Follows Interlunation
Part Six of the Dark Moon series.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made.
Warning: M/M and all that implies, bad guy squick, violence, severe Feral Vinjuries.
Pairing: C/V
Notes: Sixth story in the Dark Moon universe. This is for all the DM fans that whined, err, howled for more feral Vin. Presented after a 2800 mile move, two new jobs, and a sinus infection. As God is my witness I will never post a unfinished story again, it jinxes my writing. Thanks for your patience, folks.
Feedback: Please. I am feeling kind of isolated here.
The nearly full moon hid her bright, white face behind the rolling, shifting clouds. Below in the low arc of a narrow, dry creek bed a young Lupinii male limped painfully along, careful to keep as concealed as possible among the scrub brush and boulders that edged its banks. Panting harshly, he paused to sniff the wind, the breeze whipping his black hair around his face. If he could make it over the next ridge, he would be close enough to Larabee's home territory to howl for help, and as much as it galled him, he was desperate and afraid enough to do so.He paused in the shadow of a boulder to catch his breath, and rewound the blood soaked bandanna around the wound in his thigh. He had to keep moving, the hunter behind him was remorseless. Paulo had already lost all the members of his budding bachelor pack to the unseen hunter's rifle, and had been wounded himself and forced to shift into human shape to tend to his leg before he bled out.
He knotted the rag again, whining with pain, still panting harshly, dark eyes white rimmed beneath his loose, tangled hair. He was losing strength rapidly. The hunter behind him gave no quarter and little chance for rest. He did not dare shift back to lupine form yet; he was losing too much blood, too fast. He needed to conserve his strength for that last push over the ridge that bordered Larabee's home range. As he shoved himself up, he froze as the wind shifted, mocking him with a strong blast of the rank, acrid scent of the hunter.
Alvarez snarled, white teeth flashing in a rictus of fear. How had the man gotten ahead of him? How was a human tracking him so easily? How had he gotten so damned close so fast? Outraged at being hunted like a cur, Paulo threw back his head and howled his pain and fear to the half-hidden moon, hoping beyond hope that one of Larabee's pack would be within hearing range. The abrupt crack of the rife from the ridge above cut it off short, and Paulo's body tumbled down the bank into the creek bed to sprawl face-up, unseeing eyes turned to the moon's cloud veiled face.
On the ridge above, the Hunter paused to light a cigarillo, a small reward for a job well done. It was one of the few pleasures that he allowed himself. It was his self-appointed mission to rid the earth of the ungodly and the Devil's spawn and although he had been very active lately, his job was far from finished. Leisurely he started down the slope to collect the corpse for disposal. It would have pleased him to leave it for scavengers and as an omen to those he hunted, but his sacred duty must remain secret. He had learned from one of the demons that he had kept alive for a few days to interrogate that there was an entire pack of the werewolves roaming the next town. It would not do to give them warning of his presence.
He took a deep drag from his cigarillo, and pushed the night vision goggles up off his eyes as he cautiously approached the corpse of the devil spawn. More than once these creatures had played dead when wounded. He had the scars to prove it, but this time the heart shot had been true. He kicked Paulo's corpse callously, then knelt to examine it more closely, dabbling his fingers in the sticky heart blood of the wound, then running a lazy, accessing hand down the dead man's naked belly.
He preferred it when his prey died in wolf shape, the trophies were better that way, but this form had benefits as well. His breath quickened as he slid a hand between the demon's legs fondling the soft, still warm genitals. Yes. To the skilled hunter went the spoils. He stood to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants. High above, the moon hid her shadowed face in the dark, swirling clouds.
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Three nights later, the ripe moon hung over the Larabee ranch and the Solstice celebration below. The pack had already enjoyed their ritual elk hunt in honor of the Moon and now gathered for the yearly blessing ceremony, in this, the most important of Lupinii rituals. A beaming Josiah, draped in the venerable teeth and hide of a buffalo wolf, the symbols of his shamanic duties, blessed the pack, one big hand carefully balancing a large, carved oak bowl of sacred spring water while with the other, he sprinkled each pack member with a willow branch.
Cradled in a proud Buck's arms, a wide-awake JD squealed happily and bounced, reaching for the dangling branch as he was officially taken under the Medicine Bow pack's protection. Chris and Vin's union was recognized and acknowledged, a relaxed Chris' arm draped lovingly over a wide-eyed Vin's shoulders. Josiah chuckled at the bemused expression on the young man's face as he shook the wet branch gently over their heads.
After the solstice blessing, there was the usual announcement of pack news and achievements. Rain and Nathan's work at the clinic and their recent acquisition of an important funding grant acknowledged, as was their third anniversary. Rafe was announced as an official guest and then the final ritual chant of blessing for happiness and fertility was dispensed----the signal for amorous couples to slip away in the darkness and tall grass to complete the final ritual.
Nate and Rain, Rafe and Maria, Buck and Lydia all shifted and paired away in the darkness, lifting their voices in a chorus of joyful howls. A playfully growling Chris grabbed his mate, slung the startled young man over a shoulder and strode away into the darkness.
Chuckling, Josiah moved to join Miss Nettie on the porch where she was rocking JD in the hammock, a sleepy young Casey curled up in lupine shape against her hip. On the way he nearly tripped over Ezra.
