Dire Wolf Wanted

by Carol Van Natta

  “What?” Rayne shook her head and drew in a deep whiff to memorize Skyla’s new scent, the one that blended with Nic’s.

  Skyla loosened her arms and looked up at her. “The town is full of spirits. Hundreds of them, from the last time the Ahklut attacked. They told me about their deaths, and I wrote it down. The glade is their home base.”

  Rayne smiled. She’d never been able to see ghosts, but she knew Skyla could both see and hear them. “I’m not a spirit. Not yet, at any rate.” She kissed her on the forehead. “Introduce me to your wickedly clever tiger mate.”

  Skyla beamed. “And wickedly sexy. He sees spirits now, too.” She held out her hand.

  Nic slipped his hand into Skyla’s and gave Rayne a pleasant smile. “I don’t know how you survived that beating, but I’m glad you made it out of the auction house alive. I’m Nic Paletin, by the way.”

  Skyla caught Rayne’s hand. “Come home with us. We have a house here in town. We have so much to tell you.”

  “And I have a lot to tell you, but I have to check in with the shifter brigade commander, or they’ll report me as AWOL. I do not want to be carried by the scruff of my neck through town by an Arctic forest giant.”

  Skyla popped the last bite of green tea mochi ice cream ball into her mouth. “There are some people you need to meet.”

  Rayne leaned back in the soft chair. “Can it wait an hour?” Her inner dire wolf groaned, temporarily mollified by the fine meal and the reunion with her only family. “I’m in a homemade-lasagna coma.”

  Nic chuckled as he gathered the empty bowls and plates, then headed for the open kitchen.

  Rayne had confessed her transgressions against her sister, and been forgiven, even for shattering the family tracking spell. Tears had been shed, including some by a badass covert agent.

  Skyla described her adventures with escaping the auction house, meeting the ghosts, mating with Nic, and defeating the wizard army. Rayne felt newly guilty that she hadn’t been there to protect her sister, but relieved that she’d found Nic. They were perfect together.

  “Okay, but soon.” Skyla’s smile faded. “The spirits are agitated enough to brave your magic so they can warn us that time is short.”

  “My illusions bother ghosts?” asked Rayne.

  “No, what you call your discovery magic. It’s a variant of mirror and knowing magic. It’s hard on them.”

  In addition to being a dire-wolf shifter, her brilliant sister was also a magic prodigy, and now a certified magister at an unheard-of young age.

  Rayne frowned. “I’m not using it right now.”

  Skyla smiled. “It’s who you are. If you’d ended up as a paleontologist, you’d be discovering new fossils, even if you weren’t looking.”

  “You have a point.” Paleontology had been her instant childhood obsession after their first of many visits to the La Brea Tar Pits exhibits in Los Angeles. For the first time, she and Skyla could claim their own species—Canis dirus—and not just be suspected of carrying a genetic defect. It still didn’t explain how they both turned out to be Ice Age dire-wolf shifters with no history of wolves or mythical animals in their convoluted family trees, but the gods must have had their reasons.

  Rayne yawned, then made herself get out of the sneaky nap-inducing chair to stretch. “Speaking of unexpected discoveries, do you remember Aldenrud, the auction-house manager? Corporate manager type, usually smelled like Portuguese garlic sausage and tropical-flavored nicotine?”

  Skyla nodded, and Nic said he did.

  “I think I smelled him here in Fort LeBlanc.” She’d already given them the saga of the fall of the auction house. “It’s the perfect place to hide until the heat is off. Díaz said he’s got friends everywhere.”

  She’d walked a gray line when talking about the nebulous situation with Arvik. It was easier to continue using his undercover name.

  “Fuck,” said Skyla. Curses always sounded worse when she said them, because it contradicted her professorial look.

  “Yeah,” Rayne agreed. “Nothing we can do now, but I didn’t want you to be surprised.”

  A tuneful chorus of bird chirping arose from the front hall.

  Nic dropped the dish towel on the counter. “I’ll get it.”

  At Rayne’s perplexed look, Skyla laughed. “Doorbell.”

