by M. H. Bonham
“A silver bullet through the heart?”
“Yeah, something like that. Silver is poisonous to us. I had a really cool collection of Navaho jewelry I had to give away when I became lycanthrope.” She paused and tugged on Kira’s arm. “Come on, let’s get moving.” They headed to the cross street and turned onto Blake. “We’re hoping you might be able to identify the wolf.”
They walked a block and stopped at the entrance to a pub called The Grey Wolf. Kira recognized the sign from Trevor’s shirt. The building was gray stone with green painted doors and lintels. The stairwell that led downstairs to the pub was only marked by the howling wolf sign above it.
Kira hesitated. “It looks closed.”
“It’s not,” Megan said. “But before we go in there, there’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Pack rules.” She stared into Kira’s eyes in earnest. “This isn’t a democracy, Kira. There’s the Alpha Male and Alpha Female that lead the wolf pack. Every wolf has his or her place in the pack. New members are usually a cause for disruption. You’ll probably have to prove to a few where your place is.”
“I don’t give a shit about werewolf politics,” Kira remarked. “I want to know who the bastard is who killed my friend.”
Megan withdrew slightly. A glimmer of something—respect?—shone in her eyes. “Okay, I know that. Listen, Alpha’s name is Alaric Kerr. He’s a good pack leader, as pack leaders go. He also wants to find out who killed your friend and bring him to justice. Pack justice.”
“You said there were two Alphas—a male and a female.”
“The Denver pack doesn’t have a female Alpha. Not yet.” Megan gave Kira an odd look before walking down the steps.
CHAPTER 11
Kira followed Megan down the steps and felt as though she had been transported back in time. The pub looked like something Kira would have expected to see somewhere around the 1880s. The walls, floor, and furniture were all made from well-oiled white oak and pine. The bar had an ebony top and brass foot rails and the ceiling was real tin. It was dark and smoky here from pipes, cigars and cigarettes. She looked at the walls and saw that game trophies were mounted on the walls: elk, bison, deer and moose.
But more interesting was the clientele. Although it was morning, a large number of patrons had already gathered. An eclectic mix filled the room. Some, Kira guessed, were bikers but many more looked as though they held day jobs. Many were computer hacks, but some were students, business people and workers from various classes.
As Kira followed Megan in, she became self-conscious as she realized all eyes had turned on her. Gold eyes, brass eyes, yellow eyes—all glinted in the dim faux candle light.
“Heya, Meg!” said the bartender behind the counter. He was a large man who could have doubled as a bouncer. His sandy hair was long and tied back in a ponytail and he wore a white apron over his t-shirt and jeans. His forearms sported tattoos with wolves on them. “Found a new whelp?”
“Whelp?” said Kira. The term didn’t sit right with her and she suspected she was being insulted.
“Easy, Felan,” said Megan. “This is Kira.”
“Kira Walker?” Felan asked, his gold eyes focusing on Kira. “The girl the rogue bit?”
“Yeah, the same,” Megan said.
A low rumble issued from the throat of one of the blond biker men. He had been sitting at the bar drinking what looked like a Pina Colada. A little early in the day, Kira thought.
But the fancy drink was the only thing frilly about him. He looked like something out of a barbarian raid, with long blond hair, braided into unruly locks, wearing black leather that Kira suspected cost a small fortune. He was a big man and his smile was cold; he flashed his canines at them. “You know the rules for bringing in a monkey.”
“Bite me, Cathal,” Megan snapped. “She’s one of us now.”
“Perhaps,” said Cathal as he stood up and loomed over the two women. The smell of the alcohol on his breath was overpowering. “But I’m not particularly fond of wolf-bait.” He smiled again, showing his canines.
Kira was both frightened and angry. She could see Megan stiffening at the words. Kira wasn’t quite sure was the epithets meant, but she could guess. A big brute like Cathal could easily smash her face in with one meaty paw. “You’re an asshole,” she snarled at him, “and I don’t like your tone. Didn’t your bitch of a mother ever teach you manners?”
