Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1)

by Kelly St Clare

  I stared at him.

  “Down,” Rhona hissed as a dart embedded in the clay by my head.

  She yanked me to the ground.

  “I only got one of them.”

  A howl rose from below. The female was still on her feet.

  Herc’s voice crackled in my ear. “Luthers converging on 15 West. Immediate reinforcement.”

  I didn’t need to know where 15 West was to know that was our position.

  Fucking. Sascha.

  I shifted, my legs aching. Rhona’s eyes widened. Shoving me aside, she grunted.

  Yanking a dart from her neck, she fired twice before collapsing to her knees. The female werewolf who’d crept up on us followed suit, falling heavily.

  I stared between their unconscious forms for a second.

  Antidote.

  Antidote!

  Fingers numb, I searched my cargos. Too many damn pockets. I found the vial, and unscrewed it, stealing furtive looks around. Pouring the contents into Rhona’s mouth, I dragged her against the back of the ledge, shoving clay over her body. Only her face was exposed.

  Another howl rang out from the other side of the rise. They were coming for me.

  I crept along the ledge, keeping low.

  Clay crumbled above, and I tensed, leaning back. I almost fell on my butt when I encountered thin air.

  A crevice.

  Oh my god.

  Squeezing into the deep crack, I crouched in a puddle behind a jutting part of the clay wall and lifted my gun.

  “She can’t have gone far.”

  Male.

  He walked past my hiding spot. I’d never been gladder for frequency generators in my life. They’d hear me in a heartbeat. Literally.

  “I’ll head down,” a second male said. “Cover me.”

  I squinted, watching as he ran and launched into the air with impossible speed. The first male stopped directly in front of my crevice.

  Shit, I had to do this.

  Lifting my gun, I squeezed the trigger.

  It embedded in the wall inside the crack.

  Mothershitter.

  I shot again.

  Wall.

  You’re kidding me. I shook the thing.

  “Technical issues?”

  The wolf stuck his head in, and I took in his blond hair. Leroy.

  I shot a third time, my aim true, but he dodged back.

  “Found her, boss,” he called.

  Not fucking happening, buddy.

  I peered back into the crevice. How far did this thing go back? …I’d take my chances.

  My bug lenses adjusted to the dark, but I fumbled anyway, slipping over the clay floor.

  “Little bird.”

  The gravelly version of Sascha’s voice echoed to me.

  “That’s fucking creepy.” I snapped.

  Laughter.

  Whatever. Laugh it up. Sascha couldn’t fit in here. Though that wouldn’t stop him digging in.

  If I got in deep enough, I could wait him out.

  There was light up ahead. My breath hitched.

  Maybe there was another entrance.

  The walls tightened to a sliver, and I forced my thoughts from being buried alive as I edge sideways through the gap. Rain had collected in here, and I pushed through the knee-high water, part of me expected to fall through the squishy floor at any moment.

  The light wasn’t another entrance. Just a hole. The gap was small, but the clay here was super soft.

  I clipped my gun to my vest and pulled in handfuls of the goop until I had space to pop my head out.

  I was halfway up a slope. The incline above and below was slick and uninterrupted for a good thirty metres. This was a massive slide.

  Two Luthers loped at an easy run through the space below, and the area tugged at my memory. Different vantage point aside, I was reasonably certain this was where we checked the flip board trap.

  Scanning the space, I located the two mounds framing the mechanism.

  Yep, this was it.

  The two werewolves seemed too relaxed. They hadn’t sensed me. And, honestly, they were probably pretty safe considering my shooting ability. But this was the game. I should do my best to take them out.

  Unclipping my gun, I aimed to the far right of the Luthers.

  Pop.

  The miss was inevitable. I’d counted on it. The pair darted left for cover. I shot to their far right again, watching as they dove behind the mounds.

  Bang! Bang!

  The cans exploded, wolfsbane spraying into the air. The two wolfs dropped, and I gasped before recalling the next part. I had to finish them off.

  Ah, shit.

