Feral

by Nicole Luiken

  She cleared her throat. “I’m really sorry about your mom.”

  Judy’s head lifted, and she glared at Chloe. “She’s not dead yet. Everyone keeps acting like she is, but she isn’t. She’s not going to die today. If she dies, then you can tell me how sorry you are.”

  There was so much pain in Judy’s voice that Chloe couldn’t take offense. “Okay. I’m really sorry that she’s sick,” Chloe said softly. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Is that Abby’s bear?”

  Judy nodded.

  “Poor old Hyde.” Chloe stroked his plush head. “I’m glad he didn’t get thrown out.”

  “Mom and I cleaned the Jennings’ house … after,” Judy said in a small voice. “She said I could keep a few things. Most of it went to charity or straight to the trash.”

  The topic was kind of morbid, but so was the deathwatch being held. At least Judy was talking.

  “So what happened to Jekyll?”

  Judy pointed at the bureau.

  Chloe opened the cabinet doors and took out the smaller teddy bear. While Hyde had dark brown fur, Jekyll’s fur was white. A top hat was glued to his head at a jaunty angle, and he wore a red silk waistcoat. A watery chuckle escaped Chloe. “I’d forgotten about the monocle.”

  Abby had gone to great lengths to create the gold monocle and attach it to the bear with a ribbon. She’d also sewn the waistcoat herself when the original one tore. “She was really talented, wasn’t she?” Chloe asked wistfully.

  Judy nodded.

  “I miss her so much,” Chloe confessed, her grip tightening on the bear.

  “Me, too,” Judy whispered. It was the first time they’d agreed on anything in months.

  The moment hung there, delicate as a snowflake. Chloe opened her mouth to say how much it sucked that Abby was dead and that Judy’s mom had cancer, but before she could get the words past the lump in her throat, a knock sounded on the door.

  Judy stiffened. “Go away.”

  Judy’s dad, Nathan, poked his head in and flipped on the light, leaving them blinking. “She’s asking for you.” The Alpha wore his usual red plaid shirt and jeans, but his hair and beard were shaggier than usual. Maybe his wife was usually the one to nag him into getting a haircut. He exuded weariness like a cologne.

  Judy put Hyde aside and stood up, her triangular face tight with anxiety.

  “No,” Nathan said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s asking for Chloe.”

  A jolt went through Chloe, an instant spike of guilt. Had she done something wrong? Was the Alpha angry at her for letting Judy down? Had her dad told the Alpha about the feral?

  “Uh, okay,” Chloe said. One didn’t refuse the Alpha. Especially not on her deathbed.

  “I’m coming, too,” Judy said. Her jaw set in stubborn lines.

  Her father shrugged. “If you want.” He paused, one hand on the doorknob. “She’s tired. She needs ease.”

  Chloe nodded. “We won’t stay long.”

  He shook his head. “Not what I meant. She’s tired of this. Of the cancer.”

  Of living? Chloe’s stomach rolled over.

  “Set her mind at ease.” His eyes met hers, asserting Dominance until she nodded and respectfully dropped her gaze. Before she could ask him what he meant, he left the room.

  Chloe started to follow him, but Judy shoved her way in between. Right. Judy was Dominant to her now. Chloe didn’t think she’d ever get used to that.

  An old-fashioned wedding-ring quilt covered the Alphas’ bed. Olivia reclined against a pile of cheery yellow pillows as if holding court. Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. At first glance, Olivia didn’t seem to be at death’s door, but the pink on her cheeks was rouge. She wore a black wig, her hair having fallen out during chemo.

  Chloe bowed her head.

  “Come sit on the bed,” the Alpha said, patting the mattress.

  Judy sat on one side and Chloe on the other. Judy fussed with the quilt. “Are you warm enough, Mom? I can get another blanket.”

  Olivia made a tiny gesture, waving her off. “I’m fine.” Her hazel eyes had a glassy sheen to them. She’d probably been given drugs to dull the pain.

  This close, the scent of cancer—repulsively sweet and fruity—was overpowering. Chloe breathed in very carefully through her mouth. How did Judy and her dad stand it?

  And she’d thought Ilona’s horse scent was strong.

