Feral

by Nicole Luiken

  Lady Sasquatch graciously inclined her head. “I owe your father a debt. May I give you some advice?”

  “I would be glad of any advice you can offer.”

  “I understand your reluctance to leave your parents and Packmates as the witch’s prisoners,” Lady Sasquatch said. “But do not pit yourself against her directly. You will lose. Do not burden your parents with this grief. Do as they wanted. Live.”

  She was right. Chloe’s parents wanted her to be safe, and yet… “Thank you again.” Chloe lifted her hand in farewell.

  Lady Sasquatch nodded back. By the time they were out the door she’d already begun to clear the dishes.

  Spirits low, Chloe trudged through the wood.

  Do as her parents wanted … Well, that was pretty clear from the list of addresses bookmarked in the Pack Lore. Which reminded her.

  She unzipped her backpack and took out the leather book, turning her back so that it was sheltered from the wind, and began to collect the $100 bills.

  When she opened the page to the middle she saw another bill taped to an entry partway down the page.

  October 15, 1951. June showed her healed Bite to the Pack, as proof both of the Alpha’s advancing age and her own ability to be Alpha. Alpha Henrietta stepped down peaceably.

  Chloe blinked. A healed bite was a sign of a potential Alpha? Her mother, who’d made this bookmark, still thought she was an Alpha? No. Even with the bite she’d given Ilona, Chloe didn’t buy it. Maybe sometimes a healed Bite was a sign of an emerging Alpha, but this time it must have more to do with Olivia’s illness.

  She turned to the first bookmark, unsurprised to see the illustration of Baba Yaga’s hut. It hadn’t looked nearly so charming in person.

  She’d read the stories years before, but had forgotten many of the details. She read them again now, with a fresh eye.

  Most of them were standard folktales, but one, in spiky handwriting was different. I had this tale from my great-grandmother who had it from hers: Baba Yaga created the werewolves.

  Baba Yaga is a shapeshifter, able to take on the appearance of someone living by drinking their blood—

  Chloe couldn’t stifle a small exclamation. Was that why the witch had taken Ilona’s blood?

  Did that mean some of the time when she’d been talking to Ilona, it had really been the witch? How horrid.

  —or the dead by wearing their skin. According to the tale, Baba Yaga fell in love with a young man and gave him one of her wolf skins so they could run and hunt together. But the man betrayed her with Baba Yaga’s sister. As punishment, Baba Yaga turned both her lover and her sister permanently into wolves. The wolves had pups, as wolves do. When the pups grew to adulthood they discovered the ability to Change from wolf into human form. These were the first werewolves.

  Chills crawled up Chloe’s arms. There was one final line:

  Great-grandmother says we fled Europe to escape from Baba Yaga’s control and not to trust the Packs who stayed.

  Chloe kept reading, looking for more useful information, like how to kill Baba Yaga, but had no such luck. In most of the tales she was very old and powerful. Sometimes immortal.

  But something must have happened to drive her away from Russia. Hmmm. If the Russians could do it, maybe Pine Hollow could, too.

  Of course, maybe Baba Yaga had left Russia of her own accord.

  “I wish I knew what she wanted,” Chloe said after telling Marcus what she’d read. “Why has she taken over our Pack in particular? Why make a deal with the loggers? What does an immortal want with a tiny insignificant Pack like ours?”

  Marcus shrugged.

  Her frustration mounted at this non-answer. “What do you think we should do? And don’t just say you’ll follow me,” she added sharply. “If it were your choice, what would you do?”

  “Go,” he said simply. “But I am not Alpha. You need a Beta’s advice.”

  She was tired of arguing that she wasn’t an Alpha. “Okay. Play Beta for me then.”

  He pondered for a moment. “If you simply Challenge for Alpha again, Baba Yaga will kill you or chain you. I won’t let you throw your life away for no purpose.” He watched her with a determined expression.

  Should she be touched or irritated? She ignored his delusion that he could stop her.

  “So, you think we should flee then?” Tactically, it made sense, but something inside Chloe rebelled at the notion. Her instinct urged her to fight, but fighting without hope of victory was stupid.

  “Survival comes first. Every living thing knows this. There is no shame in it.”

