Slade shrugged off the hand. “Oh, hell, no!”
Chuck pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “I’m sorry. I gotta go. Think about seeing a counselor, please.”
“I will,” Slade lied to get his brother off his case.
Chuck rose, giving Slade a backslapping hug. “Catch you later, man.”
“Sure. Later.”
Slade stared at the door a long time after Chuck left. Without proof, his steadfast ally didn’t believe him. Why the hell couldn’t Chuck see the mark?
The mark clearly etched on the back of Slade’s hand.
To make matters worse, the damned thing started itching.
Chapter Three
Noahstaredoutthewindow at a sunny day. Something in his bones warned of an approaching storm lurking on the horizon, either physical or emotional. Across from him at the table sat the only one of his kind he recalled meeting, who’d raised him, kept him safe in a hostile world.
Sheltered him from the world.
“I got some people coming this weekend,” Paul said over a breakfast of eggs and toast made from bread he’d baked himself.
Noah slathered more plum jam on his toast. They sat at their two-seater table in the kitchen area of their tiny log cabin. Outside the window, the greens of summer gave way to a riot of colors heralding the approaching fall. An orange leaf hit the window on its fluttery journey to the ground. A pile of chopped firewood waited out by the barn, ready for another Michigan winter.
People were coming around, which meant Noah had to get lost in the woods for a few days. The nights weren’t too cold yet—no real hardship. Still, like many of his kind, or so Paul said, Noah didn’t like being alone. “Do I have to go? I’m twenty now. I’m not a kid. I can help. Farmers pay me pretty well during planting and harvest. ‘Bout time you retired, doncha think?” They both knew the primary source of their money.
Definitely not baling hay for local farmers.
Paul turned away from the window, giving his usual indulgent smile, adding contours around his mouth and eyes to the already abundant lines on his face. “I know. You don’t need to get involved. That’s what I’m here for.” He winked. “Don’t want to put me out of a job, do you?”
Actually, yes. Noah learned from newspapers the dangers of drug running. As Paul kept saying, hewasgetting older. He’d not been a young man even when they’d first met fifteen years ago. Now, with Paul grizzled and gray in both forms, came time to stop taking risks. His treks from Michigan across the border into Canada and back grew longer each time, the specially made packs heavier.
Sooner or later, a huge wolf wearing a backpack would draw some notice.
“How long?” Noah hoped no longer than a week.
Paul took a swig of coffee, grimaced, and added more from the pot. Nothing worse than cold coffee. He’d said so often enough. “About three days ought to do it.”
Noah nodded. “I got some fence to run over at the Smith’s farm tomorrow. I’ll leave my stuff out in the barn and come by around five or so.” Before Paul could reply, Noah held up a hand. “I’ll make sure no one sees me.”
Paul studied him for a long, long moment before nodding. He grew quiet, staring out the window while he sipped his coffee, eggs congealing on a plate in front of him. “Have I ever told you about my mate and pups?”
Yes. Many times. Paul forgetting doing so added to Noah’s worry about his mentor slowing down. Noah settled in to listen to the same story he’d heard dozens of times.
“Susan was a beauty.” Paul smiled, focusing on something Noah couldn’t see. “With big blue eyes and fiery red hair. What they say about a redhead’s temper is true.” He gave a mock shudder. His craggy face relaxed back into a smile. “She wasn’t supposed to be mine. Her parents promised her to another, so we ran away to the city. Found an apartment. We tried to fit in with the neighbors, learn how to live among humans. She gave me three beautiful pups.”
His expression turned solemn. “Hunters came one day while I was at work. By the time I got home, the bastards had destroyed everything I loved. All four of them shot at point-blank range. Nothing stolen. Not even cash. Whoever came wanted one thing: us dead.
“At first, I thought someone held a grudge against me, wanted to make me suffer. Susan left a box out on the bed, packing away some of my old clothes. Knowing her, she told the hunters I died, and she was clearing out my things so they wouldn’t come after me. The cops blamed the whole thing on vicious attack dogs surprising robbers.”
The sole physical evidence left behind: a mother wolf and three pups, probably passed off as wolf-hybrid dogs.
Paul paused, blinking hard at the ceiling. His voice came out strangled. “I hid in the human world, afraid to go home. Being alone got old. Finally, I went home to my pack.”
Noah’s heart dropped every time Paul told the story, knowing the ending. The words stung anyway.
“They were dead. Been dead for about a week when I found ’em. Men, women, kids. Some poisoned, others shot to death. It’d been years since I left, so I didn’t know everyone. The bodies I found in the woods said whoever came for them didn’t plan on leaving survivors.”
