Mark got to his feet, holding his flashlight out with two hands like a weapon. What good it would do him against this many wolves, he had no idea, but he had nothing else.
If he were going to die, he’d do it fighting like his dad. And perhaps the cameras and audio would be found, and his theory would be proven. Postmortem. His gut tightened at the thought of dying, but he’d been in a few tight spots before with wolves and survived.
Only these wolves weren’t acting like wolves.
Just like the one that had attacked his father.
Mark swung the light back and forth from one wolf to another, seeing only white fangs and glowing eyes. It would have freaked him out, only he’d seen wolves’ eyes reflected at night before.
“Get outta here!” he shouted, hoping they’d turn and run. He had nothing to throw at them other than the light, and he wasn’t going to give that up. Hell no.
A distant howl cut the air. The wolves froze, ears cocked to the sound. Something deep inside Mark’s chest leaped. The sound filled him with hope of survival and safety although he had no idea why it would. There was something about that particular howl, like the bugle call of the cavalry in the distance in an old western film.
“Go on! Get!” he yelled again. The wolves didn’t back down, but they stopped advancing. They looked at one another as if silently asking what to do next.
Go away, Mark thought.
Two howls, one on top of the other. They sounded so close. Two more wolves?
No way would he survive this. Sweat broke out all over Mark’s body, and it trickled down his back and his face. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve so he could see. He needed to watch for the first sign of attack, not that he’d be able to do anything about it.
The growling started again. One of the wolves started forward in a crouch, teeth bared and ears flattened as if prepared to lunge. Mark braced himself. He knew the wolf could rip his throat out, tear out his soft belly, and kill him without much effort. The others would feast on what was left of him, his body torn apart and scattered through the woods.
The clearing vibrated, and bushes shook. A series of barks, then a huge gray wolf burst through the brush line, closely followed by a dark wolf. They leaped into the camp, and instead of attacking Mark, they faced the other wolves, teeth bared and heads down in a challenge Mark understood all too well.
“What the hell?” Mark took a step back but didn’t lower the light.
The attacking wolves whimpered. The gray wolf growled again, the hair on its back standing straight up in a ridge down its spine. The other wolf next to it added its growl, and the wolves threatening Mark backed up.
The only wolf that still threatened was the one in front. It growled again, and the gray wolf stalked forward until they were nose to nose. The gray stared the wolf down, fangs bared, growling, until it backed away, tail between its legs.
With a sharp bark, the gray dismissed them, and they bolted for the bushes.
Only the gray, the black, and Mark were left in the campsite clearing.
Mark exhaled. A weakness came over him, and he barely stopped his knees from buckling and hitting the ground. He wasn’t going to die.
The two wolves turned to face him.
Then again, maybe he was.
“Hey, boys.” Mark held out his hands to ward them off. “Let’s keep calm.” The flashlight wavered in his hand, spilling light over both of the beasts.
Swamp wolves. A rush of joy went through him, replacing the fear.
He’d done it. Gotten the proof he needed to show the rest of the scientific community that wolves existed in the swamps. Mark glanced over at his equipment, wondering how much it had captured. If he could edge over there, he could turn the camera fully on the two wolves.
He took a step to the side.
The gray wolf growled.
Mark froze.
“Okay, not moving.”
The dark wolf nuzzled the gray, whined, and then turned around and bounded off.
The last wolf stared at Mark for what seemed to Mark minutes, but had to be only seconds.
It sat, licked its chops, and waited.
For what? Mark didn’t know what to do next. He’d never had a wolf encounter like this one. Ever. The wolf seemed perfectly comfortable to sit on the other side of the campsite, staring at him as if fascinated. Wolves did not do this.
Mark huffed. “Okay. You’ve got my attention. You scared off the others and now we’re all alone. What do you want from me?” He kept his voice low so as not to startle the animal, all the while thinking, What am I doing talking to a wolf?
Bright yellow eyes watched his every move. Its tongue lolled, and the animal slid down to its belly, resting its head on its front paws.
Were these the same sort of wolf that attacked and caused his father’s death and Mark’s streak of white hair?
The creature was beautiful. But Mark thought all wolves beautiful. This one, however, was a little on the thin side, older than the others, but it’d probably be the alpha or pack leader, at least until one of the others challenged him for right to mate with the females.
Mark eased his body down into a crouch to get on the same level as the wolf, acting as if he weren’t a threat. Not that he was without a weapon.
“Okay. What do we do now?”
The wolf huffed, returned to sitting, and yipped. All around Mark the air vibrated as if someone had struck a tuning fork. His gaze darted from the wolf to the rest of the campsite, looking for what was causing it, but he kept coming back to the wolf.
The air around the wolf bent, as if Mark looked through old-fashioned glass, watery and wavy.
