Wolf Hunter

by Loveless, Ryan

  The pounding continued as the howls fell away. Jaylen stared at the ceiling. Then the door crashed in. He reached for his knife under his pillow. R.W. As he sat up, prepared to lunge, his mind registered that a policeman stood at the foot of the bed, gun drawn.

  “Drop it.”

  If he’s inside, he isn’t a wolf.

  Jaylen dropped the knife and collapsed backward.

  “I should thank you for making things easy for us,” the officer said. Jaylen felt him tug the knife at his ankle free and use it to cut his ropes. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind standing up and putting your hands behind your back...?”

  “What’s the charge?” Jaylen asked, though he knew. He wanted the cop to say it.

  “Murder,” said this cop who looked like he’d fallen out of his mother the day before. Jaylen bit down a groan and got up to offer his wrists for the cuffs. “Goddamn drifters.” He clipped the cuffs too tight, but Jaylen didn’t say a word. Another thing he’d gotten used to. Hey, at least the guy didn’t bring race into it. That was a bonus, right? Not so bad getting arrested, anyway. This was the ticket out he’d been looking for. He couldn’t leave on his own with the wolves surrounding him. But riding out with police escort? Sweet. He’d slip the cuffs and ditch the blue lights before the cop had finished prattling off the Miranda. He’d thank the guy if it wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

  “You gonna let me get dressed before you frogmarch me outta here?”

  “You look plenty dressed to me.”

  Jaylen glanced down at his boxers. “Come on, man. Have a heart.” He winced when the cop tapped him on the back of the head. Act like it hurts. They like that. “Please, sir. It’s cold out.”

  “Fine.” He grabbed Jaylen’s jeans off the dresser, checked the pockets, tossed them at him. They fell to the ground.

  “Hands,” Jaylen reminded him.

  “Fuck. All right.” The cop bent down and helped him get them on, one leg at a time. Jaylen didn’t need his pants, only the distraction. He reached backwards and grabbed a lock pick from the bed. It had been on the towel with the weapons earlier, but had fallen out when he’d wrapped that up. It had poked his back during his detox. Now he pushed it into a slit at the base of his shirt, centered at his spine. First chance he had, once he was clear of this place, he’d make his break. He recognized the cop now; he was the same one Westley had spoken to the previous morning in front of the Curlicue. No wonder he’d slapped the cuffs on so tight.

  The officer stopped short of zipping him up. “You ready now?”

  “Can’t go out like this. It’s indecent.” Jaylen nodded down at his fly.

  “You’ll deal.” The officer grabbed his elbow and dragged him toward the door. Jaylen put up a token struggle.

  “What about my stuff?”

  Once the cop looked in Jaylen’s bags and found the weapons, he’d think Jaylen was an idiot for pointing them out, but he’d take them along, and that was what Jaylen wanted. He couldn’t come back for them, and at this point in his depleting bank account, he couldn’t restock his arsenal. Fortunately, the La Mer’s Finest didn’t open the bags, only grabbed them, and continued pushing Jaylen toward the door.

  Jaylen did his best not to grin. God bless small towns. He was practicing his somber face right up until he crossed the threshold. The blond wolf from the morning stepped in front of him.

  “Gotcha, asshole.”

  Before Jaylen could get off a smart remark, the wolf punched Jaylen’s lights clean out.

  IN RETROSPECT, ESCORT-by-cop hadn’t been a great plan. Sure, it had worked before, but that was no guarantee. As he stood chained to a wall in a cell, he decided with little prejudice that on this occasion it definitely had not worked.

  Should have looked outside.

  He’d woken up like this. His duffle bags were in the room too, stacked in a corner well out of his reach. He tried to determine if anyone had gone through them, but the bags gave nothing away.

  Shit.

  He glanced at the door as it opened. Denton walked in. He hadn’t changed much since the last time Jaylen had seen him. A little more gray in his beard, maybe. “Jaylen,” Denton said. As ever, his voice was low and warm. Perfect for a psychopath. “Good to see you here.”

  “I guess that blond wolf was upset I killed his friend.”

  “Well, yes.” Denton shrugged, a ‘what can you do?’ gesture, as if he thought it was beneath anyone’s dignity to be bothered by another’s death. On this point, he and Jaylen were of a like mind.

  “Why don’t you unchain me, and I’ll make it all better by arranging for him to join his pal?”

