She stood up and Linc crouched. She wouldn't come near the trees again tonight, would she?
“Thank you,” she said again, and walked back to the side door.
Linc, knowing Aunt Norm and Wash wouldn't be surprised to find him, curled up on the concrete pad outside her door. He didn't sleep, watching while he rested his head on his paws.
Heavy footsteps thudded on the pavement. With a sniff, Linc recognized Elliot before hearing his words. “Fucking bitch, leaving me to the wolves.” He limped and a white bandage wrapped the leg Linc had ripped into. “Teach her a lesson. Then get a few others to do the same.”
Linc crouched, trying to become another shadow.
“What?” Elliot asked just before Linc lunged. The sun broke the horizon, and instead of his wolf jaws latching onto Elliot's neck, Linc head butted him.
“Fuck!” Elliot screamed, swinging at Linc.
“You fucking asshole. How dare you!” His punches rained down on Elliot until blood ran from his split knuckles and Elliot's face had streaks everywhere.
“Lincoln Brown!” Aunt Norm said, the command requiring his attention. “Get off him and in the house.”
The door to Zoe's apartment opened. She blinked groggily, wearing only a night shirt. “What's going on?”
Wash bolted out of the trees, naked, and she stared openly.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, ducking into the house.
Now that she looked at Linc again, he was naked too.
“What?” she asked again.
“Zoe,” he said, breaking Aunt Norm's command and running to her. “Are you okay? Did any of them hurt you?” He brushed his hands over her face and arms.
“Yeah. I'm okay.”
Elliot was passed out and Auntie Norm had gone in the house and come out with a washcloth.
“Elliot?” Zoe asked, taking a step toward him. Linc couldn't help but smile at the puffing eye and the blood still oozing from his split lip. All the other blood had come away with Auntie Norm's cloth.
The giant waste of skin opened his eyes and looked from Zoe to Linc. Then he sprang up and back. “Fuck you, man. Where do you get off? That's my girlfriend.”
“Not anymore,” Zoe said. “Not after you and your friends.” She spat the last word.
Linc growled, remembering his threat. He took one step around Zoe.
“Fuck this,” Elliot said, jumping up on his good leg and hobbling away.
Auntie Norm stopped Linc from following with a palm to his chest. “What have you done, boy?” she asked. “Is my son's head on the chopping block because you can't control yourself?”
Linc hung his head. He had been stupid. He had been right, saving Zoe wasn't a mistake, but he'd done a lot of stupid things since then.
“Linc?” Zoe asked. “Why are you naked? And Wash?”
Auntie Norm narrowed her eyes, glaring at Linc. She turned her gaze to Zoe and it was much warmer. “Why don't you come inside, Zoe. I think the boys have something to tell you.”
***
Zoe was happy to have the tea to sip. It let her hide her face a bit.
“Werewolves,” she repeated.
“Yep,” Wash said, digging into a stack of pancakes that Mrs. Brown had made for him. Linc was working through his own. There was a single in front of Zoe and she still hadn't managed to get an appetite to eat it.
“Every month,” she said.
“Every month,” Linc agreed.
“And no one knows.”
“Well, Celeste knows. She and Franklin have been a couple almost as long as they've known one another.” Mrs. Brown topped off Zoe's mug with coffee. “And of course I found out.” She ran a hand through Wash's black hair and he smiled around a mouthful of sticky pancake.
“You won't tell, will you, Zoe?” Wash asked.
She shook her head. “Who would believe me?” she asked in wonder and slight disbelief. There weren’t really werewolves after all. Yet, she couldn’t explain the two canines defending her last night in any other way. Linc said it had been him, and she had to believe him. Otherwise, he could be lying about all the other things. That thought scared her.
But Wash was a werewolf too. It wouldn’t make sense for him to lie.
“I think the young man Linc damaged might believe you.”
Linc snickered. “I'd have done more damage—”
“Shut up. You are in the doghouse, mister.”
