No Such Thing As Werewolves (47 page)

She paused for a moment to study them and then arched her neck in a howl that rolled over them like thunder. It was unmistakably a challenge. The small blond female behind her and a gray-furred male remained still as the midnight approached at a slow walk.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Liz said, slipping out of her shirt and shucking out of her jeans. She’d lost enough clothing to the change. This time she was going to strip first.

Liz let her bra fall to the ground, shivering in the rain as she removed her panties. She was conscious of Blair’s eyes all but burning into her, though her brother looked studiously away. She suppressed a brief twinge of embarrassment, taking a step toward her apparent rival as she began to shift.

It came quickly now, a welcome warmth that pushed away the chill as fur erupted from her skin. In the space of three steps, she was half again as tall as she had been. She strode confidently toward the midnight until the gap between them had closed to perhaps twenty feet.

“Why have you come to my city, little girl?” the female called in Spanish, voice a low rumble. She flexed her claws, hackles raised.

Liz considered her answer carefully. If Blair was right about the whole matriarchy thing, then she was supposed to act like an alpha female. That meant showing no fear and a great deal of testosterone-driven bluster if action movies and frat boys were any guide.

“That’s my business,” she roared back, flexing her own claws. She took a step closer. “You can either get out of my way and leave me to it, or I can humiliate you in front of your pack.”

That did it. The midnight’s nostrils flared. Then she began a lumbering run toward Liz. The move surprised Liz, but not because it made any tactical sense. She was used to Blair’s blurring and Mohn’s troops firing missiles. This seemed almost quaint by comparison.

She is strong, Ka-Ken, but not nearly so strong as you. Her lineage is further removed from the Mother, your progeny’s progeny. Her mastery of our skills is wanting. Use that to defeat her.

The female leapt into the air, coming down at Liz in a mass of claws and fangs. Liz vanished, pulling the shadows close as she rolled to the right. The midnight came down in the spot Liz had occupied, spinning as she tasted the air with her nostrils. Her eyes scanned ceaselessly, but they found nothing.

Liz waited until her opponent’s back was exposed and then lunged from the shadows. She wrapped an arm around the female’s throat, plunging the claws of her other hand into the small of the female’s back. She let the beast guide her, slicing muscle until her hand settled around the lower spine. Then she snapped it with a crack that echoed across the Tarmac.

The female fell limply to the asphalt, paralyzed from the waist down. It was a calculated move, nonlethal but humiliating and a swift end to the fight. The gamble was that her opponent would be able to heal from it. If they were going to rescue the Mother, they needed allies, not more corpses.

The midnight surprised her, sweeping an arm around and seizing Liz’s ankle. The next thing she knew, she was on her back. Her opponent’s wet, furry body crashed down atop her. Fangs savaged her shoulder, drawing a cry of pain. Fury surged through her. She could have killed her opponent. This would end. Now.

Liz seized the midnight’s head in both hands, jerking it away from her. She held the jaws apart and used her legs to launch herself and the midnight into the air. She had superior mobility and used it to great effect, landing on the midnight’s back as they came down hard on the Tarmac.

“Yield, or I’ll tear out your goddamn throat,” she hissed, meaning every word. Her opponent went limp.

Liz rose and took a step back. She flexed her right shoulder, which was already beginning to heal. The midnight hobbled to her knees and turned to face Liz. She kept her head down. “You’ve bested me. Control of the pack is yours.”

“I don’t want your pack,” Liz shot back. The pain was fading, but the dull ache had soured her mood. “Give us a place to stay, and we’ll be out of the city tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?” the midnight asked, peering up at her with amber eyes that mirrored Liz’s own. She rose shakily to her feet. Apparently the spinal injury had healed.

“We must wake the Mother, the woman who gave birth to our entire species,” Liz growled. She looked around, taking in the faces of everyone around her. There was a mixture of awe…and fear, especially in the midnight’s companions.
 

