Alec lifted his head from Leif’s shoulder when they reached the bottom of the cliff. Leif took deep breaths, the air filled with the scents of approaching humans. The scent of death was on the wind as well, though not overpowering; the cooler temps were keeping decomp to a minimum.
His sensitive ears picked up the careful tread of at least three humans, the scent of steel and gunpowder coming to him at the same time.
“Three humans ahead of the main group,” Leif growled softly to his mate. There was a faint sheen of moonlight, not enough to help humans all that much, but surely Alec’s vision was better than a human’s, and he pointed in the direction his senses told him the intruders approached.
“Can we spy on them? See what they’re doing?” Alec whispered quietly, nearly silent, Leif’s hearing sharp enough to hear.
“Let us beat them to the killing field,” Leif replied. “They’re heading in that direction.”
“Okay.”
Leif took off at a lope, claws finding purchase in the soft earth, the faint crunch of leaves too low for humans to hear, his speed too fast to follow in the darkness. He was careful, though—the three scouting ahead likely had infrared night vision, meaning they would see him and Alec with ease if they weren’t careful.
Leif got them to the killing field quickly, and he set Alec behind the large fallen tree, same as before, and he covered Alec’s body with his own, his much smaller mate crouching beneath his huge form. Alec peeked around the root ball ripped from the earth, the myriad roots obscuring his view, the darkness heavy and oppressive.
He put his muzzle by Alec’s ear and spoke as quietly as he could manage. “Stay hidden until I come back for you. Infrared can see you even in pitch black.”
Alec nodded and crouched even lower, obscured by the huge roots and branches of the fallen tree. Leif licked Alec’s cheek, his mate chuckling quietly, and a swift kiss met his nose before he slinked away from his mate, staying low.
The humans were a few hundred feet away. Leif hunkered low to the ground, keeping behind trees and thick blackberry brambles.
Alec
There waslittle Alec could do in the darkness; though he could see better than a human, he was no match for infrared goggles if Leif was right.
He stayed there on the ground, leaning on the fallen tree, the trunk higher than his head and the roots and branches thick and dense. He was idly wondering what felled the tree to begin with when there was a crack of a stick breaking.
Alec froze, listening. A faint step, then another, from the far side of the clearing by the bodies. Too large of a footstep to be a coyote or raccoon, and the critters would have cleared out with Leif so near.
A harsh crackle like static came, then Alec heard voices. “Sir, we found them. Checking the bodies now. Looks like animals got to the bodies, too.”
A man’s voice, with a local accent from the hills. There was a faint chirp from a radio, then a deep, angry voice came over the radio, and he too sounded like a local. “Is it all of them?”
There was a new voice, another man speaking in the clearing. “Yessir, it’s all of them, even Stu. Not sure how he died, though. The others are torn apart. Something big got the entire crew.”
“The rumors of this being werewolf territory might be true then. Keep an eye out, we’ll be there in a few minutes,” came the disembodied voice of whoever was in charge over the radio.
Alec recognized that voice. He didn’t know the face tomatch it, but the voice and name he knew. He’d heard it outside his cell several times during his captivity, or on the phone when one of his jailers got a call checking on production when he was in the lab being forced to work.
That was the mountain mafia boss.
Chapter 13
Alec
His name was Dale Rodgers, according to local legend and rumors stretching back longer than Alec had been alive. He had never seen a picture, or the man in question, but he knew the voice sure enough. Alec’s little slice of rural Appalachia was considered to be a mere blip on a map to bigger and better places. How a man who ran one of the largest criminal organizations in the Southern USA had even heard of Alec to begin with was surely thanks to the dead man lying not far from where Alec hid in the dark.
Stepdad Stu never wasted a chance to make some money, and selling his fae stepson to the head of the mountain mafia was perfectly in line with his character, though Alec was still surprised Stu had the courage to approach the man to begin with—but then, greed emboldened men like Stu.
Alec kept himself small, listening to the men in the clearing as they moved around the bodies, swearing colorfully at the carnage, boots moving leaves and sticks.
One man swore, and Alec heard enough to recognizethe voice. It was the talkative deputy from Hemlock, Deputy John. Which perhaps meant one of the others with him must be Deputy Earl.
Who it was didn’t matter—they came with violence in mind.
“I bet it was the boyfriend,” Deputy John said. “A big motherfucker like that could do this kinda mess. I told you he was a werewolf.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Deputy Earl complained. “I heard you the first million times. Where’s the werewolf now though? Huh? I don’t think they’re living out here in the trees. Ain’t nothing out here but critters gnawing on dead things.”