The tall shaman grinned down at an uncharacteristically disheveled Standish who was sprawled on his back in the grass near the porch, blissfully wiggling his toes.
For a city- bred male forced to chase large mammals on his first hunt, splash through a muddy river, run through bushes and brambles, eat warm, raw meat, and in his own words be 'filthy, exhausted and exhilarated', he was looking surprisingly content. He looked even more pleased when a coy Inez sidled up, grabbed his hands and tugged him playfully away into the shadows.
Josiah settled cross-legged on the porch at Nettie's feet. He grinned at JD's toothless, burbling greeting. The baby was as determined to stay awake as Nettie was that he fall asleep. Sanchez had the feeling that the youngster had met his match. The elders sat and chatted for an hour or so, speaking idly on pack matters and reminiscing about past gatherings before their alpha emerged from the shadows trailed by his sleepy-eyed mate.
Chris shifted back to his lithe, slim-hipped, human form in mid-stride, lifting a hand to brush dried grass from his shoulders and grass seed out of his blond hair. He wore a satisfied smirk on a kiss-swollen mouth, and they both reeked of sex. Vin followed, still in wolf form. He was surprisingly shy around Nettie Wells, staying well out of reach, careful to keep his mate between her and himself, eyes watchful. So far, he had refused to speak to her at all. Chris was careful not to push him, sensing that his mate had issues from the past surfacing to haunt him, but he was determined that Vin learn to socialize with the pack and become comfortable in dealing with all its members.
Larabee lowered himself down to sit with his shoulder against a porch post with a satisfied sigh. Vin sidled in to sit pressed close against his back, on the edge of the porch, half-hidden from the others, wary eyes peeking shyly around Chris' broad shoulders. Nettie greeted him gently as she rocked a heavy-eyed JD, careful not to unnerve him with a stare, while she spoke amiably with her alpha.
The news of Chris Larabee's new mate had been a total surprise to her. That there was a bond involved even more so. The only soul bond Nettie had ever witnessed had been scores of years ago and between a male and female, so it was with great curiosity she watched this unlikely pair. Vin's sweet face and shy innocence had endeared him to her instantly, but the real surprise had been with the change in Chris Larabee's demeanor.
Gone was the indifferent, silent wraith of a man, living a half-life, lost in his grief over the deaths of his mate and pup. The man before her now practically glowed with renewed life and happiness. He was still the laconic rancher she had known, and from what she had learned about Mary Travis' shunning, still possessed a formidable temper, but the fear that she had secretly harbored that he was doomed to lose both his life and his alpha position had vanished with one look into his cool, hazel eyes. Larabee was on again, fully engaged in the everyday world.
She watched as he leaned back and slid an arm around Vin's shoulders, deftly easing his mate closer and into a more exposed position so casually that the younger man did not notice, seemingly happy to be embraced by his mate, pink tongue flashing as he licked Chris' ear and nuzzled and nipped at Larabee's jaw, tail wagging furiously. Larabee was smiling, white teeth flashing in his handsome face as he turned his head and murmured in his mate's ear, a deep coaxing purr that even at that distance rumbled in Nettie's inner ear and shivered up her spine.
Evidently it worked on Vin too, because the younger man immediately shifted as Chris had asked, to cuddle in his lover's arms, still nipping at his mate's jaw. Larabee rewarded him immediately, one lean hand cupping the square jaw as he tilted his face up and gathered him close for a deep, loving kiss. This obvious, public affection was something new, too. Nettie had never seen him kiss or embrace his late wife in full view of others.
They were beautiful together, very much in love and she was happy to witness it. When they broke the kiss, Larabee kept Vin close and gently pressed a series of soft kisses to his eyelids and cheeks before raising his head. Vin sighed and tucked his curly head in the curve of Chris' shoulder, apparently settling contentedly in his mate's arms, blue eyes half-closed with pleasure. Chris settled back against his post, alert gaze running lazily over his domain, watching over his pack and territory.
Nettie exchanged a small nod of satisfaction with Josiah, as she settled the now sleeping baby boy against her shoulder. All was well with the pack on this most blessed of Lupinii sacred nights. The elders of the Medicine Bow pack had much to be thankful for. A chorus of joyous howling rang out of the darkness to the southwest as the rest of the pack returned, and her heart swelled with joy when Larabee's low bass sang out welcoming them home, quickly joined by Vin's raspy song and Josiah's rumbling, deep bass roar.
A few miles to the north, camped high on a mesa. The Hunter tilted his head at the wild night music, listened long and hard and smiled. Time to begin his work.
Cletus Fowler pulled his van into the gas station across from Potter's Mercantile. As he emerged from the dark windowed vehicle he ran an alert eye over the young station attendant, then relaxed slightly. Not one of the ungodly. Since he was very young, Fowler had always had the ability to sense when he was in the presence of the children of the Damned. If at times he was wrong, it did not matter. The war against Evil would always suffer casualties. His God would forgive him any error.
He had set up his base camp well outside of town, off on a little used side road at a long abandoned Standard Oil station. He had left his ATV and dirt bike trailer there in the old garage, along with his tent and camping equipment as well as most of his weaponry, ammunition, trophies and more unsavory instruments. Today was a scouting day, to determine how many of the enemy he had to deal with as well as to familiarize himself with the basic layout of Four Corners, before formulating a plan for their destruction.