  Moments later, Nic returned, accompanied by a flame-haired man and an olive-skinned woman dressed in jeans and flannel shirts, just like Skyla and Nic. Their mate bond glowed just as bright as Skyla and Nic’s, too.

  Skyla laughed and stood. “I should have known you’d come.” She turned to Rayne. “This is Moira and Chance. I was going to take you to meet them tomorrow. They’re both Panthera atroxes. You’ll love seeing them—eight hundred pounds each of Ice Age American lions. Moira is a mirror mage.” Skyla slipped her hand into Rayne’s and turned to the visitors. “This is my sister, Rayne. She came with the Shifter Tribunal contingent. She has knowing magic. She’s a dire wolf, too.”

  Rayne appreciated her sister’s discretion about her job. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you live here?”

  Moira shook her head. “No, we’re from Kotoyeesinay.” Moira’s easy smile lit up her face as she nudged her mate with her shoulder. “We lucked into being around for the grand reopening.”

  Nic tilted his head toward them. “First, they had to help defend against the wizards. They happened to hike into Fort LeBlanc two days after it reappeared.”

  A delicate thread of magic drifted by. If Rayne hadn’t spent time with Lerro, she might not have noticed the confluence magic. “Just in time, I’m guessing.”

  Moira beamed. “Exactly.”

  “Actually,” said Chance, “we saw your light on and stopped by to volunteer for school guard duty.”

  Nic nodded. “Raffa will be glad to have you.”

  Skyla squeezed Rayne’s hand. “Raffa is one of the MacKenzie crows, and Nic’s new business partner in a geology venture to help the town. She’s an organizing queen. Last time, the Ahklut went after children especially. The teachers couldn’t fight them.”

  Intuition bloomed in Rayne. “I heard in a briefing that the Ahklut’s most powerful weapon is compelling people to listen and feel whatever the Ahklut want. Usually fear. A kind of influence magic.” That’s how it felt to her when Arvik had used it in the auction house, so that’s what she’d told the Tribunal.

  But now that she thought about, the captive shifters had listened raptly, as if bespelled. The humans hadn’t noticed. She’d listened because it was Arvik. The same was true when he’d sung to the injured wolf. She’d heard and felt the call, but it was her own longing for a mate that made her want to create a pack with him.

  She circled a finger to indicate all of them. “Ice Age shifters may be immune.” She glanced at Nic. “Their bonded mates, too. Not even the strongest alpha magic can touch you, right? Regardless of species?”

  Moira and Chance exchanged a look, then nodded.

  Nic frowned. “The auction wizards put charmed pellets in all of us captives. They used a golem spell to operate my tiger like a puppet.”

  Skyla let go of Rayne’s hand to cross to her mate to put her arm around his waist. “That’s different. None of us would have been immune from that.”

  Rayne shook her head. “I’m not saying we won’t feel fear. I’m just saying that I think the Ahklut can’t make us feel it.”

  Nic put his arm around Skyla. “Okay. Then I’ll definitely tell Raffa to put Moira and Chance with the kids. If they aren’t scared, the kids won’t be, either.”

  Rayne admired the hell out of Nic for accepting that his mate might be stronger than he was. Skyla deserved someone that confident in himself and her.

  Chance and Moira only stayed a few minutes more, then left, with Nic showing them to the door.

  “You can stay here tonight.” Skyla smiled teasingly. “I’ll even let you up on the couch if you don’t shed too much.”

  Rayne chuckled. “Thanks, bu
t I better not. The rest of the shifters will all want to come.”

  Skyla’s look turned speculative. “What’s with you and Díaz?”

  Rayne might have known Skyla would pick that up. “It’s complicated.”

  It’s easy, if you’d let it be, groused her inner dire wolf.

  Rayne rolled her shoulders back against the despair that tried to weigh them down. “What’s your emergency station?”

  “The glade. The spirits need us.” Skyla wrapped Rayne in a hug better than any bear. “Don’t you fucking die.” She loosened her hold to catch Rayne’s gaze and hold it. Tears filled her eyes. “But if you do, come find us.”

  “I love you, Skyla. I don’t tell you often enough.”

  “You do.” Skyla gave her a watery smile. “Just not with words.”

