Devin.
His pack joined in, sending a symphony of chilling howls up to the moon. And then they descended into the shadows, disappearing a moment before creeping up the hill featuring the altar and their unwelcome guests.
Zelda’s side wasn’t quite mended yet, but she tried to stand, painfully pulling herself up on all four feet. She wanted to shift back into human form and climb a tree, but she feared whatever Logan had done to heal her would stop working, and she also couldn’t bear the thought of watching Logan and Violet battle the Raymores alone. She stood tall, forcing her flattened ears up at attention.
Her charm necklace lay discarded near Sarah’s feet. She nudged her nose under it and rubbed her face along the ground. The necklace slid over her fur, falling in place around her neck like a collar, and the weight of the world was suddenly bearable again.
The Raymores crept closer, circling in. Low growls hummed from every throat. Logan and Violet were the loudest, trying to make up for their lack of numbers, Zelda supposed. She growled with them, knowing it was no use. Three against twelve was hopeless.
A series of yelps sounded from the edge of the woods, and Zelda turned to watch six panting wolves bound up the hill behind them. Excited, disembodied voices spilled into her mind, and she saw her wolves together as a pack for the first time, with Logan as their alpha. Her heart swam, and she wanted to greet them properly and with joy—but it would have to wait.
Devin Raymore barked out an order, and his pack moved in.
Zelda didn’t know what to do. Her adrenaline spiked, and she felt her magic peak as the lump of barite she had absorbed coursed through her, enhancing her flow of energy. Blue lightning crackled over her wolf body, sending her gray fur up on end.
The Raymore wolves edged back, flinching when their alpha barked again. Their golden eyes had turned blue, reflecting the light coming off of Zelda.
A black wolf growled and stepped ahead of the others. Hyde. He zeroed in on Logan, pouncing on the new alpha. Logan bared his teeth and rolled onto his back, kicking Hyde’s underside with his hind legs. Hyde snapped at Logan’s throat, but before he could make contact, Violet soared through air, knocking him away.
She didn’t wait for Hyde to recover, biting into the soft flesh of his exposed belly and digging out his insides with her teeth and claws, while he yipped and whined.
Two more wolves rushed forward, but a white wolf, Charlie, cut them off. The rest of the Raymore Clan moved in, snapping and snarling as their alpha barked, ordering a full-on assault.
Zelda stepped forward, but stopped suddenly when another howl tore through the night. The moon was halfway home, shrugging off the eclipse. Another wolf appeared in its light, her dark red coat glowing softly. She had slipped in behind Devin, who stood a safe distance away as he ordered his pack into battle.
The red wolf seized him by the neck, throwing him to the ground. He rolled sideways, his feet sprawling in the air, kicking at her. But she refused to let go. She growled evenly, waiting until he went still, and then she ripped out his throat.
Her bloody muzzle lifted slowly, gnawing lazily on a piece of gristle. The Raymore pack yelped and whined, then they scurried off, disappearing into the woods as quickly as they’d arrived.
The red wolf watched Logan and Zelda’s pack, considering them as she chewed out Devin Raymore’s heart. When she finished, she nodded to the alpha’s remains, inviting them to partake of her leftovers. Then she slinked off to the woods as she licked her muzzle.
Zelda breathed a sigh of relief, which sounded more like a snort in her wolfish form. Logan circled her and dipped his nose beneath her tail, earning an annoyed groan.
The other wolves took turns running circles around the alpha pair, yipping happily. Nick less so, with his splinted paw. Still, he seemed glad to be a part of the new pack.
Zelda knew she wasn’t really one of them—but she felt so close, closer than she’d ever felt to any family. And now that she could shift with them, her heart felt complete.
She caught Logan looking at her, his golden eyes hinted with green mischief she knew too well. He circled her again, running his muzzle along her healed side and licking her nose.
The night is young. Let’s go home.
Epilogue
Selena Chase sat behind the wheel of her truck and glared at the bystanders through her tinted windows. She hated the Cheese Festival. She hated tourists. And she definitely hated parades. Especially when Christian Delph tricked her into hauling the gaudiest float ever around town square.
The good doctor sat in the passenger seat, grinning like an idiot as he tossed handfuls of candy to the tourists. Selena grumbled to herself and waited for him to roll up the window before answering his question.
“No, I’m not joining the new fucking pack. Don’t be stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“You killed the Raymore Clan’s alpha. By all rights, you should be ruling their pack,” he said, folding his hands in his lap.
Selena cleared her throat. “No one can prove it, and you can’t rat me out. Isn’t there some doctor-patient confidentiality rule about that?”
“But you’re not a patient.” He grinned at her.
