Cold Mercy (Northern Wolves)

by Sadie Hart

  He’d bet every dollar he had that the sleep walking and eating was back too. Dousing his face one last time, Bay rinsed out his mouth, brushed his teeth, and then headed for the kitchen. In nothing more than boxers, he made his way through the house to start a pot of coffee. His hand shook as he pressed the button on the coffee maker.

  “Six months,” he muttered and rammed his shaky hand through his hair, wishing like hell they’d stayed gone for good.

  Traumatized, the therapist had told him. The car accident that had left him stranded on an icy highway just outside of town, nearly dead, had left him traumatized. Part of him had always agreed with her there, the accident had sure as hell started the nightmares.

  He didn’t remember anything about the accident last year—except the raven haired woman that had appeared in his pain-induced sleep in the middle of butt-fucking nowhere while he’d lain in the snow waiting to die. In the dream, she’d made him warm. Touched his face. Made him feel alive again, gave him strength.

  Later, in the hospital, he’d half expected to see that familiar, too-thin, gaunt face staring out at him from one of the nurses. But no. Not the hair, the face, the rail-thin body. Nothing. It’d all been some demented twist of his dying imagination. The doctors had told him he’d been pretty hypothermic when the paramedics had brought him in. He’d only had a few minor cuts. A lot less damage than they’d expected after the bloody mess of his car. The docs had deemed him a miracle.

  Shortly after that, the nightmares had started and with them, the raven haired woman from that night had come again. But she was different that time. Darker, with an edge of violence to her—and to his dream-self—that hadn’t been there when his brain had first created her on the night of his crash.

  In most of the nightmares, he couldn’t remember much beyond snippets of the woman and blood. Always blood. One other thing was certain—in the dreams...he was always a monster. Vicious, violent, evil.

  Bay blew out a breath to ward off the shudder working its way up his spine. The scent of coffee reached his nose and he turned to get the creamer out of the fridge. His hands shook as he snatched a mug off the rack and poured himself a cup. But it was the little things, the small rituals, habits, they were what had kept him sane last time.

  Waking up at the same time each morning, working in his woodshop, making sure he kept his life calm. Made sure there weren’t any surprises. It had given him the illusion of control.

  That even if he couldn’t control his nightmares or the sleepwalking, he could control what he did each day. Dumping in a teaspoon of sugar, Bay sank into one of the kitchen chairs. He tried to turn his attention toward his work for the day, to line out a schedule. But he couldn’t.

  Last night, the woman in his dreams had changed.

  She hadn’t been the emaciated, black haired woman of before. This one had been beautiful. His jaw tightened as images from his latest nightmare flickered in his head. Blonde hair, with bangs that hung a little longer than eye level. And icy blue eyes that reminded him of a husky. Eyes that had stared up at him with such fear. He’d attacked her in the dream, but he couldn’t remember why. Couldn’t remember anything but the clawing hunger, the ravaging bloodlust that had torn through him.

  Another image flashed. A team of sled dogs running through the woods, their panicked barks like soft music to his ears, taunting. Begging him to give chase. He could destroy them all, feed until the hunger in his belly was finally sated. Another image and the sled flipped, the line snapping. He watched as the dogs broke loose and ran into the woods, leaving their master to his dream-self’s mercy. What little mercy the monster his dream-half had.

  Bay swallowed, trying to push away the images but they just kept coming.

  A little coon-faced husky pup. Similar to the dog he’d had as a kid. Rex. Then the woman again, so terrified. He remembered the momentary fissure in the monster’s concentration when he’d landed on her. Curious almost. Then she’d attacked and the rage had roared back to the surface. Followed by the burning, bitter taste of pepper spray in his mouth. The memory of fury filled him, heating his blood even now. He’d wanted to flay her open, feast on her blood—

  Stop. Bay dragged in a ragged breath, unable to keep doing this. He slammed his cup down against the table, hot liquid spilling over the edge, but he was already moving, heading back for his room. According to the therapist he’d hired last year, if he could remember the dream he was supposed to journal it out. It hadn’t helped him then, but maybe it would now.

