Wolf Claim (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 3) (17 page)

“He wanted guidance.” Brett’s words rode out on a breath.

“Exactly. So, if we say Eddie wasn’t a target and he was…” She hated the words even before she spoke them. “A victim of circumstance, he doesn’t pull the pattern askew.”

“Dominance.” Brett straightened. “Leo, Carl, Anton—they were all dominant wolves.”

Gillian nodded slowly. Strong, young—well, youngish—but all healthy vital wolves in their prime. Strength and dominance set them apart. “I’ve been reading Hatcher’s notes because we have no bodies and the lapse in time means it’s hard to even use scent to track. Hatcher, however, already suspected what we’ve found out.”

Rage simmered to life in the air around Brett, his dark eyes narrowed, and she could feel the full weight of his personality crashing down on her. “What?”

“The first few deaths he suspected nothing more than what they were, but when the fourth male dominant passed, that got his attention. He started being more meticulous in cataloging every part of their autopsies and conditions.”

“He said nothing to me.” Incensed, Brett closed his hands into fists.

“Because he didn’t know why they bothered him.” That aspect of his notes she understood better than anything else. “His instincts told him something was wrong, but he had no proof.”

A growl, then Brett stood and his power flared around him. She wasn’t even his wolf and she still bent her head.

“Don’t take your temper out on Gillian.” Owen’s laconic voice didn’t disguise the steel threat running along the bottom of his words. Her mate came up to the bench next to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into the contact.

“He’s not,” she murmured when Brett said nothing. “I just told him what I suspected about Hatcher.” She’d told her mate first, and Owen had found no flaws in her reasoning.

“I understand, but he doesn’t get to take it out on you.” He rubbed his thumb over her nape and she relaxed.

Gillian let that go and reached out to lay a tentative hand on Brett’s arm. He stiffened, but didn’t retreat from the contact. “None of this is your fault, Brett. I know how angry you are, and how much you want to eliminate the threat, but you are not to blame for what’s happened. Hatcher
didn’t
tell you because he didn’t know what to tell you. Even my tests and exams only proved their deaths were off, had I not felt the effects myself, I’d still be trying to figure out exactly what occurred.”

She understood the poison, the transport and delivery and what it did to the body, the one silver lining of her experience. Neutralizing it had nearly killed her, but she understood how to do it and could do it for others…if she got to them in enough time.

“Another reason you should go home, little wolf. You almost died for us once.”

She shrugged and ignored Owen’s growl. “I have no intentions of trying to die again, but whomever is doing this may lash out. When they do, if I’m not here, you will bury more wolves.”

Covering her hand on his arm with his own, Brett gave her a squeeze then shook free of her touch. “You are a stubborn wolf, and I think Hatcher would have liked you.”

Pleased at the compliment, she leaned into Owen. “I know I would have liked him.” Hopefully he would remember her tenacity and determination when she added, “I spoke to Emma, and to Lucille in Sutter Butte as well as Joaquin in Delta Crescent. They all agreed with me that…”

“You did what?” Brett glared at her and Owen shifted his stance, edging between her and the Alpha.

Touching Owen’s leg, she glanced at him first. The Alpha could be angry with her, but she was safe. Trusting him to trust her, she faced Brett. “Healers talk and we care less about pack politics and interpack relations than we do making sure our people are okay. I mentioned nothing about your pack that can be used against you.”

His mouth compressed into a thin line, but the expression on his face when he looked to Owen was wry. “Better she is your mate than mine. I might have to spank her.”

“Definitely better that she is mine,” Owen agreed.

Men.
Gillian shook her head and waited.

Finally Brett relented, folding his arms and giving her a long look. “So what did they agree with you about?”

“Poison is typically favored by weaker fighters, those who are not certain they can succeed.” Among humans, women were the most likely to use poison, but with wolves, dominance had too many levels to discount an entire gender.

“We know that.” Brett frowned. “I’m glad the healers agree, but how does this help us?”