And in the next moment, Bobby stood in the clearing, and the wolf was gone. Bobby from that weekend in Lake Charles. The man he’d been looking for, dreaming of, for the last month or so.
Mark fell backward onto his ass, his mouth open in a silent yell.
“Mark.” Bobby reached out his hand. “Now, before you think you’re crazy, let me explain.”
“Ex-ex-explain?” Mark stuttered. “Where’s the wolf?” He looked around the clearing, but no wolf. Just Bobby. “And what the hell are you doing here?” Mark’s mind swam, caught in an eddy that circled around the same point—the wolf.
The wolf was there. Now Bobby was there. In the exact same place.
“I had to stop the others.” Bobby took a step forward, but Mark scooted away. This was not how he’d seen the meeting between them going. Not in the middle of the woods. Not the wolf attack. Not his sudden fear of the big man.
“The wolves?” Bobby could only mean them, right? “How could you stop them? How did you stop them? The wolf stopped them. Then it sat down. And then you appeared, and I have no idea what the fuck is going on!” Mark shouted.
Bobby crouched and lowered his voice. “I’m the wolf. Those wolves were my pack. We’re werewolves. Shifters. And we’ve lived here in St. Jerome for generations.”
Mark stared, his mouth open, but nothing came out. He wanted to scream, but at last all that came out was a harsh, bitter laugh. “Werewolves? What the hell are you trying to pull on me? Is this some sort of joke? Who put you up to this?” Was the dean behind this? Had he sent someone to fuck with him? But the wolves? No, that made no sense.
“It’s no joke. Please. Just listen to me.” Bobby’s blue eyes looked so sad, so lost. Mark wanted to go to him, wrap him in his arms, but for the life of him, he couldn’t move, but he could at least hear Bobby out.
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t know how, but some of the pack found out you were here, trying to prove the existence of swamp wolves. See, the first law of the pack is to protect the pack at all costs. That means…” Bobby exhaled. “That means if someone is trying to expose us, we have to stop them. Stop that person from letting the world know we exist.”
Mark stared at Bobby, the man he thought he’d fallen for and more. “You’re telling me those wolves were going to kill me?”
“Yes. Maybe. God, I hope not.” Bobby ran his hand over his face. “Not on my watch, anyway. I used to be pack alpha, but that’s Scott’s role now. He was the other wolf with me.” Bobby gave a small smile. “He knows about you and me. I told him when I realized…”
“You and me?” Mark shook his head. “There is no you and me. I don’t know what game you’re playing but…”
Bobby grimaced. “You don’t believe that, do you? Tell me you haven’t thought about me? About our time together?”
Mark didn’t answer. How could he? This whole night was fucked up. Had fucked him up. The wolves. Bobby. Bobby was a werewolf? Fuck.
“I have. Thought of you, day and night. You consume me, Mark.”
“Consume? No pun intended.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Your buddies were going to consume me too.” Mark trembled. Must have been his adrenaline seeping from him now that the danger was over.
“Yeah. Well, like I said. Pack law.”
“Right. You’re a werewolf and that was your pack and they were going to kill me for trying to prove they exist.” Mark repeated it, not believing a word of it. “It sounds so rational now that I think about it.”
Bobby was insane.
Mark wanted to throw up, but he fought it down and got to his feet. He had to get out of there. He glanced over to his equipment. There was a lot of ground between it and Mark, and Bobby stood right in the middle.
Bobby followed his gaze. “Your equipment. I can’t let you do it, Mark.” His voice got very quiet. “I can’t let you expose us. We’ll be destroyed. Dozens of families. Women and kids. Good men.” He shook his head.
“You can’t—“ Mark fisted his hands. “Oh no. I spent my life trying to prove swamp wolves exist. My entire professional career. I’m going to show it. I’m going to prove that my father was killed by a wolf, even if I have to die to do it!” Mark’s voice shook, and he tried to get control.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Bobby turned and headed to the camera.
Mark’s reserve broke, and he bolted for it. Bobby swung around and launched himself off the ground, slamming into Mark and taking him down. Mark rolled, tangled up in Bobby’s arms and legs. He beat at the bigger man, trying to get away to reach his camera and save the evidence.
“Mark! Stop! I don’t want to hurt you!” Bobby grabbed one of Mark’s hands and fastened on to it by the wrist. The flashlight slipped out of it, sending light arcing upward. Mark punched Bobby, just a glancing blow to his chin, but Bobby shook it off and locked his hand around Mark’s other arm. He shifted his weight and threw his leg over Mark.
Bobby straddled Mark. “Listen to me. If you have any feelings for me, please don’t do this.” Mark had never heard Bobby beg for anything before, and it struck like a knife in his heart.
