Odd Wolf

by Virginia Nelson

  It’d been so long since someone held her without her overthinking it. Without her wondering what they wanted, what they’d get out of being with her. Knowing he wanted nothing beyond her, beyond what surged between them like liquid fire, was a precious gift.

  She didn’t really expect him to get angry right back at her. “Fine! If you’re going and risking yourself when that monster only has to attack you once more to steal your wolf, go. Maybe if it takes away your beast, then you won’t have a pack to worry about. Then we could just be together like normal people. Go. But I’m not going with you.”

  “Lynwood, I have no idea what makes you think you can give me orders. Just because we fucked doesn’t mean—”

  He snagged a bag from the corner and bowed in a very courtly fashion. “I don’t think for a minute that I can give you orders. I do, however, know the only say you have over me is while I’m on your lands. I’m rogue, sweetheart. And I’m leaving. Best of luck with your quest. If you fail, come find me. If you don’t? Nice knowing you.”

  With that, he walked out. When she sank to her knees, it wasn’t because of the weakness of the monster.

  It was because her heart shattered in her chest and she wasn’t sure her responsibilities would put it back together.

  ***

  The strip club was a squat, square building made of gray cement blocks. It looked like a big gray box dropped into the parking lot by some giant child. Only a hot pink neon sign, flickering to light in the sunset, marked it as Peaches. “Well, this retrieval has got to make your day, Charley. How often do I pay you to go see tits, after all?” Trying to make light of it, to find her normal ease with her second shouldn’t be so hard.

  But it was. She kept rubbing her chest as if Lynwood literally broken her heart when he left, the ache there a physical pain as well as an emotional one. It was stupid. She only knew him for a short period of time. Him leaving shouldn’t bother her one way or another.

  It did.

  Charley shrugged. Taking a gulp from his pop bottle, he opened his door to get out. “I’ve gone into worse locations for the sake of pack, that’s the truth.”

  Following him, they paid the cover and sat down at the bar. Ordering a beer, Dara scanned the room for the redhead Mia said would be working that night. None of the strippers matched the description, but the black silhouette of a figure she’d been seeing all day sat near the t-shaped stage, seemingly fascinated with the pole dancers. At least he wasn’t grinning at her anymore.

  “Hey, boss?”

  “Hmm?” The really disconcerting bit was when a second dark, smiling figure joined the first at the table near the stage. Both turned to grin at Dara, and she shivered under their imaginary regard.

  “Greg texted me over an hour ago. I know you didn’t order it, but I sent him to follow Lynwood.”

  Snapping her attention to Charley, she growled. “You didn’t have permission to do so, wolf.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Still, I like the guy. You like the guy, although I might add how I don’t want to hear about your relationship drama. That said, Greg’s not answering his texts. He hasn’t for more than thirty minutes.”

  Dara shrugged, spotting the redhead. Dressed in a series of black leather straps, the woman led a man with flowing black hair from what Dara guessed must be a hallway for lap dances. She recognized the man, but had never met the woman before. “There she is.”

  “Did you catch the part where Greg’s ignoring me?” Charley added, following her as she cut a beeline past the grinning figures to get to the red-haired stripper.

  “Yeah. We’ll track his phone when we’re done here. First, we retrieve the item.” Which, if Dara were to guess, the stripper wore around her neck. The large purple stone was gaudy and didn’t match the stripper’s outfit at all. Since Mia said she’d text ahead to let Julia know to bring the necklace of Harmonia to work, and because the outfit didn’t exactly have pockets for the stripper to stash a cursed piece of jewelry made by Hephaestus, it must be the item they needed to beat the skinwalker. “Julia?”

  The woman paused and the dark haired man next to her tried to butt in front of her—no doubt wanting to protect the redhead. Since Dara had no interest in a fight with the vampire—she and Vance weren’t exactly best buddies, after all—she spread her hands wide. Nodding at him, she used a very even tone when she said, “Vansickle. I’m here on business.”

