Bad Seed: An Imp World Novel (Northern Wolves Book 4)

by Debra Dunbar

  The lunch whistle blew, and I still had the men’s dormitories and one street of houses to collect. Mir had told me that lunch ran for two hours to accommodate everyone’s work schedules, that the whistle was mainly to let those working in the compound know that everything was out and ready. Those who worked outside the compound, like the pilot and the folks with the outfitters and adventuring companies, had the option of picking up a box lunch in the mornings before they left or utilizing an expense account. Mir said many of those people preferred to grab the box lunch because the expense account was more like a per-diem and they got to keep what they didn’t use at the end of the month. She said the only restriction was that people couldn’t skimp on their food. Jake evidently had some weird obsession that his people be fed, and if a wolf was found to be hoarding his expense account and not eating the pack lunches, he’d lose the per-diem privileges.

  Well, Jake was going to have to deal today, because I wasn’t done with work, and the post-lunch meeting at the Alpha House wouldn’t leave me any time to run by the cafeteria for a sandwich.

  It took me another hour to finish the trash collection and fire up the incinerator. I waited to make sure everything was set and the sickening sweet smell of burning trash was spiraling in white smoke into the air before I headed out. I didn’t have time for lunch. I didn’t even have time to shower or do more than wash my hands before jogging over to the Alpha House for the meeting.

  I’d expected a large group, but Jake and Jamie were the only two in the conference room when I entered. They looked so right together, her blonde hair brushing against his dark skin as they bent over what looked like a map. She’d worn it loose today, and in the sort of stylish golden waves that women spent hours at the salon to achieve. In contrast, I was sweaty and smelled of old garbage and ash from the incinerator, my spiked purple hair partially flattened from where I’d slept on it, not a stitch of makeup on my face. I could deal with the sweat and stink, but the lack of makeup bothered me. With sufficient eyeliner, I would have felt badass and tough, like I’d just come out of a Mad Max movie. Without it, I felt like a street urchin.

  Jamie was certainly looking at me as if I were a street urchin. She opened her mouth as if she were about to command me to sit, or chew me out for my appearance. Then she shut it with a snap, gaze sliding to Jake.

  Yeah. Because it wasn’t her place to either order me around or chastise me with the Alpha right next to her.

  “Take a seat, Mills,” Jake told me, still not glancing up from the map. He didn’t comment on my pungent aroma, but Jamie looked at the seat cushion in alarm at his directive.

  I sat, squirming a bit to make sure any dirt along with the smell of garbage was firmly embedded into the upholstery. Not that I wanted Jake’s conference room chair to stink, I just wanted to annoy Jamie.

  He looked up at me, not even the slightest bit of surprise or dismay at my appearance. “What do you know about our situation up here with the hunters and the magically tainted bullets?”

  Not much. I’d seen the YouTube videos of wolf shifters attacking humans, and been perplexed at their rapid change of form as well as alarmed at the bullets that killed them. Bullets that could force us to shift and that caused an agonizing death were almost as terrifying as the thought that there were humans tracking us down and killing us to mount our heads on a wall. I told Jake what I knew, feeling a bit uneasy about what this special assignment was supposed to be. My beast wouldn’t bat an eye at the thought of killing a group of humans, but I really didn’t want to have a bullet strip me of what little control over her I had, let alone rot my insides while my body struggled in vain to heal my wounds.

  Jake slid the map over to me. “The elf that was creating the magic on these bullets is dead, but there’s a warehouse full of them somewhere in the circled area. We’re hoping to find out where through a divination spell, then take out their supplies.”

  That sounded just as dangerous as killing human hunters, but far more intriguing. I’d expected to be used as a sort of killing machine. That Jake might want me for reconnaissance or a search and destroy, thrilled me. Did he actually see me as more than a monster? More than a thug to do the brutal violent work? If so, he was the first.

  “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, mentally hoping that this would be my chance to prove myself a valuable member of the pack—valuable enough that they’d overlook me smashing in the face of one or more of my roommates and encouraging a young wolf to get a piercing.

