Pack and Coven (7 page)

He just hoped he'd retain enough righteous anger to do so. A pack bond adjusted a shifter's perception, bringing it in line with pack lifestyle. That might not include defending a human who'd gotten in the pack's way.

He wouldn't lose himself entirely, but he wouldn't be the same Harry.

If he turned pack, Sandie wouldn't be his friend anymore. June would be off limits too. He'd never finish teaching the grannies to play Texas Hold'em. His cats would desert him. The beach would be out of the question. He'd have to give up his shop since a pack alpha wouldn't have time to maintain one. He'd probably have to marry Bianca. And those were just the small things.

Damn it all to hairy human hell.

“Wake up, June,” he commanded in an angrier voice than he intended.

“What, huh?” Her head weaved back and forth and she blinked. “What?”

“I need to get gas.”

“Why? I have half a tank.” June leaned her head on the window, yawning. They neared the bottom of the valley at a white-hot sixty-eight miles per hour, the car jittering like a youngling on a first hunt.

“Not anymore,” he told her. “We're in No Business.”

That woke her up. “What? I told you to stay. This is too far.”

“Too far for what?” Harry slowed. The air smelled like rain.

“Too far for the spell.” June grabbed his forearm, as if a little thing like her could overpower him.

“Don't worry. I stayed in the car.”

“I used local components. Turn this car around right now, sir,” she said, sounding just like her grandmother.

“We're close to the border. Everything's fine.”

As soon as he uttered those fateful words, Harry spotted some trucks surrounding the No Business gas station. Each one boasted several large persons in the bed. Many were dressed in camouflage.

Shifters. Shifters he didn't immediately recognize.

They all turned to watch the Smart car limp toward them. Who were they?

Two wolves bolted across the road, one chasing the other, and Harry slammed on the brakes. June was flung against her seat belt, her hands striking the dash. He heard something pop. The car fishtailed—astounding when there was no back end—and skidded into the city's brick welcome sign.

With a horrible crunch, bricks scattered every direction. The car rebounded with a stomach-lurching jounce. An airbag slammed into Harry, shoving him into his seat.

“Shit!” He fought the tough vinyl of the bag. The front end seemed to have completely crumpled though the doors remained intact. A brick slid down the cracked windshield like a skier. “Are you okay, June?”

“I'm alive.” Her voice was tight with pain. “What'd you do that for? My poor car. It's less than six weeks old.”

“I didn't want to hit the…never mind.” He should have ignored the wolves. The four-legs would have dodged the car. He batted the airbag into his lap. “You're not okay.”

June rubbed her wrist. “It's sprained. I can fix it.”

“You didn't have an airbag. You could have been hurt a lot worse.”

“I disabled this side. Long story.” She glanced at him, her blue eyes wide. “I told you to stay in Millington. Goddess, now what are we supposed to do?”

“You didn't tell me in a way I could understand,” he growled in a low voice.

His anger wasn't directed at her. Their audience had noticed the crash, and a truck with Virginia tags had bounced onto the highway to head their way.

Virginia was split into two territories—the Roanoke pack claimed the majority, with D.C. at the top. What were the chances those shifters were from D.C.?

“Is the car spell still working?” he whispered.

“I don't know, I don't know. I swan, why couldn't I have sprained my bad wrist?” June started scrambling in her purse. “Where's my compact? Harry, where's my compact?”

“Don't say my name.” He checked under his seat, under the floor mat. He found some white twists of paper he assumed contained herbs, a raincoat wadded into a packet, some silverware and a tube of lipstick.

The monster truck closed in on them. If it held wannabe alpha candidates, he and June would be fine. They wouldn't want the competition.

If it held neighbors helping with the lockdown, they were screwed.

“Here it is.” June whipped open a gold compact and clawed the powder, hissing as her wrist bent. She rubbed streaks of talc on her nose.

Harry twisted away from the window, pretending to check June for wounds. If these shifters had his photo from the lockdown report, he couldn't let them see his face.

“You and the missus okay in there?” asked the driver in a rumbling voice. In the background, thunder growled in counterpoint.

Harry waved a hand but didn't speak. Bricks from the sign thunked to the ground, and a piece of the car clanked into the gravel. June's eyes were closed, her lips moving.

A familiar pressure built in Harry's ears. He'd trekked up and down several mountains in the past hours.