Chapter 67- I Know Spanish

Blair’s tenth-grade Spanish was no match for the dark-furred female’s outburst, but he recognized the tone. This was a challenge, pure and simple. Winner takes all.
 

It is so, Ka-Dun. Females are ever the pack leaders. We males are shapers and advisors, gifting them with our wisdom. We guide and reason, but the rule is theirs.

The gender roles were reversed from Western society, but they made perfect sense. The reversal provided a natural set of checks and balances. He wondered if the virus’s creator had intended that. Of course she had.

He was shocked at the speed and brutality of the combat. There was very little finesse, just raw power as Liz-wolf casually stepped into the shadows and then emerged to rip out her opponent’s spine. Her poor opponent put up a little resistance after that, but the auburn werewolf batted her down as though she were a kitten tussling with a mountain lion.

Just like that, it was over. The black-furred werewolf assumed a submissive pose, and the two shared a brief conversation, again in Spanish. Blair understood exactly one word—donde. Where. He assumed the black-furred woman was asking their destination, but that was the limit of his frustratingly inadequate knowledge.

The two werewolves who’d arrived with their beaten leader began to approach. The first was a small blond female, still a head and shoulders larger than Blair but almost a foot shorter than Liz. She was hesitant and kept her distance. The male’s fur was similar to Blair’s, but where Blair’s was silver the newcomer’s was more of a smoky gray.

The gray made a wide circle around Liz and her defeated opponent, clearly picking a path in Blair’s direction. A small army of dogs trotted in his wake, complete with everything from a Chihuahua to a pair of Rottweilers. Blair could dimly sense their minds, though he made no move to engage them. That might be construed as hostile. Instead he too moved in a wide arc, meeting the newcomer forty or fifty feet from Liz.

Blair brushed the sodden hair from his face, thankful that he no longer wore glasses. There was no way he’d have been able to see in this rain. Instead, the downpour was merely annoying. He peered up at the gray male, surprised by how little intimidation he felt. Here he was, in human form, a little shy of six feet, confronted with a seven-foot werewolf with a good two hundred pounds on him.

It is natural, Ka-Dun. Your lineage is pure. You are the Mother’s direct progeny. None stand higher. This one is a pale shadow, four or five generations removed from your own. Even now he trembles in awe and fear at your strength. Such is both right and proper, a measure of your higher birth.

That might have been the most the beast had ever spoken, so Blair lent the words great weight. A werewolf’s pedigree must be of utmost importance in determining status. It probably also determined relative strength, if the fight between Liz and the black-furred female was any indication.

“Me llamo Adolpho,” the gray rumbled, giving a slight bow. A white terrier hurried forward to sniff Blair’s foot.

A fresh surge of frustration heated Blair despite the chill of the air. He was going to have a very difficult time functioning here without speaking the language.

Take the tongue from this one’s mind, Ka-Dun.

Blair’s jaw fell open as the implications hit him.
I can learn Spanish from his mind?

Just so. Give me control, and I will guide you.

So Blair did. Invisible and intangible but no less real, a tendril of humming energy stretched from his mind. It caressed the gray’s mind. At first the male stiffened, fists balling as he looked about him as if in search of an assailant. Then he relaxed. Blair’s probe slipped through the gray’s permeable defenses and into his mind. Up to that point he was more or less in control and understood completely what was happening.

Then Blair’s will exploded into hundreds of tendrils. Thousands. They slithered past colorful memories, latching onto some while ignoring others. The densest collection plunged deep into the man’s past, revealing images of classrooms and first steps. The places and moments he’d likely learned most of the language he now used.

Each tendril sent pulses of light flowing back into Blair, faster than he could track or comprehend. They came faster and faster, a burning heat inside his skull. He scrunched his eyes shut, sagging to his knees as he cradled his head in both hands. He had no idea how much time had passed when he found himself panting in the rain.

Blair looked up to find the gray, Adolpho, in a nearly identical pose. He too had fallen to his knees. He peered up at Blair with frightened, watery eyes. “What did you do to me?”

