Karma (Balancing the Scales Book 1)

by RJ Blain

  Just as I had started to understand what Jake had been trying to show me, death had claimed him. A chasm the size of his life tore me in two.

  When silence surrounded me and my prey cooled, I lost interest in them. I waited for the rest of my prey to come and find me. I had taken blood as payment, but it wasn’t enough.

  It would never be enough.

  Every last one of them would fall to my fangs, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Blood soaked my fur and weighed me down. I shook out my coat, prowling my prey’s den, waiting for when the rest of their skulk would return seeking their own.

  Once the rest of my prey fell, my dream would end.

  With Jake gone, it already had.

  My prey came in twos and threes, and I took them by surprise. The first always fell before he realized death had come for him. My fangs ripped through the black clothes obscuring their faces from me. With one bite, I eliminated the threat, and I turned my wrath on the others.

  Gunfire should have frightened me, but the stench of their terror partnered with the acrid bite of gunpowder drove me into a frenzy. It didn’t matter if they struck me.

  I would not fall until they died.

  I was aware of a distant pain in my shoulder and paw, but I ignored it, hunting, waiting, and hunting more only to have to wait again. When no more prey came, I ventured outside their den, their blood dripping from my coat.

  Dark SUVs parked on the green lawn gave new life to my fury. Without living prey to tear apart, I directed my rage at the vehicles. Anything I could tear away and destroy, I shredded, broke, or dismantled. My claws gouged paint, and I tore at the metal beneath. I screamed, but I knew my cries would remain unanswered.

  The nightmare began when the dream should have ended, when I should have slipped away into the eternal dark, but I remained.

  When I scattered plastic, metal, and rubber over the lawn, when nothing remained for me to destroy, I staggered several steps, braced myself, and shook the dried and drying blood from my fur, sending it raining from my coat.

  Night fell and the darkness stretched on, then the dawn rose, but the sun didn’t bring an end to the nightmare. Whether I was a fox or a human, whether I lived or died, none of it mattered.

  Jake was gone.

  With my head hanging low and my tail dragging on the ground, I dragged myself step by step into the shadows of the forest to wait.

  For what, I wasn’t sure.

  A stream meandered through the forest. I slipped into the cold waters until nothing but my eyes and the tip of my nose remained above the surface. The chill soaked into my fur and washed away the blood. The current tugged at me, reminding me I lived.

  I had ripped my prey to pieces, but instead of the calm quiet of death that should have been my reward, I rested in the water. It welcomed me in its embrace, held me down, and numbed me until the pain in my shoulder and paw grew distant.

  In the distance, a wolf howled, and its cry was as lonely as mine.

  Baring my teeth and pinning my ears back, I scorned the presence of a wolf in my woods. What use was a wolf to a fox?

  I wanted a human. I had been a human. I was a human.

  I was a human who dreamed of foxes, one who had once hidden away with a vixen until I had been too old to fit in her den. I remembered. I hadn’t invaded her den. She had welcomed me until the day she had driven me back to the humans who had beaten the dreams of being a fox out of me.

  I remembered.

  Ma hated the fox in me, the animal lurking beneath my frail human skin. When my cries were more fox than human, she beat the sin out of me. When I refused to speak in words instead of growls, Ma forced the human back into me.

  I remembered Ma crying with each blow. The fear of Ma had remained, but I had forgotten why. I had forgotten I belonged in the forest instead of within the house. I remembered I had enjoyed lying in the water, paddling human hands when I should have had paws, watching the cycle of life go by around me, learning from the other wild things in the world.

  I remembered why I couldn’t swim. The water liked me too much. It welcomed me in its embrace and held me when no one else would. I was happiest where the water met the shore, because I was treasured by both. The earth, the mud, and the muck worked its way into my fur and clung to me while the water stroked me and offered what comfort it could.

  The water soothed me, and the earth welcomed me home.

