Once Lost Lords (Royal Scales, Book 1) (18 page)

Francis was turning around while changing shape. I kept up my pace as
one part of me watched him shifting and another part felt it. Muscles
twitched and reformed, shoulders and head drawing up to a greater
height, jaw pulling out to a toothy smile. His fur was the same color
I had seen back at his house in the suburbs, but the look was far
less welcoming than the canine form.

Wolves did not play fair. Neither did I. My other thoughts were in
full swing as I charged.

Fur bristles. Scrunches. Rolls. Shoulder muscles settle. Heart
pumps loudly. Body sways through the air while fuzzy thing gains
balance.

Adrenaline rushed through Francis’ body. A psychological
response to the change according to Julianne. Switching from one form
to another came with an intense surge of chemicals that overwhelmed
any sense of pain. Instead, wolves felt an intense rush of energy
similar to a berserker.

My senses swept the same feelings over me and something similar
answered the challenge. His life was mine. My prey, my target, my
hunt. I chased him down and he wasn’t running away anymore. I
barely had the sense to yank my jacket off so it wouldn’t get
torn up.

This was the fun part.

Muscles in a wolf work differently. There are weaknesses and angles
anyone can go for with enough practice. I was out of practice, but
part of me remembered where to swing for. The chest was useless. It
was too bunched up. The face and nose were sensitive and perfect. A
throat would cause them to freak out. Legs were heavily muscled and
suited for a bouncy equilibrium. Breaking the weak spot near his
heels would work wonders.

Above all, silver helped.

For a moment, as I charged in, I wondered how badly this might turn
out. What else could I do? The last few days had reminded me of one
important fact. I would rather die fighting than live hiding. My
limited skill set was only useful for this kind of moment. And I
loved it.

Both feet launched me across the gap as Francis finished his shift. I
lashed out, trying to connect silver to skin quickly. Francis fell
backward while kicking on hind legs like a wild dog. Large feet rose
against my flying form. One arm braced against the kicks. Claws rent
through layers of skin.

First blood was his. Francis bent around and managed to back himself
up and lowered his head to the ground. Even with that crouched
position he was still huge. His voice choked up with spittle from
nearly rabid growls.

Darkness robbed most physical sight. Wolf’s vision would be
unfair. I could feel him as he paced. Most of his weight rested on
large, awkwardly shaped feet. It was easier to focus on his pelvis,
to feel the weight shift from his center. Francis slid sideways in
order to reach my blind side.

Both hands shook, left, then right. Flashing silver would put him on
guard. Keep him from blindly rushing in and overwhelming me.
Hesitation on his part would make it easier to get silver into him.
That simple action would cause the wolf to shut down and go into
shock.

My left foot stomped down as loudly as I could in his direction.
Francis flinched, his back rolled and twitched. Surviving in the heat
of battle was making it easier to focus. To feel ownership. Awareness
stretched behind me picking up scattered items. Strewn clothes were
us behind us. Torn pants sat about his warped waist.

Mine.

Francis was getting smarter. Bunching up and quieting down. Part of
his rational mind must be kicking in as the initial rush of
transformation faded. I could feel his muscles roll in preparation.
When he did move, it would be sudden, so sudden I might not react in
time.

Weight shifts. Fur brushes air. There.

A brief flash of insight sent me leftward. Francis shot through the
spot I had been standing. I pressed towards the ground, touching down
with a hand and spinning about. The other hand swung through the
wolf’s landing zone. Fur brushed across my fingers. I propelled
myself forward swinging the other hand in and successfully grabbed
more air.

Teeth rushed in from the right snapping a giant maw. Big enough to
take out my head. My shoulder tucked in as I rolled to the side.
Things were getting easier to sense. Taking on that all-encompassing
sensation I had when fighting Kahina’s minions. Drumming pulsed
in my ears overriding my real hearing. Each movement felt familiar,
like a favorite pair of pants. Ones that would fit perfectly if I
could just get them over my ass.

My mind slipped further into the moment, into the battle in front of
me. This was my turf, my town, my target.

