Barlow howled again, and this time he was annoyed. That howl very clearly said: Come. With a side helping of: Now!
Alex snorted, pawing at the ice with her claws. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t have much choice. Not only did his voice call to her, making her twitch with unease at the thought of disobeying him, but her human mind understood that to walk into that village—as either a wolf or a naked woman—was beyond her.
With a growl and grumble, Alex scrambled up a very tall, slippery embankment and tumbled down the other side. She shook the snow crust from her fur and continued on.
The going was rough. No human would be able to follow this trail without snowshoes and a lot of practice. Maybe a snowmobile, but it wouldn’t be easy. Alex glanced at the night sky. Perhaps a helicopter.
Another huge mountain of ice rose ahead. Barlow stood at the precipice, glaring at Alex as if she was the lamest werewolf in the land. Annoyed, she clambered upward. Right before she got there, he threw back his head and howled so loudly she lost her footing and slid halfway back down. By the time she recovered, he was gone.
She was so annoyed she didn’t at first see what lay on the other side. A second, much smaller village appeared to have popped free of the earth.
A single light in the town square created just enough glow to illuminate Barlow trotting down the street, and there was an odd humming, almost a buzzing, in the air.
Barlow turned and yipped. Alex took a step forward despite herself. She found Barlow’s “orders” damn hard to resist—all that alpha wolf, I-am-your-maker shit—which only made her more determined to resist them.
She forced herself to remain where she was despite his call. She would join him eventually. She didn’t have much choice. The werewolf that had murdered her father was part of Barlow’s pack. Barlow’s pack lived in this village. Therefore, she would enter.
When she was damn good and ready.
Barlow waited in the town square. The place was spooky silent. Businesses lined the street. But nowhere did she see a car or a truck. Of course she hadn’t seen a road, either, since they’d left the first village behind.
Houses rose behind the commercial district, chimneys smoking. Lights flickered here and there, and she suddenly understood that the odd hum was the buzz of the generators that powered the place. Beyond that buzz she heard not a single rumble of a car, or even the bark of a dog.
In the space of a blink, Barlow changed from wolf to man. For an instant she envied him that power. She hated being vulnerable for the time it took her to morph into a woman.
“I want you to meet my people,” he said.
Alex glanced around the deserted town pointedly. She had to wonder where he was hiding that werewolf army.
“Shape-shift,” he ordered.
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Alex stuck out her tongue. The long, languid, loose organ flopped free of her mouth and she drooled, which was not the effect she’d been hoping for.
“Suit yourself,” he muttered, then he threw back his head and howled.
Alex skittered, startled by both the action and the sheer volume. Her ears, super-sensitive in this form, rang, and her throat ached with the desire to answer.
She could not drag her gaze from the man, big and bronzed and naked in the half-light, as the howl of an alpha wolf curled toward the slowly lightening sky. If she’d had human skin, it would have had goose bumps. As it was she shook herself vigorously to make the odd tingle go away.
Alex turned her gaze toward the buildings, expecting his people to answer that call, but no one opened the doors and stepped outside. No one walked in from the side streets. No headlights blazed in the distance.
She turned to Barlow, ready now to reach for her humanity, to shape-shift into herself if only to ask him what the hell, and she saw them.
Dozens of wolf-shaped shadows materialized from the gloom.
Alex glanced at the empty village, then back at the approaching cadre of wolves. Huh. It hadn’t occurred to her that the whole town would spend the night hunting together. In her experience, werewolves were solitary. Of course she was starting to understand that Barlow and his wolves were nothing like the ones she’d known.
They loped across the expanse of snow and ice, even as the approaching dawn crept up behind them, sweeping down like a tidal wave. The instant the sun touched their tails, they changed, tumbling end over end just as Alex had yesterday. But unlike Alex, they gracefully gained their feet, continuing toward the village on two legs instead of four.
The sun moved inexorably forward, changing each and every werewolf from beast to man or woman. By the time the pack ran into town, they were human.
Their faces reflected joy—Alex thought because of the night they’d spent in the woods. She understood now the ecstasy of running, the cool wind in her fur, incredible speed at her beck and call, feeling at one with the earth, the trees, the land—at home in a way she’d never felt before.
Alex tensed. This wasn’t home. What she had experienced was the collective consciousness of this pack. It would fade; it wasn’t real, and she needed to remember that.
However, the joy of the others didn’t appear to be residual spunkiness from their nightly frolic. Instead, their happiness stemmed from Julian’s return. Every person came to him, and he set his hand upon them. A shoulder here, a cheek there, the top of a head, a pat on the back. Once he’d done so, they let out a sigh of utter peace and moved aside so the next supplicant could step forward.