Dire Needs: A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan (8 page)

“Earth to Rifter.” Vice was waving a hand in front of his face, and damn, the drugs were still making him loopy.

“Why were you out running alone? What the fuck, Rift?”

“Drop it,” he told Vice, noting that Jinx was uncharacteristically quiet, like it was taking all his strength to keep himself in check. “I’ve got to check on Gwen. Something’s wrong.”

Brother Wolf whimpered as he began to stir.
Calm down, boy; you’ll be fine in a little while.

“Dude, we’ve got a sitch here,” Vice continued to push.

“So do I.”

“Mine’s bigger,” Vice said steadily.

“Get off my ass!” Rifter roared, a damned impressive sight, even for those who knew him well. He could be a
miserable son of a bitch, but he kept his temper mostly in check.

Vice appeared unimpressed, but Rifter noted he kept his mouth shut all the same.

“She’s in trouble—I feel it,” Rifter said more quietly, because Jinx did not look good.

Vice could hold himself in check for only so long. “Oh, Christ. Look, we’re supposed to help Weres, not humans,” he started, but Rifter cut him off.

“Where’s Stray?”

“Guarding our problem.”

Rifter dressed and took pity because of Jinx. “Talk.”

“Don’t bite the messenger, hear?” Vice told him.

“Why not?”

“It’s about Harm.”

That one name was enough to send Rifter reeling, but he stopped himself since this wasn’t his house. He was sure Gwen wouldn’t appreciate claw marks on her walls.

It helped that Brother Wolf was still out of it, because it took everything Rifter had not to shift and run and kill anyone and everyone in his path.

Vice continued, “We found him last night. He killed about twenty weretrappers—shredded them. He’s still got silver ill, so he’s not answering any questions.”

That fucker was back, and blood would run hot tonight. Right out of Harm’s body. Rifter would take great pleasure in his pain. Revenge seared through his body like a blazing poker, and he was aware that the two Dires watched him carefully, would take their lead from him.

It took everything he had not to shift and really wake Brother Wolf. He could be home much faster and tearing into Harm. The satisfaction that would bring was better than any goddamned orgasm.

That’s
why the Dires had been so frantic to get him home. “There’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Always is. We figured Stray’s the one least likely to do damage before you get there.”

That wasn’t true, but Rifter didn’t bother to correct Vice. None of the wolves other than Rifter had seen Stray’s temper, and it was far from pretty. And he wanted to head straight home, but he couldn’t shake the scent of Gwen being in danger. Brother Wolf was having the same problem now that he was waking up. “First things first. The human—Gwen—I’ve got to go to her.”

“Not smart,” Vice muttered.

“Not dark out yet either.” Jinx spoke for the first time.

But the need overrode everything, including wanting to go to Harm and rip his head off his body. Something was definitely wrong—with him, with her, with this entire situation, and he didn’t have time to sit down and figure it out. “Drive me to the hospital.”

He was heading to the truck as he spoke, leaving Vice and Jinx to follow. But it was Jinx’s words that stopped him.

“You took off the dream catcher,” Jinx said, and Rifter touched his bare neck and tried not to look guilty. But he was still shaken from the dream, no matter how well he’d hidden it from his brothers. It had been the most vivid yet and took away any and all comfort he’d gotten while running with Gwen last night.

“Did you dream?” Vice asked, and Rifter nodded.

“Anything different?” Jinx pushed.

“I saw souls rising this time. I think I died and rose from the dead,” he admitted, and Jinx swore. “I think I’m seeing the Extinction happen through my father’s eyes. At the end, I think it was he who turned to me and said,
Save us, Rifter.
”

“What the hell?
Did they not pass over?” Jinx rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and continued without waiting for a response to a question only Rogue could really answer. “Where’s the catcher?”

“With my bike in the woods.”

“You’re so far from okay,” Vice said.

“None of us is, if my dreams are any indication,” Rifter shot back.

“Vice and I will go out tonight and hunt,” Jinx assured him. “You limit your sleep.”

Rifter promised nothing—because he couldn’t.

