Wolf Sirens Dawn in Shade: There Is Darkness Before Dawn (Wolf Sirens #5)

Epilogue: Wolf Time

Mead let me sleep, I was doped up on a pain drip. The nurse gave me the bullet they had pulled out of my neck, presented in a little plastic container with a yellow lid. I rattled it around. After she ordered that I needed rest, Mead left, but promised he’d be back soon. I had stitches in my thigh, arm and hip from injuries that I hadn’t felt at the time.

The doctors woke me later and asked what had happened to me, because I showed more scars and recently healed fractures than a car accident victim. A lot of the cuts were clearly from wolf claws. They would soon be added to my collection of scars. When the doctors left, I was terrified momentarily as I felt for the tag. I searched for it in the drawer by my bed, but it was gone. Unable to do anything about it, I curled up and dreamt of C.J, in a fitful sleep.

That night the nurse checked on me again and I stirred, itchy from the morphine. She told me three bones were fractured in my right hand. For once in my life I was honest.

I’ve been fighting wolves, I said, and she nodded. I fell asleep again.

The next day they took out the drip. I was encouraged to get about. Mead walked me outside the tent. None of the soldiers spoke directly to me. Mead said they called me the ‘Warrior’.

I didn’t care. I’ve been called worse. I smiled. It was a clichéd thing to say. I couldn’t say I didn’t like it. I noticed that I was infamous in the camp. When we went anywhere the soldiers would stop and stare at me, but I looked away when I met their faces. All I wanted was to see Sky again, and Reid, Cres, Tis and Aaron. With growing anxiety, I wondered where they were kept. Maybe they weren’t even letting Cres see the baby. I was growing impatient to see them.

*

I recovered quickly. In the meantime I ate with the soldiers in the mess tent. Mead would join me. I hoped he would tell me that our friends had been let out, that I could see them. After a week I became suspicious. Rumours were that the army was taking out any and all wolves that they found. Mead had obviously told them about the eyes, and quite a few night operations were run where the tanks would leave and return at dawn.

I wondered if there were other camps like the one we were in, but Mead said we were the only one. Smaller patrols were sent out, and they returned. I saw they went out in shifts.

Roger Dillon W.O.1 was the bigwig on the ground and he strategized the soldiers. I kept an eye out and soon I got a picture of the layout of the camp. The days were humid, the sky dark grey and the landscape so green that the colour of the army tents rustling in the breeze looked pale. Apollo had changed our world.

I noticed Mead said less to me than when I first awoke in the triage tent. I had the feeling we were being watched and I didn’t like it. I liked it even less that I knew my friends were being held like captives, under suspicion, like prisoners of war. But they were alive. As far as I could tell our new allies were keeping me and my friend’s captive. I gave Mead the benefit of the doubt because they had saved our arses but my patience was limited. I didn’t know how much longer I could wait before I was going to personally get them out.

It looked like we had some more fighting to do.

One morning at breakfast I was again staring at the tents and movable buildings, wondering where my friends were. I subtly eyed the soldiers and their guns. I was eating the hot flavourless slop on my plate with toast when a soldier marched up to me and left a note on the table. I hurriedly read it: Dillon wants to see you at 0800. I stuck the note in my pocket and chewed the remainder of my toasted bread. I didn’t know what the time was.

Mead joined me. Hey. He was quiet. I wondered if he knew what was up. After a minute I knew I would tell him, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I brushed the crumbs off my hands.

Any word?

No. His voice resounded with disappointment.

Well that’s a shame, ’cause I just got an invite to the king’s tent.

He looked up at me to see if I was serious. You mean the W.O.1?

I nodded and gave a small hint of a smile.

Roger?

Yeah, I just got a note. I laughed under my breath with disbelief, hopeful.

Where is it?

I pulled it out and he snatched it playfully. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or not. I waited but his face was unreadable.

You can read, can’t you? I teased, seeing his expression.

He huffed.

Maybe he hoped they were let out. I know it could mean anything... Maybe he just wanted to ask me to pitch in around the camp?

Who knows? He rubbed his re-emerging beard with irritation.

