“No fucking way,” Cliff growled. Austin shook his head, staring at Jerrold narrow-eyed. Jerrold glanced back at them, and there was a hint of a smile on his face that Cliff didn’t like. Austin’s low, frustrated growl said that he agreed with him.
Jerrold was up to something. But what? How could he possibly win by forfeiting?
Next it was Grant and Austin. This fight lasted a lot longer. Grant and Austin ripped into each other, and Cliff forced himself to remain calm as the blood flowed and the fur flew.
Finally Austin flopped on the ground and exposed his belly. Cliff had expected that he would, and he strongly suspected that Austin had fought just long enough to put on a good show.
As the two men limped off the field, still in wolf form, he looked around for Anita on the sidelines, and didn’t see her. There was one other healer there, a man named Saul, from a pack on the far western side of the state, who’d come to provide backup in case the injuries were severe. Strong healers were rare, and Saul would be headed back home at the end of the day.
“Where’s Anita?” he asked James.
James glanced at his cell phone. “She texted me that she had to go see Chantelle. Chantelle is having some kind of relapse. That’s why she didn’t make it here this morning.”
“After she turned? That’s odd.” Cliff glanced up at the bleachers. Now Taylor was gone too. That was too bad. He wanted her near him. She lent him strength and calm. He’d expect her to be with Chantelle if her best friend was in bad shape, though.
That was terrible news. She’d be crushed if anything happened to Chantelle.
But he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He’d go to her immediately after the fight. She’d need him, and he’d be there for her.
He sat down with James and waited for Grant to be sufficiently healed. In about half an hour, Grant came strolling over with a fierce grin. James was looking at his cell phone with a troubled look on his face. Cliff didn’t ask him what was wrong;no distractions.
Grant was tough, and he fought hard. He scraped a long, bloody furrow across Cliff’s flank with his claws, and held him at bay for several tense minutes with vicious leaps, barking savagely, jaws flecked with foam. He kept low, and each time he lunged, he snapped for Cliff’s throat.
Cliff barely deflected another leap, snarling as Grant scored an ugly bite to his muzzle, then put all his strength behind a powerful spring, bowling Grant over onto his back and setting his jaws against his throat.
Grant thrashed and struggled, growling defiance, but Cliff just held him in place, teeth planted in his throat, not biting down but not releasing him either. He wasn’t going to kill his brother unless he forced him to. And Grant would rather die than concede.
Finally the Elders intervened, declaring Cliff the winner, and he released his brother and stepped back.
Grant gained his feet mid-shift, seeming to explode back into human form. His face was dark with rage, and for a moment it seemed like he’d hurl himself at Cliff again.
“How dare you?” he demanded bitterly. “You arrogant son of a bitch.”
And he stormed away, back rigid with fury, looking like a thwarted force of nature.
Cliff hurried over to James, with an odd sense of unease clenching at him. Truman and James were talking to each other in low, urgent voices.
Jerrold stood across the field, on the sidelines, with an enormous smirk on his face. He and his men were near an opening in the bleachers, right by the parking lot. Oswald, Sylvester, Minnie and Phineas were with Jerrold’s men. They were up to something.
“Sir, I can’t get hold of Anita,” James said as Cliff reached him.
“I’m on it,” Truman said. He spoke into his walkie-talkie, telling someone to go check on Anita immediately. He put one hand over his free ear, walking away from Cliff and James as he talked.
Cliff looked at the crowd, searching for Taylor – and his heart dropped. Chantelle and Rusty were walking hand in hand towards their seats. Their hair was mussed and they were smiling hugely. Chantelle’s shirt was buttoned up wrong.
Chantelle had never been sick – she and Rusty had missed the fight because they’d been screwing their brains out.
Before Cliff could say a word, the crowd of Jerrold’s men parted and Joel stepped out.
Fucking Joel. On his land.
The smile on Jerrold’s face was enormous.
Shelley stepped out of the crowd too, and a nasty smirk twisted her lips.
Through the red haze of his rage, Cliff heard Truman speaking. “An armored car has been stopped at the gate. Taylor and Anita inside. Our men have surrounded it, and they scented them in the car, but the driver is refusing to open the door.”
James let out a bark of rage, and his fangs shot out. “No,” he groaned in an agonized voice.
