by SJ Himes
“I sense a ‘but’ hovering on your tongue, youngling.” She sat back in her seat, pale eyes locked on his, and Kane flushed. She unnerved him.
“My Clan Leader, in his infinite wisdom, seems to be under the assumption that I am a suitable role model for his son, Gerald,” he said sarcastically, as he drained his cup. He avoided the glee shimmering in Burke’s eyes. His lieutenant had yet to speak. Wise wolf indeed. “He is the newest member of my team. I am now babysitter to a bad-mannered wolf old enough to be my grandsire.”
Andromeda didn’t respond. Her eyes gave nothing away, her thoughts hidden, and he couldn’t even get a measure of her emotions through scent, so controlled was she. He looked forlornly at his now empty cup, and he barely restrained himself from jumping when she stood and returned with the kettle. She was barefoot on the cold hardwood floors, wrapped in a seamless dress that covered her head to toe in soft cotton, dove gray and thin. It moved about her like a cloud, responding to her movements as if caught in an unfelt wind, independent of her actions. It was strange and distracting. She poured him a new cup and sat back down.
“Gerald’s mother died birthing him, did you know that?” she asked, out of nowhere. Kane lifted a brow in surprise, and he looked at Burke, who shook his head. She spoke on, as if she weren’t expecting an answer. “It is not often a wolf dies during the birthing. Lillian, his mother, was not Caius’ mate. They were a brief affair, and she decided to keep the cub when she discovered she was pregnant. She sent word to Caius, but he was involved in preparing the Clans’ migration to the New World, and he never made it in time for the birth. She was wounded by a human, who had learned her secret, and she lasted long enough to birth her son. Caius tracked her blood trail for days, and when he found her, she was gone. Gerald was barely alive. If Gray Shadow hadn’t been with Caius at the time, Gerald would have died as well.”
Kane sat back in surprise. He never knew this. It wasn’t unusual for wolves to be conceived outside of a mate bond, but for a single wolf mother to decide to have the resultant offspring was. Females had complete control over their reproductive cycles; so the decision on Gerald’s mother’s part to have him spoke of a stubborn will and a potentially lonely wolf. If she were bonded, the affair never would have happened, and most females waited until they were mated to have cubs. Gerald’s mother must have dearly wanted him to let the pregnancy proceed. Andromeda had succeeded in raising her cubs independently of a mate by sheer force of will and her position as Clan Leader. The pressures of single motherhood were nothing compared to running a Clan, and she had numerous wolves supporting her.
“So there was Caius, unmated, his other children long grown, with a newborn whelp. He was neck deep in organizing the removal of the Clans under his control to the New World, a task that took all of his time and concentration. I saw little of him in the early days of his reign, though in hindsight, I wish I’d seen more. I was already leading Red Fern when Caius assumed control of Black Pine, and the early days were full of chaos and strife. If he had only come to me… perhaps things might be different. I would have helped him, but pride before the fall and all that. Hindsight, again.” She paused, and ran a finger over the rim of her empty cup. “But he is not one to shirk a duty, and he named his new son and took him home. There he gave Gerald over to a succession of beta nursemaids, who, because of the era he was born in, raised the cub as a little lordling. No humility or modesty or discipline was given to his upbringing, and Caius, while not a cold man, never invested more than a token affection or attention to his then youngest son. His other children at home at the time were the offspring of his first mate, and she had been much loved and missed, and her children received the wolf’s share of their father’s time.”
Kane said nothing. What could he say? He felt a shred of sympathy for the young Gerald, raised by an absentee father and nursemaids, he must have been lonely. Andromeda gave him a faint smile, as if she knew where his thoughts were going.
“So Gerald grew to adulthood, spoiled rotten, utterly ignored by his father and with underdeveloped alpha abilities that were as much a disappointment to him as to Caius. When it came time for the exodus, Gerald followed his father, ever hoping to prove his worth and always falling short.” Andromeda gave him a cool glance and then looked out the window. “You, Kane, are much as I imagine what Caius hoped Gerald would become. If only Caius had taken the time to raise his own child... So perhaps, if you were to think past your own discomfort and wounded pride in being saddled with a malcontent wolf, you may see that you are exactly what Gerald needs? You joked about being a role model for him—perhaps that is exactly what you are meant to be.”