“Because it could also indicate mental illness.” The unspoken tragedy amongst wolves, one they didn’t discuss. She had first hand experience in meeting one such tortured soul. The simple truth was, mentally unstable wolves didn’t often survive into adulthood, their own irrationalities earning them a swift death. The rareness of it, however, meant it stood out if a healer knew to look for the signs.

A brief silence before both men answered. “No.”

“You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Owen growled.

Brett’s emphatic agreement supported her mate’s declaration. “I don’t.”

“But…”

“I said no.” Brett cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I will be talking to Mason later today. You two should consider leaving in the morning.”

“I want to stay for the vigil.” She rushed on before Owen could take Brett up on the offer and hustle her into the car. “For Hatcher, if not the others as well.”

The vigil would gather most of Brett’s pack together to say goodbye to their fallen, then the bodies would be cremated and their ashes scattered. Life had to go on, and the final goodbye would give them all a chance to begin healing. She had to be there.

Sighing, the Alpha didn’t answer her, but instead looked to her mate. They communicated on some level that all dominant males did and Gillian waited patiently. They would see sense. With only a curt nod for an answer, Brett strode away.

“He’s hurting so much,” she said in a soft undertone.

“Yes, he is, darling, and you need to stop pushing him.” Owen slid onto the bench next to her and lifted her into his lap in two easy moves. She curled into him, excitement threading through her veins at his nearness. Affection did not come as easily to Owen and being able to touch him whenever she wished or even better, being held by him soothed most of the disquiet plaguing her.

“Someone has to.” She closed her eyes and buried her face against his throat. Inhaling the rich scent of Owen into her lungs, she savored the closeness and sighed. “He has no healer or mate to look after him. He’s isolating himself from even his senior pack members. I’ve watched him, he isn’t sure who he can trust.”

The injury to the Hudson River pack scored so deep, she wasn’t sure it could be healed properly—not until the infection was lanced and evacuated. Not until they knew the truth and they had a name and a face to put upon their misery.

“I know,” he told her, his tone gentling even as he fisted a handful of her hair. His need to touch her had grown in equal measure to match her own. “Why do you think he keeps us so close?”

“And here I thought you were persuading him with your charm and quick wit.” The tease felt good. No mating should be shadowed by the darkness surrounding theirs but she wouldn’t trade her time with Owen for anything. That meant clinging to the intimate moments such as the one they shared.

His low chuckle caressed her. “Before you ask, I already spoke to Mason.”

Worry cramped her stomach, and she tightened her fingers on his shirt. “And?”

“He agrees with you.” A low rumbled accompanied his words. “But neither of us like keeping you exposed.”

Relieved that her Alpha wouldn’t order her home, she relaxed and stroked her fingers down Owen’s chest. “I’m hardly exposed. I’m not allowed to travel amongst his pack, and none save Trent can get anywhere near me without you or Brett standing on point. I’m
safe
.”

“You think Brett’s the target, so your nearness to him
puts
you in danger.” Oh, her mate wasn’t happy.

“But I have you.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. Owen wouldn’t allow anything to hurt her. “You’re always with me.” Catching his hand, she placed it over her heart. “Next to my heart as well. Even if you weren’t with me, you could find me.”

His tense expression eased, but the shadow of battle remained in his eyes. “It goes against everything in me to let this continue.”

“I know, and I love you that you are willing to trust me to do what I need to do.” He wasn’t fighting her or forcing her into hiding, and she understood the vital cost to him. She’d never considered herself a violent person until she thought of him fighting to keep her safe. If it happened, she planned to be at his side, protecting
him
. “If I’m right, this poisoner is feeling the pressure because of what’s happened. Of my continued presence, even. They could even be afraid I will stumble across them, as I’m almost certain Hatcher did.”

“Would he have been so foolish as to confront a mad wolf without his Alpha?”

Gillian thought back to Old Man Carter, remembering the sour scent of his madness and the crazed look in his eye. Emma sent her away and turned back to face the wolf alone. Thomas and Toman came, but the healer hadn’t shied away from the dark wolf invading her home.

“Yes.” Without a doubt. Hatcher would have confronted a similarly disturbed wolf. “He would have wanted to save him, if he could.”

