Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1)

by Kelly St Clare

“Same,” Cameron said around a mouthful of miscellaneous.

  Fair enough. “How many are in your team? I saw hundreds of you the other night.”

  “Yeah, we have one thousand players.”

  One thousand. Wade offered me more bacon and I opened my mouth on autopilot, chewing the piece he shoved inside.

  “Does that mean there are one thousand wolves here?” My voice cracked.

  Cameron answered, “They have just over seven hundred and fifty in their pack. Seven hundred in their Grids team.”

  Their pack.

  One thousand and seven hundred played the game. That left over nine thousand in Deception Valley who I assumed were unaware a supernatural race existed.

  “Where do you all live?” The manor was huge, but not that huge.

  “We live in houses. Did you expect underground bunkers? But to give you a visual, the Thanas and stewards live on the north side of the valley. Furry fuckers occupy the south.”

  I did expect bunkers or some kind of guarded village. “How do you know the… furry fuckers won’t attack?”

  “They’d lose points.” Wade ate a chocolate croissant in two bites, and I couldn’t fail to be impressed.

  “Teams gain penalty points for acting outside Grids. Five penalty points means loss of a grid—so neither team fucks with that. It could be the difference between winning and losing.”

  “When does a side win the game?” I asked, appetite gone. I grabbed a glass of orange juice instead.

  Cameron nudged a piece of toast my way. “You really should eat up.”

  I nibbled at the edge.

  “A side wins when they have possession of all five grids,” she said. “Currently, the wolves have three grids. We have two. The wolves have a new leader, and we’re still learning how he thinks.”

  “One side’s never won all five grids?”

  Wade shook his head. “This game is fierce, Andie.”

  “Your attention, please,” Herc called.

  I twisted on the bench. Rhona stood beside her father, hip cocked as she regarded me.

  I smirked and saw her lips twitch.

  Yep, the lookalike thing could be a lot of fun.

  “I apologise for the interruption last night,” Herc said. “There was an incident involving my niece that required my attention. Team meetings are postponed until this afternoon. In the meantime, you know what to do. The Luthers announced the next grid last night—”

  “Every Sunday night, the previous winner announces the next battlefield,” Cameron hushed.

  “—We’re in Sandstone, and I don’t have to tell you this grid has always been a particular strength of ours.”

  “So was Timber,” Wade muttered.

  “This week, we need to roll out more backlist manoeuvres than ever before. We cannot afford to let this grid fall into their hands. Your best effort—that’s what I’m asking for. You give it each week, and I’m asking for it again.” Herc scanned the quiet room. Then his gaze fell on me. “Andie? Ready?”

  Nope.

  I rose, stepping over the bench.

  An older male entered and hurriedly whispered in Herc’s ear.

  Rhona’s grin grew.

  Crap. I had a sinking feeling this might be—

  Herc’s gaze lifted to mine.

  Shit.

  I watched through bloodshot eyes as Wade snapped a few pictures of the erotically positioned practice dummies. There were at least twenty scenes arranged in a long row like some sultry display at a sex museum.

  The grass patches on my white dress had been the warning sign. Rhona and I left the manor at some point last night.

  I had zero memory of the training room we stood in.

  Cameron was red-faced trying to contain laughter. Rhona’s grin was wider than the Cheshire cat’s.

  Herc’s face—studiously blank.

  “Now, that’s inventive,” Wade said.

  Three dummies were involved in the scene. All of them had spears for penises.

  Wade snapped a photo of the orgy next to it that involved two females—I guessed from the lack of penis spears—and one male. “That’s material for alone time.”

  “Took you an hour to set it all up,” Rhona said.

  I winced. “I don’t remember.”

  The old man who’d whispered in Herc’s ear glared at Wade, storming from the open-air shack. Shack was a poor description. I could see this wide, railed room on some brochure for a yoga retreat in Bali. The giant cupboards pulled across the room and contained any number of weapons and training props that somewhat dispelled the peaceful yoga illusion.

