Blood Enforcer (Wolf Enforcers Book 2) Read online

  “Damn. He’s gotten as far as that? You didn’t say anything. I should take the truck.”

  “No, you’ll be faster on foot. Better get moving. He’s moving close to the edge of pack territory. If he hit’s Rockham...” For the first time all evening Sam felt sorry for Alastair. Rockham—girls and guns, and even worse, fathers with guns. If the boy ran loose among the mundanes, there wouldn’t be a happy ending for anyone.

  Sam pulled on a pack tight-fitted for his wolf, and shifted.

  Since he didn’t need to take time to search for scent or to look for sign, he was able to go full out along the well-trodden river path. Listening to Alastair’s running commentary over the radio collar, he moved on instinct. That was why he found himself much farther past the ridge than he thought he’d be when he exited the brush.

  He howled and got a response about three hundred yards east of his position, up on the ridge, and two spread out to the west. They were much closer to him than he thought they’d be. The kid was moving fast and Rockham was nearly in sight.

  Sniffing the air, he identified the cool of the river running next to him, the trails of small animals, and something else tantalizing that he forced his wolf to ignore. A small sound to the left alerted him. His ears pricked forward, he heard the sound again over the rush of the river. Definitely the boy—and he was right where they wanted him.

  He moved with caution. He remembered well the rush of the first few changes, the difficulty and the exhilaration of trying to work with his wolf, to control the wolf’s urges. And the fever.

  He could smell it on the boy—the itching heat, the never-quenched thirst, the hunger. He eased on quiet paws into the brush and stilled when he heard the growl.

  His radio squawked, and the young wolf shot out of the brush and began to run. But it was the weak, tired run of someone who had been running all night without stopping, pushed beyond his limits by his needs.

  Sam howled, the full cry of a wolf who’d found his prey, and took off after him. Answering howls from the other three wolves let him know they were on their way.

  He moved slightly ahead and to the left of the boy, driving him between himself and the ridge on the right. The adolescent crashed through the heavy brush, right towards a meadow Sam knew was coming up. The boy’s instincts had driven him this far, but he had no experience running at night from other wolves. They’d take him down easily, as long as they could do it soon.

  The radio squawked, jerking him out of focus. He lost speed and snarled.

  “You’ve found him? Who was that? Who’s found him?”

  Fucking Alastair. They were close, the last thing they needed was the boy’s adrenaline pushing him past his breaking point, shooting him past the meadow and out into the town. He needed to stay targeted on the hunt, not Alastair’s demands for information.

  The next howls were closer. One just enough ahead and to the left of the boy told Sam the other wolf understood his plan, and would be prepared. The boy pulled in front of him, shooting out into the open air of the large meadow that pushed up against the steep base of the ridge.

  Sam entered the meadow fifty yards behind his quarry, farther behind where he would have been if he hadn’t let the radio noise distract him. Another wolf burst into the meadow on his left. And ahead, a man holding a rifle, starlight gleaming on the barrel.

  The young wolf stumbled. He cast a look over his shoulder, but a third adult wolf crashed through the brush on Sam’s left. It was the wolves or the man. The young wolf put on a last burst of speed, heading straight for the weapon.

  The shot was quiet.

  The adolescent’s body jerked, jumping high into the air, and then crashing down hard. He struggled to his feet and staggered another few yards, only to fall flat in the tall dry grass.

  Sam’s heart squeezed tight, and he stumbled on his race to the body.

  The man lowered his gun and jogged over to the fallen adolescent. Sam got his body back under control and lowered himself to the ground. Teeth bared, he drove at the figure with the gun. And hit something hard. He rebounded off the ground. Mouth open, fangs out, he went for the other wolf he’d hit.

  Through the fog of battle lust he heard the radio. “We’ve got him tranqued. Send the truck.”

  Sam dug his paws into the ground, pulling his attack just before he sank his jaws deep into the other wolf’s fur. Fuck. The man was on their team. Even though he hadn’t been informed, he knew how it would look. It would look like he’d screwed up. Again.

  Chapter Twenty

  Glenna woke up, her body stiff with fear. A dark figure stood over her and for a moment she panicked, not knowing where she was or who was with her.

  “Ah, you’re awake. We don’t have much time, Glenna.” A flash from the outside lights lit Alastair’s eyes. Then he moved and he was again engulfed in shadow. “I would love to get to know you better, my beauty, but it seems they’ve found our wandering wolf and they’ll be back soon.”

  Glenna tried to sit up and move away, but her body was heavy, caught in sleep. She could see the room, see him, even blink her eyes, and feel his breath close to her cheek. But she was unable to twitch a finger.

  She struggled to move, to make her body know it was awake.

  She shut her eyes and willed herself to move.

  Opened them, and she was alone in the dark. No sign Alastair had ever been there.

  She shot up. Finally able to move, she snapped on the light next to her, her breath coming in harsh pants.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Alastair. I thought you’d like to know they’re on their way. Sam should be back to collect you in about a half hour. If you want to freshen up there’s a bathroom just down the hall.”

