Wild Things

Chapter Three LONE WOLF

The night was cold but uncommonly still. No wind at all, which was a blessing in Chicago in February.

With Gabriel in front, the frozen ground crunching beneath our feet, we played follow the leader around the house and toward the estate’s back lawn. It dipped down to the woods, which made a dark curtain at the edge of the visible world, a black sea beneath a blanket of stars. They twinkled above us, cold and unfeeling, and a sudden ominous shiver went through me.

Sentinel? Ethan silently asked, taking my hand.

I squeezed in response and dismissed my fear. I wasn’t a child; I was a vampire. A predator, and with allies around.

“Dark out here,” Mallory said with a nervous laugh ahead of us, hand in hand with Catcher.

“Could be worse,” Catcher said. “You could be a vampire on the lam.”

“Yeah, I don’t recommend it,” I said. “Although it certainly does make for interesting bedfellows.”

“I’d better be your only bedfellow, Sentinel.”

“Who could possibly replace you?” I asked, grinning when Mallory looked back and winked. A twinge of nostalgia went through me. That was the camaraderie I’d missed, something we’d begun to lose when the supernatural drama had grown between us.

As we descended the hill toward the tree line, a breeze blew toward us, and there was magic in it. Fresh and peppery and hinting of animals.

We stepped onto the dirt path that led into the woods, ground that I’d trod many times before. The trail where Nick and I had played as children had been cleared and widened, allowing access for adults.

There was movement to the left. Nick Breckenridge emerged from a side trail in front of Mallory and Catcher, a woman behind him, their hands linked together. He was dark and tall, with closely cropped hair and rugged features. With his snug shirt, cargo pants, and strong jaw, he looked every bit the journalist, albeit one more used to war zones and exotic locations than tramping through the woods of a multimillion-dollar estate.

The woman didn’t look familiar. I knew Nick was dating someone—or at least that a woman had answered his phone a few nights ago—but I didn’t know if she was the one. She had the self-assured bearing of a shifter, but if she had magic, she hid it well.

“Merit,” he said.

“Nick.”

“I don’t think you’ve met Yvette.”

Yvette nodded.

“Merit and I went to high school together,” Nick said.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, and they disappeared into the darkness ahead of us.

Mallory moved back to me and linked an arm in mine, displacing Ethan as my hiking partner.

“I think you just got jealous,” she whispered.

“I’m not jealous. But I am more than ‘a girl he went to high school with.’”

She snorted. “What did you want him to say? That you’re the girl he’s pined over since he made the regretful decision to break up with you in high school? Which was ten years ago, I’ll point out.”

“No,” I said, drawing out the word to emphasize just how silly that thought was. “But maybe something along the lines of, ‘This is Merit, sentinel of Cadogan House, protector of the weak, defender of the innocent’?”

“Yeah. Let me know when the Avengers come calling. In the meantime, while he does have a very curvy Yvette, you have an Ethan Sullivan.”

“I hate it when you have a point.”

“I’m wise beyond my years.”

The trail narrowed, and we fell into a silent, single-file line, the skeleton trees standing sentinel around us. The woods were draped in winter silence, the native creatures sleeping, hibernating, or deliberately avoiding the train of predators. The woods were deep, and I’d been back as far as a hedge maze that I thought was somewhere to my right. But it was dark and the trail was pitched, and I wasn’t entirely sure of my direction.

We followed the trail for ten or fifteen more minutes, until the woods opened, revealing a large meadow surrounded by glowing torches.

The clearing was at least the size of a football field, and in the middle stood a twenty-foot-tall totem, animals carved in a trunk at least four feet thick. Tents, campfires, and folding chairs were sprinkled here and there. And everywhere, shifters milled, most in the official black leather jackets of the North American Central.

Scents filled the air. The fur and musk of animals, charcoal, roasting meat, earth. There was life here. Renewal and rebirth, even though spring was still weeks away.

I guessed that was why the Brecks hadn’t wanted us here. Shifters could take care of themselves, certainly, but there were a lot of families in the open space, and tents wouldn’t be easy to defend. On the other hand, they were, like us, on private property held by one of the most powerful families in Chicago. That was a point in their favor.

Gabriel left us at the edge of the wood, walking to his wife, Tanya, who stood in the clearing with their infant son in her arms. Tanya was a lovely brunette, a woman with smiling eyes and pink cheeks, her softness a contrast to Gabe’s tawny ferocity. Gabe put a paternal hand on Connor’s head and pressed a kiss to Tanya’s lips. She beamed up at him, the love between them comfortable and obvious.

Jeff found Fallon, Gabriel’s younger sister. They’d been on-again, off-again for a time, but considering the warmth of their embrace, I guessed they’d made “on” a little more permanent. Fallon was petite, with a sturdy, athletic body and wavy hair the same sun-kissed color as Gabe’s. She preferred black clothing and tonight wore knee-high motorcycle-style boots, a short skirt, and an NAC leather jacket.

I didn’t know Fallon very well, but I knew Jeff, and there weren’t many I respected as much as him. If he loved her—and the look in his eyes made clear that he did—then she was good people.