The demon he had held captive for four days had not been particularly forthcoming with details, unwilling to betray his own kind to a human hunter. The capacity for pain the creature had displayed had fascinated Fowler and he had taken his time with the interrogation, hoping to gain more insight on the things he hunted. The pack structure in itself was enlightening, and Fowler had studied the habits of wolves to compare to the similarities of the demon packs.
They were similar in many ways--- the females as fierce and deadly as the males, willing to die to protect their mates or offspring. He had used this to his advantage many times, using nubile young females or pups as bait in well planned traps to pick off other pack members. He had quickly learned the hard way that human strength was no match for demonic strength and cunning. Fowler had no compunction about using animal tranquilizers, heavy chains, tazers and cattle prods to even the odds and subdue his prey. He was a careful, methodical killer, roaming the country as he searched out his quarry.
One of his special delights was to keep a specimen alive as long as possible to torture, interrogate and ultimately dissect for anatomical study. It was a pleasure he accorded himself only after a long, or particularly successful hunt. One of his dreams was to found a special facility for the capture and long time study of these wily demons. One day he hoped to recruit like-minded individuals to assist him. In the meantime, he worked alone and took pleasure and pride in his sacred work. He was certain that God would reward him for his devoutness.
After the attendant finished filling his fuel tank, he pulled his van into the car wash area and set to work with the high-pressure hose and a jug of industrial cleaner. One of the hard facts he had learned early on was that his prey had an especially keen sense of smell. Cletus had nearly lost a hand to the cruel teeth of an outraged demoness after he had slaughtered her young pup, and she had tracked him back to his camp, via the blood spatter on his boots.
He wanted no cause for suspicion while he leisurely scouted Four Corners. After cleaning his vehicle, he checked into the local motor lodge under an assumed name, showered, scrubbed himself carefully, and changed into new clothing and clean shoes. He then strolled up the street to what appeared to be the local steakhouse for a meal. So far, he had seen none of the Ungodly. He hoped that his last victim had not lied before he died. He pushed open the heavy oak door of the Saloon and stepped inside.
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Inside the bar, a jovial group of the Medicine Bow pack lounged in the largest booth. Chris was celebrating the completion of Vin's first week of daily lessons with Miss Nettie. The younger lupinii was slowly warming to the elder pack member. Wise in the weaknesses of young men, Nettie wilily took advantage of Tanner's sweet tooth and kept a stash of special molasses cookies and gingerbread as bribes to use when Vin's attention faltered. If that failed, she brought out the big guns, a reward meal of her special chicken and dumplings followed by peach pie as dessert.
Buck had suddenly found himself in hot water with the pack elder after Vin had proudly recited the long list of swear words and more indelicate terms for various bits of female anatomy he had picked up from the big Beta. The look of horror on Buck's face, and the grim one on Miss Nettie's, had caused Chris to quickly step outside onto the porch and out of ear shot for a private snigger. There had been a wicked glint in Vin's eyes seconds before he turned a look of angelic innocence on his teacher. His young mate had a fiendish sense of humor and Buck was fast proving to be one of his favorite victims when it came to practical jokes.
Inez set a tray of steaming platters onto the table, then quickly passed them around---carne asada, enchiladas, refried beans, chile rellanos, mounds of tortillas and Mexican rice, all served family style with cold pitchers of beer and tea. She smiled at Vin's appreciative sniff at the aromatic selection. The young man enjoyed his meals and reveled in a variety of choices. She watched as he carefully placed his napkin on his lap, as Nettie had taught him, before picking up his fork and knife and waiting patiently as Chris served him, careful to fill his plate with a bit of everything.
She, like Nettie, had been amazed by the change in their Alpha's demeanor after Vin's arrival. Relatively new to Four Corners, she had been accustomed to a silent, reclusive Larabee who was as indifferent to his position as well as the members his pack. She had been surprised that Buck had never challenged him and taken control, or that another challenger had not appeared to do so, but Chris Larabee's pack members were loyal to their grieving alpha, and his formidable reputation as a ferocious fighter stood for itself. None of the short string of Lupinii males foolish enough to have challenged him in the past was alive to brag of it.
Buck was boisterously needling Ezra about his taste in expensive clothing, a favorite pastime, while Josiah and Nathan, bookended at the edge of the booth, were trying to have a serious discussion regarding some electrical work that the clinic needed. Forks clinked against plates and deep voices rumbled happily as they worked their way through the meal. Larabee's blond head was bent attentively over his mate, quietly giving him the names of the dishes and listing the ingredients, face fond as Vin carefully repeated the words in his low raspy voice with nary a stammer.
Smiling, assured that they had everything they needed at the moment, she turned to wait on the new customer who had slipped into a seat at a small corner table near the door. She took his order and headed for the kitchen, briefly noting to herself that he was new to the Saloon and town. Probably a cattleman, or brand inspector passing through on his way to Medicine Bow.
