Chapter 10

  Seraphine watched through the saloon window. The pack had come, spreading through the town. Large forms circled buildings, hunting. Terror and fire followed them.

  Join us, sister. The mental connection hit her mind hard. Feel how sweet their terror tastes.

  Her claws slid out. Eyes flashed gold. The beast pushed up from inside, and had been clawing at her control since the first howl echoed down from the mountains.

  Why fight this? You know what you are.

  Through the chaos, she saw wounded civilians cowering behind overturned wagons and scattered barrels. A family with small children pressed against a water trough. The youngest reached toward a stalking werewolf. No more than four years old. Golden curls.

  Her breath stopped as the memory came back. Dark hair. Gap-toothed smile. Small hands that had shook with fear.

  Never again.

  Seraphine stopped fighting the change. Let it come. Bones cracked and stretched. Reshaped. Muscles bulged. Claws sprang from her fingers.

  White fur covered her skin.

  She crashed through the saloon window. Glass scattered everywhere. Landed on four legs in the dirt outside the Silver Spur.

  The pack felt her transformation through their mental link. Howled in confusion. Their coordination faltered as they tried to understand why their sister fought against them.

  A massive black werewolf turned to face her, lips pulled back in a snarl. It lunged. She sidestepped and raked her claws across its flank, opening deep furrows. Black blood sprayed across the dirt street, steaming in the cold air. The wounded werewolf staggered back.

  Around the street, more pack members began converging. Seraphine kept positioning herself between them and the wounded civilians cowering behind overturned wagons and scattered barrels.

  Her head snapped up. A gray werewolf moved toward a group of terrified children behind a water trough. Nia. She recognized her through the connection.

  Seraphine bounded toward the children. The two creatures faced each other.

  Nia whimpered. Her yellow eyes flicked between the children and the larger pack members.

  A massive creature with reddish fur snarled at the hesitating werewolf. Jaws snapped in command.

  Kill them, the red one growled through the link. Prove your loyalty.

  Nia took a reluctant step toward the cowering children.

  Seraphine bent low, her muzzle barely brushing the children's backs as she guided them step by step toward the blacksmith shop. The little girl stumbled. She steadied her with the side of her head. Her eyes stayed on Nia's face.

  Nia's shoulders dropped. Claws retracted. She backed toward the alley.

  The red one crouched lower, a growl building in his throat.

  The red one lunged at the retreating gray werewolf, massive jaws snapping inches from Nia's throat. Nia yelped and scrambled backward, then turned and fled into the shadows between buildings.

  Coward! The mental voices erupted with frustrated rage.

  Seraphine was already moving. She hit the red one while he was still focused on Nia's retreat, claws raking across his throat. His eyes went wide, then empty. He collapsed in the street, dead.

  The wounded black werewolf and the remaining pack members circled. Traitor! came scattered mental voices.

  She raised her head and howled.

  Her head turned toward the blacksmith shop, eyes shifted green.

  The remaining werewolves stilled. Then backed toward the trees, dragging their wounded.

  The howls faded into the distance. The pack voices grew quiet.

  Dawn came over the mountains. Bones ached as they shortened. Muscles cramped as fur disappeared. She stood naked in the dirt road, shivering.

  The bodies of pack members lay scattered around the town.

  No going back now.

  She needed clothes. Seraphine walked back into the Silver Spur. The place was a mess, chairs overturned from the night's chaos. She kept clothing in her room upstairs.

  The white dress she pulled on was simple cotton. She braided her hair back quick.

  The living needed attention.

  Tom Halberd's forge had become a makeshift hospital. The blacksmith worked to organize survivors while Doc Bea Tiller moved between the wounded, her gray braids hanging loose from the night's work.

  "Miss LaRue." Doc Tiller looked up from bandaging Bobby Fletcher's torn arm. "About time somebody with sense showed up."

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  Martha Henley sat nearby, clutching her youngest daughter. Doc Tiller stitched the gash across Martha's forehead. The old woman's hands trembled but her jaw stayed set. The little girl watched Seraphine with wide eyes.

  "Seraphine," the girl said suddenly. "You fought the bad wolves, didn't you?"

  Seraphine's breath caught. "What makes you say that, sweet thing?"

  "Dreamed about a good wolf. White like snow. She kept the dark ones away." The girl's small hand reached out to touch Seraphine's hair.

  Seraphine went still.

  "Dreams can be powerful things," Seraphine said, smoothing the child's hair. "Sometimes they show us what matters most."

  The girl smiled at her. Another child. Another time. Dark hair instead of blonde, but the same eyes.

  She couldn't have been more than seven. Hair matted with fever-sweat, small body burning with the sickness that had claimed half of Cedar Falls. When Seraphine knelt beside her bed, the child's eyes held no fear.

  "Angel Lady," she whispered through cracked lips. "Mama says you make people better."

  Seraphine worked three days and nights to break that fever. When the crisis passed, the child smiled up at her.

  "I dreamed you had wings," the little girl said. "Big white wings that kept the bad things away."

  That was before Lucien found her. Before he offered power.