  The distant wolf howled once more. Its melancholy lingered long after it fell silent, and I twisted an ear back in annoyance. I was a fox, and foxes did not mingle with wolves. Lesser foxes stole what the wolves left behind, but I was no lesser fox.

  My teeth were meant for hunting, for fresh prey—not for scavenging. Wolves were competition, rival predators. A pack of wolves posed a danger to me. Without a skulk, I would turn from predator to prey.

  I was not a lesser fox, and I did not leave my own kind, even the lesser ones, to face wolves unaware.

  Where there was one, there were more, and my voice carried farther than a mere wolf’s. Lifting my muzzle free of the water, I barked a warning.

  Other foxes picked up my cry, and they scattered to the four winds. Pleased they had obeyed me, I lowered my head back into the water leaving my eyes and nose above the surface.

  On the cool wind, I smelled the wolves draw near.

  Five wolves slinked through the trees, and the smallest of the lot was the weakest link in the pack. My nose told me four of them were male and one was a female. The female was the largest, and she ruled over the pack with claw and tooth.

  They had my trail, but the stream seemed to puzzle them.

  The earth welcomed me, and because it did, it hid my fur from their watchful eyes. The water loved me; it washed away my scent so the hunting wolves wouldn’t be able to find me with their noses.

  If I were wise, I would use the earth and water’s love for me to slip away, sliding through the shallows, leaving behind no evidence of my presence. Instead, I watched the wolves.

  The female was brindled white and gold, and the male she nipped, shouldered, and showered with her affection was mottled brown, white, and red. The next male was solid red with a white ring around one eye and a single black paw. One wolf looked like I expected, gray with brown, although his fur was shedding, and the coat beneath was more black than gray with spots of red.

  The smallest wolf was injured, and he limped with every step. When he whined, the female sidled up to him and groomed his fur, pausing every now and then to drape her larger head and neck over his. His fur was a rich chocolate brown, and his chest and underbelly were a vibrant tawny gold, as were his paws and the tip of his tail.

  His coat was the finest of them, gleaming in the sunlight.

  I was puzzled the wolves had brought a hurt wolf on their hunt. Did wolves not leave their sick, injured, or dying in their den, foraging for them until they healed? Did wolves not care for their own?

  Foxes always cared for those within their skulk until they were ready to be driven away. I remembered that lesson well, and the scars marked my human shoulder, tiny pinpricks on my pale skin.

  Such scars didn’t show in my black coat tipped with white, nor would they again. What use did I have for a human body?

  All that was left for me as a human was grief.

  Because of me, Jake was dead. I had no reason to return to the world of humans, not when the earth and the water welcomed me. I remained still and watched the wolves. The injured one flopped on the ground and whined. The female stood over him, nudging him with her nose.

  The other wolves sighed. It was the female’s mottled brown, white, and red male who approached the water to drink. I flattened my ears as he drew closer, tensed and poised to strike.

  I was a fox, smaller than any wolf; the ones encroaching on my territory were far larger than they had any right to be, even the smallest of them. My size was always a disadvantage, but I would make up for it with savagery.

  I would teach the wolves the er
ror of their ways; the stream and its shores belonged to me.

  The wolf sighed and dipped his muzzle to the water. I waited until he drank to strike, surging out of the water to latch my fangs around the fur of his throat.

  His startled yip drew the attention of the rest of the wolves, and I chattered and clawed at him, pulling tufts of fur out, shaking my head in my effort to dig at his neck.

  I hated wolves and their thick fur, so difficult for me to dig my fangs into. My aggression manifested as a chuffed, throaty huffing, not quite a growl but not as menacing as a wolf’s snarl.

  When the wolf lifted his head, I dangled from his throat.

  The rest of the wolves stared at me, their tongues lolling in their amusement. I dropped, hackles raised and my fur standing on end. I barked to warn them away.