One of the werewolves at the bar stood up and glared at Cathal. He was a big man with a mustache and goatee and short cropped hair who loomed over the other werewolf. Much to Kira’s surprise, he wore a kilt. “Ladies, you’ve got a problem?”
“Easy, Mike,” Megan muttered. “We don’t want trouble.”
Cathal’s eyes glowed in anger for a brief moment, and then he laughed. The tension broke and the other werewolves laughed, too—a harsh, grating noise that gave Kira no comfort. Kira glanced at Megan, who visibly relaxed.
“She’s a feisty bitch, Meg,” he said. “You better take her on back to see Alpha. He’s been waiting for her.”
Megan nodded and turned to Felan. “After we get done with Alpha, can you whip us up some eggs and sausage, Fel? Neither of us had any breakfast.”
Felan nodded and Megan grasped Kira’s hand. “Come on, we’re going to Alaric before any of these thugs decide to pick on you further,” she whispered.
“Who was the guy that stood up for us?” Kira said, glancing behind.
“That was Mike Fowlkes, he’s sort of a cousin of mine from Missoula visiting.”
“Cousin? I thought you were bit…”
“We were bit by the same werewolf.” Megan pulled her along.
Kira stared at the biker bitches in the corner, who displayed their teeth at her. Did all the werewolves have tattoos? Even the geeks seemed to. “Tough crowd,” she muttered.
“Yeah, stay away from Cathal Murphy—he’ll rip your throat out,” Megan said.
Kira glanced back at the blond biker. She didn’t think Megan was joking for a moment. “Who is he?” she whispered.
“Alaric’s second-in-command,” Megan said, leading her through the crowded hall and toward a back room. “He’s leader of the Commerce City pack, but they’re all under the Denver pack leader. It’s no secret he wants Alaric’s position.”
“I’ll remember that,” Kira said.
Megan led her down the hall and stopped at the door. “Before we go in, you better know something about Alpha...”
“What?” Kira asked, her eyes narrowed. So far, she was becoming less and less impressed with this little community and her stomach was grumbling from lack of food. Perhaps at one time, she might have been nervous to stand toe-to-toe with a biker like Cathal, but she was getting tired of it all rapidly. Getting mauled by a wolf, getting fired, waking up naked outside, breaking some guy’s arm, and now being told she was a werewolf could have that effect on a person, she supposed. “Is there some sort of secret handshake or something? Do we howl at the moon, sniff butts, or what?”
Megan hesitated. “Well, maybe you just need to meet him.” She pushed open the door and waited. “That’s Alpha.”
Kira walked in. In the back room, there was a pool table where a couple of men and a woman were playing billiards. One of the men was short and a bit stocky with short brown hair and glasses. She guessed him to be in his early twenties. He was lining up the cue ball behind the six ball and aiming it for the side pocket. The woman was blonde and about the same age. She was slightly overweight and a bit dumpy, in a dress that was a few seasons out of fashion.
But what made Kira halt in her tracks was the only man whom she could imagine deserving the name “Alpha.” Alaric Kerr was the most handsome man Kira had ever met.
CHAPTER 12
If a man was born to be king, Alaric Kerr had to be such a person, Kira thought. Tall, lean, and muscular, Alaric looked as though he had stepped from some earlier time—an anachronism that didn’t quite mesh with the t
wenty-first century. Dark hair with a hint of gray along the temples, a strong jaw line, and chiseled features, Kira wondered if there was something to this lycanthrope thing. She had been working too long among geeks. He met her stare with his own steady brass gaze.
The other two lycanthropes stopped the game and looked up to see Kira standing in the doorway agape. Megan coughed nervously, but Kira ignored her. “So, you’re Alpha?” Kira said when she finally found her voice.
“I am,” Alaric said in a clear baritone that nearly melted her. He glanced at Megan and Kira followed his gaze to note that Megan immediately looked down when he looked at her. “Thank you for bringing her; you’re dismissed.”
The other two lycanthropes glanced at each other, put down their cues, and followed Megan out, leaving Alaric alone with Kira. “You’re wondering why I summoned you.”