  Maybe it would help him get that damned woman out of his head.

  She hadn’t screamed. She’d yelled for the dogs, but even as he’d tackled her, she hadn’t screamed. No. She’d fought back. He licked his teeth at the memory. The bitter taste he’d woken up with no doubt a faux reminiscent of the bear spray his dream-monster had suffered.

  Bay smiled at that. The beast had deserved a good spraying.

  Though Bay could have lived without the memory pangs his body always suffered the next day. As if the dreams weren’t bad enough, he had to feel as if he’d actually lived them. Shaking his head, Bay stared down at the sketch on the lined page, below the chicken scratch that was his handwritten account of the nightmare.

  The pencil left the image in grayscale, but staring down at the wide eyes now; he could still see the color. And unlike the woman who normally haunted him, this one definitely had a soul. A heart. With eyes that even in fear seemed to welcome him in, and full lips that looked kissable, soft, yielding. Closing the journal, Bay did his best to shake off the lingering memory of her lying at the feet of the monster and the wave of unwanted attraction. Lusting after an imaginary woman he’d nearly killed in his dreams. How sick was that?

  Refusing to let himself dwell on it—fuck, he was already crazy—he dressed for the day, poured himself another cup of coffee, and headed out to the wood shop next to his house. He stepped outside, the winter wind leaving his cheeks chilled as the backdoor swung shut behind him, and froze.

  There, curled up in the snow was a small husky pup. Little ears pricked forward, the dog stared up at him. One blue eye and one brown, and an unmistakable raccoon-style mask across his face. The same pup from in his dream. Bay leaned back against his door and closed his eyes.

  When he opened them the dog was still there. The pup’s head tilted as he stared down at it, horror growing in Bay’s gut even as the dog started to wag its tail. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It had to be a coincidence. Maybe he’d seen the dog in town the other day and just hadn’t realized it; maybe the dog in the dream was his subconscious’s way of blending real life with the crazy.

  Hell, maybe he was just plain crazy.

  ***

  Eden slumped back against her house, exhausted. The wind had left her cheeks raw and red after hours of searching the trails of Mercy Pass, and looking at the eight dogs finally back home and tied to their houses, she should have felt triumphant. Instead, a sense of defeat washed through her and she closed her eyes, jaw clenched.

  “Still one short,” Kennedy, one of her best friends, said as she leaned against the house next to her. “The pup right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Poor thing,” Rowan murmured, the last to make up their best friend trio, and Eden opened an eye to see the black haired woman staring at her dogs. Rowan was a tried-and-true cat lover, and only cat lover. She tolerated Eden’s dogs with a curled lip and an uneasy regard. But now, Eden could see the sympathetic cast to her face, the downward tug of her lips.

  As if sensing her watching, Rowan turned and glared at her. “He was just a baby. Even I feel sorry for babies.”

  That made all of them laugh, something Eden desperately needed. Smug’s first real trip out and she’d lost him. A bear, or hell, that damned over-sized wolf no one had managed to find yet either, could easily pick him up for a quick snack.

  Kennedy reached out, caught her shoulder, and squeezed. “I’ll go grab us dinner. We can veg out on your couch and hope he comes home.
”

  “You guys—” Eden started, but they both waved her off.

  “Don’t. Start.” Kennedy pointed a finger at her. “The two of you pick a movie and I’ll be sure to drive by and grab us some real movie theater popcorn.”

  “You got it, Dee,” Rowan said with a wave, and Kennedy was off towards her over-sized blue Ford truck, Mercy Pass Animal Hospital emblazoned on the doors. She was the town veterinarian and Eden knew nothing short of knocking her out and dumping her off at home would get Kennedy to budge from her house tonight.

  But she wouldn’t. She wanted her friends here tonight, she just couldn’t bring herself to say it. A lump welled in her throat, but then Rowan was leaning back against the house next to her, their shoulders touching. Rowan opened her mouth, no doubt to say something sympathetic, but Eden couldn’t take it. One more kind word and she was going to start blubbering like an idiot.

  “I hope she brings you your own bucket,” Eden said, forcing her voice to sound light, teasing. She gave her friend a squinty look, but Rowan just laughed.