  The pack came for Cedar Falls two years later. Seraphine ran with them now, healing hands replaced by claws.

  They found the child hiding in the root cellar behind her burned house.

  Nine years old now. The child screamed. Pressed herself against the cellar wall, small hands shaking.

  Lucien laughed. "Go ahead, sister."

  Seraphine hesitated. This was the child she'd saved. The little girl who'd dreamed of white wings.

  "Please," the child whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Please don't hurt me."

  The pack was watching. Lucien was testing her loyalty.

  The child died still believing someone would save her.

  Martha's daughter tugged on her sleeve.

  "Seraphine? You're crying."

  Seraphine touched her cheek. Tears. She was back in Tom's forge. Kneeling beside living children instead of dead ones.

  "Just remembering someone, darling. Someone who should have been protected."

  "Was she nice?"

  "The nicest." Seraphine's voice cracked slightly. "She believed people could be good, even when they'd forgotten how."

  The girl nodded. "Maybe she's watching from heaven. Maybe she's proud you saved us."

  I couldn't save her then. But I can save them now.

  "Maybe she is," Seraphine said.

  Seraphine was cleaning her hands in the basin when Elias appeared in the doorway. His eyes locked on her.

  "We need to talk," he said.

  She dried her hands slowly. "About what, sugar?"

  "About what Silas saw during the attack. About the white wolf that fought alongside us." Elias stepped into the room, hand resting on his gun. "About what you really are."

  "I don't know what you mean," she said.

  "The hell you don't. I've been hunting your kind for six years." He took another step closer. "You're one of them."

  Seraphine met his gaze. "Yes."

  Elias's hand moved to his gun, fingers wrapping around the grip. "How many families have you killed? How many children?"

  "Too many. More than I can count. More than I can ever make up for."

  "My family? Were you there when they died?"

  "I don't know." She didn't move. "I ran with the pack for two years. Killed in a dozen towns. Could've been yours."

  The gun cleared leather. Metal barrel gleaming in the morning light.

  "Elias, no!" Silas burst through the doorway, Jane right behind him.

  The young marshal stepped between them, hands raised. "Put the gun down."

  Elias kept the gun steady. "She's a devil wolf. One of the things that killed my family."

  "She saved those children last night. I saw her. White wolf standing between the pack and innocent kids."

  "That doesn't erase what she's done." Elias didn't lower the weapon.

  Jane moved to Silas's side. "No, it doesn't. But it proves what she's choosing to do now."

  Elias's gun didn't waver. "Once Pack, always Pack. That's how it works."

  "Is it?" Seraphine asked. "Because I've been fighting that pull every day for years. Fighting the voices in my head telling me to hunt. To kill. To give in to what I am." She looked directly at him. "I could've let this whole town burn. Could've joined the pack when they came calling. But I didn't."

  "Why not?" Elias demanded. "What changed?"

  "I killed a child. Little girl I'd saved from fever when I was still a healer. She trusted me. Called me her Angel Lady." Her eyes stung. "When the pack came for her town, I killed her."

  The gun stayed steady in Elias's hand. "So you decided to grow a conscience?"

  "I decided I couldn't live with what I'd become." She stepped closer to the gun barrel. "You want to kill me? Go ahead. I deserve it for what I've done. But it won't bring your family back. And it won't save the people who still need protecting."

  Silas placed a hand on Elias's arm. "She fought for us tonight. That has to count for something."

  Jane stepped forward. "She's been helping. Whatever she was before, she's trying to be different now. Can’t people change?"

  Elias stared at Seraphine for a long moment. The gun remained steady, but his jaw loosened.

  "You expect me to trust you?" he asked.

  "No," Seraphine said. "I expect you to judge me by what I do, not what I was. I can't undo the past. But I can choose how I face the future."

  "And if the pack bond takes hold again? If you turn on us?"

  "Then you put a silver bullet in my brain," she said. "I won't fight it. I give you my word."

  Elias studied her. Slowly he holstered his gun.

  "First sign you're turning," he said. "I won't hesitate."

  "I know."

  Jane let out a breath. "So what now?"

  "Now we work together," Silas said. "All of us. Because the pack's still out there, and they're not going to stop."

  Elias nodded. "But trust gets earned. Actions, not words."

  "Then let me earn it," Seraphine said.

  "Tell us about them," Elias said finally. "About how they think. How they hunt. Things we can use."

  Seraphine sank into a chair. "They coordinate through pack bond. Mental connection. That's how they attacked together tonight without making sound."

  "Mental connection?" Jane asked.

  "Like voices in your head." Seraphine touched her temple.

  "Can you still hear it?" Silas asked.

  "It's stronger now after the fight." She met Elias's eyes. "I opened that door when I changed. They know where I am. What I did. That's why I'm dangerous to you."

  Elias stared at her. "How do we know you're not hearing them right now?"

  "You don't." She met his eyes. "That's the gamble you're taking."

  The room went quiet. Elias's hand stayed near his gun.

  "Right now, people need tending," he said finally. "We'll figure out the rest later." He moved toward the door. Stopped. "But you slip. First sign you've turned..."

  He left without another word.