Red

by Kait Nolan

  “That’s not what it looked like this morning.”

  “And what did it look like, Dad?” I spat in exasperation.

  “Like she has feelings for you. Like you were going to act on it.”

  My brain circled around that. Shy, fantastic, funny Elodie Rose, who I can’t stop thinking about, might actually be into me too? I’d been so focused on protection detail, on confirming whether she was or wasn’t a wolf, that I hadn’t given much thought to how she felt about me other than making sure she wasn’t afraid of me. Could it really be true? I mean, maybe. She’d relaxed enough to flirt back some. And—I really couldn’t think about this right now because here was Dad staring me down and looking all grim and disappointed and shit.

  “Sawyer, you can’t play with her. She’s a bright, talented girl, and I won’t stand for you to use her as some kind of distraction or toy.”

  The wolf pressed close to the surface, offended at the accusation, furious at the order to stay away. “What do you take me for?” I growled. “Do you honestly think I would be so cruel to her?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so before. I thought you were better here.”

  “I am better here. Because of her. I’d slit my own wrists before I’d deliberately cause her any kind of pain.”

  This was the wrong thing to say.

  Dad’s face shifted from stern to alarmed. “You can’t be with her like that, Sawyer. You know that. She isn’t like us.”

  I could tell him about her. Clear this up, avoid the lecture. Do something really radical and bring in an adult to help me teach her. But it wasn’t my secret to tell. And since when did I ever do things the easy way?

  “I know exactly what she is. She’s a brilliant, amazing, lonely girl, who deserves better than the likes of this hick town. I’m not crossing any lines, not doing anything that would jeopardize her future.”

  “So long as we’re clear.”

  “We’re clear.”

  Dad nodded, as if satisfied with my response. But I couldn’t leave it at that. I stepped toward him, back into his line of sight so that he made eye contact again. “Now make sure you’re clear on this. She’s been humiliated and ostracized by her classmates since she moved here, with nobody to protect or stand up for her. I am her friend, and I’m not walking away and abandoning her because you think it’s best.”

  I could see him considering responses, rejecting them, trying to assess whether an alpha smackdown was going to deter me from my path. Whether it was necessary. But I’d framed it right. Protection was one of our highest priorities, one that he and I both felt he’d failed at with Mom. Whether Elodie was wolf or not, mine or not, he understood that need.

  “Be careful, son. This is a dangerous path you’re walking.”

  “I’m fine. No one’s trying to kill her. I just want to have her back if any of these assholes from her school try to hassle her again.”

  “Fair enough.” His eyes shifted back to green. “Now grab that pack. We’re headed out past Kephart Prong today.”

  I squelched irritation. Evidently my punishment was going to be busywork for the day. Instead of arguing, I schlepped to the supply closet and grabbed the pack. Maybe by tonight I’d have figured out what to say to Elodie.

  ~*~

  Elodie

  Dad was gonna kill me. If he hadn’t called out search parties already. The sky was fading from a wash of red and orange to the purpling of night. Which meant it was really freaking late. No trail guide would still be at work this late. And that meant he was bound to have called the park looking for me. My cover was gonna be blown, all because I’d stayed late to help secure the station for the night because it was the first chance I’d had to see Sawyer since the incident at Hansen’s this morning. God, I was a moron.

  I took one last glance at the research station before climbing into my car. For all I knew it was the last time I’d see Sawyer. Dad might put me under house arrest when I got home. Sawyer was still in there with his dad working on the map and the plan for tomorrow’s work. We’d both been kept busy today. Separately. Maybe it was nothing and Dr. McGrath just wanted us to work on different things, but I couldn’t help but feel like he wholly disapproved of the idea of Sawyer taking more than a friendly interest in me. I mean he’d been nothing but kind and professional all day. Nothing had really changed in how he acted toward me. But his manner with Sawyer was different. Gruffer. Shorter. I wondered why. Did he think Sawyer was somehow bad for me?

