Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) (37 page)

“But you notice you have to say, ‘we
let
them fly,’” said Nicolette. “Like it’s a favor.”

“You’re the one who said ‘let,’” Roy protested. “That’s
your
word.”

“Get a room, you two,” said Laura, smiling. Then she turned to the others in the pack. “What do the rest of you think?”

“I’m in,” said Keisha. “Laura kept her word to me. And Roy came to help us, when he didn’t have to. I trust them.”

“I’m in,” said Miguel. “Roy respected me. He treated me like one of his own Marines when he didn’t even know me. He nearly killed himself just coming here, let alone what Gregor did to him. And Laura took out Gregor. I trust them.”

Russell looked at the other three members of the pack. “I trust
you
.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner,” Roy said to them all. “I wanted to bring a friend of mine, as an ally. But I’ll never leave you behind again.”

Roy felt Laura grasp their bond, then extend it outward, touching each of them. He joined with her, weaving his strength into hers, linking each member of the pack to each other and to him and Laura.

You’re my brothers and sisters,
Roy thought, hoping they’d understand his meaning even though the pack sense didn’t transmit words.
I’ll protect you with my life.

He’d only thought in terms of being the alpha, the leader: of him defending them, of giving with no expectation of getting. But each of them responded, offering him something in return.

Nicolette stood at his side and a little behind, guarding his back. Russell conveyed the image of the two of them kicking back with a beer, and the implication that Roy was in dire need of someone to relax with. Miguel sent him warmth and loyalty and brotherhood. Keisha offered Roy her brilliance and skills, and the friendship she had already extended to Laura.

Click.

“I have a pack,” Roy said, stunned. “I’ll never be alone again.”

Laura’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. She touched his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on,” Roy said.

He knew the importance of ritual and tradition in binding people together and raising morale. If there was one thing the Marines were good at, other than warfare, it was that. Semper fi. From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli. The Rifleman’s Creed.

This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life…

“Do you all have scent names?” Roy asked.

The pack looked baffled, and Keisha said, “What are they?”

“They’re an important cultural tradition.” Roy mentally crossed his fingers that no one would inquire further, since that was the sum of his knowledge on the subject. “They’re exactly what they sound like: names based on your scents.”

“You’re not changing your names,” Laura added hastily, no doubt imagining a lifetime of being addressed as Lemon Meringue. “And you don’t have to use them in conversation. It’s just important to have them.”

“If you’ll become wolves for a moment, and remember all of our scents…” Roy transformed, though he could smell them as a man; Laura took on her lithe gray form.

Roy had only seen Miguel’s wolf before, and he examined the others curiously. Nicolette’s wolf was only a little bigger than Laura’s, rangy, her sleek golden fur stained with blood at the shoulder. Russell was a black wolf, powerfully built and the largest of the pack. Keisha’s fur was pale, almost silvery, and her eyes were a startling, brilliant green.

Roy became a man again, followed by the others. “You all caught our scents?”

Everyone nodded.

“I was named by the Marine who made me a wolf,” Roy said solemnly. He hoped that by starting there, he’d prevent everyone, including Laura, from cracking up when he got to her scent name, or possibly his. “I was bleeding to death in Afghanistan, and he bit me to save my life. And he gave me my scent name: Guinness.”

To his relief, no one laughed.

“Of course,” Russell said. “It’s a lot of the same notes, minus the alcohol.”

“And Roy named me,” Laura said. “Er… Lemon Meringue.”

Keisha, Nicolette, and Laura looked at each other and snickered.

Resignedly, Roy thought,
They say laughter is the best medicine.

Roy went on, “As your alphas, Laura and I will name you.”

“Miguel, you’re Caramel,” Laura said.

Miguel seemed pleased with that, which Roy figured either meant the whole thing was working or that he liked caramel.

“Russell,” Roy began, inhaling his scent of bitter chemicals and smoke.

“Gunsmoke,” Nicolette said, simultaneously with Roy. “And why Russell gets Gunsmoke when I’m going to get… I don’t know what, but it won’t be that.”

“I might trade you,” Russell offered. “Depending on what yours is.”

