Out of the Shadows (12 page)

Vincent paused, shimming out of his
shoes. “For the love of god, Lark! You take that car and you drive it straight
back and get in the house.”

Lark ran to the driver’s side and
climbed in. She tossed the car in reverse and turned it around in the grass. As
she put it in drive, she paused. Daniel and Vincent were gone. In their place,
stood a lone wolf with a deep reddish brown coat. She assumed it was Vincent. He
howled and motioned his head back toward the ranch before he blurred out of
sight.

Her hands grasped the steering wheel so tightly her
fingernails dug into her palms. Swallowing, she shoved the gas pedal down. The
tires spun on the gravel before finding their grip as she sped back to the
manor.

***

Devon stalked along the perimeter. His paws sunk into the
wet mud causing it to slide between his toes. Snarls and yells filled the early
morning air. So far the attack had stayed away from the house. He wanted to
keep it that way.

The leaves rustled to his left. He
ducked down on his haunches, hiding in the brush cover. His body poised to
strike when the intruder stepped into sight.

Eyes narrowing, he took in a sharp breath, hackles raised. The
scent hit him and he felt his stomach drop, apprehension churning.
Daniel
.

Daniel crept a few feet in front of him. Devon hesitated. They’d
never been close, but they were brothers. With a snarl, he lunged at Daniel. They
rolled across the slick ground, twigs snapped as they fought for dominance. Devon
wasn’t going in for the kill; he couldn’t do it. Daniel, however, snapped his
jaws with intent on biting Devon’s jugular as they both thrashed about in the
dirt.

Devon used his back paws to shove Daniel away. His claws
ripped into the tender skin of Daniel’s abdomen, causing him to yelp as they
sliced through flesh. Retracting his claws, he flung his brother across the
ground, sending up a cloud of dirt. Devon got up and lunged, rooting Daniel
into the earth. Daniel fought back, desperate to regain control. Devon pushed
down harder on Daniel’s rib cage. Bones crunched underneath the pressure,
causing his brother to wince. A loud whine echoed through the woods.

Devon barked violently at his brother. He didn’t want to
kill him. Finally, Daniel relented - his fighting ceased. Cautiously, Devon
moved off of Daniel, and backed away. He had won the fight and could only hope
his brother would be honorable. Devon crouched on his legs, ready to pounce
again if needed.

Daniel whined as he climbed to his feet. Blood dripped from
his belly, coating the ground beneath him. He limped as he backed away. Their
eyes met and locked on each other. Devon stared his brother down, daring him to
make another move.

A high pitched scream rang through the air. Devon cocked his
head trying to hear more. After a final warning growl, Devon jumped and
sprinted toward the manor.

Devon’s eyes narrowed, senses focused on his surroundings. Ears
perked for other noises in his vicinity. The only thing he heard was a scuffle
unfolding by the house. Devon came out of the tree line and froze, surveying
the fight before him.

He recognized Vincent immediately. His eyes shifted to the
lifeless black wolf on the ground.
Rick.
No, please be okay.
There
was nothing he could do for him until the fighting stopped. Swallowing, he
surged forward to help his brother battle the three wolves he was taking on. Devon
ground his teeth, a loud snarl tore through his throat as he saw Vincent get
pinned to the ground.

The yard seemed to stretch on forever. Even though Devon was
running at top speed, he would never get to Vincent in time. His heart
clenched, legs and throat burning from the exhilaration. He had to save his
brother.

Headlights swerved down the drive. The car accelerated
toward the fight. His eyes shifted between the woman behind the wheel and his
brother. As Lark approached, he realized her intent as the car took a swing to
the left and pummeled into the two wolves that had been watching their companion.

Devon raced forward as the two wolves crunched against the
metal of the car. The other wolf released his hold of Vincent, confused by what
was happening.

Devon used the distraction to his advantage and tackled the
wolf to the ground. Canines bared, he tore into the soft flesh of the enemy’s
neck. With a gurgle Devon watched the life leave the other wolf’s eyes. He
should’ve felt guilty, but he knew this wolf, and knew what he was capable of.

