by D. M. Turner
“Where are we headed, sir?”
“Camp Jackson, outside Columbia, South Carolina. I told them you’d be there around noon tomorrow, early afternoon at the latest. I’m afraid that’s the best I could do.” He pointed them to a Liberty truck. “Um. One of you does know how to drive, correct?”
Ian and Brett looked at each other. Ian shook his head.
“No problem.” Brett smiled, despite the lie that had come out of his mouth. “If you’ll show me the particulars of this vehicle, we’ll be good to go. I haven’t driven this make and model before.”
Has he driven any make and model before? Ian pressed his lips together.
“Let’s go over it right now. You need to get out of here, put some distance between us and you before the moon rises. Make sure you park the truck somewhere inconspicuous, so someone doesn’t run across it and get alarmed, thinking it’s an abandoned military vehicle.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brett didn’t turn out to be a half-bad driver. If a man didn’t mind sliding all over his seat. Ian braced himself against the panel in front and to his right, trying to plaster his butt in the seat on the turns. It was a good thing the vehicle wouldn’t exceed about fifteen miles per hour. He was pretty sure his finger impressions were permanently indented into the metal by the time Brett found a good place to pull off near a lake.
They concealed the truck as best they could and barely had time to strip out of their clothes before the moon made its appearance.
As Ian shook out the last aches and tingles from the Shift, he glanced around and sniffed the air. Deer. He trotted toward it, following the ebb and flow of the air currents. His pulse quickened as the moon sang to him. Time to prove to Brett that they’d work better as a team with practice. He stopped on a rock along the lakeshore and glanced back. Brett trotted toward him. He halted beside Ian and lifted his head into the wind, his nose twitching. Then he offered Ian a canine grin.
As one they ran into the trees in search of their prey.
* * *
Home of Ian Campbell, Pack Alpha
Campbell Wildlife Preserve
Outside Flagstaff, Arizona
Tuesday, April 2, 2017
“So, you and Brett have known each other a hundred years as of this coming September?” Tanya’s eyes widened.
“Yep.”
“Wow.” She shook her head with a broad smile. “It’s so... unbelievable to think about a friendship lasting that long. That’s really cool. So, I assume Lieutenant Clark was able to help the rest of the time you were there.”
“He sure did. He found ways to excuse us from camp all three full moons.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.”
“He was.” Ian smiled fondly, sadly, as he thought about their first human friend. “It still amazes me to think that my choice to go to Camp Greene netted me two friends. One werewolf. One human. I hadn’t expected either.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“Sure did, but that’s part of tomorrow’s story.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she rolled them and smiled. “Fine, be that way. Will you at least answer one thing for me?”
“I suppose.” He cocked his head with a half-grin. “Depending what it is.”
“Is that what changed you?”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Up until then, you’d spent decades as a lone wolf. Not staying in one place very long. Not getting to know people. Staying by yourself a lot. Right?”
He nodded.
“Was it Brett and Lieutenant Clark that helped you realize you didn’t have to live that way?”
“Yeah, I guess they did.” Ian chuckled. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but yeah. They made me realize I didn’t have to live an entirely solitary existence.”
“Did that change your desire to steer clear of women, too?”
He raised a brow and shook his head. “You’ll just have to come back for more stories to find out, won’t you?”
Tanya glared playfully at him. “That’s just mean.” She sighed theatrically. “But fine.” She gathered up her notes and stood, then leaned down to hug him. “See you tomorrow.”
Ian turned in his chair to watch her leave then smiled as Brett entered the room.
“So, what story did you tell her today?” He dropped into the chair Tanya had vacated moments before.
“Boot camp. 1917.”
Brett nodded then grinned. “Did you tell her about my weekend of debauchery while we were there?”
Ian chuckled. “No, I’ll leave that story for you to tell. No worries. I didn’t rat you out. If you want her to know what a heathen you were in those days, that’s for you to confess.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Famous last words.”
Brett rolled his eyes, and they shared a grin.
1945: First Love
Dresden, Germany
Monday, February 12, 1945
THE STILLNESS OF the night struck Ian Campbell as eerie, just as it had at times over the past four months. He’d come to Dresden to report on the aftermath of the bombing of the railways in early October. He hadn’t expected to stay longer than necessary to get a story in. Things hadn’t worked out as planned. His gaze rested on the woman sleeping beside him in the narrow bed.
Part of the German resistance to Hitler’s regime, Marie Schreiber had captured Ian’s attention the first time he’d, quite literally, run into her as she exited a market with a small quantity of food. He’d apologized profusely for his clumsiness and picked up dropped butter and vegetables to return to her. The moment he’d looked into her eyes, he’d been captivated. She’d smiled shyly. He’d decided in that moment to stay for a few more days. Days had turned into weeks and then months.
Operating under the guise of either war correspondent or immigrant to Germany, he’d worked with his friend, Brett Mitchell, to sabotage the Nazi war effort at every opportunity. He’d come to aid the Allied war against Hitler’s army, only to find something unexpected and precious.