  Alastair. Out in the hall. Not breathing in her face in the shadows. Another nightmare. She seemed to be having so many lately, even if she usually couldn’t remember them.

  “Glenna? Are you alright?”

  Damn it. She’d fallen asleep and lost her chance to make a phone call. She was still too weak.

  “I’m fine.” She would be fine. She had to be. Her entire world had become a nightmare peopled with werewolves and bizarre events, but she would be fine. She just needed to get to the phone and call home.

  “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

  She stood up, stretched, tiptoeing on bare feet across the room to the door. She held her ear to the solid wood. She could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door, his breath faster than it should be after his short walk across the hall.

  “I’m fine.”

  She held her breath, waiting for him to leave, only the slender thickness of the door between them. The knob slowly turned and she tensed.

  Finally, he let go of the door knob and it relaxed into place with a soft click. “I’ll be back soon.”

  It sounded more like a threat than a promise.

  Alastair’s footsteps moved across the floor towards the front door. He was leaving her alone. This was her chance.

  Her heart knocking holes in her chest, she eased the door open and peered out into the dark hall. There was a heavy bang of the front door closing. Every sound of the old building made her twitch—the creak of the old boards under her feet, the wheeze of air through the vents. A sliver of light came from under the office door, but the rest of the building still held an odd feeling of anticipation—like an empty playground after dark.

  She stole down the hall and looked out one of the windows on either side of the double doors. Outside the only light was from the lone streetlamp that lit up the corner of both the house and the parking lot. Alastair strode along the gravel path, heading for an outlying lit-up building. No one else was in sight.

  This was it.

  She returned to the office and reached for the heavy brass knob. It turned easily. Sam must not have briefed the headmaster enough. It wasn’t even locked. She crept into the empty room and ran for the phone. Sh
e fiddled with the clear buttons in a row on the bottom below the numbers, before finally getting an extension. What was the deal with these people? Did no one have a new phone? She dialed the familiar number and the phone at Roger’s house rang and rang. Four rings and Roger’s smooth lawyer’s voice came on, telling her to leave a message.

  “Damn it!” She hung up.

  She tried her sister’s house. One ring. She heard a car pull up outside through the open window. Two rings. And another. Three rings and she heard the sound of the car doors slamming and men’s voices.

  She almost put the receiver back down, but then Sarah picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Sarah! Oh Sarah.”

  “Yes?”

  “Sarah, it’s me, Glenna.” Tears clogged up her throat. She never cried. She swallowed, smiling through the salty taste at her baby sister’s voice.

  “I’m warning you—” The hard response didn’t sound at all like her warm, easygoing sister. “If you call here again, I will report you to the police.”

  “Sarah...” She was cut off.

  “Listen here, you bitch. It’s wrong to play jokes. I thought all this was over, but how can people like you continue to call and torture us. It’s cruel.”

  “Sarah, hang up the phone.” Glenna heard Roger in the background. “We’ll have your number changed.”

  “Damn right, I’m having my number changed.”

  “Sarah, I’m not joking. It is me, it’s Glenna.”

  “Screw you!” The phone slammed down leaving only the continued buzz of the disconnection ringing in Glenna’s ears.

  “I’m sorry.” Sam stood in the doorway, his large body backlit from the dim hall light. “I should have told you earlier, in the car.”

  “What’s going on?” She eased the phone down into the cradle. “Why would she say those things to me?”

  He flipped the switch and bright overhead light flooded the room. “She thinks you’re dead. They all do.” There were deep lines of stress etched into his face and he looked tired.

  “Why would they think that?”

  “It was on the news this afternoon. The party line is that you never survived the attack. You’re dead.” His face blurred as his low voice hammered home her worst nightmare: Sarah—her baby sister, who she’d sworn to be there for, no matter what—thought she was dead. “It’s better this way, Glenna. They can grieve you and put you to rest. And you can start your life with us, your pack.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. He was lying. He had to be. No one would be so cruel as to tell her sister that she was dead. No one. Not even her kidnappers.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The room faded to black, coming back into sharper than sharp focus as Glenna reeled from Sam’s bombshell. “Who told my family that I was dead?” Liquid anger pulsed in her veins, and her skin flushed hot.

  Sarah would be devastated. Glenna vividly remembered her sister’s tiny hand clinging to hers as they walked hand-in-hand into that huge cold house, each with only a small duffle of their belongings. Their parents had been dead for days and after being shuttled to and fro by social workers they were sent to live with Grandmother. Sarah didn’t even remember much about their parents, just Grandmother’s harsh rules and discipline. That was the day Glenna had sworn she’d do whatever she had to to keep Sarah safe.

  “What kind of monsters are you?” Any connection she’d felt with him was gone, the heat of her anger overcoming even her body’s drive to touch him.

  “It wasn’t us.” Sam’s expression was unreadable.

  “Who?” she snarled.

  “Glenna, it’s not good for you to be so upset. The fever might come back.”

  “I need to go.” Adrenaline spiked through her. She needed to get to Sarah. Now. She shoved back from the desk and headed for the door, trying to circle around Sam, solidly standing in her way.

