Falling for Shifters: A Limited Edition Autumn Shifters Collection

Home > Other > Falling for Shifters: A Limited Edition Autumn Shifters Collection > Page 78
Falling for Shifters: A Limited Edition Autumn Shifters Collection Page 78

by Lacey Carter Andersen


  He returns the next day with another hunk of meat. This time, she has enough energy to look at him as he shoves it through the food flap. She stares into his bright blue eyes, no different than her own, before proceeding to gobble down her less-rancid-than-usual food. He lingers for a while, telling her he’ll be back the next day with more food. She believes him and looks forward to it. She wishes she could tell him that too. She doesn’t know what to think when he tells her “Good girl.”

  It goes on like this for a couple days, he brings her food and talks to her for a bit and then leaves quickly so he won’t get caught. Eventually, she grows to trust The Gentle One. At first, she thought that maybe he was set up by Winslow to gain her trust in order to get her to show the scientists that she is a werewolf. But every time he visits, his voice is sincere and his eyes hold a kindness like no other. Somehow, she’s known him before, yet she doesn’t know him at all.

  Through their meetings, and scientists’ voices down the hall, she learns his name is Garrison and he is new to this institution. She stops calling him The Gentle One and is glad his name suits him. Still, he seems more like a Gary to her than anything. It’s simpler and fits him even better. From what he’s shared, he joined the Animal Research Institute thinking it would be an interesting learning experience with a goal of saving nearly-extinct breeds, but he soon learned what they do here is cruel and horrific. He’s explained that he’s always been an animal person but assured her he doesn’t think of her that way. She finds the whole thing strange. It’s not like she’s here in pure canine form. She chalks it up to his being human. Purebred humans aren’t the brightest, after all.

  After a week of meetings, she decides to put all her trust in Garrison. He has, after all, saved her life. The scientists are baffled that she is even still alive. No thanks to you. And so much for saving anyone.

  She tries not to seem too suspicious when they are around, so she sprawls on the ground and acts unresponsive whenever one of them passes. She never, ever lays on her stomach. She lays on her side instead. If needed, she will change, and she needs to be ready. So far, she has been able to avoid it, but she’s not sure how much longer it’ll stay that way.

  On the eighth meeting with The Gentle One, she decides to reveal to Garrison that she really is a werewolf. When he gives her a daily hunk of meat, she says to him, “Thanks, I know how much you are risking by helping me.”

  He freezes for a moment at her unexpected speech. “Y-you can talk,” he stammers.

  “Yes,” she says evenly. “I am a werewolf after all.”

  It makes her chuckle to see his reaction and she wonders if he thought she was a mute or something entirely out of this world.

  He overcomes his initial shock. “So it’s true?” He breathes, fascinated. “You really are a werewolf!”

  “Yup,” she replies. “I’m a werewolf through and through. But I can’t let those scientists know.”

  He nods. “I know. You won’t believe what they would do to you. I’ve heard them talking. It’s not, well, right.”

  “Oh, I can believe it,” she says.

  He scratches his clean-shaven chin. “Well, I guess that now I am sure you are an intelligent life form, maybe we can formulate a plan to get you out of here.”

  Intelligent life form. How odd. She nods. “About time.”

  He grins.

  They hear the slam of a door, and his head jerks in the direction of the noise.

  “I gotta go,” he whispers hurriedly, jogging away.

  Winslow comes soon after, but by the time he reaches her, she is already posing as a dead body on the floor. He paces back and forth. “What is wrong with you? You are starving, and you still refuse to show us your true form. You’re pathetic, pathetic I tell you!”

  She can tell he is growing anxious because his colleagues are starting to not believe his claim that she is a werewolf. If he loses this battle, they will never trust his judgment again. He storms off down the hallway, leaving her snickering to herself and missing Garrison.

