87. Gunshot

The wolves scattered when the gun exploded only a short distance from where they’d congregated. A slender, tawny female yipped in surprise and paused just long enough to grab the deer leg she’d procured for herself before darting between a few trees and turning back to see where the noise had come from. She was followed by a large white and grey male who grabbed the other end of the leg and used it to lead the female back several more feet. 

Where the fuck did that come from? True to his nature, the Alpha’s voice ripped through his pack’s minds in a sharp bark. Clara, Brighton, report! 

I’m in the backyard! The tawny female was trying to shake her prize from the mouth of the bi-coloured male. Get the fuck off of it, Right, it’s mine. 

Why don’t you share, greedy bi—

BRIGHTON, REPORT NOW!

The male let go of the leg with a yipping whine and dropped to his belly, ears flatted against his skull. With Clara—I’m with Clara; stop yelling at me! 

Shut the fuck up. Daniela, where are you?

A girl of about thirteen, popped up from one of the nearby bushes, bare as the day she was born, with wild brown hair. “Heeere!” She held her hand up in the direction of the brick house that lay just on the other side of a cluster of trees. Her mindvoice echoed the sentiment. “Scared me clean outta my fur! Could someone bring me somethin’ so I’m not running starkers ‘til my heart settles?” 

There was a sort of buzz as someone acknowledged the naked girl’s request while the Alpha continued his roll call. Aspen, Devon, Corky? What about Topher? Has anyone seen Topher? 

Three young voices sounded and gave their locations. There was a heavy pause while they waited for Topher. 

The tawny female flicked her ears back and forth. Her companion looked longingly at the leg she was holding. 

The Alpha snapped again, Topher, answer me. Another pause. The minds of the wolves buzzed in concern before the Alpha bellowed the missing wolf’s name. The bellow was accompanied by a low, searching howl. 

A couple of unfamiliar voices answered from down the road, but not the voice they were looking for. 

He was with us for a little while, Aspen admitted, we were looking at all of the cars, but then that man came out and we ran; but Topher said he was going to stay and ask about the cars…

God damn it, Aspen, you’re not supposed to separate! The snarling voice of a woman cut in. How many times have we told you that you aren’t supposed to separate when you’re outside of the yard? 

I’m sorry, Felicia; he was really insistent and he wouldn’t come back with us! I can’t just boss anyone I please, and he’s much bigger than me!

The Alpha’s voice overlaid Aspen’s; Clara, take Righton and go down the road to His house and see if Topher’s still there. 

The tawny female complained noisily both in voice and mind, I’m eating, Donny. Make Right go himself. 

If Right goes by himself, we’ll have two missing wolves instead of one—

I can hear you! The bi-coloured wolf put his paw over his nose and groaned in a disgruntled fashion. 

Then why the fuck aren’t you moving? The Alpha spat. Clara, take him and go—is anyone else missing? Felicia, are the little still upstairs with you? 

All but Riella, but she’s with Conny and Morgan at the grocery store. 

As the Alpha and his mate exchanged information, the tawny female dropped her deer leg and flicked her ears in annoyance. When the white and grey wolf made a move for the leg she gave a barking snarl and gnashed her teeth near his face. 

Startled, the male jumped back again and bared his teeth. Don’t boss me, Clara, I’ll rip your ears right off. 

“I thought I told the two of you to go find Topher?” The Alpha came around a big oak with a set of clothing in his hands. He walked between the wolves and kicked the deer leg into a bush. “Leave the god damned leg alone and go before I use it to beat the shit out of you; we have a missing pup and you’re going to fuck around over a front leg—Daniela, where are you?” 

A slender hand emerged and waved. “Here, Donny; don’t come too close though; I think I’m standing in poison ivy.” 

“Oh, honey, why don’t you bother to look before you turn?” 

“I couldn’t! I said I was scared right outta my fur; what did you think I meant?” 

There was a series of gruesome popping and snapping noises as the wolves behind him began to shift back into humans. Donny looked over his shoulder at the pair of adults to make sure they were heading in the direction of the house before going down the street to look for the boy. The last thing they needed was for those two bozos to forget they were naked and start walking around the general public. He should have bought that house in the nudist colony. 

He turned back to the girl in the bushes. “All right puppy, circle ‘round, let’s see what you did to yourself.” He unfolded a white sundress that his mate handed him when Daniela announced that she needed a change of clothing, and he held it out as a sort of shield between himself and girl to save her budding sense of modesty some grief. He turned his head, too, for good measure. 

The girl fumbled out of the bush and grabbed her dress. Donny waited until she said “Ready,” before he turned and looked at her. Her scrawny legs were already turning red. 