  As the beauty of the bunch, Rowan had the kind of looks that made every man in Mercy Pass stop and take notice. Long black hair that trailed past her shoulders in waves, a heart-shaped face, full lips, and a curves in all the right places. And she ate like a Big Mac equated a plateful of broccoli.

  “Ah girl, I’m counting on it. You don’t get my figure by watching your weight.” She winked at Eden, but her smile was soft. “You okay?”

  That was a loaded question. Eden blew out a sigh, feeling the unease coil in her belly. Okay, as in alive? Sure. Okay, as in she understood what the fuck had happened? Not even close. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m missing a member of my family.”

  “I know that part. That wasn’t what I was asking.”

  “I don’t know, Rowan—” Eden glanced back out towards the woods, towards the snowmobile tracks that had taken several police officers and a few members of the Fish and Wildlife Department out to where she’d been attacked. They’d found nothing. Quinn Dawson, an old friend from high school who now worked for the Fish and Wildlife Department had even come over to break the news to her personally.

  There was no physical evidence of any bear, wolf, or other large animal.

  They could see where she’d lost control of the sled and flipped it. Could see the trail the dogs had left behind as they high-tailed it to freedom. Could even see where she’d scrambled around to free Smug and get her bear spray. But there hadn’t been any wolf prints. And where she’d lain in the snow, it just looked like she’d slipped and fallen on her ass.

  “I didn’t imagine it,” Eden said, voice soft. Rowan’s face pinched with sympathy.

  “I didn’t think you did. Regardless of what Quinn says,” she waved her hand, “I don’t think you hit your head and saw something funny. I know you better than that.”

  “Then what happened out there, Ro? Because there wasn’t any tracks. Smug, a five month old puppy, left tracks in that snow! Why didn’t a wolf big enough to be part grizzly do the same?”

  She was shaking and she couldn’t stop. Eden hugged herself and started to turn away when Rowan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Her head leaned against Eden’s. “But I don’t know.”

  Rowan sighed and Eden felt the tension building inside her ease a notch. She might have been crazy, but she had friends who believed in her, trusted her. Neither of them had doubted her for even one second. Even when they’d stood outside staring at the snow unable to see a thing, they’d had perfect faith in her.

  Rowan pulled back a bit, enough that Eden could see her face as she said, “But I think there are things in this world we can’t explain.”

  “You think I saw a ghost?” Eden didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in her voice. Rowan’s aunt was big into tarot reading, ask-the-pendulum, palm reading, and all that, but Eden had never bought into it. She was too practical for that. Logical. Magic and all that new age junk just didn’t fit into the real world.

  She’d thought Rowan had agreed with her.

  “I don’t think a ghost could pack that big of a punch,” Rowan said wryly, a little half smile curving her lips. “Nana used to tell me stories about creatures like that though, when I was real little.”

  The half joking tone brought a laugh to Eden’s. ‘Fae’ stories Rowan had always called them, because her grandma apparently couldn’t say ‘fairy’ correctly. “What are you saying? This was Little Red Riding Hood gone wrong? Or that I got bowled over by some pup from the Abominable Snowman?”

  Rowan snorted. “No. I always figured there were white grizzlies. You know, how sometimes a white lion pops up in the wild? An anomaly. Although, the Abominable Snowman probably wouldn’t leave tracks, being make-believe and all.”

  “Ha ha.” Eden punched her friend lightly in the shoulder, but it was an explanation she could partially believe. Maybe panic and the earlier howls had made her see a wolf, maybe she’d just seen a scrawny, hungry, weird-colored bear. Or, maybe a wolf had bred with a mastiff or something. But this wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on, so Eden changed the subject. “We should have had Kennedy stop by your place. I could totally use some of your homemade BBQ sauce tonight. Mmm-mmm-mmm.”

  Rowan ran the Fairy Cat Café, a small dive bar in town, but it that made the best food in the state. And her barbeque chicken and cheddar jack sandwich was mind blowing. Almost as good as her homemade doughnuts. On the days of their breakfast meetings, Eden normally scrambled out of bed and rushed through her morning work, just so she could get a taste of one of them.