  “First we have to hold the divination. It needs to be tonight at midnight and the sidhe who is doing this will be vulnerable. I’ve got a team who is going to be doing security, and I’d like you on it. It’s the team’s responsibility to make sure Gwylla isn’t disturbed, or shot, or harmed in any way while she works her magic, or that the compound isn’t attacked while this is going on.”

  I winced, thinking that I would be better doing this sort of thing solo. Team work wasn’t my strength, and I wasn’t sure if this group would even want me along, or trust me not to kill them as well as any intruder.

  “Spend the rest of your day getting familiar with the land around the compound,” Jamie told me. “Take Mir if you need. The kids here know every den and tree within a ten-mile radius so she can save you some time.”

  “If this works out, then we might use you in the raid on this warehouse,” Jake said.

  I knew that was supposed to be incentive, but the thought of another team mission chilled me. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to fit in with this group of wolves, to finally feel like I was a part of a pack. But I wasn’t sure this was the right way to go about it. Throwing me into a group that didn’t trust me, making me responsible for a critical task, was just setting me up for failure.

  Is that what Jake wanted? But if he wanted me dead, he could just do it. No one besides Mir would give a damn if he took my head off. There had to be some other reason he’d do something so risky, so crazy.

  Jake stood to leave and Jamie jumped to her feet. I did the same, since that seemed the appropriate protocol, but when I made to leave the room, the Alpha halted me.

  “You didn’t eat lunch.”

  It sounded accusatory, as if I were on some sort of hunger strike as a rebellion. “No. I didn’t shower either. I’ll grab something on my way back,” I told him.

  “A granola bar and some jerky isn’t going to cut it,” he argued. “I can hear your stomach growling from across the room. Go shower and change, then come back. I’ll throw together something.”

  I nearly fell over in shock. “You cook?”

  It wasn’t that I doubted he could broil a steak, it was more that he’d just offered to cook for me. Dinner was in four hours. It wasn’t like I was going to starve or something. I got the weird feeling there was more to his offer to cook for me than I knew. And I was pretty sure that if anyone in the compound found out, the gossip would spread like crazy. I’d been in the pack just over twenty-four hours, and the Alpha was cooking a late lunch for me. How weird was that?

  Late lunch. Was that a dinner-lunch? A lunch-dinner? Dunch? Linner?

  “Okay,” I said rather breathlessly, my thoughts a jumble. Then I took off, running out of the Alpha House and to my dorm, practically plowing over a few of my pack mates along the way. The dorm was thankfully empty, and I was able to shower and dress undisturbed. This time I did throw on my skinny jeans—the ones with slashes ripped across the thighs—and a dark red tank top. There was a mini laundry room on our floor but I had no time to wash my clothing, so I tossed it on the floor by my bed and put on my makeup. I was done in record time, making my way back to the Alpha House at a more sedate pace, feeling a whole lot more attractive as I let myself in and headed toward the kitchen.

  Jake was making omelets, flipping them out of the pans and onto plates as I walked in.

  “You’re just in time.” He slid a plate onto the table next to a neat place setting that included an actual cloth napkin. I’d never used one of
those outside of a restaurant before. In fact, I usually didn’t even have the paper napkins at home. Paper towels worked just fine.

  “Sit. Eat,” he commanded. “Do you want coffee? Tea? Juice or soda?”

  “Coffee, please.” I eyed his fancy-schmancy coffee maker with envy, and my beast urged me to steal it for my room. Then I jabbed my omelet with my fork and took a bite. It had a whole pig worth of bacon and ham inside along with a spicy cheese. Add amazing cook to the list of my Alpha’s talents.

  “How was the first day on the job?” Jake asked.

  This was so weird, him cooking for me and asking questions about my day as if we were dating or something. At least, this is what I assumed people who dated did. In books and television shows they did this, so there must be some basis in reality to those tales.

  “I love my job. Can I just do garbage twenty-four-seven?”