Seated in the corner, Fowler forced himself to stay calm. He took a deep breath and relaxed his clenched fists under the table and slouched at his table in the attitude of a travel weary man interested only in his forthcoming dinner. His heart was pounding. He was surrounded by the Ungodly. The restaurant was seemingly full of them, as they mingled with the innocent. Truly, he had stumbled into a veritable den of the creatures. The lovely waitress who had taken his order had even been one!
Cautiously, he sipped the cup of coffee she placed on the table and covertly eyed his surroundings. The largest group was a formidable pack of males who filled the big family style booth in the middle of the room. They were relaxed and totally at ease, laughing and talking among themselves. It grated on the Hunter within him, that these creatures should flaunt their very existence among mankind, daring to walk openly among them.
As he watched, two attractive females, one carrying a toddler, joined the group. The darker female placed a hand on the black male's shoulder and bent to whisper urgently in his ear. He nodded and wiped his mouth with his napkin, before rising to quickly leave with her. Fowler felt his gorge rise as he caught some of the conversation after they left. These creatures actually masqueraded as physicians at the local clinic. God alone knew how many innocents they had preyed upon.
The auburn haired female handed the baby over to the big mustached male, bending low to whisper flirtatiously in his ear, flaunting the contents of her low cut blouse. Fowler watched as the man responded with a wide leer and slid out of the booth to join her. Before they left he casually deposited the child in the lap of a well-dressed, green-eyed demon who had been seated beside him. The creature looked startled, then peered doubtfully down at the baby and jiggled the child gingerly, holding it awkwardly at arm's length. The huge, graying male seated across from him was grinning toothily at the sight, as were the two remaining males seated in the center of the booth.
Sweet God! A human child cradled in a demon's hands! Had the female stolen it from its rightful parents and left it there as a food offering for the males? Cletus' hand stole under his jacket towards the revolver he carried concealed in a shoulder holster, then slowly removed it. There was nothing he could do at the moment, he was too badly outnumbered. He forced himself to relax again and watched as the two males stood and left, bidding their companions farewell and carrying the child away with them. He dared not follow to learn its fate.
Now the remaining two males were preparing to leave as well, the tall blond smiling at the waitress as he slid out of the booth, followed by the slighter, curly haired male. Fowler swallowed hard and felt a surge of carnal heat sizzle through his body as he watched them stand and stretch leisurely. The blond slid a possessive arm around the smaller man's shoulders and the younger man leaned into it. Ungodly indeed! An unnatural, unholy coupling that truly needed to be cleansed from the earth!
As they walked by his table on the way to the door, they eyed him casually for a moment and he felt himself freeze like a rabbit under the blond's cold, predatory stare before that imperious gaze passed over him. It was the second man's eyes that caused his breath to hitch momentarily. Clear blue eyes in the chiseled face of a fallen angel met his curiously, and the powerful surge of pure desire that he felt horrified him. How could a devil wear the face of an angel?
He could only stare after the couple, heart racing, breath quickening. The angel-faced one turned his head, still holding his stare for long moments as he was led away. Fowler licked his lips in unconscious desire. This one. He had to have this one. Such a sweet reward for his toil against the devilspawn.
Outside, Vin turned uncertainly to his mate. How could he explain to Chris the sense of unease the odd smelling human had given him? That the man stank of gun oil and of death, not in a physical sense, but in a way that raised Vin's hackles? He didn't have enough words yet. He turned a troubled face to his mate, only to have Larabee smile and playfully tug him close and kiss him affectionately, totally distracting him from his uneasy, half-formed thoughts. Unused to voicing an opinion aloud, he kept silent, trusting in Chris' obvious lack of concern about the stranger's presence.
One week later
It was a brilliant summer morning, the sky a clear, perfect blue and sporting only a few fluffy, white clouds. Chris and Vin stood outside the barn, Larabee supervising as Vin carefully tacked up a tall, black gelding. Pony was one of Chris' favorite horses. Amiable, sweet natured and damned near bombproof, the horse had been raised on the ranch. He had been Chris' first choice when he began to teach Vin how to ride.Tanner was rapidly proving to be a natural when it came to riding and working with the horses. He loved them as much as he did his kittens, and they responded to his soft voice and gentle hands. Chris was pleased and proud of his rapidly developing skills. Today was the first time he was allowing Vin to take a short ride on his own, combining pleasure and work. The younger man was charged with riding the fence line of the lower back pasture, checking for breaks. One of the spring colts was developing into a quite an escape artist, capable of squeezing through any narrow gap he found.
Vin swung up into the saddle and grinned down at Chris. Larabee smiled and gave Pony a gentle swat on the rump and waved them off. He watched for a moment as they trotted away, before turning back into the barn. He had a young mare that was past due to foal for the first time. Chris worried because she was a nervous creature to begin with and he suspected she would have a difficult labor, so he kept close tabs on her.
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Concealed in the tree line on the ridge overlooking the ranch, the hunter smiled as he watched his prey ride away from the safety of his home den. He stayed long enough to ascertain the direction the angel-faced demon was headed in, and then hurried to uncover his hidden ATV so he could circle around the ridge ahead of his quarry. He fought down a surge of elation. He knew from careful observation of the Larabee ranch that there were several excellent places to set an ambush in the lower pasture.
He loved it when a hunt worked out perfectly. Especially this hunt. He licked his lips in anticipation.
