by Lori Drake
Beside him, Joey gasped softly. Her fingers clutched his. He glanced at her and gave her hand a squeeze, but was rather taken aback himself. Even Adelaide’s jaw was on the floor. They all stood there in stunned silence as Gretchen and Cathy rose from their seats and embraced. Then Gretchen walked out of the room with her head held high.
Cathy sank back into her chair and looked across the desk at Adelaide. “I know you’ve got some bourbon stashed in that desk, Addie. Why don’t you pour me a drink and tell me about Plan B.”
Adelaide took considerably less time to compose herself than Gretchen had. “How do you know there’s a Plan B?”
Cathy just smiled. “With you, there’s always a Plan B.”
They were closeted in Adelaide’s study for hours. It was past dark when they finally emerged, but Chris had to admit… it was a pretty good backup plan. Reginald, Jon and Sara were on their way to round up a few more wolves. Adelaide was confident that the Newman pack would lend a hand. Between the combined muscle of the two packs and Cathy’s spellpower, they ought to be able to bring Tasha to heel and end this. Emma was the wildcard. Chris didn’t know if he could get her on board to bait the trap, but he’d promised to try.
Dean’s pesky human stomach growled as he strode purposefully down the hallway, reminding him that it had been an awfully long ten minutes since he’d borrowed the medium’s body. He pushed a pang of guilt aside, hopeful that Dean would understand in the end. Besides, if all went according to plan he’d be out of Dean’s hair—along with everything else—soon. Permanently.
As eager as Chris was to be free from Tasha’s machinations, the idea of shuffling off into the great unknown filled him with anxiety. Would it hurt? Would he have a chance to say goodbye? Lost in thought, he walked right past the room at first and had to backtrack. When he did, he found the door open. Curious, since he’d closed it when he left.
As he stepped into the darkened room, Chris lamented Dean’s shitty night vision. Light spilled into the room through the open door, illuminating a patch of carpet but little else.
“Psst? You awake?” he said softly. There was no answer, but when his eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting they found the bed empty, its covers thrown back haphazardly.
“Huh.” Wondering where she’d gone, he walked over and turned on the bedside lamp. Given the size of the house, it was probably better to wait for her than to try and track her down. He reached for his book, which was still sitting on the nightstand, but as he did the lamp’s light glinted off of something on the pillow.
Moving closer, Chris blinked when he realized what it was: Emma’s necklace. Snatching the object from the pillow, he turned to thunder out of the room.
“Emma!” he called, making his way down the hall, checking other rooms in case she’d gotten lost on her way back to bed. “Emma!”
He nearly collided with Joey at the end of the hall.
“Something wrong?” she asked. He held up the necklace, its round amulet swaying pendulously beneath his fist. Joey’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”
“Emma!” Chris called again but Joey put a hand on his arm.
“We’ll find her,” she said confidently, moving past him down the hall.
“I already looked down there,” he said, turning.
“I know,” Joey called over her shoulder. “Use your head. Or, rather, your nose.”
Sighing, Chris jogged after Joey. “I think we’re gonna have to rely on yours. Dean’s just ain’t up to snuff.”
“Well, at least we have one thing going for us.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“She hasn’t showered for over 24 hours. She’s a little ripe.”
Chris snorted, lingering in the doorway while Joey walked over to the bed and bent down to inhale deeply. Along the way, she must have gotten a look at the book on the nightstand.
“Call of the Wild, really?”
“Don’t judge me.”
“Too late for that.”
Chris let Joey take point after they left the room, since she was the bloodhound in this scenario.
“I hope she didn’t go far,” Joey said as they began their search.
“You can shift if you need to.”
They followed a somewhat meandering path through the house—the sort someone not familiar with the layout might take. Eventually, the trail led to a patio door.
“Shit,” Joey said. “I’m starting to think she didn’t leave her necklace behind on accident.”
“I’ll get the others,” Chris said.
Joey was already pulling off her shirt, preparing to shift. The sight of her bare, toned midriff was distracting, for all that he’d seen it plenty of times before. He must not have moved quickly enough, because she threw her shirt at him.