“Are we really doing this? Because I’d think he’d be way more interested in Harm than this human.” Jinx was snarling as he watched Rifter stride toward the truck and get inside. Vice fully expected to find a wolf in front of him at any moment.

“He bit someone—I smell it on him,” Vice said. “That, and the human.”

“If that were true, she wouldn’t be alive,” Jinx pointed out.

“He did something to make her come,” Vice said bluntly, then muttered, “At least someone got to come last night.”

“Don’t think about getting lucky tonight—we definitely have to go hunting and figure out what the hell’s going on with the dead Dires Rifter’s dreaming about.”

“Shit.” Vice paused. “Do you smell witch?”

Jinx took a deep sniff and then nodded.

“This is gonna suck,” Vice said as they followed Rifter into the truck.

I
t was dark by the time Gwen left the hospital, dragging a large bag filled with the extra clothes and scrubs from her locker. She’d forgone stopping by HR to sign the final paperwork for her dismissal. They could hunt her down if they needed her.

The failure hung on her like a too-heavy coat. She was a little dizzy, which she attributed to hunger, and all she wanted was her bed.

She was nearly to her car when she spotted a guy lingering by it. She’d parked in her usual spot under one of the large lights that illuminated the lot and was close to the woods that separated the streets between her house and the hospital. She often ran through those woods, the trails not as defined as in the park across town, but it was quiet and lovely in there. She’d never had any trouble, despite the reports of gang activity she’d mentioned to Cordelia.

Cordelia. She’d already had enough trouble today, almost turned away from the stranger, but he looked weak and pale, and he was also sweating. Feverish for sure. There was something in his eyes that made her instantly move toward him.

“Are you all right?” she asked and nearly added,
I’m a doctor
,
but bit that back, because now it would’ve felt like a lie.

“I’m… you need to come with me,” he said, his voice rough, but he wasn’t meeting her gaze, instead stood like a soldier, as if he was holding something back and scanning the lot. For what, she had no idea.

“Come on, let me get you inside to the ER,” she urged, dropping her bag to the ground and reaching for him, since he’d started to sway.

When he grabbed her back, he was surprisingly strong. “Not here,” he said, but he didn’t attempt to pull her in any other direction. “Please, Doc, I need your help.”

Doc.
“You can go to the hospital—”

But he had other plans, had pulled the knife before she’d finished speaking. Still, he didn’t grab her, simply motioned for her to get into the car.

She dug through her bag for the keys, trying to buy time. “I’ll give you money to pay for the ER visit, no questions asked.”

“No. I can’t.”

God, his eyes were glazed, and there was fresh blood on his shirt. If she went willingly with him, he’d probably be too weak to do anything to her.

Could she take that risk?

She didn’t see an immediate choice, beyond fighting, and the knife was big. The young man, bigger.

She pulled out her keys and attempted to click the alarm button, cursing her shaking hands.

“I just need stitches, okay?” he growled from behind her, although it somehow sounded apologetic.

“Leave her alone, Liam.”

Both she and Liam turned toward the voice, which Gwen recognized instantly.

Cordelia.
There was no way this was a coincidence. “Is he part of your monster-hunting group?”

“He’s
one of the monsters,” Cordelia said.

Even though Liam was trying to kidnap her, Gwen didn’t believe Cordelia, hadn’t since the moment they’d met. But Cordelia had both a gun and a syringe she’d no doubt stolen from the hospital, and Gwen knew the woman would hurt her if given the chance. She threaded her keys through her fingers so the sharp edges stuck out when she made a fist.

“Gwen, let me help you,” Cordelia continued.

“I don’t want to be part of your group.”

Cordelia smiled, a chilling thing, before she raised her gun and pointed it squarely at Gwen’s chest. “You’re not. You’re one of the monsters too.”

“Why? Because I went home with Rifter?” Gwen asked, totally confused. But before Cordelia could answer, Liam jumped between them. Cordelia’s gun clattered across the lot, and she went down.

Gwen started back toward the hospital, but Liam grabbed her, dragging her, and she didn’t know if she was being saved or kidnapped.

Both.

There was no one to scream to for help—change of shift had long passed and the lot was packed with cars but no people.