Mark looked up at him. “Are you insane?” he whispered. “Are you going to kill me?”
Bobby howled as if in pain. “How could you ask me that? Do you want me to change again? I’ll do it, as many times as you need me to before you believe me. If there was any other way, I’d take it. If I didn’t have to make this choice—”
Mark looked over at the equipment. His life’s work. He looked back at Bobby—the man he’d fallen in love with—and something inside him broke.
“My father was killed by one of your wolves.” Mark’s bottom lip trembled, but he swore he wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let out the pain and frustration of being so close to proving it.
“When?” Bobby leaned down. “When did this happen?”
“When I was fifteen. We were here, in this exact spot, camping. He got out of the tent, and a wolf attacked him. Bit him. But he had a heart attack and died. That’s the reason I have the white streak.” He pointed to his hair.
Bobby’s face fell. “Son of a bitch.” He looked away, blinked, and then looked back down at Mark. “My brother. John.” He sighed and loosened his grip on Mark. “My brother did that.”
“What?” Mark screeched. “Your brother killed my father? Where is he?” Mark struggled to get free. At last he could find the wolf and…and…
“He’s dead.” Bobby looked away. “He went rogue. It happens sometimes. A wolf turns away from the pack, from its laws, from its structure. He did. He took the dark path, staying more wolf than man. He changed, went into the swamp, and began attacking people.”
“He’s dead?” Mark went limp, all the fight draining out of him like the air in his chest. He couldn’t breathe and gasped for air, pushing at Bobby to get off.
Bobby shifted to the side. “The pack…punished him.” He looked into the distance. “Rogue wolves must be destroyed. They threaten the pack.” He recited it as if he’d heard it as a child.
“How old were you? Was he?”
“He was my older brother. I worshipped him.” Bobby closed his eyes. “He went rogue when he hit thirty. I was about twenty-five. He attacked our father in wolf form and nearly killed him.”
“Do wolves go crazy?” Mark had never heard of a crazy wolf. Rabid of course, but not insane.
“We’re not wolves. We’re werewolves. Men go crazy. My brother? I don’t know what was wrong with him. I’ve asked myself why thousands of times, but there’s no answer.”
“Your pack killed him?”
Bobby sat on the ground next to Mark. “He refused to change back. After a time, you forget, I suppose. You just let the wolf take over. He’d gone completely wild. My father said he wasn’t John anymore. The older men of the pack hunted him. When they found him…” Bobby shook his head. “Our alpha shot him. Put him down like a rabid dog.”
“Oh, my God.” Mark reached out and put his hand on Bobby’s knee. “I’m so sorry.” And he was. He hurt when Bobby hurt, but this conflict overshadowed what he felt.
“It’s the pack law. Survival of the pack is the first law. And an alpha’s responsibility.” Bobby looked up into Mark’s eyes. He cupped Mark’s face with his hand. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Mark. I sure as hell didn’t want to find you like this.”
“My evidence?”
“I have to destroy it.” Bobby got to his feet.
Mark thought of trying to go for it again, but he knew Bobby would take it from him, either as a man or as a wolf. His shoulders slumped as he picked up the flashlight.
“This is my career, Bobby.” He tried one last time. “I thought you said you cared for me.”
“I have to do this. My pack is everything to me.” Bobby opened the camera and took out the SD card and then shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.
“And I mean nothing to you?” Mark closed his eyes, waiting to hear something that would heal his heart, because right now, it felt as if it were breaking into a hundred pieces.
Bobby turned to him. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know.” He went to the audio equipment and took the card from it.
“Really?” Mark put his hands on his hips. “I’m finding that hard to believe right now.”
Bobby ran his hand through his hair. “I know you’re mad as hell at me. I get it. I would be too. I’m sorry. I know it’s not much, but I’m truly sorry it has to be this way.”
“Me too.” Mark watched as Bobby walked away. Not as a wolf, but as a man. He still wasn’t sure he believed a word of the wolf stuff.
Mark stumbled over to his camp chair and fell into it. He put his face in his hands and rubbed them up and down. Maybe this was a dream? Maybe when he looked up, none of this would have happened.
He raised his head and gazed around the campsite.
His equipment. He got up and went to it.
No SD cards. No proof.
He could take pictures of any of the paw prints, but how could he show they were from there?
His quest to prove the wolves existed was over. He’d have to finally give up. No one would believe that not only were there wolves in the swamp, but they were werewolves. And they lived in St. Jerome. Worked and raised families. Looked perfectly normal. Model citizens.
Holy hell.
If he breathed a word of this, he’d only look insane. His professional reputation would be shredded. He’d lose his position at the university. All the research money. The grants. All gone.
Mark went back to his tent, crawled in, and flopped down onto the sleeping bag.
He’d lost everything, including the man he loved.