Cyn nodded in agreement. Naomi might’ve rubbed her the wrong way, but her plan was sound.
“No one is leaving. We can’t afford to lose anyone else. For all we know, Kaden might be dead. Micah might be…” Eva’s face tightened for a moment, but she kept going. “Beyond the camp, it’s not safe. Even if Kaden said he made some bullshit deal to keep the freelance hunters away, what’s to stop one of them from killing anyone who hunts alone?”
“If we don’t help our own, what kind of pack are we then?” Naomi shot to her feet.
“A pack that lives.” Eva didn’t wince or look away.
“You forget your place.” Naomi growled deep in her throat, her face contorting into a snarl. “I will run the pack until Kaden returns.”
“I have two boys to protect—” Eva yelled back.
“Your lack of trust is what makes you weak.” Everyone glanced at Uncle Damien. Somehow, he reflected calm as he stared Eva down. She quickly looked away to the floor.
Uncle Damien continued. “Fighting doesn’t help strengthen the pack.”
“Why not make Damien the pack leader?” Cyn suggested. In her opinion, he was rather weird, but at least he’d yet to go batshit crazy in her presence.
No one spoke and a heavy pall fell over the room. Damien didn’t even look Cyn’s way.
Oh, shit what did I do now? Cyn thought.
“As much as I’d be tempted to lead, I have what you’d call limitations that put me in a position where I’m unfit.” Damien’s smile was wide and friendly, but Cyn’s breath shot to her stomach when she caught the way his hands formed tight fists in his lap. His sweet resin scent flared to the point that Cyn’s nose twitched in irritation.
“I see. Sorry if I misspoke.” Something told her that getting on Damien’s bad side wasn’t a place she wanted to be.
Silence prevailed for a bit before Eva stood. “If Kaden doesn’t return by dawn, I will take over the pack.”
Even Eva’s mate, Rhys, didn’t question her, but Naomi’s eyes formed slits.
During her whole little speech, Eva’s gaze never turned away from Cyn. Her warning was loud and clear, though: Once she led the pack, the showdown she promised Cyn would most likely occur.
***
By the time Cyn left the meeting, heavy snow had started to fall. The shoveled path between the cabins had patches of white here and there. The wind blew, bringing a heavy scent of the pines and light ozone from the snow.
“I don’t like this,” Sinister said from her side.
“What is there not to like?” She sighed and began to head toward the cabin she shared with Kaden that lay on the edge of camp. Sinister grabbed her arm again. This time his grip was tighter. He was learning.
Cyn groaned. “Not this again. This buddy-buddy thing is getting old. I can only paint your nails so many times.” She spied Naomi leaving the house. Kaden’s sister looked at them with interest.
“Stop fighting me.” He cocked his head to the side and then shook it. “You can act like tough shit all you want. If Eva and her cohorts want to rip you apart in the middle of the night, they’ll do it.”
“Let them come. I’m not vulnerable anymore.” She didn’t have one of Sinister’s M-16s, but at least she knew where those suckers were stored.
Sinister snorted as Naomi took a step closer to them. “You’re a fool. Every single day you’re growing weaker. Pretty soon, I’ll be dragging your ass around.”
“Then why bother?” She tried to free her arm again and failed.
“I know how to keep my word to my friends.”
She held in a curse. All this time, she’d believed Kaden would protect her. That he’d keep her safe, since she decided to stay, but he was gone now, and a gun-happy substitute was in his place.
“What if he doesn’t return?” After she’d said those words, she wished she could have snatched them back.
“Then I’ll take you to the nearest hospital. Dead or alive.”
You, asshole. The need to strike Sinister was so strong she had to count to ten to keep herself from doing it. One. Two. Three. Screw this. She cocked her fist back, but someone caught her arm.
“Nobody gets to hit him but me.” Naomi flashed Sinister a look of exasperation before she turned to Cyn. “Look, as much as I’d like to suddenly lose you in one of those snowdrifts, I know Sinister will protect you, even against my wishes. Just go get whatever you need and come stay at my cabin tonight.”
