Evie looked at him and understood that it was true, and to a greater extent, understood him better than she had until that moment. His methods appeared crude, but his understanding ran deep. She felt foolish for falling into his trap, while also realizing her gratitude toward him.
“Rage is a mighty weapon,” he said low. “Now that you know it, take care that it does not blind you. It is a deep well of passionate energy, but the blindness of rage often leads to misjudgment, and ultimately death. This I know. But discretion, as you have, harnesses and directs that great energy, putting it to work in due course. Do you understand?”
“Control,” Evie said. “Like Papa always says.”
Abel’s great dark head nodded heavily. “Power ruled, controlled, is the most deadly weapon of the wild animal.” He looked a moment to David. “This one tapped the rage and used it well in the heat of battle. His only mistake was not reeling it back, later; it is a slippery slope. For the circumstance, I do not blame him. He is forgiven as family, not justly dealt with.”
David said nothing. His head was low, his eyes dim.
“And this one,” Abel said, nodding to Erica. “This one lusts for a battle to fight. She hears the old world louder than the new. She must learn to take possession of her passions, before they lead her beyond her skill, or force her from this home.”
A barely perceptible growl began in Erica’s throat.
“Peace,” said the old wolf. “I do not mock. I made example of the silver-white, not you. Stronger senses are yours; share them with her, as she shares her strengths with you. It is the way of the pack. And listen, all of you now, and learn survival. The old Snows live long, but not forever. These lands you cherish are small, and a day will come when you will either defend them or abandon them. Learn to defend and elude before you openly brawl and spill blood, if here is truly where your heart is, and not in the wilds more suited to our kind. Learn to assess your enemies and choose the battle of your favor. Have you heard me?”
“Yes,” the other young agreed quietly.
Now he looked straight into the silver-white’s eyes. “And you; remember the ferocity you hold in reserve, below your outer grace and beauty. I ask for the last time: what have you?”
“Strength,” Evie said, “of mind and body. I have control. And speed. And I have the pack. And the pack has me.”
“You have all. May it serve you long, young Snow.”
Evie bowed her head respectfully. After a moment Abel stepped closer to her, his head high over hers.
“Now, shall we be friends beyond distant relatives?”
“Yes,” she said.
The old wolf dropped his head, and with a heavy push he nuzzled her in the same manner he’d made nice with Erica. Then he looked to his brother. “All of you young, look beyond me. See the honor that comes to those possessing strength and wisdom.”
“It takes a village to raise a child,” the white wolf said. “The world was better when such was the practice.”
Abel laughed and looked back to Evie. “Come, you have been tested and lectured enough. We cannot sing with accursed listeners near, but we can run.” He looked her squarely in the eye. “You beat me fair. I will not cheat again, only watch for those who know no such honor. In time you will know the stink of treachery from miles downwind.”
“Yes.”
His head swung around toward the others, now standing with expectant faces and wagging tails; his voice became almost merry, but still deep as a waterfall. “Challenge me, any that can. Invent games and run circles about me until the dawn. Let this be a good night.”
~18~
Trigs crawled from his tent and stepped up to the campfire. “What’s all the fuss?” he asked the three nervous-looking men.
“I had a little meeting,” Lars said. “My old friend from Maine is here.”
Trigs watched his boss for a moment. He was still numb from sleep. “You did what?”
“I went out scouting. Made it to the farm no problem. Then something snuck up on me. The same one that chased me from Maine bullied me away from the farm. Followed me all the way back here and circled around for a while.”
“I heard it,” Givens said. “It’s big.”
Hudson nodded unenthusiastically.
“Our first night,” Trigs said, “and we’re scared? The big guns are out? What—”
Lars stood up fast, slinging his rifle over his shoulder in the process, and took Trigs by the shirt collar with both hands. “Listen,” he hissed. “He’s out there right now, whether you like it or not. I’ve dealt with him twice now. There’s no mistake. Either get in line or get out. We’re being hunted now. Understand? He’s stalking us.”
Trigs watched his boss closely. The man had a habit of respecting his targets, but rarely was anything near afraid of them, and rarely did he lose his composure. Yet here he was, badly shaken, ranting about the old Maine story again. Clearly this was not going to be an easy job after all. “Okay,” Trigs said. “What’s the plan? What can I do?”
Lars released him and stepped back, taking his rifle back into his hands. “The plan? We have to get through the night. Keep the fire going. Keep our voices down. That’s all we can do. The night is his playground. These woods are thick and dark. All advantages are in his favor.”
Trigs thought for a moment. His head worked slow but clear, somewhere in between the drunken high and the coming hangover. “I have cameras,” he said. “We can set up the camera traps. That should keep him at a distance.”
“You wanna go out there now?” Hudson said. “I heard him moving around.”
“We don’t have to go out too far; we can’t anyway if we want the pictures to go directly to my phone. I’ll do the dirty work, if someone covers me.” He looked at Lars. “If he’s smart, he’ll be wise to the cameras. He’ll hang back.”
“Or not. Maybe it’ll be all the incentive he needs to rush in and finish us quick.”
