Kitty Goes to War (21 page)

My wolves gave the pair a wide berth, keeping me between them. My own Wolf was howling inside me:
run, hunt, now.
My human side was wondering what I’d gotten myself into. Best to let that go and let Wolf be in charge. My skin tingled, as if the moonlight were tangible, caressing me.

Ben had taken off his clothes. His pale skin shone almost white under the pale moon, which even if we couldn’t see it, we could tell was high over head, calling to us, singing to us.
It’s time, it’s time . . .

Stepping up to me, he slid my shirt over my head,
kissing me as he dropped it away. I tasted tension in him, anticipation. This was the best of nights. We were mates, this was our pack, our territory. I ran my hands through his hair, imagining a wolf’s pelt.

Beyond words now, I stepped away from him, closed my eyes, and let go.

Cold air sparks through her lungs. Moonlight gleams; the world is stark, wide open, waiting for them.

Her mate greets her, bumping her shoulder to shoulder, nipping her ear then licking her face to say he’s only teasing. She breathes in his musky scent and gives a yip. He play-bows, chest to the ground and haunches up, and she wants to tackle him. But now isn’t the time. She breathes into the ruff at his neck to tell him this is serious, then surveys the others.

Her wolves are milling, tracing the same paths back and forth, panting, whines caught in their throats—nervous, frightened.

The two newcomers, massive and wary, wait apart, legs braced, staring.

Stupid wolves, acting like they want to start a fight.

She runs to her pack and snaps, biting at their haunches, getting them to move. They pin their ears at her but lower their tails and hunch their backs—they don’t want trouble, after all. They’re scared, though—but she can deal with that. She knows what it’s like to be scared. They had to move, all of them,
the whole pack, and focus their attention outward to the job at hand, rather than on each other.

Sitting back a moment, she tips her head back and howls, a short clean note, to call them together. Her breath fogs silver.

Her mate dances, then runs to the open plain. The pack follows, a river of fur, brindled, shadowed, edged with white. She brings up the end, herding the two new wolves, snapping to make sure they follow.

At the edges of the pack, wolves put noses to earth, searching for trails. This land may be cold, windswept, but it is rich with life, dense with the trails of mice and rabbits. But they’ll need more to feed them all this night. So they move on, searching for larger prey.

At no other time does she feel so alive. Her ears are raised, her nose active, her fur on end and quivering. Her senses spread out to join the larger pattern of the world.

Then she finds it, a bright blaze across the trails of scent—large creatures moving slowly, hooved footfalls cutting into the earth. They all catch it and begin circling, agitated, excited. She nips at them, urging calm, patience.

The silver newcomer, the smaller of the two, dawdles. She urges him back, snapping at his haunches to keep him with the pack. He lays his ears back at her, but listens. Several times, though, she has to run
after him. The bigger newcomer helps her, when he sees it.

Her mate ranges ahead, then stops and pricks his ears. The rest of the pack crouches, waiting. She sidles up alongside him, and sees it: deer, three of them, young and hesitant, eating a few mouthfuls of dead grass at a time before lifting their heads to keep watch. They’re wary, but the pack only has to catch one. She brushes past her mate, body to body, and licks his face.

Crouching, she hides in the brush and waits. They all know their jobs, even the newcomers, who pace forward, huffing, limbs trembling, ready to run.

The pack creeps slowly until her mate, the other alpha, gives the signal by launching forward, leaping from the grasses in a flat run. Several of the others join him. The deer—heads up, snorting—spring away in a panic.

The chase is on.

Over the next half hour, the pack runs the deer down. Some of the wolves race, biting at the creatures’ heels, spurring them to greater heights of fear while the deer run hard, eyes rolling, breath steaming in clouds. Then those wolves fall back, and others take their place. The wolves can continue this chase all night; the deer can’t. One of them falters—that’s the one, the unfortunate victim.

It doesn’t fall, but the stumble is enough. A pair
of wolves jump in front of it, cutting it off from its fellows who race on, unconcerned, uncaring. The victim dodges, twisting on thin, graceful legs. But everywhere it turns, there are wolves.

She races on now, leading her newcomers. The deer is exhausted, trembling, mindless. The attack takes seconds. She springs at its haunches, ripping into it with her claws. One of the newcomers, the big one, strikes at the deer’s nose, clamping its face with vicious teeth, yanking downward.

The neck twists; the deer falls. She crawls over it and bites into its throat. Its heart still beats, just for a moment, pumping blood into her mouth as she rips apart the veins and arteries. It twitches, then lies still, dead.

A glorious finish to a glorious hunt.

Then the growling and nipping start.

The newcomer—the talented hunter—glares at her, catches her gaze and doesn’t break it. His kill, he seems to say. His prize. She matches his stare: pack’s prize. Standing on the carcass, she looks down on him and bares her teeth. They’ve had this conversation already, her bristling hackles remind him. If he wants to run with the pack, he must follow the rules. They will all fight him if he breaks their peace.

He lowers his gaze and turns away.

There is enough meat for them all. She won’t let any of them starve, and proves it. Tongue lolling
happily, eyes gleaming, her mate joins her, and they get to work, tearing past the tough skin into rich flesh and viscera. After she and her mate choose their pieces, they step away and let the others feed.

It is a good night, filled with the sounds of feasting. Her mate lies next to her and licks blood off her muzzle, which makes her smile, jaw open, ears flat.

Nearby, the newcomers settle, bellies to earth, licking blood from their paws. They’re all right, she tells herself. Everything’s going to be all right.

