“I’m sorry again about earlier,” Jack said. “Downtown, when I got all riled up. This thing has been trying my nerves. I hate the way people in this town don’t trust us to take care of it no more, the way they put their faith in that agency.” He snorted. “There was a time when our family was the only line of defense. Now, we might as well not exist.”
“It gets to me too,” Deacon admitted. “But I like to think we still got a place here. Even if we don’t get the praise for it, we gotta keep doing our job. We’ve known all our lives this is what we do. We don’t need rewarded for it. The reward is knowing we kept them monsters out there in the dark for one more night.”
“I reckon so.”
“And don’t worry about what happened downtown. If you and I apologized every time we took a swing at each other, we’d get nothing else done.”
Jack grinned. “We love to tangle, don’t we?”
“Got my ass in trouble with my Mama more than a few times, tangling with you.”
“Same here.”
The deck door slid open. Zeke walked out of the house, gun on his shoulder and a sandwich in hand.
“Nothin’ stirring?” he asked around a mouthful.
“Nope,” Jack said. “All quiet.”
“Maybe I ought to call and check up on everyone.” Deacon needed to get his mind off Lorena. “Make sure all’s well.”
“Good idea.” Jack nodded. “I’ll call my folks in a bit.”
Deacon stood up, and Zeke took his chair, still munching on his sandwich. Deacon went in the house and took his phone and gun with him. The kitchen was bright but his eyes adjusted fast, as they always did to changes in light and dark. He couldn’t imagine how regular humans did it, not having their senses sharp and ready all the time.
He called his parents first. His Mama said his Daddy was out on the back porch with his gun, but they hadn’t seen or heard anything. His Daddy was getting on in years, but he was strong and fast as ever. Deacon had once seen him cut down three Wolvites, one right after the other, before any of them had time to react. He could pump a shotgun with lightning speed, and he knew a Wolvite was approaching from a hundred yards.
He called his grandparents next and his Grandpa answered. He too was watching the night, gun at the ready. Grammy had gone to bed. Pride rose in his Grandpa’s voice when he said he would protect her from anything. What would he think of Lorena? He’d probably like her, more than Grammy did.
He called a few other relatives, but all was well.
Deacon finished his calls, tucked his phone in his pocket, and grabbed another beer from the fridge. As he cracked it open, Jack shouted.
“Deacon! Come out here!”
Deacon set the bottle down and grabbed up his gun. He hurried outside.
Jack and Zeke stood on the deck, gazing across the yard. Deacon scanned the tree line in the distance.
“See it?” Jack pointed.
He did. A hunched shape in the darkness, loping back and forth in front of the trees. Even from that distance, a good football field away, the shape stood out all too familiar. The beast seemed to pace, going one way, then the other, like it was looking for something.
“The ward must be holding,” Jack said. “It can’t figure out how to get in.”
They couldn’t pick it off from this distance, no matter how good a shot any of them were. Deacon tracked its movements, but then something else caught his attention, deeper in the trees—a flicker, but it was too dark in there for even him to make out.
“I think there’s more. They’re in the trees.”
“They must be running this way.” Zeke cocked his gun. “Running into that ward though, sorry about your luck. Reckon we ought to go down there and blast ‘em? If that ward is holding, they can’t come at us. Our advantage.”
Jack squinted at Deacon. “What do you think?”
Deacon shrugged. “Ain’t no good Wolvite but a dead Wolvite.”
They checked their guns and grabbed some more shells, then descended from the deck into the dew-damp yard. The night was silent as could be, not even a breeze blowing. They strode toward the trees, ready for battle. Not much of a battle though, at least not for the stray Wolvites. Deacon didn’t have an ounce of sympathy. This was payback for the two ambushes they’d laid on him now.
As they drew closer, the behavior of the Wolvite seemed to grow more erratic. The thing’s movements became frantic as it scurried back and forth, pawing at the ground. Deeper in the trees, at least two more shuffled around.
They got within fifty feet of the tree line, still well inside the ward. They stopped and leveled their guns on the creature. Though they were certainly within its sight, it didn’t acknowledge them.
“What’s it doing?” Zeke muttered. “The ward got it stuck or something?”
“Probably can’t figure out why it can’t get through,” Jack said. “Confused.”
Deacon kept his sight on it, his finger on the trigger. A low growl came from the trees, so quiet a normal human probably wouldn’t have heard it. Then, it hit him.
A stench, profound and rancid on the cool night air. The foul odor of Wolvites. He’d smelled it many times before, but it came across much heavier than usual. He took a few steps back, winced, and coughed.
