by Juniper Hart
“Nash, you are not dead, not even close. And you’re not trapped by anything other than your own resistance. Please come with me. It’s been far too long since the others have seen you.”
“Don’t pretend you care about me, Damon. We both know why you’re here. You’re having a crisis.”
A smidgen of guilt slid through Damon, but he instantly silenced it, masking his unease with a short laugh.
“Why must you always assume the worst of me? I can’t just stop by for a visit without being scrutinized?”
Suddenly, Nash bolted up from his slouched position, his head erect as he stared straight ahead. A tingle flew through Damon as he observed the old man.
He’s having a vision, he realized. I was right to come here tonight.
“Trouble is brewing,” Nash breathed. “Civil unrest. What have you done?”
The words sent a fusion of alarm through Damon, but he again forced a chuckle.
“I haven’t done anything,” he replied. “It’s business, as usual.”
Nash made a hissing sound. “You’re bringing unrest in the pack,” he insisted. “Stop whatever you have started before it is too late.”
Damon sat back, chewing on the insides of his cheeks.
It is the right thing and I don’t care what anyone thinks.
“I am the leader now,” Damon retorted. “My leadership is what will keep the pack safe—”
“You came here for guidance, Damon. I am telling you what I see. You may choose to heed my warning or you can suffer the consequences. Whatever you are doing is not in the best interest of the—”
Nash froze in mid-sentence, his head cocked to the side as if he was listening for something.
“Everything is about to change, Damon…”
Alarm flew through Damon and he leaned forward to stare steadily at the old seer.
“What is about to change?”
A slow, eerie smile lit Nash’s lips, but he remained in a state of trance.
“You will fight for your power,” he whispered. “But if you share, there will be order.”
Damon’s brow furrowed.
“Share my power?” he asked. “What does that mean, Nash?”
The grotesque beam faded from Nash’s face and he scowled, settling back in his recliner.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he grumbled. “Why do you insist on bugging me? I’m trying to listen to my radio program. I haven’t got many more years left before my ears go, too.”
“Nash, the radio isn’t on.”
“Maybe it’s just the voices in my head,” the old timer chimed and Damon laughed.
At least he hasn’t lost his sense of humor, he thought, but the messages he had received were unsettling. He rose to his feet, not wanting to irritate Nash any more than he already had.
“Okay, old man, I’m going,” Damon sighed. “Are you sure you won’t come with me? I was not blowing hot air when I said that everyone would love to see you.”
“No one wants a reminder of their vulnerabilities, Damon. No one wants to see me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You have no choice; it’s your duty as pack leader to ensure your elders are cared for, but you wouldn’t truly come if I didn’t hold the answers you seek.”
Damon stared at him, wondering how much of what Nash said was true.
“Get out of here, Damon,” Nash spat. “I don’t want a reminder of what I used to have, either. Or should I say, what I used to be.”
Slowly, Damon turned to leave, his mind racing to understand what Nash had told him.
Share my power? Everything is changing? he thought as he left the house and jumped inside his Bronco. What could the warning mean?
Before going blind, Nash had been the most fearsome leader in recent generations. He was ruthless, bowing to no one and running the pack with an iron fist, forsaking the velvet glove completely.
Perhaps he had grown overly confident, or maybe he had upset one member of his pack too many times, but one full moon, ten years prior, Nash had befallen a fate that had almost killed him.
It had been Damon who had found the massive man, half-dead and smothered in quicksilver about the head and ears on a path in Sibley Park. He had shifted back into his human form and was barely conscious when Damon stumbled upon him.
“Who did this to you?” Damon howled.
Nash was in no position to explain anything.
The liquid had solidified under the glint of the moon, and Damon had almost died himself, dragging his leader to the safety of an allied doctor.
Nash had lived, but the silver damaged his eyes, and his ability to shift was gone forever. He had retreated to his house, becoming a shadow of himself while Damon had taken over leading the pack.
While Nash had lost his wolf abilities, he had gained a powerful insight into the future, one he shared only with Damon.
Nash never did recall what had happened that November night, and the pack had long forgotten to avenge his attempted murder.
All but Damon.
The image of Nash, the ferocious and fearless, laying in a pool of his own weakness was forever etched in Damon’s mind. What had happened to his predecessor could easily happen again, and Damon was aware that little had changed in Bismarck in ten years.
Whoever had wanted Nash dead could easily wish him the same fate.
That night, however, Damon’s focus was not on Nash’s plight—not exactly.
He had driven to visit the older man because he could sense the discourse within the pack. He had been trying to ignore it, but since he had first given the kill order, there was a mounting anger, which was developing a life of its own.
No one had said anything to him directly, but Damon could tell when trouble was stirring in their midst, and he was not going to shut his eyes to the possibility that a take-over might be on the table.
They wouldn’t dare, one part of him assured him, but a small, insecure voice in his mind seemed to worry enough to overshadow his booming confidence. Nash has never steered me wrong. I will take his words into account and keep my eyes open.
He pulled onto Interstate 94, heading out of Bismarck across the Missouri River.
