Winter of the Wolf (2 page)

Shriek
! Screams and gunshots split the air, and Bree jumped, almost dropping the plate. “Darn that kid! He must have volume at max.” The young man in the adjacent apartment was addicted to slasher movies.

“Men and their loud toys.” Ash snorted. She slid Bree’s mementos to one side to clear space for the food, then nodded at a silver-disked bracelet and a crumpled photo of a couple holding a very young Breanne. “You stil got those, huh?”

“Hey, they’re my heritage, right?” Other people got antique china and photo albums and precious furniture, but the picture and bracelet were al she’d possessed when a ranger had found her lost in a forest at the age of three.

Ash tapped the photo. “You know, if you blew this up, you might be able to get an ID on your parents. The Internet has al sorts of customizable search engines now.” As the noise from next door diminished slightly, Bree sat on the couch and poured wine. “Nah. Either they’re dead or didn’t want me. Why bother?”

“Maybe you just got lost, and they’ve been looking for

“Maybe you just got lost, and they’ve been looking for you. Wanting to take you home.” Ashley’s father was in jail, her mother OD’d, so she’d set her heart on Bree’s parents being wonderful and rich and loving, like out of some Disney movie.

Ash didn’t get it that Disney created fantasies as fake as the idea that Bree’s parents had given a darn about her.

“Couldn’t have searched that hard. It’s been over twenty years.” Bree shook her head. “Besides, who needs them?

You’re my family. And I have the perfect home right here.”

“Wel…I wanted to talk to you about that.” Ashley picked up the glass of wine, spinning it around and around in her hands.

The last time Ash had looked that flustered, she’d confessed to slamming the oven door, causing Bree’s dessert soufflé to colapse. Bree set the remote down. “What’s wrong?”

“My boss talked to me today. They’re opening a division in San Diego.” Ash’s face lit with pride and excitement. “He asked me to head the software section.”

“San Diego? B-but you live here.”
I live here
.

The glow in Ashley’s face faded slightly. “You’l come with me, right? We’l get an apartment and—”

“No.” Move away? Bree rose, wrapping her arms around herself. “This is home. Here.”
This apartment. This city. My
job
.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, we’ve lived in this building

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, we’ve lived in this building forever. You’ve worked at that restaurant for even longer.

You could be a chef anywhere. Don’t you ever want to see or do something else?”

“No.” Bree opened the sliding glass door, breathing in the chil air. “I moved enough when I was little.” Foster home to foster home, new families, new neighborhoods, new schools.

Different foods, strange routines, unfamiliar beds. Nothing had ever stayed the same.

“But…” Ashley bit her lip. “I’m
tired
of the rain. I want to live somewhere sunny. I want you to come too.” Bree shook her head. The very thought of leaving made her sick. This was her home. “I-I can’t. Moving is your dream.” But how could she survive the loneliness if her foster-sister left?

“Dammit, Bree, you—” Ash’s words were drowned out by a cinematic explosion from the adjoining apartment.

Bree closed the sliding door and paused. Something moved across the landscaped grounds. Four-legged and bigger than a dog. A bear? In Seattle? The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose.

“What’s wrong?” Ashley joined her.

“I think there’s a—”

The huge black form headed for the apartment, picking up speed.

“Get back!” Bree backpedaled, puling Ash with her.

“Get back!” Bree backpedaled, puling Ash with her.

To her shock, the animal charged straight at the patio door. It wouldn’t; it
did
. Glass shattered with a horrendous crash as the beast burst through.

Ash screamed, high and shril, frozen directly in the bear’s path.

“No!” Bree shoved a chair in front of the bear and darted behind the couch, yanking Ash along. Heart pounding, she turned toward the…
That’s no bear
.

Oh, God, what is that thing
?

Evil red-brown eyes stared at her. The size of a grizzly, but armored like a dinosaur with bony spiked plates. A shark-like head displayed massive pointed teeth. The stench of it was like raw meat left in the garbage for days. Worse.

She stood petrified for a moment, cold chils running down her spine.

It took a step forward.