Heavy fuzzy thing. Angry snarl. Drops of perspiration splash
onto ground. Across the street someone rushes by. Scared. Weak Pink
Meat. Doesn’t look over.

I fell back on a hand to get away from the jaw. Grating tingled my
senses as iron dug along the dirt. My free arm backhanded through the
air again. This time things connected and Francis yelped. He didn’t
back off. Desperation fueled each snap of teeth and each swing of
claws. Both feet pumped trying to gain distance with awkward hops.
Slobber spilled off of his jaws. The biting slowed down as my lucky
silver strike started to hit home. Even Alphas disliked silver.

Escape was impossible. Francis’ front paws kept catching on my
ruined pants. Small, painful grooves were carved into my flesh with
each lunge. There was something close by. I shifted direction enough
to back up towards my jacket.

My scramble paid off as I recovered my coat. The heavy fabric was
quickly tossed over Francis’ head. He reared back and brought
both malformed arms up to try and pull the coat off. Reaching above
their heads was difficult for any wolf. Their muscles were built all
wrong.

Recovering only took moments and I scrambled to press my brief
advantage. A beat in my ears went with each step. Moving inwards.
Sliding up to Francis’ left. Capturing his arm with my right.
Bumping his middle. Placing one foot behind his paws. I pulled on the
extra strength available and hefted the wolf up and over.

Startled whimpering signaled success. My jacket still covered his
head. Francis’ legs and paws were kicking as he tried to right
himself.

Mine. Den wrecking life is mine. Dominate. Prevent
misunderstandings. Below me. Beneath me. Fuzzy thing inferior. Dares
damage family.

Quickly I wove one arm under his. The other locked across his
gigantic chest. My arms grasped together at the wrists and pulled the
silver against his chest.“Shift or I’ll squeeze!” I
shouted in his ear. Hopefully, it hurt. His struggling picked up
steam. Warmth slid over my hands as blood seeped out from lines being
dug into his chest.

“Shift, you moron!” He flipped us over and gave a weak
howl while still kicking. Unwelcome liquid and foam flung around the
area while I hung on. Silver tore deeper grooves into his skin.
Francis wasn’t the only one bleeding and what little strength I
had was fading.

Winning or losing depended on my ability to keep a grip. His
struggles slowed, then stopped. Body heaving in deep breaths, tactile
sensations picked up the spent give to his muscles. Aching, burning,
losing strength. I loosened my grip somewhat.

“Shift! Or I swear I’ll shove silver into your heart!”
A ripple of my arms as I flexed the rest of muscles, demonstrating
just how hard that squeeze could get. Then I felt him shrink under my
arms as he collapsed. My jacket still covering half his form.

I pulled my arms out and quickly replaced it with a curled fist to
his back, silver side down. It didn’t take much persuasion to
keep him peaceful on the ground. My other arm dug through my jacket
pockets looking for the specially made cuffs. They slipped over his
wrists. Once they were secure enough I eased up on my fist.

“Sector issued.” I rattled the cuffs. “Don’t
shift.”

“I won’t.” He huffed then struggled to pull away
from the dirt. I could feel the man’s breath as it curled out
over the ground and was sucked back in.

“Where’s the money, Francis,” I asked.

There was a pause as I felt him strain a little against the
restraints.

“Wrong idea, Francis. Where is the money.” I put my hand
to his back again. The blade side down and started to lightly drag
across his skin. Small welts appeared displaying his body’s
adverse reaction. This was the part they paid me for.

I wouldn’t feel guilty for this. He would heal if I didn’t
go overboard. Even the gouges on his chest weren’t
irreversible.

“Money, Francis. Focus on the money and I won’t keep
going.” I paused for a moment, leaving my hand where it was,
before starting again.

“The hotel. It’s back in the hotel.” The cracking
of his voice told me how bad it hurt. There was no pity for a man
willing to screw his family over. Hell. I should double check. Those
girls deserved good information.

“You sure, Francis?” I trailed silver down another strip
then dug in. Francis shook and weakly tried to buck me off. He
weighed too little as a human.

“Are, you, sure?” I asked again.

