The Grant Wolves Box Set

by Lori Drake

  “Wait,” Cathy called out from behind him. Chris stopped in his tracks, expecting to see her bent over and winded when he looked back. Instead, she stood a few feet behind him, her focus intent to the northeast.

  “What is it?”

  “Get down!” she said, motioning emphatically with both hands.

  “Wha?”

  Maybe he didn’t move quickly enough, because that “old lady” tackled him to the ground with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. Dazed, he looked up just in time to see a massive fireball woosh past where he’d just been standing. It roared off into the night, leaving a blazing trail behind wherever it touched anything. The air crackled with heat in its wake.

  “Holy shit!” He scrambled to his feet, then helped Cathy up. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, shaking out her skirt. “We need to keep moving.”

  Ben seemed to agree. He shifted restlessly on his paws, whining and looking in the direction the fireball had gone.

  Chris snatched up the flashlight and the three of them started moving again. As they went, they passed smoldering brush and the occasional scraggy tree merrily ablaze. The smell of smoke hung in the air, not heavy but unmistakeable. The flames flickered out as they passed, no doubt Cathy’s doing.

  “I guess we know which direction Tasha is,” Chris remarked as they went.

  “Yup.”

  “Not to sound obtuse, but why aren’t we going in that direction?” Chris glanced over his shoulder again, half expecting the woman to be right behind them, summoned like some demon simply by speaking her name.

  “Because there’s strength in numbers. We’ll regroup and face her together.” She smoothly hooked her arm through his and pressed onward, towing him along. “Look, it’s Addie.”

  Chris pointed the flashlight where Cathy gestured and sure enough, the beam of light illuminated his mother’s red-furred form. He shook off Cathy’s arm and strode forward with the flashlight. Adelaide bolted in front of him to block his path. Frowning, he tried to go around her. She blocked him again, growling a warning. It was right about then that the smell of burned flesh and fur finally hit him. Eyes widening, he rushed past Adelaide, ignoring her snapping jaws.

  “Joey!” he cried, fearing the worst as he panned the flashlight around wildly. The smell grew stronger, all but overwhelming him. His stomach churned, but fortunately it was still empty. They had, without a doubt, reached the spot where the fireball had finally landed. The ground was scorched, barely any remnants of charred vegetation remaining. At the center of the destruction lay a crumpled human form, curled in a ball.

  Her back was a mass of red and black, the skin horribly blistered. The charred remains of clothing clung to her arms and legs. Clothing. That meant…

  “Emma,” he groaned, sinking to his knees. As he did, he heard a whine and the body shifted as a singed-but-whole wolf pulled herself free. The fragments of the awful scene, never quite lit all at once by the flashlight’s beam, finally began to knit themselves together in his mind’s eye. Emma’s charred body, curled around Joey’s red-furred wolf form at the center of a ring of scorched earth.

  Chris fought back the rising tide of emotion as Joey struggled to her feet and nosed Emma’s face, licking her pale cheek. Cathy rushed past him a moment later, his mother and brother hot on her heels. They crowded around the fallen witch while Chris sank back on his heels, tears stinging his eyes.

  And that was even before Emma started screaming.

  Oh god, she’s alive.

  Relief warred with horror. All he could see were her legs twitching as she howled, a terrible agonized wail. He cast his eyes around, looking for something else—anything else—to focus on. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, but he couldn’t stop the screams from reaching his ears. They shook him to his core.

  “Chris!” A voice finally penetrated the fog. It was Joey, leaning over to put her face on level with his. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. How long had he been kneeling there?

  He blinked a few times, focusing on her face. Her lips were smeared with a dark crimson that spread down her chin, but at least this time the blood wasn’t hers. At least, he didn’t think so.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, giving her a quick once-over. His eyes slid over her nude form without lingering until they found the bite mark on her calf. It was already closing.

  “I’m fine. Get up! Hurry,” Joey said, grabbing his arm and hauling him up.

  He teetered on his feet, light-headed from the sudden transition. She steered him toward the group clustered around Emma. Her screams had stopped. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

  “Tasha’s coming,” Joey said.

