Gray Wolf Security Shifters: Complete Volume One: Gray Wolf Security Shifters, #7

BOOK ONE

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Pack of Misfits

Chapter 1

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Tunstall

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There are shapeshifters walking the streets of America.

I know because I’m one of them.

No, I’m not a werewolf—though I do shift into a gray wolf. But werewolves are a figment of writers’ imaginations. There is no such creature as a man who only transforms when the moon is full. And I’m no more susceptible to a silver bullet than most men would be to a bullet made of any material.

There was once a time when shapeshifters walked the streets freely, unafraid to expose their nature to anyone around them. But then came Christianity and a fear of anything that was different than the majority. There were stories that have been told among the members of my pack for generations about shapeshifters who were burned at the stake like witches, though no one brags about that like they do about those poor girls in Salem who weren’t true witches, but made crazy from the wheat in their bread. If they did, they’d have to acknowledge that we actually exist, but to admit we exist would require Christians to admit that there are things left over from the days of pagan worship that are real.

Hypocrites.

Anyway, it goes without saying that we no longer feel free to expose ourselves because humans have this habit of freaking out when they see our true nature. Like transforming into an animal was all that shocking and... whatever. For that reason, my pack steadily moved further and further away from society, finally burrowing into the remotest areas of Canada. They felt safer that way. And they discouraged interaction with humans, going so far as to turn on their own when someone tried to leave the pack. Like me. They’ve hunted me off and on for sixty-five years, ever since I decided I could no longer live by their restrictions. Who wants to live in the middle of nowhere, never meeting new people, never experiencing all that the world can offer?

Not me. I’ve lived a hell of a life since leaving my pack:

I found distant relatives and lived with a cousin for a while.

I spent a little time in Haight-Ashbury.

I fought in Vietnam alongside some very interesting characters.

I worked as a roadie for the Backstreet Boys.

I joined the marines and worked with the CIA to take down Osama bin Laden.

I’ve spent time in jungles and frozen tundra, danced under the moon with beautiful women, ridden the fastest horses and sailed the wildest seas.

The only problem with living my life the way I have was that it always felt temporary. See, the thing was, I’m old enough that I’ve lost count of the exact number. Something about my nature as a shapeshifter caused me to age much slower than normal humans. I was old by human standards, but I looked like I was no more than a man in his late twenties. And when you spent ten or fifteen years among the same people day in and day out, they noticed when they’d grown gray hairs but you hadn’t.

I learned a long time ago not to remain in one place longer than three or four years. Leave before anyone got close enough to be too curious. That was once a difficult task because people are naturally curious creatures. But it was growing easier and easier in the age of social media. No one really pays much attention to others IRL—in real life. It’s all about that online profile, which I carefully avoid as much as possible.

I’ve changed my name and my social security number so many times I’ve lost count of the ones I’ve used. My last existence was a construction worker in Texas—Lyle Collins. That lasted three years, until one of the guys on a building site commented on the fact that I healed awfully quick from a deep cut on my hand. That’s another perk of the shapeshifting thing—I tended to heal faster than most people. Not supernaturally fast, unfortunately, but fast enough that it was noticeable, apparently. Because of that, I was on the road again for the last few months, moving from town to town, one rundown hotel after another. I was just me again. Tunstall Grayson. Basic shapeshifter misfit, off on my own.

Then again, I’m not really on my own. Other misfits just seem to find me.

Where the hell were you last night?

My companion, a shifter I met in a bar in Colorado, shrugged. Around, he said noncommittally.

When we hunt, you’re supposed to let me know if you spot any hunters.

I’m aware.

There were hunters tonight. And one of them came within an inch of blowing a hole in my ass!

I’m not perfect, Tunstall. I can’t see everything.

Yeah, well, you have a pretty good vantage point when you’re flying over the treetops.

I found a wounded deer. Was I supposed to pass up a delicious meal just because you weren’t as lucky as me?

I sighed, twisting my body slightly to take a look at the strip of raw flesh just above my hip that the bullet had created. It was already smaller than it had been, but that didn’t do much to take away the insult that getting shot in any capacity caused.

You’ll be good as new by tomorrow.

That’s not the point.

I would have been there if I thought you were in any real danger.

How much more danger could I be in, Levi? They shot at me. I have a graze on my hip!

Why didn’t you smell them, or whatever it is you can do?

I growled, a guttural sound that was more like my other half than I’d intended it to be. Levi backed away, his self-preservation instincts as strong as mine. Levi’s other half was a king vulture, a large bird of prey whose only natural predators are snakes that can attack their young—which is not a concern for Levi—and large cats, such as jaguars. I supposed I could be counted in that last category. I’m not a cat, but if he pissed me off enough it probably wouldn’t take much for me to rip out his narrow bird throat.

I got off the bed, vaguely aware of the human noises going on in the next room. I hated these motels with their thin walls and the strong odor of human excretions. My sense of smell was intense and it could be really annoying sometimes, especially when in my human form. It was time to look for somewhere more permanent, a quiet place I could live unnoticed for a few years.

We’re moving on tomorrow, I announced.

Where to?

I shrugged. I had no idea. We were in California now, close enough to the ocean that we could no longer move west. Or maybe we could. Asia might be an interesting experience. I’d never been to Japan or China. We could disappear there. Then again, I was a particularly tall man when in my human form, with pale skin that seemed to be particularly noticeable when contrasted with my dark brown hair. I’d stick out like a sore thumb. Levi, on the other hand, was a few inches shorter than me with dark hair and skin, a gift of his South American heritage. He might fit in well.

