I felt a warmth from him, a wave of comfort, acceptance, contentment, and friendship. As I watched, his form faded from my Sight. Animated one moment, still the next, old wood and dried crumbling mud the last. But I could still feel him, deep inside the mound of stones, the remnants of an old farm stone fence corner, at home in the earth, and I could visit him anytime I needed to, just as I always had.
Herding Wolves
What is it to be an Alpha? To lead, discipline, and even punish. What keeps a pack together? What binds wolves to a common cause?
“I don’t like this,” the new girl said. “It’s loud and kind of scary and I suck at it.”
“Scary?” Holly asked, incredulous. Her mouth is faster than mine, almost all of the time. “You’re a freaking werewolf.”
Kristin, who was just seventeen and had been a were for all of two months, a blonde polite Icelander from Maine, ignored the comments and turned her gaze on me. She was a little passive but anyone who can keep themselves sane after their first Change, remain a wolf for over thirty days, and not kill anyone had to have some serious backbone.
“I suck at it too,” I said. “My dad taught me to shoot as a kid, but shotguns have always been my thing, not pistols. But you never know when you might need to pick up a gun and kill a monster… or at least make one pause long enough for someone else to kill it,” I said, thinking back to China.
“Here, line up your right first thumb knuckle with your left thumb’s second knuckle like I showed you,” Bruce Devany said, ever calm, ever professional. Or maybe it was because he was a true Mainer, pragmatic and conservative. He repositioned her hands and I noticed her scent changed slightly. She was attracted to him.
“Shit, newbie, focus on the gun, not the dude,” Holly said, her own nostrils flaring.
Kristin immediately blushed and her scent changed to embarrassment, but Devany just smiled and gently tapped her left supporting hand. “Tight grip with that one and keep your right hand a little soft so your trigger finger stays loose. Now squeeze the trigger. The gun can’t hurt you, not really. As Holly pointed out, we’re all werewolves and that makes us really tough.”
Still embarrassed, the girl focused on the target seven yards away, her brow furrowing a little.
The Springfield barked out a sharp report and a little 9mm-sized black hole appeared on the left side of the target.
“Good. Do it again, but this time don’t let go of the trigger right away,” Bruce directed.
She fired another shot, this one high and also left. “Now I want you to let out the trigger slowly till you feel it reset, then stop immediately,” he said.
Despite our hearing protection, we all heard the little click as the mechanism reset for another shot.
“Now squeeze off the third shot.”
She did, and the resulting hole was much, much closer to center.
“Excellent!” Devany said. “It’s all the little things that make a difference: grip, stance, short trigger reset.”
“But why do we even need guns?” Kristin asked.
My other two wolves kept silent, which wasn’t a shock with Devany but definitely out of character for my Jersey wolf.
“Relying on one set of weapons or skills is a mistake,” I said. “Having multiple options is much, much better.”
“But I’m stronger and faster than even a big man. And if I use that strength, I might not have to kill,” Kristin said.
“Perhaps. But that target in front of you is a split second from shooting Devany with a silver bullet,” I said, then lifted my own pistol and shot the target three times, twice in the middle, once in the head.
“Could you have stopped him that fast from seven yards away without a gun?” I asked.
She frowned, staring at the target.
“Thought you said you sucked with handguns?” Devany chimed in.
“I do. I’m okay at seven yards but at fifteen and beyond, my groups open way, way up,” I said.
“But why? Why all the killing?” Kristin asked.
I knew from the Suttons that she was averse to killing and that she was very young.
“Kristin, you’re in a different world now. One full of dangers and risks, although, as you know, the one you left in Maine wasn’t all roses and sunshine,” I said.
“I know that. But everything we do or talk about seems to involve killing,” she said.
“Correction,” I said. “Everything that we,” I pointed at Devany, Holly, and myself, “do is preparing for kill or be killed. You’re here to learn to control your wolf and your ability to Change. You have to have those under control. And if you chose to go to Arcane in the fall, you’ll have lots of classes in self-defense, so a little introduction now is good for you.”
She was frowning and chewing her lip.
“What?” I asked.
“Why are you all so focused on this… violence stuff?”
“Because violence got all of us into being werewolves, and violence doesn’t leave you alone because you don’t like it,” Holly said before I could get my answer out. I gave her a glare and she shut her mouth before any more words gushed out.
“She’s not wrong,” I told Kristin. “Plus, events have placed us in a position where it’s not a matter of if, but when we’ll face hostiles.”
“You mean because of Declan?” she asked.
“Absolutely. I am bound to him and him to me. And he is instrumental in protecting this world and probably another.”
“I get that he’s the Warlock, but he can just wave his hand and throw a car or something.”
“But he can’t see the bad guys sneaking up behind him,” Devany said. “He’s incredibly powerful, but he’s still just human. No eyes in the back of his head, no regeneration of deadly wounds.”
“So we’re the eyes that watch over him,
