Werewolf in Denver (29 page)

He met her gaze, and she thought she saw a twinkle of amusement in those gray wolf eyes.

“Elizabeth thinks you’re doing this because of me. That better not be true.”

He simply stared at her.

“So help me, Duncan MacDowell, if you challenged Neil because of some stupid Scottish code that says you have to defend my honor, forget about it!”

He backed up a few paces.

“Good. You’re rethinking this. That’s good. Just keep backing up and leave the circle. Physical violence solves nothing. It—No!” Too late she realized he’d backed away only so that he could dodge around her.

Turning quickly, she watched in horror as he launched himself at Neil. “Damn you, Duncan! I’ll never forgive you for this!”

He gave no sign that he’d heard her. The battle was on. Snarling, tumbling, struggling to use his sharp teeth, Duncan knocked his opponent down in a spray of white.

Hands pulled her away from the arena and into the protection of the crowd. She didn’t bother to find out who had done that. All her attention was locked on the
blond and black wolves as she began pleading silently for Duncan to find the strength and the stamina to survive this fight.

No, she wanted more than survival for him. If she couldn’t stop him from fighting, then he had to
win
. Balling her hands into fists, she sent every bit of energy she possessed hurtling toward the black wolf with a heart bigger than she’d ever given him credit for.

But after that first lunge when he’d been lucky enough to catch Neil slightly off-balance, the fight went all Neil’s way. The blond wolf surged to his feet and threw all his weight at Duncan, who went sprawling. He bounced back up, but Neil hit him again, this time pinning him to the ground.

Kate’s nails dug into her palms as Neil strained his neck to reach a tendon in Duncan’s back leg. Woofers yelled encouragement to their leader, begging him to throw off his attacker and escape those powerful jaws. Even a few Howlers joined in.

Instead Duncan went limp.

Kate cried out, begging him to fight back.

Neil momentarily lost his balance when Duncan stopped resisting him, and in a lightning move, Duncan scrambled out from under the big wolf and leaped on his back, his jaws clamping down on his neck.

Yes! Use your brains, not your brawn!
Kate’s pulse hammered as she recognized that Duncan was doing exactly that.

Woofers roared their approval of the clever move, but their joy was short-lived. Neil threw Duncan off his back with apparent ease, sending the black wolf to the ground again. This time he didn’t get up quite fast enough, and
Neil was on him immediately, still going for the crippling hold on his back leg.

As Neil’s jaws inched closer to that vulnerable spot, Kate started forward. She had to keep Duncan safe. Had to. But strong arms restrained her. She fought them as she watched in horror. Neil opened his jaws.

Drawing on some unseen reservoir of strength, Duncan wrenched free at the last minute and rolled. He came to his feet snarling, fangs bared. And there was something different about his stance this time.

Kate looked on in amazement as Duncan hunched his shoulders. A low, menacing growl rumbled in his chest, and he seemed to take on more bulk. He was no taller, no broader, and yet…she sensed the pride of his ancestors in every line of his body. So this was how a Scottish Highlander had faced the British army. A shiver ran down her spine.

The two wolves circled, never taking their eyes off each other. Neil was still the bigger wolf, and undoubtedly the stronger wolf. But Duncan was the braver wolf.

A hush fell over the crowd, as if they, too, saw that the contest was no longer lopsided. What Duncan lacked in size and strength, he made up for in valor. His eyes seemed to flash fire as he circled, and circled again.

The low growl sounded once more, and then he struck, sinking his fangs into Neil’s throat with such speed that the big wolf failed to dodge away in time. With a howl of rage, he tried to shake off his foe. Duncan held on.

Neil tossed his head and slammed the black wolf to the snow. Duncan held on. He held on as Neil rolled and tumbled, leaving drops of blood in his wake and smashing Duncan’s body to the ground over and over.

At last, Neil lay on his side, panting, as if he’d given up.
Duncan braced himself above him, head down, still gripping his opponent’s throat. The blood didn’t gush from the wound, which meant the jugular had not been pierced. But if Duncan chose to, he could easily do it now.

With a wail of distress, Elizabeth ran into the center of the circle, arms outstretched in supplication.

