Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1)

by Kelly St Clare

  I shook my head. “Nope. Just want to start.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  Glancing at her, I took in her earnest face. She didn’t show that side of herself to many. “I trust you, Rhona.”

  She stilled.

  “Completely.”

  Her voice trembled. “I won’t let you down. And ditto—on the trust thing.”

  I squeezed her forearm gently. “I won’t let you down either. Not ever.”

  “Not ever,” Rhona echoed.

  It was as much of a vow as I’d ever made to another person, and the air almost buzzed between us.

  Boom.

  Her grin was immediate, and I felt my lips spread in a grin of my own.

  We were both crazy.

  “Let’s take the furry fuckers down,” she shouted.

  I sprinted behind her, pride touching my shoulders as I managed not to drop my lungs out my ass. My speed still needed work, but better. Much better.

  Ascending and descending tiers extended either side as we ran across the flat middle strip of the ground level. After the last game here, most of the middle tiers were missing from each side—blown to smithereens. The rubble from the landslide had been cleared, so we settled into a rapid pace, dodging fifteen traps before we reached our position in the middle of the grid.

  Our hour blurred by at a dangerous pace as we arranged a new trap. We covered two new quarry cuts with camouflaged cloth that mimicked our uniforms, disguising the edges with slabs of sandstone. This week, the teams hadn’t messed around and a new level of savagery had been unleashed. This was a detaining trap. A bear trap rested in the bottom of the pit, but this one couldn’t be pried apart—not without the twin keys on Pascal’s belt. The thought of Mandy or Hairy—or even Leroy stuck in the trap made me feel sick.

  I shook off my unease, trying to remember the Luthers survived a literal landslide three weeks ago.

  Herc said I had to get rid of my human qualms.

  “Our turn,” Rhona said as I returned from setting out frequency generators. “Masks on, everyone.”

  I slid mine on, and our unit ran at a fast clip toward the wolves’ starting point. My heart hammered faster at the thought of Greyson watching from the tree line.

  The cherry picker was waiting.

  We usually rock-climbed all the way to the top. Each time, the Luthers destroyed our ropes. This idea would save some money while also giving those groups who had to run to the middle and end of the quarry more time to build new traps.

  Filing out on the top tier, our unit spread in a line facing the cliff.

  “Up we go,” Rhona called. Turning to me, she checked my gear again, setting a frequency generator in a small crevice by our heads. “Remember, complete stillness when you’re in position. You’ve got this, Andie.”

  I was involved in a shitstorm involving guns, werewolves, and ball-sac uniforms.

  Anchoring my rope, I lined up with the vertical crack in the sandstone, tying myself in with a trace-eight knot. Gerry couldn’t take credit for that.

  Thank you, Girl Guides.

  Most of the climbing nuts were in place from the last game. I checked my harness and hooked a carabiner on the first nut, giving it a sharp tug. Tying a figure-eight knot next, I set a foot into an indent, reaching to attach a carabiner to the next nut. Tug. Knot. Reach. Clip. Repeat. The rest of my unit were several meters above me, and I tried not to let that bother me as I secured a missing nut and another.

  Stewards had climbed these rockfaces for longer than I’d been born and at least the holds were well developed and easy to find, especially with my long reach.

  “Nice stuff,” Rhona murmured when I reached my position, breathing hard.

  I made it.

  We’d staggered ourselves along this stone face. Rhona and I were positioned just below the top edge. Less than a metre above my head, the quarry tipped into a forest plateau.

  There couldn’t be long until the second cannon.

  I quickly attached myself to two nuts on the left and two on the right and faced outward from the cliff. The rope drew taut along my stomach. Doing this was about the most nerve-wracking thing ever—even if the vertigo medication steadied my vision. Who wanted to look out into thin air?

  Gross.

  I tied off with shaking hands—grossly aware no one was moving but me. I relaxed my weight onto the belaying station.

  Feeling for my white tranquiliser gun, I held it amidst the strips of red, white, and tan linen hanging from my uniform.

  And stilled.

