Wolfsong

by TJ Klune

  It came quicker than I would have hoped.

  Richard knocked Thomas back.

  Thomas crashed into a tree with a deep whine.

  He slid to the ground, eyes unfocused.

  Richard stood above him.

  His lips pulled back over his teeth.

  A low rumble started in his throat, and I saw his muscles coiling as he prepared to attack.

  It took only seconds, really.

  One moment he was standing above Thomas and the next I was bringing the rock down on the back of his head. There was a sharp crack that I hoped at the very least meant a split skull. The wolf yelped, and for a moment, I felt a sick thrill. That we’d won. That I’d taken him down. That he would fall to the ground and would never rise again.

  I saw the swell of blood on the top of his head. It spilled down between his eyes and onto his snout, dripping to where his lips curled.

  But he did not fall.

  He turned to me.

  Thomas tried to push himself up but collapsed back on his paws.

  I took a step back.

  The great and terrible beast took an answering step forward.

  “Come on, you fucker,” I said hoarsely. I tightened my grip on the rock because it was all I had.

  I thought of Joe. And my mother.

  I felt bad. I’d left one behind for the other. And now I was doing it again.

  But at least he’d be safe if I could take Richard down with me.

  And that was the only thing that mattered.

  I wouldn’t let him take Joe.

  Not again.

  Richard’s ears flattened to the back of his head, and even though it seemed impossible, I could have sworn the wolf was smiling.

  Like he knew he’d won.

  I remembered what I’d been taught.

  It was all I could do. And as long as I remembered, maybe Joe would be okay. And Thomas. The others. And one day, they could look back and remember me for the things I’d done since the day we’d met rather than the last thing I did.

  THERE WAS a day Thomas and I had been walking through the woods. He’d made Joe stay behind. Joe wasn’t too happy about that, but Thomas had just flashed his eyes in that way he did and Joe had stopped complaining. Mostly.

  We didn’t talk for the longest time. It felt good to be silent with someone, not needing the weight of conversation. Thomas knew that about me. He knew that sometimes I couldn’t find the words to say what I wanted, so I just said nothing at all. He didn’t think I was stupid. Not like others had before him.

  There was a moment, brief and bright, where I thought of my father. I still wasn’t quite sure what wolves could pick up by heartbeat and scent, if sadness had a taste to it, or if anxiousness felt heavy.

  My father wouldn’t have understood this. The wolves. The pack. My place with them. He wouldn’t have understood any of it.

  Not really.

  He would have given me shit for it.

  Tried to take it away.

  My father hadn’t been a good man.

  I knew that now.

  He’d spoken in indifference and callousness.

  In rage and violence.

  But I’d loved him anyway, because I was his son.

  And he was my father.

  I wondered what that said about me, that I could love someone like him.

  Despite his everything.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d told myself it was better that he was gone.

  But maybe it was the first time that I believed it completely.

  That hit me hard.

  That I’d ever thought it was good someone was dead was beyond me because I wasn’t that person.

  I didn’t speak in indifference. In callousness.

  In rage and violence.

  My heart stuttered in my chest.

  I took a breath, sharp, like a soundless gasp.

  Thomas wrapped his big hand around the back of my neck and squeezed, leaving it there as we walked. He didn’t speak. He was. He was just.

  There.

  My heartbeat slowed.

  My breaths returned to normal.

  My feet didn’t drag.

  We walked on.

  Strangely enough, I spoke first. Later, of course. Much later. I thought maybe he was waiting for me.

  I said, “How do you always know?”

  Thomas didn’t even act surprised at the question. “You’re mine,” he said simply. “I’ll always know.”

  “Because you’re the Alpha?”

  “That too,” he said, eyes never leaving mine.

  And I heard all the things he’d left unsaid.

  THE BEAST came for me, there in the darkened woods.

  My Alpha lay quietly underneath an old oak tree whose branches rattled in the wind. His chest rose shallowly and held. It fell and took forever to rise again.

  Richard crouched.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  I said, “You should have stayed out of my territory.”

  Richard leapt.

  His claws reached for me.

  His jaw opened wide.

  I brought the rock up and—

  A flash of white, crossing in front of me.

  Richard yowled as he was thrown to the side.

  A wolf stood in front of me, hackles raised, head crouched low to the ground, teeth bared in a furious snarl at Richard, who was pulling himself back to his feet.

  Joe.

  Joe was here.

  Joe was all right.

  This wasn’t a dream, because my back ached something fierce.

  I reached out and curled my fingers in the fur on his neck.

  I felt the rumble deep within him.

  It sang to me.

  Richard flashed rotted eyes as he glared at Joe, moving slowly around us.

  Joe moved with him, always staying between us. I could feel the anger in him, the rage and the anguish. I tried to reach for the others, the strings that connected us all to make sure none of our pack had been lost, but everything was jumbled. My head hurt and I couldn’t focus on anything but the green relief of having Joe here, of knowing that he was okay. That he wasn’t still lying beneath a tree, back snapped and writhing.