  “What business does a wolf have with a witch?” Vance asked, showing a bit of fang. The cocky bastard wasn’t one of Dara’s favorite people on a good day.

  It wasn’t a good day.

  “What does a vampire care? Mia sent me.” She added the last bit to the stripper, who then shoved Vance.

  “Save the knight with shining hard on routine for Janie, Vance. I’m working.” Julia’s voice carried a strange accent and was whispery soft, all Dara expected a stripper’s voice to be in a neat package. “Dara?”

  “Yeah, Mia said she’d tell you I was coming.”

  “Good. I am kind of happy to be able to hand this thing off.” Unclasping the necklace, Julia offered it, dangling the chain from manicured fingertips.

  Dara took the chain, considering the stone. It almost felt too easy. Like her first quest, she’d retrieved the item without the smiling figures trying to stop her. A glance over her shoulder showed them both still sitting by the stage, grinning away.

  Her heart thumped fast. She was missing something. Her gut and her wolf said she wasn’t getting something important. Glancing at Charley, she said, “Text Greg again.”

  “Done,” Charley said.

  “Thanks, Julia. If our community can ever return the favor…”

  The stripper flipped her hair behind her shoulder, gleaming white globes of her breasts suddenly far more visible without the cape of crimson mane hiding them. “I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

  Shaking her head, Dara headed out of the club without bothering to say more to Vance. Charley followed, face illuminated by a glowing screen. “He’s still not answering, Dara.”

  Dara cringed, gut twisting a bit more. Pulling out her own phone, she dialed Greg’s phone. The ring in her ear sounded like a death knell. When it went to voicemail, she barely resisted throwing the useless phone. Again, her gut twisted. This time, it was literally pain. “They’ve got Lynwood,” she whispered.

  “How do you know?” Charley asked, racing to keep up since she’d sprinted into a dead run.

  “I know.”

  CHAPTER Twelve

  Lynwood hung upside down, suspended by his ankles, when he woke. Nearby, he spotted Greg. The skinny man’s dark hair practically brushed the snow as he swung, his arms limp on the cold white ground. Using the momentum of his own swinging, Lynwood managed to look around the clearing. He didn’t spot anything or anyone. His wolf waked, and he used the animal’s vision and senses to survey the area.

  Nothing. Just him and Greg and a whole lot of forest.

  He wasn’t stupid—the guy who knocked him out probably was after Dara. The attack was too clean, too well planned. He’d been literally walking out of town, fully aware Greg was tailing him and not able to summon the give a shit to stop the unwanted escort, when the figure with a strangely painted face and gap-toothed grin stepped into his path.

  For a second, maybe more, he froze simply looking at the other man. Tanned skin, missing teeth, black painted cheeks and a tattoo across the man’s forehead weren’t nearly as weird as the fact the short little guy was only wearing a loin cloth.

  At least, it looked a bit like a loin cloth. A furry loin cloth.

  Then the man lifted his hand, palm up, and blew dust in Lynwood’s face. One moment he was blinking the dust away, the next he was falling into darkness. Waking up from the odd experience with the blood rushing to his head and sore ankles were the extent of his memories of his apparent kidnapping.

  He wasted another couple of minutes trying to work up the enthusiasm to do what he knew he’d have to do to get free. He�
�d land on his damned head, though.

  Sighing, realizing he didn’t have much of a choice, Lynwood pinched his eyes closed and changed into the wolf. His much smaller paws slipped free of the ropes holding him with no problem and he landed—as expected—on his neck. Hurt like a bitch, but he shook it off and trotted to where Greg still hung.

  The other man was clearly out, tongue lolling out of his mouth. But his tongue…it was black. That couldn’t be good. Before he could consider it too deeply, his muscles locked up and he found himself twitching, convulsing in the snow. Yelping, he could no more stop the spasms of his muscles than he could the pained noises escaping his throat. When the spell passed, he lay panting in the snow, which started to fall again. Everything hurt, ached, and he wondered what in the hell was in the dust the tiny man blew at him.