It was something.

We could go back East.

It’s cold back East.

My eyebrows rose. No one’s forcing you to travel with me.

Levi shrugged. Cold’s better than alone.

I glanced at him. He’d backed up nearly to the door, leaning against the wall there like he was still afraid I’d attack. Levi was in bad shape when I found him in that bar, bruised and broken in ways no human would ever appreciate. He’d been hunted. He wouldn’t tell me who’d been hunting him, but I got the impression it had more to do with his past than it did with his present. It would be arrogant to believe that I was the only misfit who was being hunted by his pack.

I was about to make a comment when my attention was drawn to the television. It’d been on most of the day even though we never really sat down and watched. It was noise to drown out other noises. But I’d heard a name that pulled me out of my thoughts—one I didn’t know but did all at the same time.

Where’s the remote?

What?

The television. Where’s the remote?

Levi snatched it up from the table beside him and tossed it at me. I caught it easily and turned up the sound, my eyes slightly narrowed as I stared at the screen. A pretty blonde woman was talking about something that had recently happened in Florida, the arrest of some woman whose crime I didn’t quite catch. What I was more interested in was the man in a stock photo they were also displaying and the name written in the caption underneath.

Ashford Grayson.

He was a middle-aged man with dark, curly hair and intense green eyes. Familiar green eyes.

He’s got the same last name as you, Levi commented.

He does.

I stared at that picture, remembering a moment in my life that I hadn’t thought about in a long time. I was on my own for the first time, learning how to live among humans in a world that wasn’t quite what I’d expected. My mother talked about family that had evolved differently than us, humans in every aspect of the word. I found them out of curiosity, nothing more. I never intended to have contact, just wanted to see them, learn about them. But Silas Grayson was a kind, gentle man who was more than accepting of me. He gave me a home when I needed it more than even I understood at the time. And he taught me things about living among humans I still use to this day. I probably would have been caught and killed years ago if not for him.

I wondered if Ashford was anything like his great-grandfather.

Who is he?

My cousin.

Levi made a sound like a strangled cry. Are you serious? You have human relatives? Or is he—

He’s human. Not all of my kind evolved in the same way.

Seriously?

I turned the sound up a little more as the woman continued to talk. She’d said gray wolf. What was she talking about? What wolf? Was he...? Silas hadn’t been, but he knew about our family, knew our heritage. Had he passed that information down to his children and their children? Had Ashford been told about my pack in Canada? Would he be receptive to meeting me?

But then I understood what her reference meant. Gray Wolf was the name of his security firm. A play on his name, nothing more.

Disappointment shot through me. For a second, I’d actually found myself hoping that I’d found a place to go in this stranger. I should have known better.

You should go talk to him.

Why? His side of the family hasn’t had anything to do with my side in more than sixty years.

So? He’s still a relative. Maybe you might have something on the human side in common.

I shook my head. The last time I contacted a member of his side of the family, it didn’t end well.

What could be so bad that you don’t want to see him?

I was quiet for a long moment, watching the blonde woman on the television as she moved to another story. I tried not to think about the disasters I often left in my wake, because the guilt could be overwhelming. The guilt was still often overwhelming.

I lived with my cousin years ago—not that one, but his great-grandfather—and he helped me more than I could ever repay. But my presence near him, near his family, put him in danger. My pack came looking for me and they... a girl died. It wasn’t a happy ending. I can’t put another person in danger like that.

But that had to have been a long time ago.

It was. But my pack is still looking for me.

When was the last time they found you?

Ten years, but that doesn’t mean anything. They’ll keep hunting me until I’m dead, or all their warriors are dead.

Tunstall, this could be an opportunity. He could give us work. They said he owns this big security firm that took down an entire criminal organization! That kind of work would be perfect for us!

I shook my head. No. I won’t put an innocent in danger.

Tunstall—

Enough, Levi! I won’t talk about it anymore.

I shut off the television and grabbed my jacket. Nothing would ever be as warm as the fur that covered my body when I was in my natural form, but this leather jacket was a close second. I slid it on and stepped out into the late-evening sunlight. It’d be dark soon and the woods were calling.

Let’s go hunting.

Chapter 2

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Trinity

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It was so strange being back in this place. I’d only been gone for five years, but it seemed like a lifetime. I’d certainly lived a different life since the last time I set eyes on this town.

Bemidji, Minnesota. Not really the cultural center of the world.

I wondered how many of my old classmates were still stuck in this town. Probably more than the ones who swore they’d get out the moment we all graduated. I got out. Thank God for that scholarship to NYU! Not that I stayed there for long, either. The moment my photographs started to sell, I was out of there too.

Eighteen years was long enough to sit still in one place. I needed to be on the move, to see things I’d only read about in books. And I did. I saw more than I ever wanted to and captured it all with my camera. Some of my photographs had appeared in international publications, online, and in newspapers all over the world. Others were blown up and displayed in galleries, even a museum here and there. I was well known in art circles. But here in Bemidji? I was just Trinity Larson. I was Bruno Larson’s daughter, come home to bury him.

What a hell of a reason to come home again. Hopefully it would only take a day or two and I could be back on a plane to Italy, just like I was supposed to be. There was a festival going on there that a publisher wanted photographed for an upcoming book on winemaking. A little milder than my usual subject, but it was a good-paying gig. And it was thousands of miles from here.