He withdrew and turned his attention to Lark. She seemed
rattled, her eyes glanced around her surroundings wildly. Satisfied she was
okay for the moment, he moved to Vincent.

Devon whined as he nuzzled Vincent, he sniffed at the open
wound on his chest, less than an inch from the sensitive flesh of the neck. Vincent’s
breath was slow and uneven. His golden eyes looked dim and pained. His injury
severe. He just hoped his brother was strong enough to pull through.

“Is he okay?”

Devon’s head popped up to look at Lark. He squinted his eyes
at her and howled. If he could form words he would yell at her to get inside.
What
was she thinking?
At least she had the good sense to step back when he
snarled at her.

Her eyes darted around frantically
as howls erupted around them. Devon let out a long huff; the attack over for
the moment. His body slowly twisted to the sight he did not want to see. Head
hung low, he padded to the lifeless wolf on the ground and his heart sunk lower
in his chest a yowl of sorrow escaped his throat as he gently nudged the body. Rick
was dead.

Lark stood stiff, the sorrow in
Devon’s howl echoing all around them. His black coat was smeared with blood and
dirt. She could only imagine what he was feeling. The pain was evident over the
loss of his pack mate.

Her bottom lip trembled, unsure who the fallen wolf was, but
she could guess it was someone close to Devon. Howls filled the morning air,
she spun, eyes searching wildly.
Is it over or are more coming?

The front screen door slammed shut and Lark whirled around
to see a bloodied Marcus standing there.

“They…they took them,” Marcus stammered.

Lark froze, breath caught in her throat. “They took who?”

“Emily and Sarah.” Marcus gasped. He took a step falling on
his knees, his entire body trembled violently.

Swallowing down the bile in her throat, Lark felt the earth
begin to shift. Her vision wavered as her head spun. Tears pricked her eyes. She
sunk to the ground and hung her head.

This couldn’t be happening. She’d seen what they did to her
and knew what they planned to do with Emily. Revolted, she choked down a sob. Searching
wildly for any traces of her sister, her eyes zeroed in on the blood coating
the white cement of the porch.

The trance she was under broke. Her
eyes trained on the gaping wound that sliced across Marcus’ stomach.

“Oh my god,” Lark cried, rushing forward, her hands pressed
firmly to the wound. Blood seeped between her fingers and she fought
desperately to control her rising panic.

Sarah was gone, taken, and Marcus was on the verge of
bleeding to death. Someone else was dead, and Vincent looked like he was in bad
shape as well. In an attempt to calm down, Lark tried to force herself to take
even breaths. Her mind was swirling and her ears roared. Nausea overcame her.
She was going to lose it.

“Let me see.” A male voice whispered. Warm shaky hands
covered hers. Startled, she turned to see Devon. Blood and dirt smeared across
his torso and face, plaid pants that looked too big to be his, covered his
lower half.

Lark locked onto Devon’s hazel eyes. He appeared calm, but
she could see the emotion raging in his irises. She removed her hands from
Marcus’ belly realizing Devon’s hands weren’t the ones shaking but her own. She
clasped her fingers together in hopes of making the tremors stop.

“Marcus,” Devon gripped Marcus’ shoulder. “Listen to me. I
want you to shift if you can. The wound is deep and we need to stop the
bleeding.”

Marcus mumbled and fell forward onto the palms of his hands.
His whole body trembled violently.

Devon’s hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her
away.

“Stay back, he’s hurt. He can’t
control his shift as well.”

“Sarah’s gone.”

“Hey,” Devon said softly, his hands cupped her cheeks. His
face mere inches from hers. She focused on his eyes. “I know. We have to help
the injured first. I promise you we will get Sarah back.”

Lark closed her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. Unable
to speak, she nodded.

“Are you hurt?” Devon asked. She shook her head. “Good. I
need your help. There are a lot of injured wolves.”

“Who is that?” Lark whispered, her eyes opened, and drifted
to the dead wolf.

Devon’s calm demeanor faltered, his eyes glistened for a
moment. With a blink it was gone.

“Rick.” His voice remained even.

A raw painful sob erupted from her
throat. The sensation of floating overwhelmed her. Warm tears slid down her
face, her heart clenched painfully.