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Vin clucked softly and urged Pony to an easy lope along the fence line, keen blue eyes skimming along the wire. He was proud that his mate trusted him to complete this job without supervision. He was slowly beginning to realize just how much hard work was involved in running a working ranch and he was eager to do his share. His confidence was building with each new skill he learned---from his first, tentative attempts at building his vocabulary and learning his letters with Nettie, to the chores he now shared with Chris.
He loved his new life at the ranch with his mate. It was a world he had never dreamed that he would have. Sometimes the sheer scope of it dazzled him, made him sit back and take a deep, calming breath as he took it all in. He had gone from being a lonely outcast to the beloved mate of a powerful alpha male so quickly that he sometimes felt it was all a dream---that he would one day awake from it to find himself curled up alone in his tiny den, high in the mountains.
Chris meant the world to him, owned his mind, heart and soul. His presence was constant in their bond, muted now as they became accustomed to each other, but always there just beneath the surface of his consciousness, solid and reassuring. The blond alpha's love and strength cradled him against this new, often alarming world, and was his shield when things became overwhelming. He could now barely imagine living a life without Larabee to share it.
A shrill whinny caught his attention, and he reined Pony to a stop. One of the brood mares was thrashing around in the middle of a thicket of the young willows that bordered the narrow, spring fed creek that ran across the field. It looked like she had caught her halter somehow on a branch. Quickly, he dismounted and dropped Pony's reins to ground tie the well-trained horse. Pony snorted softly, ears pricked and stood patiently.
Vin approached the sorrel mare slowly, speaking softly to keep her calm. She did not appear especially alarmed, more annoyed at being snagged, snorting and switching her tail in frustration, and eyeing the rest of the herd as they grazed farther down the creek. He pushed a few branches aside and moved closer, running a palm along her neck to soothe her as he reached for her halter.
He frowned in confusion when he found her tethered by a short length of cord instead of snagged on a bramble. Someone had tied her to the tree, neatly knotting the short length of dark cord so that it was impossible to see from a distance. Carefully, he untied the cord and led her out of the thicket, examined her briefly for injury, then let her go. She trotted briskly off with a loud snort to rejoin the rest of the mares.
He lifted the cord to his nose and sniffed, an inaudible growl surfacing as he recognized the rank scent of the strange human he and Chris had seen in the Saloon. Lifting his head, he took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he scented the wind for further trace of the man. There...and signs of his recent passage through the willows as well, a bent branch and crushed grass.
As he paused, uncertain of whether to follow the clear trail or return to Chris for direction, the tiny rasp of cloth against wood behind him brought him whirling around to face the apparition that rose from a clump of willows. He had only a few seconds to stare, shocked at the man so artfully concealed with camouflage clothing and paint that he appeared inhuman, before he realized the man was aiming a rifle at him.
Pure instinct took over and he shifted immediately to his more familiar lupine shape, struggling to shake free of his boots and clothing, even as he snarled a savage warning to the hunter. He was fast, and the element of surprise of his sudden shift earned him a few extra seconds, but he wasn't quite fast enough to escape. As he turned to run for the safety of the ranch, there was a muffled hiss as the man pulled the trigger and the sharp dart caught him high in the shoulder.
He managed only a few feet before the powerful dose of animal tranquilizer took over and brought him staggering down. Still, he dragged himself along a few more feet, white teeth flashing a feral warning as he caught sight of the hunter approaching from his right flank. He gave it his best effort, but finally subsided into a panting heap, still snapping and snarling as his paws twitched in a futile attempt at escape. As he lost consciousness, his final agonized thought was simply, Chris! Still, he was so accustomed to fending for himself that it had never occurred to him to howl for help.
His last memory before he lost consciousness was of a frightening, garish face painted in greens and browns, bent over him and strange hands reaching out. Then his world faded away to darkness and he knew nothing more.
Above him, Fowler cursed softly under his breath as he hefted Vin's limp, furry body over his shoulder to carry it over to the brush where he had hidden his ATV. A wolf's carcass might be easy to explain as he transported it to his hidden camp, but he had wanted the young demon to remain in human form a while longer...the urge to touch that lithe body had been almost impossible to resist. Now he would be forced to wait until the demon regained consciousness for him to shift back to human form. It was very frustrating, but he had a hunter's patience.
He tied Vin over the back of the ATV, making sure he was securely muzzled, and jumped on the seat, hurrying to start the machine, anxious now to escape with his prize. It would not do for him to linger long enough for the other demons to realize that this one had gone missing. By the time they did, he would be too far away and well hidden for them to do anything but howl in frustration. That idea pleased him and he smiled with satisfaction at a job well done. He looked forward to the special entertainment he had planned for the upcoming evening.
Behind him he left a mystified Pony, still standing obediently, as Vin had left him. The big horse shifted uneasily, sensing that something was wrong. He pawed the ground indecisively for a moment; ears flattened then, abruptly making a choice, broke training and turned and loped for home and the safety of his stall.
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Chris swore softly under his breath as he worked to ease the foal out of the mare's contracting uterus. The long limbed baby was a breech birth and was trying to be born with one hind leg twisted up under its body. The nervously shifting new mother was not helping his efforts at all. He spoke gently to her, crooning softly, as he struggled to straighten the errant limb. Finally, he succeeded and the foal slid free of its mother's body and onto the straw.