I drove up to the house where I was conceived, born, and raised, feeling nothing but irritation as I looked up at the simple lines of the roof, the sag that was more pronounced in the porch than I recalled. My mother died here, but I barely remembered her. I was only three when it happened, an aneurysm that burst unexpectedly in her brain while she was making dinner one night. I’ve been told she was the nicest person to ever breathe the cold air of Minnesota. I’ve heard that she brought out the best in my father, softened his rough edges and made him into a different man. But that’s not the man I knew. The man I knew was angry and frustrated, unhappy in his career, unhappy in his life. He barely spoke to me when he was home—which was rarely because he was a long-haul truck driver—and when he did, it was usually at the top of his lungs. Sometimes I’d piss him off just to hear the sound of his voice. But then he bypassed the yelling and just lashed out with the back of his hand.

I spent most of my childhood in the company of Ms. O’Hannigan, our quiet neighbor who also happened to be my third-grade teacher. She did the best she could, but she wasn’t my mother and I always made sure to point that out to her. She left town when I was sixteen, tired of waiting for my father to notice her, I think. I hoped she’d found happiness, wherever she went.

I swore, when I left this town, I’d never come back. But my father had had a heart attack down at the local diner and someone had to deal with the funeral and the sale of the house and whatever else came with death. And I, unfortunately, was the only family Bruno had left.

I reluctantly shut off the engine of my rental and stepped out of the car. Late May and it was still in the low sixties. I heard they had snow just a week ago. Made me miss the beaches of Europe that much more.

The spare key was still under the little gnome by the front door. I let myself in, immediately overwhelmed by smells that brought me back to when I was twelve and my father came home unexpectedly to find me watching MTV with a boy from down the street. Most fathers would go ballistic. My father sat down and joined us, deciding that was the perfect moment to discuss with the two of us the proper use of condoms. He wasn’t about to be a grandfather before he was old enough to draw social security, he said.

It was an interesting childhood.

I walked through the narrow rooms, the long hall that led from one end of the house to the other. The kitchen smelled of rotting vegetables and spoiled grease. The bathroom reeked from a toilet that hadn’t been scrubbed in a decade. My father’s room exuded the unpleasant odors of sweat and piss.

Not much had changed.

I slipped out onto the front porch and slipped a vape pen from my back pocket. I had a whole pile of emails I needed to go through on my phone, mostly messages from my publisher, a few from friends I left unexpectedly when I got the call. I should respond to them, but I was more interested in getting out of here, getting this business dealt with before I ran into someone I knew.

The real estate agent was supposed to meet me here, but he was running late.

Story of my damn life!

I settled back on the porch swing and closed my eyes, letting the sweet smell of the vape pen swirl around me, taking me back to a little bar in London where I was first introduced to these contraptions. There was a guy there that night, a guy with the prettiest green eyes I’d ever seen. He was smoking with his buddies, laughing over a glass of whiskey as he eyed me across the room. I was there with a couple of girlfriends, not sure if he was eyeing me or the tall blonde beside me who often got most of the male attention when we were together. But then he came over and... his lips were like pillows! What a night that turned out to be!

Too bad it was only the vape pen that became a habit.

Trinity Larson! You haven’t changed a bit!

I opened my eyes, a little startled to hear a familiar voice. I should have known better.

Janie Rue.

The woman standing on my father’s front porch giggled like we were still fifteen, sneaking out of the house to go park at the lake with a couple of guys from the football team.

It’s Jane Forde now.

You married Bradley?

She nodded, her smile widening. Can you believe it? Me, settling in this damn town, working at my father’s real estate company? It wasn’t the plan, but then I never expected Bradley to propose, you know?

Congrats.

And look at you! I’ve seen a few of your photographs in magazines. Who would have imagined you’d be the one to get out, the one to live our dream?

I stood and slid my pen back into my pocket, wiping my hands on the front of my jeans. I thought you’d gone to Colorado for school.

I did. Two semesters. But it didn’t really work out.

Sorry to hear it.

She rolled her shoulders. I’m happy. Bradley and I are making a good life together.

I just nodded, turning to gesture up at the house. How long do you think it’ll take to sell it?

Jane came up onto the porch, moving like her hips had come loose from the rest of her skeleton. I watched her waddle, remembering the athletic girl who’d taught me how to turn a double flip from the top of a cheerleaders’ pyramid. She was clearly not that girl anymore. Her hips were much wider, her body insulated by thirty extra pounds. She looked just like her mother, something she’d always dreaded when we were growing up together.

You might want to hire a handyman to fix this porch. And there are probably a few cosmetic things that could be done inside to help raise the price. Fresh paint, new carpets. Things that make it seem brighter and less lived in.

I need to sell it as quickly as possible. Couldn’t you just show it as is?

Jane glanced at me. Furniture and all?

Yeah.

She shook her head. The market is overflowing with properties right now. If you want to sell quick, you’ll have to make it more appealing than the other places for sale right now.

You know any handymen who could do this sort of thing really fast?

Sure. Bradley runs his father’s construction company now. He’ll be happy to send a couple of his guys over.

Of course.

I’d forgotten how nepotism worked in this town. Everyone worked for their parents and had their friends working with them. The rest of our clique—not just Janie and me, but Lisa and Becky and Toni—probably all worked for their parents, too.

What would I have done had I stayed? My father was a truck driver, not really my cup of tea. Thank God I got out!

We could list it at a hundred, but if you fix it up, we could probably list for a hundred twenty.

Really?

A house sold down the block last month for nearly two hundred.

I thought you said it was a buyer’s market?

