The Wolven. Deborah LeBlanc
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adamant nod of agree ment.
This wasn’t the first time Danyon had heard Andy’s reputation preceding him. He was indeed the largest were in the East Bank pack, and the only one Danyon trusted implicitly. No matter the situation, he could count on Andy to watch his back, keep his mouth shut, not ask questions, and follow orders to the letter. If ever those attributes were needed, it was now.
“Go to Jumani’s first,” Danyon said. “I don’t think Andy’s on shift until later, but he usually goes in early. If he isn’t there, Joe, the owner, will know where to find him. Tell Andy I need his SUV. Let him know where I am, but don’t say a word about Simon still being in were-state. Got that?”
“Y-Yes, but wh-what do I say if he asks me why you need his SUV?”
“He won’t, not if you say I’m the one asking for it. Tell him to bring a couple tarps, a hacksaw, a pair of wirecut—”
“No … wait … I can’t remember all of that.” Andrea wrung her hands. “I’m gonna forget something, I just know it!”
Danyon patted her arm gently. “Okay, never mind, it’s okay. Think you can remember just the tarp?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Perfect. All you have to do is tell Andy to bring two big tarps. Then tell—”
“B-But what a-about the other stuff? All the other things you wanted?” she asked.
“Just tell him I said that the job is messy, it’ll be dark, and metal is involved. If you can remember to tell him that, Andy will know what to bring. Can you do that?”
“Wait, you mean we’re gonna leave him here ‘til dark?” Paul asked. He was pacing now, a short tight path between two trees. “We just gonna let the flies start collectin’ on his eyes and stuff?”
Andrea let out a loud sob and covered her face with her hands.
Danyon shot Paul a look.
“What? What’d I say?”
“Do you have to be so graphic?” Danyon aimed his chin at Andrea, hoping Paul caught the message. She’s upset, numb-nuts, so cool it.
Evidently catching the gist of Danyon’s meaning, Paul looked down at his feet. “I was only askin’ is all,” he mumbled.
“No, we’re not going to leave him here until dark.” Danyon walked to the opposite side of the road, then pushed his way through the thicket until he found a patch heavy with bramble and foliage. “We’re going to leave him here, where no one can see his body.”
Andrea slowly slid her hands away from her face, peered in Danyon’s direction. “Is … will … are you sure Simon’s going to be okay in there?”
“Really,” Paul said. “Like there’s no snakes or rats or stuff like that in there, huh?”
“S-Snakes?” Andrea’s face drained of color.
“Shut up, Paul!” Danyon warned.
Paul’s mouth fell open in surprise. Then he snapped it shut, pouted, and folded his arms across his chest.
Ignoring him, Danyon walked back over to Andrea. “Don’t worry, honey, Simon will be fine here. I promise. Do you remember what you have to tell Andy?”
“Tarp—messy—dark—metal,” Andrea said, ticking the items off her fingers.
“Good girl.” Danyon gave her a reassuring smile.
“What about me?” Paul asked. “I can remember to tell Andy stuff.”
“You’re staying with me. I need help moving the body.”
“Whoa, no way!” Paul took two quick steps backward. “Andy’ll help you. W-Wait for Andy.”
Having already positioned himself at the head of the body, Danyon glared at him. “Simon’s been out here too long as it is. Somebody might drive or walk by here any minute. He has to be moved now, so suck it up. Come over here and take hold of his feet.”
“You mean, like actually touch him? No effin’ way!”
A low growl rumbled at the back of Danyon’s throat. He allowed it to rise in volume to make sure Paul heard it. “I said, take hold of his feet.”
Paul ran a shaking hand through his shoulder-length hair. “Yeah, o-okay, but … I—I don’t know if I can touch him. I—I mean, look at all that blood. What if … what if I, like, throw up or something? Maybe we—”
The sound of moving brush grabbed Danyon’s attention, and he held up a hand to silence Paul. He cocked an ear to the sound.
Someone … something … running toward them.
Danyon lifted his head, sniffed, caught the scent of panic—fury—a male were. Instantly, the muscles in his body began to ripple, burn—preparing for the change, instinctively engineered for fight or flight. For Danyon, though, it always meant fight. Flight simply wasn’t in an alpha’s DNA. No way anyone or anything was going to take them by surprise.
Andrea must have picked up on the sound, as well, because she let out a loud gasp, then cried out, “They’re coming!” She suddenly dropped into a squat and covered her head with her arms. “We’re going to die just like Simon! They’re coming to kill us, too!”
“Who? Where—what?” Paul spun about. First left, then right, then left again, trying to look everywhere at once. “Someone’s … coming? Where?”
Danyon sniffed the air again, wanting to get a handle on how quickly the runner was closing in.
“We’d better go then, right?” Paul said. He hurried over to Andrea and grabbed her by the arm. “Danyon, let’s go, okay? I don’t wanna … I mean, Simon was a good guy and everything, but I … I don’t wanna wind up like him. Let’s just go, okay?”
“Wait,” Danyon commanded. The runner was closing in fast, his scent stronger … much stronger now.
It was one of his weres.
No sooner did the realization strike Danyon than Ian Sykes thundered out of the brush. He was in mid-transformation from were to human, panting, gasping, until he pulled up short on two legs right in front of Danyon.
“She’s dead!” Ian cried, frantically searching Danyon’s face as if all the answers to life hid there. “They killed her—somebody killed her!”
Danyon felt a burning sensation in the center of his chest. It was the fire. The key to every wolven. Their light … their life force … their core. Just as the earth fed upon the fiery core that gave it life, they drank from the lava pool within each of them. It was sustenance that strengthened body, mind and spirit, and heightened all five senses. It bubbled higher and higher in Danyon’s chest.
Another death.
Another life snuffed out on his watch.
“Who?” Danyon asked, then immediately regretted asking the question. He already knew the answer.
There was only one person whose death would affect Ian this way.
“Nicole,” Ian said, his voice sharp with incredulity.
Andrea gasped. “Oh, no, not Nicky! Please … it can’t be her, Ian. She can’t be dead!” She put a hand to her mouth, sobbing uncontrollably now.
Ian nodded slowly, his eyes lost to a scene that belonged to another time and place. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “They … they found her body between two pilings off Barataria. Sh-she was a-all messed up … bad. Lotta blood.” His focus reconnected with Danyon. “She’s dead. She’s really dead.”
Ian Sykes and Nicole Bergeron had been a couple since they were pups. You never saw one without the other. They’d