Touchdown Daddy Page 11

  The trees closed in around him, the last bits of snow absorbing the sound of his paws on the ground. Even the crashing of branches breaking against his bulk seemed muffled against the roaring in his ears. He would finish this, once and for all. It would finally end.

  I either avenge my wife and child or join them.

  Eve had only been six years old. She was afraid of monsters hiding in the darkness. Andre remembered making a big show of checking under her trundle bed when she went to sleep. He remembered sitting in the main room of the cabin, gluing hats and faces onto clothespins for her birthday party while Isadore sang her to sleep. He remembered the look of despair in his wife's eyes when Paul Locke closed in on her, knife in hand.

  His body was not his own. The aches and pains vanished, leaving only a surging, seething hatred that coursed through his blood and pushed him onwards. He was following the trails he knew the Wolves used in their hunts. His legs moved on their own, driven by the blood he could already taste on his tongue.

  Paul Locke dies today.

  Only when his nose picked up a scent in the air did he break from his singlemindedness. He slowed slightly, swiveling his head this way and that, trying to pick up where the scent was coming from. It was Wolf, but sweet somehow. Faint traces of laundry detergent and homemade bread clung to it. Mary.

  He slowed, heart racing, and stopped. Mary.

  He shook his head and everything he had said rushed back to him. What had he been thinking? His words–a bitter taste crept up his throat. How could he accuse her of such awful things? He had to go back to her, beg her forgiveness before it was too late. He couldn’t lose her! What was life without her?

  But what was his life if he did not avenge his wife and daughter? For years, he had only been able to move from day to day by reminding himself of how Paul Locke must suffer. Locke and his two oldest boys who had been with their father and helped him murder a child, helped him murder Isadore and Eve. Andre could not forsake his wife and daughter. He could not dishonor them by choosing his own happiness over avenging their deaths.

  The forest was silent. It seemed to be holding its breath around him, waiting for his decision. He had to choose! One way or another, this had to end, right now. Revenge or Mary. I can't have both, but what do I choose? He closed his eyes. Oh, God! What do I do?

  He inhaled deeply through his nose and caught the scent again. The Wolf was close, closer than Mary could be. His eyes snapped open and his head swung round to his left.

  At first, his gaze glided right over the Wolf that lay crouched under a fallen tree. If not for the quivering of its body or the flash of a red tongue as it panted, he would not have seen it at all.

  As his eyes found the Wolf’s face, his first thought was that it was Mary after all. They had the same shape of ears, muzzle, the same little nose that twitched in a semi-circular motion. But these eyes were brown, not green. The fur was brown, and instead of Mary's beautiful sleek roundness, this Wolf looked half-starved it was so thin. Its legs looked like twigs and its fur hung off its body in worried patches.

  Not Mary. But still one of Paul Locke's children. He killed my child. And now he sends one of his own to spy on me. An eye for an eye!

  He lunged towards the Wolf. It yelped, springing forward from under the log. It slipped out beside Andre as his paws came crashing down where it had been. Shock rippled up his joints and the log snapped in half. He turned, roaring. The Wolf ran from him, ears plastered against its skull, tail tucked up against its belly. Andre thundered after it, determined that this time it would not escape.

  It yelped and howled as he gained on it, and his lips curled back over his teeth as the mutilated bodies flashed before his vision again.

  I will give him back what he had given me.

  ***

  A familiar Wolf's voice echoed in the trees. A howl of fear, a cry for help. Mary pushed herself as hard as she could, her Wolf paws striking the ground again and again. She felt like she was in some sort of nightmare. Though she was aware of the forest passing her by, it was like her legs were mired in mud. She struggled to move faster.

  Andre, please don't do this, she prayed. Fortuitous Luna, don't let him do this!

  The howling stopped and for a moment so did her heart. Images of a brother or sister lying on their back with Andre's massive jaws closing over their head flashed through her mind and she thought she might faint. Her legs stumbled, her head drooped, and a pain-filled howl broke from her throat.

