Grayson's Wolf Ch. 01

"Sarah, if we were here, what could we have done? We're not fighters. We'd be dead along with everybody else."

"What are we going to do?" Sarah wailed.

"I don't know, sis. I don't know."

Chapter 4

True to her word, Kinley bugged Grayson mercilessly until part of the reason he agreed to leave was so that she would stop bugging him.

Grayson slowly put on his brown jacket and carefully got into his packed jeep. He looked around, reluctant to leave.

Kinley came up to the window. Most of the pack was behind her.

"It's just a vacation," Grayson said.

"Of course it is."

"I'll be back in a few days, a week at most."

"Of course you will."

"I don't have to be totally healed to come back."

"Of course you don't."

Grayson resisted the urge to growl at her.

"We're fine," Kinley said.

"An Alpha doesn't leave his pack," Grayson whispered.

"Even Superman takes a vacation," Kinley said. "Go, before I push your car all the way to Prince Jasper Valley."

Now Grayson did growl at her, but he put his car in gear.

Chapter 5

Jack and Sarah searched for survivors. There weren't any. The damage was even more extensive than they thought, stretching past pack land and into their hunting grounds in the valley.

Jack's expression was grim; his face a study in harsh lines. Sarah walked a few paces behind him, tears quietly streaming down her face.

"There's no possibility of rebuilding here," Jack said. "The ground is too scorched."

"What are we going to do?" Sarah asked.

"We're going to find another pack."

They both looked to the east. Without further words, the twins started walking.

Red Aspen pack was about three hours walk, more when they were burdened down with grief. The sky darkened and a light rain fell. As they got closer to pack land the storm gathered strength and the rain came down harder. About a half an hour away, the heavens let loose in a torrential downpour, soaking them through to the skin.

Sarah spotted the crow's nest high in a tree that marked the entrance to pack territory. The twins smiled through the rain. Werewolves couldn't live without a pack. The two packs were friendly; surely Aspen would take them in.

The stench of charred wood and flesh hit them first. Sarah made a horrific sound, somewhere between a growl and a cry, and ran forward.

Scorched. Everything.

There were bodies strung from the trees, so burned it was impossible to recognize the features. Cars were burnt out to twisted metal shells. Not a house was standing.

"Nothing," Sarah said. "No one."

"I don't understand," Jack said again. "Thrashaulers never come this far west. Hell, as far as I know they've never been west of the Mississippi."

"Well they're here, and they're angry."

As one both twins looked around, straining their senses for any danger nearby.

Sarah slumped, the awful reality of this defeat crushing in on her.

Jack hugged her and held her tightly until all the emotions seeped out of her. She was like an empty balloon, deflated to fast and left wrinkled and underneath a table.

"We'll never survive without a pack," Sarah said.

If Jack's expression was grim before, it was absolutely deathly now. "You know where we need to go."

Chapter 6

Strangely, the farther Grayson got away from pack land the better he felt. He drove with the window open, the crisp air of northern Canada keeping him refreshed and alert on the drive.

Kinley was right, he thought. This was a good idea.

He passed through the valley, where the nearest town was. Flurries started, their white puffy snowflakes looking like cotton balls as they drifted on the wind.

Grayson passed the town of Lastburr, but then doubled back. Who knew what kind of supplies had been left in the cabin? He wasn't accustomed to dealing with humans, but he could certainly deal with them long enough to buy groceries and other supplies.

Grayson thought the town would have grown, changed since he'd last been here. No. It was exactly the same. There was no big grocery store, but rather the same small Lastburr General Store that he remembered.

He walked in and the young girl behind the counter did a double-take and stood a little straighter, pushing her breasts out subtly and fingering a lock of hair. Grayson's build, his stormy eyes, his jet black hair obviously did something for her.

Grayson nodded politely. Sorry, he thought, not interested. Wrong species.

He quickly walked to the back of the store, out of her sight, and stopped in front of a shelf of flour. It had been a long time since he had been around regular humans. He had barely thought of it when he left, the cabin was so isolated he didn't expect to see anybody.

I better get what I need, and enough of it that I don't have to come back, and get out of here.

Usually Grayson didn't like to cook, but he decided loading up on staples that he could make something out of was better than bearding the lion's den and being worried that the smell and noises of people would make him antsy.

