Winter of the Wolf (3 page)

He shoved the thought away.

Glass shattered as Shay sprang through the front window, Glass shattered as Shay sprang through the front window, his wolf form as hefty as his human one. His paws scrambled for purchase on the tile floor.

His partner right behind him, Zeb sprinted down the halway. They burst into the bedroom together, the wel-practiced move possible only because Shay always fought as a wolf.

Zeb preferred to have a knife or pistol in hand.

Shay went left; Zeb right. In the center, the helhound stalked the female cowering to the right of the door. She was a shifter, and the scent of fear poured from her—the demon-hound would gorge on that emotion like a grizzly on a new-kiled deer.

The helhound’s attention turned, and Zeb braced himself.

This one was normal-sized—waist-high and bigger than any wolf, wrapped in buletproof plating like a fucking dinosaur. It snarled, and the bony pointed muzzle displayed razor-sharp fangs.

Zeb snarled back, cursing silently. So much for surprise.

The beast stepped forward, bear-like claws clicking on the hardwood floor.

“By Herne, you are an ugly one.” He checked Shay who would attack from the rear, the diversion alowing Zeb to drop, rol half under his quarry, and slice down the narrow leathery part of its gut.

Sometimes it worked.

Zeb glanced at the female and realized she wasn’t Zeb glanced at the female and realized she wasn’t overweight, but pregnant. The knowledge sent his protective instincts skyrocketing. After checking the helhound, he moved forward a couple of steps, leaving room between him and the wal, then caught her gaze and glanced behind him.

Run that way, little female, so I can keep you safe
.

Despite her terror, she gave him an infinitesimal nod.

Satisfied, he returned his attention to the demon scum’s eyes. The red in its pupils widened with rage. It would charge soon.

With a loud snarl, Shay darted in. His jaw clamped on the helhound’s hind leg, jaw working to penetrate the overlapping plates.

The helhound belowed and spun

Zeb crouched to spring forward—

Trying to flee, the woman tripped, faling against Zeb’s legs from behind. He staggered, dropping to one knee as she scrambled to her feet and through the door.

From the other side of the room, Shay yelped. His body thudded loudly against the wal. Silence.

“Fuck!” Strategy gone, Zeb charged the creature savaging his partner. His leather tore as he rammed into its spiky shoulder, knocking it back a step. He reached down, trying to stab the gut. His blade scraped over the plating, caught the narrow leathery strip down the bely, and made a shalow slice.

slice.

He’d barely scratched the fucking tank. Zeb scrambled away. Too slow.

The helhound’s jaws ripped a chunk from his right arm in a flash of helish pain.

Fuck. As it spun completely around, Zeb dove away. The demon-dog charged forward, one hind leg weaker. Shay must have managed to bite through the shalower plates there.

Zeb braced himself as it advanced. Not going to survive this one. One-on-one with a helhound was suicide.
So be it
.

But the creature would finish Shay off, so he had to kil it.

Had to
. Maybe the halway would give him a chance to use his pistol.

He dodged the first attack and risked a glance sideways.

His partner’s leg was awash in blood, but the big wolf was trying to rise. Alive, thank the Mother.

Darting for the door, Zeb yanked out his revolver. The helhound’s claws scraped on the floor as it folowed.

Halfway down the hal, Zeb spun. He aimed—the recessed eyes were the only place a bulet was effective—

and fired again and again.

But the attacking demon scum tipped its head down, so the bulets splatted off the armored head and ricocheted off the wal.

Useless. He back-pedaled, but the helhound hit him hard.

As Zeb landed on his back, the creature lunged for his throat.

As Zeb landed on his back, the creature lunged for his throat.

Weapons flying, Zeb grabbed its neck to hold the jaws away.

He kicked sideways to spin his torso out of reach of the claws.

The helhound tried to shake off his grip. Twisting and lunging. Over and over.

Fuck. It couldn’t reach his throat…yet…but Zeb couldn’t use his knife. Stalemate, and he knew damn wel which of them would tire sooner. If he hadn’t had a cahir’s extra strength from the God of the Hunt, Herne, he’d be dead by now. The muscles of his arms started to spasm.

His death shone in the red-brown eyes.

