Shades of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  As his lupine physical body vibrated, he wondered fleetingly if he’d turn back into a ghost, a wolf shade. Then he realized it didn’t matter. He was here on borrowed time anyway. He needed to focus only on accomplishing what he’d come for. First he must make sure his sister was free and that she got medical attention.

  And then he would locate Anabel. No matter what it took, he would find her. And Tyler vowed to make the Drakkor pay for daring to touch what should have belonged only to him.

  A cell phone rang. As wolf, he located one lying on the carpet near the sofa. Anabel’s.

  Quickly he initiated the change back to human. Even though changing back and forth was exhausting, the chance that the call might be important was too great to risk letting it go unanswered.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “I need to speak with Anabel Lee, please,” a male voice said.

  “She’s not available,” Tyler said cautiously. “May I take a message?”

  “I guess so. This is pretty urgent. Please tell Anabel that a young woman matching Dena’s description was just brought into the ER,” the man replied. It took Tyler a moment to recognize who it was.

  “Pastor Jones?” About to ask how the other man had gotten this number, he realized Anabel had exchanged information with him.

  “Yes.” The pastor’s voice changed. “Have we met?”

  “No, but Anabel has spoken of you. I’m a friend of hers. And I know Dena Rogers. She’s been missing for a while.”

  “Yes. Yes, she has. And now someone has dumped her off at the hospital. She’s very seriously ill.”

  “But alive, right?” After the other man answered in the affirmative, an awful thought occurred to Tyler. “Why did the hospital call you?”

  “She asked them to. Apparently, she said my name and the name of the church before going unconscious.”

  Alive. Tyler said a prayer of thanks. “How is she?”

  “They’ve moved her to ICU. It’s going to be touch and go. Will you please let Anabel know?”

  Tyler had to force the words past the lump in his throat. “I will,” he promised.

  “One more thing. You might head out to the hospital if you actually do know Dena. I imagine she could use as many friendly faces around her as she can get.”

  Tyler nodded, thanked the other man and ended the call. He wondered how Dena would deal with seeing her dead brother alive again, even though he knew such a thing would be forbidden. Regretfully, he had to stay away.

  Plus, he still had to save Anabel. Figuring out where the Drakkor had taken her would be the first step.

  Trust in yourself. The voice speaking inside his head was not his own. Yet the words made perfect sense.

  He knew what he had to do. As wolf, all of his senses were amplified. He was in prime physical condition and could be a vicious fighting machine if necessary.

  Taking a deep breath and praying for strength, he opened the front door and began to shape-shift back to his lupine form. Once again, he rushed the change, making it more painful.

  But such pain was easily ignored. Wolf again, he lifted his head and scented the wind. He’d follow his nose and find Anabel.

  * * *

  When Anabel came to and opened her eyes, she was no longer in the apartment. Wherever she’d been taken, the complete and utter darkness felt suffocating. Pushing away the panic, she reached for consciousness, quickly, quietly, trying to regain her bearings without attracting the attention of the powerful Drakkor who’d brought her here.

  She wondered about Tyler’s sister. Had Doug Polacek kept his promise and set Dena free?

  At the thought that he might not have, anger flared up in her, sharp and bright enough to vanquish a small corner of the all-encompassing darkness.

  Interesting. Seeing this, she took hope. She’d never been completely powerless. The possibility that Polacek might have underestimated her buoyed her spirits. She was only as weak as she thought herself to be.

  Good to know. Now she needed to set her mind to figuring out a way to extinguish pure evil.

  “I’m not pure evil.” A light clicked on. Apparently reading her mind or her expression, Doug Polacek stood in front of her, looking very ordinary and very human. “I honestly never intended to hurt Dena Rogers. I never intended to hurt any of them.”

  Of them. She should have been afraid, but instead she clung to her anger. “Yet you did. She’s near death, and you still refused to let her go.”

  “I had no choice. She was my bargaining chip to get to you.”

  Queasy, she stared, wondering about Denise. Had he stashed her away somewhere too, as a backup plan? “I don’t understand,” she said, stalling for time.

  He circled around her, like a hunter assessing his prey. “Of course you don’t. How could you? You didn’t even realize your own power until recently.”

  Though she wanted to lash out, she bit her tongue. Maybe if she learned the reasons for his actions, that knowledge might give her an edge in the battle to come.

  “I still don’t get it. Even if I am some powerful witch—which right now is highly debatable—what benefit is that to you?”

  “Surely you’ve read up on your history,” he chided her. “If so, you must know mine is a dying race. Our females are born sterile. The only way for the Drakkors to have any hope of continuing is to find females of another species who are strong enough to bear our young. A couple of us have been working to impregnate women of various shape-shifter races, in order to accomplish this very important task.”

  A couple of them? Horror flooded her as she realized what he meant. “You tried to do this to Dena?”

  “Of course. Her and the others before her.” He shrugged, appearing completely unrepentant. “Both of my colleagues have had the same result. The females always perish, their bodies too weak to contain our seed.”

