Creature Comforts

by Creature Comforts (lit)

  Chase remembered the first months after he and Tank had been bitten. The newly Changed wolven still thought in terms of his old life. Chase didn’t for a moment think his words would change Carter’s thinking, but he had to try. “Monstrous acts make you a monster. Not the ability to sprout fangs and fur. You’ve just got to decide which team you want to be on.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Carter snorted. “Whatever helps you sleep. Look, if we want to end this, we have to find whoever is leading this show.”

  A rush of fear and pain from the matebond froze Chase’s response. Why was India here? She was supposed to be back at the safe house. With a curse, he twisted and took off in the direction he felt her presence. To hell with the rest of this battle, his mate was hurt and in danger. Dodging skirmishes, he ran from the main area. Behind him, the ex-Hunter ran to keep pace.

  * * * *

  When the van stopped, she held her breath while her captors left. Was this her chance for escape? Wrenching herself at an uncomfortable angle, she tried to see as much of the van as possible. Tamara was a blond, bruised pretzel behind her. The female’s blue eyes were shocky with fear and pain and the silver had eaten into her skin so that blood smeared her arms and shirt. India jumped in surprise as the back doors opened and the other monkey suited geek she’d first seen Chuck with in the parking lot appeared. Deftly, he produced a thick silver key and unlocked Tamara from the ring welded to the floor. Kicking, she fought him as he dragged her backward out of the van and dumped her on the ground.

  Chuck appeared, hauling Tamara upright. The silver knife pressed to her throat. Tamara whined low in the back of her throat. Her blue gaze didn’t beg for help but rather told India to do what she needed to. He smirked at India’s growl. “We can do this the easy way or I can slit her throat.” His smirk turned foul and leering. “I’d prefer to slit her throat, then concentrate on you.” He motioned to his partner, who tossed the key to India. “Oh, the fun we’ll have-.”

  Picking it up with numb fingers, she fumbled with the chain and the lock. Finally, with a pained turn, the lock released. India crawled out of the van. The silver manacles weighted a ton, dragging her down as the man shoved her in the direction of a bus. The words, The Church of the Clean, were painted artfully in gold beside a barbed cross inside a sunburst pattern. India knew that if they went in that bus, they were dead. Make that tortured and dead. Glen hovered uncertainly on the sidelines.

  A dot of pink reassured her that they had at least one ally. Thorn, just as battered and worn as before gave her a thumbs up sign. Whatever the pixie had planned better be good, because she couldn’t see how they were going to get out of this.

  A prickle of energy shimmered up her spine as a chorus of howls and screams echoed in the night. The glow of lights over the trees pointed out the revival area. Wild energy, familiar and alien at the same time tugged at her senses. “Get in.” Chuck hammered a fist on the bus doors and shoved Tamara up the steps after they opened.

  “Where’s the deacon?” he demanded, half up the steps.

  “Gone. Other business.” The driver sneered. “Deacon Gabriel doesn’t answer to the likes of you.”

  “Maybe your deacon saw that you were going to get your asses handed to you.” India resisted the shove from the unnamed partner. Jerking back, India faked a stumble and fell near the edge of the bus. Her hair flew every which way, masking Thorn’s quick flutter-jump to her neck. When jerked to her feet, her hair covered the fairy. In the dark and distracted, she hoped no one noticed the extra growth she’d acquired.

  “Stop screwing around and get in or I kill your friend.” Psychic power scented the air as Chuck glared past her. “Glen stop skulking around and get in.” He didn’t seem to notice her passenger as she limped by, the pain from the silver around her ankles made her discomfort easy not to fake. She sat beside Tamara on one of the couches at the rear of the living section. After a moment of debate with Chuck, the driver started the engine and the bus rocked into motion. “Watch them while I take a piss,” he instructed no one in particular. “Glen sit your ass down. You look like you want to escape or something.” With a laugh at his own joke, he walked past them and disappeared into a closet sized room.

