The other two elders clearly understood, grunting and nodding. The younger one paid no attention. The Alpha turned his gaze on him and said what sounded like "Eli." The youngster grunted grudging agreement.
The Alpha crouched, then Changed back to beast with a speed and ease that left me sighing with envy. I guess a long and torturous transformation is the price we pay for Changing more completely between human and wolf form.
When the Alpha finished, I looked at him with fresh eyes and realized that what I'd mistaken for bearlike features were really human--his bulk, the longer fur, the rounded head, the ease with which he stood and walked on two legs. They didn't change into a wolf-bear hybrid, but a wolf-human one.
One of the elders nudged my flank hard, telling me to get moving. I set out behind the Alpha.
RESPECT
AS I LIMPED along, surrounded on all sides, I was struck by the stillness of the forest. When I ran as a wolf, I was accustomed to smaller creatures giving way, particularly if I was making no attempt to run quietly. Beyond that pocket of empty space, though, I could always hear, smell and sometimes see life deep in the forest. With the beasts, the dead zone seemed to extend as far as smell or sound could penetrate. It was as if every creature heard those thundering paws, screamed, "Oh, shit!" and scrambled for higher ground.
As a wolf, I was like the jackals in the African savannah--prey avoided me and predators paid me heed. These beasts were the lions--everything great and small cleared out when they came running.
The Alpha led us toward one of the small mountains dotting the wilderness. At first he cut a trail through unbroken snow, but deeper into the forest, we turned onto a well-traveled path that led through trees so dense we had to duck under branches. We reached snow-barren rock and began to climb. Finally, the Alpha disappeared behind what seemed like a solid stone wall. I followed and found the concealed entrance of a cave.
Almost no light penetrated the interior. Even my good night vision was useless. When I paused, though, the beast behind me gave me a nudge and grunted, as if exasperated by my ineptitude.
I followed the wall for a few feet, then sat on my haunches. My eyes had just begun to adjust when the thwick of a struck match made me jump. A kerosene lamp hissed. Light flared. I blinked and saw the figure of the Alpha holding the lantern. He was dressed now, in jeans and a flannel shirt. His thickly haired feet were bare, the cave floor covered in dried strawlike reeds.
Behind the Alpha was one of the elders, also Changed and dressed, lighting a fire. I couldn't see the third, but the youngest was off to my left, buttoning his shirt. He wasn't any older than Noah, which I supposed explained his hormone-fueled reaction earlier. He was more slender than the others, with light brown hair to his shoulders, his cheeks still smooth.
Looking over, the young one grunted and waved toward me. The Alpha grunted back. There was nothing overtly primitive about their communication--it sounded like a couple of guys who weren't much given to conversation, making do with gestures and noises instead, the younger one clearly pointing out that I was still in wolf form and the older saying, "Yes, I know."
The Alpha lit a second lantern, then turned to me. "Shift to human."
While that would certainly aid communication, right now, I was happy to keep my warm fur and sharp teeth.
When I made no move to start my Change, he said, "We would like you to shift to human."
He enunciated carefully, as one unaccustomed to such complete and formal communication, but wanting to accommodate a guest from a culture that valued such things. And that was how I think they were trying to treat me--as a guest. A captive guest to be sure, but they hadn't made any threatening moves. They weren't even blocking the exit, though I suspected if I bolted outside, I'd soon discover where the third elder had gone. Yet they seemed anxious to maintain the appearance of civility, and it seemed wise to go along with it for now.
"Over there." The Alpha pointed to the corner. "It is dark enough."
The young one--Eli--tried to follow me. A growl from the Alpha stopped him.
"I'm just going over here," he said, his speech surprisingly normal, like that of a second-generation immigrant. "To watch her."
The elder tending the fire chuckled and Eli blushed.
"To guard her, I mean," he said.
"Sit," the Alpha growled.
"Clothing?" the other elder said.
The Alpha grunted and nodded, then waved Eli toward a rough-hewn chest. I waited while Eli dropped clothes near me. When he'd retreated, I began my Change. Once finished, I pulled on the shirt and buttoned it, reached for pants... and found none. The shirt fell to my knees, though, and the reed-covered floor kept the cold from my feet.
