 
The Wolfborne Saga

Book 1- Defiance

By Cheree Alsop

Copyright © 2018 by Cheree L. Alsop

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN

Cover Design by Robert Emerson

Editing by Sue Player

www.ChereeAlsop.com

To my husband,

Moon River will forever be our song.

To my children,

May you someday find the one who makes your heart sing.

To my readers,

May you love the life you live within these pages.
Chapter One

Branches slapped me in the face. I dove beneath the outstretched limbs of a pine and twisted around the trunk. The sound of pursuit closed in. I stretched my paws out and flew over the ground, my pads touching the forest floor with a bare whisper of sound as I pushed myself faster than I ever had before.

The light of the full moon gave strength to my desperate flight, but I knew it did the same for my pursuers. Howls echoed through the air, voices I recognized intent on bringing me down. My heart pounded with the knowledge of what would happen if I didn't get away. My decision may have put my life on the line, but I didn't regret it. The only way they would take me back was if I was dead; though by the sound of it, they had no problem complying.

The sound of a car in the distance made me push even harder. If I could reach the road, they would be bound to stay. No one dared to cross the boundary without explicit approval. It was the loophole I was counting on. Maybe I had a chance.

A form ghosted through the darkness to my right. Its speed and trajectory put it directly in my path. I veered to the left, but another shadow broke away from the trees and barreled toward me. If I stopped, those I heard following behind would catch up and tear me to pieces. A huff of laughter caught my ear from the wolf on the right. He knew they had me.

I ducked my head and concentrated on the drum of my paws across the forest loam, determined to make one last attempt to clear the boundary. Both wolves closed in. Those behind me sped up as the thrill of catching their prey drove them forward. I didn't have to imagine what four sets of fangs would feel like in my flesh. A shudder ran through my skin. Thick fur wasn't much of a protection against a kill order. My one consolation lay in the fact that with the full moon overhead, we were confined to wolf form and so I didn't have to add bullets to my list of dangers.

The wolves to either side of me broke inward at the same time. I had one chance. I gathered my legs beneath me and leaped just before the wolves reached my path. They hit each other and went down in a tangle of paws and snapping muzzles. My trajectory put me on the path past them. There was nothing between me and the road just visible as a dark ribbon between the trees. Elation filled me. I settled into in the mile-eating lope of the wolf, my gaze set on the freedom ahead. Then, without warning, a set of sharp fangs closed around my back foot.

A yelp of pain escaped me as my headlong rush was stopped short. I hit the ground hard with my head and right shoulder. The blow knocked the air from my lungs and sent black spots dancing across my eyes. A form leaped on top of me. The teeth that held my back foot refused to let go. The wolf on top grabbed my right front paw in his mouth. I tried to pull it away, but my limbs refused to respond. The wolf bit down. Mind-numbing pain followed as his teeth ground against the bones of my forearm. Something snapped and spots danced in my vision.

Movement caught the corner of my eye. The two wolves who had hit each other were rising. If they reached us, my chance at life would be forfeit.

Adrenaline surged through my veins. I rolled, yanking free from the relentless jaws. Lights showed between the trees. Pain was shoved to the background as I locked eyes with the flash of a hood in the moonlight. A red line of fire tore across the back of my shoulder as another set of fangs sunk in. I shook the wolf off and felt my skin give. I jerked forward, scattering the others. I flattened my ears to my skull and ran as fast as I could. My front paw threatened to bow beneath my weight, but I forced it to hold.

The bounce of headlights drew closer. The road was within reach. Safety lay across the line of asphalt.

I leaped forward and was about to clear the invisible boundary when a form hit me. The angle of the blow was wrong, a last-ditch effort from my pursuers to stop me. But instead of halting my progress, the force propelled me across the boundary. A strangled yelp and then silence followed as the wolf behind me crossed the invisible line and activated the electric implant near his heart.

The thought that I would never have to deal with him again was abruptly cut off when I connected with the bumper of the car. The force threw me several feet; I rolled a couple more. Stunned, I watched the wolves line up on the far side of the boundary. The threat in their golden eyes was easily readable. If they had permission to cross, I would pay for the loss of their packmate. The fact that he had also been mine wavered hazily in my mind.

The golden eyes vanished when the wolves backed into the shadows. I was unsure why they would do such a thing until my ears locked on the sound of footsteps.

"Oh, no!" a male voice said. "No, no, no. I didn't mean to!"

I flinched when a young man's knees hit the ground near me. Hands touched my fur tentatively. Instincts bade me to fight, to growl, to do anything but lay there. Unfortunately, I had hit the car too hard for that voice to win past the numbness that flowed over me.

The young man's fingers ran down my shoulder to my paw. He lifted his hand and stared at the red that coated his palm. The shine gleamed in the headlights.

"Not tonight," he breathed. "Lia's going to kill me." The sound of fabric on fabric heralded the removal of his jacket. He set it carefully over my head, blocking out the moonlight. "Hold on. Don't bite me," he said.

My heart raced but I couldn't move so much as a muscle when he slipped his arms under me. Pain stole my breath as he rose.

He made his way slowly to the car. "You're huge!" he said with a grunt.

I heard him fumble for the handle, then he opened the door. It gave a squeak of protest.

"Easy does it," he said.

My paw hit against the door and I nearly bit him as he lowered me onto the seat. His head was inches from my muzzle. I could smell the shampoo he used through the coat. It would take nothing to snap his neck. A single bite would be sufficient. It would be an easy outlet for the pain that was beginning to chase the numbness from my body. The voice in my head whispered that humans were weak, that they were nothing but fodder for stronger predators.

I clamped down hard on the impulse and locked my jaws. A whimper of pain escaped when he lifted my paw to ease it onto the seat next to me and he paused.

"I'm so sorry," he said. I felt his hand rest on the coat he had put over my head. "I don't know if I should leave this or not." He gave a little chuckle. "Look at me. Talking to a dog. I think I'm losing it."

He left the coat. I followed the sound of his footsteps around the car to the driver's seat. If I lifted my head, I knew what I would find watching me from the shelter of the trees. I kept my head down and concentrated on willing my breathing to slow. The feeling of the moonlight through the window helped to ease the sharpest edge of the pain, but the smell of my own blood tainted the air with its coppery scent. I could feel it oozing from my paw, and the soft drip onto the plastic mats on the floor of the car was steady enough to make me lightheaded.

I lost track of how much time passed until the car stopped. The driver's door opened and closed. I struggled to pull free of the daze I had fallen into; no doubt a concussion numbered among my list of current issues. I just couldn't remember if sleeping was bad or good. The only thing I wanted to do was close my eyes and let the darkness take over. Instinct warned that it would be a bad idea, but I was prone to not listen to my instincts, hence my present situation. My concussed mind argued that this was exactly why I should stay awake.

Muffled voices reached my ears. I strained to make sense of their words.

"You hit it on the highway?" a girl asked.

"Where the tree branches hang over the road and make the tunnel," the young man replied.

"I know where you're talking about," another boy said. "I almost hit a deer there once."

"You should've been watching," the girl scolded.

"It was dark," the boy protested.

I heard his hand on the door handle. Instincts screamed for me to run out the door the instant it opened. The other, more cynical part pointed out that I would make it about three feet before I collapsed in my current state. If I was found like that, I would be in trouble for sure.

"Let's see what shape it's in," said an older woman's voice.

The door creaked as it opened.

"Why is there a coat on the dog?" this voice was higher and female.

"I thought it would keep him calm," the first boy said.

Someone scoffed. A hand pulled the coat away. I held perfectly still and kept my eyes closed enough that they wouldn't know I was awake. It was the only defense I had at the moment.

Silence settled over the people who looked at me. Through my slit eyes I made out the form of an older woman who looked like my rescuer's mother, two boys that had similar enough features to be an older and younger brother, and two girls, one of which regarded me with a skeptical expression and the other whose face was pale and whose hands shook where they hung at her sides.

The mother finally said, "That's no dog, Ian. That's a wolf."

"On a full moon," the oldest boy said.

"Are you sure?" the boy who had hit me asked. His voice ended in a squeak.

"Definitely a wolf. You should know a wolf from a dog, Ian," the girl said. Her voice was tight. "What do we do with a wolf?"

"You're the vet," Ian replied. "Can't you fix him?"

"I don't know. I'm not a real vet." The girl threw her mother a worried look. "He could be dangerous. What do you think, Mom?"

She shook her head. "Wolves are unpredictable. I think it's a bad idea."

"Alia," Ian pleaded. "There's got to be something you can do. I mean, look at him. I hit him with my car. I'm responsible for him."

The older boy leaned closer. "He's in pretty bad shape. Look at that foot. It's barely attached." He glanced at his brother. "Are you sure you hit him?"

Alia leaned in so that she and her brother were shoulder to shoulder. "Those look like bite marks."

"I hit him," Ian replied. "Look at my car."

"You mean my car?" the older boy said. He jerked back from the door. I heard him hurry around to the front of the vehicle. "Ian, you dented the bumper!"

"Technically, James, it was the wolf who dented it," Ian replied sarcastically.

The sound of a scuffle ensued.

"That leaves us with a wolf," the mother said, bringing my attention back from the drifting haze. "What do you think?"

Alia let out a little sigh and replied, "Let's bring him inside. I need my bag."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" the young girl asked.

Alia shook her head. "Not really, but I'm not going to leave it out here to die in James' car. Even I have more of a heart than that, Aspie."

The little girl smiled. "I know you do."

Alia winked at her. "I have to pretend sometimes."

She reached toward me, but her mom stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Let the boys do it," she said. "It's better than wrestling in the dirt." She cleared his throat and said, "Ian, James, help your sister."

The sound of the scuffle stopped. The young men showed back up with mussed hair and clean-smelling dirt on their clothes.

"Take the wolf inside," their mother instructed.

The boys looked at each other before turning to me.

"But if he's a wolf...," Ian started.

"Yeah," James said. "And with the full moon, what if he's more than that?"

"That's nonsense," their mother said with a shake of her head. "Stop reading all that garbage you look up on the internet."

"It's called research, Mom," James replied.

"Research on what?" the young girl named Aspie asked.

"James," their mom said in a warning tone.

James leaned closer to his sister and whispered, "Werewolves."

The girl gasped and her mother sighed. Both boys leaned in. The ensuing struggle to get me from the car without causing further damage or getting blood on themselves would have been hilarious if I wasn't the one who was injured.

"There's blood all over the seat," James moaned when he was able to get a good hold and help lift me out.

"Ian can take care of it," Alia said.

"Hey," Ian protested as he struggled to carry me.

Alia motioned toward the house. "Just get him inside and watch those teeth if he wakes up."

"You'd better use the muzzle," her mother warned.

"I will," she replied.

My head lolled over Ian's arm as they worked their way inside.

"How did you lift him into the car?" James asked. "This sucker's huge!"

"Big enough, right?" Ian asked when they were out of earshot of their mother.

"Yes, definitely," James replied in a conspiratorial whisper. "They don't change mass when they change form. The weight has to carry over. If he is what I think he is, he's probably my size in human form."

"Human form," Ian repeated. "I don't know whether that's cool or scary."

A spiced scent touched my nose and I had to fight back the urge to sneeze. The sound of their footsteps changed from sidewalk to carpet and then to tile. The boys set me on a hard table and gave matching sighs of relief. The fact that they knew the truth set off warning bells in my head. Only the mother's words about it being garbage kept me calm, that and the fact that I couldn't move even if I wanted to. The numbness was reluctant to let go. Perhaps I was worse off than I thought.

I don't know when I blacked out, but when I came to, there was a muzzle keeping my jaws shut and straps holding me down while someone worked on my front paw. The smell of blood, antiseptic, and apple-scented shampoo from the brown hair near my face filled my dazed senses. Pain came back with a rush. Something pricked my paw and I tried to smother a yelp, but failed.

The girl's head jerked up. She glanced back and I found myself looking into hazel eyes rimmed with gold.

"You're awake," she said. "At least Ian didn't kill you with that car."

She reached for something just past my shoulder that I couldn't see without turning my head. Warmth flowed from the tiny tube into my left forearm. A tingling sensation ran from it to fill my body. My eyes closed against my will. My last thought was that at least drugged, I didn't have to worry about phasing back to human form. That would be embarrassing.

The next time my eyes opened, I was off the table and inside a metal cage. My body ached and there was a cottony taste in my mouth. I tried to open it, but the muzzle only let me do so a few inches.

Rain had started to fall while I was out. It pattered against the wide windows of what turned out to be a kitchen. I couldn't remember the last time I had been in a kitchen, but it certainly wasn't in a cage. I tried to remember why I was there. I rose to my paws and then winced as pain shot through my forearm. I sunk back down to my belly. A glance down showed bandages wrapped snuggly from my right forearm down to enclose my paw. Memories of long brown hair, a car's headlights, and being chased by glowing golden eyes flashed through my mind and it all came rushing back.

I had to escape. As soon as the sun rose and the werewolves were no longer bound in wolf form, they would petition to come after me. I knew better than to entertain the hope that their request would be denied. The boundary would be lifted, and the inhabitants of the house I was being kept in would be in danger.

I pushed back to my feet and gritted my teeth, forcing my damaged limb to hold. Lives depended on me escaping the cage, mine first and foremost. I hadn't given up one life of captivity to die like an animal without the chance to fight back.

Fueled by the thought, I studied every inch of the thick metal cage. It was industrial strength, probably made for Rottweilers or German Shepherds, and had hinges where it folded for storage. The front slid up to clip cleverly in at the top and sides and a glance at the back showed the same setup for the rear.

I followed the bars to the middle of the top. If I could pull it back toward me, I could get the front to collapse. I tried to snag the bars with my fangs, but the muzzle presented an infuriating problem. I couldn't reach.

The soft cast on my right limb made it impossible to use. That left me with one option. I put my weight on the right paw and lifted the left. My arm tried to buckle, but I leaned against the side of the cage and managed to snag the top of the door with my left claws. When I pulled back, the front of the cage moved slightly.

My claws slipped. A sound from outside of the kitchen caught my ear. I glanced at the top of the cage and saw that the front had slipped free of the clips. I scrambled for purchase again, caught the bars, and pulled. This time, the front of the cage slid down halfway. I shoved my head forward and used my muzzle to push it to the ground.

The light in the hallway turned on. I limped from the cage and looked quickly around the room. The door from the kitchen to what I guessed was the backyard was thick and had small windows near the top that wouldn't be of any use to me. Besides the open doorway that led to the hall, there wasn't any other exit. Footsteps drew closer.

I limped toward the wide window to the right of the door. Light blue curtains with white embroidered flowers hung to each side. Beyond, a flash of lighting revealed a backyard with a separate garage on one side and trees on the other. A simple small white fence divided a forest of trees from the yard.

"Whoa," a voice said behind me.

I spun to find the older of the two brothers standing in the doorway. He had a rag in one hand that was covered in black grease. More of the stuff showed on the knuckles of his other hand. The mineral and iron scent of metal touched my nose.

"Easy, boy," James said.

I glanced at the window. I didn't want to destroy their house, but I was trapped. James carefully set the rag on the counter, then held out his hands. He took a step closer.

A growl of warning rumbled in my throat. For someone who knew at least something about werewolves, he didn't show a lot of instincts toward self-preservation. Even if I was just a regular wolf, backing a wild animal into a corner, especially an injured one, could get him killed.

Other footsteps came down the hallway. I wondered if the family ever slept.

"James, did you fix—"

The girl, Alia, stopped in the doorway and stared.

"He got out," James said.

If I had been in human form, I would have told him that pointing out the obvious didn't help anything. As it was, I had three choices, attack them, go willingly back into the cage, or escape. In truth, there was only one choice. I turned and leaped through the window.
Chapter Two

My right paw gave out and I rolled when I hit the ground. I pushed up to my feet and took off running in a limping, ambling gait.

"Wait!" Alia shouted.

I ignored her and cleared the fence toward the trees.

"Find a flashlight," the girl called. "I'm going after him."

"Alia, wait!" James replied.

The sound of footsteps running through the rain caught my ears. I slowed. A glance back showed the girl climbing the fence. She used the light from her cellphone to guide her to the edge of the trees. It looked as though it barely broke the darkest shadows.

The thought of what the werewolves would do if they got ahold of her was a sobering one. Lightning lit up the trees and I swore I saw golden eyes watching me from a dozen places. I told myself there was no way they had gotten clearance to cross the boundary. They couldn't have followed the car, at least not that quickly. The nagging question of how long I had been unconscious whispered at the back of my mind.

"Hello?" Alia called out.

I was pretty sure I was concussed from hitting the car. My paranoia could be a result of that. I was overreacting. I needed to keep running, or they would find me for sure. Distance was the only friend I had at the moment. I had to take care of myself first. That was my highest priority.

Frustration filled me when my irrational, human side refused to listen to my instinct-driven wolf need to survive above all else. My steps slowed.

I glanced back to see Alia walk into a low-hanging branch. Her focus was on the forest floor as she attempted to follow whatever trail I had left, and she failed to see the rain-covered branch until she hit it so hard it slapped her across the face.

Several unladylike words left her mouth as she struggled to free herself. I found myself smothering a laugh with the reminder that I was trying not to die and also that it would come out sounding like a growl. By the time she freed herself of the handsy tree, the girl was wet from head to toe, her hair was plastered to her skull, and she didn't look at all happy about the situation. She dropped to her knees.

"Mom will kill me if I lose my phone again," she muttered as she combed through the underbrush. "If she doesn't kill me for running into the woods after a wolf. Who am I kidding? The wolf will probably kill me."

She glanced up as if suddenly realizing the precariousness of her situation. Fortunately for her, any pure wolf would have never stopped running until miles lay between it and the house. Wolves didn't like people, and from what I had seen, they had a very good reason for their skittishness. The voice in the back of my mind said that I would be better off leaving the human world to the humans, the monster world to the monsters, and joining the backwoods life of a lone wolf where nobody could hurt me and I could no longer hurt them. This family would be far safer if I was just a wolf.

But the memory of hate-filled eyes watching me from the approved side of the boundary as the boy, Ian, loaded me into his car refused to leave. He had unwittingly put his family into terrible danger by that one action. The boy should have left me there in the road for the werewolves to tear apart once the boundary was removed, or better yet, he should have thrown me back to them.

I hated to admit it, but his actions had tied our fates together in a way that made me responsible for their safety. As much as I battled my wolf instincts to run as far and as fast as I could, I wouldn't leave Ian and his family unprotected.

I limped toward the girl. She was kneeling in the mud. Some of it was smeared across her cheek from when she shoved the hair out of her face. Annoyance and something that looked too close to tears for my comfort showed as she ran her hands across the ground. The light must have either gone out on her phone when she dropped it or the phone was faced down, because there was nothing to guide her to it. In wolf form, my eyes took on the grays of the animal world; it was much easier to see in the dark that way, and I effortlessly made out the black rectangular shape of the phone lying about a foot from her left knee.

"Alia!" James shouted from near the house.

"Lia, where are you?" her mother called.

Alia sat up and rested her hands on her knees. "Great," she said quietly. "I said 'Get the flashlight', not 'Wake up Mom so she'll know how stupid I am.'"

"Alia, answer us!" Ian said. Fear showed in the tightness of his voice.

I took a step forward and purposefully put my good paw on a twig. It snapped beneath my weight. Alia's head flew up and she searched the darkness. She looked right at me but couldn't see me amid the shadows.

"W-wolf?" she asked.

I paced quietly to her side. Her head followed the sound of my paws. I had to give her credit. Even though fear showed on her face, she didn't run like I thought she would. Her breath was stilted and shallow, her hands tense on her knees, but she knelt there in the mud, her eyes level with mine.

I bent my head and picked up the cellphone in my mouth. As soon as it cleared the mud, the light that had been upside-down shone weakly. A gasp sounded from the girl.

I watched her as she stared at me. I figured she would realize her foolishness and take off toward the safety of her family. Instead, she held still. Perhaps she feared she would draw me to them. Maybe she planned to keep my focus away from them by using herself as a target. It was a brave idea, at least.

I took a half-step closer.

Alia broke from her outwardly calm demeanor and flinched away from me. I deserved it. I was a huge wolf with coarse black and silver fur and the same golden eyes I shared with my brethren. I was a monster. I knew it. Yet her action made my heart hurt in a way it hadn't in a very long time.

I snorted softly and lowered my head. With slow movements to not scare her, I deposited the phone on the ground. I was careful to ensure that it remained with the flashlight up so that she wouldn't be left in the dark. I backed away several steps and sat down to ease some of the pressure from my throbbing forearm.

Alia reached forward and picked up the phone with shaking fingers. I hoped ridiculously that her trembling came from the cold of the downpour and not her fear of me. The voice whispered that she would be smart to fear me.

Going back was a mistake. Certain of that, I rose and turned toward the trees.

"Wait."

It wasn't the word that made me pause, it was how she said it. Instead of terror coloring her voice, there was incredulity. When she said it, it was more of a question than a statement. She was onto me, and how I responded would answer the unspoken query inside her simple request.

I knew I shouldn't. Life would be easier for everyone if I walked away. She could tell herself I was just a wolf her brother had hit, that she had bandaged me, and I would be far better off in the wild where I belonged. I would tell myself that it was for her good and the good of them all, that me leaving them in the stormy forest would protect them, and that they would return to their simple lives none the wiser.

But it wouldn't be true. I could lose myself far up in the mountains, put days and weeks and years behind me, tell myself that I had found a life worth living, that I was safe, and that my leaving had impacted no one, but I would be lying to myself.

The werewolves would come. They would tear apart the beautiful country home, they would shred the people inside with pleasure in their torture, and they would return the girl behind me to the Masters. Thoughts of what would then be done to her, things I had seen performed more times than I could count, made me turn back around and answer the question she had spoken.

She sucked in a breath. Our eyes met and I held her gaze.

"Was-was James right?" she asked.

I was a poor conversationalist in wolf form. Unable to reply, I sat down again and regarded her in silence.

Her eyebrows drew together as she watched me. Slowly, with only a hint of shaking, she raised the phone to shine the flashlight on me completely.

"You're bleeding," she said.

I looked down to see a long jagged line running from the front of my shoulder down my chest. It must have happened when I jumped through the window. The wound wasn't particularly deep, but it was starting to sting now that she pointed it out. I made a mental note to thank her for that.

"You understand me," she said with amazement in her voice.

I gave a soft snort.

Her eyes widened. "Then James was right." She looked around as though she didn't know whether to run or stay. "I...well...." She hesitated, then asked, "Am I safe with you?"

The answer was no, one million times no. I was the last creature she was safe with. I was a werewolf. I was capable of snapping her neck with a single bite. I could wipe out her family tonight and no one would be the wiser. I was a nightmare come to life, and she was asking if she was safe with me.

I lowered my head and gave a derisive snort.

"I need a translator," she said.

I looked back up and was amazed to see a half-smile on her face. My heart gave a strange little backflip at the sight.

"Alia, answer me!" her mother shouted.

Her voice was further away than before. Thank goodness Alia wasn't hurt; they were heading in the wrong direction and would never find her.

"Sorry," she said to me before she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "I'm fine, Mom! Meet me at the house!"

Silence filled the air, and then her mother called out, "Are you sure?"

Alia gave a soft chuckle before shouting back, "I'm sure!" She turned back to me with a shake of her head. "Mothers," she sighed. "Got to love them."

She did love her family. It was a strange thought to me. But I had seen it in her eyes when her little sister spoke to her, and just then when she called out to reassure her protective mom. They were a family. They cared about each other, and I had brought a threat to their front door. I shouldn't be there.

I rose.

"Wait," she said again.

This time when I hesitated, she opened her mouth and then closed it as if she didn't know what to say. Her cheeks darkened with her blush.

"I'm not sure what to tell you, except that you need help. You're bleeding and the cast I made was only temporary until I get some plaster." Her voice lowered and she said, "And I'm just guessing here, but I don't think you have anywhere to go."

She was closer than I wanted to admit. The cold of the rain was beginning to seep through the protective underlayer of my coat. Combined with the shock of the fight, the accident with the car, and the surgery she had performed on my front leg, I was starting to shake.

Weakness as a werewolf meant death. I was so used to keeping everything hidden that to have my body betray me in such an unsubtle way was embarrassing.

"Alia, are you alright?" James shouted from the yard.

Alia gave a little half-laugh and shook her head. "At least they care, right?" she said to me before she shouted, "I'm fine. I'm on my way back." She lifted the light and met my gaze. "You coming?"

She rose from the mud with the phone clutched in her hand. Using the light to guide her, she carefully picked her way through the twisted underbrush back toward the house.

She didn't look back. I made a mental note to tell her that turning her back on a werewolf was an insult where I came from; it meant that you weren't viewed as a threat. Though, to be fair, with my legs shaking and my fur matted to my skin from the rain that ran in rivulets down my sides, I didn't feel like much of a threat. I let out a sigh and rose to my feet. Carefully and slowly, I limped beneath the trees.

"Did you seriously think running off into the darkness after that creature was a good idea?" Alia's mother scolded as Ian and James helped her back over the fence.

Alia was more than capable of doing so herself, but it was obvious by the attention they gave her that her brothers were checking to see if she was hurt. Even her mother's words were softened by her anxious expression.

"I'm fine," Alia said as soon as she was on the other side. "I should have known better than to cage him. The house is unknown to him, we're strangers, and he's hurt. Of course he'd break free."

Her mom shook his head. "You know the dangers of wild animals. We shouldn't have brought him in."

"We should have," Alia replied. "And we'll do it again."

She turned. I don't know how she knew I had followed her back, but when she lifted her light, the beam found me where I stood at the edge of the forest. James lifted the flashlight he held. The light was blindingly bright. I lowered my head to avoid the beam.

"How?" Ian asked.

James didn't say anything, but his eyes tightened with suspicion.

"I asked him to stop and he did," Alia explained. She didn't take her gaze off me. "He listened, Mom. He understands what we're saying."

Her mother shook her head. "Nonsense. He may have been someone's pet. He obeys commands. You told him to stay and he did."

Alia shook her head. "I asked him to wait, Mom. Nobody trains their dog to wait, and they don't train him to communicate the way he did."

Ian's eyes widened. "He communicated with you? How?"

Embarrassment touched her expression when she replied, "He snorted when I asked him a question, and he nodded, sort of."

"That's not communication," her mom pointed out.

"He followed her here."

James spoke without inflection in his voice. He studied me as if uncertain whether he liked what he saw.

"He's someone's pet. He doesn't want to be alone," their mother replied.

The conversation was getting me nowhere. Everyone was soaked by the rain, it was late, and my arm was beginning to hurt worse by the minute.

They stopped talking when I jumped over the fence. I was careful to land on three feet instead of four to avoid rolling in another embarrassing display of failed agility. I limped past them to the mess I had made of the kitchen window. Careful to avoid the glass, I leaped back through and landed on the tile floor. My wet paws went out from under me on the slippery surface and the air left me when I hit the floor, but I managed to scramble back to my feet and regain some composure before they crowded at the window.

"He's not a normal wolf," their mother finally conceded. She shot her son James a look. "But I don't think he's a werewolf." She waved a hand northwest. "Maybe they're conducting animal experiments. Who knows?"

"I know," James whispered under his breath when his mother looked away.

Nobody else heard him, but when he looked back at me and found me watching him, his eyes widened as if he realized that I had.

Their mom turned to her sons. "James, put a blanket over the window. I'll measure it for a replacement in the morning. Ian, clean up what you can of the glass, then get to bed. You'll be too tired for school."

"As if I could sleep after this," Ian replied. His mother shot him a look and the boy lowered his gaze and said, "Yes, Mom."

Alia's mom put a hand on her shoulder when she walked past. "Please be more careful next time. You should have sent James while you looked for the flashlight."

"Thanks, Mom," James said wryly.

Their mother gave him a tired smirk before she left the kitchen.

James turned back to look at me. "He's bleeding," he said, his voice quiet.

"I think that's why he came back," Alia replied.

Ian gave her a skeptical look. "You patch him up and then he leaves?"

"Maybe," she replied. I couldn't read her tone.

Ian forced a smile. "He was running away with a muzzle on. That's not very smart."

I snorted and pawed at the thing on my face. If I could have gotten it off, I would have. The thought of waiting to phase back to human form to take it off hadn't been pleasant.

"He can understand us!" Ian said in surprise.

Alia nodded as if she had made up her mind about something. "I'm taking the muzzle off." She crossed to me.

"Lia, no!" James said.

"Don't do it!" Ian echoed, his voice coming out as a squeak.

Alia knelt in front of me. She reached up a hand, hesitated, then said, "If he was going to hurt us, he would have done so already with or without the muzzle. He trusted us; now it's time to show a little trust back."

I could feel her fingers tremble despite her brave words as she worked the leather strap out of the buckle. As soon as it slid free, she dropped it and backed away. A strong urge to scratch at my nose followed, but I ignored it and held completely still.

"See," she said in a voice that was almost steady. "It's alright."

She studied the wound from the glass that crossed my chest. "We have two options. I can either shave the fur and stitch it that way, or we can wait."

Her question hung in the air. I wasn't sure I planned to stay around until I phased back, but the thought of being shaved was beyond ridiculous. I snorted and lowered onto my belly.

Ian burst out laughing. "He knows what he wants!"

"I wouldn't want to be shaved," James said with an uncomfortable expression.

"Fine," Alia replied. "But we'd better bandage it or you'll get blood all over the kitchen."

I backed up when she took a step toward me. It was instinctual. I was injured, everything hurt, and I had stressed my patience to the very limits. All I wanted was to be alone.

Alia crossed her arms in front of her chest. I didn't know if the gesture was protective or showed her frustration. I would have done the same if I was in human form.

"You came back," she said. "You know you need help."

"Maybe he doesn't want help," Ian guessed. "Maybe he just wanted to get out of the rain."

Alia knelt. James took a step forward, but when my gaze shifted from her to him, she raised a hand to stop his advance.

"You're alone," she said. Her voice was quiet, but she held my gaze with sincerity in her hazel eyes. "You need help."

I gave a sort snort.

The sound brought the shadow of a smile to her lips. "Don't argue with me."

Ian gave a laugh that was silenced when James elbowed him in the ribs.

Alia put her hands on her knees. "Look. We're a family here. We take care of each other." She motioned toward Ian. "And my brother brought you here because he knew you needed us." When I didn't move, she held out a hand. "Let me help you. With the shape you're in, you have to trust someone. Let it be us." She held my gaze and asked, "Have we given you any reason not to?"

I couldn't argue with that. They had taken a bleeding, dangerous wolf into their home that smelled of fall spices, fresh bread, and the faint traces of a cat, and patched me up without regard for their safety. I sighed and rose to my feet. Two small steps put me within arm's reach. Alia rose to get her supplies.
Chapter Three

I was fully aware of the two brothers watching me as their sister packed the wound with gauze and then wrapped a bandage around my neck and shoulders in a figure eight to hold the gauze in place. Her movements brought her inches from my teeth, a fact that kept me very, very still until she was done. The thought of a human binding my wounds was a sobering example of how very far I had fallen in less than twelve hours. While I didn't regret the decision I had made, I might soon regret the consequences.

