It felt like eternity was packed into a minute as Nif watched, heart in her throat, as Oliver defended her with massive bats of his paws so powerful that one strike sent Baskerville flying into the oak she’d climbed. The tree snapped under the force as if it was a tender young sapling. There was no sign at all of the shaky, drugged man she’d found unconscious in the shed.
Nif crawled to the edge of the clearing to avoid being accidentally trampled before her strength gave out and she collapsed against a tree trunk, its roots a painful mess beneath her bruised limbs.
Oliver was a study in sheer power. While Daz was the quick force of a river, Oliver was an avalanche of rock and snow. Any blows he took, he shook off as if Daz was nothing but an annoying mosquito and returned his own with the strength of, well, a grizzly bear. The tide had turned and it was obvious to Nif that Oliver was pulling his blows, waiting for reinforcements to arrive. It was only a matter of time.
Nif realised their mistake when she glanced over to Baskerville’s crumpled form to see he was gone. Her head snapped around, hoping to spot him, and found herself facing a mouth of teeth, black lips peeled back, Baskerville silently laughing at her.
If this was a story from one of the manuscripts Nif read, this would be the moment the heroine would transform into something fierce. Another wolf would be dramatic irony. Or a tiny bird with swift wings — a starling perhaps — to whip herself out of harm’s way. Maybe even another bear to match the love interest. But this was Nif’s story. There was no sudden ache in her joints nor the feeling of muscles and tendons twisting and stretching like taffy into a foreign and yet somehow familiar shape. She didn’t turn into a crane like her father or a bear like her mother. Her body remained stubbornly and permanently in the same form she’d been born with.
She didn’t unexpectedly shift, but that didn’t mean Nif couldn’t save herself.
Gathering all her courage, Nif smacked Baskerville across the nose as hard as she could and screamed right in his ear, high-pitched and deafening. It was enough to startle the wolf shifter and give her time to scramble to her feet, adrenalin pumping hot through her veins.
She had no weapons. Her wrist was well and truly broken. She had no powerful shift and a human fighting a wolf, even if she was at her peak, was never going to end well for her. Except she wasn’t alone.
The earth shook as Oliver slammed his front paws on the ground before standing at his full height, well over three metres, and roaring. Nif didn’t need a weapon when she had Oliver.
In response to Oliver’s bellow, Daz growled, leaping back a few paces, the fur across his shoulders bristling. It appeared like he was teetering on the edge of fight or flight and flight may’ve been about to win. Except there was a man in that wolf skin, and an older brother. He’d distract them for as long as possible to allow Oscar and Dougie to get away.
“Oliver,” Nif shouted, his ears twisting in her direction. Good, he’d at least heard her. Hopefully he wouldn’t lash out at her. Bear shifters had awful eyesight. She barreled towards him and Baskerville must’ve realised if she made it to the bear shifter then there was no way he’d ever get his hands — or paws — on her.
Her outstretched fingers had just brushed against Oliver’s dark fur when Baskerville sunk his teeth into her calf. She screamed and fell, only just catching herself from landing face first in icy mulch. The bite was like a hot poker jabbed deep into her leg and she instinctively tried to pull away. Nif had never been hit by lightning, but she imagined that was what it felt like, except it was all focused like a laser straight into her calf, drilling down to the bone. Her next scream was a gasping, breathless one. Everything began to go hazy and the next few things happened as if she was watching a film.
Oliver reacted to her scream without mercy, twisting sharply and plunging all 400 kilos of muscle down on Baskerville’s spine. The sound of bones breaking reminded Nif of the snapping of a tree branch, sudden and horrible, followed by a hundred kilos of popcorn in the microwave all popping at once. She rolled as best she could away from the violent tableau, Baskerville whining as he struggled to wiggle free from Oliver’s bulk, but she mostly ended up curled limply, wondering if she’d ever move again.
The bear shifter made a deep, warning call in his throat that reverberated in her chest and she squinted, trying to figure out why the spark in Oliver’s eyes made her queasy. He looked about ready to crush Baskerville’s skull. Daz darted forward and then away again like a hummingbird, the once confident alpha male frightened and weary.
“Oliver, don’t,” Nif whimpered and cried out when she put too much pressure on her injured arm. Whether it was her cry or words, Oliver left Baskerville and lumbered to Nif, standing over her protectively and growling low at the two wolves. And then, finally, the cavalry turned up.
First it was the snarl and bark and screech of the first responders, their shift forms all claws and teeth. An owl with a massive wingspan swept in on silent wings, shining a high powered light from around its chest and the clearing lit up to reveal at least a half dozen massive dogs, a tiger, another big cat Nif couldn’t quite name and a wolf wearing a police vest. They leapt and danced about in the light in coordinated movement, following whistles made from a hawk flying high above.
In seconds Daz was pinned down, snapping and snarling, but he was restrained in such a way he’d be unable to move as either man or wolf. Baskerville wasn’t going anywhere, a shivering lump of fur really, and the wolf cop was speaking to him in sharp yips.
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Then human hands were soothing over Nif’s skin.
“Where are you hurt, NIf?” Oliver’s voice was like a balm. Wait, when had he turned human? Where had he put her jacket? Was he naked out here again? Someone should get him some clothes before he froze to death. It felt as if it had dropped another five degrees. Nif couldn’t even feel her fingers anymore. Or her nose. His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks as he tried to catch her gaze. His eyes were so intensely green. They’d been green as a bear as well.