His stiletto was stil sheathed. Could he stab its eye as it tore his throat out?
Can’t…can’t let it kill Shay
.

The jaws inched closer, the stench foul.

“You know, it realy wants a taste of you.” With a lurching movement, Shay puled Zeb’s stiletto from his hip sheath and buried it in the demon-dog’s eye.

Its roar filed the room, and the creature colapsed onto Zeb, knocking the wind out of him.

Shuddering, it died, changing to human a second later. A very dead, very naked male. Oversized, like al helhounds.

Zeb shoved the body off and staggered to his feet. The halway spun around him. He bent, hands on knees to catch his breath. Just taking a breath hurt as if an iron trap had closed on his chest. Must have cracked a rib. His arm bled; closed on his chest. Must have cracked a rib. His arm bled; his hands weren’t much better and hurt worse.

He waited for his partner’s low howl, to start the song of victory over a helhound. Over death. Nothing. He painfuly straightened. “Shay?”

“Sorry I was slow,” his partner managed before toppling to the floor.

Fuck, fuck, fuck
. Throat tight, Zeb dropped to his knees.

Stil in human form and naked, Shay had bites, gouges, ripped flesh down his right hip and leg. Blood flowed sluggishly over his pale skin.

Gut twisting, Zeb ripped a bed sheet and bound up the worst of Shay’s wounds. His eyes kept blurring with memories of his brothers and sister—his littermates. How their flesh had been torn away from the bones, how blood had pooled around them.

Shay would live. But with no healer in the area, he’d hurt for a fucking long time. Once again, guilt swept over Zeb.
My
fault
. Hadn’t thought ahead, hadn’t dodged the woman, should have moved faster.

Hands shaking, he holstered his weapon and sheathed his knives. With a grunt of pain, he carefuly lifted his partner.

The cold night air stung his skin. The starlight blurred and cleared as he staggered down the smal street. After a minute, he raised his face to the moonless sky and howled his song of victory and death, of lingering grief for his family. Of victory and death, of lingering grief for his family. Of loneliness.

Chapter Two

Seattle ~ First quarter moon

A week after the attack, Bree entered her apartment and snapped the deadbolt. Leaning her forehead against the door, she tried to steel herself to move. Criminy, she hurt. Her leg, her shoulder, her arm—her wounds burned as if the thing’s teeth were ripping at them al over again. As the pain eased, she puled in a slow breath, smeling the harsh odor of industrial cleaners.
Okay, I can do this
.

She slowly turned, terrified of what she’d see. But there was no body, no gore, no pools of blood.

The glass door had been repaired. The beige carpet was new. The knots in her shoulders eased. Of course, the landlord had had the place cleaned up, and the police had already told her that the murderer had taken Ashley’s body.

The knowledge sent a shudder through her.

Seeing the bloody paw prints, the cops had decided the kiler had brought a dog with him. They certainly didn’t buy her story of a monster that changed into a man. Although the her story of a monster that changed into a man. Although the detectives, doctor, nurses, and counselors had been very sympathetic, she knew no sane person could possibly believe her. She didn’t blame them, but how could the police find the creature if they didn’t realize what they were looking for?

Hauling in a deep breath, she forced herself away from the door—after rechecking the deadbolt three times. Not that a lock was much use. After al, the sliding door had been closed last week, and the beast had charged right through the glass. Thank God, Mrs. Johnson had been walking her terrier and noticed the shattered glass, or Bree would have bled to death.

But help hadn’t arrived soon enough to prevent Ash’s death or soon enough to keep the monster from… Bree’s stomach turned over, and she barely made it to the toilet. She vomited over and over until she was empty. Bile burned her mouth, and she crumpled on the cold tile like a used towel.

Used
—that was the word. She’d been
used
. She scrambled for the toilet again.

When the dry heaving finaly ended, she fel back against the tub, clammy sweat drying on her skin. She’d avoided thinking about it, but she had to face reality. She’d been attacked, savaged, bitten, torn up by a…creature, and then she’d been— She swalowed. Swalowed again.
Raped
.

After rinsing her mouth, she headed for the kitchen on wobbly legs. A diet cola erased the last traces of sickness from her mouth, and the caffeine refueled her flagging energy.

from her mouth, and the caffeine refueled her flagging energy.