  A pause, and then a howl answered hers. One full of fear, begging her for help. Her ears sprang up and she changed direction fluidly, racing at top speed. As long as there's sound, there's hope.

  She continued chanting the mantra in her mind, howling again. Hold on. Andre, hold on, you don't have to do this.

  ***

  He recognized Mary's voice, and that was what saved the Wolf from the first blow.

  One of its legs was pinned under his massive paw, and it clawed at the dirt, panting and whimpering as it tried to escape. He raised a second paw to crush its skull, but Mary's voice was clear and so achingly familiar. It broke through the red mist of rage blinding him and he hesitated. His paw still in the air, ready to strike or retreat. The Wolf he pinned froze a moment then lifted its head, letting out a shrill howl.

  Calling for help. Calling for him to come.

  The red mist settled over his eyes again and he snarled. Yes. Of course. He would bring the murderer to him, let him watch his child die as he had made Andre do. Make him suffer.

  Andre lowered the paw poised to kill and leaned forward, mouth opening wide to encase the Wolf's shoulder. Call him again. Scream. Make him come so I can kill him.

  ***

  Mary burst through two fir trees to see Andre bent over the prone form of a Wolf. His teeth glittered in the dim forest. The wind rippled up his spine and Mary could see the monster she had always been warned of. The cry in her throat became a scream as she suppressed her Wolf, reaching with human hands towards her soulmate. Her mind blank of all thought, just knowing she had to stop him.

  Andre jerked as though the sound of her voice had skewered him. His head swung towards her.

  Her fingers dug into his fur. Mary's head swam as she recognized the white markings on the Wolf's back legs. She wasn't moving.

  Oh Luna, please no!

  "Andre," she cried desperately, trying to drag him away from the still Wolf. "Andre, no, you don't have to do this. Andre, please."

  The Bear stared at her as though he didn't recognize her. A threatening growl shook through his body and up Mary's arm. His head swung back around, towards the Wolf once more. The growl cut off and he shook his head, as though to chase away an irritating fly.

  Mary didn't release him as she moved in front of him, her fingers dragging through his thick brown fur as she took his grizzly face into her hands. Her eyes frantically searched his. Was it uncertainty she saw in them, or something else?

  "Andre, stop," she whispered. "Stop."

  He shook his head again, eyes clearing as though he was coming out of a trance. He lifted his paw, letting the Wolf slip out from under him. Mary's heart nearly burst in relief. She smiled at Andre, nodding slightly to let him know that she was still with him, and turned.

  The Wolf struggled to get to its feet, but it stumbled and laid still. Mary's relief cut short–Andre did this. The man she loved had very nearly killed one of her sisters.

  She rushed to the Wolf's side, gathering her into her arms. Big brown eyes looked up trustingly at her as the furry body smoothly shifted into a girl, shivering, bleeding. Julia. The first of her sisters to be born.

  Arms wrapped around her and terrified eyes turned to Andre. Mary held her tighter, protectively.

  "Make it go away," Julia whispered.

  Chapter Three

  She was no more than sixteen. The girl was tiny. Her jaw and cheekbones pressed against the hollow flesh of her face. Her eyes overly big in the way an undernourished child's are. And
re could count each of her ribs. Her skin was pale, but looked thin and papery, unlike Mary's smooth alabaster tones. Everything about this girl looked as if the life had been slowly drained from her.

  Andre backed away, his legs and body beginning to tremble. What had he done? This fragile, tiny, young girl did not deserve to be killed or hurt. Her father had hurt her enough.

  And yet Andre had attacked her, as though killing her would bring his own daughter back. He could smell the blood he had spilled from where he was standing.

  Her big brown eyes stared at him, still wide and terrified, as her twig-like arms wrapped around Mary, clinging to her like a child clings to her mother. This was one of Mary's sisters and he had nearly killed her. For what? For the crimes of her father?

  He dreaded meeting Mary's gaze, but her eyes drew his to hers. The look he found in them was like a punch to the stomach. Her piercing green eyes were wide, frightened. Her mouth was drawn into a tight line. She held her sister protectively and her whole body was tense, shuddering as she waited for his next move.

