Wolves and the River of Stone (38 page)

“Priestess of the River Wiccans, I, Hohnihohkaiyohos, would formally request you preside over the induction of the new River Pack Alpha this evening.”

Ashley blinked a few times and nodded her head with wide, wet eyes.

“There’s a new Alpha already?” Sam said.

“And a new name?” I said.

“Oh yes,” Cara said. “Hugh is the new Alpha. He has passed on the honor two times before.”

Hugh smiled. “Yes, I did. I cannot let my brothers die in my place any longer.”

Ashley sniffed and said, “What do I need to do?”

“Come with me to Howell Island. The ceremony will be in the woods at twilight. I will teach you the few words you need to know.”

“Cara, Aideen, Foster, I would like you to give your blessing at the ceremony.”

The fairies bowed as one.

“Damian, Sam, I would like you to be our witnesses,” Hugh said. “We always have an outside witness, but we’ve never had a vampire or a necromancer. I want to use this as an example of Carter’s influence, an example of peace between the wolves, the vampires, and the necromancers.”

“Of course, thank you,” Sam said as she bowed her head.

“Is this a formal thing?” I said.

“Yep,” Foster said.

I sighed. “I need a tux.”

“Damian, you really don’t need–” Hugh said.

I held my hand up. “No, we’ll do this right. I’ll just go by the mall.”

Hugh nodded and said, “Buy the insurance.”

I cocked an eyebrow but no one said anything else.

It was only two hours before we were standing in the woods of Howell Island with the whisper of the Missouri River and dozens of naked werewolves. I felt a little ridiculous in my loose-fitting tux, but it’s all they had on such short notice.

Hugh was on his knees below Ashley, and the priestess was in full regalia. We were arranged in a formation that reminded me of a wedding, except for the fact everyone was standing up, oh, and did I mention they were all naked?

“Do you give your blessings to this wolf,
Sanatio
of the Sidhe?” Ashley said.

“We do,” Cara said.

Ashley nodded and drew a scimitar from the sheath on her hip. It was an ancient blade with the stamp of a wolf’s paw near the hilt. “Do you accept this mantle, Hohnihohkaiyohos?”

“For my friend, and for the good of the pack, I accept.”

I cringed as Ashley sliced open Hugh’s shoulder with two quick slashes of the scimitar. The wounds healed as we watched in silence. Legend says an unworthy wolf would not heal from a cut by that blade.

“It is done. I give you Hohnihohkaiyohos, the Alpha and the Shield of your pack.”

The wolves erupted in applause and shouts. As Hugh stood, he shifted into his monstrous, auburn wolf form. He threw back his arms and howled. The wolves in the small clearing all shifted at once, blasting my senses with a surge of power. The air shook as Hugh’s howl was joined by dozens.

Ashley wore an enormous grin and the howling went on. Goosebumps marched up and down my spine and I shivered at the cacophony of sound.

“Silence!” Hugh growled. Quiet followed immediately, though the mass of werewolves shifted and sniffed with impatience. “Damian Valdis Vesik, come forward.”

I raised my eyebrows and stepped toward the hulking werewolf. I walked at a slow, wary pace past the front row of wolves.

“Give me your left arm.”

I did and cringed when Hugh tore the sleeve off my tux. Thank god for tux insurance.

“Damian Valdis Vesik, I deliver unto you the decision of the River Pack. For your help and friendship of our Alpha past, we mark you pack.”

I didn’t have time to register what was happening as Hugh lifted my arm and bit down on it in one quick snap. My eyes widened and I stared at the bloody rows of puncture wounds on my arm.

“Let it be known, Damian Valdis Vesik is our
brother!
His sister Samantha is
our
sister! His family is ours and ours is his!”

The wolves roared and howled and my entire body shivered.

I leaned over to Hugh and said, “Does this mean I’m going to turn furry?”

His wolfish features peeled back in a grin. “That only happens in the movies. Usually.”

Sam, Foster, Cara, and Aideen were laughing when I looked up. Cara shook her head and wiped her eyes as she held her other hand over the bite and whispered,
“Socius sanation cicatrixia.”

I watched the wounds close, but they didn’t heal completely. A dozen shiny scars decorated the front and back of my arm. And with that, I was pack.

Eric is a former bookseller, guitarist, and comic seller currently living in Saint Louis, Missouri. A lifelong enthusiast of books, music, toys, and games, he discovered a love for the written word after being dragged to the library by his parents at a young age. When he is not writing, you can usually find him reading, gaming, or buried beneath a small avalanche of Transformers. For more about Eric, see
www.daysgonebad.com
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Days Gone Bad

Wolves and the River of Stone

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