Sinister ran his hand over his baldhead to his face. He gripped his chin hard enough to make Cyn wince. “You think I’m gonna let her stay—”
“You two are camping out at my house tonight.” She looked over the landscape where visibility continued to decrease. Even Cyn couldn’t make out the trees past one hundred yards. “In the morning, we’ll talk to Eva and get things straightened out.”
Sinister finally let go of her arm. There wasn’t much she could do all alone with him anyway. He probably spent his quiet evenings by the fire sharpening his knives and polishing his weapons. Old Curtis Jenkins from the Red clan was that way. He was now on permanent assignment in the Rocky Mountains. By himself.
“Fine. Let me get my bag,” Cyn grumbled. Sinister wasn’t too far behind her.
“I don’t trust Naomi as far as I can throw her,” Cyn said. “Do you believe she can behave herself?”
He waited at the door. “I don’t trust anyone.”
Chapter 4
To Cyn’s irritation, Naomi even popped some popcorn for their little slumber party. A few pieces were burnt, but the nonchalant look on Naomi’s face was priceless.
This was gonna be awkward all around.
Holding her massive bowl of popcorn, the shorter woman scowled at Sinister the whole time. Her black hair was wet—apparently she’d hurried through a shower—and even though she tried to look like she didn’t care, even Cyn had to admit she only showered when she cared about appearances.
Naomi rummaged through her popcorn while Cyn tried to re-read the same page in a magazine she’d had for the past few weeks. Canadian Huntsman Quarterly could only be read so many times without losing your sanity.
Instead of idle chatter, Sinister pulled one of the oak chairs from her kitchen table and placed the seat near the door. He took off his coat, placed it over the back of the seat and began his guard duties.
The two of them sat across from each other saying nothing. Sinister scratched the back of his head and glanced at her once. Naomi bit into a burnt piece of popcorn and looked up at him after he looked away. Anticipation hung between the two and Cyn wished they’d just make out and get their bullshit out of way.
It was like a bad date.
What she wouldn’t give to be sitting across from Kaden right now.
Stop thinking about him.
Even as she faked reading an article about the importance of deer musk extraction, she couldn’t stop thinking about how things had turned out. A few months ago, she was sitting in a hospital watching Zach try to breakdance and dance hip-hop style.
He had no rhythm and couldn’t dance for shit, by the way.
She missed her brother, too. Nobody attempted the Worm like Zachary McGinnis. He always looked like a beached whale making a sorry-ass attempt to reach water. She laughed, and then snorted to herself.
“What’s so funny?” Naomi asked.
“Oh, I’m remembering one time when my brother tried to teach me how to do the Humpty Dance. It’s like this.” Cyn got up to demonstrate the swaying movement, but she did it just as bad as Zach did. Even humming the song didn’t help.
Naomi’s face scrunched up as if Cyn had lost her mind.
At least Cyn tried to lighten the mood. “The song was way before your time. Mine too, but—”
“You can’t dance,” Sinister said firmly.
Cyn laughed again. “Zach can’t either, but he was always trying to make me feel better. He’s the kind of brother I’d die to protect.”
Naomi crammed a fistful o
f food into her mouth. “I wish I felt that way about my brothers. Most of the time, they piss me off.” Somehow, she managed to talk between smacks.
Then her next handful of popcorn stopped on the way to her mouth.
“What is it?” Sinister asked.
“The window in the bedroom is moving.” She got up to investigate, but Sinister placed his hand on her shoulder.
“No.” He pulled a .9 mm from the holster strapped to his back, grabbed a flashlight, and crept toward the bedroom. “I’ll check.”
Cyn brought up the rear with her .45 drawn and at her side. Sinister paused at the doorway to the bedroom and leaned in to listen. He motioned to her for a five-second countdown and then placed his hand on the doorknob.
Behind them, Naomi grumbled and complained that no one wanted her popcorn as a diversion.