  A twig snapped in the forest, but he didn’t have the strength to move. Maybe whatever it was would kill him. His howl filled the night, echoing off the trees, and he wondered if he’d come so far, traveled so far away from his personal hells, to die in a frozen forest after finding love—the one thing he’d been pretty sure he’d never find again no matter how far he ran.

  When the wolf song answered him, the voices of what sounded like a hundred other wolves raised in a mournful chorus, he closed his eyes to blink back the tears that threatened. He’d missed the song of their people. If it was the last thing he’d ever hear in this world, he couldn’t have asked for anything more than the echoing music.

  ***

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Charley asked.

  Dara didn’t waste the breath to answer him, focusing on putting one foot in front of another. The smiling birdmen followed her, keeping a patient and even pace, as if they waited for her to fall to claim their prize. Stubbornly, she gritted her teeth together and kept moving. She did know where she was going, or thought she did. She followed her instinct—her wolf not hesitating in tracking the shining line similar to a wolf bond which she was sure led to Lynwood, even if she hadn’t claimed him as one of her own.

  Her certainty lay in the twangs of sharp and resounding pain which flowed to her down their particular bond. Wherever he was, he was hurting. Somehow the agony carved her deeper than the claws of the skinwalker ever managed. Charley matched her step for step, only sometimes pulling out his phone to tap the screen. She didn’t know who he was texting and couldn’t quite force herself to care.

  If they killed Lynwood before she could find him, she wasn’t sure how she’d survive. How she’d continue to be what everyone else needed her to be while knowing she’d failed him. Because he mattered.

  He mattered a lot.

  Scenting pack on the cold air, her step faltered. Like greedy demons, the shadowmen danced closer, their laughter almost audible in the night. Ignoring them, she faced Charley. “Did you call the pack?”

  Charley shrugged. “Nope. But I texted them. Look, I understand you’re on a rescue mission, but if these creatures manage to take our wolves tonight, it affects us all.”

  Slapping him as hard as she could, it pleased her when he dropped to his knees. Out of everyone she knew, she’d thought he was the one she could trust most. To realize he would risk her while she was weakened—risk them if they weren’t dragged down with her, by exposing their people to the skinwalkers—cut deep. “Do you challenge me?”

  “Nope.” He didn’t try to get back up, head bowed in subservience.

  “Then what the fuck, Charley?” His name practically broke on her tongue and turned into a sob, but she stopped it with sheer force of will. He’d been her friend even before she’d become alpha. Like a brother. That he’d betray her when she needed him most…another piece of her broke, and she wasn’t sure there was enough duct tape in the world to put her back together when this night ended.

  “I don’t challenge you. I get it. You’re protecting us.” Charley looked up, his eyes going yellow with his wolf. “That’s what you do. You’ve been facing all of this practically alone, and I do get it. I get how you’re trying your damnedest to protect us still, after they’ve poisoned you in some way which leaks our strength like blood dripping from a wound. But our wolves are at risk, too. We deserve to be part of this fight. These skinwalker things? They attacked our alpha. We deserve the right to kill them for daring to touch you. You’re not alone, Alpha. We’re your pack, and we appreciate your need to protect. It has kept us safe for many moons. But just as we’re yours…you are ours. We fight tonight. If we fall, we fall as one.”

  He stood and she didn’t protest the movement. When he hugged her close, she buried her face in the familiar smell of wolf and man. He was family. She’d die for him, and she’d fight for him. She’d laugh with his joys, cry when he cried, and had for years.

  But he made a good point. As he was hers, she was theirs. The voices of her people rose in the night, a song her very soul answered. Although she’d been getting weaker with each step, their music drowned out the drums she hadn’t realized beat in her head. Their strength, their love, their connection sang through her. She wasn’t just any wolf, she was Alpha.

  And tonight, her pack would hunt a monster. “We fall as one,” she agreed, squeezing his shoulder. Side by side, they shifted to paws and, instead of plodding along toward Lynwood, she practically flew. The bodies of her people flowed around her like water, a sea of animals breaking in a fur covered wave through the forest.