Grayson bought a cart full of supplies, tactfully deflected the subtle flirtations of the check-out girl, and went back to his car.

The snow started to come down even harder, the wind blowing large solid flakes and small specks of ice around like a snow globe shaken up by a rowdy teenager. Grayson turned his face into the wind. He let the weather pelt him, strangely invigorated by the energy of the storm rolling in.

Then a huge black and red Mercedes-Benz pick-up truck that looked half tank stopped a few feet from Grayson. A man got out, bundled head to toe in beige and black fur. An evil wafted off him that made a nasty shiver shoot up Grayson's spine.

The man looked at Grayson for a second and then walked into the store.

"Time to get out of here," Grayson thought. He got in his jeep and turned the ignition, listening to the car roar to life. "And come back as infrequently as possible."

Chapter 7

The cabin was larger than Grayson remembered. As he pulled up he realized that this was because there was an attached garage on the right, obviously something that Artiction had added.

Grayson got out of his jeep and paused for a second before unloading the groceries. He sniffed the air, enjoying the fresh scent of evergreens and falling snow. The tree branches were already weighed down with snow cover, and the wind picked up until it was howling. Grayson smiled, tilted his head up, and howled back. He heard his call echoing through the trees, and the far off sounds of his four-footed cousins answer.

In just the few minutes he was outside the snow cover increased dramatically.

This is going to be one hell of a storm, Grayson thought.

Chapter 8

Kinley had been Alpha for exactly four hours. Kinley loved it even more than she thought she would, and she knew she would love it a lot. Like a struck tuning fork would sing and resonate exactly the right note, Kinley was completely in tune with the position.

She was born for power.

Kinley got a lot done in four hours, including setting up walking patrols, scouts, and guards at the outer perimeters of pack land. She herself was crouched high up in a tree, not far from where the thrashaulers attack on Grayson had taken place. This particular tree, with its huge boughs and dripping canopy of leaves was one of her favorite places.

She was hidden behind foliage, and downwind of anyone coming from the east, the opposite direction of her house and all the pack buildings.

Which is why she sensed them long, long before they sensed her.

Jack and Sarah were almost directly under her when she sprang out of the tree and landed a few feet in front of them. Her attack crouch, hands up like claws, and bared teeth would be enough to frighten anybody. But it was the huge rush of personal power, an aggressive sparkle designed to instill fear and warn other wolves that they should back off, that spiked the fear in the twins to almost unmanageable levels.

"Hello, children," Kinley said, purposely drawing the worlds out with a menacing drawl and more condescension than should be possible to impart with just two words.

Sarah immediately dropped to her knees and lowered her face to the ground. Her camping backpack covered almost all of her that was showing, except her flowing hair that pooled around her.

Kinley looked at Jack. He was too beat to lower himself to the ground in front of a stranger. The hike from camping to his town wasn't bad, but the devastation of finding his family and pack gone, and their only neighboring pack decimated was too much for him. Too much grief, too much shock, too much sadness, and underneath that too much anger. He let all those expressions show in his face when he said, "We are here to ask for sanctuary."

Kinley raised her eyebrows. She'd never met a red wolf before, but they were easy enough to identify by their scent and small build. The grey wolves and the red wolves hadn't talked in at least a generation.

"Did you forget the treaty?" Kinley asked, knowing full well that no wolf, red or grey, would have been raised without consistent reminders of the treaty that kept red wolves in the middle northwestern U.S. and grey wolves in Canada.

Sarah stood up and shook her head. "We didn't forget," she said softly.

Kinley made her facial expression as harsh as she could. "Then why are you here?" she asked.

"We have no place else to go," Jack said.

*

Kinley slowly walked around Sarah and Jack, looking them up and down, sniffing them. When she was in front to them, she said, "Okay. Tell me the story." Sarah broke into tears, but quickly quieted herself. Jack told Kinley the story, from the beginning of their having toast and tea for breakfast and sunrise, to their standing in front of Kinley, begging to be accepted into the pack, because even as twins, being without a pack was a horrible fate.

Kinley nodded and made sympathetic noises in the appropriate places. A few powerful werewolves could sense even the slightest lie, and Kinley was one of them. Jack was telling the complete truth. Jack and Sarah's grief and desperation were real.

