Wolf Whisperer. Karen Whiddon
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the attackers—whoever they were—were still around.
What was she thinking? Of course they were still around. They’d come for her and most likely weren’t going to leave without her.
Her best gun. It was still inside, though she had a spare in the kennel. Even as she contemplated going back to retrieve it, fire blazed through the living room, destroying what was left of her little house. Her home. Even if there was a fire department in the area, they wouldn’t have been able to make it on time.
Still, with a crowd of paramedics and firemen and policemen around, the attackers would be hampered from making a move. For the first time ever, she cursed living in the wilds of Wyoming. She needed help—she glanced at the man lying on his back in the wet grass—exactly what he’d been offering. Little good it did them both now. They were lucky to have made it out alive. And, she amended, fortunate all of her dogs had escaped.
Of course, in the law of “what can go wrong, will,” the downpour slowed, becoming barely a misty drizzle instead of a downpour. Still, she knew any amount of rain would be too late to slow down the inferno. She needed to face facts—she would lose her home. Still, she was lucky.
Mac moaned, drawing her gaze. He stirred, struggled to sit, before falling back to the damp earth. Kelly walked over to him, crouching down to help him sit up. No one had come to rescue him. Maybe she’d been wrong about the attackers being his people. Though she didn’t see how that could be, perhaps another party had jumped into the thick of things.
“You’re okay,” she said softly. “I got you out.”
“What the—?” He blinked, wiping at his face with his hand. “What happened?”
As she opened her mouth to answer, another explosion sounded. Kelly winced. That had been the propane tank, on the western side of the house. The flames roared up again, spitting and hissing, undeterred by the misty rain.
Something moved over by the barn. A shape too large to be a dog. The attackers.
“We were attacked,” she said, leaning in close and talking urgently. “And they’re still here. For now, we’ll have to work together. Can you change?” She waited while he tried to process that information, aware they didn’t have a lot of time.
“Change?” He nodded, wincing at the pain as he did. “I think so. Why?”
“Because I think if we want to have a prayer of capturing them, we’re going to need to change to wolf.”
He’d have to wait to get information from her. Worse, she’d saved him. Despite himself, Mac liked that instead of wanting to flee, she wanted to go on the offensive. Even better, she was right. Every instinct screamed in agreement that they needed to change to wolf. They could run faster, attack harder and fight fiercer.
Crawling up to all fours, he nodded. “You first,” he said. “I’m still regaining my strength.”
She gave him an intent look, her long-lashed green eyes appearing to glow in the murky light. “We are together, as one,” she said, immediately blanching as she spoke. “I can’t believe I just said that. But it’s necessary. Mo Anam Cara. Do you understand what this means?”
Though a chill skittered up his spine, he didn’t—at least he didn’t think so. Yet he vaguely remembered seeing something like that in the file and, before that, hearing his wife laugh about it, calling it only superstitious nonsense. Words she was to say to protect him, though they would bind them together. Though she’d never done so and he hadn’t cared.
And now … this woman wanted him to do what? Repeat them after her? Whatever.
Damn, his head hurt. He couldn’t think. Did he have to say something similar back? If so, what? And why? He knew this, though he couldn’t remember what or where he’d heard it. “I … er …”
“You’ve got to reply,” she repeated softly, her low-pitched voice vibrating with urgency. “I’ll say it again. We are one, Mac Lamonda. Mo Anam Cara. Do you understand?”
Again he felt the same chill snake up his spine. Ridiculous. They were only meaningless words. Shaking it off, he grimaced. Though he wasn’t sure if repeating her words was what he should do, he jerked his chin in a nod. “Fine, we are one. Now what?”
As he spoke the words, she froze, her gaze searching his face as though waiting for something else. When he didn’t elaborate, she finally nodded. “It is done, then.”
“What’s done?”
Instead of replying, she pointed toward the barn and another building that looked like a large kennel. “Change and follow me, okay? I think I’ll definitely need backup.”
When he nodded, she took off. One second she was moving away from him, the next—Mac couldn’t believe it. To his shocked amazement, she changed in midair, like that fake wolf in the Twilight movie. One moment, she was human, a woman charging in a full-out run. The next, a giant wolf with a glossy coat the exact same sable color as her human hair. Her clothing, torn and shredded, fell to the ground in tatters. Eyes glittering in the smoke, she turned and eyed Mac, waiting.
Damn. He shook his head. Not only was she a beautiful woman, but an absolutely gorgeous wolf.
Quickly stripping off his soggy clothing, he tossed it on the ground, wincing as his head throbbed. Taking a deep breath, he mustered his strength and began his own shift into wolf.
His change, while quick by Pack standards, wasn’t as flashy or dramatic as hers, but the instant he was fully wolf, renewed strength and power flowed into him. Changing had been the right thing to do, attackers or no attackers. As human, his capacity to fight was limited to whatever weapon he had at hand, including his fists. As wolf, he could use his entire body; his ferocious essence would be leashed and tamed no longer.
She touched her muzzle to his, taking his scent and giving him hers. Next to her, he felt invincible, a phenomenon he’d never experienced, even when running as wolf with other Protectors. Heady.
Side by side, they moved forward. Immediately, the scents assailed him, amplified a hundred times stronger than anything his pitiful human nose could detect. In addition to the overriding smell of smoke and fire, he could scent dog and man and wet earth and leaves, along with something more, something awful—the scent of decay.
He knew this scent. It meant vampire. The walking dead. He growled, glancing at her before he leapt forward. Baring her teeth in a snarl, she followed, her four feet as swift and sure as his on the muddy ground. His wolf coat made a much better barrier against the wet, damp cold than anything designed by humans.
Mac stopped. As Kelly came up beside him, he stared at the three hooded figures now facing them. All vampires? No, he also smelled flesh and blood and life.
Metal flashed. One of them had a gun.
He glanced at Kelly. Side by side, his wolf form dwarfed hers. Despite that, he sensed she was equally powerful and dangerous. Their gazes met briefly, be fore they returned their attention to the others. Their enemies.
One of the three made the mistake of moving, using that gliding run peculiar to vampires. Instantly, Mac took him down, slashing at the undead corpse with his powerful teeth and claws. Though the action wouldn’t kill the vamp, unless he remained out when the sun rose, it would take him out of commission for now. One less vampire to deal with.
Two remaining. Were they human, vampire or shifter? Something about one … He sniffed, catching a whiff of blood and skin. Half-human, half-shifter. Half ling, like him? Even as he pondered, the vamp made a move toward him, while the other circled around Kelly.
No time to think. Mac acted instinctively, leaping forward, teeth bared, hitting him directly in the chest. He slammed into him, the other’s body oddly hollow, not whole or solid like that of a living creature, but a husk, a shell. The undead. Another vamp.
Baring his fangs, he went for the creature’s throat, planning to take him down the same way he’d