“If you owned a good, American-made car, you folks would be in better shape,” the driver commented. Had Harry met him before? He thought he recognized the voice, as well as the authority in it. Alpha.

Candidate?

“Gavin,” said the speaker, “get down there and see if you can help.”

Cold dread borne of long-ago trauma settled in Harry's gut. He knew a Gavin from when he'd been a child in the Roanoke pack, and that guy had been the sorriest son of a dog who'd ever shifted into fur.

The name was either coincidence or the worst kind of fate.

“Don't need help.” Harry pitched his voice high and waved again. If they were who he feared, there might be no escape. How the hell was he going to get June out of this if they realized who he was?

“Son, do I know you?” The truck door creaked. Boots hit the pavement.

June's eyes flew open. Harry's ears popped. And then she gave him an order he was only too happy to obey.

“Kiss me.”

While she'd often wanted to kiss Harry during her unguarded moments, this wasn't how June imagined it would happen.

But he didn't hesitate. He grabbed her by the back of the head, his fingers plowing through her hair, and pressed his lips to hers.

She'd thought he'd be bristly. He was a wolf, right? His lips and skin were almost as smooth as hers, a mere hint of whisker to make things exciting.

Their lips parted. Touched again and lingered. June rubbed the talc from her nose and fingers into his skin. She hadn't napped enough to replenish all her power, but she had some.

Then he angled his head, tilted hers where he wanted it and parted her lips with demanding pressure. Their tongues met in a hot, wet tangle that quickly consumed her. The desire she shunted aside for eight years blasted her like heat from an oven.

“God, you're sexy,” he whispered. His long fingers dropped from her head to release her seat belt. He pulled her toward him, but she got stuck on the center console.

“Nothing like a near miss to make you appreciate life,” the shifter outside Harry's window commented. “I take it this means you folks are still breathing?”

Phooey.
The shifters. They weren't Millington wolves, but they would recognize Harry as a shifter as soon as he got out of the car. Alphas broadcast signals. It was part of what made them alphas. June had to shut those signals off.

She lifted her fingers, the ones with talc under the nails, and shoved them into Harry's mouth.

He spluttered, but she kissed his cheek, hoping he'd understand. She didn't have time to hone her talc mix to Harry's chemistry. Goddess, she hated adlibbing. For this to have a chance of working, the talc and its ingredients needed to be in his body. The burn cream on her hand was bitter, but this wasn't supposed to be delicious.

Actually, kissing Harry was supposed to be delicious. Delicious and sinful and everything a witch with half a brain would avoid.

So it just figured.

“Swallow,” she whispered.

He did. She did, as well. He nibbled on another fingertip, licking off the talc.

He caught on fast. She opened her magic and pushed her disguise spell into both of them.

Weakness threatened as her power rushed forth. The spell must have done something—a dud wouldn't have taken as much out of her.

Maybe she'd pushed too hard. She struggled to remain upright. Witches could add guarana to spells to offset the droop that came with depletion, but there'd been no time.

Harry abruptly stopped kissing her fingers to shake his head. It was dark inside the car but they could see one another's faces, hear the laughter of the shifters. Harry gave her a tense grin and tugged her into his lap.

The emergency brake jabbed her heinie. The steering wheel had retracted into the console when the airbag deployed, leaving room in the driver's seat for both of them.

Fighting the urge to curl up and sleep, she pushed Harry's face into her neck and peered at the old shifter awaiting an answer. A pure white beard and moustache surrounded his face, and his head hair had given in to the recessive gene not even shifters were able to avoid. He looked like Santa Claus, if Santa wore flannel and denim instead of red and white.

Should she know him? She didn't get out of Millington much, and covens mostly concentrated on shifters inside their territories as part of their monitoring function.

“I've never been in an accident before,” she gushed in her best dumb-blonde voice, careful not to lie. “That was so scary.”

Santa peered into their car. She heard him sniff. “Did something cut you in the wreck, missy? Your skirt's bloody.”

“No, yes, well,” she stammered. “I ran into something sharp.”

“I can't believe this toy car kept you safe.” The others hopped out of the truck bed and started prowling around while June and Harry huddled in the seat. She didn't know what she and Harry were going to do, but whatever it was, it would be easier if the shifters went away.

