cameron tumbled into a hole.
Cameron slowly opened his eyes. Light from a couple of tunnels filtered in and slightly illuminated a large cave-like area. He observed a man kneeling beside him whose features were obscured by his blurry vision that gave everything a gossamer haze.
The man leaned forward, sniffed him then jerked back. “Damn, too young.” He took a step away and smoothed a hand over his face. “Shit. I’ve waited over a century. What am I supposed to do now?”
Cameron tried to open his mouth to answer the fellow and tell him he hadn’t a clue, but he couldn’t speak. It was as if his nerves had stuffed his mouth and throat full of gauze.
A sinister laugh sounded from behind the man somewhere deep within the shadows. “Watch your pup die as you’ve done in his other lifetimes obviously,” replied the newcomer with a gravelly voice that set Cameron’s teeth on edge.
It also didn’t help Cameron’s anxiety level when he realized the one who was supposed to die was himself.
“Not this time, hound,” the first man stated. “I’m surprised you were let out of the ’pound.” He stepped out of Cameron’s line of vision.
In one of the tunnels, an enraged dog barked and snarled, sounding like the ones he’d heard moments ago. More yips and growls echoed in the caverns, and he wasn’t sure if he’d heard multiple animals or just the echoes of the two interacting nearby.
A few seconds later, a large wolf stepped in front of Cameron as if protecting him from unseen threats. The creature’s tawny brown fur rippled and stood on its end. As it settled back on its haunches like it wanted to spring, Cameron caught sight of a huge canine beast across the way. Its black coat almost camouflaged him in the mine’s dim light, but its glowing red eyes gave away its location.
The dog snapped its teeth together, growled, then charged. The wolf intercepted the rabid-like brute. In the midst of their fight as they jumped and clawed and rolled, they inched closer and closer to Cameron.
He made an attempt to get out of their way, but just like he was unable to speak, he was unable to move. Could the night get any worse? Frozen in place, he feared he might be squished and killed by the animals.
The wolf sank its teeth into the dog’s haunch. A pained squeal, like nails on a chalkboard, echoed off the walls, sending shivers through Cameron’s body. The fighters disengaged, and the mongrel slunk off, disappearing into a tunnel.
He’s only gone for a moment or two to regroup and figure out a new plan of attack. Probably will bring in reinforcements.
Cameron, shrinking into himself since he couldn’t scooch away, wasn’t sure where those words in his head came from. After all, he might not know much about the world yet, but he knew telepathy didn’t exist, and animals couldn’t talk. He was also pretty sure wolves weren’t native to the area, yet here was one. Then again, ghosts weren’t supposed to be real either, but he’d seen a hell hound ghost up close and personal. The beast seemed awful real to him, so the other stuff had to exist as well to his way of thinking.
The animal strode up to him and stood close to his head. Its warm breath fanned the hair near his forehead. Its gold-green eyes bore a steady gaze into his.
Surprisingly, the fear Cameron had been feeling faded, replaced by a sense of calm. The homey smell of the holidays returned in full force. He smiled and chuckled. The wolf cocked its head, and Cameron laughed again.
“You smell really good, Mr. Wolf. Like the holidays. Apple cider, pumpkin pie and pine trees.” Cameron grinned, glad his voice decided to work again. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the beautiful, hypnotic stare of the wolf. He breathed deep, enjoying the fragrance and thinking about the hunk he’d seen before he entered the mine. “I love…” Almost having said you, he paused. Heat flooded his cheeks, and he felt like he wanted to bury his head in the cool ground. “I love the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.”
Yes. Love. But… The wolf tilted its head and seemed to sigh. It’s the only way to save you until it’s time.
“Save me?” Cameron croaked. “Until what time?” What the hell is going on? I can’t be talking to a wolf. Can I?
This time the wolf sounded like it chuckled. With a wink, the animal dipped its head once as if responding to his last question. We’ll meet under better circumstances someday. But until then, our souls’ connection will have to do. The creature placed its muzzle close to Cameron’s neck.
Images of the vampire and werewolf films he’d snuck downstairs to watch late at
night when his parents and Jarrod were sleeping flitted through his mind, taking his thoughts off the words souls’ connection. Knowing the movies were based on fiction, the flicks hadn’t scared him. But now?
This was real life. Fact, not fiction.