  “Live and fight another day?” Chloe asked thoughtfully.

  Marcus shrugged. “Tomorrow will keep. Live today.”

  She blinked. That was wolf thinking, not human. She couldn’t do that—live solely in the now. Marcus could. Marcus would be perfectly happy to run off with her into the woods right now, abandon their backpack, their humanity, and live as wolves.

  The prospect enticed her wolf: endless days of running through the forest. Unfortunately, Canadian winter loomed. Freezing in the snow sounded considerably less romantic. Nor did she want to risk losing who she was and going feral.

  “Okay. No head-on attack. We retreat and regroup.” Retreat implied return. “We can’t defeat Baba Yaga alone. We need allies.” She thought about that a moment longer. “The next bus doesn’t leave until 2 a.m. So until then, let’s see what we can do to harass Baba Yaga in small ways. Step one: get back within cell phone tower range.”

  A two-hour hike took them close enough to town to get three bars on her phone. Chloe took care to cross the highway so they weren’t technically on the Preserve any more.

  She phoned Ilona.

  “Hello?” The other girl sounded subdued.

  “Hi, Ilona, it’s Patty,” Chloe lied, just in case the witch could hear. “I’m doing my English homework, the creative writing assignment, and I’m a bit stuck.”

  “Oh?” Ilona asked cautiously.

  “I’m getting close to the rescue part, and I can’t decide if it’s only the daughter who should be rescued or if her mom or aunt is still alive.” Chloe crossed her fingers, hoping the story would keep Ilona’s silver collar quiescent.

  Pause. “Just the daughter. The mother is dead. There is

  no aunt.”

  Which meant Baba Yaga was wearing Ilona’s dead mother’s skin like a coat. Ugh. Chloe’s skin crawled. No wonder Ilona had preferred to call her aunt.

  “So how’s the story going to end?” Ilona asked.

  “Oh, the usual,” Chloe said breezily. “An epic battle followed by victory. Anyhow, the other part I’m having trouble with is the villain’s motivation. Why did she make a deal with outsiders? Does she need money?”

  “Maybe she has an eBay addiction,” Ilona said. “Maybe she orders exotic … things, and then gets angry when they’re fakes or get confiscated in customs.”

  Magical items. That did what?

  “Ooh, good idea,” Chloe said. “But I need to dig deeper. What are the classic motives? Love, hate, revenge.”

  “Revenge and hate are kind of the same, aren’t they?” Ilona asked carefully. “You hate someone, so you seek revenge. But in order to get revenge, you need money and power.”

  So the magical items were probably a means to an end.

  “With enough money and power you can buy an army.” Ilona inhaled sharply.

  “Are you okay?” Chloe asked urgently. Oh, God, had they set off the collar’s choking mechanism?

  “I’m all right,” Ilona said after a moment. “But I need to go now. Good luck with your story. Bye.”

  Chloe thumbed off her phone and sighed. “It’s not looking good,” she admitted to Marcus.

  He nodded. He’d been standing close enough to hear the phone call with his enhanced werewolf hearing.

  Her phone rang, startling her. The screen showed a familiar name. “It’s Kyle.” She accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Chloe, f
inally,” Kyle said in relief. “Where are you? Things have gone bad, really bad.” The story gushed out of him. “The Alphas came over last night. When they turned into the driveway, Dad told Dean and me to escape out the window, but Dean circled around because he was worried that Coach might try to kill Dad. Dean didn’t return. I’m pretty sure they collared him, too.” Kyle’s breathing was ragged. “I stayed out all night, but I’m cold and hungry. Can I run away with you and Marcus? Have you left town already? Where are you?”

  Chloe was about give Kyle directions, but Marcus shook his head and touched his throat.

  A chill ghosted down her spine. Marcus was right; Kyle could be compromised. He could have a silver collar and be phoning her on the witch’s orders.

  “Chloe?” Kyle sounded frantic.

  “Before we meet, we need to set up a protocol,” Chloe said firmly. “Send me a selfie of your neck. I’ll do the same.” She ended the call. She used the camera function to take a quick snap of her bare neck, then sent it to Kyle. A glance at the clock showed that it was noon recess so she sent the same pic to both Brian and Judy. Dean’s dad was an obvious target, but Brian’s mom was already collared so they might not have bothered with her kids. Judy, however … Chloe winced. She didn’t hold out much hope for her frenemy’s freedom.