  “Easy now.” He spread his hands out, palms down, blocking her path. “I’ve already had to take down one wolf tonight. I don’t want to have to take down another.”

  Aggression poured through her veins. She hit his chest with her hands, slapping him again and again on the broad expanse. None of it slaked her anger. “If it wasn’t you, then who the hell did it?” The room, that had been so cold, was too hot. It suddenly smelled of too many years and too many people trapped in the tiny space. She wanted out.

  She pushed off Sam and darted to the side.

  “It was the feds.” He bobbed side to side, cutting off her escape route. “They didn’t want to admit to losing you, not when everyone at the hospital knew you’d tested positive for the fever. They covered it up. Made it sound like you’d died and they’d cremated your body.”

  She wanted to howl her anger and race into the night—run through the mountains until she found her sister and stole her away to safety. Her vision flashed red, then black.

  “Glenna!” Sam’s fingers dug into her shoulders.

  She scratched at his face, his chest, anything she could reach. She had to fight through him. She had to get out.

  He shook her, her head snapping from side to side. “Stop it!”

  The room came back into focus. Sam stood in front of her, his eyes filled with pity. All her muscles were tensed.

  “What the hell is wrong with me?” Suddenly exhausted, she sagged down onto the floor. “I’m tired one moment, horny the next. I want to run and kill someone, tear them to pieces.”

  “It’s time to take you back.” He scooped her up and carried her down the hall, heading outside.

  She didn’t resist. She had cycled from fear to anger and back and now, she was left numb and vulnerable. She’d always been the strong one, the one who knew what to do. Now, she didn’t even know what questions to ask.

  He carefully buckled her into the SUV and they drove out of the school complex.

  She didn’t want to talk about her situation any longer. It was too much. She needed a break. But the silence gnawed on her. Around mile five, she finally broke. “You found the boy?”

  “Yeah.” Sam kept driving, his face stern in the light from the dash. “He’s fine.”

  “Does this happen often?”

  His hands clenched white on the wheel. “No. It never happens,” he said, lifting first one tight hand, then the other, loosening their death grip. “The school is full of men trained to handle adolescents. Trained to notice when they’re close to the change. It’s been carefully run for years. They keep them secluded during the first few times to help them cope with the loss of control.”

  “Tell me about it, the fever. How can they have it if it’s so controlled? Are they all like me? Were they attacked?”

  They turned up a dark road and she swallowed to alleviate the pressure in her ears. She was so lost. All these twisty mountain roads and no streetlights. She was a city girl and this area looked dark, the road rough cutting across the side of a steep drop.

  “No, none of them were attacked. The fever is passed through blood and saliva. When pack kids turn 13 they’re exposed to the live virus. Some die. Some, because of their DNA, don’t show effects at all. Those are the dormants. They become our liaisons to the human world. A few become spelltalkers or dreamwalkers. The rest become wolf shifters. Like me.”

  A deep shiver ran through her.

  “So, a wolf shifter can become a wolf?” He acted as if all of this was real. This might be her diseased mind’s hallucination, but she was coming to realize, real or not, she had to learn the rules of this world. Or she might never see Sarah again.

  “Yes. We’re lucky enough to experience the full change.” His body seemed large in the cab of the vehicle reminding her that no matter how nice he seemed, no matter how safe she felt with him, it was an illusion.

  “And the others, what happens to them? What’s a dreamwalker?”

  “Dreamwalkers have a wolf in the dream state. They join the shamans, our spiritual guides, and heal through dreams. Y
ou’ve met one—Serena.” His lips pressed tight together after he spoke the woman’s name and she had a quick flash of, could it be jealousy?

  “I haven’t met anyone named Serena.”

  “Yes you have. She’s been walking with you in your dreams. Helping you cope with the fever, the attack.” He cut her a quick glance. “She becomes a white wolf on the dreamscape.”

  She remembered the wolf. And the lovely woman with the serious eyes who had kept her safe in her dreams. They’d helped her block out...something. She couldn’t quite remember what.

  “She’s real?”

  “She’s real. She spent two weeks healing you, helping you recover.”

  “And the other, you said there was one other thing the kids become.”

  “Spelltalkers. There aren’t many of them. Most become shamans too, like the dreamwalkers. A few take outside jobs, help us hide from the authorities. Or work in positions with the public. Like Alastair.”

  Glenna remembered her creepy almost-dream and shivered. “Do they walk in people’s dreams too?”

  “No, they can’t do that. Only dreamwalkers—and they have to ask permission. Their wolves keep them to the straight and narrow.”

  They turned into the driveway and pulled up in front of the house. Dawn streaked the sky. They’d been up all night. No wonder she was so tired. Sam came around and opened her door for her. “Come on. We’ll grab some breakfast and you can ask more questions.” His lips quirked up. “I’m sure you have a few.”

  She followed Sam up the stairs to the old screen door. She needed answers if she were to get home, and she had to trust him to give them to her, but every answer he gave left her more confused than before. She stepped into the kitchen behind him and almost stepped right back out. Lana was back and the small room vibrated with her anger.