by SM Reine
He flipped it open to one of the last pages, rubbing his thumb over the place that his mother had written his name in her jagged, angry handwriting.
Seth can be the one to end it all.
That was the most cogent of pages. The rest of them were scattered ramblings about Adam and Eve and how his family was divine, blessed, destined for greatness. His mother believed that they carried the blood of the first man within their veins.
She didn’t mention at any point that such “greatness” would make people want to kill him and Abel.
He swallowed hard and tossed the diary on the bed. It wasn’t coming with him.
Seth zipped up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. One more full moon. That was it. He’d get Rylie through this night, and then he was done with the pack—forever.
Four
Katja wasn’t dead come morning, but Seth couldn’t help thinking that it might have been better to put her out of her misery. She was a naked, twitching mass of flesh drenched in her own blood. She whimpered with every exhale, even though she was sleeping.
The woman was battered. Absolutely destroyed. It was exhausting to change into a werewolf twice a month; being forced between shapes multiple times on a single night seemed to have broken her entirely. But there wasn’t a single bruise on her body underneath the crimson fluids slicking her flesh. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t interfering with her ability to heal.
Though she looked harmless now, Seth didn’t let his guard down. The floor was covered in inch-deep gouges as long as his arm—damage inflicted by werewolf claws. There were toothmarks on the baseboards, like she had been trying to chew her way out. The walls were cracked in several places. If not for the reinforced studs, she probably would have knocked the entire building down.
“Smells weird,” Abel said. He wasn’t in much better shape than Katja.
Seth’s sense of smell wasn’t anywhere near as acute as the wolves, but he was still trying hard not to breathe too deeply. “Weird” wasn’t quite the word for the stink in the room. “It’s foul,” he rasped, holding his sleeve over his nose. “What is that?”
“Some of it’s shit and piss,” Abel said. “Some of it’s blood. The other stuff…I don’t know.”
Katja groaned softly.
“What did you do to her?” Seth asked. He tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, but it was difficult. Abel wasn’t a nice guy, and he wasn’t gentle. Seth found it hard to believe that all the thumping he had heard coming from inside the cottage were only the sounds of a tormented werewolf hurting herself.
“I did Alpha stuff,” Abel said.
“Like what? Did you beat her?”
“Only when she attacked me first. You got a problem with it?”
“Maybe I do,” Seth said. “Where’s Rylie?”
“She’d do the same thing to Katja. She’s more practical than you are.”
That wasn’t why he was asking. Seth counted silently to five before responding. “I just expected her to be working with Katja today.”
“It’s too upsetting for her,” Abel said curtly.
That was what Seth had seen the night before. “You can’t tell anyone else that,” he said. The others couldn’t know Rylie’s weakness.
His brother glowered. “I’m not stupid.”
Seth stepped into the bathroom, which was untouched in comparison to the front room. The door was protected with silver and steel, too, so Katja hadn’t gotten inside to destroy it. He grabbed a blanket and a couple of hand towels out of the linen closet.
“What are you doing?” Abel asked.
“She’s a mess,” Seth said, wetting down one of the hand towels. “I’m going to clean her up a little.”
“Sorry I wasn’t gentler with the murdering beast that tried to bite me,” Abel said, rolling his eyes.
Seth kneeled beside Katja, throwing the blanket over her. It wasn’t cold in the room, but she looked uncomfortable shivering on the floor. A blanket was the least he could do. “Rylie’s killed before. You’ve killed before.”
“And you’d bite me if I deserved it, too. I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
It was pointless to argue. “Can you wake her up?” Seth asked.
“Sure.” Abel raised his voice. “Hey! Wake up!”
Katja jerked, but her eyes didn’t open. Her face scrunched.
“I was asking if you could compel her awake, you Alpha douchebag,” Seth muttered, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. Her skin was flaming hot and slick with sweat. He started to mop the blood off of her face.