  Ping. A pic of Kyle’s bare neck.

  Ping. A text from Brian. “Dontcha know? selfie = ur face. LOL.”

  She texted back: “I’m starting a new game. Send a pic of your neck or you’re out.”

  Ping. A pic of Judy’s neck with a blue crystal on a silver chain.

  Ping. Ping. Two texts from Judy, one word each: “not” and “mother”.

  Chloe shivered. Baba Yaga had control of Judy then—and the witch must be wearing Olivia’s face. But was Olivia dead and skinned, or just suffering from some blood loss? Chloe remembered how Olivia’s reactions had been off the night before. Maybe that hadn’t been Olivia either. Brave of Judy to risk her wrath to warn them.

  Ping. An upside-down pic of Brian with a face drawn on his chin, which, incidentally, also showed his bare neck.

  Chloe breathed a sigh of relief and sent Brian and Kyle a new text. “Meet at the lightning-struck fir. Don’t tell anyone.”

  Ping. Brian wrote: “Cut school? I’m in. ”

  A third text came in from Judy. “Save her.”

  So she was still alive. Bitterness surged inside Chloe. How, exactly, was Chloe supposed to save Olivia from the witch? And why should she, when Olivia was the one who’d gotten them into this mess in the first place? Yet she hurt for Judy. Chloe would help if she could.

  “So, basically, we’re screwed,” Kyle said, when Chloe had finished laying out everything she’d learned to him and Brian. The younger boy’s freckles stood out on his pale face, and he’d already devoured three granola bars from their supply.

  “Basically,” Chloe agreed. Emotion tightened her throat.

  A glum silence fell. “So are we moving to Saskatchewan or Manitoba?” Kyle asked eventually. “I’m guessing B.C. is out?”

  She nodded. “We go to whichever of the other two is willing to take us.”

  “I can’t.” Brian scuffed a toe along the ground. He glanced up, his expression the most serious Chloe had ever seen it. “I can’t leave Mom alone with the kids. She needs me to babysit or she’ll lose her job. I have to stay, even if it means being collared.”

  “We understand.” Chloe squeezed his arm, a gesture she wouldn’t have dreamed of making two weeks ago, when Brian, Dean and Kyle had been the bane of her existence. They couldn’t take his half-siblings with them—they didn’t have the money. As it was, three teens would be a burden on any Pack—

  A thought flitted across her mind. She stood there, mouth half-agape, thinking furiously.

  “What is it?” Marcus asked.

  “I have an idea,” Chloe said. Hope warred with trepidation inside her, setting her pulse jumping. “I know how we can save the Pack, but it’s going to cost us a heavy price.”

  “Heavier than losing our homes, our parents and seeing the Preserve logged?” Kyle asked bitterly.

  She took a deep breath. “Almost.”

  “And why should I believe a word of this crazy story?” the Quesnel Alpha, Thomas Fedorchuk, asked, his voice crackling impatiently over the cell phone.

  It had taken several hours and a hike to and from Lady Sasquatch’s cabin to set up this call. Chloe could blow it with one wrong word.

  Nervousness made her hands sweat, but she kept her voice steady. “Because of what we’re offering. You have everything to gain, and if witches don’t exist, very little to lose.”

  “And what would that be?” His voice dropped to a low basso rumble.

  “Everyone knows your Pack needs more land. I’m offering one quarter of the Preserve. Pristine boreal forest, in exchange for you killing the witch.” Since Thomas was already skeptical she didn’t mention the witch’s possible immortality. Even if Baba Yaga was immortal, it probably only meant she was immune to old age. Decapitation still ought to do the trick.

  “Half,” he said at once.

  Good. She had him hooked. Now to reel him in.

  They eventually compromised on one third. He tried to strong arm her into more, but she cited the deal with Lady Sasquatch that meant one third had already been set aside. “One third gives you equal territory with our Pack. I won’t take less.”

  “How do I know you’re even authorized to grant this much?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Technically, I’m not,” Chloe said, “but Lady Sasquatch has agreed to stand as guarantor that the deal will be honored. You know her species’ reputation.”