“Yep, that’s poison ivy. Damn it, Daniela,” He ran his hand through his hair and noticed that her arms were starting to break out, too.  “All right, come on, let’s go; inside—no, I’m definitely not carrying you, puppy.” He took a step back as she held her arms out to him.

Looking a little hurt, she dropped her arms and started off toward the house. Donny found his mate’s mind. Grab that canister of oatmeal and the box of chamomile tea and dump it all in a tub of warm water. And put towels down on the way to the bathroom, would you?

What the hell happened? Did Topher show up? Is he all right? 

No, Clara and Right should be heading down the street to see if the kid is with the ball of sunshine down the road. Daniela changed right in a bush covered with poison ivy; she’s already tomato red. 

Oh, fantastic. Felicia’s voice had an unkind bite to it. I’ll call Morgan and see if they’re at the store. Maybe they can pick up some calamine while they’re there.

Daniela was holding her arms perpendicular to the rest of her body and waving them slightly by the time that they got to the house. “I’m really itchy!” she complained, turning sideways and passing through the door. She narrowly avoided Brighton and Clara who both looked on transfixed as their dark haired Alpha ushered the girl down a path of towels to the bathroom. 

He spared them a glance that said quite plainly they should already be halfway down the street in his opinion, and said to the girl, “You should have looked where you were turning.” 

She squawked an indignant protest as Felicia intercepted her in the bathroom and shut the door in Donny’s face. 

“I’ll take care of her. You watch the little ones; they’re in the play pen.” 

Shaking his head slightly, Donny headed toward the stairs, kicking the towels into a pile as he went so that Felicia could pick them up later. 

He paused when he passed the window on the second floor landing so that he could watch Clara and Brighton make their way down the road. 

“He better be here,” Clara grumbled when they rounded the bend in the road and approached the yard with rusted old cars strewn across it. “Dunno why the hell he would be; this guy scares the shit outta me.” 

“He likes cars,” Brighton yawned as the wind pushed one of the clouds out of the way of the sun, and he shook his head a little. “Something about his dad being a mechanic or some shit.” 

“Doesn’t stop Him from being scary as fuck,” she muttered as they stepped on the drive. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted toward the house; “Topher! You better fucking be here!” 

She paced the length of the driveway’s end and eyeballed the house. Brighton plopped gracelessly on the corner of the street and turned the sole of his foot upward so he could pick a rock out from between his toes. “Why don’t you go up to the front door, Einstein?” 

“Why the fuck don’t you?”

“Why are you so angry?” 

“I’m hungry, damn it.” She cupped her hands and called the boy’s name again. 

“Hey check it out,” Brighton tugged on the leg of Clara’s jeans and jutted his chin at the other side of the driveway. A lanky cat with a sleek coat clambered out of the storm drain that rain under the end of the concrete drive and sat down on top of the metal tube. “Ballsy little tidbit, isn’t she?” 

The two wolves watched the cat watch them. 

“You think He’d miss her?” Clara wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and licked her lips. 

“Maybe. Maybe she’s a stray, though.” 

Clara crouched several inches lower to the ground and watched the cat intently. Her muscles bunched as she prepared to launch out of her skin after the cat, but the moment before she moved, the cat meowed politely at her and vanished. 

The next thing Clara knew, she was fighting for her balance as Brighton gripped one of her legs. “WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!” He looked up at her, tightening his hold on her leg. She reached down and gripped the male's hair to keep her balance. 

"Let go of me, asshole," she muttered; and then much louder, "TOPHER!" The sooner they could get the pup, the sooner they could go the fuck home. Away from Him and his god damned vanishing cat.

The screen door at the front of the house opened and shut with a creak and a bang. A blond boy of around fifteen or so skipped down the stairs and then strode through the grass toward them with all the confidence of a budding Alpha. Topher wasn’t alone, though. Walking slowly behind him was the broad shouldered proprietor of the house, and He didn’t look very amused at the sight of two wolves grappling at the end of his driveway.

Topher gave Clara and Brighton both a cheeky smile and took a bite out of some white bread sandwich just as Clara managed to remove herself from Brighton’s hold. Clara was going to scold the youth for making her shout so much, but He interjected, coming to a stop several paces from the end of his drive.

“Hi there,” His voice was pleasant, but tight. “Why are you trying to eat my ghast?”

Clara looked at Brighton. What the fuck’s a ghast?

Brighton, in the process of getting up to his feet, made a noncommittal noise, Don’t admit to anything. Admitting to things will just get us into trouble. I say we take the puppy and get the fuck out while we still have our tails and testicles.

I don’t have testicles, moron.

You could have fooled me.

“You know, that’s kind of rude,” He said to them, interrupting what would have probably turned into a lengthy debate. “You should speak up so that we can all hear you.”

