Dire Wolf Wanted

by Carol Van Natta

  As much as she wanted to have a physical wall-to-wall counseling session with Díaz about his abysmal collaboration and communication skills, the wolf came first.

  “How do the traps catch shifters?” She’d rather not discover it the hard way.

  “Psychic attractant—makes you see something you can’t resist picking up. The trap is actually bespelled Alfar metal. One touch, and you’re stuck. Doesn’t work on normal humans.” He frowned and blew out a noisy breath. “The traps are monitored. They’ll know it’s been sprung, and they’ll know he’s an animal, not a shifter.”

  “Monitored, how? Scrying? Charmed GPS sensor? Spell network?” She frowned. “What’s their range?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. I got pulled away from that project last year for the auction-house case.”

  Her head tilted in thought. “Any spells up your sleeve?”

  He shook his head. “My magic is more suited to potential and intent. Portals, electricity, weather, health. I can disable the attractor spell, but it’ll take physical shifter strength to open the jaws to free Little Brother.”

  “I’ve got a charmed wire saw in my arsenal. Works like a hot knife through butter in human-wrought metals, but it’d take about thirty minutes to cut through Alfar iron.”

  “Too long. We’re already on a countdown.” He glanced to the side. “Here’s my plan. You wait here. I’ll use my coat to wrap his head so he won’t bite. You come hold him while I’ll pry open the trap. You run with him back this way, and I’ll be right behind you. We’ll find a safer place to heal him and send him on his way.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Will the sorcerers assume their captured wolf was stolen by a couple of human hunters who just happened to be carrying a pry bar on their wilderness hike?”

  “Likely. This is hunting season, and not all hunters approve of traps. The sorcerers won’t mess with humans, for fear of the Sorcerers’ Guild enforcers.”

  That comment added a few interesting items to her meager hoard of knowledge about him. “Okay, we’ll go with your plan.”

  She dropped the pack and released the rolled blanket to hand to him. “Use this instead of your coat. Don’t get caught by the Alfar metal, because I can’t free you. Give me a shout when you’re ready for me to hold him. He’ll think I want to eat him for breakfast, so work fast.”

  He started to turn, but she stopped him. “Gloves.”

  “Right.” He pulled them from his pocket as he strode around the rock and out of sight. Confusing, irritating man. At least he was helping the wolf.

  She dithered a moment, then slid the backpack on her shoulders. If they had to go a different route, she didn’t want to leave it behind.

  A long minute later, he called, and she went running.

  12

  Arvik fought to hold the terrified young wolf still without hurting him. He’d already been bitten twice, hard enough to draw blood.

  Rayne dropped to her knees beside him to take the blanket-wrapped head. “Got him.”

  Arvik angled himself away from the staked chain. “Twist him around.”

  As soon as she did so, he borrowed the strength of both his beasts to pry open the metal jaws just enough to free the bloody, broken leg. The jaws clanged shut when he let them go.

  She pulled back and climbed to her feet, wrestling with the squirming wolf in her arms as she walked quickly away toward the big rock. All shifters were stronger than they looked, but she made it look easy.

  Sharp, dark magic flowed from the trap and took the form of an ethereal snake with three heads, each looking a different direction.

  Arvik scrambled back and to his feet, throwing a quick spell to swirl the snow with wind to obscure the spell’s vision.

  “Run!” He launched himself after her.

  He caught up with her in time to catch the pack as it bobbled on her back, threatening to throw her off balance. He steadied it with one hand as they brushed by the rock and ran down the path marked by her footsteps.

  Amazingly, even though they were running down a snow-dusted mountainside, healing magic flared from Rayne.

  Though it was directed at the injured wolf, she may as well have sent it straight into his pants with sexy intent.

  He’d just spent two long days as a timber wolf, trying to gain control over his instinctive attraction to her and the powerful mating drive. Obviously, he’d wasted his time.

