Smilodon, page 7
“How are you liking our sleepy little town?”
The question jerked me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I went with an ultra-cool, super-intelligent response, “Huh?" Then, my mind processed what I’d heard. “Oh! I like it well enough. I just came back to town today. Unpacked my luggage and went out for the run. Melody warned me about the eastern ranges versus the western ranges.”
“She did?” Gabrielle remarked. “That was nice of her.”
By that time, we reached the lobby and stepped into view of the front desk. Melody stood there, almost in the exact spot where she’d been upon my arrival. Only this time, she wasn’t her previous upbeat self. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Every part of her I could see trembled, and my new senses caught a whiff of something on the air.
Hmmm… smells like… terror, the growly voice remarked.
“Melody, what’s wrong?” I asked as I approached her.
Melody’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Gabrielle for a couple seconds. It felt like a part of my soul wanted to die; she acted like a prey animal.
“Alpha Jace is back,” she said, her voice small and vulnerable.
When no further information seemed to be on its way, Gabrielle stepped forward. “What’s wrong with Alpha Jace coming back? The town’s his home.”
“The Council came with him." Her voice made me think of a pup’s whine. “They came here. I don’t know how they knew you were in town, but they came here. They wanted to know your room number and where you were, but I told them hotel policy is that we only give out that kind of information for court orders." Melody’s voice caught, and she gnawed at her lower lip with her teeth for a moment. “A councilor dominated me. He was even stronger than Alpha Jace. He made me tell them what they wanted to know.”
The growly voice in my mind roared with rage. “Who? Who did that, Melody?”
“I know exactly who,” Gabrielle answered. “It’s okay, Melody. Don’t worry about it.”
Melody shook her head. “No, it’s not okay. I… I… should’ve stood firm. I should’ve been better.”
Without even thinking about it, I walked around the front desk and pulled Melody into a hug. “Don’t worry about it, Melody; seriously, it will be okay. I’m going to go have a word with them. Do you want to watch?”
Melody shook her head.
I broke the hug and stepped back. “You’ll be okay?”
She offered a small, tentative smile. “The hug almost made the entire experience worth it.”
“Glad you liked it.” I couldn’t hold back the blush or the grin.
Before Melody could say anything else, I turned and walked with Gabrielle out of the hotel. The first thing I noticed was a collection of luxury SUVs parked in front of the town hall. I glanced toward Gabrielle, and she nodded.
“You said you know who did that,” I remarked as we walked. “What can you tell me about him?”
Gabrielle sighed. “Thomas Carlyle. He’s a wolf councilor, and he’s an entitled ass. A lot like Buddy Carrington, now that I think about it.”
“So… he’s a bully?”
Gabrielle nodded. “It seems like the really dominant wolves split about fifty-fifty between pleasant people and straight-up unrepentant assholes. The problem is, he’s one of the strongest wolves in North America; that’s how he ended up as the wolf councilor. The ‘local’ dire wolf doesn’t want to deal with politics, so she keeps her head down, mostly. But it wouldn’t matter, anyway. Thomas knows she would turn him into kibble if he ever moved on her.”
“When you say local…?”
“No one really knows,” Gabrielle replied, adding a shrug for flavor. “She avoids attention. There are only a few sightings every year. I think the current record is ten confirmed sightings in one year, but that was almost ten years ago now. She’s basically a law unto herself. Oh, sure… she follows both the shifter and mundane laws, but only because she chooses to do so. We’ve been very lucky so far that none of the primogenitors have gone rogue. That would be a very tough hunt. As far as I know, she stays in North America. The other known dire wolf bounces around Europe.”
“What should I expect when we walk in there?”
Gabrielle stopped and turned to me. “It will probably be a mess, honestly. There aren’t enough vehicles out front for the entire Council to have come, so we’re most likely looking at the predator councilors. Even then, that still means we’ll have three wolves, three cats, three avians… oh. Pro tip: don’t call them ‘birds;’ they really, really don’t like that." Gabrielle’s voice trailed off as she looked toward the line of SUVs. “You know… the more I think about it, I’m not sure what we’ll be walking into. There are only eight of those luxury SUVs, but every shifter group sends three people to the Council. Even with just the predator councilors, there should be twenty-four to thirty cars. The three cat councilors makes sense; they will want to meet you. We already know the asshole wolf came to town. Beyond that? I’m sorry, Wyatt; I just don’t know.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like you have a lot of previous experience with feline primogenitors to draw on.”
Gabrielle snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you are my first primogenitor, feline or otherwise. I wonder if we’ll get more, now that you’re here. And if we do, will they be Smilodons, too?”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to know the answer to that,” I replied as we reached the doors of the town hall. I held open the door for Gabrielle and followed her into the building.
The entry area held several cork boards with many announcements posted. I saw tasteful accents here and there, like pictures of town gatherings or events and some potted plants and flowers, and a reception desk sat beside the end of a hallway that led deeper into the building. A young man who looked thoroughly cowed sat behind the desk.
“They’re in the council room,” he said and dropped his eyes back to the desk.
I stopped and regarded the young man. “Are you okay?”