“Ready?” Catcher asked.

“Now or never,” Ethan said, taking my hand as we stepped forward into the meadow and into the fray.

Shifters chatted in camp chairs, watching cautiously as we passed. Others hurried around us with steaming food or boxes of gear. Someone nudged my elbow, and I turned to find a squatty woman with freshly bleached hair standing behind me, a foil-wrapped bundle in her hands. It was as large as a newborn baby and smelled of meat and chilies.

She looked me over, shook her head in disappointment, and thrust the package at me.

I nearly grunted under the weight. It was as heavy as a newborn baby, too.

“Hello, Berna,” I said.

Berna was a shifter, a relative of the Keene family, and the bartender at Little Red, the Pack watering hole in Chicago’s Ukrainian Village neighborhood. She was convinced I didn’t eat enough and enjoyed plying me with food. Since I enjoyed eating, we’d managed to stay friends of a sort.

She looked at Ethan and winged up her pencil-drawn eyebrows suggestively. “Hello, man,” she said in her sturdy Eastern European accent.

“Berna,” Ethan said politely, eyeing what I guessed was a baby-sized burrito. “Nothing for me?”

Without even blinking, Berna yanked the package from my hands and offered it to Ethan.

“Is family recipe. You will eat. You”—she looked him over, from blond hair to booted feet—“should remain strong. Handsome.”

I think I just won Berna, he silently said, and nodded gravely at her. “Thank you, Berna. I’m sure this will be delicious.”

She sniffed, as if offended by the mere possibility it wouldn’t be delicious, but her eyelashes stayed batty, and her gaze didn’t stray much from his face.

“I guess we aren’t getting anything,” Catcher muttered behind us.

“So these are the vampires?”

A shifter stepped beside Berna—a woman who was taller and thinner, with a short shock of platinum blond hair. She was muscled and rugged, her features better described as handsome than pretty. And she all but vibrated with irritated magic.

“Twilight,” Berna confirmed, pointing at me and Ethan. “Grumpy,” she said, pointing around me at Catcher.

She looked at Mallory for a few seconds before offering judgment. “Magic,” she finally said with the smallest of smiles, and it was obvious she meant the word as a compliment.

Mallory beamed, but Berna’s friend was not impressed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, pointing at each of us in turn and flinging magic with each movement. It left a sting like tiny insects. “This isn’t any of your business, and it isn’t for you.” She stuck her nose into the air, slid Berna a narrowed look. “And you shouldn’t carouse with them.”

“We were invited here,” Mallory said. I think she might have put an arm around Berna, except that Berna had already puffed out her chest and was nearly buzzing with irritation.

“Go,” she said, flicking her hands at the woman. “Go elsewhere. Too negative.”

But Berna’s dismissal only seemed to encourage the woman.

“Mark my words,” she said, that finger pointed again. “This is all doomed because we didn’t go home when we could have. We should have left Chicago months ago, and we certainly shouldn’t be here now. The Keene family should have been removed a long time ago. They are leading us right into disaster.” Her eyes flashed with self-righteous anger. That emotion seemed to be in unusually strong supply among shifters lately.

She walked away before Berna could respond to the slight, joining up with two other women who gave us suspicious looks. But Berna’s balled fists made it clear she’d had words in the hopper.

“I see you’ve met Aline.” Gabriel joined us, made a point of putting a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. Aline and her troop of friends didn’t seem impressed.

“She’s a charmer,” Ethan dryly said.

“Where have you been keeping her locked away?” Mallory asked.

“She keeps herself locked away,” Gabriel said. “She and my father butted heads and she’s transferred that hatred onto our generation.”

Berna patted his arm collegially. “You are not popular, but you are doing right.”

“Maybe,” Gabriel said, “but I’d prefer to be both.” He towered over Berna and glanced down at her from his couple of extra feet. “We ready?”

She made a sound that made clear exactly how ridiculous she thought the question. Berna, apparently, was always ready.

Gabriel smiled. “My fanged friends, you’re about to be witness to a very special treat. Tonight, you get to hear us roar.”

He lifted his head and unleashed a howl that sent shivers down my spine—and invoked the rest of the chorus. Not all shifters were wolves, and the Pack’s sounds were just as varied and cacophonous. Howls, screeches, feline roars, and screams that might have been from birds of prey. Together, as the shifters formed a circle around the totem in the middle of the meadow, they lifted their voices and sang into the night, the very sound magic.

Goose bumps lifted on my arms. Ethan slipped his hand into mine as we shared the sight and sound of it. After a moment, the howls quieted, now a backbeat instead of a melody.

Gabriel looked at Mallory appraisingly. “You ready?”

She blew out a breath with pursed lips, then loosened her shoulders and nodded, this time confidently. And although nervousness still fluttered in the air around her, it was a good kind of nervousness. Excited anticipation—not the resigned dread I’d sensed before.

Side by side, they walked forward into the circle and stood in front of the totem. A hush fell over the crowd.

I glanced at Catcher. His expression was blank, but his eyes fixed on Mal and the shifter at her side. If he was nervous for her, he wasn’t showing it.