  Hood on and hair covered, I closed my eyes, focusing on quietening my breath. Seriously, could Rhona hear me sucking in gulps? Or Laura, three metres to my left and two metres down?

  Maybe it didn’t matter if they did. I only had to fool one wolf.

  His sense of smell shouldn’t be a factor with the wolfsbane I’d sprayed over my uniform. That meant I had to keep my mouth shut so he couldn’t recognise my siren voice. Hopefully the ball-sac garment and bug lenses made it harder for him to locate me—with the colour blindness factored in too.

  Boom.

  My heartbeat surged with the cannon.

  Ninety minutes. I just had to get through the next ninety minutes. And when Grids finished, I’d set my mind to another plan to get rid of this breeding call crap.

  Maybe I should try to tell Herc again.

  I didn’t trust his reaction before, but now—after spreading Mum’s ashes—I couldn’t imagine him turning his back on me for something out of my control.

  Or anything at all.

  I should ask him for help.

  The Luthers didn’t rush into the grids, so the pounding stampede from Clay was absent, replaced with the echoing whisper of seven hundred werewolves creeping fifty metres below.

  Stay still.

  I slitted my eyes and spotted the first werewolves against the far cliff face. In our section, the tiers were intact—which was why Rhona’s kickass unit was assigned.

  Herc’s voice crackled in my ear. “Prepare for Phase One.”

  This was a decoy. And research.

  We took a recording of Sascha’s howls in Clay.

  I curled my fingers around my tranquiliser gun, determined not to waste darts or take five minutes to fire the damn thing.

  I’d practiced drawing it all day, much to Wade’s amusement.

  The recorded howl blasted through the grid. I celebrated in silence as Luthers exploded up the cliffs, falling for the ruse.

  “Initiate Phase One,” Herc crackled in my ear.

  I unclipped my gun and set my sights on a wolf paused in confusion on the lip of the first tier. She was looking back in response to the real howl from her leader.

  I darted her in the stomach, moving to the next.

  Managing to land another shot before the wolves regained their lines, I grimaced at Sascha’s next howl.

  With the echo, pinpointing his position was impossible.

  He could be anywhere.

  I licked my lips.

  Sascha howled again, and then they really began. My chest tightened at the ringing of claw scraping sandstone.

  I waited for the first wolves to appear over the lowest ledge, breath shaking.

  “Open fire.”

  I shot at a male, tracking him when he dodged and rolled. Pop. Pop. I caught him in the thigh and moved on, shooting until the first wave of Luthers reached the protection of the next cliff face and I lost sight of them.

  The second wave came, appearing on the lowest edge.

  Another recorded howl rang out and they paused on the edge to glance back. The stewards around me wasted no time picking off the confused werewolves and neither did I.

  Roderick, you’re my hero. The recordings were his idea.

  “Luthers gathering at the middle tier,” Rhona’s voice crackled in my ear.

  They were?

  Ah, fuck. I really hoped that was a coincidence.

  “They have shields.” Herc said. “K
eep your aim low.”

  Bitchholes.

  I relied on a large target to land my shots.

  “Prepare for Operation Happy Birthday,” he added.

  On the other side of Laura, Billy drew a grappling gun from the sling on the cliff beside him. I held my breath as he took aim.

  A red dot appeared on the X on the opposite quarry cliffs. He fired, the crack exploding through the air.

  Three more cracks followed shortly after.

  Four ropes extended across the quarry like flying foxes. Excitement rose up my throat. That plan seemed impossible when I first heard it.

  “Drones incoming,” Herc said.

  I rolled to face the wall, curling my knees so my body was mostly covered by the white ballistic shield.

  The drones whined overhead. and I gasped as darts rained on the hard plastic. Ninja turtles for the win.

  The whining burr had barely finished when Herc roared in my ear.

  “Initiate Operation Happy Birthday.”

  Shit!

  I rolled to face out again, awkwardly raising my gun as Billy fixed a balloon onto our flying fox. He sent it flying and our unit took aim.

  I had no idea whose dart hit the balloon—likely not mine—but the balloon exploded, showering wolfsbane over the Luthers below.