  They kept staring at me. I braced my legs and shook the water and mud out of my coat, drenching the big male, who turned his ears back. When he didn’t back away, I lunged and closed my fangs over the tip of his nose in rebuke.

  The wolf yipped, shook his head, and threw me off. I landed in the stream with a splash, sinking straight to the bottom where it was deeper than I was tall. As a human, I understood how to make my body fight the water’s love for me so I could breathe.

  As a fox, the earth and water conspired against me, holding me down and smothering me with the weight of the entire world. The shallows were the cradle of life, but the depths were my death. I should have fought it, but I had no reasons left to fight.

  Jake was gone, and it was my fault.

  Fangs closed over the back of my neck, seized my scruff, and dragged me out of the water.

  The wolves were laughing at me, and I thrashed in the big male’s hold, screaming my outrage at their mockery and at being robbed of the peace of death.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  No matter how I thrashed, screamed my fury, or struggled to bite him, the big male wolf didn’t let me go. When I couldn’t dredge up enough strength to even kick my paws, I hung limp, panting to catch my breath.

  My nose was reporting a myriad of scents, but I had no idea what most of them meant. There were three smells I recognized: wolf, blood, and cinnamon.

  The spice baffled me. Where was the cinnamon coming from? The blood I understood; I had tracked a lot of it from where I had hunted the humans and killed them as they had killed Jake. There was a fresher source, which likely came from the injured male.

  The female wolf trotted to me, her ears pricked forward. She stared down the length of her nose at me. While I was too exhausted to struggle, I displayed my fangs.

  She licked me. Offended by a wolf daring to lick me, I made an effort to break free, twisting my head to evade her. Unperturbed, the female kept dragging her tongue over me, starting with my muzzle and working her way down my neck. When she reached my shoulder, the pain I had forgotten burst back to life. I yipped and tucked my tail, shuddering.

  The female’s ears turned back, and she made a noise in her throat. The male lowered me to the ground, but before I could get my paws under me, he stepped on my neck and pinned me. My paws twitched to the throbbing beat in my shoulder. The female continued dragging her tongue over my shoulder, separating my fur in her effort to examine me.

  My whimpers drew the attention of the other wolves, who crowded the female to get a look at me. Even the injured male joined them, sniffing at me with his ears perked forward in interest.

  They were probably deciding how best to divide me when they got hungry.

  The brown and gold wolf licked my muzzle before turning to the female.

  Wolves weren’t supposed to wag their tails, but the small wolf’s whipped back and forth so enthusiastically his entire body swayed. The female huffed, nipped the male’s neck, and returned to dragging her tongue over my fur.

  Had she been a fox, I would have found her attention comforting. Was she tasting me to decide if she was going to share me with the rest of her pack?

  Not only did wolves annoy and frighten me, they confused me, too.

  When she worked her way to my right forepaw, I yipped at the throb her licking woke, reminding me once again of my human body.

  I didn’t want to remember it or the reason I hurt.

  The small wolf growled, and his ears turned back. The female sighed and shook her head. I had no idea how they communicated with each other, but the biggest male grabbed hold of my scruff in his teeth and lifted me up so he could follow after the female. The smallest wolf sidled up to me, bumping me with his nose and licking at my muzzle again.

  I snapped my teeth at him.

  He snapped back, voicing a short, deep growl.

  I chittered threats at the wolf, and he snarled and warbled back at me. His ears alternated between perking forward and laying flat in annoyance. I lost track of time as I fought with the wolf, threatening to rip his muzzle off whenever he came close in his effort to lick me.

  Why couldn’t wolves keep their tongues to themselves?

  Eventually, the small wolf’s strength flagged, and he stumbled to a halt, his sides heaving as he fought to catch his breath. The other wolves stopped, watched, and waited. I sighed, and despite being carried, I was exhausted, too. My head nodded as I fought my need for sleep.

  The female licked the small wolf’s muzzle and rubbed her head against him until he forced his wobbly paws into motion.

