Greg, in jakkal form, crouched behind a trashcan next to what had once been a small burger joint. He had never been in anything remotely resembling a fight before, and he was scared. His mother, father, sisters, and grandfather had also taken up positions in the vicinity, all of them spread out to make it harder for the werewolves to determine their precise locations. If they’d been grouped together, their combined scent would’ve been easy for the werewolves to detect. But spaced out as they were—along with the fact that their scents were already in the immediate area—rendered them practically invisible. At least, that was the hope.
Muriel had remained behind to guard Anubis and, if necessary, wake him. She wasn’t certain she could do so since the Rite of Renewal hadn’t been completed this month, but if she was forced to try, she would.
Greg held no weapon. You are all the weapon you need, Marta had told him before they left their quarters and took their separate positions. He knew she’d meant her words to be reassuring, but he would’ve felt better if he had something more solid—a knife or a club of some kind—to hold onto.
There were three werewolves, one older, two younger. Related, most probably. Father and sons, he guessed. Morgan’s father? Maybe. He could detect the family connection from their scents. The older werewolf wore a sheriff’s uniform, which made him doubly dangerous. The older werewolf promised he only wanted to talk, but Greg knew better than to believe him. They had all assumed their werewolf forms, and there were many ways to hunt prey. Luring them out into the open was an effective tactic— if the prey was foolish enough to fall for it.
Greg hid opposite the old restrooms. Nathan lay flat on their roof, concealed in the shadow of a tree next to the building. He rose to his feet in jakkal form, but he made no move to join the werewolves on the ground.
“What do you want, iwiw?”
Nathan used the ancient Egyptian word for dog. The word was meant to resemble a dog’s bark, and when applied to werewolves, it was considered a grave insult, or so Nathan had told him. The werewolves didn’t look particularly upset, though.
The older werewolf—the pack’s leader, Greg thought—looked up at Nathan.
“Bridge Valley is our territory,” he said. “We’ve been here for generations. You are not welcome.”
“You got that right!” one of the man’s sons said.
The leader’s face darkened as if he were angry at his son, but he didn’t take his gaze from Nathan.
“We did not know your kind inhabited this town,” Nathan said. “Otherwise, we would not have come here.”
Greg understood that Nathan was projecting strength, one leader to another, but he wished his grandfather sounded less confrontational. The leader of the werewolves seemed to take Nathan’s words in stride, but his sons were becoming increasingly agitated. They swayed back and forth, clawed hands clenching and unclenching, heads jutted forward, teeth bared.
“In that case, you won’t have any problem packing up and leaving, will you?” The werewolf leader paused, and then added, “Carrion-eater.”
Nathan’s lips curled back from his fangs. “It will be our pleasure. Give us forty-eight hours, and we will be gone.”
“Twenty-four,” the werewolf leader said. “And believe me when I say that’s being generous.”
Nathan growled so softly that Greg wasn’t sure he actually heard anything.
“Twenty-four hours,” Nathan repeated. “Very well.” He paused, and then added, “Iwiw.”
Regardless of whether the werewolves knew the precise meaning of the word, there was no mistaking the derision in Nathan’s tone. One of the sons let out a roar of anger and ran toward the restroom building.
“Stuart! No!” the werewolf leader shouted.
Greg didn’t think. All fear fled him when he saw his grandfather in danger. He left his hiding place behind the trashcan and raced toward the werewolf. Greg slammed into him before he could leap onto the roof. They went sprawling, snarling, snapping, and clawing as they rolled on the asphalt. Greg was no longer thinking, was no longer really Greg. Not the rational part of him, anyway. For the first time in his life, he had completely given in to his animal side, and it was magnificent.
The werewolf’s teeth and claws raked his flesh, but the wounds didn’t trouble him. Injuries inflicted on a jakkal by a werewolf healed just as swiftly as normal ones. But the same couldn’t be said for the werewolf. Blood poured from the places where Greg had taken a bite out of him. The werewolf might be stronger, but Greg could hurt him. In a few more moments this battle would be over and his foe would lie dead at his feet, a bloody, ragged ruin. The werewolf’s blood tasted like sweet honey in his mouth, and he was greedy for more. He was about to sink his fangs into the werewolf’s throat when he felt something grab hold of his neck and pull him roughly backward. He smelled Nathan’s scent, and he whirled on his grandfather, growling.
“Get control of yourself, boy!” Nathan snapped.
Greg was tempted to take a swipe at his grandfather, but his instincts told him this was his pack leader, and he must obey. He closed his eyes and felt his animal bloodlust ebb. When he opened his eyes once more, he had returned to human form.
Greg looked over his shoulder and saw the werewolf leader stood with his hands on his son’s shoulders. He spoke to his boy in soothing tones, almost whispering. The son’s breathing remained heavy, and he kept shooting murderous glances at Greg, but in the end, he too calmed and regained his human appearance. His wounds did not heal, though, and his shirt was soaked with blood. Now that he was human again, he seemed to realize how badly hurt he was and grimaced in pain. Nathan and the werewolf leader resumed their human forms too. The other son remained in his werewolf shape for several more seconds, glaring at Greg murderously, but then he returned to human form as well.
The werewolf leader looked at Nathan. His face was dark with anger.
“When I pulled my son away from your grandson, I smelled something on the boy I didn’t expect: my daughter’s scent.”
Greg went cold at the werewolf leader’s words.
Nathan frowned, but he didn’t take his gaze off the werewolf leader’s face.
“Keep your pup away from my daughter, or I’ll return and kill the lot of you.”
The werewolf leader turned his glare on Greg then, and Greg— although frightened—did not look away. After a moment, the werewolf leader turned his attention back to Nathan.
“Twenty-four hours,” the werewolf leader said. “Not a second more.” Then he put an arm around his wounded son and began to lead him away. The other son gave Nathan and Greg a last dark look before following after his father and brother.
Greg and Nathan watched the werewolves depart silently. A few moments later, his father, mother, and sisters joined them.
“That went better than I expected,” Marta said.
Nathan put a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, boy. I could not have done better in my prime.”
His grandfather’s words made Greg’s heart swell with pride. His pack had needed him, and he hadn’t let them down. He felt tired, and more than a little embarrassed at having been taken over by his animal side like that, but his parents and his sisters looked at him with newfound respect, and he liked that. One thing bothered him, though. What would Morgan think when she learned what he’d done to her brother? Would she hate him? The next time they met—if there was a next time—would she consider him an enemy? Just another carrion-eater that should be killed? He hoped not. He’d done what he’d had to do, and in the same circumstances, he would do it again. But that didn’t mean he had to feel good about it.
Greg looked at Nathan. “Do you think they’ll keep their promise?”
Nathan shrugged. “It’s difficult to say. Even Pureblood werewolves are ultimately slaves to their bestial nature. We did harm one of their own, and they might seek revenge. But the problem isn’t if we’ll have enough time to leave, but rather if Anubis is ready to be moved before the werewolves return.”
“Anubis would be ready now if I hadn’t screwed up the Rite of Renewal,” Greg said.
Nathan gave him a reassuring smile, but Greg could see the worry in his grandfather’s eyes. “Everything will be fine,” Nathan said. “You shall see.”
Greg wished he could believe that.