He jerked a choppy nod and remained silent. I wanted to draw him out a little, but right now, it was probably just as well that he kept his head down. I had a feeling the upcoming conversation would not go in any direction one could predict.
Gabrielle led me down the hallway to the town’s council room. I didn’t know how large the town council actually was, but the hall was short and wide. Gabrielle and I walked through the double doors together, and my first thought of the room beyond was how much it looked like a courtroom.
A large table sat in an area separated from rows of seats by a decorative wooden partition. The seating in the gallery was wood construction, with upholstery and padding on the seats and backs. I tried not to smirk at seeing the chairs around the big table without any padding at all. Good idea. Probably helps to keep the meetings from running too long.
Alistair lounged in the aisle seat of the gallery’s front row, and a large group of people I didn’t know stood or sat around the large table. At the sound of the door, everyone turned to look our way. Alistair smiled and stood.
“Hello, Wyatt,” Alistair said as he held out his hand.
I gave him a respectable handshake as I answered, “Good day to you, Alistair. I apologize for not checking in with you when I arrived. The call of a run through the eastern ranges was just too strong.”
Alistair smiled and nodded. “I know that feeling, and besides, never apologize.”
“My grandfather says the same thing.”
Alistair leaned close, almost whispering, “Where do you think I learned it?" Then, Alistair turned and gestured from the group to Wyatt. “Esteemed Councilors and Alpha Jason McCourtney, may I present Wyatt Magnusson?”
A young man standing to the side of the assembled councilors nodded when Alistair said ‘Jason McCourtney,’ and I saw several of the group fight the urge to gape at the mention of my family name. All except one. He stood out because his glare never wavered. He was maybe four inches shorter than me, with a full head of spiked, dirty blond hair that angled forward. His hazel eyes had a hard look to them, and I could tell he clenched his jaw tight.
“So, this is our supposed feline primogenitor?” he asked, and his expression quirked like he wanted to sneer. “I’m not impressed.”
For as long as I live, I doubt if I’ll ever know what possessed me to reply with, “I can’t say that I really care whether I impress you. Shouldn’t you be barking at some critter up a tree or peeing on someone’s tire? Maybe licking yourself somewhere unmentionable? That’s all wild dogs do, right?”
The sudden silence was so complete that a cough in the hall outside would have been deafening. Everyone stared at me in shock, some with their mouths agape. Again, all except the twerp with the blond spiky hair. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl as a deep red flush came up in his neck. His hazel eyes shifted to a gold. His hands clenched into fists.
“I will kill you for such disrespect,” he ground out between his clenched teeth.
I gave him my best uncaring shrug. “You’re the guy who dominated Melody over at the hotel into violating policy, right?”
“She needed to learn her place, the same as you do.”
“Whatever you say, Fido. Are we throwing down here, or is there someplace less breakable?”
Alistair lifted a hand, interjecting, “The town has a small arena for dominance fights. It’s at the far end of the city park.”
I nodded. “That works for me. What about you, Spot?”
He looked about ready to leap over the decorative divider at me, but he jerked a nod.
“Very well,” Alistair remarked. “Let us proceed.”
* * *
As everyone filed out of the town council chamber, Gabrielle pulled me into a vacant office. The moment the door latched, she spun, her face a mask of frustration and disbelief.
“Are you out of your mind? You just challenged a councilor! They don’t get those jobs for being shy and retiring. He’s won more dominance fights than he can probably count. Oh… and that’s another thing. Dominance fights—at least when challenging a councilor—are to the death. Did you think about that before you popped off with your childish humor? Did you even know that?”
That put a whole new dimension on the situation.
“No, I honestly didn’t, which I’m guessing you already knew. Almost everything I know about being a shifter I’ve learned from you. But instead of raking me over the coals for it, why don’t you tell me about him?”
Gabrielle stopped and wiped her brow. “Okay. He’s a Canadian timber wolf. He’s about as large as a wolf shifter can be and not be a primogenitor. He likes to use his weight to his advantage, but that won’t help him with you. Not against that ginormous cat I saw in the diner. He may try to get in behind you for a hamstring strike, and I’ve also heard he likes to jump on his opponent’s back and break their necks with a bite.”
I blinked and felt my eyebrows rise. “That’s allowed?”
“It’s a fight to the death, Wyatt. Anything’s allowed. Oh, and there’s one other thing. Your shifter healing won’t help you much. It barely works against other shifters’ natural weapons like teeth and claws. With time and a ton of food, you’ll be okay, but don’t go into this fight relying on it to save you.”
Okay. That made all this a little scarier. Still, I wasn’t about to back down. I took a deep breath and nodded.
“That’s good to know. Thank you. Now, where is this arena Alistair mentioned?”
Gabrielle led Wyatt to the arena. When they arrived, it seemed like most of the town was there, too. As they approached, all Gabrielle heard was the low-level, unintelligible noise a large crowd makes, but the moment Wyatt stepped into view, everyone started cheering and waving.
Pointing Wyatt toward the participants’ entrance to the arena, Gabrielle turned toward the stands. She didn’t expect she’d find a seat, not with such a large crowd, but she saw Melody sitting beside the sole empty seat in sight. It was right on the front row. Melody met her eyes and waved her over.
