Feral Dawn Page 6
Dreams came fitfully and left him dazed, caught between reality and illusion. Anxiety for Hugo translated to vivid nightmares.
His wolf, shot through with a hunter’s arrow.
Fallen off a cliffside.
Drowned in a river.
Ivan startled to wakefulness with each new terror, eyes darting around their den, searching for Hugo. Despair clung thick as smoke each time Ivan realized he remained alone. Clinging to the covers with white knuckles, the sun’s relentless force kept dragging him under.
Ivy called to him in his reveries, her voice a singsong hallucination from childhood games of hide and seek, caught on the breeze. “Brother, where are you?”
“Ivy?” Ivan whispered in his sleep. “Have I done the right thing? Are you well?”
Her playful giggles faded to nothing. Ivan strained to hear more, but only an eerie silence met his ears.
Through the darkness Ivan saw Goddard, tall and imposing, blond hair swept back from his face. Closer now, at Ivan’s side, his menacing features pinched in anger, fingers tight around Ivan’s elbow, ordering him to keep moving when Ivan desperately wanted to linger at Ivy’s window.
In the early days, right after he’d been made a vampire, he’d slip away to watch over her. He’d creep along the side of the small wooden cottage she called home, and peek in the window to make sure she slept safely, night after night. That little check eased his troubled soul, but the habit would prove a grave mistake.
Ivan thrashed under the covers, tossing them astray as memories came with haunting clarity. Goddard’s intense gaze, stone gray eyes staring through him as if he were invisible.
“Your beauty drew me close,” he’d said. “I had to have you for my own.” A finger trailed over Ivan’s cheek, the sharp nail catching on his lip. “How was I to know it pales in comparison to that of your sister’s, hmm?”
Ivan had drawn in a breath and held it, frozen in place by the implication of those words.
The beginning of the end.
Goddard might never have noticed her if Ivan hadn’t angered him by returning to her window. His jealousy knew no bounds. When Ivan failed to worship at his feet, the relationship had soured, and with it, Ivan’s hope of freedom. Goddard wouldn’t let him go willingly. Then he’d set his sights on Ivy.
Ivan couldn’t ever let him have her.
Goddard had all but dragged him home, gloating the entire way. “What fun I will have with two of you at my disposal.” His lips had rounded to a gleeful smirk. “Does Ivy share your penchant for misbehavior? Do you think she’ll require punishments? Or shall I find her docile and obedient? No, don’t tell me. I’ll enjoy the surprise.”
Silently fuming, Ivan had trailed along. Nothing he could have said would’ve changed Goddard’s mind. But maybe there was something he could do.
An idea had begun to form. A seed he’d nurtured until tendrils of hope blossomed to branches, sturdy and unwavering. The notion morphed into a plan, and the plan grew feasible.
Ivan could kill his sire and keep Ivy safe.
Goddard never saw it coming, the silver dagger Ivan had hidden under their mattress. His back had been turned and the sun well on its way into the sky when Ivan had struck.
Not a coward but a realist, Ivan was younger and weaker than Goddard. A knife to the back was his only chance. He’d thrust. Through skin and flesh, past ribs and muscle and straight through Goddard’s evil heart.
His sire’s thrashing had only dug the blade deeper, quickening his death. Ivan’s hand had shook as he withdrew the dagger.
Blood. So much blood.
Ivan wished he’d been repulsed, but thirst had dominated his senses and he’d taken advantage. Goddard’s strength had oozed from the wound in thick red rivulets and soaked the linens beneath them. Giving in to his sinful urges, Ivan had leaned over him, drinking great swallows of the powerful liquid. He’d needed it if he stood any chance at escape, though in the back of his mind Ivan had already known—he’d forfeited his own life when he had taken Goddard’s.
Ivy’s freedom was worth any price.
Awakened by the intensity of the memory, even more vivid in his dreams than it had been in life, Ivan reached over for Hugo and the comfort the wolf offered.