“She’ll just get bloody when she changes again,” Abel said. “She’s got the most violent transitions I’ve ever seen. Like that scene with the elevator from The Shining.”
“Been watching movies with Summer and Rylie?”
“How did you know?”
Seth wiped the side of Katja’s throat clean and found the scars: four parallel, silvery gashes that were only visible from certain angles. It was the mark of the first werewolf attack that she had been unlucky enough to survive. The scars curved around her neck, disappearing onto her back.
He tried to turn her over as gently as possible. Katja jerked at the motion, eyes flying open.
“No!” she cried.
A clawed hand flashed through the air. Seth caught her wrist before it hit his face. She whimpered and swung again.
“It’s me,” Seth said in the same soothing tone he used on werewolves every full moon, grabbing her wrist yet again. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She struggled to blink and couldn’t seem to focus on his face. “The guy with the leather jacket?”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
Katja relaxed a fraction. “I think I’m having nightmares,” she said in a low, rasping voice. “I’ve been asleep for so long.”
Seth grimaced. If only she really were having nightmares rather than dealing with a nightmarish reality. “I ran some searches on your name. The newspapers say that you’ve been missing for three years.”
“I’m not missing,” she said. “I’m here.”
“No shit,” Abel said.
Seth shot a look at his brother, silently ordering him to shut up. He kept his voice soothing for Katja. “Where were you before that?”
Katja’s eyes fluttered shut again. “It was red.”
“What was red?”
“Everything. So much fire.”
The men exchanged looks. The disease might not have touched her body, but it seemed to be chewing through her brain—and fast. “What about Charla?” Seth asked. “Has she been with you, Katja? Was she in the red place?”
The woman’s eyes opened wide again. Her lip peeled back to bare her teeth. “Don’t you fucking touch her. I will kill you. I’ll skin and throw you in the pits myself!”
It was too difficult to hold her wrist down. Katja had found her werewolf strength, and her fingers swiped an inch from his nose. Seth strained against her, biceps flexing, teeth gritted. “Abel?”
His brother took her arm. He pinned it to the floor by her head.
“She’s nuts,” Abel said, grunting with exertion.
“Will you and Rylie heal her tonight during the full moon?” Seth asked.
“Yeah. Sure.” Abel shrugged. “Probably.”
It wasn’t exactly the vote of confidence Seth was hoping for. If they didn’t heal Katja that night, it wasn’t going to be safe to keep her around any longer—not when it took the two of them to hold one woman’s arms down.
She was going to have to shift into a wolf and be cured, or die the next day.
The pack gathered in the center of the sanctuary at sundown to prepare for the full moon. Rylie and Abel were usually there before everyone else, but they weren’t that night, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
“What’s going on?” Crystal asked. She was already naked and lounging on one of the picnic tables with her long legs sprawled out and fingers toying with her hair. Seth was nev
er sure if she was really that unselfconscious, or if she was trying to hit on him.
She definitely didn’t have anything to be ashamed about. Her curves were insane—the kind of breasts that would spill out of his hands if he tried to grab them, round hips, a tiny waist. But Seth hadn’t ever responded to her long stares and suggestive smiles. He preferred his women coltish and blond.
“Nothing is wrong,” Seth said, keeping his eyes on her face. “They’ll be here.”
“Actually…” Summer emerged from the trees with Sir Lumpy curled over her shoulders. It seemed that they had kissed and made up. “I’m going to be running with the pack tonight. Rylie and Abel are focusing on Katja.”
Crystal’s eyes widened. “Both of them?”
“Yep,” Summer said. “Don’t worry. Rylie can control the pack’s changes from the cottage, and I’ll stay with you guys until morning.” She said it loud enough that everyone could hear her, and heads turned to listen in.
Discontented murmurs spread through the pack.
“But she’s not an Alpha,” Paetrick whispered to Toshiko from the back of the crowd. If Seth had heard him speak, then Summer would have, too. But she didn’t seem bothered by the reaction. She grinned broadly at everyone.
