Chapter
Twenty-six
Twilight had just given way to full dark when the
moon cleared the horizon. Only two days shy of being full, it
glowed like a frozen pearl just above the coulees, reflected in the
wide glittering river in the valley below Elk Point. A cool wind
stirred the needles of the tall spruce that surrounded the rocky
plateau, swirled bits of dry grass between the flat-topped boulders
that formed a natural ring there.
Zoey leaned back against Connor, glad
to be sitting on one of those rocks now. The heat of the day had
been captured in it, and it radiated warmth almost as pleasantly as
Connor did. She wondered if she would develop a higher body
temperature now that she too was a Changeling. Not
tonight, apparently. A sudden gust of wind had her pulling
her jacket around her tightly and crowding even closer to
Connor.
Connor was as quiet as the rock he sat
on, contemplative, as was most of the Pack. Even Culley’s face was
uncharacteristically sober. The issue at hand was serious, and the
boulders of the sacred circle were covered with Changelings from
the entire region. Some were wolves, most were in their human form.
She recognized many of them. And knew that all of them were deeply
concerned.
Wolves, real wolves, were not a
protected species outside of national parks. Bernie had not only
terrorized the people who lived here, he had resurrected the old
stories from Dunvegan’s distant past. From the post office to the
coffee shop to the hardware store, werewolves surfaced in every conversation sooner or
later. Often with a laugh. Sometimes, with a quick glance over the
shoulder.
“It’s going to be a long time, years
maybe, before things settle down again,” said Jessie. She sat
cross-legged on the ground by the fire in the center of the circle.
But there was an unmistakable aura of power about her and the
flames turned her mahogany skin to gold. “We have no way of setting
fears to rest, no way to explain the deaths of Jim Neely and Al
Menzie, and no way of letting people know that the killer is
gone.”
“I heard that you found the location of
Bernie’s body. Why don’t we dig it up and turn it over to the
cops?” said Geoff Lassiter. “There are so damn many hunters out
there right now that it’s not safe for my family to Change on our
own land.”
“Devlin? Will you address that?” Jessie
asked.
Culley’s twin nodded and explained.
“Usually, the testing of DNA won’t reveal anything out of the
ordinary. Over the past couple of years, Connor and I have taken
samples of hair from different members of the Pack in their wolfen
form, and sent it out to different labs. So far it’s always come
back as pure wolf and nothing else. But that may not last. For one,
the testing is getting better all the time. And two—Bernie was
different, something wasn’t right about him. Every instinct I have
says this is a bad, bad idea.”
Lassiter persisted. “The bastard’s
still going to have two toes missing on one foot, still likely to
have bits of Jim Neely’s shirt in his claws or even in his stomach.
There’s some positive ID without ever having to look at
DNA.”
“Once we give over the carcass, we have
no control over what tests will be done. Samples of the body are
likely to be sent to many different governmental departments as
well as top researchers at universities,” said Devlin. “Why? For
one thing, the wolf is unusual because of its size alone—biologists
will be interested in learning if it’s a new subspecies or just a
big hybrid. But mostly, it’s because wolf attacks are so rare that
everyone will be wondering what was wrong
with this animal, why it acted in such a way. They’ll be looking
for disease, for injury, for aberrations of any kind, including
genetic anomalies. And they might find something we didn’t
expect.”
“They sure as hell will,” declared
Connor. “He didn’t even resemble a wolf at the end. He’d mutated
into a monster, thanks to all the energy and power he absorbed from
killing human beings. We don’t dare hand the authorities something
like that. Because in addition to the woods being full of hunters,
they’ll be full of biologists searching for a brand-new species of
predator. Not to mention it’ll attract every cryptozoologist on the
planet.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only one that saw
him,” said Jeannie Rousseau. “Maybe you were already punch drunk
from the fight. Kudos to you for killing the old bastard but you
took a hell of a beating, Macleod. Maybe your memory’s not
accurate?”
Culley stood up then. He walked over to
Jessie and flipped open a cell phone, called up an image and showed
her.
The Pack leader was rarely surprised
but Jessie’s eyes widened as she took the phone and studied the
photo. “Are you saying this is Bernard Gervais?”
“It is. This was taken by a human
survivor of the attack at Connor’s place.”
“Helfren?”
He nodded.
Jessie glanced over to where Tad
Helfren was sitting propped against a rock between two wolves.
“You’re very cool under pressure, mister. My hat’s off to you.” The
man simply shrugged and looked away.
She handed the cell phone back to
Culley. “Has that photo gotten out?”