“No trading. The names are what they are. Nicolette…” Roy breathed in Nicolette’s clean scent of rain and earth and green. “Summer Rain.”

Nicolette gave Roy a menacing look, but Miguel smiled at her. “That’s exactly right.”

Keisha’s scent was a dizzyingly complex blend of what seemed like hundreds of different elements, spicy and warm and elegant.

Roy nudged Laura. “I need help with Keisha. I don’t know how to describe hers. I’m not even sure what all the parts of it are.”

“Vanilla,” said Russell. “Oranges. Peaches. Coriander. Bergamot. Jasmine tea.”

“Cedar,” offered Miguel. “Roses. And something green. Grass? Herbs?”

“Incense… Sandalwood… Amber.” Laura laughed. “It’s a perfume! And I know which one. It’s Obsession, by Calvin Klein. I mean, not exactly. But Roy doesn’t exactly smell like Guinness either. Keisha, your scent name is Obsession.”

“Mine’s the coolest,” Keisha said.

The mood in the room had changed. No longer shell-shocked, the pack seemed brighter, if not exactly cheerful, and ready to get on with things. Roy figured that would last for about another hour, but that would be enough to get them safely home.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Roy tried not to look too obviously cautious when he stood, but he saw the twitch of Laura’s hand toward his elbow and he wouldn’t have been shocked if he’d fallen over. But to his relief, though he was light-headed from exhaustion, the effects of Gregor’s power had faded away.

The moon and stars were bright overhead, the air cold enough to make everyone’s breath condense in white mist. It was good to be outside, and better to be about to leave the house and its cracked wall forever, though Roy was sure he wasn’t half as glad to see the last of it as Gregor’s former hostages were. Sooner or later, the discovery would be made of an abandoned building and something inexplicable and disgusting inside. Roy wondered if someone was in charge of hushing up such things or if he’d eventually read about it in a newspaper.

Russell stopped outside, laid his palm on the front door, and waved everyone forward. “Go to the cars. I’ll be with you in a second.”

The pack seemed to find more meaning in that than Roy did, because that put a new spring in their steps. He followed them to the cars, where they all turned, eagerly watching Russell.

“What’s going on?” Laura asked.

“You’ll see,” said Nicolette. “Just watch.”

For several minutes, nothing happened. Roy was beginning to wonder if it was some inexplicable prank on him when the entire mansion went up in a gigantic fireball. Heat struck him like a blow to the face. Russell was still standing at the door, engulfed in flames.

“Russell!” Laura shouted, lunging forward.

Roy grabbed her arm, jerking her to a stop. It was already too late. She’d only get herself killed.

“He’s all right!” Miguel called, shouting over the roar of the flames. “It’s his power—he won’t burn.”

Roy turned angrily on them all. “Not funny, guys. You should have warned us.”

The other pack members were shaking their heads.

“I knew he was going to burn the place down,” Nicolette said. “But not like that! I thought just the door would catch fire.”

Russell stepped away from the blazing mansion, covered in soot, his clothes charred and smoking. As he walked toward them, he left a trail of bits of blackened cloth and ash.

Five steps away from the blaze, he collapsed.

Roy’s heart nearly stopped. He bolted forward, running low, grabbed Russell, hefted him over his shoulder, and tore back to cover.

He was about to dive behind a car when he saw everyone staring at him.

Right.

No gunfire. No enemies. No IEDs. There was a man down, but not because he’d been shot or caught in a blast.

Roy skidded to a stop. He laid Russell on the ground in front of Keisha, then surreptitiously pressed the heel of his hand into the driveway.

Hard
, Roy told himself.
Cold. Sandpapery. There’s a smooth pebble embedded in the concrete.

“Is Russell all right?” Laura asked.

Keisha had her fingers on his throat, and her head turned over his face to listen for his breathing. She straightened up, looking relieved. “Yes. He’s exhausted, I think. I had no idea he could do that. I’ve never seen him light anything bigger than a log in the fireplace.”

Roy looked back at the mansion. The entire building had fallen into a heap of smoldering ash. No wonder Russell had passed out.

The blaze had been so spectacular, odds were good someone had called 911. Roy had to pull himself together and get everyone out before firefighters arrived with the police in tow.

