Alpha House: A Shapeshifter/BBW Novel: The Complete Seven-Part Collection

by Lib Starling

  A tingle of worry simmered in his gut. Somehow, he knew, that should concern him—the fact that human thoughts, human words were slipping away. Why? Lying on the bed in a room inside the big house—the room that smelled somehow of himself, and yet…not—he gazed out the window at the day’s light playing on the sage-covered hills. He rubbed a paw over his eyes, trying to remember why. Why should it worry him? Why…why was he inside this house, lying on a human bed, when he could be out there, trotting over the stony ground? There was prey outside. Prey and open air and freedom—and none of these distant yet nagging fears that clawed at his heart and mind. Out there, he could run from it all. Run and forget…

  Chase jumped off the bed and headed for the room’s closed door. He lifted onto his hind legs, in order to work his forepaws at the door handle, but it turned on its own beneath his weight and he stumbled back to all fours.

  The door swung open to reveal Alexander looking down at him. Chase sniffed the air. The sight of the man made him feel suspicious. He was a wolf, certainly—like Chase himself. All wolf, and nothing more. Why, then, did he wear this strange human shape?

  I once wore a human shape, the voice whispered, tickling his mind, unsettling him. He shook his head and growled. He didn’t know what it was talking about.

  “Where are you going?” Alexander said.

  Chase made as if to shove past his legs, clad in their light khaki pants as usual. But Alexander stepped quickly to block his passage.

  “You can’t go out there,” the pale blonde told him. His voice was stained by irritation—or was it concern? He bent slightly, stooping to look the gray wolf in the eye. “She’s coming soon—remember?”

  She’s coming soon. Why did that knowledge make Chase’s heart leap with anticipation, make it pound with dread and regret? Who was she? And why should he care?

  …Yet he did care. Something deep inside him, something buried and almost forgotten, cared. It cared very much, even if it tried not to show it. Muddled, and angry at his own disoriented thoughts, Chase snapped at the air and spun in a circle, trying to catch his own tail. Then he might at least give it a yank, and perhaps the pain would straighten out his hazy thoughts.

  “Roxy’s coming, Chase—for her shifting lesson.”

  Chase stopped the pursuit of his tail and stared up at Alexander. Roxy. That name clawed at his heart with talons as sharp as an eagle’s. Vague images taunted him, of a fox with a red pelt, of a red-haired woman, sweet and beautiful and kind. But at last he shook his head to clear the images away, and tried to dart past Alexander once more. Again, the tall man blocked him.

  Alexander compressed his lips into a thin, white line. Chase heard human footsteps in the hallway beyond the door, and felt the weight of several men shift the floorboards subtly. He sniffed again, and his mind itched at the familiarity of the scents he detected—humans he ought to know, yet all he could really sense—all he could identify—were the animal spirits they carried within.

  “What’s going on?” one of them asked in a smooth, level voice. The impression of a great bull elk leapt into Chase’s mind, accompanying the sound of the voice.

  Alexander glanced back into the hallway, at the men Chase could not see. “I…I’m not sure.”

  “Is Chase all right?” asked another. Coyote, Chase thought.

  “He seems…different somehow.” Alexander peered back down at Chase, and his eyes, as light-blue as a springtime sky, creased at their corners with worry. Finally the pale man turned back to those waiting in the hall. “It’s time,” he said. His words were calm and controlled, but Chase’s sensitive ears could hear the instant leap of his pulse, and he could smell the sour fear that rose up in Alexander’s gut. “I need to go to the professors now, or it may be too late to save Chase.” Alexander balled one hand into a fist and punched the palm of his other hand, a gesture of hopeless futility. “It may be too late already.”

  Chase hackled. He didn’t want Alexander to go to the professors. He wasn’t entirely sure what “go to the professors” meant, but he was certain that he didn’t want it. He rumbled a growl, trying to dissuade Alexander—and the sound of his growl merged with a rumbling outside, the tinny, crackling noise of an old engine.