Her mind screamed:
run away, run away
. But she wouldn’t—couldn’t—turn her back on it. She took a slow step back. Keeping her gaze on the creature, she slid her hand up the wal and yanked the
bokken
from the rack. The familiar grip of the wooden practice sword felt comforting in her hands.

Ash had no weapon, no training. “Go get help,” Bree ordered under her breath. “Hurry!”

“But—”

“But—”

“
Go
.”

As Ash moved away, Bree jumped forward, waving her sword as a diversion. “Beat it! Get out of here.” Keeping eye contact, she inched backwards.
Come after me, beast.

Follow me
.

The sound of the unlocking deadbolt
snicked
loud in the room. The creature’s head turned, and it charged toward Ash.

“No!” With al her strength, Bree bashed the sword on its skul. The wooden blade splintered. Broke.

Not slowing at al, the creature shouldered past, knocking her backwards. She slammed into the wal with a hard thud.

Head spinning, she regained her feet and saw it leap at Ashley.

The monster hit, biting Ash’s shoulder, puling her to the ground, savaging her. Her screams almost drowned out its ghastly snarls.

“Noooo.” Terrified, frantic, Bree flung herself across the room. “Get off her!” She spun, kicking the beast in the stomach. Pain blasted through her foot. The creature barely rocked.

“Ash, run!”

The monster’s massive head whipped around and gore-covered teeth snapped at Bree’s ankle, spattering her jeans with saliva and blood. Ashley’s blood.

with saliva and blood. Ashley’s blood.

Bree jumped back, expecting Ash to stand. To get through the door. Why wasn’t she moving? She darted a glance behind the beast and froze. Unable to move. To think.

Ash’s neck was ripped—ripped away. Blood everywhere.

Her gray eyes were open. Blank.
Oh Ash
. Bree took a step forward.
No no no. This can’t happen. Oh please, no
. Her breath hitched.

The monster watched her, mouth open as if laughing.

When the creature sniffed at the pool of blood beside Ashley’s body, rage roared in Bree’s head.
Kill it, kill it, kill
it
. Yet terror shook her bones until she couldn’t breathe.

Lapping at the blood, it stood between her and the apartment’s front door.

Get a knife. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she backpedaled quickly into the kitchen. But the monster folowed, red-brown eyes never leaving her face. Like thick smoke, the sense of evil choked her. Clicking sounds made her look down. The beast had massive claws—each one bigger than a finger. Oh God.

Can I kill it
?

Slimy pink drool dripped from its mouth onto her tile floor as it stopped, trapping her in the kitchen.

Her back bumped the counter. She reached behind her, and her hand found the knife rack. Not that one. Or that. Her fingers closed on the butcher knife. With a deep breath, then fingers closed on the butcher knife. With a deep breath, then another, she tried to push the fear to one side like at a martial arts tournament. Didn’t work.

Hit it where? The wooden sword had splintered in her hand. The spiked plating on its back looked too thick. The neck?

The monster lunged at her.

She dodged sideways, aimed the knife toward its throat—

and the blade skidded across the plates, catching in the grooves. The head whipped around.
Heck
!

She yanked her hand away, and its teeth closed on emptiness with an ugly snap.

Was she stupid? Get help. She screamed, loud and shril, screamed again. And then the thing was on her. She slashed at its neck. The shock jarred her hand. The blade broke off at the hilt.

“No!” She chopped at its neck with the edge of her hand.

Her hand bounced off, bleeding from the sharp points of the plates. She could break concrete—but not this thing? “
Why
don’t you die
?”

Vaulting up and over, she cut her palms on its spiky armor, but landed behind it. She slammed a kick into its leg. A bone in her foot fractured. The sound and the pain were nauseating, and she staggered back.

The helish creature spun. Jaws clamped onto her arm, and it whipped her around like a land-borne shark. She hit the counter, grunted in pain, and punched at its eyes. Too counter, grunted in pain, and punched at its eyes. Too protected, too recessed in the armor.

The jaws tightened on her arm. Pain burst through her, and her knees buckled. She struggled, a helpless mouse, as it dragged her across the floor to the living room. With a jerk of its head, the monster flung her across the room.

Free. She roled over and sprang away, one arm limp at her side.