I’m going to ask about them, I said, unsure if he would agree.

Yeah, you should. He was worried, I could tell. The playful Mead had disappeared.

Hey, you can come? Maybe it would be smart to have Mead by my side.

No. It’s all right. He’s talked to me. He scooped up a forkful of powdered eggs.

Do you think he will let them go? I wondered if there was some hidden agenda. I realized that until then I had been hopeful of an end to the fight.

Hey, don’t look so worried, if he wanted you he could just have had his men grab you up and drag you. This is his way of being polite. It seemed Roger was Mead’s friend second and W.O.1 Dillon first. I drank down my lukewarm tea.

I wanted to know where my friends were and then I wanted my tag back.

1. Shade Kissed

His father had said that everyday Death turned a page in a book and if your name was upon it, your number was up. Dom hoped that today wasn’t the day. He rode in the back of an armoured personnel carrier hurtling through No Mans’ Land, the taste of dust in his mouth. The men were always more quiet on Black Ops, the whir of the engine was the only sound, as it died adrenaline exploded into his muscles.

The soldiers deployed, Dom’s boots landed on the gravel and he walked fast with his team along the side of a square mud building. Sergeant Waterman was sick that day, Dom was in charge. The mission was in full swing as they entered the village and scurried into position. The plan was to lift an insurgent leader. Dom gave the signal and he took each step of The Walk carefully. It was quiet—too quiet. He glanced at a member of his team, who nodded.

Gun fire sounded and Dom spun to see a woman shot down in the street. All at once he gave the okay to head into the compound as their cover was blown. Before he had reached the entrance enemy fire was spraying out. He radioed for back up, and started firing back, the tank sped in. Dom turned and gave the signal for his team to reposition. The crack of insurgent gunfire reverberated all around. Suddenly he felt a searing pain tear through his thigh. His gloved hand gripped hard over the wound. Somebody grabbed him and pulled him backwards over the gravel as more gun fire sounded. The rest blurred, yelling, he was bleeding out fast.

Man down, man down.

Tip off…

*

He stirred from a dream about a woman with wings looking over a large book with gilded edges, there was a list scrawled on the page, suddenly the writing illuminated, it blinded him as he awoke.

The clinical setting around him was bright white and cool—stark in contrast to the desert earth and dry air. He felt the pain in his leg as he moved. The German based triage hospital was the last place he wanted to be.

The curtain pulled back.

"Private Underton, have you had a schizer heute? A woman in a white coat asked. The comment was a running joke in the hospital. She gave a smirk, I see you’ve been making a good recovery. Your surgery was successful."

The doctor sat, she was a thin lady with a good bedside manner. She perched on a stool and rested a clip board on her knees with her ankles crossed. All humour aside, how was sleep last night? She asked matter-of-factly.

He couldn’t shake the dreams. Am I good enough to go back to my team? he asked instead.

No, I’m sorry, your injury means you won’t be able to return to Special Ops. She put her pen to the clip board as she clutched it with manicured nails.

As Dom shifted he saw there was a full length brace on his leg.

He was certain as he fixed his stare on her that she was a doctor of psychology and not the run of the mill variety. Why are you here? Are some kind of shrink?

I’m here to help in your recovery process.

How many did we lose? He cleared his throat.

She looked down. I believe Private Driscoll was fatally injured, by a bullet to the chest. Her mouth pinched. He bled out. There was nothing they could do.

"Dris. He frowned. Where’s the Colonel, I want to speak to Sergeant Waterman. He looked at her angrily Now."

You know Special Ops can’t be contacted, she replied too calmly. You are receiving the best medical care available.

He tried to get up.

Private Underton! she scolded, more alarmed.

A thickset male nurse came hurriedly through the doorway and held him back firmly until he quickly gave up.

Dom, the doctor addressed him and bent her narrowed face to meet his. Her thin lipstick coated lips moved, You cannot move until your shattered femur repairs.

Things petered out as she turned up the morphine drip.

