| |
I stepped out of the trees to find a pack of wolves roiling around a fully clothed human. Meanwhile, my pelt had crept up my back until it cupped my neck. Perhaps that’s why the scent of gunpowder was so strong it stung my nose.
While the sensory boost was helpful, I couldn’t risk my pelt being visible. So I reached behind me and pressed the fur down until it was hidden, using the wasted seconds to assess the scene.
The air was full of barely restrained violence, but no one was actively in danger. Well no one except Luke’s niece, who stood far too close to the stranger I assumed to be Carl.
Speaking of Carl, it was almost as if he felt my eyes on him. “And who are you?” he called as he swung around to return my gaze.
Rather than answering immediately, I took the chance to look him over. The male wasn’t menacing Carly, even though he had a sword belted at his hip and a rifle in his hand. Black powder, I noted, as I took in the old-fashioned dealy-bobs at the top of the barrel. No wonder its blast had been loud enough to hear from miles away with the windows rolled up.
“Who do you think I am?” I answered, pacing forward slowly enough so I had time to complete my assessment.
The stranger’s age was as discordant as his choice of weapon. Carl was no more than eighteen, maybe just seventeen. Not a smelly old man snapping up a child bride, but a clean-cut, handsome specimen of blond manhood whose body language suggested he was here to woo rather than steal our pack’s youngest member.
His words seemed to back up that assertion...until I took in the wolf-sharp undertones half hidden beneath. “I think you’re what Luke has been hunting.” His head cocked. “Either hunting or hiding. You weren’t easy to track down.”
“We should have put out a welcome mat.” I turned as if assessing the trees for possible foyer locations. “Not sure exactly where it would look the best. Over there maybe?”
As I’d hoped, Carl laughed. But the sound didn’t defuse tension. Instead, the wolves—Luke’s wolves—shifted from foot to foot around us, as if bracing themselves against a strong wind.
Carl was here solo, yet he had our pack on tenterhooks. Disconcerting, but good to know.
“I think I like you,” Carl observed while I was still filing away that information, “so I’ll warn you. I’m not the only one who pays lone wolves to gather intelligence about possible weaknesses of our neighbors. If you were hiding—just hypothetically, mind you—it would be in your best interest to have allies in other packs. Allies like me.”
His last three words were the only sign of his youth. Carl wasn’t quite secure enough in his own strength to stop when he was ahead.
The trouble being—he was ahead. He had a gun in his hand, a wild-eyed Carly beside him, and a pack, apparently, at his beck and call.
No wonder none of the wolves around us were trying to rush him. Instead they swayed, gazes flitting back and forth between me and Carl as the latter continued talking. “My father, the alpha, would be very interested to hear where the Acosta pack is denning.”
Yep, Carl held all the cards. But he was also skinless, which meant bluffing was a perfectly acceptable route to victory.
So I didn’t respond to any of the young man’s jabs. Instead, I fired off one of my own. “We don’t allow guns in this pack,” I told him. “But I’ll let you keep yours if you don’t know how to use that sword.”
***
CARL HAD NO REASON to give up the high ground—gun and words—in favor of my preferred weapon. No reason except the aggressiveness of his inner wolf.
So...time to tease that wolf out of hiding. I raised my blade and took several steps forward, opening my stance to present a greater challenge. In the process, I ignored the fact I was also presenting a larger target for the gaping barrel that threatened instant death.
Because it didn’t, not really. Black-powder rifles were slow, ungainly weapons, thus their official allowance in October during an early hunting season. Carl must have chosen black-powder to blend in with nearby humans. But the technology also worked in my favor. The barrel only held a single shot at a time—which Carl had used, judging by the explosion that alerted me and Luke to his presence. By the time he reloaded, the surrounding wolves would have him on the ground.
“You really are afraid to use a weapon that requires skill, aren’t you?” I prodded, taking another step forward until a mere sword length separated us.
Ah, there. My opponent’s eyes narrowed. Wolf fuzz rose almost imperceptibly on his cheeks.
“Afraid?” Unlike Carl’s earlier wordsmithery, this was the splutter of a teenager. “Here, Carly, hold this.”
He dropped his musket into the girl’s waiting arms, not bothering to glance down and make sure it would be caught as it plummeted. And Carly had more presence of mind than her wild eyes would have suggested. She sagged beneath the weight then backpedalled until she was lost in the midst of the encircling wolves.
She was safe. If I wanted, I could have let Carl off the hook.
But that wasn’t the way of the skinless. Werewolves were born for threats and posturing...and that’s what I needed to amp up if I didn’t want Carl to go home with a tale of pack rot. Or with a fourteen-year-old to warm his bed.
Or perhaps Carl wouldn’t go home at all but would instead call in pack mates hovering just out of scent range. Was he plugged into a nonverbal network like the one Luke lacked, able to speak to underlings using only his mind?
“He’s not alone but they’re not hovering.”
Luke’s voice tingled warmth back into my bare feet. It had only been a few minutes since we’d last spoken, but I was well aware something had broken between us. Something...but not this.
“Luke.” His name flowed like relief out of me. “Where are you?”
“I got delayed by a couple of lone wolves, but I’ve found Carl’s trail. If you can handle things there, I want to check out his entourage....”
Luke’s words went fuzzy then, but his trust in my leadership abilities made my lips quirk up. Unfortunately, Carl’s brows slammed down in answer. He thought I was laughing at him.
Well, alright, I’d take that tack. “If I win,” I proclaimed, “you’ll ditch the gun and tell your men to stop skulking in the bushes.”
“My men?” Carl’s sword rang as it cleared the scabbard and rose to a fencer’s en-garde position.
“You don’t think Luke would miss something so obvious inside his territory?” I kept my own sword steady, waiting for an opening.
For half a second, Carl appeared daunted. Not by my sword. By my knowledge.
“I didn’t think Luke could use the pack bonds,” he admitted.
First point to me. I grinned at my opponent. “Perhaps you’ve underestimated us.”
Unfortunately, my taunt didn’t produce the desired reaction. Instead of backing down, Carl dropped into a crouch.
“Perhaps you’ve underestimated me,” he said, crab-walking his way forward.
“Perhaps,” I answered in my best imitation of a skinless growl. “Or perhaps not.”
I didn’t wait for Carl to attack.