Fangs Read online

  It didn’t matter. She couldn’t save this baby.

  Despite the thought, a chill of excitement and disbelief ran through her as she noted how pale the calf’s coat was. Instead of tan like every other calf she’d seen, this one was more of a cream or off-white. Could it be albino?

  When this was over, she’d get in touch with her friend Niko Fox and ask the young Tillamook Native American if there was anything in her people’s legends about white elk. Niko would know, if anyone did, and if she didn’t, she’d find out.

  Banshee stopped chuffing and switched to a low growl. She followed his line of sight. The dog’s quivering tail and raised hackles were unnerving enough. His exposed fangs made things even more alarming.

  Not a human. He’d never acted like this around one.

  “I don’t think there are any wolves around here,” she said. “And a cougar’s not going to attack.”

  Her attempt at logic made no impact on Banshee. He’d run cougars, wild dogs and coyotes off her property, so his disinclination to confront whatever was out there made her uneasy. She was in the middle of nowhere, alone except for a strong, brave dog. Much as she loved the wilderness, and she did in ways that sometimes scared her, her environment didn’t care. This wild country simply was. It gave and sometimes took. Sheltered and exposed.

  “Maybe whatever it is will go away. We’ll wait it out. I’ll do what I have to and then we’ll take off for home.”

  The word home momentarily quieted Banshee’s growls. Then, as the deep rumbling resumed, she pointed with her foot, indicating she wanted him to start toward whatever held his attention. Instead of obeying, he remained in place. She’d be crazy not to heed his wordless warning. At the same time, she struggled to find a meaning for his behavior. Banshee had never been afraid. It wasn’t in his DNA.

  Not much frightened her, either.

  “A wolverine? Bigfoot maybe?”

  Her attempt at humor fell on deaf ears, hers included. At least she’d given herself a momentary distraction, and when she again gave her surroundings her full attention, she realized she’d made a decision. Standing here with her stomach tied in a knot wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

  “Please come with me,” she asked the dog. “Between the two of us maybe we can scare off whoever it is.” She gave weight to her comment by starting toward wherever it waited.

  Even though Banshee didn’t immediately fall in step, Mia’s attention slid to the calf. The nearly white creature had reached its mother and was nosing the body. A thin bleating sound warred with the breeze and her pounding heart.

  Because it wouldn’t run off, she didn’t yet have to kill the sweet little thing. It could continue to live while she—

  Banshee barked. The sharp, deep cry slammed her nervous system. She followed Banshee’s stare. A large, lean four-legged form had left its dark hiding place and was heading into the open toward the two elk. For a moment Mia’s mind refused to process what she was seeing. Then she realized she’d spotted a dog. It was even more muscular than Banshee and maybe a foot taller with an oversized head and small, constantly moving ears. Ash-gray with a short coat, it made her think of a ghost. Like Banshee, the gray appeared to be in its prime.

  It barely acknowledged her existence.

  The four-legged stranger continued its slow, almost casual walk toward the still-unsuspecting calf. She wouldn’t be surprised if it weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. If it was feral, wouldn’t it appear undernourished? Instead, it was well-fed with a glossy coat and large, sharp white teeth. She clutched her weapon so tightly her fingers threatened to cramp. She couldn’t make herself aim.

  As if aware that she was trying to wrap her mind around its existence, the gray stopped and turned toward her. Human and canine gazes met. Banshee growled, but Mia couldn’t take her attention off the massive newcomer. It had to be her imagination. Just the same, she swore that intelligence rested behind the steady stare.

  Accept me, the gray seemed to be saying. Know I’m real.

  This was no runaway, no abandoned family pet. It was comfortable in its surroundings.

  After how long she didn’t know, the gray swung away from her and resumed its slow and deliberate stalk toward the calf. Much as she longed to warn the calf, she didn’t because the gray might soon do what she wasn’t sure she was capable of.

  Was it possible? Could the gray have insight into the calf’s bleak future?

  Even though a part of her protested what she was doing, she put the Glock away, again dug out her smart phone, and took a couple of pictures. She wasn’t sure what would show from this distance, but she needed proof of the gray’s existence if just for herself.

  The near-white calf jumped, whirled away from its mother’s body, and raced back toward the trees. For several seconds, the gray didn’t react. Then it gathered its legs, lowered its head and charged. All too soon it caught up with the calf and slammed into the weaker animal, knocking it to the ground.

  Before the calf could regain its footing, the gray closed its jaws around the calf’s muzzle and forced its head back toward its spine. Both creatures strained, struggled. One was determined to kill, the other desperate to live. Then Mia heard the elk’s neck snap.

  “No!” she sobbed even though it was what needed to happen. “Oh, no.”

  Banshee whimpered and pressed against her leg. The gray stood over the still-twitching body as if absorbing proof that it had accomplished its task. Her hands shaking, Mia took more pictures. Then, concerned that the shots wouldn’t show enough if she didn’t get closer, she again withdrew her weapon and forced herself to walk toward the dead calf and gray. Logic screamed at her to get the hell out of there, but it was as if the four-legged killer had stolen her will. Besides, she’d spent years isolated from most human beings, becoming brave in ways she seldom contemplated. Today her self-reliance sustained her.