  Holding down the trigger, I released waves of bullets until landing a dart—or two—in each wolf. That took an embarrassing number of shots.

  Reloading my gun, I shoved the empty chamber in a cargo pocket.

  I froze at voices overhead.

  “Tate and Charlie are down.”

  Leroy.

  “The area is clear, administer the antidote.”

  Sascha.

  Seconds later, Leroy slid past my hiding spot. I popped up and unleashed a wave of darts.

  He rolled to the bottom, flopping to a halt, and I ducked into the hole, cramming myself back through the tight sliver and knee-deep water. Water erupted around me, and I burst through to the other side as the light was snuffed out.

  “Little bird, here you are. Does this tunnel have more exits or are you trapped now?”

  “Fuck you, Sascha.”

  “I can only hope.”

  I shoved my gun between the two walls and held down the trigger.

  I expected him to laugh.

  Light flooded in, and I lowered the gun as a rhythmic thudding reached my ears. My jaw dropped.

  No way.

  I waited several minutes, because no way. Creeping forward, I approached the hole, gun at the ready. When claws didn’t skewer me, I popped my head up, peering down.

  Oh my god!

  I fucking hit him.

  Laughter bubbled up my throat. “That’ll teach you, cocky bastard.”

  And he’d landed on top of Leroy. Even better.

  A howl went up as darts thudded near my head.

  I threw myself back.

  I couldn’t let them deliver the antidote to Sascha. This was personal.

  Waving my gun through the hole, I bobbed down as more darts thudded into the clay. I piled up the clay to make the hole smaller again. Removing my protective vest, I framed my head in the vest’s arm hole, pulling it low over my eyes without obstructing my vision. Unless I copped a dart in the cheekbone, I was good to go.

  Setting my gun on the edge first and wedging my vest-shrouded head in the space after, I opened fire on the three wolves sprinting to Leroy and Sascha.

  They were fast, like a Usain Bolt that didn’t slow. My spray of bullets caught them, and I smirked as their legs buckled.

  Another storm of darts embedded into the vest surrounding my face. At least if I went down, they only received one point.

  Who was shooting at me?

  I scanned a smaller rise around fifty meters away and to my right. Yep. I didn’t have a single hope of hitting them at that distance.

  Far below, Sascha groaned, rolling onto his back. What? He couldn’t be burning off the sedative already.

  I shot the clay slope four times before hitting him again. Would that be enough? Pursing my lips, I fired again, grinning as a second dart lodged in his kneecap.

  This was kind of fun.

  24

  The manor was going off. Music pounded. The half-screamed conversations were nearly as loud. Groups danced on the huge patio. Splashing and shrieks sounded from the pool.

  We hadn’t won, not even close.

  “We can safely label that one of the best debuts we’ve seen in Victratum history,” Herc said. He hadn’t stopped grinning.

  Turned out a debut was a big deal—even more so for a Thana. This was my party. When
I shot Sascha, this party catapulted to epic proportions. Most of the younger stewards were in attendance.

  A person would think we’d just won Grids.

  A woman named Valerie leaned over Herc. “Was your strategy inspired by the Vietnamese’s defences in 1968, Andie? Củ Chi?”

  Say what?

  Herc’s glinting gaze flicked to me. “Just natural smarts. Must run in the family. She only trained for a week too.”

  Luck summarised my debut. I found a crack and happened to fit in it.

  “Do you want a drink, Herc?” Valerie asked. Or purred, more like.

  When she moved off, I slid him a look. “She’s into you.”

  “Valerie’s nice.” He lifted a shoulder. “She’s not my wife.”

  “She passed two years ago?”

  He nodded. “Multiple Sclerosis. Savannah was her name. She was an extraordinary woman. Maybe I’ll love again in time, but for now I just miss her.”

  “Long-term illnesses and diseases take their toll,” I muttered, watching Wade bopping his butt out on the patio. Cameron caught my eye and beckoned.

  Nope. Dancing wasn’t my jam. I belonged in the band.

