by Tara West
Amara closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, willing the pains to subside. Mama’s not ready to have you yet, little pup, she said to her baby while rubbing her belly. Please take me to my brothers. She inhaled and let out another long, slow breath as her heartrate slowed.
Soon she was soaring over the clouds before her spirit fell into the back of a pickup truck as it wound its way through a mountain pass covered with slick ice and snow. Her four brothers were bound, gagged, and shivering from the wind whipping across their exposed skin. Constantine and Dimitri were completely naked, save for a few shreds of cloth that clung to them. They’d obviously shifted before being taken captive. Blood leaked from their necks and shoulders through dart-sized holes. Driving the truck was the chieftain’s oldest son, Atan, with the scarred face. Where were they taking her brothers? Two other trucks followed them. One carried Chieftain Obren and his brothers. The other vehicle was too far back to make out the driver, but it swerved all over the road, as if a drunk was behind the wheel, and she knew the Stormwatchers were driving.
She hovered in the cab of the chieftain’s truck, hoping she could learn where they were going. “This is the second time those fools let their guard down,” the chieftain said with a chuckle as he leaned toward the dashboard. “Only this time their sister won’t be able to bring them back, not once they cross the veil.”
His brothers all laughed in unison. Amara wanted to scream.
“Take me back, baby,” she pleaded. “I must warn the others.”
Unexpectedly, she descended into the yard of an unfamiliar home with shattered windows and a front door that looked like it had been shredded by a chainsaw.
“Not here,” she said. “We need to go to our bunics’ home, so I can wake.”
But the unseen force kept pushing her into the house.
She landed in a small kitchen, where she saw a photograph of a man, woman, and three small children on the mantel above a stone fireplace. “This house belongs to humans.”
She turned at the sound of a low wail followed by an odd gurgling noise. Though a foreboding premonition told her to run, she followed the scent of blood into a darkened living room illuminated only with a few candles on the mantel. It looked as if a tornado had passed through. A sofa was split in two, its cushions ripped to shreds. A dining table was upside-down, and shattered glass was strewn across the floor. She heard another cry and saw a woman’s bloody hand in the hallway. Her spirit froze, too terrified to move. A big, hulking shadow with red, glowing eyes raised its massive head, blood and ooze dripping off its fangs as it slurped up what appeared to be an intestine. Great Ancients! What was that thing?
It snarled, snapping its jowls when another hulking beast with one red eye appeared. A woman’s pitiful whimper was followed by the snap of bone. Then the room went eerily silent, save for the two beasts fighting over the human’s lifeless corpse. The beasts clawed and snapped at each other before tumbling into the living room and landing on the broken table in a ball of fur and blood. She slowly backed against a window when they stood, unfolding long skeletal bodies with wide ribcages and patchy fur. They had elongated snouts, long, curved claws, and dagger-like fangs, reminding Amara of mutant wolves. Something eerily familiar about the wolves struck a chord. One was missing the tips of its ears, and the other had only the one eye. Could they be? Impossible!
She shrieked when an even larger creature burst through the wall as if the structure was made of paper. A man’s lifeless body, or what was left of it, was slung across the beast’s shoulder, a bloody rope of guts trailing from his stomach.
All three monsters simultaneously howled before descending on the man’s carcass. Amara’s hand flew to her throat. Oh, heavenly Ancients, help us!
RONE AND LUC LET OUT low whistles when Hakon pulled in behind Boris’s truck. The entire yard filled with smoke as Ranko Stormwatcher aimed a powerful hose at what appeared to be the charred remains of a barn. Hakon noted that Ranko had the use of only one arm, as the other was tied up in a sling. Daniella Stormwatcher, bundled in several layers of clothing, barked orders at her second alpha from the house’s front porch.
Snow began to fall, melting when it hit the blackened frame and coating the rest of the yard in white powder which glowed unnaturally beneath the full moon.
As soon as Hakon got out of the truck, he scented something strange in the air, though he couldn’t make out what it was because of the smoke.
He turned to Luc. Do you smell something odd?