  “I’ll try to be better.” Rayne stepped back. “But right now, I have a job to do, and you have a mate to snuggle.”

  At the front door, Nic handed Rayne her coat, and Skyla handed her a slim paperback titled Spirits. “This might be hard to read, because it’s about how the ghosts of Fort LeBlanc died, but you might learn more about the Ahklut and their tactics.”

  “Thanks.” Rayne stuffed it into the big bellows pocket of her coat. “If any forest giants come looking for me, tell them you already sent me back to camp.”

  Rayne shifted and trotted straight to her tent, avoiding the impromptu squad get-togethers. She cast a small mage light and read Skyla’s book. Even knowing what to expect, it made Rayne cry more than once.

  It made her all the more determined to protect the people from the Ahklut. She hoped that one day, Arvik would forgive her.

  17

  Arvik-the-timber-wolf stayed in the middle of the pack of wolves running hard and fast across the untamed tundra. The effort kept them all focused on their magic and their feet.

  In his youth, four thousand Ahklut had the strength and stamina to cover three hundred kilometers in a day, and still had energy to attack.

  Times had changed.

  At a hundred kilometers from their destination, most of the six hundred tribe members stumbled with fatigue. The leaders would have no choice but to stop for the night. The boggy, half-frozen terrain would be too treacherous, even with magic and moonlight to guide their way.

  Moments later, the leaders sent an image to the tribe of all the wolves resting on the low, flat knoll up ahead. Few reacted when they got the news. They tiredly staggered up the incline and dropped anywhere there was room, without regard to family or clan.

  Arvik was in better shape, but he lay down and panted heavily with the rest. Nothing to see. Just another exhausted Ahklut timber wolf.

  Keeping his wolf’s senses alert for trouble, he sang without voice, renewing the native magic that told the rest of the timber wolves that they knew him and that he belonged with them. His experience with Rayne and the Montana gray wolves had given him the idea. So far, it had worked better than he’d hoped.

  It seemed to Arvik that all the long and winding roads of his five hundred years had led him to this spot, this moment. Infiltrating his former tribe for the good of all his people. For the fervent hope of a future. A future with Rayne.

  Leaving Montana and his almost-mate had been an epic battle between him and his animal spirits. They’d finally given him a few days to find his people, or port straight to Rayne, regardless of where she was.

  He didn’t know if it was good luck or bad that he quickly found far more than he’d ever imagined. His investigative skills and latent tribal pack connection made it comparatively easy to make contact. The rest of it rocked his world.

  The rumors of a tribal schism had turned out to be true. After Arvik left the tribe in the early 1600s, as Europeans counted, the power-mad shaman Nu’untivut had declared that he’d killed Arvik for attempted assassination. Dissenters met with untimely accidents.

  It took two centuries of planning, but one stormy day in the early 1800s, the pacifists vanished with nearly half the tribe. They created a hidden settlement in northern Mongolia, hoping in time to create a sanctuary town like the new ones in the Americas.

  Unfortunately, peace had been hard to come by. The Ulu, as they called themselves, had few resources and no experience being good neighbors. They only ate well when in orca form. They didn’t speak any other human languages besides their own. The rest of the northern peoples only saw killers. The polar fairies and the Arctic elves were on a collision course for war, and all of Siberia would be the battleground.

  The breakaway Ulu colony finally abandoned Mongolia and resettled on an island west of Vancouver in 1852. They learned from their previous mistakes, and the community thrived.

  It took Arvik six days to locate and make contact with the first Ulu he’d seen in four hundred years. She’d sent him to “meet some people” in Vancouver.

  He’d prepared spells and his heart for every scenario he could imagine, from indifference, to suspicion, to execution. Dressed as if looking for an office job, he’d walked into the nondescript office building at the address he’d been given. When he’d ridden the elevator, he’d heard the faint undertones that meant people like him were close.

  The sign on the suite’s door said Qila Tours. He knocked. Before he could step back to wait, the door opened, and a politely smiling woman ushered him in. She led him to a conference room, then exited and shut the door behind her.

