The White Wolfs Curse Read online

  A long, low growl formed in his throat, mirrored in time by that of his brother’s. He glanced over and caught Michael’s eye, not sure who had started that feral growl first, and not at all surprised to see his rage mirrored, as well.

  It had taken a lot of effort for him and Michael to find this place. They had searched for some time before discovering where they had been taken and, with every other option failing, had finally resorted to allowing themselves to be captured. It was a blow to Michael’s pride, but Fador hadn’t seen any other alternative. Their mission was simply too important and time was of the essence. Every death brought them one step closer to oblivion and Fador was not ready to give up yet.

  Several fat, old white men were standing outside the building talking, snatches of conversation brought to his keen ears by the same breeze that brought him the smoke from their cigarettes.

  “Yeah, we’ll set— in a bit.”

  “— perfect night to— some hunting in.”

  Their laughter angered him and he growled his displeasure. Meeting Michael’s eye again, Fador nodded and the brothers inched in closer through the brush for a better look at their quarry. As he moved, he caught the faint scent of several wolves and the stench of the fear they had felt as they passed and it turned his stomach. By the age of the differing scents, he could tell they had all passed through some time ago.

  Already dead.

  Listening to the men before him discuss with gusto the night of hunting they had planned, he was reminded of his own bloody past. There had been a time, long ago, that he and his brother were no better than they, and that knowledge both hurt and sickened him. They had been the best hunters in their little village. Together they had slaughtered hundreds of wolves, taking a special delight in the evidence of a dwindling population. They had both thought what they did was a good thing, that the wolves didn’t deserve to live anyway and that they were protecting their village. Fador shook those thoughts away.

  No. I enjoyed it. I liked killing them. I loved the hunt and the challenge of tracking down those wolves. We both did. The only difference….

  The only difference was, they had never used people for live bait. They had never killed one of their own kind for entertainment.

  He remembered that fateful day, the huge white wolf that didn’t even flinch when they shot arrows at it at such a close range there was no way they could have missed, the chase through the woods on the trail of something they both felt even then was somehow unnatural… the curse….

  Fador turned at Michael’s growl and pricked his ears. A moment later he caught the scent of fear and…

  A woman.

  Her smell was tantalizing and sweet, but there was a stench of fear there as well and he knew she had plenty of reason for it. Her captors had killed not only the wolves he and Michael were there to protect, but had directly caused the deaths of countless human women, as well.

  It was all he could do not to jump to the attack when he heard her pitiful cry, but the men below were too many and the plan was already set. He sat back on his haunches, allowed his hatred and rage to boil … waiting for the hunt to begin.

  * * * *

  “Yes, that one should do rather nicely. I don’t really care for the clothes, though. A bit too ragged for my taste. Put up a fight did she?”

  Erica woke in a panic, fighting a sudden wave of nausea, but did not dare move. She could hear at least a dozen different voices around her, all men. She cracked one of her eyes open but shut it quickly when the world seemed to twist around her. A few minutes later she tried again and watched the two men nearest her through one cracked lid as they spoke. It was obvious to her that she was the subject of their discussion.

  “B’tween me and you, I heard she gave Jordan and Case a run for it. Took both of ‘em to take her down. Of course, her boss was pretty ticked off. He was planning to hunt his other secretary, but those idiots caught this one instead.”

  Mr. Hiroshi? She felt sick to her stomach. Mr. Hiroshi… is in on this?

  One man was standing so that all she could see were his worn black work boots. The other man was kneeling close enough that she could just make him out through her lashes. He was an older man, thinning white hair neatly trimmed and brushed to the side. His face lacked compassion, very authoritarian, like someone who’d spent their life in charge of everything around them. The hunting clothes he was wearing looked out of place on him, evidently a recent purchase. Erica could smell their new scent from where she lay.

  Why is he wearing that? Only a handful of possibilities sprang to mind, but none of them seemed to bode well for her.

  “Really? And he didn’t want to hunt this one instead?”

  “No sir. Said he couldn’t do it. Got his money back, too, since we can’t take the other one now without people being suspicious.”

  “Well, his loss is my gain! I love a good fighter. Clean her up. As for the clothes… a white dress would be perfect. Something lacy. Should make a rather poetic sight, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Chapter Three

  Oh god, poor Christine …! Well, at least she isn’t in any danger now. It was hard to believe Mr. Hiroshi had planned on killing her friend, but finding out that he didn’t have it in him to kill her himself didn’t help her feelings.

  Where am I?

  She remembered the attack, the men on the tram, but nothing else. There was no telling where they had taken her, or why. She didn’t even know how long she had been out. It felt like a lot of time had passed, but there was no telling if it had been only hours, or days. Erica’s body was stiff all over and her head felt like it might split in two any second. She tried to think of a way to escape, but came up with a blank. There were men all over the place and they were obviously inside a building. For the moment, they didn’t know she was awake, so she had that advantage at least, but it seemed like a pitiful one considering their numbers. “Yes, sir. I’ll have it done right away. ‘Oughta be ready to go within the hour.”