  He shot me a questioning look, as if he thought I was kidding.

  “Seriously,” I told him. “There’s something cathartic about gathering up everyone’s trash and burning it. I think I like burning it the best. That incinerator is wicked cool.”

  “That scares me. Please don’t burn down the compound, or stick any of your roommates in there.”

  I chuckled in between bites of omelet. “My own personal body disposal tool. What a great idea.”

  “No, it’s not, although I was envisioning you using it as an execution device.”

  Wow, this guy had been watching too many horror movies. “Nah. I like using claws and teeth. It’s far more satisfying to watch someone bleed out than burning them alive.”

  “I hope you’re not speaking from personal experience,” he commented dryly. “So, are there bodies for disposal? Do I need to account for everyone at dinner tonight?”

  I hid a wince. He was joking, but with my past, it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to truly fear that I’d killed one or more of my pack mates.

  “Not yet. I came close to knocking one of my roomies out this morning, though. I don’t think I would have killed her, but she might have not been able to participate in this morning’s drills if I’d let loose.”

  “What happened?” He put a mug of coffee in front of me and sat down to his own omelet.

  I shrugged. It took so little to set my beast off, that it seemed pointless to discuss what happened and why. “I was tired, disoriented from waking up in a new place, and without caffeine. She was a snotty bitch and I wanted to teach her a lesson.”

  “No, I mean, why didn’t you hit her? What held you back?”

  I immediately thought of Mir, her face pinched with worry when she’d realized that I was ready to sprout fur and go on the attack. Yes, I’d been interrupted before I could act by the whistle to go to drills, but it had been Mir that brought my beast back under control, not the need to do jumping jacks in the compound. I’d been worried that she would be hurt in the brawl. And I’d not wanted to see the disappointment in her eyes, the realization that I was just a monster after all.

  “I don’t know,” I lied, not ready to bare my soul to this guy. Not yet, anyway.

  “Did sparring help?” he pressed.

  “Maybe?” It had made my beast feel less ready to go start a fight, but she was still reactive with a hair-trigger temper. I didn’t want to admit to Jake that the sparring wouldn’t be the cure-all he’d hoped, because I wanted our sessions to continue. My beast enjoyed them, and so did I.

  “Well we won’t have time for them tonight, not with the prep for the divination. Do you want to reschedule for tomorrow after lunch instead?”

  “And a second one in the evening?” Because getting the crap beat out of me by my smoking hot Alpha once per day wasn’t enough?

  “Let’s do afternoon, then if you feel like you need a second bout in the evening, come on by around ten.”

  Oh, I’d be by even if I was so exhausted I could hardly stand, because there was something that sparked in me last night when we’d fought down in the gym—something that I was desperate to feel again. It wasn’t just the fight. It wasn’t just the fact that Jake had bested me and I wanted another chance at him. It was him. There was something about this Alpha, this wolf, this almost-angel that drew me in like steel to a magnet.

  Chapter 8

  It was late afternoon by the time I left the Alpha House and headed back to my dorm. I didn’t know where Mir worked—or even if sixteen-year-olds worked—so I wrote a note and put it on her pillow. If I didn’t see her before, I’d certainly catch up with her at dinner. With the divination thing at midnight, we should at least have a few hours for her to give me the outside-the-compound tour before I needed to join this team. That done, I decided to make a list of things I needed from the compound store, as well as what I’d need to purchase once I got paid. Workout stuff for these morning drills. Sturdy clothing for my garbage job. A cell phone. A coffee maker. I flipped the lid on my trunk, mentally inventorying my clothing and froze.

  Someone had been going through my things. The scent wasn’t overwhelming, but I could tell that Fox Face had opened the trunk and actually handled the contents. I carefully picked up each piece, inhaling the scents it held and checking it for damage. Nothing was stolen. Nothing had been slashed or peed on or even spit on. But Fox Face had rubbed her scent over every single article of clothing.