  “I know. Cathy says she’s not alone.”

  “Shit.” Joey glanced in the direction the fireball had come from and muscled her way between two furry bodies, giving Sam and Ben firm nudges with her knees. “Move it!” she growled. They did.

  Joey stepped aside, then shoved Chris toward Emma. He stumbled, nearly tripping over the prone witch. Now that his view was unobstructed, he could see her lying on her stomach. Cathy knelt beside her, eyes closed and a look of concentration on her face, both hands hovering in the air over the ruin of Emma's back.

  A shudder coursed through him and he turned away, facing Joey instead. “I saw it already, what—”

  “Chris,” she said, stepping close and grabbing his shoulders. “No matter what happens, I need you to stand right here.”

  Confused, he frowned. “What? Why?”

  “Emma did something here, I think it’s some kind of protective circle. It wasn’t big enough for both of us.”

  Chris looked down, but saw nothing more than scuffed patterns in the sand. Joey shook him until he met her eyes again.

  “Stay put, okay?”

  “Me? I’m already dead! You stand in it,” he said, alarm rising.

  “Unless Team Tasha has a whole collection of soul-stealing throwing knives, I’ll be fine. We all will. Everyone here has some sort of supernatural protection going for them except Dean. You need to keep his body safe.”

  “So, this is about Dean,” Chris said, unable to keep the tightness from his voice.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” she said, fingers tightening on his shoulders. Her eyes bored into his. Focused. Intense. “Right now you’re in Dean’s body and he’s protecting you from the wicked witch, remember? I’m trying to keep you both safe.”

  “Oh.” He stood there dumbly as her hands fell away. She turned away, but he caught her wrist and held on. One more moment. That’s all he wanted. He didn’t know how many he had left.

  “Just be careful, alright?” he said. “You may be a wolf, but you’re still mortal. If anything happens to you…” It was too difficult to contemplate, much less say.

  She was quiet for a moment, eyes roaming his face. “Then we’ll be together again,” she said quietly. “Witches be damned.”

  “Fuck, don’t even think that!” Chris tugged on her wrist, pulling her against him. He cupped her cheek with his free hand and looked into her eyes. “Promise me you’ll survive.”

  “Chris, I can’t—”

  “Promise me,” he insisted. “Whatever happens, don’t you dare give up.”

  “I promise I won’t give up,” she said.

  He searched her eyes for any hint of untruth. Finding none, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back, and as they stood there with the moonlight washing over them a sense of peace washed over him.

  It was short-lived.

  29

  Joey held on to Chris until an unfamiliar, sardonic voice intruded.

  “Well, well. What have we here?”

  Joey checked to make sure the circle’s lines remained unbroken as Chris draw her into it with him. The shallow furrows in the dirt were scuffed, but the golden lines held their shape regardless. As one, they turned to face the new arrival.

 
Tasha. She’d appeared out of nowhere like a monster stepping out of a closet—only there wasn’t a closet for half a mile, at least.

  Growling, Adelaide, Sam and Ben positioned themselves between the enemy and the rest of their pack. Joey longed to join them but didn’t dare risk shifting forms. For one, there wasn’t enough room in the circle unless Chris stepped out, and even though it would only take a few seconds—they’d be defenseless seconds.

  “This is private property,” Joey called. “No solicitors. Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any.”

  Tasha threw back her head and laughed, unfazed. “Sassy. I like it. Hand over what’s mine and I’ll let you live.” Everything about her screamed dominance, from her haughty demeanor to her power suit. The creases on her slacks were as sharp as knives. Jon would have approved, no matter how inappropriate her attire was for tromping through the desert at night.

  “We’re not yours, you sadistic bitch!” Chris's defiant words were belied by a tremor so slight no one but Joey likely noticed.

  Tasha slipped a hand inside her suit coat. “Is that you, Christopher? So that’s where you’ve been hiding. Clever, clever boy. Who’s your little friend? I must say, I’m disappointed.” Her ruby lips drew together in a pout. “I thought we had something special.”

  Chris loosened his hold and stepped toward the circle’s edge, but Joey held on. “Don’t give her the satisfaction,” she murmured, fingers tight on his arms.