"I'm out of long bandages," she said apologetically when she was done. "I hope the bandanas will hold." She looked critically at the black and blue bandanas she had tied together to help hold the gauze in place. Her eyes traveled to my front paw. "I need to redo the cast as well," she said. "It's a muddy mess." She shook her head as she looked at it. "I can't believe you ran on that leg. You've probably pulled out all of the stitches." She looked at her brothers. "Can you help him onto the table?"

I didn't like the thought of being carried again. It was demeaning, an action more suitable for a dog than a wolf. Determined to prove that I wasn't an invalid, I limped to the table before the boys could question their sister and jumped up. Unable to use my front paw, I landed hard, but hid it with a sigh as though annoyed instead of extremely on-edge.

"I don't think he likes being carried," Ian pointed out with a laugh.

James gave a begrudging smile. "He's as stubborn as you, Lia."

"Mom says nobody's as stubborn as Lia," Ian replied.

"He's going to need to be," Alia said. She met my gaze. "You were unconscious the last time I worked on this. It's going to hurt to take off the bandages, but I'm afraid if we don't change them, you'll get an infection."

I stretched my bandaged, dirty paw out toward her. It was a ridiculously vulnerable move, something that went entirely against every instinct I had. Yet she was right, I had to trust someone.

She took it gently and worked a pair of surgical scissors beneath the wraps. I held still despite the way my paw throbbed with every snip.

When she pulled the bandages away, Alia's mouth flattened into a straight line for a moment.

"How's it look?" James asked.

"Not good," she replied. "The stitches are torn and it's bleeding badly." She looked at me. "I'll do my best, but we might be better off taking you to a real vet."

"Alia," Ian began.

"I know," she said. "But this is outside of my training." She shook her head. "I've never worked on a wolf before today."

It was clear by the sound of her voice that she was close to tears. She blinked and refused to let them fall, but the stubborn line of her jaw had softened and there was a worried look to her eyes that told me just how far out of her comfort zone I had dragged her. My heart gave a sympathetic beat.

I had never been around humans for such a long period of time. Sympathy was not my strong suit. I didn't know why her concern at my expense made my heart quiver in my chest, or why the fact that her hand trembled as she held my paw made me want to protect her instead of letting her care for me. What I did know was that I was asking her to go above and beyond whatever training she had for the second time in the night.

My strength was flagging. Shock still stressed my system, especially after my ill-advised flight for escape that ironically ended up with me being exactly where I started. If she felt I needed a vet, they might put me back in the cage. I knew that, even though I would fight, Alia and her brothers could eventually get me back behind those bars. They might even wire them this time so I couldn't escape.

Local vets and hospitals would be the first place the werewolves would check. I hoped the Masters weren't angry enough to search for me themselves. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I wasn't important enough for that. If I was, every city within a hundred miles would be in trouble.

I had to get Alia to help.

In a last-ditch effort, I fell onto my side and lifted up my paw with a supplicating expression, or what I figured was supplicating for a wolf, which consisted of pulling back my lips in the smallest wolf smile I could manage. Needless to say, it was the first time I had ever tried.

"He's working for sympathy pretty hard," James said with a barely concealed smile.

"Yeah, look at him, Lia," Ian told her. "He needs you."

Whether my efforts were absurd or actually worked, Alia's lips lifted in a reluctant smile.

"Fine," she said. "But don't get it muddy next time. Understand?"

I nodded and set my head back on the table. The sting of antiseptic and then the removal of the stitches that had torn through weren't pleasant. I concentrated on Alia's quiet breathing and the sound of her brothers playing a game at the kitchen table. Once I made the mistake of looking down at my paw. The bones were visible through the tears in the skin; Alia had done a good job of putting them back together, but the breaks were easy to see. My stomach rolled over.

"Not a pretty sight," she said. "We'll be lucky if this heals." She stopped in her stitching and looked at me. "I'm out of my emergency supplies and I'm sure you could use fluids after all the blood you've lost. A vet would be better. Please let me take you."

I held her gaze for a moment before lowering my head back down. If the werewolves found me at a vet, it wouldn't matter. My hope was that being at a house in the middle of nowhere would at least give me a day or two to recover. The danger I brought to this family just by being here was whispered with every beat of my heart. I would leave as soon as possible. That meant regaining my strength so that I could run when the time came.

I closed my eyes and willed my heartbeat to slow. Relaxation slowly flooded my limbs as I put to use the meditation I had learned. My breathing steadied and heartrate slowed.

"Did you kill him?" I heard James ask through the warm haze that filled my mind.

"I think he's asleep," Alia replied with uncertainty in her voice. "I'm trying to get done as quickly as possible." She paused, then said, "Ian, can you grab me some of the athletic tape you use for your hockey sticks?"

"Sure," her brother replied. "Why?"

"The tape I have isn't strong enough to support his paw. I'm hoping yours will work better and maybe keep the water out if he goes outside again."

"I'll go get it," he said. His chair screeched when it slid back across the floor. His footsteps went to the hall, then he called back, "What color?"

James laughed before Alia replied, "Any of them."

"He might not like pink," Ian said.

"Any of them," James repeated for his sister.

When their brother was gone, James walked to the table. I found it harder to keep calm with him so close. I guessed we were roughly the same age, and given my current condition, my instincts were to put on a strong front and hide any weakness. My muscles began to tense.

"James, I think you need to back up. He's fighting me a bit," Alia said. Her voice was level and quiet. The cadence willed me to remain calm.

The sound of James' footsteps when he crossed back to the table were followed by silence. "What if we're right," he finally said.

"You mean what if Dad was right?" Alia asked.

"Yes," James said.

Alia was silent for a moment before she replied, "Then we're all in trouble."

"We'll find out soon enough, I suppose," James said. His chair made a squeaking sound.

"Where are you going?" Alia asked.

"To get him some clothes. If he is what we think he is, he's going to need them come sunrise," James answered. "It could save all of us some embarrassment and probably a heart attack from Mom."

The sound of his footsteps leaving eased the rest of the tension from my limbs.

"I know you're awake," Alia said.

I cracked an eye and looked at her.

Her smile warmed me.

"Your breathing gives you away." She shook her head. "I have to admit, knowing that you might be what we think you are is a little intimidating." She finished wrapping my paw and moved to check the back one. "Either way, I don't know what kind of creature would attack a wolf your size." She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "These bite marks are huge. I don't like thinking there are others like you out there."

I lifted my head and gave her a straight look.

She laughed. "Alright, relax. Point taken."

She worked for a few minutes in silence, then stepped back from the table. "I've flushed the bites again and have done what I could for your front paw. It doesn't look great, but if Ian returns with the tape, I can at least make it more stable."

I rose to a sitting position and shook my head.

"You don't want the tape?" she asked.

I shook my head again. There was no point for it.

"You'll have to keep your weight off it," she said. "I'm not sure how you're going to do that without something stronger to support it."

Moonlight spilled into the kitchen. The rain had stopped sometime while she was working on my foot and the clouds were beginning to clear. The sight of the healing light drove me to my feet.

"Wait for James," Alia began. "He'll be able to—"

I jumped down from the table. I landed fairly well all things considered and limped my way to the circle of light from the window Ian hadn't covered up yet. I felt Alia's gaze on me as I turned in a circle and then laid down with my bandaged paw stretched out awkwardly in front of me.

"You like the moonlight?" she guessed.

I gave a quiet snort of acknowledgement. There was no way to explain the healing powers of the moon for a werewolf. Lying there on the kitchen floor, I felt its energy infuse my bones. Little tendrils worked through my thick coat and deep into my skin, relaxing my bruised muscles and renewing the cells beneath. The feeling of the warmth on my paw was welcome even as little shards of healing pain jolted up my arm. The moonlight couldn't help me heal overnight, but it would start the process far faster than a human experienced.

The warm cloak of light chased away the last vestiges of shock from the events of the night. My fight or flight instincts that I had battled even staying in the kitchen and trusting the humans quieted. Sleep settled over me with the heaviness of deep healing.

Footsteps reached my ears.

"Ian fell asleep on his bed, so I found the tape and here's the clothes." The footsteps paused and James said, "Mom's going to flip if she sees him out of that cage."

"You really think you can get him back in there?" Alia asked.

James huffed a quiet laugh. "No, and I'm not about to try."

"Let's let him sleep," his sister replied. "We'll work things out in the morning."

"What about putting the blanket over the window like Mom asked?"

"Leave it off for now. He seems to need the moonlight," Alia said.

"Just be in here first before Mom starts the coffee, or we'll all hear about it," James warned.

It was Alia's turn to laugh. "I'll be here."

I awoke at the sound of stirring in the room above me. James' warning about how his mother would react to seeing a huge wolf free in the kitchen brought me up to my paws. A glance behind me showed that the rising sun had turned the darkness to gray above the distant mountains.

My thoughts were more human. It was easier to reason without my wolf instincts growling at the forefront of my mind. The full moon had released its hold. I was still in wolf form by choice. That put me in an interesting situation. I was weak. There was no denying it. Broken bones, being hit by the car, and everything else that had happened the night before had taken a great toll. It terrified me.

I wasn't frail. Werewolves by nature are extremely strong creatures, hence my ability to get pummeled by a car at such a high velocity and live to tell about it. The lethargy and achiness I felt to my bones wasn't normal. I had undergone enough at the hands of the Masters to understand the way my body recovered, and it wasn't happy.

I had two choices. If I remained in wolf form, it was possible Alia and her brothers would begin to think that maybe I wasn't a werewolf. While this could be a perk, it also left them to deal with a wild animal. I doubted the Fish and Game Department in the area would take kindly to the presence of a huge wolf. Besides, I didn't want to end up in some zoo or wildlife preserve. How awkward would that be?

If I phased back to my human form, my current situation would change immensely. I doubted the presence of a stranger in the kitchen would be much more welcome by Alia's mother than that of an uncaged wolf. Phasing also meant putting my body under more stress because to do so would strain my healing wounds. It wasn't a thought I relished. But I would have the ability to communicate with the family and tell them the danger I had brought to them.

My heart tightened at the thought. Kindness shouldn't have such dire consequences. Yet them taking me in had potentially made them a target for creatures I doubted they knew existed anywhere other than in their worst nightmares. I needed to warn them. I owed them a chance to fight back. That was the most important thing I could do.

I grabbed the clothes off the counter with my mouth and limped to the window. The last thing their mother needed was to walk in on me mid-phase. I wasn't sure if I had enough energy to do so quickly, and being caught in the middle wasn't a pretty sight. I jumped through the window and limped across the yard toward the forest.

When I was safely beneath the trees, I set the clothes to one side. They smelled of James' aftershave and of lavender laundry detergent. I put them to the side. I didn't want the scent compromising my ability to smell if anything dangerous surfaced. I was far enough away to avoid prying eyes from the house, yet close enough that I could see the backyard between the branches of the trees. The pine tree at my back provided cover, and thick currant bushes lined either side of the small clearing I had chosen. I would hear anything that got close enough. It would have to do.

Lowering my guard beneath the shadows of the trees was harder than I thought it would be. I was used to phasing back to human form in a small room devoid of furniture or obstruction. To do so in the open felt wrong and entirely too vulnerable. Nevertheless, I knew what I had to do and could see no other way around it. I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and pushed away the feeling of being a wolf.

It felt like taking off armor or clothes. In my mind, I imagined the wolf form pulling to the surface so that it could be removed. I pictured fingers pushing out of my paws, human skin taking over the fur, and my human face shoving away the wolf eyes, nose, and ears.

The process I had undertaken a million times should have gone smoothly, but never had I done so in the condition in which I found myself. The pain to my broken arm made me double up. I clutched it to my chest as the bones shifted and my fingers elongated.

Whatever healing the moonlight had provided to my arm felt as though it was undone completely by the time I knelt in my human form. It took some time for me to accept that I was done. I drew in several shuddering breaths and reminded my heart how to beat in a normal rhythm. Any movement to my right arm brought shards up pain up through my shoulder. My foot, at least, had healed almost completely from where the werewolf had grabbed it.

Greenish-yellow bruises showed on my chest and back amid the scars that were already long healed. Any sign of my run-in with the car would soon be gone. The slice from the glass down my chest was also almost healed. At least the bleeding had stopped and the edges looked healthy instead of red with infection. I took off the bandages and the gauze, glad to be rid of the need for them.

I pulled on the black pants James had provided and drew up the zipper awkwardly with one hand. Then, easing my arm through the sleeve first, I pulled the dark gray tee-shirt over my head. The bandages Alia had put on hung in tatters and blood showed through. I fixed them the best that I could, then tied the two bandanas together and looped them around my neck as an impromptu sling. The sight of the angry red lacerations and torn stitches made me cringe at what Alia would say.

I was tempted not to return to the house. The wolf side of me urged that walking away might be my key to survival. It would be another checkpoint that would slow the werewolves down and give me the chance to escape.

I straightened my shirt and thought it through. I was supposed to be emotionless when it came to matters of the heart. Everything the Masters had drilled into us was about putting their protection at the foremost; ours came second. Both of these were to be calculated, passionless, ingrained responses drilled from our first moments of life.

Yet my heart slowed at the thought of the bodies of Alia and her family torn to pieces in their own home. The werewolves wouldn't hesitate. The lives of humans weren't worth more than a cow to the Masters, and the same feeling was passed onto their esteemed guards. I shouldn't trust humans, shouldn't care for them, and yet...and yet I couldn't walk away. I refused to think of the reason why. My heart clenched at the thought even as my feet took me to the fence.

The mailbox just visible at the side of the house closest to the street proclaimed it to be the Willard residence. Movement caught my eye and I focused on the sight of Mrs. Willard, Alia's mother, sweeping up remnants of the glass from the night before. My conscience twinged at the thought of my flight into the darkness. It had been an extremely long night.

I caught glimpses of Alia and James further inside the kitchen. They appeared to be in deep discussion about something. Ian put bread on a plate and carried it to the table where the other girl, the youngest, Aspie, already waited. Ian said something to her and gave her the plate with a smile. He looked up before turning back to his siblings. His eyes locked on mine and he paused.

My hearing as a werewolf was sharper than a human's; even at that distance, I made out the words, "He's standing right there."

Everyone paused what they were doing and all eyes turned to me. Aspie pushed up from the table. Her eyes widened and her face paled.

"Dad was right," James said.

Mrs. Willard shook her head, but it was clear the sight of me had taken her aback. "That's not necessarily true," she replied.

"Then explain it, Mom," Ian said.

"Those are the bandanas Lia used last night," James said. His voice was level. "Either he killed the wolf and hurt himself doing it, so took the bandanas, or we're looking at the wolf."

"Please tell me he didn't kill the wolf," Aspie said.

"He didn't," Ian reassured her. He looked at Alia. "Did he?"

She held my gaze. "There's only one way to find out."

Mrs. Willard grabbed her daughter's hand before she could go out the door. "Wait," she said. "Please don't go."

Alia looked at her mother. There was compassion in the girl's gaze, something beyond the task at hand.

"You know what this will mean, don't you?" Mrs. Willard asked.

Alia nodded. "That's why I need to go." She opened the door.

"It might be better if you don't," her mother said from the kitchen.

"I can't keep living life pretending the world is normal, Mom," Alia replied. "None of us can. We've been pretending for far too long." She gave her mom a small, reassuring smile. "But if we know for sure, it'll change things."

She shut the door behind her. I heard her mother say, "That's what I'm afraid of."

Alia crossed slowly toward me. The swoosh of her bare footsteps in the dew-covered grass made me aware of my own bare feet. I felt absurdly exposed as she closed the distance between us. I could run and hide in the forest or I could walk away. There was nothing between me and the trees besides the fence that I could vault in a heartbeat. I glanced behind me to estimate how long it would take to get lost beneath the welcoming branches.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Her words made me turn back to face her. I couldn't help my incredulous tone when I said, "Shouldn't I be the one you're worried about?"

Relief showed in her expressive hazel eyes when she replied, "I was afraid that maybe you couldn't speak."

I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I guess I can't blame you. Your experience with my kind seems minimal."

"Nonexistent," she corrected. Then she gave an uncomfortable shrug of her own. "At least, I thought so until now."

"How does that change things?"

She watched me, her expression unreadable, until she said, "It changes everything." The next words came out in a rush as if she had been fighting saying them, but they slipped out anyway. "You are a werewolf, aren't you?"

I nodded. My gaze shifted to her family who watched me through the window. James shot Ian a smug look while Aspie's eyes widened. Mrs. Willard's face was the most expressive of all. Instead of shock or amazement, a deep sadness showed in her eyes. Tears that she refused to let fall made them sparkle in the sunlight that was beginning to warm the air. What I had confirmed meant more to her than the rest of them. I made a silent vow to find out why.
Chapter Four

"Would a real cast have held?" Ian asked.

Alia shook her head as she bandaged my arm for the third time. "These bones are shaped differently, but they are still broken." She looked up at me. "Changing form must have hurt."

I kept my face expressionless when I replied, "It wasn't my favorite thing. And it's called phasing."

"When you change to a wolf?" James said.

At my nod, Ian grinned. "Cool. I'll bet Thurston's never heard of it."

"You can't tell him," Mrs. Willard, Alia, and James said at the same time.

Mrs. Willard gave her son a serious look. "Ian, you can't tell anyone about this. Do you understand?"

Her face was still as pale as when I had followed Alia back inside, through the door this time like a respectable human. I was grateful she didn't point a gun at me, but I could smell the citrus scent of discontent wafting from her. I couldn't blame her; I had unsettled her family. The least I could have done was leave in the night and take my troubles with me. I really wish I could have.

Ian hesitated. He looked from his mother to me, then back. "But it's neat. What if I only tell Thurston?"

Mrs. Willard shook her head. "You could put everyone's lives in danger, including Aspie's. Do you want that?"

Ian lowered his gaze. "No, Mom."

She cupped his face with a fond smile. "Don't worry. We'll talk about it all you want when you get back. Alright?"

He nodded, but reluctance still showed on his face. "I can't believe I have to go to school when something this awesome is happening. That's not fair!"

"We'll hold off the awesomeness until school is over," James offered.

That brought a smile to his brother's face. "Alright, but I'm holding you to it."

"Deal," James replied.

A horn honked. I jumped back from the table, knocking over the chair I had been sitting in. My muscles locked and my hands raised as I readied for the attack I knew was coming. My heartbeat quickened into the racing cadence of defense. I settled into a fighting stance, ready to defend the Willards with my life.

"Uh, wolf guy?" Ian said. "You okay?"

I glanced at him. He was staring at me as if I had sprouted two heads. I shifted my gaze to Mrs. Willard, then James and Alia. They were all looking at me the same way.

"That's the bus," Alia said.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Ian nodded. "It's seven forty-eight. Geoff the driver is from Wales. He says it's a crime to be late where he's from. Only he says it with an accent, so instead of crime, he says something that sounds like trousers. We had to look it up."

I had never felt so foolish in my entire life. Maybe the Masters had it right and human emotions got in the way. I, for one, would be very happy to never feel foolish again. But I was afraid that if I continued my new course in life, it was bound to happen over and over again.

I mumbled an apology and bent to pick up the chair.

"I've got it," Alia said, quickly beating me to it. "You've had a rough night. It's understandable."

"It's idiotic," I muttered.

"Better get going," Mrs. Willard said. "Mr. Evans might leave you again."

Ian sighed, grabbed his backpack from a chair, and slung it over his shoulder. He waved before disappearing out the door. The sound of the front door opening and then closing echoed loudly down the hall.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. I was about to apologize when the doorbell rang. Everyone immediately looked at me.

I lifted my hands. "I'm fine. Go ahead."

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Willard asked.

I nodded. "I'm sorry about earlier. I'm a little on edge."

"It's fine. You're safe here," she replied, though the coolness of her tone still lingered.

It wasn't a far stretch to guess that she didn't like me, and I couldn't blame her.

"I'm getting tired," Aspie said from her seat across the table.

"Go back to bed, sweetie," Alia told her. "Get some rest."

"We'll see you in a little while," James said.

Surprised that the youngest one wasn't going to school like her brother, I watched Alia clear Aspie's plate while she pushed her chair in with hands that trembled. The difference between the girl and her siblings was stark. While they each sported healthy tans and tall forms, Aspie was pale and scrawny. I doubted it took more than a strong breeze to blow her over. Her blonde hair was wispy and waved around her face like a cloud when she moved. She paused near the doorway and turned to look at me.

"It's good to meet you," she said, her words soft.

A slight smile touched my lips when I replied, "It's good to meet you, too."

She smiled back before disappearing down the hall.

"What was that about?" James asked.

I caught the strange expression on his face. "What?"

"Aspen doesn't talk to anyone outside of our family," Alia explained with the same confusion in her eyes. "Never. She never talked at school to the point that they were going to put her in a remedial program, but she's too smart for that."

"So she homeschools," James replied. At my questioning look, he explained, "She does all of her studies at home. And that twelve-year-old girl completed two grades a year until she's now doing college courses." He chuckled. "She's smarter than Ian."

Alia rolled her eyes. "Which you constantly like to point out. You're not helping his self-esteem."

A sound caught my ear. I turned toward the doorway, my senses straining.

"He has plenty of self-esteem," James replied. "Being cut down a notch or two isn't so bad for him."

A voice spoke. A scent touched my nose at the same time. I rose to my feet, careful to keep my chair from making a sound.

"You're his brother," Alia shot back. "You should be his biggest advocate. You should—what's going on?"

I stalked quietly around the table with my right arm held against my chest. All of my senses were focused on the room just beyond the kitchen. Mrs. Willard's voice was uncertain, and the one that followed was firm. I didn't pay attention to what they were saying. I had all of my concentration on the smell that drove me forward.

It was musky and thick, unwashed for at least five days, and entirely werewolf. They had found me.

"A sample carpet cleaning would be great," Mrs. Willard was saying when I stepped into the room. "But now isn't the best time...."

The werewolf's eyes shifted to me. They narrowed, golden and hard in their hatred.

Mrs. Willard noticed his change in attention and turned to smile at me. "I was just telling Mr. Graves that we have company and it would be best to come back later."

"I'm not leaving," he said in a guttural voice barely discernable from a growl.

I crossed the beige living room carpet. "Yes, you are."

Mrs. Willard's eyes widened. She met me halfway and put a hand on my chest to stop me. "Now you can't just fight the first person that comes into the house," she protested.

The man at the door opened his mouth. His teeth elongated and muzzle lengthened.

"Mom, look out!" James shouted.

The werewolf sprang for Mrs. Willard. She let out a shriek of terror. I sucked in a calming breath and let my training take over.

Before the werewolf could reach her, I grabbed Mrs. Willard around the waist with my good arm and tossed her toward the couch. She hit the cushions hard enough to knock the breath from her and her screaming stopped for a moment. A deadly silence settled over the room.

"Come home, Zev," the werewolf said in a taunting voice.

"Never," I replied. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Happy to comply," he said.

He lunged. I spun and used his momentum to drive him head-first into the closest wall. His impact dented the plaster and a framed photograph of the six happy Willards fell to the ground and shattered. The werewolf pulled his head from the wall and turned. Before I could get my feet set, he bowled me over. I kicked out when my back hit the ground and sent him flying over my head into an end table. The werewolf rose and picked up the remains of the lamp his body had rendered much less lamp-like.

He threw the damaged lamp at me. I ducked and when I rose, he was in front of me with the silent speed of a deathly wraith. He punched me in the mouth and then the stomach. I blocked the next blow with my left arm and used my right to hit him in the jaw. The pain that followed nearly dropped me to my knees and reminded me not to use it again.

I stumbled backwards into the couch. Fortunately, James and Alia had pulled their mother free. The three of them watched with terrified expressions from the kitchen doorway. The detached voice in the back of my mind noted that James had placed himself between his family and the danger. Perhaps the boy had some survival skills after all.

The werewolf grinned down at me. "Come on, Zev. You know you're just prolonging the inevitable."

I shook my head. Blood coated my teeth from his punch. I took grim satisfaction in the fact that blood trickled from a gash on his cheekbone.

"We'll see," I told him.

I used my periphery to search the area for anything that could give me a fighting chance. There was no way I could best a fit werewolf in my shape. I needed help. Movement out of the corner of my eye made my breath catch. Perhaps there was a chance.

"Dead or alive," the werewolf said. "My marching orders are that simple." He grinned. "And I think they'd prefer you dead."

"I believe it," I replied.

I sat up slowly, careful to keep my motions smooth and barely discernable. The werewolf noticed enough to back up a step, but that wouldn't save him.

"We're expendable," I said to keep his attention on me. "Outlive your usefulness, or make the small decision to run for it, and everything you've done is forgotten."

"Poor Zev," the werewolf in front of me mocked. "From golden guardian to prey." He grinned. "Your blood's going to taste so good. I'll bet they give me a promotion."

"You'd deserve it if you bring me in," I said. "But there's one problem."

"What?" the werewolf asked.

"It's hard to get promoted if you don't have a head," I replied. I glanced at James and barked, "Now!"

He threw the butcher knife straight at me. I grabbed it out of the air with my good hand and spun. The blade cut through the werewolf's throat and lodged in his spine. I pulled back and his head fell off. The decapitated body collapsed to the ground.

A shriek sounded behind me.

"I didn't think you would kill him," James said, his voice thick with shock. "I thought—"

I watched the body change without emotion. "He wouldn't have stopped until he killed me, then he would have done the same to you, your mother, and you sisters. He would have waited for Ian to come home so he could kill your brother, too."

"W-why would he do that?" Alia asked in a voice that was almost steady.

"Because he's a coldblooded killer." I put a foot on the torso and nudged it so that it lay flat. "We all are."

The family came up slowly behind me. We all watched as the head changed from that of a human to the head of a wolf whose lips were pulled back in a snarling rictus even in death. The body followed. Its legs pulled and knees changed direction while its arms lengthened and fingers shifted to paws. By the end, we stared down at a slain, weaselly-looking wolf dressed in tattered clothes.

"That's disgusting," James said.

His words set his mother off. Until that point, she had been staring down at the corpse with wide, unaccepting eyes. His words seemed to be the key to giving her a voice back.

"You-you killed him in my living room!" she said. "He was going to wash the carpets! Now he can't wash anything at all. He didn't deserve to die for washing carpets!"

James eased his mother into the closest armchair. He crouched in front of her.

All the while, she repeated the words over and over again, "He just wanted to wash the carpets. He didn't deserve to die."

"Mom," James said gently.

When she continued to stare blankly at the corpse, he put his hands on either side of her head and gently but firmly moved her face so that she looked directly at him.

"Mom, I need you to listen."

Mrs. Willard fell silent.

James took a steadying breath and said, "Mom, that was a werewolf. Werewolves are real and he would have killed us. Do you understand me?"

Mrs. Willard was still for a moment, then shook her head. To her credit, she didn't start spouting the nonsense about carpet cleaning again.

James' voice was softer when he said, "Mom, Dad was right. The monsters are real."

The statement shouldn't have hurt, but it did. I leaned against the side of the couch and held my throbbing arm to my chest. I told myself that my emotional response to his words was stupid. He was telling the truth.

"Aspie and Ian would have been killed if this werewolf didn't die," James said, his voice forcibly calm. "Do you understand?"

Mrs. Willard finally whispered, "He had to die."

James nodded. "He had to."

"My children are safe," she continued.

"No," I began. I rose from my resting position to expound, but James shot me a silencing look. My mouth dropped open at the fact that he would dare to do something like that to a werewolf, but I fell silent.

"Let us deal with this, Mom," Alia said. "You should check on—"

The slight brush of a bare foot on carpet touched my ear. I spun and put myself between the sight of the body and Alia's little sister.

"What's going on? I heard a noise," she said.

James and Alia rushed to stand by me.

"Nothing, dear. You should go back to bed," Alia told her. "You look tired."

"I just need a drink of water," she said.

She moved to enter the living room, but James rushed forward. "It would be better if you go back to sleep," he said. At his little sister's confused look, he told her, "I'll bring you some water."

Aspie gave him a big smile and replied with a yawn, "Okay, Jamison. Thank you."

She turned away.

"Maybe you should go after her," Alia suggested to her mother. "You could read her a story while we take care of things."

Mrs. Willard looked from her daughter to the corpse and then to me. She finally nodded. "I'll do that."

We watched her head down the hall. As soon as she was out of earshot, Alia sighed. "What a disaster." She glanced at me. "Are you alright?"

I ran my tongue across my teeth ensure that they were still there. The coppery taste of blood coated my tongue. I nodded. "I'm sorry for the mess."

James' eyebrows rose. "Are you kidding? You just saved our family from being killed by that...that...thing." He stared down at the body. "He would really have killed us, wouldn't he?"

I nodded. There was no need to expound. They had seen the fury with which the werewolf fought. If James hadn't been so quick with the knife, it could have been my corpse on the floor instead.

"Thanks for your quick thinking," I told him.

James shook his head. "You had it under control."

A wry smile crossed my face. "If you think that was under control, we're really in trouble."

He chuckled. Alia shot us both a look and her brother stopped laughing.

"We need to take care of this," she said. "Mom's on the verge."

"Because she knows," James said.

Alia rolled her eyes. "Let's talk about that later." She looked at me. "I don't suppose you know how to get blood out of carpet?"

"We need to use ammonia," James replied before I could say anything. At her surprised look, he shrugged. "What? I remember what Dad taught us."

I couldn't hold back the question any longer. As much as I didn't want to pry, too much remained in the air. Neither sibling seemed as shocked by the werewolf as their mother had been. It was time to know what they knew.

"What did your dad teach you?"

Silence filled the room. James and Alia looked at each other, then at me.

James' voice was neutral when he said, "I'll go get the garbage bags. Lucky for you, Mom buys the industrial strength ones."

Alia shook her head as her brother left the room. "He always hated it, even as a boy."

My right wrist ached. Hitting someone with a broken arm wasn't exactly the smartest idea. Now that the adrenaline was dying down, I was really beginning to regret it. I held it loosely with my left hand, but any pressure hurt.

Alia's eyes moved down to it. "Let me check that," she said.

She put a hand under my elbow and led me wordlessly to the couch. It was a strange sensation and completely unfamiliar to be touched in such an innocent, innocuous way. No scent of fear wafted from her other than what lingered from the werewolf attack. She looked back at me and her eyes creased at the corners with something I didn't understand. Was it friendliness? Kindness? Concern? I didn't know enough of human life to get the subtleties. I felt like a baby bird who had just been kicked out of the nest and given a taste of real life for the first time. I wasn't sure if I liked it.

"Sit," she instructed.

I did so with the inward acknowledgment that I would make a good housedog if I stopped leaving bloody, beheaded corpses on the carpet.

