Running with Wolves. Cynthia Cooke
The effect of their deep color along with her long black hair was stunning. Her wide generous mouth drew his attention. On her mother, Lily, those lips had been easy to break into a smile, but on Shay, he wasn’t so sure.
She didn’t seem to have Lily’s carefree easiness about her. It was that, coupled with Lily’s bright smile, that had captured Dean’s heart and refused to let go. A pang of regret thudded through Jason for his old friend. Dean had been foolish enough to break all the rules, fall in love with a human and then get her pregnant. For that, they had all paid the price. Maggie’s smiling face and bright eyes slipped into Jason’s thoughts. He quickly pushed them back out, but still felt the sharp ache of his wife’s loss. He looked back at Shay and focused on her.
Dean’s daughter. What had her life been like? He wished she could have grown up in The Colony, but half-breeds weren’t allowed in the pack. They couldn’t take the chance. Once the half-breeds were old enough, some would turn, some wouldn’t. And if they didn’t, the pack couldn’t chance having humans living at The Colony, chance being exposed to the rest of the world.
It was one of the pack’s oldest rules and one he still hadn’t come to terms with. Family was family, human or not. Dean and Lily had been forced out on their own. A wolf living outside the protection of the pack didn’t stand a chance. And now it was Shay’s turn. She was changing, and soon her transformation would be complete.
As they walked silently through the woods, he considered asking her about her mother, but she didn’t seem to be the type for mindless chitchat. Nor was she completely comfortable with him. He could tell by the subtle pinching of her lips that she was second-guessing her decision to invite him back to her home.
But whether she knew it or not, she needed him and fortunately she seemed to sense that. He wouldn’t have long to convince her that she had to come with him to The Colony. He only hoped Dean or her mother had told her about them, about what she was, and prepared her for what was about to happen to her.
Shay stopped and picked up a large pinecone, twisting it this way and that. She was a beauty, every part of her from her slim graceful form, to her long black hair. Yes, Malcolm would be very pleased. For a second he felt a pinch of envy but quickly pushed it away. This she-wolf was for Malcolm. Her bloodline would ensure his continued leadership of the pack and silence those grumbling against him once and for all. Now that she was turning, all Jason had to do was get her to The Colony safely. Get her to Malcolm and let him deal with the fallout.
But to do that, he needed her cooperation. And he’d need it soon. As a small white clapboard house came into view, a large dog bolted through the trees toward them, breaking through the brush.
Shay stiffened beside him. “I hope you like dogs—”
Before she could finish, the dog, more wolf than Siberian husky, burst through the trees then skidded to a stop in front of them. It stared at Jason, its head cocked sideways, its large brown eyes studying him before it dropped whimpering to the ground. He lifted his massive front paw, up and down, up and down, as small little whimpers issued from his throat.
“Buddy?” Shay asked as she dropped to the ground next to her dog. “What’s wrong, boy?”
Jason crouched next to them and rubbed the dog’s brown-and-white head, letting him know he wasn’t a threat to the animal.
“I have never seen him act like that before.” Shay brushed the fur on the top of his dark ears. “Buddy, it’s okay. This is Jason.”
Jason gave the dog a pat on the shoulder then stood. As he did, Buddy stood, too, all his anxiety gone as his large tail beat the back of Jason’s legs.
“Don’t worry,” Jason said. “Dogs like me.”
“I guess so,” she said, though she looked doubtful.
She was staring at him openly now, trying to figure him out. She could stare all she wanted, but in the long run, she wasn’t going to like what he had to tell her. About him. About her parents. About herself. She pulled her arm back and chucked the pinecone, sending it soaring through the air. At full speed, Buddy took off after it. When they reached the house, they found Buddy sitting on the porch, the pinecone mangled between his paws.
Jason was mildly surprised not to sense anyone else inside. “Do you live here by yourself?”
“Yes. There’s a small apartment above the garage. I haven’t been in there in a while. It will probably need some dusting.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” he answered automatically, and wondered where her mother was. If perhaps she was in another home nearby. He’d like to know how Lily had fared all these years without Dean. If she’d found happiness.
Or if, like him, she was more comfortable alone, preferring not to remember their past.
They walked toward the garage separated from the house by a small covered walkway and went up the stairs. He tried not to watch Shay’s backside as she climbed the steps, tried very hard, but she offered such a nice view. He hung back as she opened the door and walked in.
Shay gasped as she stood in the doorway, her hand fluttering to her throat. Alarmed, Jason stepped past her into the room and stilled. Buddy, who had followed behind him, whined, turned and ran back down the stairs.
Jason stared wide-eyed at the large cracks fissuring the walls facing the house. They left long gaping fractures in the Sheetrock.
“I am so sorry,” Shay said, walking farther into the room. “We live on a fault line that has been extremely active lately. I’ve been having the same problem in the house. I just bought more Spackle today.” She lifted her tote bag. “I’ll take care of these right away.”
Jason stiffened, trying not to show his reaction to the voices whispering behind the walls and echoing through his head. The Gauliacho. Couldn’t she hear them, too? No. Not yet. But they made her uncomfortable. As they should. These weren’t simple cracks. These were openings, gateways to the other side. Soon they would be wide enough that no amount of Spackle in the world would be able to stop them from coming.
He couldn’t stay there. And neither could she. Not another day longer.
* * *
Shay stared in horror at the cracks shredding the wall of the apartment. They were much bigger than the ones in her house. These ones were almost big enough to see through, but instead of wisps of pink insulation or even a glimmer of studs behind the Sheetrock, all she could see was darkness. She inched forward, clutching the Spackle in her hand, but as she took that first step, fear, unreasonable and unexpected, swept through her. Whispers filled her mind, unrecognizable and yet somehow familiar.
She froze, her limbs stiff and unyielding as she listened harder, trying to grasp the sounds. Were they words? Yes. But how? Then the sounds became clearer, the syllables running together.
Abomination.
Fear strangled her throat, squeezing it within its fist to the point that she couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe.
Abomination. Abomination. Abomination.
Walls don’t speak! Dizziness swam through her and she faltered. She tried to breathe, to force open her mouth and gasp a breath, but she couldn’t. The room spun, nausea roiled through her stomach. Darkness filled the edges of her vision. And then Jason was touching her, holding her arm. Steadying her. She turned to him, her mouth opening but emitting no sounds, the question burning in her eyes.
Do you hear it, too?
With a whoosh, her lungs filled with air. She gasped, quick shallow breaths. His aura was strong, bright. Chasing away the darkness as she hung on to him. He didn’t say anything and an awkward silence lingered between them.
“I...uh...I’ll have to fill the cracks before you can stay here,” she said, glancing back at the wall. “I’m afraid something in the walls is making me sick.”
Even the air felt off and it didn’t smell right. It seemed darker somehow, bleaker, and