  She tried to engage the smart phone’s zoom feature with one hand, but wasn’t sure she’d done it right. Having Banshee next to her helped, and now that the gray had accomplished its deadly task, it seemed unconcerned with what was going on around it. If she was as much a predator as it was, she wouldn’t be worried, either.

  She’d nearly convinced herself that some link existed between her and the gray when the creature backed away from its kill and faced the forest beyond the meadow. Banshee started growling again, a questioning, confused sound. As the gray exposed its fangs, she took two more pictures. Her gaze scraped over the gray, noted heavy balls between its legs.

  Another dog stepped into the sunlight. She had no way of knowing how long this one had been there. What she did perceive was that the big gray didn’t trust the newcomer.

  She’d been wrong to call the newcomer a dog. As it approached the gray, she wondered if she was looking at a wolf. It wasn’t as tall as the gray, but everything about it screamed predator. The gray had been confident, but the wolf was even more so. It glided more than walked and its fangs were larger.

  This creature wasn’t pure wolf. Like with Banshee, the animal was a mix. She couldn’t say what all was included in that mix and, right now, it didn’t matter.

  But later.

  Ignoring Banshee’s constant growl and determined to take more pictures, she recklessly closed some of the distance between herself and the wolf. Thank goodness for childhood lessons. Her shaking wasn’t as intense as it had been, but she was a long way from calm.

  This wasn’t like last spring when she’d come across a newborn fawn. The little one had been standing in the middle of her Noble firs. Instead of chasing it off so it wouldn’t nibble at the new growth, she’d let the baby’s glittering black eyes draw her in. It had cocked its head and flared its nostrils as if trying to make sense of this two-legged thing. While keeping an eye out for its protective and, potentially dangerous, mother, Mia had whispered sweet nothings. Obviously, Mama hadn’t had time to teach her newborn not to trust strangers. Mia had slowly approached. Instead of turning tail and runn
ing, the baby had started toward her.

  A cool, moist nose had touched her outstretched hand followed by a slurp with a wet, strong tongue. Mia hadn’t tried to blink back her tears as she’d thanked the gods of nature for this precious moment.

  Then she’d sensed a new presence. Still, she’d kept the connection with the fawn going longer than she should have before reluctantly stamping her foot and yelling.

  As the startled fawn scampered toward its mother, Mia had taken off in the opposite direction. The doe had glared and tossed her head, but fortunately hadn’t charged.

  There’d be no connection between her and the two canines today. A wrong move on the part of the gray or wolf and she’d be forced to kill them.

  Hoping she wouldn’t have to do that, she took more pictures. The wolf acknowledged her, but just barely. She was certain it saw the dead calf as food. The creature was a hunter, a killer.

  No, not a killer, a product of its genetics.

  Caution and logic screamed she should get the hell out of here, so why was she snapping shots of the wolf’s progress? In the back of her mind, she knew she was doing this so she could share the experience, but that wasn’t as important as recording the impossible, making it real for herself.

  The gray gave no indication of how it might react when the wolf got within reach. She sensed they knew each other. Changing her focus, she took several more pictures of the gray. Hopefully, the shots of both animals would come out. Maybe a vet or dog expert could shed some light on the nuance of their relationship.

  Only about ten feet remained between the two when the wolf drew back its lips and gave her a view of fangs designed for one thing. Much as she longed to prevent the calf from being torn apart, she would never dispute nature’s law. At least, thanks to what the gray had done, the calf wouldn’t be privy to its ultimate fate.

  A long growl from the gray forced her attention back to it. As the dog positioned itself between the wolf and the small carcass, she recorded the silent challenge. The wolf was built for battle, but the larger gray was refusing to give way. The two stared at each other. From this distance, she couldn’t read either animal’s expression but that didn’t stop the intensity from reaching her.

  The wolf was determined to feed. The gray was willing to risk its life to prevent that from happening. Either blood would be shed or one of them would give way.

  Long seconds passed. Finally, the wolf closed its mouth and backed away. The gray watched the other’s every move.

  When the wolf started toward the dead cow elk, Mia knew she’d just witnessed something vital, but beyond her comprehension.

  After reaching the cow, the wolf circled it while smelling every inch of the downed animal. It lingered at the sliced throat, making her wonder if she’d left her human scent in with that of blood. At length, the wolf made his peace with what his senses were telling him and shoved his muzzle between the elk’s hind legs. She didn’t need to see to know he was preparing to gut the dead animal.

  Instead of running the wolf off, the gray joined him. She took several long-distance shots of the two feeding off the fresh kill, re-sheathed her gun, and took hold of Banshee by his scruff.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered. “Leave while they’re busy.”

  Banshee obviously had no objections to her suggestion. Even as she contemplated putting away her camera phone she fought the desire to stay and watch today play itself out.

  Maybe the gray and the wolf were part of a pack. More predators would join them and there’d be a feeding frenzy. She’d be performing a public service by letting area residents know what existed in the forest.

  The forest.