It was easy to tell by looking at them that they were twins. The dark hair, the bright blue eyes, the identical spotting of freckles across their noses and cheeks. It was also painfully obvious that they weren't dangerous.

Kinley knew what she was about to do was manipulative. It was wrong. It was devious. Underhanded. Yet...if ever there was an opportunity to meddle, it was this one.

Kinley made a slight growling sound, the one that demanded she be acknowledged as dominant. Both young people stepped forward immediately, and Jack offered her his neck first.

Kinley opened her mouth as wide as possible and clamped her teeth on his neck. Not a bite really, not hard enough to break the skin, but a pince sharp enough to be clear to both of them. Jack was short enough that he didn't even have to bend down to make it easier for her. Kinley carefully let go. Jack stepped back and Sarah stepped forward to offer herself the same way.

When they were done, all three of them were calmer. Kinley knew that in a minute she was going to blow that calm apart, like blasting dynamite in a brand new quarry.

"Do you know I'm the Alpha of the Yukon Coast Spirit pack?"

Jack and Sarah shook their heads.

"Well I am. So it is my permission you have to ask and my sole discretion that will let you in or not."

A storm blew in, seemingly out of nowhere. The temperature dropped radically within minutes, and the wind picked up hard enough to blow their hair into their faces.

"We formally petition you for entrance," Jack said. This time he did get on his knees.

"I can't let an unknown, untested male into the pack," Kinley said firmly. "You can enter," she said pointing first at Sarah and then Jack, "and you cannot."

"I'm not going without him," Sarah said. "We stick together, it would be even more devastating out there for just one rather than two." She stuck her chin up. Suddenly she sounded much younger. "No way. I'd rather take my chances than abandon my brother."

"Noble," Kinley said. "But I'm not giving you a choice. And we're not abandoning him. He simply has to stay with someone who can get to know him, learn that he is of true heart and not a threat. Someone who is pack but not living with the pack."

"No," Sarah said again.

"It's okay," Jack said. "I'll go wherever I have to go, do whatever I have to do. I'll do it."

"Good," Kinley said, and then smiled. "Get ready to meet my brother."

Chapter 9

Grayson spent some time reacquainting himself with the old cabin, unpacking, and starting a fire. There wasn't one part of his torso that wasn't sore. Every reach or bend reminded him that he might heal supernaturally fast, but not instantaneously. He took of his shirt to get a better look at his wounds.

Grayson grimaced as he touched the scars. Something in that poison slowed the healing. They didn't look like they'd ever completely heal. Was that true of his insides too?

He distracted himself by finding batteries for the old radio and turning the knob until he could get the one station that reached so far out into the wilderness.

"We're looking at the storm of the decade, maybe the century," said the D.J. "We've got six inches of snow so far in most of Glass Hedge County, more further inland. Predictions say we're expecting eighteen to twenty-four inches tonight alone, and more layers over snow and ice tomorrow morning."

Grayson fixed himself some hot chocolate and smiled. A good winter snowstorm. A perfect reason to relax, just as the doctor ordered.

Grayson held his mug near his chest and looked around the main room again. It was exactly as he remembered. The red futon couch with the Indian blanket was still on the left wall, the glass and wood coffee table resting a few feet in front of it. The quiet fireplace with the slate stone all around it on the right wall. The rough-hewn beams across the ceiling.

When was the last time he felt peace like this? Had a moment of quiet? It had been a long time. Not since he took over as Alpha after his father died, ten years ago.

Grayson put his mug in the sink and was just about to explore the bookshelves when he heard a noise.

That was a knock.

No, it must be the wind pushing a tree branch up against the cabin.

Grayson shook his head.

He reviewed his situation quickly, even as he strained to hear anything over the wind. He was the only one living on 155 square miles of wolf and coyote preserve. The cabin, nestled in the northern-most corner of the property, was three hours away from the nearest city and forty-five minutes away from town.

This was solitary living at its best.

Obviously he was hearing things.

Tap, tap, tap.

That was definitely a knock.

Who the hell would be knocking at his door at...Grayson looked over at the clock, 9 p.m. on a snowy evening? He sniffed and his ears perked but he couldn't sense anything through the thick wooden door.