Marie had turned out to be a nurse, staying underground to render aid and medical care to Jews escaping Germany and refugees from all over the place. Her caring, gentle way had masked pure steel and grit. He’d admired both and taken to spending time assisting with her efforts. In exchange, she’d taught him what she knew of medicine and doctoring.
She deserved better than he’d given her.
Dark chocolate eyes slowly opened, closed, and opened again. Marie met his gaze and smiled so sweetly, a pang went through his chest. She rolled onto her side to face him and cupped his cheek with one hand. “You should be sleeping.”
“I know. Too much on my mind to sleep.” He glanced at the clock ticking steadily on the wall. “It’ll be dawn soon. I have to go.”
“What troubles you?”
How could he possibly tell her it was her? He forced a smile. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“You keep things from me.” She withdrew her hand, hurt flashing across her face.
Ian sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t keep secrets. Our lives outside these walls contain enough of those.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her naked body against his, taking comfort in her warmth. “I feel guilty.”
Marie’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“You deserve a ring on your finger, a man who’s fully committed to you, a horde of fat, happy children, and a safe home. I shouldn’t have come to your bed without being able to give you all of that, without us being married.” His parents would be sorely disappointed in him. It was a good thing he hadn’t seen them in decades. “My being here outside of the sanctity of marriage is wrong.”
“Your god would disapprove of finding love and beauty in the midst of ugliness?”
“In this case, since we’re not married, yes.”
“Why would you serve such a god?”
How could he answer that? He frowned. “Right and wrong don’t c
hange with the circumstances. What is right is always right. What is wrong is always wrong. It doesn’t matter what else is happening.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You and your absolutes.”
Not his, God’s, but okay. They’d had such discussions before. It was pointless to continue. As he looked deep into dark eyes, he struggled with a sense of wrongness intertwined with the feeling that they were so right together. He understood both and knew how to fix the former. “I want you to come home with me, back to the States, when the war is over. As my wife. Meine Frau.” He added the last to be sure she understood.
Her smile grew and warmed. Then she kissed him until they were both breathless.
Breathing hard and trying to catch his breath, he drew back a few inches. “Is that a yes?”
“Ja! Yes!”
Relief and joy coursed through him. “Hot dog!”
Her expression turned perplexed. “Hot... dog?”
“That just means I’m happy. Excited. Thrilled beyond belief.”
“Ah.” Marie nodded and confusion fled. Her gaze slipped away. “I, too, have a secret.”
“Oh?”
“Ich bin schwanger.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t know that last word.”
She frowned. “Um.... I am... with baby.”
He froze. Did she mean what he thought she did?
She laid a hand flat on her belly. “Here. Schwanger.”
“You’re pregnant?”
She nodded, an uncertain smile curving her lips.
“Are you sure?”
Another nod.
Ian laughed and hugged her. “That’s wonderful.”
After a moment, Marie drew back and studied his face. “Truly?”
“Truly. When I go home, I’m taking you with me. We’ll raise our child in a safe home with plenty to eat. No more rationing. No more war.”
Worry fell away, and she smiled. “Ich liebe dich.”
“I love you, too.” He gently covered her lips with his. Her arms slipped around his neck and pulled him closer.
* * *
He was late, and Brett wouldn’t be happy, regardless of how good the excuse. Ian grinned as he rounded the corner and saw his best friend leaning against the wall of the Kreuzkirche, the Church of the Cross, a block down.
Brett’s gaze scanned the area and settled on Ian. He pushed away from the wall. “You’re late.”
“It couldn’t be helped. I—”
“I know perfectly well what you were doing. I can smell it and her all over you.” He shook his head, turned, and walked away, headed toward one of the factories they’d observed the past few weeks.
Ian jogged to catch up, falling into step beside him. “I’d apologize, but I’m not all that sorry.” He grinned and slapped his friend on the back.
Brett scowled. “What are you so happy about?”
“Marie and I are getting married. I plan to take her back to the States.”
“Have you told her what you are?”
Ian frowned. “No. I’ve hidden it this long. I don’t think she needs to know.”
“Hiding something of this magnitude from someone you see a couple or three times a week for a few months is one thing. Hiding it from someone you live with for years as man and wife is another entirely. Surely you know that.”
“I’ll figure it out once we get home.” He lowered his voice. “She’s pregnant.”
His friend cocked a brow with a sideways glance. “Are you sure it’s yours?”
He flinched. “How can you even ask that?”
Brett sighed. “She’s a member of the Resistance, Ian. You and I both know what broads in the Resistance are doing and have done to get information or put themselves in a position to commit acts of sabotage.”
Broads? Brett had spent too much time with the American soldiers. He’d picked up some of the new lingo. Not all of it good. “Not Marie. She doesn’t do that sort of thing.” He lowered his gaze to the road to prevent a glare at a Nazi soldier passing within view. No use antagonizing them. “I’m the only man she’s ever been with.”
“If you say so.”
