The hunt went well, despite the raging storm. Unlike the last group, these had been almost too easy. The prey was trapped in the caves at the base of the hill. Seeking refuge there from the elements, the hikers had doomed themselves. All he had to do now was let the others close in. They would not sleep hungry tonight.
The full moon glowered sullenly over the storm-shadowed slopes, bathing everything in icy gray light. As always, its phases tugged at the chords of memory binding his past, struggling to remind him of what he had been. A low growl of annoyance rumbled up from somewhere deep in his chest, startling the rest of the pack.
‘Enough.’ Kira shouldered up beside him, rubbing her muzzle along his. ‘The past is gone, the pain dead. Only the here and now matter to us.’
Throwing back his head, the wolf howled his frustration to the night sky. His mate was right. He knew it right down to the core of his being. Even so, fleeting glimpses of a slim red-haired girl continued to torment him. A human girl like those he hunted. From somewhere came the conviction that she was not prey, that one. Never prey. It was nonsense of course. They were all prey to one such as him. With savage determination, he turned his attention back to the hunt.
‘It is what we live for. This is all there is.’ Kira echoed his thoughts as they slid like shadows down the slope. As was their custom, the pack followed where he led.
He lay awake, lost in a jumble of thought. Around him he could hear the soft noises the pack made as they slept, feel the solid comfort of their warmth. Their strength surrounded him, supported him, and yet he felt alone. Lost. Why? They had hunted well. The pack grew strong and healthy under his leadership. None of them were strong enough to take it from him. Kira was sleek and powerful, a suitable mate. What more did he need? It should be all good—he should be content.
It was the memories.
He fought them to the depths of his being, still they came more frequently, ever increasing in intensity. What had once been vague stirrings were now clear pictures. Slowly, in spite of himself, the memory of the past he had turned his back on was rising up to claim him.
The redhead’s image haunted him. He had known her, loved her—of this, he was certain. He could not shut her from his thoughts, could no longer even will himself to sleep. He sensed an air about her now, a stench of betrayal and loss absent in the earlier memories. Another’s scent clung to her, marking what should have been his alone. Even now, he felt the urge to howl in outrage.
This was the pain that had driven him into the hills alone. He had found solace only in the wolf, in allowing his beast to swallow him. When the pack first found him, he had been drowning in his own darkness, no longer aware of who or what he was. He still didn’t know. Sighing heavily, he lowered his head, struggling to find comfort in the pack. He was their leader, which should be enough.
He really should try to sleep before dawn. He hated being awake when the Change came, hated the way his senses dulled, hated being human. The only time he felt truly alive was as the wolf.
The hunt was going well, the prey seemed no more difficult than any other. It was the first night of the full moon, and the clear night sky made following them easy. They ran them to ground in the caves with little effort, and he gave the pack the signal to close in. Carefully, they approached the mouth of the cave. Just outside that dark opening, chaos erupted without warning.
From all sides, blinding lights flared into life momentarily blinding the pack. Running footsteps thundered through the night, punctuated by human voices and radio static. From somewhere beyond the rise came the unmistakable sound of a helicopter roaring to life, its rotor beating the night air with deafening force. As a unit, the wolves turned to flee and the hunters became the hunted.
He raced for the edge of the circle of light, dodging pack mates and humans alike. One small part of his mind noted when Kira crossed out of the damning brightness and into the trees, exulting in her escape. Another noted a familiar voice among the humans. Male, gutter language with British accent. Memory flared to life, supplying a picture to go with the voice—peroxide hair and a long, black leather duster; a vampire.
As he ran, he tried desperately to bring the picture into focus, to find a name to go with it. He was still trying when something struck his flank, stinging like fire. A fuzzy blackness overtook him, dragging him down into oblivion. In the last instant before he faded completely, his mind grudgingly supplied the name. Spike!
An ungodly clanging penetrated his drug-fogged mind. Beneath it, he could hear the engine of a large truck. Blearily opening one eye, he saw the vampire banging on the metal bars of his cage. Struggling to sit up, he realized that heavy chains bound his wrists and ankles to the bars effectively holding him to the middle of the cage. Dawn had obviously come and gone while he was out, leaving him prisoner in his useless human body.
"Dog boy! You’re awake!" Spike stopped banging on the bars and lit a smoke. "Long time no see."
Disdainfully, he ignored the vampire while he took a good look at his surroundings. Two other cages sat back in a corner—both empty. Apparently he was the only one caught. At least that much was to the good. He could feel the rocking of a moving vehicle; they were in the back of a semi. Finally, he turned to look at the grinning demon.
"What do you want?" Even in this form, his voice sounded inhuman.
"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"We were never that." Despite his lack of clear memory, he was as certain of that as if it were written in stone. Every fiber of his being cried out with that conviction.
"You wound me, Oz." Taking a long pull from his smoke, the vampire leaned close to the bars. His face was a study in injured innocence, all of it false. "I’ve always been quite fond of you."
Oz. It clicked into place like a jigsaw piece. His name.
"Spare me. What do you want?" he growled out again. Something in him refused to give Spike the satisfaction of knowing that he had no inkling of his past.
"Why, I’m taking you home. I’m sure you’re just dying to see Red." Grinding his cigarette under his heel, he turned and sauntered away.
Red. Willow. Pain crashed through him as the memories returned to him in a jumbled flood. Only one thing was clear. She had chosen Her. He remembered the way the Willow’s scent had clung to the witch—the other one. Remembered too the rage that had taken him the instant he knew. Human or not, the girl had been his mate…the one light in his life. He had done the human thing in the end, bowing out gracefully and leaving them to their love.
Only the wolf in him had rebelled, driving him into the night searching for oblivion. Driving him right into Kira’s waiting arms. Kira. Oh, love. No doubt she searched for him even now. She would follow him to the ends of the earth if need be, such was their bond. That other, Willow—she was just a memory now. Somehow his time with the pack had healed him, letting him see the past for what it was.
Somehow, he had to get back. Through different eyes, he began looking for a way out.
(c) 2002 M.C. Sak