o 35b0a02a46796a4f (15 page)

Ahhh. He could almost taste the blood.

His fury surged, and the next thing Julian knew both he and Alex were sailing through the air and skidding across the frozen tundra.

It wasn’t until Julian slammed into a snowbank, the
ii
pact knocking the rage right out of him, that he understood what had happened. Then he lay there trying to breathe evenly so he could make the paws that existed where his hands and feet should have been disappear.

A boot heel scuffed against the snow; then a shadow was cast over his face. “That’s a nice look for you.”

“Mmm,” Julian said noncommitally. He continued to concentrate on smooth, calm seas, balmy breezes, springtime. Anything that would calm him down. Alex’s voice...

Just wasn’t helping.

He breathed in and out, slow and steady. Which didn’t help, either. The scent of her filled his nostrils, and when his body responded as if she were a bitch in heat he got all pissed off again.

“Hey,” she said. “Your—uh—nose is growing.” -

“Back off;’ Julian snarled, the sound half man, half beast.

To her credit, she did.

Once he no longer had to fight his anger and his lust, he managed to put all the pieces of himself back the way they belonged.

Julian sat up, flexed his fingers, then wiggled his toes. He’d burst out of his boots when he’d begun to change.

Dammit. He’d liked those boots. Now they lay strewn in pieces across the snow-white ground.

Alex leaned against the snowmobile, which had a dent the size of an Easter ham in the fender. Hell. He’d have to buy George a new one, or at least fix this one.

Her eyes shone brilliant green in the morning sun, so bright they seemed to bore into his. She was as mad as he had been. Luckily his wolves didn’t inherit his magic as well as his tendency to turn furry.

“Are you done with your temper tantrum?” she asked. “Did you put your tail back in your ass?”

He didn’t bother to answer. She knew as well as he did that the tail always popped out last.

“I should be impressed?’ Alex pushed away from the machine and stalked slowly toward him, the rubber soles of her crappy boots making an annoying squelching noise in the snow. “I’ve never seen anyone change only their hands or their feet or their—” She wiggled her fingers at his face. “Snout. But I guess I’ve never met anyone as old or as powerful as you.”

Julian got to his feet. “Don’t you mean
killed?
You’ve never
killed
anyone as powerful as me?”

“Not yet;’ she muttered, then hauled back one foot and kicked what appeared to be half of a black, shiny basketball.

The thing sailed directly at Julian’s face, and if he hadn’t been what he was, it would have broken his nose. He snatched the object out of the air, then contemplated one portion of a cracked helmet.

“Sorry.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “That must have hurt.”

“I don’t give a shit about hurt?’ She kicked the other half even harder. He managed to grab this one an instant before it slammed into his groin.

“When did you take up soccer?” he asked. “I thought softball was your game.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you—?”

“I said I checked you out.”

She frowned, obviously wondering how he’d discovered her talent. It hadn’t been easy.

“Oh, yeah, I had
tons
of time to play games while I was being dragged around the country by my
Jäger-Suchers
father. Then once the werewolf ate him, it was directly into the pros for me.”

“Sarcasm,” he murmured. “My favorite.”

Alex looked around, presumably for something else t kick. When she saw nothing, she just hauled off and
we
for his nuts with the toe of her boot. Once again, he managed to catch the projectile inches from his crotch. Without a second thought he heaved upward and sent her flipping heels-over-head to land on her face in the snow.

Unfortunately snow in the Arctic was more like ice. Hi temple cracked against it with a sick thud, and she lay still.

“Faet!”
Julian hurried to her side. Just as he began kneel, her hand shot out, and she yanked his feet out from under him.

The back of Julian’s head and the ice connected with the exact same thud. Then Alex landed on his chest, and he lost what was left of his air.

She leaned in close, seeming to press the boniest point her knee into his very lungs, and blood dripped onto his face Her eyes appeared a little crazy, and he wondered if getting knocked in the noggin twice in so short a time had unhinged her.

“Why did half that village have your eyes, Barlow?”

Now he knew she’d lost it. What kind of a question w that?

“Answer me,” she said between her teeth, then rapped his head against the ground again.

