“Here,” she said, tapping the page. “Here is where you meet me.”
Right on the edge of the pack’s boundaries, she had found it. A narrow track, but one a car could travel down. The same one where Jessica’s girlfriend had been waiting.
She circled the spot with her finger several times, making sure he could see exactly where she meant.
That was it. That was everything decided. Or at least everything she was going to tell him about.
With her throat drying by the second, she turned her attention from the map and looked him straight in the eye.
“Are you sure? If we start this now, that’s it. There’s no backing out.”
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” he said, kissing her on the lips.
“Okay, so this is how you’re going to help me.”
* * *
Michael
* * *
For Michael, speaking in front of large crowds was up there with root canal treatment and long journeys on public buses. If at all possible, he would avoid it at all costs. Unfortunately, just like dental work and crowded public transport, it was sometimes necessary. And this was one of those times.
“Thank you, thank you so much for coming here today.” His voice was hoarse and, with his current pulse rate, he felt he was no more than a few minutes away from coronary arrest. But this is what Freya said would work. So, this was what he was doing.
“For the last few days, I have been learning about your heritage and history, with the gracious guidance of Freya.” He offered a nod and a smile, to where she stood at the back of the room. As expected, all heads turned to note her typically-scowling reaction. It was strange seeing her like this again. He’d almost forgotten that hard glare of disapproval, which had been a permanent fixture on her face when he had arrived. Now that they had all seen her there, it was time to attract attention away from her.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to be meeting some of you on a more individual basis but I’d like to know if you have any questions about Blackwatch. About what we are currently doing and what our aims are for the future are. If there’s anything that you’d like me to feed back to my superiors.”
Just as Freya had expected, the hall erupted into a ruckus of questions coming at him from every quarter. It wasn’t surprising. Only a hundred and twenty years ago, the wolves had been kept prisoners by Blackwatch, as slaves, intended to be their own personal army in the fight against vampires. It was no wonder they had questions. Or that they were angry. All he had to do was to keep it bubbling, long enough for Freya to get to the ridge and back. Two hours running time. That was what she said it would take. So, taking a deep breath, he watched as she slipped out the back door, and then turned his attention to a woman with silver-white hair, standing in front of him.
“What I want to know is how they’re going to compensate us for the years they kept us captive?”
He took another deep breath. Only one hour, fifty-nine minutes to go.
Chapter Thirteen
Michael
When he returned to his cabin, Freya was waiting there.
“So, you managed it then?” she asked.
Without a word he flopped down onto the bed and groaned. The whole thing had lasted close to three hours, most of it going around in circles.
“You know you gave me over to the firing squad?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” she said, the smallest hint of a smirk on her lips.
“You’d think I’d been in charge back in the1800s, the way they attacked me. I’ll tell you what, though, it’s making me look at Blackwatch in another light. Although I guess that was half your aim too?”
Again, the smirk was there.
It had been an eye opener, that was for sure. All he’d ever heard in Blackwatch training, was how they were the peacekeepers, the ones who guarded the line between the human and paranormal worlds. Who prevented the two halves meeting and the chaos that would ensure. When Blackwatch spoke of the wolves, there was a cursory acknowledgment of what had happened, just a small black mark on their reputation. But the way the wolves told of all the injustice they had suffered, it was more like they had spilled the whole damned inkwell. When he got back, he would make the real situation known.
“Did you get the bag where you wanted it?” he asked. “Don’t forget, I can get you anything you need, once we’re safe.”
“It was just some clothes and a few essentials,” she said, although he could swear she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
Freya
* * *
Everything was ready. All she had to do was see it through. As planned. But it was going to be a little less straightforward than she had let on to. She had kissed him goodbye in the cabin, before taking him, in her usual gruff manner, to Chrissy, so that her friend could act as his tour guide for the next day and a half. Leaving him, without the slightest acknowledgment, she was on her own.
The problem was her scent. The wolves would be able to track her. The only way they’d believe that she’d met with an accident would be if there was evidence of it. The most common place that wolves got into trouble, was on the hunt.
It took over half an hour, padding through the forest in her wolf form, to pinpoint what she was after. A deer. A stag. By its smell, it was a young one, but still big enough to do the trick. What’s more, it was wonderfully close to the bag of essentials that she had left the night before. So far, it was all going as well as she could have hoped for, although locating a deer was the easy part. It was the rest that was worrying her.
Some of the pack loved hunting. Lived for it. The chase and the adrenaline. The kill. But not Freya. She’d seen the light fade from another creature’s eyes. Seen the despair in them. The desperate hope that she might change her mind and relent. She’d sworn she’d never repeat that. But, right now, she knew what she had to do. One last time. She couldn’t stay. Not now she knew there could be a life for her out there, away from the rules of the pack and the demands of the Alpha. Since that day with Jessica, she had known that she could never again be the one to decide who got to live and who died. If she stayed, that’s exactly what she would have to be prepared to do.