Devon shook her shoulders lightly. “Lark, you need to focus.
I need you to get my medical bag. We will mourn later. Right now, we need to
help the injured. Can you do that?”

Lark jumped, a pain filled yelp from Marcus sliced through
the air followed by crunching and snapping. Her head spun, producing a gut
wrenching wave of nausea. She needed to stay strong for Sarah.

“Lark, look at me!” Devon urged, his voice calling out to
her.

Lark focused her eyes to his and sucked in a deep breath.

“I need you to go to the infirmary and get my medical bag,”
he repeated. “Grab as many supplies as you can: gauze, syringes, and in the
cabinet there’s morphine. Get that.”

Lark swallowed and nodded slowly. Marcus cried out again in
agony. Lark cringed at the crackle of his bones breaking. The sickening pop
bringing her out of her trance. Gritting her teeth, she pulled away, rushing
into the manor and towards the infirmary.

***

Devon dropped down to his knees next to Marcus. Sweat beaded
on Marcus’ brow, his face eerily pale as his body fought to complete the
transformation. The transition going much slower with the injuries. Blood
gushed from the wound on his stomach. If he didn’t complete the shift he would
die. The depth of the laceration was deep enough to have hit his organs. At
this point, shifting was the only thing that may save his life.

Marcus let out a grunt as his back broke; grey and white fur
erupted out as his blue shirt shredded and fell to the ground.

“You’re doing good, keep going.” Devon encouraged, taking a
step back. Marcus was now far enough in his transition it was no longer safe to
be close. Marcus wouldn’t be able to control his movements and could lash out.
Not wanting to be a distraction either, he moved back to Vincent.

Vincent lay quietly on the ground. The fur around his neck
was dark and sticky. Vincent whined at him as he pressed his fingers along the
torn flesh.

“Is that Vincent?” Lark asked dropping the bag next to him.

“Yes.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Lark’s voice quivered and he
looked up at her. She chewed on her lip nervously.

“He should be. It’s just a deep laceration and broken front
leg. There are no organs or anything that could be ruptured in this area and
his jugular was not compromised.” Devon pulled out some antiseptic cleaner and
gauze. He needed to stop the bleeding first.

“Where are Gene and Preston?” Lark asked, as she turned to
scan the area.

“I’m not sure. The fighting has stopped. Those howls earlier
were calls of retreat.” Devon focused his attention on Vincent. At the moment
he needed to concentrate on saving lives, not what may have happened. He needed
to stay in control.

“Is Marcus still in transition?” Devon asked.

“He is,” Lark paused. “I think so. He looks like he is
struggling. Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Devon whispered. Vincent whined and Devon
gave his brother a sorrow filled look. “The transition is the only thing that
can save him. We only do it when there is no other medical choice.”

“So if that doesn’t work he will-”

“Keep your voice down,” Devon
hissed. He knew Marcus knew what was going on, but he didn’t need to hear it.

“Why doesn’t Vincent just
transition?” Lark questioned.

Devon sighed. “The shift knits the
flesh back together. New skin is formed and becomes thicker with each
transition. The downfall, is the shift puts a lot of stress on the body. When
you get hurt your blood pressure elevates, adrenaline and certain chemicals are
released. The shift already triggers all these things and can put the body into
overdrive, which may cause heart failure or seizures. It’s dangerous to shift
too soon after getting hurt. It can cause permanent damage to your limbs, soft
tissue, and organs if they were affected.”

Devon patted his brother on the
head, rubbing his scruff.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned
sorrowful. Maneuvering the broken leg, he placed his hands carefully and
yanked, pulling the bones back into their rightful position. Vincent howled in
pain as he flinched away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered
scratching him behind the ears. “Vincent should be able to safely shift into
his human form in around twelve hours. The important thing is waiting for your
blood pressure to return to normal. It help takes a little stress off the body.
His injuries will heal cleaner by waiting.”

“There is nothing we can do to help
Marcus?”

“Not at the moment.” Devon turned
his attention to Marcus. He had almost completed the shift. “He needs to focus.
Distractions will only make it worse. He wouldn’t want us coddling him. I’ll
give him a shot of morphine when he transitions all the way. Can you get me the
shears and the clippers from the bag?”