  The rest of the pack matched his wearied pace. The big male carrying me didn’t even seem to notice my weight, no matter how many times I mustered enough energy to struggle in my attempt to free myself.

  The stench of blood and death filled my nose, and I recognized the early smell of rot hanging in the air. My fur stood on end, and I struggled in earnest, thrashing in my effort to free myself from the male’s hold.

  My instincts warned me of danger. The part of me that was human wouldn’t stay sleeping if I got closer; that part understood the significance of the scents. I barked, and when my cries were ignored, I screamed. The wolves stared at me, and the small male’s hackles rose, his tension stiffening his body.

  I screamed again and didn’t stop until the female shoved the entirety of my head in her mouth. Biting down hard enough for me to be aware of each and every one of her teeth, she didn’t relent until I made a distressed, whimpering cry.

  The small wolf echoed me with a whine of his own, which earned him a bite on the shoulder from the female. Yipping, he darted back, tucked his tail, and lowered his head.

  The big wolf holding me released me, catching me by surprise. I hit the ground hard, the air whooshing out of my lungs. The pain in my shoulder and paw stabbed through me before lessening to a dull throb.

  Tucking my tail and retreating seemed wise, so I did. I didn’t make it far before the big male prowled forward, set his paw between my shoulders, and pressed down until I dropped to my belly. He stayed with me while the other wolves left.

  The female had to drive the smallest one away with nips, growls, and several harder bites.

  Once they had left, the male took over the female’s job of grooming me, smoothing my fur with long strokes of his tongue. I flattened my ears, squirming in my effort to pull free.

  I would have had more luck trying to move a mountain.

  Sighing, I surrendered, laying my head on my paws, ignoring the pain from my right one. When I submitted to the indignity, the male wolf rubbed his nose along my neck.

  Not only were wolves obnoxious, they had terrible breath.

  The snap of a branch nearby had me lifting my head in alarm, barking a warning. The wolf growled, shifting until he stood over me. The pose was one I recognized; if anyone came too close to him—or to me—it would end in a fight.

  The wolves had to be toying with me. I was nothing more than a small snack for one of them.

  I had so much wolf slobber on me I would never get my fur clean, assuming they stopped licking me long enough for me to undo the damage done by their attentions. Another branch cracked in the woods.
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  I had lived far too long as a human not to recognize one, and I bared my fangs at the unwanted reminder. I had accepted my dream had morphed into a wolf-filled nightmare, but why did there have to be more humans?

  Humans weren’t food, and I was hungry. Hunger was a detail that shouldn’t have existed in my nightmare.

  Why couldn’t I just finish dying? I had done everything I had needed to do. The evidence of my revenge clogged my nose and deadened me to the other scents in the forest.

  The human was a female, a fact I determined more from vision than smell. She placed her hands on her hips and glared down at the wolf. “Don’t you snarl at me.”

  I recognized her voice, and I canted my head to the side.

  The wolf snarled at her.

  “Don’t you even start with me right now. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to burn these clothes. Our puppy needs your help to change. Hand her over and go do your share of the work.”

  Sighing, the wolf straightened, backed up a pace, and grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. He lifted me off the ground and offered me to the human like I was a living toy for their amusement.

  I displayed my teeth in warning. The woman crouched. With no sign of fear, she took hold of my muzzle so she could get a better look at my fangs. “They say seeing is believing, and I can easily see how these teeth could do a lot of damage.”

  Grabbing hold of my scruff, the woman took me from the wolf, one hand supporting my chest and belly while the other one kept a firm grip on my neck to keep me from mauling her.

  Unlike the humans I had torn to shreds, the woman had no trouble holding me at bay. I chattered threats at her, but she ignored me. The big male sighed and took off at a lope.

  “You’re a serious pain in my ass, little lady. You better be grateful for this later. Why couldn’t that pup of mine pick a sane one? Damn him. He just had to have the lunatic earth witch with multiple personality disorder.”