Alia kept her eyes on the bandages she unwound from my wrist as she spoke. "Dad was obsessed with the supernatural." She lowered her head so I couldn't see her expression as she continued, "Mom said he got it from his father. Something about the death of his mother and a curse on the family. He was afraid something would happen to Mom if he didn't find a way to stop it." She bundled the bandages into a ball. "He refused to marry her for the longest time because of his fears, but when she finally threatened to leave him, he consented."

Alia gently turned my wrist over. It hurt, but I didn't show it. She didn't have to tell me what a mess it was. I could see it for myself. The bite wounds from the werewolf who had broken it were becoming infected. Red colored the skin all the way around, and the stitches had torn through again.

Alia made a little, noncommittal sound before she said, "I always wondered if Mom regretted marrying him. She said after James was born, he became worse. He didn't want children, but my mom was a single child and always longed for a big family. Having me and then Ian made her happy, but Dad became worried for our safety. He started training James and I when I turned five."
Chapter Five

"He started training you?" I repeated.

Alia nodded. She looked up at me, her hands gentle on my arm. "He taught us how to fight, to use knives, to clean guns, to make poisons, and he taught us the supernatural lore he had learned in his research." A slight smile touched her lips but not her eyes. "I used to love reading about creatures like wendigos, hell hounds, and vampire rabbits. James and I used to ask him a million questions about vampires and zombies raised from the dead." Her smile fell. "Dad planned to start training Ian when he was five, but then he died and Mom told us to forget all of it."

I could hear the pain in her voice. I made myself ask the question I didn't know if she would answer. "How did he die?" Thoughts of the brutality of wendigo slayings or slender man skinnings ran through my head. I couldn't imagine a child finding her father that way.

"Heart attack," she replied. She shook her head and, even though her eyes were on my arm, I could tell she was seeing something else entirely. "It was a plain, ironically ordinary way for someone like him to go."

"You liked your dad?" I guessed.

It may not have been an appropriate question, but my dealings with parents were scant at best, and there was a light in her eyes that shone when she talked about him. I didn't want it to go away.

"I did," she replied. A true smile spread across her face. "He was tough and overly loud and brutish most of the time, but yet he could be delicate, understanding, and brave when needed." Her eyebrows pulled together as the light glowed in her distant gaze. "I remember one time he found me crying because my music box broke. It was one of those with the little ballerina that danced when you opened it. I thought he would be mad because I was crying about something that didn't matter, but he wasn't."

When she fell silent, I prompted, "What did he do?"

She met my gaze. "He told me everything would be alright and, in the morning when I awoke, the music box sat next to my pillow. He had worked on it all night." Her smile deepened at the corners of her eyes. "When I opened it, do you know what I saw?"

I shook my head, mesmerized by her warm expression.

"He had taken out the broken ballerina and carved a little howling wolf out of wood to be in its place." A slight blush touched her cheeks. "Wolves were always my favorite. It was something he and I shared."

The admission caught me off guard. I found myself staring at her and had to force myself to look away.

I coughed to hide my discomfort and said, "So you had your music box back."

She let out a breath and turned back to my wrist. "I did, and he was happy that I was happy. He was that kind of father."

She touched the skin around the wound gently, checking the break. I hid a wince and said tightly, "It takes a lot of skills to teach weapons competency and fix music boxes."

Alia shook her head. "We weren't just competent."

The way she said the statement without any boasting interested me. "You weren't?"

"We were incredible," she replied.

She pressed on a particularly painful spot and I sucked in a breath.

"Why were we incredible?" James asked as he walked through the door from the kitchen with a box of garbage bags in one hand and the extra bandages from the table in the other.

I used Alia's distraction to extricate my arm from her hands. She may have been a competent healer, but my nerves were too on-edge after the battle for any kind of external source of pain. I didn't want to accidentally bite her or something equally disconcerting.

"I was telling him about our weapons training," Alia said.

"Oh," James replied. He set the box next to me on the couch. "We were incredible," he confirmed with a nod. His gaze rested on my arm. "That looks painful."

"It's not pleasant," I replied.

"Thanks for bringing the bandages," Alia said as she took them. "It's not healing."

"Shouldn't it?" James asked. "I thought werewolves healed faster than we do."

His knowledge on the subject bothered me, but I didn't let it show. "We do," I replied. "Especially in the moonlight, but I have to stop injuring it."

Alia nodded as if she had just told me as much. She held out her hand. "I'm going to wrap it again, but you need to stop running on it or hitting people."

James glanced at her with a half-smile. "That's a strange thing to tell a guest."

Alia gave an unfeminine snort as she proceeded to wrap my wrist again. "He's not a guest. He's...." She paused, then turned to me. "Is your name Zev? I heard the werewolf call you that."

"Oh, so now we're just referring to the werewolf like it's normal to have a dead monster in our house?" James joked.

The tightness of his gaze belied his joking demeanor. It was clear by the way his eyes kept flitting to the corpse that he was bothered by the sight of it in his living room. The faster we got rid of it, the better.

Alia's question struck me as hilarious, but the voice in the back of my mind whispered that hysteria was a sign of shock. I was fine. I enjoyed killing members of my species. I swallowed and the knot that had tightened in my throat made me cough.

Alia was watching me with searching eyes as though she could read my thoughts. I quickly nodded as she tied off the bandage. "Yeah, it's Zev."

"That's a cool name," James said.

He knelt next to the body; Alia joined him. Neither sibling looked directly at the mutilated werewolf. Watching them stare down helplessly at the mess in the living room spurred me into action. I wasn't known for having a soft heart; I could only hope word didn't spread.

"I've got this," I told them.

I moved James out of the way with my good hand and took the black bag from him. Before either of them could protest, I set the open bag on the ground, picked up the head, and set it inside. I tried to close it, but my left hand was pretty much useless and my fingers refused to work.

"I've got it," Alia said.

I met her gaze. "Are you sure? You shouldn't have to see this." I glanced at her brother. "Either of you."

James gave a shaky laugh and said, "Hey, there's no time like the present to realize your father was right about the world being filled with monsters in hiding." He lifted another bag like it was a flag of triumph. "Yay, Dad."

"Hold out the bag," I told him.

He did as directed. Despite my efforts, it took all three of us and two bags to finally get the werewolf's body contained.

"Now what?" James asked.

"Burning and silver," Alia replied at the same time I did.

It was my turn to stare.

She lifted a shoulder. "I remember some of Dad's teachings, just not all of them."

James shot the bags a look of disgust. "I'm not carrying that all the way to the forest." His eyes lit up. "I'll go get the wheelbarrow."

He took off out the front door without looking back.

The silence that settled between Alia and me was uncomfortable. I honestly didn't know much about how to fill silences. Nothing came to mind except for the thought that I had actually carried on a conversation and spoken more in the last hour than I had in a year with the Masters. No wonder I couldn't think of anything to say; I had run out of words.

Alia glanced at me and I thought she would speak. Relief wavered on the edges of the moment until she turned back to the door and the silence thickened. It occurred to me that she might have been dealing with her own form of shock. Comfort was the rule that came to my mind about dealing with shock; unfortunately, I had no idea how to go about making Alia comfortable.

I cleared my throat, glanced at her, and went with, "Want to sit down?"

"No," she replied.

"Alright."

Fail. I was really horrible at being human.

A few minutes later, the squeak of a wheel heralded James' return.

"What took you so long?" Alia asked when she opened the door.

"I hurried," her brother replied. "It kept falling over in the yard. Maybe it'll be easier with the body in it."

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. "Let's get this done."

We hefted the bags out to the wheelbarrow and followed behind James as he made his way to the gate in the middle of the fence. The small hairs stood up on the back of my neck at the feeling of being watched, but when I looked around, no one was in sight. I smelled the air and my ears strained for any strange sound as I followed the siblings, but nothing reached me as unusual.

That worried me more than if there had been a dozen werewolves waiting for us.

Alia jogged to the separate garage and returned in time to catch us at the gate. She carried lighter fluid, a barbecue lighter, and a small jar of what looked like silver shavings. I made a point not to ask her where she had gotten them. Just being near the silver sent a shiver down my spine.

"You said we weren't safe," she said as we made our way into the cool shadows of the forest.

"Nobody's safe," I replied. "Ian should have left me there."

"He was doing what he thought was right," she said with a hint of argument in her voice.

"And you were right to tell him wolves are dangerous," I replied.

She threw me a searching look. "You understood that?"

I nodded.

She sighed and shook her head. "I was wrong. I wouldn't leave an injured animal out there." I felt the intensity of her gaze when she continued with, "No matter what kind of animal it was."

"That's the problem," I replied. "Kindness will get you killed."

My words struck a nerve and she glared at me. "Would you have rather me send Ian back to dump you in the road where he found you?"

I met her gaze calmly. "For your sake, yes."

Her mouth opened, then closed again and she looked away.

"You'd be dead," James said as he struggled to push the wheelbarrow over a tree root that stuck out of the forest loam.

Alia and I grabbed each side of the wheelbarrow and helped pull it over.

"And you wouldn't be dealing with bloodstains in your living room," I said.

That made James throw his sister a grin. "He's got us there, Lia."

She kicked a branch out of the way with more force than was necessary and said, "No, he doesn't." Her hands balled into fists as the wheelbarrow passed us by. "You want to die," she accused.

I ignored the way my stomach clenched at the thought and said the words that had been pounded into me from birth. "I accept death as an inevitable part of life. I may not be able to prevent it or choose the hour of its coming, but I won't run."

Alia gave me a strange look, though the anger in her eyes lessened a bit. "What is that? A mantra?"

I nodded. "Something like that."

"Is there more of it?" she pressed.

I nodded. I didn't want to tell her the rest, but I did it anyway. "I accept death as an inevitable part of life. I may not be able to prevent it or choose the hour of its coming, but I won't run. I will fight for every breath, but I won't shirk my duties. I will lay down my life for the Masters if necessary, but I won't give up without a fight. I am strong, I am not afraid, I am the pack."

The crunch of leaves beneath our feet was loud after my words. I wanted to take them back. I didn't like the way my mouth kept speaking when the rest of me said to shut up. Being a wolf was far easier.

"So you were one of them."

Alia's tone wasn't accusing like I expected. Instead, I heard pity in her voice. I didn't deserve her pity and didn't want it.

"I am one of them," I replied in a low growl.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to scare her or offend her; either was preferable to the understanding in her gaze when she looked at me. I turned my attention to the forest around us. The trees swayed in the light morning breeze. Several robins and a blue jay sat in residence above our heads and twittered to each other. The musky scent of a fox followed the lighter trail of a rabbit. Neither ended in blood, so I assumed the fox missed his kill and rabbit had survived to enjoy another day.

"This is far enough," Alia said.

"Finally," James replied.

He set down the wheelbarrow with a grunt and grabbed the shovel.

He offered it to me, but Alia swiped it with a glare in my direction. "Don't you dare try it with that arm. I don't want to redo the bandages again. The stitches are already a joke."

James took it back from her. Before she could argue, he said, "For one thing, I'm faster at digging holes. For another, Dad taught me to be a gentleman. Argue with that." He stuck out his tongue before turning to the task at hand.

I kept my gaze on the forest around us. The feeling of being watched nagged at me. I turned in a slow circle, searching each shadow for reflective eyes. The knowledge that the werewolves could be in either form put me more on edge. The forest was old, its trees thick with entwining branches above that shut out giant knots of sunlight; patches of berry bushes and brambles grew where the light filtered through. I relied heavily on my other senses with my sight so impeded.

"Who are the Masters?"

James asked the one question I didn't want to answer. For the first time that day, my body listened to my brain and kept quiet. I pretended not to hear him and kept focused on the woods.

"Zev?" James said.

"James, drop it," Alia told him. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't have to. It's been a hard day for all of us."

"But don't you want to know who the Masters are?" James said. He dumped dirt on Alia's shoe.

She scowled and him and moved farther away. "Maybe I don't want to know," she muttered under her breath.

I glanced at her and she caught my gaze. She looked away as the sound of a branch breaking beneath a foot reached my ear.

"Quiet," I said.

James glared at me. "Just because you don't want to talk about it doesn't mean—"

"Quiet!" I repeated louder, but it was too late.

The drum of two sets of feet reached my ears. One was the galloping rhythm of a wolf and the other a human that easily kept pace with the animal. They broke the edge of the clearing across from us and James and Alia gasped.

"James, the shovel," I commanded.

He handed it to me wordlessly. I stepped in front of the siblings with the regret that I had failed to ask either of them if their apparently well-informed father kept a gun somewhere in the house.

"Alia, the silver," I said with my eyes locked on the advancing werewolves.

They slowed slightly at the sight of me ready for their attack, but that didn't stop their advance. A snarl issued from the one in wolf form, while the human gave a toothy grin that would have fit an animal better.

Alia set the jar in my hand. I appreciated that she didn't question me and instead stepped back by her brother. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pull her behind him. For once, she didn't argue.

Luck had been with me during the first fight. Out in the open with no butcher knife or lamp or anything to work with against two werewolves was going to be a challenge. The first part of the mantra repeated in my head. I accept death as an inevitable part of life. I may not be able to prevent it or choose the hour of its coming, but I won't run. I will fight for every breath.

I was no longer fighting for my own breath, but for those of the humans behind me. The only way the werewolves would get to them would be over my lifeless corpse.

"You're dead, traitor!" the werewolf in human form shouted. Glee at the thought of killing me gleamed in his golden eyes. "The Masters want their guardian deserter for breakfast."

He reached out his hands, his fingers stretched in anticipation. Huge dark red stains colored his ratty shirt and old blood was crusted on his cheeks. The wolf at his side snarled something particularly nasty. His fangs were coated in red and his fur was marked with crimson. I wondered who had already met their end at the teeth of the two werewolves. The wolf's eyes shifted from me to the humans behind me and a wolfish grin of anticipation showed his teeth.

I took a step forward. My lips pulled back in a snarl and I growled a threat I knew would make me the focus of both werewolves.

The animal redoubled his run and the human darted forward with an inhuman burst of speed. It was exactly what I had hoped.

I tossed the jar of silver filings into the air and hit it with the shovel. The glass jar shattered and the force of the blow sent both the glass and the silver flying into the faces of my foes.

Yelps issues from both of them as the objects pelted their skin. The acrid scent of the silver burning their flesh reached my nose as I ran forward to take advantage of the distraction. Swinging the shovel again, I slammed the blade of it against the neck of the werewolf in human form. His neck broke beneath the force of the blow.

I brought the handle backwards at the end of its arc and drove the butt of it down against the back of the wolf. Stunned, it collapsed to the dirt while the human werewolf fell into a heap. I dropped onto the wolf and, grabbing its head in both hands, snapped it quickly to the right. The creature collapsed beneath me.

I used the shovel to stand. My chest heaved as I stared down at the two monsters. James' term was fitting, though acceptance that it belonged to me as well was loath to settle on my shoulders. I turned away with a grimace.

"That was nothing short of the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life," James said.

I looked up to see James and Alia watching me. Alia's eyes were wide while James couldn't stop grinning.

"You didn't need my knife after all," he said.

I let out a breath and willed the adrenaline to fade from my limbs. Luck had been on my side that time. I wasn't sure how long it would hold as luck was usually fickle when it came to gracing me with its presence. There hadn't even been time to process the want to phase to wolf form. If I had, the fight would have been much bloodier. Something about that would have been more satisfying.

I shoved the morbid thought away. They were dead, Alia and James were safe, and we had better hurry before more showed up.

I tossed James the shovel. "Dig a bigger hole."

He caught it and stared down at the object with a look of awe as though the shovel had brought down the werewolves without me.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

My knees threatened to stop holding me up. Rather than show weakness, I chose the trunk of a towering quaking aspen and sat beneath it on the pretense of supervising James' job. It didn't take long for Alia to join me.

"I think you'd better tell us about the Masters," she said.

I glanced at her. "Why the sudden interest?"

She motioned toward the bodies. "If they're listening to the Masters and they're after you, they're all going to wind up at our house. We need to know what we're up against."

I couldn't argue with that. But a quick look at Alia's face reminded me of how innocent she was. We may have been close to the same age, but the things I had seen couldn't be erased from my mind. The want to keep her naïve about the monsters that roamed the world she thought was safe pressed against me. Yet my presence had brought them all into the path of a danger far greater than they could imagine. If I was killed, I had to ensure they were ready to face it.

I gave in. "Alright, but we need to hurry. I don't want werewolves showing up at your door while we're gone."

James' head jerked up. "Are Mom and Aspie in trouble?"

I shook my head. "The werewolves will kill me first. They wouldn't want to jeopardize the mission by taking out anyone who might know where I am. They'd be punished for that." A jolt of fear ran down my spine I tried to suppress. "And believe me when I say the punishment is harsh."

"The scars on your body?" Alia asked.

Discomfort at what she had seen made me look away.

"I didn't see a lot," she said quickly as if she guessed how I felt. "You were a wolf and had a lot of fur. I just saw enough to guess life couldn't have been easy."

I wasn't able to bring myself to look at her when I said, "Yeah, well, let's just say if it wasn't for the silver, we'd still be fighting those werewolves. They usually don't go down so easily."

"I've noticed," she replied.

Whether she meant me or the others didn't matter. A burning sensation made my palm ache. I thought it was my broken wrist, but when I held up my hand, I found a single silver filing embedded in my palm. It had already burned through the top layers of skin. The metal lay in a S shape along the fatty part of my hand beneath my pinky finger.

James leaned against his shovel to catch his breath. "That's nasty," he said.

The scent of melting flesh and the angry, bubbling look of the skin around it made me reach for it.

Alia caught my hand. "Wait."

She used her fingernails to pull the silver free. I don't know why, but I expected her to wince in pain when she grabbed it. The fact that she could hold it up and study it in the sunlight while the same little piece of metal did so much damage to my skin was a reminder of how very different we were.

She put it in her pocket.

"Why are you keeping it?" I asked.

I didn't like how tight my voice was, but it couldn't be helped. The thought of the silver near anything close to me made my skin crawl. The voice in the back of my mind questioned why I thought Alia would be close to me. I gave an inward growl and told the voice to shut up.

"That was our only jar of it," Alia replied. "I need to make more, but until then, it's all I have."

"Unless you want to pick it out of their melting faces," James supplied helpfully as he started digging again.

Alia grimaced. "No, thanks."
Chapter Six

After the bodies were burned and the ashes buried, it took another hour to scrub the blood stains in the carpet. Fortunately, Mrs. Willard had decided to stay away from the living room and she kept Aspie occupied with her studies.

"Does your sister like going to school at home while Ian attends the public school?" I asked as I tossed yet another stained rag into the garbage bag by the fireplace.

"She can't help it. Her health is also a problem," Alia replied. "She catches anything going around."

"Weak immune system or demon, you pick," James said.

Alia rolled her eyes at him, but his words caught my attention. "Why do you say that?"

"That's what Dad always told Mom. Something about a demon who was mad at him for poking into places he shouldn't and so they cursed his youngest with poor health as a lesson." He shrugged. "It doesn't seem fair to me that Aspen would pay for something like that with her life. I just figure her system is weak because she was born a preemie and she'll be fighting it her whole life."

"Your dad's probably right," I said as I scrubbed a particularly stubborn patch.

"Why would you say that?" Alia asked.

Both siblings had stopped what they were doing and looked at me. I realized I had probably said the entirely wrong thing.

I gave a small shrug like I had seen them do and replied, "Demons are like that."

"Demons are real," James said. It was more of a question than a statement, but the disbelief that colored his voice was strained.

I nodded.

"How can that be?" Alia asked. "They're an abomination."

I held out a hand. "I'm real, aren't I?" I turned my attention back to the carpet. "You've seen enough about werewolves to know we're abominations, also."

I worked on the carpet in silence for a few minutes before a hand touched my arm. I looked over to meet Alia's gaze.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said quietly. She shook her head. "This whole thing is so weird and new and unexpected. If we'd known Dad was right...." Her voice trailed away.

"We wouldn't have given up where he left off," James finished. "Regardless of what Mom said."

"Why did she make you stop training?"

Alia sighed. "After Dad died, she kind-of lost it, or found it, as she says. She burned all of his books, got rid of the weapons, and moved us out here with the promise of starting over."

"We were forbidden to even talk about monsters," James told me. "Though I still try to stay current by checking on the lore on the internet, but there's a lot of superstitious people out there muddying up the real stuff so I can't tell one from the other a lot of the time."

"The Masters are real," I said into the silence that followed.

James' voice was level when he asked, "What are they?"

I looked at the rag in my hand, but didn't see it. There were so many terms I could use to describe them, so many titles. I swallowed and went with the one they would recognize. "Vampires."

James' mouth dropped open. "Vampires are real? That's awesome!"

I shook my head quickly. "No, it's not. Not at all." I turned to look at them both. The need to get rid of the weight that pressed against my chest made me speak quickly, but I knew whatever I said, it would never paint the full picture terribly enough. At least I had to try.

My left hand balled into a fist around the rag when I said, "Close your eyes." I waited until they both complied before I continued with, "Picture a castle deep in the forest, something older than any other structure you know. Its walls are dilapidated, moss claims the bricks, and it is infested with creatures from worse than any nightmare. In the middle of this castle is a dark, deep, stone-lined hole in the ground where it is never light, never dry, and someone is always screaming." I gritted my teeth against a shudder and said, "Now, imagine the type of creature who would call such a place home. They are tall with leathery skin, feet that end in claws long enough to disembowel a human, and with flaps of skin that run from their arms to their legs and can open into wings."

I closed my eyes and sought them out in my mind. "Imagine a face that's not animal and not human, but a mixture of both. They have small, pointed ears, slits for noses, and eyes that glow in the night, not just reflect light like a werewolf's." My voice lowered. "But they can take on the disguise of being human for a little while. That's how they lure their prey. They are the deadliest predators, bloodthirsty, ancient monsters who depend on the blood of humans to survive. When they open their mouths, rows upon rows of hollow, long, pointed teeth shift forward so that they can feed on their prey and drain them dry. Only then are the Masters satiated."

"That's the most horrific thing I've ever heard in my life," James said. His voice was quiet when he admitted, "And believe me when I say I've read some pretty dark garbage on the internet."

"Where do werewolves come in?" Alia asked.

I opened my eyes. The disgust on James' face didn't show on his sister's. Instead, the need to understand was reflected in her eyes. It made me turn my head away.

"I don't think you want to know."

Alia set her hand on my arm, but I refused to look at her. "Zev, you broke away from them. They're not your Masters anymore. You're free."

"That's where you're wrong," I replied. My heart pounded a double rhythm in my chest when I turned to face her. I tried to keep the desperation out of my words, but I couldn't hide the truth. "Werewolves are the guardians of the vampires. We protect them during the day when they are at their weakest. And we use that time to hunt, to bring them prey."

"Humans?" James said.

I knew by his tone that he wanted me to say no, but I had gone too far. I refused to lie to them to appease their sensibilities. They needed to know the kind of darkness that was after them. "Yes, humans." I grimaced. "And animals, too. Whatever we can bring back. The better the prey, the higher the reward."

"What kind of reward?" Alia pressed when I fell silent.

I let out a breath. The fibers of the rag I squeezed pressed into my hand. I opened my fist and looked at the imprint they had made on my skin. "Food, usually the leftovers of whatever they finished. And rankings." I shook my head at the thought. "Rankings are very important to a werewolf."

"Were you a high rank?" James asked.

The answer came out short and clipped. "I was."

We finished cleaning the stains as they processed my words. I debated whether they would just throw me out. It would be the best thing for them. But the reminder of the werewolves that had come so quickly whispered that perhaps that wouldn't be the wisest course of action. As much as they might want me to leave, I couldn't do so until I ensured that they were able to defend themselves.

I threw the last rag into the garbage bag Alia held open and rose to my feet. "Alright. Let's see what defense you know."

Both of them stared at me.

"Now?" Alia asked. She gestured toward the bag. "I'm a mess. I need to clean up."

"Werewolves don't care how messy you are. Believe me when I say that you need to be ready to defend yourself no matter where you are. They are no respecters of privacy. You might find some safety in highly populated places because wolves prefer to attack where they can't be seen."

"Which is why there isn't a ton of footage and info about them on the internet," James supplied helpfully.

I nodded. "Either that or they killed anyone who tried to put anything up."

That sobered him quickly.

I reached for the bag Alia held. Before my hand could touch it, she batted it away with a twist of her arm. A sidestep later and she had my arm pinned behind me. She gave a triumphant little laugh. I ducked and kicked out, throwing myself into a backwards spin that threw her over me and onto the couch hard enough to stun her.

"Rule number one. Don't ever relax your guard," I told her.

She stared up at me with wide eyes. "You're strong."

"And fast," James said. "I barely saw what you did."

"It's a werewolf skill," I told them. "But you're human. You have to take away the advantage."

"How?" Alia asked. She rose to a sitting position on the couch. I liked that she didn't cry or complain about being thrown around like a rag doll. Instead, she looked determined to prevent it from happening again.

"With amulets," I told her.

James picked up the bag that had fallen to the floor during our scuffle. "What's an amulet?"

"A talisman of protection. I'll teach you how to make them," I replied. "But first, we have to find a library or bookstore. The older, the better."

James and Alia exchanged a look.

"We could go to Virgo's," Alia suggested.

James gave a dramatic sigh. "I'd rather be dead."

Alia looked at me pointedly. "I think that's a possibility."

Her brother's face paled slightly and he nodded. "Fine. Let's go."

I headed for the door.

"What about Mom?" Alia protested.

I glanced down the hallway. The sound of Mrs. Willard's steady voice as she read a book about historical civilizations reached my ears. I doubted it mentioned anything about vampires or other creatures of the ancient world.

"She'll be fine. You can let her know if you want. But werewolves have a keen sense of smell. They'll know I'm not here. That's why those two headed for the forest instead of attacking the house." I gave her a wry smile. "As long as I'm not here, they're safe."

When we reached the car I had dented, James took the driver's seat. At my motion, Alia slid into the passenger's. I settled into the back.

"So if we drop you off somewhere, we'd be safer?" James asked as he steered us onto the main road.

"Jamison!" Alia said with shock.

I grinned at him in the rearview mirror and realized I couldn't remember the last time I had ever smiled like that. I didn't want to get comfortable. I needed to take my own advice and keep up my guard. My smile faded.

"In a matter of speaking, yes. At least, until they kill me."

"Until?" Alia repeated. She turned to look back at me. "Why does it have to be until?"

"Werewolves don't stop," I told her. "They'll hunt me to the ends of the earth, then they'll backtrack and kill anyone who helped me."

James met my eyes in the rearview mirror. "And you knew this when you left?"

I held his gaze. "I told you about the Masters."

"Was there no other choice?" Alia asked. "No other life you could choose to live?"

I sat back and let my arm rest in my lap. It was starting to throb again with angry insistence. "There are no choices in the Lair. The weak are sucked dry and then thrown to the others like the rest of the carnage. The strong are trained to protect and serve the Masters."

"I think I would have chosen death," James said. His words weren't boastful or filled with bravado. They were musing and honest.

My voice dropped when I said, "I couldn't choose to be weak and die if I wanted to."

"Why not?" James asked, meeting my gaze in the mirror again.

I wasn't sure how much to tell them. I went with, "I'm part wolf. Animals have strong survival instincts, and wolves are at the top of that list. The wolf side of me refuses to die." I looked out the window. "I guess you could call it a blessing and a curse."

"Does God bless werewolves?"

"James!" Alia said, her voice thick with shock. "Why would you even ask such a thing?"

"It's fine," I told her before James could reply. "Believe me when I say I've had plenty of time to contemplate the reason for our existence."

Alia looked back at me with a curious expression.

I opened my hands and said, "The way I see it, we're the balance for people like you."

Her mouth fell open. "What do you mean?"

I looked up to find James watching me as well. I shifted my gaze to the road in case a car was coming so I could warn him.

"You're the good. The people in their homes living their lives and raising their families in love and with an aim toward happiness." I glanced at Alia and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. She watched me closely as though she guessed what my next words would be. "Vampires and werewolves are the bad. We're the balance."

James laughed. "You mean if there was too much good, the world would explode or something?"

"Or too much bad," I replied. His laughter made me smile at the thought. "Maybe it's not right, but if not, your God made a pretty big mistake leaving monsters like us alive or creating us in the first place."

James gave a grunt of acknowledgement. "I'll have to think about that."

"Let me know what you figure out," I replied.

He nodded with a hint of a smile. "I will."

When we reached the small town, a carved wooden sign proclaimed to be 'Brickwell." Beneath it, the population of three-thousand four-hundred and twenty-seven was written. I wondered how often they updated it.

"So why are we going to the bookstore again?" Alia asked as James pulled in front of a small store named 'The Inking Post'.

"Because the Masters taught us plenty about creating demon talismans, goblin tokens, witch warders, and soul chants, but nothing about werewolf or vampire amulets," I replied.

"For good reason, I'm guessing," James said dryly.

"What makes you think we'll find anything here?" Alia asked. She climbed out of the car and opened my door before I could do it.

I shot her a searching look as I used my good hand to push myself up. She turned her attention to the store.

"I don't remember them having anything on witchcraft or talismans or anything," she mused.

"It's not the subject you have to search for; it's the author," I told her.

A bell rang when James pulled open the door. Scents of jasmine and sandalwood wafted out from incense burners that lined the desk. Braided bamboo shoots, a red Buddha, a bell with a small 'Ring for Service' sticker on it, and a small fake fish that swam in a glass fishbowl occupied the rest of the space. Behind the desk hung a large sign that promised, 'Those who read live a thousand lifetimes.'

About two dozen shelves lined the floor. Small hand-written signs on index cards said topics like, 'Local Authors', 'Travel', 'Children's Books', and 'Pets'. There was no rhyme or reason that I could see to the filing system, especially considering that from where I stood, I could see a section on poetry just above one on 'Historical Figures'. 'Geology' was filed before 'Botany' and took a surprising amount of room. I wondered who at Brickwell enjoyed learning about rocks with such enthusiasm that it required its own shelf.

A man with long blonde hair caught back in a ponytail knelt near the section about insects. He had either not heard the exceptionally loud bell on the door or had chosen to ignore the only customers who clamored for books while school was in session. James shot me a grin and hit the bell on the desk.

"How poor are they that have not patience?" the young man on floor muttered without looking up.

Alia rolled her eyes. "Stop quoting Shakespeare and help us, Virgo."

He looked up in surprise. "Anything for you, Alia," he said, hurrying to his feet. He stepped over the books he had just been filing as if he had forgotten about them entirely. He tripped over nothing and practically landed on the desk. "How may I help you?" he asked breathlessly.

"Kiss up," James muttered.

Alia elbowed her brother in the ribs. She smiled sweetly at his wince before turning to the young man. "Virgo, I'm looking for a book." She glanced back at me and corrected herself, "I mean, my friend here is looking for a book. Can you help him?"