Zoe couldn't help it, she snorted at that. Then Wash laughed, and eventually even Mrs. Brown had to join them.
“Even if Elliot knew, he isn’t going to tell anyone. He’d have to admit that Linc beat him up and took his ugly girlfriend away from him. His ego would be bruised worse than his face.”
“You aren’t ugly,” Wash said at the same time Linc said, “Beautiful girlfriend.”
When the pancakes were gone, Wash eating Zoe's, Linc walked her back to her apartment. As they passed the place where Elliot had been pinned under Linc, Zoe stopped.
“Lincoln?”
“Yes, Zoe.”
“I think I'd like to see you naked again,” she said with a sly smile.
He growled and herded her toward the door.
Go Back
Wolf’s Soul by Tierney O’Malley
A Midnight Howl Novel
Wolf’s Soul © 2015 by Glenda O’Malley
Edited by Julie Lynn Hayes
Tom,
With you, the magic never ends.
Me.
Acknowledgements
Special notes of appreciation…
To Francesca and Genevieve—for your understanding and encouragement, for letting me sit in my corner for hours and not complaining why the house is a mess. Thank you for being such wonderful daughters.
and
To Carlos and Gilda Caidas—I’m here because of you.
and
To Patsy Duggan and Marie Batalia—your friendship is priceless. Time for margaritas, ladies.
Wolf’s Soul by Tierney O’Malley
A Midnight Howl Novel
Chapter One
Marrowstone Island, Washington
Present time
Light.
Thank God, Marisol is home. If he made it to her front door, she would take him in. He knew deep inside his wild beast heart, she would. Callum blinked to clear his vision.
Almost there. Ignore the pain. It’s just a nick, Callum. You’ll make it. This isn’t how your fucking life’s going end.
The wound on his left shoulder sapped his strength like a greedy leech clamped on flesh. Exposed to the harsh rain for quite some time now, his fur no longer protected him from the cold. Soaked, tired, and in tremendous pain, he wanted to stay right there in the mud puddle, drown, and end his fight. He pawed the rain off his face with extreme care. Still, the simple movement caused him so much pain. He snarled angrily with himself, his weakness. Most of all he hated the beast that cut him—Atos, mean son of a bitch leader of Blood Robbers.
He growled at the thought of Atos. No. He wouldn’t die here; he wouldn’t let the bastard win. Not going to happen. The hell with his God damn pain.
His fight with fucking Atos had become personal since Alysia’s death. Stupid Atos, evil-minded as he was, believed that Callum lured his sister outside the safe haven of the Blood Robbers’ den. Yes, Callum had killed many Blood Robbers and would do so again if necessary. But he’d never kill a sweet, down-to-earth, naïve young she-wolf. Yeah, she was Atos’s sister, but not once had he thought about using her to get to Atos. Alysia thought about humans differently. She was against what the Blood Robbers Clan stood for—feeding off humans.
Somewhere, thunder rolled.
Callum’s body shivered at the cold. The need to transform from wolf into human was so strong. Again, he shivered. This time not because of the cold, but at the thought that death was near.
To hell with death. He’d fight it with fangs and nails. There were things he had to do this year. Dying wasn’t one of them. No fucking way
he’d die alone—muddy, and without his brothers around. My brothers. If any one of them found him looking like this, they’d kick his ass. They didn’t train him night and day for hours so he could die like this.
His older brother, Zambro, gave him a job—and by fucking shit, he would see to it that it was done. He’d prove that he could carry on a task. Besides, he’d made a promise to Doctor Saint James, a friend he missed and wished was still sharing jokes with him. Damn his soul if he failed to fulfill that promise.
First, he must stay in his wolf form to live.
As a wolf, his senses were paranormal; his strength and power could sustain his life. He could buy time this way. In human form, and with the amount of blood he’d lost, he would die before he could reach the barn. And that would mean dying for the fifth time.
He never feared death, but it would be great if one of his brothers were around when that happened. To finish him off before he turned.