She screamed anyway, heard it echo across the lot, bounce off the trees, and reverberate in her own ears.

From behind her, Cordelia took one of Gwen’s arms in a viselike grip and attempted to drag her away from Liam. Normally
not
staying with the slightly crazy, could-be-on-drugs person would be the right thing to do.

But that’s how things had been going, and she was tired of fighting it. She punched Cordelia in the face, the keys quite effective at making the woman loosen her grip as blood poured from a gash in her cheek.

She jerked away from Cordelia, who snarled, “Stupid girl,” and
came after Gwen again, surprisingly fast, knocking her sideways with a blow to the side of her face.

Gwen jumped up and went back at her, her nails raking Cordelia’s back through her shirt as the anger welled from deep within until she could no longer see straight. Something snapped inside of her, and it was all painful and brilliant at the same time, a snapping, unholy light that she felt could somehow give an end to the torment of the last years.

At some point, Liam stepped in between them and lunged at Cordelia. Gwen stumbled back a little and realized the hospital was farther away than the path through the woods that led to the police station.

She was fast enough that she took the chance, but when she looked up, Liam was in front of her already, which seemed… impossible.

“Watch out,” he called, and she ducked and turned in time to miss Cordelia, who was still brandishing the needle. Liam shoved Gwen back and dragged her farther along into the woods. She heard footsteps following them and knew Cordelia wasn’t far behind. Everything was happening in fast-forward and she could barely catch her breath, even though she felt surprisingly strong as well.

“Keep running,” he told her, and he stopped. She continued on a few feet but turned and stopped as well, couldn’t leave him behind in danger. Cordelia was gaining, and Gwen doubled back toward him in time to see him circling Cordelia’s prone body. The needle was sticking out of her thigh and she was still alive—for now.

Gwen’s phone was buried in the bag she’d left by her car, her keys still clutched in her hand.

“I’ll stay with her; you get the police,” Gwen told him, because she couldn’t let a
woman die in front of her. She had no idea what was in the syringe.

But Liam wasn’t listening; he looked at her and panted, “Get far away from me.”

He shifted from foot to foot, fisted his hands. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his lips stretched in a grimace.

She should be scared, but facing death obviously took away her fears. Looking back, she’d never really been afraid of much anyway. She’d lost those closest to her, and after that, she refused to get close to anyone. And when you didn’t have anything to lose, you had nothing to fear. “I can’t. You need help.”

“
You
need help.”

Why was everyone telling her that? “This was self-defense—you won’t be in trouble, but if you do anything else to her—”

“Get back—keep far away from me.”

It happened like a flash; she’d been too close and got thrown to the ground in his frenzy. The man was gone, and she caught a blur of brown fur and harsh breaths like she’d never heard before. She lay where she’d landed, several feet from him, momentarily stunned, and then pushed up on her hands and knees and saw the actual four-legged creature in front of her.

And he was growling.

This wasn’t the wolf from last night’s dream. This one looked darker, and it was angry and scared.

And now you’re comparing dream wolves to real ones.

“Whoa, boy, calm down.” And now she was an animal whisperer.

She’d pretend to be anything if it kept her alive.

The wolf growled, low but somehow nonthreatening. It was looking around and then gazing back at her.

Is that what he was doing? Protecting her?

God, she was losing it. The strange, floaty prodrome of the seizure started to take her. The wolf whined and then jumped toward her as she fell back on the ground.

When she looked up, she saw the wolf—
the wolf—
on top of Cordelia, his teeth gleaming as he howled toward the sky.

This isn’t happening.

She ducked her head before he tore into Cordelia’s throat, curled herself into a ball, the strength and non-fear from seconds earlier totally dissipating. But when he turned back in her direction, she sensed it and knew she’d have no choice but to fight for her life.

Rifter was out of the truck and halfway across the parking lot, looking for Gwen’s car, when he caught the scent of Were.

Young. Uncontrolled.

“Brother, I need you,” he said quietly, and a low growl hummed in his ears.

Brother Wolf helped him catch the other scent in the air.
Gwen.

Rifter wasted no time getting to the woods and shifted without bothering to strip. This time, he didn’t care about ruining the leather he wore.