  “It does. Found anything good in those journals?”

  I spied Foley trailing after Rhona like a lost puppy. Ick. “Just the ramblings of a young woman. I’m nearly to age sixteen.”

  Mum had found a good hiding spot for her journal and wasn’t holding back details. Like any teenager, she was all about sex and the forbidden. Believing Murphy was anything other than incredible was impossible after reading her words.

  When Herc first told me about Murphy’s death, I’d almost celebrated. Now, I wanted to grieve a father I never knew—eighteen years after his death. Except what if I started believing he was the father every child dreamed of only to discover later that he was a dropkick?

  I wasn’t sure my heart could take it.

  “The year we lost our father,” Herc murmured.

  I hadn’t come to that part. “Herc? I’d like to meet my father’s family. Could you talk to them?”

  Herc took my hand. “You’re sure?”

  I almost laughed. “Not at all. But Murphy came back for a reason. I need to know what that was?”

  “What if no one knows?”

  My stomach lurched.

  “I’m not saying that’s the case. I’m just saying he might not have confided in anyone. I don’t want to see you chasing answers that aren’t there.”

  This could get unhealthy in other words. “I won’t let it become an addiction. I swear.”

  “Then,” he said, “introducing you would be my honour. Leave it with me.”

  We sat for a while, snorting at the drunken antics of the stewards.

  “Do you wonder what life without Grids would be like?” I asked.

  Herc shrugged. “This game has been my entire life. I found out about the Luthers very young. There was an incident out in the forest, and I saw a Luther shift.”

  “How old?”

  “Five.”

  Shit.

  “I didn’t have the same blissful ignorance of the other steward children. This really has been my life. Speaking for the others… we’ve fought for so long that I doubt we’d know what peace looked like. I’d garden more. Tend to our burial sites. Put more focus into the people living in this valley.”

  Pretty much what he already did, but more. I supposed a person had to live the life they wanted despite the game.

  Herc looked at me. “Do you regret joining the fight?”

  Maybe I’d had second thoughts before entering the grid tonight, but the game had stirred my blood and interest. If there was a fever to catch, I’d caught it. “Not at all.”

  Something changed with the visit to my grandparents’ graves on Monday, and I couldn’t deny that this game had deepened in importance to me. Herc had said our loved ones never left the valley. That’s what this place felt like to me—a warm hug or a long-awaited reunion.

  This wasn’t just about finding answers anymore.

  I cared about this tribe and our connection to this land.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” Herc replied. “And now, I’ll simply wish you good luck.”

  “Huh?”

  Strong arms hauled me upward.

  “Stop hanging out with old people,” Wade complained.

  “Thanks,” Herc said drily.

  Cameron shoved a drink in my hands. “Gin, right?”

  I took a cautious sip, expecting my body to revolt. Heat slid through me. “Apparently so.”

  “Then let’s introduce you to everyone.”

  I was dragged out onto the patio. Wade shoved a shot in my hand, and I sniffed it.

  “To Andie!” Cameron roared to a crowd of people I couldn’t place. “Debut extraordinaire. Though she used over two hundred darts to take down six wolves.”

  Truth.

  I raised my glass to the sea of laughing faces, knocking back the jelly shot.

  Gross.

  Wade grimaced. “Rhona made these. Hey, Andie? Have you thought about how awkward work will be tomorrow, now you’ve darted the pack leader?”

  I lowered my gin cocktail.

  Cameron wacked Wade, but the warmth of the shot had ramped my body temperature higher. It was hard to worry about Sascha’s reaction—especially when I enjoyed shooting him so very much.

  He’d set his wolves on me, hunted me through the grids. I had zero regrets on knocking him out after all his stalker little bird bullshit. And part of me was just stoked to have made it through the full game conscious.

  I smirked into my gin. “Worth it.”

  “Cheers to that, baby girl.”

  After another round of shots, I spotted Rhona beside Foley and the others from our unit. I joined them near the spa pool.

  “Good work today, red,” one of the guys said.