Damn. He couldn’t tell which existence was better. To live as a human, die one time, and never come back, or to be born as Midnight Howl, with five lives, and come back as a Cancer after dying for the fifth time.
Who wants to exist as a fucking Cancer, a soulless shape-shifter with nothing in his mind but to kill? Not him. In his present state, the possibility of it happening looked pretty great. The unbearable pain from his shoulder reminded him of that.
Fucking sword.
If it were an ordinary sword that cut him, his body could heal the wound. Too bad for him Atos used the same sword that ended his ancestor’s immortality to slice him—Valdo’s sword. Once its blade cut anyone’s skin, death would quickly travel to the bloodstream. It had been made to kill.
Callum panted. He could definitely feel Death touching the back of his neck.
There were only two ancient swords in this world. The one the Midnight Howl wanted to get a hold of, currently hidden in Marisol’s barn, and the other happened to be the one that Atos kept. His clan wanted Atos’s sword, too. Not because of its power, but to end its misuse. Trying to take it away from the Blood Robber’s hand, though, would mean shedding blood and guts and losing more lives. Atos would never give up his ancestors’ sword without a fight. And now he wanted the sword’s twin. What a greedy son of a bitch.
Callum shifted. His body screamed from staying too long in one position. Damn, he felt stiff. Not good. He looked toward the barn’s direction. He must make it to Marisol.
The wind whipped around him, slapping the towering trees, making them groan. Pine needles, leaves, and old branches began to rain down on him. He must get out of here. Atos and his ugly slimeball sidekicks might not waste time finding him because of his wound, but they’d exert more effort in finding Marisol now that they knew who she was.
He wouldn’t be in this situation, so fucking helpless, if it weren’t for the group of loud hikers that traipsed up the Olympic Peninsula. He was on his way to Marisol’s when Atos appeared and blocked his path, sword in hand. The bastard gave him his evil grin then attacked him. While the other two Blood Robbers watched, he dodged Atos’s hard blows. He was doing fine protecting himself from Atos’s sword, when they all heard the chatting and heavy breathing of humans. Atos pointed his sword at him, and then signaled his sidekicks to find the hikers. He knew what would happen if he didn’t get to them first, but Atos had swung his sword at him like a rabid animal. With his mind on the hikers, Callum inadvertently took his eyes off Atos, giving him room for an opportunity to score.
The sword landed hard on his shoulder. Trained not to give in on the first cut, he managed to give Atos the taste of his own bite and tore a chunk of flesh off his shoulder deep enough to shock his senses. As Atos staggered backward, Callum grabbed the opportunity and took off. He ran after the two Blood Robbers. They were already circling the hikers when he found them. Without thinking twice, he jumped on top of the closest one as he readied to attack the hiker’s leader. He bit his neck, and was about to snap it in two when bloodcurdling screams from the other hikers rent the air. Callum released his hold on the Blood Robber’s neck. The remaining Blood Robber snarled at him then dashed into the woods.
Atos, his sword in a ready position, appeared before his matted cohort’s ass disappeared from view. Callum knew why Atos remained in human form. He would have to let go of his sword in order to shift. And the bastard also knew that Callum could beat his dirty ass when in wolf form.
One of the hikers was on his phone screaming for help, while the others shook miserably, like shaved Chihuahuas left out in the cold. Callum wished they’d run instead. He couldn’t blame them, though. Paralyzing fear made anyone become rooted to the ground.
Atos glared at the hikers then smirked at the wolf lying at his feet. After desecrating the ground with his spit, he sheathed his sword and gave Callum a satanic smile that made the hikers whimper in unison. “Have fun living as a Cancer, Midnight fucking Howl. Next time we meet, I’ll stand by your side until I’m positive there’s not a drop of blood left in your filthy veins.” With a contemptuous look, he disappeared into the thick of the trees and abundant growth.
Callum was still gazing at the spot where Atos disappeared, making sure the bastard wouldn’t come back, when he felt a rock hit him on the head. He turned around to find one of the hikers holding another, bigger rock, ready to throw it at him. With the size of this rock, he doubted the man could throw it three feet.
