Wolf Hollow (Wolf Hollow Shifters, Book 1)

by Nikki Jefford

  “Then let’s take him to be with his own kind.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Garrick snarled. “What do you think will happen if we leave him outside the gates of Balmar Heights? He’ll only come back, or worse, bring along his wizard friends to attack us.”

  Zack’s eyes widened.

  If only they’d remove his gag, Tabor would tell them he had no intention of returning to the hollow. In fact, he’d travel straight to Balmar Heights on his own and ask for a home among the wizards.

  No one, besides Heidi, would miss him. Sasha would feel bad at first, but eventually she’d forget him and move on, like she had after Wolfrik disappeared. There was nothing left for him in Wolf Hollow.

  Tabor tried to speak, but it came out in a muffled garble.

  Zack gave a little jump as though Tabor had been sleepwalking the entire time and just awakened.

  “Don’t bother.” Garrick’s eyes snapped to Tabor, face contorting. “You’re done casting spells. You better not try when the humans find you or they’ll shoot you dead.” Garrick pressed his fingers together and mimicked pointing a gun between Tabor’s eyes—the same spot where he’d punched him. It could have been Zackery, but Tabor had no doubt Garrick had landed the crushing blow. “Now let’s get moving. At this rate it will take us three full days to make it to the campsite. We’ve already lost precious time while I went to his cabin.”

  Tabor could only surmise as to what Garrick had been doing at his cabin. Maybe he’d gathered up his meager possessions and buried them hoping to make it look as though Tabor had packed his things and left the hollow. There were many shifters in Wolf Hollow who would be happy to believe Tabor left for Balmar Heights.

  But how would Garrick explain his absence, along with Zack’s? Once they disposed of him, Garrick and Zack could shift and make quick time on four legs, but they’d still be gone four or more days. Wouldn’t that look suspicious?

  Their lack of conversation on that topic told Tabor that Garrick must have worked something out to cover his tracks.

  Zack gave him a slight shove to get him moving again, but stopped shortly after and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the glade.

  Garrick whipped around. “Eyes forward.”

  “I don’t like this,” Zack said. “You didn’t say anything about taking him into the wasteland or leaving him with humans.”

  Garrick’s eyes pinched together. He stomped over, getting up in Zack’s face. Being shorter, he had to stand on the balls of his toes to get in closer.

  “This is the last time we’re going to have this conversation. I chose you because I thought you were up for the task. Thought you had the stomach. Looks like you’ve gone soft since your old man went rabid. No one around to smack sense into you anymore.”

  Zack snarled.

  Garrick merely shoved his face into Zack’s. “Don’t you growl at me, boy.”

  “You’re not my father.” Zack ground out the words, not backing away either.

  “I’m the closest thing you’ve got,” Garrick snapped. “Don’t wimp out on me now; it’s too late for that. You want everyone knowing you carried Tabor out of the hollow unconscious?” He leaned back and laughed. “They’d banish you for sure. Where you gonna go, Zack? Think Glenn Meadows will take in a stray? Gonna join up with your mad wolf father?”

  “Fine,” Zack ground out from between clenched teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Attaboy, Zack.”

  Sun glinted off Garrick’s teeth when he grinned. He took a step back before turning to continue the march over uneven ground. Tabor was glad Zack had agreed to move forward, if only to be spared the sight of Garrick’s ugly mug. Soon he’d never have to see it again.

  The rough terrain jarred Tabor’s already aching muscles as he stepped over rocks, roots, and brush while straining against the murky light as dusk took hold of the sky. Rather than proceed with caution, Garrick picked up his pace, snapping “keep up” over his shoulder.

  Night descended before they reached the Manama River. The moon dominated the sky, beaming down on them, a mocking reminder of the upcoming full moon and his faithless would-be mate. Tabor silently cursed the moon. It only caused him grief.

  Beside him, Zack’s stomach rumbled, but it did nothing to slow the beast as he barreled through the brush as though he were made out of granite. Although exhausted, Tabor had always been light on his feet and managed to keep pace. He wasn’t about to let Zackery push or pull him along.