“I thought you didn’t want to come,” Gabrielle said as she accepted Melody’s invitation to sit.
Melody shrugged. “I didn’t, but it didn’t seem right not to attend a dominance fight that’s because of me. What do you think Wyatt’s chances are?”
Gabrielle turned and met the woman’s eyes. “I don’t want to give you false hope, Melody. I don’t think his chances are good. Thomas Carlyle has been fighting these types of fights for years, and he’s still around. Wyatt has been a shifter now, for what? Five—maybe six—days? And awake and aware for only one of them? Even with his size advantage, I don’t see how it can end any other way than in Thomas’s favor.”
“That’s not right,” Melody replied, her expression crestfallen. “Wyatt’s a good guy.”
“Yes, he is.”
I stepped into the arena, and the crowd somehow cheered even louder. As loud as they already were, I wouldn’t have thought it possible. The sheer volume hurt my ears a bit, but I refused to wince. I wouldn’t give the jerk across the way the satisfaction of seeing that.
The arena was a large circle, easily sixty feet across and surrounded by an 8-foot palisade wall. At the top of the wall, a chain circled the arena from metal posts placed at regular intervals. The first level of bleachers started there and went up. I saw Melody and Gabrielle sitting together; they both watched me. The other councilors sat behind Thomas.
Alistair stood and approached the chain. When he stopped moving, the crowd quieted.
“A dominance challenge has been issued and accepted between Wyatt Magnusson, our feline primogenitor, and Thomas Carlyle, a wolf councilor. As is our custom, once the challenge is accepted, there is no turning back. Participants, are you ready?”
I nodded just heartbeats before the jerk did.
“Very well,” Alistair said. “Begin.”
Alistair returned to his seat as Thomas started unbuttoning his shirt. I grinned and snapped my fingers twice, then whistled like I was calling a dog. “Here, Fido! Come on, boy! Heel!”
I watched rage color Thomas’s cheeks purple, and he stopped bothering with being nice. There was an explosion of fabric, and a Canadian timber wolf made a sprinting leap at me, its lips pulled back from its teeth in a snarl.
Waiting until he committed to his leap, I rolled out of the way and let him collide with the palisade behind me. It was a gruesome hit that would’ve taken a regular wolf or dog out of the fight, but Thomas pushed himself to his feet and weaved as he stood there, rolling his head.
“Bad doggie, Fido! You’re not supposed to hit the wall,” I taunted, dancing away while carefully removing my own clothes. “You’re supposed to hit me.”
Thomas must have hit the wall harder than I thought, because he gave me more than sufficient time to get undressed for my shift. Right before I shifted, I took the time to wrap my clothes into a bundle and toss them to Gabrielle. Standing in the center of the arena naked as the day I was born, several women whistled or cheered. I could tell I blushed from the heat in my ears and cheeks.
I must choose wisely before adding any of them to the pride, the growly voice said.
That was new. Who said I wanted a pride?
Of course, I do, the growly voice replied. It is my right.
I pushed that line of thought aside and touched the part of my mind that wasn’t human. I felt my feline form take over, and the whistling and cheering became awed—or fearful—whispers. Thomas turned to face me, snarling once again. I took a breath and put everything I had into a roar fit to rattle windows across town. I felt that odd burst as I roared, and for a split-second, I saw Thomas’s snarl falter.
I don’t know how long we stood there, staring at each other, but I grew tired of it. Well, bored to be honest. My cat form wasn’t really built for it, but I lifted my left forepaw and waved it in a ‘bring it on’ gesture. I was rather proud I managed it.
Thomas refreshed his snarl and charged me. As he neared, I realized how much smaller than me he was. Next to my feline form, he looked like a half-grown pup. I bet that didn’t help his mood at all, since Canadian timber wolves were one of the larger wolf breeds… if not the largest.
Once again, Thomas leaped at me mid-charge, but I was ready for him. I brought my right forepaw up and put all my weight and muscle into a ‘slap.’ The slap caught Thomas on the side of his head, my paw almost perfectly centered in the triangle created by his left eye, the base of his left ear, and the left mandible joint. The ghastly crack of multiple bones shattering almost overshadowed a lupine sound of pain as I dropped to my side and let Thomas ‘frisbee’ over top of me. I looked back in time to see him hit in an explosion of sawdust and dirt.
None of the damage I’d inflicted so far came from my claws or teeth, so I knew Thomas would heal it in no time. I hoped the broken or shattered bones would take a little longer, but if I was going to win this, I needed to get in there and draw some blood. No… a lot of blood.
I jumped back to my feet and made my charge. Thomas was on his feet by the time I neared, and the swipe of my claws only caught his hind leg. He still yipped in pain, though, as he fled at a limping run. I tried to keep up with him, but my feline form wasn’t built for speed.
Before I knew it, he was behind me. Then he was on my back, going for his ‘signature’ move. The odd thing was, I could feel a little pressure as he tried to bite my neck, but either his jaw hadn’t fully healed yet or my hide was too tough for his teeth. The bite felt like those little pin-pricks people do to check their blood sugar.
