Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines)

by Lia Silver

  She reached up and stroked his hair, letting it slide in fine strands through her fingers.

  Roy lowered his head, letting more of his hair hang down within reach. “Do you like my hair like this?”

  “Yes. Don’t cut it.”

  “I’ll have to trim it, at least,” he said reasonably. “It’s getting in my eyes. I haven’t let it grow this long since I was seventeen.”

  “You’ll just have to suffer for my enjoyment. I like playing with it.” Laura tugged at a lock. “I bet you were cute when you were that age.”

  “I was awkward and gawky and I had terrible acne,” Roy said. “That’s why I grew my hair out, so I could hide behind it. I still have scars.”

  “Do you? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Mmm. Probably. I haven’t looked in ages. But I used to be incredibly self-conscious about my skin. Seventeen is a horrible age.”

  “Thirteen was my worst,” Laura said. “It felt like the entire year was nothing but being humiliated in gym and getting called a pig and a whale and stuff like that.”

  “Teenagers can be so cruel,” Roy said.

  “I bet you were always too big for anyone to have the nerve to call you names.”

  “No, no one ever bullied me. I created my own problems, mostly, trying to prove I was cooler and tougher than anyone. That’s how I got that scar on my hip.”

  “Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting to ask about that.” Laura knew Roy’s body by heart. She traced a finger over his jeans along the path of the scar she couldn’t see. “Tell me the story.”

  Roy leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. “My mom liked fast cars, so she’d saved her money and bought a Porsche. She let me drive it, but only when she was with me. So naturally, I decided to sneak out with it in the middle of the night to drag race one of my buddies. The Porsche spun out, slammed into the side of a building, and crumpled into a ball of metal. I didn’t hit my head, so I stayed conscious. But I was completely trapped. I could barely even see out. My hip hurt like hell, and I found out later that a piece of the door had gone in so deep that it had scraped the bone.”

  “Ow!” Laura winced in sympathy.

  “It felt every bit as bad as it sounds. The first thing the firefighters did was cut away enough metal that a paramedic could wriggle partway in. Just my luck, it was Maribel, a pal of my mom’s. That’s not as coincidental as it sounds. My mother was friends with half the cops and firefighters and paramedics in the city. Maribel yelled to the firefighters to call my mom and tell her that her idiot son would be all right, but he’d totaled her brand new sports car.

  “It had taken her years to save enough money to buy that car. She was going to be furious. And my hip was killing me. I sat there trying to be brave and tough while Maribel gave me oxygen and put in an IV, but finally I couldn’t stand it any more and I asked her for something for the pain. She said sorry, but it might lower my blood pressure and depress my breathing, and she couldn’t risk it until I was in the ambulance.

  “When she said that, I came closer to crying than I had since…” Roy glanced at Laura, then shrugged. “Well, since I was fifteen and I told my father to get the fuck out of my life.

  “Maribel said, ‘I’m sorry you’re having such a bad night, Roy. Me and the ambulance driver and the cops and the firefighters are having a great night. We’re on an exciting call, the firefighters got to use the Jaws of Life, I got to crawl into a wrecked car, and it’s all fun and games because you’re going to be okay. So next time it occurs to you to do some stupid shit, think about where you’d rather be: in here, helpless, in excruciating pain, waiting for your mother to come rip you a new one, or with us, in uniform, rescuing the dumb-ass kid.’”

  “And then you joined the Marines?” Laura asked, smiling.

  “Nah, then I went on doing stupid shit for another year,” Roy said with a laugh. “But it did stick in my head. By the time I was ready to graduate from high school, I—”

  Roy’s entire body tensed. Laura too froze, even before he put a finger to her lips. She scrambled off his lap, and watched in alarm as he snatched the gun from the table.

  He put his mouth close to her ear, whispering, “Car coming up the road. Stay behind me. Not too close, I don’t want to back into you. Be ready with ‘freeze.’”

  “Got it,” Laura whispered back, adrenaline coursing through her body.

