Not Your Ordinary Wolf Girl (25 page)

I felt like I was tracking that deer in the Lebruns' forest. Except that Owen was a lot more dangerous than a deer …

Françoise gestured for us to move forward. The men were in position. We were in the middle of the street when Owen caught on. He feinted left, then right. He was hedged in against the tall fence. There really was nowhere to run. I lifted the sword as high as possible and charged ahead.

Owen twisted, hopped onto the fence, and scrambled upward. Marlon grabbed his brother's leg, but Owen kicked him in the head, sending him flying backward onto the pavement. Pierre and Françoise started to climb. I poked at Owen's calves with the sword, hoping to injure him, but he pulled himself over the top, transforming as he went down the other side. Queenie and Rosa were halfway up, but Rosa's
feet weren't coordinating with her arms and Queenie had to help. Marlon stood and launched himself at the fence.

Knowing I couldn't climb with the sword, I wanted to ditch it. But it was the only weapon we had. And it wasn't mine. Damn. I ran to the gate and hacked at the lock. Metal clanged loudly against metal, surprising a drunk couple who were weaving past and almost jolting my arms out of their sockets. I swung a second time and nearly rattled my teeth right out of my gums. The lock was barely scratched. Time for Plan B.

Pressing my face to the fence, I peered into the darkness, trying to see what was happening I could hear them racing around and caught flashes of movement between the trees and shrubs. They seemed to be herding Owen through the winding paths to the far side.

I ran in that direction. If he climbed out, he'd come face to face with me, back in human form … and the killer sword. Sure enough, the fence rattled and swayed under the weight of a body. Owen was directly in front of me. I moved beneath him, planted my feet on the ground, and held the sword with its point facing straight upward.

Owen reached the top of the fence and stood, getting ready to jump. Rosa was behind him. She
leapt upward, hind legs propelling her, but got stuck in the bars. Owen growled down at me. His family surrounded Rosa. He looked down at them and knew he wasn't going to escape.

“What about the other girls?” I yelled at him. “What did you do to Dalia and Sue?”

“Nothing,” he snarled.

“Did you kill them?” demanded Queenie.

He looked startled for a second. “I can't even find the stupid bitches. They've disappeared,” he said.

Suddenly, a sleek black wolf with a small pouch attached to its collar raced up the street. Its shape blurred and it transformed into Daniel. He opened the pouch and took out a gun. He fired at Owen and hit his shoulder. Daniel shot again, hitting Owen in the stomach.

Françoise screamed.

Owen swayed and then pitched forward onto me, the blade piercing his shoulder, extremely close to his neck. I hit the ground, pinned beneath him. Owen's body was a dead weight. My skull smashed into the pavement and all the air left my lungs.

TWENTY

I
opened my eyes. I was lying flat on my back on the sidewalk. The rest of my pack hovered above me. Except for Marlon, who sat beside me, holding my hand and staring intently at my face. His brother was propped up against the fence nearby—looking like a drunk college kid. The sword had been removed. Blood stained his shirt, but it looked like the wound had been bandaged. He had an ancient-looking bronze amulet with some kind of symbol etched onto it around his neck.

“Is he alive?” I whispered to Marlon.

“Tranquilizer gun,” he replied. “It's okay, Sam.”

I sighed with relief. I was glad Owen was still alive—for his family's sake. Why I cared about any
of them, after everything they'd done to me, was a mystery. But I did.

Daniel, now wearing baggy black shorts, handed Pierre a little bag. “If you keep him on these herbs, he'll heal faster. The amulet he's wearing is from my grandmother. He may look and sound like Owen, but the magic's actually controlling his thoughts and actions. Do not remove it. Armando will do that at the ranch.”

“Are you sure?” asked Pierre. “Trust me. This is how my family secures even the most difficult werewolves.”

“Is it safe?” asked Françoise, glancing worriedly at her unconscious son.

“Of course,” replied Daniel. “And I'll come with you. We have a private plane for the ranch that can leave first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you, for everything,” said Françoise. “I don't know how to thank you enough.”

“Marlon's got that covered.”

Marlon groaned.

“We should get going,” said Daniel.

“I'll meet you guys at the airport,” said Marlon. “I'm going to take Sam and the girls home first.”

Before I knew it, I was in another cab with Marlon, Rosa, and Queenie. The girls slumped against each other, eyes closed. It finally sank in that we'd done it.
We'd captured the big bad wolf. And I had stood up to him, even when I was the most scared. I felt prouder of this than any success I'd had with my band.