Yes, Luc answered, but I don’t recognize it.
Be on your guard, Hakon warned his brothers.
No sooner had Boris gotten out of the truck than Ranko turned the hose on him. “Get off our property!”
Boris shifted and charged Ranko, jerking the hose out of his hand and throwing him to the ground.
Hakon blinked hard when Ranko disappeared. He ran up to Boris, shocked to see he was standing on the edge of a gully that had to be twelve feet deep. Hakon let out a howl when the smell of sewage hit him. He turned to Luc and Rone, waving them back. “You don’t want to come over here.”
Rone fanned his face. “Too late. I smell it.”
Ranko shifted into protector form with a howl, slogging through the gully’s sludge before climbing out on the opposite side of the ditch with his one good arm. He waved off an hysterical Daniella, who swore profusely in Romanian.
Ranko roared at Boris but made no move to circle the ditch. Either he was chicken-shit, he figured he was outnumbered, or both. Daniella continued to swear, acting as if she was going to jump over the gully and claw Boris. When she slipped and almost fell face-first into the ditch, Ranko pushed her back. She fell on her ass, gaping at him with a slackened jaw.
“Where are our sons?” Boris demanded, his brothers flanking him.
Cradling his injured arm, Ranko bared his fangs. “The Albescus have them.”
Hakon tensed. That’s what he was afraid of. Stupid pups! Why did they think they could take on four packs of shifters without help?
“Where did they take them?” Boris boomed.
“To the Haunted Forest.” Ranko flashed a fanged smile. “You won’t get there in time.”
All four of Amara’s fathers stiffened, their whimpers turning into low rumbles.
“In time for what?” Boris demanded.
Ranko settled a clawed hand across his stomach while letting out a low, dark chuckle. “Your sons are going to be demon bait.”
Second alpha Nicolae shifted and bounded over the ditch in one fluid leap. Ranko shielded his eyes, cowering on his knees when Nicolae lurched for him. He grabbed Ranko in a headlock, pummeling his head like a butcher tenderizing meat before throwing him into the stinking ditch.
Ranko landed with a sickening splash and a gurgle.
Daniella cried out, “Help him!”
Hakon and the others turned their backs on her, ignoring her pleas, while huddled in a circle. They had bigger concerns.
“It will take too long to drive around,” Luc said. “We will be faster as wolves.”
Boris shook his head. “The forest is teeming with hunters.”
“We don’t have a choice.” Luc pointed to the dark trees in the distance. “We’ll drive to the timberline and cut across on foot.”
“The forest is too big,” Boris said. “It will take too long to find them.” The hopelessness in his voice pricked Hakon’s skin like a rush of venom. He couldn’t begin to fathom the father’s desperation. They had to find Boris’s sons before it was too late.
Luc straightened his shoulders, leveling each of them with a glint of steel in his eyes. “I will find them. Come on. We’re wasting time.”
AMARA FLEW OFF THE sofa, fell to her knees, and threw up on the carpet.
“What did you see?” Tatiana asked as she rubbed Amara’s back.
She couldn’t answer, as she alternated between crying and heaving. She was vaguely aware of Bunic Anton cleaning up her mess while Bunica handed her a war
m cup of tea.
“Drink,” Bunica said, stroking her hair.
She tried to quell her trembling hands while sipping the tea. She took several gulps before wiping her mouth. Finally she expelled a shaky breath. “The Devoras are out.”
Bunica jerked in dismay. “What do you mean, they’re out?”
“They escaped the veil.” She swallowed another wave of bile, trying to strike the images of those mangled humans from her mind. “They are demonic beasts.”
The color drained from Tatiana’s face.
“Oh, Great Ancients!” Bunica gasped, her eyes going wide with fright.
Anton clenched her shoulder. “What were they doing?”
She struggled to find the words, her tongue feeling heavy as her limbs iced over with fear. She tried to take another sip of tea but spilled it down her shirt. “Eating humans,” she said in a rush. She remembered the scent of blood and the crack of bone.
Anton stood, scowling at the full moon through the window. “They’ve returned as werewolves.”
