“Autumn Anderson, I am arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to incite hatred, and carrying a loaded firearm without a license.”
Marcus yelled, “She hasn’t done anything! Let her go!”
“It’s okay, Marcus,” she called back.
The sheriff continued, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”
Her hands were yanked together, and cold metal circles of steel clicked around her wrists
A howl and snarl came from the other side of the road, and a bundle of fur and snapping teeth was manhandled toward them. At first, she couldn’t figure out what was happening, but then she realized Animal Control had one of the wolf shifters on the end of a large pole with a noose around its neck. It took several men to keep the shifter under control.
She wondered about the others. Had they gotten away? Or were they about to be grabbed too?
“Go back to the house,” she yelled as she was dragged away toward the sheriff’s car. “Tell everyone what’s happened.”
“But I don’t know how to drive!” Marcus shouted back.
“You’re going to have to let Rhys drive,” she managed to shout back, before the top of her head was shoved down and she was pushed into the back of the sheriff’s car.
She hated leaving them like this. Where the fuck was Ollie? Did this have to do with him?
She figured she’d find out soon enough.
Chapter Sixteen
THE MOOD IN the house simmered with tension.
Madison had been told what had happened to her husband, and she’d begged for them not to call the police, something Blake didn’t particularly want to do either. A.J.’s death had been self-defense, but they would need to explain to the cops why they’d locked the guy up in the cellar in the first place. That he’d taken a crowbar to try and hack his way out didn’t look great for them either, and the only proof of any abduction happening was their word that it had.
Madison had kept Billy well away from the house, and so far he hadn’t asked what had happened to his daddy. Wenona and Lakota managed to get A.J.’s body back into his SUV, and then they’d driven in out into the forest somewhere, together with a couple of shovels. Blake wished he’d been able to go with them and help—leaving the burial of a body to an elderly man and woman seemed too much to ask—but he couldn’t. Instead, he helped himself to a bottle of bleach from beneath Wenona’s kitchen sink, together with a bucket, cloths, and water, and got to work scrubbing the blood off the floorboards the best he could. They’d need to remove the cellar door later and chop it up for firewood. It couldn’t be left as it was.
Blake spun around as the back door slammed open.
Lakota and Wenona had made it back on foot. Both were pink cheeked and breathing hard as they made their way into the kitchen.
“Sit down, both of you,” Blake said, alarm rising in him. It was too much, asking all of this from two older people. “I’ll get you some water.”
Wenona waved a hand. “No, no, I’ll get it.”
“I said, sit down.” His tone was harsh and she sank into one of the wooden chairs around the kitchen table.
Blake rolled himself to the sink and poured them both a glass of water, before bringing it over to them. They both drank gratefully.
Lakota set the empty glass on the table. “We couldn’t get the SUV too deep into the forest. The place was too overgrown, but it’s well enough away from the house.”
“That’ll have to do until the others get back.”
He was worried about them. He’d have thought Autumn, Chogan, Peter, and the others would have been back by now, or that they’d at least have gotten in touch to tell him how things were going. He could only pray for their safety. But something else bothered him as well. When he’d been in the spirit world, his wolf had been about to submit to him. He’d been so close, but the sound of the gunshots had pulled him from whatever magic Lakota used to allow him to traverse into the spirit world. Blake was worried if he left it too long, he’d lose whatever ground he’d made. Also, when A.J. had burst through the cellar door, causing Blake to shoot him dead, Blake had noticed his wolf growling in the back of his mind. It hadn’t been a frightened, fearful growl, such as the one Blake had experienced before. This time it was one of anger, and excitement. He’d felt like his wolf wanted to join in, had almost pressed him to shift, as it had done in the past.
“You have to take me back again, Father,” he said to Lakota, once the older man had appeared to catch his breath, and his face returned to its normal color. “We need to go back to the forest and repeat the spell to let me contact my wolf again. It was so close this time. I think if we hadn’t been interrupted by the gunshots, it would have submitted to me fully.”
Lakota shook his head. “It’s too soon. You need to rest.”
“No!” He slammed both hands down against the arm rests of the wheelchair. “All I’m doing is fucking resting, sitting in this thing all the time. What I need is to get my wolf back and at least see if I have some chance of being a shifter again. I’ve proven myself to my wolf. It can see that I’m not some weak man, just because I can’t use my legs. I’m still strong, I’m still powerful. I felt it in the back of my mind, and it wanted to shift, but still held back. I know if I can come face to face with it again, that I can convince it to shift with me.”
“It’s dangerous, Blackened Hawk. You might find yourself more a part of the afterlife than of this one. It’s too easy to become lost and you’ve only just got back.”
“I don’t care. If I wait, my wolf might back off again. I need to do this while it is close.”
His father sighed. “Autumn and Chogan might be back with your sister soon. Surely we can wait until after then.”
Blake let out a growl that sounded wolf-like in itself. “If you make me wait, and my guide backs off again, I will only blame you.” He knew his words were childlike and blackmailing in nature, but he was desperate. His father didn’t know how it felt to be so close to something so important, only to feel it slip away at the last possible moment. He softened his tone. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to be angry with you. I just need this to happen and you’re the only one who can help me.”