  “Chloe.” The Alpha took her hand. Her skin felt cold, her grip weak. “This is very important: have you Changed yet? Even a partial Change?”

  Chloe hesitated. Under normal circumstances it would be impossible to lie to an Alpha, but Nathan had all but commanded her to lie. Perhaps because of the drugs, Chloe met Olivia’s gaze easily. “I’m getting closer,” she said.

  Instead of looking eased, a different emotion flashed across the Alpha’s face. Disappointment? Frustration? But that didn’t make any sense. Surely Olivia couldn’t want Chloe to be a Recessive? Chloe must be mistaken. Olivia had probably just grimaced in pain.

  Judy snorted. “Oh, really? If you’re close, how come I didn’t so much as see a claw tip when we practiced yesterday?”

  Blood rushed to Chloe’s cheeks.

  The Alpha patted her hand, but seemed distracted. “You mustn’t give up hope, Chloe. But a Dud can’t … There really is no one … ” Her voice drifted off, her gaze unfocused.

  Chloe stiffened and pulled her hand away. Her chest burned. She wanted to shout, “I’m not a Dud!” But underneath the anger lay cold fear. If the Alpha thought she was a Dud, maybe it was true.

  Chloe shot to her feet. “Can I go now?”

  “Yes, of course.” Olivia continued mumbling to herself, as if unaware the rest of them could hear her. “There’s no one else. It has to be me. It’s the right choice … ”

  Gut clenching, Chloe stumbled to the door, glad to leave the Alpha and the smell of death behind.

  chapter

  3

  “Everybody out.”

  Nathan’s brusque order startled everyone in the kitchen. Chloe froze in the act of making a cracker, cheese, and sausage sandwich. After her visit with the Alpha, she hadn’t had the heart to go back downstairs and play with the younger kids.

  “The Alpha’s too tired for company. Go home.” Nathan underlined the order with a hostile glare and a baring of teeth.

  As one, the Pack dropped their gazes and quietly left, though Chloe’s parents exchanged puzzled glances. Not everyone was given a chance to say goodbye to Olivia.

  In the driveway everyone milled around for a moment, some of the woman exchanging hugs.

  Coach Wharton jogged over to where Kyle, Dean and Brian stood. “Early practice tomorrow, you three.”

  The boys groaned. “But it’s Saturday,” Brian said, unwisely.

  “I expect to see you at the trailhead by six on the dot.” Coach was an inch shorter than Dean, but his body was built like a tank. His wide shoulders shut Chloe out of the conversation. Was that on purpose or had he just not seen her?

  “You guys are wusses,” she said cheerfully. “Morning runs are the best.”

  Coach barely glanced at her. “We’ll be running in wolf form. Stay home and get your beauty sleep.”

  Brian smirked. “Yeah, Chloe.”

  In her pocket, Chloe balled her hand into a fist, but she kept her tone respectful. “Then I’ll run on my own. I’m still on the team.”

  Now Coach looked directly at her, his green-eyed stare Dominating. “Maybe it’s time you quit.”

  Chloe took a step back, as if he’d slapped her. “No.” Her voice sounded hoarse. He couldn’t cut her.

  “If you want to stay on the team” —and by team he obviously meant Pack—“then I expect to see serious effort from you. No more whining.”

  Whining? She never whined. Chloe’s upper lip lifted from her teeth in an unconscious snarl.

  “I need to see some guts,” Coach said harshly. “Show me you want to be one of us. If you aren’t in wolf form, don’
t bother coming out tomorrow.” He strode off, leaving Chloe reeling.

  Dean, Brian and Kyle stared at her. Kyle’s mouth hung open as if he couldn’t believe what Coach had said either.

  “See you Monday,” Dean emphasized. He put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder and steered his little brother toward their pickup truck.

  Stone-faced, Chloe rejoined her parents. Her dad was giving Aunt Laurie advice on what to feed her elderly cat, but her mom gave an exaggerated shiver and climbed into the van. Chloe gratefully followed.

  “What was that about?” her mom asked.

  “What was what about?” Chloe stalled.

