Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) (29 page)

“That’s the best.” Jim accepted the jar. “Thanks.”

“Hi, I’m Roy Farrell,” Roy said, offering his hand. “Laura’s boyfriend.”

He heard Laura stifle a giggle, and was certain that she too was thinking that ‘boyfriend’ was much too casual a word for what he was to her.

Jim shook his hand in a strong grip. “Pleased to meet you. Come on in. I’ll get you a couple more pounds.”

“Actually, Jim, can we hit you up for another favor?” Laura said. “This is a little embarrassing, but I dropped my phone in the toilet and Roy didn’t bring his. Would it be all right if we used yours?”

“Sure.” Jim held the door open for them.

Laura gripped Roy’s hand tight, and he felt her bracing him through the pack sense. But there were no lights on inside, only sunlight filtering through the faded curtains.

Roy didn’t consciously scan the cabin for traps or enemies, but only realized what he was doing when he’d finished, stepped back so Laura could enter, and caught Jim’s knowing gaze on him.

“You a veteran?” Jim asked.

Roy nodded. “Marines. Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“Army. Vietnam.”

Roy had already guessed as much. “Thank you for your service.”

Jim didn’t reply immediately. His eyes were a dense green, shading from dark to light like malachite, the whites bloodshot. Roy bet he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since 1969.

Finally, Jim said, “Would you believe that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me?”

Roy, who heard it all the time, said, “That’s a shame.”

Jim shrugged. “I was drafted. And to be honest, I don’t think I was of any service to anyone over there. But thank you. It was good to hear.”

He led Roy inside and opened the door to his bedroom. The way he limped, Roy thought his hip had been shattered, or maybe his pelvis. Probably if Jim had been wounded forty years later, in Iraq or Afghanistan, he would have come out in much better shape. Physically, anyway.

Roy wondered if there was anything that could be done now or if it was too late, or if Jim was used to it and wouldn’t want to undergo painful surgery for uncertain benefits. He could obviously get around well enough to go hunting.

“Excuse the mess,” Jim said.

In fact, his room was extremely neat, except for the intricate tangle of wires and the several black boxes attached to the telephone on a side table.

“It would probably be easiest if I dial for you,” Jim said apologetically. “It’s a little complicated to use. I rigged it so it can’t be traced or tapped.”

Laura smiled sweetly at him. “You can’t be too careful nowadays, with all those stories about the government tapping people’s phones. Jim, I hate to kick you out of your own bedroom, but would it be okay if you put us on speakerphone, and then we shut the door? We have to talk to Roy’s mom, and she’s… um… a little conservative. See, we’re not married, and, well, we haven’t exactly been… you know. So it might get a little awkward.”

Roy tried to keep his face absolutely blank, since he had no idea how to feign whatever the hell he might be feeling if he had to explain his girlfriend to a mom who thought sex outside of marriage was a sin. What he was actually feeling was a combination of admiration at Laura’s inexhaustible store of inventive lies, alarm at the idea that Jim might ask him some question about his conservative background, and relief that thanks to Jim’s paranoia, he didn’t have to worry about a phone tap after all.

“I think I’ll take a hike for an hour or so,” Jim said tactfully. “I do it every day anyway. I was just about to leave when you folks showed up.”

“We’ll lock the door behind us if you’re not back,” Laura said, handing him the paper with the Torres’ number. “Thank you so much!”

Laura grabbed Roy’s hand again. This time he needed her support. Jim hit a sequence of numbers, then dialed, then hit another sequence. The beeps rang shrilly in Roy’s ears, but with Laura’s help, it was nothing he couldn’t take.

“There you go. Good luck!” Jim left, closing the door behind him.

Roy had been trying not to have any expectations of the call, one way or another, but his heart sped up as he heard a sharp click over the line. If DJ was still missing…

“Hello?” It was DJ’s mom.

“Mrs. Torres? This is Roy Farrell. DJ’s friend.”

The line went dead silent. Then Mrs. Torres said incredulously, “
Guinness?
”

A warm bubble of joy and relief expanded within Roy’s chest as he realized that the only way she could know that name was if DJ had told her.

“Basil!” Mrs. Torres shouted. “Five! Get in here! It’s Guinness!” In a softer voice, she said, “I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

Laura was grinning at Roy, having obviously come to the same conclusion he had.

“Where’s DJ?” Roy asked urgently. “Is he there?”