  The collar slid further down her neck, setting fire to previously untouched skin. Controlling the fresh smart of tears, India felt the ankle manacles do the same. Beside her, Tamara groaned softly as Thorn loosened her restraints. “Be ready,” Thorn whispered in his tiny pixie voice. Human hearing would never pick up the sound. Her and Tamara’s superior wolven ears did a more than adequate job.

  Muffled grinding and popping noises sounded from the front of the bus. “What the hell?” The driver slammed on the brakes, bringing the bus to a lurching halt as the engine gave a final solid lurch and died. Taking that as Thorn’s cue, India jumped up. Tamara following as if on springs. Both women growled, rushing to the front of the bus as Chuck’s partner fumbled inside his jacket. The scent of magic, not quite psychic, not quite fairy flooded the air. Simultaneously, Glen shoved the man and ducked.

  “I said shoot them!” Chuck yelled from the bathroom. The door rattled as if stuck.

  “Go, go, go!” Thorn hovered behind them, flooding the air with the summery smell of pixie magic. The gun clattered to the floor, sliding out of sight as the females trod over Chuck’s man. Behind Glen, the driver hit the upright pole with the tire iron instead of the back of the Indie man’s head. Stunned, he tripped fell down the stairwell, falling outside when Glen opened the doors. Obviously hoping for the best, he leapt out of the door. A short scream cut short didn’t make India feel any better about the unknown, but the crash of the bathroom door hitting the wall inspired her to jump from the bus. She called on the Change poured the energy into teeth and claws before slamming the magic to a painful halt.

  She lashed out at the body attached to the hand that grabbed her and pulled her aside, before trusting her senses. “Chase?” Shoving her behind him, he snatched Tamara in a blur of motion allowing the frantic clawing he got from the second female as well. She waited in vain for Thorn to fly out. Chase took a step toward the bus entrance when another wolf India didn’t recognize growled at him. The two stared at one another, then Chase backed away. By then, India had processed the wolf’s scent. The Hunter! She tried to intercept, but her mate held her back.

  “My, my. Looks like I swatted the fly.” Chuck said from the top of the stairs as he tossed something broken outside. The pink crumpled form of the pixie lay inert where tossed. “I guess, it’ll die.”

  Rage welled up inside India. She snapped at her mate when he held her back. The other wolf walked steadily into the light from the bus. His hackles raised and ears laid back, Carter looked like he wanted the psychic’s blood. She wished she was sure he could take the psychic’s blood. That he’d really switched sides.

  * * * *

  Carter let the magic flow through him, accepting the Change to his very being. Looked like the werewolf was right. It did hurt a hell of a lot less. His outlook was grim as he stared down the one person he’d like to have said wouldn’t betray him. “Hello, Chowderhead.”

  Chowder looked sort of shocked, seeing his cuz with the monsters. His thin lips pressed into a thin line while his eyes took on the beady quality Carter had always associated with weasels and other rodents. “Hey, cousin. Looks like you got yourself bit after all. I guess I’ll have to clean up after you after all.” The movement of Chowder’s hand and the small blur from corner of his eye made Carter react fast. He heard the gun fire, felt the searing in his shoulder, but it was nothing beside the power that welled up through him.

  The world became nothing as instinct to protect himself turned into a mindless need for blood and flesh. He tasted it on his tongue, felt the crack and crunch between his claws, all the while fighting off those who would steal his prey.

  “—Not food!” He heard the other male. Remembered this one was not enemy. Slowly he turned his head and peeled back his lips from his te
eth, growling as he covered his kill from the other werewolf’s reach. He growled again, distracted by the scent of something far more interesting than food. Female.

  Glowing blue eyes met his as she dared lay a tiny hand against his blood matted fur. “Carter,” she whispered so low that he had to stop and swivel his ears to catch her voice. “Let go. He’s not food.” Her hand touched his claw, tapping twice for him to release. He did. It was good to give your kill to your female. Especially one as deserving as his. Dropping the meat at her feet, he ducked his nose for her to touch. When she complied, her small hand sliding against his muzzle, he shuddered out a breath. “Come on Carter. I’ll stay while you find yourself.”

