Alpha Pack 3 - Black Moon (41 page)

wanted to do with the rest of her life: she would follow in her father’s footsteps. And so she did,

becoming a wildlife biologist who specialized in the field of studying the most beautiful and elusive

creatures on the planet.

Her father had been part of a conservationist group in the 1980s that was instrumental in saving

wolves in the Shoshone from the brink of extinction. Watching them thrive once again was one of the

two great joys in his life along with doting on his daughter. But eventually his arthritis prevented him from scaling the mountains and valleys he loved so much, so he now lived vicariously through her tales.

She made sure to bring him plenty to listen to during their cozy nights by the fire, their whiskeys in hand.

Smiling to herself, she thought of all she had to tell him when she went to visit in a few weeks. The

wolf packs she’d checked on so far were doing very well, the pups growing. By the dancing light of the fire, she retrieved her spiral notebook and logged her notes on each of the local pack members for the day. Then she put it away and crawled into her tent, zipping it shut against any nighttime visitors that the flames didn’t dissuade.

Exhaustion crept into her bones and muscles, but it was the nice sort earned from an honest day’s

work. She crawled into the sleeping bag and before long, sleep cocooned her and she drifted off,

content.

That’s when the nightmare invaded.

She was standing in a dark place. A dirty alley. City noises came from nearby—traffic, people

talking. Then came the shouting. She moved closer to the noises, and realized it sounded like fighting.

As she crept forward she saw dark shapes. Pale, human-like figures dressed in rags, snarling, yellowed
fangs slashing in the gloom.

They were attacking a group of men, and, for a few moments, it appeared the evil ones would win.

How she knew the defenders were the good guys, she couldn’t say. She only knew she was invisible to
them as they battled, as the men gained the upper hand at last.

But one of their number went down under two of the dark ones. There was a flash of silver, his

choked cry ending terribly. Suddenly. One of the attackers yanked back his head, and ripped into the
man’s throat with those awful yellowed fangs.

Stumbling forward, Daria shouted at them to stop, but nobody heard. Her breath froze in her lungs

as the man’s companions came to his rescue, dispatching the remaining creatures. That’s what they

were—creatures—but she couldn’t put a name to them. Thoughts of the ugly ones vanished as she

walked close, looking down to study the man whose friends were trying so hard to save him.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was lying on his back, arms

and legs limp. Moonlight fell into clear, crystal blue eyes and glinted off his shaggy blond hair. His
nose was straight, and he had grooves around his mouth and full lips that hinted at his being a man
who smiled frequently.

But at the moment he was struggling to breathe. A splash of red marred the torn flesh at his throat,
and there was more of the crimson lifeblood flowing from around the hilt of the knife buried in his
side. Worry for the man and a deep, sudden sadness overwhelmed her. She tried again to speak but

could not make a sound.

Then his gaze found hers, and his eyes widened. Just for a moment, the world narrowed to the two

of them. Raising his arm, he reached for her with bloodied fingers. She wanted to hold his hand, bring
him what solace she could.

Then she was sucked backward, falling out of the dream as she cried out in protest.

No!

“No!” Daria’s shout rang out in the tent as she bolted upright.

Hand on her chest, she sucked in several deep breaths. Gradually her racing heart calmed, but the

horror of the nightmare remained. Because she knew better than anyone that it was no dream. The

scene had been a vision.

Only her father knew of the “gifts” bestowed on her, presumably by a Native American ancestor.

Everyone else would think her crazy, so these were secrets the two of them guarded with great care.

All of her life she’d been plagued with visions of scenes that were either imminent or had just

occurred. Most of them were useless, nothing more than innocuous flashes. In the more serious, detailed ones, she typically didn’t have a clue where they were taking place or who the people were, and she

couldn’t assist them. Her other ability—astral projection, the ability to send her physical body into a dreamlike state and visit another place in “spirit” form—was also useless if she didn’t know who to help or where they were.

Squirming in her sleeping bag, she worried over the handsome blond man in her vision. Who was he?

What were those horrible things that had attacked him and his friends?

Most important, was he going to survive?

She didn’t know why he mattered so much. Why the need to find him and make certain he was alive

was like ants crawling over her skin. Maybe she could find out with this one. Because unlike all the

others, for one brief instant, Daria and the man had connected. Even now, as the rest of the vision

seemed distant, a thin tendril remained, trailing from her consciousness to his. She felt it, but would need to project astrally to access it. However, she couldn’t do that until she’d recovered some strength. This vision had left her drained.

Settling down again, she tossed until daylight broke, sleep elusive. Rather than being rested, she was tired and rattled. She’d been so afraid she’d fall asleep only to wake up and find that the thread

connecting her to the sexy stranger had vanished. It was still there, waiting.

Centering herself, she sat with her legs crossed and closed her eyes, arms loose in her lap. Focusing

inward, she let the sounds of the waking forest carry her away. The telltale tingle danced over her skin, signaling that her body was going into its trancelike state. Slowly, her consciousness separated her body, leaving it behind. Looking back, she saw herself sitting peacefully in the tent and, satisfied, set out to follow the thread.

