Heir to the Alpha” Episodes 3 & 4: A Tarker’s Hollow Serial

by Black, Tasha

  Cressida darted into the woods, relishing the softness of the dirt under her paws. This wasn’t the loamy soil of Tarker’s Hollow, but a lighter, sandier mixture.

  The scent of a rabbit drifted back to her from somewhere deep inside.

  Cressida took off like a shot. She crashed through the thicket wildly, stretching her muscles until they burned.

  She got close enough to the bunny to really put the fear of god in it, when she realized she had been too lax for a solo run in strange woods. She had made a mistake.

  Something was following her.

  Cressida let the rabbit go and sped up, hanging a bit of a left, and hoping whatever had followed her would assume she’d gone after the prey.

  She tried to hug the ground as much as she could and make no more noise than necessary. But she didn’t know these woods like she did at home and whatever it was began to gain on her.

  Throwing caution to the wind, she pulled out all the stops and sped up, not worrying about noise or posture, in favor of what she hoped would be her superior speed.

  If she got caught alone with the moroi, that would be the end for her.

  She circled around until she crossed her own trail again, and she was able to pick up her pursuer’s scent.

  A wolf.

  Not one she recognized, but since the moroi generally didn’t have a scent, at least not anything remotely natural, she was relieved.

  She paused in a clearing and turned, bringing the chase to an end.

  An older wolf, flecks of gray in his muzzle, appeared between two pine trees.

  Another wolf joined him, then another.

  Shit. She hadn’t counted on the other two.

  Gray Muzzle stared her down.

  She wondered for a moment if he could be the alpha.

  While she wondered, the other two moved off to the side.

  The danger of the situation began to sink in. They were cutting off her escape route. If they decided to attack, she wouldn’t have a chance.

  The older wolf gazed at her with stern yellow eyes.

  Chastened, Cressida did the only thing she could.

  She walked forward to him quietly, shifting back into her human body as she did.

  When she was only a few feet from him, she knelt and averted her eyes to show respect.

  Adrenaline flashed through her, lifting her bare skin into goosebumps as she waited.

  He might tear her to pieces.

  Or he might shift and let her learn everything about the Fletcher’s Cove pack. Though judging by how many wolves were present, it couldn’t be much of a pack.

  She felt his eyes on her, burning into her forehead.

  He raised his muzzle aloft to howl. The sound was wonderful to her ears, long and lonely.

  The others joined him, and though they were only a small number, their song was beautiful.

  The sunlight dappling her bare skin and the cry of the wolves in her ears, Cressida erupted into her silver wolf again without even meaning to. The howl tore out of her throat while she was mid-shift so that she sounded like a half-strangled woman turning into a soprano on the Sunday radio program her grandfather listened to.

  The wolves did not seem unhappy for her to join them. When their song was finished it was the most natural thing in the world to dash after them into the woods.

  Running alone was a heady pleasure.

  But running together was the essence of being a wolf. Even though they were not her home pack, Cressida picked up on the tomato-red scent of brotherliness emanating from them and her whole body was awash with shimmering delight as they flew through the trees as one.

  They ran so long. Her wolf didn’t track time like Cressida did, but the sun had begun to sink, and still they flew.

  At some point before full dark, she realized she had dashed too far ahead.

  She pulled up to wait for them, but they were gone.

  Chapter 4

  Grace looked past the storefronts on the boardwalk to the frothing sea as she expounded on possible poison theories.

  Somehow she was getting used to the cold wind and finding that the air here agreed with her. With nothing much else to do, she had been wandering the beach and boardwalk, pondering the case until Cressida caught up with her just before dark.

  Her wolf friend looked a little rough around the edges, but Grace had learned that with Cressida, sometimes it was better not to ask. After realizing they had both somehow forgotten to eat dinner, they continued their conversation on the way to the diner.

  “No, I’m telling you, it was that nasty cake,” Cressida said, unimpressed by Grace’s latest, highly detailed explanation of a possible airborne culprit.

  “That was my first thought, too,” Grace sighed. “But I know you ate it, and you seem to be much more… alive.”

  “You weren’t in the bathroom with me at three in the morning,” Cressida replied with an exaggerated grimace. “It was touch and go there for a while.”

  “Wait, are wolves immune to poison?” Grace asked. “I mean I know you heal quickly, but would that apply to poison, too?”

  “Surprisingly, I’ve never been poisoned before,” Cressida remarked in a tone that sounded genuine. “I’m not really sure.”

  “Well, I’ve seen you eat some really questionable stuff, and you never get sick,” Grace said, thinking of Cressida’s snack machine nutrition choices and proclivity for undercooked meats.

  “Is this about the cheese balls again?” Cressida asked. “You know everyone loves those but you, right?”

  Grace rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway, it’s possible that the cake was poisoned, and your wolf metabolism kept it from killing you.”

  “And I only had the one bite,” Cressida added.

  “But you said Linc had some,” Grace shook her head again.

  “I’m pretty sure he did,” Cressida said.

  “Hmm,” Grace said, stopping to pull out her notes and scan them. “Yes, his statement corroborates that. And according to Glenn’s interview, Aunt Zara also had a piece.”