It is. But these houses have character. People from outside the area find them... quaint.

Yeah? How many buyers do you have from outside the area?

Dozens. For some reason, this area has become quite popular with snow bunnies.

Snow bunnies?

Older people who like to spend their winters where it actually snows.

I shook my head, remembering how many winter days I’d been cooped up in this house because the snow fell so heavily that we couldn’t even open the front door. It was worse than miserable.

We could probably have the house on the market by the end of the week. If so, I have a buyer who might find this to be exactly what she’s looking for.

That would be awesome! I’d like to sell as soon as possible.

Janie nodded, her eyes moving over me like I’d just called her a cockroach or something. I’m sure you’d like to get back to your exciting life.

Well, I’d certainly like to get back to work. Got bills to pay, you know.

"I do know about that. Once again, her eyes moved slowly over me. I guess you’d like to forget all about this town and the people in it."

I shrugged. I don’t really have much tying me to it now, do I?

We used to be close, all of us. But after...

She just let the words hang in the air. I knew exactly what she was talking about and, yeah, I had to admit that had something to do with my desire to get out of town. Things got dark the fall of my senior year of high school. After that, I counted the seconds until I could leave.

We were close, and I’ll always be grateful for your friendship back then. But people grow and change, Janie.

I suppose so.

I’m glad you’re the one to come and look at the house.

She smiled, clearly pleased. Yeah? When I heard the address, I jumped at the chance. I wanted to see you again.

Well, here I am.

Janie rushed toward me and gave me a big hug, giggling like a child. I bore it with as much dignity as I could muster, counting the seconds until I could get out of this situation and to the silence of my hotel room. I was already thinking of the friends I’d left behind in Europe, the parties I was missing out on and the perfect shots someone else was taking at that festival. I wanted to get back to my life and out of this deep pit filled with despair.

There’s a party this weekend, Janie was telling me. Everyone will be there—Becky and Toni and Lisa—and a bunch of the guys from the football team. You know, the champion team from our senior year? It’s Johnny’s birthday, so everyone’s getting together to celebrate.

Yeah? They’re all still in town?

Hell, you were one of the only ones to leave.

We all had such big plans.

Sometimes life gets in the way. Janie touched her generous middle. Two kids and one on the way kind of changes your perspective, you know?

You’re a mom? Wow, Janie... that’s amazing!

It wasn’t really. I’d been paranoid about getting pregnant in high school. There wasn’t much to do in this town but go to the lake and drink. Drinking with boys always led to other things. Two of my girlfriends had abortions before our senior year. Me... I was labeled a prude because I wouldn’t sleep with any of the testosterone-driven douche bags around here. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, though. It was that fear of pregnancy.

Janie and I made it to graduation without a surprise baby, but I guess I was the only one who made it beyond that.

She smiled, pulling out the phone to show me pictures. As I suspected, her oldest kid was about six, suggesting she got pregnant not long after graduation.

I don’t know what I would have done had I found myself in her position. I would forever be grateful that I didn’t.

So, Saturday night, Janie said as we prepared to part ways a bit later.

The party.

Yeah. Out at the lake. The usual place.

Of course.

I’ll try to be there.

Janie gave me that look again, her eyes judging me. I’ll let Bradley know you need some help around here. Have him call you.

Thanks.

I locked the place up and drove to the hotel, automatically comparing the small room to the cleaner, more comfortable places I’d grown used to staying at in Europe and New York and all the other places I’d visited in the last seven years.

Help me, Addison, I moaned into the phone as I spoke to my friend and often travel companion. She was an artist I’d met in Paris when I took a couple of classes at an art school there. I’m going to suffocate before I can get out of here.

You’ll be okay. It’s only for a few days.

I’ve already run into this girl I knew in high school. Already judging me for getting out of this damn town.

Never mind her. After this, you’ll never have to see her again. Just think about this... In a week or two, you’ll be on a beach in Italy, hanging out with Jaime.

I closed my eyes, an image of the tall, dark-haired man filling my mind. I could see that, could see myself in a bikini, seducing the hot sculptor.

Did he ask about me?

He’s been asking about you for days. He’s really into you, Trinity.

I smiled. I could do this. As long as I had that life waiting for me, I could survive anything.

I had to. I couldn’t let a hottie like Jaime go to waste!

Chapter 3

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Levi

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I soared over the treetops, the night darkening the shadows where predators hid. My sense of smell wasn’t the best, but my vision was better than any human could ever comprehend. I could see into those shadows and find those predators. Including the humans who thought they were being clever by hiding in the dark.

Who hunts at night? Aren’t humans daytime hunters?

But they were there again, waiting for Tunstall to come up the little ridge where they waited. They’d surprised him yesterday. They wouldn’t get a second chance.

I don’t have vocal chords in this form, but I can make sounds by clicking my beak together. I did this as I swooped down over the humans, coming close enough to cause one of them to jerk back, hitting his head on the trunk of a tree.

Go away, bird! one of the men yelled. There’s nothing here for you.

But I didn’t back off. I rose high in the sky and then swooped down again, making that same clicking sound. The yeller charged toward me, but immediately backed off when I clipped a piece of his jacket with my beak. The other was already on his feet, gathering his things to leave.

I’m outta here, he announced to his companion. These animals are damn crazy!

It’s a gray wolf, Bill. How many of those have you seen out here lately? Especially one as big as that one we saw yesterday?

Even a wolf that big isn’t worth being torn apart by a vulture!