  The old man stood and walked away without a backward glimpse. A few moments later, the rattle of keys was followed by the sound of wood falling against concrete. Erica thought momentarily of jumping up and bolting, but quickly dismissed that idea. Her body was stiff and sore all over and she could barely feel her legs, to say nothing of the maddening pain in her head.

  “Come on out you. I know you’re awake.”

  She held her breath and lay perfectly still. The man blew out a long suffering sigh and she felt him grab and pull on her left leg.

  “Come on damn it! Wake up and get outta there. I’m not about to carry ya.”

  With a hard jerk, he pulled her out of the crate she was in. Rough concrete rubbed against her exposed back and her hair got caught on something, pulling out a chunk that sent her sitting up with a yelp.

  “Yeah, I thought so. Now, come on. Get your ass up.”

  “Where am I? What are you going to do to me?”

  “Me? I’m gonna take ya somewhere where you can get cleaned up. That’s all I’m gonna do.” He laughed. “It’s not me ya gotta worry about honey!” He reached down and grabbed her arm at the elbow, wrenching it and pulling her painfully to her feet.

  “I want to go home.” Erica felt the heat of tears and let them flow freely down her cheeks, hoping for the first time in her life for the pity factor. “Please. I just want to go home. I won’t tell anyone about this. I swear I won’t. Just let me go.” Her tears were in vain. The man rolled his eyes and seemed utterly unmoved.

  “Move it lady.”

  He pulled her sharply and she followed, the weakness in her legs causing her to stumble several times. She calmed herself with a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes and cheeks.

  “What’s going on? What’s going to happen to me?”

  “Trust me lady. That’s something you really don’t want to know. If you’re lucky, it’ll be over quick.”

  More frightened than before, Erica tried to take in her surroundings. They were inside so
me sort of large hanger. There were six men like the one she had seen earlier standing around in a group outside, laughing and brandishing guns. Beyond them, there were easily a dozen men in work uniforms. Two men appeared to be loading supplies into a jeep. She could hear the sound of surf and a cold salty breeze blew in from outside.

  The large bay doors of the hanger were wide open and it was pitch black outside, but most of the men were between her and the exit. Just as she was building up the courage to make a run for it, the man who still held her arm shoved her into another room, closing the door behind them and effectively stalling her escape.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “No!”

  “All right, have it your way.”

  The man pulled her up against himself and Erica felt a sting on the side of her neck. The floor suddenly seemed to fall away beneath her and everything went black.

  She awoke to the sounds of the night and a stench of rot that caused a bout of dry heaving. Her head still hurt but not as much as it had before. Whatever they had injected her with obviously didn’t have the same side effects as the chloroform. Her senses came back to her slowly and she wasn’t sure at first if she was going to stay awake or pass out again. It struck her that she might have been better off never waking up again. She mentally kicked herself, trying to figure out what might be going on around her.

  Forest? Definitely the wilderness. Why? Oh, Jesus Christ! Did they bring me out here to hunt me? It seemed an impossible idea, but she had seen movies where rich men did that sort of thing just because they were rich and had nothing better to do with their time and money. Men in power were often corrupted by it and didn’t believe normal laws or human morality, included them.

  The croaking of tree frogs and chirps of crickets were so loud it was hard to concentrate. There were mosquitoes buzzing around her head and she itched all over from their bites. Struggling to a sitting position, still fighting the urge to throw up, she found a collar around her neck attached to a length of chain. A chain? That seemed to rule out hunting her. Where was the challenge in chaining someone down and shooting them? Then again, where’s the challenge in hunting anything with a gun?

  “Hello?”

  No answer. Not that Erica had really expected one. She slowly became aware of a smell just beneath the smell of rotting meat. Something metallic. Blood? Oh my god, that’s it! She had the overwhelming feeling that she was brought here, not to be hunted, but to be used as bait. She tried to pry the collar lose, but there was a heavy padlock on it. She pulled at the chain and found there were several feet of it lying on the ground around her. The full moon shone down overhead, but she saw no sign of the men, no sign of anyone at all. Somehow, that failed to comfort her. She imagined they were up in one of the trees or in the bushes somewhere, waiting to watch her die.

  Erica stood and followed the chain, finding it to be attached to a metal spike encased in concrete in roughly the center of the clearing. There would be no escape. Unwilling to sit idly by as who knew what came to kill her, she looked around for something she might possibly use as a weapon. She found several long sticks, but each one broke as she tested it. Erica walked as far away from the spike and the accompanying stench as she could get, which only amounted to a few yards. Just far enough to touch a large tree, but not far enough to climb it to safety.

  Bastards thought of everything. Not that that was surprising. After all, if the number of reported disappearances were any indication at all, they had been doing this for some time. Long enough to get it right every time now.

  Erica fought tears of frustration but her throat started to close and panic was setting in. It all seemed so hopeless. The fact she had been avoiding all this time, she had been denying to herself all along, seemed so inevitable now. She was going to die here and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. Fighting the impulse to just sit and wait for it, she looked around for a good rock to fight with, wondering fleetingly if there was any way she might kill herself before whatever was coming for her came.