Vincent growled when the clippers
came into view. Devon glared at his brother. “I need to go help Marcus. He’s
finished the shift. Lark’s going to shave the area. You’ll behave?” He raised
his eyebrow at Vincent.

“Wait, what?” Lark grasped the
clippers tightly, her face white, and eyes wide.

“You can do this, he won’t bite you.
I promise. He’s in control and coherent,” Devon assured her. “Just shave along
the laceration, so I can stitch it up. Marcus is in a lot of pain and this will
help take the edge off for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

Devon plucked the syringe out of
his bag, tearing off the plastic and removing the guard over the needle. With
the morphine bottle right on top, he carefully filled the syringe and stood
up.

He walked over to the porch where
Marcus’ limp body lay. His eyes were glossed over and he panted heavily.

“I’m going to give you a shot for
the pain,” Devon said as he approached so he didn’t startle him.

Marcus whined as Devon crouched
next to his friend. This would be easier with Marcus sitting, but he wouldn’t
make him move, his body was already under enough duress. Devon positioned
himself so he could grab the excess skin around the back of the neck and pull
it up. He sunk the needle in and injected the medicine.

Devon rubbed at the injection site.
“Relax, it will take a minute to kick in.”

Marcus closed his eyes and
whimpered. Devon opened his mouth to comment, but his attention was drawn to
the tree line, hearing paws beating against the ground. His eyes scanned the
trees, body tense ready to spring into action. Three wolves exited the woods
and darted toward him and Lark.

Lark stiffened and took a step
back.

“It’s Gene.” Devon motioned his
head relieved to see him.

Gene pulled up short, a snarl
ripped through him as he came upon his father. He knelt his head down on Rick’s
body giving it a gentle nudge a series of high-pitched whines erupted from his
throat, followed by low throaty yowls.

The onslaught of emotions hit him
hard. Devon crumpled to the ground, his eyes closed. This was his fault, he’d
brought them here. Guilt flooded him. He ground his teeth, a lump forming in
his throat. Tears formed in his eyes and his hands balled into fists. The only
father he’d ever known was dead.

***

Lark sat numbly on the leather couch in the living room. The
sun flitted into the darkened room through a crack in the drawn curtains. The
house usually full of life was deathly quiet.

After five long hours the chaos had
finally ended. Twenty three men were dead, including Rick. Marcus and six
others were in critical condition. To top it off, Sarah and Emily were missing.

She’d cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. Her eyes and
throat ached, burning with each swallow and blink. Her face stiff and puffy,
every muscle throbbed throughout her body from the ridged stance she sat in. Numbness
seeped through her fingers to her elbow from the vice grip she had on the couch.
Still, she didn’t move. She kept waiting to wake up, deep down she knew that
would never happen.

“Lark?”

Lark looked up to Gene’s somber eyes.

“Dev and I are going to talk in my father’s office about
getting Sarah and Emily back, if you’d like to join us.”

Lark nodded and stood, following behind Gene. Her body moved
with a purpose to the office. Sarah was her baby sister and she was more than
ready to rescue her.

Devon looked up with a frown as Gene motioned her ahead of
him into the room. She walked to the arm chair closest to the desk and took a
seat. Devon plopped down next to Lark, his eyes gleaming at her.

Lark sat up straight, eyes trained on the empty spot behind
the desk, Rick’s spot. She sniffled and swallowed down the lump forming in her
throat. Gene sighed before he sat in his father’s chair.

“I got a call from Preston a few minutes ago,” Gene started.
Lark frowned and leaned forward, she hadn’t even realized he was missing with
all the craziness. She’d assumed he was here somewhere since he wasn’t among
the dead or injured.

“He and a few other guys were able to follow the men who
abducted Emily and Sarah. They chased them on foot until they could obtain a vehicle.
They’ve stopped at a hotel outside of Clovis, New Mexico, and are caring for
their injured. Preston doesn’t think they’re aware of their presence.”

“How many are there? What hotel?” Devon stood up abruptly
his chair flying backwards. It crashed against the floor with a deafening thump.
“Why Clovis?” He asked frowning. “That’s not on the way to Guymon.”