Any peace filling Cameron surged out when he realized what was about to happen. More terrified than he’d been before, he tried to slide away.
The wolf pinned him with its front paws. They dug into the flesh beneath Cameron’s collar bones. Don’t move. Don’t want to hurt you. Only help. The animal appeared to think for a few seconds. Yes. Only way.
Cameron squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to see what the wolf would do.
Its tongue licked his cheek. A seemingly gentle caress reminding Cameron of the family’s black Labrador Retriever, Shadow. But unlike his dog back home, the wolf’s kiss did nothing to calm his nerves. In fact, Cameron’s fear solidified into an ice cube as the beast’s teeth poked his neck.
* * * *
“Cam? Cameron. Come on, dude. Wake up.”
Cameron stirred and sat up. “Jarrod?” Unsure of what he’d just experienced, he rubbed his head. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“I fell and knocked my head. I think I passed out for a few minutes. You seem to have tumbled into a hole in the mineshaft. I thought you ended up in China, but it turns out you’re not that far down. I’ll pull you out. Okay?”
“Sure. Just don’t take too long. I really don’t like this place.” The dog. The red eyes. The image of a wolf standing over him and the impression of being bit by one wouldn’t budge from his mind. The more time they took to leave, the more he hated the mines and the stupid camping trip his parents had dragged them on.
Jarrod scrambled to lay on the ground and reach down along the dirt wall that Cameron could barely stretch to the top of, even being on his toes. Once Jarrod managed to grab hold of his wrists and tugged him out of the pit, they hurried out of the manmade cave.
Looking around for the scary animals that had cornered them, Cameron prayed they hadn’t been real like he’d originally believed, preferring the thought of being crazy over being prey. He glanced over his shoulder. No red eyes anywhere. No dogs or wolves. At least for the moment. Deep down he felt they could appear again at any time. All of the fine hairs on his body rose.
“Jarrod, let’s get the hell away from this place. It’s giving me the creeps.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm.” Once again he pushed the switch on the flashlight. A thick beam of light shot out of it. “Go figure. Come on, Cam. Let’s go.”
They ran back to the campsite, making sure to slow down before they hit the outskirts. They didn’t want to cause too much noise and get caught at the last minute. Behind the hill at the final bend in the trail leading into the camp, Jarrod turned off the light and silently directed him to sneak around and slip into the tent.
Once within the confines of the nylon structure, Cameron took the flashlight from his brother and turned it on. “Jarrod? Could you take a look at my neck and tell me if I’ve been bit?”
“Bit? I didn’t think there were any bugs around.”
“No, not a bug bite. An animal bite.”
“Dude, you’re taking the whole hell hound ghost story to heart, aren’t you?” Jarrod snatched the light from him and checked Cameron’s skin. “Looks like you have dirt on your neck.” He rubbed the area. “Yep, doesn’t look like you’ve been bit. You seem to have a scrape though. Probably from sliding along the rocks when we fell in the shaft. Why do you think you were bit?”
“I had the strangest dream. At least I think it was a dream. I—”
His brother held up a hand. “I had some kind of weird dream, too, but I don’t think we should discuss what happened. I know I don’t want to talk about it. Not for a while. Maybe in a few days.”
Frowning, Cameron fiddled with his clothes and nodded. “Okay, Jarrod.” He wished his brother would talk about his experience, so he felt it’d be all right to discuss his own. He needed to dispel the notions of animals fighting and talking. Having a conversation would help him chase away the residual spooky sensations gripping him and make sense about the lovey-dovey feelings the man at the fire stirred up within him. But since Jarrod didn’t want to share, the best thing he could do was try to forget their little adventure.
Well, forget everything but the dude at the campfire.
He sighed. If only he were older, and not by much, just five years more in age, then he might have had the balls to go up to the guy and introduce himself. But then, if he were older, he wouldn’t have been on the stupid late night adventure with his brother to begin with. He wouldn’t have discovered his destiny.
Cameron climbed into his sleeping bag and wrapped the synthetic material snug against his body. Staring at the shadow play of the fire against the wall of the tent, he attempted to concentrate on the low, melodic chatter of the adults. He couldn’t tell what they said, but that was all right. Knowing they were there comforted him and gave him a small measure of feeling safe.
Yet try as he might to put the experience in the mine shaft out of his mind, he feared that if he slept, the hell dogs would come to get him. But if he didn’t sleep, he’d have to face what his reactions to the stranger meant and how they’d affect the course of his life.
