Rabid: The Savage Spirit of Seneca Rain Read online

  The melodic words of shifter magic take on a more urgent note, and chills crawl up my arms as a wind whips around the pack playfully, like the spirits are here to cavort. People hoot and children laugh while they start to chase the unseen and howl into the darkening night, dreaming of the day it will be their turn.

  Excitement ripples through the crowd in a wave, and awe fills the faces of so many in the pack as Weaver Yaromir’s piercing voice starts to call out the invitation to the spirits that belong to those of us participating tonight.

  He’s speaking in a language I don’t know, one I’m not even sure is really used anymore other than for the spirits. But regardless of my inability to understand what’s being said word for word, it’s impossible not to see the beauty and raw power in what’s happening. The Spirit Weaver then starts to do exactly what his title suggests and lifts his hands as he begins to weave two planes together for the night. His fingers move like he’s plaiting invisible strands together that represent our world and the world of the spirit wolves we’re meant to harbor and protect.

  I can’t say that I feel any different right now than from previous Fluxes during the spirit calling, but I have a deeper appreciation for the Totemic shifter culture and the beliefs of my people tonight, because it was supposed to be my night. The night I finally inherited my wolf.

  I close my eyes and sway to the gentle beat of the Weaver’s feet as they start to dance across the hard-packed dirt. I invite his song to move through me and tilt my head back, feeling the blessing of the rising moon. Everyone else sways with the chanting and the rhythm of heavy footfall, bodies moving with the wind.

  I rock back and forth in place, wishing that my mom were here and that everything hadn’t gone to shit. I feel the loss of her so deeply in this moment that it tightens my lungs and makes it hard to breathe. She always loved nights like this. The magic always renewed her in a way that nothing else could. Right now, she should be dancing alongside me in the moonlight, beautiful and strong, everything I’ve always wanted to be.

  I think of my dad, of my parents slow dancing in the kitchen late at night and sneaking kisses and winks whenever they got the chance. I think of his hugs and the way he always saw me, all of me, all the parts I tried to tuck deep and hide. He always understood and nurtured those bits, and I was lucky for that. This place holds so many beautiful memories and yet so much tragedy all at the same time. I can feel the love here, but I can also smell the blood. Too much blood. It’s old and stale and stains the grounds of this pack like a warning.

  I tear my eyes open, ripping myself from the moment. The Weaver is calling to the sky, arms outstretched, and a stream of omega females file past the congregation in a line. They’re wearing revealing dresses as a mark of their fertility, and a line of blood is drawn down their foreheads. They all carry heavy platters of food together, at least two omegas per tray. The kappas were obviously hard at work this year, because the offering is impressive. Fresh kills still bloody from the woods have been prepared in true Twin Rivers custom, the scent of the slain prey permeating the air.

  There are skinned rabbits and muskrats delicately arranged on a platter topped with fresh sage. Then a deer, its removed antlers set above its butchered meat like a cake topper. But then more omega females stream past with the meat of an entire elk. All of it is placed around the bonfire in a perfect circle, arranged accordingly, the raw meat an offering to the wolf spirits.

  With their hands now free, the omegas start to dance. Sheer dresses sway with their movements, their bodies undulating in a practiced performance of sensual virility. While they twirl around the bonfire, the Weaver sprinkles some sort of powder over the food, grunting and growling and chanting too low beneath his breath for me to hear.

  Pack members begin to line up, eager to lay the gifts they’ve brought at the base of the spirits’ feast. I can almost smell the competition in the air as wrapped packages are set down, the givers wearing smug looks as they go, certain that they’ve brought the best prize. I try not to roll my eyes at the display. As if this crap will make the spirits look more favorably down on this pack. Not with an alpha like Burke, he just claims every single present for himself.