When I stepped forward, the Alpha took one look at me and growled. "Eli..."
The boy only looked over, his face a study in wide-eyed innocence.
"Pants," the Alpha said.
"They're too big for her."
"Eli!"
He found me a pair of jeans. As he was bringing them over, he snuck a look at me.
"Eli..." The Alpha's voice was a low growl now. "Respect."
I thought he meant for Eli to respect him, but when Eli kept staring, the elder--the one I suspected was his father--cuffed him as he had in the woods and growled, "Respect, Eli. She is werewolf."
The look the boy gave me said this wasn't, to him, cause for respect. But I already knew that. He'd been the one Clay and I had encountered in the forest, and judging by the way that mutt-who-runs-with-the-wolves had acted, we weren't the only werewolves Eli had been terrorizing.
The Alpha pulled out a chair made from bound branches and draped with an animal skin--bear by the smell--and he motioned for me to sit. As I did, I looked around. The cave was a jarring mix of primitive and modern--furs and twig furniture mingling with parkas, winter boots and, beside the fire pit, a steel pail of water. Not primitive, I suppose, just old-fashioned wherever modern wasn't necessary, no different from humans who'd decided to live off the land.
When the Alpha followed my gaze, though, he said quickly, "This is only a hunting camp. We live a distance away. In houses," he added emphatically, lest I mistake them for cave-dwelling savages.
"Is that where the women are?" I had no idea whether there were women, but I had a sneaking suspicion these guys weren't strolling into Anchorage, picking up chicks in the local bars.
He nodded. "They come sometimes. Not this time."
"And they're... like you? They can... shift into... what you do?"
He looked confused. I don't blame him--my question wasn't exactly clear, but I had no idea what they called themselves.
"The women," I said. "They're like you? They... shift form?"
"Of course." He frowned, then nodded. "Yes, there are not women among the werewolves. Or that is what I have heard, but clearly you are..." He thought this through a minute, then said, "You are a bitten one, then."
I nodded. "Is that what your women are? Bitten?"
"No, it is not the same. We cannot... do that. We are born Shifters. Our women are, too. But they are rare."
Behind him, Eli grumbled. Not a situation to his liking, I supposed.
I turned back to the Alpha. They hadn't invited me here to exchange notes on our species, so anything I wanted to know, I'd better ask fast.
"And you live deeper in the woods? In a community? Are there many of you?"
Typical questions, particularly for someone with an anthropologist husband who'd drill her for details. But from the look on the Alpha's face, he didn't care to give those details. He hid his unease by quickly glancing aside and muttering, "Not important."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just--I've never met... Shifters before."
"There are many of us," Eli said. "More than you werewolves, and all bigger and stronger than your best. If you come, we'll fight." He met my gaze. "And we'll win."
"Respect!" the Alpha snarled, wheeling on him.
"Why? Look at her. She's no bigg
er than a human. And she shifts into a normal wolf. Why should we be afraid of--?"
His father cuffed him. "Respect!"
"It's okay." I tried for a wry smile. "I can see how my questions could have been misinterpreted, but it was only curiosity. Your territory is yours. We have our own, and we're happy with it."
"The werewolves like cities," the Alpha said, in a tone that implied he pitied our preference, but was trying to remain politely neutral on the subject. "They have never given us a problem. Until now. These werewolves in the valley. The ones in the cabin..."
"If you mean the two brothers and their friends, they aren't part of my Pack. In fact, I just escaped from them."
"We know this. We have been watching them. They are... trouble."
That was putting it mildly.
"Did the others in your Pack come with you?" the Alpha asked. "You are not alone, are you?"
Eli had seen me with Clay, but from the nervous looks he was tossing my way, the others knew nothing of those encounters. Given their carefully polite behavior now, I suspected they wouldn't be happy to hear that he'd tried to run us off "his" territory.
"I'm with my mate."
"Good. You will bring him. Then you will get rid of these werewolves."
"You mean kill them?"