  Chase and Alexander both looked toward the window. Then they moved as one, gliding swiftly to the panes. Chase lifted himself to his hind legs, to look outside. The window was in the big house’s second story; it looked down onto a muddy, snow-patched lawn and the wide, gray-brown dirt road beyond. A silver vehicle coasted to a stop at the lawn’s edge. It was big, and vehicle’s nose and tail were rounded like the edges of a river stone.

  A woman got out, looked around her with an air of caution, then made her way slowly toward the house’s front porch. Her golden hair was pulled back in a collection of braids and thick locks decorated with beads. There was something familiar about her, something welcome—though Chase couldn’t quite place her, couldn’t understand why he ought to know her.

  She’s just a human, he told himself sensibly. Even at this distance, he could sense that the golden-haired woman carried no animal spirit within. Why should I know her? Why should I care?

  Then Alexander breathed a curse beside him and whispered, “Katrina…”

  The sound of that name, too, sent a peculiar tingle racing along Chase’s hide. His fur rippled and twitched in response. What were these human-female names that haunted him so? He watched the figure move across the muddy lawn, and the sight of her recalled memories of comfort, freedom, new possibilities… The memories were distant, and yet felt paradoxically near. Chase’s body tensed as he smelled Alexander’s suspicion giving way to a thrill of happiness. Against all reason, it fanned a fire of jealousy in Chase’s heart.

  Then Alexander turned away from the window, striding across the room with vigor and purpose. He made his way through the hall, through the men gathered there, issuing a few short instructions as he went. Chase followed, feeling bewildered, wanting to run in the fresh outdoor air and leave these confusing humans behind more than ever before.

  Chase waited on the stair’s landing, peering down from the banister with the milling, excited men. Alexander answered the door.

  “Oh my God,” the yellow-haired woman said when she saw Alexander standing in the doorway. “You haven’t changed at all.”

  Alexander laughed lightly. “I have,” he said. “You just can’t see it yet. Come in.”

  They stood in the living room, before the ornate fireplace with its mantel covered in pictures and trophies. The woman hugged her slender body, shaking her head in disbelief as she stared at Alexander.

  “It’s good to see you again,” she said.

  “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

  Alexander went very still, and even from the landing, Chase could smell the redoubled caution that flooded from his body in a bitter cloud. Finally he said, “What do you mean?”

  The woman—Katrina, Alexander had called her, and somehow Chase knew that the name was right—looked around the house. “Is Chase here? Did he make it back all right?”

  Alexander shrugged. “Chase is fine.”

  “He’s fine?” Relief rolled from her in waves. Chase inhaled it delicately, savoring it alongside her female scent. “Where is he? Let me see him.”

  “You can’t see him.” Alexander was quick to respond, but then he stammered. “I mean…uh…he’s…”

  “I know about him,” Katrina said bluntly.

  “What do you know?” Again, the bitter caution.

  “That he’s trapped inside his wolf.”

  At the woman’s words, a jolt like an icy lightning bolt flashed through Chase, body and soul. The gray wolf gasped through his long muzzle, making an unintended huffing sound that sent the men near him stirring restlessly. The commotion drew Katrina’s attention. Her blue eyes flew up to the landing, and when she saw Chase, wide-eyed and nearly panting with the force of his sh
ock, she sighed in gratitude.

  “Oh, thank the Goddess you’re all right,” she said to him. “I was so worried about you.”

  Her mysterious familiarity, and the lancing fear her words had caused inside him, drew Chase down the stairs. He approached carefully, head held low, but when he came near, Katrina dropped to her knees on the old, threadbare rug and flung her arms wide. Not knowing what else to do, Chase went dazedly into her embrace. Her arms wrapped around his shaggy neck, pulling him close. He could hear her heartbeat, calming its rapid rhythm now that she knew he was safe, and she smelled warm and inviting. He pressed his muzzle against her body.

  He’s trapped inside his wolf. Katrina’s words shook Chase like thunder. He shivered as the woman clutched him.

  “So you do know,” Alexander said quietly.

  “Of course. I was there when it happened. I knew Chase wanted to come back to Alpha House, and I’d hoped when I got here I would find him restored.”