She paused, and took a slow breath. “Babysitter? No. You are an alpha. Act like one.”
Kane sat silent, stunned, head down, eyes locked on the table and his cup, the tea cold. Burke shifted in his seat, the wooden chair creaking, and he sensed the other alpha was just as uncomfortable as he. Andromeda always did this to him, left him feeling like a cub reprimanded for bad behavior. He wasn’t mad, though. While he may not understand Caius’ motivations to leave Gerald in his care, he would not shirk his duty. He would take it seriously, as he should have from the beginning. Bad attitude and poor manners aside, Gerald was a wolf of Black Pine and Kane’s responsibility. If the taming of Gerald was Caius’ intent in sending him with Kane, then he would honor the task and do his best. If it wasn’t Caius’ intent—then Gerald was now his, and Kane would treat him as he deserved, as all of his wolves deserved. With respect and care.
“You are wiser than I, Andromeda.” He meant it to be light, but he couldn’t manage it. He never knew his own father, the alpha who sired him dying in a Challenge before he was born, and he couldn’t imagine being raised by a man who never spared him a thought, duty always in the way.
“And don’t you forget it.” She stood, taking their cups and put them in the sink. “Go—do what you must to secure the park and the wolves now in my care. You will find little to do, as I learned my lesson dearly when it comes to securing my territory.” He knew she meant the day Gray Shadow died. “Rest, run, hunt. Relax.” She waved an elegant hand at the door, and Kane understood they were being dismissed. “Keep an eye on your wayward charge, or he will suffer my teeth. It won’t be the first time that I’ve had to put Gerald, son of Caius, in his place, and it would be better if I didn’t have to do it again. He may not live to benefit from your influence if that happens.”
They stood and left quietly as she made her way to the stairs, where above them her brother tended to the Suarez wolves. His last glimpse of Andromeda, First Beta and Clan Leader of Red Fern, was the swift motion of her ageless body as she took the stairs so fast his eyes saw naught but a gray and white blur.
“WHAT WE know is simple, I’m thinking. One—Ghost is not a regular wolf. Sentient and fully aware.” Cat was in front of the table, where Glen was sitting, Ghost underneath. She paced back and forth, hands flying as she spoke. “Two—Apparently me sending the DNA samples to the other lab sent those men after Ghost; so that means other people out there know about his species and are willing to kill to get ahold of them. Three—Ghost can do…. well… okay, he can do magic.”
She said that last part as if she were expecting to be laughed at, and Ghost thumped his tail on the floor, agreeing with every point she made. She was smart, and while she wasn’t handling things as easily as Glen seemed to be, she was brave and resilient. Cat sent him a smile as she grabbed a large roll of paper from the table and some empty mugs from the cabinets.
“Because we don’t really know what is going on, I thought of a way to talk. Crude, but hopefully effective.” Cat kneeled on the floor, unraveling a large sheet of white paper. She braced the corners with mugs and got up, waving at him to come out from under the table. He left the shadows and joined her.
There were three words on the paper in large letters, and he could read well enough to recognize them as ‘y
es, no and maybe’. He grinned, a predatory smile full of teeth and appreciation. She was very smart, his human.
“Okay, Ghost. We’re gonna ask you some very simple questions, and you put a paw on your answer. You know what those words are?” She asked him, and he nodded, getting excited, tail wagging like a dog’s.
“Do you know who is hunting you?” Cat asked first, looking as excited as he was.
He wasted no time in putting his paw on the ‘no.’ She had a notepad in her hand, and he never wanted to laugh as much as he did in that moment as she dutifully recorded his answer.
“Are you a species unknown to science?”
He had no idea what that meant, so he put a paw on ‘maybe’. Again, she marked his reply.
“Are there more of you?”
A paw on ‘yes’.
“Do you have a family?”