  Oh, God, what have I done? Andre couldn’t break his gaze from Mary's accusing eyes. What am I?

  Mary's lips opened. "Andre…"

  He held his breath, hoping against hope that she would say something that would allow him to have hope that she could forgive him for this. He inched forward but stopped when both sisters tensed. He wanted to suppress his Bear, to drop to his knees and beg Mary's forgiveness. But he couldn't make himself do it. He clung to his Bear like Mary's sister clung to her, craving the protection of muscle and sinew against Mary's accusing gaze.

  "Andre," she said again. "Go. Go away."

  His heart plummeted. But what else was there to do? He had let a moment's rage blind him, and now he had lost everything again.

  He turned and fled from the two most painful words he had ever heard. He did not look back.

  ***

  He did not look back.

  Mary could not spare time to think about what he was thinking or what he must be feeling. She shoved aside her own feelings–they were too messy, too painful to think about right now. Julia needed her. Her sister needed her. She couldn't spare time to think of how her own heart was breaking.

  "What happened to you?" Mary asked, laying the back of her hand on her sister's forehead. She was so thin! What had happened? Julia had always been slender, but this? "What did Father do to you?"

  Julia's eyes were bright as she leaned against Mary, shudders shaking her whole body. "It attacked me. It was a Bear, wasn't it? A Shifter, not an ordinary bear?"

  "You're cold as ice. Where's your clothing pack?" Mary glanced around. No Wolf went into the forest without one, in case they needed to suppress their Wolf. But she couldn't see it anywhere.

  "I left it at home. I didn't think I'd need it."

  Julia's skin was slick with sweat, her breathing was rapid, and when Mary felt for her pulse, it took her a moment to feel it. She was going into shock. Being naked out in this cool spring weather was going to kill her, even faster than her injuries. Mary hadn't wanted to take a closer look at them, but now she saw her right leg at least was broken, her calf was at an awkward angle, dark splotches of purple and black started spreading over her pale skin. Rivulets ran down her back, but the bleeding had stopped.

  How could Andre have done this?

  Mary shook her head quickly. She could not think of him when her sister needed her. "We have to get you home."

  "No!" Julia grabbed her arm. "No, you can’t go back. Father is furious."

  "I can't leave you out here." A knot twisted in her gut, but she ignored it. "You're going into shock and you're freezing."

  She didn't have her own clothes. How far were they from where the cabin once stood? Mary's heart sank. Would she even be able to find her way back? She sank back down next to her sister, trying to keep her expression hopeful. When night fell, her brothers would start hunting. If Julia could hold on that long, they would be found.

  Mary settled beside Julia, considering embracing her Wolf to try to lend more warmth to her sister. But the more important thing was to keep her awake and talking, and so Mary asked her the first thing that came to mind.

  "Are you and Conrad married yet?"

  Julia's pale skin flushed. "He has asked Father for my hand."

  "Are you happy with it?"

  "I… I like Conrad. He's got his own land, you know."

  Mary's heart sank. "You like him. But he's not your soulmate."

  "He will be." Julia's voice was drowsy. "Wolves mate for life. After we…. you know, when we marry. After that, then he'll be my soulmate and everything will be perfect. I'll have everything I want."

  No. That's not how it works. Mary recalled the moment she realized that Andre was her soulmate. The fireworks went off in her heart and skin. The irresistible draw to him, not only his body but everything else as well. It was only after she knew that he was her soul's other half that they had made love. And it had been exciting, passionate, even if it was a little clumsy and uncertain at first.

  But she couldn’t tell her sister that! Andre was a Bear, monsters according to what they had been taught–and had he not just almost killed her? To say he was her soulmate would be even worse than admitting that she had made love with a man without marrying him!

  Before Mary's thoughts could send her spiraling back to the events that had taken place, she heard a signal howl. Their brother Peter's voice, demanding a response. Her head jerked up and she cupped her hands around her mouth.

  "Here!" she shouted, still unwilling to leave her sister's side. "Help!"