Virgo adjusted his glasses and looked at me. "A friend?" By his tone, he definitely didn't like her referring to me at all. He sighed and said, "What are you looking for?"

I watched him closely. Something about him seemed off somehow. I tried to catch his scent, but the incense was too strong. I wondered if that was on purpose. There was one way to know for sure.

"Do you have anything by Parakin Prisma?"

Virgo froze, his eyes unreadable for a moment. They shifted to Alia and then James before landing back on me. A quiet outlet of breath caught my ear and then he straightened. All pretense of the fumbling, fawning young man was gone. Instead, Virgo stood tall, his shoulders back and head up in a self-confident manner.

"Do they know?" he asked.

"Do we know what?" James demanded.

I nodded. "They know some."

Virgo's eyes narrowed. "You've brought them into danger."

I lowered my gaze for the briefest second. "I know. It was unintentional."

Virgo studied me, his gaze running from my feet to my head. His eyes lingered on the bandages around my wrist before he nodded. "Fine. I have what you're looking for. This way."

He walked to the stacks without waiting to see if we followed.

"What just happened?" James whispered to Alia as they trailed behind me. "Have you ever seen Virgo like that?"

"Never," she replied with astonishment. "I don't get it. What did we miss?"

"You could ask Zev," James suggested.

Virgo stopped. He turned completely around without seeming to move his feet. "What did you say?"

James stopped so fast he tripped over his own feet.

"I, uh," he stammered. He looked at me. "I told Alia to ask Zev."

"Zev means wolf," Virgo replied. Fury colored his face when he demanded, "Did you just bring a werewolf into my store?"

I took a step to the side to place myself between him and James. "I brought myself into the store. Nobody owns me."

Virgo held my gaze. "Are you sure about that, Zev? Or should I call you Lupo or Varg, or Susi. It makes no difference to me."

"What is he talking about?" Alia asked. "I thought Zev was your name."

"The werewolf that attacked us called you Zev," James said. "You answered to it."

I had hoped not to get into it, but Virgo stood in my path. If he was what I suspected, I knew better than to get on his bad side.

"They all mean wolf. It's an insult of sorts," I admitted.

"How is it an insult and your name?" James asked. "That doesn't seem fair."

The briefest flash of humor showed in Virgo's gaze before his anger returned. "Tell them, Fenrir."

I rolled my eyes. "Now you're just trying to be clever." At his refusal to take the bait, I sighed. "The Masters like to point out that we are little more than animals under their command. Calling us wolf in any language instead of acknowledging that we are also part human was one of their ways of reminding us who was in charge. Zev's as good a name as any. Fitting, I guess." I glared at Virgo, liking him less by the second. "Are you willing to try the same game? It didn't turn out well for the one holding my chain."

Virgo's eyes widened and his face paled enough for me to know that his position between a werewolf and what he wanted had finally occurred to him. He backed up quickly.

"No need for violence," he said, holding up his hand as though it was a shield between him and me as he quickly scanned the shelves we passed. "I didn't mean any offense."

"Well, you gave plenty," I replied.

I was coming on a bit strong, but I couldn't help myself. I didn't like warlocks, and Virgo's little trick of spinning around confirmed my suspicions along with the metallic wafting of magic that touched my nose. Faint runes glowed on the warlock's palm. Alia gasped behind me when she caught sight of them.

"Virgo, what's going on. Who are you?" she asked.

"You mean what is he?" James corrected. A glance back showed him glaring at the shopkeeper. "Have you been lying to us this entire time?"

"Lying, pretending not to be a warlock, they're practically the same thing," Virgo replied lightly. "Here it is." He selected a book from the far end of a shelf entitled 'The Universe.'

"Parakin Prisma at your service," the warlock said as he handed me the book with a flourish. When I took it from him, his forced smile fell. "I'm going to need that back." At my glare, he held up both hands. "After you're through with it, of course!"

"Of course," I replied through gritted teeth. "After I'm through with it."
Chapter Seven

"I think you terrified Virgo half to death," Alia said.

"I'm sure he'll stock up on silver tomorrow," I replied. A swell of selfish satisfaction rose in my chest at the thought of the warlock afraid.

I sat on the bench outside The Inking Post with Alia at my side and James standing behind us. I tried to ignore the fact that Alia's familiarity with me put me on edge in a far different way from the impending werewolf attacks. I had spent my entire life being either feared by those around me because of my strength or fawned over because they wanted something I had. Friendship was impossible. The Masters ensured as much.

Friendship was a lie told by those who needed to get close for a reason. I told myself that the feeling of camaraderie from James and Alia didn't actually exist. Alia needed the safety offered between the pages of the book I held, which is why she leaned against me without fear of what I was. I told myself not to get used to it; but the voice in the back of my mind noted that it was nice.

I flipped quickly through the book. Familiar spells, fairy circles, and a year-long process for summoning a unicorn went past. The sight of a moon necklace made me turn the page quickly, but it caught Alia's attention.

"What was that?"

I turned the page back reluctantly. The round black stone looked innocent enough hung on the simple chain, but I had to fight back the impulse to return the book to Virgo and tell him to burn it.

James leaned over my shoulder and read the scrawling script, "The moonstone binds the wearer in animal form until it is taken off. A Were creature cannot take off the moonstone. It must be done by an outside source. The effects of a moonstone will continue to hold even after the sun has risen. It will be as if the Were is bound by the light of the full moon for as long as it is worn."

A tiny post script was written in a tighter hand across the bottom of the page. Alia's shoulder brushed mine when she read, "Take fair warning, if a moonstone is worn long enough, the Were will begin to think like the animal it is bound to be. Enough time wearing the moonstone may inhibit the Were's ability to return to a human way of thinking once removed."

Alia sat back. "That sounds horrible. Have you ever worn a moonstone?"

I nodded. "The Masters are fond reminding us of our place."

"That's inhumane," James pointed out.

"That's the point," I replied. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and turned the pages. "Moving on. We don't have much time." I found the page I wanted and opened it.

The top of the page read 'Werewolf Ward, protect yourself from the savage demons of both the moon and the sun.'

"At least they don't sound biased," James said wryly.

That brought the ghost of a smile to my lips. I read aloud, "An amulet such as the one created below can protect you from the strength of a werewolf. If you are touched by a werewolf while wearing one, it will take away their supernatural strength so that they are as strong as they would be if they were only human. This will increase your ability to harm to them as you could a human."

James read the post script at the bottom. It seemed the author was fond of them. "Warning, the effects of the amulet will last for roughly a half hour after a werewolf has touched you. If the potency of the ingredients is sure, he or she will be unable to phase into wolf form or use supernatural strength until the effects have faded."

Another post script lay below that one. Alia read, "Warning, this has not been tested by the author." She sat back. "That's good to know."

"It'll work," I reassured them. I could feel it just by looking at the amulet that had been drawn in the middle of the page. My skin crawled with distaste, so I handed the book with the page open to Alia. "We just have to get the ingredients."

They followed me to the car. "Wolfsbane, citrus, lavender, blood of an innocent, hair of a human, alyssum shoots, black obsidian, and the blood of a werewolf," Alia read aloud.

"Wait," James said before I could open the door to the backseat. At my questioning look, he gestured toward the bookstore. "It'd be a lot easier if we ask Virgo for as many of these things as he has. He's always been obsessed with rocks, and the back of that store is filled with plants."

"He's right," Alia said with surprise in her voice. "That's actually a great idea."

James rolled his eyes. "I have good ideas once in a while. Give me some credit."

As we walked back to the shop, Alia asked, "If Aspie really was cursed by a demon, is there an amulet in here that could break it?"

Doubt was my first reaction, but I didn't want to shoot down the hope in Alia's voice. "There might be. We'll have to search through it." I hesitated, but knew I had to warn her. "Messing with demons is dangerous. If one did retaliate against you father that way, we're lucky Aspie's still alive. We'll have to tread lightly to ensure the demon doesn't find the motivation to finish the job."

Alia stopped thumbing through the book and looked up with a worried expression. "I don't want that."

I nodded. "I know. We'll figure something out."

As James opened the door, I was struck by the fact that I had used the term 'we' so casually. Alia and James had both nodded as if it was normal, but it wasn't, not at all. I had been alone my entire life, my own strength, the only one I could depend on for protection, and the only one I cared about when I broke my chains and fled the Lair. Now, after spending a day with two human siblings, I had suddenly become invested in their safety and that of their family. It made no sense to me, but the feeling was too strong to deny.

The bell rang when we entered. Virgo's face paled from his place behind the desk.

"Forgot your silver bullets?" he asked.

I had to acknowledge his bravery despite the quiver in his voice.

Alia set down the book with the page open to what we needed on his desk.

It took some effort, but I managed to channel courtesy from somewhere in the dark recesses of my soul and forced a smile. "I would appreciate it if you would help my friends create a werewolf amulet."

Virgo stared at me. "You mean to keep werewolves away?"

I shook my head. "Though you could probably use one of those." At his begrudging smile, I continued, "It lessens a werewolf's strength so that they can be fought as a human instead of a supernatural beast."

Virgo eyed me curiously. "You don't have a great estimation of your species, do you?"

"Do you?" I asked.

He shook his head and met the siblings' gazes. "Three amulets it is."

"But Zev doesn't need one," Alia said.

"If werewolves are in town, I'm not going to be the one caught without any way of protecting myself," Virgo replied. He rubbed his hands together. "Alright, where do we start?"

I hung out near the stacks of books while they went over the list. It was a strange sensation to listen to them discussing why each of the ingredients would help guard against a werewolf.

"And I know where we'll get the werewolf blood," Virgo said, raising his voice.

I met his joking look with a flat one of my own. He immediately ducked his head and turned his focus back to the list.

"Do you know where we can find wolfsbane?" Alia asked.

"I grow some in the back," Virgo replied.

"Of course you do," I muttered.

He ignored me and said, "I also have lavender and citrus is easy to come by, but we'll have a bit of trouble with the alyssum."

James glanced at him. "Why is that?"

"Because around here, it likes to grow in the cemetery, and I don't do cemeteries," Virgo replied with a visible shudder.

I rolled my eyes. "I'll go to the cemetery."

"Not alone," Alia said.

I shook my head. "Virgo's smart to be worried. I refuse to take anyone else there."

Alia held my gaze. "The werewolf in our house and the others in the forest were determined to kill you, and if I'm not mistaken, it was a werewolf who nearly bit your arm in half."

I couldn't deny it.

Worry showed in Alia's eyes when she continued with, "If what you said is true, our safety depends on you being alive. You got lucky in the forest and with James' knife considering the shape you're in. I don't think you'll be so lucky again."

To hear her put the truth into such stark words was sobering. I was under no pretense that I had beaten the werewolves through sheer skill. Luck had definitely been on my side, and there was no way of telling how long that was going to hold out. In my life, luck wasn't dependable.

"Maybe not," I said. "But I don't like the thought of any of you being in danger because of me."

"Alia can stay with Virgo," James offered. "I'll go with you."

Virgo nodded. "We'll fortify the threshold and I know several very unpleasant traps that will deter werewolves long enough for you to get back." At my skeptical look, he smiled. "Trust me, Doggy Breath, we'll be fine. Just take care of yourselves."

Alia fought back a laugh, but James had no qualms about chuckling at the warlock's words. I turned away without commenting.

"Wait," Virgo called as we reached the door.

When we looked back, he pulled a long rod from beneath the desk and tossed it to James. "That's coated in pure silver. It'll slow them down at least. Oh, and take this." He grabbed a bag from beside the cash register and tossed it.

James caught it and a plume of gray dust rose into the air. When I inhaled, it clogged my throat and made me cough. The wretched stuff refused to leave. I doubled over, attempting to draw in a breath that didn't make me feel like hacking up a lung.

"Virgo, what did you do?" Alia asked.

She ran to my side. To my surprise, the warlock did as well. He opened the door and ushered us out onto the stoop where I spent a few minutes trying to breathe again without passing out. When I finally straightened, he had the most apologetic expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry. I really didn't think it through," he said.

"What is that?" I rasped out.

"Ground wolfsbane," he replied. "I got it out right after you left just in case you returned." He lowered his gaze. "I didn't think about the effects when I threw it."

He watched me fearfully as if certain I was about to tear his head off. While werewolves deserved the testy reputation, I actually felt bad for the warlock. At least he was in the middle of trying to help.

I let out a breath and said, "At least we know it works. I'd recommend grinding more immediately."

Virgo nodded quickly. "Y-yes, I'll do it right away."

That brought a begrudging smile to my face. "We'll return soon." I glanced up at the sky to where the sun hung straight overhead. The feeling of the warmth on my shoulders was a welcome one, especially considering the fact that, given three werewolf attacks, I shouldn't have been alive to feel it. "Hopefully we won't have any problems, and neither should you, but take care."

Virgo nodded. A hint of something showed in his gaze. I would have sworn it was respect if I wasn't referring to a warlock. "James, on your way back, could you stop by Jemmy's and get some obsidian?"

"You mean at The Salvage Garden?" James replied. He shook his head. "I hate antique stores. They give me the creeps. Especially that one. Those old dolls are watching me; I swear it."

"Please?" Alia said. "The sooner we get these amulets made, the sooner we can get back to Mom and Aspie. And if we don't hurry, Ian's going to be home."

James sighed and said, "Fine, but I'm not going to enjoy it."

"I'm sure Jemmy will be thrilled to hear that," Virgo replied with a wry expression. "Be sure to tell her I need the obsidian for amulets. She'll send you with her best stones."

As we walked away, I heard the warlock rub his hands together. "Now for threshold warding. I'm so excited. I haven't done this in forever!"

I searched the streets as James drove us to the cemetery. A man was out mowing his lawn while another pulled leaves from his gutters. A woman sat on a bench at the park watching two small children who played happily in the sand beneath a slide. The tiny black and tan dog with wiry hair that sat near her lifted his head and met my gaze. I pulled my lips back and let my teeth show. The dog jumped to his feet and started yapping.

"Quiet, Murphy! What's gotten into you?" the woman scolded.

The dog ignored her and continued to bark.

I faced forward again.

James pulled to a stop next to a set of iron gates that fronted the cemetery. "It's a lot less spooky during the day," he noted.

"What makes it scary at night?" I asked.

He climbed out of the car and waited until I joined him in front of the gate before he said, "It's not a pleasant story."

I watched him for a moment. "You're aware that none of the stories I have told you have been pleasant, right? I think I can handle it."

He kicked a rock with his shoe before replying, "It's not you I'm worried about." He fell silent, then admitted, "I've been trying to forget and I'm afraid that talking about it again will stir it all up."

As anxious as I was to get the amulets done, it was obvious by James' tone that I couldn't rush him. I didn't know when I had become good at reading the nuances of voice and facial expressions that appeared to be so key in human communication. In wolf form, it was easy to know what another werewolf was thinking. Ears back, a show of teeth, a tail held out, and a raising of the ruff of fur about the shoulders was a sure sign of attack, whereas ears up, a slight wagging of the tail, a tip of the head to one side, and a small whine could show interest.

Being around the Willards even for the brief time I had known them showed how much the werewolves in human form carried over their animal traits instead of taking on those of the human. There wasn't a slight tightening of the eyes to indicate discomfort or suspicion, no miniscule pressing of the lips to indicate unhappiness with the situation, or a shifting of the eyes to show fear. Even when they were talking with Virgo, I couldn't help paying attention. Compared to true humans, the werewolves I had grown up with were about as subtle as a rock. I had a whole lot to learn if I intended to stick around. The problem was that I had no idea what I intended to do.

"Let's go inside and you can tell me about it," I said.

James gave me a curious look. "Why are you so anxious to go in?"

I motioned toward the huge gate. "That's made of iron."

"So," James said.

I put a hand on one of the bars. "Wrought iron keeps in the ghosts and is hard for witches and warlocks to cross, which is why I suspect Virgo sent us here instead of going himself."

"But you can touch it?" James asked. He eyed the gate as he followed me inside.

"It's not silver," I said. I glanced at the staff he carried. "Just keep that one away from me."

He switched hands with a sheepish smile so that it was farther away. "Will do. And the pouch with the wolfsbane in it." His eyebrows lifted. "How does it feel to have so many deadly things around?"

I walked up the cement-lined path and didn't look back when I said, "You're around me and I'm probably the deadliest thing here. How does that feel?"

James snorted but didn't take the bait. Instead, he went with, "So, um, how does iron keep the ghosts in?"

"They can't cross it, which is why most cemeteries have iron bars around them. It's to help the restless spirits stay where they're supposed to be," I explained.

The tapping of the silver walking stick against the cement sounded tinny to my ears before James said, "So why keep out the witches?"

"Because they have a nasty habit of trying to raise the dead," I replied.

"They try to raise the dead?" he said with a squeak at the end of his words.

"Not well," I glanced back at him. "They're bad at it, which is why zombies and poltergeists and ghouls and all of the nasty supernatural specters exist."

"Great," he said, shaking his head. "It was better when I thought it was all in my mind."

That caught my attention. "What did you see?"

A patch of white flowers drew me close to a short headstone, but a quick sniff told me they were the wrong ones despite their four petals. When I stood, James was looking around with a wary expression.

"It came from over there." He pointed toward the far end of the cemetery where the older tombstones resided.

I followed his finger and spotted a dark gray mausoleum with white flowers growing around it. The breeze that touched my nose whispered of honey. "Great," I muttered.

Tall trees with moss hanging from the branches low enough to sweep the tops of the headstones shaded the majority of the south end.

"My dad's grave is over there," James said.

My ears caught the slight quiver despite his attempt to keep his voice steady.

"I'm sorry," I told him.

I wasn't sure why I said it. I hadn't known his father and had no reason to apologize for someone's death, especially when I was responsible for so many myself. Yet the pause at the end of his words had asked for something.

Sympathy wasn't my strong suit. The voice in the back of my mind whispered the irony that strength was my strong suit. My value had come from my skills as a fighter. Take away the fighting, and I was simply a shell without purpose. The thought that I was no better off than a ghost trapped behind the iron fence made me quicken my steps.

"I was visiting his grave one night." He glanced at me. "Don't tell my mom. She doesn't like me wandering, but sometimes I can't sleep and talking to Dad helps."

I kept the incredulity out of my voice when I asked, "How?" I realized the question might have been rude, so explained, "I never had parents."

He glanced at me. "You never had parents? How is that possible?"

I turned my attention to the tombstones we passed. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Fair enough," James said. "I guess it just helps because I was used to talking to him when he was alive, and so the fact that he is there, listening to me, when I don't necessarily want a response and just need to get my thoughts in order really helps." He shrugged and said in a gruff voice that belied the tears that showed in his eyes, "I'm not sure why, but it does."

I let his words sift through me. The thought of talking to someone who had died wasn't one I had ever considered before. I had lost plenty of acquaintances at the Lair. We weren't friends, not really, but I had known their numbers and they had died. Talking to them wouldn't have been a consolation.

But there was one....

I let that thought fade away without pursuing it. The pain was too real, too fresh, and to even think about talking to her made my throat tighten to the point that I could barely breathe. I blinked before my own tears could betray me, and then growled at myself internally because I didn't cry. I never cried. Crying was a weakness. I didn't think less of James for his tears because he was human and therefore a weakling, but I was a werewolf. I knew better. So why did my eyes threaten to be so disloyal as to fill up at the thought of her?

A growl at my own weakness escaped me.

James misinterpreted the sound. "We don't have to talk about this anymore."

I shook my head. "I'm still getting over Virgo's wolfsbane." I threw him a sideways glance and changed the subject. "So you said you saw something over there? What did it look like?"

"Well, it was dark," James began. "But the moon was shining enough that I could read Dad's headstone without using my phone for a flashlight. I was telling him about, well...." He glanced away and said, "Never mind. But as I was talking to him, I heard a rustle in the bushes. I tried to ignore it, but it got louder." He stopped walking and turned to face me. "Out of the bushes walks this demon creature with huge horns, glowing red eyes, and a look of pure hatred on its face. It looked straight at me and made the most hideous sound I have ever heard in my life!"

"What did you do?"

"I ran," he said. "It chased me all the way to the gate. When I drove away, it watched me from there like it wanted to tear me apart and eat my guts."

A scent touched my nose. I turned my head from side to side, checking the breeze.

"Have you been back since?" I asked without looking at him.

"With my mom," he admitted. "She comes here on Sundays to put down fresh flowers."

"Does Alia ever come here?"

I don't know why I asked the question. I regretted it the moment the words left my lips. It was none of my business, and the less I knew about the Willards the better since I wouldn't be staying long.

"Never," James said. "Well, unless Mom forces her to. She's mad at him for leaving us."

"Even though it wasn't his fault?" I replied in surprise.

He lifted a shoulder. "Who knows how girls think?"

I shook my head. "I sure don't."

"That makes two of us," he confirmed.

A rustle in the bushes made us both stop walking. We stared at the place where James had first seen the demon. It would be rare for one to come out in the sunlight. For it to brave the darkness-sapping brilliance, it would have had to be very angry.

My muscles tensed as I prepared to throw myself in front of James. His silver staff and bag of wolfsbane weren't going to help against a demon. Truth be told, a mere scratch from one was enough to drop a fully-grown werewolf. I wasn't sure what I planned to do, but I had promised to get James back safely, and I was determined to live up to my word.

"Zev?" James said, his voice tight with fear.

"When he appears, run to the gate," I told him without taking my eyes off the bushes.

"But you said iron only affects ghosts and witches," James pointed out. His shoe crunched as he took a step backwards.

"You said he stopped at the gate before. It's worth a shot," I replied over my shoulder.

The bushes shook harder, and then a face jutted out between the branches.

The sound of James running for his life was cut off by my laughter. I held my stomach, my sore ribs aching in protest as I doubled over and laughed harder than I could ever remember doing so in my life.

"Are-are you laughing?" James asked breathlessly from far enough away that I guessed he had reached the gate.

I put my good hand on my knee to steady myself. "I am," I said over my shoulder with another chuckle.

James' shoe scrapped on the cement with uncertainty, and then he walked slowly back toward me. I listened to him make his way through the headstones and into the older section of the cemetery.

"Wait," he said when he was still a few feet back. "What is that?"

I straightened and looked back at the bushes. The goat that stared back at me gave a short, "Maaaa," before it returned to eating the leaves.

"You have got to be kidding me," James said. "A goat? An ugly, cud-chewing, crooked-horned goat?" He started to laugh, then the goat charged.
Chapter Eight

"You can't tell Lia or my mom. They'd never let me live it down," James said. He twisted to see the hole in the seat of his pants where he had snagged them scrambling over the iron fence closest to the tombstone.

"I won't," I promised. "At least we got these." I held up the handful of alyssum shoots I had managed to snag when the goat was occupied with trying to headbutt James.

"Yeah," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm glad I could distract it. I think it really was a demon."

I grinned. "I can imagine it at night with those stripes down its eyes and making that sound. Maaaa."

"Shut up," James said. "Just because you're a werewolf and not afraid of anything. You could have chased it down or something to save me."

"And get lectured by your sister for running on this again?" I asked, holding up my arm. "I'd rather you take one for the team."

He snorted at that. The laughter faded from his gaze when he looked past me at the building. "I guess we'd better go inside."

The Salvage Garden was a ramshackle structure with faded wood paneling on which hung only a few shreds of its previous light blue paint before mother nature decided to redecorate. Strange objects hung in the storefront window ranging from old bikes, dented instruments, several raggedy teddy bears that looked as though they were tethered from nooses instead of just on display, a few lamps of cut glass that glowed with blue, green, and red, and even a few guns and a dusty old sword that had a landscaped etched painstakingly into the blade.

"Let's get this over with," James grumbled. He shoved his door open with a reluctant sigh. "I swear Virgo asked me to do this on purpose."

I glanced at the street to ensure it was empty before I followed him inside. Instead of a bell on the door, a windchime hung with a variety of metal birds clanged together to herald our entrance.

"Stupid birds," James muttered.

I was about to ask him why he was so mad at something so harmless when a voice called out, "Jamison Willard, it's been far too long!"

A breath hissed out between his teeth before he turned and said, "Hello, Jemmy."

A girl with thick-rimmed glasses and long red curly hair smiled at us from beside a stack of records nearly as tall as she was.

"Who's your friend?" she asked. She adjusted her glasses. "He's cute!"

"Run while you still can," James said under his breath to me before he raised his voice and told her, "We're in a hurry. Virgo asked us to pick up some obsidian. Do you have any?"

Her smile faded. "My brother sent you for obsidian?"

"Yeah," James said. "It's for amulets and we're in a rush."

Jemmy's eyes flashed from James' to mine and my stomach tightened.

"James, we need to go," I said.

I backed slowly toward the door.

"What's going on?" James asked. He looked from Jemmy to me. "What's the big deal?"

I reached the doorknob and turned it without breaking her gaze. I had the door almost open wide enough to slip through when it slammed shut again. The birds from the chime didn't make a sound. I held Jemmy's green gaze as my heartbeat thundered in my ears. An eerie silence settled across the room.

James was the first to break it.

"Uh, what did I miss?"

"Virgo set us up," I said, watching Jemmy. I glared at her. "Where's your coven?"

"They're coming," she replied.

James stared at her. "Wait. You're a warlock, too?"

"A witch," Jemmy and I said at the same time.

James shook his head. "That can't be right. You-you run the store. You just graduated in my class." His eyes widened. "You gave the Valedictorian speech. You can't be a witch!"

I glanced at him. "Why not? Those aren't great reasons, you know."

"Yeah," Jemmy said, walking toward us. "Why can't I be a witch, Jamison?"

"Don't call me that. Everybody calls me James. You know that!" James said.

Jemmy stopped. "I'll call you Jamison if I want to. It's your real name. You should go by it." Her voice lowered. "Names have power, you know. That's why they resonate with our soul."

"So you're trying to have power over me by using my name?" James asked, his voice tight.

A small smile touched the witch's lips. "Would that be a bad thing?"

James scrambled to get behind me. "Yes, yes it would. It would be a very bad thing!"

"Don't come any closer," I told her.

Jemmy's eyes flickered to mine. "So why did my brother send you?"

"To get obsidian," I said, careful to keep my voice level.

Her eyes narrowed. "Obsidian is Virgo's word for danger. He was warning me." A light of triumph showed in her eyes when she said, "You walked right into his trap."

She snapped her fingers. A sixteen-pointed star glowed on the ground at my feet in glittering gold. Before I could move, the glyph rose into the air and separated into numerous crackling threads. They spanned from the floor to the ceiling. The ozone scent of charred air filled my nose. I put a hand to the glowing lines of the glyph and hissed in a breath. I dropped my hand again as the sting of the magic made my arm numb.

"Let me go," I growled.

"No," Jemmy replied.

"We're really here for obsidian," James said with panic in his voice. "Let him go!"

She shook her head, her red curls bouncing around her head in a chaotic mass. "He can't go. He's dangerous."

"Really?" James replied. "Because he saved my life twice today at the risk of his own. Look at him."

Jemmy took a tentative step closer. "Are you lying?" she asked James as she studied me from head to toe.

"Why would I lie about that?" he demanded.

Her brow furrowed. "You might be under his spell."

"Werewolves don't have spells," he replied. He looked at me. "Do they?"

I shook my head. "Though I wouldn't mind an obsidian spell right about now. We'd get out of here faster."

"You're a werewolf?" Jemmy said in a voice that was a bit higher than before. "I thought you were a warlock."

I forced a small smile. "I'd be a pretty bad warlock to get caught in a trap like this." I shrugged, hoping to put her fears at ease. "I haven't seen one made this well in a long time though."

A hint of red touched Jemmy's freckled cheeks. "Thanks. Virgo and I worked on it for quite a while."

"With the rest of your coven?" I asked even though I guessed what her reply would be.

Her gaze lowered to the ground. "There is no coven. It's just the two of us and my mom."

"That can't be easy," I said, hoping to win her confidence.

"It's not," she replied. "We have to learn everything from books and even then, we're not sure of most of the runes. It's so confusing."

James stared from me to Jemmy. "What is this?" he demanded. "Some sort of supernatural sympathy counseling?" He turned to Jemmy. "You have to let Zev out. We're all in danger."

A crash sounded from the far end of the store. My muscles tensed. I stared into the darkness that lay beyond the open door behind a cluttered desk.

"Tell me you have company back there," James said in a low voice.

Jemmy shook her head. Her eyes appeared huge behind her glasses.

"You have to let me out of here," I said.

She blinked. "I can't. The way we set it up, one of us activates it and the other one has to lower it."

A form appeared in the doorway across from us. Golden eyes glowed from the darkness.

"Jemmy, you have to figure this out," James said. "Quickly!"

The form stepped into the dim light of the antiques store. Ratty clothes hung off of the man in an assortment of sizes as if he had stolen them from a drying line. He was barefoot, his hair stood out in all directions, and his lips were pulled back in a silent snarl. I wondered if that was how I looked.

He took another step forward and light reflected off of the long, thin knife he held.

Jemmy began muttering words in what sounded like Latin.

"Zev, what do we do?" James asked. Fear was thick in his voice.

"Run," I said. "Run to Virgo's. Take Jemmy."

James shook his head quickly. "I won't leave you."

His sense of loyalty amazed me and filled me with fear for him at the same time.

"James, you've got to go!" I said.

"I'm not leaving," he replied.

The werewolf advanced toward us. He let the tip of his blade drag on the wooden floor. The sound of the slow scratching filled the air and sent a shiver down my spine. Jemmy stopped attempting to break the cage's spell and hid behind it with James.

I watched helplessly as the werewolf stalked forward. His eyes glittered as he took enjoyment in the fact that his prey was trapped.

"They're first, deserter," he uttered in a bass voice that echoed across the store.

"Your fight is with me, Twenty-three," I told him.

The werewolf's snarl elongated into a toothy grin. "You mean Twenty-two. Numbers have gone up since you left, Three, or should I say, Zero?" His taunting gaze shifted to the humans who cowered behind me. "I'll enjoy letting you watch me disembowel your friends and let them bleed out until there's no more life left in their bodies." His eyes narrowed. "Then, I'll kill you."

The gasp of fear from Jemmy sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I tore off my shirt and phased into wolf form. Before I could second-guess the decision, I leaped at the bindings.

The werewolf lifted his blade and charged.

The magic crackled and hissed, burning my skin where it touched. But the spell wasn't strong enough to hold against a full attack. The webbing bent outward, and then burst in a shower of sparks.

I flew into the werewolf with a snarl of rage and hit him square in the chest before he could bring the knife down. He fell backwards under the force of the attack. My paw gave out when we hit the ground and I rolled off of him. He shoved to his feet and spun. His eyes flashed in the darkness as he dove at me. He phased in the air, shifting into wolf form before we met in a tangle of teeth and fur.