  The growls, yips, and barks of wolf-speak grow louder, Weaver Yaromir’s sounds so steady they’re almost a thrum, one that feels like it’s controlling the beat of my heart. The omegas dance like they feel the frenzied pull of music, and the crowd feels it too. There’s a vibration in the air, and I’m all too aware of how my feet are planted on the ground, of the press of my pack members’ bodies around me. So much smoke rises into the darkening sky that it consumes my senses. The Weaver pulls at the air, hands moving through the smoke like he’s arranging the wisps, intertwining some invisible force with the work of his bony fingers.

  I don’t know if it’s just the intensity of the moment, but when he shouts out a wordless noise of supplication, eyes on the rising moon, I feel...something.

  Gasps ring out through the crowd when the bonfire hisses, sparks flying, charred pieces landing on the meat and making it sizzle. The omegas still dance, not hitching a step, and everything seems to come to a head before it all just...stops.

  While the pack collectively holds its breath, the flames flare, so bright I have to squeeze my eyes tightly shut. Exclamations sound off throughout the pack, and then everything falls silent, and a stillness slams around us so loud it seems to crack the air, making bumps rise along my skin.

  They’re here.

  It’s the only coherent thought that blasts through my mind, and I know I’m right. I can feel it with every inch of my essence. The hairs on the back of my neck lift, and I find myself searching around desperately as if I’ll be able to see my wolf even though the spirits are invisible to the eye. But I have my other senses, and they confirm that she’s near. Just knowing that, just feeling it, makes joy unlike any other surge through my chest. The ceremony has always been impactful, but this is different.

  A howling wind cuts through the stillness, blowing through the bonfire and kicking up dirt like the race of dozens of paws. The crowd cheers, clapping and crying out, and I feel so charged with the energy that I’m practically shaking.

  But just as quickly as the happiness comes, it gets cut off at the knees with devastating loss. Because...I’m abandoning her. I’m leaving my wolf behind.

  “The wolf spirits have blessed us with their presence!” Weaver Yaromir cries out, earning even more celebratory noises from the pack. “They are pleased with Twin Rivers’ offering!”

  The crowd surges, forcing me to stand on my tiptoes and peer over shoulders. I see Burke’s smug face as he nods respectfully to the Weaver. “Time for the hosts to prepare!” he calls out, and my stomach twists. “Everyone else, continue to celebrate with our fellow spirits.”

  The pack cheers, everyone going back for more food and drink, pack males wasting no time in grabbing the dancing omegas, dragging them onto laps. I turn around numbly, following the other hosts as we all head for the pack house. Just before I enter through the back door, I look behind me at the wolf spirit I can feel is watching me, and at the alpha just behind her.

  I wonder which of them will hate me more when they realize I’ve fled.

  Chapter Four

  Excited chatter explodes all around me as each of the participants is shown to a room to change. My heart hammers harder than the ceremonial stomps that just rang out in honor of the spirits, and I move robotically to the robes that have my name written on a white piece of deer hide that’s pinned to them so that there’d be no confusion.

  I run my hand down the smooth fabric, the wool of the robe feeling heavier than I realized it would. The wide stitching on the sides is to allow the fabric to tear apart easily so that our new wolves don’t get stuck in it when we change for the first time. It leaves small gaps between the pieces of fabric that show off hints of skin and peeks of the body. I’ve always wondered what I would look like draped in the black fabric. I guess I’ll never
know.

  I grab my hanger and the beautiful belt that’s laid out separately. I run my eyes over the fine stitching on the belt, an image of a howling wolf appearing through the various colors of thread that have been sewn together masterfully. I’m curious who made it for me. Usually, it’s your family that creates the special sash and it’s the only thing we’re allowed to keep from tonight other than the spirit of the wolf that chooses us. But I found my mother’s half-finished efforts in her room after she died, so I know this belt isn’t her handy work.

  I run my thumb across the beautiful gray furred image and look around to see other participants still laughing and teasing each other and just now starting to undress. I fold everything over my arm and leave in search of a bathroom. No one says anything to me as I go. The awkwardness of our exchange earlier in the salon still hangs heavy in the air between us, and I get the impression they don’t care that I don’t want to change in here with them. They’re just happy I’m gone so I don’t continue to dampen their moods.