“You missed him by about two hours,” Mrs. Torres replied. “Guinness, he’s looking for you. He escaped from a laboratory and he thinks you’re imprisoned somewhere.”

“I told him he should wait and see if you got in touch with him,” came Danielle’s voice. “Well, you know Lechon, he never listens to anyone.”

“He called in this morning,” Mrs. Torres said. “He thought he had a lead on your whereabouts, and he said he’d check in within a week or two if he didn’t find you sooner. He’ll be out of cell phone range till he gets back.”

“But he’s all right?” Roy asked.

“He’s fine,” said Mrs. Torres. “How are you?”

“Is it safe to talk?” Roy asked. “Are the people from the lab after him? Or you? Or me?”

“Lechon doesn’t think so,” Mr. Torres replied. “He thinks they took an easy opportunity to grab the two of you, but they won’t risk pursuing him now that he’s gone. I assume the same goes for you. He said they want to keep a low profile and they’ve cut their losses. So, how
are
you doing? Lechon said he bit you because you were dying.”

“I’ve completely recovered from that,” Roy assured him. He was so happy that DJ was free, he could hardly bring himself to care about anything else. But he knew he’d care later, so he went on, “But I’ve been having some other problems. I was hoping you could help me…”

Roy quickly summarized everything that had happened since DJ had changed him. When he concluded, everyone began excitedly talking at once.

Mr. Torres’ voice rose above the others. “Guinness, Lechon said you were the biggest wolf he’d ever seen. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now I wonder… exactly how big
is
your wolf?”

“I haven’t measured myself,” said Roy, baffled.

“He’s almost twice my size,” said Laura. “And he’s much larger than either of the male wolves I’ve seen. He’s not big like Roy’s a big guy, he’s big like a giant.”

“Dire wolf,” said Mr. Torres, with some satisfaction, and Mrs. Torres made a sound of agreement.

“Aren’t they extinct?” Danielle asked.

“Actual dire wolves are extinct,” explained Mr. Torres. “But some werewolves turn into one.”

“That’s cool,” said Danielle, sounding envious.

“They’re very rare,” said Mr. Torres. “I’ve only met one in my life, but he also had problems with technology. Nothing as bad as you’ve described, but computers gave him headaches and he couldn’t ride in any kind of enclosed motor vehicle. His wife bought a pickup truck so he could sit in the back. You might be able to ride in a truck bed.”

Laura let out a gulp of laughter. “Sorry,” she whispered to Roy. “I’m just picturing you in the bed of a pickup truck, panting and wagging your tail.”

Roy made a “zip it” gesture at her as Mrs. Torres added, “Dire wolves are prehistoric—they never encountered technology at all. That might be why they have trouble with it. Anyway, Roy, I think you’ve got a couple different reasons for your problems, and they’re all working together to give you a hard time. You’re a dire wolf. Your power isn’t only enhanced senses, I think; it’s also that you keep your wolf attributes as a man. You were deprived of a pack for an exceptionally long time. Most importantly…”

Mrs. Torres trailed off with a sigh, unnerving Roy.

Mr. Torres said, “If you change someone when they’re dying, most of the energy generated by the change goes toward healing them and keeping them alive. There isn’t enough left to do everything else that a werewolf needs. They can end up with no powers, or with powers that can’t be controlled, or unable to feel the pack sense, or unable to ever change back to human form. Lechon took a huge risk with you. It may not feel like it, but you’re lucky to have come out of it as well as you did.”

“I know I’m lucky,” Roy said.

“Do you mean it?” Laura asked.

She was still holding his hand, still supporting him in the pack sense. His head ached and his ears rang painfully, but without her, he wouldn’t have been able to have this conversation at all.

“I do. I’m alive. DJ’s alive. I’ve got you. I can feel the pack sense. You can help me with my powers. And, hey—I have super-senses and super-healing and I can turn into a fucking—I’m sorry, Mrs. Torres, Mr. Torres—I can turn into a dire wolf!” Roy grinned at Laura. “Do you know how to drive a pickup truck?”

Laura shook her head, rolling her eyes as if to say,
not a chance
. “But I could learn.”

“Guinness, you’re one of us now,” said Mrs. Torres. Roy expected her to tell him that swearing was fine, but instead, she said, “Please, call me Ash.”

Laura spoke up. “Ash, Basil, I was wondering if you could shed some light on Gregor’s pack. Could we have them join Roy and me, or do they need their sire?”