  He halted but remained tense, eyes locked on his spirit’s captor.

  “Is this the best defense you could muster?” Tasha strode forward with a confident swagger, hand still hidden from view. “An old hag and a few mangy dogs?”

  The chorus of growls crescendoed. Teeth bared and hackles raised, the wolves held their ground.

  Joey glanced at Cathy, who remained at Emma’s side nearby, glowing like a magical beacon. Golden energy dripped from her hands, obscuring Emma’s blistered and charred back. Tasha was also surrounded by a glowing nimbus, but it paled in comparison to Cathy’s.

  “She’s not that old, and she’s a hell of a lot more experienced than you,” Joey called back, but her eyes lingered on Cathy. Or, rather, the air just beyond Cathy. She could’ve sworn it shimmered.

  Tasha laughed. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about the witch. I was talking about you.”

  Intuition scratched between Joey’s shoulder blades. “Something’s not right,” she whispered.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you!” Tasha hollered.

  Joey looked over in time to see the witch fling a ball of fire. Her eyes widened as it streaked through the air toward them. Pulse hammering, she grabbed Chris and ducked, yanking him down with her. The magic circle flared to life around them as the spell slammed into the barrier, a glistening wall of translucent energy that glimmered as the spell dissipated.

  Gauntlet thrown, the wolves charged. Tails high, they bolted across the distance at a ground-eating pace, growling and snarling. Joey pulled away from Chris and sank to her knees while the enemy was distracted, intent upon joining the fray.

  She didn’t get far. With the moon singing in her blood and her skin tingling as she called her wolf to the fore, pain exploded behind her eyes like she’d gotten a boot to the head. It took her a moment after she hit the ground and threw her arms up to shield her bruised melon to realize someone actually had kicked her in the head. A steel toed boot reared back for another go, but another figure barreled into Joey’s starry field of vision, charging her attacker. Chris.

  “No!” It all happened so fast that one word was all she could get out.

  As soon as Chris crossed the circle’s edge, a pulse of crackling energy shot from the hand of Tasha’s accomplice and impacted his chest, flinging him backwards and alarmingly out of Joey’s line of sight.

  Joey pushed herself up, growling low. Her heart constricted and she wanted to check and make sure Chris was okay, but she kept her eyes locked on their adversary: yet another witch that had simply appeared out of nowhere. This witch was tall and lithe, dark-skinned, with bleached blonde hair shaved close to her skull.

  Her thick lips twisted in a malicious sneer as she swung her foot at Joey again. “Filthy mongrel.”

  Joey rolled away and scrambled back into the circle. Her throbbing head protested the sudden movement; a wave of nausea washed over her, but she clenched her teeth and held it at bay.

  The witch advanced toward her with menace glittering in her dark eyes. Her foot swung again, crossing the circle’s protective boundary to pummel Joey’s stomach.

  Joey crumpled around the boot and her breath wheezed from her lungs. If she’d been able to think clearly—or at all—she would’ve at least considered that the circle would be no help against mundane attacks. Her vision swam, but what she lacked in training she made up for in reflexes. The next time her foe’s boot swung her way, she caught it. The witch’s eyes widened in surprise. She tried to yank her foot back, but Joey held fast and gave it a firm twist. The witch’s cry of pain was music to Joey’s ears as the woman pinwheeled her arms, lost her balance, and fell like a sack of potatoes to the hard packed earth.

  Joey pushed herself onto her hands and knees. The throbbing in her head was beginning to lessen, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to shift. When she tried, her wolf wisped away, elusive as smoke in a grasping fist.

  “Shawna, quit screwing around and get over here.” An unfamiliar voice called, somewhere to Joey’s left. “This one’s slipperier’n a greased pig!”

  Joey’s head swiveled and her eyes nearly bugged from her aching head. A third assailant, a brunette with honest-to-goodness pigtails, wrestled on the ground with Cathy. She had one of Joey’s godmother’s arms twisted behind her back and was trying to catch the other one. Cathy writhed and bucked beneath her, still glowing with magical energy, but Joey suspected slinging spells at a pigtailed monkey on your back was an impossible task even for someone of Cathy’s calibre.

