Authors: Dani Harper

Changeling Dawn (30 page)

BOOK: Changeling Dawn

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And continues with CHANGELING DREAM ...

In times of stress Jillian Descharme has always found calm in her dream of a great white wolf with haunting blue eyes. But she is startled when the visions return and this time seem so real. Late at night he comes to her, speaks to her, touches her. It’s almost as if he’s alive ...

Thirty years ago James Macleod lost his wife and unborn child to a killer bent on destroying the Changelings. Though he longed for death, his animal instinct fought for survival and James has been a wolf ever since. Yet now a woman has reawakened the man in him, taming wild instincts but arousing still wilder needs. With his ancient enemy hunting the legendary white wolf, James must fight for new life, new hope, new love.

W
hat kind of woman runs after a wolf?

James was no closer to answering that question than he had been many hours before when he had paused in the clinic loft, two bounds away from the open window, and listened to the human calling after the white wolf. He had been startled to find the woman up and about so close to dawn, but more surprised by her reaction when she spotted him. She should have been terrified, should have been screaming. Instead she had stopped still, remaining quiet until he melted back into the darkness—then had plunged forward in a vain attempt to follow him. She acted as if she knew the wolf, but how could that be? There was something else too; something in her voice had almost compelled him to—what? Answer her? Reveal himself? He didn’t know. The woman had gone from room to room then, switching on every light, searching.

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t check the loft. After all, it was fifteen feet above the ground floor and accessible only by a vertical ladder. A wolf couldn’t climb it, and she had no way of knowing that what she pursued was not a wolf and that the ladder was no impediment to him at all. The stack of bales outside, from which he had initially leapt, was more than thirty feet from the loading door of the loft. Only a very large tiger might cross such a span. Or a Changeling.

James felt a strange disappointment tugging at his senses, almost a regret that the woman had not found him.
Who are you? Why do I know you?
Within his lupine body, James chuffed out a breath in frustration.
And why do I care?
The angle of the fading light told him it was time to hunt, that deer would be on the move. Weary of human thoughts and human concerns, he relaxed into his wolf nature and disappeared beneath it.

“What a tourist I am!” Jillian berated herself for not bringing a cell phone, for not paying more attention to the time, for traveling in the bush alone, for not packing at least a chocolate bar. Two chocolate bars. Maybe three. The energy bars she’d brought tasted like wet cardboard. She made a long mental list of the things she was going to do to be more prepared for the next hike, because as difficult as the trail was, she simply had to go back to that rocky plateau, had to see if the wolves would return. Was it part of their territory or were they just passing through?

The sun was long gone. Stars were pinning a deep indigo sky, and a full moon was floating just jusabove the horizon. It had climbed enough to glimmer through the trees and lay a broad swath of light over the surface of the river when Jillian finally found the marked hiking trail. Compared to the goat path she’d been traveling, the graveled corridor was like a wide paved highway, level and free of overhanging brush and fallen logs. It promised easier, faster travel in spite of the darkness. She was still two and a half, maybe three, miles from the truck she had borrowed from the clinic, but at least now she had a direct route.

The flashback broadsided her without warning.

It might have been the crunch of gravel beneath her feet, the rustle of leaves in the trees, or the scent of the river, but whatever the trigger, she was suddenly on another trail by another river. Phantom images, sounds, even smells burst vividly upon her senses. Jillian stumbled forward and fell to her knees, skinning them both right through her jeans. She rolled and sat, but clasped her hands to her head rather than to her wounds. “Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes. You’re not there, it’s not real, it’s over. Jesus, it’s over, it’s over and you’re okay. You’re okay.” She spoke slowly, deliberately, coaching herself until the shaking stopped. “It’s a different place and a different time. I’m not back there, I’m here. I’m here and I’m okay.”
I’m okay, I’m okay.

But she wasn’t, not yet. She rocked back and forth in the gravel. “My name is Jillian Descharme and I’m a licensed veterinarian and I’m okay. I’m thirty-two years old and I’m in Dunvegan, Alberta, and I’m okay. Nothing is threatening me, nothing is wrong, I’m okay.” She drew a long shaky breath and rubbed her runny nose with her sleeve like a child. “I’m okay. Jeez! Jeez goddamn Louise!” She was cold, freezing cold, her clothes soaked with sweat and her skin clammy, but the fear had her by the throat and she couldn’t move. She had to think of something fast, something to help her break away from this terror, break out of this inertia or she’d be here all night. And then it came. The image of the white wolf—the memory, the dream, flowed into her, warmed her like brandy. Jillian clung to that mental picture like a life preserver in rough seas, let the wolf’s unspoken words fill her mind and calm it.
Not alone. Here with you.

She rose at last on trembling legs and cursed as her knees made their condition known. The sharp stinging cleared the last of the flashback from her head, however, and banished the nausea from her stomach. She stood for several moments, hugging herself, rubbing her hands over her upper arms. She sucked in great lungfuls of the cool moist air until she felt steady again, and took a few tentative steps along the dark path—but had to resist the impulse to run. If she ran, she might never stop.