  He sighed again, giving in to her desire for him to follow her. To sit, and rest while exhaustion rolled over him. The last thing he remembered was drifting pleasantly as he inhaled her scent and concentrated on feel of her stroking his fur.

  Chapter Thirty One

  India held the gravely injured pixie while Tamara coaxed the werewolf from his kill. Chuck Hunter lay strewn about in several pieces. It hadn’t been pretty watching Carter fall into the blood lust newly bitten wolven were prone to after he’d been shot. He’d literally ripped the psychic limb from limb. It wasn’t until Tamara had laid a hand on him, that they’d managed to get him away before he’d ingested more than a bite or two of the dead psychic.

  Letting Chase deal with their terrified captives, the driver and Glen, she concentrated on Thorn. “You were very brave knocking his aim off,” she whispered to the unconscious pixie. His faint breath rattled in his chest. All his limbs lay at awkward angles, broken in several places. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at her mate. In the distance, the Church of the Clean revival area gave a last boom as explosives discharged. “He disabled the bus, unlocked our chains, and locked Chuck in the bathroom.” The pixie’s breath rattled once more and eased into silence. India choked out a sob for the small man who’d given so much. Huddling him close, her tears dropped onto his broken form. One soaked on his head, one his chest. Very symbolic, she thought. Thorn had been both clever and brave. “I wish…” that he could live. I wish that Thorn could have another chance. Like a caterpillar gets another chance remade as a butterfly.

  The whump-whump in the sky drew her attention from her fallen comrade. They glanced up at the helicopters. “News and military choppers,” he explained. “No one was careful. We rolled in as the Wild Hunt. Everyone who’s anyone has been all over the sky from a safe distance since the first rockets started shooting.” India nodded and leaned into the arm he wrapped around her. How would the world explain what they’d seen tonight?

  “My grandfather bought the hit on my pack.” She stared at Glen while he watched Carter and Tamara with near terror. “And that Deacon Gabriel wanted to take out the pack here.” Sorrow and exhaustion made her want to cry. “My blood family wanted me dead.”

  Chase leaned down, his golden hair sliding to mix with hers as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Never mind them, Cleo love. You belong here. The pack is your family.” He tilted her chin up so that their eyes met. “I am your family.”

  Closing her eyes, she listened to the truth of his words flow from the matebond. He wanted her, would fight for her. Love and acceptance wrapped her soul in a soothing embrace. “I love you.” The words slipped out before she could censor them. Chase’s dimple escaped as he tightened his embrace.

  “I know babe. Trust me, it’s going to all work out.”

  She gestured with the dead pixie in her hands. “It didn’t work out for Thorn.”

  Chase laid his large bloodied hand over the pixie’s form. “Yes it did. He was a warrior who fought to gain a safe home for his people. Just as we all did. He’ll be honored for that.” She felt her mate struggle with something, a decision of some kind.

  Finally, he sighed and took his hand away. “I have one more thing to do before we’re done tonight.” He eyed the captives. “Think you’ll be alright with them?”

  India nodded and glanced over at Tamara and the now human Carter. “Yeah. If they try anything, funny. I’ll let Carter eat them.” She raised her voice enough and met their eyes. “Or I’ll do it myself.” Sufficiently chained and cowed, they cringed against a pair of double bus tires.

  Changing, slowly for the benefit of Glen and the driver, Chase loped off into the night.

  * * * *

  Chase found what he was looking for easily. Tired but determined to keep up with the rest of the pack duty-wise, Mack searched another truck for any of the vicious straggling psychics. “Hey, man. How’re you holding up?”

  Mack straightened, exhaustion and mental pain showing in the deep lines of his face. If anything, the human looked grayer. Certainly no surprise at being greeted by a naked male wolven. His scent held a tinge of illness. “Chase.” No love lost between the two of them. Neither was there distrust. Mack turned to keep working.

  “I need your help with something over here.” Chase stepped backward into the shadows of the trees and Changed. Too many times tonight, he was feeling the effects.