He didn’t know if they survived the ambush at the gates, but he hoped they did, so he put a paw on ‘yes’ again.
“Can you do magic?”
A very happy and firm paw to ‘yes’. She bit her lip and marked his reply carefully, as if his answer was more unsettling than the fact she was having an intelligent conversation with a giant wolf that three days before she thought was just an animal.
“Are they after you because you can do magic?” That was Glen, finally asking a question. Cat glared at him for interrupting, but she wrote down the question and looked at him for his reply. He wasn’t sure; how could he be? So a paw went to ‘maybe’, as close to saying ‘I don’t know’ as he could get.
“They called you a ‘shaman’. Is that what you are?”
Paw, with pride, to ‘yes’.
“That morning we found you by the river, were you lost?” Cat asked him, pencil raised over the paper. She wasn’t looking at him but at the paper on the floor, and he smelled a faint hint of sadness coming from her. It intensified when he put his paw on ‘yes’.
“Do you…. Do you think your family was looking for you?”
It wasn’t in him to lie, to tell an untruth, yet part of him wished he could. The sadness that came to her eyes was painful when he put his paw on ‘yes’.
He knew Kane was searching for him that morning, his grandfather told him so before he died. If they hadn’t taken him, he did not doubt that Kane would have found him. And if he hadn’t, Ghost would have followed the river home, no matter his grandfather’s orders to stay hidden. It was more of a hope, really, thinking of Kane finding him; he remembered the alpha with the kind eyes and the shy smile, and the monstrous wolf-form that fought to save him and his grandfather beside the river.
Tears gathered in her eyes but didn’t fall. She sniffled and went to the next question. Or she tried, but she choked up, and put a hand over her mouth. She turned her back, shoulders hunching, and she sniffled again. He whined, distressed that she was sad. He couldn’t do anything to take her pain, he couldn’t hug her as Glen often did. His human alpha got up, moved around Ghost and the talking paper on the floor, and hugged his mate.
Glen looked down at him, eyes just as sad, but glinting with a strength Ghost responded to, easing his guilt at his mate’s tears. Cat cried on his chest, and Glen took over asking questions. “Are there wolves like you here in Baxter?”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought there might be. Wolfkin never abandoned territory once claimed, he recalled that much. A hopeful paw to ‘yes.’
“Are they friendly?”
Humans and wolfkin did not mix well. He had a feeling their situation was not normal. A paw to ‘maybe’. He stared at Glen, willing the human to be cautious, to understand. He didn’t want his humans hurt by his kin, but they might be if he wasn’t around and they came across the humans. Glen nodded, as if he understood the danger, and Ghost hoped he did.
“Do you want to find them? Your people?”
He slapped his paw over ‘yes’ so many times his claws slashed the paper.
To Be An Alpha
“BURKE, TAKE Sophia and some betas out, patrol the outlying borders and along the river,” Kane told his lieutenant, as he zipped up his leather jacket, standing at the door of their shared cabin. It was actually the same one they’d shared fifteen years earlier, and Kane was trying not to let the memories get to him. He was thankful that the Suarez wolves were awake, and he planned on speaking to the adults as soon as he could. He should be out there patrolling as well, but he couldn’t bear the thought of going near the river.
Burke gave him a nod and a small smile. Kane tried to hide how he was feeling, but the night before had been long and lonely, and he fought tooth and nail with the urge to Change and run along the river looking, even after all these years, for a long lost cub. It was a foolish desire, and he ruthlessly battered it down, refusing to give in to the guilt and weight of failure.
Luca was gone, no matter what his heart said. No matter how strongly his whole body yearned to run out there, every instinct screaming at him that Luca lived and was waiting for him…he restrained himself. He struggled to fight back the pain, the hole in his heart a screaming void of guilt and grief, and he feared it would never go away.