  Nets, ropes, daggers, guns, freakin’ crossbows.

  This was the reality check I’d needed.

  “I’ll put everything away.” My cheeks heated.

  I mean, yes, fucking funny. But also, Herc.

  Awkward.

  “While that’s what we usually ask after such, uh, events,” Herc said, frowning at a vertical 69 down the end of the row. “I believe Cameron and Wade can do the honours today.”

  Laughter exploded from Cameron’s mouth, and she failed to smother the whoops.

  I snorted, coughing at Herc’s wry look.

  “Certainly the most creative incident I’ve seen,” he said. “And it didn’t cost us anything in repairs. Let’s move on.”

  Gladly.

  We walked to the far end of the training pavilion. I took in the large pillows and mats.

  “Doesn’t it get cold training here in winter?” I leaned over the rail, spotting three surrounding pavilions.

  Herc lifted a shoulder. “The game is outside. Tolerance to elements is needed. In times gone by, tribe elders would make young warriors stand in the river for ten minutes before they whipped the person with reeds. That was thought to toughen their skin to withstand harsh conditions.”

  Uh…

  He laughed at my expression. “That stopped long ago. Though I’m curious, would you prefer to train inside?”

  They’d cleared only the trees necessary to build the pavilions and other buildings I could see. Otherwise, forest surrounded us. Birds chirped, darting between branches. Blue sky was visible high above, and I could imagine winter here—snow weighing branches while birds puffing their feathers to keep warm.

  Autumn would be breathtaking too.

  “No,” I answered him. “Not when this exists.”

  This valley was magical.

  It needed to be protected.

  Herc crossed his arms. “I’m sure you have questions about the game. There’s a lot, so feel free to stop me at any time.”

  He launched into an explanation I’d already heard, but I appreciated the repeat while in a more lucid state of mind.

  “Training is daily at dawn,” he said next. “It’s not as intense as you may imagine. The werewolves have us physically beat even in two-legged form. Our focus needs to be, and has been for a long time, in strategy. Trapping strategies. Group strategies. Grid-specific strategies. Counter-wolf strategies. That’s why training isn’t our main focus. Otherwise, on a Tuesday night, everyone gathers to receive the game plan for the following day. As you heard at breakfast, the next grid is Sandstone.”

  The complexity of this was other level.

  How could this exist without the world knowing the truth?

  “This team has your back, Andie.”

  I felt his gaze boring into the side of my face.

  Herc continued. “It’s unusual for anyone to be hurt, and extremely rare for severe injuries or death to occur, but I won’t lie and say it’s never happened.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  His jaw tightened. “On the battlefield? Two. To my memory.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Your grandfather and grandmother.”

  That was something different. “The last name Thana is a dangerous pastime.”

  He shot me a curious look, mouth opening and closing. “I came to the same conclusion after my mother’s death. The
ir deaths were ruled accidental, but I knew the Luthers were involved. That’s why our players wear masks in the grid. I won’t deny the risk of you being mistaken for Rhona.”

  I cast a look at my cousin. She wasn’t paying any attention to our conversation. Perhaps it was one she’d heard many times. Her boredom consoled me.

  Maybe one day, this would feel completely normal as it did to her.

  “We need numbers,” Herc said. “But this is your life. I may want to see you stay in the valley for selfish reasons, but you need to think this over.”

  I licked my lips. There were so many uncertainties—the danger, the unknown, werewolves. I had to consider the alternative as well. If I didn’t play, I probably couldn’t stay in the valley.

  Not knowing what I did. And not without protection against Alarick.

  My last tie to Mum would be severed.

  The fresh ties to Herc and Rhona, as much as the ties unsettled me, they’d disappear too.

  Rhona leaned against the railing, her shoulder touching mine. I made no move to establish more space as the self-professed bastard leant me support.

  “Tell her the rest,” Rhona said.

  Herc ran a hand through his red hair.

  “What is it?” I straightened

  Mum’s brother blew out a breath. “I had an idea last night. For the first time in our history, the wolf pack has a new leader.”