Amara nodded. “That’s what they were.”
“What about your brothers?” Tatiana asked. “Did you see them?”
“Yes!” Amara grabbed onto Tatiana, then let out a groan as a contraction sliced through her like a dull blade, ripping her open one inch at a time.
“You’re going into labor, pui de lup,” Bunica said.
“I can’t be.” It was too dangerous to give birth tonight. “The Albescus and Stormwatchers are taking my brothers to the Haunted Forest.” She panted, pretending that her heaving breaths were due to stress and not labor pains. “They’re going to send them across the veil.”
Tatiana fell on her ass with a high-pitched wail.
“Do not fear, child.” Bunic Anton knelt beside her, rubbing her back, the pale moonlight accentuating heavy lines around his drawn mouth. “Your mates’ fathers and your brothers will stop them.”
Tatiana blinked up at him with tear-soaked eyes. “What if they can’t find them in time?”
“Luc is the best tracker in the Amaroki, and the fastest,” Anton soothed. “The Ancients will guide him to our boys before it’s too late.”
Tatiana wiped her eyes. “I will pray that they do.”
Skoll opened the front door and poked his head inside. “Tatiana, what’s wrong?”
“Amara saw my mates.” Tatiana sniffled and hiccupped as she spoke. “Their enemies are going to send them across the veil.”
“Don’t cry, little pup.” Skoll shook the snow off his coat and closed the distance between them, taking Tatiana in his arms. “Your brothers will stop them.”
Amara’s heart warmed when he kissed the top of Tatiana’s head, rocking her while she cried. Second alphas might have rough exteriors, but they were doughy on the inside. She knew firsthand how to bring out Drasko’s sensitive side, one she now saw he’d inherited from his father.
“There’s more.” Anton frowned while pointing outside. “The Devoras have escaped the veil. They’ve returned as werewolves.”
Skoll stilled, then clutched Tatiana tighter to his chest. “Ancients save us,” he breathed.
Anton turned to Amara. “Did you see where the Devoras were heading?”
“No.” Though Amara realized she should’ve stayed to find out, she didn’t think her heart could have withstood another moment of bloody carnage. What if the Devoras had eaten more humans? Or worse, what if they’d devoured children? The thought was too disturbing to process. If their enemies succeeded in sending her brothers across the veil, they’d turn into monsters, too.
“They’ll head to their home.” Skoll spoke with such cutting finality, Amara knew it to be true.
“How do you know?” Anton asked.
“Listen to your instinct,” Skoll said.
A chill swept over Amara, for her instinct told her the demonic wolves would indeed return to their home, which was now occupied by the Stormwatchers.
Skoll slipped his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Hakon.”
Amara cursed when Hakon’s voicemail pick up.
Skoll shoved the phone back in his pocket. “They must be in the forest already.”
“What do we do?” Tatiana asked her father.
Anton stood, hands clenched. “I’ll send a distress cry.”
Amara turned away when he threw off his clothes and ran out into the snow. He let out three howls so powerful and profound, her heart nearly broke from it.
“What did you say, Bunic?” Amara asked when he came back inside. Bunica draped him with a robe.
“It’s a warning we use when danger is near,” he said, looking out the window. “The rest of the village will know a threat is nearby.”
Tatiana pointed at the window. “Look!”
Amara pulled herself up, amazed when she saw the entire town had gone dark.
“Do they know what the threat is?” Skoll asked.
“No,” Anton said, “but they will be on their guard.”
The front door cracked open. Drasko peeked inside. “What’s going on?”
“The Devoras are back,” Skoll said. “Get the silver blades.”
Drasko slammed the door. Amara heard the crunch of boots as he hurried to the barn. The thought of him fighting werewolves made her stomach churn. Those creatures looked fiercer than protectors. She wasn’t sure Drasko and Skoll could take them on by themselves. Van, Anton, Bunica, and Tatiana were no match for the werewolves, as they couldn’t shift into protectors. Amara couldn’t shift at all, so she was completely useless. In fact, she and her baby were more vulnerable than any of them. Amara prayed Hakon and her family would get back before the Devoras returned.