2. Backlash

The first night of the supermoon Narine approached the pack confidently, emerging through the trees. The distant town sirens wailed across the hills, ringing in sensitive wolf ears. She stared at Sam, and then at the curly-haired Bianca, her eyes scaling her up and down in the darkening forest. The Mountain Pack were nowhere to be seen.

They all shifted.

We thought you were dead? Sam hissed.

The motley crew of wolves sat on boulders and stood around her, interested to hear what was going on. The new boys, Lonnie and Andy hung back, arms crossed. The dying light of the setting sun glowed through the trees. The new one, Giny, took in Narine’s interest with her fluorescent eyes—Sam had changed her.

Genna and Tyler moved in when Narine approached closer. The storm clouds rumbled above. Sam narrowed her eyes at them.

What do you want? Sam gave her a piercing stare. Her fine white hair shifted hauntingly on the wind. Shelly shot a worried glance at Bianca with her blue hound-dog eyes.

Who is with me? Narine asked. Deep brown waves of hair hung either side of her colourless face.

The crowd of wolves shifted.

This is my pack now, you can't expect to show up and play leader, Narine.

I have already recruited Caroline.

Caroline? This appeared to catch Sam’s interest. The new huntress? She's dead, she retorted and smiled. I buried her myself, she added confidently. Tyler snickered. Sam’s alarmed eyes flicked to him. Genna glared with shrunken pupils.

Narine looked a little too pleased, like the cat that got the cream. I can assure you she is very alive...now, just like me. Her thin lips pulled slightly as Sam’s smirk fell away.

How? Samantha sharpened her glare.

Narine raised her brow. Bitten.

If Sam was baffled she didn’t let it show. She gave a sceptical turn of her head. I've never seen venom resurrect the dead. Her tone hardened with confidence as her blue eyes focused on Narine defiantly.

She was bitten before she died, Narine said, smugly. She held the upper hand. She let a smile slit her lips.

But she was dead, we put her in a hole, she had no pulse. Sam looked squarely at Bianca and then at Tyler, who shrugged.

She was turned, Narine replied smugly. Just then the sirens ceased, the sounds of the forest came to the fore. The air grew cold.

I don't believe you. Sam glowered.

Believe what you want. Narine smirked to herself. My venom is powerful, and don't try your hypnotism on me, my gift is strong. I am Apollo’s chosen. She addressed the group That's why Paws chose me. He fulfilled my destiny by turning me. Her voice was deep. Her threat certain.

Sam had been trumped.

Aylish darted a look to others as she asked, Does the Mountain Pack know about your claims?

Narine didn’t lose her focus. Not yet, but soon they will see.

Aylish spoke up. What have you done, Narine?

She lifted her head proudly. We have turned the Valley. She was serious, her face cold—unflinching—her lips parted. The answer has been in front of us all along.

There’ll be more hunters.

No, not enough, my venom creates a stronger breed.

Aylish narrowed her sharp eyes in disbelief. The silence was tenuous. Things seemed to suddenly balance on a knife edge.

It's too late, Narine added. Either you are with me or you run. Good luck though. She smirked more now, with a calculating grin. Sam backed away, withdrawing as though thinking intently.

You were never a fighter Samantha. Without your manipulation you are a poor Alpha. I know you won't stand against me—you can't. My venom is strong, it's my gift. Narine’s face was stony. Shelly, Blair, Genna and Tyler have chosen their leader.

You can’t turn everyone, Sam insisted, reeling a glance at the mentioned.

We’ve made a very good start. If you don't believe me, do whatever insignificant things that you were doing. But when you are ready I will be waiting with my new pack. We are hundreds strong and growing. Most of them are rabid, but they will defend their mother…

Sam relinquished her stare. What do you want us to do?

Narine tilted her head. I don't need you but I won't kill you; there will be enough lives lost.

Fine, then my pack will stay out of your way.

I'm afraid that’s not possible. Apollo has chosen me. She backed away despite her words, creeping in a semi-circle.

Alpha is not just given to you. Sam seemed to gather herself as Narine’s threat lessened. But Sam had no cards to play.

I have Blair.

Narine had taken the boy. Blair was meant to be guarding him. Sam’s pack was dwindling. The wolves surrounding were traitors.

