Otherworld Nights (32 page)

Noah didn’t hang back like he used to, as if uncertain he’d get a hug too. But with the instincts of a hereditary werewolf, he knew his place in the Pack, and he waited until I was done with Nick before stepping forward.

“Is Hope okay?” he asked as I hugged him. “How’s the baby? Karl isn’t being an ass, is he? He’d better not be, after everything she’s been through.”

I tried not to smile. Noah had developed a bit of a crush on Hope over the last few years, which meant he had no love for Hope’s husband. Which also helped endear him to Clay.

“Mother and child are fine,” I said as we headed through the terminal exit doors. “Which is a miracle, all things considered. Karl’s doing well. Recuperating himself and taking care of them. Behaving himself.”

“He damned well better,” Clay said. “He’s in shit and he knows it. He ignored a direct order from Elena. He’s on probation now.”

“Probation?” Noah jogged to catch up as we crossed the road. “What if he leaves the Pack?”

“He won’t,” I said. “Having a baby means he needs us more than ever.”

“He’s definitely off the fence now,” Clay said. “Tripping over himself to make sure he doesn’t get kicked out.” He smiled, relishing the memory.

“He’ll be here for the Meet,” I said. “Jeremy told him he could skip it, but he’s coming, with Hope and the baby.”

Noah nodded. “Good.”

There was no fight over who’d drive the rental car. Nick gave Clay the keys as soon as we drew near. There wasn’t a fight over the passenger seat, either. Nick just opened the door for me. Like Noah, he’s a hereditary werewolf and innately understands hierarchy. He may be a year older than Clay, but he falls below us on the ladder, and he’s fine with that. A higher position means more responsibility. As far as Nick is concerned, he has the better end of the deal.

He does have his responsibilities now, though. Namely, the younger werewolves—Noah, Reese, and Morgan. Noah and Reese lived with both Nick and his father, Antonio, but Antonio has stepped back, leaving “the boys” to his son. Morgan hasn’t settled yet—he’s still too restless for an apartment in the city—but when he’s on Pack territory, he stays with the Sorrentinos, which puts him, too, under Nick’s jurisdiction. It’s a responsibility that suits Nick. It fulfills his wolf’s instinct to teach a younger generation, while letting him skip the often chaotic and mystifying baby and child stages.

As Clay drove, we talked about what had happened back in the States, and what was happening here. They’d spent the past week with the Russian Pack, Morgan joining them when we’d finally
made contact with him. Now, with the danger passed, our Pack had moved to a rented cottage, where we’d relax and recuperate for a few days before Jeremy showed up for the Meet, to discuss any fallout from the mess back home.

Clay and I knew of some fallout that
wouldn’t
be discussed. Fighting our way out of Nast headquarters, with Savannah and Adam, we’d just discovered that Jeremy’s father, Malcolm, was not nearly as dead as everyone thought. Jeremy didn’t know. If we had our way, he never would. Malcolm was a brutal, murderous bastard, who’d vented his worst on Jeremy.

Right now, Malcolm was still in Nast custody. We’d leave him there until we could negotiate with Sean Nast and get him back. Then we’d kill him. If that was my first act as Alpha, I’d be satisfied, though there was a time when the thought would have horrified me. Perhaps it still should. Politically, I do oppose the death penalty. Does that make me a hypocrite? Maybe. But I oppose it not because it seems unnecessarily cruel, but because I think life in prison is a more fitting punishment. And there’s always the risk of executing an innocent man. When Clay and I carry out the Pack’s death sentence on a man-killing mutt, I know damned well he’s guilty, because Jeremy would never order it unless my investigation left no doubt. Obviously, locking up the perpetrator isn’t an option for us. With Malcolm, he was already locked up and would presumably stay there for the rest of his life, but as long as there was a chance he could escape and come after Jeremy, I’d rather see him dead. It was that simple. If that makes me a bad human being, so be it. It makes me a good Pack wolf, and that’s what matters.

The cabin we’d rented was a little over an hour outside St. Petersburg. We were on a highway for almost that long before Nick told Clay to turn off onto a regional road. After about five minutes, Clay took a sudden right.

“Um,” Nick said. “If you heard me say to turn, your ears are still plugged from that flight—”

Clay turned left sharply and hit the gas, zooming a little ways down a forested road before slamming on the brakes and turning off the engine.