  My car sputtered a bit when I cranked it, but she caught and purred to life. Okay perhaps purred was euphemistic. Whimpered maybe. I really needed Dad to get under the hood and tinker. After he was done flaying me alive for lying to him.

  I wasn’t used to being out this late. Even before Rich and Molly’s kidnapping, standard operating procedure in our household meant that I was in before sunset, period. Not like the chances of me wolfing out were greater after dark, but Dad was a single parent of a teenage daughter and, curse aside, it was a reasonable precaution.

  Shadows of trees and boulders stretched long across the road into deeper pools of blackness. My headlights cut through them, a narrow swath of light leading me home. There wasn’t anybody else on the road. Which wasn’t a shock. There wasn’t much on this road other than park access, and everybody was gone for the day.

  My heart jolted as something jerked in the beams. I jammed my foot down on the brakes, tires screeching as I slid to a stop. But it was only a deer, wheeling away from the road and back into the trees.

  The breath whooshed out of me in relief.

  Then the car died.

  I patted the dash, as if it was an animal that needed soothing from the encounter. “It’s okay, baby. It was just a deer. It wasn’t hurt. I didn’t wreck. You weren’t hurt. This is not a problem.”

  I turned the key. The engine sputtered and coughed. Nothing. I cranked it again. Cough. Sputter. Wheeze. Die. It occurred to me the fourth time I tried that I might be flooding the engine. Could you do that with an automatic? It didn’t matter, really. Either way, the car apparently wasn’t going to start.

  “Shit.”

  I turned on my emergency flashers.

  I was halfway home. I could chance walking back to the lab, but Sawyer and his dad would probably be finished and gone by the time I got there. Probably the best thing to do would be to head for home. At least it would give me a valid excuse for being late. And if I was lucky, somebody I knew would drive by and could maybe give me a lift.

  This was one of those occasions I really thought Dad should rethink his no cell phone policy. I’d never fought it before because, really, who would I call? It’s not like I had friends. But the prospect of hiking home in the dark was so not thrilling me. Maybe I’d start a campaign for one of those pre-paid burner phones.

  I climbed out of the car, grabbed my day pack, and locked the door.

  For about two seconds I considered hiking cross country. I could shave off a mile probably. But though I knew practically every inch of the park in the daylight, I wasn’t comfortable trekking through at night. I hadn’t forgotten our encounter with the bear, and predators aside, even an almost werewolf was subject to sprained ankles or broken bones as a result of a fall. So road it was.

  I hugged the left shoulder, keeping as much out of the road as possible. I’d see and hear any oncoming traffic well enough in advance to get out of the way. To the right there was no shoulder for the most part, just sheer walls of rock of varying heights where the mountain had been blasted to make way for the roadbed.

  Now that the sun was down, the oppressive heat of the day had waned. It was actually almost pleasant to be outside under the stars. Except for the mosquitoes. Tipping my head back, I peered up at the swatch of sky visible through the trees where the road cut through. Now that I’d walked far enough that my headlights had disappeared, I could see hundreds of pinpricks of light in the black. It’s one of my favorite things about living in a podunk town. No city lights to drown ou
t the night sky.

  Dad and I used to have a telescope when I was younger, and we made stargazing a big thing. He taught me all the constellations, let me stay up late for those rare astronomical events. Since we’d come here, the telescope had stayed packed in its crate and the only star related stuff we’d done was navigational. I could find my way around without a map or compass. In theory.

  My dad. Always about the practical.

  It hadn’t seemed worth the hurt to mention the fact that getting lost hadn’t been why Mom died.

  A distant rumble separated itself from the noisy song of crickets and buzz of cicadas. An engine. I tipped my head, listening. Was it coming this way? Hard to tell. The new super sensitive hearing seemed to be coming and going, and I really had no idea of the range. I could be hearing a car on another road entirely.

  I stopped walking to listen again, turning around to face the direction I’d come from. It occurred to me that the mobility of canine ears would be much more convenient for locating the direction of sounds. Not that I really wanted to sprout a pair, but I could just see the utility of that particular trait.