I think it’s time that I sat down with the boys and we have an open discussion.
Damon already knew what the fuss was about: they didn’t like his orders.
They think what I am asking is beyond what we should be doing, but if this was their families at risk, this would be no question. They have no empathy, no compassion for the people of this town.
Secretly, Damon wondered if his intentions behind executing the order were just another power struggle.
No one realized it, but the wolves ran the town. They ran most towns without their mortal counterparts ever knowing they existed, and it had been like that for centuries. An infestation in his town showed weakness in the pack, and that would be bad for everyone.
He pulled off Route 1806 in Mandan going north and turned onto Old Red Trail toward River Road. He was early for the meeting, but it gave him time to think about what his next move would be.
As Nash had predicted, the moon was very near to its complete fullness. It hung low in the sky as if weighed with bright, white secrets, and when Damon pulled into the abandoned dirt lot beside the tavern, he took a minute to appreciate its beauty.
We may not have chosen this path for ourselves, but we are steeped in mysticism and guided by that mysterious orb in the sky. How long has it been since I simply sat here and looked at the moon?
He could not recall.
An immediate sensation of peace stole over him as he peered over the Missouri River and at the hazy glow of the beams. It was like meditation, and he felt its power touch his core.
The hair on the back of his neck bristled and his nose twitched.
Someone was there.
Slowly, he opened the driver’s side door, peering around into the night. It was very dark, no lights anywhere except for the gi
ant ball in the sky. It did not make a difference to Damon. He preferred the blackness. It gave him an advantage his prey did not have.
He slammed the car door shut to startle whoever was lurking around, and he heard a gasp in the bushes at his right. His eyes shifted to glow yellow and his nose began to sniff the air.
Whoever it was did not pose a danger. He could smell the fear radiating from the being in the bushes, followed by the aroma of urine.
This ought to be fun, he thought wickedly.
“You can come out of there,” he called. “You shouldn’t be lurking around like that at night. North Dakota is an open carry state and I have a permit.”
He was not armed, of course, but it was easier than explaining he was a Lycan and could kill just as quickly as a bullet.
There was a slight rustling, and Damon continued to stare into the tree line when two teenaged boys appeared, their faces gaunt with terror.
“Don’t shoot us!” the pimply-faced blonde cried, shining a flashlight on his face. “We didn’t know anyone owned this place, honest!”
His companion nodded so hard in agreement, Damon feared for the tendons in his neck.
“What are you doing here?” Damon asked patiently.
“We… we just…uh—”
“Nothing!” the skinny brunette squealed. “Nothing. We’re lost.”
Damon continued to stare at them impassively, his amber eyes glinting deviously in the night.
“You’re lost?” he repeated. “Where is your car?”
The blonde pointed and his friend hit him as Damon turned to look. Parked behind the building was a white sedan, and suddenly Damon realized that the boys were trying to break into the tavern.
“Are you trying to rob my place?” Damon asked, his voice growing cold with fury. His eyes blazed a surreal glow, and the boys seemed ready to lose control of their bowels.
“No!” they screamed in unison. “No!”
“We just wanted to see what it looked like inside!” the blonde sobbed, his legs shaking. “We weren’t going to touch anything, honest!”
“Honest!” his friend echoed. “We’ve passed here dozens of times and we always wanted to know what it was like inside.”
Damon continued to stare at them silently, and slowly, they lowered their eyes. He grinned to himself in satisfaction, but maintained his ferocious expression.
“If you ever step foot on this property again, you will regret it. Consider this a warning and tell your friends the same.”
The boys stood frozen in place and Damon took a threatening step toward them, trying not to laugh aloud when they jumped.
“Get the hell out of here!” he snarled.
It had been a long while since he had seen two people move as fast as the terrified kids, and he stood solemnly, keeping his eyes trained on them as they jumped into the car and squealed out of the dirt parking lot.
Well, that was fun, he chuckled to himself, walking toward the entrance of the roadhouse.
Those boys wouldn’t be the first nor the last to come crawling around the pack’s property.
There had always been an aura of mystery surrounding the tavern. It had gone out of business many years earlier. No one could really remember it as a standing bar, but someone from the pack had purchased it.
It had no potential, being in a secluded area of a nothing town. Why anyone had ever thought to build such a spot in the first place was an enigma. It had been strictly used for meetings, and nothing of any value was kept within its walls. The most that could be stolen was a fully stocked beer fridge and a few bottles of Jack Daniels. Still, it was securely locked, and over the years, it had never been breached.
There’s a first time for everything, Damon mused, unlocking the building. Maybe I should have let them in to curb their curiosity.
He knew he would never do that; it was much more fun scaring the teens with the shroud of danger when he saw them.
What else do I have, really? Damon joked wryly to himself.
He flipped a switch and the dusty lights illuminated the interior of the shoddy room. Making his way to the bar fridge, he yanked out a beer and flopped onto one of the worn stools as if addressing a bartender.
He wasn’t looking forward to that night’s meeting. It wasn’t going to end well—he could feel it.