With a savage growl, the animal jumped on her, driving her face into the floor. Claws dug into her back. The rotten stench closed her throat.
I’m going to die
. The inevitability beat at her.

Its teeth ripped into her flesh, tearing at her shoulder.

It hurts, oh God, it hurts
. She screamed, twisting onto her back to kick at it. Her feet hit uselessly, like hammering on a tank.

Suddenly it backed away. She tried to stand and failed.

Her hand skidded in the blood soaking the carpet.
My blood
.

She gritted her teeth, tears smearing her vision.
Where
was
—

The beast blurred and turned into a person. A man.

No
. She sucked in a breath, trying to get her eyes to focus.

It was the guy from the parking lot. Naked. His thick hairless chest was streaked with gore. Blood dripped from his mouth and chin. He licked his lips. “You are like nothing I’ve ever had.” His voice was oily. “I knew I tasted I’ve ever had.” His voice was oily. “I knew I tasted something…extra in your blood. What are you? Where did you come from?”

His head tilted, and a cruel smile grew on his face. He crooned, “Are there more like you?” Pink-tinged drool roled down his chin as he stared down at her.

She shuddered. Her fingers curled into the carpet, and she tried to inch away.

“You look human.” He wiped his blood-spattered cheek, sniffed, then ran his tongue over his palm. “Mmm. You don’t smel different, but I’ve never, ever, tasted anything like this before.”

She raised her feet to kick at him, to keep him away. One arm wouldn’t lift, and she was losing blood fast.

He took a step forward.

“Bastard!” She snap-kicked his knee.

He hissed in pain and blurred into the creature. With a vicious snarl, the beast lunged at her. Teeth punched through her jeans, ripping into her thigh, and her screams echoed in the room. Oh God, why did no one come?

Her eyes lost focus and then he was a man again, licking his lips. Laughing. “The taste of you is just—fucking great.” He loomed over her, huge and evil. “Kiling you tonight would be a waste.” He glanced at Ashley’s body. “I can feed on her. But first…”

His hand slid down his stomach to his cock—horribly His hand slid down his stomach to his cock—horribly erect—and wrapped around it.

* * *

Ailill Ridge, Rainier Territory ~ Dark of the Moon
Only a few hours remained before dawn, and the smal mountain town of Ailil Ridge was silent. Thick clouds had blotted out the stars in the moonless night, but the cold wind off Mt. Rainier brought the stench of evil—rotting flesh mixed with a nauseating tang like molding oranges. The scent came from the front of a one-story house, and Zebulon Damron paused in the shadow of an oak, searching for any movement.

The helhound was close. Zeb would have his fight tonight even if his patrol-partner Shay reached the demon-dog first.

Not even Shay could kil a helhound alone, though the obsessed idiot would probably try.

He felt the touch of the God of the Hunt. Power poured into his cahir’s body like wine into a glass, gifting him with far more than a normal shifter’s strength.

After skirting the patches of snow that might betray him, he edged around the corner of the house. Thorns from a rose bush scraped across his neck, and he froze, silently cursing al bush scraped across his neck, and he froze, silently cursing al females and their vicious plants. The smel of fresh blood would alert the helhound to his presence.

He checked his weapons. Sheathed on his right hip: stiletto for the demon-dog’s eyes, double-edged dagger for its bely.

Left hip: pistol for the eyes—although bulets were almost worthless. Be nice if cahirs had as few vulnerabilities as helhounds.

So where was it? He risked a quick check of the narrow side yard.
Good evening, hellhound
. Its front paws on the planter box, the demon scum peered through the window.

Zeb slid his blade from the sheath strapped to his right thigh. The tiny vulnerable area of the beast’s stomach was exposed. If he could get to it before—

With a heave of its heavily muscled hindquarters, the helhound smashed through the glass. Fuck.

“Shay. Inside!” Zeb roared to his partner in the front yard.

After sheathing his knife, he dove through the window. The splintered glass edging the sides scraped along his leather-covered shoulders. Dammit, just once he’d like to enter a house by the door. Somersaulting to his feet, Zeb puled his dagger and spun in a circle. Empty living room.

A woman shrieked, the sound so filed with horror that a chil ran up Zeb’s spine.
Had my sister screamed like that
?