“Piss break?” Noah said.

“We’ve got a tail.”

“What?” I said, craning around to peer behind us into the night.

“A car followed us off the highway. It was hanging back. Lights off.”

As I watched, the moonlight illuminated a dark car passing the end of the road. It paused, as if the driver was peering down our track. Then it continued on.

“How far are we from the cabin?” I asked.

“About five miles,” Nick said. “But … Okay, you know how I said the kids were sleeping when I left? They weren’t. There’s no way we were getting them to bed when they knew you guys were coming. We told them Antonio would drive them out to meet you.”

“What?”

“You only said not to bring them to the
airport
. I texted Antonio about ten minutes ago to say we were on our way. They were going to meet us on that road back there. As a surprise.”

“That’s them following us, then?” I said.

He shook his head. “We rented a VW van.”

Meaning we had someone following us … while our kids were on the way to meet us.

“I’m calling Antonio now,” Nick said before I could ask.

“I’m calling Reese,” Noah added.

Noah couldn’t get a signal. Nick could, but there was no reply, suggesting the others were out of range. I cursed under my breath as he tried again. We spend so much time off the grid that you’d think we’d wise up and invest in really good two-way radios.

As Nick kept trying, the car reappeared on the road behind us. It stopped and idled there.

“What’s he doing?” Clay asked, squinting.

“Just watching us.”

We could turn around and go after our pursuer. But that was risky, with Antonio and the kids so close by.

I thought fast. Then I told Clay my plan.

As I made my way through the dark forest, I reflected that a Russian forest did not look, feel, or smell that much different from the woods at home. I also reflected that I shouldn’t forget that I
wasn’t
at home, because I had no idea what was out here in the way of deadly fauna. So far I’d only picked up the familiar scents of squirrel and rabbit. Nothing too worrisome. Not that it mattered. A grizzly could lumber into my path right now and I wouldn’t let it deter me. My children were on the other side of these woods.

As I walked, I kept hitting speed dial, cycling through Antonio, Reese, and Morgan. There wasn’t really any point in leaving a message every time it rang through to voice mail, and I was probably racking up a four-digit phone bill, but the calls made me feel better. Every few rounds, I’d ring Nick, too. That was a little more productive, as he reassured Clay that I hadn’t yet been devoured by rabid Russian squirrels.

I’d climbed out of the car and slipped off into the forest after our pursuer had carefully backed up, getting all but the nose of his car out of sight. Once I made it to the kids, Clay would go after whoever was in that car.

When I emerged onto the main road, I could see the van parked ahead of me. I kicked it into high gear, jogging along the ditch.

I expected the door to fly open, Reese or Morgan to come tumbling out, wondering what the hell I was doing. But the van remained silent and still. I drew close enough to see through the darkened windshield. The front seats were vacant. I broke into a run, and yanked open the side door to find a pair of empty child seats.

I could smell them all in the van—Antonio, Reese, Morgan, and
the twins. There was no scent of blood. No scuff marks in the roadside dirt suggesting a struggle. I peered into the dark night, my heart hammering.

Maybe one of the twins had to go to the bathroom
.

So they all went traipsing into the forest? Not likely.

What, then?

I dropped to a crouch and picked up a trail immediately. Reese had climbed from the passenger’s seat and gotten the twins out. Then Antonio and Morgan joined them from the driver’s side and …

I followed the trail around the van, in a complete circle.

What the hell?

It went into the forest about twenty feet, then just … ended.

That wasn’t possible. I hunkered down for a better sniff. As I did, I thought I caught a stifled giggle. I straightened fast and inhaled, but there were no scents on the breeze. A tree branch creaked. The wind sighed through new leaves.

I bent again. And something dropped from above, hitting me squarely on the back and knocking me facedown to the dirt. Arms went around my neck. Small arms, smelling faintly of soap and candy.

“Mommy!”

Kate somersaulted over my head, landing on her back and wrapping her arms around my neck again as I rose. I hugged her tight and lifted her. Then I looked up. A face peered down from the branches above, teeth glinting in a Cheshire cat grin. Before I could say a word, Logan dropped from the tree, nearly taking us both down with him.