  We could do this. We could—

  Richard ran at us without making a sound. Joe tensed beneath my hand, readying himself for the impact. I dug my heels into the earth and fought every instinct that told me to run, because I was not a coward, and I was going to fucking stand with my mate—

  Lights shot up around us, rising from the earth, the ground beneath our feet groaning as it shifted. Richard collided with the light and was thrown back as if electrified, eyes rolling up into the back of his head as he landed at the base of an old oak. He twitched, legs skittering on the ground, digging through the dirt.

  “Ox,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned.

  Gordo stood, leaning against a tree, panting. His face was sweat-slick and pale. He cradled his left arm against his chest. His clothes were torn. He was bleeding in more places than he wasn’t.

  And the tattoos on his arms were the brightest I’d ever seen.

  “How did you—”

  “It’s the territory,” he said, voice thin and weak. “It belongs to the Bennetts. It always has. It doesn’t like intruders. The earth, it… I can hear it. It talks to me. I can keep him out. For now. But I can’t hold it, Ox. Not forever. Whatever has to happen needs to happen now.”

  I reached out and touched the light (barrier?) that surrounded us, separating us from Richard. It felt solid under my fingers, and warm, and there was that thread that connected me to Gordo, one that I’d always felt faintly before. It was never as solid as the others, because even though we were tethered together, he wasn’t pack.

  But now it was bright. And strong.

  “What has to happen?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer.

  Gordo said, “Ox.”

  And I knew.

  Then a voice sp
oke softly.

  It said, “Dad?”

  I looked over.

  Joe had shifted to human again and was kneeling next to his father. There was a deep, dark bruise stretching the length of his back where he’d struck the tree. Even as I watched, the edges were fading as it healed. I didn’t know if it was because he was who he was that he’d survived that impact. If Carter or Kelly could have done the same.

  His father was stretched out before him, still a wolf. His eyes were open and watching his son. He whined quietly in the back of his throat. His tail thumped once. Twice.

  Joe said, “You gotta get up.”

  Thomas stretched his neck until his nose touched Joe’s hand.

  “They’re okay,” he said, like he could hear his father’s question. And for all I knew, he could. “They’re taking care of the rest. But they need you. Okay? You gotta get up.” His voice broke at the end.

  Thomas sighed, a great and heaving thing. Like his fears were slipping away.

  From behind us, a wolf howled, a song of fury.

  I whirled around.

  Richard Collins stood, and he was angry. He was snapping his jaw and started hurling himself at the barrier. His eyes were darker than they’d been before, like he was lost to the wolf, all feral and rage. Every time he slammed into the green, the light pulsed outward, like a ripple in water. And it only made him angrier.

  “Thomas,” Gordo choked out. “You have to do this. Now. I can’t—”

  Thomas began to shift, slower than I’d ever seen it. By the grimace on his wolfish face and the way his body tensed, it was a painful shift. Bones that were broken before were still broken. Cuts were wide and bled freely without any sign of stopping.

  Joe moaned above his father, hands shaking as he reached out. He hesitated as if unsure where to touch.

  Richard screamed and continued his assault.

  Joe said, “Dad.”

  Thomas Bennett smiled up at him. His mouth was red and blood dribbled down his cheek. His eyes were clear.

  He said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “We have to get up,” Joe begged. “We have to get up and go. Mom’s waiting for you.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” Thomas said. “It’ll hurt. For a while. But you’ll be fine.”

  Joe shook his head. He grabbed his father’s hand and held it in his own. “I can’t do this,” he said. “I’m not ready.” He sounded so impossibly young.

  “You are,” Thomas said. “You have been. It’s what we’ve been working toward. You’ve—”

  There was a loud groan of bone and muscle. Then, Richard said, “I can save him, Joe. I can save him. You just need to give me what I want. I can help you. And him.”

  Richard stood, nude and bloodied, eyes on Joe but unable to take a step forward because of Gordo’s magic.

  “Don’t,” Thomas said, eyes never leaving his son. “Don’t listen. It’s not—”

  “You don’t need it,” Richard said. “I can take this all away. Your father will be fine. I will be the Alpha, and I promise you that all of this will seem like a dream. You can go home, and you’ll never see me again.”

  I didn’t need to be a wolf to know he was lying.

  And for all he was worth, for all that he’d been through, for all the horror that he’d seen, Joe hesitated.

  I saw it. It was small. But it was there.

  Thomas saw it too.

  But so did Richard.

  And he smiled.

  So I took a step forward and said, “Joe.”

  Joe looked up at me, Halloween eyes bright and wet.

  “He makes promises,” I said, “that he won’t be able to keep.”

  Joe bit his lip. “But—”

  “He’s human,” Richard said, voice dripping with disdain. “Even if he is pack. He doesn’t understand. He’ll never understand what you are. What you’re supposed to become. His kind are the reason any of this is happening at all. They betray you, Joe. They will always betray you.”

  “I promised you,” I said, taking another step. “That it would always be you and me. That I would take care of you. That I would never lie to you.”

  Tears tracked down his face.

  “They can only lie!” Richard roared, smashing his fists against the barrier. “It’s all they are capable of!”

  “Hurry up, Ox,” Gordo bit out through gritted teeth.