Larabee quickly wiped its nose free of mucous, made sure it was free of the birth sac, and that the cord was free of knots. He checked the slender legs for defects, then stepped back and allowed the new mother to anxiously lick and nuzzle her offspring. It was a sturdy little bay stud colt. Grinning, he leaned against the stall door and watched as the mare licked her new baby clean, while the little one struggled to stand.
Only after the colt had gained his feet and started nursing strongly, did he turn away to leave them in peace for a while. He smiled at the thought of how much Vin was going to enjoy this new addition to the herd. His mate loved all the young creatures on the ranch. He grinned wryly as he washed his hands and arms clean at the pump, remembering Vin's stubborn insistence that they should keep all of Ripley's kittens. He had finally been reluctantly persuaded to give one to Rain, and two others to Nettie and Casey. Larabee had quickly made arrangements to have the others spayed and neutered before the ranch became inundated with cats.
As he walked out of the barn into the golden afternoon light, a soft whicker sounded from over by the side gate. Startled, he saw Pony standing there riderless, head over the rail, patiently waiting to be let in. Heart beginning to pound, he hurried over to examine the horse. Where was Vin? Had he been thrown and hurt? How long had Pony been here?
Closing his eyes for a moment, he concentrated hard, reaching anxiously for the sweet presence he just realized was absent. Nothing. He began to be afraid. He couldn't feel Vin, and their bond only muted during sleep. Something was very wrong, and he had been too distracted to notice.
A quick check of the saddlebags revealed the lunch and snack he had packed for Vin untouched, which meant the horse could have been here since before noon, unnoticed while he dealt with the long, difficult delivery. Pony was unhurt, the tack intact and undamaged, so at least there was no sign of a damaging fall. He hesitated only for a moment before swinging up into the saddle and turning the horse back towards the lower pasture. As he urged Pony to a canter, he dug his cell phone out of his vest pocket and hit the speed dial for Buck.
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Inside the old Standard station, Cletus carefully checked over his prisoner. The demon was still sprawled unconscious on the floor of the sturdy steel cage. Fowler had also taken the precaution of locking a heavy steel choke collar around the beast's throat and attaching a sturdy length of log chain, the end of which extended outside the bars. Satisfied that his prisoner was secure, he turned away to the table that held his implements, switching on several battery powered lanterns as he did so.
Whistling softly to himself, he ran his gloved hand lightly over the metal tray of scalpels, bone saws and skinning knives. Opening an aluminum tool case, he laid out a tire iron, a tazer, and his favorite--- a long handled, heavy-duty cattle prod. Reaching into the bottom of the case, he removed several specimen bottles containing clear, liquid formalon, a canister of pepper spray and a set of iron manacles. Satisfied, he nodded to himself, glanced over to check on his motionless captive, then walked over to open the back of his van.
Climbing in, he knelt to open a heavy cedar trunk. His face was ecstatic as he reverently withdrew a heavy armload of lupinii pelts. These he piled into a thick nest onto his narrow mattress, arranging them with ritualistic precision. Returning to the chest, he pressed a hidden catch and removed a handful of Polaroid photos, which he pinned carefully above his bed. They were a series of shots of live lupinii followed by photos of them bound, tortured, mutilated and obviously dead.
One of the photos was a graphic image of a beautiful, auburn haired lupinii female, her nude body curled protectively around the small bruised body of a little boy, as she glared at the camera. The next was a shot of their skinned lupinii bodies hung callously from a barbed wire fence.
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It was nearly sunset and Larabee's lower pasture was boiling with members of his angry and worried pack as they sought to determine what had befallen Vin. Buck, Nathan, Ezra and Josiah had arrived within an hour of Chris' anxious call. They had immediately shifted and followed their alpha's trail, finding him kneeling at the place where Vin had been ambushed, holding his discarded clothes and studying the trampled ground trying to determine exactly what had happened there. He raised a grim face to them.
"Ambush," he said succinctly, and Buck snarled in response as he shifted to stand beside his alpha.
Larabee pointed to a spot in the nearby clump of willows and held up a length of cord.
"He tied one of the horses to the tree as bait. Took Vin by surprise when he dismounted to untie her."
His voice was emotionless, but his eyes were bleak. He stared out across his land.
"I can't feel him, Buck." There was the barest hint of a waver in that soft statement as he turned to his Beta.
Buck winced and clasped his friend's shoulder hard with one big hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. The shattered look on his alpha's face enraged him. He shouldn't have to suffer the loss a loved one, twice in his lifetime. As always, he sought to soothe and comfort his oldest friend.
"There's no blood sign here, Chris. He must still be alive." Wilmington looked earnestly into Larabee's eyes. "We have to focus on that and finding him."
"Indeed, Mr. Larabee, all signs point to the fact that he is still alive." Ezra stepped up and held out the dart he had found nearby.
Chris snatched it out of his hand and examined it minutely, growling softly as he sniffed the sharp-needled tip and caught the faint scent of his mate's blood. He wordlessly passed the dart to Nathan, who also sniffed it with interest.