We fought in a blur of werewolf speed. Bookshelves filled with costumes, old bird cages, and even a few books were knocked over as though they were made out of cardboard. I grabbed the werewolf by the throat, but missed his jugular by inches. I threw him with a twist of my head and he crashed into a stand of painted umbrellas. He came back charging like a bull. I tried to dodge his attack, but my front leg gave out and I didn't have enough speed to get out of the way.

The werewolf struck my side and sent me flying into a taxidermy display of a bear on its hind legs snarling down at a white fox. I twisted just enough to avoid being impaled by the bear's outstretched claws and fell to the ground between the two animals. Before relief at my near escape could take full effect, the werewolf was on me. He had apparently decided that speed and strength wouldn't work, so he decided to flatten me by sheer size. He pummeled me to the ground and closed his mouth around my neck. Inch by precious inch, he moved his way toward the soft part of my throat.

"The werewolf's killing him!" James shouted. "Do something!"

"I don't know what to do," Jemmy said in a voice that was close to hysterical.

Gratitude for my thick fur was quickly replaced by the sensation of suffocating as the werewolf gave up trying to reach the vital jugular vein and carotid artery that would kill me in seconds and instead settled for clamping down with his fangs as hard as he could. White and black spots warred in my vision. I struggled, but felt him bite down harder. The sounds of Jemmy and James faded into the hum of blood pounding angrily in my ears. I wanted to live. I had something to fight for. I struggled to hold onto that thought, but even the something was slipping away.

The werewolf above me let go of my throat with an ear shattering yelp. The sound of something striking flesh was rewarded with another yelp. The werewolf turned with a snarl. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James shove the silver bar Virgo had given him lengthwise into the werewolf's open mouth, holding it open. Blood dripped from the end of the bar to the floor. He tore something from his belt and dumped the contents into the werewolf's mouth, then he pulled the bar free.

The werewolf gagged. I turned my head to avoid the cloud of wolfsbane he coughed up.

"Come on. It will kill him if we don't," James said.

Hands grabbed my back legs. The werewolf collapsed to the floor. His eyes rolled as he began to convulse. My chest heaved in great, all-encompassing coughs and the maddeningly detached voice noted that I was about to die the same death with the amount of wolfsbane in both the air and my lungs.

But the hands didn't let go. Instead, I was gathered up in a pair of arms and carried in a half-run to the front door.

"Open it!" James demanded.

Precious seconds passed by, and then the door flew open. James ran outside and deposited me on the grass in front of The Salvage Garden.

"Breathe, Zev," he said.

I fought to comply. Every gasp ended in a hacking cough, but with each breath came more fresh air. It eventually cleared the wolfsbane from my lungs to the point that I could lay there without feeling as though I was about to die.

"Whew," James said. He collapsed on his back on the grass next to me. "That was more than I expected."

"You expected this?" Jemmy asked.

I opened my eyes to see her watching us from the doorway of the store. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she studied us. Her fingers shook to match the pallor of her face.

"Yes," James replied. "I told you he risked his life twice to save ours. He's on our side."

An apologetic expression overtook Jemmy's features. "I'm so sorry," she said. She walked down the two wooden steps and knelt on the grass next to me. "Obsidian really is the word Virgo and I came up with."

James shook his head. "I can't believe he didn't think of that when he sent us."

Jemmy's cellphone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and answered it with shaking fingers. "Virg?"

"Jemmy, don't cage him. I really sent them for obsidian. I forgot about the word!" I heard him say on the other end.

Jemmy sighed. "Yeah, thanks, brother. We were almost killed by a werewolf, but he's dead."

"You killed Zev!" he shouted with panic.

"Cool it," Jemmy replied. "Zev is fine." She glanced at me, then said, "Well, mostly fine. We killed another werewolf. Actually," her gaze flitted to James. "James and Zev killed the other werewolf. I did everything wrong." Tears broke free and trickled down her cheeks. "I nearly got us all killed. I'm a horrible witch."

"Don't say that," Virgo reassured her. "We'll talk about it later. Are you sure you're safe?"

She sniffed and wiped away the tears as she said, "Yes. I just need to get rid of the werewolf."

"Remember to use the silver shavings after you burn it so it stays dead," Virgo told her.

"I'll remember," Jemmy replied. "And I'll come over after we're done."

"Good." Virgo was silent, then said, "I'm glad you're alright. I love you, sis."

"Love you, too," Jemmy said before hanging up her phone.

She looked down at us. A flicker of strength showed in her eyes as though speaking to her brother was just what she needed to pull herself back together.

"We have a mess to clean up," she announced.

James pushed to his feet. I tried to follow, but he set a hand on my shoulder. It was enough to negate my efforts and send me back to the grass. The exhaustion I felt terrified me. I had been in plenty of fights for survival, but breaking through the magic glyph had taken more from me than I expected. I could feel the burns on my body. I longed for the healing power of the moonlight.

"You should stay here and rest," he said. "We'll take care of it."

I had no choice but to agree. I lowered my head back to the grass and listened to them go back inside.

"He doesn't look so good," Jemmy said quietly.

"Yeah, well, he's had a rough couple of days," James replied.

I snorted at the understatement.

I allowed myself a few minutes of rest to regain as much of my strength as I could before the inevitable. I listened to the way my lungs filled raggedly with air; a slight burning sensation remained down my esophagus to remind me how close I had come to dying from both the werewolf's fangs and the wolfsbane. I was really beginning to hate that powder. I made a satirical mental note to avoid it whenever possible.

The burns from the glyph hurt, but my fur had protected me from the worst of them. Beside rolling my wrist when I first attacked the werewolf, I had managed to somehow avoid wrecking further damage on my arm. Alia would be happy with that one.

Thoughts of Alia made my chest tighten. I couldn't explain the sensation. When I pictured her, it was in a vague sense with long brown hair waving around her face, framing her hazel eyes. The gold rings around her irises practically glowed whenever she smiled at me. My heart felt as though it turned over completely in my chest just at the memory.

It was a ridiculous sensation, and probably one that wasn't healthy. I scolded myself soundly and reminded myself that werewolves didn't have long lifespans due to the perilousness of our occupations. We weren't allowed to get attached to anyone for a reason. Any such attachments were immediately ended at the Lair with either one or both werewolves being killed as an example to the rest of the pack. It was for our own protection. That was what they repeatedly told us.

Yet there was something right about the protective way I felt about Alia and her family. I wanted to fight, and it wasn't for myself. Besides defending the Masters against the dark threats of the world, I had only ever fought for myself. The need to protect Alia, and the anxiousness I felt when I was away from her side and worried that she was in danger, seemed to come from a place deep in my soul.

All of my jagged, broken edges through hundreds of losses, thousands of beatings and punishments, and a life of living for only the selfish drive to survive felt suddenly eased as though a balm had been smoothed over them. I told myself I was being ridiculous, that I was only looking for something to grasp onto in a world that had turned on end the moment I broke my chains, but I knew I was fooling no one.

The training we received at the Lair since birth was thorough, containing worldly knowledge as well as the knowledge of both our human and animal natures. That was vital in order to use each side to the utmost in the calling given to us by the Masters. However, in teaching about wolves, they couldn't leave out the fact that wolves usually live in a pack.

It wasn't a pack created by harsh taskmasters who picked and chose which traits they liked best in their daytime protectors. It wasn't a pack of beasts who had been raised to hate and loath each other through numerous battles for hierarchy spurred on by praise and lavish comforts or torture and deprivation. It was a pack made up of a family, of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins and parents who defended each other, hunted for each other, and even babysat for each other so that the parents could bring back food for their little ones.

Somehow, in the brief amount of time I had known the Willards, my heart had accepted them as my temporary pack. What that meant or what would happen to that small section of my heart when I left, I had no idea; but at the moment, it felt so right to know that I was no longer fighting only for myself.
Chapter Nine

I managed to make it all the way to my feet by the time James and Jemmy returned. They looked much the worse for the wear with blood covering their clothes, soot on both of their faces, and even some in Jemmy's red hair that she had tied back with a piece of plaid cloth. By the expressions on their faces when they watched me limp toward the door, I looked as bad as they did.

"Come on. I've got some clean clothes inside you can borrow," Jemmy told me. "There's a changing room." She gave a little huff of laughter. "For the first time, it's going to truly live up to the potential of its name."

"Maybe he should stay a wolf," James said, missing her joke.

Jemmy shook her head. "It takes a lot of energy for a werewolf to stay in wolf form during the day. The moonlight makes it much easier. He's using up more energy than he can spare staying in that form for this long."

I felt their eyes on me as I made my way slowly toward the changing room in the corner made by fastening a purple and blue blanket with stars on it to a string and pulled across the corner to the other wall. I managed to close it with my mouth with only minimal discomfort, then sat inside and attempted to gather my strength for what was to come.

A mirror leaned against the corner. It was cracked on the edge and had gold filigree across the top and bottom in fancy swirls. I forced my eyes to lift to the wolf reflected back at me.

I looked tired. That was my first thought, which was followed closely by the agreement that I looked as bad, if not worse, than James and Jemmy had. The bandages on my forearm hung in tatters. It was obvious that my break was not taking well to changing form. Apparently, bones didn't appreciate shifting size and location while they were trying to mend. The swelling on either side of the break and the red inflamed tissue argued as much. It was going to hurt to phase back.

But Jemmy was right. I could feel my strength lagging as the seconds ticked by. If I didn't phase soon, my body would force me to out of sheer survival. Werewolves weren't meant to be in wolf form during the day. It was unnatural and usually unnecessary. That was why we made such excellent guardians for the vampires. We were in animal form at night when they had to deal with us, enabling them to treat us like animals as much as they wished; then, during the daytime, we protected them as armor-wearing, death-defying warriors able to give and take commands and communicate with each other as our tasks demanded.

It was interesting to me how easy it became to look at the situation from the outside. I had only been away from it for little over a day, yet the slavery and cruel torture that had been so normal as I lived it now seemed completely barbaric. We were little more than warrior pets raised in servitude to fulfill the needs of the Masters. Individual lives didn't matter, ambitions, dreams, or happiness didn't matter. Our lot in life was to serve one role and one role only, to protect our Masters during the day and ensure their needs were satisfied at night.

I met the eyes of the wolf in the mirror once more. The golden eyes that stared back at me were haunted by the things I had seen, yet a spark burned deep within. I hadn't given up. I didn't know how to give up. And being found by Ian and saved by the Willard family had done something profoundly powerful; it had given me a chance to choose the life I would live.

I could have run away in the rain instead of returning to Alia. I could have disappeared from their lives forever and left them to whatever fate the werewolves and Masters decided. Instead, I had thrown my lot in with theirs and inextricably tied our fates together. The choice was mine, and now it was up to me to live up to my end of it.

I closed my eyes and pushed away the feeling of being a wolf. My body was all too ready to let go of the fatiguing form and complied faster than I was prepared. A grunt of pain escaped me at the shifting of my bones and sore muscles. I gritted my teeth and allowed the human form take hold completely. By the time it was done, I was curled on the floor in a pathetic fetal position cradling my arm against my chest. Thank goodness there was a blanket between me and the rest of the world. How would James feel if he saw the one who was supposed to protect his family in such a wretched state?

The thought goaded me to action. I climbed to my feet and pulled on the clothes Jemmy had set out. The smell of someone who worked with engines colored the pants in scents of grease and oil. The shirt, on the other hand, was a loose black garment with floofy sleeves and lace down the front. As I pulled it over my head, I caught the distinct notes of flowery perfume and wine. Slightly concerned, I glanced in the mirror.

I looked like a mess. My dark blond hair stuck out in all directions. It was filled with cowlicks that I usually cut short at the Lair per the Masters' grooming code, but they had slacked off in enforcing it over the past months as tensions rose and I had forgotten to manage it. I ran a hand through it in an attempt to settle things a bit, but wasn't sure if it looked any better.

Stubble showed on my jaw. I hadn't shaved in two days. It was another requirement of the Masters. They didn't like their beasts to look like such during the day when we carried out their wishes. Their need for us to appear civilized had kept everyone cleanshaven. The scruff itched. While I didn't mind the longer hair, I needed to do something to look less homeless.

Bruises showed on my face from the fight, but they would fade with the moon. My arm was a mess I didn't want to deal with, but dropping it at my side made it hurt, so I was forced to hold it against my chest. I wondered where the sling Alia had made out of bandanas had gone. I must have slipped out of it when I phased in the cage. Burns from the glyph marked my skin, but only slightly. My werewolf fur was at least good for something.

I pushed the blanket aside. "I think this is a woman's shirt," I said.

James burst out laughing as he crossed to me. "That's definitely a woman's shirt." He looked at Jemmy. "Are you trying to make the werewolf look ridiculous?"

Red touched her cheeks to compliment her hair as she shook her head quickly. "No, that's my bad. I thought I put this one in there." She grabbed a short-sleeved black shirt from the desk and held it up. A skull and crossbones showed on the front.

"So, from pirate woman to pirate man?" I asked.

James laughed while Jemmy rolled her eyes. "It's in style. Just put it on."

I pulled the other shirt over my head and eased it past my arm. I tossed it on the desk and reached for the other one, only to find that both Jemmy and James had fallen silent. Jemmy stood with the shirt forgotten in her hand. I followed her gaze to my chest.

"I told you life was challenging at the Lair," I said, my voice gruffer than I meant for it to be.

I took the shirt and was about to put it on when Jemmy's words stopped me.

"Those are burn scars."

I nodded without looking down.

"But they're everywhere."

Pain showed in her gaze and colored her voice. I stifled a sigh and lowered my arm with the shirt still in my hand.

"Vampires aren't patient taskmasters," I said, my voice calm and level despite the way my heart thundered as I thought back. "They pitted us against each other, taking survival of the fittest to heart in every sense of the term." I turned to show them my back. The scars lined my flesh in various symbols. The most common was a straight line with two bars through it that meant failure in the vampiric language. Others were half circles or double upside-down triangles that overlapped. "Each mark is a lesson I learned the hard way."

"There's so many," James said. His voice was forcibly level.

I put my arms through the sleeves of the shirt. "Well, let's just say I was a slow learner."

"Or stubborn?" Jemmy asked.

I slipped the shirt over my head with a grim smile. "You could say that."

I pulled the shirt down and straightened it with my good hand. A glance at James' face showed anger in his gaze.

His voice was a barely recognizable growl when he said, "No person should have to live through that."

I shot him a wry look and replied, "Lucky for us, I'm a werewolf, not a person."

James' mouth fell open.

Jemmy put a hand on his chest. "Calm down. He's being sarcastic, can't you tell?"

"It's not funny," James told her, his expression livid. "Did you see what they did to him? That's more than just cruel, it's...it's..., well, I don't know what to even call it!"

"It's probably the reason he left," Jemmy said. She glanced at me. "Isn't it?"

I shook my head, but I didn't want to get into it, so I said, "Alia's going to start worrying if we don't get back."

"I knew I hated vampires," James muttered as I followed him to the car. "Even before I was sure they existed, I knew I hated them."

A strange twisting sensation tightened my chest at the realization of just how angry he was. I should have been furious. I was the one who had lived through night after night of branding, fighting, training, and more branding in the hopes of coming out on top to be the one in charge. I wondered what I would have done if I could have told my younger self, the one struggling to survive, that the top didn't look any better than the bottom and hurt more in ways that weren't physical.

I swallowed and pushed the memories away. I had enough to deal with without dredging up the past. Though the most recent memories were the stubbornest. The scent of vanilla lingered in my nose no matter how I tried to ignore it. It was my fault and would always be my fault.

I clenched my right hand into a fist. The action made my breath catch in my throat and effectively jolted me to the present. I tuned into the conversation in the front seat.

"And shut them down on principle," James was saying.

"You can't just walk into a vampire lair and shut them down," Jemmy replied with a hint of laughter in her voice. "Did you notice how strong that werewolf was? Do you really want to fight a billion more of those? I don't think so. It's called a lair for a reason. It's defensible. Ask Zev."

Jemmy twisted to see me in the back seat. James looked at me in the rearview mirror.

"Well?" he said.

"Defensible is an understatement," I replied.

James sat back with a huff. "Well, it's not right. Nobody should be treated like that."

Jemmy's eyes found mine again. "What do the, uh, brands mean?"

The question felt too personal. The witch had already trapped me in a cage which almost got all of us killed. I didn't put my life on the line to expose it to her, or any of them. I wished she had given me the right shirt in the first place. There was no need for anyone to see what had been done to me. As a wolf, my thick fur hid it from the world. Being a wolf was far easier. I definitely wasn't cut out for the honesty of being human.

A memory came unbidden to the front of my mind.

"You know they'll punish you if you do it."

The little boy beside me looked completely terrified. Other boys stood behind him clustered in a tight group. The rumbles of several empty stomachs filled the silence. We were all young, six or seven. The group of us had been brought over together a few days before. We had seen the Masters only once. They had watched from a balcony as we were led inside the castle that hid the entrance to the Lair.

They hadn't fed us since we arrived. The older werewolves snarled at our pleas for food and said we would eat when the Masters fed us. From what I heard, it was some sort of practice to bond us young werewolves to the Masters as our only source of sustenance. But after three days of starving under the pitiless watch of the other werewolves, I had hit my limit.

"What if they kill you?" another young werewolf asked.

I shrugged with the hope that I appeared braver than I felt. "It's better than starving to death. Don't you want to eat?"

I looked at the werewolves who watched me. We had known each other since birth. We weren't friends. Friendship wasn't allowed and any outward sign of such was met with a severe beating and separation. I had spent enough time in solitary to avoid it. Werewolves didn't do well alone.

No, they weren't my friends, but we were comrades bound together by the survival of the same circumstances. We had watched others of our year be culled out for weakness, deficiencies, or personality traits the werewolves who ran the facility deemed not suitable for our duty, whatever that was. I had seen one such pup, the name they gave our age group, die when he was thrown across the room because he got in the way of one of the older werewolves. We learned very quickly to be shadows, not seen or heard unless summoned.

"I'm so hungry," a boy to my left said. He tended to be the calmest of our group. We didn't have names. Names were unnecessary when there was no reason to catch the attention of another werewolf. I knew him by his cowlicked dark hair and the way he rolled up the hem of the loose pants they gave us.

"We're all hungry," a thickset boy next to him growled. "Maybe they're just going to let us starve."

"Maybe they do that with all the pups?" another boy asked.

The red-headed boy next to him shook his head. "They fed the pups that came in after us and they've only been here two days. Maybe they've forgotten about us."

That firmed my resolve to act. I wasn't about to starve and let the other werewolves have the advantage of strength over us. I had already seen them pitting pups against each other. I wouldn't be the one who lost if I could help it.

"I'm doing this," I told them. "If you're afraid, leave, but you have to be here to eat."

My last word sent more rumbles through stomachs, including my own. My mouth watered at the thought of what lay beyond the door to the small kitchen cafeteria. I had seen the older werewolves shepherd groups of pups there when they deemed it was time to eat between bouts of combat training, weapons mastering, internet humanization study, and guard duty.

The faint black licorice and charcoal scent of the Masters wafted from beneath the door and I paused. A chill ran down my spine. They were supposed to be present when we ate. I wasn't sure how breaking the rules would impact the pups behind me and didn't know if I wanted to be responsible for what happened to them.

But they weren't my responsibility. The other werewolves had made that very clear. We weren't attached to each other. We weren't a pack. We would only be allowed to be part of the Masters' pack of guardians if we survived our training. Until then, we were on our own.

I gritted my teeth and shoved the small wire into the lock on the door. I pushed a piece of the splintered training sai I had pocketed during practice into the bottom of the lock.

"How do you know what you're doing?" one of the boys demanded.

"Quiet," I replied. "I have to listen."

I had never picked a lock before, but I had gotten a good glimpse at the cafeteria's doorknob during training that morning and looked it up on the internet. I was supposed to have been studying casual conversations to have over coffee as part of our training to fit into the human world on our search for appropriate victims for the Masters, but locks interested me more.

The boys around me fell silent. I managed to catch the pins with the bottom piece and worked at pushing the pins up with the second. I held the wire in firmly while feeling the pins move up and down. It took longer than I had thought it would. My heart raced in my chest and I had to concentrate on the feeling of the pins through my fingertips in order to tell what they were doing. Finally, all of the pins were up. Slowly, while keeping the same pressure on the wire, I turned the lever to the side. A slight click sounded and the door opened.

"Whoa!" one of the boys whispered.

"Let's eat," another said.

I stepped back and shoved the wire and splinter back into my pocket as the boys swarmed the cafeteria. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. I had taken care of them. The pups around me would eat because of me. The swell of warmth in my chest felt right. For once I had been able to do something myself without waiting for someone else's orders.

The pups ran to the huge refrigerators at the end of the cafeteria and pulled the doors open. The scent of chilled meats, cheeses, vegetables, and eggs made my mouth water. I took a step forward.

Do you think you're clever?

My feet froze to the floor at the voice that echoed in my head. Fear raced down my body in sharp tingles. I wanted to run or hide, but it would be of no use. The Masters had caught us.

"N-no," I stuttered.

Why did you disobey?

"Because we were hungry," I replied.

The rest of the pups were oblivious to the voice. They dove into the food with rash abandon, eating from containers, tearing opening packages, and filling their empty bellies as quickly as they could with the wolf-driven instinct of survival pushing them on.

Ninety-four, you are not 'we', the voice continued. You are only you, and as such, you will be punished for the sin you have committed.

Anger sparked in my young chest. I was a few feet away from the sustenance that would stop my stomach from hurting so badly. The other werewolves didn't even notice that I wasn't eating. The voice that spoke in my head didn't care about me. I had to fend for myself. I took a step toward the others.

Kill them and you shall have it all.

A cold chill rushed down my spine.

"What?" I asked, sure that I had misunderstood.

Kill them and eat or watch them eat and starve with your punishment.

I shook my head. "I won't kill them."

But you could. We have seen you train. You are better than them. You could be the best.

I wouldn't deny the words, but at seven years old, I wasn't yet a beast. "What about pack?" I asked in an effort to change the Master's mind.

You are a pack when I say you are a pack. This isn't your pack. This is a sniveling group of pups whose training has been ruined thanks to you. They will make nothing more than perimeter guards with their split loyalty. And you are to blame.

I hung my head. "I accept my punishment."

The lights in the cafeteria went on. The pups at the refrigerators froze, food hanging from their mouths and in their hands.

Adrenaline spiked through me at the sight of the seven Masters standing across the room. There was no doubt in my mind they had been there the entire time. I had no idea how they knew I would break into the cafeteria, but there was no surprise on their faces. Their mouths were turned down, concealing the rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. Angry eyes burned with a yellow glow. They were in human form for a moment. It took an effort for them to disguise themselves in human clothes, to hide their leathery wings and paper-like skin and put on a human countenance. I knew they could only do so for a short time, and wondered why they chose to do so with us.

The pups immediately dropped what they were eating and stood with their hands behind their backs and heads bowed.

Nobody spoke for the space of several heartbeats.

When the Master who has spoken to me broke it, he did so aloud. "My guardians in training, I am severely disappointed in you."

Heads hung further and looks of dejected sorrow showed on the faces of the boys near me.

"While we know you have been hungry, we hoped to end your troubles with a feast fit for kings," the Master continued.

The pups exchanged glances.

"Unfortunately, that was not to be. You were lead to break your promises by Ninety-four. He acted as a leader, though he is not fit to be so, and as such, he will be punished by each of you." The Master paused, then said, "Unless, of course, you feel you should be punished for your own actions."

Another silence followed his words. My stomach twisted.

"He made us do it," one of the werewolf kids said.

"We told him it was a bad idea," another said.

The Master's strange smile turned up in a pleased expression. "I thought as much. Escort Ninety-four to the Room of Retribution."

Hands grabbed my arms. I could have fought them off. The Master was right. I was stronger and faster than any of them. But the presence of the other Masters following was a reminder that I had nowhere to go. They would find me in any corner of the Lair, the castle above, or the forest beyond, and I entertained no false pretenses about what would happen when they did so. My werewolf survival instincts wouldn't even consider it.

I allowed my peers to lead me to the room with high ceilings supported by giant columns. Each column was hung with its own set of manacles made out of iron. Great fireplaces lined the far wall. On the opposite wall, huge paintings of various Masters hung in proportions that were at least quadruple their real-life stature so that they towered above the Room of Retribution with stern expressions on their inhuman faces.

Stands holding a variety of rods swung on hinges so that the ends could be placed into the roaring fires at will. The scent of silver made my eyes sting. Several of the pups around me rubbed their eyes or sneezed. The werewolves who worked to stoke the fires, clean the room, or tend to the columns wore masks to keep the worst of the scents out. We had been offered no such luxury.

A large werewolf with a scar down his face that rendered one eye obsolete waited near the column the Masters approached. Without a word, the werewolf motioned for me to come forward. I could only assume he was following orders in his head like how the Master had spoken to me. His eyes showed no sympathy as he fastened the manacles around my wrists and then pulled the chain through the loop high above on the column so that my arms were locked over my head.

The werewolf forced me to turn so that I faced the column with my bare back to the others. Before he turned away, he whispered, "Don't bite your tongue."

Show me that you have more mettle than these quivering pups, the Master growled in my head.

I couldn't respond. Fear pulsed with each beat of my heart. The wolven heart that beat within mine demanded that I find a way to fight free and defend myself. But there was no escape. The Masters knew that.

"Now pups, Ninety-four has wronged you. Take this opportunity to mark him." The Master who spoke grabbed an iron poker from the rack in the fire. When he turned my way, the tip glowed red with a double upside-down triangle symbol. "This is the mark of betrayal that each of you will use to brand Ninety-four. The iron is mixed with a silver alloy, so the brand will never fully heal and fade the way other werewolf wounds do. Ninety-four will carry the marks of his betrayal for the rest of his life."

The Master held out the red-hot iron and the blond werewolf boy took it.

Jemmy's voice broke through my memory, tearing me back to the present with her drawl. "You know, if you don't tell me what they stand for, I'm going to assume the worst," she said. "It's one of my flaws; assuming the worst until proven otherwise. Virgo says that's why I'm a good witch because I don't trust anyone, but I tell him that's why I'm working alone in an antique store." She glanced over and saw James watching her. "What?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. You're just a lot different than you were in school."

She sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest. "That's my main problem. I'm different."

"Who says that's a problem."

She shot James a look. "What are you saying?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know. I'm just saying that you used to scare me back then."

That brought a bitter laugh from Jemmy. "And now that you know I'm a witch, I don't scare you?"

James shrugged. "After what I've seen today with werewolves, witches and warlocks aren't so bad."

He threw me a look then. It was quick, but I caught it and realized that he had changed the subject on purpose. He had intentionally thrown himself into the conversation to save me from saying what I didn't want to. I had no idea how he had done it so smoothly, but Jemmy's line of thought was definitely no longer on my scars.

I sat back against the seat with a feeling of bafflement I had never experienced before. No one protected me. It was a funny thing to think of a change of conversation as protection, yet it was. I knew what it meant to be human. We were human during the day and interacted with people in normal settings as we chose the victims the Masters requested. Yet, being with James' family made me realize I didn't know what it felt like to be human. I didn't know that simple words could be so painful, that the nuances of a sentence could mean so many things, or that speaking could be more exposing than anyone knowing what I was.

I had no idea protection could come in the form of words, and using such, that someone would step up and change subjects from one that got too uncomfortable for me. I didn't like to think any human would know me well enough to understand my discomfort. Yet James had effortlessly stepped in without my saying anything and turned the attention away. I could have said it was because he liked talking about himself, but I had the distinct feeling he was watching out for me. I didn't know how to accept that.
Chapter Ten

When we pulled up to the curb of Virgo's bookstore, James and Jemmy were in an intense debate as to whether her fling, whatever that was, with a football jock in her freshman year had labeled her for the entire rest of high school.

"It was a mistake," Jemmy said. "I thought he would include me and instead he made me feel like garbage."

"You got angry and emo," James replied.

That brought a laugh from the witch and broke the tension. "I did, didn't I?"

James chuckled. "I should have guessed you were a witch then. Did you cast any spells on him?"

Jemmy shook her head. "I didn't know any spells for revenge, but I should have." She rubbed her hands together. "If I had known back then what I do now, I could have made his life very uncomfortable. Maybe I still should."

James stared at her. "You're scaring me again."

She grinned and said, "I'm just kidding, mostly. But thanks for the idea."

She grabbed the supplies at her feet and pushed the door open. We followed her to The Inking Post. The others went inside, but I stopped in the doorway.

James threw me a look over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing," I replied. I looked at the door. "I think I'll wait out here." I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "I could use the fresh air."

James studied me for a second before he said, "Whatever you want to do. I'll bring you some water. You look like you could use a drink."

I sat down on the stoop. The lightheaded feeling that had struck me when I neared the door let up immediately. I had to give Virgo credit. His warding skills were impressive. I just hoped his amulets would come out as strong.

The thought of Alia and James carrying amulets that would make me as weak as they were was unsettling. I needed my strength to protect them. When they carried the amulets, I would have to avoid contact with them at all times. It wasn't as if I went out of my way to touch anyone; on the contrary, being standoffish was one of my assets. I didn't need anyone. At least, I kept telling myself that.

"Hey, are you alright?"

I turned to find Alia watching me from the doorway. She gave me a small, worried smile. "Jemmy told me how you saved them from the werewolf."

"He wouldn't have been there if I wasn't," I replied. "Besides, James deserves the credit. He was the one who finished it off with the wolfsbane. That was fast thinking."

Alia left the doorway and joined me on the stoop. The scent of her apple shampoo and a faint trace of patchouli from her perfume colored the air.

"So, I don't know you," she said.

It was a strange way to begin a conversation. I was a werewolf and even I knew that wasn't dialogue etiquette. I had no idea how one was supposed to answer a statement like that. I chose silence and hoped she didn't expect more.

Alia frowned at the empty street in front of us and said, "All my life, monsters have been bad."

My heart sunk. I thought the branding had hurt. Words, simple little sounds, were so much stronger.

"When I was little, I was afraid of the monster under the bed and so my dad made me a crossbow tipped with poisoned arrows that I kept under my pillow." The creases at the corners of her eyes deepened as she thought back. "He taught me how to use it, staying up with me every night until I could hit the center of the bullseye. Then, he said I wouldn't be afraid any longer because I could kill the monster if it ever came out."

Everything I had seen on the internet said this wasn't normal parenting. The space after her words seemed to require a response, so I said, "And did you kill it?"

She turned to me with a little chuckle. "Most people would ask if I was still afraid. I forget I'm talking to a werewolf. You assume the monster was there, not the other way around."

I cringed inwardly at the mistake. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "It's a refreshing point of view, actually. And no, I didn't kill it. I would say it didn't exist...." She threw me a pointed look, "But now I'm not so sure."

A breeze brushed past and my hair tickled my forehead. I shoved it back with my left hand and struggled to figure out what to say.