“Don’t you dare make this weird,” she snapped, unbuttoning her shorts. “Go!”
He went.
28
Joey was in so much of a hurry that she nearly forgot to open the door before shifting forms. That would have been awkward. As she opened the door, the cool night air slipped into the room, caressing her bare skin. She left the door open just enough that she could slip outside after she shifted, then sank to her knees and let nature take its course.
She was still annoyed with Chris for gawking at her. Annoyed and pleased, which only annoyed her more. The subtleties of complex human emotion faded blissfully away as she embraced her wolf, eager to find some clarity and resume the search. Wolves felt emotion, of course, but not in the same way. Life as a wolf was simpler. Not simplistic, but simpler.
Within seconds she stood on four paws and shook herself before lowering her nose to the floor. Emma’s scent was easier to pick up now, and Joey sprinted out the door with one thing on her mind: protect the pack. With all the emotional baggage stripped away, in spite of all that had happened, Emma was family.
Around her, the night was alive with smells and sounds, so much more potent to her wolf senses than even her enhanced human senses. It was as it had been a few nights before, those familiar scents tickling her nostrils. The only differences were the tendrils of Emma’s scent laced through the others. Her ears pricked forward, listening for her quarry as well as sniffing her out.
She couldn’t sprint for long; tracking wasn’t a sprinting activity. It took concentration to separate Emma’s scent from the dirt, plant and animal scents that permeated the desert landscape. Slowing to a lope, Joey followed Emma’s trail into the vast wilderness behind the Grant house. The path Emma had taken was relatively straight, heading out into the wild rather than toward the road. The oddness of it struck her even in wolf form. Most two-legs would run toward civilization, not away from it.
Gradually, the scent grew stronger. Fresher. Her keen ears picked up the first indications of movement ahead of her—the quiet thump of shoes on hard-packed dirt, the brush of foliage on denim, the occasional stumble as Emma’s feet encountered rocks and other obstacles on the uneven terrain. When the footsteps stopped, Joey could just make out Emma’s shape ahead. She slowed, approaching cautiously, watching as the human scratched at the earth with a long, slender stick. Confounded, Joey hung back in the moon shadow of a boulder to watch. As she did, her nostrils flared, picking up another scent. Her head came up, ears swiveling.
They weren’t alone.
It took her a few precious seconds to find the source of the musky odor she’d caught.
Interloper.
Joey’s hackles raised. Her muscles tensed. In the distance, another furry form lurked. Not wolf, but wolf-adjacent. Coyote. The creature was beyond lean and watched Emma intently. Hungrily. It must have been desperate to venture into the Grant pack’s well-marked territory. It was unusual, but every now and then they had to run off a pack of coyotes pushed out of their own territory by human encroachment. Occasionally a transient loner, but usually a pack. Joey’s nose kicked into overdrive as she scanned the terrain for more furry shapes.
Meanwhile, clearly oblivious, Emma scratch
ed away at the ground intently, turning in a slow circle.
One, two, three, four… Joey’s sharp eyes picked out more menacing shapes in the darkness as her nose untangled their mingled scents. They hadn’t quite surrounded Emma yet, but they were working on it. They all had that lean, hungry look about them and appeared so intent on Emma that they didn’t notice Joey watching them from the other side of their hapless prey. That would give her the element of surprise, but four on one? She didn’t like those odds, but she couldn’t allow them to harm Emma either. Joey may have been small for a lycanthrope, but she was still larger than the average wolf and certainly bigger than any of these scrawny scavengers. Intimidation was her best bet.
Emerging from the boulder’s shadow, Joey announced her presence with a low growl and advanced slowly, baring her teeth. Unfortunately, the action got Emma’s attention as well. Her friend squeaked in alarm, fear in her eyes as she unwittingly backed toward the predators arrayed in a half-moon behind her. Joey halted in her tracks, growl-barking a warning, but Emma wasn’t fluent in wolf-speak by any stretch. A warm glow rose around her, what Joey now associated with magic. Joey tensed. Her eyes flicked between Emma and the coyotes moving behind her. Emboldened by Joey’s hesitation and Emma’s distraction, they closed in on the witch.
