by Patti Larsen
Sage bows to me. “Your highness,” he says, gesturing with one hand, eyes twinkling. “Your chariot awaits.”
We practically saunter across the second lane, spirits high. What has gotten into him? Into me? Whatever it is, I welcome it for as long as it lasts.
***
Chapter Nineteen
The minivan I liberate is a newer model, the back seat filled with kid’s toys. Sage finally hesitates at my choice, but I don’t give him an option, or the chance to shatter our little bubble of happy I’m still clinging to. Instead, I point at the glove compartment.
“Find a name,” I say, “and I’ll make sure they not only get their van back, but they are compensated.” That is, if I’m ever in a position to do so. It seems to make Sage feel better and he eagerly hunts for the registration.
San Antonio’s glowing lights die behind us as we head onto the interstate again. I find myself constantly looking at Sage, checking him for signs of illness. He finally reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“I won’t be stupid this time,” he says. “The minute I feel weird, I’ll tell you. And I’ll take these.” He slips the bottle of antibiotics from the plastic bag and holds it up. “And drink this.” He shakes his Gatorade at me, a quick purchase from a corner store on our way out of the city. “You can stop worrying now.”
“No,” I say as we drive into the southern Texas night. “I’ll never stop until you’re cured.”
He does feel stronger to me when I let my magic touch him, though I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Because his wolf is stronger, too. At least he’s still free of all traces of what I recognize as revenant. But what does that mean?
Day lights the sky behind us. I can’t help but count down. This is the end of day five, eight hours behind my initial guess back home. Only two to go before the inevitable. I wish I hadn’t lost the file Femke gave me. There is so much information I wish I had. But it’s in my carryon, back in Miami, probably either in lost and found or confiscated by security by now.
Seven days, according to the file. But Sage is different, feels absolutely unique. So does that time frame still apply?
It’s almost evening by the time I pull over into a gas station in the mountains. Texas came and went without incident, Arizona welcoming us. We’re close to the California border, another eight or so hours to Los Angeles. If I drive all night, we’ll be there by morning. Leaving me one day to find out who Caine and his people really are, though I now suspect who made them.
Belaisle and the Brotherhood. It has to be. I’ve tried a few times over the course of this day’s drive to reach Syd and warn her, but without success. She’s either shielding or not here on this plane. Which makes me even more nervous. I’m not going to ask her to rescue me, but knowing Syd is there in Wilding Springs is a huge comfort. If she’s off somewhere with Max, which has often been the case the last few years, my safety net is gone. Selfish, really, but enough to trouble me. Besides, she really needs to know Belaisle is active again.
But why is he building werewolves? What does he want my people for? And why, if he’s succeeded with Caine and his people, is he making such a mess of the revenants in Europe? It makes no sense.
The station is quiet, a few cars parked in front. Sage is sleeping, so I leave him to rest, climbing out to stretch and get gas. The tank full, I head inside to find us food and stock up on more water and juice for Sage.
The interior is rustic, and I immediately feel like an intruder as I enter. A small group of locals turns to stare as I walk toward the counter in the back. There’s a small diner attached to the gas station, tables covered in plastic, wooden chairs and benches in desperate need of upholstery. But the food smells amazing and I find myself smiling as I greet the older woman behind the register.
She grins at me, thick hands jotting my order as I salivate over the scent of cooking meat behind her. “That it, sweetie?” Her eyebrows go up as I add four hamburgers, two sausages and two large fries to the list of our dinner.
I hand her a wad of cash and grin. “My boyfriend is a beast,” I say with a wink.
She laughs and winks back, ringing through my order. “Lucky girl.”
I’m running low on cash, most of it gone to the hospital, though the moment we reach Los Angeles, I’ll do some pick pocketing and rectify that. The gas bill takes up the last of it, leaving me with a handful of change rattling in the tip jar by the register.