That knock again. Louder this time.

Strange.

Grayson opened the door. He saw a young man wearing a large backpack. A breeze blew in, taking the man's scent to Grayson. It assaulted his nose and shot a huge bolt of lust down his body, but also, a wary, defensive aggression. The intensity of the warring emotions, overwhelming desire, surprise, and a tense cagey fear froze him to the spot for a second. Then hair on the back of Grayson's neck stood up as soon as he realized what he was looking at.

Without even meaning to, Grayson peeled back his lips and let out a low warning growl.

The man put his hands up in the classic surrender pose and took a small step back.

"Your sister sent me," he said.

Grayson sniffed again, searching for lies or deception or some type of underlying sly plan that could indicate a trap. All he could smell was the boy himself, a combination of dried sweat, worry, trepidation, and bravery. Like cut lemons on cedar.

The heavy snow turned to hail and the young man shivered.

Grayson stared at the kid. He looked about twenty. He was about 5'6", with jet-black hair. His bangs hung across his forehead and over his eyebrows, almost, but not quite hiding the bright blue eyes.

"Why would my sister send a red wolf up here?" Grayson said. His voice came out sharper than he had intended.

The wind changed slightly and the hail began to drift inside. The boy crossed his arms over himself and shivered.

"Kinley wanted you to...ah...check me out."

Grayson's eyebrows shot up high.

"Oh, not like that, I mean, I want to join the pack and she wouldn't let me until you, you know, said I was okay."

"You want to join the pack?"

A vicious wind whipped through, and a small branch sailed toward Jack's head. Jack ducked without even looking at it.

"Come in," Grayson said. He stepped back to allow Jack in. "I should have invited you in sooner. You just surprised me."

"Thanks." Jack stomped on the mat outside, and again on the mat inside the door to shake off the snow. "I'm Jack."

Jack stuck out his hand and Grayson shook it. The sharp flash of arousal, and the sense of rightness that swamped Grayson made him more uncomfortable than even the slashes from the thrashaulers.

"I was just about to go out," Grayson said and grabbed his coat, making sure his wallet, keys, and cell phone were in it. "Make yourself at home, I'll be back in a few hours."

"You're going out in this?" Jack asked. "I had to hike from the bus station and it was getting worse by the minute."

I have to get out of here.

"I'll be back," Grayson said. It took effort not to slam the door behind him.

Grayson drove toward town simply for a place to go. The road wasn't plowed. Grayson's jeep was able to make slow progress. It only took about five minutes before Grayson realized if he kept going he wouldn't be able to make it back. There weren't any hotels in town that he knew of.

Shit.

He checked his phone. No service. He went another mile and checked his phone again. One bar; he called Kinley.

She seemed like she was expecting his call, because she answered on the first ring.

"What the hell?" was Grayson's opening line.

"Hello to you too," Kinley said. "Listen, I had no choice, he—"

Whatever else Kinley had to say was lost in a crackle of white noise followed quickly by a disconnect.

Grayson called right back. "He can't stay," Grayson said. "As soon as—"

He was speaking to himself. Connections were spotty during perfect weather. Of course, when he really wanted to bitch his sister out, the call dropped.

He tried calling back.

No service.

Grayson looked out the window. Visibility was close to zero. He turned around. Whatever reason Kinley had, Grayson would have to trust he could get it out of Jack.

"Kinley, I hope you know what you're doing," Grayson mumbled to himself.

Grayson turned his jeep around. It took four times as long to get back. Grayson hunched over the wheel, concentrating on driving and the weather, but still thinking about this new change in affairs.

The red wolves had been people to avoid from before Grayson was born. But why had the rift occurred in the first place? Grayson was pretty sure no one ever told him. He wondered if anyone could even remember.

He tried to think what he knew about red wolves. His father had said that grey wolves were bigger, faster, smarter, nicer, better. But...what if none of that was true? Who was this guy who wanted to join the pack?

Finally Grayson was home and he pulled the car into the garage. He didn't get out. He sat in the car, getting colder and colder.

He was all set for solitude. He didn't like that plans suddenly changed.

Why would a red wolf want to join the pack anyway?

Well, I'm not going to cower in the car freezing my nuts off, that's for sure. Time to find out.