Dire Needs: A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan (41 page)

Brother Wolf ran, paws treading the wet earth until he couldn’t hear anything but his own breathing. Everything inside of him relaxed and he melted into the forest surroundings, because that’s where he belonged.

He scented his prey and stalked it for miles. Sometimes, the thrill of the hunt and the chase were better than the catch.

This time, the catch was pretty damned good too.

Stray would be the last one in tonight. Vice shifted back and prepared to wait for him to show through the thicket of trees sometime before dawn.

Stray would come back bloody, the way Vice had. Not unusual, but since he’d confessed how young he was—seventy-five to Vice’s centuries—Vice was impressed at Stray’s self-control.

The kid was really a goddamned baby.

“We’ve got to find out more about Killian, ’cause I’ve got a bad feeling about it,” he said to Jinx, who’d come up beside him.

“You shouldn’t fuck with him,” Jinx said after a long pause. “This brother thing… it’s no joke.”

He knew Jinx was speaking from experience, since his twin was currently all fucked up and lying in some kind of supernatural coma. Only the death of the witch who’d cursed him could break the spell—and since that witch was immortal, they needed a hell of a miracle.

He leaned against the gazebo that was directly over the tunnels the Dires utilized. The protected underground lair was built beneath hallowed ground. There had once been an old church here, razed before the Dires purchased the land. Even though the building was gone, the consecration would always remain.

Vice figured there had to be some religious types flipping in their graves over the fact that wolves were living on church ground. He wasn’t sure why, other than the fact that they weren’t human. But he’d never understood any organized religion. He’d fought in the Crusades, not just because he liked to fight, but also because he liked the idea that everyone deserved freedom.

Well, most everyone. The weretrappers had to get over themselves. Centuries was too long to hold a grudge.

This vendetta on the part of the trappers wasn’t about what the Dires once did—over the years, they’d saved a thousandfold more humans than their packs had killed. It seemed like it would never be enough. But he’d be damned if he let those fuckers use the wolves to kill.

Because of that, the hunt for the witch who could save Rogue was on. The sky remained unnaturally dark, as it had been for days. The supernatural influence pulled at all of them, made them uneasy. Growly. Shifty. The pull would get more intense as the blue moon neared.

The supernatural storms that had invaded the town weeks earlier had receded, but they were all still vigilant,
awaiting the storms’ return. The weretrappers weren’t about to give up this easily.

But Jinx hadn’t been able to contact the Dire ghost army again—and they didn’t content themselves that it had been disbanded. No, there was no doubt a far more sinister reason the army could not be reached, and the Dires were grateful they’d been able to make the initial contact at all.

Vice especially was getting tense—his shifts from one extreme to another would happen so fast his own head spun, and although he was never even close to being politically correct, the things that came out of his mouth surprised even him.

And Jinx was getting nowhere, except more pissed that he couldn’t find a witch to help Rogue even though he claimed he felt her—and that she was close.

Stray, who had been getting more and more agitated as his brother got closer, found himself pulled out of the house during the daylight, as if searching for something.

Vice had taken to trailing him to make sure Stray wasn’t getting himself into trouble. Between watching over him, training Liam and ghost hunting with Jinx, Vice barely found time to get into any trouble of his own. And hell, that in itself was too unnatural for him to deal with for much longer.

“Fucking witches,” he muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Jinx said. “Stray’s coming—he just shifted.”

They watched him turn from wolf to human about thirty feet from them, still covered by the surrounding foliage.

“You’re sleeping out here with him?” Vice asked.

“Yeah, think I will.” Jinx motioned to the covered porch. “We’ll be all right.”

Vice didn’t think any of them would be, but for once he managed to hold his tongue.

*  *  *

Vice and Jinx were waiting for him. Neither said anything when Stray walked back to them in the field with blood still smeared on his chest. They were all predators, believed in survival of the fittest and enjoyed the hunt as much as he did. Wolves were meant for this, and as long as they were taking down animals and not humans, they were well within their rights.

Doing so kept their predatory instincts at bay—they’d all learned long ago how important that was, but no one more than him.

You’re a beast.
His mother’s words echoed in his ear. Why would she be surprised at that? Why would his nature be so bad when they’d been created in Hati’s image?

All he knew was that he didn’t want to be locked up again. Couldn’t bear it. And he hated the old surge of panic that rose up in him, a sign that the street mutt inside had not been exorcised.

If he thought too much about it, his scar began to ache fiercely. His heart beat a tattoo against his rib cage as he ran his hand over the long, knotted swath of tissue that ran diagonally across his chest, starting just above his heart and traveling downward, as though someone had tried to flay him open.

Someone had, just to see if he would die.

The only scars that won’t heal on a Dire are scars made by another Dire.

Hell, dying would’ve been the easy part.

“Good run,” Rifter said, with a smile and a hand clamped on Stray’s bare shoulder. He’d been behind the gazebo with Gwen, who still hadn’t gotten entirely used to being completely naked in front of all the men, and who already wore a T-shirt, though the rest of them were still bare-ass naked.

The Dires didn’t
get moon crazed, but they had grown up in a time when hunting prey had been easier and more acceptable.

For as long as he could remember, Stray had refused to be the prey, had outrun and outgunned most anyone or anything that dared to come near him. He almost went mad when Rifter and Rogue were captured and tortured, because he knew what that felt like all too well.

“Stray, this thing with your brother—how much of a fucking freak is he?” Vice asked without prelude.

Stray’s way of answering was to jump toward Vice with a growl as Jinx got between them.

“Guess I’ve got my answer.” Vice stared at Stray over Jinx’s shoulder. “We need him, so don’t fuck this up.”

“Glad you agreed not to fuck with him,” Jinx muttered, his hand shooting out to hit Vice across the back of the head.

Stray turned from them to look up at the sky as the two Dires tussled next to him.

The moon wasn’t ready to relent her hold on the world just yet—these last few hours of dawn were some of Stray’s favorites, the in-between time when most creatures were quiet and everything seemed at peace.

The solitude was what Stray enjoyed the most. He knew Jinx best understood, as they were the only two who consistently slept in wolf form. For Jinx, doing so blocked out all the ghosts who constantly needed his help.

For Stray, blocking out others wasn’t that easy. His ability was developing at an alarming rate. At first, the wolf’s emotions had to be really strong in order for Stray to hear his thoughts. Now, if he tuned in, he could hear just about everyone—Dire, Were, human, maybe even witch—and it made him feel like he was going nuts.

Hell, maybe he was.