  Now he was as thick and hard as the upright tree they’d just swerved around. He’d wanted women before, but never like this. He’d better find a way to live with it fast, or he’d be no good to the mission. No good to her.

  Meanwhile, she was likely planning his protracted, painful demise for being such an ass.

  “Are we far enough?” Her voice stuttered as she ran.

  He scanned the terrain and pointed left. “Head for the big burned pine.” The ethereal remnants of the lightning strike that caused the damage would interfere with long-range scanning spells.

  He bolted forward to scrape the snow off a section of ground below the tree. He cast a visual camouflage spell, in case the spell snakes were still looking for them.

  She caught up moments later and set down her whining, blanket-wrapped burden. “I can heal him, but he’s so scared, he peed himself. That thing you did with the shifters at the auction house, where you made them listen to you. Can you do that with Little Brother? Tell him we’re pack, not killers?”

  Arvik ignored the fact that she shouldn’t have been able to detect the push from his native gift and considered her question. “Maybe. I’ll try.” He’d never used it on an animal.

  He leaned close to the lump under the blanket that he thought might be the wolf’s ear. “You know us.” He whispered, compelling the wolf to listen. The usual connection felt different, but there. “We are family. You’re safe.”

  At the suggestion of his darker inner beast, he sang a simple tune he thought he’d long forgotten, of wolf brothers and sisters running free to the sea and back. It calmed both the wolf in front of him and the wolf inside him.

  Rayne’s healing spell for the injured gray wolf surrounded Arvik like the welcome warm mist from a hot spring. It sparked desire, but also soothed him with comfort and care. Every part of him leaned into that. Maybe that was the trick, accepting the effect of her magic and her warmth instead of fighting it.

  He continued singing and loosened the blanket enough to slide a hand up into the fur at the wolf’s neck.

  Another verse later, and her magic subsided. “That’s done it, I think.” Her voice sounded low and husky. She rocked back on her heels and stood. “Wait to release him until I’m far enough away.” She turned and began hiking up the left slope, adjusting the straps of the backpack on her shoulders.

  Arvik used a small wizard spell to clean the urine off the wolf’s tail and back legs and the blood off its healed leg. He pulled the blanket away and crab-walked several steps backward, keeping himself low and small.

  The gray wolf lay still a moment, then quickly rolled and found his feet. He lifted his newly healed leg then put it down again. Probably natural behavior, rather than marveling at what Rayne had done for him.

  The wolf took one tentative step toward him, then another. Arvik pulled off his torn glove, then slowly held out his hand.

  The wolf sniffed several times, then bounced back into a crouch, inviting Arvik to play.

  It made him smile, but not for long.

  “Problem?” called Rayne.

  He liked that he could hear her despite the distance and the wind. The charm he’d worn to prevent himself from shifting and breaking his cover while working with the wizards at the auction house had also dulled his superior senses.

  He pointed toward the wolf, who danced sideways and yipped. “He thinks I’m his pack. It’s a temporary illusion.”

  “Did you find the cabin?”

  “Yes.” He stood and pushed his glove into his pocket. “It’s two miles northeast. I was coming back
to find you when I heard you... Little Brother’s cry.”

  He’d set a wolfish land speed record when he thought Rayne had been caught by the trap that he hadn’t warned her about. His list of screwups kept growing.

  “Easy-peasy. Lead me to the cabin. If he follows us all the way, despite my dire wolf, shift and go help him find his pack.”

  “A good plan.” He walked up the hill toward her. “Let me carry the pack for a while.”

  She gave him a bright smile. “Nah, I’m good.” Her fingers tightened slightly on the straps.

  He started to argue that it was his turn, when it dawned on him that she no longer trusted him with it.

  That hurt, but it was his own fault. “I owe you an apology and an explanation.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t.” She waved to usher him past her. “This isn’t your circus. You got suckered by Brooker. His superpower is figuring out how to draw people in. Before you know it, you’re sneaking into a war zone for a stolen hard drive, or infiltrating an illegal cage-fight ring, or breaking into a casino vault for incriminating evidence.”

