by Jane Toombs
Chapter 24
Sitting on the top rail of the horse corral fence,
Wolf took a deep breath of October air, smelling the sweet scent of orange blossoms mixed with the earthy smell of horse. He thought California was a wonderful place to live even though he wasn't sure Grandfather's wife liked him.
Mima had liked him right away and Wolf preferred her company to anyone else's--except for Grandfather's. He thought her smooth, dark skin was the most beautiful color he'd ever seen.
Ivan and Arno were fun to play with once he got over fearing he'd hurt them. Cousin Natasha's new baby might be fun, too, once she got bigger. All little Tanya did now was cry, sleep, smile and eat.
Wolf enjoyed eating himself. He'd never seen so much food in his life as was piled on the dining room table at each mealtime. And everybody, even the women and children, could have all they wanted.
Mima was teaching him English, the language of California, and already he'd learned many words--far more than Cousin Natasha. She was only interested in her baby. The great stone house still awed Wolf and he spent as much time outside as possible. He'd made friends with Jose, who tended the animals. Jose spoke yet another language, Spanish, and Wolf knew some Spanish words, too.
He was happy here but he missed Grandfather. He wasn't sure why Grandfather had to go off and leave them. Grandfather's wife was still angry about him going. She'd argued with Grandfather the night before he left, the two of them making so much noise Wolf couldn't help but overhear. "Damn it, Liisi," Grandfather had shouted, "General Sherman's my friend. So is Custer, for that matter. Cump says he needs me, that it's vital I ride with Custer. God knows you don't need me; you've got a better head for business than I'll ever have. Hell, you tripled our income while I was in Russia."
"Business!" Grandmother's voice was as barbed as a harpoon. "Who's talking about business? I need you here beside me. The twins need you. And what about your niece and grandniece? Wolf? Mima?"
"I won't be gone forever. Six months at the most." "That's what you said when you went off to war the first time. The second time you left you simply disappeared for three years--I didn't even know where you were. This time, how do I know you'll ever come back?"
"If I recall correctly, you left me while I was in the Union Army. How do you think it felt to come home and find you gone?"
Grandmother spat a string of words in Finnish.
"Damn the woman!" Grandfather exploded. "That hex
witch affair was not my fault. She certainly won't turn up in the Dakota Territory. General Custer is fighting Indians, not witches."
"I thought you claimed to be a friend of the Indians," Grandmother said.
"In this country only the Havasupais are my friends. I have nothing against those Indians Custer is riding against-- Sioux and Cheyenne--but a man must take sides. Cump and Autie are my friends. We've fought together. If Cump says I'm needed, I'll go."
"I saw that letter, don't forget. 'Like a thoroughbred horse, Custer needs the right man to handle him and you're the best handler of horses I've ever met.' That's what General Sherman wrote. Are you to travel halfway across the country and face hostile Indians merely to nursemaid Autie Custer?"
"Liisi, women don't understand these things."
"I understand more than you think. You've been home
six months and you're bored. Now you've been handed an excuse to leave us again. Leave me."
Grandfather's voice softened, grew sad. "I don't want to leave you, Liisi--you're my life. But I do have an urgent reason to go away for awhile."
After a long silence, Grandfather's wife had said.
"The urge to shift has come back, hasn't it?"
Frightened, Wolf had put his hands over his ears and refused to hear the rest. He'd never forgotten what Grandfather had told him in Gregor's cottage, never forgotten about the beast that lived inside Grandfather.
Wolf had heard howling on the night they first arrived here and tried to hide, afraid the beast was loose. Mima had found him under his bed and held him close, murmuring soothingly. He was glad of her company but, without being told, he was aware that she knew, as he did, who the howling beast was.
If he didn't mean it, why had Grandfather promised him he'd never let the beast run free? And what was Wolf to make of the answering howl drifting on the cold night wind? Who was the second beast?
Here in the sunshine, the memory of that terrible night seemed faint and far away. Yet, if he turned his head. Wolf knew he'd see the darkness under the trees in the pine grove where the sun barely filtered through the boughs. The grove was always shadowed. Like Grandfather.