Clara bared her teeth at Brighton before she turned the expression into a tight smile directed at Him. “We’re sorry; we didn’t know it was yours.” Whatever the fuck it was. “We came for our boy.” She pointed at the youth who was chewing his sandwich. It was hard not to focus on the sandwich—harder when the wind shifted and brought with it the smell of ham.

Nostrils flaring slightly, Clara debated just abandoning conversation all together and grabbing the sandwich from the boy’s hand. “Can I have that?” Oops, well, so much for manners.

Topher frowned, “Leave me alone, Clara, it’s mine; His mate made it for me.”

 Clara licked the front of her teeth from under her lips and was clearly struggling with some internal debate; sensing her troubles, Brighton brought himself to his full, not quite impressive height, and offered a less strained smile at Him.

He, on the other hand, was looking at Topher, seeming a bit concerned. “You know them, then?”

Topher, still eyeing Clara distrustfully, took another bite of his sandwich and answered with a muffled, “Mmphm.” He nodded so that there was no confusion as to whether or not he was claiming the two nutballs at the end of the drive. Swallowing probably before he should have, he clarified, “they’re my…cousins, ish. Clara, Brighton.” He pointed at each and then looked back at Him with a shrug.

Clara took advantage of Topher’s looking away to sneak her hand toward his sandwich, but apparently He was less inclined to let the boy learn a hard lesson, because he said with great hesitancy:

“Er, you know if you’re hungry…you’re welcome in. We have plenty of stuff for more sandwiches.”

Clara opened her mouth to accept the offer immediately, but Topher said quickly, “They’ll be fine. We only live down the road.”

For a moment, Clara looked mad enough to spit, but Topher was looking pointedly at Brighton and shaking his head very subtly. Clara, having no idea what Topher was trying to say, but recognizing the slight drop of his tone as a young Alpha’s insistence, said very slowly, “Oookaaay….well…I guess that we won’t…then.” She licked her lips as her eyes lingered on the boy’s ham sandwich.

Brighton whined softly, the inhuman sound almost comical as it was emitted from a very human throat. “We should get back,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head and mussing the short, caramel coloured hair that was there. “Donovan’s in a piss anyway; Daniela ran straight into a bunch of poison ivy when that gun went off.”

“Gun?” Topher looked confused. He finished off his sandwich despite the fact that Clara was practically drooling on his shoulder over it. He looked at The Man, cheeks puffed with his sandwich, as though asking “What gun?”

And then his face brightened. “O’ ta ker,” He made a face, chewed a few times, swallowed, and tried again. “That was a car.” He nodded at The Man. “We were fixing it—well, Deacon was fixing it. I got to turn the key, though! That’s what made the bang sound.” He grinned like he’d just been given the world’s biggest piece of candy. “It was really cool!”

Clara looked at Brighton. Brighton looked at Clara. They both looked at the boy and then at Him and then back at the boy.

“Oh,” Brighton was the first to speak. And then to Clara, Do we tell Donny?

That the bigass hunters he thinks are lurking around here has actually been cars backfiring? Hell yes, if it keeps us from having to scramble around like morons every time it happens.

I meant about the kid being in the car…

I’m sure as fuck not telling him that, but if you want him to bite your butt…

There was an indignant sort of shake on the other end of their connection.

Clara’s stomach grumbled loudly.

“Well, best be off,” she gestured toward the road and looked at two of the three males expectantly. To the third, she said, “We appreciate you watching over him; that was super great of you. If you want to just give us a howe—er, holler, the next time he drops by unannounced, that would be wonderful.” That way they didn’t have to run around like chickens with their heads chopped off the next time Topher decided to tune them out.

He stepped forward with a concerned expression stretched across His face; “Look, if you’re hungry, it’s really no trouble.”

Again Clara found herself thinking of the sandwich and how delicious it probably had been. Stupid Topher. Stupid Donovan. Stupid car backfiring stupidly.

Brighton said, Donovan wouldn’t li—

I KNOW WHAT DONOVAN WOULDN’T LIKE! Clara turned on Brighton and snarled deeply. Brighton haunched his shoulders and scampered passed Clara, grabbing Topher by the front of his shirt and pulling him along.

Clara smiled politely as she could manage at Him. “It’s okay. I have a snack waiting for me at home.”

And then in a stiff sort of fashion, the woman turned and followed the two males down the street.

“You almost came unglued, Clara,” Brighton’s voice filtered back toward the driveway as the wolves walked away, “right in the open where everyone could see you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Moon Moon.”

“You think you’re so high and mighty because Donovan let you use the computer first; well I’m here to tell you I didn’t know that picture was being taken!”

“Meow,” the ghast looked up at Deacon politely and blinked.

Deacon shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t understand it either.”