  He stopped when he got to her and smiled. “Or going undercover in an illegal auction?”

  “Oh, no.” She rolled her eyes. “That was my bright idea. Got my little sister caught, too, and probably scarred Donovan for life.” At his questioning look, she added, “Another agent. You knew him as the guard Foster.”

  Realization hit. He’d noted the same last name in the records without putting two and two together. “Your sister was the other maned wolf, right? Tiny Asian woman?”

  “Yep. Different mothers. She’s short, kind, and brilliant.” Admiration threaded through her words.

  The gray wolf had circled warily around them to the right, then bounded up ahead. He paused near the top of the slope and turned to bark at them, as if to complain about their sluggish progress.

  Rayne laughed and caught Arvik’s eye. “You could shift now, if you wanted. Little Brother would be thrilled. I can follow your scent.”

  “You can?” Yet another thing that shouldn’t have been possible. His shield worked no matter what his form. “I’d rather talk to you.”

  Of course, maybe she didn’t want to talk to him, but by staying wolf, he hadn’t given her the chance one way or the other. He vowed to do better.

  “Let’s talk in the cabin.” She pointed up toward the sullen sky. “I like snow and all, but I don’t want to be caught out here when the storm hits.”

  “There it is.” He pointed down the slope toward what looked like debris from a minor meltwater flood that got stuck between four boulders.

  Rayne’s head tilted as a subtle ribbon of magic flowed from her. “Dryad illusion?” She glanced at him. “Your magic, too, and maybe a bit of elven glade. Plus stuff I don’t recognize.”

  “Yes.” He murmured the words that unlocked the cascade of concealment spells while admiring her discovery talent.

  She smiled. “Bigger than it looks.”

  He’d discovered a long-abandoned ruin of a hunter’s shelter at the turn of the twentieth century and started rebuilding. It was his refuge from the polar fairy and Arctic elf war that threatened to engulf half the magical world. The battleground in Siberia was still recovering.

  Her expression turned thoughtful. “You could have ported us straight here.”

  “No, I couldn’t. Anyone who tries to port or teleport to within a few kilometers of this spot gets a random detour to somewhere else. Including me.”

  Her eyes widened as she smiled. “Impressive. Your design?”

  “All except the fairy repellent. I traded for that.”

  She laughed. “You really don’t like fairies, do you?”

  “I like them as individuals. I just don’t trust them in tribes.” He flicked his magic to open the front door. “You’re welcome to come in for a tour. The exterior illusion will reset when we go inside.”

  She glanced at him, then started down the slope. “I’m glad Little Brother remembered his own true pack and took off, or he’d want to live here all winter.” She pointed to the covered kennel on the raised porch, sized large enough for a timber wolf.

  He laughed. “It and the porch are heated. Want to shift and try it out?”

  That made her smile falter. “Maybe later.” She climbed the stairs and walked through the doorway.

  Another reminder that he’d been making mistake after mistake with her, and he needed to make them right. He tested the quality of the wind with his nose and senses, then followed her in.

  She pulled the backpack off and let it drop to her feet as she took in the one big room and loft. “This is fantastic. It’s like a rustic version of an ocean world.”

  Taking pleasure in her delight, he smiled as he shut the door. He took off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, then sat on the bench to remove his boots, but decided to wait.

  She took the backpack to one of the chairs at the café-sized dining table, then pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into the pocket of her dark green parka. “Does the solar panel I saw on the roof provide enough juice to run these, or should I use the battery?” She unzipped the backpack and pulled out their laptops and the uplink.

  “We have plenty of power.” He crossed beyond her into the L-shaped kitchen and pointed to the four-outlet plate on the outside of the lower cabinet. “Here’s a plug.”