“Think of the white wolf, think of the white wolf.” Calm, she had to be calm. Take big breaths. “Walk like a normal person. It’s okay to walk fast because I’m busy, got things to do, places to go, people to see, but I don’t have to run. I can walk because nothing’s wrong, I’m okay.” She was in control, she would stay in control. As she walked, however, she couldn’t stop her senses from being on hyper-alert. Jillian’s eyes flicked rapidly from side to side, searching the darkness, her ears straining to hear any rustle of leaf or snap of twig. She noticed the tiny brown bats that dipped and whirled in the air above her. She noted the calls of night birds, of loons settling and owls hunting. A mouse hurried in front of her, crossing and recrossing the path. A few moments later, a weasel followed it, in a slinky rolling motion. Jillian was keenly aware of everything—the blood pounding in her ears, the sound of her footsteps in the gravel, the liquid sounds of the neandsingrby river—but not the tree root bulging up through the path.

She yelled in surprise, then in pain as her knees hit the gravel again. She rolled to a sitting position, cursing the sharp stinging and her own clumsiness—hadn’t she
just
successfully negotiated a rugged game trail down a steep hillside for heaven’s sake? She couldn’t see much even with the moon’s light, but a quick examination showed both knees were bleeding, her jeans in shreds. She cursed even more as she picked out a few obvious shards of gravel, but cleaning and bandaging were just going to have to wait until she reached the truck. At least it wasn’t anything worse. Annoying, damn painful and embarrassing, but not a broken ankle or snakebite. Her eyes strayed to the underbrush in spite of herself—there weren’t any poisonous snakes this far north, were there? “Good grief!” Jillian yanked her mind firmly away from
that
train of thought and was pondering whether it was possible to stand without bending her knees when she heard the howl.

She sat bolt upright as if an electric current had suddenly passed through her, every hair on end, every sense alert. The call came again, closer. Deep, primal, long and low. Drawn out and out and out, an ancient song, mournful yet somehow sweet. When it fell silent, Jillian felt as if time itself had stopped. And she found herself straining to hear the song again, fascinated, even as her brain told her to run and instinct told her to freeze.

The moon was higher now. The pale light filtered down through the trees and laid a dappled carpet of silver on the stony path. There was no wind, no breeze. Jillian held her breath, listening, watching, but all was still. Her heart was pounding hard with both excitement and fear. Normally she would have loved to get a glimpse of a wolf in the wild, but the idea was a lot less attractive when she was alone in the dark. There were few recorded incidents of wolves attacking or killing humans, but all the data in the world wasn’t very reassuring when she was sitting there bleeding. Immediately she wished she hadn’t thought of that. It was just a little blood, but she struggled to get the image of a wounded fish in a shark tank out of her head.

A movement at the edge of the path beyond seized her attention. A pale shape emerged from the shadows, seemed to coalesce in the moonlight and grow larger until it was a vivid white creature of impossible size. Jillian’s heart stuck in her throat as the great wolf slowly turned its massive head and stared directly at her.

Oh, Jesus.
She had studied wolves more than any other wildlife, but only from books and captive specimens. Wolves don’t attack humans, she reminded herself. Wolves don’t attack humans—but there had been cases in Alaska. She gritted her teeth and sat perfectly still, afraid to breathe as the wolf began to slowly move in her direction. The creature approached within ten feet, then abruptly sat on its haunches and stared at her.

It was enormous. She swallowed hard, realizing if the wolf attacked there would be nothing she could do. Nothing. She wouldn’t even manage a scream before it was on her. Not one bit of her martial arts training would help, especially when she was sitting on the ground. Nevertheless she scanned the ground with her peripheral vision for anything she might use as a weapon. Her fingers inched toward a rock, closed around it as the wolf rose, took a slow step toward her, into a pool of moonlight. Instantly its snowy fur gleamed and its eyes were ... its eyes were ...

Blue.

Jillian felt as if the air had been knocked from her body. The rock rolled out of her palm. Trembling, shaking, she reached a tentative hand toward theandiv

The wolf closed the gap between them and licked her outstretched fingers.
Omigod, omigod.
She couldn’t move at first, both enthralled and terrified—until the animal nudged its head under her hand like a dog asking to be petted. Jillian moved her fingers lightly across the broad skull, scratching hesitantly at first. Then fear fell away, and she worked both hands behind the sensitive ears, into the glossy ruff. The wolf stood panting mildly, the immense jaws slack and the great pink tongue lolling out in apparent pleasure. Jillian had no illusions about the animal’s power—it might behave like a big dog but those jaws could easily crack the leg bones of a moose, those teeth could tear out the throat of a bull elk in full flight. And as surely as she knew those facts, she knew the wolf would not hurt her. It wasn’t sensible, it wasn’t logical, but the certainty was core-deep. Instinct? Intuition? Insanity? She didn’t know and didn’t care. The wolf held steady as Jillian wrapped her arms around its great neck and buried her face in its thick white fur. “I thought I dreamed you. You came to me. You came when no one would come, but they all told me I dreamed you because no one saw you but me. And I looked and looked for you, but I couldn’t find you.”

Here now. Found you.

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