  No time to think.

  I shot at Billy’s next balloon and another before the first wave of Luthers appeared on the second tier. They had shields, but most were affected by the bane, rubbing at their faces and sneezing.

  Breath harsh, I lined up one werewolf after the next, aiming for what I could see of their legs and shoulders. Snarls and the tell-tale pop of our guns filled the air, punctuated by the scraping of claw on stone.

  Their shields slammed together, creating a ceiling on the ledge below. I stared at the wall of solid black.

  Fuck.

  I aimed for the cracks, gritting my teeth as darts pinged uselessly off their defences.

  “Prepare for Bar Hop,” Herc said.

  Smiling grimly, I waited for Laura and Rhona to extract and drop their canisters before I stopped firing to grab my own. Ripping the pin out, I dropped the canister on the Luthers. The can bounced twice before it rolled under their shield wall.

  A series of sharp hisses rose as the canisters started their job. Shrieks and moans rang out as wolfsbane gas permeated their ranks.

  A sinister growl burst from beneath me.

  My heart dropped.

  Oh my god.

  That was him.

  How the fuck did he find me so quickly?

  As wolves fell to their knees, I fired, searching. Where are you, you bastard?

  The Luthers hardly broke rank as the hissing continued, holding their shields high even as their legs gave way.

  “Initiate Bar Hop.”

  I watched the Luthers closely for signs. Our human ears were too weak to notice that Herc just deactivated the frequency generators in one quadrant of the quarry.

  Almost as one, the wolves turned south to where I imagined a wave of noise just rose.

  Confusion. That’s what we’d hoped to create today until we could locate Sascha.

  The wolves peered around as Herc moved through the quadrants at random, turning the generators on and off. It had to be hugely disorientating.

  An eerie howl lifted the hairs on the back of my neck.

  Sascha Greyson just revealed himself.

  Rhona grinned at me, winking as she spoke into her walkie-talkie.

  This was it.

  There wasn’t any way Sascha could stay conscious through what we were about to throw at him. But he wasn’t a normal man, and Greyson ruled seven hundred and fifty other wolves because he was more powerful than them all.

  I swallowed back the urge to turn tail and run. That was my last resort.

  “Prepare Operation Valley,” Herc said.

  Shit. Okay, this was my job. Well, it worked out that way, and I’d known it would be likely with Greyson stalking me.

  Rhona and Laura covered my area as I reached into a knee pocket and drew out a red powder ball.

  Holding out my arm, I relaxed my grip, watching the ball fall. Red powder exploded over Sascha’s shield.

  Herc roared, “Initiate Operation Valley.”

  Laura and Rhona fired nets at our target. The surrounding wolves fell away as we pinned him to the ground. While the unit fired on the surrounding Luthers, I dropped another canister.

  We couldn’t kill Sascha, so while opening fire on him was tempting, the reality was that too much sedative would cause his death.

  Rhona was the designated gunwoman. She took aim, firing twice, but Leroy intercepted the shots with his shield.

  Dammit!

  A terrible, menacing howl surged from below. I couldn’t be the only one whose heart seized.

  Shields covered Greyson, and the Luthers began to stamp.

  In time.

  Slow.

  One foot after the other. Hundreds of werewolves.

  I caught Rhona’s veiled look, but my dread increased with the terrifying tempo. Snarling, Sascha broke free of the fucking reinforced and bane-soaked nets. His wolves stood back, drawing their shields away.

  Rhona wasn’t frozen in horror. She fired at him again. Claws extending in a flash—Sascha batted the darts away like flies.

  Oh, fuck.

  Should I shoot too?

  Whoops and cheers swelled deeper with the stamping that shook the entire quarry, and I knew, I just fucking knew this was it.

  This was the capture meet.

  Sascha Greyson craned his head and regarded me with pitch-black eyes, slicing at the incoming darts without looking.

  He shifted his eyes to Rhona.

  Oh. Fuck.

  He didn’t know which of us was which.

  I lifted my gun and opened fire on him too.