Cyn took a deep breath. Had the time arrived for an attack? Many days had passed. Could the Cerulean clan have got up here that fast? Maybe if they had men in British Columbia. Even Calgary was nine hours away from Prince George by car.
Sinister counted down. By the time he reached the end, she told herself she was ready for whatever was coming.
He twisted the doorknob. Cyn’s calves twitched and softened as if weak. Not good.
Sinister sprang forward and burst into the room with Cyn ambling after him. The flashlight in Sinister’s hand flooded the room with light. His beam cast a rapid arc from one side to the other, only to stop on two figures whose faces held mischievous grins.
“What are you two doing here?” Cyn asked.
“I was out for a walk in the lovely weather and Peter wanted to join me,” Damien said. Light snow covered his shoulders. All he wore was the sweater from breakfast and jeans. Far wiser, Eva’s son, Peter, was in a coat.
“Does anyone ever believe that kind of bullshit story?” Cyn asked with a laugh.
“Most pretend and tell me how delightful it is to have my unexpected company.” Which meant he did this often and to other people in the camp. Swell.
“Hey, Cyn!” Peter strolled across the room and Sinister merely grunted. The hunter left them behind to resume his post near the door.
“You guys left the window open.” Cyn tried her best to push the window closed. An inch or two remained and she needed Damien’s help to push the window shut the rest of the way.
“How have you been, Miss McGinnis?” he asked slowly. His strange gaze seemed to look through her. Could he see the oncoming illness that Kaden had kept at bay since she’d arrived here?
Instead of revealing her surprise at his bold question, she slapped a grin on her face. “Great! And now we finally have some victims to eat Naomi’s popcorn.”
“I heard that!” Naomi snapped from the other room.
“So, umm, what are you two doing here? It’s crazy outside, and your mom won’t be happy to learn you’re gone,” Cyn said to Peter.
Peter rolled his eyes as they headed out to the living room. “I was so bored. I miss video games. Mom expected us to eat dinner and then go read in bed. Who does that kind of thing?”
“I do,” Damien admitted quietly.
“I don’t mean you, Uncle Damien. You’re really smart.”
Damien laughed at that.
After a fried chicken dinner, for the next hour, Cyn was wrangled into playing board games with Peter. No one else volunteered. The others remained quiet and observed. By the time her head drooped from tiredness, Uncle Damien spoke up.
“It’s getting late,” he said.
“No, it’s only nine o’clock,” Peter protested. “On Saturdays, I used to go to bed at ten.”
“Then how about a story and then we leave? The tale happened a long time ago on a night similar to this one.” Damien winked at Cyn. Could he tell she was tapped out?
“Which one is it this time? Is there a sad ending?” Now Damien had Peter’s attention. “Your last one was pretty gruesome!”
“I’m going back to the beginning of the Windham pack.” Damien sighed, and the line along his scar tightened. “It all began on a night like tonight. In a far more sinister manner.”
Chapter 5
“I’d been born as a man, but at the time, I believed I was a monster,” Damien began. He let the words and the memories flow. The dam he had built around his hardest times collapsed.
“A long time ago, in the country that would someday be called Czechoslovakia, I was respected for my craft. No one bothered the furniture maker who lived at the far edge of my village. Until the night of a snowstorm like today.” He smiled. “I guess I should explain how I became a furniture maker? No? You see, I was the village pariah. The strange man who’d been born as white as snow and somehow survived childbirth. My matka never wanted me, and, as soon as I was twelve, she cast me out of the house to find my own way. The late nineteenth century was a different world back then. There were many other children in the house, and, as a seamstress, she needed her customers to come to our home. With my red devil eyes, I was seen as cursed.”
He paused to collect himself. “I was alone. Hungry and wet from a summer’s rainstorm, I wandered the village crying until I came to the edge of town. From there, I spotted a worn hut with the smell of bread coming from the haphazard chimney. I didn’t know any better and knocked on the door. The man who lived there was the area’s furniture maker. His house always smelled of the pine sap he collected for his resins. When he opened the door, he looked at me like this.” Damien made a sullen face in Peter’s direction. The boy laughed.