“Did you get him on the thermal?”
“No,” Lars admitted. “He was too close to move.”
“Let me try the cameras, boss. Otherwise none of us will rest till daylight.”
***
“That thing really shook the boss,” Hudson whispered. Watching carefully down his rifle sites, he was standing back-to-back with Trigs, who was fastening a camera trap to a thin birch tree.
“I noticed.”
“Have you ever seen him intimidated before?”
“No.”
“I heard it clearly,” Hudson said. “But I didn’t smell it. Not like Lars explained. But I guess I believe him. Obviously something got to him.”
“Was the fire burning when you heard it?”
“Yeah.”
“All you’ll smell is smoke, Einstein.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather see it before I smell it. You really think it’s a wolf?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“As long as it dies, right?”
A dry stick snapped in the distance. Hudson swung his sights in that direction. A lone raccoon was rummaging in the dark, but Hudson didn’t know that. Quickly he built it up in his mind.
“You about done?” he whispered tensely. “I should have worn my thermals. Damn it, I just hate losing the peripheral vision.”
“Relax,” Trigs answered, pulling hard on the ratchet strap. “This makes three. Let’s get back to the fire and see what shows up.”
Trigs walked straight and fast into camp. Hudson moved slower, scanning his surroundings, turning and backing until he was well within the outer ring of firelight.
***
Within minutes they saw the first flash from the western darkness.
“I suppose we’ll get shots of every rodent and scavenger in these woods,” Lars said.
“Better that than wolves,” Givens said.
Trigs unlocked his phone and waited for the first photo to finish loading. He smiled when it appeared on the screen, and then held out the phone for the others to
see.
“Damn rabbit has me shivering,” Hudson complained.
“All right,” Lars said. “Let me sleep for an hour. We’ve only a few hours of darkness left.” He looked at Trigs as he stood from his lawn chair. “You were right about the cameras. My earliest training was to rely on my own senses. I sometimes forget the technology we have. They should keep him at a distance.”
Trigs nodded as the boss walked to his tent. He raised his eyes to the other men. “Tomorrow we’ll put up the other two. That should give us peace of mind. We don’t need any more nights like this.”
***
Lars lay on his back in the tent. He could hear the men whispering but not what they said. He didn’t care. He was tired and his mind was revolving around the incident near the farm.
In truth his pride was injured. He was certainly unnerved, but the ease with which the stalker had crept up on him made him question everything—his training, his age, his resolve. His training was good. It had gotten him through several extremely close calls. Animals hadn’t typically frightened him. Neither did men—even dangerous men. So why did this stalker rattle his cage so effectively, without even a sighting, without even revealing the shine of his eyes?
He was tired and he couldn’t understand it. Nothing had ever done this to him before. And then it hit him. Maybe that’s it, he thought. I’ve never lost before. Maybe you haven’t either, old boy. Maybe you’ve got that undefeated, confident air about you that’s setting off all my alarms. That would explain it. Perhaps I should take the warning and get out with what money I can. But wouldn’t you get that feeling from me? You can’t be that much better than me. You’re good, I’ll give you that. But so am I. Tough jobs come to me because I am one of the best in the world. And yet you’ve intimidated me twice now. I don’t know whether to be angry or amazed. Maybe I’m both. I should leave. I should get out. But I’ve never lost, never given up. Why should I start now? Who are you to defeat me so easily?
His mind went around like this for nearly thirty minutes, until he finally dropped off into an uneasy sleep.
***
“What exactly happened?” Trigs whispered.
“I saw him sneak out of camp earlier,” Givens explained. “He was typically cool and calm. Came back a few hours later in a panic and said, ‘He’s here.’ Told me to arm myself. Then told me how the thing came right up on him in the dark. He could hear its breathing.”
“I’m about sick of this—” Trigs grumbled. “I have half a mind to go out there myself.”
“Screw that,” Hudson said. He had not let go of his rifle since he’d returned to the fire. “If it scared the boss, I don’t wanna meet it.”
“I’ve killed man-eating grizzlies,” trigs said. “I’ve killed man-eating lions.”
“So has the boss,” Givens said.
Trigs spat on the fire.
“Let the cameras do their work,” Hudson said.
“I don’t care about the cameras,” Trigs said. “That was just to calm him down.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Givens said.
“Shut up.”
“Seriously,” Hudson said. “Wait till daylight. If it’s an animal we—”
“I’ll wait. But at first light I’m going out. I refuse to sit in this camp having my mind scrambled, waiting and wondering. Lars has been dishonest with us. Now he’s rattled, remembering something from his past. We can’t trust him now. Someone has to find out exactly who and what we’re dealing with. So that’s what I’ll do. Then we’ll take it from there.”
Another picture flashed from the dark. Trigs held his phone ready until the picture loaded.
“A nice shot of a raccoon, boys.” He shook his head as he put down the phone. “In case I haven’t been completely clear … I hate nature.”