Sam’s anger won over. Suddenly she phased and she growled at Narine who was swift to phase herself. They circled, lips pulled back to reveal gums, heads slung low, saliva coated teeth bared. Narine was bigger. Her hackles rose and the hair stood on end. Sam’s snow white coat looked electrified as a quivering snarl pulled her lips. Her guttural growl signalled her intention to pounce but Narine had already lunged. They thrashed frantically, snarling, heads juddering for a bite. The rest of the wolves watched as they tore at each other. Tyler moved skittishly around the fighting bitches. Genna’s eyes lit as she stared on, transfixed.

If Sam was scared she didn’t show it. Narine was a force to be reckoned with. Sam struggled to stand her ground but she yelped and staggered. Narine held her down, but she didn’t stop. She went in again, tearing at Sam’s neck and growling loudly. Sam yelped again.

In a minute it was over, Narine phased into human form and stood over her, blood running from her chin. Sam got up and scampered away, tail down flat. Narine stood tall and smiled before she spat out the ichor blood coating her teeth. She snapped her tongue around to wipe them clean. Her lips hung, parted.

Narine huffed. She turned and her thick hair caught in the breeze but as she did Sam regained her stance and ran at her back. Narine twisted around as Sam tore into her shoulder. Narine phased and they both crashed to the undergrowth. She tried to shake her off but she couldn’t reach her and Sam held on, digging her fangs in deeper. Narine phased back to human skin and swung her hand into Sam’s head, so that it made a sharp thwack. Her clawed fingers dug down Sam’s furry face and her fingernails gouged into her eyes. Sam yelped sharply and let go.

Narine wasn’t done. She phased onto all fours and grabbed Sam’s foot with her fangs and bit down hard. Sam flailed, crying out in yelps as she tried frantically to get away. Narine tugged the paw up and Sam was on her back. Narine yanked her leg so that a snap could be heard. She let it go and hovered over her before she clamped her bloody muzzle over Sam’s face and ripped away her ear. Narine dropped the torn piece of ear and took a broad stance on all fours. Snarling a powerful growl that sent spit and blood flying from her bloody muzzle as her top lip curled high under the glowing moon.

She phased back into a naked woman whose face was stained in blood. Her pin prick pupils looked lively as her canines retracted. Her eyes darted overlooking the spectating wolves.

I’m pack leader, you all answer to me. Leadership isn’t given, Samantha, it’s taken. She touched her pale blood-marred face as she thrust her chin forward. There is a purpose for everything the gods create. My purpose is to lead you into a new era.

Narine strode off, through the trees without turning back. Wolves obeyed a hierarchy.

*

Sam had suffered the full force of Narine’s backlash and was left trembling, to lick her wounds. She knew then that it wasn't she who’d been chosen by Apollo and she felt foolish for ever believing it could have been. She lay in the leaf litter until her skin started to heal. Her eyes moist. The pack stayed unsure of what to do.

Sam. Giny stroked her powdery coat. Aylish was standing nearby and they looked down at Sam who shuddered and squeezed her weeping eyes closed. Aylish came in slowly and picked up her foot. She gripped it and with a quick movement tried to realign the shattered bone.

Sam whimpered a yelp.

Shhh, Aylish soothed. She and Giny exchanged serious looks.

The sun set behind the trees, taking the last rays of light from the dusky sky.

Sam healed but she didn’t dare move until the gashes had reformed and sealed over, sped by the full moon. She phased and reached up to touch her human ear. It was deformed. The chunk Narine had taken would never grow back.

Shelly slipped away into the trees.

Sam wanted to see the town for herself. Aylish and Giny had sat diligently by her side.

What did she mean that her venom was ‘special’? Aylish asked. She gave a concerned glance over at Lonnie and Andy.

That she was chosen, Giny said incredulously, her mouth a straight line.

She thinks she is the chosen wolf from the legend. Sam's tone was quiet, as though she was thinking.

Aylish faced Sam. Whatever she has done, we are all in deep shit. Sam, she has Blair and Caroline and she has turned god knows how many...