  “Chloe.” Her mom turned in the seat and gave her the Dominant stare. “I can tell you’re upset. Did one of the boys say something?”

  Chloe slouched down. “Coach said not to bother coming to practice tomorrow unless I’m in wolf form. He all but said the reason I can’t Change is because I’m a coward.” Her throat hurt.

  “Oh, did he?” her mother said in sudden cold fury.

  “What’s that?” her dad asked, clambering into the driver’s seat.

  “Conrad Wharton, in his infinite wisdom and experience, thinks Chloe’s delay in Changing is due to cowardice,” her mother said. From her deadly tone, she and Coach Wharton would be having a little chat soon. Chloe’s mom might Change into a small brown wolf that Coach’s white wolf outweighed by at least a hundred pounds, and he might rank fourth in Pack hierarchy, but Chloe would bet on her mom. Hell had no fury like a Mama wolf protecting a pup.

  Except Chloe wasn’t a pup any more. She prickled with embarrassment.

  Before she could object, her dad snorted. “Our Chloe, a coward?” He ruffled her hair, before starting the engine. “If anything, she has the opposite problem. She’s not scared enough.”

  Warmth kindled in Chloe’s chest. She’d been getting more and more anxious about the Change as the months dragged on, but she’d never been afraid of Changing itself. Something deep inside her relaxed.

  At midnight Chloe slipped out the door.

  She’d spent all evening poking at her problem. If she took it as a given that she wasn’t a coward, then maybe what she needed to spur the Change was to connect with her wolf nature. What better way than a run outdoors in the moonlight?

  And what better time than tonight? Then she could show up to Saturday practice in wolf form and make everyone eat their words.

  She inhaled the crisp autumn air and began at a slow jog to allow her night vision time to adjust. Even though the darkness held no danger—werewolf scent kept away all big predators, she had a cell phone in her pocket, and she could heal any accidental injuries—something about being abroad at night made her blood pump a little faster. Her already acute senses sharpened. An owl hooted. Branches rubbed together. The fresh pine scent of needles blended with the richer loam of the forest floor.

  Just to make things perfect, the white orb of the moon shone through the treetops. Her dad insisted it was nonsense, but Pack Lore was full of stories of werewolves Changing for the first time beneath the full moon.

  Maybe tonight it would be her turn.

  Jittering with excitement, Chloe increased her pace. She followed a faint deer trail for a while then let her feet choose the route, weaving between the trees, trusting in her sense of direction.

  Although she was at least a mile from where she’d encountered the wolf last time, Chloe had only jogged for about ten minutes before something rustled off to the side. A true wild wolf would have stayed far away. Put one more check in the werewolf column. Not wanting to spook the wolf, she kept her eyes forward and kept running.

  Her strategy worked. The strange werewolf grew bolder and began to run beside her, only a few paces away, a companionable presence.

  She tried to blank her mind, to run free, be wild, be a wolf …

  At first, joy and anticipation buoyed her up, but when she tried to Change—first coaxing, then willing with all her might—nothing happened. After ten minutes, disappointment crept in, and her pace slowed.

  She would not cry.

  To distract herself, Chloe sneaked glances at her companion from the corner of her eye, still trying to place the werewolf’s bisected facial markings and failing. After a moment she did confirm that he was male. Definitely not Gail then. And the next oldest un-Changed Pack members after Gail were Chloe’s eight-year-old twin cousins, a flat-out impossibility.

  The werewolf must come from another Pack then. Runaway or feral? Since she hadn’t been attacked, she was betting on runaway.

  But just when she relaxed, the werewolf suddenly cut in front of her and barred the way, hackles raised, snarling. Feral behaviour.

  Pulse slamming in her ears, Chloe slid to a stop. Her throat dried as she became acutely aware of how alone they were. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going. No one would miss her until morning. She could phone for help, but it would take at least twenty minutes to get here.

  Just because the werewolf wasn’t the killer Paul Riebel didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

  If it was a wild wolf, she would assume he was protecting his young or a den and back away slowly, but that didn’t apply to a feral.

  Ferals had human cunning, coupled with the violent instincts of wolves. Looking at his sharp teeth, she began to understand why they were so feared, why all the Lore warned against them.