  The game was hundreds of years old. Oh my god. “They live a while.”

  “Immortal.”

  Oh, cool. Never-dying enemies. Super. “Right.”

  He took up a sedate pace, a deep frown marring his face. “This leader is different. The father preferred brute force and used physical strength against us, as one might expect. His offspring is doing the unexpected. Last week in Timber, we were blindsided with a group strategy unlike any I’ve seen before.”

  “How long has this guy been in charge?” I asked.

  “Around eighteen months.”

  The casino was a year old.

  Dread seized me. “What’s his name?”

  They looked at me quizzically. Rhona answered, “Sascha Greyson.”

  Thank fuck.

  Dry-humping the pack leader would have been a fucking mess. “Never heard of her.”

  “Him. You haven’t heard the name? He frequents The Dens,” Herc said.

  I wracked my mind. “Nope. Haven’t met a Sascha.” I always remembered boy-girl names, given my own.

  “Your position at the casino worried me, I’ll admit. However, it does open an avenue we’ve never had access to. The wolves are strategizing now and winning. We must adapt, too or risk losing.

  I met his gaze. “You want me to spy.”

  “They’ve granted you access despite your resemblance to Rhona.”

  Or because of it. “I introduced myself as Andie Booker.”

  “Even so,” he said. “You’d need to be an idiot to miss that you’re a Thana.”

  I blinked.

  Herc called me a Thana.

  “But,” he stressed, “whatever angle they’re playing, whether they think that you’re there on my behalf or not, we can use your position to our advantage. Having a steward in pack territory is of far greater benefit to us than to them. You mentioned that the job there fell through. Can I ask why?”

  I clamped my mouth shut.

  The silence extended.

  He opened his mouth.

  “Dad,” Rhona muttered. “Cuz, did you end the employment or did they?”

  I brushed my hair behind my ear. “I did.”

  They smiled.

  I thought of the text from Alarick. He’d given me a definite way to wiggle back in, if I so chose. And maybe that meant he wasn’t done with his plans for me, but I wasn’t ignorant any longer.

  His plans for me were at an end because I said so.

  My lips curved.

  Working at a casino to support myself?

  Hell no.

  Spying at a casino to figure out why Mum left the valley while doing my best to fuck over the werewolf who’d used me?

  Hell yes.

  And if the Luthers lost Grids because of me, their filthy casino would be shut down too.

  Win-fucking-win.

  13

  I counted the lengths of my inhales and exhales, ramrod straight in the passenger seat of the silver Bentley.

  “Nervous?” Rhona guided the car out of the manor gates.

  Understatement.

  Rhona slid me a side-long look as we drove up the north side of the valley toward town. “You can still back out.”

  “No, I’m in.” The choice was simple in the end. A wall of uncertainty or a lifetime of regret.

  I chose uncertainty.

  I had too many regrets as it was.

  “Good.” She lowered her voice. “Now, Werewolf 101. There’s a lot to think about, but the main thing is to never, never forget their senses. Smell is the strongest. You’ve stayed at the manor for two days and used our soap. You’re wearing my clothes. Before you set foot in The Dens, you need to wash your hair, use your own products, and dress in your own stuff. If you don’t, they’ll take one sniff and figure out the truth.”

  Shit. I didn’t consider what powers they might have. “Okay. What else can they do?”

  “In their two-legged form, their smell isn’t as accurate, but they can smell strong emotion. Joy. Anger. Fear. Adrenaline. Sweat.”

  I thumped my head back. “How am I meant to manage that?”

  “Yeah, this is new for us, too. Is there something you could use to cover your reaction in there?”

  Did I have a logical reason to be afraid of Alarick? I’d run from our last meeting, spewing babble about cheating on Logan. “Yep.”

  At worst, I could pretend to read a fake emergency text.

  Fuck. Shoving my foot in the door would be harder than expected. “In wolf form, they can smell other emotions?”

