We walked for another twenty minutes before we saw a little trailer off to the left, on the downslope off the hill. It looked like one strong wind might roll it down the mountain into the valley below if not for the trees blocking the way. Two guys were standing out front watching the road as if waiting for our arrival. One of them was almost as big as the Wolf boys, with tattoos covering his bare arms and neck; the other was skinny and big-eared with a goofy grin and an oversized sweater that made him look like a kid playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes.
“Hey,” drawled the tattooed guy, striding up the driveway faster than such a big man should move. After watching the Wolf boys for the past three years, I recognized a shifter’s gait when I saw one.
The goofy guy was hot on his heel. “You folks ain’t from around here, are you?” he asked, looking us over.
“No,” Alarick said.
“You lost?” asked the guy with tats.
“No,” Alarick said again.
“Then what’re you folks doing here?” asked the skinny guy.
“We’re looking for someone,” I said.
“Is that so?” asked the big guy, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who you looking for?”
“My mother,” I said, deciding that was the safest of the options.
“Who’s your mama?” asked the skinny guy.
“I’m not sure,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at a rusty pickup that was lumbering up the hill toward us. We stepped off the road onto the end of the gravel driveway to let it pass, but instead of going on, it pulled over right behind us, two tires on the road and two off.
Four guys hopped out of the back of the truck, all of them looking rough and redneck. I’d lived in the area all my life, so I knew this sort. They were poor, bored, and pissed off from breaking their backs every day, never knowing the world had glued the soles of their boots to the ground before telling them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. In other words, they were ready to kick some ass the moment someone came in here looking at them sideways.
Alarick tensed, a growl rumbling inside him. But these guys weren’t just rednecks. They were redneck shifters. And if we fought them, we’d never get what we wanted. Even if we won, there were plenty more to take their place if they were anything like the humans I knew. There was no shortage of desperate, angry people in the world.
“Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. I was momentarily distracted by a flash of red hair as the two people from the cab of the truck climbed down. The driver was a black guy, but the woman who climbed out of the passenger side…
When she rounded the hood of the truck, though, I saw that she was only a few years older than me—nowhere near old enough to be my mother. We were surrounded now, and unease made my pulse increase with each passing second. My whole pack was edgy, and Brooklyn’s wolf was showing in her eyes.
“Look, you’re right that the rest of us aren’t from around here, but I’m from St. Paul,” I said, turning back to the tatted up big guy. “I just found out that I was adopted, and my mom’s from somewhere around here. I just wanted to meet her. We’re not here to cause any trouble.”
The guy stepped forward, towering over me. Alarick’s hand slipped around my forearm, but I didn’t step back. I faced up to the giant. Eyes narrowing, he leaned down until our noses almost touched. That’s when I realized he didn’t smell like a wolf. He wasn’t human, either, though.
“You think I’m stupid, little girl?” he asked.
“Mind putting some distance between yourself and my girl?” Alarick growled.
The guy’s eyes flashed, and I thought he was going to get into it with my companions, but the redheaded girl stepped over to his side and grabbed his arm. “Yeah, Efrain,” she said. “I don’t appreciate your lips being that close to anyone’s but mine.”
The guy, Efrain, backed off me and slid an arm around her waist. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll play nice if this chick can stop lying and tell me why she brought a bunch of werewolves in here and thought we wouldn’t notice.”
A chorus of murmured agreement went around the circle surrounding us.
“That’s who we’re looking for,” I said.
“But you ain’t a werewolf,” said the skinny guy with the big ears. “You smell straight human to me.”
“Actually, I am a wolf,” I said. “I just got some mutated genes, or maybe because I was already something else when I got turned into one…”
“Prove it,” the guy said, grinning broadly.
“Oh, shut up,” the redhead said, slapping his arm. “You’re not seeing her naked.”
“Agreed,” Alarick gritted out.
“I’m Cayenne,” the girl said, holding out a hand to me. I took it, and a current of electricity zinged up my arm. I could smell a tinge of fire, like people are supposed to smell before lightning strikes, and for a second, I was underwater, in the well from my dream, staring up at the blurry face and red hair hanging down as she leaned down toward me.
I gasped and yanked my hand back, confused by the conflicting sensations. “Timberlyn,” I said with a shaky laugh, wiping my palm on my jeans.
“If you’re looking for the werewolves, they’re right over the mountain in the next valley,” Cayenne said, pointing to the top of the steep hill we’d been climbing. “This is the Third Valley—home to shifters. The werewolves live in Second Valley. You’ll want to talk to Harmon. He’s their alpha. He’ll know all the wolves, including your mother. Although…” She gave me a long, calculating look. “I don’t know any wolves