At first the journey was easy. Not confined to flesh, she soared over the trees, basked in the sunlight and the beauty of the day. Onward she traveled, the connection leading her to a curious break in the

forest, a place where the trees had been cleared. In the center of the clearing sat a large building. It boasted several wings, and the thread led to one of those wings in particular.

In seconds she stood in what appeared to be a hallway. Before her was a door, and beyond it, she

knew she’d find the man she sought. Going forward, she simply walked through it, intent on reaching

the still form on the bed—

A loud shriek snapped Daria painfully back into her body. The sound echoed through the mountains,

causing her pulse to stutter in her chest. “What the hell?”

As the sound died away, she tried to figure out what in God’s name it had been. The creature’s

angry baritone cry reminded her of something prehistoric out of an old Godzilla movie. As the call died, chills pimpled her skin. Whatever it was, it could be miles away, or a few short yards.

That idea was enough to get her moving. She felt too much like a sitting duck there, and she couldn’t

try the projection again for a while anyway. She broke camp quickly, packing her tent and supplies and making sure the fire was completely out. Then she headed down the trail, on the way to her next site.

Thoughts of the blond were never far from her mind as she hiked. She much preferred to think of

him than of the terrible dream or of the disturbing bellow from some strange animal. Could a grizzly bear make a sound like that if it was in dire pain? She didn’t think so. But out here, what could be large

enough to make that noise and be heard for miles?

Don’t think of it. Think of him.

She put the mystery animal far from her thoughts and lost herself in enjoying the day. She tackled a

couple of steep switchbacks and was sweating by noon, when she finally stopped to rest. Dragging off

her pack, she rolled her shoulders with relief and bent to reach inside for her water.

A familiar smell hit her nose and she straightened slowly. Blood and rotting flesh. Standing stock

still, she turned only her head, scanning the area for signs of the remains that must be nearby. Up ahead, she spotted some broken branches off to the side of the trail. Beyond that, perhaps thirty yards into the foliage, there was something lying on the ground. Studying the lump, she thought she saw denim

material, maybe a boot.

“Aw, shit.”

She quickly grabbed her handheld radio from the backpack. If it was a body, she’d have to call the

ranger’s station and report it, then wait for them to arrive. She needed to check in with them anyway, let them know she was all right. Leaving her pack behind, she ventured off the trail and picked her way to the lump on the ground. As she got closer, her fears were realized.

“God in heaven,” she whispered.

Once, the body had been a human, but whether it was a man or woman, she couldn’t say. The

corpse had been torn literally to pieces. She spotted part of a leg, an arm. The torso was mostly gone, eaten. Huge teeth had ripped massive chunks of flesh from its victim, the marks so big she couldn’t

fathom what creature had made them. There was no head to be seen.

Stumbling a few steps away, Daria fell to her knees and vomited. Her stomach turned inside out,

though thankfully there wasn’t much to purge as she’d skipped breakfast. As the heaves subsided, one

thought screamed into her brain.

What if the killer is still here?

Swiping at her mouth, she pushed up and bolted for her backpack, radio in hand. When she reached

it, she dove for the water hooked to the side and rinsed her mouth several times. Then she took a long drink. She had to call this in, but did she dare wait around for the thing to come back for seconds?

Raising the radio to her face, she was about to depress the button when a low growl made every hair

stand on end. Turning slightly to the right, she blinked, not sure what she was seeing. As it stalked

forward, head lowered, she sucked in a breath.

The creature was a snow-white wolf. It wasn’t very large—female if she had to guess. The she-wolf

made another threatening rumble and continued to advance. All sorts of useless knowledge came to

mind, such as the fact that there had never been a documented case of a wolf attacking a person.

Tell that to this one.

Daria depressed the button on her radio, intending to speak to the rangers, but she was too late. At

that moment, the wolf launched itself forward. With a cry, Daria spun around and ran for all she was

worth. And knew she’d done exactly the wrong thing. Her dad would rake her over the coals for making

such a rookie move.

Legs pumping, she veered off the trail, searching frantically for a good tree to shimmy up. But there

were none with branches low enough. Snarling, catching up, the wolf snapped at her boots. She pushed

on, faster.

As she topped a rise, the terrain suddenly fell away and she skidded to a stop, right at the edge of a deep ravine. “Fuck!”

She whirled to find the she-wolf right
there
, panting, baring her teeth. Teeth that were nowhere near big enough to have caused the destruction of the dead hiker, but that hardly mattered now. Looking

around, she scanned the ground for a rock, anything. She didn’t want to throw her radio and risk

damaging it, but it might make a good club.

She and the wolf locked gazes, in a standoff. Daria was struck by the intelligence in the wolf’s eyes, the lack of madness. What the hell was going on? Then a crash sounded from the forest. And another.

The sound of heavy steps. More hikers? Maybe help was there.

The moment of distraction cost her. The wolf gathered itself, leaped, and knocked her backward.

Daria staggered, trying to regain her balance.