  “Yes. And truth from lie. In meetings, a Luther is always in four-legged form.”

  Don’t lie to werewolves. I’d file that next to don’t be that close to a wolf in the first place.

  “Hearing is their next strongest sense. In close quarters, they’ll hear your heartbeat. If you have a reason to be afraid, it should cover your heightened pulse, but just keep that in mind.”

  My lips numbed as the stone buildings of town appeared over the rise. I couldn’t do this.

  “Remember, Andie. They can’t hurt you. If they do, they’ll be penalised.”

  Don’t hurt me, werewolf. I don’t want to give you a penalty point, but I will.

  “That makes me feel tonnes better. What else?”

  “Their sight isn’t so much of an issue for detecting a lie,” Rhona said as we drove alongside the riverfront buildings. “They can see super fucking well. Don’t steal from the till.”

  I shot her a wry look. “I’ll try my best. Just how good is their hearing?”

  She gripped the wheel, checking the rear-view mirror. “In wolf form, kilometres, we think. In two-legged form, maybe one hundred metres, but it depends on the strength of the individual werewolf.”

  This was about to blow my mind for the second time and there was no time to get drunk and arrange dummies in erotic positions before my spying debut. “Unless there’s something super important to know, that’s probably enough. What’s the goal today?”

  Rhona parked around the corner to my apartment. I’d expected someone less conspicuous to drop me off, but Herc said there wasn’t any point completely hiding my connection to them with the family resemblance.

  I just had to keep my head.

  Literally and figuratively.

  “Focus on getting your job back,” she said. “Then we can—”

  “Nope. I want to know the whole plan.”

  She swivelled in the driver seat, checking the area. Tuesday morning and Deception Valley was a virtual ghost town in comparison to the last four days. “Okay, they guard the details of their
nature super closely. We have fuck-all information about their hierarchy, what makes one wolf more powerful than another, and the exact limitations of their advantages over us. If you can gather intel on their plans for the next grid, that would be huge. I doubt they’ll let you in that deep, but in short, we know who the main players in the pack are, but we need more. Dig up as much as you can. Even a tiny detail could be useful. And we need to know more about that fucker, Sascha Greyson.”

  I released a pent-up breath. “Right. That helps. I’ll keep an eye out for him. And do my best to burn their casino to the ground.”

  “Psycho. Nice.”

  I grabbed the paper bag containing my clothes. “Not a casino fan.”

  My cousin watched me.

  Holy shit. Calling her cousin didn’t feel strange. In my head anyway. I felt more conversational ease with Wade and Cameron, but Rhona grounded me in tough moments.

  I gripped the door handle. “My mum was a gambling addict.”

  “No shit.”

  I glanced back.

  Her expression was grim. “Let me know if you need help burning the shithole down, cuz.”

  A small smile graced my lips. “You got it, cuz.”

  Would the werewolves notice if I was extra clean?

  I might smell like myself and have dressed in my clothes—high-waisted black jean shorts and a burnt orange cord bandeau—but the fact remained that I had several layers less skin after showering. My hair was mostly dry and starting to bounce into waves. I’d slathered bronzing moisturiser over my body. I challenged the fuckers to smell anything through the coconut scent.

  Black sunglasses completed the look because they’d offered a little barrier between me and werewolf eyes.

  Jesus. My legs weren’t happy about the hill after dawn training. Puffing, I arrived at The Dens and bent over, heart racing to keep me from death.

  “You alright there?” an amused voice asked.

  Hairy.

  The world was having a massive joke at my expense. Hairy. A perfectly normal name for a fucking werewolf.

  My heart thundered from the exercise. Best to do this now while I had the cover. I clutched my side, steeling myself as I straightened.

  This was happening.

  I had to do this.

  Looking at the werewolf, I no longer saw a hot guy. I saw a monster in human skin. I could understand why Rhona and Herc referred to this form as two-legged. Knowing what I knew—that this guy shifted or morphed into a beast—I couldn’t think of him as human.