Culley shook his head. “The guy tried
to send it to his newspaper, but the battery was too low. I powered
it up, retrieved the e-mail he’d composed and trashed it.” There
was a faint moan and a muttered curse from Helfren’s direction. “I
canceled the phone’s service too and did a little tweaking. The
phone’s just a handy way to display photos now—it can’t do anything
else, not even download to a computer.”
“Well done. Show this to Lassiter
first. Then pass it around. I want every member of the Pack to see
it. After that, destroy it.”
“Happily.”
Jessie sat for several minutes in
silence as the photo was shown. Finally it was Zoey’s turn to see
it. She reached for the phone but Connor intercepted
it.
“Let me hold it for you. God knows what
you’ll see if you touch it.”
He was right. Now that she’d finally
figured out that she was a touch-telepath, she had to be careful
what objects she picked up. Laying a finger on the phone might
plunge her into a vision of the entire Gervais
versus Helfren scene. Of course, her errant talent might
decide to award her the vision anyway, but there was little she
could do about that—or wanted to. Jessie had been right. Zoey felt
whole now that she had finally accepted her abilities. “Thanks for
the intervention,” she said and leaned in to look at the photo. For
a few moments she couldn’t say anything, only stare at the horrific
image. Finally she found her voice. “Connor, it doesn’t even look
like a wolf. It doesn’t look like anything on this planet. You
fought this thing by yourself ?”
“If I say yes, are you going to yell at
me again?”
“Probably. Only because it scares me so
much that I might have lost you.”
He cuddled her close and kissed the top
of her head. “Then I think we’re even because it scared the hell
out of me that you Changed by yourself. So maybe we should just let
it go. Agreed?”
“Deal.” She grinned at him and Connor
passed the cell back to Culley, who was rolling his eyes. He went
to the center of the circle and bashed the cell phone with a rock
until all that was left were tiny fragments of
plastic.
Jessie spoke again. “As you already
know, it’s going to be dangerous to Change, dangerous to run as a
wolf for a very long time. Many real wolves have already been shot.
Some of you have brought us news of traps being set.”
René Ghostkeeper voiced a question that
many were thinking. “Will the Pack be disbanded then?”
There was a flurry of murmurs as Jessie
shook her head. “I know that some of you are already making
preparations to disperse, and it’s your choice. However, I won’t
disband the Pack just yet. Bill and I will stay on here for a few
years more until everyone has found new territory.”
It came as no surprise to Zoey. Culley
had been talking about moving to Alaska eventually. Others were
planning to leave right away. Fitzpatrick had applied for a
transfer. The LaLonde and McIntyre families had already put their
homes and businesses up for sale.
“It seems so unfair that everyone is
being forced to start over, all because of the actions of one,” she
whispered to Connor.
He pulled her closer. “None of us can
stay here forever, little falcon. Twenty years, maybe thirty at
most and then it’s time for any Changeling to make plans to move
on.”
“Because you live so long?” She was
still trying to wrap her head around that little tidbit. At first
she hadn’t believed how old Connor said he was. It didn’t seem
possible. But then, considering she was sitting around a campfire
with enough werewolves to make up a couple of pro football teams,
who was she to say what was possible?
“And that we don’t age at the same rate
as humans. I’ve already been practicing here in Dunvegan for about
fifteen years or so. A few more and someone may start to notice
that I don’t look any different from when I first
started.”
Zoey shook her head. “I don’t think
that’s a legitimate issue anymore. These days, more and more guys
are dyeing their hair, getting plastic surgery and so forth. I saw
it a lot in the city, especially in the corporate types.” She
grinned. “The townsfolk will just think you’re incredibly
vain.”
“If that’s all they think, I’ll be
happy. Maybe the current youth trend means I have a little more
time before people get suspicious. But someday, we’ll still have to
leave Dunvegan, at least for a few decades.”
“We? You mean I’ll look too young to
keep my cushy editor’s chair?” Zoey had decided to stay on at the
newspaper. It was hard to believe she’d once worried that her
publisher might find out about her psychic abilities and fire her.
Ted would likely have a heart attack if he knew what she could do
now!
Connor nuzzled her hair. “You look too
young for that already. I always thought editors were crusty
middle-aged types with glasses and a comb-over.”
“You’ve been reading way too many comic
books.” She sighed inwardly and hoped they wouldn’t be forced to
leave Dunvegan too soon. She had been starting to feel at home. But
then, what was home, really, but being with the people you loved?
She was with Connor, and she would be at home wherever he was.
Still, the idea of the Pack dispersing seemed terribly wrong and
she rose to her feet. Waited until Jessie spotted her and nodded
permission to speak.