  “You trusted me with your wolf before you even knew me,” I said. “Back when I thought I was nothing. But you showed me. You trusted me. And I’m asking you to do it again.”

  His eyes were wide. His breath hitched in his chest.

  He tore his gaze away from me and looked back down at his father.

  “This isn’t the end,” Thomas whispered to him, voice barely able to be heard above Richard’s shouts. “You’ll see. I am so proud of you and what you have become. What you will become.”

  “I can’t do this alone,” Joe wept. “I can’t—”

  “And you won’t have to,” Thomas said. “Because an Alpha is nothing without his pack. And your pack will always be with you.”

  “Ox!” Gordo cried in warning, and I looked over. He’d fallen to his knees, sweating heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Richard howled in triumph.

  “Joe,” I said. “You have to—”

  Joe’s claws were out before I could finish, black and sharp. The barrier flickered as he brought them down to his father’s chest, above his heart, fingers spread to five sharp points.

  Voice a-tremble, Joe said, “Do you remember? That day in the woods. We chased the squirrels. And you told me you were happy I was your son.”

  Thomas smiled his quiet smile. “I love you too.”

  Joe pierced his father’s chest.

  The world was a large and scary place. That’s what Gordo had taught me. That anything I could think of was probably out there. There were questions I didn’t ask because I was scared of the answers I would get. There were questions I hadn’t thought to ask, but whose answers were kept secret from me anyway.

  And then there were questions I wasn’t even prepared to understand. Why did my father leave? Why did Joe choose me? What was my place in all of this?

  How would Joe become the Alpha?

  He knew. He knew, because he didn’t hesitate. Not at this. Not when his mind was made up. I wondered when Thomas had told him. Or if it was instinct. Something simply known from the past to the future.

  His claws went into his father’s skin, pressing down until his palm was flat against Thomas’s chest. Richard screamed his fury, and at first nothing happened. I thought maybe something had gone wrong. Truth was, I didn’t know what to expect, transferring the power of an Alpha from one to another.

  I still didn’t know jack shit about werewolves.

  It started with a tingle along my skin.

  Like a whisper in my ear.

  Joe didn’t move.

  Thomas didn’t move.

  But then my skin was crawling. There was a surge in my head and heart, and I wondered if this is what it felt like to be lightning-struck. The pack bonds were bursting in my chest and I could feel them all, every single one of them, and there was a poignant relief, so greengreengreen because they were alive, all of them, but it hurt because Carter’s was strong and Mark’s, and Elizabeth and Kelly and Gordo (because he was there too, for the first time like pack and I could taste his magic at the back of my tongue, ozone-tinged and bitter).

  And Joe, Joe was the brightest out of all of them, the strongest, and there was such power there that I could barely breathe.

  And Thomas.

  Thomas was there too.

  But his was faded. The thread was thin.

  Weaker than it had any right to be.

  Like it was barely hanging on.

  The barrier snapped back into place.

  Thomas opened his eyes. They flashed orange and dull.

  He sighed in such green relief.


  He said, “Ox. A wolf is only as strong as its tether.”

  His eyes closed.

  He exhaled.

  His chest did not rise again.

  The thread snapped and disappeared.

  Joe said, “Dad.”

  Hair sprouted along his cheeks. His face began to stretch into his half shift. His lips curled. His teeth lengthened into spikes. He tilted his head back and sang the song of the Alpha, eyes wide and burning red.

  open wounds/the way home

  RICHARD WAS gone.

  Osmond was gone.

  Robert Livingstone had never appeared.

  Most of the Omegas were dead.

  Those that lived had fled.

  But, of course, I wouldn’t even think about that until later.

  THEY KNEW.

  The others.

  Even before they found us under the oak trees, they knew.

  They would have felt the moment he died just like I did. Probably even more so, given that I was still human.

  It was Carter and Kelly who burst from the trees first, running on four legs, high-pitched whines pouring from them. They skittered to a stop once they saw us: Thomas, still against the grass. Joe, on his knees, head bowed over his father, claws at his sides. Gordo, leaning against a tree, face in his hands, his tattoos glowing brightly.

  And myself, numb for my mother, now a body under a blanket.

  For Thomas, body still warm, blood still leaking.

  Carter unfroze first, coming over and running his nose up Joe’s arm. His neck. His hair. He breathed in and out in short little bursts, taking in the scent of his new Alpha. His coat was matted with blood, and he favored his right front leg, but he kept pressing against his brother.

  Kelly finally moved toward them, his eyes wide, mouth open as he let out little yips, like soft barks over and over again. He left Carter and Joe alone and collapsed at his father’s feet, nosing against his toes. His calves. Eventually, he laid his head on his father’s legs and trembled.

  Mark came then. In human form. While the other wolves were nude, he wore tattered pants, frayed and ripped and spattered with grime and gore. Open wounds were healing slowly, and he had a nasty-looking bite on his right shoulder where it looked like a large chunk had been torn away. He took a stuttering step toward Thomas and the others, but stopped, hands curling into fists at his side. Instead, he went to Gordo first, whispering something I couldn’t quite make out. Gordo didn’t look up, but shook his head. Mark’s eyes darted around the tree line, eyes hard and jaw set.