Humon Error

Chapter Two

“Stay back! No, he’s safe, he’s perfectly safe, only he isn’t supposed to—that shouldn’t have happened!”

Unlike many lupi, Benedict had never thought of his wolf form as something separate or distinct from the rest of him. He thought differently as a wolf, perceived the world differently, and some instincts were heightened. But he had no sense of the man needing to control the wolf, as many did. Man or wolf, he remained himself. Man or wolf, control was necessary.

Benedict heard his Chosen, heard the fear in her voice, and mastered his anger. “Benedict?” she said, and stepped toward him—and the man beside her, who smelled like charcoal and iron and smoke, seized her arm. “You’ll stay back, too.”

The smoke-and-iron man was not an enemy. Names were uninteresting to him at the moment, but he knew the man was dear to Arjenie, so he forgave him for restraining her. She would rebuke him for it herself, he was sure. Arjenie did not like to be restrained.

He wanted to go to her, but he had no idea what had happened, where the threat lay. So he gave her a quick, reassuring nod and leaped onto the hood of the car, then the roof.

This startled the humans. He was sorry for that, but he had to see and smell out what was going on. His men—had they been Changed, too?

The breeze came from the south, so he allowed his nose to advise him on what lay in that direction while he used his eyes to check north, east, and west. Nothing looked threatening or obviously out of place, but he didn’t know this place.

His men had not been forced into Change; they stood two-legged beside their car, aware something was wrong but not knowing what or if they should come to him.

This form wasn’t good at communication, but he could offer that much direction. He shook his head firmly at them.

The humans were doing a great deal of talking. Arjenie, too—she was angry at the man who still held her arm. The woman—she had an especially interesting smell—had hold of both boys, one by the shoulder, the other by the hand. She told the man to let go of his niece, who was an adult and able to make her own decisions, adding under her breath that Arjenie had better know what she was talking about.

A horse screamed. It was a stallion’s battle cry, and it came from the barn. Where the door was open slightly. It had been closed earlier.

Benedict shot off the roof of the car, sailing over the head of the woman and hitting the ground at a dead run.

Someone followed him. Someone about one-twentieth his size and with no concept of the value of silence. Havoc barked furiously as she raced after him, either believing she had him on the run or delighted by the chance to pursue whatever he was chasing.

There was no point in stealth with the terrier ferociously announcing her approach, but the noise might mask the sound of Benedict’s feet. He might yet surprise whoever or whatever had infuriated the stallion. He angled for the open door, charging inside.

What he smelled brought him up short.

When Muffin screamed, Uncle Clay’s hand relaxed in surprise. That was all Arjenie needed to twist away—just as Benedict sailed off the roof of the car in one of those stunning leaps lupi were capable of. He hit the ground running flat out, which meant very fast indeed.

Havoc took off after him. And Arjenie took off after them both.

She wasn’t fast. She wasn’t graceful. She had to be mindful of her ankle, which could turn under her if she wasn’t careful. She wasn’t much of a fighter, either, but she’d seen Benedict signal Josh and Adam to stay where they were. There was no way she was letting him go after whatever-it-was without backup.

Benedict vanished inside the barn well before she reached the halfway point. Muffin trumpeted again, sounding frantic—but having a huge wolf race into his domain would do that. It didn’t necessarily mean he was being attacked and hurt.

Arjenie heard feet pounding behind her and stole a quick glance. Uncle Hershey and Uncle Clay. Good. They’d be better backup than she would. She kept going, anyway. Her uncles passed her about the time Havoc zipped into the barn, still barking.

The barn was 130 yards from the house. That was just over the length of a football field—American football, that is. In European terms, it was approximately one-and-a-third times the length of a soccer field—facts that Arjenie knew and had shared with her family years ago and was thinking about now because facts soothed her and she was afraid. Afraid for Benedict, for herself, for her uncles, and for silly little Havoc.

Though it was probably foolish to fear for Benedict, who was the best fighter in the clans. That was not her uninformed opinion but what she’d been told by any number of people in the clans—lupi, who ought to know. She’d seen him fight, and he was like one of those anime heroes, doing things that did not look real even when you saw him do them.

But teeth don’t work against every menace, and something had pushed him into the Change. Which is why she pulled on her Gift as she reached the barn.

It wasn’t true invisibility, but it worked almost the same as long as there weren’t any cameras to fool. Or anyone nearby with really good shields against mind magic. Or Benedict, for that matter—he could always see her, even when she was hidden to everyone else. She eased inside the partly open door.

And stopped, her breath huffing out, and dropped the pull on her Gift. “What are you doing?”

Muffin was pacing and blowing, very agitated. Just outside his stall, at the far end of the broad center aisle, Benedict sat on his haunches, looking bored. Her uncles were about halfway down the aisle. Uncle Hershey stood with his legs wide, one hand out as if he was about to call fire. Which he so would not do in a barn. And Uncle Clay—her beloved uncle Clay—had his .45 in his hand and was pointing it at Benedict.

“You put that away right now!” She headed for him.

“Arjenie, stay back.”

Uncle Clay spoke with such crisp assurance that her feet actually checked for a second, out of habit. Clay didn’t give orders often, but when he did, all the kids obeyed.

But she was not a kid. “I most certainly will not. You pulled a gun on Benedict!” She was so mad she wanted to spit. Spitting mad. She had never really understood that phrase before. “How could you do that? Is that the kind of tolerance for those who are different that you taught me? Do you intend to shoot him if he moves? Do you realize he could knock that stupid gun out of your hand in a flash if he weren’t too polite or maybe worried you’d accidentally shoot Muffin or something? You’re only fifteen feet away. That is no distance at all for him.” She reached the two idiots and started to go between them, because she wasn’t so blindingly angry she’d try to knock the gun out of her uncle’s hand. She wanted to, but she’d settle for blocking his shot.

Uncle Hershey grabbed her.

Rage just boiled up. She swung around and slapped him.

Sheer astonishment made him drop his hand.

She stared back at him in equal astonishment. She had never even thought about striking anyone in her family—well, except for her cousin Mike who was much too fond of practical jokes, but not in years. And not her uncles. Not ever.

And a beautiful, rumbly deep voice spoke behind her. “Arjenie, your uncles’ response was inconvenient but reasonable.”

She turned and scowled at Benedict, who’d Changed back to human in record time just so he could take her uncles’ side. He was entirely naked, his clothes being back by the car. And he was entirely beautiful without clothes—broad and brawny and muscular—but she was not going to let that distract her. “Drawing a gun on my lover and their own guest is not reasonable.”

“They don’t know me. They saw me turn into a wolf and take off for their barn. They don’t know why I did those things.”

“Maybe we overreacted,” Clay said. Arjenie glanced at him. He was putting his gun back into the belt holster she hadn’t realized he was wearing because his jacket had hidden it.

“No,” Benedict said. “You acted in advance of information, but sometimes that’s necessary. You couldn’t smell the intruder, as I did.”

“Someone was here, then?” Arjenie asked. “Someone who made you Change and scared Muffin?”

“Muffin?” Benedict’s mouth crooked up. “That fire-breather is named Muffin?”

“Seri named him. She was in her cute phase, and—never mind that. Did you see who it was?”

Benedict shook his head slowly. “I smelled him, though. It was Coyote.”

Hershey snorted. “We don’t have coyotes around here.”

“Not a coyote. Coyote.”

In the silence that fell, Arjenie could almost smell the disbelief rolling off her uncles, it was so thick.

Wait a minute. It was way too silent. “Where’s Havoc?”