"Anyway," she continued in lieu of my silence, "I found out two things later in life. First, that the arrows were tipped in jelly and not poison, so that I didn't accidentally shoot myself instead. And second, that learning how to face the monster doesn't take away the fear of the monster. You can have all of the answers, but still be afraid." She picked a blade of grass from in front of the stoop. "I did learn that if I was scared, not to tell my dad because he would do something rash like train a six-year-old on how to use a crossbow and then start a huge fight with his wife who said she should be playing with dolls instead of learning how to hit a bullseye."

She paused and studied the grass for a moment before she glanced at me. "Why do I do that?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Tell you things like that." She ran the blade of grass through her fingers. "I haven't thought of the monster under the bed in years."

"Maybe sitting next to one brings up similar memories?" I suggested.

She shook her head as she pressed the grass between her thumbs. "You're not a monster, Zev. Not really."

Curious, I asked, "Then what am I?"

Her answer shouldn't have mattered, but it did. I found myself eagerly awaiting it.

Her voice was soft when she replied, "I'm not sure yet."

I studied my hands that rested on my knees. The quick wrapping job James had done for my wrist was coming off again. I tightened it and tucked the ends under before glancing at Alia. "Be sure to tell me when you figure it out."

She nodded. "I will."

She put her thumbs to her lips and blew on the blade of grass stretched between them. A high-pitched whistle came out of it and I winced.

She shot me an embarrassed look and let the grass fall to the cement. "Sorry about that. I forgot."

I picked up the grass. "You mean you forgot you were sitting with someone who has the acute hearing of a Hound of the Baskervilles?"

That brought a laugh from her. "Yeah." She shot me a curious look. "I didn't know you read books."

I shrugged. "It's part of our human studies training. We have a list of required reading and Sherlock Holmes is a master of the human psyche." I glanced at her. "But I always had sympathy for the hound."

The sound of her laughter brought an answering smile to my lips. I put the grass between my thumbs as she had and blew on it, but no sound followed.

"You're not keeping it tight," she said.

She took my hands and gently repositioned the grass. I found myself watching her, noticing the way she tipped her head when she concentrated and the quick brush of her fingers to sweep her hair behind her ear in an unconscious movement when it got in her way.

"There. Try that," she suggested.

I brought the grass back to my lips and blew on it. This time, a small buzzing sound followed.

Alia nodded with an encouraging smile. "Just like that. Keep practicing and you'll get it."

I listened to James' footsteps followed by Jemmy's lighter ones as they walked to the door. James opened it. "The amulets are almost done. We're just missing one thing."

It was easy to guess what he needed by the reluctance of his tone.

"The blood of a werewolf," I said.

He nodded. "Sorry. It doesn't seem right to ask for it." He held up his finger. It had a small bandage across the tip. "At least the blood of an innocent was easy."

"Are you really innocent?" Alia asked in a sarcastic tone as we stood.

"Of course," James replied. "Guess why we didn't ask you?" He stuck out his tongue.

I held up a hand to stall the coming argument. "As much as I'd like to hear this, the sun is going down. The werewolves will most likely be in wolf form when they come back. We might want to hurry.

The siblings exchanged a worried look.

"Zev's right," Alia agreed.

They went inside, but I stopped at the door.

"What is it?" Alia asked.

"The threshold," I replied. "I can't cross it. Virgo's been busy."

"I forgot," Virgo called from deeper in the bookstore. "Sorry about that!"

"You warded the store against Zev coming in?" James said. "That was rude."

"It was necessary," Virgo replied as he hurried out with an armful of items. "I can't say no werewolves but Zev. It doesn't work that way." His tone implied James' stupidity.

"Like I'm supposed to know that," James replied. "I'm not a warlock, remember? In fact, I didn't even know they existed until now."

"Dad told us they did," Alia said.

James gave a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, and he also told us demons caused World War II to feed on the chaos." His eyes widened and he glanced at me. "Did they?"

"Probably," I said. "A lot of evil things happened during that war."

James shook his head. "I'm not sure I like this new view of the world. Any chance we can go back to the way things were?"

I leaned against the doorframe. "Don't worry. After tonight, I should be healed enough to leave. I'll go as soon as I can ensure your family's safe. Then your world can go back to the way it was as if we had never met."

I kept my tone nonchalant, but my chest tightened with reluctance at the thought of leaving. It was a strange and dangerous sensation. Of course I had to go. There wasn't a choice, not really.

James and Alia exchanged a look. I knew enough about humans to understand that there were unspoken conversations shared by those who were close to each other. At that moment, I wished I knew enough about such a glance to understand what it meant. The feeling of being an outsider solidified the knowledge that I should leave. So why was it so hard to convince myself that it was the right decision?

"I can take down the wards," Virgo began as he hurried to the door.

I shook my head. "No need. You're safer this way. I need you to make the same preparations at the Willards' before the moon rises."

"I can do that," Virgo said without hesitance.

"We're going to their house?" Jemmy asked from somewhere among the shelves.

"Strength in numbers," Virgo said, raising his voice. "I already called Mom to tell her we'll be missing dinner." He grinned at me. "Any excuse to miss her zucchini lasagna." He held up a small pocketknife. "Ready?"

His reluctance to cross the wards was obvious when he came out to join me on the porch. The faint, sour scent of fear wafted from him and reminded me that I had threatened him earlier. I felt bad about it, especially given his willingness to help Alia and James, but I couldn't bring myself to apologize. The fact that his willingness stemmed from the chance to make an amulet for himself lingered in the back of my mind.

I held out my hand. "Too bad I didn't have Jemmy take a sample at the antique store."

Virgo glanced up from where he pressed the knife to my finger. "She told me how you saved her life. I owe you."

I shook my head. "Everyone keeps saying that, but the truth is that nobody would be in danger if it wasn't for me. I brought this into your lives." I met Alia's gaze past Virgo's shoulder. "And I promise to rid you of it as soon as I can."

"Thank you," she replied. "I know you didn't mean to drag us into this. We'll blame it on Ian for being a softie."

That made me smile. "Next time, he'll know not to bring home a big wounded wolf."

She laughed.

I sucked in a breath when Virgo's knife cut into my finger. I squeezed it and watched as he collected the drops in a small vial. After four, he took it away.

"That's all you need?" I asked skeptically.

He held the vial up to the light. "Looks harmless enough, doesn't it? It's funny that what's in here is what makes us so different from each other."

Funny wasn't the term I would choose, but I nodded. "Yet we all bleed."

"I prefer to keep my blood inside my body as much as possible," the warlock said.

That drew a small chuckle from me. "Me, too. I haven't been so good at it the last couple of days though."

Virgo patted my shoulder in a gesture that was surprisingly friendly. "Hopefully we can help keep the rest of it inside instead of on the outside."

He went back into the bookstore and left me alone on the porch. I sat on the steps and listened to the commotion within the small shop. It took only a few minutes for them to return carrying armfuls of supplies.

"That was surprisingly simple," Alia said. She hefted the little leather drawstring bag she carried and gave me a sympathetic look. "If you don't mind bleeding for it. Thanks for that."

"I'm glad I could help," I told her.

"Once you get all the ingredients together, there's not much to it," Jemmy agreed.

"I bled for it," James pointed out as he juggled several containers marked with warding symbols.

"And you're never going to let us forget it, I'm sure," Alia replied.

"Nobody touch Zev," Virgo warned.

James tripped on an outcropping of cement that jutted up from the sidewalk and fell forward. The containers he carried flew out of his arms. I caught two of them and lunged for the third at the same time that Alia did. We caught it out of the air together.

The moment her hand touched mine, it felt as though a sledgehammer slammed into my chest. My heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat. I stumbled forward and managed to catch myself before my knees gave out. It took a moment for me to get my bearings. I looked up to find everyone watching me.

"Zev, I'm so sorry," Alia said. Her hand was out as if she had been about to help me, but didn't dare touch me again.

I shook my head to clear it. The motion was unsettling. I forced my voice to stay level when I said, "So this is how it feels to be human?"

Virgo gave an uncomfortable laugh and said, "Yeah, pretty exciting, right?"

"I really didn't mean to," Alia told me apologetically.

"I know," I replied. I gestured toward the car. "It would have happened anyway, I'm sure. Tight quarters and all that. Or else I would have had to chase the car back to your house like some dog."

James laughed. "Could you imagine our neighbors' faces if they saw a wolf following my car?"

She lowered her gaze. "I feel like an idiot."

"But you saved whatever that is," I reminded her.

She looked at the container she held. "Hopefully it was worth it. What is this?" she asked Virgo.

He gave her an embarrassed smile. "Hot cocoa."

Jemmy threw her arms up. "Really, Virg? You and chocolate."

"I'll have you know that's not just chocolate," he began.

Jemmy cut him off. "Let me guess, eighty-percent dark with notes of raspberry?"

"Mint, this time," Virgo replied in a superior tone.

Jemmy turned away with a disgusted huff. "Werewolves don't like mint, Virg. You should have known better."

"They can't even have chocolate," Virgo argued as he followed her to the car. "The entire argument is moot."

"You're mixing up werewolves with dogs," his sister said.

I met Alia's gaze and found the same amusement on her face I felt at the siblings' argument.

"I guess it's a common mistake?" I said.

That brought a smile to her lips that quickly faded. "I really am sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't be. We have time before sunset. At least this way I can help with the preparations without the fear of contact."

Alia and Jemmy climbed into the back seat of the car while James took the driver's seat and Virgo the passenger's, leaving me to slide in beside the girls. As uncomfortable as being close to so many humans was, there was something different there. The five of us shared the camaraderie of a mutual enemy. I had to remind myself that the enemy was my species, that I was the dangerous one. Yet the warmth from Alia's leg against mine was difficult to ignore and distracting. I tried to tell myself that my position was dangerous, but I wasn't truly convinced.

"How does it feel being human compared to a werewolf," James asked as he drove us toward their house.

I opened and closed my good hand. "I feel as weak as a newborn kitten," I admitted. "I don't know how you can stand it."

The others laughed at that.

"Excuse me," Jemmy said from Alia's other side. "But I'm at least as strong as a teenage kitten."

"What's a teenage kitten?" her brother asked from the front seat.

"You know," Jemmy replied. "It's when they have the long legs and are all gangly and awkward. It's their awkward phase."

Her brother looked back at her. "So you're saying you are as tough as a kitten in its awkward phase? I'm really afraid."

"I have claws," Jemmy said. She held up her hands, her black fingernails curled threateningly.

"It's a good visual," James said. "I wouldn't mess with you."

"That's right," Jemmy replied with a satisfied nod. She crossed her arms. "I'm terrifying."

"You've got that right," Virgo muttered.

Jemmy smacked him from the back seat.

"Hey," her brother replied, rubbing his head. "That's not fair. I can't even reach you."

Jemmy grinned. "Teenage cat," she said.

Alia threw me a smile. "Such is the joy of having siblings. Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"Maybe," I replied. I wasn't sure how much to say. I went with, "We're separated out as soon as we're born, so who knows?"

Jemmy leaned forward to look at me around Alia. "It is true werewolves are born in animal form?"

Virgo looked back at me as well. The interest in their gazes made me feel like some sort of specimen. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and nodded.

Jemmy's eyes lit up. "So it's true that the wolf is the werewolf's natural form, not the human." She hit Virgo on the head again. "I told you!"

"Stop doing that!" her brother said. He turned in his seat to glare at her. "Next time, I'm sitting behind you."

Jemmy stuck her tongue out at her brother before turning back to me. "That's why you revert to it when you're severely injured, right?"

I glanced at Alia. She pretended to be interested in a thread that was dangling from the hem of her sleeve, but I could feel her attention on me.

I was ashamed. It was an unfamiliar feeling. At the Lair, being a werewolf was just that. Everything that went with it was normal. The nuances and instinct-driving idiosyncrasies that came with my species were second-nature. I didn't have to think about using my senses or following my instincts. Being a wolf was just as normal as being a human. Yet I wasn't human. Jemmy's questions said as much as if she had stated it out loud.

I had never been self-conscious about what I was. I was a werewolf. It was a simple fact, or at least, that's what I had thought. But sitting in a five person car as the only werewolf, smelling the various scents that made each of them unique, watching the subtle body language and knowing it didn't match my own, made me painfully aware of the differences. We could study the internet and copy videos of human interactions all we wanted, but there was something so inborn about being human, something the four of them didn't even know, yet assimilated so easily. No matter what my plans had been when I left the Lair, the truth was right in front of me. I would never be truly human no matter how hard I tried.

I made myself answer Jemmy's question.

"I'm a wolf pretending to be a human." I glanced at Alia; it was important to me that she understood. That way, when I left, there would be no question about if it was the right decision. Deep down, I knew I was speaking as much for my benefit as the rest of them, yet it hurt to admit the truth. "Even now, the wolf inside me is awake. I can smell mouse droppings on the bottom of your shoe, Jemmy."

Her eyebrows rose. "I swept out the attic of the store last week. It's taken me months to get rid of the infestation that was up there." She turned to Alia. "They found some old stash of grain that's been there for years. I have no idea how many generations have feasted on it. There was mass mouse-o-cide at The Salvage Garden this month."

"It's amazing you can smell that," James said.

"How about me?" Virgo asked. "What can you smell from me?"

The excitement of his tone took the moment from being creepy sharing a car with an animal pretending to be a human and changed it to 'What can Zev smell?' I never would have thought the warlock's enthusiasm would actually be an asset.

"You smell like books," I said.

"Well, that's a given," Virgo replied. His shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Nothing mysterious there."

The others laughed at his response, but I closed my eyes and took in another breath. "Not just any books," I continued. Silence fell in the car. I searched the scents, allowing my brain to categorize them as they did when I was in wolf form. "I smell sand baked by the sun until it smells of cinnamon and dried leather, of pages so old the trees they came from are forgotten from memory, and of an animal." I tipped my head without opening my eyes. "Is that a camel? I don't know if I've ever smelled one before, but it's musky and dry as though the sun is all it's known."

I opened my eyes to find everyone staring at me.

"Is that the book you got on special order?" Jemmy asked.

Virgo's mouth was open and eyes wider than the others. He nodded and said, "The book of the 'Forgotten Prince' I received from Egypt last week. It's priceless. I haven't let it out of my sight until now." His voice was breathless when he said, "You've described the smell better than I ever could."

Jemmy grinned. "Leave it to Virgo to smell like a book. I swear you've dated more women in pages than in real life."

"That way I don't have to worry about rejection," Virgo shot back.

"You're a warlock. Can't you just make a love spell or something?" James asked.

Both Virgo and Jemmy laughed at that.

"I wish," Virgo said. "Then I could have any girl I wanted. That would definitely be a perk of being a warlock."

"Yeah," Jemmy replied. "Instead of weird, you could be Brickwell's number one bachelor."

"If I had a spell like that, I wouldn't be a bachelor," Virgo said. "I'd trick Alia into marrying me."

Alia gave a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank goodness for me."

Everyone laughed.
Chapter Eleven

"Is that Mom's car?" Jemmy asked when James pulled up to the Willard residence.

"Yeah," Virgo said. "I wonder why she's here."

I checked the air. "I smell zucchini."

Virgo and Jemmy both groaned.

Alia grabbed an armful of supplies from the trunk and led the way to the house. "It can't be that bad," she said.

"Lucky for you, you're about to find out," Virgo replied.

I followed them to the porch, then hesitated.

Alia read my expression. "Come on," she told me. "You need to eat. At least come inside until Virgo has the wards up."

"I don't know if I should," I admitted.

She waited until the others had gone through the door before she said, "I'm sure Mrs. Stein isn't that bad of a cook."

"That's not the reason," I began.

But she cut me off to say, "I'll make brownies. You can't turn down my brownies."

That made a small smile cross my lips. "You don't believe the rumors about werewolves and chocolate?"

She shook her head. "I'd die if I couldn't have chocolate. You need to at least try my brownies."

"I've never actually had a brownie before," I admitted.

She stared at me. "Never?"

When I shook my head, she grabbed my hand and pulled me through the doorway. "There's no time like the present."

We stopped just inside at the sight of Mrs. Willard and a rotund woman. She had Jemmy's red hair and it stuck out in every direction despite her yellow headband that clashed with her flowery orange and pink shirt.

"Is this the werewolf?" Mrs. Stein asked with her hands on her hips.

"Yes," Mrs. Willard said. She couldn't quite hide her worry behind the small smile she gave me. "Welcome back."

Aspen stood near Mrs. Willard and smiled shyly at me from behind her mother.

"I've never met a werewolf in person," Mrs. Stein said. "I suppose there's a first for everything."

Jemmy nodded. "Mom, this is Zev. Zev, this is Rosalinda Stein, my mother and a witch of the First Class."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," I said.

Her eyebrows rose. "He has manners?" she said to Mrs. Willard in surprise.

Virgo rolled his eyes. "He can understand you, Mom. Stop talking about him like he's not here."

She held up a hand. "Have you done a proper appraisal?"

Red touched Virgo's face and he lowered his gaze. "No, Mom. I haven't. He is James' friend and—"

She shook her head. "You're too quick to trust, my son. You have abilities, yet you refuse to use them to keep you and your sister safe. I'm disappointed." She turned to me. "By outward appearance, you seem like a nice enough guy." Her gaze turned to one of assessment. "You could shave that scruff and get a haircut to appear a bit more presentable, but I can see why my kids trust you." She held up a hand. "May I?"

Tension filled me at the thought of being touched by a witch. I nodded, but had to fight the impulse to defend myself when she cupped my jaw with her hand.

"Your eyes are honest," she said with a hint of surprise in her voice. "I didn't expect that from a werewolf." She turned my head from side to side. "Life has been rough for you, but your jaw is firm and you don't flinch. You're a fighter."

When she lowered her hand, I asked in a voice that sounded far more reluctant than I wanted it to, "Is that a good thing?"

"We'll see," she replied mysteriously.

Jemmy rolled her eyes from behind her mom.

"Give me your hand," Mrs. Stein commanded.

Both of my hands were closed into fists. I knew witches could deduce far more from the simple lines on a palm than I wanted her to know. My first impulse was to refuse.

"Please, Zev?" Alia said quietly at my side.

I glanced at her. I doubted she knew what she asked, yet she watched me with pleading in her hazel eyes along with something else. It was there in the way her fine brows drew together and in the raising of her chin as if begging me to defy my instincts for her sake. The problem was, I hadn't figured out how to say no to her. It should have been easy, one syllable to set myself apart from those who looked at me. But I didn't want to leave, and I was afraid that if I didn't comply with the witch's request, I would have to leave and they would be torn apart by killers raised as my brethren.

I gave an inward sigh and held out my hand.

Mrs. Stein put hers beneath mine and lifted it close to her face. She ran a finger along the lines, tracing them with a touch so soft I barely felt it. When she neared the base of my finger, I flinched involuntarily.

"You've experienced a great loss recently." Mrs. Stein's voice was quiet, impassive, and rolling with the tones of a born storyteller. "You are a fighter, as I expected in a werewolf who has survived to be your age. You have been hurt, badly, many times, yet it's this emotional pain that drives you and gives focus for your life." She looked up at me. "Who was she?"

I heard Alia's intake of breath at my side, but I couldn't break my gaze from the witch's. Her words were a command. She was a witch of the First Class. Heat ran through my hand at up my arm from the power of her question. Given her age and rank, I couldn't deny her the truth.

"An innocent that I tried to save," I replied. "But I failed and was punished for it."

"What happened to her?" Mrs. Stein asked.

The silence in the room weighed me down with a heaviness that made it hard to breathe. I felt the eyes of everyone on me as I admitted the horror my life was. It wasn't being a werewolf that made me a monster, it was my actions.

I closed my eyes. Mrs. Stein's hand tightened in mine. I felt the wave of command run up my arm when she repeated, "What happened to the girl?"

Nausea filled me and I was forced to reply, "I tried to free her."

"But you couldn't save her?" the witch guessed.

"No," I whispered, unable to meet her gaze. "It's a story not fit for young ears." I looked at Ian and Aspen meaningfully. The innocence of their expression firmed my resolve not to expose them to the harsh reality of my truth. "I couldn't free her from the Masters. It's a guilt I'll carry to my grave," I said quietly. "I deserved to be the one who died." I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat and said, "I failed her."

Mrs. Willard let out a breath loudly as if she had been holding it while we spoke.

"That's awful," James said.

I opened my eyes and met his gaze, expecting to see judgement. Instead, only sympathy showed on his face. The same expression reflected in Alia's hazel gaze. The sight of her heartache for me made me turn away.

"You shouldn't have had to do that," Ian said.

I shook my head, willing them to understand. "I did terrible things for the Masters. I deserve whatever fate comes to me." I met Mrs. Willard's gaze. "My only regret is bringing your family into this."

She shook her head. "You're just a boy, Zev. Those decisions shouldn't have been yours to make. You're a product of your circumstances."

I held her eyes, willing her to understand, "I'm a monster."

Mrs. Stein lowered my hand. "You may be a werewolf, Zev, but you are a good person."

I knew the surprise I felt showed on my face. "You're wrong."

Mrs. Stein gave me a kind smile. "When a witch of the First Class tells you you're a good person, it's no mistake. You have been through atrocious things, but that doesn't make you a terrible person. Monster or not, I can tell your heart is good."

I opened my mouth, but didn't know what to say.

She smiled and held out a hand. "Pleased to meet you formally, Zev, and my apologies for being so forward. I didn't mean to be rude."

I shook her hand, recognizing it for the peace offering it was. "No offense taken, Mrs. Stein. I appreciate your hospitality." I lowered my gaze. "Even knowing my story." Embarrassment filled me when I admitted, "I didn't expect a warm welcome by any means given the history of our people."

She smiled warmly at that. "If we are expected to survive civilly under the same roof, we must be allowed to put off the expectations of our ancestors given the circumstances." She paused, then added with a wink, "For now, at least."

That made a small smile cross my face. "Deal."

"Is it time to eat yet?" Ian asked. "I'm starving to death."

"Not to death," Alia corrected. "Or else your organs would be failing."

Mrs. Willard shook her head. "Alia, stop being literal. Ian, stop being dramatic. The rest of you, let's stop standing around and eat before the food gets cold."

Everyone followed her to the kitchen where a card table had been pulled out to extend the dining table, the surface of which was covered in bowls and plates of all sizes.

"What kind of army did you think we'd bring?" James asked as he took a seat near the window. "There's enough food here to sustain Brickwell for a month!"

Mrs. Willard clucked her tongue and motioned for me to take the chair next to her son. "Yes, well, I've never fed a werewolf before, and when I heard the Steins were coming, I didn't want to run out." She looked at Mrs. Stein.

The woman nodded. "It's always hard to judge the appetite of a crowd." She eyed the huge spread before them. "I'm not convinced you have enough for Virgo here, not to mention the rest." She smiled fondly at her son. "He has the appetite of a veritable sasquatch."

"Mom," he replied. "Sasquatch is real, remember?"

She threw Mrs. Willard a look. "Be careful, or we'll start arguing about demons as well. I say as long as they don't mess with us, we should leave them well enough alone, but Virgo's worried they'll get stronger if left unchecked." She shook her head. "The imagination of youth, right?"

The Willards all looked at Aspen. She shrank away from the attention. I wondered if Mrs. Willard would bring up the subject of her demon curse at the dinner table. I didn't think the little girl would appreciate it, especially given her shyness around strangers.

I lifted a shoulder and said, "The demon in my stomach is begging for a piece of your zucchini lasagna. Jemmy and Virgo have been raving about it."

Mrs. Stein gave me a huge smile. "You'll get the biggest piece."

Alia threw me a grateful look while Mrs. Stein took the aluminum foil off a baking dish to reveal a thick substance layered in green and yellow vegetables and a white paste on top that smelled of cashews. She proceeded to cut a chunk out of it big enough to feed an entire pack of werewolves.

"When Virggie told me he had to help ward your house, I knew I couldn't stand by and let you all fend for yourselves," she said. She held her hand out.

"Virggie," Ian whispered with a snicker.

Virgo kicked him under the table and he winced.

I realized Mrs. Stein was waiting for my plate, so I handed it to her

She dumped the brick of vegetable lasagna she had cut out of the pan onto it and added another as she spoke, "So I figured more mouths required more food, and," she exchanged a smile with Mrs. Willard, "It's been ages since Patty and I have had the chance to catch up."

"Yes, well, we shouldn't wait for a werewolf crisis to bring us together," Mrs. Willard said.

Mrs. Stein laughed as if that was the most hilarious thing she had heard in a long time. Virgo and Jemmy rolled their eyes at each other and Alia smothered a laugh of her own.

Mrs. Willard took my plate and added a helping of mashed potatoes and a thick slice of roast beef along with a generous serving of gravy. By the time she gave my plate back, it weighed at least five pounds more than it had before I handed it over.

I stared at the pile of food. The richly seasoned scent of the roast beef complimented the buttery garlic aroma of the potatoes. Alia took one of the fresh rolls from the middle of the table, spread butter on it, and set it on my plate, followed immediately by a second one.

At my questioning look, she said, "You need it after today and last night. We shouldn't have left without grabbing breakfast. I wasn't thinking."

I glanced around to ensure that everyone else was occupied in their own conversations before I leaned closer and said, "You don't have to take care of me."

She gave me a little half-smile that made my heart thump a double-beat in my chest when she replied, "Somebody should."

I didn't know what to say to that. The others ate their food and talked; Ian managed to do both at the same time. Dinner at the Lair was an informal affair filled with snapping, fist-fighting, and limbs lost over scraps. There was never enough food to go around. I suspected the Masters did that on purpose to ensure their methodology of weeding out the weakest. I found myself staring at enough food to get myself killed by a shiv or a set of fangs.

Alia nudged me with her elbow and said, "Eat."

I reached for the roast beef, but Mrs. Stein caught my eye. I hesitated with my hand in the air. She lifted her fork meaningfully along with a serrated knife and proceeded to cut a small wedge of roast beef from the slice on her plate. She dipped the piece in the gravy of her mashed potatoes and then lifted it to her mouth. After chewing the meat for a few thoughtful moments, she swallowed and said, "Patty, this is simply delicious."

I took the hint and picked up my own utensils. Mrs. Stein beamed at me as though I had just accomplished some deep and meaningful task of a lifetime. Feeling both foolish and proud of myself, I cut a piece of the roast beef and put it in my mouth.

I couldn't help the sigh of contentment that escaped me as the flavors melted from the meat onto my tongue. The thick, rich taste of slowly stewed beef complimented the savory gravy beyond anything I had ever tasted in my life.

A laugh made me look up. Aspen watched me from across the table. The young girl's large green eyes creased at the corners. "You act like you've never eaten food before."

The conversations around us slowed. I refused to let the atmosphere darken and said, "I've never eaten food this good. Your mother is a genius in the kitchen."

Mrs. Willard flushed at the compliment and smiled at her youngest daughter. "I told you he was a good one."

Aspen nodded. "I knew it from the moment I saw him."

"He was in wolf form and covered in blood," Ian pointed out.

Alia sighed. "Not while we're eating, Ian."

"But it's true," he replied. "How could she have known then? I thought you were just an injured big dog."

Virgo sputtered, sending drops of the milk he had been drinking nearly across the entire table.

Jemmy made a face and mopped it up with her napkin. "Keep it to yourself, please."

Virgo ignored her and said, "You thought he was a giant dog?"

Ian grinned past his embarrassment. "Don't worry. I've already been lectured by everyone about it." He shrugged. "But Zev's alive, so I made the right choice."

That sobered the lively atmosphere. The reality that we were seated at the table to eat dinner before preparing for a werewolf attack wasn't lost on anyone. I stirred my fork around my plate for a moment, making a pattern in the gravy. The silence was broken only by the sound of eating until I said, "I truly am sorry for bringing this down on your family, Mrs. Willard." I looked up. "I didn't intend for this to happen."

The smile faded from her face to be replaced with solemnity when she replied, "I know, son. A boy your age shouldn't be worried about death, werewolf or not." She looked at Aspen and then Ian. "I'm grateful my youngest have been protected up to this point from the darker side of life." She gave James and Alia apologetic looks. "I only wish I could have sheltered my older ones a bit longer."

Alia took her mom's hand across the table. "You tried, Mom. And we appreciate it."

Alia shot James a look.

He quickly dropped his fork and took her other hand to say, "Yes, we do. We lived a happy childhood."

"And it's not done yet," Mrs. Willard replied. "We'll get over this as a family." She turned her gaze to Mrs. Stein. "A big mashup family, and we'll get through this together."

Mrs. Stein nodded. "Yes, we will."

Mrs. Willard squeezed James and Alia's hands again before letting go to return to her meal.

"What about us?" Virgo asked.

Everyone looked at him in confusion.

Virgo looked at his mom. "Where's our apology for making us perform spells? Shouldn't we have had a normal childhood instead of spending it picking mushrooms and looking for fairy circles?"

"You sound like a petulant child," Jemmy pointed out.

"Well, it's not fair," her brother continued. He motioned toward James and Alia. "They get an apology. What do we get?" He spoke in a high-pitched voice, "Tend the clover and see to it that the gnomes don't eat the strawberries again. They get bellyaches if they eat too many. You two need to perfect your warding spells to keep the gremlins out of the garden before they devour all the patchouli. One can't make a good calming incantation without patchouli, and you know how I am when I'm not calm."

Everyone burst out laughing, especially Mrs. Stein. Jemmy laughed so hard milk dribbled down her chin.

"I didn't know that about patchouli," Mrs. Willard said when the laughing died down.

Virgo folded his arms and glared at his plate.

"It's not funny," he muttered.

"It's a little funny," Alia said.

The warlock looked at her. Alia lifted an eyebrow with a smile dancing in her gaze. Virgo finally gave in and smiled. "I guess it's a little funny."

"If that's how I sound, I'm going to need some lavender to calm my vocal cords. I hope you've kept the fairies out of it," Mrs. Stein said, which made everyone start laughing again.

I sat back and watched the two families interact. It was amazing to me that I was a welcome member of the meal. Never before had I dined in peace, especially with humans who, at least for all intents and purposes, appeared to view me as an equal. I wasn't an animal to them. I was at my leisure to enjoy each bite and listen to the thrum of conversation around me.

James and Aspen joked about a leaf she had thought was a grasshopper in her room that he apparently had to rescue her from. Ian was busy telling his mother about the gum someone had put on his math teacher's chair at school that day. Alia and Jemmy talked about a movie starring an actress who was exceptionally believable in her portrayal of a high school outcast, while Virgo spoke to his mother about a certificate he was expected to pay for in order to sell highly sought-after rare books in his store.

It struck me that I was the stranger peering into the window of a normal life. I was the monster, a true outcast who shouldn't have been privy to such miniscule workings of the human existence. The darker side of me warned that it would make me soft to understand them at that level, that I would no longer be the killing machine the Masters valued, that I would lose my edge. The reasonable voice questioned in the back of my mind whether that was such a horrible thing. Yet I couldn't deny my upbringing and the fact that my presence put everyone at the table at risk. Because of me, far too many innocent lives were on the line.