  Moments later, two Wolf faces appeared among the trees. They disappeared again, and moments later two men strode into the clearing, glancing warily around. Their bare torsos gleamed in the dim light, pale and muscular, fine curls of dark hair on their chests.

  Mary's heart jumped to her throat as she recognized her brother Peter, and their father. She shrank back from them, her face flushing as a wind reminded her of her nakedness. She tried to hide her breasts with an arm, but she could not adequately cover herself while keeping Julia upright.

  "Here."

  Cloth was thrown at her, and the two men slipped away through the trees again. Mary shook out the cloth and found that they had been given two shirts. That would explain why Peter and her father both wore trousers but were shirtless.

  She helped Julia dress and then pulled the shirt over her own head. It was tight on her and the one on Julia was baggy. The buttons at her breasts would hardly do up and left gaping holes that revealed copious amount of skin. The sleeves were so tight she thought the seams would pop, but it was better than nothing.

  "We need bandages," she called. "Julia is badly hurt."

  Her father entered the clearing again. He had always been an intimidating figure, something Mary had been proud of as a child. But as he glared at her now, she shivered. She pressed her lips together, trying not to let herself be cowed. Her shoulders straightened.

  "Father, I will accept whatever punishments you see fit to put on me, but Julia is badly injured. If I am unable to treat her injuries and get her back home at once, she could die."

  "Peter," her father called over his shoulder.

  Her brother's Wolf appeared again, holding his trousers in his mouth. He dropped them at their father's feet, keeping his tail tucked firmly against his belly to preserve his modesty and made a small yipping noise. He melted into the shadows.

  Mary pulled the trousers over both her and Julia's lower regions, which she had hoped were already hidden by the way they were hunched over. Her face burned hotter though she tried to focus on Julia rather than her modesty.

  Paul Locke knelt beside his daughters, his large rough hands probing Julia's leg. She winced, and Mary's mind flashed to the birth of the little lamb. How gentle Andre's massive hands were. She remembered his fingers light on her skin, sensing his touch more from his warmth than anything else, and a pang hit her heart.


  Not right now, she told herself.

  Paul rocked back on his heels. "It's broken. Can you embrace your Wolf?"

  Julia shook her head. "I'm too weak."

  "Then put on these clothes and I will carry you. Mary, you may use the shirt you are wearing as bandages. Embrace your Wolf and find me when you are done."

  "Yes, Father," she replied automatically. She didn't look at him as he slipped through the trees.

  It was easier to tear the buttons off than struggle to undo them, and Mary used her teeth to shred the heavy cloth. Julia's teeth were chattering by this time, and Mary worked as quickly as she could, wrapping the broken leg so it would not be further damaged before it could be properly set.

  "Mary?"

  "Yes?"

  Julia's voice was dazed. "Where were you? We thought you were dead. You just disappeared. We found the car in a ditch. We thought you'd frozen to death."

  "I… it's a long story." A lump formed in Mary's throat. "Just try to rest, okay?"

  "But where were you? And how did you know I was here? And why did that Bear listen to you when you told it to stop?" Julia's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed Mary's wrist, holding her far tighter than someone so obviously malnourished should. "Why did it listen to you, Mary?"

  Mary stared back at her sister and didn’t know what to say.

  Chapter Four

  The scent of vehicle exhaust burned the air, even from within the motel room Andre sat in. It was plain, but it was clean and neat. The neutral color palate soothed his aching head. The rumble of traffic on the highway outside was unceasing, but Andre welcomed the confusion of the noise.

  His fingers ached, and dried blood pooled at his cuticles from digging in the frozen ground. He hadn't finished the job. His animals were still lying out in the elements, rather than being properly buried. But he couldn't go back now.

  His joints were stiff as he stumbled to his feet. He'd run the whole way to the city, not even going back to his farm for his truck, and then sat in the darkness of the motel for several hours since. His right ankle didn't seem to be working properly. Gingerly he rotated it, wincing as he heard a soft popping noise. Once he slept he'd be fine. Bears healed quickly.