Heir To The Pack (The Cursed Pack Book 1) (27 page)

The silence was getting to
her. Where was Shura? It wasn’t like there were many places she could go.

By the bath sat a potted
fern in a terracotta pot. She’d work with what she had. Picking it up, she
positioned herself beside the door, and waited. The plant grew heavier with
each second that passed, and Annie’s hands began to shake.

An eerie howl echoed
through the suite and made its way through Annie’s bones. There’d be no more
bad-guy monologues now. Only fighting.

Kill
the witch.
She’d try.
Any hesitation she might have felt about taking a life was gone.

A huge crash marked the
bedroom door being knocked off its hinges. Annie clutched the plant, the leaves
rustling as she struggled to keep it steady.

Along the bottom of the
door, she heard snuffling. She lifted the plant above her head, and waited.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Dash’s legs tired as they
approached the house complex. He slowed to a trot as they reached the barn. Gaelan
trotted up alongside him, and let out a whine.

He stopped to re-take his
human form. Gale watched him, waiting to see what he was doing.

No point in beating around
the bush. “I don’t want to wait until tonight to duel him. I want to find him
and fight him, now.”

G tilted his head to one
side.

“Yes, I think it’s a good
idea. I want to rip the bastard’s head off his shoulders. He killed Bill. He
burned down my house, for Gods’ sake.”

Dash went into the tack
room, and opened the clothes chest he kept here for such occasions. He was
dressed by the time G had changed back, and threw him a pair of sweats and a
shirt.

Pulling them on, Gaelan
said, mildly, “That’s a terrible idea.”

He’s
trying to handle me.
Dash
growled. “I want to rip his heart out and feed it to him.”

“You’re going to have to
wait.” Gaelan met his gaze square on, his face held a challenge Dash wasn’t
used to seeing.

Dash saw red. He grabbed
the bigger man by the shoulder, and pushed him up against the wall, shoving the
other finger in his face. “Don’t push me. The time’s done for waiting. I’m
going to gut the son of a bitch. Are you with me? You’d better be, or you’re
going to be sorry.”

Gaelan held his gaze,
steadily. He didn’t fight back. He held his position against the wall. “You
know we can’t go barging into the Mexican pack’s rooms. The whole pack is
there.” His voice remained low and calm. “There’s two of us. Even if we got our
whole pack together, do you really think a war is a good idea? He is Alpha, and
can command his pack. Justice demands you, as our Alpha, kill him. Fine. You
can kill him tonight, in the duel, and save a lot of blood, a lot of lives. Otherwise,
a lot of people are going to die.” As he finished speaking, he dropped his gaze
to the floor, and submitted. He’d said his piece.

Dash growled. He wanted to
punch his friend. No, he wanted to punch Michael, and he was taking it out on
Gaelan. He dropped his hand, and stepped away. “Gah! When I get my hands on
him, I’m going to gut him.” His best friend talked good sense, but he wished he
could ignore it.

“You will, buddy, and I’ll
be right there to back you up, if needed. But you have to wait a couple more hours.
This is a psych, and you know it. He did this to piss you off, to distract you,
to make you weaker. If Novie hadn’t shown up, I bet he would have thrown it in
your face tonight. He doesn’t know she’s alive.” Gale sat down on the trunk,
heavily.

The anger still ran hot in
his head. “Man, I can’t believe that bastard lied to my face.”

“Me, either.”

Dash sighed, rested his
head against the wall, letting the fury drain out of him, saving his energy for
later. “You’re right. We can’t barge in there. But I bet he'll find some way to
cheat in this duel.”

“Hmm.” Gale narrowed his
eyes. “I’d say you’re right.”

Dash headed to the tack
room door, but an idea struck him, and he stopped. “We should check the arena. Make
sure he hasn’t set any traps.”

Gale heaved to his feet. “Where
are they setting up?”

“In the courtyard.” He
would have preferred somewhere more open, but the courtyard would afford the
greatest number of viewing opportunities. He hoped the collective packs were
ready to see him eviscerate Michael. Wolves with weak stomachs need not apply.