  A delta waiting outside starts in surprise as I open the door and walk out. Straightening up, he looks over at me with confusion when he sees my robes draped over my arm instead of being on my body like they’re supposed to be.

  I shut down any nervousness and fix a sheepish smile on my face. “Is there a bathroom I can change in?” I ask awkwardly.

  “Four doors down on the right,” he answers, an understanding look in his eyes.

  Luckily, my request doesn’t seem to be all that strange. Yes, once we start shifting, regular nudity isn’t taboo at all. But none of us have shifted yet, so I was hoping the shy card wouldn’t be all that unusual.

  “Thanks. It’s just so loud in there, and I really want to take my time and mentally prepare,” I explain, hoping the lie helps to buy me just a little more of a head start.

  The delta offers a grunt and nod as I walk past and hurry to where he said the bathroom was. I open the door, locking it behind me, and flick on the light. I shove my robes in the sink and quietly move to the window on the back wall just left of the toilet. Biting my lip, I turn and shove my robes aside before turning on the water to help drown out any sounds that could give away what I’m really doing in here.

  Adrenaline spikes through me as I pull the lever that locks the window. A small click sounds off when I flick it open, and then slowly, I start to push the pane up. The smell of trees, sap, and soil greets me, and I quickly bend to the side and flush the toilet so I can knock the screen out undetected. The delta isn’t standing right outside the bathroom door, but I can’t dismiss his shifter hearing.

  As soon as the toilet whooshes with a loud flush, I jam my elbow into the screen as hard as I can, inwardly celebrating when it pops right off and falls outside. I stick my head out of the window and listen for a beat, waiting to hear any indication that anyone has heard or noticed what I’m doing, but nothing happens.

  I pull my head back in, grab onto the upper sill of the window and kick my legs out into the open space, swinging my body out. I drop to the ground with an audible thud on the balls of my feet. Breathing hard, I stay frozen, not daring to move as I try to clear the beating of my heart in my own ears so I can hear if anyone is coming.

  All that greets me are the sounds of the forest, but I don’t let excitement or victory wash through me just yet. This is just the beginning of what I know is going to be a long and terrifying night.

  I move stealthily away from the pack house, out into the tall trees, while working through the best option for how to get to my bag and then where to go from there. I won’t go to town this time. They’ll expect that. Maybe my previous trek will work in my favor and my scent from earlier will be a trail that leads a good portion of the hunting party astray.

  Instead, I’ll run for the rivers tonight. I’ll douse my scent in their waters and ride them as far down as I can until I’m closer to a safer civilization. It’s a risky plan, but the only one that will work. I won’t be able to outrun the pack all night, and they won’t immediately think I’m in the freezing cold water until I have a solid lead on them. There’s got to be another human town I can reach, and then I’ll stuff myself into a bus or cab and put as many miles between us as I can.

  For a second, I consider abandoning my bag in the bushes, but it has everything; my clothes, my money, and my mom’s hairpin that I stuffed in the front pocket at the salon. I can’t leave that behind. It’s all I kept that was hers.

  Determination filling me, I know I have two options. I can pick my way through the woods and stealthily make it back to where I stashed my things, or I can make a run for it and get to it as quickly as possible. As risky as that seems, I know it’s what I need to do. There aren’t any betas sweeping the perimeter tonight. Burke always gives them the night off from guard duty during the Flux so they can partake. As if to prove my point, I hear cheers and clapping, the celebration growing rowdier.

  I take a second to gather my bearings, eyes sweeping the dark side of the pack house, the noise and orange glow of the fire emanating from the other side. I don’t have a second to waste. With one more puff of breath, I take off. My feet fly across the grass and mud, past pinecones and rocks. I think for a second that I’ve somehow overshot my direction, but then I spot it—the bush I hid my bag in. I rush over to it, digging my hand beneath the rough brambles, fingers closing around the strap. I yank it out, pine needles falling off it like rain.