  “You’re going down, fucker,” Rhona yelled.

  I closed my eyes. No.

  Opening them, I met Greyson’s menacing smirk. Our gazes locked for a heavy instant.

  He punched his claws into the sandstone fifteen metres below me.

  Jumping, he punched into the cliff again. Higher.

  This couldn’t happen here! I—

  Shit!

  I rolled to face the cliff and worked at the knots. They pulled free easily, but I’d left my exit too late.

  I listened to Greyson puncture his way toward me, pace slow and steady. Torturous.

  He wanted me to know I was caught.

  And I knew it without a doubt.

  “Andie,” Rhona whispered

  “He’s after me,” I choked.

  “Not on my watch.” She spoke into her walkie. Nodding once, she peered downward. I released the fourth knot and reached high for the top ledge.

  The rope attaching me to the last nut didn’t give.

  Confused, I stared at Greyson who held tight to my rope below, smirking.

  I reached for my gun. Fucker only had two hands.

  Ward these off, asshole.

  “Now,” Rhona’s voice crackled.

  A grappling hook slammed him in the shoulder. His body rocketed to the side as he roared. Some pain, but mostly fury. Greyson clung to my rope, and the extra weight tore my grip from the top ledge.

  I fell, but my scream cut short as the top nut saved me.

  Eyes wide, I fumbled for purchase. Gripping the cliff with one hand, I worked at the knot on my harness. There was nothing for it. I had to get the fuck out of here.

  The stamping and roaring from the wolves hadn’t abated. They screamed for their leader as he came for me.

  The knot came free, and I gasped, toes curling in their holds. Don’t look down.

  I pulled myself upward, hooking a forearm over the top. Panting, I swung a leg up, rolling to safety.

  Relative safety.

  The horrible grating of claw puncturing sandstone began once more.

  He was climbing. And he was injured.

&nbs
p; Shoving to my feet, I ran into the forest, breathing hard. The harness jangled and I loosened it as I ran, stopping for a precious few seconds to get rid of it. I continued running from tree to tree, slowing as the noise from the quarry ebbed.

  This cream uniform was fucking useless out here. Behind a pine tree, I quietly stripped to my black tank and shorts.

  Crack.

  I crouched, battling the urge to steal a peak.

  “Andie,” Greyson’s gravelled voice wound through the trees.

  Too close.

  I looked to where my gun rested on my ball-sac uniform. I couldn’t fight him with that shit.

  In reality, I had no physical chance against this werewolf.

  I just had my brain.

  Biting my lip, I stepped out from behind the tree.

  He stood two tree-lengths from me and made no move to close the gap. Blood covered his body, and I swallowed at the gaping wound on his shoulder.

  Pitch-black eyes.

  “Greyson,” I said. “Here I am.”

  “Mate,” he growled.

  I locked my knees, knowing a retreat would egg the predator on. “What did you say?”

  The wolf circled me. “My heart. My soul. My only. My mate.”

  My only.

  No.

  No way. That was a lot more fucking serious than breeding call.

  “What?” My face numbed. “That’s not what this is. This call happens all the time. You said—”

  Greyson shook.

  My insides curled and died. Shaking only meant one thing.

  My brain wasn’t cutting it!

  I bolted, gasping at the cracks and snarls ripping behind me. Leaping over tree roots, I dodged through the forest as though my life depended on it.

  Because it did.

  A howl went up at my back.

  He was coming. Stopping beside large rocks, I glanced around. A tree? I’d seen how far Luthers could jump.

  I spotted a crack in the rocks and wedged into it. The idea served me well in Clay. Inside, I covered my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut. There weren’t any frequency generators up here.

  Nothing stirred the woods except the faint booms and shouts from the quarry that told me Grids continued. That didn’t mean Rhona or the others wouldn’t follow me out here.

  Fuck.

  Rhona would definitely come.

  If she found me, she’d encounter a shifted Luther who viewed me as his one-and-only mate. He didn’t kill me last time he changed, but by the skittish reactions of his pack that day in the kitchen, I got the feeling Greyson didn’t mess around.