  He flicked magic to unlock all the cabinets, then narrated as he opened several to show her. “Plates and bowls. Dish rack and soap. Dried foods and canned goods. Check expiration dates, though. I haven’t been here in five or six years, and stasis spells only go so far.”

  He opened the valve at the sink, then turned on the faucet. The pipes groaned as the water spurted hesitantly before settling down to a quiet, steady flow. “The tank has a thousand gallons. It’s filtered and self-replenishing.”

  He pointed toward the only interior door, under the ladder that led to the loft. “I’ll prime the water in the bathroom. It’s a composting toilet and a tiny sink, but the shower is full-sized.”

  Her fingers traced one of the waves carved into the tabletop. “Did you make all this yourself?”

  “Most of it. I’ve picked up a few trade skills over the years. Improving this place became my hobby.” He smiled ruefully. “I’d like to tell you I brought in the big things like the futon and the plate-glass window before I anchored the portal block to the deep rock below, but I wasn’t that smart.”

  She moved the electronics to the end of the countertop and plugged them in. “If it’s not a touchy subject, how old are you?”

  “Five hundred, give or take.” He shrugged as if he casually told that secret to anyone who asked. “My people counted seasons.”

  She nodded. “My father is six hundred fifty something. His people didn’t start counting years until the child proved it would thrive, and sometimes, they lost track.” She touched the tile mosaic design on the counter. “He’d love this place. He grumbles about the lost art of pretty much everything.”

  Arvik wanted to ask her why sadness and anger colored her tone, but his instincts said he was on shaky ground with her. She might shut him out entirely if he came across like a spy digging for sensitive information. “He’s welcome any time.”

  Unless her father was a jerk toward his amazingly competent and gorgeous daughter, in which case, her father could go pound sand in Death Valley. Both his animals agreed on that point.

  He turned to hide that protective impulse from her. “I’ll go turn on the water in the bathroom and start the geothermal heat. We’ll have warm water and warm floors in a couple of hours.” He circled around the table and headed toward the back.

  She opened her laptop and powered it on. “Will your concealment spells let the uplink signal through?” She glanced at the case with the flat, octagonal-shaped crystal. “We could take it outside or put it on the roof.”

  “Let’s test it now. The storm may be trouble. The wind smells heavy
with water.”

  Nodding, she turned back to the laptop.

  It only took a couple of minutes to turn on the water for the bathroom and the floor’s radiant heat, and pull out soap and towels for general use.

  Back out in the main room, he crossed to the entry and grabbed his coat from the hook. His hand was on the door latch before he remembered his vow to be more communicative. “I’m checking things outside.”

  She waved but didn’t look up from her screen.

  He rolled his eyes at the unexpected wolfish impulse to present her with a mate gift. He was quite certain she could catch her own mule deer.

  13

  The custom browser on Rayne’s laptop finally finished downloading the animated weather map she’d requested. A warm front collided with the jet stream and formed a dense, white mass coming southeast from the Arctic. If anything, Díaz’s instincts about bad weather had been optimistic.

  She hoped the call with Brooker resulted in everything they needed so they could finish the project and move on. To what, she wasn’t sure.

  Her habit of self-reliance usually proved effective, but now, she wished she had more friends, because she needed someone to talk to. The situation with Díaz had her at sixes and sevens with her duty, her common sense, and her inner wolf.

  He’d lied to her face and by omission, but all agents lied superbly well, or they didn’t live to be fifty, much less five hundred. She was practically a new adult as far as long-lived shifters were concerned, and racked up more new lies with each undercover assignment.

  And Brooker had suckered him onto the project. He wouldn’t have done so without knowing more about Díaz than he’d let on, and knowing what buttons to push.

  As much as his fantastic scent and his magic tightened her nipples and zinged her core every single time he used it, she wasn’t the type to tumble into bed to scratch an itch. Especially not on the job. Absolutely not when it had the potential to change her life forever.