The Alpha met my gaze with an inscrutable look, like the one I'd seen so often from Jeremy. I wondered if it came automatically with Alphahood. I hoped so, because otherwise, I doubted I'd ever develop it.
"If that is what you think best," he said, as if leaving the final call up to me. Not that I had any problem killing Tesler. Hell, I didn't plan to get on a plane out of Alaska until I had. But being commanded to do so wasn't something I took lightly.
I demanded--well, asked for, relatively nicely--an explanation. Getting one wasn't easy. The conversation proceeded slowly as the Alpha searched for the right words. Eli kept sighing and fidgeting, clearly wanting to take over. But in this, the Shifters were like a werewolf Pack. While they made some allowances for his youth, he couldn't speak for the Alpha. When the Alpha is present, he must speak for his pack.
As he'd said, this was one of the main hunting camps for his community, as well as a way station between it and the city, where they went for supplies. While Dennis's cabin had been here for years, he'd never caused any trouble, so the Shifters treated him as a fellow predator--leaving him alone. Tesler and his boys were another matter.
If Dennis was the respected fellow hunter, the Teslers were like the rednecks who rent a cabin for the week just to get drunk and shoot stuff. They'd been running in wolf form not caring whether they were seen or heard, scaring the game for miles and preying on humans, then--worse yet--leaving their kills in the open.
Now, I'd already suspected the mutts of the killings, despite Dan's denials. When I expressed even the slightest skepticism, though, just a gentle "Are you sure it was them?" the Alpha got his back up.
"Yes, we are sure. Miles"--he gestured to Eli's father--"was at the cabin after the first man died. He heard them fighting. One had been seen by a human as he Shifted, so he killed him and the leaders were angry with him for not hiding the body before it was found. They sent him away."
That matched Dan's story. But if the Tesler brothers gave their lackey shit for leaving the corpse, and kicked his ass out because of it, why were two more bodies found later?
And here I discovered that the Shifters lacked a certain sophistication when it came to scheming and subterfuge. That's not to say they were stupid. They just weren't accustomed to the kind of political machinations the Pack dealt with every day. When I pointed out the fallacy of the Alpha's logic, he grew agitated.
"They did kill that man. And that is not the worst. They killed girls. Two of them. Maybe more. We found only two. They buried them, but not with respect. They threw them away. Like..." He waved his hand, searching for words. "Like garbage. They are monsters."
Agreed. And at confirmation of the girls' fate, my determination to kill Tesler only grew. But I noticed he'd shifted my attention from the question of the other two "wolf-killed" men. The Tesler gang hadn't killed them and the Alpha knew it. Another, less comfortable explanation slunk into the back of my mind.
"You say these pack leaders were upset with the body being left out and found," I said slowly. "Very upset. Maybe, if it continued, they'd get upset--and nervous--enough to leave."
"Yes, but they did not."
"Because they knew they weren't responsible and, being clueless about normal wolf behavior, they presumed it was wolves and ignored it. So your plan failed."
The Alpha nodded... then stopped, as he realized what he was admitting to. He blustered then, not denying it, but pointing out that the two men they'd killed were poachers and trappers, stealing animals meant for sustenance and taking only the skins.
"And animals aren't the only thing they kill," Eli muttered.
His father tried to shush him, but halfheartedly, his gaze averted, eyes filled with grief.
"Poachers killed one of you," I said. "In Shifted form. They mistook you--"
"They mistook him for nothing," Eli snarled, spittle flying. "He wasn't Shifted. The guy shot him and tried to hide his body, like he'd killed a deer out of season."
"My other son," Miles said. "Eli's litter mate."
Eli's twin brother, accidentally shot in human form. That would explain the animosity toward us--probably toward werewolves, wolves and humans alike, running them off his territory with all the single-minded rage of a grief-stricken teenage boy. Sure, he'd been trying something else in the grove a little while ago, but that was pure instinct. My scent at work on his teen hormones. Even now, when he slid glances my way, checking me out, contempt warred with attraction.
"But what we did, it was not revenge," the Alpha said.