“Goddamn.” Deacon brought his arm up across his nose. “What the hell?”
Jack and Zeke also recoiled and gagged. For once Deacon hated his keen sense of smell.
“That’s foul,” Jack said, muffled behind his own arm. “Jesus Christ, why do they stink so bad?”
They got their answer quickly. Rustling came from the trees. Flashes of golden eyes. Shadows emerged, blobs of darkness separating from the night. Growls. Snuffling. Hunched, shambling creatures lurched into the moonlight.
Wolvites. A lot of them, and a lot more. They kept coming out of the trees, and formed a line. Their growls transformed into a warning rumble as they combined. Teeth snapped. Claws flexed. Fifty of them, maybe more. The smell rolling off such a large group was oppressive and overwhelmed Deacon’s senses. His stomach lurched, both from the stink and the horror of the sight.
“What the fuck?” Jack gasped.
They backpedaled, despite the ward, back toward the house. They had their guns up, but none of them knew exactly where to point.
“I ain’t never seen that many at once,” Zeke said. “What the hell is happening?”
The creatures stood at the edge of the yard, restless and snarling, golden eyes reflecting the moonlight. Barks and howls erupted.
“We gotta get in the house.” Deacon spoke anxiously. “We can’t take on this many.” They moved faster.
The first Wolvite, the one that had been pacing, suddenly stopped and started digging furiously, kicking up dirt. Then it threw its head back and let out a high, unearthly howl. The other Wolvites answered, as if in triumph.
Then the line of Wolvites sprung forward and passed through the ward, and charged at them.
* * * *
Lorena stood in the pool of light from her flashlight and stared down the Wolvite in front of her. Only a few feet separated them, so the awful fetid stench that came off it filled her nostrils.
She couldn’t move. She had to shoot it, but her muscles had locked up, her breath caught in her lungs. She had never been so close to a living Wolvite. The one time she’d been remotely close to one still alive, a thick layer of glass separated them and the creature had been sedated. The one she’d shot in Jack’s yard, she’d barely even seen.
She should have stayed inside and kept shooting at paper targets.
The thing was hunched over. Long, sinewy, hair-covered arms hung in front of it, which ended in hand-like paws with curled black claws. Coarse hair covered its body, matted and glistening with dew, or sweat. The long snout extended wolf-like, black lips curled back and long, sharp teeth on display. Golden eyes fixed on her in hard, deadly pinpoints, its ears erect on top its head. The creature seemed to be sizing her up.
Her arm hung at her side, the gun heavy in her hand. Her heartbeat rushed in her ears. She could still feel the forest, the valley, in tight formation around her, as if waiting to see what she would do.
The Wolvite emitted a warning growl, its muscles flexing beneath the hair.
She snapped out of her paralysis and jerked the gun up, steady in her aim thanks to adrenaline. Before she could pull the trigger, it sprung.
She didn’t have time to react before the heavy, powerful weight of it slammed into her. She tried to fire, if not to hit it then at least to alert those around her that she was in trouble. Instead, the gun flew from her hand and tumbled away in the leaves, out of reach.
She hit the ground hard, so hard her bones rattled inside her flesh and all the air rushed from her lungs. She couldn’t make a sound. She flung her arm up, the flashlight still attached to her wrist, and tried instinctively to shield her face. She braced herself for the sensation of claws or teeth, but instead, the Wolvite scampered away from her.
The flashlight swung wildly on her wrist and threw light around her, making everything chaotic, like watching through a bouncing video camera. The beast’s heavy breathing remained close by, and cold terror gripped her as she waited for the next blow.
It didn’t come.
She groped around frantically, but only dry leaves and cold earth passed beneath her hands. She struggled to get her breath back, to make a sound, but she could only manage a wheeze. She caught the flashlight as it swung against her hand and gripped it tight. She would use it as a club if she had to.
The light fell on the creature, a few feet away. The Wolvite prowled sinuously against the forest floor as it stalked around her.
She tried to think clearly through the pain in her chest and back. She couldn’t reach the knife in her boot. Even if she did, the Wolvite would be on her again before she could pull it.
Hopefully, someone had heard or seen something and would come to help her.
The creature slunk toward her. She pushed her hand into the pocket of her jacket and groped for her cell phone. The Wolvite probably wouldn’t allow her enough time to make a call, but if she could set off the alarm on it, maybe she could scare it or alert someone.
The awful stink filled her nose again as her breath returned. She flung her arm out and focused the flashlight beam on its horrid, evil face.