It’s colder here, and I’m still just in a little sundress, though the woman who owned the van was kind enough to leave a denim jacket in the back seat. It’s big on me, but it’s warmer than nothing. I ram my hands in my pockets as I wait for the food to cook, ignoring the stares of the locals, until they eventually turn away, bored by my inactivity.
The rumble of a big engine turns me around, a pick-up truck rolling past catching my attention. I miss the front as it passes, but the back is jacked up on giant tires, paint job old and dented.
Good old boys. How lovely.
Moments later, three big-bellied men with heavy beards, dressed in full camouflage enter the diner. The smell of wood smoke and blood drifts through the delightful scents of the space, making me immediately tense. I turn my back on them, staying close to the register, hoping they don’t notice me. I know their type, all bravado and manliness. But maybe I’m wrong.
“Hey there, sweetheart.” A heavy hand falls on my shoulder and I know I’m absolutely right after all. I turn to face the giant of a man, belly jutting toward me as he grins down through his dirty beard.
I shrug off his hand, looking away again. Damn it, I was hoping to keep this stop incident free. But if he touches me again, I’ll hurt him.
His two buddies join him at the counter. The woman behind it scowls at them with a sympathetic look for me. “Mind yourself around my customers, Jake Wilkens, or I’ll be calling the sheriff again.”
Giant man grunts. “Don’t have to be unfriendly,” he says while his friends grumble agreement. “Was just saying hello, wasn’t I?”
She shakes her pen at him. “I’ve had enough trouble with you and your boys,” she says. “Now make an order and get your gas, or get your asses out of my place.”
I grin at her, admiration for her skyrocketing. I can take care of myself, but it’s nice to have a stranger look out for me for once. Happens rarely enough.
Before the three men can make any further scene—if they plan to—the door opens again. I glance back over my shoulder and spot a uniform, a hat, a gun. The tall, slim man with a young face for a man who smells so old tips his hat to the diner owner, eyes never leaving the trio in camo.
“Evening, Dorothy,” he says in a cheerful voice. His eyes drift over me then back to the troublemakers. “Boys.”
They grunt at him, but seem to unwind. Trouble averted. That is, if Mr. Officer hasn’t run my plates. Damn, why didn’t I stop to have them switched out before now? One more detail slipped through. I’ve entirely lost my edge.
A bell dings and Dorothy turns away to the window behind her. Three Styrofoam trays in a plastic bag slide over the counter at me. She winks slowly. “You travel safe now, sweetie.”
I nod to her with a smile of my own. “Thanks.” The three burly boys don’t make it easy to turn and leave, but with the glowering eyes of Dorothy watching and the deputy tipping his hat to me, too, they don’t have much choice.
Neanderthals. Any other time, I’d have taken them out back and given them a lesson they would never forget. And would encourage them to treat women with respect from now on. But I have Sage to think about and this cop to avoid.
I breathe a sigh of relief into the night air as I exit, hurrying to the car. It’s not until I pull open the driver’s door, I realize something’s wrong.
At the exact moment the sound of growling reaches me.
And the door to the diner opens, three heavy sets of footfalls exiting.
The plastic bag hits the driver’s seat as I spin, eyes huge, from the empty cabin of the
minivan, and spot Sage across the parking lot.
He’s standing in front of the jacked-up truck. At a dead white-tailed buck strapped to the hood.
***
Chapter Twenty
I smell the tang of the dead deer’s blood too late, my senses as dulled as my skills. How did I miss the fresh kill? It’s a perfect lure for Sage in his state. This can’t be happening. Why did I leave him alone? I lurch forward, already running for him, but it’s too late. The big men have seen him, are reaching into the back of the truck, pulling out rifles.
I may have to teach them a lesson after all.
“You! Boy!” The one Dorothy called Jake points his shotgun at Sage, but my love ignores him. I can feel Sage’s wolf straining against his physical form, wanting to manifest, to rip apart the carcass and feed on it. But Sage is stronger. I siphon him power to keep him stable, but I’m still ten feet from him and he’s looking down the barrel of a gun.