Only Hugo’s side of the bed lay empty and cold.
Ivan curled tighter into himself.
What had he done?
HUGO
Startled awake by the high-pitched crowing of roosters, Hugo’s eyes blinked open at the break of dawn. Instinct told him a rooster would make for an easy meal, but as the trappings of sleep fell away, he remembered where he was. He couldn’t slaughter the pack’s chickens.
Selma had given Hugo his old bedroom to sleep in after he’d finished his tale. It would be a nursery soon. He’d been so exhausted from his long run, he’d passed out feeling guilty. Ivan would be worried. Sleep had been fitful.
Hugo’s mind was consumed with anticipation. He would meet his nieces and nephews today. He should have come back sooner. Lars had no right to keep him from his family. It had always been wrong.
Hugo ran his fingers over the notches in the doorframe that had marked his and his sisters’ heights as they grew. A new set of notches would be added for Selma’s child. He wanted to be here to watch them grow. To do that, he’d have to deal with Lars. The thought made his stomach sour and his chest tighten.
Excited voices filtered to his ears, and the front door banged open. Hugo hurried into the main room, eager to greet them.
Selma filed in, with Opal and Hattie in tow. Smiles all around. The children followed next, and last through the threshold, his mother, holding a baby in her arms. That must be Opal’s youngest. Hugo’s heart filled to bursting.
When he couldn’t decide who to hug first, his sisters made the decision for him. Hugo found himself in the middle of the group, embraced from all sides. One of the children had his leg. His hand stroked their shoulders, their hair, rubbed their backs with a fondness he’d all but forgotten. The bone-deep soothing scent of his family lulled him to a peaceful calm. His sisters’ voices a welcome chorus in his ears.
The baby was handed off to Opal, and his mother’s arms enclosed his waist. She felt smaller than he remembered, but no less powerful, her presence a balm to his soul.
“Hugo,” she said, her eyes watery. “Welcome home.”
“Mother.” It was the only word he could manage, overcome with emotion and love.
“I filled them in so you don’t have to tell it again,” Selma said.
Hugo was grateful. They hadn’t known Lars had chased him from their lands with threats and violence. Lars had told them Hugo left on his own, unsatisfied with their small pack. That he’d wanted bigger and better for himself.
“I never believed him,” his mother said. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us. But there was nothing I could do. We didn’t know where you’d gone.”
“Where did you go?” Hattie asked.
“Deeper into the mountains. West until I was out of the territory, then north. A hundred miles away, maybe more?”
“And you ran all that way last night? You must be exhausted.”
“I’m a little sore. Not exhausted. I’m too happy to see you for that.” Hugo knelt to greet the child at his knee. “You must be Mayla.”
She grinned. “My birthday is next week.”
“Oh good. I’ve made it just in time. And who’s this?” He gestured to the smaller girl half hidden behind Mayla’s back.
“That’s Renee. My sister.”
“Hello Renee,” Hugo said as the little one watched him closely.
“She’s only shy at first,” Opal explained. “Once she knows you, you’re in for an earful.”
“I’m Eric!” the stout young boy announced, barely having the patience to wait his turn.
“I’m Hugo.”
They embraced. The lad hugged with the same enthusiasm as he spoke.
“All right, children,” Opal said, her hand on Mayla’s shoulder, “out you go. Let’s find you something to play with.”
“Blocks!” Eric shouted as they left.
A part of Hugo wanted to go with them and watch them play, but there were important matters the adults needed to discuss. The pack wasn’t thriving, and Hugo would get to the bottom of it.
“Are you all right?”
The women glanced at each other. His mother answered. “You should sit down.”
Dread coiled in his ribcage, but Hugo stayed calm. He took a seat next to his mother. Hattie and Selma sat across from them.
“It’s been hard—” Selma began.
“With our mates constantly gone,” Hattie finished.