The stag had his head lowered when she reached him. With his nose down, she could hear him chewing away. His antlers brushed against the grass. She padded forward; his scent strong. It was strange how easy she found stalking. How instinctive. A twig cracked in the distance and the stag’s head sprang up in alarm. Her pulse rocketed in response. No doubt another animal. A rabbit. A squirrel even. Focus. That’s what mattered now. She could do this. She could bring him down easily, swiftly. He would barely know what had happened. She would make it look like a struggle later. Her pulse pounded. She could see the veins bulging along his rippling muscles. His life blood flowing through them. A life that she was about to extinguish. One death. That was all. One deer. No human. No Jessica this time.
Her movements were instinctive. Springing off her back legs, she launched herself into the air. Her front claws came down on the neck of the creature, piercing his skin with a popping sound. Next, she felt the muscle, and the severing of the artery as she bit deep. He kicked back, but her teeth were already locked in place. The taste of blood filled her mouth. Warm and metallic. It had been the same with Jessica. The distraction of that thought cost her. The stag kicked again and twisted, loosening her grip. Something sharp went into her ribs. An antler maybe. Or a hoof. She didn’t have time to think about it. She dug her claws in deeper and hoisted herself up. With all the force she possessed, she locked her jaws again, twisting her head back and forth. The heat of his breath filled her nostrils as his writhing snorts, grew weaker and weaker. She held on, feeling its strength ebbing and the pulse beneath her teeth weakening. Seconds passed. Then a minute. Only when there was no hint of life left, did she let go and back away.
Given the circumstances, it was as clean a death as she could have hoped for. But that wasn’t all she needed. With the creature
now lying sightless in front of her, she had no compunction about what she did next. Still in wolf form, she locked her jaw around the stag’s neck and tore away a chunk of flesh. With her claws she ripped another from his stomach, and then went to work on his hide, ripping away part of his tail in the process. Content with a job well done, she gave her handiwork one more check, before changing back into her human form.
The chill on her skin was amplified by the sight in front of her. It had been dead, of that there was no doubt, but the glazed, unfocused eyes, the jaw, hanging at an unnatural angle, turned her stomach. The deer was well and truly convincing now - another job ticked off the list. There was only one thing left to do.
Taking another step back, she winced and glanced down at her ribs. A fresh bruise was flowering, already in hues of red, blue and purple. A kick like that was going to hurt for a good-few days. But that wouldn’t be enough. Bruising didn’t leave a scent trail. Turning around, she walked the few feet over to the tree where her rucksack was hidden and, steeling herself against the pain, she reached up and pulled it down.
She had packed sparingly. One pair of jeans, two tops and one pair of trainers was all there was in the way of clothes. The rest of the bag was filled with medical supplies, and a freshly-sharpened knife. Selecting the knife, alcohol, needle, thread and a wide bandage, she stuffed the rest back inside.
She took a long, deep breath.
“Okay, you can do this. You can.”
Grasping the knife, she hesitated, a hundred thoughts whirred through her mind. None of them positive. Nerves that had been bubbling away inside her all morning were now strong enough to make her feel nauseous. After this, there would be no going back, ever. This would be a huge risk but it came with the chance of an amazing prize – the chance of a new life. A choice. Neither of those were available to her if she stayed here.
Her first job was to sterilize the knife. She unscrewed the bottle of alcohol and poured some over the blade. Her hand was steady now, as she watched the clear liquid run off onto the earth below. She had only brought one bottle and needed to be sparing with it. This wasn’t going to be the only time she’d need it.
Content that it was as clean as it could be, she screwed the lid back on the bottle and placed it down by her feet. The next task had been the one that had kept her awake all night.
Holding the knife above her bare skin, she breathed in and clenched her jaw. It needed to be precise, clean. Something she could stitch up easily, after expelling enough blood to make a trail. She hesitated. Lowering it again, she moved over to a tree and snapped off a small branch, which she put between her teeth ready to bite down on.
Here goes, she said to herself, pinching a fold of skin at her waist and pulling it away from her body. She looked away, as the knife tore through her flesh. Rather than biting down on the stick as she had intended, she gasped, dropping it to the ground. She looked down at the blood pouring from her side. It was a deep but neat cut; easy to sew back together when she was finished with her plan.
She turned.
And froze.
“Well isn’t this interesting?”
Chapter Fourteen
Freya
The blood flow was steady, streaming rather than gushing. Exactly as Freya had intended. What she hadn’t banked on, though, was having an audience. And of all the people in the pack, it didn’t get worse than this.
“Whipper,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Her eyebrow arched. “I think the question is what are you doing? Taking down a stag. Making it look like there was a struggle. Now stabbing yourself. I have to say, Freya, that looks painful. Why don’t you sit down?”
Freya glanced at her side. Blood pooled between her fingers as she attempted to stem the flow. A light-headedness was starting to muddle her thoughts, although it had nothing to do with the blood loss.
“Just go, Whipper. Just pretend you didn’t see me.”