After feeding, leaving behind bone and skin for the scavengers, they run. For the fierce joy of it, they run, tails out, streamlined, wind flattening their fur. Even hidden behind clouds, the shining moon blazes a trail for them until it sinks westward. Then weariness pulls at her; the pack slows. Time to lead them home, to their den, to sleep. She and her mate circle back to where they started from.

She moves through them all, touching noses, brushing ears, counting, tracking scents, making sure they’re all here, all safe. Even her two new wolves, whose scents are no longer so very strange. In small groups spread throughout the glade, they sleep curled up, pressed against each other, noses on flanks, tails brushing faces, deep in warmth and comfort.

Someone’s awake. Calls out a name. The others shift, restless, half awake . . .

I started awake because something was wrong. First, it was snowing. But that was just annoying. We’d woken up in snow before.

Across the grove, Tyler was climbing to his feet, the broad muscles of his back flexing as he turned, looking back and forth. “Walters!” he called again. “Ethan!”

A few yards away from me, frowning, Shaun caught my gaze. Ben’s hand closed around mine; his skin felt burning hot in the freezing cold morning.

I’d taken a count the night before, I remembered that—everyone had been here and safe. I quickly did so again, both by sight and by smell, even though I already knew what I’d find. Tyler, hands clenched, paced up to the rise to get a better look at the surrounding landscape. He called his squad-mate’s name again, and his voice echoed in the silent, snowy half-light of morning.

“Walters is gone,” I said.

S
HARED ANXIETY
woke everyone up. Mornings after the full moon should have been relaxed, all of us mellow and smiling because our wolves had had their run, nothing had gone wrong, and the monsters inside us would stay quiet for a couple of more weeks. But this morning, everyone dressed silently in wet clothing, eyes downcast, sneaking glances at Tyler.

Still naked, Tyler moved around the copse of trees, hunched over, nose working, looking for scent.

“Find anything?” I asked. Stupid question. But I was afraid that if I didn’t keep talking to him, he’d decide to run off, too.

He shook his head. “The snow’s messing up the trail. Washed it clean.”

“You have any idea where he’s gone?”

“Yeah. I think he’s gone after Van.”

“He has to know he can’t get to him. Vanderman’s
locked up, Walters would have to get through an entire city—”

Now that was a terrifying image. And why had I trusted Walters? Why hadn’t I seen this coming?

“I should have known,” Tyler muttered, echoing my thought. “I should have known, I should have stopped him.”

“Think maybe he’d planned this all along?” I said. “That he fooled both of us?” I found my clothes, grimacing as I pulled them on. The jeans were stiff and stuck to my skin, and the T-shirt sagged. Wet T-shirt, no bra—yeah, I was looking classy this morning.

Tyler shook his head. “I’d have known if he was planning something. He couldn’t hide it. I think maybe he never went to sleep. That he decided to run when there was no one to stop him, and he just took off.” He wrung out his damp T-shirt. “I have to go after him, I have to find him.”

“No,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. His muscles were taut as piano wire. “I need you upright and able to talk. Get dressed, please.”

“It’s my fault,” he said, his expression drawn, staring out at nothing. But he pulled on the shirt and found his sweats.

“Kitty?” Ben called from the grove. The pack, all dressed now, appearing relatively human, had gathered, everyone looking at me, waiting for instructions. Like I had any clue. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to act as if I did.

“Everyone go home,” I said. “I’ll call if we need help.”

“Let us know if you see anything strange,” Ben added.

My wolves moved off, leaving in small groups the way they’d come, jogging across the fields back to their cars. As the group dispersed, Becky faced me and stopped.

“Should I be worried?” she said.

I couldn’t honestly say no. Any reassurances would sound false, and that wouldn’t exactly put her at ease or make her trust my leadership.

But Tyler was confident when he shook his head. “He’s not after you. You’ll be all right.”

She nodded and seemed comforted. I touched her arm. “Shaun will take you home. Stick with him while I take care of this. Shaun?”

He nodded and put his arm across Becky’s back. The touch made her relax. They left together.

I felt better, knowing everyone else was on the way home, safe, warming up and drying off.

“What do you think happened? Why take off now?” Ben said. He stood next to me, the skin of our arms pressing together. I shivered. We may have been able to withstand a lot of cold, but we were going to have to get out of this weather soon.

“I think he got scared,” Tyler said. “Or mad.”

“Where’s home for him?” I said. “Do you think he may be trying to reach family?” His original pack, I
thought. If he didn’t feel safe with us, he’d try to find someplace safer.

Which brought us back to Tyler’s original guess: he was going to find Vanderman.

“No. Gordon picked us because we weren’t married, didn’t have kids or girlfriends, didn’t have big families. So we wouldn’t have any other loyalties.”

I scowled. “If he was so smart why’d he go and get himself blown up?” Tyler ducked his gaze, his shoulders tensing even more. He looked like he wanted to tip his head back and howl. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “That came out wrong.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a grim chuckle. “I’ve been asking myself that every day since it happened.”

“Let’s get out of this mess,” I said, and started on the hike back to the car. Ben matched my stride, caught my hand in his, and squeezed. I pressed near to him. Tyler followed closely. He didn’t have to, I supposed. But I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to fight with him about it.

I didn’t want to have to make the call to Dr. Shumacher. I didn’t want to listen to her tell me that I was wrong, and she was right. Actually, we were both half right. Tyler seemed to be doing just fine.

“We need a plan,” I said as we reached the car. I couldn’t wait to start drying off. Maybe then I could think straight.

“I guess we go after him,” Ben said, sounding resigned.

“He can’t have gone far, right?”

“Except that this is what we
do
,” Tyler said. “We spent the last two years running, evading, hunting. If he thinks he’s on a mission, I don’t know if we can stop him.”