They spoke in hushed voices as if the conversation were dangerous. Opal returned from settling the children and stood behind Selma.
“Why are the men gone?” Hugo asked.
Hattie rolled her eyes. “It’s Lars. That man’s so greedy he’d sell his own kin for a good deal.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s got the men, all but his favorites, out on the prairies hunting rabbits for the pelts. We skin them, and he sells them to the human villages. Only we never see any profit.”
“Where does the money go?”
Hattie shrugged.
His mother answered, “We don’t know, and most are afraid to ask. Lars says things about taxes for the land, but this land has belonged to our pack for generations. There’ve never been taxes before.”
“I think he’s hoarding it for himself,” Selma added.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Hattie said. “He doesn’t have nice things. His cottage needs repairs like all the others. If he was keeping the money, wouldn’t we know?”
“You would think,” Opal said, “but he’s so secretive. It’s impossible to speak with him or his mate, and his children are afraid of their own shadows despite being almost grown. It must be hell living under that man’s thumb.”
Hugo barely remembered Lars’s offspring. How old would they be now? Fifteen? Sixteen?
“What can I do?”
11
Hugo
The idea of confronting Lars after all this time brought anxiety pounding at Hugo’s chest strong as a sledgehammer. And yet, it must be done. Hugo had to act before wind of his arrival gave the devious alpha time to plot against him. The pack had suffered enough.
Armed by his family with more damning information than he needed, combined with the poor state of their village, Hugo knew his actions today would be justified. He’d demand to speak with Lars, publicly, so the alpha had no choice but to listen. If it came to a fight, and Hugo knew it would, he was willing to follow through. No one else could bear this burden or they would have already challenged the greedy alpha.
He wished there was time to go back to Ivan and fill him in. To apologize for leaving and explain that Ivan had been right about checking on his family—they needed him after all. Delaying would be too risky; it would forgo the element of surprise.
Marching straight toward the town square, Hugo let the injustice done to his people fuel his courage. Several of the townsfolk spotted him and paused to watch.
Good. Hugo wanted witnesses.
He was prepared to knock on Lars’s door, but he didn’t have to. One of the alpha’s lackeys noticed his arrival.
“Ho, you there!” the hulking man yelled as he stepped outside. Hugo didn’t recognize him. “Stranger, state your business.”
Hugo stopped in the center of the street, where it would be easy for a gathered crowd to watch. “I’ve come to parlay with the alpha.”
More onlookers began to gather along the side street.
“You’re on our lands without permission, wolf,” the lackey snarled as he approached, chest out and posturing. “What’s to stop us from arresting you right now?”
Hugo held his ground, feet planted wide. His voice carried strong and clear. “I’ll speak to Lars as is my right. As is the right of any member of this pack.”
The lackey tilted his head. “Except you aren’t a member of this pack.”
“I am. I’ve come to claim my place.”
Whispers grew louder from the gathering pack members. His sisters had told their friends, and a group of women fell in some distance behind him to lend support. Did they recognize him after ten years? He wasn’t sure. But they’d recognize his wolf form. No one forgot a wolf the size of Hugo.
Lars appeared from the house, coming to an abrupt halt on the porch at the sight of the gathering crowd. He glared daggers at Hugo, the lines etching from his eyes and deep across his forehead revealing his age. Muscles flexing with tension under his wool shirt, he continued down the steps, flanked by two men on either side. Behind him, a woman Hugo recognized as Lars’s mate stepped onto the porch with two younger men whom he assumed were their sons.
The lackey moved aside. Lars wore a sneer as he approached, his small eyes narrowing in on Hugo. “What are you doing here, boy?”
Hugo stood almost a head taller than Lars, but a bit of the old fear crept in. A part of him did feel like the boy he once was. He refused to let it show.
“I’m here to take my rightful place in this pack,” Hugo said firmly.
“You have no place in this pack. You abandoned us long ago. Don’t think these people have forgotten.” Lars gestured to the pack members observing from a safe distance.