“I begged for food, and he just stared at me for a moment. Then he slammed the door in my face.” Damien chuckled. “That brief hesitation was enough to motivate me to stay. It took me a week to get fed. I didn’t sit there waiting for a handout either. No, sir. I arranged the furniture maker’s tools in his shed. I made small repairs to the outside of his dwelling. When he finally came outside to toss me a bit of bread, I caught him hobbling. He had a dirty bandage around his calf, but he never told me how he got hurt. My persistence, though, paid off. I followed him around until he died a year later from sepsis.”
“What is sepsis?” Peter asked.
“It’s a blood infection. You see, the furniture maker must’ve hurt his leg, but he never properly cleaned his wound.”
Damien continued. “Time passed. My life changed for the better until that strange snowstorm I talked about earlier. A blind girl, just about a year or two younger than my eighteen years, showed up at my doorstep. Her mother left her there. The old woman never told me her name or why she was leaving her daughter there. Only that she had no place to stay and the devil furniture maker was a better place for her to be.
“The girl told me her name was Luba. At first, she avoided me all the time. But, as time passed, she began to follow me around and help. Not many people wanted the chairs I made, but once Luba came to live with me, others came by to buy or trade, and soon, we had enough money to make repairs to the house. To have a life.” Damien paused a bit. His throat tightened as the memories flooded him.
“I was a happy man. And I was happier than I’d ever been on the night she told me she was pregnant with my child. The winter had come and everything was as it should be, but I was uneasy during that snowstorm. There were rumors that dark creatures were lurking in the woods from Prague to Budapest. The vuk hunters, as many called them, rode through our village and headed south after their trail. The snow had become deep and many didn’t travel along the narrow, muddy roads. That night, I locked up all the windows and built a large fire. Armed with the only weapon I had, a bat, I was prepared for what was to come.
“Were you really prepared?” Peter asked.
“No, I wasn’t,” he whispered.
He continued. “The only sound I remember at first was the howling of the wind. Or maybe it was them. It was like a strange whisper. A shriek I’ll never forget. The front door crumbled inward, and they came for us while we were in our bed. We never had a chance. They tried to drag Luba away and
I grabbed the bat I’d made. By the time the creature had gutted her…I bashed its head in, but it wasn’t hunting alone. One of the other pack members attacked me and knocked me to the wall. All I remember was the pain as it bit me in the face.” He brought his hand to his face along the scar. Every ridge and line somehow brought him comfort. “The feeling of my face separating from my body. And seeing my beautiful wife on the floor of our cabin. The feeling of ineptness as my life’s blood left my body. I was too weak. Too tired as the creature held me down. I thought I’d die together with my wife, but instead, the creature dragged my wife out of the house and left me there to die. It had rejected me as if my blood—my body—wasn’t good enough for its next meal. Hours passed and I waited for the end to come so I could be with my wife. In the end, with the morning sun rising and snow drifting into the house, something came for me. A man marched across the floor to where I lay next to my fireplace. I remember the warmth from the cinders through my haze and thinking that my life, like them, was almost over and turned to ashes. I remember the strange way the man leaned in to smell me, to touch the bleeding side of my face.”
“‘A fast-beating heart. Perfect for revenge. You’re not ready yet to die,’ he’d said to me.” Damien drew in a deep breath. The others in the room stared hard at him.
“I waited for him to save me, to wrap my wounds in bandages, but, instead, he bit me on the leg. I cried out in pain, maybe this was the end that I sought. Then everything went black. Death came for me, but in a different way, the next time I woke up. The man who had saved me had watched over me as I lay in my sweat and blood. He never moved from the old worn seat Luba used to use to mend my clothes.
“As I rose, with strength in my body and resolve in my spirit, I wanted to tear the man apart. The world was different to me now. I could see better. Smell things I couldn’t smell before. Everything was enhanced as if my mind were a sharpened blade. The gaping wound on my face had sealed, leaving a hideous scar.
Windham Werewolves Page 12