I might have laughed if I’d been capable of it. I swooped down at the weaker man one more time, tugging at his jacket as I’d done the other. He jerked free and sprang into a quick jog, heading back toward the narrow road where they’d left their truck. The other man was more stubborn, aiming his gun at me. But he couldn’t get a good shot because I dive-bombed his face, taking just the slightest nip at his cheek. Once blood was drawn, he was on his feet, too.

That should make Tunstall happy.

I found him a few miles to the west, prowling near a rabbit den. He was a graceful animal, this gray wolf. He had a thick coat of fur that was a deep brown, thicker along his shoulders and neck. He was a large wolf, one of the largest I’d ever seen, probably a good hundred and fifty pounds, his legs thick, his muscles so well defined that they were clearly visible along his back and hips. An impressive animal for a species outside of the vulture family.

Although I was pretty sure I could take him in a fight, I wouldn’t want to try it.

I hung around a little while longer, watching him take down this rabbit he’d been chasing. He didn’t actually eat the thing—though I’m sure he would have if he’d really wanted to—but went after it for the glory of the chase. He’d let it go after a while, mostly unharmed. It was more about the chase than it was about anything else for Tunstall.

That was the thing about him. Despite his predator instincts, he was almost kind to his prey. I’d never seen him hurt anything that didn’t deserve it, human or animal. Most shifters who shared their bodies with predators rarely even attempted to curb their baser instincts. But Tunstall was different. He’d found a way to control himself that others had never even attempted.

The night he found me in that bar in Colorado, he could have taken me out. Any other shifter probably would have. There was this thing, this unspoken rule, that the weak had to be weeded out of the universal pack. And I was hurt, weakened. He didn’t even have to do it himself. He could have just let some other shifter find me, take me out in my damaged state. But he didn’t. He took me in and watched over me until I healed. He didn’t have to do that.

I owed him one. I hated owing anyone anything.

I’d been looking for a way to pay him back. I thought I’d finally found one.

I returned to the spot where we’d parted ways, falling to the ground gracefully on my human feet. My clothes were in a pile beneath a tree, waiting for me to return to the human world. I quickly dressed, running my fingers through my black hair—it was one thing I preferred about my human form over my other, the fact that I had a full head of hair, where my king vulture side was bald—as I retraced our steps to the pickup Tunstall insisted on driving all over the country. My cell phone was stashed inside, complete with a phone number it’d taken me exactly thirty seconds to find earlier in the day.

I’d like to leave a message for Mr. Ashford Grayson. I’m a friend of his cousin, Tunstall Grayson. I thought he might like to know his cousin is in town, staying at the Starlite Motel, room twenty. I think Tunstall would really like to meet his cousin, but he’s a little bashful. It might benefit him if Ashford could take the first step.

There.

I’d seen the look in Tunstall’s eyes when he’d seen his cousin on the television earlier in the day. Vultures mate for life, but don’t really care about extended family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents... these are all terms that were pretty foreign to me when I was young and spent most of my time with just my parents. But gray wolves are different. They tend to live in large packs, mostly made up of parents and adult children. However, I knew that Tunstall’s pack consisted of more than that, that his pack included grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins—family that could be traced back several generations. He’d been on his own a long time, but it was clear he still missed that connection that came with living so closely to family.

Now we were even.

Chapter 4

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Tunstall

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The knock came mid afternoon. I was just getting out of the shower, standing in front of the mirror as I studied the nearly healed graze mark on my hip that those hunters had left me with. It would disappear by tomorrow, just a memory like so many other injuries I’d suffered in my life. Sometimes I wondered what it would take to leave a scar on my body. I’d known men in the military—first the army when I fought in Vietnam, then the Navy SEALs when I was in Afghanistan—who had scars they were indescribably proud to show off. They had tattoos, too. I tried to get a tattoo once. Within three months, my body had broken down the ink and absorbed it. The spot where it’d once been was completely healed, no hint that there’d ever been anything there.

I sighed, running the hot water in the sink so that I could shave the heavy stubble that covered my jaw. I was halfway through the routine when the knock came.

Who the hell could that be?

Levi was buried in the blankets on his bed, wrapped into something like a fetal position. He was a heavy sleeper. It would take a bomb to wake him at this point in the day.

I wiped the shaving cream from my face and pulled a T-shirt on as I crossed to the door. The sun was shining bright in the California sky, everything blue and clean, like a picture from a postcard. I squinted slightly, my eyes taking their time adjusting to the light. For that reason, it took me a second to recognize the tall, muscular man standing on the edge of the walkway.

I’m looking for Tunstall Grayson, he said, his deep voice filled with curiosity. That wouldn’t be you, would it?

It is.

He tilted his head slightly, his hands fidgeting with the pair of sunglasses he was holding. Then a slow smile transformed his expression, making what had been forbidding almost welcoming.

My grandfather had this picture in his living room for as long as anyone could remember: his father with a cousin no one knew much about. It’s incredible how much you look like that guy!

You’re Ashford.

Ash. I go by Ash.

Of course. It’s a family name, right?

My father’s name. Ash straightened his shoulders slightly. We used to ask Grandpa about that picture, but he always got this secretive look on his face and would tell us that this cousin, Tunstall, was a good friend of Great-Grandfather Silas, but that was all he would say.

Tunstall?

Yeah. Isn’t that funny? You have the same name as this guy, too.