A burst of energy swept over me. I needed to flex my muscles.

“What are the chances we could go for a run?” I asked Marlon. “Just for a few minutes. We can drop off Queenie and Rosa, then head to Prospect Park before you go to the airport. It's still a few hours till dawn. No one should notice two dogs running around without their owners.”

“Are you asking me to come out and play?”

I nodded.

“Would you settle for a limp?” he asked.

“We'll go slow, I promise.”

He grinned. “Okay.”

We stopped in front of my building and walked the weregirls to the front door. Queenie and Rosa were clearly still depressed that we were no closer to finding Sue and Dalia.

“We're not giving up on them,” I said, impulsively gathering both girls in a reassuring hug. I'd come a long way from the skittish wolf who didn't want Françoise to touch her …

“They're lost,” said Queenie. “That psycho wouldn't say what he's done to them.”

“No,” said Marlon. “I think Owen was being honest when he said he hadn't been able to track them down. I'm going to talk to Armando Rojas about this while we're at the ranch.”

“And we'll keep searching here in New York,” I said. “I promise. We were a pretty spectacular team out there tonight.”

The two girls headed inside. I was tempted to run upstairs and thump on my evil tenants' door, but I resisted.

Marlon and I drove to the park. I got out of the cab and stretched while he paid the driver. I couldn't stop myself from watching the way his muscles rippled under his shirt as he moved. It went against all common sense, but maybe there was something to this being mated thing, after all. He'd turned me into a monster, and I couldn't change that. Maybe I didn't want to anymore. Forgive but never forget.

I pulled him by the hand into a grove of evergreen trees where no one could see us. Knowing he was watching me, I shrugged off my pants as seductively as possible. When I reached up to lift my shirt, Marlon's hands stopped mine. He wanted to help, but he was waiting for a sign that it was okay. His fingers hesitated, inches from the skin on my stomach.

I nodded, and as soon as he'd slid the cotton fabric
over my head I pushed up against his chest. He felt and smelled amazing. When he pressed his warm lips against my neck and started moving up toward my chin, my whole body lit on fire. I almost jumped him right there in the park. He pulled away ever so slightly to help me out of my bra and underwear, and cool air filled the gap between us, clearing my head.

Self-conscious, I quickly transformed, dropped to the ground, and shot across the grass like an arrow, leaving all my worry and stress behind. Marlon followed more slowly, favouring his sore leg.

I darted back to nudge him along and touch his nose with mine—the wolf equivalent of kissing. Then I leapt away again, lapping up the cool, damp wind. There really was nothing quite like the sensation of air rushing through your fur. We looped around the park. Whenever I got too far ahead of Marlon, I slowed down so he could catch up.

All of a sudden he pounced on top of me from behind. I guess he was feeling better. I bucked to get him off and barked as we tumbled in the short grass, rolling head over heels and snapping our teeth at each other. After a moment he untangled himself from me, chest heaving.

A raccoon lumbered past, forcing me to chase it up a tree. Then I headed over to a stream. As I drank,
Marlon came over and pushed his head in next to mine. Our snouts bumped. I stuck out my tongue and licked his face, earning myself a mouthful of fur. We wandered into the stream and splashed around, then shook our coats, sending the water flying.

Everything felt effortless. Smooth and powerful and feral. I was gaining control over my new life and truly free for the first time in years.

I was now girl
and
wolf. And so alive.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many people helped make this book a reality, especially my mate, Jesse Hirsh. My agent, Alison McDonald at The Rights Factory, and fabulous editors, Robin Benjamin and Lynne Missen, believed in Sam and worked hard behind the scenes. Julia Pohl-Miranda, Willow Dawson, Lily Tung, Ed Kwong, and Jim Munroe read drafts and gave feedback. Assorted parents, in-laws, siblings, and the little monkey all brought me joy, gave advice, and, let's face it, lent certain aspects of their lives to my fiction. Vikki Law and Siu Loong Englander Law kindly showed me New York's wolf-friendly hideouts. Nalo Hopkinson, Dianah Smith, and Irfan Ali wrote beside me at the local library, in cafés, and at my kitchen table when
I was avoiding plot twists gone wild … and periodically propped up my confidence. And, lastly, members of Toronto Street Writers, the University of British Columbia's optional residency Creative Writing MFA program, and Sagatay Men's Writing Group provided inspirational and creative powers.

RAZORBILL

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Copyright © Emily Pohl-Weary, 2013

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