His hair pushed behind his ears, Gabriel looked more like a biker or boxer than Pack Apex, the king of his people, but there was no doubt in the set of his shoulders and grave expression that he stood as leader of them all.

“Tonight,” he said, hands on his hips, “we celebrate the Pack, the mothers, the sires. We celebrate our founding, our brothers, Romulus and Remus, and our future. We celebrate the wild things. We have voted to remain in the realm of humans and vampires. That decision was not unanimous, but it was a decision to stay, to join, to bind together with our brothers and sisters and become stronger in the binding.”

He looked at Mallory. “There are those among us who have erred, deeply and significantly. Who have wounded the world and broken themselves. The worst of them lose themselves in their errors. The best of them crawl back, one foot at a time, and seek to amend their breaches. That is the way of the brave.”

Gabe looked back at the crowd. “This woman knows only of the magic of sorcerers and vampires. Tonight, we sing to her of the rest of it. Of the truth of it. Of the magic the earth has to offer.”

Gabriel reached out his hand. After sucking in a breath, Mallory linked her fingers with his. She closed her eyes as magic began to spill out and through the shifters again. I closed my eyes and savored the hot rush of raw, unmitigated power. It was the life force of the earth, called up by the predators who gathered together to celebrate their community.

And then it transformed.

Mallory must have unlocked some magical gate of her own, because a new stream of magic—younger, greener, brighter—began to mix with the magic of the Pack. Her hair lifted like an indigo halo, and her lips curled into a smile of satisfaction and contentment. Of relief.

Together, the magicks swirled and danced around us, invisible but tangible, like an electric breeze. This wasn’t defensive or offensive magic. It wasn’t used to gather information, for strategy or diplomacy, or to fight a war against a supernatural enemy.

It simply was.

It was fundamental, inexorable. It was nothing and everything, infinity and oblivion, from the magnificent furnace of a star to the electrons that hummed in an atom. It was life and death and everything in between, the urge to fight and grow and swim and fly. It was the cascade of water across boulders, the slow-moving advance of mountain glaciers, the march of time.

The shifters moved around the circle, grabbing our hands and pulling us in, connecting us to the magic. Magic flowed between us like we were transistors in a circuit, connecting the shifters to one another and us to them. We moved in concentric circles around the center totem, heat rising until the air was as warm as a summer’s day, until sweat beaded on my forehead.

This magic was lustful, almost drowsy with sensuality, and I felt my eyes silver and my fangs descend in an answering call. This was the magic of feasting and fucking, of savoring the blood of a kill and calling the Pack to dine.

Mallory’s eyes were open now, her hair damp with sweat, her body shaking with power, but her hand was still linked to Gabriel’s, and she smiled with more contentment than I’d seen from her in months.

A year ago, I’d assumed my relationship with Mallory would continue just as it always had—that we’d be friends who shared silly inside jokes, griped about our jobs, dreamt about our futures.

And then I became a vampire, and she discovered she was a sorceress.

Our lives were never going to be the same. They would never be as simple, as predictable, as they had been those years before. Instead, they’d be overlain by our responsibilities, by our strengths, and by the burdens we undertook because of them.

For the first time, I realized that was okay.

Our friendship wasn’t limited to habits, to circumstances, to neighborhoods. We were friends because we were connected together, because something in our souls called to each other, understood each other. That connection, that spark between us, would remain even if our lives had changed completely. I hadn’t accepted that before.

I could accept it now.

I searched for her in the circle so I could let her know that I finally understood, that I’d come to terms with it. But I moved so quickly, my feet dancing to keep up with the shifters beside me, that I couldn’t get my bearings, couldn’t find her in the crowd.

Something strange flitted in my chest. A pinprick, sharp and uncomfortable. Not tangible, but a hidden note of magic. A bit of the current that wasn’t meant to soothe or celebrate but to incite.

I tried to ignore it, thinking I was just being paranoid, that the quantity of magic was triggering some protective instinct.

But I feared that wasn’t right. I’d felt magic before—many varieties, many flavors—even mixed into the current tonight. This was different. Panic began to bloom like dark roses.

The hand on mine tightened, as if the shifter at my side had felt my wavering fear.

I looked for Ethan, found him five yards away, eyes closed as he swayed in time with the shifters around him.

I pulled my hands free, breaking the circle and pushing through bodies to get closer, to put him in reach in case my fear was real.

Ethan, I told him. Stay where you are. I’m coming for you.

Sentinel, he said, obviously surprised. What’s wrong?

I didn’t have time to answer, because I’d been regrettably correct.

The sky blackened as a thick, dark cloud began to spin above us, angry with sound and magic. The shifters stopped, the furious dance coming to a stumbling halt as they, too, cast their gazes on the threatening sky.

“A storm?” someone near me asked.

I moved forward until I reached Ethan, grabbed his wrist. But he didn’t even look at me. He stared at the sky as it broke open, revealing the truth of the cloud.

It wasn’t the forerunner of a storm, but an attack.

All hell broke loose.