At least nothing had howled in the woods since he left.
Grandfather didn't return in six months, it was two years before he rode up one June afternoon on a big sorrel with a white blaze on its forehead. Warned by Grandmother of his coming, Wolf had watched all day for him. He sent Arno and Ivan running to tell everyone, then held them back when they would have rushed into the drive to be the first to greet their father.
It was fitting that Grandmother should be first. Wolf respected her; she awed him. He'd been relieved when she began to treat him as part of the family, insisting he call her Grandmother, but he never felt fully at ease with her. Like Owl Wing, she was a shaman, so never to be completely trusted.
He stared in surprise as she gathered up her skirts, flew down the front steps and ran like a girl toward Grandfather. Astonished, he watched Grandfather rein in the sorrel, lean down and lift Grandmother into the saddle, holding her in his arms while they kissed as enthusiastically as a courting couple.
He turned away, feeling heat stab through him, as it
had begun to do whenever he thought about women. He wished he had a girl to kiss like that.
Wolf didn't have a chance to do more than greet Grandfather until after the evening meal.
"Time for the men to retire to the study," Grandfather said as he rose from the table, beckoning to Wolf to join him.
Wolf followed proudly. He'd been pleased to find he'd grown enough so that his head was now level with Grandfather's shoulder. But his pride and pleasure abated when he remembered what he must reveal without delay.
"Liisi says you've been a big help to her,"
Grandfather said as he settled into his leather chair.
Wolf, standing next to the desk, smiled. "The twins mind me," he muttered shyly.
"Good. Come on, sit down."
Wolf perched on the edge of a straight-backed chair. He cleared his throat. Since he couldn't think how to begin, he blurted, "Something howls at night again."
"Again." It wasn't a question. Grandfather sighed. "Yes, Liisi told me."
"Mr. McQuade's lost some steers," Wolf went on. "He and the other ranchers think it's wolves. They mean to hunt them down."
Grandfather's golden gaze held his. "What do you think, Wolf?"
Wolf had never lied to Grandfather. He took a deep breath. "You know what howls. You once ran with it."
"It's not that simple." Sadness laced Grandfather's voice. "What I know and what the beast inside me knows are not one and the same. When he's loose I have no control, I'm not aware of what he does and I can't remember afterward, when I return to myself. But, yes, I suspect the one who howls is a shapeshifter like me."
Wolf nodded. He'd come to the same conclusion two and a half years ago. "They'll kill him."
"The ranchers, you mean." Grandfather clenched his fists. "What in hell can I do? After the last time, I swore I'd never shift again, swore I'd never come to myself with blood on my hands and its salt-sweet taste on my tongue. And yet I was forced to shift to live, there on that hill of death with Custer." He shuddered.
"I set the beast loose to kill men, Wolf. Kill the poor damned Indians who were only trying to hold their lands. I had nothing against those men but I doomed them to death.
I'd rather die myself than allow it to happen again."
"Mr. McQuade will ask you to hunt with him,
" Wolf said after a long silence.
Grandfather dropped his head into his hands. "Oh God, how can I track down one of my own kind?"
Wolf had no answer but he did have more to say. "Some nights it prowls close by the house. Like it wants something."
Grandfather sat up abruptly. "You've seen the beast?" Wolf nodded. "I didn't tell anyone. I was waiting for you."
"What did the beast look like?"
"Big. Sort of like a bear, sort of like a wolf. Claws. Fangs. Sometimes runs on all fours, sometimes walks upright."
Sergei recalled old Dr. Kellogg's description of the beast after seeing Sergei shift. "In other words, like me when I change," he muttered.
Wolf's dark eyes were solemn. "I've never seen you change."
"I hope to God you never do!"
"The other beast is a man, too, isn't he?" Wolf asked after a moment.
"He must be."
Wolf continued to stare at him, waiting.
What the hell does he expect of me? Sergei wondered.