  She crammed on her shoes and followed Roy as he walked silently to the door, cocked his head to listen, then slipped outside. As they’d practiced, they ran into a dense thicket of trees beside the house and crouched down behind a huge oak tree, hidden from sight.

  Laura could hear the car now, burning rubber up the dirt road. The driver wasn’t being stealthy, which seemed out of character for Gregor.

  A car rocketed up the driveway and screeched to a halt. A man leaped out of the driver’s seat, bolted to the front door of the cabin, and began pounding on it. In the distance and the moonlight, Laura couldn’t recognize him, other than that he was medium height, dark haired, and thin.

  “It’s Miguel! Miguel Herrera, from Gregor’s pack! I don’t mean any harm—I need help! Please, I need help!” He sounded on the edge of a breakdown.

  Roy tapped Laura’s shoulder and made an exaggeratedly questioning face: do you believe him? She nodded emphatically and drew two fingers down the side of her face, reminding Roy of Miguel’s scars.

  “We’re here.” Roy stepped out from the thicket, Laura following him.

  Miguel jumped violently and spun around, nearly falling. He started to rush toward them, then spotted Roy’s gun, still held ready, and skidded to a halt, throwing his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot!”

  “It’s all right, Miguel,” Laura said soothingly, at the same moment that Roy demanded, “Are you armed?”

  “No! You can search me.”

  Laura would have let it go, but Roy stepped forward and gave Miguel a thorough pat-down.

  “All right,” Roy said. “You can come in.”

  “I don’t have time for that,” Miguel gasped. “Gregor’s going to kill everyone! You have to help me stop him.”

  An icy calm flowed through Laura at his words. At the same time, she saw Roy’s tension settle into a poised readiness so cool as to appear relaxed.

  “Take a deep breath,” Roy said. “I’m serious. You have to calm down, or we won’t understand what’s going on. One deep breath. Go on.”

  Miguel took a shaky breath. “I—Nicolette—We all—”

  “Deeper,” Roy interrupted. “From the belly. Fill your entire chest, hold, exhale.”

  Miguel obeyed him.

  “Again,” said Roy. “Again. Once more. Now start at the beginning.”

  Miguel spoke, noticeably calmer. “Gregor thinks Laura will come back to him. But in the meantime, he decided to kidnap someone else as a replacement for Jesse. He got us together to go over the plan. We all looked at each other across the table, and we’d had it. That is, me and Nicolette and Keisha and Russell had had it. Donnie’s still on board with the whole ‘werewolf criminal mastermind’ thing.

  “The rest of us had a secret meeting in the middle of the night, and we decided we couldn’t do this any more. We planned to run away together, meet up with you two, and take our chances. Keisha thought we might not need Gregor if we stayed together as a pack. But even if we all died or went crazy, at least we wouldn’t take anyone else down with us.

  “Nicolette wanted to try to kill Gregor and Donnie first, but the rest of us voted against it. She’s the only one who knows how to fight, Donnie’s power works at a distance, and Gregor can go intangible.” Miguel’s voice began to rise again, shaky and fast. “I should have let her! I could have helped her—I could have distracted them. I should have—”

  “You were right the first time,” Roy said, cutting him off. “Laura and I haven’t tried to rescue you all yet because we thought it was too risky with just the two of us. We’ve been waiting for backup. You made the right
call. Now breathe.”

  Miguel breathed. “We were going to sneak out in the middle of the night, while Nicolette was on guard. One at a time. I was first, because there’s booby traps on the grounds that Gregor made me set up. I disabled them, and I was waiting for Keisha, who was going to go next. I don’t know what happened, but there was a lot of yelling. Then gunshots. Nicolette shouted at me to take a car and run. There was another gunshot, and I heard her scream. Then Gregor cut me off from the pack sense. I can’t feel her. I can’t feel any of them. I should have gone back—I should—she’s probably dead.”

  “You don’t know that,” Roy said sharply. “Until and unless you actually see otherwise, she’s alive, and you’re going to rescue her. You don’t even know for certain that she was hit. But even if she was, werewolves are hard to kill. Look.”