Nightmares had stolen her sleep. She hadn’t been able to eat.

A bitter laugh broke from her—at least she was clean, considering how many showers she was taking, day and night. But no matter how hard she washed, she stil smeled him on her skin.

She wasn’t pregnant, at least. Living on the street had taught her a few lessons.
1: Life isn’t safe. 2: Having
children by accident is stupid
. She’d been on birth control pils since she was able to obtain them, and the hospital had given her extra medications as part of the hospital’s post…

assault…protocol.

Holding the cola, she sank down on the couch and noticed that someone had picked up her spiled memory box. On top was the photo of her with the people everyone assumed were her parents. “
You know, if you blew this up, you might be
able to get an ID on your parents
.” The memory of Ash’s voice was so clear that Bree looked around, but the apartment was empty. Would always be empty.

Al that was left in these rooms was horror. A sob lodged in her chest, hurting, trying to break free. Everything she’d worked for—her beautiful stable world—was shattered.
I
want it back. My Ashley, my home, everything. Please,
God, put it back
. With a tearing feeling, the sob broke loose. Pushing her face against the cushion, she cried, the anguished sounds ripping her sore throat.

anguished sounds ripping her sore throat.

Eventualy, she regained control. Wiping tears from her cheeks, she puled in a shuddering breath. What’s done was done. Time to deal with it. Taking a determined sip of cola, she straightened her shoulders and started making plans.

First of al, she couldn’t live here anymore. When her lips quivered, she firmed them immediately. No more tears.

She’d have to find a different apartment somewhere in Seattle. She could keep everything else the same—her job, her city. Just a new apartment. With luck, she could find a place that was several stories up and that had security.

And if the monster could get through those precautions? A shiver ran through her. She’d used her fists, her feet, even the sword and knife. Nothing had worked. Bree wrapped her arms around herself, gritting her teeth as the movement tugged on the stitches in her arm and shoulder If fists, feet, or blades wouldn’t work, she’d find something better. A pistol. Would a bulet go through those bony spikes? Putting her fingers together, she pointed at the glass door. “Bang, bang, bang.”

Even the
pretend
recoil made her drop the imaginary gun and grab her shoulder. “Ooow.” But…a pistol would work.

Her spirits lifted. She could shoot the monster. Over and over. Until it was just bloody bits.

As she leaned back, her arm and shoulder throbbed viciously. Unfortunately, owning a pistol wouldn’t help if she viciously. Unfortunately, owning a pistol wouldn’t help if she couldn’t shoot it. She needed to find someplace safe to live until she finished healing. Getting out of Seattle would probably be the best idea. With a sigh, she set her finger on the faces in the photograph. The creature had said she was something different, wondered if she were human and if there were more like her.

Are there more like me
? No one else ever saw the flower-fairies. What if she’d inherited something from her mother or father? Would they know about this monster?

She’d never cared about trying to find her parents—so loving that they’d managed to lose her. But if she had to leave the city while she healed, she might as wel try to find some answers as wel. Her eyes burned with fresh tears.
Look,
Ash, I’m going to look for my parents just as you wanted
.

She blinked hard and raised her chin. There—she had a recipe for the next few weeks. Get out of the city. Find parents. Heal up. And buy the biggest darn pistol she could lift.

* * *

Ailill Ridge, Rainier Territory ~ First quarter moon

“You’re throwing us out?” Blindsided by the announcement, Zeb stared in disbelief at the Cosantir—

announcement, Zeb stared in disbelief at the Cosantir—

Herne’s appointed guardian and ruler of Rainier Territory.

When Pete Wendel had summoned him and Shay to his house for a meeting, Zeb hadn’t thought much about it. He’d figured the two-bit local bar owner had griped to pudgy Pete about the chairs he’d busted up in a fight last weekend.

But this… A holow spot formed in his gut.

“Throw you out?” Pete rested his hands on the kitchen table and widened his eyes in assumed shock. “Of course not. It’s simply that the Cosantir of North Cascades Territory needs cahirs who know how to kil helhounds. You and Shay are the most experienced here.”