But he knew. I can't, he thought, I can't.
The only thing he could do was change the subject.
"Have you ever sensed any more stalkers like that one who attacked me in Russia?"
Wolf shook his head.
"I've been meaning to tell you," Sergei continued," that I think I came up against a stalker in this country once, fourteen years ago when I was in the Union Army. I couldn't sense him, just like at the dacha. He damn near killed me-- would have except Hank Ulrich saw him aim the gun at me and shot him dead before he could fire. I believe now he knew I was a shapeshifter and that he had a silver bullet in his rifle. He was one of our own men, a Union soldier. It makes me wonder. If there were two stalkers, there damn well might be more."
"I'll keep watch for them," Wolf said.
"Good. As for the beast, I don't see a way to help
him. If I don't shift I'd have to find him in human form. And where is he? Who is he? When he's a beast, even if I broke my vow never to shift again, how do I know the beast within me could be of help?" Sergei stared at his hands. "All I'm sure of is that I can't hunt him with the ranchers. But I'll make damn certain he doesn't harm any of us."
"I'm glad you came home, Grandfather." Wolf spoke fervently.
Sergei's gaze assessed him. Growing, becoming a man, but still a boy. A boy who was too young to take on the responsibilities of a man.
Yet I rode off and left him here to do just that, Sergei thought with dismay, picturing Wolf sitting up on the nights when the moon was full, watching fearfully and wondering what to do while the beast prowled around the house.
"I won't leave again," he promised Wolf, knowing Liisi was right and that he shouldn't have gone away in the first place.
His efforts to help Custer had proved futile. No one could have saved Custer on that hill. Custer had been phenomenally lucky all his life but there at Little Bighorn his luck had run out.
So much death. Soldiers. Sioux and Cheyenne. And the poor damned buffalo, slaughtered so the Indians would be forced onto the reservations or starve. It sickened Sergei. Here at home, another child had been born, a child able to pass along the terrible unwanted trait of the Voleks. Little Tanya would have to be warned when she grew old enough. So would the twins. Sergei clenched his jaw. Damn Liisi for having them and himself for his inability to kill them when he first returned from Russia.
Unless Liisi worked another miracle with her charms and amulets, sooner or later he'd be forced to kill the twin who shifted.
Wolf's voice startled him, he'd forgotten the boy was
in the room.
"Grandfather, there's something I have to tell you
about the twins. Ivan's like Tanya and Natasha. Arno is different."
Sergei's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean, different?" "I feel a shadow inside Arno. Like in you."
To Sergei, the twins' energy auras were as identical as they were. Was it possible Wolf could sense the shifter before the boys grew to manhood?
"Arno," he said, musingly.
Wolf nodded.
Could he trust Wolf's perception? As he pondered, Sergei decided he couldn't bring himself to kill Arno even if he was one hundred percent certain Wolf was right. Not without giving Liisi a chance to work her magic. They'd know if Wolf was right in a few more years. When Arno shifted. "What we need is a wall around the property," Sergei said.
"To keep the beast out?"
Sergei shrugged. "Or in."
Two weeks later, Liisi persuaded Sergei to take her along when he made a trip to Sacramento to look over the new McDee canning factory. The small business he and Paul McQuade began was expanding so rapidly the company could hardly keep up with the demand for its products.
McQuade had been fascinated by Sergei's edited account of his memory loss and recovery and had offered to change the company name to McVee now that Sergei knew his real name. Liisi had advised against it, so Sergei had declined. She'd been right so often he couldn't ignore her advice.
They stabled their horses and carriage at Ulrich's in Thompsonville and took the stage into Sacramento, returning three days later, laden with packages from Liisi's shopping. They were within a mile of home when Liisi, who'd grown increasingly uneasy since leaving Thompsonville, suddenly clutched Sergei's arm.
"Mima," she whispered. "She's in danger. Something's wrong, Sergei. Hurry!"
He whipped the horses. "Can you tell what's wrong?" "She's sending danger signals, that's all I know."