“I think we need to stand our ground,”
Zoey began. She was unsure of what she was going to say, but it
felt right, even though she could hear the murmuring among some of
the assembly. She knew what they were thinking, that she was new to
the Change, new to the Pack, and she couldn’t possibly know what
she was talking about. Many would want to dismiss her idea, dismiss
her—and she wasn’t going to allow it. She
reached out with her senses, seeking the words to explain. “I’m new
at being a Changeling but I’m not new to some other things. I know
that in the distant past, many of you have been forced from your
homes, forced to start over. I’ve had to start over too. And I’ve
learned that you lose something when you let fear push you into
leaving what you’ve built, when you give up ground.
“All of us are afraid right now, but
it’s important to realize that we are not
helpless. Maybe it wasn’t possible to turn the tide of public
opinion a century ago, but things are very different now. Maybe
wolves aren’t a protected species in this country at present, but
there’s a worldwide movement that would rally to that cause if we
wanted it. This is our home. I say we don’t give up without a
fight. Today’s weapons aren’t tooth and claw, they’re words and
networking, and they’re powerful. We can change the tide of public
opinion. It’ll be hard after what Bernie did, after the loss of
life here. But we aren’t guilty of anything and it just doesn’t
seem right to skulk away as if we are.” She looked around at all
the faces. Some were nodding, some were frowning. “That’s all I
have to say.” Zoey sat down as voices erupted around the
circle.
Jessie allowed the din to continue for
some time before calling the Pack to order. “Each wolf will have to
choose for himself, of course, but Zoey’s words are worth
considering. Sometimes new blood brings new wisdom.” She winked at
Zoey before continuing.
“We have one final issue to discuss,”
Jessie said. “Bernard hoped to betray us by revealing our secrets
and our identities to a human being who had not proven himself to
be a friend to the Pack. He’s here, and we need to decide what to
do with him.”
That sounded like a cue. Slowly,
painfully, Tad Helfren used a crutch to get to his feet and
shuffled to the middle of the circle where the small dark woman was
holding court. Yea, though I walk through the
Valley of the Werewolves . . . He felt no fear, just
resignation. They were going to kill him, and maybe it would be
doing him a favor. He had no idea why he wasn’t dead already. He’d
chased monsters his whole life, looking for physical proof of their
existence. Now he’d finally met one face to face and had proof in
spades . . . and wished he didn’t.
He cleared his throat, tried to
straighten up. There were rows of stitches on his forearms and on
the backs of his hands. Stitches across his belly held closed deep
gashes, and a cast on one leg ran from ankle to thigh. There were
even two jagged trails of stitches across the top of his head,
knitting together his scalp. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember
getting a single one of those sutures. Hell, he couldn’t remember
being rescued, never mind being treated for his
wounds.
He remembered every detail of how he
had gotten them, however, and that was where the real damage lay.
In his head. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Bernard Gervais
turn into a creature from hell. The nightmare stalked him 24/7 and
he no longer knew what it was like to sleep without
screaming.
Jessie motioned for him to sit, which
he did gratefully. Both his body and mind were exhausted. He
glanced around and recognized many of the faces in the assembly,
knew most of them by name now. Funny, he’d expected them to look at
him with hate or loathing or disgust. Instead, he could swear he
saw something like pity, perhaps even concern. He chalked it up to
imagination.
“This is Tad Helfren, a
reporter—”
“Investigator,” he corrected. He didn’t
want anybody writing reporter in his
obituary. He was a professional.
The Pack leader cocked an eyebrow at
him and continued. “An investigator for
OtherWorld News. He came here to write a
story on werewolves. However, he now has a vested interest in
keeping our secrets rather than publishing them,” she said to the
group. “He’s been bitten and the full moon is only two days away.
He could not be treated with silver in time.”
There was a collective gasp. Oh yeah,
there’s another good reason for not hanging around, Helfren
thought. Going to turn into a monster in two days?
Just let me check out now. “Can I ask how you plan to kill
me?” he said. “I’ve already been torn up once, so I’d like to
choose something quick if that’s allowed.”
There was silence for a long moment.
Great, he’d pissed them off. So much for the quick
death.
“You believe we want to kill you.”
Watson made it a statement.
“Why not? You’re
werewolves.”
“Changelings,” somebody
corrected.
“You think we’re all killers like that
rotter, Bernie.” Watson’s husband, Bill, folded his tattooed arms
indignantly. “We’re just bloody animals to you.”
Helfren simply shrugged. If the shoe fits . . . “Can we just get it over
with?”
Jessie Watson shook her head. “We’re
not going to kill you, Tad. We can’t undo what has been done to
you, but we can help you get through it, teach you how to live with
it. You can be one of us.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “This is
a joke, right?” He looked around, but no one seemed to be
laughing.
“You’ve been Changed without consent,”
she continued. “Your sire is dead, and you are the Pack’s
responsibility now. We take that very seriously.”