Some people couldn’t be saved.

“Kiss me and let me forget for a little while.” She didn’t want to think about the madness or evil anymore. More, she didn’t want to acknowledge that when they identified this wolf, they had to kill him. Owen dipped his head and took possession of her mouth, and she lost herself to her mate.

Owen hadn’t slept in four days, he could go another two, perhaps three at the most before he would have to rest. Gillian hadn’t noticed, but he knew how to feign sleep well enough to fool his mate.
Only for so long, and she doesn’t know me well enough to suspect I would try.

Knowing someone was murdering wolves meant he couldn’t relax his guard. Being in foreign territory, in a home he didn’t control, surrounded by wolves he didn’t know, among whom a murderer hid while his very vulnerable mate was present? Sleep was an impossibility he didn’t bother to attempt. Gillian, however, needed vast amounts of rest and, though she hadn’t uttered a single complaint since waking from her poisoning, he’d seen the fatigue in her.

Alleviating her stress drove him beyond only keeping watch for the killer. No wolf got her alone. No wolf spent any time with her without his presence; except for the concession he’d given Brett.

“The vigil will be this evening at sundown. Everyone, but my most distant hunters, will be here.” Brett stood in the center of his living room, his attention on the picture window and the gathering taking place on the south lawn. They’d been arriving for days. His pack had traveled from the furthest reaches of his territory for the vigil of their Healer. Another reason they’d held off on the vigil for days—his pack had needed time to gather.

“Anything I need to know before you begin?” No two packs observed all the same rituals, although a few were a given. Alpha Challenge bridged all pack lines. The minute a wolf declared those words, he or she became untouchable until they reached the Alpha. The bloody, brutal battle ended in death, whether of the challenger or the Alpha.

Safe haven was another universal ritual, but haven was only given in the most extreme circumstances and Hunters took the claimants to the Alpha for judgment. If it was granted, they remained. If not, the Hunter would deliver the unwanted guest to the border.

Healers could travel past border lines unmolested and unharmed, but since no pack sent a healer on their own, a Hunter had to take care of declarations and safe passage along the way. More rules applied, but many had fallen into disuse since the rise of technology. Alphas could call each other on the phone, and which saved a lot of protocol headaches for everyone.

Death, however, was different. Willow Bend would throw a wake, remembering the dead by embracing life and celebrating it.

“Avoid fighting, if you can. Sometimes, at vigils, it’s unavoidable. Tension will be high and the dominants are all spoiling for a fight.” He’d chosen an interesting turn of phrase, as though Brett himself were not eager to cut down their shadowy opponent. “They won’t want
you
there, but Gillian will calm them some.”

Unsurprising, since Healers had that effect on most wolves. “They’ll just have to deal with me being there,” Owen stated. He didn’t have to fight, he could fade into the background, and fold in the weight of what he was until it clung to his skin. Of course, the moment anyone attempted to cross the invisible line to get to her, all bets were off.

Still, the other wolf seemed strangely alone despite the nearness of so many of his wolves, and Owen was a poor substitute for pack. “You should be with your people.”

“Not if being with them endangers them.” Brett slanted a look in his direction, a faint smile on his face. “Thought I didn’t know what you and the little wolf believe?”

“I don’t pretend to know what you do or don’t know. She
is
worried about you, however.” His Gillian needed to care for others, the force of which would drive her for all of her life. Owen would acclimate; he’d known the visceral need lived within her for as long as he’d known her.

He’d even accepted that separation might be inevitable, but he could time his circuits to return home frequently and pray that she would never feel neglected. His father’s circuits were closer to Willow Bend proper, and the old wolf would look after Owen’s mate, check on her. Owen would create an entire network to see to her needs if his circuits and duties pulled him away.

But that was a problem for another day, even though it gnawed inside his soul. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her, but he couldn’t abandon his responsibilities to pack any more than she could.

“Right.” Brett’s snort dispensed with the subtext. “Tonight I will have every member of the pack here that isn’t a Hunter on a border who hasn’t been inland in more than two years.”