Liisi closed her eyes, concentrating.
What the hell could be wrong? Sergei asked himself. The beast? True, the moon was waxing but it was still five days away from full. According to Wolf, the beast was never seen nor heard except during the peak of the cycle. But what other danger was there? Indians? Sergei shook his head.
The scattered groups of Miwoks still living in the far hills hadn't bothered settlers for years.
Bandits robbed travelers on occasion but bandits rarely strayed from the main roads. None had ever been seen near the valley.
Sickness? Injury? A snakebite? There were rattlers in in the valley and the hills. Mima knew how to treat snakebite, though. Was the danger only to Mima? Were Natasha and the children safe?
As soon as the carriage passed between the granite columns, Sergei shouted for Jose. What he got instead was Paul McQuade, running down the drive toward him. Sergei reined in the horses, the carriage rattled to a stop and he leaped to the ground.
"That beast got Mima last night," McQuade said in
lieu of greeting. "We've got a posse searching."
Dread left Sergei temporarily speechless.
Liisi joined the two men. "What happened?" she demanded.
McQuade took off his wide-brimmed hat and scratched his head. "As near as we can figure, Mima went out after dark without telling anyone. Natasha says that Wolf was amusing the children with games when suddenly he jumped to his feet, called Mima's name and ran from the house. He came back
an hour later. Without her."
"Did anyone see or hear the beast?" Sergei asked. McQuade shook his head. "Stands to reason that's what got her. Night before last the beast killed the new cook the Haskins hired a couple of months ago. Didn't no one see or hear it that night, either. But they found footprints. Besides, she was mauled pretty bad. We mean to gun down that devil beast once and for all."
"You go ahead and join the others," Sergei said grimly. "I'll be along as soon as I can."
Inside the house, Wolf confirmed what McQuade had said. "I didn't see him but it must have been the beast who took Mima. He didn't kill her, she's still alive. I feel it." Wolf's fists clenched. "I wanted to find her but I had to come back. Natasha and the little ones were alone." Sergei nodded his understanding and approval. "I'll find Mima," he promised, hoping against hope he'd find her alive. "You'll keep watch, Wolf, from inside. Everyone must stay in the house tonight."
"In my tower room," Liisi added. "I have spells to keep anyone
and anything from entering that room. We might be a bit crowded but we'll be safe for the night there."
Belinda was home in Thompsonville taking care of her sick mother. Jose didn't at Volek House, his cabin was several miles away, not far from McQuade's spread. At the barn, Sergei found Jose eager to get home to his family before dark and let him go.
Did the shifter need the moon? Sergei wondered as returned to the house. The moon wouldn't rise until nearly midnight but that might not make any difference.
In the storage room he took down his rifle and checked it carefully. Turning to leave, he found Liisi waiting. She offered him a small leather pouch.
"You may need these," she said.
He loosened the drawstring and peered inside. Three bullets. Silver bullets. The hair bristled on his nape.
"I had them made after I heard the howling for the first time," she told him. "They'll fit your rifle."
"I can't kill him."
"You may have to," she insisted.
"If I brought him here in human form, could you help him? Would you?"
"I don't know if I could. I'm afraid not. I was forced to help you because I was bound to you by forces beyond both of us. The twins are ours, so I understand how to help the one who will need it. But I'm not bound to this other. My lore does have limits and I fear he's beyond them."
"Would you try?"
Liisi considered. Finally she shook her head. "I'll
do nothing that endangers my family. Remember, Sergei, how many we care for. They'd be helpless without us."
The twins. Natasha and Tanya. Wolf might survive on his own but he wasn't yet a man. Reluctantly, Sergei conceded the point. Even if he found the other shifter in human form, he didn't dare bring him to the house.
Carrying his rifle, he set off in the early dusk, intensely aware of the pouch with the three silver bullets resting in his jacket pocket. His special sense surveyed the fields and woods, searching for energy auras. He had no intention of joining McQuade's posse because he'd hunt best alone.
God grant Mima was alive and unhurt.