“Your front end is totally destroyed,” one of them said.

Her poor car. Best not to think about that. She had good insurance.

June wriggled closer to Harry, careful not to bend her aching wrist. For a moment, she enjoyed the sensation of his muscular body wrapped protectively around hers. Even surrounded by nosy werewolves, his solidity reassured her.

Ironic. He was in more danger than she was.

Speaking of danger, the only way to find out if her spell had worked was to let the shifters see him. Postponing the inevitable would raise the suspicions of individuals already inclined to be suspicious.

“Honey,” she said to Harry, “we should get out. What if the car blows up?”

He nipped her neck. She wasn't sure if it was in play or warning, but it sent shivers through her. June hugged him and kissed the warm skin next to his ear before she fumbled for the door latch.

Santa helpfully ripped the door off its hinges. It was about to fall off anyway. He set it to the side, leaning it against the crumpled front.

“Miss?” Santa held out his hand. She wasn't wearing gloves, but a human wouldn't refuse. She allowed him to help her. When she saw how flat the front of her car was, her knees buckled.

Danger came in all forms, even for witches and weres.

Harry caught her. “Watch that first step, babe. It's a doozy.”

June remained between the two men after Harry released her. Nobody gasped. Nobody offered any secret shifter handshakes. So far, so good.

Santa had a pack alpha's air of command. That was odd. A pack alpha wouldn't have come to offer himself to Bianca as a candidate, and this large of a group wouldn't be welcome in the neighbor's backyard.

So why were they in Millington territory?

“As you can see,” Harry said, “we're fine.”

“You two need a ride?” Santa asked.

Harry shook his head. “We'll wait for the police so we can file a report.”

June inhaled a deep breath to calm her nerves. The air was crisp, threatening rain, and clouds obscured the moon and stars.

“Millington tags,” a shifter behind the car commented.

“It just so happens we're headed to Millington,” Santa said. “You sure we can't give you a ride?”

Santa seemed nice enough, but she and Harry didn't need to get mixed up with whatever these guys had going on. Were they Roanoke? She'd read something about Roanoke in a regional newsletter recently, reported by the Wytheville coven. What had it been…territorial squabbles? Trouble with indies? They might be claim jumping part of Millington's territory in the chaos created by Bert's arrest.

Talk about a mess.

June sidled up to Harry and nudged herself under his arm. The closer she stayed to him, the better. He could hold her upright, and the proximity of her own glamour could enhance his if she hadn't gotten it right.

“That's so nice of you to offer,” she gushed. “We should take our chances with the cops. It's the right thing to do. We need to pay to replace the sign.”

“You drove right into the sign like you were aiming for it,” a shifter commented. He was a stocky, brown-haired man with a cruel look about him and a scar down one cheek. To June he tasted alpha, as well. Not recessive, but a full-blown natural. His eyes gleamed with meanness. “Did something spook you or are you just a shitty driver?”

Beside her, Harry tensed—either because the shifter was challenging him or because the shifter was a prick. Maybe both.

“A giant…possum ran across the road,” June said, drawing the attention to herself. “Looked like it had mange.”

“Possum?” Several shifters guffawed. “Did you hear that? A giant possum.”

“I hear there's a wolf problem in these parts,” the younger alpha said. “You sure you didn't see wolves?”

“Wolves?” June widened her eyes. “West Virginia only has coyotes.”

“I'm sure it was a possum with mange.” The man's sharp gaze raked her body. “Or spring fever. That's going around.” He licked his lips.

“Knock it off, Gavin,” Santa warned.

Harry slipped his arm around her, which gave June a perverse thrill. “It was just some dogs,” he said. “Don't worry about it.”

Gavin approached Harry and June, his nostrils flaring. “Have we met?”

Harry's fingers tightened on her arm. “No.”

She'd never heard so much hostility contained in a single word. June huddled closer to him. The talc spell only hid genetics. If Gavin knew Harry, they were in trouble.

“You sure? You look familiar.”

“I doubt it.” His unfriendliness was understandable—strangers surrounded them in a remote area. Nonetheless, the pack alpha was regarding Harry with a thoughtful gaze. The shifters would sense her anxiety too, if she weren't careful.

“He does look familiar,” another shifter agreed. “You famous or something?”

Harry shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

“And you,” Gavin said to June, “are someone I'd like to be familiar with.”