  As soon as the gentle rush of the Manama River could be heard through the trees, Garrick slowed his steps, turned, and waited for Zack and Tabor to catch up.

  “There’s enough moonlight to continue up the bluff, but first we’ll eat and drink. You go first,” he said to Zack.

  Wordlessly, Zack stepped over to a level area of bare earth, crouched, and slowly shifted. Fur spread down his arms to his palms and over his fingers, which retracted as they morphed into paws. A tail emerged and his ears lifted, brown eyes turning golden as the final stages of his shift took hold, leaving a wolf in place of a human. Zack stared at Tabor with a look of curiosity, as though he were a wild animal who had stumbled upon an unusual scene—one he stood apart from. Just as quickly, Zack blinked and took off into the trees.

  “Try anything and I’ll rip out your throat,” Garrick threatened before getting to the ground and beginning his shift.

  Tabor stood his ground, relieved to be alone in human form for however long he had. Upon completing the shift to wolf form, Garrick snarled then sat on his hind legs, yellow eyes locked on Tabor and fangs on display. Tabor could only glare back, which made Garrick’s ears go back as he growled in warning.

  A rabbit’s scream cut off Garrick’s growl. His head gave a jerk and his ears flickered as he licked then smacked his lips. Tabor would have had a similar reaction if he were on four legs, but listening to the rabbits screeching with human ears wrenched his heart out of his chest, leaving behind a gutted mess in its place. Garrick had threatened to do the same to him if he shifted. Tabor had faith in his beastly abilities to go up against the mongrel, but if he attempted to take on two it could easily be him having the flesh and fur ripped from his bones. He didn’t care enough to try it. There was nothing left to fight for other than his own neck, which hung in defeat.

  Zack returned, blood staining the fur on his muzzle, and licked his chops. Garrick got to all fours and snarled at him. Zack glanced at him before walking over with languid steps and taking his place guarding Tabor.

  Tabor braced himself for another round of gut-twisting screams, but the silence stretched on, broken only by the fan of muffled wings as an owl swooped down from a nearby tree and crushed a mouse in its talons before returning to a branch high above their heads.

  Garrick’s lack of progress made Tabor smile to himself. The big lug was probably out of practice—too used to hot meals being served to him in a bowl. As much as he wanted to avoid Zack’s gaze, Tabor caught the amused grin on Zack’s lips. He looked a lot friendlier as a wolf, but it didn’t make Tabor hate the beast any less. A cowardly menace dwelled behind those golden eyes.

  If Tabor had the use of his tongue, he would have told Zack he was doing him a favor. The hollow was too small for the two of them and Tabor would revel in his absence—just as soon as he freed his hands and got the damn gag out of his mouth. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t eat or drink; at the moment he wanted oxygen. His broken nose wasn’t making it easy to pull in fresh air—the gag even less so.

  A squirrel chittered angrily in the distance followed by an abrupt snarl. Enough time passed that Tabor found himself taking on Garrick’s frustration. The sooner they dumped him, the sooner he could backtrack to Balmar Heights. Even with his wrists bound, he could use his fingers to get the gag off and call up a spell or go right into the shift and easily step out of the binding. Unlike regular wolf shi
fters, Tabor had two options to choose between when protecting or defending himself.

  Zack sensed Garrick’s return before Tabor. He stood on all four legs, lifting his head high as he listened to the elder’s approach from the woods. Garrick emerged slowly, jaw moving as he crunched on bones and continued to chew as though to prove he’d managed to catch something—even if it was a small rodent. Tabor would have smirked if his tongue didn’t feel like a wadded-up piece of cotton saturated in blood and saliva.

  Garrick finished chewing, swallowed, and shook slightly as his fur thinned and disappeared altogether, replaced by wiry brown body hair on his arms, legs, and chest. Ever the lemming, Zack followed the elder’s lead, shifting back into his offensive human form. He remained crouched on the ground as he glanced Tabor’s way and said, “We’d make faster time if we all traveled as wolves. You could stand guard while he and I shifted then tie his gag loose around my neck to take with us. Once we got there one of us could shift and gag him again the moment he comes out of the shift.”