As I watched, Ash pulled the photograph out of a pocket in his sports coat. It was wrapped in plastic, an old photograph taken outside a small, two-story house sometime in the fifties. I knew it immediately. I even remembered the day it was taken. It wasn’t long before things turned upside down and Silas lost the love of his life.

I was surprised he’d kept any memories of me, let alone this particular picture.

Family resemblance is pretty intense. You look a lot like Silas, too.

Ash chuckled softly. I do, don’t I?

I handed the picture back to him, wondering what he would think if he knew the truth about the relationship those two men shared. Silas Grayson was a good man. A kind man. He’d taught a lost, rebellious wolf how to survive in the human world despite the things that young wolf had brought to his doorstep. A middle-aged man with a young child and a beautiful wife—everything to lose and nothing to gain. He did more for me than anyone had ever done before or since. If not for Silas, I probably would have been in my grave long ago.

Should have been the night they came and murdered Silas’s wife. If not for Silas shoving me out the back door, insisting that I had to survive, it would have been me.

The memory of it was almost too much for me to stand.

We don’t have much family left, I’m afraid, Ash said as he studied the picture. My father was an only child and he died in a car accident some years ago. It’s just me and my brother, David, now.

I’m sorry to hear that.

We thought there might be more cousins out there, based on this picture, but none of the research we’ve done has ever revealed any new information.

My side of the family has pretty much died out too. I scratched my cheek, trying to look nonchalant. I was named after my grandfather. He died in Vietnam, leaving behind just my mother, and she passed a few years back. As far as I knew, it was just me.

Your mother?

I nodded. She gave me the Grayson name because she wanted to honor her father.

You don’t have any brothers or sisters?

Nope. Just me.

It was a lie, of course. I had multiple siblings in Canada, living wildly in the snow and ice of the remotest areas of the north. Hiding from humans to protect their true nature. But Ash didn’t need to know that.

He didn’t need to know anything about me or my nature. The truth would only put him in danger.

Then I think it’s incredible that we found each other. You’re clearly part of my family and family has become more important to me than ever over the past few years.

Is that right?

Losing my parents and nearly losing my brother, not once but twice, has made me see that we take too much for granted in this world. And now that I have children of my own—

You have kids?

Ash nearly beamed as he nodded, pulling a phone out of his back pocket to show me pictures of an adorable little boy and an equally beautiful girl.

This is Ford and his sister, Rachel.

They’re beautiful.

I’m sure they’d love to meet their cousin.

It was tempting. Very tempting. But I could see Angela in Rachel’s eyes, could see the resemblance between that child and the woman whose death I was responsible for.

I couldn’t be responsible for the death of another innocent.

You’re wasting your time, I said, almost regretfully. I’m only in town another few hours and then I’m moving on. I didn’t come here to meet family. Don’t have any interest at all in knowing you or your family.

I turned, my hand on the doorknob.

You don’t have to meet them. I just... we’re all that’s left, Tunstall.

I shook my head. You have no idea.

I own a security firm. If you’re in trouble, I can help you.

Not this kind of trouble. I looked him over, a little part of me overwhelmed by just how much he looked like my cousin—my friend—Silas. You’d be better off not knowing me, Ash. You and your beautiful family.

I don’t agree. I think we need to stick together.

I shook my head, not even responding as I slipped back into the motel room.

He’d be better off without me. If he ever learned the truth...

Chapter 5

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Tunstall

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Sixty-plus years ago...

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Politeness is everything. As long as you are polite, you can do just about anything.

I don’t even understand what politeness is.

Smiling when a woman makes eye contact with you. Opening doors for people—male and female. Saying please and thank you to everyone, even waitresses in a greasy dive. Offering to help someone in need, even if it’s an inconvenience to you.

Why would I want to do that?

Because kindness comes back. If you’re kind to someone, they will often be kind to you.

I shook my head, struggling to wrap my mind around all of this. I grew up in the wilds of Canada, shuttered away from human beings and the ways of their cultures. And so many cultures they embraced! I’d never heard of religion, of Christmas or Easter, never saw a man hold a woman’s hand just because, never heard a conversation that didn’t end in some sort of aggressive behavior. It was like I stepped out of Canada into a whole new world, a new existence that I hadn’t even imagined could exist.

Who taught you all of this, Silas?

He shrugged. I guess I learned most of it from my parents. My father sold cars most of his life, so he was a natural at it.

Why did selling cars make him a natural?

Because you have to use charm to get people to shell out that kind of money.

I didn’t understand that, either, but supposed it would make sense to me the longer I was here, in this human-driven civilization.

Did your father know about us?

Sure. He talked about your side of the family sometimes. He admired you. I think he kind of wished he’d been born to your side rather than ours.

He wanted to be a wolf?

Silas rolled his shoulders. I think he was fascinated by the stories. It seemed sort of romantic to him.

"What does romantic mean?"

He just shook his head. That’s too complicated to explain. You just have to... I don’t know. Feel it.

I frowned, not sure what he was saying. I understood his father’s desire to be one of us. Who wouldn’t want to have his spirit connected to an animal as magnificent as the wolf? What I wasn’t comprehending was the name he gave this desire. Romantic? It didn’t make sense to me.

Hey, boys!

We turned to find Silas’s wife, Angela, standing in the doorway, the new Dacora camera Silas had bought for her in her hands.

Come outside so I can take a picture of you.

Why us? Can’t you find something better-looking to photograph?

I’ve already taken a million pictures of the baby. I want to take a picture of his father! She came over, dropping a kiss on Silas’s temple. Come on. Indulge me a little!