  A wave of familiar native magic surrounded Arvik, sending a symphony of images. A silver-haired man in Western clothes, sitting at the far end of the table, stood up. He looked respectably middle-aged. “Maq’arviqeriq.”

  Arvik nodded, fighting with everything he had to stay calm and alert. “U’uttak.” He touched two fingers to his lips, then to his chest as he sent a round of images of his own.

  U’uttak looked Arvik up and down, as if sizing him up for a new suit. “You’re later than we’d hoped.” He shook his head. “I will never hear the end of this from your grandmother.”

  Arvik allowed himself a faint grin. “She has not yet kicked you out of her home, then?” In the old ways, the female owned and inherited the dwelling, and invited one or more males to live with her.

  “No, but this might be the salmon that breaks the net. I didn’t tell her about this meeting because I didn’t want her heart to be broken again.” He glanced away briefly. “We were fooled once before.”

  Arvik pointed a thumb toward the back door to the conference room, where he could feel the presence of three more Ulu. “Are we all meeting here, then?”

  In answer, his usually non-demonstrative grandfather came around the table and wrapped him in a smothering hug. The three spirits in him twined together with the spirits of his grandfather, then pulled apart again.

  His grandfather laughed. “No. Your grandmother will kill me if I don’t bring you home.”

  Arvik stood with his back to the wall, hands in his pockets, watching five elders mingle in the living room of his grandparents’ modest house. They all had public-use names, as did his grandparents, but he used their tribal names out of respect.

  His brain was as stuffed as his stomach. It felt better than he could have imagined to be surrounded by family. He thought they’d been speaking English out of deference to him, since he hadn’t spoken Ulu for centuries, but they’d admitted they now only used it in ceremonies. Facts, songs, history, observations, and realizations all clamored for attention. He needed time to sort them all out, but the furtive glances his direction and murmured conversations told him something was up.

  At a nod from his grandfather, everyone found a place to sit. Arvik chose a stiff-backed chair from the dining room.

  His grandmother, Kallulik, put her chair right next to his and sat. She carried her years with dignity, and wore stylish modern clothes and an abundance of unique jewelry. Her scent stirred memories he’d thought lost to time.

  She took his hand in hers. “Tell me about this smiling brown woman and big white wolf woven into your life
song.” It would have been hurtful—and likely impossible—to block his beloved grandparents from seeing the images that came from his experiences. Her voice was low and confidential, but he knew everyone in the room would be listening in.

  “Before I do, tell me if the Ulu can form a mate bond with a true shifter. The teaching stories I remember say the Great Singer gave us a choice of bonds or stealth, and we chose the latter.”

  Kallulik smiled. “I see the direction of this current. What do your malruk say?” The native word meant “two,” but she held up three fingers to mean him and his animals.

  “That she is ours, and we are hers. But she deserves the bond.” It was the unique blessing of shifters that even the ancient races envied.

  Kallulik patted his hand. “I will answer, but first, you are old enough to learn the truth of our origin.” He felt like a human youngling, about to be told the facts about Father Christmas.

  She turned to Tungamaq, the oldest male in the group. “Mack, you sing it best.”

  Mack nodded, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Our song-keeper tales tell us the shamans of two shifter tribes, the orcas and the timber wolves, used their magic to save both from the end of the ice.” Flows of familiar images accompanied his words. The ice and snow of the Ice Age retreating, wolves and orcas dying of heat, starving, hunted by encroaching humans. A circle of shamans working great magic to blend two shifter species into a single, three-spirited whole.

  “When we left to settle in Siberia and embrace the way of peace, a polar fairy told us a different story. We refused to hear, at first, but time opened our ears.”

  New, brighter images threaded into the mix. People Arvik didn’t know in lands he didn’t recognize. A grievously wounded polar fairy being nursed to health. Families arguing. An angry song-keeper storming out of a council. An Ulu woman holding out her hands with magic rising from her palms.

  Mack looked up. “The fairy told us the Ulu were created millennia in the past by a dark elf. A small, vengeful tribe of fairies commissioned us to be an unstoppable army to punish all who wronged them.” He held up one hand with five fingers splayed, the traditional sign for a secret about to unfold.