***
In the darkest, quietest hour of the night—the hour before dawn—the small pack finally dispersed for the evening. Parting under the apple trees at the back corner of the yard, half went south, Erica stayed behind on the farm, and Abel turned and started slowly for Oak Hill.
For the next thirty minutes Erica lay on the western porch, struggling with the human shift. Her grandfather left her to Evie’s charge, and both girls lay impatiently waiting.
“What Abel did,” Erica whispered. “That’s how he trains us. When we go to Maine with him, we’ll get weeks, maybe months of that training. That’s the way we really learn what the wolf is all about.”
Evie said nothing. She appreciated the old Snow and had a growing respect for him. But she wanted nothing to do with weeks of wolf boot camp. Life was complicated enough at the moment.
“Just wait,” Erica said. “We’ll get our chance. Soon.”
“Focus on changing,” Evie said. “Worry about training later. We have a funeral in a few hours.”
“Fine,” Erica grunted, and laid her head on her forelegs. She hated the idea of being human, even if it was more comfortable in the house.
When at last she made the change happen, Evie followed suit, now with ease, and both went in to grab a little rest before sunup.
Outside, when their scents diminished from the still air, Abel emerged from the trail once more, silently skirting the outer edge of the large yard. On the eastern side of the house, he slunk into the dark woods, quickly becoming one with the blackness.
~19~
The morning went by quickly, as mornings always do when unpleasant business one would rather avoid is afoot. Joseph and the girls helped Eli with the morning barn chores after breakfast, and then they all set to preparing for Emmy’s public memorial service. The private burial would be the following day; the public service was primarily for show.
As for the morning news, no new information was available. Current footage showed the town’s center as quieter than the prior day. It was all they could hope for.
Shortly before eleven A.M. the family set off in two separate vehicles for the church at the center of town.
***
Abel lay stretched out on a bed of moss. Early sun was slicing through the trees. His eyes were lazy from frequent naps, but his nose and ears were keenly alert.
His earlier inspection of the camp had been as expected. The fire burned through the night, and the smell permeating the area spoke of both fear and hostile intents residing within the men. A bright flash had surprised him on approach—one of their picture taking machines attached to a tree. In a fury he’d torn it from the tree and gnawed it to bits before it could flash again. Then he’d retreated, suspecting more of their cowardly cameras, smiling deep down at the anger he knew would result of the men finding their machine destroyed.
Now he waited patiently resting. The family would soon leave the house, and he would guard the eastern border against any further trespassers.
***
“Nothing,” Trigs grumbled. “He must have got the camera before it could transmit the photo.”
“Well,” Lars began, kicking at the scattered remains of the high-tech device. He glanced around in the early light of morning. “We know he’s smart. Animals don’t attack the camera traps, they run from it.”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Givens said.
“Me either,” said Hudson.
“I only heard the tail end,” Trigs said. “His steps were obvious as he moved away, but moved perfectly straight, as if to avoid the other cameras.”
“Lovely,” Lars said. “A fine time we have ahead of us.”
“You took the job,” Trigs snapped. “You’re the only one with a clue what we were getting into, and you took it.”
Lars glared silently a moment before lifting his hand and pointing. “You know where the road is. Take it any time you like.”
Trigs stomped back to the camp to retrieve his gear.
***
“I’m going into town,” Lars said. “I’ll have some coffee. Listen to the locals. See what I can see.”
“Have some blueberry pancakes too,” Trigs said, squi
nting in the early light. “Maybe a nice cup of hot cocoa.” His head ached and the sun made it worse. His rifle was over his shoulder. “While you’re playing around, I’ll go find the sneaky bastard.”
Lars smiled. The short rest had renewed his energy and settled his mind. “Whatever you say. If you get caught, don’t expect me to come after you. The higher-ups sure won’t rescue any of us.”
“No one will catch me.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Just remember, a dead body is worth a fraction of a live one.”
“I’ve got darts from the truck.”
“How will you get it back here?”
“What is it, an elephant?”
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Hudson put in from beside the fire. “I don’t wanna drag anything.”
Trigs scoffed, turned while muttering something under his breath, and started walking west.
“Should we tail him, boss?” Hudson asked.
“No, let him go,” Lars said. “He’s a big boy.” Then, quieter as Trigs stomped noisily away, “If he doesn’t come back, it’s more money for us.”
***
Grandma’s Kitchen served up a good cup of coffee; Lars had remembered this for almost twenty years. The stools along the counter were nearly all occupied, but most of the conversation was quiet. It seemed the town had talked itself out in regards to the tragedy. Most of what Lars heard was concerning the victim of the cougar, and her pending memorial service. The TV had been broadcasting news when he entered, but soon the channel was changed to reruns of Columbo.
A half hour later he exited the restaurant in a foul mood. He hadn’t expected an outpouring of information, but at the least he’d counted on a little gossip, a tidbit of inside information. His mood took an even steeper dive upon climbing into his truck. No lights, no bells, no power whatsoever. He turned the key and was met with a glaring silence. You’re kidding me, he thought. You pick now to break down?
The Call (The Great North Woods Pack Book 2) Page 15