  Roy pulled his shirt up and tapped the star-shaped scar. “Through-and-through gunshot wound. I recovered in under a week, with home care from a first aid kit.”

  He indicated the jagged welts. “Shrapnel. It tore at least one of my lungs, and did God knows what other damage. I did need surgery for that, and a month’s recovery in a hospital. But those wouldn’t have been survivable injuries if I hadn’t been bitten. And you have a doctor on the premises. I believe that Nicolette is alive. You believe it too. Now tell me what you think Gregor is going to do. Based on logic and previous experience, not on your worst fears.”

  Miguel gave a hollow laugh. “They’re the same thing. I think Gregor’s going to try to get to the bottom of this and find out what our exact plans were. And once he knows, I think he’ll kill everyone but Donnie and rebuild his pack from scratch. He controls the pack by our belief that we can’t live without him. He won’t keep anyone on who thinks they can escape and survive.”

  Laura bit down on her lip, trying to contain her own guilt. She’d let Roy talk her into waiting for DJ before they tried to rescue the pack. Now Nicolette might be dead, and they’d still have to go in without backup.

  “No second-guessing.” Roy was looking straight at Laura, as if he’d read her mind. “No ‘should haves.’ We’re going to focus on one thing and one thing only, and that’s getting everyone out alive. Including ourselves. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Laura and Miguel said simultaneously. Roy had spoken so forcefully that it was impossible not to agree.

  Though he was in his usual jeans and T-shirt, not to mention his very un-military haircut, he stood so straight and looked so determined that Laura could almost see him in camouflage and boots, carrying his machine gun. He’d been second-in-command of his fire team, ready to take over if anything happened to Marco. She wondered if he ever had. He had stepped into a leadership role as naturally as if he’d done it his entire life.

  Marco’s not here now, she thought. Roy’s in command.

  “We’d better get there fast,” Roy said. “Miguel, how long did it take you to drive here?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes?” he hazarded.

  “I remember it being about half an hour,” Laura said. “But Miguel was driving fast. We should go now. It’ll take hours to get there on foot.”

  “Shit! I forgot, Keisha told us you can’t drive.” Miguel glanced from Roy to Laura. “Gregor’s not going to interrogate them for hours. What if I went ahead in the car, and… Well… I could re-set some of the booby traps, then set them off by remote. That might distract them until you get there.”

  “And while they’re distracted, I could go in and use my power,” Laura added.

  “What power?” Miguel asked.

  “I can command people for a second or two,” Laura began, then decided it was easier to show him. “Clap!”

  Miguel clapped his hands, then looked impressed. “Maybe the two of us are all we need.”

  Roy’s shoulders tensed. “It’s a reasonable plan. But it’s incredibly risky. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be hours behind. But Laura can help me control my power, now that she’s a werewolf too. Let’s all drive.”

  “Roy—” Laura began to protest.

  “It’s worth a try,” Roy said. “If it gets too bad, we’ll abort and go back to plan A: you two go ahead in the car, and I’ll follow.”

  Laura’s palms prickled with anxious sweat. Left to his own devices, Roy would hold out until it was too late. “I want to call the abort.”

  “All right, we’re on,” Roy said. “Miguel, you drive. Safely. We won’t rescue anyone if we go over a cliff. If Laura says to stop, stop immediately, even in the middle of the road. Otherwise, drive. Watch the road, not the back seat. Stop before we get within a distance where someone in the house could hear us coming. Laura… Keep me breathing.”

  Miguel looked unnerved at that.

  As they walked to the car, Roy said, “Wish I’d taken Jim up on his offer of teaching me to shoot with a bow. I meant to hike down tomorrow or the next day and ask.”

  “You still wouldn’t have had the bow here,” Laura pointed out. “Or the time to go borrow it. And could you learn to use it in one session?”

  “Good point.” Roy opened the car door and climbed in, looking like he was settling into an electric chair. “And while we’re on wishes, I wish I was wagging my tail in the back of a pickup truck right now.”