Silas rolled his eyes, but I could see how happy he was to be the center of her attention. He clearly adored his beautiful wife, and I could almost understand why. She was petite, this little fluff of femininity, with long, dark hair that she didn’t have to curl—thanks to her natural curls—to get it into a roll at the top of her head. She was so much more than the women in my pack, women who’d seen far too much in the wilds of Canada. Angela was still innocent enough that her pretty smile was tinged with a naivety that made it that much more beautiful.

Maybe once I learned how to get along in this world, this human world, I could find a woman like Angela to warm my life.

We went outside, Angela fussing over us like we were just two more of her babies. Simon was asleep in the little basket she’d set off to one side of the front yard, his tiny cheeks bright red from the warmth of the late-summer afternoon. Angela pushed Silas against my side and instructed us to smile.

Smile. Wolves don’t smile.

***

Snow was falling in the mountains. I could smell it as I ran through the quiet of the night. One thing I could never understand about humans was how they could allow such beautiful nights to pass by as they slumbered in their beds. Didn’t they like to run in the cool air? Didn’t they know nighttime was the best time to hunt? Hunting during the day was like a thief breaking into the house while everyone inside was sleeping. The balance was wrong. Shouldn’t your prey have a fighting chance? What fun was it to attack a sleeping rabbit?

I thought I understood that word Silas had tried to explain to me. Romantic. Romanticize. It was like imagining a massive rabbit hiding in the woods, a rabbit that would feed an entire pack with the flesh on its bones, only to discover it was a rabbit the same size as all the others in its herd, just one that managed to stay ahead of its predator better than the others.

It was like me watching Silas with his wife and boy, wishing I could have a life like his. But it was a stupid dream, wasn’t it? I wasn’t anything like Silas, just like his father would never be anything like me or my pack.

It only took me three months to figure all that out.

I slowed my speed as I approached the house. I could feel someone or something watching me. I’d learned quickly that humans are afraid of predators like me when I was in my wolf form. I knew I couldn’t just run around this city where Silas lived without expecting some human to see me and want to pull a shotgun out of the back of his truck. Ohio was a civilized place, but that didn’t mean that the men here didn’t use weapons to protect their loved ones. They often did. I learned that lesson the first night I spent on Silas’s couch. It was how he learned the truth of my nature.

I only came here to see the humans some of my pack had evolved into over the past couple of hundred years. I never meant to make contact. But he saw me watching him and then some idiot shot a hundred little pieces of metal into my back leg and I had nowhere else to go.

Silas saved my life and then he taught me how to survive in this human world. Taught me more than just how to avoid shotguns. And he was still teaching. Tomorrow he was planning on teaching me how to manage a thing called a bank account.

The feeling of being watched grew the closer I got to the house. I slowed to a walk, finally stopping as I studied the back of the small home. Silas dreamt of making millions, a plan he based on the invention of a new sort of engine part. I didn’t understand it all even though he’d told me about it a dozen times. It seemed that his sole motivation was to buy Angela a bigger house. He wanted to give Angela and Simon every material thing they could ever desire. Living a life that didn’t really include material possessions, I didn’t understand. But I knew passion when I saw it. And I knew Silas would get what he wanted. Silas was just that kind. I’d seen it in members of my pack and I could see it in him. He would not stop until he met his every goal.

A howl broke the silence as I stood back, watching the house. The fur on the back of my neck instantly stood up. As I waited, an answering howl filled the cold night air. Then another and another.

They were here. They’d found me.

They’d been downwind from me, but now I could smell them. Six or seven members of my pack. Warriors come to make sure I never told a human about my connection to the gray wolf, to make sure I could never reveal their existence to the world.

They warned me when I left. They said they’d come for me, and now they were here.

I backed up, slipping back into the underbrush that had, up until this moment, hidden my existence. But I knew what those howls meant: they could smell me, too.

I had two choices: I could reveal myself and allow them to do what they’d come there to do. Or I could slink back into the woods, leave behind Silas and his family unprotected.

Neither seemed like a good solution to the problem.

I knew there were three prowling around the front of the house, two in the backyard, and two more in the narrow alley behind the house. If I came out of the underbrush, I could probably take the two in the alley without much of a fight. But once the scent of blood was on the air, the others would come for me. Could I outfight that many of my brothers, that many of the wolves I’d grown up with, trained with? I wasn’t sure.

I had to try. If Silas were to wake and come downstairs, or if I just walked away, there was no telling what they’d do to him and his family. I couldn’t risk that.

I moved through the underbrush, coming as close to the alley as I could without revealing myself. The wind changed directions again, giving me some cover. I could close my eyes and know exactly where each of the warriors in the alley were standing because I could smell the heat and sweat and blood that clung to their coats. With a low growl, I attacked the one closest to the underbrush, tearing out his throat in one quick movement. The other, however, was not as easy. He was alerted by the noise and the new scent of fresh blood. He attacked first, sinking his long canine teeth into my shoulder. But I was able to twist my heavier body and push him down onto his back, giving myself clear access to his throat.

Two down.

But the scent of death was on the air now and they could all smell it no matter which way the wind blew. Five large warrior wolves who’d trained their whole lives for this moment converged on the backyard, lining up between me and the back door of Silas’s house. I kept my head down, my haunches up high, waiting. They waited too, watching me with a wariness that came from thousands of years of instincts. I’d drawn first blood. Despite the overwhelming odds, I’d proven myself a worthy enemy.

One dark, nearly black, wolf merged from the pack, walking up to the edge of the alley, just a few feet from where his companion lay dead in the dust.