“Long—” he managed, wheezing and coughing. She let a bit on his chest, and the second word exploded, “—story.”

“Then you’d better start talking.”

He coughed again, right in her face, and she rolled h~ eyes as if he were the biggest crybaby ever, then got off him and stood.

Julian just lay there awhile and got used to his lungs again

“Barlow. . .“ she warned.

“Okay, hold on.” He sat up, lifting a hand to stay her next attack. “What are you so mad about?”

“What—?” she sputtered. “You. Me. We.” She clenched her hands, lifted her face to the sky, and screamed with fury. If Alexandra Trevalyn had been a Viking, Julian had no doubt she would have been a berserker, too. -

When she stopped, she seemed calmer. He’d be the first to admit—sometimes screaming helped.

“You’ve told me over and over that your wolves are different,” she began, voice a bit hoarse.

“They are.”

“How
different? Can you make little Barlow’s?” She took a step forward, and from the gleam in her eyes Julian could tell she wanted to kick him again. “Did you make one in me?”

He blinked. “No. Of course not. I—”

“Didn’t use any protection.” She gagged, bent over, and he feared for an instant she’d be sick right there on the snow.

“There was no need,” he said. “My wolves aren’t
that
different. We can’t procreate.”

He pushed aside the shimmy of memory his words brought forth. That fact had caused him no end of trouble already.

Alex took several deep, shaky breaths. When she straightened, she was pale but steady. “Explain the blue eyes.

Even
Tutaaluga
had them.”

Julian lifted a brow.
“Tutaaluga?”

“The old guy. Which is kind of freaky considering how much younger you look than him.”

“His name is Jorund.”

Confusion spread over her face. “You called him
Tutaaluga.”

“Tutaaluga
means ‘my grandson.”

“He’s your
grandson?
But that’s not possible if you can’t impregnate the Indian maidens.”

“The—” Laughter bubbled, but Julian refused to flow free. He had a feeling his testicles might get introd~ to his throat if he did, and he liked them exactly where were. “You thought I’d been. .

“Boinking the natives,” she filled in. “Why not? They you like the local wolf-god.”

Well. . . he kind of was.

“I wouldn’t
boink
anyone.”

She snorted.

Except you.

The thought floated through his head and nearly out his mouth. He bit his lip. Hard.

“Don’t
say it.” Alex narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t.”

Could she read his mind? Or merely his face?

“Explain how the old guy. . . Jorund?” Julian nod’

“Could be your grandson.”

-

“He isn’t. Not technically, as in son of my son, because like you said—that’s impossible. But he’s a descendant.”

“Of yours?”

“Yes.”

“They’re
all
descendants?’.’

“In a way.”

Alex rubbed her head as if it ached. He had no doubt it did. Though her wound had begun to heal, her hand came away bloody. She scowled at the red slash, began to wipe palm on Ella’s pants, then thought better of it. Knowing]

the garment probably cost more than the snowmobile.

Instead she bent and picked up a loose handful of snow, held it between her palms until it melted, then rubbed together until they were clean again.

She was adapting quicker and better than any of his others. But she’d had a lot of practice. Dragged from city to city all her life, blending in, making do, as she hunted monsters that would gladly kill her if they knew that she was there.

Sympathy sparked, but Julian squelched it. If she saw that expression on his face, he didn’t want to think where she’d kick him next.

Alex waved a damp hand. “Go on.”

Julian really wanted to get back to town and start questioning people. He needed to find out if anyone had gone crazy on him before another Inuit died. And if no one had, then he needed to find out how a rogue wolf had invaded his territory and no one had noticed. Had they lived safely for so long that they’d lost any sense of approaching danger?

First he should explain things to Alex. He didn’t blame her for being worried. He should have considered what she might think before he’d brought her to a village where every third inhabitant had his eyes.

“I sailed here long ago. Back when I was called Jorund the Blund.”

Her head came up. “Jorund? Like the old man?”

“Yes. Although he was named after me, not the other way around.”

“How did that happen?”

