Make Me Howl (34 page)

Tension grew inside me as the sun sank lower in the sky. My spine became a steel rod, keeping me from relaxing as we drove.

This was it—my night of reckoning. Would I be strong enough to stop this neophyte?

No.

I knew from the last time he was stronger than me. He could outrun me, too, so my only hope was to outsmart him.

And if worse came to worst, I’d have to make sure he died, too.

Too bad Bella didn’t have the Syzygia Gene. Together we could have confused the heck out of him with our twin speak telepathy. I wanted to smile, share my thoughts with Doc, but my mouth refused to curve. My voice wouldn’t rise in my throat.

I was scared to death, but I couldn’t let him know. If he realized how much I knew I couldn’t do, he’d never let me go.

So we didn’t talk all the way to the zoo. From the parking lot to the clinic, into the sanctuary of his laboratory, we didn’t say a word.

Rather than go alone into the night, I took off my clothes and, with Doc looking on, I sat down on my heels and gathered all the anger roiling through me in my chest.

If it weren’t for this neophyte, I wouldn’t be putting my life on the line. I’d be going about my life as normally as possible for a werewolf.

I thought about the future I most likely wouldn’t live to enjoy. How Bella would have to go on without me.

I thought of the kind of woman Doc would find. Of building the barrier around my heart—never again experiencing love—and anger exploded.

I morphed in record time. My bones elongated and reconfigured so quickly, I ached with the change. The bristles bursting through my skin were like a fire, spontaneously combusting all over me.

The surprise on Doc’s face was almost worth the pain I experienced that evening.

Turning out the lights, he opened a door off the back of the clinic and I padded into the night.

On silent feet, I rushed away from the compound and found a place in the brush where I could hide. As soon as I was secure, I sniffed the air.

I could smell the neophyte, his ire, even at this distance. His anger was greater than mine, greater than even the explosion of fury I’d experienced when I thought of Doc and my now stone heart.

What was wrong with the phyter? I’d never known an animal—especially a werewolf—to carry that kind of anger. By the time a full moon has risen and a new werewolf has gone through morphing into the wild life, most carry little residual wrath or memory of what was before. The experience taking them outside their bodies and usually, minds, so confuses them they can’t remember to be angry.

The rage in this one had to have started within the man. I couldn’t begin to fathom what might have happened to make him that way.

And it didn’t matter, really. I couldn’t resolve his rage. Nobody could realign someone else’s passion. All I could do was stop him, and that would be next to impossible. As with all new werewolves, he grew stronger with each full moon he experienced.

If I failed tonight, he’d be stronger tomorrow night. Even if he got me, I had to find a way to take him out, too.

Otherwise, there was no telling the number of lives he’d destroy.

I stayed low, skirting the brush as I followed his scent. We moved away from the compound. Away from human contact. As I trailed him, we left the zoo property altogether. I followed him to Lost Canyon, where Doc and Bella had taken me in the tiger striped truck all those months ago.

It was some of the roughest country in the area, silvered by the light of the full moon.

I stopped near the edge of a bush at the top of a small rise. After sitting on my haunches, I scrutinized the area with my eyes as well as my nose.

I turned my head. There! His scent was strongest to my right. But even as I rose to all fours, his odor came to me more heavily from behind.

Was the wind changing or he was he circling? Stalking. Getting ready for the attack.

Unsure, I looked for a secure area. Someplace where I could put my back to something solid so he could just come at me from one side. But even as I considered a boulder that was not far off, I realized what a foolish idea it was. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped against a solid wall with him tearing out my throat. I’d have no place to escape.

Escape. That’s what I needed. A small space—a recess—where I could escape and he couldn’t follow. Then maybe I could get a lucky bite in and get away, before…

If I could only find that jumble of rocks.

But I had to take him with me. Lifting my face to the moon, I howled at the top of my lungs.
Come and get me. Come and get me.

I trotted to the bottom of the rise. Now I
had
to find that rock. I flashed my tail as if I owned that section of the woods then, hearing a not too distant snarl, had to fight to keep from tucking it as I scampered around a tree.

I ran as hard as I could, looking for the boulders. They had to be here, somewhere. But as good as my wolf-sight is by the light of the full moon, it wasn’t good enough to find what I sought.

He gained. I could tell by his fetid stench, which grew stronger by the minute.

Just as my tongue was ready to hang out of my mouth in exhaustion, I found the road. It couldn’t be far.

Desperate, I dashed around a rock the size of a small army tank, and there it was. The pile of building block boulders I’d used to sooth my headache the day after the Halloween party. I almost panicked when I didn’t immediately spot my crevice, but on a second look, I found it.

Running full out, I slid to a stop next to it.

Either because I’d run so hard and so far or because I was scared out of my mind, my heart wouldn’t slow enough for me to catch my breath. I couldn’t let him see my exhaustion though. Or fear.

Curling my lip, I raised the hair on my scruff and growled as I waited for him. Tonight was the night, I thought as I embraced every bit of anger within me.
I will stop him, one way or another. I can’t let him escape.

Then he was there. Not in front of me, as I expected, but to the side—standing on one of the boulders, ready to attack me from above.

Before I could whirl to face him, he leaped and, hitting my shoulder, knocked me rolling. I scrambled to get back on my feet, but he was on me. Like a natural born killer, he went for my throat.

I fought for my life.

Using everything I had, I struggled to get out from beneath him. But his weight was too great. Almost immediately, his fangs were on my throat.

No! I couldn’t lose already.

I snarled, loud and threatening, hoping my confidence would surprise him enough I could break his hold. Kicking both my hind feet, I caught him in a part of his underside that was particularly vulnerable.