“Yes.” It took a bit for him to say it. His body was
shutting down. Wolves tended to shut down and heal when it got to be
overwhelming. Hopefully. Julianne had said that I needed either
Francis dead, and the money, or Francis alive, and a damned good
excuse.

Excitement slowly drained and my own huffing lessened. This had been
a success. This target had been taken down by my hands. My target.
All without help. I was seriously out of shape but not out of the
game.

Other senses retracted. The world around grew dim again, no longer as
vibrant, almost lifeless. No lights came on in the area, and things
still looked extremely dark. I went for the cellphone and called
Julianne.

“What’s up, Jay?”

“Got Francis,” I said.

“How is he?”

“Comatose. But alive.”

“Shame, and the money?” She asked.

“He said the hotel room.” I gave her the apartment number
that I had seen in person and my visions. Getting back in would be
too tough for me now.

“It’s not in there, Jay, we checked.”

“Wait, we who?” I asked Julianne for clarification.

“You think the pack or I would let you go without someone
following?” She said. I paused for a moment and pressed the
phone to my chest for a moment. Julianne hadn’t trusted me to
solve this on my own? Typical.

“He said it was there.” I wish I had brought a partner,
or not screwed things up with Kahina. It was easier to have one
person check for the items while I handled the face punching.

“Hold on.” The phone clicked over to hold music for a
moment then flipped back.

“There were some others in the area, humans, the scent was all
over, sound familiar?”

“Yeah, three human morons,” I answered.

She snorted. “Where were they when you left them?”

“Out cold.” Only six or seven minutes had passed so far.
Did they wake up and take the money during that window? Then somehow
evade a wolf?

“We’ll scrape something together on them. However, until
the pack has that money back I can’t give you a cut.”
Because of a couple of little human idiots I would lose out on a
finder’s fee. That money had important things attached to it.
Collection building, rent, food, a new pair of pants.

“How about bringing him in?” I asked.

“His life is the pack’s, money was the only thing I had
any room with. Drag yourself back and I’ll set out a few
drinks, but that’s all I’m offering.” She said.
Even though my thoughts were ungrateful I didn’t want to argue
with Julianne.

“Fine, want me to sit on Francis?”

“Yeah, you’ll have company soon. Look for Malcolm, don’t
hand him over to anyone else.” She clicked off.

“Bitch,” I muttered to a dead phone line. My vision was
getting blurry. All that was left was riding this out until Malcolm
showed up.

Jacket pockets were emptied out and the clothing went over Francis’
nearly naked body. At least some remains of his pants had stayed
intact through the shifts. They were nearly stretched beyond use.
Sitting on Francis was a literal suggestion. If he woke up then my
weight would prevent a lot of struggle. It would also hurt his back,
which he deserved for making me miss the money. He was lucky I didn’t
punch him some more.

My mental switch was still somewhat functional. Kicking someone’s
ass helped. What little light I had to see by was completely useless
at helping me but the tactile sensation wasn’t lost.

Minutes later the soles of feet slammed against the concrete. Not
just shoes but paws. More than a few wolves were showing up. Six,
maybe seven pack members. I unhooked my gloves and pocketed them. My
hands slowly went up. A car rolled down the street towards us. Its
headlights were blazingly bright compared to the darkness I camped
in.

The door cracked and someone stepped out. Medium height, nondescript
build for a wolf, deeply tanned skin. He had a presence that assumed
command but his looks were one step away from getting lost in a
crowd.

“Jeff, I believe?” He said.

“That’s me, and you?” I asked.

“Malcolm.”

“Good, this is yours.” I stood up and grabbed my jacket.
The action hurt more than it should. A majority of my wounds should
be clotting. A dull ache was leftover as the adrenaline drained.

“You seem a little off.” Malcolm’s voice was flat
and emotionless as he studied me. There was a slight flare to his
nostrils as he took in the air around him.

“Wrestled a wolf, of course I’m off,” I responded.

“That you did. Julianne said you would be able to handle it.
Not sure I believed it of a lone human.” Another wolf padded
up, getting too close for comfort. One of the others was sniffing the
hell out of the ground where I had sat. There wasn’t enough
light to make out what he was looking for.