The blond gave him a
casual salute, and opened the door for him. “Let’s go.”

*
         
*
         
*

The snuffling at the door quieted.
Annie forced herself to breathe, not in the wild hysterical sobs she wanted to
take, but more like the controlled hysterical breaths she’d taken in labor.

Jack. She held his face in
her mind, and it gave her strength. She could do this. She would.

The wolf outside flung
itself at the door. Wood splintered. The door bowed but did not break.

The little brass button in
the door handle held the beast at bay. It wouldn’t last long. She drew breath
again, ready, waiting.

The wolf threw itself at
the door once more, and this time the lock gave out. Shura burst through the
door, a huge furry mass of darkness and teeth.

 
Panic surged, and Annie nearly dropped
the plant.

The wolf’s momentum
carried her on to the slippery trap Annie had laid for her.

As the beast’s paws
scrabbled on the greasy tiles, Annie brought the flowerpot down with all of her
strength upon the wolf’s head.

The wolf yelped sharply,
and Annie pushed herself back out of the bathroom door, running for the
kitchen, next. There would be weapons there.

The beast had teeth and
claws, a longer reach, and outweighed Annie by a factor of two. She’d need a
weapon. Maybe a kitchen knife.

Buying time for Jack and
Daisy was all well and good, but causing Shura pain would be even better. Annie
dared not hope for an easy kill.

Her bare feet pushed her
across the hardwood floors, every muscle flexing hard to get her there fast,
every tendon pushing to save her life, and her family.

In the kitchen she
stopped, strained to hear the wolf. Hearing nothing, she rifled through
drawers, shoving aside spatulas and potato peelers.

“My kingdom for a—” and
she put her hand on it “—knife.” She held the knife out in front of her. Nice,
big, shiny, and sharp.

She might not know what
she was doing in a fight, but she could make some damn fine sushi. Time to turn
the wolf witch into spicy tuna.

Turning to face the
doorway, she stopped and waited. As if summoned, the wolf padded into view,
like nothing more than a household dog, completely at home. It walked slowly,
as if in no hurry. This time, its red tongue lolled from its jaws.

She could have sworn the
bitch laughed at her.

Annie circled the counter,
holding the knife low, like she’d seen in the movies. Taking a deep breath, she
opened her other hand, and beckoned. “Come on,” she said. “Come on.”

The wolf took a darting
step in one direction, and Annie darted the other. Shura resumed pacing, that
inexhaustible long-limbed wolf walk that said she would never tire, never stop
chasing her prey.

Fuck this. Annie lunged at
the wolf with the tip of her knife.

*
         
*
         
*

Dash and Gale arrived in
the courtyard to see Elaine and Marjie supervising wolves from both the Big Sky
and Mexican packs making preparations for the duel. They had marked off a
circle, fifty feet or so in diameter, with temporary metal fencing that was
usually used on the ranch in cattle drives and during branding.

G put one foot up on the
bottom rail. “Think it’ll hold the two of you?”

“Not without magic,”
Elaine said primly. “We’re working on that. We will erect a shield to keep
anyone from entering, once you two enter the ring. The dueling shield is a
simple spell. Now, what brings you down here?”

Dash drew her aside, and
in a low voice explained what Novie had told them.

“Oh. Oh my,” she said, and
closed her eyes. Her cheeks flushed. “That’s terrible. Poor Bill.” Her white
lashes flew open. “I can’t believe we never suspected Michael of any
wrongdoing.”

Dash cursed under his
breath. “I know.” He felt so stupid.

“Have you told Annie, yet?”

He couldn’t have said what
made him turn and look back at the house. Jack stood at one of the side doors. He
was alone.

Dash’s heart slammed into
action. “Shit.” He broke to a run in an instant, reached the boy in a handful
of strides, and scooped him up. Close. Safe.

“Jack, what are you doing
down here on your own? Where’s Mama? Where’s Grandma?”

The little boy said
nothing, simply burst into tears. His face was grey, his lips a darker shade,
and his face, burrowing into Dash’s neck, was far, far too hot. Dash patted his
back, rubbing his shoulder against the harsh sobs that stole his voice.