Lakota nodded. “Very well. But you must be careful, Blake. Remember the rules.”
“I know. I will.”
Madison poked her head around the kitchen door, holding Billy back with one hand. “Is everything okay?”
Blake nodded. “Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you now.”
She gave a half smile, and brought Billy into the kitchen with her to sit at the table. “Billy said he wanted a snack.”
“Sure,” said Wenona. “Help yourself.”
“Are you going to be all right?” Blake asked Wenona.
“Of course,” said the older woman. “Go and do what you need to do.”
Together, Blake and his father made their way back to the spot they’d left only a few hours earlier, Blake’s chair bumping and jolting over the rough terrain. They had abandoned all of the paraphernalia Lakota needed to help Blake into the spirit world, too caught up in the drama occurring at the house to think about picking up the belongings. The candles lay fallen on the ground, though Lakota had kept the pouch of herbs he needed firmly around his neck, and hidden beneath his shirt.
The constant worry about Autumn and the others played on Blake’s mind. They should have been back by now. Was it possible Vivian and her men had overpowered them? He didn’t think so. If they had, he had a feeling Vivian would be here by now, finishing the rest of them off. She didn’t seem like a woman who did things by halves, and she knew where their base was because she’d had one her men deliver Autumn’s father’s hand here. Despite trying to reassure himself, he still didn’t feel confident about Autumn’s safety. This was the reason he nee
ded to be able to shift. If he was able to take on the form of a wolf, and by some miracle was able to run again, then he would go after Autumn and the others. He’d be able to follow the trail Peter, Mia, and the other shifters had left, and hopefully go right to them.
Blake heaved himself out of the chair and back down to the ground. His father reached out to help him, but Blake shook him off. If he could kill a man, he could sure as hell get himself in and out of his own chair.
He wriggled down onto the ground and lay flat on his back, looking up at the sky and canopy of trees. His stomach churned with nerves. He needed his wolf back—knew it with more certainty than anything else he’d ever felt—and he was terrified that if he failed this time, he wouldn’t get another chance.
Lakota rearranged the candles around him and lit the wicks. As he began his low, melodic, primal song, Blake allowed his eyes to close. He pulled his thoughts to the back of his mind, to the place his wolf had once inhabited. Not so long ago, he’d been able to contact his wolf here, had been able to reach it without resorting to magic, but now the space felt empty.
The song continued, rising and ebbing all around him. It lulled him into a kind of trance, and his connection with the cool ground beneath him seemed to drift away. It was like falling asleep, yet being conscious of the moment a dream state was entered.
Blake opened his eyes.
The tree branches and leaves above his head had lost their vivid color. The sky beyond no longer a clear blue, but more of a white haze. He pushed himself to sitting, leaving his body still lying flat on the ground, and then slowly got to his feet. He was still able to see his father moving around his body in a circle, and yet somehow the older man felt distant. He wondered what would happen if he tried to reach out and touch his father. Would he be affected by it at all? Would he sense his son’s touch, or would something more malicious occur? Blake didn’t intend on risking either himself or his father by finding out. Now wasn’t the time for foolish experiments.
The landscape of the spirit world had become almost familiar to him now. He turned in the direction he’d always gone, the way he knew his wolf was most likely to be. As he walked, he slid his hands down onto his thighs, feeling the contraction of his muscles. What he felt wasn’t real, but he couldn’t help but experience the surge of longing and remorse as he felt the muscles work—muscles that were, in the real world, useless and wasting away. But he couldn’t let himself regret what had happened. He’d been shot saving Tala. After Rhys had dumped her in the middle of the clearing, he’d seen no other way to save her life other than shielding her from the gunfire using his own body. Would he switch back, if he had the chance? Exchange his useless legs for Tala’s life? His sister had done some bad things, but he wouldn’t have even contemplated doing such a thing. Not only would his little sister be dead, but he’d have broken his father’s heart.
Blake forced himself to focus. There was no point lingering in the past. He needed to find his wolf again, and this time he couldn’t let anything distract him.
“Hello?” he called out, his voice hollow and echoey. “I came back. We need to sort this out.”
He listened, hoping to hear his wolf’s lonesome howl once again, but he heard nothing.
Taking more steps farther into the forest, he called out again. “Please, I know you want this, too. We need to work together again. It’s the only way.”
He glanced anxiously back over his shoulder. Between the tree trunks he could just about make out the shape of his body on the ground and his father moving around it. His father’s words echoed in his head—don’t lose sight of your body—but he’d always found his way back before. Finding his wolf was more important than worrying.
Movement in the bush—breath panting, claws catching on twigs and dried leaves.
Blake froze and listened. Was it his wolf, or something else? So far he’d not encountered any other spirits, but that didn’t mean there were none.
The movement in the bushes grew more distant. Blake hesitated, then followed. His wolf might be trying to check him out, while remaining unseen.
“Hello?”