  He might have started the night as a rogue, but Lynwood was hers, too. And it was time she claimed him as such, whether he liked it or not. Tonight they fought, but if dawn came and they saw victory, they would stand together as one.

  It was time to bring her pack home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The snow next to his head moved and he saw it had claws. Blinking fast, he managed to focus only to realize it wasn’t moving snow. A paw. He rolled his head to follow the paw up a leg and to a snowy white belly. The black and white head ducked low, one long stroke of a tongue both familiar and altogether new in one touch.

  Alpha sweetheart.

  Her blue eyes almost glowed and he could smell pack on her, around her. They’d come. She’d brought her people and they filled the clearing, a four-legged army. Another convulsion shook him, tensing all his muscles and he moaned. Bones popping, the change taking him, he lay naked in the snow and couldn’t fight the transition. She still stood above him, ears twitching toward his face in concern.

  “You’ve finished your quest, then?” Closing his eyes, he whispered, “That’s good. You did good, sweetheart.”

  Hardly more than a sound and she bent, naked and unashamed of her lovely body, although he knew they were surrounded by her people, and pulled him until she cradled his head in her lap. “Yeah, I didn’t finish the quest.”

  Panic gave him a bit of adrenaline and he managed to focus. “What?”

  “I didn’t get the third item. I got the trap and the curse, but I didn’t get the charm. I came for you.” Her fingertips traced across his forehead, her face full of heartbreaking sadness. “I didn’t do good after all, rogue. Turns out, I probably failed everyone.”

  She snapped her head up, blinking at something, but when he looked the same direction, he couldn’t see anything unusual.

  Biting her lip, she turned away from whatever she saw. “And there are a lot of them and one of me. Guess we’ll have to hope I’m charming enough without the charm, right?”

  He managed to push himself up, bracing himself against her. “We’ll get it. There is still time.”

  “They’re here, Lynwood. They’re all around us.”

  Scanning the clearing, he didn’t see anything other than her wolves. “Look, sweetheart…”

  The rustle of wings in the trees caught his attention and he saw the bird perched on a nearby limb. Bigger than a crow, shaped differently than a raven, the black bird was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It tilted its head at them, considering the many wolves filling the space with almost greedy joy visible in
the black, bead-like eyes.

  Licking his lips, Lynwood considered the creature. Skinwalker.

  “What is wrong with your tongue?” Nails digging into his arms caused him to turn to face her.

  He remembered the unhealthy black on Greg’s tongue and figured it must be the dust. Some kind of poison. The tiny, tan man poisoned him when he’d blown the dust in his face. So, maybe…

  Gripping her shoulders, Lynwood reminded her, “One to charm you, one to harm you, one to put you in a box.”

  Her fingertips were cool when she rested them against his face. “In a place, out of time, to face true evil without a face. One to charm you, one to harm you, one to put you in a box. When you face him, bonds are broken, if the truest words are never spoken.”

  “Yeah. Use the items, sweetheart. It will be enough.”

  “But it can’t! I only got two—”

  Before she could finish, he was moving. Breaking bonds was his specialty. If she was tied to him with a shred of the connection he felt to her, they shared a bond. Maybe he could be a distraction, a broken bond and win on the part of the skinwalker. Perhaps one small win for the bad guys could save her pack. He had to try.

  Hurling himself at the monster, he was pleased when it swooped out of the tree, transforming as it dropped. Two more steps and he’d make it to the tree, two more steps and he’d face the skinwalker. The thing changed, becoming a man shaped thing wearing a long beaked mask of black leathery fabric. No, not fabric—skinwalker. The flesh of some other shifter it’d stolen with three drops of blood.

  Something silver flashed out of the black cloak-like thing covering the creature, revealing for just a second the tanned flesh and fur loincloth it wore under the flowing dark leather. So it was the same creature who blew the dust in his face.

  He didn’t have time to revel in being right. The blade sliced him, the burn of it obviously silver, based on the agony spreading like lava from the wound.