  Running might trigger an attack, so she scanned the ground for a stout branch, a weapon. Anything to equal the odds. A fight between a wolf and an unarmed human could only end one way.

  The feral stopped snarling. But as soon as she tried to move around him to the left, he blocked her, baring his canines.

  Crap.

  She didn’t know exactly where they were, but she’d been looping back toward her house. The wolf stood between her and safety.

  If only she could Change! Then she and the feral would be on equal footing. She could fight him or have a chance at outrunning him.

  A move to the right provoked another fierce snarl. The wolf’s blue eyes met hers, trying to Dominate her. What was he planning? To eat her? Add her to his harem?

  Screw that. “You’re not Pack,” she told him. “These woods don’t belong to you.” She sidled left, keeping a wary eye on the feral, ready for attack.

  There. A knobby branch lay on the ground. A little longer than was ideal, but the right thickness.

  She scooped it up, then spun to face the feral. But instead of lunging at her with open jaws, he merely blocked the direction she needed to take.

  Lips drawn back in determination, she charged him, holding the branch out in front of her like a spear.

  He skipped back, avoiding the blow. She didn’t pause, just kept running, angling in the direction she thought her house lay in. Her night vision was good, but not good enough to tell one group of trees from another.

  She held the branch crosswise in front of her face, using it like a shield to keep from getting blinded by branches. Some whippier poplar boughs still got through and stung her forearm, but she gritted her teeth and kept running. Simultaneously, she dug the cell phone out of her pocket, though reception in the woods was spotty—

  Behind her the werewolf howled.

  Suddenly her feet dropped out from under her, pitching her into a fall. The cell phone flew from her grasp. She broke branches and collected bruises, as she slid, bounced, rolled, into a deep gully.

  She hit the bottom with stunning impact. Her shinbone broke with an audible crack, and she lost all the air in her lungs. Rivers of fire streamed up Chloe’s leg. She gasped, trying to get enough oxygen. Oh, God, oh, God …

  Her face contorted, and she dug her fingernails into the dirt and evergreen needles. A wheezy scream escaped her.

  For a long time she concentrated on breathing through the agony. Red. Fire. The pain didn’t go away, but it did dull enough that she could think again. Her dad had often speculated that werewolves had a higher tolerance for pain than normal humans.
/>   More branches broke, and the feral slid to a halt beside her, jaws parted to show his sharp teeth.

  Chloe froze in place. Her pulse beat in her ears. She was completely vulnerable, crippled by her broken leg. And she’d lost the cell phone near the top of the ravine.

  Instead of attacking, the feral whined. He crept forward, his belly hanging low on the path, as if trying to make himself smaller to show he was no threat.

  Tears of pain ran down her face, but she kept her gaze on the wolf—on the danger. The moon peeked between the high branches, highlighting his bisected face, creamy throat and pale eyes.

  “Well?” she rasped with false bravado. “What are you waiting for? You herded me here—” Except that wasn’t true. The feral had tried to turn her off the path leading to the gully. “Oh. Sorry.” She gritted her teeth against another surge of pain. “You were trying to warn me, weren’t you? I didn’t understand.” Without thinking, she held out her hand.

  The wolf inched closer and sniffed her fingers.

  So he wasn’t planning on eating her. That was good, but she was still in a jam. She tried to move her leg and inhaled sharply as fresh pain speared her.

  Baring her teeth, she counted to one hundred, and the pain subsided once more.

  She shivered, the chill night air biting deeper now that she’d stopped exercising. The sweat on her skin turned icy. Was she going into shock?

  No. She was Pack, and werewolves were tough. She wasn’t in any danger of dying. Still, she really wished she hadn’t been holding the cell phone when she fell. She patted the ground in case it had rolled down the hill with her, but five minutes of careful search produced only some mushy leaves. The phone could be anywhere on the slope. She’d never find it without a massive infusion of luck.

  “Just need a little time for the break to heal,” Chloe said, talking to herself more than the werewolf. The sides of the gully looked dauntingly steep.

  Her eyes widened. “I’m so screwed.” Her leg would heal, but if she wasn’t found soon it would heal crookedly.