A burst of magic-driven speed puts me at Sage’s side in time to knock the shotgun away. Whether this man is willing to kill or not, I can’t take that chance. Jake’s scowl makes him look like a devil disguised in human form. Hate and bitterness and a slew of other human emotions tied to darkness cross the man’s face, his friends just as bad.
I know their kind, have encountered them before. Even trained a militia group when it pleased Andre to support their anti-government paranoia. I’ve had to bring down men like him, hard. And I’m willing to do so again. I do my best to let him see it in my eyes. He doesn’t scare me.
Hopefully, that will scare him.
But I can’t stay here in a stand-off with three men with guns. There’s a deputy inside the diner who can cause me no end of problems if I catch his attention any further. Which means retreat.
“Back off.” I glare at Jake, tugging at Sage. “He was just looking.”
“He better just be,” Jake rumbles, gun coming around again.
Sage fights me, the wolf fights me, but another shot of magic makes him move. I’m now desperate to escape this, spotting the deputy approaching from the diner door.
He glances over Sage and me, coming to a halt as I continue to fight against the need in Sage’s wolf to feed on the carcass. “Put those damned guns down,” he says, though he’s still looking at me.
“Kid here was messing with our kill.” Jake does as he’s told, regardless his argument. Considering Sage hadn’t touched the deer—well, not yet—his complaint is invalid.
The officer nods to me. “He okay?” He seems nervous, hand on the butt of his gun, other reaching up for the two-way on his shoulder. Please, don’t call for backup.
“He’s fine.” I squash Sage’s low growl with more power. There’s no way the Enforcers will miss my magic use this time. Werewolves in the US or not, I’m sure there are none in Arizona. And letting out the amount of power I am is as obvious as waving a flag in the air, telling them to come and get me. We have to go. “Thanks, we’re leaving.”
The three men watch as I drag Sage away, the cop following slowly. I shove my love into the passenger’s seat, smothering him with power, turning to find the officer is looking at the plates on the back of the van.
Damn. Damn it all to the deepest hell imaginable. I slip past him, ignoring his eyes as his gaze rises to follow me. I wave a little before slamming the driver’s door and gunning the engine.
Sage is devouring the food, the scent no longer making me hungry, but sick to my stomach. I ignore him, let him gorge his wolf, while I glance back at the diner in my rear view mirror. The cop is talking into his two-way, probably running my plates. Stupid, suspicious, small-town deputy.
Time to dump the van.
I pull over after a mile at the top of a runaway lane built for big rigs, burying it into the woods and scrub as far as I can. Sage is just finishing the last of the meat, fries and buns and condiments scattered everywhere. He looks up at me with regret, coming back to himself, shaking and groaning softly.
“Charlie, I’m sorry.”
I leap out of the van and run around the side, jerking the door open and pulling him out with me. He’s still in bare feet, dressed in scrubs. No wonder the sight of him set off alarm bells with the deputy. Dumb, Charlotte. Just dumb. This is going to be difficult. And we have no time. The sound of a siren fires off in the distance. The cop is coming and we have to go.
The rumble of a big engine I’ve heard before is closer and I only recognize it as we plunge into the trees. Sage doesn’t complain about his feet, though, and I understand why when I look down. They’ve changed, transformed into paws, for the best in this situation, but just adding to our troubles. They can’t see him like this.
“Run!” I pull him along, feeling him shift beside me, changing further before returning to human. I drop my shields to support him. It doesn’t matter now. Keeping him stable while we run from our pursuers is the only thing I can think about. I’ll deal with the Enforcers if they show.
When they show.
The hunters are coming. I catch the scent of the three men on the wind blowing over my shoulder. The siren has fallen quiet, so the cop must be out there, too. But I’m not as worried about him as I am the three giant hunters. Maybe they wouldn’t shoot Sage or me in the parking lot of a diner. But these are their woods, their mountains, and if they spot us, if they spot Sage half-turned, I know it will be shoot first and hide the bodies before the deputy can report it.