  The following day, Garrison returns a little later than usual. “Sorry.” He pants as he reaches her cage. “The scientists have grown suspicious of me, so I have to lie low for a couple days. I managed to make it here today, but I may not be able to make it tomorrow.”

  She nods. “That’s understandable, but do you have a plan to get me out of here?” Now in preferred true canine form, she lashes her tail impatiently.

  A grin creeps up his face. “That’s the reason the scientists have grown suspicious of me.”

  She cocks her head, waiting for him to elaborate.

  He continues. “Well, they caught me tampering with the security system. I was checking where all the surveillance cameras are and testing the buttons controlling this electric fence.”

  She flashes him a wolfish grin, glad the scientists are too stupid to have the cameras on her now. “Well, what did you find?” she queries.

  He tells her where all the exits are and where the cameras are stationed. He says he even found the keys to unlock her cage. “In four days, I’ll come to release you. I just need to tie up some loose ends before I set you free.”

  She nods, wishing it was sooner. “Sounds fair.”

  Those four days seem to last an eternity. She yearns to see Garrison, but sadly, the scientists are keeping a too-close eye on him for him to slip away. Instead, she receives an extra-long rant from Winslow. At the same time he regularly comes, The Mean One storms over to her, stomping his feet angrily. He then proceeds to pace up and down the length of her cage with impatience.

  As usual, she poses perfectly as a dead body and watches him as he strides back and forth, back and forth. After the fifth length, he stops and glares right at her. She feels his eyes cutting into her. He leans forward, both hands on the cold metal cage rails.

  “You’re going to die, you know.” He pauses dramatically. “You’re going to die, but not of hunger. You have one last chance. Little wolf, little wolf, show me your truth. Or die.”

  Her heart lurches, what? He continues, almost spitting out the words with hatred. “I won’t let you have the pleasure of dying of starvation.”

  Her heart hammers, and it becomes hard for her to lay still.

  “I will make sure your death is slow and painful. Yes, very painful.” He says the next words with contempt in his voice. “You will meet your death at noon tomorrow. My colleagues refuse to accommodate you any longer, and we definitely can’t set you free. You are a monster.”

  He then departs, leaving her full of dread. How will Garrison save her from this?

  The next day, Garrison finds her anxiously pacing in her cage in canine form. She has nothing to lose anymore and would prefer to spend her last hours comfortable. She is so deep in thought that she does not even notice him.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asks.

  She jumps slightly at his voice. “Oh, I didn’t even see you coming, and no, I am not okay, just to let you know.” She continues, her voice panicked. “Winslow has some death ceremony thing planned for me today. He said he did not want me to have the ‘pleasure’ of dying of starvation. He wants to make sure I die painfully.”

  Garrison’s eyes widen. “Oh geez, he said that?” he asks, anxiety creeping into his voice. “Why on earth would he want to purposefully kill you? You never hurt him.”

  She snorts. “Oh yes I did. I humiliated him by not proving his suspicions that I am a werewolf.”

  Garrison huffs. “But still—”

  She interrupts, “Sorry to cut you off, but I need to get out today, before noon, if that’s not a problem.”

  Garrison’s eyes bulge like they are about to pop out of his head. “He plans to kill you at noon? Oh hell, I don’t know if I can pull something off that soon. I can try, but I don’t want to raise your hopes.”

  She whines pitifully. “Please try,” she says.

  “I will,” he says, his eyes hardening into a squint. “Just be ready for anything.”


  He sprints away as she is left to hope that he can come up with something; he only has three hours before Winslow comes to take her away.

  The minutes tick by slowly and painfully. Time feels like it is going as slow as the turn of a new moon. She tries to calm her racing thoughts to no avail. Questions cycle through her head. Will he be able to come up with something? What is he doing now? Why hasn’t he come yet? Has he been discovered? What’s going to happen to me? Her own pacing eventually begins to annoy even her, so she lies down and tries to relax. She will need all her strength if Garrison somehow comes up with a plan to save her. She keeps her ears pricked. Garrison did say to be ready for anything.