  Rowan hooked an arm around Eden’s and tugged her towards the door. “Why don’t we go in and warm up while we wait? I’ll even make you a mean batch of hot cocoa.”

  Eden didn’t dare argue. Standing outside wouldn’t bring Smug home any sooner than waiting inside would, and it was already too dark to keep searching. In another half hour, the only way to see outside would be through the beams of flashlights. With a wolf or bear like that out, it was just too dangerous, no matter how much the guilt tore at her heart.

  They’d settled in, stretched out in the living room, and Rowan had just carried in three mugs of hot cocoa when Kennedy gently kicked the door. Eden hopped up to let her in, her stomach rumbling at the scent of buttery popcorn and an extra cheese with anchovies pizza.

  “You are my hero,” Eden sing-songed as she followed Kennedy into the kitchen, snagging a mug from Rowan as she passed. “Both of you. Seriously, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. I needed this tonight.”

  Kennedy snorted. “Oh, but we do. Remember the time when the two of you sat with me after Roger and I broke up? I was a miserable wreck, absolutely convinced I needed to go back to the abusive prick, and by the end of the night the two of you had convinced me I had two new men in my life.”

  “Ben and Jerry,” Rowan said with a laugh, raising her cocoa mug in salute. “God bless them both. They are my soul mates.”

  “I think you can only have one.” Eden winked as she dragged out a stack of plates.

  “You can’t split them up. So it just means I have to have two.”

  “I think it means she’s got a big ego,” Kennedy teased. Flipping open the pizza box, she sagged against the counter and inhaled. “Oh, my God. Does that smell like heaven or what?”

  “Mm-hmm, girl. Move out of the way.” Rowan waved a plate at her and slid over to dig out the first piece. Thick cheese dripped off the sides as she slid it onto the plate. “I vote we watch Pretty Woman.”

  Kennedy grinned. “Love that movie.”

  Eden had always been more of an action movie aficionado herself, but it was hard to disrespect Julia Roberts when her character ended up with a man like that. Besides, tonight she wanted a movie that was soft and sweet with a glowing happily ever after. “I’m in. I think I still have it on top of the DVD player from when Kennedy left it here.”

  “It’s proba
bly under Terminator,” Rowan said with a chuckle.

  Eden groaned as she wrangled her piece of pizza onto her plate, the cheese dangling off the edges, and her stomach gave a hungry rumble. “Under Die Hard most likely.”

  “You’re such a dude at heart.” Rowan shoved in the disc and then plopped down on the sofa. “But this is the way to spend the night.”

  And surrounded by her two best friends, downing comfort food and watching a good movie, Eden had to agree. It didn’t completely erase the day, but it took it out of the gutters and let it end on a high note.

  Tomorrow, though, she was going back out there. She had a dog to bring home and a wolf to find. She wasn’t crazy. She had the claw marks on her jacket and a bruise on her side to prove it. Something had happened out there, something not quite natural, and she intended to find out what it was. Until then, business was shut down. She couldn’t take tourists out there. Not with a risk like that hanging over her head.

  Hell, she also needed to get her sled fixed.

  Rowan elbowed her in her uninjured side. “Are you watching the moving or fretting?”

  Eden grinned. “Both, but I’m relaxing now. No worries.”

  And to prove it, she kicked her feet up on her coffee table and watched the movie. Tomorrow she could deal with everything else.

  Chapter Three

  The sandpaper was rough under his hands as he slid it down the wood, the scratch a low whisper in the shop. It was the only thing to punctuate the silence besides the pup’s fitful snoring. Bay turned to see the small husky curled in a heap at his feet, the little white-tipped tail flicking as he no doubt chased some imaginary squirrel in his dreams. The little guy gave a whimper and Bay relaxed.

  The nightmares hadn’t quit, though thankfully, outside of the pup showing up at his doorstep, he hadn’t had any meltdowns. Outside of a coppery tang lingering in his mouth most mornings, nothing else in his dreams had managed to come true. The dog was just some odd figment of his subconscious melding with something he’d probably seen around town.