Over the boy’s head, Dash
met Gaelan’s eyes, and they were grim. “Let’s go,” he said. “Elaine, get the
others.”

Not waiting for a reply,
he led the way to the door where Jack had exited. It led to the front hallway,
where the portrait of his father scowled down at Daisy’s crumpled body.

Dash stood transfixed,
holding his son, and it was Gaelan who ran past him and crouched at the old
lady’s side.

“She’s alive,” he
reported. Thank Gods.

“Dash,” she wheezed. “He's
up there. Help Annie.”

Dash’s blood turned to ice.

Gaelan took Jack from him.
“Go,” he said. “I’ll guard your son.”

He bounded up the stairs
three at a time, adrenaline pushing him on.

Now
, he’d kill the son of a bitch.

*
         
*
         
*

The wolf leapt at the same
time as Annie. Her knife connected with the wolf’s chest, and she tried to
shove it into the flesh as deep as she could.

The blade turned in her
hand, glancing off the beast’s breastbone. She struggled to hold the metal
handle, slippery with blood, but the wolf landed on top on her, and the knife
skittered away from her across the kitchen tiles.

The wolf pinned her to the
floor, one paw each side of her head, its yellow eyes holding her, its jaws
open, yellow teeth snapping, inches from her face. She struggled to get free,
shoving at the wolf with both hands.

She would die now. But she
would not show Shura her fear.

“Your breath stinks, you
ugly bitch,” she gasped out. The wolf lowered its jaws to her neck, not
responding to her taunts. She didn’t know what she had expected.

Whatever it was, it hadn’t
involved dying like this, ripped to pieces by a wolf witch in a cowboy palace
in the middle of Montana. She almost laughed, but the sensation of the wolf’s
hot breath on her jugular brought the surreal back to the terrifying.

She heard a dull roar in
the distance, like a plane taking off. Perhaps it would distract the wolf from
killing her.

Shura bit down on the
flesh between her neck and her shoulder, hard.

Annie screamed. The wolf
was going to eat her alive.

*
         
*
         
*

In the atrium Dash found
his six guards lying on the floor, peacefully laid out in a row as if sleeping.
Each of their throats had been ripped out. All of them were in human form, as
if they hadn’t had time to change. The whole room stank of itchy magic.

He roared in rage, and
charged into the living room of the suite, terrified of what he might find. A
trail of destruction crossed the room, a mix of blood and leaves and soil.

Annie screamed. His head
snapped in the direction of the sound. The kitchen.

Leaping across the room,
he halted abruptly in the doorway. On the floor, Annie lay in a puddle of
bright blood spreading out from her neck. Over her crouched the wolf. Michael.

As he gathered himself to
spring, change, kill, Michael looked at him and howled. The magical stench
rolled over him.

Something shimmered in
front of him. He flung himself forward and bounced back off it. Magic.

He couldn’t get to her. He
couldn’t save her.

Again he flung himself at
the wall, over and over, bloodying his fists on it, until he convinced himself
that brute force wouldn’t do it. There had to be a way to bring it down. Frantic,
he tried to think.

All the time Michael’s
wolf watched him, his jaws covered in Annie’s blood. The wolf licked its lips.

She rolled her head over
to one side and he saw her face. Thank Gods. She wasn’t dead yet. There was a
chance. He had to bring down the spell.

Amazingly, she smiled at
him. “I knew you’d come,” she whispered.

He forced himself to smile
back at her, wanting to comfort her. But more than that, he wanted to save her,
stop that son of a bitch from taking her from him.

Michael’s wolf lay down
beside her, leisurely, his tongue lolling out. He lapped at the puddle of
Annie’s blood.

Rage pushed Dash and he flung
himself against the wall again, smashing his head against it.

“I’ll kill you for this,
Michael,” he said. “Don’t think you’ll leave this room alive.”

“Shura,” Annie said
faintly. “The man is Michael. The wolf is Shura.”

Shura. Everything fell into
place. Even the magic keeping him from Annie suddenly made sense. Werewolves
were two spirits with two forms, sharing one body. Somehow Shura had taken the
place of Michael’s wolf.