  Miguel got into the driver’s seat, and Laura sat beside Roy. She pressed close against him, put her arms around him, and clasped both his hands, keeping as much physical contact as possible. He leaned his head against hers, cheek to cheek.

  “I’m going to try really hard not to throw up in your lap,” Roy whispered. “But if I do, I apologize in advance.”

  Laura giggled, her tension easing a little. “If you do, you’re doing the dishes for the rest of your life. Now be quiet and let me concentrate.”

  She sank into the pack sense, synching herself with him. Laura took a deep breath, and felt Roy’s chest expand against hers.

  “Drive,” she said.

  Miguel pulled out of the driveway and started barreling along the dirt road. Laura held Roy’s hands tight. He was tumbling out of control, falling and falling, dangerously fast. Every time she tried to catch him, he slipped out of her grasp. She had to fight not to get sucked into his disorientation and fear, the pain and pressure in his chest, his struggling breath, his faltering heart.

  Laura sank deep into the pack sense and focused on her own breathing, deep and slow, and on the pulse of her own blood through her heart, steady and unvarying, then fed that back to him, trying to override his rhythms with her own.

  Roy’s body resisted, his heart stuttering off-beat, his lungs refusing to fully expand. She caught an impression of his conflict: his rational mind was trying to let her have her way, but his instinctive self was battling her attempt to take control of his body, like a drowning man pulling his rescuer beneath the waves.

  Laura held the bond between them while pulling back enough to see what was going on outside of their bodies. Roy’s hands were clammy in hers, his grip weak. He was gasping for breath, his eyes wide and frightened.

  “You’re fighting me,” Laura said. “You have to let me take control. I won’t let you die. I swear it.”

  He didn’t respond, though Laura was sure he’d heard her. She wasn’t sure she’d have enough courage to do what she was asking of him. But she knew, too, that once he wasn’t in an oxygen-deprived panic, he’d regret it if he let her go into danger alone when he could have gone with her.

  “If you can’t do this, I’ll have to stop the car and go on without you,” she said. “Let go. I’ll catch you.”

  “‘kay,” he whispered. “Do it.”

  Laura submerged herself into the pack sense. The air flowing through her throat and lungs, deep and hold and out again. Her heart, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, steady as a metronome. Roy fought once more, in fierce instinct, then surrendered. She held him close, synching her breathing with his, her heart with his.

  It became a chant, the slow rhythm of breath, the fast beat o
f a heart. In. Out. Heart-beat. In. Out. Heart-beat.

  “We’re here.”

  The voice jarred Laura out of her concentration. She opened her eyes. The car was stopped off-road in a moonlit wood.

  Miguel was twisted around in the driver’s seat, peering at them. “Are you guys all right?”

  Roy lay across Laura’s lap, one arm caught in the seatbelt and pulled back at a painful-looking angle. Sweat had soaked his hair and shirt, and shone on his pale face. But he was breathing steadily.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “Just give me a second. That was rough.”

  “On the bright side, my lap is fine,” Laura pointed out.

  Roy gave her a weak smile. “Dishes are still fifty-fifty.”

  Miguel looked at them both like they were out of their minds. “Will you still be able to fight?”

  You said the magic words, Laura thought resignedly.

  “I’ve fought when I was in worse shape than this.” Roy sat up, got out of the car, started to put his hand on the roof, then straightened his spine and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Seriously?” Miguel whispered to Laura. “Who is he, Wolverine?”

  “Sort of,” Laura whispered back.

  Roy beckoned. “Everybody out. Miguel, pop the trunk.”

  Roy rummaged in it until he found some oil-stained rags, which he used to wipe off his hands and face. They had been concealing a crowbar, which he held up. “Anyone want an extra weapon?”

  “My fangs are all I need,” said Laura, winking at Roy.

  “Been waiting a long time to say that?” Roy asked with a grin.

  “I’ll take it.” Miguel stuck the crowbar in his belt.

  As they walked away from the car, Roy spoke softly to Laura. “I didn’t get a chance to say… Thanks for saving my life. Again. What is this, number five?”