Page 46 of Bewicched

Declan parks his truck next to other cars and trucks out in the middle of nowhere.He followed the directions he was given to the Big Sur Pack grounds. He’s late, though, wanting to get as much of the deck finished as he could. He figures Logan and his buddies want to scare him. They’ll be disappointed.

He puts his keys, wallet, and phone in his glove box before stripping out of his clothes, slamming the door and shifting to his wolf form.

Unlike with bitten wolves for whom the transformation is painful and lengthy, Declan, a born Quinn wolf, shifts with a thought. One minute a man, the next a wolf. He dances from foot to foot, shaking his fur, shrugging off the magical buzz along his limbs.

Leaving the parking lot, he trots onto pack land, feels the power of it thrum through his system. A pack has a magic all its own and this land recognizes he is not pack.

He sees a cabin a hundred yards to the north and heads in that direction, alert to the sounds around him. It’s unnaturally quiet and he begins to doubt he’ll make it to the cabin before they attack.

When he’s halfway between the truck and the cabin, his ears flick back and forth. Softly, growing steadily louder, is the thumping of many paws hitting the ground. He stops and turns. It was bound to happen. With the Alpha’s insecure posturing and Declan showing up late, they’ve clearly decided he needs to be taught a lesson.

He runs, tearing off across the open field. A dark forest looms ahead. A crack punches through the rhythmic pounding of his pursuers’ paws tearing up the field. A figure silhouetted in the distance holds a rifle.

He sprints to the edge of the forest closest to him, bounding over a fallen, rotting tree, another crack ringing out and shredding the bark of a tree to Declan’s right. Weaving between the trunks, circling in the forest, he plans to come up behind the shooter.

Insanity. That’s what this is.

When he’s had to deal with other packs, he’s kept his head down and left town as quickly as possible. He intended to do the same here, but something’s itching inside him, a need to show them exactly who they’re dealing with. The reaction is new and unusual. He’s tired of keeping his head down. Tired of moving on because some puffed-up wolf is threatening him. Unbidden, an image of Arwyn, expression defiant, green and purple curls blowing in the wind, comes to mind and he has a hard time shoving it aside.

He doesn’t want to be the Alpha, doesn’t want to kill wolves in a dominance match. But, he realizes, he doesn’t want to leave her more. So, fine. He’ll engage. He’ll meet the challenge. It’s time to stop moving on.

Wolves are crashing through the woods behind him. Sloppy. They’ve been ordered to hunt down and kill an outsider but not trained to pursue silently? Irresponsible.

Noiselessly, he pads through the soft underbrush, moving up behind the gunman. The man is standing too close to the edge of the woods. Stupid. His desire for a speedy escape makes him that much easier to take down.

The pack has made the turn, their loud pursuit headed his way. The shooter turns to his left as Declan slinks up on his right. The scent of fear is intoxicating as Declan emerges from the woods, leaping to take down Logan, the pack’s Alpha.

The rifle is knocked out of his hands as he goes down. Declan’s claws tear into the Alpha’s shoulders; his jaws snap around his neck. One hard shake of Declan’s head and Logan would be dead.

The ground jolts as the pack materializes from the forest, alert, heads down, muscles bunched. They form a semi-circle around the outsider threatening their Alpha.

Declan growls, deep and low, the sound vibrating through the pack lands. He’s angry. Not only because they intended to kill him but because their weak Alpha has failed to train them properly. They’ve allowing a drifter to dismantle the pack. They should have attacked as one. Yes, their Alpha would be dead, but so too would Declan.

He doesn’t blame the wolves. He blames the Alpha squirming beneath him, trying to shift but too scared to complete the transformation. He sent his wolves to do his dirty work while he hid behind a rifle.

Declan could leave. Should leave. Can’t understand why he hasn’t already. This isn’t a well-trained pack. These are humans who get furry once a month and run around. They haven’t allowed their dual natures to become one.

It’s a dangerous practice, othering their wolf. Their second nature will make itself known in moments of great emotion. If one has not learned to listen to his wolf, to accept him as part of the whole, accidents happen and innocents are hurt.

Declan gives a little shake and draws blood, reprimanding Logan for being such a piss-poor Alpha who is more of a peacock than a wolf.

Anger, frustration, and perhaps something else gets the better of him. Before he can think too deeply about it, Declan shifts in front of the pack, picks up the rifle, and swings for Logan’s head, knocking him out. He snaps the weapon in two over his knee.

The reaction is immediate. Some drop to the ground, cowering. Some roll to their backs, showing their bellies in submission. A few growl and snap their powerful jaws. Two, however, leave the rest of the pack to flank Declan, each standing on either side, their teeth bared at the other wolves.

“I won’t punish you for following your Alpha’s orders. But know,” he says, allowing those razor-sharp claws of his to slide from his fingertips, “if you ever try to come for me again, there will be no second chance.”

One of the growlers who has yet to submit to Declan takes a step forward.

“Kill him!” Logan grounds out.

The wolf charges and Declan’s powerful arm swings, his claws tearing through the wolf’s neck. Blood sprays and the decapitated wolf’s body drops beside Logan. Two more wolves take a step forward, their legs tensed beneath them. Declan, though, doesn’t have the heart to kill more. He stares them down with the force of his will, the authority of the one true Alpha, the Quinn.

When they finally submit and hit the ground, Declan nods.

Shifting once more, Declan lopes off toward his truck. His two guards stay with him, putting themselves between Declan and the pack. He goes to the passenger side of the truck and shifts, opening the door, pulling out his clothes, and dressing. The wolves stay with him, sitting on either side, facing the field, not Declan.

He steps into his boots, not bothering to tie them, and walks around the front of the truck. “Thanks, guys, but I’m not your Alpha.” He glances back over at the meadow. None are coming. “If you can, find another pack. This one isn’t training you. It won’t protect you. It’s broken.”

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