“Nif?”
“I’m still here,” she murmured. In her periphery, she noticed human officers arriving. They shouted things, maybe to finish securing the area? She needed to tell them about the other brothers, but she saw another small force already preparing to track down Dougie and Oscar. A big white and brown beagle in a bulletproof vest had snout to ground, finding their trail.
“Good. You better stay here too,” Oliver whispered into her hair, breathing her scent in deeply. “You saved me and it was about time I properly returned the favour.”
“Are you feeling okay? Are you hurt?” Nif asked.
“I’m fine. Gods, I started to doze off in the brambles – the cold must’ve been getting to me – but then you shouted and that cleared the last of the drugs from my system.” Oliver ran a hand shyly through his hair, cheeks blushing before suddenly blanching white in horror. “Geez, Nif, your leg is a mess!” Oliver was stroking her cheek now, as if to sooth her pain, though Nif was pretty sure she was losing all sense of feeling now as the world began to drift away.
“And my arm,” Nif mumbled. “I think it’s broken.” She yelped, pulling away when he touched it, and suddenly everything was sharp and focussed like she’d been jabbed with an electric prod. “Hey! That hurts!”
“Sorry! Sorry!” He gave up trying to gather her into his arms – and he was still naked! Don’t look down, Nif! – and instead shouted to a paramedic in a white and blue uniform. A familiar officer joined them, his resting angry face had twisted into one of immense relief.
“Ms Saito? Are you alright?” the officer asked. What was his name again? Nolan. That was it. He was carrying an ankle-length parker, which he tossed to Oliver, not even blinking at the other man’s nudity. And why would he? They all existed in a world Nif could never be fully a part of.
Suddenly Nif felt very tired.
“Would it be okay if I slept a little?” she mumbled, her eyes closing against the increasing throb in her head.
“In a little bit, okay?” Oliver conjoled. “Soon as we’re sure you’re alright, we’ll let you sleep for a week.”
“Sapha sleeps for whole weeks at a time. Does she know? Did someone tell her? Where’s my phone?”
“Take it easy, Nif. She says she’s broken her wrist and one of them savaged her leg pretty badly.” Was Oliver still talking to her? Did someone else have a broken wrist?
Nif squinted up at him, studying the underside of his chin. He’d not shaved in a while. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. He was addressing his words to a paramedic who was studying something beyond her vision.
“She’s losing a lot of blood,” Oliver added. Something shifted her leg and she screamed. A sharp, burning pain was pressed like a hot pin into her thigh and then a sweeping cold numbness. Was this what it was like to be enveloped by fairy floss?
“Ms Saito? Can you hear me?” A bright light shone into both eyes and Nif flinched. “We need you to stay awake.”
“Can I ask her some questions?” Officer Nolan’s voice was gruff, like gravel being crushed under a truck’s tyres.
“Be quick,” the paramedic said. “I’ve given her some pain relief, but on top of the blood loss, she’s exhausted. Soon she won’t be making much sense at all I’m afraid.”
“Nif? Open your eyes.” Oliver gently tapped her cheek. When had she closed her eyes again? “Officer Nolan needs to ask you some things.”
“Yeah?”
“Ms Saito. We can go over things in more detail once you’ve recovered, but we need to know how many of the Jones family were involved.”
“I killed her.” Nif tried to sit up, to see Stella’s body, to make sure they were looking after the poor dead woman properly, but Oliver kept her pinned down and the paramedic clucked his tongue in mild annoyance even as he bound her arm tightly after another shot of pain killers. “Stella. Her name is...was Stella. She wanted to eat me and I fell and she fell and I stabbed her. It was an accident.”
“It’s okay, Nif.” Oliver was so handsome in the moonlight, the bare skin peeking out from around his collar looked like blue marble. He could’ve been a sculpture carved out of stone.
“Um, Baskerville. He bit me. He was the one who was sending the messages. Daz – that’s the alpha, he’s over there – said I was Baskerville’s prey so I was his responsibility. I think they took turns picking their targets.”
“How many are there, Ms Saito?” Even though Officer Nolan looked angry, his voice was patient, gently fishing the answers from her.
“There’s five of them all up. Four now because Stella’s dead. I killed her. Will I go to prison?”
“No, Ms Saito. Now you mentioned Baskerville and Daz. We have them both in custody now so they’ll never be able to hurt someone again. Who are the other two?”
“Oscar. He was the driver. He didn’t really talk much. Daz told him to take Dougie away...he’s the baby of the family.”
“We know about Dougie. He’s the student from Anning High. Without your clue, we would’ve never reached you in time. Where did the alpha tell Oscar to take Dougie?”
“The eastern den. I don’t know where that is. Does that help?”
“Yes, Ms Saito. You’ve done well. You can rest now.”
As if with permission, Nif felt her thoughts split apart like bubbles in a strong wind and the next few minutes (hours? days?) she remembered only fragments. The sharp surge of pain as they lifted her onto the stretcher. Oliver’s cool hand in hers. Her father’s tears and her mother’s steady words of comfort. Sapha’s warm, furry body against her neck, her purrs helping her sleep. Moira’s never ending chatter that she rode like a surfer on a wave, never quite awake enough for the words to sink in.
When she woke up properly for the first time, it was to snoring. A lot of snoring.