  Billy, was it?

  I brushed my hair back. “A fluke. Don’t tell anyone.”

  Rhona’s emerald gaze locked on mine as the unit chattered happily around us. “Thank you for the antidote.”

  “Thanks for taking a dart for me,” I replied.

  She didn’t need to. Really, it made more sense to use me as a human shield. She was by far the more talented player.

  “What are cousins for?” she murmured, taking a sip of beer.

  “Burying you in clay?”

  “I call that a smart idea. And using the tunnel too.”

  Total fluke, but whatever. “Is it wise to be drinking after taking a dart and drinking the antidote?”

  Rhona took another swig of her beer in reply.

  “Your strategy could change the game,” Laura cut in, nudging me. “Seriously.”

  I glanced at her. Was Herc thinking of using tunnels?

  “One week of training. You shot the leader, and you might have just changed Clay for us,” Laura continued.

  That’s what everyone thought? I’d call that a serious overexaggerating of what was mostly sliding on my ass and blindly shooting.

  Rhona clinked her beer against my glass. “Last time, I had to watch you get drunk. This time, we drink together.”

  The unit cheered, and I cheered with them. I entered the grid tonight with these people. We ran together. Worked together. Rhona took a damn tranquiliser for me.

  Herc’s words about tribe and family…

  Damn if they didn’t sink in a little deeper.

  “Wade.” I answered the phone.

  “Baby girl. How’s the head?”

  I’d remembered why I didn’t party much. My organs were wimpy. “It’s been a long day,”

  Now I had to work. My reception at The Dens tonight was uncertain to say the least, and maybe my bravado from last night had worn off some.

  How angry was Sascha over being shot five times?

  “Gerry found the dummies a few hours ago.”

  I held the phone with my shoulder as I adjusted my sax case and purse over my shoulder. “How did we e
ver convince ourselves he’d believe it was someone else?”

  “That’s what alcohol does,” Wade said sagely. “I couldn’t get rid of the messages you scratched into the balustrade, but luckily he didn’t notice.”

  “What message?”

  “Thong girl was here.”

  For fuck’s sake.

  “The other one said Habit: A bitch since ages ago. That was my personal favourite.”

  I rubbed a hand over my face. “What did Gerry say?”

  “I apologised to him and the upstanding fellow in the horrific gang-bang situation. After taking some more pictures, of course. It’ll be fine.”

  “You have a sex problem, Wade.”

  “You nearly had a sex problem last night.”

  I stopped. “Billy? What’s wrong with him? His muscles gleam.”

  “He’s the biggest player out. You’re so lucky I stopped you two sucking face.”

  “I have a thing for players. Let drunk Andie do what she wants.”

  “No way. I’m saving you from yourself.”

  I frowned. “You’re not into me, are you?”

  I didn’t get that vibe.

  “Nah, you don’t make my dick twitch.”

  “Thanks for the visual… Really though? Not at all?”

  “Not even a tickle, baby girl. You can check one time.”

  I laughed. “That sounds like a line to get your dick touched.”

  “Just offering proof of my lack of attraction. I bet your nipples never get hard around me.”

  “I’m leaving this conversation.”

  He laughed. “We’ve achieved platonic symbiosis, a nearly unheard-of phenomenon. It only works with Cameron because she’s a lesbian. Our best friendship is a miracle event.”

  “Promoting yourself to best friend.” I slowed my steps, spotting Hairy ahead. “Look, I gotta run.”

  “Be good,” he said.

  “Or be good at it,” I murmured.

  Hairy beckoned me forward. I tried my best to ignore the werewolf as I walked to the entrance.

  “I’m sorry, Andie.”

  I folded my arms, looking at him.

  “I pushed too far and hurt your feelings. I was out of line. I got you these to say sorry. Mandy said you liked them.”

  He reached under his table and drew out a packet of Corrie’s Chocolate Chocos. The tourists in line aww’d.

  That was kind of sweet. Damn apologetic werewolves. I took the cookies. “Thank you.”