  The sound of feet clomping quickly over the concrete ground brings her out of her self-induced trance. Panicked but cautious, she glances down the hallway and sees Garrison hurrying toward her cage. His eyes are wide with fright, and he smells of fear. He skids to a stop at her cage and proceeds to jangle some keys, searching for the one to unlock her enclosure.

  He tries desperately to open her pen and says in a ragged voice, “Turned…off…electric fence…got…keys…scientists.” His panting is making him almost incoherent.

  “Wait, what happened?” she asks confused. “Were you found out?”

  Before he can answer her, the door at the far end of the hallway opens with a crash. Several scientists rush in and one of them yells, “There he is,” and points in the duo’s direction.

  “Get him,” another yells.

  Garrison curses between his pants.

  As the scientists rush toward them, Garrison finally manages to find the right key. He yanks her door open and yells, “Follow me!”

  She wants to ask him why. She knows this can’t possibly be his plan. But there is no time. He’s gone.

  He sprints down the hallway and she follows at an easy trot; running is easy for her, she’s used to it. She could move faster, but she refuses to leave him. The sound of pounding feet echoes through the hallways. Garrison makes a sharp left and then a sharper right. The scientists are gaining on us. She can hear their steady huffs as they chase behind. Garrison’s breathing is deep and ragged; he’s not as fit as he looks. She finds herself more worried about him than her.

  They wind their way through what seems like a labyrinth of hallways. The only thing keeping the scientists from catching them is every time they barrel through a swinging door, she kicks it closed with her hind legs, so anyone too close would be whacked in the face.

  She is surprised they were not intercepted before they made it to the exit. But by the time they finally see the door leading to daylight, the scientists have gotten very close—too close. One of them actually lunges at her in her werewolf form, and she feels his fingertips brush her tail.

  Garrison lurches toward the door to daylight. She can tell he doesn’t have much energy left in him. They burst into the open and continue to run, but they no longer have the swinging doors as buffers between them and the scientists. She still feels like she can run a marathon, but Garrison is falling behind.

  “Come on,” she urges him. “You can do it.”

  “No…I…can’t…you…keep…going,” he huffs.

  He makes one final attempt to pull away from the pursuing scientists, but then collapses to the ground in exhaustion. The scientists swarm around him like a hoard of bees. One of them yanks him to his feet and wrenches his arms behind him. No, she thinks, I can’t let Garrison suffer for me. She makes a wide U-turn and races back toward Garrison. It feels amazing to run free again. She can’t believe how much she has missed it and how naturally it’s come back. Three of the scientists are hauling him inside, the rest are actually still pursuing her, but they could never keep up with her in this form. She barrels into the scientists that were trailing her, and a couple of them fall over in surprise. She wants to laugh but can’t.

  She hears Garrison croak, “No!” as he sees her darting toward him.

  She body-slams the scruffy-faced scientist holding Garrison. Both Garrison and the scientist fall to the ground in a heap. The other scientists then turn on her. She bares her teeth and growls, and that seems to keep them at bay, but there are five of them and only one of her. How can I fend them all off?

  The sixth scientist, who was holding Garrison, gets to his feet and joins the semicircle of experts surrounding her. Garrison is left lying in the dirt. Her hackles rise in fear. As Garrison gets to his feet, she growls at him, “Go!”

  He looks stunned, and so do the researchers. “But I did this to save you—”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she interrupts. “Just go. The scientists want me not you.”

  Her words seem to hold true, because no one attempts to restrain Garrison. Instead, they are all focused on her—the werewolf they’ve pinned their funding and hopes on. Garrison’s face is full of grief as he stalks away into the woods.

