| |
While I was focusing on Ransom, Oyo must have found a better hiding place. Because she was no longer behind the refrigerator when Kira picked her way through a minefield of spilled cheese dip and broken crockery to reach my side.
“I’m starving,” my sister noted.
“So eat,” I replied, dismissing Oyo’s absence—if I couldn’t find the visiting kitsune, then likely the pack couldn’t either—while turning Ransom’s text over in my mind.
Was Gunner right in pointing the finger at his brother? Was Oyo’s arrival merely bait intended to tempt neighboring packs into tearing Atwood clan central down?
“Maaaaiiiii. You don’t care about me at aaaaaaaalllllll.” Kira’s whine was an eleven on the one-to-ten whine-o-meter. And even though I didn’t want to encourage that behavior, one glance at paw prints on counters and glass shards peppering every edible item gave me an idea on how to keep her busy and allow me to reward good behavior at the same time.
“Help me clean up the worst of this mess and we’ll go find a restaurant.”
“Pancakes?” Kira’s eyes lit up even as she half-heartedly opened a closet door in search of a dustpan.
“Whatever you want,” I answered, hoping I wasn’t making a promise I couldn’t make good on. After all, it was getting late even for dinner. I wasn’t so sure an all-day-breakfast joint would miraculously materialize within an easy drive.
But Old Red was outside, ready and waiting. And the agreement was enough to spur my sister into action. Starting in the kitchen, we swept and scrubbed and cleaned intensively enough for us both to grow filthy and sweaty, for Kira to turn cranky, and for me to wonder what I was doing moving in with this pack.
Because our neighbors were werewolves. They walked into each others’ houses without knocking, knew everything there was to know about everybody else’s business...and yet not a single neighbor had returned to the scene of the crime to help us deal with this horrifying mess.
“How much longer do we have to...?” Kira started. But I didn’t need her whine to spur me into action this time.
“We’re going,” I interjected, deciding that both clutter and Oyo would be okay on their own for a little while longer. If the black-furred kitsune was savvy enough to have made her way through pack territory without being sniffed out, she could continue hiding in the cottage until we got back.
“Just give me five minutes to shower,” I started, intending to finish with: And then we’ll find pancakes. But as Kira pushed ahead of me into the living room—a disaster zone we hadn’t even started to deal with—I froze, smelling the scent of fur so strongly that I knew a werewolf was right outside the open door.
Only, I was wrong. Because, with a yip, the cutest wolf pup imaginable jumped out from under the couch and dove into a bowlful of beef jerky.
There weren’t werewolves outside stalking us. There was one very curious youngster right inside our home.
Inside our home and getting ready to chow down on food that was likely full of glass shards. “Kira, grab it!” I commanded, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sidestep my sister’s body in time to stop the pup myself.
And, for once, my sister obeyed without argument. She launched herself at the young werewolf, snagging its rear foot and dragging it toward her even as it wriggled in protest at losing access to its chosen feast.
“Calm down,” she chided as she grabbed for the pup’s ruff and ended up encircling its neck instead. The grip was meant to be protective but looked an awful lot like attempted murder....
No wonder a roar of rage preceded the arrival of a much larger animal into our midst. The werewolf in question leapt through the open doorway with eyes blazing, then she landed stiff-legged right in the middle of a spray of broken glass.
***
WHETHER OR NOT THE adult wolf cut her paws, none of us noticed. Because she was far more dangerous than the glass beneath her feet. The wolf took one look at Kira’s stranglehold on the wriggling puppy, then she skidded across carpet in her haste to tear my sister apart.
“Hey! Over here!” I waved the sword that had materialized in my hand, doing my best to look both imposing and dangerous. Not that I planned to slice open a mother protecting her child. But I also refused to let my own sister be injured due to an overprotective parent’s wrath.
And the sword did the job I’d intended—it focused the adult wolf’s attention quite firmly on me rather than on my sister. Swiveling, the female bared her teeth in momentary warning, then she lunged directly at me.
Dodging wasn’t an option when my opponent was traveling so quickly. Meanwhile, behind my back, Kira emitted a terrified squeak. So I did the only thing I could think of. I softened my sword magic until it became immaterial, then I hardened it again into the form of a club.
Thwack! My edgeless weapon struck the wolf’s shoulder so hard she tumbled forward into a summersault, but she was back on her feet before I’d regathered my own momentum and put up my guard. This time, her paws struck my shoulders and I was the one falling backward, something sharp slicing through the side of my left arm as I tried—and failed—to make my escape.
“No teeth!” Kira roared, her words sounding distant as the wolf’s hot breath licked against my cheek, my chin, then lower. I struggled to turn my magic into a shield to protect my jugular, but I couldn’t seem to regather either my powers or my wind.
I couldn’t believe I’d lost to a mother wolf protecting her child. I couldn’t believe....
Then we both shuddered in tandem as Kira slammed a fist into the wolf’s belly. “Your alpha”—punch, pant—“said to fight with swords only”—kick, twist—“so what kind of pack wolf are you?”
Kira was magnificent above us, and she also brought up a very good question. Why was yet another Atwood shifter willing and able to disobey her pack leader’s overt command? Perhaps I could chalk this up to maternal instinct, but after the melee surrounding Oyo I wasn’t so sure.
The inconsistency felt important...but not quite as important as the claws digging into my skin. Then the pup was on top of me also, attracted by the blood of my oozing forearm. The youngster bared its teeth and started gnawing, and in reaction the female above me growled before shifting back into human form.
Becky. I remembered her name from our meeting last summer. Recalled the way she’d helped Gunner with transportation so he could hunt a bear and wrench the pack away from his brother without descending to the level of a physical fight.
Not that it had worked out as painlessly as we’d hoped after Becky tossed us those car keys. There’d been plenty of blood on the ground before the night was over, and Becky’s mate had been one of the few who lost his life.
No wonder she’d been ready to tear me to pieces. But, to my surprise, the naked woman’s face twisted apologetically as she scooped up the puppy, then she danced backwards rather than menacing me a second time.
“Curly, we do not gnaw on humans,” she chastised, holding her offspring by his ruff and shaking him until he whimpered acknowledgement of the misunderstanding.
Then, turning back to me, Becky dropped her eyes to the floor even as that rotten-egg odor I was becoming unfortunately familiar with filled the room. “Alpha’s mate. I was overwrought and out of line. I apologize for the misunderstanding. Please forgive me for the mistake.”