  Garrick sniffed dismissively. “Nah, we’d waste too much time if we had to chase him down making a run for it.”

  Zack frowned. “He hasn’t made any trouble so far.”

  “Of course not, he’s waiting to take us off guard.” Garrick leered at Tabor. “Not gonna happen, so might as well save your strength.”

  Tabor rolled his eyes. Garrick’s face went red right before he stormed over and thumped him between the eyes, causing blinding pain to shoot back into his skull and burn down his nostrils. Tabor hissed, but it came out more like a gurgle through the gag.

  “You never were any good at respecting your elders.” Garrick sneered. “Lucinda coddled you, probably made you believe you were something special rather than the piece-of-shit reject nobody else wanted around. Maybe the humans will have better luck keeping you in line.”

  Rage jolted Tabor like a punch in the gut. It flamed up his spine and turned the saliva in his mouth to burning acid. Garrick might be able to get away with talking to Zackery that way, but Tabor would rather rip out his own tongue then let the insult go unpunished.

  He launched himself at Garrick, ramming him in the chest with his head, jumped back and threaded his fingers to form one tight fist he used to smack him against the side of his face. Garrick bellowed in outrage and lowered his head before charging at Tabor. Without time to move, Tabor took the brunt of Garrick’s thick skull in the stomach and fell backward. Dick move, copying him, but no surprise. Garrick made the mistake of coming at Tabor while he was on the ground. They hadn’t bound his legs together—something Tabor took immediate advantage of when he kicked Garrick in the knees. This time, the elder bellowed in pain and kept his distance.

  “That’s it,” he roared. “I’m going to teach you a lesson right now. Zackery, hold him down.”

  Zack looked up from picking dirt out of his fingernails, shooting Garrick and Tabor a dismissive glance. “This is your fight, not mine.”

  Garrick huffed then turned a withering gaze at Tabor. “Stop trying to waste my time. Get up.”

  Tabor pulled his legs into his chest and rested his arms over his shins languidly, relaxing his expression into one of idle boredom.

  Zack gave his nail one last flick then came over and lifted Tabor roughly to his feet.

  A smile gleamed over Garrick’s lips. “Good. Now let’s go.”

  Zack pushed Tabor forward. When he slowed to keep his balance over a stretch of rocky terrain, Zack gave him a little shove against his back shoulder. Being unable to curse the mongrel or punch him, Tabor was left with only his imagination, which involved biting off the meaty hand that shoved him.

  As they approached the river’s edge, the rush of water filled Tabor’s ears like wind. The surface glimmered in the moonlight and wrapped around Tabor’s ankles in a cool embrace the moment he stepped into the chilly current.

  They waded across carefully then stepped onto dry ground on the other side. When Garrick and Zackery weren’t looking, Tabor took one last look over his shoulder before walking away from the hollow forever, moonlit shadows chasing him every step of the way.

  chapter twenty-one

  Sasha couldn’t get the crude stench of vulhena out of her lungs or nostrils. The acrid smell of burning bodies spread through the forest all the way to the glade where den mates had gathered to find out what had happened. A mix of males and females paced the glade—all naked and ready to shift at a moment’s notice.

  Sasha jerked her head from side to side, but she didn’t see Tabor. He hadn’t been at the bluff when she went back, but Emerson told her she’d sent him away. On the way back, Sasha checked her cave thinking he would be waiting for her there, but there’d been no sign he’d passed through. Between Garrick’s outburst and Wolfrik’s challenge, he’d probably gone to his cabin to cool off. Charred vulhena wasn’t doing anything to help Sasha sniff him out, and before she had a chance to pass through the glade, Peter, Flynn, and Devan rushed over.

  “What happened?” Devan demanded.

  The talking around them stopped as nearby shifters craned their head to listen in.

  Sasha stared into his eyes unblinking. “A group of vulhena attempted to attack the hollow. Tabor stopped them. He saved us all.”

  Devan sucked in a breath. “How many were there?”