  A few moments later, she realized she had taken too much time deciding what to do. Erica froze as she heard something large moving through the bushes to the left of where she stood. She held her breath as she glimpsed the flash of eyes. Would screaming now scare it off, or make it attack? Is it something they’ve been training to attack people, or just a wild animal?

  A dark shape emerged from the shadows of the trees, walking slowly toward her, eyes never leaving her own. A large black wolf. Erica almost fainted at the sight. So this was what they had planned. Use me to draw out a wolf so they could shoot it? But how did they know there would be any in the area? How could they know a wolf would smell that blood and come here? She’d heard of people attracting animals to a site with predictable meals over a period of time, only to shoot them at their leisure and realized that had to be how they’d known it would come for her. How sportsmanlike of them.

  “Sorry wolf. You and I are both going to die here together boy.” She fought off a hysterical laugh as it tried to bubble out. He moved closer, his eyes never leaving hers, and she could see the spark of intelligence there. He’s a pretty thing. It was hard to find compassion for an animal she knew would kill her in a few moments, but there was no denying his beauty and the grace of his movements as he continued his slow approach toward her.

  He stopped just as he got in front of her, turned around and issued a low warning growl. Suddenly there was a commotion of gunshots and growls from the brush and Erica heard two men scream. Falling to the ground, she covered her head, squeezed her eyes shut and prayed they would just shoot the wolf and miss her. There were agonized screams and she almost felt pity for the men who issued them. Almost. They had it coming. There’s no telling how many other women…. She heard a bullet whiz right over her head and tried to make herself as small as she could, too afraid of what she might see to open her eyes to the fight that raged so close to where she lay prone. Then, to her shock and dismay, she found herself suddenly in the arms of a man. Erica screamed and flailed at his head.

  “Let me go!”

  “I’m here to rescue you,” the man growled low in her ear. “Be still!”

  “What …?”

  “I’ll explain later!” He wrapped the chain that bound her around his fist and snatched it, breaking one of the links close to the stake. Dumping the rest of the chain in her lap, he held her close against his chest and ran into the forest.

  It took Erica a few moments to realize the chest she was up against was bare. What in the world is he doing out here? A cop? FBI? Is he one of the workers with a sudden case of guilt about all those women he helped murder? She assured herself he would probably answer all her questions as soon as he had gotten them both out of danger. For now, it was comforting to lay her cheek against the warmth of his chest and listen to the rapid beating of his heart. The sounds of the attack faded quickly into the distance.

  I hope the wolves win. Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t seem the least bit likely. However, since they had obviously gotten the jump on the hunters, who really didn’t strike her as skilled hunters to start with, it seemed to her the wolves had a fairly good chance.

  She thought she saw the dark shape of a wolf in the woods off to their side, but it was gone before she could be certain. Erica wrapped her arms around the neck of her savior and prayed that neither the wolves nor the men would catch them.

  Chapter Four

  Idiot.

  From behind a bush, less than four feet away from his chosen target, Michael kept his eyes on the hunters. His frustration with Fador threatened to boil over, but he wasn’t about to allow it to cause him to make a mistake.

  Damned fool. He’ll get us both killed.

  He fought the temptation to look toward the beautiful girl in the lacy white dressed that had his cock hardening even as he fought to ignore her. He knew Fador would be there in front of her at any moment and would give the signal to start the attack. It wasn’t p
art of the plan. None of this was. They were supposed to be here to stop the hunters and save the wolves.

  He felt bad for the girl. Sure her scent intrigued him and sure he hated the thought of an innocent girl getting hurt and thought they should rescue her, but this was dangerous and Fador knew it was. Just because they’d managed to survive for hundreds of years didn’t mean they were immortal. They had both come close to death so many times in the past, so close to losing their immortal souls altogether, and it was frustrating as hell when his brother went out of his way to do something they both knew could be the last thing they ever did.

  Should have come up with a better plan. Try as he might, Michael hadn’t been able to come up with anything else and they both knew the girl’s days were numbered as long as the men who’d kidnapped her held her captive. In the end, they agreed to add freeing her to the plan, but the fight over who got to rescue her had continued all night.

  It should be me out there. I’m stronger. I can take a bullet better. Rationally, he knew they were a match physically. It still galled him. Just because he came up with the idea, now he goes and gets to be the hero while I clean up the mess. This is bullshit.

  Michael tensed as his target raised his gun, resisting an urge to simply leap out and strike. His gaze followed the small man’s every movement. His target had been chosen from among the five men the moment he caught the man’s scent. Years of experience told him this was the only real hunter among them, the only real threat. His size was hardly an issue. A predator knew a predator when he smelled it.

  The man relaxed a moment later, his gun lowering slightly, but Michael’s body didn’t relax. His nerves were now thoroughly on end, every ounce of muscle finely tuned and straining like the string of a bow, waiting, urging for the coming strike. Until he was distracted by a turn of the light breeze that brought the scent of the woman to his nostrils. Michael resisted the urge to growl. Damn her. She was a distraction when he needed to keep his head straight. How was he supposed to concentrate with her so close by? He had always had a weakness for women, especially the ones in distress. Michael didn’t remember ever seeing one in more distress than this one was in. And her scent….