“You didn’t summon me,” Kira snapped. “I came because I’ve had a lot of strange things happen to me lately...”
“One which involves turning into a wolf.”
“One which involves a dream where I turned into a wolf,” Kira corrected.
“Still in denial?” Alaric asked. “That’s very dangerous, especially when the wolf who bit you is still at large.”
Kira shivered slightly, but still met his gaze. “All right then, what is happening to me?”
A slight smile played across Alaric’s lips. “You are a bold one—as bold in human form as you are in wolf.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” said Alaric, but the smile did not dim as he walked over to the bar and strode behind it. “Something to drink?”
“Not this early—unless it’s coffee.” Kira eyed him warily as he pulled a carafe and two mugs from the bar and poured some steaming hot liquid in them. Kira’s nose twitched involuntarily. Coffee—and from what she could tell, of a South American blend—maybe Columbian.
“Hot coffee—you take cream or sugar?” he asked as he brought the mug over. Kira shook her head and hesitated as she took the mug from him. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to a table. “Don’t worry, my dear, it’s not poisonous. If I had wanted to harm you, don’t you think I already would have?”
Kira considered his words and tasted the coffee. She sat at the small table across from him and looked into those inscrutable gold eyes. “Dark, rich roast. Columbian?”
“Your nose probably told you that already,” Alaric said, taking a sip of his own. “But I suspect that you’ve already noticed your senses have sharpened. That happens when you go were—or so I’ve been told.”
“You’ve been told? You mean you don’t know what it’s like?” Kira looked into those brass eyes again. “But you’re a werewolf.”
“Yes, I was born this way from werewolf parents. I’ve never been a… Normal.”
“You mean a ‘monkey.’”
Alaric raised an eyebrow. “So, you’ve heard that term already.”
“Cathal was kind enough to introduce it to me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll have a talk with him. He knows better.”
“I don’t think he does and I don’t think he cares,” Kira remarked. “I’d be more careful whom I chose for second-in-command. That one will bite you.”
Alaric chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. But you’re not here to talk about my choice in officers, are you?”
“No, I’m here to find out what I can do about this.”
“About what?”
“Turning into a wolf—assuming I can.”
Alaric cocked his head.
Was this guy dense? Kira wondered. “How do I stop being a werewolf?”
Alaric chuckled. “You don’t.”
“I don’t?”
“No, once you’re a werewolf, you’re a werewolf forever,” he said. “You can’t simply take a potion and cure the lycanthropy.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Kira. “It’s like a disease.”
“A disease with no known cure.” Alaric paused and took another gulp of coffee. “But that’s not why I brought you here…”
“That’s why I am here,” she snapped. “Otherwise this is pointless.” She stood up to leave, but something in Alaric’s eyes made her sit down again. Something urgent. “Okay, I’ll listen to what you have to say and then I’ve got to go.”
“Fair enough,” Alaric said. “The wolf who bit you is still at large. He knows you’re alive and you’re the only one who can identify him.”
She snorted. “He looked like a wolf. Big and gray with yellow eyes.”
“A gray wolf, male,” Alaric said. “Big?”
Kira thought back. The flash of teeth; the yellow eyes. “I don’t know—it looked big in the alleyway.” She paused. “It was dark.”
“As big as a German Shepherd?”
“Bigger—I think.”
Alaric sighed.
“Look, I’m just guessing. It happened so fast.” She set the mug down. “Why? What is all this about? Why do they care about me?”
“Because the rogue wolves mean to start a war between lycanthrope and Normals—and they’ve chosen Denver to make their stand,” Alaric said. “If you can identify one of them, it might expose them.”
“A war?” Kira snorted. “But most of the Normals don’t even know you guys exist, much less care about you. Werewolves are something you watch on the old movie channels with hokey makeup and bad special effects—they’re not real to most of the people in Denver.”
“I know—and the rogue pack is suicidal if they think that they can take on the Normals. But there’s been one rogue wolf—or maybe several—who thinks that maybe if he shows the others that the Normals can be killed and the Normals don’t do anything, that it will bring all the lycanthropes into the war.”