Not consciously, I'm sure. But subconsciously, it would play a role. While Eli acted out his grief by chasing every predator off his turf, his elders found an excuse to do the same with poachers and trappers, men they would now consider a threat. To them, the killing of those two humans, while regrettable, could be justified by their actions and the necessity of stopping the greater threat: Tesler's mutts. And while I could strenuously argue the logic of this, it made perfect sense to them, and that I couldn't dispute.
But all that still didn't answer one question. There was another way to handle their problem. One that was far more reliable--and ethically justifiable--than framing them for murder.
"You want Tesler and his gang dead," I said. "So why not do it yourselves?"
"It is forbidden."
"Maybe, but--"
"No. Killing werewolves is forbidden."
His tone said this was an unbreakable and unquestionable law. So they could kill humans, but not werewolves? That made no sense.
Or maybe, to them, it did. They'd chastised Eli for disrespecting me. He'd hinted they feared us. Fear and respect. Feelings one might have toward, not a fellow supernatural, but a superior being. Even Eli, while he'd been quick to terrorize us, hadn't done more than smack us around, trying to scare us off without breaking that commandment.
"You will do this for us," the Alpha said. "You will kill them."
Before I could answer, he whistled. Tramping footsteps and muffled oaths sounded at the cave entrance. In walked the missing fourth Shifter, pushing before him a slight figure in an oversized parka, arms bound behind his back. The figure struggled and the hood fell back. It was Noah, gagged with a strip of leather, eyes blazing with fury and humiliation.
"He is yours?" the Alpha said.
"Yes," I said. "He's ours."
"Then do this for us and he is yours again."
CONTACT
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, I was tramping through the snow, ready to sell my soul for a snowmobile. What kind of Alaskan backwoodsmen--even shape-shifting wolf-beasts--didn't have snowmobiles?
I knew I shouldn't complain. At least they hadn't shoved me out right away, cold, exhausted and battered,
to find my way back to civilization. They'd insisted I rest and eat, even when I'd argued I was fine. They'd served me a surprisingly good stew of venison and root vegetables, and a thick brick like bread that hadn't been nearly as tasty, but I'd eaten it anyway.
I drank the tea they brewed, too, some herbal blend to ease my aches and pains. They'd said it was willow bark, but I suspected it contained something a lot stronger. It reminded me of the Tylenol 3 Jeremy made me take after bad fights. I was feeling no pain and a little light-headed.
One thing was for sure--this was a night I wouldn't forget. Life as a werewolf means a lot of fights and chases, and in the last few hours, I'd done more than my share of both, but with new twists. Falling through the ice. Fending off an eight-foot brown bear. Being taken captive by a werewolf precursor race. Someday, I'd be sitting in my rocking chair, telling my grandkids about this night. Right now, I just wanted to get through it.
The Shifters had given me all the clothing I needed, from a parka to boots to doubled-up work socks. But with size nine feet in size gazillion boots, I might as well have been wearing snowshoes. In fact, I'd have been better off wearing snowshoes. Worse, I could have been. They'd offered me a pair, but after a few awkward steps and a face-plant, I'd said boots were fine.
They'd escorted me to a road. At least, they said it was a road. But after twenty minutes hiking through boot-deep snow, seeing only a thin swatch of white ahead, winding through the trees, I was uncomfortably reminded of the last untraveled "road" I'd taken... the one that turned out to be a river.
The Shifters swore the highway was only three miles away. They'd even offered to have Eli escort me, though hadn't seemed surprised when I said no. I'd had enough of teenage lust to last me awhile.
I suppose I should be flattered--all that attention from guys half my age--and I would be... if I didn't know that without my unique scent, I wouldn't get a second glance. And, really, that would make me much happier. I knew now how Clay felt, getting checked out by twenty-year-old girls. Eww.
Even as I bitched about the situation, I knew I should be overjoyed just to be warm and rested and free. How many times tonight had I thought I'd never see morning? And there it was--the faintest streaks of red cresting the valley between two mountains behind me. I hadn't been killed, hadn't been raped, hadn't even been seriously injured. I should be dancing down the moonlit road, singing to the stars. But if I was, I'd know whatever was in that tea was more than a painkiller.
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