“I didn’t aban—”
“I’ll have none of your lies!” Lars glanced to his men. “Restrain him.”
Hugo fought the urge to step back, his train of thought derailed. Did everyone believe what Lars had told them, that Hugo thought he was too good for their pack? Would they believe him now? Doubt niggled at the back of his mind, but he would not cower anymore.
“I challenge for alpha,” Hugo rumbled before the men could reach him, his voice booming loud enough for those still in their huts to hear.
The men stopped in their tracks.
Lars could not decline a direct challenge. Not in front of so many pack members, not with his honor intact. Surprise flashed across the alpha’s features along with a hint of fear. He grinned anyway.
“You challenge me?” Lars roared. “You run off to god knows where, leaving your pack to fend for themselves as our situation grew more and more perilous, then you return out of the blue and challenge me?” He stepped forward, into Hugo’s space, stopping when they were only a foot apart. “Mark my words, this will be your last mistake.”
“My only mistake was waiting this long to face you.”
“If you think you can beat me in a fight, you’re delusional,” Lars spit out, his face red with anger. “One last chance. Back down, and I’ll convince them to forget your stupid challenge.” He nodded toward the growing crowd.
Hugo repeated himself loudly so his intent would be impossible to misinterpret. “I challenge for alpha. Fight me or concede, the choice is yours.”
Lars cracked his knuckles. “Then we fight, boy.”
The men behind him snickered, smirks on their faces, eager to witness violence. Lars’s family on the porch kept silent, but the wolves who had gathered around spoke to each other in whispers, restless, shuffling their feet.
“Prepare the field,” ordered Lars. “We do this now.”
His lackeys began shooing people back, clearing the square for combat.
The rules were simple. The challenge would begin in human form. For one half hour, neither could shift. After the half hour, both were required to take their wolf form. No interference from the crowd would be tolerated. All fighting must take place in public. If a combatant went down, they had one minute to continue or concede. Only a concession, the loss of consciousness, or death would conclude the battle. The wolf left standing would be the alpha of the pack.
Lars had not been challenged like this in nearly five years. Hattie had warned him Lars had killed the last man who tried without giving him a chance to concede. He’d done the same to the one before that. The ruthless tactic left potential alpha candidates wary.
Lars’s best chance to win was during the first half of the hour. After they shifted, Hugo would have an enormous size advantage, and Lars wouldn’t want that. He’d go all out from the start.
Hugo only had to hold his ground for thirty minutes. Once he shifted into the comfort of the wolf form, he was confident he could outfight another wolf.
Even Lars.
Hugo glanced to where his family stood watching. The children were with a neighbor as planned so all four women could bear witness. Their presence provided encouragement, even though Hattie had been opposed to the fight. He smiled to her now, thankful she’d come anyway. With a sigh, he turned back to Lars, ready to begin.
The crowd grew silent. Crows cawed from the rooftops.
Lars approached straight on, already snarling.
Hugo braced his feet.
The first impact came in the form of a vicious kick to the ribs, which Hugo barely blocked. The bones of his forearm took the brunt of it.
Pain flared. The strike stung from wrist to shoulder. In the time it took to register, Lars landed a punch to Hugo’s ribs.
Someone from the crowd let out a startled shriek.
Hugo spun out of range, dancing backward to regain his bearings.
Lars pursued with a growl, targeting the same spot along his ribcage. This time Hugo was ready. Grunting, he slammed a fist into Lars’s gut.
Lars stepped back, eyes wide.
Hugo darted in only to take a blow to his jaw. His head snapped sideways. His vision blurred. Lars was fast and relentless. Hugo had no practice in this sort of brawl. He shook it off and focused on dodging the next attack. If things continued like this, he’d spend the entire half hour on the defensive.
Lars snared a fistful of hair and ripped so violently Hugo’s neck spasmed, and a clump tore clear out by the roots.