  A bull elk emerged from the shadows, heading toward the now-abandoned calf. Fresh disbelief gripped her, and the camera phone nearly slipped from her fingers. He was massive, with a rack so big she wondered if he had trouble holding up his head. He walked like the lord of the mountain would, every step firm and sure. The gray and wolf had stopped eating and were watching the potent animal.

  The snow-white animal.

  Not real. Even more impossible than the gray and wolf.

  A moan pressed against her lips as she forced herself to hold up the camera phone. She took a picture followed by another then another as the bull positioned himself over the pale, dead calf and lowered his great head. He licked the small, still face.

  “Oh my god,” Mia whispered as she took another picture. Her vision blurred.

  Smoke waited until the bull elk had left the dead calf and faded into the shadows before she left where she’d been watching. Her mate and brother backed away from their meal when she approached, leaving Smoke to select what she wanted to eat. Only a few months ago she wouldn’t have known how to deal with the fresh kill but her mate had shown her brother and her how to survive now that the siblings no longer dared live with the human who’d fed and cared for them from puppyhood.

  She’d been the first to notice the female human and the human’s dog companion and had remained hidden with her two puppies. Not only was her brother, Gun, taller and stronger than her, but today the source had spoken to him, telling Gun he couldn’t depend on the woman to do what had to be done. Gun needed to deal with the orphan calf. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the source ordering Gun to kill the calf instead of having her do it. One thing she did understand—Gun had stopped her mate Lobo from feeding on the calf, because that’s what the source wanted.

  After filling her belly, Smoke barked to let her cubs know she wanted them to join her. The male appeared first, his longer legs easily carrying him over the terrain. When he approached Lobo, he dropped to his belly and rolled over in a sign of submission. Lobo straddled his son’s body and took the pup’s muzzle into his mouth. Then Lobo did the same with their daughter. The interplay between father and daughter was more playful than the one between father and son. It didn’t matter to Lobo that his son was still sexually immature, he was already impressing on him that he was expected to remain subservient to his sire.

  In a dim way Smoke understood that, eventually, the young male would challenge the older one, but not until Lobo had taught his son everything the youngster needed to know to survive. Already, Lobo was showing his children hunting techniques Smoke and Gun had never imagined. Maybe it was seeing her other brother, Stone, die at the hands of armed humans, maybe it was Lobo’s ingrained caution. Whichever it was, Smoke barely remembered when she had trusted humans. These days, Lobo’s instinct for survival and the source’s commands were everything.

  That and her two pups and the elk.

  Smoke watched as her pups tore hunks of meat off the carcass. Unless the humans who’d shot the elk and the woman who’d shown up shortly after returned, her family would have enough to feed on for several days.

  Here was safe, she’d tried to tell Lobo, who preferred to be on the move. There was plenty for them to eat on this mountain, and he had much to teach his children. Besides, soon her body would be ready for his sperm again. As he’d done the first time she’d been pregnant, he’d make sure she had enough to eat and a safe place to sleep. He’d watch her give birth.

  Instead of returning to the others so she could lick Lobo’s muzzle, she gave in to another need. This one took her to the last place where the human female had stood. At first, the dog scent distracted her. Then she sat and pressed her nose against where the human scent was strongest. It reminded her of something good, moments when a woman had touched her. Another memory surfaced, that of an older man whose smell was similar to the woman’s.

  Both the old man and young woman had been gentle and kind. Smoke missed that. She also missed no longer being able to sleep on a bed and drinking clean water and eating regularly.

  Maybe she would follow the woman whose scent had triggered those memories. Teach her pups that not all humans needed to be avoided.

  “Don’t!” the source warned. “Always do what I tell you. Don’t allow your mate to feed off the sacred white calf. Revere the gr
eat and even more sacred bull elk.

  “And if possible, make the human killer pay for what he did.”

  Chapter Two

  “It doesn’t matter whether I come to your office or you drive out here, I just need to show you something as soon as possible.”

  Instead of immediately responding, senior trooper Jeff Julian of the Oregon State Police Wildlife Division stared over the steering wheel at the entrance to Osprey State Park, some five miles from the Pacific Ocean. He’d come here because he’d hoped he could talk to the former fiancée of a man he suspected of salting a meadow with apples and carrots to draw in deer. Hopefully, the woman was angry enough from discovering her fiancé was still seeing his ex-girlfriend that she’d give up the bow hunter, but there was a better than even chance she wouldn’t. She might no longer be engaged, but the woman wasn’t stupid. As long as she lived in the county, she ran the chance of running into her ex, his relatives, and his friends, most of whom hunted. Given the same circumstances, he wasn’t sure he’d take the risk, but she was his best hope of getting concrete evidence against the bastard.

  “I’m not in my office,” he told Mia. Such as it is. “In fact I’m about a twenty minute drive from your farm.”

  “Oh. Then you’ll come here?”

  Just like that she’d gone from sounding confident and a little confrontational to slightly unsure of herself.

  “I’m hoping to accomplish something right now, but I think I can be there in about an hour. Why don’t you tell me what this is about?”

  “Because you won’t believe me. You need to see the pictures I’m loading onto my computer.”

  “All right.”