“Hey, Momma,” he said as he hugged me.

I gave him a one-armed bear hug back. I didn’t get “Momma” very often these days. That’s what he used to call me, until he decided he was too old for it.

I kissed their cheeks and boosted them up, one arm under each. That was still easy to do, at least for a werewolf. They were both
small for their age, and had lost their baby fat. Kate still had her round cheeks, which, along with her blond curls, made her look deceptively angelic. Logan’s face had already thinned out, the shape starting to look more like mine, his hair somewhere between the gold of his father and sister and my silver-blond.

“Did we surprise you?” Kate asked.

“Yes. Scared me a little, too.”

“Why? We’re with Antonio.”

“Still, finding an empty van is going to worry your mom.” Morgan’s voice rang out with his footsteps. “As I tried to tell these guys …”

Even before they stepped from the shadows of the forest, it was easy to tell who was who. Morgan was in the lead, the tallest and leanest of the three. Nick’s father, Antonio, right behind him, was the shortest in the Pack and the heftiest even now, as he passed sixty. Last came Reese, between the two in height and size, bringing up the rear.

“Sorry if we worried you,” Antonio said. He kissed my cheek. “The kids just wanted to have some fun.”

“Where’s Daddy?” Kate said, squirming.

I lowered them to the ground. “He’s coming. Reese? Can you take them back to the van? I need to talk to Antonio for a minute. Morgan? Bring up the rear, please.”

Reese hung back with the kids as I started out with Antonio.

“We were followed,” I murmured.

I thought we were far enough from the kids. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to underestimate their hearing, and I barely got the words out before Kate said, “By who?”

I winced. “I don’t know. Someone in a car might have been following us, so your dad just wanted to be super-careful. The cell phones didn’t work, so I came to warn you. It’s okay, though. Dad has it under control.”

“Course he does,” Kate said.

Logan jogged up beside me. “Is it really okay, Mom?”

“She’s a little worried,” Kate said to her brother.

I have no idea where Kate gets her emotion-reading skills from. Certainly not her father. And not me, either. She already has a knack for reading body language or facial expressions or vocal tone that borders on preternatural.

Before we stepped from the forest, I caught the distant sound of a car engine. I waved for them to stay back as I leaned out. A car was coming up the road. With its lights off.

Had our pursuer slipped away without Clay noticing? I found that hard to believe. Clay can handle a car like no one I know. If that vehicle had budged, he’d have whipped around and cut it off before it got anywhere near us.

I squinted into the darkness.

It wasn’t the same car. The one following us had been boxier and lighter in color.

The car stopped. It idled there, as if it had just noticed the van. Then it reversed down the road and backed into a laneway, out of sight.

“Antonio,” I said as calmly as I could, “I want you and Morgan to get in the van. Head down the road as if you just pulled over for a pit stop. Then block that car in the laneway and see what we’ve got.”

“Unless that little car is stuffed with werewolves, we could handle it more directly,” Antonio said.

I hesitated. After Noah, Morgan was the Pack’s weakest fighter. He was training, but he was a long way from being ready to undertake potential combat missions. Although he was a hereditary werewolf, his family had believed in lying low and staying out of trouble, and they’d isolated themselves in the wilds of Newfoundland for generations. Reese, on the other hand, had been raised by a father on the run from the Australian Pack. While he favored flight over fight, he had come to us battle-ready, and had taken on the role of sparring partner to help train Morgan.

Yet whoever didn’t go with Antonio stayed with me, protecting the twins. I couldn’t take Morgan for that. It wasn’t just a matter of his fighting ability—the kids didn’t know him well, and wouldn’t stay with him if I needed to go scouting.

So I had to rely on Antonio for this one. Even at his age, he was as good a fighter as Clay. He also had the experience to know when and if he could face a challenge … and when he should hold tight and wait for backup.

“Okay,” I said. “If you two can handle it, go ahead. Otherwise, just block him in.”

Antonio nodded, and he and Morgan headed out.

Reese and I retreated into the woods with the kids. We’d gone a couple of hundred feet when we reached an old hunting cabin, long abandoned. It listed, but a shove on the walls didn’t set any boards creaking ominously. The windows were shuttered, leaving a single point of entry at the door. Easily defensible.