  The vehicle was definitely getting closer. I could hear the rise and fall of sound as it rounded the switchbacks coming down the mountain. Great. Maybe it would be someone I knew or at least someone Dad knew. Maybe it would even be Sawyer or his dad. They had to come this way to get home.

  I thought of Rich and Molly as I turned back toward home and started walking again. What if whoever kidnapped them had been someone who they knew? They hadn’t seen his face, but it might’ve been. It was coming from behind me, from the direction of the park. There were a few other things on this road than the park, but I found myself picking up the pace. A prickle of unease skated up my spine. Okay maybe I wouldn’t take a ride from anybody. It was only about a mile and a half to Hansen’s and from there another mile and a half home. Me and the mosquitoes would be fine that far.

  I passed into one of the long, stone corridors with rock rising up on either side. It made me feel hemmed in. Trapped. I didn’t like closed spaces of any kind, so I broke into a jog. The sooner I came out the other side, the better. Maybe the driver of the approaching vehicle would think I was just out for a run and drive on by. Yeah, just out for a little nighttime exercise. With a backpack. On a random, dark, mountain road. Well, if they stopped to ask if I needed help, I’d just say I was fine. I kept my pace steady and unconcerned. Just jogging here.

  Headlights cut through the dark as the car entered the pass, and as soon as they struck me, I froze like some kind of moronic deer, then turned around. Stupid, stupid! My night vision was blown. The car got closer. Surely the driver had seen me. Just in case, I edged over well into the oncoming lane, out of the way so the vehicle could pass.

  I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the glare, but I couldn’t see squat except that it was some kind of truck or SUV. And it wasn’t slowing. In fact, the engine revved. What the hell? It wasn’t that much of a straight away. What lunatic would be speeding up on a mountain road at night? When a pedestrian was in the road? Was he drunk?

  The car switched lanes and started to barrel toward me.

  Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit!

  I started to run, my pack bouncing against my back as my legs pumped, propelling me down the road. Needed speed. Needed distance. Needed to get to the end of the pass so I could dive off the road and into the trees.

  Behind me the engine revved again, a rising whine as the driver pushed the truck even faster, eating up the meager distance between us even as my lungs burned and screamed for air. Thirty feet. Twenty. Fifteen. I tried to push faster, harder, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t gonna make it.

  In a moment of startling clarity, I was grateful I wouldn’t have to pull the trigger myself, that the curse would be ended with me, and that my death wouldn’t be tainted by the stain of suicide.

  Then it hit me, and I was flying through the air, pain a bright blossoming in my ribs. The impact didn’t come from the expected direction. I had just enough time to register that fact before I crashed back to the ground, rolling, sliding in sticks and leaves and rocks, until I slammed, back first, into a tree. Everything exploded into a burst of white.

  ~*~

  Elodie

  Being dead was not at all what I’d expected. Instead of the proverbial white light and warmth, after that initial flash everything went dark and cold. Agonizing. It occurred to me then that maybe werewolves go to hell, and I had skipped right on by the pearly gates.

  Well damn, that sucked.

  Something moved beside me. I heard it shift, heaving a great weight to its feet and making the leaves crackle. That startled me enough to suck in a breath and try to pry my eyes open.

  Wait, a breath? Did you need to breathe in the afterlife? Maybe old habits died hard. But no, once my lungs got a taste of oxygen, they started heaving to suck in more. I was still working on the eyes, but they really were not wanting to cooperate.

  The thing took a step toward me. Then another. I could feel my heart racing in my chest. That was another weird thing. Why was my heart beating? Surely I didn’t need that in hell. But maybe it was to feel the full impact of the paralyzing terror as you were eaten alive. I had visions of great, scary hell beasts a la Buffy, only less campy and more terrifying. That really didn’t help with the eye opening agenda.

  Oh God. Oh God it was coming. I’d totally missed the pain of being broken in half by that truck, so this thing was here to make sure I paid my dues. It came closer, and closer, and I couldn’t get my eyes to freaking open, couldn’t move because my body refused to frigging obey the frantic commands of my brain, and this thing was going to—

  —whine at me.