  “Around sixty.”

  Devan’s eyes rounded. “Sixty! How could Tabor possibly stop that many?”

  Back straightening, Peter jutted his chin high in the air. “I don’t care how Tabor did it. He protected the hollow. He kept our families safe. Where is he, anyway? I want to thank him.” Peter looked at Devan, eyes narrowing. “We all do.”

  “I’m just on my way to find him,” Sasha said, buoyed by Peter’s support. Tabor needed to come out of his cabin and be recognized for the bravery he’d shown.

  Flynn cleared his throat. “Did anyone die?”

  “Only the vulhena,” Sasha answered. “The bodies are burning as we speak.”

  “Anything we can do to help?” Flynn asked.

  Sasha threw her shoulders back. “Yeah, stand by Tabor’s side when Garrick attempts to vilify him for using his powers to protect the pack.”

  Jager cleared his throat. “Sasha, a word, please.”

  She hadn’t seen him hobble beside her.

  Jager inclined his head toward the copse beyond the glade. She nodded and went from following to leading him down one of the paths. The din from the glade soon faded behind the dense forest. Sasha kept a steady stride, aware of Jager casting sidelong looks her way. “Am I walking too fast?” she asked.

  Rather than answer her question he said, “Garrick came by my hut not long ago and told me what happened at the bluff.”

  Sasha gave a snarl. “He wasn’t there when the attack happened or even right afterwards. Ask Raider, Aden, Emerson, Jordan, or Hudson if you don’t believe me.”

  Jager’s head lowered. “Of course I believe you, Sasha. You’re the most honest shifter in all of Wolf Hollow.”

  Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but she kept her chin lifted, leery of what Jager might say next. He kept silent for several heartbeats before speaking in a curious voice. “You really love him, don’t you? The half-breed, I mean.”

  Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “You mean Tabor?”

  Jager’s shoulders dropped. “Did he really put down sixty vulhena with the use of a spell?”

  Sasha slowed her pace enough to face Jager, fire in her eyes. “I wouldn’t be standing here if he hadn’t.”

  Jager nodded and they continued, ducking by branches that reached into the narrow trail. “I should have encouraged him in his practice when he was a boy, observed what he could do.” Jager stopped and sucked in a shuddering breath. Sasha was alarmed to see tears glisten in his murky eyes. “We might have prevented the first vulhena attack that claimed so many lives.”
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  The old man’s emotion tugged at Sasha’s heart. Standing in the fading light, among the silent trees, she faced Jager and took hold of his hands, grasping them in hers. As he sucked in a breath, she wondered how long it had been since anyone had touched him.

  “You mustn’t think that way,” she said kindly. “Leave the past behind where it belongs. Isn’t that what you always told me?” She remembered Jager speaking the words soothingly to her on two occasions—after her parents were killed and when Wolfrik took off. “They are not of this life any longer,” she continued, thinking of her parents. “It does more harm than good to disturb their memory with our longing.”

  Jager squeezed her hands and lowered his head solemnly. “Yes, of course. Forgive an old man’s nostalgia.” As he let go, he looked skyward to the stars beginning to brighten overhead, whispering reverently, “May they run forever free.”

  “May they run forever free,” Sasha repeated. She pulled her hands gently out of the elder’s leathery grasp. “I’ll get Tabor and see you back at the glade. I expect your support if Garrick brings up banishing him for using sorcery to defend the hollow.”

  Jager chest lifted and fell. “You have a respite for now. Garrick informed me that he and Zackery were following the vulhena’s trail while it was still fresh to see if it led them back to a den and any young they might have left waiting behind.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Sasha admitted reluctantly, “but they could have also left behind females to guard their young. Are two shifters enough to go after them?”

  “If there are too many, Garrick has instructions to return to the hollow for reinforcements.”

  Sasha nodded. She doubted he would. Garrick probably felt left out of the killing and was after his own piece of the action. He and Zackery wanted to prove they were still tough fighters.

  “Hopefully that’s the last we’ll see of the vulhena for a while,” Sasha said.