“Spread out. Moonrise is in a half an hour.” Summer smacked Crystal on the thigh, making her flesh jiggle appealingly. “Get your unsanitary buns off the table, missy. Don’t you know that people eat off of that?”
“People eat off of my ass, too,” Crystal said, shooting Seth a look. “Strawberries, whipped cream…”
“Great. I’ll bring the chocolate sauce and a picnic blanket next moon, but I’m not prepared for a Crystal ass feast tonight.” Summer jerked a thumb at the ground. “Off.”
Crystal gave a chuckle and slipped down. “Okay, fine.” Her smile faded. “I’m not sure about this, Summer. You’ve only been with us for a few weeks—you haven’t seen anything go wrong before. And trust me, things can go really wrong. Even on a good night.”
Summer chucked her on the shoulder. “I’ve got Seth, Nash, and Abram if it gets apocalyptic. They’re the dream team. Don’t worry about it.”
Nobody else seemed inclined to argue with her, but nobody seemed all that excited about the upcoming moon, either. The pack spread out, filling the street with plenty of space between each of them. The shadows in the forest turned violet with growing night. The sky flamed orange. Someone turned the floodlights on, brightening the streets.
Seth followed Summer to the head of the street, right in front of Katja’s cottage. He lowered his voice. “Crystal’s right, kid. You’re not an Alpha.”
“What? I’m not an Alpha?” Summer’s jaw dropped in mock surprise as she turned to Sir Lumpy, whose front paws were dug into her shoulder for traction. “Did you hear what he said? I think he’s trying to pick a fight with me. You got my back, bro?”
The cat bumped his face into her chin. His toes spread and contracted as he kneaded her shirt.
“You can try to laugh it off all you want, but the pack needs an Alpha on the moons. There’s a lot of energy to control.” Seth gestured at two of the wolves talking to Crystal. “Pyper and Trevin hate each other. The only thing that keeps them apart on the moons is Abel.” He pointed to a woman standing alone on the other side of the street. “Toshiko’s submissive as they come. If someone gets provoked, they’ll go after her first without Rylie’s protection.”
“I know pack dynamics, old man,” Summer said. “Rylie’s been preparing me for this. Maybe the Alpha’s not here, but I’m here by her choice, and you’ve got to respect that.” She grinned, scratching her fingernails under Sir Lumpy’s chin. “Besides, I wasn’t joking when I said that I’ve got the dream team. If Pyper and Trevin get in a fight, you can shoot them.”
She was joking, but Seth winced. “I won’t always be here,” he said.
“We’re not talking always,” Summer said. “Are we?”
Her look was too knowing. Seth backed away. “I’m going to take position on the ridge with Abram. I’ll have my sniper rifle loaded with lead bullets in case I need to get a werewolf’s attention without hurting her.” He didn’t throw any pointed looks at Crystal, but it took effort.
“I’ll see you soon,” Summer said.
The top of the full moon was brushing the mountain behind her.
Alone in the wild, a werewolf’s change was a brutal, ugly thing.
The order in which a wolf shifted would vary from moon to moon, but a few things inevitably occurred each time. She would lose all of the hair on her head, leaving her looking bald and shriveled. Her knees would break and reverse before reforming into the shape of a wolf’s haunches. Her face would pop and crack as the bones extended into a muzzle, tearing the brittle skin for a few bloody moments before it healed again. Teeth fell out to be replaced by fangs. Fingernails became claws.
Fur usually came last, and by that point, the werewolf was a pathetic mass of blood-splattered flesh. A wolf would emerge, as beautiful as she was deadly, but not until she had gone through a painful gauntlet.
In the pack, controlled by an Alpha, the wolf’s transformation was almost beautiful.
Seth watched through his scope as the moon took the wolves one by one. Just because it wasn’t painful didn’t mean that the change wasn’t surprising every time, but the expressions he saw were shocked, not hurt. They only fell to their knees because they were ready to be four-legged.