“I, uh…Are we speaking Spanish?” Blair asked lamely, staggering to his feet. Adolpho followed, just as shakily.

“Yes, it’s the only language I know,” he replied. Some of the earlier warmth had left his voice.

Blair was being an asshole. He’d just violated the man’s mind without asking, something Ahiga had implied was taboo among werewolves. Blair offered a hand. “I’m sorry about whatever just happened. I’m still learning about our abilities. My name is Blair.”

Adolpho’s furry hand engulfed Blair’s, but the handshake was gentle enough. “I understand. Every day, the beast teaches me something new. It was only recently I learned to command my pack.”

The mention seemed to open a floodgate, and dogs of every size approached, tails wagging as they sniffed at Blair. He couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t owned a dog since he’d been a kid, but he’d always had a soft spot for them.

“That’s amazing,” he said, kneeling to scratch behind the ears of a golden retriever. “How do you do it?”

“I just…do.” Adolpho shrugged. He dropped to a knee, putting his face closer to Blair’s. “The beast tells me that you are strong, that you are near to the Mother, and I should obey you.”

“Mine said pretty much the same thing. It also suggested I could learn Spanish, so that’s why…well, sorry again. About invading your mind without asking,” Blair said. The scent of wet dog was overpowering, but rather than finding it repulsive, he found it comforting.
 

“It is, as I understand it, your right to do so,” Adolpho shrugged. Then he shifted, shrinking down to a mousy man just over five feet tall. He had wide hazel eyes and a tangle of dark hair, which the rain quickly plastered to his scalp.

One of the dogs, the small white terrier, pulled over a backpack and deposited it at Adolpho’s feet. The mousy man reached inside and pulled out a bright yellow poncho that he quickly shrugged into. It probably didn’t keep him warm, but it kept the rain off and covered his nakedness.

“Handy, having a clothes caddy,” Blair said, unable to suppress a smile.

“So who are your friends? The red female is the strongest I’ve ever seen,” Adolpho asked, gesturing toward them.
 

Blair turned to find that both Liz and the black-furred female had returned to human form. The female was
 
a tall brunette, just over six feet. She too had donned a poncho, and was offering one to Liz. She pulled it on gratefully, though it left most of her creamy legs exposed. The blond werewolf finally approached, shifting as she did.

By the time she reached the other two women, she was a short, tanned Brazilian with blond hair that spilled down to the small of her back. She was gorgeous, walking with the sensual grace of a dancer. The Brazilian crouched next to the pack where the ponchos had originated and withdrew one. Her next words caught Blair completely by surprise.

“Hello, Liz,” she said, smiling up at the tall redhead. She pulled the poncho over her shoulders and stood up. “It’s been a long time. You look well. I guess we both do.”

Blair turned back to Adolpho. “The woman is Liz, though I’m sure you just heard that. Looks like your friend already knows her.”

“That’s Cyntia,” Adolpho said, nodding toward the blond woman. “She used to be dumpy and shy, but after she changed…well you know better than anyone what it does to our bodies.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Blair said, giving the man a conspiratorial grin. The mousy man shared it.

“So who is the scary-looking man with the rifle back by the airplane? He doesn’t smell like a wolf,” Adolpho said. He was peering at Trevor, though the earlier smell of alarm had faded. Trevor, on the other hand, still smelled wary.

“That’s Trevor, Liz’s brother. He’s just as scary as he looks, werewolf or not,” Blair explained. He began to walk toward Liz and gestured for Trevor to do the same.

Trevor sized the situation up for a moment longer. Then he slung his rifle over his shoulder and picked up his pack. He trotted over, reaching Liz and her new companions about the same time Blair and Adolpho did.

“Blair, Trevor, this is Elmira and her pack. The blond woman is Cyntia, but I haven’t met the man with Blair yet,” she said, pointing to each person in turn.