I glance at my love, the fur bursting from the skin of his arms, the stretching of his muzzle. Like I said, I know their type. If they see Sage change from human to werewolf? He’ll have a bullet in his heart before I can do anything to stop it.
We can’t run forever. I make a decision, dragging Sage down beside me behind a rock and smother us with power. He fights me, trying to run, and I’m forced to knock him out with magic. As his eyes roll back in his head, I feel the approach of the hunters and know we’re out of options.
***
Chapter Twenty One
My magic slips outward like a net, covering us in mirage. It’s one of the first things a werewolf learns to do, to hide their true self from normals. I’ve taken it one step further, disguising us completely, or as best I can, from human eyes. Though, if they stumble on us physically, we’re out of luck.
All this power output will summon the Enforcers, without question. They’ll recognize werewolf magic—identify it as my magic with all of this to work with—and investigate. All bets are off on how long it will take them to realize it’s me. We can’t just sit here.
I shoulder Sage’s unconscious body, half-shifting into werewolf form to make the job easier. He groans but falls silent again as I stride through the scrub and up the side of a steep hill. I can’t risk taking a trail, I have to make my own. At least my wolf-paw prints won’t equate to the sandals I discarded. It should throw the hunter’s tracking off if they can’t find human feet to follow.
Unless they deduce the girl’s feet turned to wolf paws are mine. Then we’re in a whole other kind of trouble.
I stumble and almost drop Sage at the sound of voices behind me. They are closer than I expected, this is their territory. Alone, I could outrun them easily. But burdened by Sage, I’m a target. How did they track me? They have to have made the connection.
It’s either keep running or stand and fight. And I’m mighty tired of running. A narrow pass at the top of the hill, sided by scrub and a few trees, looks like a great place to make a stand. I slip through it, setting Sage down on the downward slope on the other side, before turning to scan the brush behind me. The three hunters are making their way toward me, guns up and ready. They don’t see me, yet, but they are following my wolf tracks.
“Can’t be,” one hisses. “She’s just a girl.”
“You saw them footprints shift,” Jake snarls back. “Now shut it before she figures out we’re here.”
“Too late,” I say. The three look up with shouts of fear, though I’m in human form. “If you leave
now, I’ll let you live.”
Jake raises his shotgun, hands shaking, eyes huge, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “Werewolf.”
Damn it. I would have to encounter someone with experience. Still, I have to talk him down if I can. “That’s crazy.” Even I don’t sound convinced. I must work on my acting skills.
All three men quaver, their guns vibrating, aimed at my heart. “Killed one of you lot last year,” Jake says, voice steady if his body isn’t. “Filthy animals.” Fear and fury war in his words. “Bit my brother. Turned him into one of you.”
A revenant. Are they being tested here, too? I’ve heard nothing from the North American Council, but maybe they have no idea.
In a way, it’s fortunate these men found it and killed it. On the other hand, I can’t help but feel sympathy for the fallen and hatred for Jake and his friends.
“You don’t have to do this.” I’m surprised how calm my voice is, though this is what I’ve been raised to do, trained to be. I can take the three of them out easily, my mind tracking a path of attack on autopilot even as I try to talk Jake down. I don’t want to have to kill them, despite my disgust. But when I’m faced with guns, death is the most likely outcome.
For them, that is.
Jake’s hands shift on the shotgun, just a twitch, but enough for my hyper-alert senses to notice. “I’m going to hang your pretty head in my shed,” he says.
His finger tightens on the trigger while my muscles bunch and my wolf surges forward.
The air overhead bursts to life with flashes of blue fire as three Enforcers appear in the night sky. The hunters scream like little girls, staring up into the air for a tortured moment before turning and running back the way they came. I’m clearly the furthest thing from their minds, at this point. Two of the witches in black robes turn and chase the fleeing men, magic pulsing around them, knocking them to the ground. But the third Enforcer lands and walks wearily toward me, his face lined with worry.