Sam nodded. Narine had control.

*

Blair wasn’t at the rendezvous spot. No doubt he had taken Bronsen and joined Narine. Sam’s face looked pinched. Bianca glanced at Aylish.

Maybe he just went to see the mountain pack? Aylish offered kindly but she tensed, anticipating a rebuttal from Sam—only Sam was quiet. Aylish watched Sam sit outside the caves, old dens used by the Mountain Pack. She went over and sat by her. Aylish thought she saw moisture glisten in her rust-spattered eyes, she looked to Bianca and frowned.

Sam?—We have to leave. Her voice was thick and her face stern.

Giny and I can scope the town and see what’s going on, Bianca offered. Maybe we will find Blair.

Blair has gone with her, you heard what she said. Sam’s tone was venomous but Aylish heard the hurt. Sam turned her face to Bianca. And don’t even think it.

What? asked Giny.

Bianca answered. She won’t join her.

You think we should? Giny replied, as though it hadn’t occurred to her. Bianca’s curls tossed about in the breeze. She looked grumpy as her face pinched in the moonlight.

"Lily would have joined her."

What did you say? Sam glowered.

Bianca just stared at Sam, with the same angry face. Tensions were high. Aylish and Giny glanced at each other.

We need to leave, that bitch is going to bring nothing but attention to us. You don’t think the police will be here? You can’t think the rest of the world will let her get away with this.

But Sam we aren’t even sure what she has done? Bianca asked.

Fine, then go and see, she snapped.

Are you coming?

I’m going to the Mountain Pack territory. They know more about the myths than anyone. They were the first to take off when the sirens went off. Tyler, you coming with me?

Tyler looked confused, his gaze wavering. Sam deliberately looked away from him. She walked to the large rock in the direction of the Mountain Pack. Aylish came up beside her.

Sam looked over her shoulder.

Tyler, Giny, Bianca, Lonnie and Andy started down the mountain. It was evident that they wanted to see the damage Narine’s plan had inflicted, for themselves. The pack was pulled in different directions. Shelly was already gone.

Sam knew that they wouldn’t all come back. Narine had trumped her. Their instincts drew them to her.

The moon shone high and round. Aylish felt a cold shiver. She wondered what Sky and Lila were doing. Sam headed out and Aylish followed. Sam snapped the thin chain around her neck. Dropping the blood-stained gold sun necklace in the leaves at her feet, she phased and ran on all fours further into the dense mountains.

3. Meat Cleaver Cuppy

Young stud Jason Cuppy had been down the far end of the farm, fixing a fence in the hot sun. Sweating it out, he worked to the sounds of the radio from the ute as he fought with coiled barbed wire whilst simultaneously working on his tan. He was shirtless and coated in a sheen of sweat which pooled in the line of sparse chest hair between his pecs. He stopped for a sandwich that his mother had made, packed in ice. Pulling off his gloves, he rinsed his hands with a canteen of cold water and adjusted his moist cap back from his forehead.

Angling back in the tray of the ute to get the rays on his already tanned chest he noticed that despite the blaring sun, the white moon was engorged in the sky. He stared up at it for a moment as he chewed the white bread, cold meat, lettuce and cheese with mayo, before gazing over the job with steel blue eyes.

After a lie-down on the tray with his hat over his eyes he decided that his dad might check on him soon so he bounced up and started back on rigging up the fence, satisfied that his sunburn would result in a darker bronze.

By late afternoon the crickets were buzzing and no one had showed to check on him. He removed his fencing gloves and got into the ute to try the radio.

Hello, Jase here? Cuppy farmhand, dad? Mum? Is dad in? He let the static stretch before trying again. Still no answer, so he gave up. It had been a long day. He was only a kilometre from the river so he packed up the equipment and started the ute.

When he pulled up in the trees, he tugged off his boots. His thick socks were drenched with sweat. He undid his belt, slipping off his jeans, then ran up to the river edge and dove in, breaking the glassy surface and making a splash that slapped the rocks. He came up and swung his caramel hair back. The water was refreshing and he wondered why he hadn’t just come over on his lunch break as he trod water.