“Why? Why would I do want to that?” She began to move, circling around Freya, her lips curled upwards in a sneer. “For years I’ve been telling your mother to cut you loose. It’s funny isn’t it? Lena, with all that objective ruthlessness, and yet her blind spot for you. I guess it’s a maternal thing.
“I could tell straight away you were never made to lead a pack. And the way you acted in that whole Jessica debacle. Well. But I have to say, falling for the Blackwatch boy. That I didn’t anticipate.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Really? I’m looking forward to the look on his face when I return to the village with your blood on my hands. After all, you’re a traitor. There again, so is he.”
“You stay away from him!” Freya could feel her pulse pounding. The wet heat of the blood had spread down her thighs. “You said it. Cut me loose. Just let me go, pretend you never saw me. We’ll both be happy.”
Chrissy’s sneer was full on now.
“Oh, but that’s not what I’m after. And you’ve just given me the perfect opportunity to get what I really want.”
Even without their connection, Freya knew exactly what Whipper’s next move was going to be and she was ready for it. The pair changed at the exact same instant. Fur gleamed and rippled in the wind. The knife dropped to the ground where, only a heartbeat ago, Freya had been standing as a human. Whipper snarled, hackles raised as she leapt into the air. In any normal circumstance, Freya would have sprung forwards too and met her mid leap, but this wasn’t normal. The transformation had split her wound even further. Blood was now spilling from her side. Fighting the pain, she ducked, as Whipper flew at her.
“That’s your plan? To keep dodging me until you bleed to death? I thought I’d get a bit more of a fight out of you than this. I guess the Blackwatch boy has brought out a soft side in you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Why do you think? For the good of the pack.”
Freya balked at the words. For the good of the pack. The line that covered a multitude of sins.
The Beta heard her thoughts. “You’ve always failed to see the big picture, Freya. That’s your weakness. You let the death of one useless wolf cloud your decisions.”
“One useless wolf? She was part of our pack. She was a girl who made a mistake. She was in love.”
“Oh god, please, don’t. And don’t try that act on me.”
“Act?”
“I was there, remember. I saw what you did. I was in your head. I heard every thought. I know the truth. You enjoyed it. You enjoyed the power. You enjoyed killing her.”
“No!”
Freya leapt through the air now, landing with her claws in Whipper’s neck. But she had barely made contact when Whipper twisted and turned, pinning her to the ground. The pair tumbled one over the other, landing almost exactly where Freya had started.
“You know, I’ve dreamed of this. I thought I’d have to wait years. Lena would never let me kill you while she was still in charge. I always assumed I’d have to wait to overthrow her before I could get to you.”
“You couldn’t be half the Alpha my mother is.”
“We’ll see.”
Whipper’s weight was full on her now. Her thoughts digging into her mind, too. Freya had to shut her out. That was the first thing. With Whipper in her head she knew she didn’t stand a chance against the mind games.
“You think you can block me out?” Whipper sneered, their thoughts still tied. “Maybe when there's a full pack you can slip under the radar, but not now. “
“I beg to differ.”
It took a mountain of concentration. A surge of energy that rushed up from her feet, through her back and throbbed around her skull. Then, like a rubber band snapping between the pair, the link was severed. Whipper snarled, jumping backwards, momentarily freeing Freya from her grasp.
Adrenaline flooded Freya’s veins. Now, at least, she could act without Whipper hearing her every move planned. Although, what she could do was still
a mystery to her. She had intended to sew herself up, after leaving a small pool of blood. But, to do that, she needed to be human, and she had already lost far more blood than she’d intended.
The snarling grew in volume as Whipper prepared to pounce again. Foam dripped from the wolf’s jaw. This was it, Freya knew. If Whipper got her claws into her this time, it would be the end. But she couldn’t afford to dive away again. Each leap had cost her more and more blood and ripped her cut wider and deeper. She turned her head, searching for a way out. Searching for a miracle. And there, in the long grass, it glinted.
Her timing had been flawless, in spite of the pain. As Whipper leapt towards her, Freya had turned back to human, rolling over in the grass, and grabbing hold of the knife. As the Beta came down, she impaled herself on it. With each wine and whimper, Freya pushed the blade in deeper and deeper, until the full weight of Whipper lay square on her body, her blood-soaked fur draped over Freya’s skin. Death was quick, as the rattle of blood in her lungs stilled and the wrenching pain, as every organ shut down, ceased. Whipper’s last gurgling breath, sounded in her ears.
How Freya found the strength to move afterward, she did not know. But, somehow, when all had fallen silent, except for the sound of her own, panting breath, she rolled out from underneath the dead beast.
So much blood covered her body, it was impossible to know which was her own. Through, from the pain that now gripped her side, a great deal must have come from her. And it wasn’t just her side now. Whipper had taken a chunk out of her shoulder and the whole of her left thigh was blue with bruising.
Limping her way to the bottle of alcohol, she opened the lid and poured some over her wounds.
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