Suddenly, he was engulfed in a hug, Burke pressing his face in his neck, long arms holding him tightly. There was nothing sexual in the embrace, and he stood frozen for a second before he let himself hug Burke back. Best friend he was, before any other role. Alpha, lieutenant, Speaker—Burke was his best friend, and he loved him. And he knew that Burke loved him back. Burke had been by his side since the day Kane arrived in Augusta, the slightly older youth looking out for the lonely Heir, and forging a friendship that neither man could do without.
“Never doubt yourself. Please. I feel your guilt, your pain. You did not fail them. You did not fail Luca,” Burke whispered in his ear, and Kane buried his head in Burke’s shoulder, tears welling up unbidden. “His death is not your fault.”
“Why does it hurt so much? I barely knew the cub. He’s dead, he must be, but it hurts, as if he’s waiting for me to save him, and I just gave up on him,” Kane bit back a sob, clutching Burke as tightly as he could, the other wolf’s warmth suddenly essential to his survival. He missed touch, he missed the connection of flesh to flesh, and it bothered him again that he couldn’t think of another wolf sexually at all. He hadn’t even hugged anyone in years. The most contact he’d had was the occasional brush of his hand on Burke’s shoulder or arm, or a few handshakes or nose touches with clan mates. Impersonal touches, or slightly friendly. Burke was the only one who he felt comfortable touching, but even then, those were fleeting moments.
Was he broken? Did his guilt cripple him, leave him impotent?
“It hurts because you are a good man, and good men never forget,” Burke said softly, nudging his nose into the hair behind Kane’s ear, a move so similar to what they’d do in wolf-form that Kane felt the pain all the sharper. Burke’s big hands rubbed over his shoulders, soothing. He dragged in a deep breath, and held it, eyes tightly shut, as he let his last tears fall. No more tears. Coming back here to Baxter was almost more than he could handle, and he couldn’t do his job and protect the wolves in his charge if he was constantly swamped by memories of his failure.
They stood like that for a while, and Kane absorbed the comfort his friend gave him. Burke’s mind was a glittering presence that hovered at the edge of his perception, the other alpha remaining distant mentally to give him some semblance of privacy, even as they held each other.
“Better now?” Burke asked, as his tears dried, his breathing evened out.
“Yes. Thank you, brother.” Kane lifted his head, and clasped Burke’s face in gratitude, kissing his forehead before pulling away. “Sometimes you leave me wondering why I’m Heir, and you are not. You’re far wiser than I, Burke.”
Burke’s arms fell away, and he gave Kane a smile that was both sweet and cocky.
“I wonder that all the ti
me, whelp,” Burke teased, gently shoving him with one arm.
“Whelp? You’re like five minutes older than me, don’t even start.”
“Five years, not five minutes. Still too young to tell time correctly, I see.”
“Be gone with you, insubordinate mongrel!” Kane laughed, and pushed Burke ahead of him out the door, where his friend promptly began to strip. Sophia was waiting out front in her wolf-form, a dark brown and black shadow that somehow blended in with the snow, despite the contrast. She was small but compactly built with powerful muscles, and she very politely turned her head as Burke knelt in the snow outside the cabin to Change.
Kane walked on, averting his eyes as well, as Burke transformed from a tall, lean man with dark hair and light golden-brown eyes to a large chocolate-brown wolf with a deep, thick coat and brilliantly white teeth. Burke brushed past him as he sprinted to join Sophia where she waited patiently, pausing for half a second to let Kane run his fingers through the guard hairs along his back.
“Please keep me in the loop while you’re out there,” Kane told them, tapping his temple, meaning the mental pack lines, “I don’t want to lose any more wolves to our mystery enemies.”
Burke yipped in agreement, and he and Sophia took off down the path, towards the other cabins where the rest of the Black Pine wolves were bunking. Kane watched them go, and then turned his feet towards the big cabin at the top of the path. His boots slid in the melting snow and ice on the pathway, and he wondered if he shouldn’t Change as well, four paws having better traction in the current conditions than booted human feet. He dismissed the inclination, as his wolf-form was very large, and he didn’t want to intimidate the Suarez wolves. They were in a delicate place mentally and emotionally, and Andromeda’s mental call to him this morning was laden with an unspoken warning to be careful with their guests.