  Denton tutted. He flicked his wrist, and Jaylen noticed he’d come in carrying a long, thin cane. “We found a variety of interesting items in your bag. Why don’t you tell me what those powders are for?”

  “Why don’t you suck my dick?” Bravado gets you nowhere, but he couldn’t help himself. Denton had threatened him with that cane before. Now that he was getting his chance to use it, things wouldn’t turn out good.

  “Don’t tempt me. You wouldn’t like it if I did that.” Denton grinned. His teeth were all fang. “You’re not very good at labeling bottles, so we’ll have to make you talk, won’t we?”

  “Fuck off.”

  Denton lashed out with the cane. It struck Jaylen across the chest. He felt the welt through his T-shirt. “Good. Deny me. I’d hoped you would.” He choked on a breath as Denton hit him again. “Oh, don’t cry yet. I won’t stop until you’ve told me everything, and I’m hoping that will be a long, long time.”

  Jaylen spat, just missing Denton’s eye. “It’s my beauty regimen. It’s how I keep my face so pretty.”

  Denton laughed as if Jaylen had delivered the greatest joke ever told. “Very good. Now.” He tilted the cane backwards and looked merrily at Jaylen. Jaylen clenched his teeth. “Let’s begin for real, shall we?”

  THE FOUR O’CLOCK sun hung low, almost touching the trees as Westley ran. He squinted as the rays pierced the spaces between the leaves and streamed into his eyes. His ears attuned to the sounds of howls. Westley’s skin tingled, wanting to join the shift. It was still a few days until the full moon. This was the Alpha’s influence. He fought it, ran harder. By his estimation, he’d had his last cup of tea three hours before. Between that, and the vomiting, his system was probably almost clear. He hoped he’d absorbed enough of his special concoction—cabbage and garlic, Jaylen had said; the reality was so much more intricate—to offset his body’s natural inclinations. However, the growl that rose up from his chest told him he shouldn’t hold out much hope he wouldn’t end the night on four legs and out of his mind.

  The La Mer Inn wasn’t much further. Another hill to climb, a creek to jump, and he’d come up on the back side. He trampled over uncut grass and splashed through the cold water, almost tripping as his rubber soles slid on the mud and pebbles in the creek bed. Howls followed him, and then he heard crashing in the brush. Glancing behind, he saw a flash of red fur charging toward him. What was Thomas doing tracking him? Surely he had other things to do? Had Tom sounded the alarm that Westley had done a runner? He shouted as the wolf leapt.

  “Alpha! Stop!”

  Tom’s father landed on Westley’s chest. Westley fell on his back in the mud of the creek bank. He spread his arms and went still as his pack alpha stood over him. Thomas sniffed him. He pulled back, then sniffed again. Westley said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d been with Tom. Having Tom’s scent on him might stay Thomas’s teeth.

  Thomas moved off him, but he planted a paw on the loose part of Westley’s T-shirt, securing it to the ground as surely as if he’d had a stake and mallet. Westley didn’t dare move. He tried to crane his neck to look at the motel, which lay a hundred yards away. Its rear view, unseen by passing traffic, hosted a row of air conditioning units and walls peeling yellow paint. A white laundry truck was parked at one end. None of these things told him about Jaylen. He found what he thought was Jaylen’s window.
The brown curtains were drawn. Thomas continued to stare at him, lips pulled back from his teeth and moist gums showing.

  “I don’t think Tom would want you to eat me,” Westley said. “Omegas taste terrible. No nutritional value.”

  Thomas howled. As he did, his paw eased up on Westley’s shirt.

  Westley rolled free and ran. He went full-tilt toward La Mer Inn. If he had any luck at all, he could dive into the laundry truck and bar the doors. Thomas had just signaled every wolf in vicinity. Now wasn’t the time for second guessing. Thomas was already on his heels, and this time he wouldn’t be so kind. It was difficult enough for a werewolf in human form to understand Westley’s life choices. A werewolf in wolf form would only recognize an aberrant who needed to be put down. Westley ran for the truck. He didn’t have a prayer of making it. Thomas’s wolf brain knew it. He slowed and ran wide. Westley glanced back where he’d come from. He could chance the forest again, but he was too big to spend the night in a tree. The truck remained his only hope, only now Thomas had positioned himself between it and Westley. Something cracked beneath Westley’s foot. Reaching down, he picked up a branch. They’d had a storm a few weeks before; this must have come from the wind damage. Hefting it in both hands, he took a swing. Before he’d rounded it out, Thomas snapped it out of his hands. Westley stumbled backwards and fell on his ass. Thomas flung the branch out of his jaws and turned his attention to Westley.