He relieved himself in the water and played around, diving from the high rocks.

Later he tried the radio again. Curiously there was still no answer. This was why Jason wanted his mobile. His father hadn’t let him take it with him because he tended to be on it all day texting rather than doing his work. After trying to call through again he started to get pissed-off. But he knew how to drive his point home that he needed his phone. He had the idea that when he didn’t come home his mother would hit the roof and with no way to contact him he was guaranteed to get phone privileges back. He slid out the old tent from the tray and set up camp. He had a mat and a gun, and water once he had refilled the canteen from the stream. He also had a spare sandwich and a can of beans.

Leaving the radio on just in case he got a message, he sat on a rock and stared up at the full moon, all alone. He was beat from fencing and the muscles in his back ached. He turned off the radio and climbed onto the mat, pulling up an old blanket and using a coat as a pillow. The moon above was as big as he had ever seen it, the universe seemed to turn above like a pleasant dream. Occasionally on jobs like this they would camp out but only with a loaded gun. His father had been adamant about that while Jason’s grandfather had been adamant that camping was stupid and had never allowed it, which was probably why his father did.

He heard the distant wolf calls all through the night. This rattled him so he slept with the gun beside his leg. But he assumed they were way off in the hills.

In the morning he was up early, unused to the dawn chill. A pink hue coloured his chest. Jason figured if he finished the job he could get back sooner and he pulled on his shirt feeling the sting. No doubt someone would come out to check on him. He planned to complain that he needed his phone, thinking about his argument. He crouched, splashing his face in the river. When he looked up he caught sight of a huge wolf, on the opposite bank which startled him a little. The gun was in the ute. He stilled. The creature looked at him with frozen eyes and then suddenly skittered off through the scrub.

Jason stood stunned for a minute and then hightailed it for the ute. He drove with the gun at his side and kept a lookout for other wolves, wondering if there was a pack in the area. The Cuppys had one rule about wolves—‘Shoot on sight’.

He set about unrolling the spare fence coil. When he was at the ute getting more wire and the pliers he tried the radio again—nothing. He persisted but as he listened there was still nothing—no one replied. He fiddled with the frequency, thinking if he didn’t hear anything by lunch he was driving over to the house to see what was going on.

Jason made his way along the boundary, digging post holes and erecting the wire but it wasn’t even 10.30am when he decided to try the radio again, wiping the sweat from his brow. He chugged some water and flicked it on. Anyone home, anyone there? He listened but there was no reply, just more radio static.

Anyone home? Nothing. He decided the radio must be broken, but shaking it and banging it in his palm made no difference. Leaving the job three quarters done, Jason threw the stuff in the tray and got in. He sped off towards home, the tyres kicking up dust as the radio blasted country music.

He became concerned as he approached the farm house, and sped across the cattle grate. Everything looked quiet but something was up; he felt it. The four-door Hylux was parked at the side, he turned down the radio. He looked about keenly before taking the ute into the shed where he pulled up.

When he got inside, the kitchen was quiet. A quick glance down the hall confirmed no one appeared to be home. He opened the fridge and saw a half-eaten tray of fudge brownies. He tore off a chunk and went over to the C.B radio. He switched it on. It seemed to be working. He turned the dial. It was on the correct frequency. The static sounded. He looked at the fridge as he took another mouth full of brownie to note a shopping list, held with a Dolphin fridge magnet. That’s when he spotted another wolf in the paddock out front of the house. He stilled, heart beating as the hair prickled on his neck.

He hurried out to the shed, one eye over his shoulder, and leant in the open window to retrieve the rifle from the passenger seat. By the time he got outside the wolf was further away. He aimed, fired, reloaded and fired again—both shots missed the mark. The wolf was too far away. He stared out at it. It was odd to see wolves in the day like this, especially around the farms, where they were shot at. They were bigger than he had imagined them to be.

He looked to his left to see another wolf trailed by two others making a dash in his direction. He was suddenly alarmed—rather than shoot, he ran, into the house and closed the door. To his terror he heard them growling on the verandah,