I would fight for them. I would die for each of them if I had to. I looked around the table at the guileless faces, at Aspen whispering with enthusiasm and waving her thin hands as she demonstrated something to her brother quietly enough that the others couldn't hear, at Jemmy's smile when she tossed a piece of a roll onto Ian's mashed potatoes, at Alia's laugh when her mother attempted to put another slice of roast beef on her plate. My heart began to race at the thought of them in trouble. Adrenaline rushed through my veins and a knot tightened in my throat. A burst of heat filled me and it became harder to breathe.

I excused myself quietly and slipped into the living room. I stood there in the darkness willing my heart to calm. I clenched my hands into fists and let the pain of my right arm center myself to the reality that the danger had not come yet, that I was still in a position to defend them, that I hadn't brought death and disaster into their lives completely.

"Zev, are you alright?"

I didn't turn around. "I'm fine. You should go back to your family."

"I wanted to check on you."

Alia's warm scent surrounded me in a heady wave. I closed my eyes.

"I'm fine, really. You should go back to them."

Her footsteps drew closer.

"I'm sorry if it's too crazy in there."

I shook my head. "It's not. It's...." I searched for the right word, and settled with, "It's perfect, Alia." I turned to her, hoping I could make her understand. "You have a beautiful life here with you sister and your brothers and a mom who cares about your day and makes you dinner." I shook my head. "I guess...I guess I knew moments like these existed. I've watched them during our studies. When I was younger and out scoping, I would pretend that I was a part of them." The admission made me uncomfortable. I rushed on, "But I've brought danger to this beautiful life and to you. You don't deserve that; none of you do."

Alia gave me a small smile. She motioned for me to join her on the couch and waited until I sat down to talk.

"It's not always perfect," she admitted. "Sometimes the rolls are flying and James is yelling at Ian and Aspie's crying and Mom burns the roast."

Curious, I asked, "What do you do then?"

Alia's eyes creased at the corners when she replied, "When that happens, Mom takes us out for pizza and ice cream, saying that we've been too cooped up and need a change of environment."

"Does that work?"

She thought about it a moment, then nodded. "Usually."

"So it ends up perfect again?" I said.

That brought a small laugh from Alia. "Yes, I guess so. In its own way."

"That's what I'm talking about," I told her. "This life you live is something I've only dreamed about experiencing, and now I'm here, in your home, eating at your table."

"If you're going to say you don't deserve it, you have defended us at the risk of your own life several times."

I shot her a straight look. "But you wouldn't have been in danger if it wasn't for me."

Alia shook her head. "You keep saying that, but danger is out there, Zev."

"But—"

She held up her hand, cutting me off. "Hear me out."

I nodded. My fingers strayed to my right wrist and I rubbed it in an attempt to ease the pain.

"No matter where I go, danger is there, be it a car accident, someone with a gun, food poisoning." She gave me a wry look, "A vampire, apparently."

A smile crossed my lips at her tone.

She continued with, "I could die in my sleep from an aneurism and never wake up again, or I could've been run over in front of Virgo's store. Do you know what the difference is between that and what you're talking about?"

"That it's not my fault?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes and held out her hand for my arm. I set my right one in it and she began to unwrap the bandages as she said, "Maybe so, but I have the feeling that if I was about to be hit by a car, you would sacrifice yourself to save me. Is that true?"

Her fingers paused in what they were doing. I felt frozen, first by the feeling of her hand on my skin and second by the searching look she gave me. There was a light in her eyes as if she guessed exactly what I was going to say. I had the unsettled sensation that she knew me better than I knew myself, and that she thought higher of me than I did. It put me on edge and bothered me.

I couldn't tear my gaze from hers. "Of course," I admitted.

Triumph showed in her eyes, but she didn't smile. Instead, she leaned forward so that our faces were only inches apart. "So no matter whether you brought this into our lives or not, you would sacrifice yourself for a stranger. You tried to do that at the Lair, and you've done it for us several times already." Her voice quieted and she said, "Someone like that deserves a meal around a table with a chaotic family who sometimes throws rolls at each other."

I sat back as she continued unwrapping my wrist. She shook her head at the sight of the blood on the bandages.

"Phasing is hard on the healing process," I said.

She glanced at me. "James told me you turned into a wolf to save him and Jemmy." She paused, then said, "He also told me about the burns. He said there were a lot." Her voice fell silent, then she asked, "Why?"

I couldn't deny her the truth. "The burns are a normal part of being a werewolf under the Masters. Honestly, I'm so used to them I didn't even notice until I caught Jemmy and James staring at me."

Talking about my scars made me feel exposed somehow, like a shield I carried had been taken away. It was ridiculous, but the feeling remained.

"So they're a punishment?" she asked.

I nodded. "A penance for crimes committed, I guess you could say." My lips lifted slightly. "I've committed quite a few crimes."

"Like what?"

Her question caught me off guard. I let out a slow breath as I thought. Her fingers traced the skin of my hand in an unconscious motion, circles, triangles, and squares that made my palm feel as if it was burning. I had to force myself to concentrate despite the unaccustomed touch. The shapes brought others to my mind.

"I don't have pleasant stories," I said. "Are you sure you want to hear?"

"I want to understand what you've been through," she replied. "Will you tell me about the girl?"

I let out a breath and allowed the memory to return. It did so with painful clarity and the scent of vanilla.

"We were pitted against each other in the rings to keep our instincts sharp," I began. "The Masters liked to push us, to see just how far we could go before we collapsed. So they set me against four werewolves."

"To fight?" Alia asked in shock. "Like, to the death?"

I trailed my fingers through the tassels on the red pillow beside me. "Sometimes. Usually, if we survived, we were given a few nights to recover. A match like mine was only set up because I was third in the rankings." I looked at her. "First is the highest. It took a lot of work to get to where I was, so I had to fight to keep it."

She processed this without speaking. I appreciated the way she allowed me to gather my thoughts. I continued with, "I lost, but I fought hard enough not to lose my rank. They branded me for my loss and then threw me in a cell to remind me what I had to fight for."

"That's horrible," Alia said in a voice just above a whisper. "You fought for them because they forced you to, and then they branded you because you lost?"

I nodded. "Silver brands don't heal. Each mark is a lesson, each loss is a reminder that we live our lives because the Masters allow us to do so. They could have commanded my death and the werewolves who fought me would have gladly complied. I was alive because of their generosity."

The words tasted vile in my mouth. Saying them aloud made me realized even more how twisted the practice was. I moved away from the thought and went on with my story.

"It was two nights before I awoke again. Everything hurt. I could barely move, and I was angry that I had lost." I closed my eyes. "And then a smell caught my attention. It was soft and calming, not something I had ever smelled before in the cells beneath the Lair."

"What was it?" she asked, her voice soft as if she feared interrupting the story.

"Vanilla." Just saying the word sent a pang of regret through me. I pushed on before the emotions could surface. "It took me some time to make it to the cell door, but when I did, I saw a human in the cell across from mine." Sorrow made my throat tighten. "She was a gift from one of the werewolves to the Masters. He was lower in the ranks and no doubt thought that presenting her would help him rise. It would have. And he hid her to present her at the right time. She was beautiful and young, a specimen the Masters would have highly valued for the strength they gained when they drained her."

A slight gasp from Alia made me look at her, really look at her. Even though she attempted to keep an impassive expression, it was clear by the shock in her eyes that she had only just realized what it was the werewolves did for the Masters. We weren't just guardians, we were gatherers, luring and capturing prey. There was horror in the depths of her hazel gaze, and an inkling of fear. The fear hurt, but I knew I deserved it.

"I promised her I would save her," I admitted. "I shouldn't have done it. She wasn't mine to save. But she was roughly our age and she wanted to live so badly." I shook my head. "I shouldn't have gotten involved, but something drew me to her despite my instincts."

The memory became reality as I described my attempt to win the girl over. She was so afraid, so very afraid, but I asked her to trust me and she did. Maybe she shouldn't have. When I was finally let out of my cell, I promised her that I would go back and save her that night. But when I got there, the cell was empty.

"Looking for something?" Nine asked.

I spun to see the werewolf standing in the shadows beneath the stairs. He twirled something around his finger. A closer look showed it to be the small gold bracelet with the white flowers the girl had worn.

"Where is she?" I demanded. I crossed to him, ready to throttle the answer out of him if I had to.

Nine lifted a hand, the same hand that held the bracelet. "She's with the Masters. They were very pleased at my offering and allowed me to watch as they partook of their meal."

I wanted to throw up or tear him apart. I went with the latter. I wasn't sure if Nine thought he was stronger than me or thought my sensibilities would stop me, but the next thing I knew, I had broken his spine and left him dying on the floor. The rest of the guardians met me on my way up the stairs. I let them bring me to the Room of Retribution without fighting.

You have broken many rules, Three.

"I know," I answered the Master aloud. "I wanted to save her."

Why?

I fought back the urge to cringe at the way the Master's voice scratched like claws inside my mind. I allowed my werewolf brethren and sisters to chain me to the column where I had undergone my first punishment and many since.

"Because her life was worth saving."

One Master stepped forward from the others. His eyes glittered, whether with abhorrence or enjoyment at what was about to happen, I didn't know. The Masters were still a mystery to me, a terrifying, all-encompassing enigma that controlled my life. I was done with their control.

The werewolves around me shrank back when he said in his raspy voice, "Her life may have had value, but it was far better put to use in sustaining the lives of your Masters, do you not agree?"

I gripped the chains to ease the pressure from my wrists. I had to turn my head to look into his disgusting face. He was so close behind me I could smell the fresh blood on his breath. It made my stomach hurt.

"I don't agree," I growled.

Three brands were lifted from the fire, the straight line with two bars through it that meant failure, the half circle that told of acting against my instincts, and the double upside-down triangles that overlapped to form the mark of betrayal. The Master pressed them against my back at once. It was the first time I could ever recall a Master dealing out the punishment himself.

He branded me over and over until I couldn't argue anymore. When he finally asked, "Do you agree?", I no longer had the strength to disagree. I guess he chose that as submission because he left me hanging there. By the time I was allowed to return to my duties as a guardian, I had to do so with another werewolf holding my chain. It didn't bode well for him.

"That's when you ran," Alia said quietly.

I nodded without looking at her. My back throbbed as though the brands were raw. I felt bare and empty. Everything I was I had revealed to Alia. She had every right to cast me out of her house and forbid me from ever returning. Instead, she sat there watching me with an expression I wasn't human enough to read.

The sound of two plates being stacked together jolted us out of the small bubble of the moment.

Alia cleared her throat and shot me a small smile. "I guess we need to get ready."

She positioned a pillow on the arm of the couch where a finger of moonlight ran from the nearby window. She moved my hand to it and studied the wound as she said, "I don't know everything you've been through, Zev, but I know it wasn't good." She lifted her eyes to mine. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like."

My heart contracted. I held her gaze for longer than I should have, but I couldn't help it. The emotions that ran through her hazel eyes were so stark and readable at that moment. Empathy, worry, concern, and sorrow warred with fear for her family, and possibly for me. It felt as though in that brief slice of time, I felt what she did. It was terrifying and revealing in a way that made me feel more human than I ever had before.

Alia turned away first. "Let the moonlight shine on that. I'm afraid it's the only way your wrist is ever going to heal."

Exhaustion combined with my full stomach to remind me of how little I had slept the night before. I settled back on the couch and closed my eyes with the vow that I would do so only until they needed help with the wards.

Alia's footsteps returned, but I was too far into the embrace of sleep to open my eyes.

"Zev?" she asked. Soft fingers brushed the hair from my forehead. "Sleep," she whispered. "We've got this."
Chapter Twelve

A hand touched my arm. I grabbed it, jumped up from the couch, and spun to deposit whoever threatened me onto the cushion where I had been. I blinked and looked down into Virgo's wide, terrified eyes. I released the hand that had been tightening on his throat and stepped back.

"Sorry about that."

"That's alright," the warlock replied. He rubbed his throat. "Remind me to let sleeping werewolves lie."

"I told you not to touch him," James said. "You don't mess with sleeping soldiers, and he's pretty much that."

I glanced up to see that everyone was in the living room watching us. Mrs. Stein's face was pale. Jemmy grinned beside her as though she enjoyed seeing her brother thrown around like a ragdoll. Alia was saying something quietly to her mom, but I caught her searching glance.

Embarrassment flooded through me. The voice in the back of my mind whispered how much more embarrassing it would have been if I had accidentally killed him. I rolled my eyes at the droll statement and held out a hand. Virgo hesitated, then took it and rose to his feet.

The realization that I had just done so with my right hand made me pause. I opened and close my fingers, then turned my wrist. The lack of pain made me reach for the bandages.

"We're cool, right?" Virgo asked.

I shot him an apologetic look. "Yeah. I really didn't mean to do that. Sorry.

He gave me a wary smile. "I'm just glad you're on my side."

That brought an answering wry smile to my face. "Me, too."

I pulled the last of the bandages off and stared at my wrist.

"Why did you take—" Alia paused with her mouth open. "It's healed."

I nodded. I turned my arm over and studied the faint scars that lined either side. Those, too, would heal with time and moonlight. "It feels a lot better."

Alia ran her fingers over the newly healed skin. Her touch sent warm tendrils running up my arm.

"How is that possible?" she asked. "Honestly, I was afraid you might lose your hand."

"It's the moonlight," James said. "Werewolves need it in the same way plants need the sun. It should be similar considering how the sun is where the moon gets it light, but from what I've researched, werewolves and many other supernatural creatures depend on the ambient energy that comes from the moon."

"Everything else must have healed to the point that the moonlight could concentrate on your arm," Mrs. Stein commented.

"That's really neat," Jemmy said from her place behind the couch. "I wish humans healed like that."

"Me, too," Alia said. She gave me a stern look. "But be careful with it. I doubt it's had a chance to heal fully and the last thing you need is to break it again."

I fought back a smile at her chiding tone. As much as I hated being told what to do, the fact that her lecture came from concern was touching.

"Got it. Now, where are we at with the preparations?" I asked.

"The warding's almost done. I thought...." Virgo let the words die away.

I took up where he left off. "You thought I would want to be outside so I didn't have to cross the barrier."

"Yes, but I shouldn't have touched you," he said, his voice thick with embarrassment.

"Why not?" I asked. I glanced down and saw the amulet tied to a beltloop on his pants.

His eyes lowered to the ground. "I wasn't thinking."

I realized then that what I thought was the remnants of sleep making me feel fatigued was really the draining of my werewolf strength.

James swore under his breath.

"James!" his mother scolded. "Keep a civil tongue or I'll have Rosy put a spell on you so you can only talk about flowers."

James' eyes widened and he looked from his mother to Mrs. Stein. "Can you do that?"

She gave a sweet, teasing smile. "Ask Virgo."

Her son nodded quickly. "Yes, she can. And don't think it's funny. When you're stuck talking about the intricacies of how plants use a capillary action to draw water from the soil, you'll remember not to swear around my mom. Trust me."

The haunted tone to his voice brought a ghost of a smile to my lips. "The damage is done. I'll hold my own until time can chase away the effects of the amulet." I looked at Mrs. Willard. "Do you happen to have any of your husband's weapons while I'm waiting out there?"

Something flashed in her eyes that reminded me how strong she had needed to be in order to raise her family. "I do. Give me a minute."

I crossed to the threshold. The moonlight that lit the grass in front of the Willards' house was strong enough to send a shudder down my spine. My wolf form pushed at the edges of my thoughts, wanting to break free, but the effects of the amulet held it back. If they came as wolves, which I expected, I would be at a severe disadvantage toward protecting the families behind me until I could phase to match them.

Fighting as a man was fine for most circumstances brought to the Lair during the day, but we had spent years perfecting our ability to fight as a wolf. The sinister creatures that came to the forest did so because they were drawn to the darkness of the Lair. Battles had been harsh and violent. Hundreds of werewolves had fallen to protect the Masters. I had been one of the few survivors in several instances and moved quickly up in the ranks as new trainees were brought on. I preferred to be in wolf form to meet the assault I knew was coming.

"Maybe these will help," Mrs. Willard said.

I turned to see her half-drop, half-set a huge cardboard box onto the couch. Faded black sharpie on the side read 'Junk'. The scent of dust wafted into the air when she opened the flaps. Everyone crowded forward.

"I thought you threw this stuff away!" James said in shock as he lifted a pair of gauntlets covered in small silver rings from the pile.

"I said I didn't like what your father was teaching you, not that I was blind." She gave him a sad smile. "I know there's evil in this world; I was just hoping you wouldn't meet it so soon."

James touched his mom's arm. "You did a good job of protecting us."

She looked as though she would cry, but instead, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a tight hug. "Just be safe tonight, alright?"

He nodded. "I will."

She stepped away and looked at her other children. "Alia, Ian, I expect you to stay in the house at all times no matter what happens. Promise me."

"But, Mom," Ian began.

James elbowed him.

"Ouch. I promise," he said reluctantly.

"Aspen, you're to stay in your room no matter what you hear, do you understand?" Mrs. Willard continued.

The frail girl looked at her mother and then at the box. Without saying a word, she crossed to the cardboard monstrosity and shuffled around in it. She then pulled out a sheathed blade nearly as long as her arm.

"Only if I can take this," she said.

Mrs. Willard sighed and nodded. "Fine, but make sure it stays in the sheath if you put it under your pillow. Your father treated it with something he assured me would stop anything with ill intent in its tracks."

"I promise to keep it sheathed," Aspen said. She hurried down the hall back to her room with a little hop in her step.

"Zev, this is for you," Mrs. Willard told me.

She pulled a wooden box from the bottom of the collection and opened it to reveal what looked like an old dueling pistol. Mrs. Willard picked up a smaller box and slid the latch to the side. The box opened to reveal a double set of bullets with N.W. carved into each one. The sharp tang of silver filled my nose. She dumped the bullets out onto her palm, slid six into the cylinder of the gun, closed it with a practiced hand, and then held it up.

"This gun was one of Nathaniel's prized possessions." She looked at James. "I was going to save it for my oldest, but I think you're going to need it more."

James nodded his agreement.

"I'll be sure to give it back," I promised them both.

"I know you will," Mrs. Willard replied with a fond smile as she handed me the gun. "I recommend not touching the bullets. It holds six pure silver rounds. They're softer, but if your target is near, it will take them down." She winked. "Use them wisely."

Alia looked from me to her mother. "I never thought I'd hear you tell a werewolf to use silver bullets wisely."

Mrs. Willard gave a little chuckle. "I never thought I'd say it, either. There's a first for everything."

"And hopefully a last," I put in.

She smiled at me. "As long as last means we're all here together."

I looked away from the motherly kindness in her eyes and said, "My goal is to ensure that both of your families are safe here. I brought this on you. I'll see to it that you survive it if it's the last thing I do."

"I expect that," Mrs. Willard said. "But you need to protect yourself as well. You know how to shoot, right?"

I nodded, but didn't reply and instead turned my attention to the gun. It fit in my hand as though it had been made for me. The handle was ivory and carved with two separate scenes, one that contained a wolf in the woods and the other with a man aiming his gun. If I turned it just right, it looked as though the gun was aimed at the wolf. At the bottom of the weapon, a series of lines crossed in fives had been carved with a careful hand.

The truth struck me. Mrs. Willard's husband had killed werewolves. The pistol had taken the lives of my brethren and sisters. The ivory was worn, the pistol well-used. There was no doubt in my mind that the silver of the bullets inside had been intended to do exactly what I planned to use them for. I couldn't help wondering if one would have been used on me. What would Mr. Willard think of a werewolf defending his family?

"Let me help you with that," Mrs. Stein said.

I shot her a surprised look. "How?"

The witch held out her hand. I set the gun in it.

"Witches may have a reputation for casting dark spells and summoning demons, but we have our good assets as well," she said with a light twinkling in her eyes. She set her hand over the gun and closed her eyes. "Guide these bullets to hearts that plot ill intent for our families. Protect this werewolf. Defend this home."

I took a step back when the gun lit up with a blue glowing light. She opened her eyes and took her hand away and it vanished.

"There," she said. "That should help."

She held out the gun as if nothing had happened to it. At her impatient gesture, I took it between my thumb and forefinger, expecting it to do something drastic like spin in the air and shoot me. But nothing happened. It felt like an ordinary gun.

She shot Virgo a look. "That protection spell—"

"I know, I know," he said, holding up his hands. "Is one to not take lightly."

Jemmy giggled.

Mrs. Stein ignored her daughter's laughter and nodded. "See that you remember it."

"This is awesome," James said near the box.

I looked up to see him fasten a different set of gauntlets around his arms. This pair was crafted with silver spikes.

"Watch," he told Ian.

He threw his hand forward in a punch and the long spike came out past his fingers.

"Whoa, that's cool," Ian said. "Can I wear them?"

James shook his head as he pushed the spike back in. "You heard Mom. You get to stay inside."

"That's not fair," Ian protested.

"Yeah, but you can use this to keep guard at the kitchen window," James told him. He handed a slingshot to his brother.

"Lame," Ian said.

James hefted a pouch. "Not when it comes with exploding silver rounds. Just make sure you keep them away from Zev."

"Cool!" Ian replied. He grabbed the pouch from his brother and rushed to the kitchen.

"I don't know if I want him to use those," Mrs. Willard protested.

Mrs. Stein held up a hand. "Honestly, if we're against what it sounds like we're against, we'll need all hands on deck." She shot me a quick look. "Zev, Virgo and I are ready to close the wards on the entryways. I'd recommend being on the other side."

I nodded. "Will do."

I slid the gun behind the hem of my pants and went to the front door.

Alia followed me.

"Lia," Mrs. Willard said.

"But how are Zev and James supposed to keep the werewolves away by themselves?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure I remember my weapons' training better than James, and besides, I was better than him back then anyway."

"Was not," James said.

"Was too," she replied.

Mrs. Willard held up a hand. "That's enough. We already discussed it. James will fight outside and you'll stay in here."

"It wasn't a discussion," Alia shot back. "You decided it for me."

I set a hand on her arm. It was the first time I had voluntarily touched her. "I need you to stay inside."

Alia opened her mouth to argue, but settled for a sigh instead. "Why?"

I knew she was smart enough to see through any answer I made up, so I told her the truth. "Because werewolves have a singular flaw in their makeup."

Her brows pulled together as if she hadn't expected me to say that. "What flaw?"

I held her gaze despite the way my instincts shied at revealing such a weakness. "A werewolf will fight to defend what it believes in. Morales, trust, and loyalty are very important to my kind. But if you put something the werewolf cares about on the line, rationality goes away, logic leaves, and all that is left is the instinct that demands we fight tooth and limb to protect that something." I shook my head, unable to say what I needed to in a way that wouldn't come out crazy. "I would spend all of my time out there protecting you instead of defending this home and the people inside. I can't be split like that."

Alia's mouth fell open. "What are you saying?"

I was unable to meet her eyes when I replied, "Something inside of me resonates when you're around. If that happens out there, if I get distracted because you're in danger, all of our lives will be at risk." I made myself meet her gaze. "Will you stay in here?"

Her eyes were wide as she searched my face. At my question, she gave a small, uncertain nod.

"Thank you," I told her.

She nodded again, her lips pressed together as if she didn't know what to say.

That was for the best because I had been far too honest for my own protection. I never put myself out on a limb like that. Yet telling the truth was the only way I knew to get her to listen. She was the only person I had met who was perhaps even more stubborn than I. The brands across my body attested to that.

I had no idea why my heart sang when she was around. I hadn't known her long enough to develop feelings. I didn't even know if I was capable of having feelings for someone after everything I had been through; but I had told her the truth. If she was out there fighting, I wouldn't be able to protect my back or take care of her brother.

My thoughts revolved around Alia. There would hopefully be time later to understand why, but at that moment, the fact that she would be safely inside was reassuring.

I met Mrs. Willard's gaze. She nodded with a look of gratitude on her face. I nodded back with the understanding that we were both trying to protect the same thing.

"Let's do this," Virgo said. At my surprised look, he shrugged. "You didn't think I'd leave protecting my family to a werewolf, did you?"

I gave him a half smile and held out a hand. "I'm glad to have you at my side."

He shook his head instead of taking my hand. "Thanks, but it's my job to defend them. I've never actually fought anything before, but I've dreamed about it for quite some time."

"That makes two of us," James admitted. He took another set of gauntlets from the box and handed them to Virgo. "In case things get really out of hand. But be careful."

"Will do," the warlock replied.

I led the way to the door.

"Be careful you three," Mrs. Stein said. "We'll do everything we can to protect you from in here."

"Just keep yourselves safe," I replied before we went outside. "Light the fires and don't forget to ward the window. The werewolves will be looking for any sign of weakness."

"How do you know?" Jemmy asked.

"Because that's what I would do," I replied.

I pulled the door shut and heard Mrs. Stein begin the wards on the other side.

James and Virgo watched the darkness of the trees beyond the road that fronted the Willard house with uncertainty.

"It's a lot darker out here than I remember," Virgo said. He glanced at me. "How soon until the amulet wears off?"

"Sooner if you're not right next to me," I told him. He scooted toward the far end of the porch. "I won't be able to hear the werewolves coming until the effects fade. We'll have to keep on our toes and walk the perimeter."

James cleared his throat. His voice was tight when he said, "Since there are only three of us, I suggest going to higher ground so we can have a better vantage point."

At Virgo's questioning look, he pointed. "The roof. I'm talking about the roof."

"That's a good idea," I agreed.

I ensured that the gun was safely tucked into my pants, then jumped up to grab the edge of the roof that jutted out beyond the porch. My wrist twinged but didn't give any other sign of the injury when I pulled myself up. I rolled onto my back and glanced up at the stars. The fall of the moonlight felt so welcoming I wanted to stay in that position forever. The thought was tempting.

"Oh sure, pull yourself up like it's no effort. Must be nice being a werewolf," Virgo muttered from below.

I smothered a smile.

"I can get a ladder," James said. "But I'd have to go to the garage, and it's dark over there." He gave a tight, self-deprecating laugh. "Maybe we should choose somewhere else."

"Hey, the roof was your idea," Virgo pointed out. "And because of my stupidity, he's operating with human strength, so that should be possible to both of us."

"I haven't exactly honed my roof climbing survival skills," James replied wryly. "Have you?"

"If by training you mean drinking tons of mint and raspberry hot chocolate, then yes. It goes great with coffee," Virgo said.

I couldn't help the amusement that rose in my chest at their argument. They sounded like brothers. I guessed that was what we all were given the circumstance. The thought of fighting beside brothers made my chest tighten.

I rolled onto my stomach and held out a hand. "Grab it. I'll pull you guys up."

James eyed my proffered hand skeptically. "You sure? You've had a rough time."

I gestured above me. "Moonlight, remember? I'm fine. Trust me. Just give your amulet to Virgo first. The less downtime I have, the better for all of us."

James tossed the small pouch to Virgo and then grabbed my hand. I pulled him up and heard the gasp of surprise when his head and shoulders cleared the roof.

He landed on his knees on the shingles and threw me an appraising look. "Remind me to never underestimate a werewolf."

"Never underestimate a werewolf," Virgo called up. "That's a dangerous mistake. Now, can I get some help?"

He untied the pouch from his belt and tossed both amulets to the roof far enough away from me that I wouldn't be affected by them.

James and I pulled the warlock up.

"Well, this is nice," Virgo said. He looked around as he refastened his amulet. "The pitch of the roof is shallow enough that we should be able to see both sides from the top and keep a close eye on the porch." He shot James a look of respect. "Good call."

"Thanks," James replied. He held up his gauntlets. "I guess these won't be of much help."

"Don't be so sure," I said quietly. "If the werewolves touch you, the amulets will weaken them and you'll have a chance."

"Good to know," James replied, his voice tight.

I studied the forest behind the house. If I was attacking, that was where I would go. It was closer to the house than the trees across the road, and the cover of darkness it provided would shield attackers from shooters.

I pulled out the gun Mrs. Willard had given me and peered down the barrel.

"How accurate is this?" I asked James. I didn't dare shoot and waste a silver bullet, but leaving the aim to trust felt just as risky.

"My dad was the best shot I've ever seen in my life," he replied. "That gun is a sure thing. You can count on it."

I caught the faint sound of loss in his voice. He kept a strong front, but the death of his father was still obvious in his words. I wondered how it felt to love someone so much that to lose them marked the one left behind forever.

The voice in the back of my mind whispered that I knew exactly how it felt. I shoved the thought away. It was wrong. It could never be the same.

"Zev?"

James' voice broke through my inner argument, and the voice in my mind pointed out that I really shouldn't be arguing with myself anyway, it wasn't healthy. I gave myself a mental shake and turned.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever killed a human?"

James' question cut into me like a hot knife slicing through butter.

I took a seat near the pinnacle of the roof where I could keep an eye on all movement. I adjusted the pistol so it didn't jab into my waist and set my left arm across my knee so that my wrist could continue to heal in the moonlight.

It must have been obvious that I was stalling because James said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Your life is your own. You don't have to tell me."

"But it would probably be good for us to know," Virgo said from the other side of the roof. "Seeing as how we're supposed to kill werewolves which are your kind, it would be nice to know if you've killed anyone of our kind." There was an accusatory edge to his voice.

I closed my eyes. My senses strained for any sign of the werewolves. The hairs on the back of my arms stood up and my body thrummed with the want to be a wolf. They would be on their way. My instincts warned that it would be soon.

I said the words I didn't want to. "I'm the reason many humans have died."

Silence settled across the roof. I couldn't bring myself to look at James or Virgo. If they wanted to cast me away after my admission, there would be time for that if we survived the werewolf attack.

There didn't seem to be anything to say. Reality was harsh. They may have grown up in a more protected life than I, but I had brought the danger to their doorstep. They should hate me. Per the survival of the fittest drummed into me during life in the Lair, they should kill me or be killed by the strongest creature. Though humans seemed to view the world differently, it was hard not to expect a bullet in the back when everything was over.

It's what I would do.
Chapter Thirteen

"They're coming," I whispered.

"I don't see anything," Virgo replied.

"Me, neither," James said.

"Under that pine. Look for the eyes," I told them.

James sucked in a breath. "There's so many."

"I count eight. There's probably more in the woods. They'll be waiting for us to show a weakness." I kept my voice level, but inside, my stomach churned.

There were more werewolves than I thought the Masters would spare. They were very particular about their security. We had lost quite a few guardians during the last skirmishes in the forest, and I had already taken out a few more. Perhaps that had made me a bigger target.

But I knew the truth. In the end, it had nothing to do with losing a valuable guardian in me or the loss of werewolves at my hands. Instead, it came down to one simple fact. The Masters, as old and as wise as they claimed to be, refused to lose. The fact that I had run and successfully escaped their clutches for more than a day festered, as did the reality that I had chosen to leave in the first place.