  Change. Come on. Shift now, you little shit. Westley tensed his neck and clenched his fists. Come on. All the fighting you’ve been doing to stop me from controlling you. Come on, you fucking monster I’ve got living inside of me. Come on out. I need you to come out. I’m going to die if you don’t. Come on, you asshole, wolf out.

  Westley remained resolutely human. Even the urgings to shift he’d felt and fought only moments earlier stayed dormant. Thomas’ growl came from a place of evil that measured him in sharp contrast to the soft spoken man Westley knew. This wasn’t him, not even as a wolf. This was the Alpha’s doing. Westley couldn’t wait for Denton to be gone. However, given his current state, he didn’t hold much hope he’d be alive to see it.

  You should have stayed down. You suck at being submissive when it counts. Worst omega ever.

  Thomas charged. On the ground, Westley tried not to scream. With his eyes closed, he thought of his father trying to mate him off to that older wolf and his mother turning away from him when he’d returned. Westley had thought she was angry at him, but he’d looked again when she wasn’t aware and he’d seen tears in her eyes. His parents only wanted what was best for him. He knew that now. Maybe if he’d mated with that old wolf, or with Tom, he wouldn’t be two seconds away from having his throat torn out. A breeze blew across his hip where his shirt had come up, and he remembered Jaylen’s hand on him that morning, how he’d awoken with Jaylen curled against him, mouth open and eyelids slack in the careless way of deep sleep.

  All he’d wanted to do was protect Jaylen, and Cody, and Tom. He’d failed. He couldn’t even protect himself. Omegas weren’t supposed to die like this. This was a death fitted for an alpha. Rank irony in that—the omega who didn’t know his place would die like someone he wasn’t. Except... except maybe this was exactly who he was. He was a rebel; he didn’t fit in. He’d never wanted to fit in. Always off doing his own thing. Maybe not as independent minded, as bombastic as an alpha, but confident nonetheless and always putting himself first. He hadn’t wanted to be mated off. This is what independence gets you. He practically heard his father telling him so. Thomas landed. He flinched against the hot breath on his neck. Instinct made him bare his throat, even as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.

  Suddenly, a yip from above and Thomas’s weight was gone, replaced by a greater mass. Then that too disappeared. Westley opened his eyes as the yipping turned to snarls. A black wolf had joined the fight. It put itself between Thomas and Westley, and when Thomas snapped at it and tried to get around, it lunged. Westley backed away, pushing himself on his rear until he was out of range. From this distance, his senses flooded back and time, slowed since he’d thought he was about to die, resumed its normal pace. The black wolf was Tom. He looked to weigh fifty pounds more than his father. Thomas rounded on his son. Westley turned away when they charged. He covered his ears against the screams and the sound of ripped flesh. Finally, it stopped, but he still couldn’t look. He didn’t want to turn and see his best friend dead, nor did he want to draw attention to himself if Thomas remained alive.

  “West?”

  “Tom?” Westley looked. Tom stood, naked, next to Thomas’ human body. He looked wrinkled and pale in the dying grass, purple-red blood on his neck the only color on him.

  “Westley?” Tom said. He wobbled. As Westley got up, Tom took a step backwards, away from Thomas, and puked on the grass. Westley caught him before he could fall. Tom clutched Westley’s shirt. He accepted Westley’s help and moved a few steps. Then he collapsed against him and wept.

  “You’re the pack alpha now,” Westley said. “You have to keep it together.” He rubbed Tom’s back.

  Tom wiped his eyes without letting go of Westley. “What were you doing out here?”

  “Looking for Jaylen.” Westley pulled back. “You didn’t send your dad after me?”

  Tom blinked. “We’re hardly speaking. Were hardly speaking. I was tracking you because I figured you’d done something stupid. I hadn’t planned on.... Oh Christ.” He started off crying again, but stopped himself at the first hiccup. “He wanted this. This would make him happy. He probably forced me into it—”

  “Tom!” Westley grabbed Tom’s shoulders and shook him. “It’s done. It’s over. You have to step up now. I need you to help me.”