  The scientists are closing in on her. Every time she takes a step back, they take two forward. Little Wolf, Little Wolf. Show us your truth. Her eyes dart from face to face. How long can this standoff last? She was never one for blood and gore, so she hoped no blood would be shed tonight. She hears a crash come from the laboratory. Some of the scientists are momentarily distracted, so she seizes the chance. She darts out of the almost-circle of researchers. Some of them lunge at her, but most are distracted by the noise. She is halfway to the woods when she hears a loud bang. A sharp stab of pain hits her in the side. She staggers, then she smells blood—her own. She cautiously licks the bullet wound in her side and glances toward the source of the noise.

  There, Winslow is standing, a wide grin on his face and a rifle in his hand. He cackles that evil laugh when he sees her looking at him. Some of the researchers are still making their way toward her, but he orders them to stop, saying, “Let her go and die like the dog she is.”

  The pain in her side is spreading, and it is starting to become unbearable. She staggers clumsily into the woods, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

  Her breath has become ragged, and her vision has begun to blur over. She knows she won’t last long. Just as she is closing her eyes to go to sleep for the last time, she sees a figure lumbering toward her. It’s Garrison. She recognizes his smell. Hand sanitizer. Pine needles.

  “No, No!” he yells as he stares grief-stricken at her ragged body.

  “Hi,” she says weakly.

  “No, it can’t be.” He sobs into her blood-matted fur. “Did they use silver bullets?” he asks dejectedly.

  She laughs weakly. “You don’t need silver bullets to kill a werewolf.”

  “You’re going to be okay. Right?” He snuffles.

  She sighs. “The bullet hit a major artery, I think. I’m going to die.”

  He sobs harder. “At least show her your human form one last time, before you…” He pauses, unable to say it.

  “Before I die?” she finishes for him.

  He nods.

  “Okay.” She sighs and closes her eyes as she feels herself shift from wolf to human form.

  She pries open her heavy eyelids and looks into Garrison’s striking blue eyes.

  “Goodbye, Garrison,” she whispers. “I’ll miss you. Catch you next life.” Then, she closes her eyes for the last time.

  “No, no, nooooooo.”

  As she drifts toward death, she hears Garrison’s somehow familiar wail morph into a mournful howl that pierces the night sky. The Gentle One. My wolf man. Then, as she stretches toward the light, it all makes sense. His smell. His sound. Those eyes. The best friend she vowed to always be there for. The boy. Now, the man. Another life.

  Winslow

  We fear what we don’t understand or can’t get our heads around. It’s part of being human. When we witness pain or hurt enough times, we do what we can to stop them. No one wants to be the prey or the weakest pup in a litter. We spend lifetimes trying to get bigger, stronger, and more capable. At least, that’s how it was for Winslow after the werewolves killed his family.r />
  He told himself, when they turned his baby brother, that he would find his justice. He promised his brother he’d find a way to put an end to the monsters. Still, he wasn’t sure it was right. There had to be a way for them to coexist without anyone being hurt anymore. Research. Science, he’d decided. But that was before the pain got too intense and he got angry, vengeful, unwilling to forgive what they had done.

  He liked to think his intentions were sincere. He did want to understand. He needed to know them to end them; that part he knew for sure. The rest, he’s still not sure of. Like love, hate and fear are complicated emotions, and so is vengeance. After years of saving and working hard to open the research center, he finally thought he was well on his way. Before the cages. Bella Lupe. Before Garrison. Before seeing his brother again. Before everything started to change; all at the bidding of a monster. Hell, before they caged his heart.

  He didn’t start out wanting to hunt werewolves or keep them in captivity either. He wasn’t the monster Garrison would make him out to be. No, it just happened. When one of the bastards kills a man’s whole family, he tends to take it personally, and the Research Institute came about as a defensive measure, technically. He refused to apologize for Bella Lupe or any of the others—past, present, future. There are more werewolves to hunt and humans to save, he reminds himself daily. We are who we choose to be, and I am a hunter, determined to snuff out a vicious breed. Love, empathy, and my ridiculous fantasies have nothing to do with it.

 

‹ Prev