Bleeding like a gutted pig, he growled low and showed his fangs to scare them. The hikers huddled together and began scooting away from him. Callum hoped they’d go back down, leave the area, and forget about hiking. Most likely they’d tell this story to anyone willing to listen. Hopefully, no one would be dumb enough to believe them. Convinced that the humans would be safe, he’d left the trail and run into the thick of the woods until he reached the path that would lead him to Marrowstone Island where the main town, Nordland, lay.
Now here he was. Bleeding.
He sniffed the air. Marisol’s barn was close. He knew that, but with his wound sapping his strength, it seemed like miles away. Callum’s shoulder burned; he wanted to howl from the pain. He’d heard about the sword’s poison quickly spreading the moment its blade cut open anyone’s skin.
He now knew what it was like to feel the poison spread through his system. He could tell where the tainted blood flowed, which part of him was dying, how close he was to going to fucking hell.
Yeah, close, but not there yet.
He wouldn’t let death overtake his whole body. Not in this lifetime.
Another flash of lightning lit the wooded property, silhouetting tall and thick cedar trees. Like gigantic sentinels in the dark, the trees stood, the branch of one touching the other so any animal could easily travel from one tree to the next.
Then darkness descended once again.
The sweet scent of wet grass, earthy leaves, and fouler odor of animal excrement enveloped his sense of smell. The sound of night creatures scampering, rustling leaves, whistling wind, animals rooting underfoot, tree limbs breaking and crashing on the ground were loud in his ears. Callum could see everything as clearly as if it were daylight. But with the intense pain he suffered, he had a hard time focusing on anything. Trees began to multiply and sway around him. Shit.
I can do this. His whole body shuddered as he tried to remain on his feet, but his legs buckled beneath him. I’m not going to die here. Not like this. He took a deep breath and concentrated on living and not dying.
He’d defied death many times before. He could do it again. All he had to do was to make it to Marisol. She alone could help him. She must have saved Mark’s medicine. God, he hoped she had; otherwise, he’d say his fucking goodbye to the world tonight.
Curse on you, Atos. You and your fucking clan will pay for this.
Summoning his strength, Callum crawled over the dirt. Each time he moved, blades of green grass sliced at his open wound. The pain was so intense, he could hardly breathe. Growling low, he focused his mind to the tas
k and tried to ignore the pain. He’d stayed long enough in the woods. The bastards could be somewhere close.
“Fuck you, Grim. Especially you, Atos. When we meet again, your blood will drip on the ground until your ugly puss dries up like a prune.” Callum conjured the image of the Blood Robbers mourning their traitorous leader. “Hell yeah! I’ll make it happen.”
Anger, and a promise to get even with Atos and his clan, produced another surge of energy. He dug his paws into the soft ground and pulled himself along until he reached the edge of the wooded area. A few feet more and he’d be outside Marisol’s front door.
He could try sending Doctor Saint James’s daughter a message using his mind channeling. He knew Marisol would be able to hear him if he tried. Once, while she was working, she’d looked up and stared at him as if she’d heard him mentally. That time was different, though. If he tried sending her a message and she heard his voice clearly right now, while alone, she might think she was losing her mind.
To humans, hearing voices when no one was around was bad, real bad. Scaring Marisol wouldn’t do either of them any good. Howling was out of the question. Wolves had impeccable hearing. If Atos were trailing, he’d be able to hear him from miles away and trace the sound, tracking being among the many talents of wolves. Any sign—sound, scent, sight, anything—could be used to unearth a prey.
He must be careful. Lucky for him that nature was on his side tonight. The rain had been abetting his escape, washing away all traces of his blood. Thank fucking God. In his condition, he’d never be able to cover up his scent.
Gathering his strength, he stood up once more. Behind the cluster of rhododendrons and cedar trees, he listened for any suspicious sound. Other than the torrents of rain pelting the wet ground, he heard nothing.
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