The movement scampered away, becoming fainter in the distant. Panic clutched his chest, “Hey, no! Wait up!”
He picked up his pace, marveling at how quickly he was able to move while on two legs—something he’d always taken for granted. If he lost his wolf now, he might never find it again.
He broke into a run. Leaving the trail he’d been following between the trees, he plunged into the undergrowth, pushing his way through the leaves and branches. Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of a flash of silver fur.
He was closer now.
“Please, it’s me. You need to wait. We need to work this out.”
He hated the desperation in his voice, the pleading tone. But he was desperate. His wolf had felt so close, and now they were distant again. Becoming a shifter again was his only hope.
The sounds stopped.
Blake drew to a halt, one hand locked in his hair in dismay. He’d lost his spirit guide again. “Fuck!”
He turned back to head the way he had come.
From out of nowhere, something rocketed out from the bush on his right and smashed straight into him. Unprepared, he found himself rolling in a ball of heat and fur. A growl and a snapping of teeth right beside his ear. Blake barely had time to string a coherent thought together, concentrating only on fighting back, and trying to get a hold on whatever was attacking him. He managed to get hold of a furry leg and then a shoulder. His hand moved upward and he found himself with his hand around his wolf’s throat.
What the hell?
“Quit it!” he managed to yell as he yanked himself in the opposite direction of the snapping jaws. “You can’t kill me.”
His wolf was angry, he realized, angry with him for getting himself injured. Would his wolf have preferred it if he had died? At least then it would have been free to connect to a new shifter, a newborn baby that might have strengths even greater than his own. Was that the reason his guide had been so angry with him? It had been furious he had survived?
“I didn’t do this on purpose! Stop punishing me.”
The wolf growled again, but stopped snapping. Blake’s chest heaved, both hands still wrapped around the animal’s massive neck. The idea of throttling his wolf had never even occurred to him—he’d only had the hold to try to keep the animal’s jaws from his throat.
“Stop punishing me,” he said, again.
He felt the tension go from the wolf’s body, and slowly the animal backed off. Blake was able to push himself to sitting. He brushed off the twigs and dirt stuck to his naked body.
The wolf sat on its haunches, only a couple of yards away. Its amber eyes regarded him with a seriousness Blake had only ever seen in a shifter. Blake wrapped his arms around his shins, and hung his head, catching his breath.
Blake sniffed and lifted his head again to meet his spirit guide’s gaze. “We need to figure this out, you and I. I’m sorry things went wrong, but you’re not helping. If you try to shift, things might start getting better again.”
The animal huffed air in a cloudy bloom from its nostrils.
“What other choice do we have?” Blake continued. “We continue like this? How is that good for either of us? You’re stuck here in this ... empty place ... and I’m left unable to walk. If I can’t heal as a man, that’s fine. I can live with that. But I can’t stand the thought of never being able to run as a wolf again. You must miss it too, the smells of the forest, the taste of blood when we hunted. This place is so ... senseless.”
The wolf chuffed again, and Blake felt like it was agreeing with him.
“So will you try?” he asked. “It’s all I’m asking of you, just to try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll let you go, and we’ll have to figure out a way to continue as we are.”
The wolf whined and then dropped its stomach and chest to the ground. It put its head on its paws, and looked up at him with mournful, go
lden eyes.
Blake risked a smile. “Does that mean you’ll try?”
The wolf exhaled hot air through its nose, and Blake took that as a yes. He dared to reach out, his fingers making contact with the wolf’s head. He risked scratching the animal’s head, and the wolf’s eyes slipped shut, its tail beating the ground in pleasure. Blake’s heart swelled, his soul lifting. He couldn’t ask for any more than this. If his wolf still couldn’t shift after Blake had made it back to his body, then there were other reasons in play.
The thought of his body made him look around. He’d completely forgotten his father’s rule not to lose sight of his body—or perhaps, not forgotten, but had deliberately put it to the back of his mind—but now the time had come where he needed to think about returning, and he wasn’t even sure which direction he’d come from. The rough and tumble he’d had with his wolf had disoriented him even further, and each clump of trees and bushes looked exactly the same.
Blake glanced up into the sky, but there was no sun to use for tracking, or even moon and stars. The space was just a gray expanse of nothingness.
Shit.
His wolf must have noticed something was wrong, as Blake had stopped his head rub. The animal’s eyes were open and it lifted itself back onto its haunches, its hackles raised.
“Any idea which direction I came from?” Blake asked.
The wolf glanced around and then sneezed.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
He got to his feet and put his hands on his hips. He took a couple of steps in one direction, and stopped, and then turned and walked in the other. A rising build of panic started low in his stomach and crept upward, through his chest to slowly crawl up his throat. He had absolutely no idea what direction he needed to head in.
Blake held his breath, hoping to pick up the sound of his father’s low singing, but all he heard was the panting of his wolf, and the increasing thud of his own heartbeat.
“I need your help,” he said, addressing his wolf. He hated having to ask again, but had no choice. “Can you take me back to where I left my body?”
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