He focused on Summer, whose change was the most beautiful of all—and the fastest. Everything happened simultaneously, each physical adjustment cascading into the next as if orchestrated by a skilled conductor. She described it as stepping from one skin into another—not really a change at all.
When she was done, she was a sleek, beautiful wolf. Bigger than Rylie, but not as big as Abel. Her eyes glinted silver in the dawning moonlight.
Seth turned his scope on the others. Crystal was tawny and stocky; Toshiko was shaggier. Most of the men were bigger than the women, with one or two exceptions. All of them were gorgeous, deadly, and completely in control of themselves. The gift of the Alpha went beyond painless transformations—Rylie also granted them with the ability to retain their human minds.
Within ten minutes, almost forty wolves stood where the humans had been.
Abram wasn’t nearly as sentimental about the process. He was poised a few feet away with a sniper rifle of his own, which he began packing up the instant he saw the pack finish changing. “I’ll hit the trail,” he said, collapsing the telescoping legs of his stand. “I should be with Summer. You got the ridge?”
“Yeah,” Seth said.
Tossing everything in his backpack, Abel jumped down the rocks to meet with Summer. Seth lowered his eye to the scope again and found nothing but empty street.
The pack had already ghosted into the trees.
Seth heard the scream at 3:06 in the morning.
That was the first thing he did when he heard it—he looked down at his watch to verify the time. The second thing he did was grab the walkie-talkie off his belt.
“Abram—you copy that?” he asked. “Scream at six minutes after three?”
When he released the button, only crackling static responded.
Dammit.
It had been an uneventful night for the first few hours after sundown. Seth tracked the pack through the mountains using his scope to make sure the wolves were maintaining normal movement patterns. They were more scattered than usual. Some of them weren’t following Summer. That was all right—the wards would keep them from leaving the property.
But that scream definitely wasn’t normal.
A second cry followed, punctuating Seth’s thoughts. It lasted longer and almost sounded strangled. The way it echoed over the trees, he couldn’t quite tell if it was human or wolf.
“Abram?” Seth asked.
Still no response.
He jammed the Walkie-Talkie onto his belt again, then lowered his eye to the scope and skimmed
over the sanctuary. There was no way to tell where it had come from when it echoed like that, but he thought he already knew who was screaming.
The trees were thin by the lake, and he skirted the empty grass behind the sanctuary, searching for any hints of movement.
A black beast flashed behind the cabins, moving too quickly for Seth to be able to tell which wolf it was. He hadn’t seen Katja in her furred form yet—she might have been black, like Abel. He couldn’t shoot. Not unless he was sure who was going to be on the receiving end of the bullet.
Swearing under his breath, he ripped his gun off its stand and leaped down the rocks. His boots skidded, spraying gravel behind him.
He hit the trail on his knees, rifle clutched to his chest, and broke into a run without pausing.
Another scream shook the forest. It bounced off the mountains, rattled within the trees, and faded into the starry sky. No way to tell where it was coming from.
Abel intercepted Seth halfway down the path.
He had changed into his wolf form, which had roughly the proportions of a very large, very muscular bull. He was breathing hard, and his muzzle glistened. Sweat or blood?
“Was that Katja?” Seth asked. Abel nodded. “Where’d she go?”
The wolf broke into a run.
Throwing the rifle’s strap over his chest, he dropped to a crouch and followed Abel, flashing through the trees.
Seth had been chasing werewolves most of his life. They had an instinctive understanding of the forest’s natural paths, leaping easily through labyrinthine branches and rocks without ever breaking stride. He didn’t share their instincts, but he had followed them often enough to learn all their tricks.
He and his brother took shortcuts over the stream, splashing through shallow waters; they clambered up the mountain on all fours. Katja must have been moving fast to have escaped them so quickly. Abel kept his nose to the ground, following invisible scents.