His yelp almost made me laugh, but there wasn’t time. I rolled to regain my footing.

I hurt everywhere, and was bleeding from several places. I could feel the warm rivulets streaming through my fur, but I couldn’t stop. As soon as I was up, I went after him. He met me and we went at it like that old movie with the yellow dog and the mad wolf, except this time there were two wolves. And we were both mad.

Using all my skill, I got the upper hand for just a moment. But his weight and muscle were too much. Unless I could get a lucky bite in, I was toast.

He pressed me against the boulders, holding me there as he attacked so I couldn’t maneuver away from him. Couldn’t escape.

He wanted me dead.

Which was only fair, because that’s what I wanted for him. Now the rock was his ally, stopping me when I tried to turn, a weapon to knock me into unconsciousness if I pulled back too hard. I was trapped.

I couldn’t even turn my head to find my hole so I could make a dash for it—if I had the chance.

My strength ebbed, flowing from me along with the blood, streaming from one of a myriad of cuts. I ached all over while my muscles stiffened and slowed with exhaustion.

My entire body failing, I was ready to end it.

I wished I’d seen my family one more time.

Then, just as I was trapped, vulnerable, on my back, just as he fitted his fangs to my throat for what I knew was the last time, a flash of white.

Something hit him from the side, sent him rolling with a painful yelp.

The wolf from my vision in Colorado was there, protecting me. In my wounded state, I wondered if he were my guardian angel—er, wolf.

With an effort I struggled to my feet, then stumbled to put my shoulder next to his as together we faced the neophyte.

Get in that hole.

Sudden confusion made me dizzy. I stopped. Shook my head. My guardian wolf had a terribly familiar voice.
Doc?

I couldn’t get my mind around it. Was this werewolf Doc? The man who hated werewolves so much, he wanted to wipe their very gene off the face of the earth?

I gaped at him, fury overwhelming me. I’d murdered my own heart to find out just hours later that he was actually a werewolf?

I wanted to go for
his
throat.

But I wisely decided to wait until later to do it.

Go!
he shouted.
Now!

The phyter sprang, fresh as if he hadn’t fought with me at all. Doc managed to shove me with his shoulder even as he rose on his hind legs to meet him.

I scampered to the crevice, which I was surprised to find was right behind me.

The fight was almost too horrible to watch, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Although the wolves were about the same size and weight, the phyter had the advantage of his rage. Again and again the neophyte attacked, twisting, turning, biting, tearing.

Again and again, Doc fought him back. They battled in front of me, their mouths wide, each trying to get a hold on the other’s throat.

Blood scent filled the air.

Doc glanced my way, making sure I was safe in my hole. But that was all the opening the neophyte needed. He slammed into Doc, biting hard as he tried to maneuver him onto his back.

Doc wrenched away, but he now had a limp, and his right front paw bled heavily.

Maddening at the sight, the neophyte went in for the kill. Dipping low, he knocked Doc’s head up, throwing his weight onto his bad leg, which gave way immediately. He fell onto his side.

As if in slow motion, I saw the angry werewolf flip him to his back.

This was it. In the next instant, he would tear Doc’s throat from his body. I couldn’t let him. I
wouldn’t
let Doc be killed.

“No!”
I roared as I flew from my hole.

I hit the phyter with everything I had. In my fury, my blow sent the wolf sprawling, which gave Doc enough time to get to his feet.
What are you doing? I told you to stay in that cave.

I don’t give a damn what you told me.
I snarled at him, unleashing my fury with my mind.
If we’re going to stop him, we’ve got to do this together.

He winced as he put his injured paw down to brace for the next attack. Then he nodded.

Don’t tell me to tuck my tail if things start going bad. We’re going to finish this.
I would have shouted the last words if I could have spoken. I whirled as I realized the other werewolf had eased through the rocks around us to get the high ground. He planned to come at us from the boulders above.

But from which side?

Doc turned to face the other way. We were tail to shoulder, watching each other’s backs. As the seconds ticked by, I heard Doc’s blood dripping from his paw to the ground. How long before he was too weak to fight? To stand?

Was that why the other werewolf was taking his time? Anxiety filled me like a balloon too full of air. I was ready to burst at any moment.

Then he came at us again. But rather than pouncing from a boulder behind us, he leapt from the army tank rock.

His jump was aimed perfectly to catch us both in the middle of our backs, possibly breaking one or both of our spines. But I heard a stone skitter on the boulder as he pushed off. Doc and I whirled just in time to catch the neophyte in midair.

We slammed him to the ground where he hit his head, leaving him unconscious.

Almost immediately, he changed back to a human. A very large, very naked human.

Moving closer, I sniffed the strange man’s chest.
Do you know him?

Doc sat on his haunches, studying him.
Barely. His name is Garcia, and he’s a canine specialist. He’s not been here long. Moved up from Mexico to work with us several weeks ago.

About the time the outbreak started.

Doc nodded.
Right. Probably brought the virus from Mexico with him.

Leaving the man—what else could we do?—we limped back to the compound where we slipped into the clinic, became wholly human again and got dressed.

Doc looked as if he’d been in a fight with a chain saw, and I was dirty, aching and bleeding in several places. He called 9-1-1 and reported seeing an unconscious man in Lost Canyon when riding his dirt bike. Then he cleaned and bandaged his hand with a little help from me.

“Should we should stop at the ER and let a doctor look at this?”

He cocked a smile at me. “It’ll be fine. I do know a little about doctoring, you know.”

I nodded once, turned on my heel and walked out the door.

I was so angry with the man, I shook all over. How dare he lie to me about who he was for so long? I’d been so worried about fitting into his life—him learning to cope with mine—and all the time, he’d been a werewolf. But it was too late for me.