Skoll gave Tatiana one last kiss on the forehead. “I’ll send Van to alert our sons.”
“By himself?” Bunica asked.
Skoll grimaced. “We don’t have a choice. We need the rest of the men to guard the women.” Skoll left, taking a set of truck keys with him.
Anton swore in Romanian. “I’ll call the chieftain’s house and let them know what Amara saw.”
“The chieftain is taking my brothers to the forest,” Amara said angrily, recalling how the old men had laughed at the thought of sending her brothers across the veil. She wished her spirit could have clawed their eyes out. They didn’t deserve to live, much less be tribal leaders, after the way they’d treated her brothers.
Bunic Anton reddened. “Someone will be home. They need to know why I sent the distress call.” Clouds blotted out the moon, and an unsettling darkness fell across the room.
They tried to listen in on Anton speaking to the Obren house on the old wall phone hanging in the kitchen. When Amara heard him slam the receiver, swearing and punching the wall, she knew his warning had fallen on deaf ears. She was grateful when the clouds passed and moonlight shone into the room once again, giving her a clear view of Anton’s grim expression as he returned from the kitchen.
“Well?” Bunica eyed him with raised brows.
“The gamma was home.” Anton clucked his tongue. “I told him about the Devoras. He thinks we’re lying.”
Bunica sat back on her heels with a groan. “I wasn’t expecting the Albescus to believe you.”
Anton crossed his arms, his nostrils flaring. “He’ll realize his folly soon enough.”
“What about the Stormwatchers?” Tatiana asked. “Can you call them?”
“I don’t know their number. Do you?” Anton asked.
She shook her head. “Not since they moved to Romania. I don’t understand. My father has a calling chain in place for emergencies. Don’t you have one?”
“Da.” Anton grimaced. “But the call starts with the Albescus, and they don’t believe me. My wolf call will have to do.”
One more reason why Chieftain Obren needed to be removed from his throne. A good chieftain would have had a better plan in place.
Amara hunched over when another pain gripped her, this one worse than before.
“Lie down, pui
de lup.” Bunica settled a hand on her back. “This pup has rotten timing, da?”
“He’s not coming yet.” Amara dug her nails into the carpet to steady herself against the contraction. “He’s just stretching,” she lied, mostly to herself. She had a feeling Bunica wasn’t convinced, judging by the skeptical look she gave her.
Amara decided it was best if she laid down. The pain was less intense when she was on her back. After Bunica helped her stretch out on the sofa, she tucked warm blankets around her and refreshed her tea. Then she set an oven timer on the coffee table beside Amara. “You let me know when pain comes again, da?”
“Yes, Bunica,” Amara said between sips. Despite the chaos raging around them, she was grateful she had her grandmother by her side. She didn’t think she could deliver this baby without her.
Amara’s heart beat double time when she heard Drasko outside, talking to Skoll. Then Drasko came inside, kicking snow off his boots and carrying three long-handled hatchets with gleaming silver blades. He rested one against the wall and handed the other two to Anton and Tatiana. “Ancients forbid it should come to you needing this, Tatiana,” he said, “but should the werewolves get past me and Skoll....”He paused, a visible knot working down his throat. “You must promise to do whatever it takes to save yourself and Amara.”
Tatiana blanched as she looked down at the heavy blade. “I-I....” she stuttered, then tried to raise it with a grunt.
Bunica held out her hands. “Give it to me, Tatiana.”
Tatiana heaved a sigh and handed the hatchet to her.
To Amara’s surprise and delight, Bunica slung the blade over her head like a samurai wielding a sword. She lowered the weapon, scowling at Drasko. “You think an old woman can’t defend her granddaughters?”
Drasko smiled. “My bad. I’ll never underestimate you again.”
Amara’s heart warmed to see Drasko joking with Bunica, especially at a time like this. This made her think she could repair his damaged spirit.
“It’s my hope we won’t need these weapons.” Anton slapped his palm with the flat end of the heavy blade. “The Devora house is far away from us.”