  “That they’ll tear the arms off anyone who impugns their honour, you mean?” Thomas’s voice held a trace of humour. “So your story has sasquatches and witches.”

  Chloe went cold. She’d assumed all the Packs had contact with the small sasquatch community. Was she wrong? “I assure you, both are very real.”

  “I saw a sasquatch once as a child… . They’re rare, but yes, I know they’re real. Though you’re lucky you called me with the offer and not—well, suffice it to say that there are werewolves who scoff at sasquatches. All right, Ms. Graham, you have a deal.”

  The relief was so intense, Chloe felt lightheaded, but the sick churn of nausea remained long after the phone call ended. I just gave away a third of the Preserve, entrusted to Pine Hollow for future generations.

  No. Olivia gave all of it away when she allowed the witch a toehold on our Pack. I’m just trying to get some back.

  But would the rest of the Pack see it that way? After she saved them, if she saved them, they might well kill her.

  “What do you think?” she asked Marcus. “Am I crazy to even try?”

  Marcus laid his cheek against her, nuzzling like wolves did. Chloe became hyperaware of his lips only a breath apart, but he didn’t kiss her.

  “You are my Alpha,” he said simply. “Running away isn’t in your nature.”

  His faith in her brought forth a surge of gratitude. Words gone, she rocked up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  For a heartbeat, he didn’t react. Then his arms closed around her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Her eyes drifted closed, concentrating on the messages sent through touch. The world spun around her. She let feeling sweep away her fears.

  She threaded her fingers through his shaggy hair and inhaled his scent. Marcus, feral and wild, quiet and watchful, quick and deadly. Marcus, who believed in her absolutely.

  Who cared if he was a year younger than her? In many ways, his year of surviving alone in the woods had made him stronger and more mature. Abby’s face intruded. Chloe silently apologized: I wish you were here to tease me about my poor taste in guys, but you’re not. And Marcus and I have both changed since you knew us.

  She tugged his hair until he stopped kissing her. She looked him straight in the eye so he would know how serious she was. “You’re mine
,” she said, and they both dived back into the kiss.

  Decision made.

  chapter

  23

  Lying prone on the forest floor, hidden in the shadow of a big pine, Chloe watched the Frayne’s house through Lady Sasquatch’s binoculars. The Alpha paced back and forth, raging and spouting off orders. Was this Olivia, or Baba Yaga wearing her face? Chloe suspected the latter. She’d never seen Olivia so angry, red-faced and slit-eyed, full of hate.

  The last Pack family arrived. Brian and his mother sent the younger kids inside and joined the Friday night meeting on the lawn. From her body language the Alpha appeared to be lambasting Kristen for being late.

  “Maybe we should go,” Chloe whispered. “There’s no chance of catching the witch alone tonight, and if anyone gets a whiff of our scent …”

  The Quesnel Beta, a muscle-bound twenty-something with a military haircut, cast Chloe a scathing glance. “We didn’t come all this way to cool our heels.”

  “Let me see.” Thomas, the Quesnel Alpha, motioned for the binoculars. She handed them over without a word.

  When the forty-five-year-old Alpha had first seen Chloe he’d sworn for two minutes straight. “You’re just a kid.” He probably would have walked right then and there if not for Lady Sasquatch. But he’d signed the legal papers that afternoon and silenced his Beta’s objections with a Dominant stare. Still, his control over the four werewolves he’d brought—three men and one woman—seemed shaky. The rumours about the Quesnel Pack being on the verge of fracturing looked to be true.

  Which was bad, because Chloe didn’t trust his Beta. At all.

  All five of the visiting Pack looked at the Preserve with greedy eyes that raised her hackles. She had to keep reminding herself that she needed this alliance to defeat the witch, and that the loss of land would be worth it to save the Pack.

  Though how exactly were they going to co-exist afterward? Pine Hollow wasn’t exactly brimming with job opportunities. Where and how were the Quesnel Pack going to live? Would they commute on weekends?

  One problem at a time, she counselled herself.

  “Are you sure that’s the witch?” Thomas asked her in a barely audible whisper. “It looks like Olivia Frayne to me.”