I was the Third wolf in their hierarchy, a position envied by many, many of my brethren and sisters. I had bled to be there. The fact that I had chosen to leave of my own accord no doubt gnawed at their haughty pride; they wouldn't let me live if they had a say in the matter.

I had made decisions I was not proud of, choices that I would never be able to make right. Perhaps this was the universe giving me the chance to do something greater than serve in such a foul role. I may have brought the Willards under threat, but they had taken me in, tended to my wounds, and let me remain regardless of the knowledge that I was a monster. It was time to repay the favor.

"There will be a leader, the one commanding the others in the name of the Masters. If we have any hope of survival, we have to find out who that is and take him down," I said.

I lifted a gun and fired at the closest set of eyes.

The form slumped without a yelp. The werewolves around him backed away. Most were in wolf form while a few remained human. My body ached to phase and defend those who waited within the house, yet the remnants of Virgo's amulet refused to fade. It was going to be a long half hour.

I picked off two more. Those around them slunk back into the shelter of the trees. The yelps from a fourth werewolf I hit about an inch below my mark startled the others into action.

"Here they come," James said.

"Be ready for the retaliation," I warned.

"Send out the werewolf and nobody gets hurt," a voice yelled.

I straightened in surprise. The voice was female and carried a touch of Irish brogue. I had known it since I was a pup.

"Go back to the Lair, Four," I called out. "This isn't your fight."

She stepped from the shadows. The werewolf's long red hair curled about her shoulders and was offset by the black leather of her combat gear. Her green eyes flashed in the moonlight.

"I'm Three now, traitor," she said. "I should thank you for that."

I allowed a grim smile to cross my lips. "Then consider yourself lucky and leave. This is a losing battle."

She looked around the yard. "For you and what army?"

"No army," I said.

She shook her head. "I don't get it."

I held out my hands and walked to the edge of the roof. "I have nothing left to lose. There is nothing at the Lair for me. The Masters' wishes are selfish and cruel. You know this."

Her eyes narrowed at my words and her lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

I lifted my gaze to the other werewolves. "You all know this. We live a life of lies. We were raised to serve as little more than slaves to Masters who use us until our usefulness is exhausted, and then they throw us away."

"You really are a traitor," Three snarled. "How dare you say such things?"

I shrugged. "I speak the truth."

Three lifted a hand. "Then prepare to meet the Masters to tell them to their faces."

"Virgo?" I said over my shoulder.

"Ready," the warlock replied.

The hiss of metal cutting through the air reached my ears. Moonlight glinted off throwing stars and knives that flew through the night with supernatural speed. The Masters preferred silence over bullets, so our training encompassed poison-tipped weapons that would knock an enemy out on contact. It was also the way we brought their chosen victims back to the Lair.

The intricate concoction of poison was made deep within the clammy ground and tested on our own kind. For a werewolf, it could make an entire limb go numb at a single brush with the blade. It had the strength to knock a human out for an entire day. The poison was a cruel, efficient way to ensure the strongest opponent would fall at a touch.

Virgo spoke several words in Latin. I held still and watched the weapons fly toward me in a flurry of blades. Just when I was afraid his ward wouldn't work, the objects struck an invisible wall beyond the edge of the roof. They froze in place, and then fell to the ground with small thuds.

"You have a witch?" Three demanded.

"A warlock," I replied at the same time that Virgo did. I glanced behind me and met his eyes. "And I wouldn't mess with him. He doesn't like werewolves."

His eyes tightened slightly before he shifted his gaze back to the werewolves.

"They're circling," James warned.

I fired one more shot and another werewolf fell.

"You'd better send them home," I told Three. "The Masters won't approve of wasting lives so easily just to bring me back."

"The Masters want to replace your eyes with silver and put a stake through your heart before they decapitate you with their own hands," Three replied. Her eyes narrowed. "You've betrayed our family."

The thought of the Masters wanting to deal out my punishment and death themselves was a shock. I didn't think a single werewolf leaving the ranks would cause such chaos. Perhaps they needed to make an example of me; maybe I had started something with my actions.

"It's not a family," I replied. "It's a slaughterhouse. You know it and I know it. Deep down, your instincts are saying that what we do is wrong." I held her gaze. "You want to stop doing it."

Her eyes widened. "Blasphemer!"

She unclipped a knife from her belt and threw it so fast it broke through Virgo's barrier. The blade sunk deep into my right shoulder. The gun flew from my fingers as I staggered back a few steps from the force of the blow. The numbing effects of the poison spread down my arm. Fortunately, the amulet's power must have been wearing off or I would have dropped like a regular human.

I threw Virgo a look.

"Sorry," he said. "I wasn't ready."

"Stay ready," I growled.

"Maybe we should let them take you," Virgo replied.

A chill ran down my spine. I glanced at the warlock, but kept the werewolves in my periphery. "What are you talking about?"

"You're the one they want," Virgo said. "If we let them take you, everyone else will be safe."

"Virgo!" James said.

Virgo ignored James and lifted the gun I had dropped. "Raise your hands, Zev."

I looked from him to the ground where other werewolves had come out behind Three.

"That's a smart warlock," she said.

"Virgo, don't do it," James told him.

Virgo's eyes didn't waver from mine.

"Go to the werewolves where you belong, Zev," he said.

His eyes flickered from me to the gun and back. A glint to his gaze said he knew exactly what he was doing. I wondered how long he had been planning to sacrifice me to save his family. I had to respect him for making the decision I would have in his position.

"There's one bullet left," I told him. "You better use it wisely."

"I plan to," he replied. He motioned with the gun again. "Jump down."

I walked to the edge of the roof. The laughter in Three's eyes at the warlock's betrayal made me want to snarl. I pushed down the wolfish impulse and jumped.

"Zev, what are you doing?" Alia asked.

A quick glance over my shoulder showed the Willards and Steins watching from the broke kitchen window. Ian held his slingshot ready, but everyone else looked stunned at my appearance.

"Just stay inside," I told them. "You'll be safe in a minute."

Alia shook her head, her expression insistent. "Don't do this, Zev." Her gaze moved past me to Three. "Don't you dare hurt him!"

Three gave a toothy smile. "Don't worry. We'll take him off your hands and your family will be safe. You have my word."

Her tone set my teeth on edge. If she took me back to the Lair, there was no doubt in my mind that the other werewolves would stay behind to clean up the mess. The Masters didn't dare allow rumors of their existence to spread. Nobody inside the house or on the roof would be left alive.

"Raise your hands and turn around," Three said. "Be a good little pup and come in peace."

I bristled at her mocking tone, but didn't have a choice.

Alia shook her head. "Don't do it."

"Don't do it, Zev," Mrs. Willard said with her hand on Alia's shoulder. "We can fight this."

"Not at the risk of your family," I replied.

I lifted my left hand turned around slowly while my right hung uselessly at my side. The tears that filled Alia's eyes at the realization of what I was about to do stayed in my mind as I crossed the moonlit lawn toward Three.

Four werewolves crowded behind her. Two were in wolf form and the other two stood as humans armed with more knives. My submission had drawn them from the forest. They and the werewolf in front of them were what stood between the humans and safety. If I left with Three, they were who would tear the family apart. I reached the lead werewolf with the thought of phasing and doing what damage I could. It would be a last resort, but it was the only chance I had. My muscles tensed and I welcomed the thought of becoming a wolf.

"Zev, turn around."

I paused at Virgo's shout.

"Your friend wants to say his goodbyes," Three said with a grin at my discomfort. She motioned. "Do it."

"What's wrong with you?" James said from the roof. "You're betraying all of us!"

I turned to see him arguing with Virgo.

"Zev betrayed us when he came into your home," Virgo replied. "I'm just tying up loose ends." The gun was pointed directly at me.

"You're smart enough to realize this battle isn't over when I'm gone, right?" I asked.

The warlock's eyes narrowed. "I'm not an idiot."

"I'm beginning to doubt that," James said.

"Shut up," Virgo growled at him without taking his gaze from mine. He lifted his voice. "You brought this down on all of us." His other hand opened. It was a slight gesture, one I doubted the other werewolves noticed, but it caught my attention.

His runes glowed. They were the same ones he had used for protection the first time I had entered the bookstore. The magic wouldn't do anything from there, but the blue glow of the light was reflected in the barrel of the gun he held.

My heart slowed. If he was trying to imply what I thought he was, maybe hope wasn't lost after all. I gave a shallow nod and said, "Do it already. Show me what a warlock is made out of."

A slight smile touched Virgo's lips as he sighted down the barrel directly at my heart. "Gladly," the warlock replied.

He pulled the trigger and time slowed.

I didn't flinch at the sight of the bullet heading straight for my chest. I had to give the warlock credit. He really did know how to shoot.

"No!" Three said the moment the bullet left the gun and she realized her prize was about to die instead of being taken back to the Masters to be tortured to death.

Then the bullet curved around me.

I felt it brush past my sleeve in a tight arc before the whoosh of the lead werewolf's breath moved my hair. She gasped and fell back, the force of the bullet driving her to her knees.

I ripped the knife from my shoulder and spun, catching first one werewolf across the throat and then slamming the blade into the chest of the other in human form as they stood stunned at Three's death. Both of them dropped to the ground.

The last two werewolves in wolf form backed away and growled.

"Ian, now!" I shouted.

I dove to the side as two slingshot balls filled with silver powder exploded in the faces of the wolves. Yelps filled the air. I held my breath and attacked without mercy as they would have done to the children behind me.

I grappled with one werewolf as the other's jaw snapped shut inches from my hand. It was hard to fight with one arm. My right hung uselessly at my side as I rolled, throwing the werewolf into the closest tree.

The jaws of the other werewolf closed around my shoulder. A yell of pain escaped me. I sunk my fingers into the fur at the back of his neck and threw him over my back. The moment his paws touched the ground, he launched at me again. The second werewolf pushed back to his feet and attacked as well.

I had fought with werewolves my entire life, but this was different. Instead of just training to defend our Masters' Lair against enemies, I was battling to save my life and the lives of those who watched in terror. Hits were real, fangs bit deep, and each move was calculated to drive the other to the ground.

I had never fought so hard and with such purpose. When I had one werewolf pinned and was ready to end his life, the other would attack, scoring my flesh with unforgiving fangs. Blood ran down my arms, making my grip slippery. I wasn't sure if it was mine or theirs. By moonlight, it looked as if we were all covered in the flowing black liquid.

The sound of someone calling my name from the house barely penetrated the growls of sheer hatred from the monsters who faced me, promising slow and painful deaths to the humans. Answering growls rumbled from my chest even in my human form.

I pinned one of the werewolves and managed to snap his foreleg before the other grabbed my ankle in his jaws and hauled me back. I kicked out, catching him in the snout with my other foot. He backed away, only to lunge again with enough force to knocked me off my feet.

Both werewolves dove for my throat. I rolled and caught one in a headlock while the teeth of the other grazed my forehead. Blood leaked into my eyes and I had to let the one I held go in order to wipe it away enough to see.

My strength was lagging. Outnumbered with an arm that didn't work was proving to be deadly. My one hope was that if I could take a werewolf down with me, it would only leave one for the humans to deal with.

My foot slipped on the wet grass and I went down to one knee. The werewolf closest to me leaped at the advantage. I put my left hand on the ground and kicked out with both feet. The blow hit the werewolf on the chest and knocked him back. I fell the ground and the other wolf attacked.

Teeth tore through my shirt with ease and sliced across my back. The pain stole my breath as I fought to shake him free. I wanted to phase, but I had taken enough wounds that doing so might take the rest of my strength. Even my wolf side acknowledged that I had a better chance fighting in human form.

A shoulder slammed into mine and threw me onto my back. Fangs closed around my neck. I struggled to pry them away, but another set latched onto my right arm where the break had been. The pain was excruciating. With each movement I made, the werewolf's jaws closed tighter. Spots danced in my vision and my lungs screamed for the air I couldn't draw in.

There was no way the Willards and Steins could hold out against two werewolves. I couldn't leave them with such a threat at their doorstep. Yet the darkening at the edges of my vision said otherwise.

"You take the one on the right."
Chapter Fourteen

My eyes flew open at the sound of James' voice. They stood a few feet away. James wore his gauntlets and Virgo held a silver blade. Both werewolves growled at their appearance.

"Got it," Virgo replied.

They circled to each side.

"Just remember, if you cut off his head, he might bite down. Try stabbing instead," James said.

The werewolf's jaws loosened enough that I could draw in a wheezing breath. I felt him shift his head to the right to keep both humans in sight. The wolf that held my arm gave a threatening growl. His head lifted a few inches and his ears flattened against his skull.

It was the distraction I needed.

"Now," I shouted.

I tore my arm free and punched the werewolf that held my throat in the side of his head hard enough to knock him away and send him into a dazed heap. Virgo brought the blade down with both hands, driving it straight into the base of the werewolf's neck. The monster fell to his side, his legs twitching in the throes of death.

A shout made my heart leap into my throat. I spun around expecting to see James dead on the ground with a bloody, triumphant werewolf standing over him. Instead, the human knelt with both of his hands up. The force of the movement had caused the spikes in his gauntlets to shoot out, and the werewolf that had lunged at him hung skewered on the blades.

The monster snapped and struggled to reach James despite the deadly silver spikes embedded in its chest. Its movements were feeble, weakened from the amulet the human wore. I rose to my feet and grabbed the werewolf by the scruff of its neck. A quick jerk pulled it free of the blades, and a twist of its neck sent it into a motionless heap at my feet.

"That's what you get for messing with my friends," I growled.

"Yeah!" Ian shouted.

I looked up to see Mrs. Willard, Alia, and Ian watching from the window. Mrs. Stein and Jemmy stood in front of the broken glass, their hands raised and matching looks of determination on their faces. The faint shimmer of magic glowed around the house, protected by the witches' powers. Mrs. Stein smiled at me, then her gaze shifted and the smile fell, replaced by a look of fear.

I turned to see a werewolf step from the shadow of the trees. James and Virgo raised their weapons, but I lifted a hand.

"Wait," I said quietly.

I recognized the werewolf. He was lower in the ranks, called Twenty-three before I left. I guessed he was Twenty-two now, or maybe even Twenty-one. Who knew how many ranks he had just gone up from the slaughter?

We had grappled together and guarded the Lair side by side many times. While none of us were friends, he was one of the few I didn't feel the need to watch my back when he was around. That was saying something.

I crossed to him and stopped a few feet away.

"Three," he said with a respectful nod.

I shook my head. "That's not my life anymore. Call me Zev."

Interest showed in his gaze. "It's not much of a name."

That brought the shadow of a smile to my lips. "But it's mine.

He lifted a shoulder. "As you wish."

"What should I call you? Is it still Twenty-three?"

It was a calculated barb; the implication was stark given the number of werewolves that were dead around me. I needed to know if his body would be added to the pile.

His eyes tightened when he looked past me at the carnage that had befallen his comrades. "This is a problem," he said, ignoring my question.

I crossed my arms. The feeling was beginning to return to my right arm and my pain was working free of the adrenaline's numbing hold. I kept my face carefully expressionless. "It's not a problem if the Masters don't make it one."

"You know they will."

I shook my head. "They did, and they lost. You can tell them that."

The werewolf's dark eyebrows rose. "I can't tell them that. They'll quarter and drain me."

I gave him a humorless smile. "What do you expect from Masters worthy of the name?"

He refused to take the bait. "I won't pretend to understand the decision you've made, but don't try to force your ideals on me, Zev. It won't work."

I opened my hands. "Fair enough." I glanced around. "So where do we go from here?"

The werewolf looked uncomfortable before he said, "I have no idea."

My forehead stung. I lifted a hand to it and felt the blood that was clotting from the werewolf's fangs. I wanted more than anything to curl up on the grass in a pool of moonlight and not move for about a week. Unfortunately, there was a whole lot to deal with before I would be afforded that luxury.

I lowered my hand. "The way I see it, you have two options." I motioned toward the bodies. "You can return to the Masters and tell them that, not only have I killed Three, I slaughtered enough werewolves to take them years to replace. Telling them will admit your defeat and the fact that a dozen werewolves all told weren't enough to take down one of their veterans. I'm sure you can imagine how that news will be received."

The werewolf shifted his weight from foot to foot. It was easy to read just how much he wanted to avoid delivering such a report. We both knew the consequences that would follow.

My heart actually went out to the werewolf. The impartial side of me said that I should kill him so that no word of what happened got back to the Masters. But I was tired of killing, and as of that moment, he hadn't proven to be a threat.

"Or, there's option number two."

The werewolf's blue gaze flickered to mine; his expression was torn between hiding behind a wall of calm and twitching with intensity. "And what's that?"

I tipped my head toward the road that ran past the house. "You do what I did and you leave." The werewolf opened his mouth, his gaze angry, but I held up a hand and continued, "You might not be doing it for the same reasons, but it's the only way you're going to survive this."

His mouth closed. I took that as a good sign and said, "Look. We both know that returning to tell the Masters about this isn't going to go well. You'll die just like our brethren and sisters, and the Masters will care only in that the deaths have set them back in their plans. You're just another number." I opened my hand as a peace offering. "But if you leave now, we'll burn the bodies and bury the remains with silver. Nobody will be the wiser as to if you are numbered with them. You'll have a chance to live." I gave him a wry, grim smile. "Probably a better chance than me."

The werewolf looked down at the bodies and then back at me. Uncertainty flickered in his gaze. "Honestly, I don't know where I'd go."

I shrugged and felt the pull of my wounds. "I really don't care. But if you're going to leave, you'd better do so now and hide your tracks." I gestured toward the fallen werewolves. "If they figure this out, they'll be on your trail eventually. Your hope is to put as much space between you and the Lair as you can."

An answering grim smile showed for a brief instant on the werewolf's face. "You didn't get far."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't push it."

His smile faded. Silence fell that was broken by the lone chirp of a cricket singing from within the safety of the grass that grew around one of the fence posts. My muscles stayed tense at the thought that the werewolf could still attack and try to take me down. If he finished the mission, there was a chance he would be rewarded with praise and a raise in ranks instead of death. But we both knew what a small chance that would be.

No sound came from the house. I could hear James and Virgo's bated breaths as they waited for the werewolf to make his decision. I had to give them both credit for their patience, even if I could see how tightly Virgo held the knife in case the werewolf chose to attack.

The werewolf finally gave a short nod. He turned away without a word and walked toward the road. I listened to the sound of his footsteps long after he had vanished from sight.

When I was certain he wouldn't change his mind, the remnants of the strength that kept me standing left in a rush. I fell to my knees with a breath of relief.

"Zev!" James said in alarm.

He and Virgo rushed to my side. I heard the footsteps from the house as the others hurried to join them.

Alia dropped to her knees next to me. "Zev, are you alright?" she asked.

I stared at the blood that covered my hands. There was no way to know how much was mine and what belonged to the bodies around me, the bodies of werewolves I had once grown up with and trained beside. They had been the closest thing to family that I had. Now, that family had turned against me and tried to kill me. It was a sobering thought.

"Zev, what can we do for you?" Mrs. Willard asked.

I forced my weary mind to focus. "We need to burn the bodies." I met Alia's eyes. "And put silver on the ashes before burying them like I showed you before."

"We can do that," she said.

She lifted a hand toward my face as if she wanted to touch my cheek. I turned my head away. I felt more animal than man at that moment. I didn't want her to guess how close the wolf was to the surface. I was afraid that one wrong move or any lowering of my guard would send me over the edge. I didn't dare risk it.

Pain fluttered in my heart when I saw her lower her hand out of the corner of my eye.

"We'll need to post a guard tonight in case more werewolves come." I shook my head. "I don't think they will, but we need to careful."

"We can do that," Mrs. Stein said. "We'll reinforce the wards and set up warning spells so we'll be alerted if they come near."

"Anything else?" James asked.

I was sure there were more things I was forgetting, but exhaustion and pain was making it hard to think. I shook my head.

"Then it's your turn," Virgo said.

A small warning bell went off in my mind. I looked up, half-expecting to see him point the gun at my head to end what he had started. The voice of reason whispered that we were out of bullets, but I wouldn't put it past the warlock to figure out another way to end the threat I posed.

Instead, Virgo ducked beneath my arm and pulled it over his shoulder. James knelt and did the same on the other side. I winced and barely stifled a cry of pain as they eased me to my feet.

"Ready for more stitches?" Alia asked. Her tone was guarded and I knew I had hurt her when I didn't let her touch me.

I tried to smile and said, "I'd go for a shower."

Laughter filled with relief followed my words.

Mrs. Willard nodded with an answering smile. "A shower first, and then you need to let Alia tend to your wounds."

"I will," I promised.

James and Virgo practically carried me into the house and helped me limp to the bathroom. Virgo left with the comment of helping his mother replace the wards.

Alia set an armful of clothes on the bathroom sink along with a fluffy blue towel. Seeing something so clean and soft after what had just happened felt unreal, as though one or the other was a dream. Ian waited in the doorway. He kept moving from foot to foot as if the excitement of the night had been too much for him to keep still. His restless energy set me on edge. I clenched my hands into fists in an effort to stay in human form.

Alia caught the motion. She glanced from me to Ian and understanding dawned in her gaze.

"James, do you think you could help Ian find something to do?" she asked her brother.

When he shot her a questioning look, I caught the way she tipped her head at me. He nodded and turned to Ian.

"Come on," James told the boy. "Let's see what else Mom has in that box."

The sound of their footsteps faded down the hall to join the talking in the living room.

I slumped onto the edge of the bathtub. A numbing haze settled around me.

"Sorry about that," Alia said softly. "Ian means well."

I looked up at her. "He saved my life with that slingshot. He can do whatever he'd like."

She gave a half-smile at my words. "He was excited to use it."

She reached toward me and I froze. A glimmer of something unreadable showed in her gaze before she reached past me to the faucet. She turned one knob and then the other. Water rushed out in response and embarrassment tightened my chest.

My head felt heavy. I lowered my face into my hand and said, "I'm sorry."

She sat back on her heels and looked up at me. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. You saved my family."

I shook my head. "I'd sorry about earlier, and I'm sorry now. I'm just...." I couldn't think of how to put the way I felt into words. I leaned my head against the wall next to the bathtub and went with, "I'm not used to being touched, at least not without it bringing pain. I shouldn't react the way I do, but I can't help it."

Alia watched me, her expression indecipherable as her eyes searched mine.

"Zev, I can't pretend to understand what you've been through," she began.

She lifted a hand and I flinched away from it, my muscles tensing to counter the number of attacks that could come from that direction.

Alia waited until I caught myself and held still. She finished reaching toward my hair and pushed it gently off my forehead.

"I've worked with animals most of my life," she said quietly as she gently touched the edges of the gash the werewolf's fangs had cut into my skin. "I've always been better at working with animals than people. I even went to school to be a veterinarian, but I didn't finish it." She gave me a wry smile. "I need to be better at finishing things."

She reached for my hand. I managed to hold still while she examined my arm. "I can't even tell what blood is from you. You definitely need a shower." She glanced up at me. "Let me help you get your shirt off. It's going to hurt with your shoulder."

"I can do it," I protested. I rose too quickly and my head swam. I barely caught myself before I fell into the bathtub.

"Whoa. Slow down," Alia said. "Just take a breath."

She held me steady with a hand on my arm until the world stopped spinning.

"I've got a better idea," she said.

She grabbed something from a basket on the counter. The cold touch of metal on my back made me suck in a breath, but I held still as she cut through the shirt with small snips of the scissors.

The tattered tee-shirt fell away. I glanced over to see Alia's expression as she took in the burns that marked nearly every area of my torso. I could see it in her gaze. I had told her about the burns, but seeing them was something different. I steeled myself for the questions, knowing I wouldn't like the memories they brought back.

Alia opened her mouth, then closed it and swallowed before opening it again to say, "Your shoulder's open nearly to the bone. We need to get you into the moonlight and probably put in some stitches until it heals."

"More stitches?" I replied with enough of a dramatic sigh to bring a small smile to her lips.

"Yes. That's what you get for trying to take them all on by yourself," she scolded.

I shook my head, then leaned against the wall again when the world threatened to turn on end. "I wasn't by myself."

She nodded. "That's right. You let the boys help. Next time, hold auditions. I can outshoot either of them."

That made me truly smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

Silence settled between us. I wasn't sure if I was expected to say or do something. Alia looked away from my chest as if she had just realized I was only wearing pants. She took a step back. "I'll give you your space to shower. You can take your time. Feel free to use the shampoo, soap, or whatever you need." She walked to the door. "I'll be nearby so you can yell if you need me."

The look on her face when she shut the door behind her made me sigh and lean my forehead against the cool tile wall. I wasn't fit to be a human, to be a boy, to be nineteen in a world that had only tried to kill me my entire life. I wasn't made for fluffy blue towels, for warm showers, for dinners around a table with conversations that didn't involve the fastest way to bleed an enemy dry.

I didn't understand Alia's expressions or the way I wanted to watch her talk. I told myself all she was doing was speaking, so why was it so intriguing? Why did I miss her already when she had only just left and was probably less than ten feet away? I felt ridiculous, confused, and entirely out of my comfort zone.

I looked down and realized I was bleeding on the bathroom floor. Red colored the tiles around my bare feet from my various wounds. I managed to work out of my pants and left them in a pile on the floor with a pang of regret at the mess I had made of them. Out of options to do more, I climbed into the tub.

Water almost too hot to bear flowed through my hair and down my shoulders. I couldn't remember the last time I had experienced a warm shower. It was perhaps the most wonderful sensation in the entire world. I closed my eyes and allowed it to soak in. The warmth eased into my tight muscles, willing them to relax as the sting of clean water worked through the worst of my wounds.

I lost track of how long I stood breathing in the misty, humid air with my forehead against the wall. As the feeling returned to my right arm, I lifted it to allow the water to flush the knife wound and my mangled wrist. I then turned and sucked in a breath at the pain of the water pelting the deep wounds along my shoulder blade.

I did what I could to wash my wounds and then bent to turn off the shower when a container marked 'Shampoo' caught my eye. I thought of Alia's words. She had encouraged me to use whatever I needed. I was definitely tired of smelling like a wet dog. Usually, it came with the werewolf territory. A human's sense of smell wasn't as powerful as a werewolf's, but I couldn't help wondering if they all thought I stunk as badly as I did. At that thought, I lifted the bottle to my nose and smelled the apple scent that reminded me of Alia.

I fought back a smile as I squeezed a small portion onto my palm and then scrubbed it into my hair. I winced when my fingers found the gash from one of the werewolves' teeth, then focused on that area to ensure it was entirely clean. The scent of apples, the tangy clean smell of the bar of soap, and even the whiff of shaving cream from the little holder suction-cupped to the wall filled the air when I finally stepped from the shower. I couldn't recall ever having been so clean in my life.

I reached for the towel. My hand hovered above the blue fluffy material. I hesitated. It felt as though I was deciding between a life as a wild, untamed, battle-trained and blood-hardened monster or a civilized human with wolf instincts and the occasional urge to growl at cats. I finally picked up the towel with a triumphant grin and a chuckle at my own absurdity. It was just a towel, right?

"Zev, are you okay?" Alia called through the door.

"Yes, be right out," I replied.

I pulled on a pair of surprising well-fitting pants from the assortment on the counter that James had donated by the smell of them. I choose a dark green tee-shirt, but didn't put it on. My shoulder and several of the other wounds were still bleeding. I had already tarnished the towel. I didn't want to add a shirt to the devastation that seemed to flow in the wake of Zev.

I glanced in the mirror and paused. I looked different. Shaving the few days' scruff from my face and cleaning up was one thing, but there was something else in my gaze I didn't recognize. I put a hand to my forehead and dabbed away the trickle of blood that continued to persist from the wound. As I lowered my hand, it dawned on me.

I was no longer a guardian, someone's warrior to be replaced if I failed. I wasn't just a number in a sea of others like me. I wasn't an animal fighting for my life from some instinct-driven need to survive, and I wasn't someone's property.

I was Zev. I was a werewolf determined to protect humans from the dark atrocities I had seen in the world. I was a monster. I was a nightmare. And I was a force to be reckoned with.

I opened the door and walked down the hall with the tee-shirt in one hand and a handful of bloody clothes in the other. A form appeared in the kitchen doorway. Alia's smile drew me forward into the light where her family waited to discuss plans for the battle that might still come, and for the first time in my life, I was looking forward to fighting it.

Thank you for reading Defiance! I hope you enjoyed it. Ricochet, the next book in the series, is available now.

BOOKS BY CHEREE ALSOP

The Silver Series-

Silver

Black

Crimson

Violet

Azure

Hunter

Silver Moon

The Werewolf Academy Series-

Book One: Strays

Book Two: Hunted

Book Three: Instinct

Book Four: Taken

Book Five: Lost

Book Six: Vengeance

Book Seven: Chosen

The Haunted High Series-

The Wolf Within Me

The Ghost Files

City of Demons

Cage the Beast

Ashes of Night

Heart of the Wolf Part One

Heart of the Wolf Part Two

The Galdoni Series-

Galdoni

Galdoni 2: Into the Storm

Galdoni 3: Out of Darkness

The Small Town Superheroes Series-

Small Town Superhero

Small Town Superhero II

Small Town Superhero III

Keeper of the Wolves

Stolen

The Million Dollar Gift

Thief Prince

When Death Loved an Angel

The Shadows Series

Shadows- Book One in the World of Shadows

Mist- Book Two in the World of Shadows

The Monster Asylum Series

Book One- The Fangs of Bloodhaven

Girl from the Stars

Book 1- Daybreak

Book 2- Daylight

Book 3- Day's End

Book 4- Day's Journey

Book 5- Day's Hunt

The Pirate from the Stars

The Dr. Wolf Series

Book 1- Shockwave

Book 2- Demon Spiral

Book 3- The Four Horsemen

Book 4- Dragon's Bayne

The Wolfborne Saga

Book 1- Defiance

Book 2- Ricochet

Book 3- Dark Coven

Book 4- Ghost Moon

The Prince of Ash and Blood

Game Breaker

Orion's Fall

Find more books by Cheree Alsop here: Cheree Alsop's Website

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Reviews are greatly appreciated as the best way for readers to find new books. If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review so that others can find it as well!

About the Author

Cheree Alsop is an award-winning, best-selling author who has published over 50 books. She is the mother of a beautiful, talented daughter and amazing twin sons who fill every day with joy and laughter. She is married to her best friend, Michael, the light of her life and her soulmate who shares her dreams and inspires her by reading the first drafts and giving much appreciated critiques. Cheree works as a fulltime author and mother, which is more play than work! She enjoys reading, traveling to tropical beaches, riding motorcycles, playing the bass for the band Alien Landslide, spending time with her wonderful children, and going on family adventures. Cheree and Michael live in Utah where they rock out, enjoy the outdoors, plan great quests, and never stop dreaming.