Joey couldn’t let it happen. She launched herself at the nearest coyote, a battle-scarred female with a notch in one ear. Emma must have noticed her path was angled away from her, because she didn’t sling any spells Joey’s way. The coyote held her ground, however, and the two met in a flurry of snapping teeth and ferocious growls. Joey managed to sink her teeth into the coyote’s shoulder hard enough to make her yelp and pull back, but before Joey could press the advantage another coyote was on her.
It was one of the males this time, and she barely managed to duck and avoid his jaws clamping on her neck. Growling, she twisted to return the favor, sinking tooth and fang into his sandy pelt and holding on as she shook her head violently, opening a bigger hole. Blood gushed over her muzzle, a coppery tang on her tongue. More furry shapes ran at her, rushing to their packmate’s aid. Teeth sank into her thick pelt as they tried to take her down but she was too big, too strong. She shook them off and finally released the male’s throat from her jaws. He stumbled backward, tail between legs, while Joey squared off against the others.
She must have been quite the sight, blood dripping from her teeth as she bared them, growling menacingly, tail high. Confident. The remaining three backed away uncertainly, finally starting to get the idea that they’d bitten off more than they could chew, even four on one. Joey gave a final snap of her jaws and they all took off running.
“Joey? Are you okay?” Emma’s concerned voice rose behind her.
Joey turned back toward her friend, oozing blood from the stinging punctures in her hide. Pain radiated up one leg whenever she put weight on it, but it would pass once the wound knit itself. In the meantime, she limped over to Emma, licked her hand and endured a bit of tentative head-rubbing.
“If I hadn’t seen your aura myself, this would be pretty unbelievable,” Emma said, then sighed. “Thanks for your help, but you need to get back to the house.”
Joey twisted her neck to look up at Emma and whined softly.
“Please, Joey. I can’t let anyone else get hurt, not because of me.”
Ignoring her pleas, Joey limped around Emma and nudged her in the direction of the house.
“I’m not going back. I have to finish this. One way or another.” Emma gave Joey one last pat and straightened, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Just do yourself a favor and forget about me, okay? It’s better that way.”
Joey puffed out a mighty wolf sigh and parked her furry butt on the ground. Her wounds stung and she wanted a steak. A large, bloody steak. Maybe a whole cow. With help on the way, she watched as Emma picked up her discarded stick and started scratching at the ground again. She’d drawn a large circle on the ground and was scratching lines inside it.
Emma looked up from her work. “Joey, I’m serious. You need to go. You can’t be here when Tasha—”
Joey’s ears flattened at the mention of the wicked witch. A low growl rumbled in her chest and Emma stopped in her tracks but it wasn’t Joey that she focused on as her chin lifted, eyes tracking northeast.
“Shit…” Emma’s eyes returned to the immediate vicinity, flicking around. “Here! Come here.”
Joey walked over and stood where indicated, at the center of the circle. It was barely large enough for her to stand in, on all fours as she was. A pattern of interlocking lines bisected the circle, reminding Joey of the little spell focus she’d found in the alley, the one Emma’d used to track Tasha.
Emma dropped to her knees at the edge of the circle. “Tell Chris I’m sorry.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” A warm, magical nimbus surrounded her once more as she reached down to lay her palm on the bare earth, across the edge of the circle. Golden energy spilled from her fingers and into the lines scratched in the sand. Once the whole pattern was lit up, she wrapped both arms around a very confused Joey, hugging her tightly.
It wasn’t until Joey looked over Emma’s shoulder that she finally understood what Emma was agitated about.