  Nodding, Tom wiped his nose. A string of clear mucus stuck to his hand. Westley tried not to let his sensibilities get the better of him as Tom wiped it on Westley’s pants. Now was not the time to lecture about hygiene. “What do you need?”

  “I need to find Jaylen.”

  Tom shoved him away. “The hunter is the reason all of this is fucked up. He killed Austin. He might have killed Cody. And what about Leslie and Ed? And who knows how many others! And you want to help him?”

  “Yes,” Westley said.

  “He’ll kill you.” Tom stared at him. Westley met his gaze. “It’s what he does, Westley. Just like you and I turn into wolv—” He paused and looked Westley up and down. “Actually, why are you human right now?”

  “It’s not the full moon yet,” Westley said.

  Tom’s eyes became slits. He peered at Westley through them as the howls of other wolves echoed around them from varying distances. “Uh huh. You want to try that again?” He took a step forward. “You want to tell me why you smell funny?”

  “I...” Westley swallowed. “I found a way to stop it.”

  Tom blinked. “Stop what?”

  “The shift, the change, the urges. All of it. I haven’t wolfed out in months.”

  “What?” Tom stared at Westley as if he’d sprouted a new body part. “You’ve been locking yourself up, you said—” He stopped when Westley shook his head. Realization settled on his face. “You lied. You’ve been— That’s why you were sick, isn’t it? You’ve been poisoning yourself!”

  “I can control it,” Westley said. His voice rose with his insistence. “It’s harder now, with the Alpha around. Something about him makes my hormones less susceptible to control.”

  “Tell me about it,” Tom said. He offered up a humorless smile.

  “Yeah, I was, uh, surprised you could switch back.”

  Tom shrugged. “Gift of the heir. I could always do cooler stuff than the rest of you.”

  “Right. But I didn’t know if that still held.” Westley glanced away. He didn’t like having this conversation with Thomas lying dead a few feet away. “I mean, with all the craziness going on.” He turned back to Tom. “Look, I know I owe you loyalty as pack alpha and—”

  “Oh, don’t start.”

&nbs
p; “—and as your friend, but I need you to help me. Please. Denton is going to kill Jaylen. It won’t make things better. It’ll be one more death in this town. We can stop it. Please, Tom. I know you can help me.”

  “You fell for him.” Westley realized the resignation in Tom’s tone and felt immediately guilty.

  “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  “You know you can’t be with him. Once he finds out what you are...” Tom looked away. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

  Westley waited. Sometimes silence was the best response. After a moment, Tom said, “He’s at the jail. Cody and Mark took him there a few hours ago. He’s being questioned.”

  “Thank you.” Westley cupped Tom’s face with one hand and leaned forward to kiss his opposite cheek.

  “Just don’t get killed.” Tom yelled as Westley ran for the motel. He raced around to the front. Jaylen’s car sat there. Westley tugged on the door, but Jaylen had locked it. Fortunately, there was a truck in the parking lot whose owner evidently was more familiar with local customs. Westley hopped in, turned the keys that were in the ignition, and tore out onto the road, heading for town.

  THE LA MER-SUR-PLAINES police station was a one-story building that sat alone in the center of a block southeast of the town square, an island in a black-paved parking lot. At this time of evening, the day-shift would be gone. The “night-shift,” such as it was, consisted of Donnie Hudgins, a retired old-timer who still did the safety drills at the elementary school and Marjorie Platt, his second cousin. Neither of them were wolves, but they had a good understanding of the culture and co-existed peaceably with it. Westley parked the truck in a spot that wasn’t marked out for police cruisers. He sat for a moment, gathering himself. Was Denton inside? What would Westley do if he had to fight him? If they were holding Jaylen, it would be in one of two cells at the back, which meant he needed to walk through without being questioned. He glanced down at his shirt.

  He wiped futilely at the dirt and green stains embedded in the fabric. A glance at the mirror showed bits of grass in his hair. He picked them out and combed through his tangles with his fingers. Plan. Make a plan. He scolded himself. You can’t just walk in and— A man and woman walking up to the station door caught his attention. He’d gone to high school with them. He searched his brain for their names. Oliver. Oliver and... Lyddie. Yes! They were omegas. And they were walking through the door.