A Pack of Two. Jacky Russell
finest reconnaissance soldiers I have ever known, but your petulance and impatience worry me greatly.”
There was a bridge over the main road coming into base. Lots of traffic. If I was lucky, a tractor trailer would hit me first.
“I contacted the hospital tonight to not only verify the condition of the injured wolf but to ascertain if any ill will was directed toward you since you had so brazenly drawn attention to yourself at the hospital.”
I stared at the cracks in the floor. “I couldn’t leave him, Sime. He was upset and his wolf kept trying to force a change.”
Simon snorted. “Ah, yes, and there is that. Theodore was babbling about you talking to the injured wolf and stopping an imminent change. Would you care to share your secret?”
“My secret?”
“You were able to have a conversation with the wolf side of a werewolf?”
“Oh, yeah, guess I did talk to his wolf but if I hadn’t, Lucas would have died.”
“And?”
I jumped from the cot. “And it would have been my fault.”
“No, it would not have been your fault. It would have been his fault for being on the mountain road alone at that time of night. By the way, there is absolutely no evidence to support your claim the Malandanti were there.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“I do not. However, most supernaturals are not quite so willing to accept the word of a witch.”
He didn’t mean it to hurt but it did. I might have been able to change shapes and fly around like an owl, but bottom line, I was a witch and nobody liked witches.
“You’re on duty tonight,” Simon said as he rose fluidly from the cot.
“I’m not. I’m in the brig per your orders.”
“You and Lieutenant Miller have the river. Lieutenant LeCavalier and Sergeant Ordison will take the road.” Simon was inches from my face before I could blink. “Please follow orders tonight, Master Sergeant Welker. No engagement without calling first.” Cool fingers startled away my foot-stomping response. “Breanna, my dear, I am thinking of your safety.” He released my arm and backed away. “We will discuss the injured werewolf when you return.”
Ninety minutes later I landed on the bank of the Brenta River. It was a dark night with only a sliver of moon occasionally peeking between the clouds. My owl form easily slipped between the overhanging branches as I glided toward my werewolf partner for the night.
The river was loud, the water lapping over the edges of the banks. The forest knew we were there and kept her animals hidden in the darkness. Lieutenant Aaron Miller was sitting cross-legged on a rock.
“Hey, Bre,” he called as I landed. Apparently he didn’t mind talking to a bird. In a flash I changed, my form flowing from owl to human. It was times like this I was thankful my touch of magic always included my human form re-emerging fully clothed. The werewolves didn’t have that luxury.
“What’s up, Aaron? What’d you do to tick off the old man?”
Aaron grinned, giving him a boyish charm. “I asked for duty when I heard you were on deck.”
“Yeah, right.” Nobody requested duty with me.
Aaron moved closer, slowly running a finger up my arm. “Ah, now, Bre, you know I think you’re the sexiest witch in our unit.”
I met his eyes. “I’m the only witch in your unit.”
Aaron was one of the sixteen werewolves in my recon unit and was by far the sultriest of the lot. There were also five vampires and one very important civilian elf in our midst.
A twig snapped in the distance and we both dropped to the ground. Movement along the far river bank attracted our attention. “I’ll fly around behind,” I whispered. “You take the point.”
Aaron glowered. He was charming in a naughty boy kind of way. “There might be more than one. We shouldn’t split up.”
“Move it, Miller. That’s an order.”
He gave me a playful snarl before slipping into the darkness.
I shifted, my owl form giving me greater eyesight and much more maneuverability among the trees. As I flew deeper into the darkness, the sounds of the night called to me. Rabbits shrieked in alarm, mice dove into the leaves, and footsteps moved along the forest floor.
You’re lucky I ate dinner, Flopsy.
Staying high in the trees and avoiding the revealing snippets of moonlight, I circled to hone in on the faint sucking noises of two pairs of shoes in the mud.
My orders were not to engage.
The heavy limbs of a giant spruce gave good cover. The footsteps along the bank stopped, but another set of shoes was approaching from Aaron’s side. It wasn’t Aaron, the footsteps much too loud for a recon soldier, but they were soft and light, perhaps a woman?
Across the river Aaron stalked through the underbrush less than fifty yards behind a shadowy figure. I flew to another spruce and peered between the branches. The footsteps on my side of the river had not resumed. Were they planning an ambush?
The lone figure Aaron was trailing stopped at the riverbank. She looked around, nervously pulling a scarf tightly around her head. If she’d turn just a little more, she’d reveal her face.
Maybe I should squawk or something to make her look in this direction.
Two cloaked figures, most certainly Malandanti judging by their outdated robes, appeared directly across the water from her.
Squawk aborted. Shut up and watch.
I waited, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of the woman’s face, but she kept her head down while stepping gingerly onto the rocks. The gurgling water drowned out any words exchanged between the Malandanti and the woman as she passed a manila envelope to one of the cloaked figures.
Gotta have that envelope. That is not engaging. That is acquiring evidence.
Soundlessly diving and carefully avoiding the dapples of moonlight, I ripped the envelope from the bony fingers and flapped with all my might to push my owl body as far from the Malandanti as possible.
I had just reached the other side of the riverbank when the first wave of Malandanti magic swept over me. The magic wasn’t comfortable, but no damage done.
“Bre!” Aaron yelling for help made me drop the envelope and rush toward him.
Trapped in a binding spell, struggling to keep his head above the water, Aaron flailed like a stickman in a windstorm.
The woman disappeared, but the Malandanti were standing firm, their spell dragging Aaron closer to a watery grave. I landed on a rock and shifted to human. The Malandanti dashed into the forest. The binding spell broke, leaving Aaron to flounder in the roaring current. I tried to grab his outstretched hand but the frothy water snatched him.
“Hang on, Aaron, I’m coming!” Geez, I hated cold water. I tossed my heavy jacket to the side and dove into the dark depths, promptly slamming headfirst into a boulder. The current was a monster, sucking me farther under and pinballing me along the jagged rocks.
I hated those damn cloaked asshole witch bitch freaks.
I bounced to the surface, gasping for air. Only a few feet away, Aaron surfaced in a swirling rapid of white water and logs. I ducked under the water and swam to him.
“Gotcha.” I had a good grip on his wet fatigues. “Come on and we’ll get out of this water.”
“I can’t swim,” he rasped as he clung to a floating chunk of oak.
Werewolves and water. Damn.
“Can’t