"Atropine. It's an animal tranquilizer," the lupinii healer pronounced as he, too, sought to soothe his alpha's fears. "It'll knock him out fast and he'll be drunk as a skunk when he wakes up, but it won't kill him." He did not add any comments about overdoses or his fear of Vin's sensitivity to narcotics. He didn't want to make things worse than they already were.
Chris lifted his head and his lips drew back from his teeth in a shark's smile.
"Let's find him," he ordered briskly.
"This way!" Josiah called from across the field, having located the ATV's path across the pasture. Turning, he shifted back into his massive, silver pelted form and nose to the ground, took off on the trail of the hunter who had dared take their own. The rest of the pack, except for Larabee, immediately shifted and followed, breathing deeply to imprint on the hated scent of their prey.
Chris jammed Vin's clothing and boots into Pony's saddlebags and followed in human form, long legs eating up the ground as he loped easily in the pack's wake. He needed to move, to work off the tension and adrenaline. He kept his human form in order to keep his temper; it was too tempting at the moment to sink into a black, bestial rage.
They followed the trail through two cut fences and to the edge of Larabee's property where it ended abruptly at an old side road. The hunter had had a vehicle waiting to transport his quarry away. Growling in frustration, the pack sniffed and circled, trying to find anything that would give them a clue as to direction. The cunning kidnapper had scattered a large canister of pepper near where he parked his vehicle, and both Josiah and Ezra reeled back, sneezing and pawing at their sensitive noses.
Larabee stood, hands on hips, hard gaze sweeping the horizon, trying to think of where Vin might have been taken and by whom, and most of all trying to feel that familiar, sweet presence.
Suddenly, Buck gave a yelp of recognition from his position farther down the road and shifted to stand up and stride rapidly back to his alpha, his teeth gleamed beneath his moustache. He met his alpha's questioning gaze squarely.
"Got him! I know who it is Chris. I marked his tires last week, and yesterday outside the Saloon."
"Who?" It was a low, feral snarl. Chris was close to losing it.
Buck held out his hands in a placating gesture.
"I don't know his name. He's a stranger to town. He eats at the bar sometimes. Makes Inez nervous to wait on him. Doesn't say much, just stares. He was at the diner last week, when we were celebrating Vin's lessons. Has a room at the Motor Lodge."
Larabee's slow smile made the hair stand up on the back of Buck's nape.
"Let's go."
Chris turned and sprinted for the ranch house and his truck. He had never been so grateful for Buck's compulsive habit of pissing on the tires of any strange vehicle that lingered in their territory.
Wilmington took his position as Larabee's second seriously, and although often rowdy and overly garrulous, he always took careful note of any strangers who entered into the pack territory he guarded so carefully. Now, he shifted back into his lupine shape, ebony fur gleaming in the golden light of the setting sun and kept close on his alpha's heels. The others followed, deep voices baying out a savage promise of retribution to their prey.
Anyone passing would have marveled at the sight--- a tall, lithe, black clad blond man running easily, flanked by four formidably sized wolves. They vaulted effortlessly over the five-foot tall fence that bordered the road and disappeared into the evening shadows.
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Vin awoke ill and disorientated; he rolled groggily to one side and retched violently, spewing up liquid bile. He opened his eyes, only to quickly close them again. Everything around him was moving in direct opposition to the pounding in his head, and the bright lantern light hurt his eyes. Where was he? Where was his mate?
Memory of the man with the rifle flooded back and he lurched to all four feet, only to collapse drunkenly when he couldn't maintain his balance. Movement at the side of the cage brought his wobbling head up, and he snarled a feeble warning. He shook his head, trying to shake away the curtain of spots that danced in front of his eyes.
Fowler chuckled in satisfaction, pleased that his captive was finally awake. The demon had been unconscious all afternoon and he had begun to wonder if he had miscalculated the dose and killed him. Now to persuade him to shift back to his beguiling human form...
He hefted the cattle prod and slammed it hard against the side of the cage, rattling the bars and causing Vin to jerk reflexively in response. Angry blue eyes met his above glistening fangs, and he smiled cruelly in response. This one had courage. He would last a long time.
"Change back, hellspawn. In God's name, I command you to show me your human face!"
He thrust the prod through the bars and pressed it against the creature's shoulder, pressing the button. It gave a half yelp, half shriek of surprise and pain at the powerful shock and cringed away from him, pressing back against the far side of the cage. He smiled, reached for the end of the chain, and gave it a savage jerk, tightening the spiked choke collar around the demon's throat, dragging it, snarling, back to the center of the cage. First he would teach it to fear him, and then he would break it to his will. God would be pleased.
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Millie Davis blinked uncertainly outside the office of the Motor Lodge as Buck Wilmington and a group of grim faced men strode down the side of the building to Cabin 3. Buck had wheedled the key from her easily enough, she could never refuse him a favor, and when he explained that they were looking for a dangerous kidnapper...nervously, she ran her hands along her slender arms and stepped back inside the office.
The look on Mr. Larabee's face had frightened her. Still, he was the former sheriff and she, like the majority of citizens in the small town, trusted him implicitly. She had told them all she knew about the quiet man who had stayed there for a week, registering under the name of Joe Smith. It was precious little, but she hoped it would help.
