Chris was already moving toward the barn. “Do you have portable med gear?” he asked.
I darted to the SUV and dug around in the back. Finding my emergency vet kit, the same one I’d used the night Peter was injured, I shoved the tablet into it. I’d just slammed the door when Chris drove something out of the barn.
It was a side-by-side, but not one I’d ever seen before. Looking like a golf cart on serious steroids, it had six wheels, a large bed in behind and a big rack out front. It looked like it could tackle just about anything.
So that’s what was under that tarp. I thought it was a couple of quad ATVs. As I jogged across the lawn, Chris got out to dig through a hard-sided storage compartment behind the seat and slung something over his shoulder.
A gun.
A gun? I squinted at it as I walked up. As I watched, he screwed a cylinder onto the underside of the barrel.
“Dart gun,” he said. “Short range. Carbon dioxide powered.”
I’d seen one before, but nothing like this. Could have used that for Sherman. He then pulled out a box and opened it—there were six darts with color-coded ends laid in a row. He grabbed one, cracked the butt of the gun open, and loaded it.
“How fast will that put down a wulfan?” I asked.
His lips tightened. “Not fast enough. But it beats bullets.” He handed me a holster, which I clipped onto my belt as he continued. “This Taser can immobilize them while the tranq takes hold. Unless it just pisses them off. You can’t be sure. That model gives you two shots before reloading.”
He reached back into the cargo box and pulled out another holster. This time he pulled a real gun free and tucked it beneath the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back.
I was beginning to understand why lethal force might be the best way to put down a wulf; the nonlethal means could get you killed. But surely Peter and Josh will know us? Even if the human isn’t in control.
By the expression on Chris’s face, I thought it an unlikely scenario.
I placed the box of darts in an outer pocket of the backpack, climbed in and got Keen to jump in at my feet. Chris swung up behind the wheel and we headed along a trail leading to the forest behind his property. “Haven’t had Beast out in a while,” he said. “We prefer a more natural all-terrain travel.” He looked at me. “I transport this anywhere we might need to have mechanical backup in remote areas. It acts as a resource station when we hunt.”
I knew they weren’t hunting for the usual wildlife, so I just nodded and pulled out the tablet. Chris glanced at the screen and I tilted it for him.
“The ATV trails run through Mars Hill, but many areas are off limits or too densely forested for Beast to get through. There is one that runs on an angle closest to where they are. We’ll have to fly to have any chance of getting within earshot.”
I nodded and grabbed for the crash bar as he accelerated over ground that devolved from a sandy track to rock and gravel. Keen’s eyes bulged and she wedged herself tight between my legs as the dirt sped by beneath us. The bush became a bright green blur of spring leaves as Beast sent everything from gravel to mud flying up around it.
I watched the red dots as they moved deeper into the bush, angling away from the trail we drove on. Chris topped a hill. He skidded the vehicle to a halt and turned it off.
That’s our cue. Keen bailed without encouragement. I handed Chris the backpack, put Keen into a stay, and asked her to speak.
Her expression said she thought I was strange to be requesting this after the bouncing torment, but she complied. I had her do a long series of barks, pushing the limits of her tolerance for obedience sans reward.
Chris faced away from us, listening, but I noticed he held the gun ready and had the box of darts on Beast’s fender. Keen was prepared to quit by the time an answering bark floated on the breeze, deep enough to be from the throat of a big puppy yet finishing with the yip of youth.
Havoc. Now Keen lived up to her name, ears pricked as she answered. I had to hold on to her collar to keep her from running toward the sound. We have to lure them here.
I jumped when Chris raised his chin to the sky and howled raspy through human lungs and throat, almost a roar but definitely an invitation to join the party. Keen exploded with enthusiasm, her barks changing tone, the answer growing closer.
Something crashed through the underbrush toward us, and Keen bounced against my grip on her collar. With an explosion of broken branches, Havoc leaped free and ran to us. He’d been running so hard that foam covered his lips and flecked his neck and chest. I hoped he ran with his new friends and not away from them.
I let go of Keen and the two danced around each other like long-lost buds. Chris had grown still, staring off into the bush. Something stood there, in the shadows, and the hair on the back of my neck rose.
Judging by its silver fur, it must be Peter, but you couldn’t tell by looking in its eyes. They were those of a wild animal, intelligent but suspicious, and unaware of us as anything but outsiders. Shreds of his clothing still clung to his frame. His transformation to wulf had been so quick and violent that he hadn’t paused to strip.
Chris swore under his breath. “Liam, have the Taser ready. Peter is not home.”
My heart accelerated as I moved my hand to the holster. Sensing our tension, both dogs had stopped bouncing and now stared at the