No. No way in hell was he buying
this. “Seriously enough that I could join up
and become the Pack flunky, you mean.” Just how dumb did they think
he was? “I guess somebody has to order the pizza, be the designated
driver, and bury the bodies, but you’re going to have to get
somebody else.”
There were surprised murmurs around the
circle. Some faces were amused, some angry. Bill Watson was
definitely on the angry list and looked as if he was going to come
over and do something about it until a new voice broke in. “For
Christ’s sake, Helfren, this isn’t Dracula.
We don’t turn people into our personal minions.” Helfren turned and
saw that it was one of the Macleod twins. “I do my own laundry,
just like everybody else.”
“Culley, you’re always talking our
sister into doing your laundry,” said Connor.
“Hey, well, she’s not here right now,
is she? So I’m doing my own laundry like I said.”
For a split second it sounded normal.
They sounded normal. Just regular people
with regular families. Helfren sighed. He was afraid of being taken
in by this charade—but a tiny part of him wanted, needed, hope. “Do you really expect me to believe that
there are no strings? That I could just learn to be like you and
that’s it?”
“You’re really waiting for the other
shoe to drop, aren’t you?” Jessie shook her head. “There are no
strings here, Helfren. That’s not the way we work. You’ll have a
lot to learn, some adjustments to make. But your life is your
own.”
He took a breath and allowed himself,
just for a moment, to believe they weren’t going to kill him. That
he wasn’t going to die. But the life before him looked terrifying
and fear overwhelmed him. “I can’t do this,” he said quietly and
wondered if he could cowboy up enough to shoot
himself.
“You have to do this and you will. But
not alone.” Jessie spoke to the assembly. “Bernard Gervais is dead.
Someone must take on the responsibilities of teaching this man in
the sire’s stead.”
“I think I’ll take that bet.” It was
Culley Macleod. He rose and walked over to Jessie. “He’s a jerk and
an asshole, but I think he’s got potential. Besides, I like a long
shot.”
A Macleod? A
Macleod was going to be his guide to werewolf life? Helfren
blinked, glad he was sitting down. This couldn’t be good. Out of
everyone present, the Macleods had the most reason to kill him.
He’d spied on them, harassed them. Worst of all, he’d gotten
carried away, so damn intent on breaking this story to the world,
wanting that fame and fortune so bad that he’d put hands on Zoey
Tyler, threatened her. Hell, he’d almost hit her. Yeah, the
Macleods had plenty of reason to take him out and he couldn’t blame
them a bit.
“Culley, this is a commitment, not a
prank,” said Jessie. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yeah. I’ll do it.”
The Pack leader folded her arms and
surveyed them both. “I’m not sure who’s getting the worst of this
bargain, but I’ll accept it.” She rose and walked a few steps away.
“It’s a terrific life, Tad. I think you’ll find happiness in it.”
In the blink of an eye, she was gone and in her place stood a wolf.
Tiny blue sparks winked out in its rich fur. It wasn’t the horrific
monster that Bernie had been but Helfren’s heart skipped several
beats just the same. With a wave of her tail she loped away.
Several others Changed and followed after her, as he
stared.
“You look like you’re having a panic
attack,” interjected Culley. “Better take a breath there,
bud.”
Helfren shook himself and sucked in air
until he felt as normal as he was going to get. He put his hands
up. “Look, why the hell do you care, anyway? What is it you
want?”
“Maybe I just want to see if there’s a
human being under that obnoxious reporter shell of yours. And maybe
I got a glimpse of it that gives me hope.” Culley lowered his
voice. “I saw you in the grocery store parking lot one day helping
Enid Malkinson. That old cat of hers, Poodle, jumped out of the car
and ran off. You helped her chase it down.”
Helfren scowled. “Big deal. All I did
was get a damn cat for a little old lady.”
“Uh-huh. And you had to crawl under a
grain truck to do it.” Culley grinned. “Don’t give me that look,
Helfren. I know you’ve got a heart. It’s rusty and shriveled with
disuse, but we can work with it, maybe do a little remedial charm
school once we get the Changeling stuff down. Who knows? Maybe one
day you’ll even apologize to Zoey and Connor. They’ll probably just
eat you, of course, but you’ll go out with a clear
conscience.”
He felt the color draining from his
face.
Culley simply chuckled and shook his
head. “You’re way too easy, bud. Nobody’s
going to lay a finger on you, I promise. So what do you say?” He
held out a hand.
Tad Helfren sighed then and gave up.
Just gave up and gave in. He was going to be a
werewolf—Changeling, he corrected himself.
And apparently he was going to have a wise ass for a
mentor.
He took the hand.