Ian sighed. Little point in disagreeing. Brett had a jaded view of women, so any argument Ian gave would go in one ear and out the other. Brett’s view wouldn’t change a bit. Only a good woman probably had a prayer of accomplishing that. “So, what are we doing today?”
“Meeting with Hans. He’s dealing with refugees from Poland and near the border. The Soviets have taken Warsaw and Auschwitz.”
He liked Hans. The aging man led the local resistance. He had a quick wit and a sharp tongue when he wanted it. Mostly he had a generous heart and a strong sense of justice. They needed to encourage him and the others to move west, get out of Dresden. Some of them would argue, unwilling to leave their homes. All Ian and Brett could do was try. Then he needed to get Marie out. Soon. “We need to vacate the city soon, head west.”
“I agree.”
“Have you talked to General Clark or his aide to find out where our troops are?” They’d known General Harold Clark since he’d been a lowly lieutenant at the beginning of World War I. He was the only human who knew what they were. His father had been one of them.
“Not for several days. I haven’t been able to reach anyone at that end.”
Ian frowned. That wasn’t good. Either communications had been disrupted or the war had taken an ugly turn for Allied forces. Until he heard otherwise, he’d choose to believe the former. The latter would be too hard a hit to morale.
* * *
Tuesday, February 13, 1945
Huddled into his coat against biting cold, Ian leaned against a wall of the Kreuzkirche, observing activity in the Old Market Place and watching the sun set. This time, Brett was late. Ian frowned. He had plans with Marie and didn’t want to be late, but he couldn’t leave for their rendezvous without at least touching base with his friend.
A slight, icy breeze carried a familiar scent. He turned in that direction to see Brett rushing toward him, walking as fast as he could without breaking into a run that might draw unwanted attention. Even from that distance, he appeared to have his teeth clenched.
Ian frowned but didn’t call out. Other people passed by without paying a bit of attention to either of them. Best to keep it that way.
Brett halted beside him, leaning closer to murmur, “Where’s Marie?”
“At home waiting for me. Why?”
“We need to get to her. Now!” He nudged Ian in that direction and fell into step beside him, his pace rapid again.
“What’s going on?”
“Hans got word to me. The Nazis found out about some of the Resistance. They’ve spent the day hunting them down and executing them.”
“What?” Horror ripped through him. Not caring who noticed, Ian broke into a run. He had to get Marie out of the city.
Brett pounded the ground alongside him. “I also finally heard from Clark. We need to get out of the city immediately.”
Yeah, he’d kind of figured that much. If the Nazis knew about Marie and some of the others in the Resistance, it would be only a matter of time before soldiers hunted them all down. Brett and Ian could get caught in the sweep. They had to leave the city, possibly join up with Allied forces later to get out of Germany.
They reached the building Marie lived in. Ian yanked open the front door and ran up two flights of stairs, Brett thundering behind. He found the door of her one-bedroom apartment unlocked and opened it. “Marie!”
No answer.
He ran into the bedroom and halted in his tracks. His heart lurched then plunged to his knees, along with his stomach.
Marie lay sprawled on the floor beside the bed, naked, battered, and bruised. The combined scent of sex and fear confirmed that she’d been raped. Her pallor spoke of death, even if he’d missed the bullet-sized hole in the side of her head that seeped blood.
“No!” Ian collapsed next to her and swept her into his arms. Her b
ody had already grown cold. He’d been too late. Far too late. The Nazis had killed the woman he loved. Killed their unborn child. It had been his responsibility to keep them safe. He’d failed, and they were both dead. Tears trailed down his face.
“I’m sorry, Ian.” Brett’s gentle, soft words only made him angry.
He growled. “This is your fault.”
“What?”
“If you hadn’t been so late tonight, I could’ve gotten here in time to protect her.”
“Ian. Look at her. She’s been dead for hours.”
Ian shook his head then gritted his teeth. “The ones responsible for this will die. I’ll see to it personally.” He picked up Marie’s body and laid her gently on the bed, covering her with a blanket. Then he closed his eyes and memorized the scents in the room. The men who had done such a horrible thing would die. When he finally looked at Brett, he knew the wolf looked out through his eyes.
“Ian....”
He snarled and brushed past Brett, following the scents out of the apartment, down the stairs, and onto the street. He ignored passersby who dashed out of his path as he trailed his quarry. They wouldn’t get away with what they’d done.
“Ian!”
He ignored his friend and kept going.
It was after dark by the time he found the first of the men. Three of them. Walking down a quiet street, laughing and joking with each other like they hadn’t brutalized and slaughtered a beautiful young woman. He shed his clothes as he walked then Shifted. They’d know fear as he ripped their lives away as surely as they’d done hers.
He caught them by surprise, ripping the throat out of the first one before they could even react.
The second went down more slowly, his chest torn open by the slash of claws.
The third, Ian toyed with, feigning leaps for the man’s chest, reveling in the glorious scent of terror, before finally knocking him to the ground and ripping out his windpipe in one bite.