Slowly, Duncan unclamped those powerful jaws and stepped back.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said as she knelt in the snow beside Neil. “I can’t let you kill him.”

With one last glance at Neil, Duncan turned his back and started to walk away.

In that instant, the blond wolf leaped to his feet, knocking Elizabeth over as he launched his big body into the air and drove Duncan to the ground.

Kate rushed to help her grandmother. “Stop him!” she cried. “The fight’s over! He surrendered!”

But Duncan had already squirmed out from under that crushing weight and both Weres were on their feet, circling once again. No one seemed inclined to get in the middle of wolves locked in a life-and-death struggle.

Kate pulled Elizabeth back to the shelter of the crowd.

Her grandmother’s gaze followed Neil. “He used my compassion. He used me.” Disbelief laced her words.

As he’s used you all along.
But Kate couldn’t waste words or thought on Neil. She was too busy praying for Duncan. Incredibly, he was still on his feet.

But so was Neil. He might be bleeding, but he stalked Duncan with deadly purpose. Duncan’s flanks heaved from the exertion of breathing at this elevation. He was a courageous Were, but he was in a battle where the odds were stacked against him.

Then one of his Woofers began to chant—
woof
,
woof
,
woof
. The rest picked it up, filling the air with support for their leader.

Kate could see the effect on Duncan as the weariness left his body. She joined in, chanting with all her might—
woof
,
woof
,
woof
. Next to her, Elizabeth did the same. Kate glanced over at Heidi across the circle and Heidi followed her lead. Soon all the Howlers added their voices to those of the Woofers.

Then Kate realized Howard had arrived along with his family. They began chanting with the rest. She spotted Knox, Giselle, Nadia, and even Jake. Duncan had given them all a cause to support, regardless of allegiances. They believed in honesty and fair play.

The noise was deafening, and Neil paused, as if confused by the racket. That encouraged the crowd even more as the cry of
woof
,
woof
,
woof
rose into the cold mountain air.

Neil’s haunches bunched as if to spring at Duncan. Duncan coiled his body, preparing for the assault.

Woof, woof, woof!
The chant rolled in waves around the circle, as if weaving a net of protection for the black wolf with the valiant heart.

Neil’s gaze darted from Duncan to the shouting crowd, as if he wasn’t sure where his enemy lay. At last, with a snarl, he ran straight toward the crowd, which scattered to let him pass. He ran up the ski slope as if yearning to put distance between himself and the endless chanting. Soon he was no more than a small smudge against the white snow of the ski run.

Tears streamed down Kate’s cheeks as Duncan stood on wobbly legs and accepted the cheers from a circle of Weres finally united by his unwavering courage. She
started forward as his gaze met hers. She saw the warning there. Noticed the slight shake of his head.

He was telling her not to come to him. Whether that was for his sake or hers, she couldn’t know. Turning away from her, he walked unsteadily out of the ring.

Elizabeth came up beside her. “You didn’t go after him. Why not?”

Kate swallowed the tears lodged in her throat. “Because he didn’t want me to, Grandma.”

Chapter 19

WERECON2012:
SOLIDARITY HERE, THEN GONE

Exclusive report for
Wereworld Celebrity Watch
by Angela Sapworthy

DENVER—In a small clearing behind Stillman Lodge, Duncan MacDowell became a hero today. For the first time since the conference began, Woofers and Howlers joined forces in support of MacDowell’s courageous battle with suspected hacker Neil Stillman. Dear readers, the atmosphere was thrilling! This reporter had goose bumps!

Alas, the sense of cooperation didn’t last long. Delegates returned to the lodge and discovered that the mission statement crafted by MacDowell and Kate Stillman has passed. That news was cheered by some and booed by others. Supporters of the mission statement seem evenly split
between Howlers and Woofers, as are the detractors.

“Middle-of-the-road delegates and compromisers like Howard Wallace think the mission statement is fine,” commented former Howler supporter Jake Hunter. “But you know what happens when you stand in the middle of the road? You get run over by oncoming traffic in both directions.”