I’m here in Yosemite with Laura and my pack,
he thought.
Russell’s not hurt. DJ’s alive. Gregor and Donnie are dead. The ground is solid beneath my feet and hands.

Roy stood up. “Keisha, put Russell in a car with you. Nicolette, take Laura’s car. Miguel, take whatever car you want. Drive carefully. Look after each other. Help yourself to anything in the cabin. There’s a fold-out bed in the living room. You can find Laura and me in the pack sense. Now go.”

Barely a minute later, three cars pulled out through the gates. Laura and Roy hurried after them, taking refuge in the shadows of the woods.

Roy tried to focus on the clasp of Laura’s fingers and on the solid earth beneath his feet. He couldn’t fall apart now. Everyone needed him.

“Roy?” Laura asked, her voice small and fragile. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“I killed Gregor. And I think it did change me. The wall—the blood—Is that what it’s like? Am I always going have that picture stuck in my head?”

“You won’t be seeing it constantly for the rest of your life.” At least, Roy hoped she wouldn’t. “But I don’t know if you’ll ever forget it. I don’t think
I’ll
ever forget it.”

“How do you cope?”

“You can tell yourself they were bad people and they needed to die. In Gregor’s case, that’s objectively true.”

“I know that.” Laura sounded on the verge of tears. “It doesn’t help. Is that what you told yourself?”

“No. I told myself I was doing what I had to do to save my life and the lives of my men. That’s also objectively true for you. Gregor was going to kill me in the most awful fucking way I’ve ever heard of, and that includes burning and chemical weapons and radiation.”

Roy stopped walking, bringing Laura to a halt and making her look at him. This one time, he wanted her to see his fear. “Laura, I can’t even tell you what it was like, because I’m afraid if I start talking about it, I’ll go to pieces. Trust me, it was horrible. And it was him or me. You did what you had to do to save my life.”

Laura slipped her arm around his waist. “I’ll hold on to that. Thanks.”

“You might feel strange for a while,” Roy said. “The first time is hard.”

“Does the second time get easier?”

Roy devoutly hoped Laura would never have a second time. “Yes. And the next time, and the next. Though eventually it all circles round and every time starts to feel like the first time. Or maybe that’s just me.” As an afterthought, Roy added, “I shouldn’t say ‘every time.’ I’d be surprised if I lost any sleep over Donnie.”

Sirens screamed in the distance, getting closer. Laura grabbed his hand and steadied him in the pack sense until they stopped.

“I wonder if they’ll be able to tell what happened to Gregor,” Roy said. “Or even Donnie.”

“I doubt it. The whole thing will be an unsolved mystery.” As they walked on, she added, “I guess it’s good that Russell torched the place. But I know what it must have looked like to you when he went down. How are you doing?”

Roy opened his mouth to say, “I’m fine,” then forced it shut. It was one thing to try to stay strong for Laura. It was another thing to lie to her. But he was so tired and shaken up, he wasn’t even sure what the truth was.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “It’ll probably hit me later.”

They walked in silence for a while, then Laura said, “Let’s be wolves. I think we could both use a break from being human.”

Gratefully, Roy changed. Together they trotted through the woods until they came to the cabin, where they transformed again.

The cabin was dark, but Roy saw by the moonlight coming through the windows that while the pack had folded out the sofa bed, they were all racked out on the living room floor, piled together as if for warmth. By her breathing, Nicolette was still awake, but the others were fast asleep. Someone must have hauled Russell into the shower, because he was in clean clothes and smelled more of Laura’s cucumber soap than of charring and soot.

Laura flopped down on the sofa bed. Roy lay beside her.

The bed is solid beneath me,
he reminded himself.
Laura is with me. DJ is alive. I have a pack. I’m in Yosemite. I’m safe.

All the same, he didn’t close his eyes.

Chapter Twenty: Laura

A Thousand Times Under Fire

Laura awoke afraid and confused. A man was screaming in terror and agony. She couldn’t see. Someone had grabbed her. She struggled.

“Easy,” Roy said. “Easy, Laura. It’s me. It’s all right.”

She came fully awake, remembering the night before. She was sitting up on the sofa bed, with Roy holding her. The screaming faded into gasping, painful sobs.