  My heart is pounding now, so hard I can practically taste my pulse in the back of my throat. Hurriedly, I sling the bag over my back, holding the straps tight as I turn and run deeper into the woods. I make it ten feet before the first shadow moves.

  I skid to a grinding stop, shoes digging into the earth, eyes going wide in horror as Burke steps into view. The break in the trees above shows the glittering fury rising in his black eyes. “Going somewhere, Seneca?” The tone of his voice is filled with something dangerous, something dark.

  Instead of answering, my feet back up a step and turn to the right, my body ready to tap into the flight response now surging through me, but as soon as I take a step in that direction, Seamus steps out from behind a tree. I go left instead, but another beta steps out next, blocking my path. A snapping twig makes me jerk a look over my shoulder, finding a fourth male, Conrad, behind me.

  I’m surrounded.

  I lick my lips, shooting another look at Seamus, who now has an ugly smirk on his face.

  Burke clicks his tongue, and somehow, it sounds as loud as a cocking gun. “What’s in the bag?” he asks, stepping closer.

  “None of your business.”

  A sharp crack of a laugh comes out of him, but it’s definitely not humorous. “That bitchy tone isn’t going to be tolerated.” His eyes flick behind me, and that’s all the warning I get before Conrad is there, yanking the bag from my back. I whirl around, clawing at the straps and trying to get it back, but he’s too strong. It rips out of my hold, and I go falling onto my hands and knees.

  I scramble back to my feet, shoving curled hair out of my face, just to watch the bastard unzip it and dump out all the contents in a pitiful heap. “Ha! Got some cash here, Alpha,” Conrad says, but when he steps forward to pick up the money, his boot lands on my mother’s hairpin. I hear the snap like it’s my own bone cracking, and fury floods me. One blink, I’m standing there in horror, and the next, I’ve rushed at him with all my might.

  Because I surprise him, I’m able to push the big beta off, making him stumble back a step. I reach down and grab the snapped wooden stick and cuff, but before I can shove it into my pocket, Burke appears in front of me and tries to rip it from my grasp.

  “No!” I cry, as his thick, meaty fingers pry my hand open from its protective fist. He plucks the pieces from my grasp, holding them in the moonlight for a second before his cruel black eyes fall to me. “Token from Mommy Dearest?”

  “Give it to me.”

  I shouldn’t have shown how much it meant to me, not in front of them, but i
t’s too late. I just reacted without thinking.

  My eyes track the movement as he tucks the pieces into his pants pocket. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it.”

  “You fucking bastard,” I growl, and I raise my hand to smack the look off his face, but my arms get restrained by Seamus’s hold. I struggle in his grasp, but I might as well be a mouse trying to pry itself off a glue strip.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Burke says, taking a step toward me, feet crunching over leaves. “You’re going to walk back into that clearing, wearing your robe like a good girl, and then you’re going to get your wolf.”

  “It’s my choice,” I snarl, arms bending painfully beneath Seamus’s merciless hold.

  “I’m your alpha, and you do what I say!” Burke snaps before he raises his hand and grips my face hard. “Once you have your wolf spirit, things will become clearer for you. You’ll know your place.”

  I stare at him defiantly. “At your feet? No fucking thank you.”

  He drops my face to wave a dismissive hand. “At my feet, on your knees, bent over in front of me, your cunt ready and waiting…”

  My foot shoots up to nail him in the groin, but he catches my ankle, twisting it enough to make me yelp in pain. “I see you’re gonna do this the hard way. That’s just fine.”

  Still holding my foot, I’m forced to balance on one leg as he looks over to Conrad. “Robe.”

  Wordlessly, the beta steps forward, somehow already holding my robe in his hands. He and Seamus shove me into it like they’re dressing a doll, and I’m in danger more than once of getting my shoulders dislocated from their manhandling treatment.