  “We haven’t been able to do it,” Alexander admitted. “It’s been almost four full days since he returned, and we’ve tried everything we can think of—every ceremony and entreaty we could unearth in our library. We’ve tried frightening him into a shift, and shifting back and forth between our animal and human forms in front of him for hours, until we were all exhausted, hoping it would spark something inside of him. We’ve tried fighting him, taunting him, talking him through it…we even tried putting our own stays on him, hoping that any stay might have the power to pull him back. But nothing has worked. We’re out of ideas—and out of time.”

  “Out of time?” Katrina asked warily. “What do you mean?”

  Alexander sighed. “Chase made us promise that after four days, we’d go to the professors for help—even though it will mean major consequences for me, as the alpha of the frat. But I don’t care about that. In fact, I should have gone sooner, whatever Chase wished, because now I’m concerned that…that it might be too late.”

  “Too late?” The scent of fear seeped from Katrina’s skin. It mingled with the fear-scent that had begun to rise from Chase’s own body.

  “He seems to be forgetting who he is.” Alexander’s voice was quiet, almost defeated. “At this point, I don’t know whether we can get him back at all.”

  Abruptly, Katrina broke off her warm embrace. She rose to her feet, as steady and straight as a pine tree, but her miasma of uncertainty—of sudden dread—betrayed the lie to Chase.

  “I think I can help,” Katrina said bravely. “Don’t go to the professors just yet. Give me a chance to try, first.”

  “Try what?” Alexander watched her with narrowing eyes, his face growing more angular and harder as his mistrust bloomed.

  “A spell.”

  A profound silence settled over Alpha House—a braced stillness from the shifters gathered on the landing, and a tense, predatory alertness from Alexander. At last he said stiffly, “You’re a witch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get out.” He took a menacing step toward her.

  Chase slipped between them, hackling as he stared up at Alexander’s face. He didn’t know why he did it. Something small and isolated, locked deep inside of him, told him that he had to protect Katrina—that she might be his only hope. Only hope for what? He couldn’t answer that question, though somehow he knew it was important—vital. All he could do was bristle at Alexander, a threatening growl ready in his throat.

  “We’ve had enough of witches,” Alexander said icily.

  “I know. Chase told me all about it—what you’ve been through. I don’t expect any of you to like me, but please just give me a chance. I think I can get Chase back.”

  The gray wolf doubted the truth of Katrina’s words. He could sense her lack of confidence in her racing pulse and fearful smell. But that hidden thing inside of him desperately wanted to believe her.

  “Think about it,” Katrina implored. “A witch did this to him—maybe only a witch can undo it.”

  Small, wiry Jack—the coyote, but wearing his human form—came down the stairs. “Don’t listen to her,” he said quietly to Alexander, though he never took his dark eyes from Katrina, watching even her smallest moves with naked mistrust. “She’s just trying to deceive us. All witches are the same.”

  Somebody called from the landing, “Alexander, you’ll only be in worse trouble with the faculty if you work with a witch!”

  Chase, not taking his eyes off Alexander, heard more footsteps coming down the stairs. The smooth voice of the bull elk broke into the others’ objections. “You’re going to be in it deep if you go to the professors, anyway, Alexander. It can’t make anything worse for you, if we let her try. Maybe she really does know how to help Chase. And…what choice do we have? Maybe we’ve run out of time already.”

  “Can it, Darien,” one of the others called. “You’re not even a part of Alpha House anymore. You moved away! Left!”

  “Only been back to try to help Chase,” somebody muttered darkly. “Otherwise, he wants nothing to do with the brotherhood.”

  “Leave Darien alone,” Alexander said. He turned to consider the sandy-haired man, who stood with Chase and Katrina now, his arms crossed but his eyes encouraging. At last Alexander said, “I guess none of us has anything to lose by letting you try—not Chase, and not me. But I’m warning you…”

  Katrina rolled her eyes. “Do I look stupid enough to take on an entire house full of shifters? And after I’ve warned you that I’m about to use witchcraft, too?”

  “I’m just saying…” Alexander began.