“‘Sire’ doesn’t mean anything,” said Danielle. “That’s not even a real term. He’s screwing with them.”

“Five is right,” said Mrs. Torres—Ash. “The important thing is that he’s the alpha. The alpha is the wolf who’s capable of channeling the pack sense. With born wolves, the alphas are the senior mated pair, or the senior wolf if he or she is unmated. When the alpha dies, the ability to control the pack sense passes to the senior surviving wolf, and they become the alpha. But with made wolves, some can channel the pack sense and some can’t, and that doesn’t change.”

Mr. Torres—Basil—added, “From the sound of it, both of you are alphas. So yes, you could have a pack of your own. However, since Gregor has already taken control of his pack, he could prevent them from bonding with you or anyone else. You’ll have to either get him to release the pack of his own accord, or kill him.”

Roy had expected as much. “Okay. When DJ checks in, can you tell him what’s going on and ask him if he’ll help me rescue Gregor’s pack?”

“Just give us your address and what you need him to bring, Guinness,” Ash said. “Of course he’ll help you. He’s been running all over the country looking for you!”

Roy gave them his address and started to give them a list of weapons, then realized that there was no need. “Just explain the situation, please. He’ll know what to bring. And tell him…” There was no way to sum up everything he wanted to say to DJ, especially through a third party. What he had to say, he’d say in person. “Tell him thank you.”

For the first time, silence fell over the line. Roy was ready to thank them all and say good-bye when Ash said, “How
are
you, Guinness?”

Roy was certain she’d asked that question before. “Other than what we talked about, I’m fine. I have a lot of scars, but that’s it.”

“I didn’t mean the shrapnel,” Ash said.

Laura’s hand slipped in his; Roy’s palms were sweating. “I’m fine. Thank you so much for your help, Ash, Basil, Five. Please give Nutmeg my regards.”

He fumbled for the receiver, nearly dropping it before he managed to hang up. His head was splitting. He wished the bed was his, so he could lie down on it.

“Roy?” Laura sounded concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Spent too long on the phone,” he managed. “What was that, an hour? How are you? You held me in the pack sense the whole time.”

“I’m tired,” she admitted. “But we need to give Jim his bedroom back.”

Roy forced himself to his feet. Laura seemed worn out, and he hated to think how he must look. He hoped Jim was still hiking. But when they left the cottage, they found him on the porch, carving a small wooden bear with a pocket knife.

“She didn’t take it well, huh?” Jim asked.

Roy had no idea what he was talking about. His head ached so badly that it was hard to think. Luckily, Laura remembered.

“No, she didn’t,” Laura replied. “She called me a slut and said I’m going to hell, and she threatened to disown Roy. But maybe she’ll come round. Eventually. I hope.”

Jim seemed to be trying not to smile. “Or you could get married.”

“We’ll think about it,” Roy said.

Jim handed Laura a package of meat wrapped in white paper. “Enjoy the venison.”

“Thank you so much,” Laura said. “We appreciate it.”

“Do either of you hunt?” Jim asked, though he was only looking at Roy. “You could come with me some time.”

“I do,” Roy said. Now that he was outside and off the phone, his headache and shakiness were easing. “What rifle do you use?”

As soon as he said it, he realized disappointedly that he could never hunt with Jim. He could hardly hold Laura’s hand while he fired a rifle.

“A Remington 700,” Jim replied. “But my compound bow is more fun. You ever hunt with a bow?”

“No, I’ve never had the chance.”

“Want to learn?”

“I’d love to,” Roy said.

“I’ve got some limitations, you understand.” Jim gestured at the cane that lay on the porch beside him.

“That’s all right,” said Roy. “So do I.”

By the time Roy and Laura had hiked out of Jim’s earshot, Roy felt well enough to laugh at Laura’s cover story. “You just had to amuse yourself. What do I say when I go hiking with Jim and he asks about my mother who’s about to disown me for having sex with you?”

“I would have used a different story if I’d had any idea you and Jim were going to male-bond like that,” Laura said. “Sorry. But isn’t it great about DJ? It must be such a relief.”

“It is.”

“You two have gone through so much together.”

Roy nodded absently, trying not to think about everything that had come into his mind at Laura’s comment. He should tell her, he knew. He should have told her days ago. But even the thought of telling that story—of having to remember that story—made his heart speed up and his palms sweat.