  If she’d stolen or damaged something, I could have gone to the dorm super. I wasn’t a fan of ratting someone out, preferring to take care of things like this one-on-one, but I knew that theft or destruction of personal property was pretty high up on the list of things-that-would-make-Jake-go-ballistic. Fox Face had been careful to do neither. Which meant I had a choice. I could go to the super and complain that she’d been touching my stuff, which would make me look like a weak, whiny tattle-tale, or I could do nothing. Doing nothing would also make me look weak and reinforce her claim that she was the dominant wolf and had the right to rub her scent all over my stuff without complaint or repercussion on my part.

  Let’s just say that Fox Face was messing with the wrong bitch. My beast wanted me to track her down and beat the ever-loving crap out of her, or at the very least take a huge dump on her pillow. But for once, my less reactive human brain prevailed. I would absolutely not let such an insult pass, but I needed to retaliate in a way that wouldn’t put me in Jake’s crosshairs, and wouldn’t jeopardize the almost-friendship I was on the edge of developing with Muffin Top and Muscles.

  And Mir. I couldn’t let her down. I couldn’t do anything that might cause her mother to put down her foot and yank her out of the dorm and out of my life.

  I’m a monster with many talents. Most people only see the killing one, but I do have others. Folding my clothes and neatly returning them to the trunk I went over to Fox Face’s bed, knelt down beside the blankets, and inhaled deeply.

  Scents are intricate things. Millions of complex chemicals combined in varying proportions to make up an aroma that identifies a substance, a plant, an animal, a human, or a shifter. I let the beast in me process through these chemicals, analyzing and recreating them until I’d successfully duplicated Fox Face’s scent over top of my own. Then I went to both Muffin Top and Muscles’ trunks and carefully went through their things, laying the artificial scent trail down. I should have done Mir’s as well, but I couldn’t bring myself to disrespect her belongings, so I hoped no one would catch that hers had remained untouched. Then I dismissed the artificial scent, returning to my own natural one. It wasn’t perfect. If a shifter had a really, really good nose, they would catch subtle differences between the one I’d created and Fox Face’s. But even shifters with good noses usually attributed those differences to the effect that emotions, food consumed, and even environment have on personal scents.

  Basically, my charade had always been good enough. Yeah, I’d done this sort of thing before. No, I’d never been caught. Shifters didn’t have the ability to change their scent signature. Neither did humans. As far as I knew, only demons could do so, and
most of them didn’t bother. But no matter what people said about me behind my back, and sometimes to my face, I wasn’t a demon—not really. I was a shifter, and shifters were all about scent. So if I wanted to cover my tracks, then scent was how I did it.

  Okay, maybe I was a demon. If Jake was an angel-light, then perhaps I was a demon-light. It would explain a lot about me and the beast inside me.

  I left the dorm, thinking it would be too much of a coincidence to ignore if I were found there when the others discovered Fox Face’s scent all over their belongings. With only a few hours until dinner, I took it upon myself to head out past the lake and look around the wooded area. The lake was beautiful as usual, the plane that Dustin flew was not at the dock, no doubt flying wolves and tourists around to make money for the pack. I skirted around the marshy areas and past a huge cluster of pines, then through a meadow filled with grasshoppers and brilliant red and yellow flowers before dipping down a rocky trail into the woods.

  Everything was a vivid green. Ferns. Bushes. Groves of mountain laurel that arched over the trail creating a light-speckled tunnel. Small trees trying to push their way up through the space in the canopy created by the larger ones. I caught the scent of water and followed a narrow deer track to what was either a large creek or a small river. Judging by the sediment and gullies spreading out from the banks, this creek flooded often. Right now it was fairly shallow, the rocky bottom clearly visible through greenish-tinted water. I followed it downstream to a small set of rapids, then a section of deeper water, complete with a half-finished beaver dam. The flooding had caused a shallow-rooted tree to topple, the dirt-covered root ball stretching to the sky. The trunk made a natural bridge across the creek, the top branches partially submerged about two feet from the opposite shore. A bridge, if you didn’t mind getting hip-deep in icy water for the last couple of feet.