You are the leader. You must ensure it goes well, he reminded himself. And you must reclaim your authority to any of those who have begun questioning you.
He was never supposed to have been leader and he had not trained his whole life as a successor would have. Damon had been forced to learn through Nash’s blind teachings and experience. It was daunting some days, especially when he felt he was fighting the pack on every decision.
Outside, his ears picked up the sound of tires on gravel and he groaned inwardly, staring at his watch.
They were arriving early.
Staring expectantly at the door, he immediately sensed it was Ty. The man’s brooding demeanor could be felt from miles away.
I don’t even need supernatural abilities to pick up on that, he thought with irritation. The entire weather changes when Ty is around.
Voices made him sit up, and as the door began to open, he knew that something was terribly wrong.
Oh no… what did you do?
Suddenly Nash’s voice reverberated in his head.
Everything is about to change, Damon…
“Boss…” Jake entered first, his face twisted in apology. “We didn’t have another choice.”
Damon jumped to the floor and studied his face.
“Any choice in what?” he demanded, but Jake turned back to the doorway as Ty stepped inside, dragging along a gagged and blindfolded girl.
Dizziness flowed through Damon as the magnitude of what they had done slapped him in the face.
“Who is this?” he hissed quietly, not wanting the girl to hear his voice.
“She works at The Cherry House,” Jake volunteered.
“And what is she doing here, tied up like a scarecrow?”
Ty glowered at Jake.
“It’s his fault, Da—”
“If you say my name, I will kill you,” Damon interjected before he could finish. “Continue.”
“She saw us,” Jake explained. “I couldn’t just leave her.”
“She saw you doing what?” Damon asked between clenched teeth, but as Jake shifted his eyes, he knew the answer.
“She saw everything, boss,” Jake conceded. “She knows who we are.”
“I wanted to kill her,” Ty volunteered. “But Mr. Bleeding Heart here thought it would be a better idea to bring her to you.”
Suddenly, the girl, who had been standing completely still and silent, bolted toward the door.
Without waiting for anyone else to act, Damon shifted and pounced upon her, knocking her to the ground. She writhed beneath him, gasping and terrified. She began mumbling something incoherent and Damon stuck his snout in her ear, growling angrily.
She immediately stopped fighting, and Jake hurried over to reclaim her.
“Sorry about that, boss,” he chirped as Damon regained his human form and leapt to his feet, brushing off dirt from his now naked body.
“Great,” he muttered, looking at the tattered remains of the green t-shirt on the floor. “I liked that shirt.”
“What do you want us to do with her?” Ty asked grouchily, tossing his plaid shirt at Damon.
It barely covered Damon’s nakedness, but it would have to suffice until someone brought him pants.
“Lock her in the back room and make sure she’s securely tied. She’s feisty,” Damon sighed, fastening the buttons.
Jake laughed. “She’s not at all feisty,” he assured Damon. “But I’ll make sure she doesn’t escape.”
“We shouldn’t keep her around,” Ty snapped. “It’s too dangerous. Let me take her out back and kill her.”
Damon stared at him for a long moment, tempted to agree with him, but as he looke
d back at the shivering girl, the memory of her scent filled his nostrils with surprising intensity.
“No,” he said slowly. “Not yet.”
“Boss…”
“I said not yet!” Damon snarled, and both men backed down instantly.
They hurried to secure the girl in the storage room, leaving Damon to stare after them and wonder why he had decided to keep her alive.
He had no answer.
Chapter Five
No! No, this isn’t happening. I have not been kidnapped. This is a nightmare. I have finally fallen asleep and this is a terrible, terrible dream.
Of course, Summer knew she was not so fortunate. She had inconceivably witnessed the murder of a man in the most bizarre fashion.
Are they wolves? Werewolves? Is there such a thing?
She had no other explanation for what she had seen, though.
Maybe I have just gone over the edge with all the stress I’ve been under and I am hallucinating. That is feasible.
The adage that crazy people didn’t know they were crazy popped into her head.
Struggling against the cords on her wrists, she wondered what the men in the other room were planning to do with her.
It’s obvious that Ty is in a big rush to kill me, she thought, her heart ramming against her chest. I wonder why their boss didn’t agree. Are they an actual company or…
Summer’s mind was in overthinking mode and it was worse than she had ever remembered it. If she had questions before, someone had suddenly opened Pandora’s Box and she was caught in the middle, drowning in the unexplained.
I have to get out of here, she thought, recalling how close she had come to calling in sick at the bar. Why didn’t I call in? Why didn’t I insist that Tonya go home instead of me?
Rationally, she reminded herself that the police would be looking for her. The dead body remained in the alleyway behind her work, after all, and she had gone missing at the same time.
A manhunt will be launched for me, she thought with optimism. The trail is hot. They will find me soon. We didn’t drive very far. We’re close and the cops will find us.
Yet as she sat in the back room of the unknown place, she did not hear sirens or loud voices. She heard nothing but the sound of rushing water in the not-so-far-off distance.