Harry lowered his chin. “She's with me.”

His possessiveness was unmistakable, and June's stomach fluttered.

“Gav, I said give it a rest,” Santa barked. “They've been through enough.”

Gavin grinned, his teeth sharper than they ought to be in the presence of two humans. His pack alpha sure didn't have much control over him.

Thunder rumbled overhead as a spring rainstorm worked itself into being. A fat drop landed on June's nose. Good thing she and Harry had swallowed the talc or it would have been rinsed off their skin.

“Thunder boomer,” Santa observed, making up his mind. “You folks can't wait here in a storm. Leave your name and number in the car and I'll carry you to Millington.”

June felt the pull of Santa's command and clenched her teeth. “I can call a friend who lives around here,” she tried. There was an extension agent for the coven nearby.

“They want to stay, let them stay,” Gavin said. “We have places to go, people to find, bodies to hide.” He laughed, but no one else did.

June hoped she and Harry were displaying only the unease that would be normal in this situation. She ignored the comment about bodies since everyone else did. The other comment was more enlightening—people to find. Bianca could have called a lockdown. These guys might be searching for Harry. Which didn't explain why they didn't recognize him, as lockdowns generally came by email, with photos.

How tech-savvy was Bianca? Would she send pictures to cell phones or just computers?

“We can't take time out to play Good Samaritan.” Gavin thrust his chin at the driver's door. “Vultures gathering. Clock ticking.”

Santa turned on Gavin and growled. June could barely hear it, but recognized it. The pack alpha compelling his subordinate to back down. “There's always time to play Good Samaritan. If you understood that, I could…never mind. The others can finish our project, and we'll give these people a ride to Millington.”

“You go ahead. I'm not done here,” Gavin said, not as subdued as he should have been. June bet the creep was a huge thorn in the Roanoke pack. Bert Macabee would never have let someone challenge him that way.

Santa punched his finger at the truck bed. “They have Cathy. They don't need you. All of you, get in the back of the truck.”

“As long as we get to ride the girl.” When Gavin bared his teeth in another smile, the scar tightened one corner of his mouth more than the other. “I mean, ride
with
the girl. We'll keep her comfortable.”

“Er,” June said, “no thank you.”

“She's not getting in the back of your truck,” Harry stated flatly.

“Of course she's not.” Santa clapped Harry on the shoulder and turned his back on Gavin, dismissing him. From the look on Gavin's face, that might not have been Santa's best move. “You and the missus are in the cab with me. I'm Douglas Householder.”

“This isn't necessary.” Harry's boots rasped in the gravel as he braced his feet.

“I insist,” Douglas said.

The rain picked up. Lightning split the dark sky. June grabbed her purse and a few things from the back. She could tell where this was headed. She'd wanted Harry to turn back to Millington anyway.

Just not in the company of shifters who might be searching for him…and who seemed scarier than Bianca.

“Screw it. I want to get to Jetty before midnight. I have a party to crash.” Gavin leaped into the truck bed, casting Douglas an angry glance.

“I thought you were going to Millington?” June asked. “If it's out of your way, you really don't have to take us.” She shoved various items she didn't want to leave behind into her purse. The sides bulged, distorting the reflection of the street lights in the patent leather.

“We're headed in that general direction. We have a lot of acquaintances in the area.” Douglas opened the door of his cab. “Hop in.”

Beside her, Harry grunted as the urge to obey struck them both. Blast his stubborn hide! He needed to comply or he'd give himself away. Pack alphas could manipulate humans in addition to shifters. They only had trouble with other alphas.

Like Gavin.

And Harry.

She gave Harry a shove, and he lurched forward. The old man's benign appearance was misleading if he exerted himself to control strangers. This trip couldn't be over soon enough.

June slid into the cab after Harry, careful not to touch Douglas. He seemed shrewd enough, but Gavin was a piece of work. She didn't envy Douglas that battle for dominance—a battle that seemed to be a stalemate, at best.

Another thought occurred to her. Perhaps this was Douglas's way of solving his problem—fob Gavin off on Bianca. Alpha vacancies attracted candidates from everywhere. Heck, some sent out promotional materials and videos.
The Bachelorette—
wolf style. While Bianca's vacancy was short notice, it would still have attracted wannabes.