“A lot of the Native American tribes believe that once a person dies, their name must never be uttered again for fear their spirit will haunt the speaker. But the Inuit believe that the good aspects of the dead will inhabit those who are given the same name?’

“But you aren’t dead.”

-

“They didn’t know that when they started naming a child in every generation Jorund.” Julian shrugged. “It’s become a tradition.”

“So you sailed here back in what. . . 8000 BC
?”

“The Viking era was a thousand years ago.” He tilted his head, wondering what he could get her to tell him if he played dumb. “Didn’t you study that in school?”

She looked away, across the wide expanse of tundra that rolled on and on, acres of snow that resembled a perfectly white sea. “When would I have gone to school, Barlow? Maybe after we chased down that nahual in Mexico. while we were hunting the Scottish wulver in the Blue Ridge Mountains.”

“I don’t know what those are,” he admitted.

She laughed, though the sound held the whisper of a sob. “I learned to shoot a gun at the age of eight. By the time I was ten I could make my own silver bullets. Every night before bed I was drilled in the different categories of monsters. Nahual—” She lifted a finger. “—Mexican werewolf-wizard.” She lifted another. “Wulver. A Scottish fiend with the body- of a man and the head of a wolf.”

“Alex,” he began, but she kept talking.

“My quizzes consisted of ways to kill each one. And I got one hundred percent on them, because if I didn’t, I knew I” die.”

The flash of sympathy threatened again. Again squelched it unmercifully. So she’d had a rough childhood. A lot of people did, yet they didn’t go around murdering innocent wives.

“Isn’t it illegal not to go to school?” he asked.

“Call a cop.” Her lips twisted wryly. “We never stayed one place long enough for anyone to notice.”

Julian frowned. “Wouldn’t child services have come searching for you eventually?”

Now she laughed with true mirth. “You said you knew Edward.”

“We all know Edward.”

“Apparently not well”

“If I knew him well, I’d be ashes.”

“Good point.” She drew in a breath and as she let it out, her smile faded. “Edward has J-S agents everywhere.

Social services. Child services. FBI. How do you think he knows every damn thing?”

“He doesn’t know where I am.”

“Give him time,” she said.

A flicker of unease trickled across the back of Julian’s neck. “What do you mean by that?”

She threw up her hands. “Edward’s been at this since the Second World War. He’s got funding up the wazoo.

You think you can hide from him forever?”

“I’ve been at this longer than that. So yes, I think I can.”

“Okay.” Alex nodded, staring at the ground. When she lifted her hand to shove her hair out of her face, her fingers trembled. Maybe she was cold, but he didn’t think so.

Alex knew Edward. She understood, perhaps better than anyone here, how dangerous he was, how far reaching his influence, of what he might be capable. And he’d made her into the very thing Edward excelled at killing. He couldn’t blame her for being a little scared.

“You’re safe here, Alex. I promise.”

Her gaze flicked up. “You can’t promise that.”

“I’ve been promising it for a century. We’re still here, and he isn’t?’

“Yet,” she muttered.

“Yet,” he agreed, and she shivered. “Let’s continue this conversation back in town.”

“I’m all right;’ she said.

“I’m not.” He pointed at his stocking feet. “Come on.”

Julian climbed on the snowmobile, and Alex joined him without further argument.

Which proved more than anything else just how
not
all right she was.

Barlow thought she was worried that Edward might show up and shoot her with silver along with the rest of them.

She had to make sure he kept thinking that, which meant she had to behave like a frightened girl.

Too bad she had no idea how.

She hadn’t stepped foot in a traditional school since

kindergarten—except that time when there’d been the werewolf massacre at Graystone Middle School—

Alex shuddered,’ and Julian shouted, “Almost home.” The word
home
made her start. This wasn’t her home, and it never could be.

Edward had manipulated the media, and everyone else involved, into believing that the twelve dead at Graystone were the result of a school shooting. Edward manipulated a lot. Manipulation was what Edward did best. How else had he convinced her to do this?

Alex yanked her mind from her memories and Mande

nauer. While she was here she had to think like a werewolf, not like a
Jäger-Suchers.
If Julian discovered that she was working for Edward—