Chapter Three
Present day…
“What’s up, Boss? You needed to see me?” Kane asked as he sauntered into the president of the Helldorado Mongrels motorcycle club’s office.
Inferno sat at his desk, booted feet propped up on the corner of it, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Light glinted off his greased down, shoulder length black hair, and his mahogany colored eyes slanted in an especially devious expression.
Kane had a hard go of it remembering the last time he’d seen his Shinan wolf-shifter cousin smile about anything.
“Yup. Just waitin’ on Preach and Thumbs to show their ugly mugs before I get my meetin’ started.”
The club leader’s voice almost sounded gleeful, so unlike Inferno’s normal cynical speech, that it sent a chill down Kane’s back. The energy in the room seemed off, too, making the hairs on his arms rise. Whatever information Inferno had to share must be important for the club. But if that was the case and it was regarding club business, then why hadn’t he called church? Why only have the three of them attend? Why’d Inferno call him in, a regular club member who wasn’t in any position of standing in the gang?
Excitement curled within him as a thought struck. Rumors had it that their vice president, Hannibal, wanted to step down from the position. Kane suppressed his own grin to hide his musings and not give himself away. Everyone knew how much he kept trying to please Inferno, how much he wanted an important position in the club—like being VP—and now he was going to be handed his chance. Perhaps becoming alpha wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities either.
He stood for several minutes in uncomfortable silence, trying not to smile or fidget in glee, as Inferno continued to look overly pleased with himself until two tall and wide-shouldered men stepped into the sparsely furnished office. Preach, lead enforcer and fellow Shinan wolf-shifter, strolled up to Inferno. The linebacker-built man with his blonde hair cropped close to his head in a buzz cut took up his position of sentry behind the chair. Thumbs, club mechanic, not as big as Preach but just as muscular, stepped up next to Kane.
He breathed a sigh of relief, much preferring to be near Thumbs than Preach. Thumbs, a mix of Shinan wolf and feral dog, happened to be one of the better club mutts. Unfortunately, Thumbs could be a little slow of mind. Whereas Preach, who got his club name because he liked to preach with his fists rather than his mouth, could be one mean motherfucker and had the tendency to scare the crap out of most members.
“’Bout time you guys showed.” Inferno swung his feet down and leaned over his desk. “Listen up, you maggots. Seems our wonderful cousins are back in the area. Got word a few days ago they’re working a gig with
a guided adventure company. I’ve also just received some intel that they’re in the area, and Gabriel’s other half will be a guest on the current tour.” Once more Inferno grinned, but his canine teeth had elongated, changing the expression into more of a sneer. He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “So, Kane, I got a job for you. You’re gonna get some of that scent repellent from Chemist, mask your wolf stench and go join them.”
Ah, so that’s what’s been feathering his balls and making him so excited. Gabriel and Emma Dyson, their Tabu wolf-shifter cousins whom Inferno hated with a passion because they weren’t cursed, had returned.
“Want me to put Gabe down?” Kane asked, hoping Inferno wouldn’t remember his failed attempts of killing Tabus and their pups years ago. “It’d please me to do that for you.” That was the only way for immortal shifters, cursed and non-cursed, to die—by the hand of someone of their own kind. Except for Shinans and Tabus. Seeing as they were from the same Great Spirit family, they could kill each other with ease.
Inferno growled.
Seems he hasn’t forgotten.
“Harm one hair on his body,” Inferno warned, “and you’ll be forced to see our fucking pa. No, what I need you to do is bring whoever Gabe’s pup is to the compound. Once his other half is here, I’m sure Gabe will follow, then we’ll be able to have some fun. Preach already had Tex make the arrangements for you to join the group. Details are here.” He handed Kane a sheet of paper. “You’ll be Ken Summer, recently discharged from the Army. Pick a place on the East coast where you were stationed and make up the rest of the details about the middle class life you led on the coast of South Carolina. Thumbs, we got a non-descript bike for him to use?”
“Yup. I’s gots one he can have.”
“Good. It’s all settled then.” Inferno started to stand.
Preach put a hand on the president’s shoulder, stopping him from rising. “I don’t mean to shit in your stew, but won’t they recognize Kane?”
Inferno dropped back into the chair. “Well, hell.”
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