  Mack turned around once more and squinted into the night. “I’m busy here.” Chase barked once and trotted to the security of the trees. He needed the human away from the others for what he planned. “I said I’m busy.” Mack frowned then cursed. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  Loose, trusting, he never expected the attack from a packmate. Chase hit the human’s chest with all four paws. His teeth clamped around the human’s throat breaking skin as Mack’s big hands went around his own throat. The surge of psychic blood hit his tongue, making him salivate even more. Good, he thought. More saliva meant more wolven agent in the human’s bloodstream. He fought against the desire to finish the job and let go just as the human got a good grip on his neck. Twisting, Chase broke away and Changed.

  “What the hell!” Mack scrambled backward, his hands wiping at the blood and saliva at his neck. “You bit me, you bastard!”

  “Yeah. I did.” Chase waited. Adam was going to kill him. If the Alpha didn’t kill him, he’d certainly take several pounds of flesh out of his hide for this stunt.

  “You bit me!” Mack growled. Living with wolven for so long had definitely affected Mack’s personality traits. He stopped, stared at the blood on his hand then back at Chase as the proverbial light bulb flashed on above his thick skull. “You bit me.”

  “Yeah. You’ve said that about three times now.”

  Mack began to unbutton his shirt with shaking fingers. Chase wasn’t about to help the Beta with that. He turned his head as the human finished stripping. Shaking and feverish, Mack finally sat on the cold ground. “Thanks,” he said. Real gratitude laced his voice.

  “Yeah. Well, I’ll just hang around to see if you make it.” Finding a leafy spot of his own, he got comfortable. Chase tensed as the first pains of the Change ripped through Mack. He’d never seen it take place this fast, but then, he’d taken pains to catch the human at his weakest point and get as much of his saliva into Mack’s bloodstream as possible. “You can pull the boss off my throat if you survive.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m holding you to it.”

  Epilogue

  India sat among her packmembers as they huddled around the television in the Victorian style house Morgan was renting to them. Renting, because the Alphas would not be any more beholden to their allies than they already were. Besides, the plans for a new and improved Packhome were already in the works. Adam and the newly Changed Mack were making a point to include everyone in the building process. That is, once the Alpha got over being royally pissed at Chase for biting the pack’s human Beta. Personally, India thought the male seemed much happier without his horrible visions of death.

  She leaned closer to her mate to get a better view of the news clips that kept running and tried not to dwell on the missing faces that were now grieved along with Rick Weis. Among the weakest of their number the Eddie and Hamilton had fallen fast in the volley
of rocket fire aimed at the Wild Hunt. Eddie, she actually missed the sweet basement dwelling Omega. Hamilton she hadn’t gotten to know, but he’d seemed nice enough. Reggie took their deaths hard. Her little packbrother was enjoying a supervised holiday in Frankston with Betty. Grouchy Bradley drew the short straw to stand in as Eddie’s babysitter.

  That night was in her memory with the same surreal detachment as her days running from the Hunter. It was as if the whole last year had happened to some other female. The Wild Hunt, she hadn’t seen, but believed when Chase and Reggie told her how the magics from the different species had merged. It made her wonder what they could do if the different species ever worked out a real treaty to work together. Or it could simply be a fairy thing. Either way, she was glad to have not experienced that along with being chained in a van with a homicidal psychic.

  Thorn the pixie she counted among their missing because he died in her hands. He’d been a brave little soul. She’d never forget that moment as long as she lived. Chase, she knew, grieved for his missing friend Tank who still hadn’t checked in. For her mate’s peace of mind, she prayed that the doctor called home soon.

  In their place, Raymond Reys sat uneasily, regulated to the outskirts of the group even though Adam had accepted him into the pack. Some still classified the half coyote/half wolf as the enemy, blaming him for Rick’s absence. The ex-Hunter, Carter was received with a warmer reception than Reys.

  “And in further news, the bizarre standoff of a religious cult in Palestine, Texas, and local werewolves and vampires has everyone questioning the validity of fairy tales being investigated by the FBI and ATF. To name two of several government agencies who are holding members of the Church of the Clean for questioning regarding threats of terrorism.”

  “That’s Tucker, Texas, you moron!” One of the pups threw popcorn at the television.