  Anabel actually caught herself looking for her cell phone. She needed to call Tyler, Juliet, anyone, and let them know what was wrong with Dena Rogers. That way, whatever hospital they rushed her to would better know how to treat her.

  Seeing this, Polacek actually laughed. “I left your phone back in my apartment. You can’t call anyone.”

  “Did you even release Dena?” Anabel demanded, tamping down the rising fury, aware she didn’t need to reveal how anger fueled her power.

  “Certainly, I did.” He seemed affronted that she’d even asked. “Right about now, Tammy should be dropping her off in front of the Leaning Tree Hospital ER entrance. Of course, she won’t be going in with her. She should be back here shortly.”

  The awful image made her wince. “Surely you don’t mean to have Tammy roll her out of the car onto the ground or something, right?”

  His answering shrug again filled her with impotent rage. Once more her power simmered, boiling under the surface. Taking note, she tamped it back down.

  Clearly not noticing, he moved in closer. “You are very important to me, Anabel Lee,” he said earnestly. “With your strength, you might very well turn out to be the savior of the Drakkor race.”

  “But what about the cost? You are destroying so many women’s lives in search of something that might not even be possible.”

  He froze, rearing his head back as if she’d hauled off and slapped him. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear him. “I do not have a choice.”

  “We always have a choice.”

  At her words, he turned away, holding himself so rigidly she figured the control he exerted over his emotions must be very fragile. If so, he could snap at any moment.

  He let out a roar, the torment and pain in the guttural cry shaking her to her core. When he spun to face her, she saw his composed mask had slipped. The madness glittering in his eyes had her taking a step back. And then anothe
r.

  She considered running, aware he wouldn’t kill her but would use whatever means at his disposal to stop her, and judging from the condition of poor Dena Rogers, he wouldn’t care if he hurt her. In fact, a wounded captive might even be preferable. Less resistance.

  Trust in yourself. The voice came out of nowhere, speaking quietly inside her mind. Like balm on an open wound, the words soothed her indecision, enabling her to think clearly once again.

  Trust in yourself. More than a mantra, but instruction. She could beat this man at his own game, and maybe if she succeeded, she could prevent other women from falling prey to his kind. Suddenly, she realized her temporary death wouldn’t be enough. Even if he let her go, as long as this man—and his buddies—remained free, women would be captured and tortured, raped and killed.

  Fighting and arguing wouldn’t work. Nor would any sort of intellectual debate. Doug Polacek believed wholeheartedly in his cause and, like all fanatics who’d lived before him, wasn’t capable of listening to reason.

  He had to be captured, along with the other Drakkor he’d mentioned. As she puzzled out a method, she thought of another way. Convince him she was on his side. Or at least, on the fence, easily swayed in that direction.

  “You know,” she began, keeping her tone conversational. “I did read up on the Drakkors. I’d never even heard of them. From what I read, they sure were majestic.”

  “Are,” he corrected her proudly. “We are majestic. Just because there aren’t many of us left doesn’t mean we’re completely gone.”

  “How many of you remain?”

  Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he shrugged. “Not very many. Why?”

  “Just curious. I mean, those of you that are still around must be very old. The way the books talked, your females went sterile a long time ago. How many years ago was that?”

  “Long enough,” he said shortly, sounding a bit more reasonable. “And yes, we that are left are aging.”

  Biting her lip, she decided to trust in her instincts and go for the gusto. “Look, I’m trying to decide if you’re right or in the wrong. I still don’t have enough information to make a choice whether what you’re doing is justified or not.”

  “It is.” He began pacing, muttering to himself. Anabel held very still, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible, aware his instability continued to make him dangerous.

  Finally, he came to a stop in front of her. “There are six of us left. Three males and three females. One female is paired to work with each of us males. Since she is sterile, my female helps procure the women we mate with and attempt to impregnate.”

  “Tammy?” Anabel guessed, wondering why he spoke of her as if she were chattel.

  “Yes.”

  “She seems young.”

  He shook his head, his pride apparent in his stance. “Appearances can be deceptive. You of all people should know that. Tammy is over one hundred years old. I myself am approaching two hundred.”

  She didn’t even have to fake her amazement. “All this time, you’ve been searching for a woman capable of continuing your species?”

  His shrug was enough answer. She took that also to mean they’d never succeeded.

  Still, there was one more question she had to ask. “How many women?” Voice raw with emotion, she forced herself to unclench her fists, hoping she managed to keep the anger from her voice. “Over the years, how many women have died at your hands?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His quiet, unconcerned-sounding answer infuriated her. Until she got a look at his agonized expression and realized despite his actions, some shreds of a conscience remained.

  “Then why?” she whispered.

  “Don’t you see we have no choice? We are the last of our people. We wasted years while the doctors tried to find out what was wrong with our females. Now we do what we must, what we will continue to do until we can no longer function. We cannot let the Drakkor race die. No matter what the cost.”