  Wha—?

  The rabid hamster that was apparently running my brain simply stopped on its little wheel. Then the thing snuffled me with a cold, wet nose, whining more as it seemed to check out my face and shoulders before finally nudging at my cheek. I managed to crack an eye open.

  It wasn’t a hellhound crouched over me, but it was a dog. A really freaking big one that seemed very insistent that I wake up. Because apparently I was not, in fact, dead.

  “Hey!” I croaked. “That nose is cold.”

  The dog chuffed and licked my face.

  “Yeah, yeah, okay. Not dead. Get off. You weigh a ton.” I shoved at his shoulder—Hey look at that, my arm worked—and the dog backed up a couple feet.

  Pain radiated out from my back. But pain meant the nerves were still intact. I took inventory of my other limbs, carefully testing to make sure they still moved. Nothing broken. I wasn’t paralyzed. I guess since I wasn’t dead, that was a good thing.

  But how was this possible? That truck had to be going at least sixty. I shouldn’t be in one piece. Speaking of which . . . yeah . . . I needed to get vertical in case the lunatic who’d tried to run me over decided to come back and finish the job. Not like I could run or fight if he did but it was the principle of the thing. Since it seemed safe to do so, I curled my legs up and tried to roll to my knees. Crap, that hurt.

  The dog crouched, shoving his head under my arm. He chuffed again until my fingers twined in his fur. It was a strange combination of soft and rough and a part of me just wanted to collapse around him. When he lifted his head, it helped me straighten. Then I tipped back, sprawling with total lack of grace, to fall against the offending tree. If I was flat on my ass again, at least I was upright this time.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, closing my eyes again to try and catch my breath since that single effort had wiped out whatever energy I had left.

  Okay, so I could add being hit by a motor vehicle as yet another ineffective means of killing a werewolf. Check. Not an option that had been on my list to try.

  I struggled to remember clearly what had happened. I’d been in the pass. The truck had started gunning for me. I started running. Obviously I had somehow made it out of the pass, or I’d be smeared against one of those rock walls instead of lean
ing against this tree. I felt gingerly along my ribs. Definitely bruised at the very least. I’d really expected to be hit straight on from behind, which would have tossed me forward. Instead, the impact had come from the side, sort of diagonal and under my right arm. That didn’t make any sense. The driver was headed right for me. Had he fishtailed at the last second?

  I didn’t think so. I couldn’t remember any squealing of tires.

  So the only other option was that something else had knocked me out of the way.

  I peeled my eyes open again and got a good look at the dog, standing only a few feet away, studying me. He was tall and kind of grayish white, broad in the chest. Enormous, but not built like a malamute. Definitely big enough to have hit me like a freight train.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dark and focused, I went cold. It was no dog that had rescued me. It was a wolf. No hypothetical, small-boned red wolf like we were wanting to reintroduce. This was a fully-grown, two hundred pound timber wolf, as out of place in Tennessee as a bespectacled librarian in a mosh pit.

  Maybe I should have been afraid. I mean, it was a wolf only three feet away. But if he’d gone to the trouble to knock me out of the way of an oncoming vehicle, it didn’t seem like he had plans to eat me. Not that wolves usually did that to humans. Mostly they avoid us altogether. Except, I wasn’t human anymore. Not fully. So maybe that explained why he didn’t appear to be wary of me. Or maybe he was someone’s pet? I knew there were some people who kept wolf-hybrids or even full blooded, domesticated wolves as pets sometimes. But I didn’t see evidence of a collar. And nothing about him seemed tame. His long body was tense, quivering, his ears turning this way and that, taking in the sounds of the night, alert and ready for action.

  “I’m okay,” I told him. “I don’t think he’s coming back.” It was probably stupid talking to a wolf. It’s not like they spoke our language. But I was hoping my tone would help calm him. I thought about Sawyer’s voice and how he spoke to soothe whenever I was upset. How he always knew when I was, I had no idea. God, how I wished he were here. He’d probably make some joke to try and lighten the mood. Elodie Rose, Wolf Whisperer.