Larabee impatiently unlocked the door of the simple cabin and shoved it open, resisting the urge to knock it off its hinges. He stepped inside and they spread out in the small space, searching for clues. Millie had told them the man had checked out the previous day, and the cabin had already been thoroughly cleaned. Still, he hoped they would find something to aid them in their hunt. His young mate's life depended on it.
They knew so damned little about this unseen hunter who had taken Vin from them so easily. He had quickly had Inez contact Rafe and see if the lupinii courier had heard of any others who were missing in the neighboring packs, and the news had been grim. The decomposing corpses of Paulo's bachelor pack had been discovered dumped near the Sonora pack's border. Larabee had no doubt that the same man now had Vin.
Beside him, Buck dropped his clothing and shifted, sniffing deeply as he canvassed the room while Nate searched the dresser and Ezra the bathroom and closet. Outside, Josiah circled the cabin, pale blue eyes intent as they searched the ground. They dared not overlook the smallest clue. When a large crow cawed sleepily from a nearby telephone pole, he lifted his lip and snarled explosively, grinning toothily when the bird flapped hastily away. Bad omens could just fuck off.
It was Ezra's keen eyes that finally found the minuscule clue. It was a small clump of moist, yellow clay stuck to the baseboard of the closet door. A close search found another, slightly larger lump in the vacant parking space in front of the cabin. Larabee fought down his frustration and took the bit of moist earth from Josiah. Raising it to his face, he sniffed deeply, and then smeared it between his fingertips, examining the color and texture. Oil. It stank of petroleum and rubber.
Silently, he held out his smeared hand to the others and they each bent over his hand and sniffed, frowning as they sought to categorize the different odors. Chris closed his eyes and concentrated hard. There was something familiar...he snarled as the answer came to him. Eyes gleaming now with triumph, he grinned at his hopeful pack.
"Buck, you remember that old Standard Oil station where you used to take Emily Watson Saturday nights and park when we were in high school? The one out on the old grange road..."
Buck shifted back and stepped forward, hastily pulling on his clothes, and took up the end of the sentence.
"The one where I got yellow clay and old oil all over my new boots running away the night her daddy caught us? Yesiree!"
Larabee nodded, already moving for the door and his truck.
"It's the only place within fifty miles where that color clay is, and the only one I know of where the ground is contaminated with old petroleum products."
Millie peered out of the office window into the dark as they flowed past, moving so silently and intently, white smiles gleaming under the streetlights. They looked...pleased. She hoped they would find the man they were looking for, but she couldn't help feeling more than a bit sorry for him when they did.
When they reached the street they found Lydia, Rain, Inez and Maria grimly waiting to join them. The pack hunted together. Nettie would guard Casey and JD. Chris gave the females a nod, and in unison, the pack moved out towards the Saloon and their parked vehicles.
They were almost to the truck when Chris cried out sharply and slumped to his knees, clutching his head in pain. His pack gathered worriedly around him, reaching out protectively to touch and comfort. He raised a snarling, tear streaked face to theirs, and ground out through gritted teeth, "Vin! He's hurting Vin!"
His tone was a combination of pain and joy. His mate was alive, he could feel him through the reawakened bond, but a serial killer was also sadistically torturing him.
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Vin was nearly mindless with pain and fear. Why was this man hurting him? Where was Chris? He wanted Chris! He raised his head and again tried to howl for help, only to have it cruelly choked off by the chain drawn taut around his throat. For the past three hours, his tormenter had alternated between using the cattle prod to administer painful shocks to the sensitive parts of his body, to choking him nearly to unconsciousness.
When he did lose his senses, he was cruelly brought awake by being doused with a cooler of icy water, combined with the deliberate application of the prod. All the while, the madman either commanded or cajoled him to assume human shape, growing progressively angrier when he refused to obey. Vin could smell the man's pungent arousal as well as his mingled excitement and fear. That desire frightened him more than the pole that seared him with its painful jolts, and he held stubbornly to his lupine form.
Still horribly sick from the drug, exhausted and hurting, he huddled, eyes closed, against the back of his cage, panting harshly, having to fight for every unrestricted breath. Withdrawing into himself, he thought hard. Deep in his heart, he knew Chris would come, was searching for him, but in the meantime he had to survive. He sensed his captor was losing patience and he needed to buy himself as much time as possible.
Maybe if he gave the man what he wanted it would buy him time. With every fiber of his being, he loathed the idea of exposing his vulnerable human body to his captor, feared the man's touch, but perhaps by yielding a little, he could gain an advantage. If he could get the man within range of his teeth...slowly, he opened his eyes, turned to face his hated captor and... shifted.
Fowler hissed out a soft breath as his captive finally yielded to his will and changed. Slowly, hungrily, he ran his eyes along the nude, beautifully muscled, compact body, up to the handsome face with its strong bones, wide eyes and lush mouth. Those teary blue eyes were fixed on his face now, mute and pleading. The sense of power it gave him to have this demon under his control was an incredible rush. If he could tame this creature...have it around to service him...perhaps even use it to hunt others...
Involuntarily, he took a step closer to the cage and the being within whimpered softly and cringed, eyes wide through wet, tangled hair. Fowler felt a surge of triumph at the sight of the demon's obvious fear of him. Before the night was over, he would own this beautiful creature, make it his in ways he was only yet beginning to conceive. Confident now, he swaggered forward to begin claiming his prize.