  Heart pounding, she pretended to consider. Though his actions were awful, part of her could understand what motivated him. How terrible, to know that you and a couple of others were all that remained of an entire species.

  Still, that didn’t give him and his two other male Drakkor friends free rein to do whatever they wanted.

  “You alone might have the power to change this,” Polacek continued earnestly. “Never before have we tried to mate with a woman of magic. All of the others were either human or shape-shifter. None had your power. Our kind are beings of power. We draw strength for it. I believe joining our power with yours might be the key. You alone might have the strength to carry a Drakkor halfling to term.”

  “Halflings are numerous among shape-shifters,” she mused, pretending to be considering the idea while inwardly she shuddered. “Though among all the various combinations of shifter and other, there has never been anything like this.”

  “Exactly.” He couldn’t contain his excitement. “Imagine the destiny of greatness a child of ours would be able to achieve. He might even rule the world one day.”

  He. She wondered what he’d do if they actually were successful and she birthed a girl child. Smother her at birth?

  “True.” Managing a smile, she looked down at her hands. “I’ll need some time to think about it,” she said, as if she truly believed she had options. “Plus, don’t you need to wait until my next cycle so you can make sure I’m not already pregnant?”

  He laughed, his eyes narrow slits. “I thought you said he was a ghost.”

  “He was.”

  “Then how can you possibly be pregnant? Quit stalling. What will happen will happen.”

  “My forty-eight hours are not yet up. I need at least that much time.”

  Crossing his arms, he regarded her. “Don’t take too long. It’s always easier if you participate willingly.” The look he gave her made her skin crawl. “Though sometimes it’s more fun for me if you don’t.”

  Figures. That was when she knew she’d better start gearing up for a full-on battle. The more time she could postpone it, the stronger she’d be. Hopefully.

  Sex. The ultimate sacrifice. Okay, maybe this was a bit melodramatic. Death would actually be the ultimate. But even the thought of letting Doug Polacek put his hands on her made her insides twist into a knot.

  The only man she wanted touching her—other than David—would be Tyler. Forever and ever, amen.

  As clear as a bell, she heard Tyler’s voice, so close he might have been standing right beside her. “Trust in yourself,” he said. That same phrase. She tucked those words up, folding them deep inside her to use later, should the need arise. Which she had no doubt it would.

  Polacek wouldn’t kill her. At least not yet. He couldn’t take the chance of ruining his potential baby-making machine. She wondered if he’d even considered what such a child might be. A wolf-dragon? Some sort of hideous combination of the worst of both beings? Or of the best?

  No doubt his thoughts ran toward the positive. A child of his would embody all the powerful parts of the wolf and the dragon.

  Since halflings—children who were half human, half shifter—were common among the Pack, and she’d even heard of children who were half shifter, half fae, plus a rumored vampire-shifter combination, she didn’t really understand why the pairing apparently couldn’t happen. It had to mean the Drakkors were on an entirely different level.

  Perhaps their line was meant to die out, for whatever reason. What other explanation could there be?

  Though she couldn’t understand why such a baby could not grow inside any of the poor women’s bodies, she knew if they did somehow succeed, any child conceived this way would need both hope and prayers. And love, she thought. She couldn’t help wondering if Polacek was even capable of the emotion.

  Surely not a
ll Drakkors were like him, were they?

  Chapter 17

  “What are the others like?” she asked. “The other Drakkors? And how long has it been since any of you have seen a child of your kind?”

  One corner of his mouth twisted as his eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just curious. I mean, if you intend for me to carry your child, I feel like I should know something about them. How will you even know if he or she is part Drakkor?” She held her breath while waiting for him to reply.

  “You don’t even need to worry about that.” The confidence in his voice made her heart sink. “Once you are pregnant, it will be very easy to tell if you carry a Drakkor child or not.”

  “How so?”

  “The same reason why most non-Drakkor cannot survive and carry our child,” he continued, his smile full of malice. “Our young grow at a rate twice as fast as other species. And twice as large. Where humans or Pack might have a seven-or eight-pound baby, a Drakkor infant is fifteen pounds when carried to term.”

  The thought of that made her wince. “I see,” she said weakly. “I have to say, that prospect doesn’t sound appealing at all.”

  He shrugged in response. More than ever, she knew she had to figure out a way to beat him at his own game.

  “By the way,” Doug said, interrupting her thoughts, “I have your friend.” He spoke as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “Denise what’s-her-name.”

  Stunned, Anabel reared back. “Why?”

  “To make sure I have your full cooperation.”

  She stared, feeling sick. “Denise is not part of this. Let her go.”

  “No.”

  “We had a deal,” she began.

  “And as you so generously pointed out, Denise had no part in that deal.” His smug smile enraged her. “I kept my bargain. Dena is free. Now you keep yours. Or your luckless friend will die.”

  Hate filled her. “You’re a monster,” she cried. Under her skin, her wolf began to struggle, trying to break free.