Chris moved as quickly as he could through the darkness, Emma’s necklace still clutched in one hand. The other held a flashlight, lighting the way for Dean’s pesky human eyes. He glanced behind him now and then to make sure Cathy wasn’t falling behind. She was pretty quick on her feet for an old lady, and hadn’t shown any sign of flagging yet, but she was the only magical backup they had. He couldn’t afford to lose track of her. Ben loped ahead of them in wolf form, ears perked forward as he led the way. Adelaide and Sam had run ahead. He wished they hadn’t. He didn’t like the pack being split up like this. It was bad enough that his father, Jon and Sara weren’t back yet from their little errand.
“Wait,” Cathy called out from behind him. Chris stopped in his tracks, expecting to see her bent over and winded when he looked back. Instead, she stood a few feet behind him, her focus intent to the northeast.
“What is it?”
“Get down!” she said, motioning emphatically with both hands.
“Wha?”
Maybe he didn’t move quickly enough, because that “old lady” tackled him to the ground with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. Dazed, he looked up just in time to see a massive fireball woosh past where he’d just been standing. It roared off into the night, leaving a blazing trail behind wherever it touched anything. The air crackled with heat in its wake.
“Holy shit!” He scrambled to his feet, then helped Cathy up. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, shaking out her skirt. “We need to keep moving.”
Ben seemed to agree. He shifted restlessly on his paws, whining and looking in the direction the fireball had gone.
Chris snatched up the flashlight and the three of them started moving again. As they went, they passed smoldering brush and the occasional scraggy tree merrily ablaze. The smell of smoke hung in the air, not heavy but unmistakeable. The flames flickered out as they passed, no doubt Cathy’s doing.
“I guess we know which direction Tasha is,” Chris remarked as they went.
“Yup.”
“Not to sound obtuse, but why aren’t we going in that direction?” Chris glanced over his shoulder again, half expecting the woman to be right behind them, summoned like some demon simply by speaking her name.
“Because there’s strength in numbers. We’ll regroup and face her together.” She smoothly hooked her arm through his and pressed onward, towing him along. “Look, it’s Addie.”
Chris pointed the flashlight where Cathy gestured and sure enough, the beam of light illuminated his mother’s red-furred form. He shook off Cathy’s arm and strode forward with the flashlight. Adelaide bolted in front of him to block his path. Frowning, he tried to go around her. She bl
ocked him again, growling a warning. It was right about then that the smell of burned flesh and fur finally hit him. Eyes widening, he rushed past Adelaide, ignoring her snapping jaws.
“Joey!” he cried, fearing the worst as he panned the flashlight around wildly. The smell grew stronger, all but overwhelming him. His stomach churned, but fortunately it was still empty. They had, without a doubt, reached the spot where the fireball had finally landed. The ground was scorched, barely any remnants of charred vegetation remaining. At the center of the destruction lay a crumpled human form, curled in a ball.
Her back was a mass of red and black, the skin horribly blistered. The charred remains of clothing clung to her arms and legs. Clothing. That meant…
“Emma,” he groaned, sinking to his knees. As he did, he heard a whine and the body shifted as a singed-but-whole wolf pulled herself free. The fragments of the awful scene, never quite lit all at once by the flashlight’s beam, finally began to knit themselves together in his mind’s eye. Emma’s charred body, curled around Joey’s red-furred wolf form at the center of a ring of scorched earth.
Chris fought back the rising tide of emotion as Joey struggled to her feet and nosed Emma’s face, licking her pale cheek. Cathy rushed past him a moment later, his mother and brother hot on her heels. They crowded around the fallen witch while Chris sank back on his heels, tears stinging his eyes.
And that was even before Emma started screaming.
Oh god, she’s alive.
Relief warred with horror. All he could see were her legs twitching as she howled, a terrible agonized wail. He cast his eyes around, looking for something else—anything else—to focus on. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, but he couldn’t stop the screams from reaching his ears. They shook him to his core.
“Chris!” A voice finally penetrated the fog. It was Joey, leaning over to put her face on level with his. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. How long had he been kneeling there?
He blinked a few times, focusing on her face. Her lips were smeared with a dark crimson that spread down her chin, but at least this time the blood wasn’t hers. At least, he didn’t think so.