“Don’t fuck with me, Delph.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding just a bit too sincere for it to be genuine. “What was it you were saying about the visiting witches?”
Selena huffed and glanced at her rearview mirror, double-checking the inflatable mouse and hunk of cheese bobbing over her flatbed trailer. The youth group had covered it in pastel colored tissue flowers, and every time she looked at it, she wanted to vomit.
She glanced back at Dr. Delph and frowned. “They’re dead.”
“All three of them?” he asked.
“All three,” Selena answered, her skin crawling at the uninvited memories.
“You did the right thing,” Dr. Delph said. “Spero Heights owes you a great debt.”
“Fuck Spero Heights,” Selena snarled. “And fuck you.”
The crowd cheered as a marching band began playing, and Selena looked out her window to hide the tears prickling her eyes.
Logan was a grown man. She knew that. But she couldn’t help but view him as hers. Of course he’d make a good alpha. Of course it was the right thing for him to do. But she had alpha in her blood too. She’d always been content bossing him around, but now she was alone.
“You’re not, you know,” Dr. Delph interrupted her thoughts.
“Stay out of my head,” she growled.
He ignored her outburst. “The Raymore Clan is broken without an alpha. There is much fighting in their ranks right now, and there will be for some time, until their leadership is settled. Their territory is not a safe place to rear pups.”
“What are you saying?” Selena frowned at him.
“One of the Raymore omegas visited last night. She delivered Devin Raymore’s twins. Seeing as how you’re a wolf, and you killed their father, it only seems fair that you raise them.”
“What?” Selena stomped the brakes suddenly before a horn honked and she remembered the parade. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She swallowed and felt her skin grow clammy.
“Why not?” Dr. Delph asked. “You’ve done a wonderful job with Logan. And we both know you’re depressed over his pack formation.”
Selena stared out the windshield, her heart thundering with anxiety and anticipation. “Who’s taking care of them now?” she asked.
“Daisy, of course.”
Selena hit the brakes again. “You left newborn pups with a poltergeist for a nanny?”
“Relax.” Dr. Delph waved his hand. “Daisy is harmless. If you’re so worried about the pups, take them in. You know Logan will help you, pack or not. And children always seem to gap the bridge between feuding family.”
Selena glared at him. “Logan and his imitation wolf can rot. I’m not doing this to make nice with them.”
“But you will do it?” Dr. Delph raised an e
yebrow.
“I’ll do it,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Agreeing with the doctor always seemed to backfire, but he was right about one thing. She’d killed the pups’ father. The least she could do was raise them up right.
“When’s Graham due back?” Selena asked, changing the subject. “It don’t seem right for the mayor to be missing his own damn festival.”
Dr. Delph was quiet for a long stretch, making her wonder if he’d dozed off, or fallen into one of his trances. When he looked up at her, there were storms in his eyes.
“There is no hurry,” he said softly. “Trouble can wait.”
Coming soon…
DEATH AT FIRST SIGHT
A SPERO HEIGHTS NOVEL
Lia James would give anything to be normal.
Struck with horrific, daily visions of death isn’t what any sane person would consider gifted. Her only consolation is that Sheriff Saunders, her shady keeper, does what he can to change the outcome of her visions—at least, the ones that might lead to a swanky promotion.
Christian Delph is not a normal doctor, and his patients’ maladies are not found in the average medical journal. As the head therapist of Orpheus House in Spero Heights, he sees everything—and usually before it happens. The one thing he didn’t see coming was Lia, and all the ways she would turn his fragile world inside out.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, much thanks is due to my beta readers, my critique group: The Four Horsemen of the Bookocalypse, THE professor George Shelley, and my sexy, man-beast of a husband, with his great big vocabulary. Thank you all for the typo zappin’ and loose-end catchin’. It means the world to me. All remaining errors are my own.
I would also like to thank everyone who has ever left me a nice review or sent a nice email. You make this writing thing totally worth it. While I’m at it, I’d also like to thank anyone who has ever left a bad review. You make the nice ones more credible. And you provide the kind of harsh criticism that sometimes helps improve my work. Sometimes.
I hope you all enjoy the new series.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANGELA ROQUET is a great big weirdo. She collects Danger Girl comic books, owls, skulls, random craft supplies, and all things Joss Whedon. She's a fan of renewable energy, marriage equality, and religious tolerance. As long as whatever you're doing isn't hurting anyone, she's a fan of you, too.
Angela lives in Missouri with her husband and son. She's a member of SFWA and HWA, as well as the Four Horsemen of the Bookocalypse, her epic book critique group, where she's known as Death. When she's not swearing at the keyboard, she enjoys painting, goofing off with her family and friends, and reading books that raise eyebrows. You can find Angela online at www.angelaroquet.com
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