She fumbled with the cell phone in her pocket. The world around her seemed to be slowing down. Every detail, every anxious second shone in vivid relief. The thing drew closer, claws extended.
The stone slipped into her palm, the black opal she’d taken to show Hazel. She’d forgotten to give it back to Dr. Winston. As she grabbed it by accident, something happened.
Everything around her brightened, as if someone shone a light down on her, or as if day had replaced the night. The trees glowed, their colorful leaves shimmering. The forest floor lit up, like a stage. Calmness rushed over her, a sense of certainty, of wisdom stronger than she’d ever known before. She could hear the trees, taste the air. The earth pulsed with life.
The Wolvite immediately recoiled, ducking its head, and its growl turned to a whimper. Her lungs expanded. She thought to scream, but didn’t need to now. She gazed at the creature in fascination.
She pulled her hand out of her pocket and opened her fingers. The stone glowed soft blue and warmed her palm. She propped herself up on one elbow.
“What’s going on?” she gasped.
A few feet away, in the layer of leaves, an object shone clearly. Her gun. She could make out everything around her, every leaf, every root, every branch. Even the bugs burrowing in the dirt.
A flicker drew her attention back to the Wolvite.
A shaft of light projected from it, toward her. The light brightened and a form appeared in it.
A man loomed over her. She couldn’t tell how tall since she lay on the ground, but he towered above her like a giant. He was thickly muscled and golden-skinned, and wore only a furry gray animal pelt across his hips. His wide chest heaved with breath. His hair hung smooth and blond around his face and rested thick on his shoulders.
His face captivated her—it was masculine and bold, his jaw square, his brow thick. His eyes were intensely blue, not unlike Deacon’s, but more penetrating and darker.
She slipped off her elbow and fell back on the ground, and stared up at him wide-eyed, the stone clutched in her hand.
“Who are you?” She couldn’t see the Wolvite behind him, as the light obscured everything.
“I am Dafydd.” He had a deep and reverberating voice, thick with an accent she couldn’t place. Scottish? Irish? “We are not to harm witches.”
“Where did you come from?”
Something hung around his throat, something out of place with the rest of him. A thin silver chain that held a blue sparkling jewel.
He curled his upper lip to reveal white human teeth. “You reek of Lycan.” He bent down and gripped her arm.
She expected him to be insubstantial, like a ghost, but his grip was real and hard. He yanked her up swiftly to her feet. She yelped, and stared at him in both wonder and fear. He towered over her, his eyes burning blue fire. He kept her effortlessly on her feet with one hand. His touch warmed her and made her body tingle from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.
“Go.” He spoke close to her face. “Leave this forest, or I may lose control and disobey. We are not to harm witches, even ones who have lain with a Lycan.”
She dropped her gaze and focused on his necklace. The jewel was a sapphire heart. The necklace looked absurd on him, so fragile and delicate. On impulse, she reached out and grabbed it.
The chain broke. She stumbled back as he released her from his grip. When he realized she’d taken it with her, he groped at his chest, and growled. The growl of a Wolvite.
“Jesus.” She scurried back. “You’re a Wolvite!”
He gnashed his teeth and snarled, a sound no human could possibly make.
“Lorena!” Marla yelled, a short distance away. “Are you all right? Where are you?”
Lorena gasped and looked around, then back at him.
His shoulders flexed, but he didn’t spring. “Go!” he snapped. “Leave this forest, witch.”
The light flickered. He vanished, like smoke on the air, and became again the hunched, snarling Wolvite. The details around her faded as darkness rushed in. She hurried over to her gun before she could no longer see it and grabbed it up out of the leaves.
The Wolvite scampered off into the trees.
The chill of the night rushed in. She became aware of herself again and the fact that she hurt. Her shoulders and back ached from the impact of hitting the forest floor.
She stood still and stared into the darkness, the flashlight dangling from her wrist. Her gun dangled from her other hand, cold and heavy. The slender silver chain swung between her fingers.
“Lorena.” Marla approached her. “There you are. Why didn’t you answer me?”
Lorena was confused. Popping sounds continued in the distance.
“Let’s get back to the meeting spot,” Marla said. “The others are heading back that way.”
“Okay.”
Lorena took a step to follow her, but then a new sensation filled her. A sense of danger, like she’d felt at Deacon’s house. Huge, horrible, and all-consuming.
The feeling didn’t emanate nearby, but from far away, and reached out to her across the distance, like a scream across the hills.
She gasped wide-eyed into the dark forest. “Deacon!”