“That’s insane.”
Alaric nodded. “That’s why I’ve tried to keep the enclave here in Denver a secret. Werewolves have had a hard time of it in the past. If people find out about us, we could be persecuted again.”
Kira finished her coffee and stood up. “Well, it sounds like you have your hands full.”
Alaric stood up, too. “You’re leaving?” His voice betrayed his puzzlement and dismay.
“Yeah, I’m leaving,” Kira said. “This is too weird, even for me.”
“You’re lycanthrope now. You can’t just leave,” Alaric said.
“Yeah? Well, just watch me,” she said. She halted as Alaric grasped her arm. “Let go. I want no part of this,” she said, her voice lowering to a sinister growl as she met Alaric’s gaze.
“No, Kira. You’re part of this, whether or not you want to be. You became part of this after a lycanthrope bit you, like it or not.”
Kira stared into his gold eyes and tried to suppress the shiver running down her spine. “I don’t care.”
“Don’t you want to find out who killed your friend?”
That stung. Kira removed her arm from his grasp. “Yeah, I do. But I’ll find out without your help.”
CHAPTER 13
Spaz stood at the front desk of Intermountain Telecom. The building’s lobby was typically ominous with black marble walls and chrome and black furniture. Too bad the company couldn’t afford something tasteful. He was now staring at a very bored security guard.
“She’s not here?” Spaz repeated.
“You deaf or something?” the guard said and went back to playing FreeCell solitaire on the computer.
“Did you check the name Kira Walker?”
“Yes.” He didn’t bother looking up.
“She’s not an employee.”
“No, she’s not,” the guard agreed.
“She’s a contractor,” Spaz said, exasperation creeping into his voice.
“Look, Buddy, we don’t differentiate between employees and contractors in the list. If she’s here, she’s on the list. If she doesn’t work here, she ain’t here.”
Spaz stared at the man. “Could you call IT Operations?”
The man
looked up, vaguely interested. “Who in IT Operations?”
“The secretary?”
“There’s no secretary.” He clicked on a card and moved it to another stack.
“An administrative assistant, maybe?”
“IT doesn’t have one.”
Spaz stared for a moment at the guard. “Do you have someone who could tell me when she worked here?”
“If she wasn’t an employee, no.”
Spaz gave up. He turned around and walked out of the building and into the hot sunshine. “Fucking moron,” he said.
Now he was stuck in Denver without a contact. Or rather, with a contact he didn’t want to deal with. He was pretty certain Murphy had turned wolf, and that was dangerous. He couldn’t risk what little link he had to the Forest to contact Murphy.
A cool breeze was blowing through downtown and he closed his eyes to feel the sun on his face. Damn it, he thought. If he didn’t find Kira soon, he might have to give in to the wolves. Or worse—to the FBI stiks.
Well, there wasn’t much to do now except to go back to his piss-ant job and pretend to work—at least until another idea presented itself. Spaz walked back to Axioms, on the corner of Welton and the 16th Street Mall. He walked into the cybercafé, moved the mouse around a bit on the computer to look like he was doing work, and ordered a latte.
It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful day on work, Spaz decided. He was in Denver, at least—maybe he might be able to find someone else who could give him access. Hell, he might get his own access if he could get them to hire him on. Spaz chuckled at that thought. If he could steal the right identity, maybe he could. Anything was possible, but at this time, it didn’t seem probable.
What seemed less probable was Kira walking right up to Axioms and ordering a cup of very expensive coffee. That’s why he couldn’t believe it when he saw Kira walking down the street toward his cybercafé.
K
Kira walked out of The Grey Wolf without breakfast and without Megan tailing. Alaric had escorted her out, like a gentleman. A gentleman who got a little hairy when the moon was full, ripped people’s throats out, and howled at the moon, she thought blandly. If she hadn’t seen Megan’s transformation and heard the werewolf in her head, Kira probably wouldn’t have believed it. She passed by two more gold-eyed people as she rounded the corner.