  “Glenn?” Cressida asked, raising one delicate eyebrow. “So we’re on a first name basis with officer McSexypants?”

  Grace shoved the notebook back in her pocket and started walking again.

  “Chief Hershey and I have a comfortable working relationship,” she said in what she hoped was a light tone.

  “Not as comfortable as he wants it to be,” Cress quipped.

  “C’mon Cress,” Grace said. “This is serious.”

  “I am being serious,” her friend protested, grabbing her by the shoulder to stop her from walking on. “You’ve been wound up as tight as a duck’s ass for months. If you don’t let off some steam soon, I’m afraid you are going to actually explode.”

  In spite of the colorful word choices, Grace couldn’t help but notice that Cressida’s brown eyes were about as serious as they ever got, and she looked genuinely concerned.

  “I’m fine,” Grace said, slipping out of Cressida’s hold and marching off with what was left of her dignity. It was that or collapse and weep in her friend’s arms, and there was no time to weep.

  Grace wasn’t ready to move on from Julian. There was no moving on from true love. But she sure was lonely.

  “Glenn seems like a nice guy,” Cress said, walking beside her again. Cressida’s longer legs made it easy for her to keep up no matter how fast Grace walked. It wasn’t fair.

  “What’s the harm in taking him for a little test drive?” Cressida pressed. “Doesn’t mean you have to bring him home to meet the folks. Or, you know, ever see him again when you’re done.”

  “I’m fine,” Grace repeated.

  Cress went quiet for a moment.

  Grace began to think in earnest about the case again.

  “Just keep this in mind,” Cress interrupted her thoughts once more. “When a normal person loses their cool, people get hurt feelings. When it happens with someone like you, people get blasted with lightning
bolts. Or shot.”

  “That was one time,” Grace protested.

  She replayed the memory of shooting her service weapon through Cressida to take down that nasty warlock back in Tarker’s Hollow. It had been only a few months, but with all they had been through, that day might as well have been a century ago. Grace had known Cress would heal and her target would not, but she still didn’t like the idea of shooting someone. Still, it had been kind of badass…

  “I see you smiling,” Cressida teased. “But what if it’s more than my favorite shirt that ends up getting ruined next time?”

  Grace knew Cressida was just teasing. But it was hard to keep the doubt from taking root.

  Am I too stressed to make good decisions?

  “I’m just saying, maybe Chief McSexypants could help you relieve some of the…pressure,” Cressida said with a garish wink.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” Grace said through a clenched jaw. “Now can we please get back to the case?”

  “Right,” Cress nodded crisply as if she were the model of good behavior. “So I get what you’re saying. Being a wolf might have saved me, but that doesn’t explain how Linc and Zara were able to eat the poisoned cake.”

  “Exactly,” Grace said.

  “So not the cake, then,” Cressida said.

  “Looks that way.”

  They reached the diner. Cressida stopped near the door but didn’t go in.

  “What about the snake statue?” she asked. “You said the thing was giving you some kind of reading.”

  “Well, I never got to touch it, but yeah,” Grace said. “Nothing as ominous as all this, though.”

  “Well that psychic chick seemed to be pretty spooked by it,” Cressida said.

  “I guess we know who we need to talk to next,” Grace said, pointing to where the Ferris wheel loomed over the fairgrounds. “Want to get your fortune read?”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  Chapter 5

  Erik strode between the familiar trees of the Tarker’s Hollow woods, the scent of the rich soil seducing his eager wolf.

  It was odd to be there with pack mates in human form. They didn’t generally do much talking in the woods, just running and howling.

  But he had committed to spending a little time letting them know the lay of the land, so there was no way to avoid conversation.

  “We normally keep a stash of clothing here,” he pointed out a hollow tree trunk just off the beaten path. “Typically this will be college sweats, stuff that would fit anyone and if anyone else found it they’d figure it was a student who left it.”

  Cecelia Hawkins nodded crisply and then typed something into her phone.

  “Taking notes,” she said when she caught him looking.

  Behind her, Ansel touched his cap and ducked his chin to show he understood. The others nodded and shuffled.

  “Okay,” Erik continued. “Just like with the other stashes, if you take anything, replace it right away, or at least let me know, and I will.”

  “Yep.” Ansel nodded faithfully.

  Erik smiled at the enthusiastic man, and then headed toward the edge of the trees.

  “We’re just about at the end of the woods now,” Erik told them. “See those backyards?”

  There were murmurs of assent.

  “Two of those homes belong to pack members as well as one across the street,” he told them. “This one here with the white picket fence is Ainsley’s house. And the one across the street from her is Sadie Epstein-Walker, as you know. Up the block is Mrs. Hooper, also a wolf. You’ll know her back porch by the bicycle. If you ever find yourself in a tight spot and need some help, you could go to any of those houses and they’ll assist you. No questions asked.”

  Cecelia was back on her phone again.

  “Oh, and whatever you do, don’t go near the fence line of the house to the right of Ainsley’s,” he added.