There was a form of communication that could happen between wolves from my pack. It wasn’t words, not really. Not growls, either, but that’s likely what it sounded like to humans. It was something that had existed since the beginning of our existence, a sort of telepathic, grunting, ancient sort of communication.

Time to come home, Tunstall.

No, Ciarrai. I won’t come back.

Then we must kill you.

Ciarrai backed up and allowed two of the others to move forward. I lowered my head as far as I could and still see them, still be aware of them. I was ready when the one on the left made his move, jerking my body to one side so that he could only get his teeth into my leg, not my neck. I lowered my teeth into his skull as the other attacked, tearing at the back of my unprotected neck. I twisted and pulled, ripping at the one while trying to shake the other free. I could feel the others watching, could feel their eagerness to get into the fight. If I didn’t take one of these out...

What’s happening out here? Get out of my yard!

Silas! No, no, no!

A momentary distraction and the wolf on my right managed to get a little nip at my throat. I growled, jerking toward him. He yelped and backed off, leaving me to take out the wolf on my left, his throat open and spilling its fluids into the dirt.

The other wolf backed up slightly, growling as he lowered his head close to the ground, his eyes filled with hate as he studied me. I knew this wolf. I grew up with him and his brother... the wolf that was now bleeding out in the alley.

Back off or you’ll suffer the same fate!

But of course he couldn’t do that. He leapt into the air. I dodged to the right and he missed me by barely a foot. We turned into each other, our forelegs tangling as we growled and nipped at each other, each trying to get to the other’s throat. He flinched first. Silas must have fired his shotgun because I was suddenly deafened for a moment, but instinct drove me forward. I buried my teeth into the soft flesh under his chin and did quick work of him, just as I’d done his brother.

The shotgun fired a second time as I pulled away from the tangled mess of my dead opponent. Ciarrai was no longer standing in the backyard. One of the other wolves was lying, bleeding, in the yard. The other was whining as she limped around the side of the house.

Silas remained on the back steps, the gun still in his hands.

Go! he said, his gaze falling on mine. Get out of here.

I didn’t move. There was danger. I could smell fear.

I know it’s you, Tunstall! You have to go. There’s more around the front of the house.

I hesitated. I couldn’t leave him there alone.

Go! he demanded. As he did, a woman screamed in the night and a door opened somewhere nearby, another male voice calling out. What’s happening?

I saw the fear on Silas’s face, knew he understood what that scream meant. But he didn’t waver in his courage.

Go, Tunstall! I’ll deal with this. You... you have to survive!

I didn’t want to leave. But I was injured, blood dripping from where it had soaked into my fur. What good would I be to Silas in this state?

I turned and ran.

Chapter 6

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Tunstall

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Present Time...

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I learned what’d happened a few days later. Healed from my wounds, I took a chance and went back to town. The news was everywhere. Everyone was talking.

A pack of wolves had wandered into town, the first time that had happened in several hundred years according to most of the locals. They seemed to converge on one house, one of the wolves managing to get inside. It went after the couple’s small child—a six-month-old boy—but the mother got between the wolf and the child. Undeterred—and obviously starving—the animal attacked the woman, scratching and biting her so many times that she was unrecognizable by the time the husband got up to the nursery. The husband fired at the animal, but it managed to get out of the house. The animals disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared.

I could remember it like it was just yesterday, the feeling of utter despair that fell over me as I heard confirmation after confirmation of Angela’s death. I went to the cemetery, stood back from the crowd that had gathered to watch her body lowered into the ground, sickened by the idea that it was my fault she was gone. I saw the tears on Silas’s face, understood that his son would never know his wonderful mother, and I wanted to destroy every warrior in my pack. I wanted to destroy everything that was responsible for her death. Including myself.

Silas saw me there, reached a hand out for me. But I couldn’t look him in the eye.

I hunted those warriors for months, tracking down each one who had been there that night and survived. All but Ciarrai. Ciarrai was still out there somewhere, still hunting me as I hunted him. But I would find him one day and end it all.

Who was that? Levi asked, rolling over on his bed. We don’t know anyone out here, do we?

Did you call him?

Call who?

My cousin?

I marched over to the bed and yanked the covers away from his body, forcing him to roll slightly as he became untangled from the material. Levi immediately sat up, holding his hands near his face to guard himself from my anger.

I don’t know what you’re talking about!

Someone told him I was here. Was it you? What don’t you understand about everything I’ve told you, Levi?

I’m sorry! I just—

You just what? You didn’t think? You didn’t bother to ask? You didn’t know?

You need friends, Tunstall! A place to go! Why not reach out to your family?

Because my pack wants to kill me, and they’ll kill anyone who gets in the way! What part of that don’t you understand?

It’s been twenty years since the last time they came after you. Maybe they’ve given up.

They don’t give up.

Levi slid to the edge of the mattress furthest from me and ran his hands over his thick mane of hair. I was just trying to help.

Don’t try to help me, Levi. I don’t need it.

But this guy, it seems like he can take care of himself. I looked him up on the Internet...

The what?

The Internet. He owns this big security firm with offices here in California, in Texas, and Wyoming. He and his people just recently took down the woman that even the cops didn’t know was running the Mahoney cartel. He glanced back at me. Do you remember when I told you about the cartel? Remember what I said about those people in Florida that I ran drugs for? They worked for Mahoney.

He’s a good investigator. What does that matter?

"He’s not just a good investigator. He was taken hostage by