  “Seriously, you can’t handle one geriatric witch?” The dark-skinned witch—Shawna, apparently—called back and picked herself up off the ground.

  Joey didn’t wait to find out if the two of them could subdue Cathy between them. She launched herself out of the circle and flung herself at Pigtails in an all-out tackle. The witch squealed as they tumbled to the dirt. Joey landed hard on one shoulder and added it to her growing tally of aches and pains.

  “Hey! Get off her,” Shawna yelled, raising a hand.

  Joey rolled away from Pigtails as a golden pulse of energy shot toward her. It impacted the ground where she’d just been, showering her with dust and rock. She scrambled to her feet, eyes flicking rapidly between Cathy and Shawna. Cathy was lit up like a Christmas tree, but Shawna wasn’t glowing at all.

  “What the shit?” Joey said.

  Another magical pulse flew from Shawna’s palm, this time in Cathy’s direction. The older woman was busy picking herself up off the ground and didn’t see it coming. It struck her before Joey could so much as shout a warning, and Cathy pitched backward. If she hadn’t already been close to the ground, it would have been a hard fall. Even so, she skidded several feet and the radiant glow around her winked out momentarily.

  Joey ran for Cathy, worry eating a hole in her stomach but at least her head was clearer. More magic missiles flew at her, but after dodging the first one Cathy took care of the others. The balls of energy simply fell apart in the air, as if the spells were unraveled in flight.

  Skidding to a halt at her godmother’s side, Joey laid a hand on her back. “Are you okay?” Even as she asked, her eyes scanned the field. Relief flooded her as she found Chris on his feet, out of harm’s way. He had a flashlight in hand and shone it around on the ground, searching for something.

  “Mmm. Quite.” A glowing circle sprung to life around them, shielding them from any further mystical projectiles. She hadn’t even had to sketch it on the ground.

  Joey gaped a moment, then shook her head to clear it and got to her origi
nal thought. “They don’t glow.”

  “What?” Cathy’s brow furrowed as she met Joey’s eyes.

  “Shawna and… Mary Ann. Whoever she is, with the pigtails.” Joey gestured quickly at the two witches. “They don’t glow when they’re slinging spells.”

  “Ahh. Yes. They’re using borrowed magic.”

  “Borrowed magic? Whose? How?”

  “This isn’t really time for a lesson in—”

  “Ok, how do we stop them?” Joey asked, watching as the two witches regrouped, conferring quietly across the way. Arguing, from the looks of it. Her sharp ears couldn’t pick up what they were saying at that distance.

  “Identify the spelled objects and take them away.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Joey shot Cathy a sideways glance, lips twitching in a smirk.

  “Punch them until they’re unconscious?” Cathy suggested, with a shrug. “The black girl, she has a ring. The other one had these.” She lifted an arm. A pair of handcuffs dangled from her slender wrist, and not the fun, furry kind.

  “I’m not even going to ask,” Joey replied, eyes roaming once more. Her mother and brothers were still keeping Tasha busy. When she checked in on the other two witches, one of them was missing.

  Joey looked around frantically, but didn’t see her. “Fuck, where’d Pigtails go?”

  “Oh, and they also have invisibility charms,” Cathy added, helpfully.

  Joey swallowed the first retort that came to mind and sank to her knees. “I’m going to go chew someone a new asshole.”

  “I’ll watch your back, child.”

  Joey’s transition from human to wolf went easier this time. The wounds she’d suffered from the fight with the coyotes were healed, and while her stomach and head remained tender it wasn’t anything she couldn’t cope with. She was just about ready to charge when movement behind Shawna caught her attention.

  It was Emma, stirring to consciousness at last. Her friend pushed herself up on trembling arms. It looked like the witches had interrupted Cathy before she could finish her work; Emma’s back wasn’t fully healed, but it no longer resembled charred meat. Emma must’ve made some noise, because Shawna turned to look her way. Joey took advantage of the distraction. She sprang from the circle and leapt at the witch with a ferocious growl.