  Cecelia looked up from her phone with interest.

  “They have a dog,” he explained. “It will bark like crazy if it spots you.”

  Cecelia went back to her phone, disappointed.

  Jenny nodded at Erik and rubbed her pregnant belly.

  Ansel touched his cap.

  Erik ran a hand through his hair and wondered how such normal seeming people had the blood of wolves running through their veins. The Copper Creek wolves were so laid back they seemed half asleep sometimes.

  Happily though, they seemed to be getting along with the Tarker’s Hollow pack. In spite of their vast socioeconomic differences, both packs were, after all, good people from small and beloved towns. They were more similar than different. Erik found comfort in this knowledge and hoped that the fledgling peace they all had made with each other would stick.

  Integration of the two packs had been a big concern for Ainsley, too. Still was, really. And Erik thought that maybe it was harder for her.

  He was the alpha of the Copper Creek wolves, of course. And the Tarker’s Hollow pack had known him all his life, and they trusted his judgment. A lot of the younger Tarker’s Hollow wolves worked on his crew, and they already saw him as a leader.

  On the other hand, Ainsley was still struggling to find her place as a wolf when she became an alpha, and before the dust had time to settle, he showed up with the Copper Creek pack.

  The Tarker’s Hollow wolves had quickly embraced Ainsley as their alpha - partly because of her parentage, but mostly because she had proven herself numerous times in the months since she’d come back to town.

  The Copper Creek pack on the other hand, had no such connection to her, and they had never seen her lead under pressure. They followed Erik, and there hadn’t been any trouble, because he and Ainsley were usually on the same page.

  But Erik wondered what would happen when that wasn’t the case.

  It was hard not to think of the night he’d gone to Copper Creek in the first place, against her wishes.

  And thank god he had defied her.

  He looked around at the collection of wolves accompanying him. They would all be dead if he hadn’t gone. And there would be another moroi on the loose.

  Erik began to walk again as he pondered this. His pack fell in line behind him.

  The Federation had obviously sent Ennis here for a reason. Decisions would be handed down again, just like when Ophelia had sent him to Copper Creek. He had already mentioned the fact that the town seemed to have one too many alphas. Erik didn’t like to think about what they might ask of him or of Ainsley, or how the packs might react. Especially if he and Ainsley disagreed on what to do.

  His thoughts went straight to the baby Ainsley carried. Surely both packs would rally around the heir to both alphas.

  A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he imagined wrapping a baby in his arms, the tiny sounds, the secret smells of babies.

  Erik couldn’t wait to be a father. He had half-worshipped, half-resented his strict military dad. Erik knew he would be gentler and warmer, and hoped his child would still respect him.

  He had no doubt Ainsley would be an incredible mother, fierce and funny and protective as she was.

  But one tiny thought still tugged at the back of his mind.

  He’d done the math. The night the baby had been conceived was during the stretch Erik had spent without his wolf. There was a chance the baby might not inherit the wolf. Ainsley herself was only a shifter on her father’s side.

  Frankly, Erik didn’t give a good god damn whether the baby was a wolf or not. He was over the moon regardless.

  But he worried that Ainsley, already self-conscious about her own abilities, might be devastated if the baby wasn’t a wolf.

  And on a political level, it could be problematic if the heir apparent to both packs wasn’t a wolf at all.

  And if it happened that way, it would be his fault.

  He pushed the thought aside and walked faster.

  Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and shivered. The air seemed colder.

  �
��You okay, boss?” Ansel asked from behind him.

  “Sure,” Erik replied distractedly.

  Something tugged at his insides, calling to him, like a voice he couldn’t quite hear.

  He found himself thinking about the thing beneath the mine in Copper Creek. How it pulled at him so relentlessly.

  He could still see LeeAnn Miller’s twins being lured to the black maw of the mine by that siren song. The evil had nearly destroyed the town.

  Of course in the end, it wasn’t the moroi at all, but Erik himself who had done that, by igniting the mine and taking away their livelihood.

  Is that why I’m so desperate for them to settle into Tarker’s Hollow, because of my own guilt?

  Erik imagined how peaceful it would have been to just let them all go into the mine. No one would have had to struggle anymore.

  “Erik,” Ansel said from behind, the concern in his voice rousing Erik from his thoughts.

  Wow.

  He had been going down a very dark avenue of thought. That wasn’t like him.

  And he’d been walking, without thinking about where he was going.

  Also not like him.

  Because it wasn’t him.

  Something was in the woods. Something dark and dangerous.

  “All good, man,” he called back to Ansel. “I was just thinking I ought to show you a spot to stay away from.”

  He could practically hear Cecelia sliding her phone into her pocket with excitement.

  He forced himself to slow down and they all pushed through the overgrowth that made a thicket as they got closer and closer.

  At last they came out on the bank of the creek, under the huge sycamore.

  His special spot with Ainsley. The place where they had drawn her alpha by making love for the first time. The place where she had indelibly become his mate, and he had become hers.

  It seemed so long ago.

  His eye followed the bank down into the calm water of the creek. Somewhere along the bottom was the dark channel that led to the flooded portal.