  “If I do anything out-of-line, you can turn into a wolf and chew my face off in ten seconds flat,” Katrina said. She tossed her thick ponytail of beaded locks over one shoulder. “I’m not an idiot, Alexander. Give me a little credit.”

  “So,” Darien said, looking from Katrina to Alexander and back again, “when should we do this thing?”

  “Now,” Katrina replied.

  Darien looked a little queasy at the suggestion. “Right this second? Witchcraft? Spells?”

  The witch shrugged. “No time like the present.”

  And, Chase thought, sniffing her, she wants to get it out of the way fast, in case her attempt fails. He couldn’t blame her. He could feel the frat brothers’ disbelief and hostility growing by the moment.

  Alexander nodded curtly. “All right. Let’s do it. Can we do anything to help?”

  Katrina ticked a few items off on her fingers. “I need salt, water in a clear glass…and open the windows. Get a breeze in here, if we can. Somebody go outside and dig up some earth—the least-muddy stuff you can find. Put it in a bucket or a bowl, but don’t touch it with your hands. And I need a sharp knife.”

  “A knife?” Alexander squinted at her.

  “Relax, Alex. It’s not for you.” Katrina lowered herself to her knees once more and took Chase’s head in her hands. Her blue eyes seemed to bore into his, tunneling deep into his soul, searching for…something. “You’re still in there,” she whispered. “It’s not too late. I can feel it. But we’re going to have a rough time—both of us.” She scratched him behind his ear. “Be brave, Chase.”

  Reluctantly, the brothers assembled the items Katrina had asked for. Then they shuffled back, crowding against the walls as if seeking to get as far from her magic as possible. A few of them still muttered protests, but Alexander silenced them: “If anything goes wrong, I’ll be the one taking the blame, anyway. You’re all absolved, so shut up and let the witch do her work.”

  Katrina laid her magical implements out in a row, close beside Chase. Then she picked up the large blue container of table salt and flicked open its little metal pour spout.

  “Once I complete this circle,” she warned the brothers, “don’t cross it. Not until I tell you the spell is finished. Got it?”

  Wordlessly, all the brothers nodded.

  Katrina poured the salt out in a trail, drawing a large ring around herself and Chase. When the white ring closed, Chase’s skin twi
tched. A strange, prickling energy filled the room, a mounting pressure as if something rushed in toward Katrina and the wolf, as if some unseen force was converging on the salt circle from every conceivable direction. Chase looked around the room, but although the shifters looked tense and angry, none of them seemed affected by the mysterious, rushing force. Perhaps, the thought, only those who stood in the circle could feel it.

  “You must stay inside the circle,” Katrina said to Chase. “No matter what.”

  Then she picked up the glass of water and began to chant: “Wave and raindrop, ice and steam, snow and ocean, running stream, Power of Water, come to me.” Katrina poured a line of water on the rug, running south to north, from her feet toward the crouching wolf.

  Next, she dipped her fingers into the bowl of mud. “Bone and flesh of Mother Land, untouched by all except my hand, Power of Earth at my command.” She made a streak of dirt on the rug, east to west.

  She raised her palms, and as she chanted, the breeze stirring the dusty old curtains grew into a stiff wind—then into a moaning roar that shuddered the timbers of the house. “Zephyr, norther, hurricane, wind that stirs the lion’s mane, Power of Air, I know your name.” To Chase’s amazement, the howling wind that pelted his fur blew a track in the nap of the rug—a perfect line running from west to east, narrow as a line drawn by a human finger—yet it didn’t disturb a single grain of the salt ring.

  Last, Katrina picked up the knife. She bit her lip as she looked at its pointed tip, then her gaze flicked up to Chase.

  She’s worried it won’t work, he thought. And she’s afraid of what’s to come. The strange wind had disturbed him. Looking around the room again, he could see how pale and shaken the shifters were. Their agitation squeezed Chase’s gut with fear. I should leave—leap out of this circle now. Everyone knows witches are dangerous… But he didn’t know why he knew that. The mystery of it all struck him numb, and he rose to his four paws, but made no move to leave the circle as Katrina finished her chant: