Page 7 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

Seven

Thomas

B ounding through the forest, Tom’s mind was in snarls. The pack had been running circles around the town and still hadn’t caught scent of the bears.

Maybe all of this worry was for nothing.

Maybe the bears really were just passing through and stirred up trouble by roughing Clarissa up in the parking lot. His wolf snarled. If he ever saw that bastard again, he’d rip his arms off.

As much as he wanted to believe the bears were gone, he knew it was too much to hope for. So, for now, they were pulling double duty on nighttime patrols, his top five leading the groups.

Tori couldn’t do patrol duty tonight because a pack member had gone into labor. As the pack midwife, that took precedence.

Sam and Sara were leading a patrol in the northern section of woods surrounding Fairville. Meanwhile, Nathon and Emmanuel were running the south section.

Every pack had five in charge under the Alpha. In his pack that was his brother-in-law Samuel, Sara, Nathon, Emmanuel, and Tori. That was, if he didn’t count his siblings, Maria and James.

Technically, since all three siblings were of Alpha lineage, either of them could challenge Tom for the position. Some days he wished they would, but he knew they wouldn’t. So, he delegated tasks to them, they stepped in to fill gaps when needed and sat on the totem pole on his left- and right-hand sides.

Nathon and Emmanuel were brothers and distant cousins to Tom. Tori was the pack’s sole midwife. When you had extra healing abilities and higher than normal body temperature, hospitals were typically avoided. As such, midwives were held in high esteem in the pack dynamic. When it came to the safety and health of the pregnant pack members, midwives could pull rank on the Alpha. Although some of the more traditional Alphas chose, or trained, midwives who wouldn’t dare.

Samuel was the strongest wolf in the Sinclaire pack that wasn’t from their Alpha bloodline. When he’d first made Sam his second-in-command, the elders huffed about him favoring his sister’s husband, saying it was a disgrace to let an outsider into such a coveted position. It took less than three weeks for Sam’s abilities and winning every challenge thrown at him to shut them all up.

The elders’ whispers about Sam were nothing compared to the upheaval when Tom made Sara third-in-command. She was a stray; in more traditional packs, that might as well be a death sentence. ‘Breed the pack better and stronger’ was a common slogan thrown around. As such, illegitimate children outside of approved mated pairs were scorned. The strays resulting from these trysts were ostracized and treated like dirt.

Even though Tom’s dad accepted Sara when he was Alpha, and tried not to treat her like a stray, the elders still held a prejudice. It was only recently they all stopped being so damn combative about it, then the other whispers started … The Alpha was supposed to mate the strongest female, or females, and vice versa for female Alphas. This meant the elders were all waiting for Tom to take Sara—he never would.

Shaking his head, he thought about what the elders would say if they knew about Clarissa. A human. No, he couldn’t let himself think about that right now.

He needed to figure out the issues with these bears. Something about this bear pack wasn’t sitting well with him. No matter how much he wished it, there was definitely more to it than just a random pack traveling through and a rogue hunt. If they were truly hunting Tom, then why hadn’t he seen them yet? Bears were unstable and volatile. If they were hunting him, wouldn’t they have made themselves known?

Without any firsthand experience with bears, all his assumptions could be wrong. The last time their pack encountered bears was when his dad was a teen, not yet able to shift. He needed to call them.

Heading south, he ran home, allowing the rhythmic thudding of his paws on the earth to carry his mind. Running on autopilot, he replayed the events of the day.

He was over the moon when Clarissa agreed to eat with him. Then even more so when she opened up to have a conversation with him. It had started awkward and guarded, but she’d eventually relaxed. He had to find some way to make his intentions clear, to mark her as his without scaring her off.

When he tried to brush her face … the way she flinched away from his touch made his heart bleed. Someone had hurt her so bad it left lasting scars on her spirit. After that, he finally understood why she was so guarded, why she didn’t want to talk to strangers, or accept him even for a simple conversation. That and the burns she tried so hard to cover.

The amount of pain she tried to conceal. Pushing her own well-being to the side so she could soldier on with a brave face; it broke his heart. Someone that exquisite, a soul that tender, deserved to be cherished and loved, not abused and worked to the bone.

He wanted to take her into his arms, to protect and worship her body and soul the way she deserved. Keep her safe and warm, prevent her from ever feeling pain like that again.

Slowly, he saw cracks forming in her defenses. Head thrown back in a laugh at his bad jokes, then allowing him to walk her to her car. He’d resolved to be patient with her—seeing her for an hour at the diner was better than never seeing her at all.

Now what? Was he to selfishly pull her into his life when his pack might be on the brink of war?

Was his pack at war?

If a war did start, being inside the circle of the pack’s protection, his protection, might be the safest place for her. That is, if this even was a war. It was too soon to tell, and he didn’t want to cause alarm before it was necessary.

Slowing to a trot, he rose up to run on two legs. The spattering of pines and oak trees thinned, eventually giving way to the estate’s vast lawns. At the garage, he phased back. Cold rain sprinkled his bare skin, his legs coated in mud. He didn’t feel the chill as his breath danced in the air around him. His unusually high body temperature came in handy on nights like this. Shifting wouldn’t be as fun if every time he turned back to human, he was left naked and cold.

Since nothing inanimate shifted with you, nudity was a normal part of shifter life. You learned quickly not to be too bashful, or even bothered, by everyone seeing everything and vice versa. The bare form wasn’t considered a perversion in pack life.

Hell, he knew of a shifter pack up in Utah that were full-blown nudists. Personally, Tom wasn’t too keen on his pack going full nudist, he thought the human employees at the lumberyard might not appreciate that.

Tom punched the code on one of the garage door panels. It creaked open and he ducked inside. Going straight to the mudroom shower, he cleaned up. Washed and swaddled in his bathrobe, he went to the kitchen.

The high ceilings had exposed beams stained a deep brown. Forest green subway tiles lined the walls behind the stainless steel industrial appliances and dark counters encircled the room. The vast island, stained to match the beams, was large enough for ten stools on one side. All of it was empty—the others must be out running or asleep.

He found a lasagna in the fridge and put a plate in the microwave. Pulling out his phone, he sent an update in the family chat and assigned patrols for the next two weeks.

After eating and cleaning his dishes, he called his parents. Heart hammering, the sounds of his dad’s screams echoed through his mind again. Pulling him out from under the pile of logs, his legs were splayed in an unnatural position, his back bent from a broken spine.

Tom’s mom answered on the second ring, putting him on speakerphone and pulling him from unpleasant memories.

“Charles, Thomas is on the phone!” she called out and the whirr of an electric chair hummed through the speaker. “Thomas, what’s wrong?”

“Can’t I call you without something being wrong?” He frowned.

“Is there something wrong?” Charles asked.

“Well, yes, but can’t a guy say ‘hello how ya doin’?’ first?” Tom said.

His mother sighed. “We’re fine, Tom, the weather’s nice, what’s wrong?”

“Calm down, Elaine, give the boy a minute,” Charles said. “I got my second electric chair all fixed up, it has mudding wheels on it. To test ’em out we went on a riverboat tour yesterday, met some gators. You should come down and visit when you get the chance, I think you’d really like them. They’re feisty.”

While Charles laughed, Tom’s mind was filled with images of his dad trying to pet an alligator. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the ball of anxiety in his chest snarling.

“How’s the pack?” Charles asked after a pause.

“They’re fine, Dad,” he said. “The annual picnic is coming up, and I invited some other shifter families from the area. Seems like the turnout is going to be good. This could be a new chapter for us, all getting along, being friends.”

“Good, that’s real good, Tom. I’m impressed you were able to pull it off,” Elaine said.

“Thanks. It really hasn’t been easy; the pack elders are still kicking up a fit about it, trying to get me to cancel. They don’t like the idea of inviting others onto our lands, think it will welcome an invasion.”

“The pack elders can kick rocks,” Elaine spat. “They never did anyone any good, wrinkled old hags of a bygone era. Most of them are still obsessed with your grandfather.”

Tom laughed. She wasn’t wrong. “I still wish you’d reconsider coming.”

“You’re the Alpha now, son. I retired with good graces, the pack knows that, but they need to see you as the head now,” Charles responded. “Maybe after a few years, but for now, we’ll sit back and let them see you take charge.”

“Are you eating well? With taking on all this extra stress, you need to keep up with your appetite.”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m eating fine.” He glanced at the kitchen he never used. “A new shifter just moved in, Michael. He was in foster care over in Nebraska when he turned the first time. Sara found him on one of her runs. She told him about us, and after his eighteenth birthday, he showed up on the doorstep. He’s a good kid, likes to cook.”

“Poor thing must have been terrified the first time that happened. I can’t imagine going through my first shift alone like that,” Elaine said.

“I know, Sara said the kid thought he was stuck a wolfman for the rest of his life when she met him.” His words sounded dead in his own ears. “But she was able to calm him down enough to teach him to phase back. He’s been here only two months and he’s already well ahead of this year’s new shifts.”

“How many strays do you have living with you now?” Charles asked.

“With Dan and now Michael, that makes five living here.” He rubbed his eyes. “The pack as a whole, seventeen, if you don’t count Sara.”

Charles laughed. “I still remember when you argued with me about Sara. A single human mom in our town had a shifter kid with no one in the pack to claim it. The way you fought for her to be let into the pack without the stigma of being a stray, that was when I knew you had the making of a great Alpha.”

“Speaking of Sara,” Thomas said, “we now think she might be a cousin of Sam’s from the Maine pack. Sounds like her mom spent a lot of time in that area before she got pregnant and moved to Fairville.”

“Have you reached out to the Maine Alpha to confirm?” Charles asked.

“No,” Tom said. “Sam is concerned about stirring up that much muck without solid evidence. I agree with him, our relationship with the Maine pack is still rocky since he ran off without permission, and this is a serious accusation.”

“I know you never wanted this, Thomas,” Elaine said, “but in the last year, you’ve done more for the pack than most Alphas do their entire life.”

“I’m not doing as good a job as you think I am.” His voice felt thick. He hated this. He fought tooth and nail with the pack elders on a regular basis, and for what? To let them all down, to disappoint the pack, disappoint his parents?

“What’s the matter, Tom, you okay?” Charles asked.

“It’s bears, Dad. A group came through town. I caught one of them trying to hunt in our territory. I stopped him, but he got away. We think they’re still in Fairville.”

His mother cursed in the background.

“What do you mean ‘he got away’?” Charles growled.

“I—The woman he was … I was trying to get her to safety. When I got back, he’d disappeared. I knocked him out, I just didn’t realize he’d wake up again so soon.”

“They heal fast.”

“Of course they do, all shifters heal fast,” Tom said.

“Not like them we don’t. You know how bears come to be, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember the stories. They aren’t born into it like the rest of us. They make a deal with a demon or a witch in exchange for power. It’s tainted magic, so they eventually go insane.”

“Insane isn’t exactly the right word. They become feral. More than feral; every animal instinct to hunt, to fight, to survive, is magnified, eclipsing any humanity they may have had. Unlike regular wild animals who only attack when threatened or hungry, these shifters live for the kill,” Charles said.

“They’re bloodthirsty monsters,” Elaine added. “Not only do they kill for fun, they torture. Anything to see pain on another’s face—they get off on it.”

“Your granddad told me the stories about what happened the last time our pack encountered bears, it was terrible,” Charles said. “They had families under the pack’s protection, smaller shifters and humans who knew the secret before the rules changed in the eighties. Well, the pack used the fear to their advantage. Most of them did hard labor in the businesses, but in exchange, the pack was supposed to keep them safe.

“When the bears went to war, they didn’t go for the pack members directly, they found the humans and the small shifters first. They’d torture them, string them up from trees, then set their houses on fire.”

“The lucky ones died in the fires, when the bears were too impatient to tear them apart,” his mom added. “My family was three towns over at the time and it made our news. The cops thought there was a satanic gang behind the murders.”

“After that, the pack severed all dealings with the other shifters and the humans.” His dad sighed. “Their reputation for protection had been ruined. It was chaos and he couldn’t ensure they would keep the secret or the peace. Not that anyone would believe them if they started talking about ‘skin walkers.’”

“Grandad exploited them, then his enemies killed them.” Tom’s stomach soured; he hated these stories. His grandad, and all other Alphas, were self-righteous monsters. These types of narratives were not unusual and were the main reason he never wanted to be Alpha. The title was tainted. He couldn’t imagine abusing his position in such a way.

“Yes,” his dad admitted. “But it was worse than that. The bears wanted to end entire bloodlines. Once the killings started, a lot of families packed up and moved, changed their names. I don’t know how many of them the bears tracked down before we ended the war. But, after the war and the killings stopped, they kept leaving Fairville, changing their names trying to hide. We tried to explain it wasn’t necessary anymore.”

“But scared people don’t always make sense,” Tom said.

“Nope, they sure don’t. Fear can make you do strange things. When I became Alpha, I tried to find as many as I could. I invited them back to Fairville. I told them if they moved back, they wouldn’t have to work like my father forced them to, and anyone who lived there would be under the pack’s protection. A few moved back, some I never found. I still consider that one of my great failures as Alpha.”

“It’s not your fault, Charles,” Elaine said. “You are not responsible for what your father did. The man was a bastard.”

His father laughed without humor, then went on. “Tom, what do you and your heads think it is?”

Tom explained the various theories about the bears hunting him because he’d intervened in the hunt, and the very feeble theory the bears were on a road trip and were just passing through. Saying it aloud, it sounded even more implausible.

His dad grumbled on the other end. “Bears don’t stay in one place for long. It’s possible they were planning on passing through, but you need to be careful. Interrupting their hunt like that, that transferred the target from this human woman to you. But I agree that the fact you haven’t found a solid scent trail is suspicious.”

“The book,” Elaine said, “there’s a book in the library, Dancing with Demons I think it’s called. It talks about deals and the powers and consequences that come with them.”

“Thanks, I’ll pull it out and take a look.” Tom made a mental note of the title. The home library that doubled as his office was full of obscure leather-bound books from various origins and centuries, so it might take him a while to track that one down.

“Do it in the morning, Tom,” Charles said. “It’s late, get some sleep. An Alpha’s no good to his pack if he’s not on the top of his game.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he replied, knowing full well he was going straight to the library after hanging up. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

After saying goodbye, Tom went to find the demon book.

Running a hand through his hair, he tugged on it until it stuck up in an odd ginger halo. He glared around the office. Rich woods in deep brown lined the walls, filled with books, some obscure and in dead languages. Most all of them were about the supernatural underground. In the center of the room was an oversized, ornately carved desk in the same wood. The few walls that weren’t lined with books were empty. This was the only room in the house, other than his bedroom, that didn’t have any art.

The tall, dark shelves full of bloody books on witchcraft and monsters reminded him of his grandfather. He loathed his grandfather, his legacy. Maybe that’s why he hated the office so much when he first became Alpha; he’d been petty enough to refuse to sit at the desk for four months. He’d meant to get art to put on the walls—a nice landscape, something to remind him of running through the forest—to make it feel more like his own. He hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Searching for the book took him over twenty minutes because the title was half worn from the binding.

Dancing With Demons: deals, and the power they provide, and the consequences they promise .

It was written by a monk in the fourteenth century. Sitting on the corner of his desk, he flipped through the first few pages. Half the parchment was worn and impossible to read, some of it not in English. Great, this was going to take him forever to decode. The information came with gruesome illustrations.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he put the book on his desk and quickly searched for nearby craft stores on his smartphone. He found one twenty miles from Donna’s Diner. Pinning the location on his phone, he went to bed.