Jake, whose rugged good looks still get my motor running, was observed in the bar trying to recruit disenchanted Howlers to his new organization, Werewolves Against Random Mating, or WARM. Jake says he’s already submitted his resignation to the Were Council, which he claims has “stacked the deck” in favor of Woofer principles.

When asked his opinion about Kate Stillman and HOWL, Jake was refreshingly blunt. “I respect Duncan MacDowell and Kate Stillman, but they’ve become too cozy for my tastes. Kate’s personal involvement with MacDowell renders her HOWL movement irrelevant. WARM is the new standard-bearer for the cause.”

Jake said he may or may not attend the gala scheduled tonight. But this reporter will be there, hoping to see Duncan MacDowell in a kilt! As for Neil Stillman, is he gone for good? Or not? Follow me on Sniffer @newshound for all the news on glitter, glamour, and celebrity sightings!

Duncan staggered through the lit tunnels and back to his room before the crowd recovered its wits enough to come after him. He was grateful for that, because if they’d wanted to do something symbolic like carry him
off the field on their shoulders, he might have passed out. Bloody hell, how he ached. He hoped the pain in his left hind leg was a sprain and not a break.

Kate had told him not to fight Neil, and no doubt he should have listened to her. Now that WOW existed, werewolves had a governing body that could deal with the behavior of renegades like Neil. Choosing to call him out had been a demonstration of the ego Kate had railed about when they’d first met.

Apparently she was right about the size of it, and now he was paying for his overblown sense of honor. Worse yet, she’d almost committed political suicide out there when she’d started toward him. He couldn’t allow her to damage her standing with Howlers because he’d been an idiot.

His phone, which he’d left on his nightstand, had been ringing ever since he’d pushed through the revolving door that led back into his room. He ignored it and stretched out on the floor beside his bed. Shifting back to human form would not be pleasant, but he knew that doing so would help speed the healing.

Gritting his teeth, he shut out the sound of the phone and concentrated on his shift. His leg throbbed, and as the shift moved relentlessly through his body, he felt as if he were being stabbed with hundreds of sharp knives.

After an eternity in which he almost wished Neil had finished him off, he lay naked and trembling on a carpet that was fine, but not the same grade as he’d enjoyed in Kate’s suite. His leg still hurt, but not as much as before he’d shifted. Carefully moving it back and forth, he decided it wasn’t broken.

His phone had stopped ringing, but a second later it started again. Gripping the side of the mattress to steady
himself, he rose to his knees, wincing as his battered body protested. He glanced over at the phone.

The light blinked rapidly, indicating messages left. The phone stopped ringing again and beeped as another message was placed on it. Reaching over, he pressed a button to turn the damned thing off. The human in him protested that he needed to respond to those messages, but the wolf in him was stronger, and the wolf wanted to retreat and lick his wounds.

Neil would be doing that, too. Being bested in a fight was one thing. Having an entire group of Weres turn against him was worse. A Were needed community, a pack, an identity. Rarely one thrived as a true lone wolf.

In other words, Duncan’s impulsive challenge had probably created more of a problem than it had solved for the Stillman pack. No wonder Kate had said she’d never forgive him for this. He might have transformed an annoying Were into a dangerous one.

Of course, he also could have killed Neil. But he wasn’t a killer. He couldn’t say the same for Neil, though. That Were would have crippled him or worse if he’d been able to, and his fury would only grow as time went by. Duncan vowed to stay alert during the twelve hours or so he would remain in Colorado.

Rising carefully to his feet, he tested his leg again. Thank God for the healing power of Weres. If he stayed off it as much as possible for a day or so, he should be fine. No more challenging Weres.

He’d brought a pair of sweatpants along and he took those out of his suitcase and put them on, along with his University of Edinburgh sweatshirt. Better. He was beginning to feel more human again. He smiled at his own little joke.

Checking the time, he thought about the event tonight, the gala ball that was supposed to be the conference’s grand finale. He’d rather miss it, but that would be bloody rude, especially after all the support he’d received from the delegates during that fight. He wouldn’t relish the attention he’d inevitably get, though. He didn’t want to be hailed as a hero when in fact he’d caused the Stillman pack more difficulties in the long run.