Chapter 41
Cain dialed the phone over and over, hitting the buttons more frantically each time. No answer. Mailbox full.
It didn’t make sense.
Panic raced through him and, for the first time since his original moon craze, he couldn’t control his wolf. He shifted in the middle of the Dire living room as all the other wolves around him growled and surrounded him. He was prepared to fight each and every one of them to the death if it meant getting outside.
He was desperate. Growling, frothing at the mouth and he shoved at Rifter, who shifted and rose on his hind legs.
Cyd lunged then, but at Rifter. And Cain took that opportunity to crash out the side window that hadn’t yet been repaired, splintering wood as he went.
The scent was getting fainter than it had ever been. Why was that happening? He swore he could hear the man in his ear, but that was wishful thinking.
He ran through the woods, searching every corner and crevice frantically, did so for hours, barely aware that the other wolves were following him. But they weren’t interfering.
Finally, he hit on a spot and he sniffed and dug . . . and then he found it. His wolf howled uncontrollably and he wanted to stop, to make calls, to be sure. But until Vice’s hands touched him, didn’t let go even when Cain bit his hand deeply, he couldn’t calm down.
Vice’s ability was his extremes of emotions. He was worried too, but he managed to push himself in the other direction and the pendulum swing of calm forced Cain to be so as well. In a matter of minutes, he was able to shift, and when he did, he bit out, “Angus is gone.”
“What do you mean,
“Someone dragged him out of here. He’s not answering his phone—and it’s here—crushed.” He pointed and they all looked at the destroyed cell, covered in Angus’s blood.
Cyd had an arm around him. “We’ll find him, brother. If it’s the last thing I do.”
Cain could only nod, because he was reeling.
“How protected is he?” Vice asked.
“A little. But we didn’t mate, yet. We were waiting until . . . tonight.” His voice broke on that word and the last thing he remembered hearing was Vice cursing as Cain shifted uncontrollably into the wolf again. And then he ran.
He might never stop. Not until he found Angus.
Angus woke in the back of what he assumed to be a van. He was hogtied, but not gagged, and he wasn’t alone. He turned and let his eyes adjust to the light so he could see Bobby, his old partner. And try as he might, Angus had no memory of why they were together in this van.
“Bobby, what the hell?” he asked and Bobby opened his eyes and stared at Angus in the darkness.
“I thought you’d never wake up,” Bobby said. “It’s the trappers.”
“Trappers? What are you talking about?”
“Weretrappers got us, Angus. Two up front, probably four more in the car following. I only got a quick look before they bashed my head in.”
Maybe trappers were a new gang? Angus shook his head, trying to clear it, but that was a mistake. The dizziness overtook him and he gagged, trying not to throw up.
“Dammit,” Bobby cursed. “They hit you hard. You’ve got a concussion. You need to stay awake, Angus.”
But it would be so much easier to just close his eyes and sleep. “Were we on a case? Did you let our sup know where we’d be so he could send backup?”
“Angus, you’re not in the FBI anymore.”
“What do you mean, Bobby? Have you lost your mind?”
“Don’t you remember? We were in the woods, hunting Weres. Wolves.”
“I never liked hunting.”
“Shit. Don’t you remember Cain? Do you think he might be able to help us?”
“Is Cain an informant?” Everything was swimming in a jumbled mess in his mind. He felt fear now, and at the same time, he began to shiver. The motion of the van was making him seasick and he got onto his knees, tucked himself into a small ball like he was trying to disappear.
If he was lucky, maybe he would.
Chapter 42
The Dires gathered in the woods, along with Liam, Cyd and Cain, who still wore silver chains to stop him from erratically shifting. The past weeks, days, had been so hard on all of them, but they were out here under the moon, bruised and a little worse for wear, with big worries hanging over their heads.
But, as Rifter pointed out, with great sorrow must come great joy. He told them it would be irresponsible not to celebrate. That it would be a slap in the face to Dire tradition, and to the traditions that they’d created together.
“We’re going to make more of our own,” Rifter promised now. “It’s time. We have to break away from the old enough to let in some of the new.”
The baby on Vice’s shoulder made a cooing sound, as if in total agreement with the king. Jinx put his arm around Gillian’s shoulders and let the goodness of that sound seep into his soul.
This naming ceremony would also be a mating blessing. The Elders were called for, but none came.
“What does that mean?” Gillian asked him.
Vice wanted to say that it meant the Elders were assholes, but Harm spoke first.
“We’re here. And we’re the ones who count,” Harm said, and his voice was sure and firm. “I’d take Rifter’s rule over them any day.”
Rifter nodded and moved in front of Jinx and Gillian. He blessed the union with a prayer in the old language as Gillian held tightly to Jinx’s hand, her eyes sparkling. They kissed, everyone clapped.
They would run under the moon after blessing the baby.
“Dire, do you have a name for your son?” Rifter asked, and it was the first time anyone had called this baby Vice’s son. He didn’t bother to hide the tears, cleared his throat and said, “He will be called Niclass.”
Rifter smiled. “You gave him a Dire name.”
“He is, for all intents and purposes,” Vice said. “We’ll call him Nic.”
“His name means victory of the people,” Rifter explained to those who didn’t know. And then they all chanted a prayer and protection blessing for the little one.
“Now, we run,” Rifter proclaimed and they all headed deeper into the woods. Rifter and Gwen shifted first, and the others followed in quick succession. The last ones with Vice were Jinx and Gillian. Vice wanted to shift, but he wouldn’t leave Nic.
Maybe he could come up with some kind of sling for Brother Wolf.
Now, Jinx and Gillian stood on either side of him.
“You two need to run,” Vice told them.
“Maybe this is our new tradition,” Jinx told him.
“I like it,” Vice told them. He put the baby in Gillian’s arms and Nic cooed. “He likes you.”
“I like him, too.”
“Gillian, don’t ever give up your search, okay?” Vice told her. He hadn’t, thousands of years later, still hadn’t. Nic was in his arms and he knew this was the right thing to do.
