Prince of Shadows Susan Krinard

Prologue

Maheengun County, Minnesota, 1979

The beast stalked her silently, its paws drifting among the pine needles as if it were no more than the merest wraith.

Alex knew the wolf was there, right behind her, as it had been for the past hour. She had caught a glimpse of it once: black as midnight, yellow-eyed, frightening in its single-minded intensity.

Granddad had told her almost no one ever saw a wolf in the wild, even fourteen years after the wolf bounty had ended in Minnesota. But the old wolf hunters still told tales of massive brutes with glaring eyes, cunning and unpredictable and unfailingly dangerous.

Those stories were exaggerations. Alex knew that, even though the first time she heard them she'd felt chills up and down her spine. Granddad and Grandmother had lived in the north woods long enough to know the real truth.

Alex hummed a soft, steady tune under her breath and kept reminding herself that she wasn't afraid.

She had no reason to be. This was her special place. She had been coming here every summer since she was old enough to walk; now, at ten, she knew how to roam these woods like any forest creature. Granddad had taught her to watch and listen and understand, just as he'd once taught Mother. She knew all about the animals that made these woods their home: gray and red squirrels chattering in the pines; snowshoe hares and cottontails; raccoon, bobcat, black bear, and red fox.

But none was as mysterious as the creature that trailed her now.

Alex stopped, her damp tennis shoes sinking in rich, spongy earth, and listened. She'd thought the wolf would go away. They were supposed to be shy, never coming close to people. This wolf clung to her like a lost shadow, always a few yards behind.

I won't look back. I won't. I'm not afraid.

She shivered, though the early summer day was warm even under the trees. She pushed out her lower jaw and stared up through the canopy of birch, aspen, and popple, the deeper green of pine and spruce. A squirrel scolded and fell silent as she passed beneath a spreading sugar maple. A single narrow twig spun down to bounce from her shoulder.

"I hear you, Squirrel," she said defiantly. She listened again, but the wolf would not reveal himself.

She clenched her fists. This is my place. Wolf. Mine as much as yours.

Alex knelt down, a carpet of last year's autumn leaves and old pine needles giving under her knees. Even the birds were quiet. If the wolf wanted to pounce now, it had its chance. She cupped her hands around the petals of a trillium as if the brilliant white flower were so much treasure, wealth beyond counting and far more precious than all the things her parents' money could buy back home.

"Wolf," she said. "Can you hear me?"

She waited uneasily for an end to the silence. It came with a whisper of sound, a hesitation, a soft whuff of air.

"Do you hear me, Wolf? You can't scare me."

The fine hairs rose on the back of her neck. It was closer now; she felt it on the chilled skin of her cheek and in the very earth beneath her. She turned her head carefully, resting her hands flat on the ground. "You can't make me run."

This time the wolf abandoned any attempt at secrecy. A body crashed through the bushes. Alex scrambled around and rocked back on her heels, raising her hands to fend off the attack she knew would come.

It never did. A pair of amber eyes regarded her with bright curiosity. The wolf sat three feet away, huge paws planted squarely under its body, ears pricked and jaws agape, and tongue lolling. Alex felt her own mouth drop open in awe.

A wolf. A real wolf, close enough to touch.

It was not a monster. It wasn't scary at all. She knew in that instant, between one heartbeat and the next, that she had never seen anything so beautiful in all the world. Its coat was still lush and thick, even with the coming of summer, black fur rippling with silvered light. A single splash of white marked its chest.

But the eyes were the best. They were almost human. The wolf looked at her as if it knew every thought that passed through her mind. As she met its gaze its expression changed: ears dropped to the sides, eyes narrowed, and head ducked. It whined deep in its throat.

Alex felt her face unfreeze, her body grow boneless in relief. Without any thought at all she made herself like the wolf, crouching lower, ducking her head, echoing his soft whine.

And then a miracle happened. The wolfs tail, a thick plume of ebony fur, swept to the side and back again. Just like a friendly dog. Alex stared at the tail and watched it wag, a lazy drift back and forth among the pine needles.

She laughed. The sound escaped her before she could stop it, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. But the wolf seemed to understand. He crouched, paws extended, rump in the air, and laughed back at her, flashing teeth and tongue.

"You want to play… is that it?" she asked. "Is that why you've been following me?"

The wolf barked, a swift yip of agreement. He hopped toward her, muzzle thrust forward, and then retreated when Alex flinched. He sat up again, an expression on his mobile face that looked like a puzzled frown.

Alex sat back and tugged her knees up to her stomach. "Well, Wolf, you want to play, but I don't know how wolves play. You have sharp teeth, and I don't." She studied the animal—his gawky lines and overlarge paws, as if he hadn't quite grown into his skin and bones. He looked the way she felt sometimes.

"You're young, aren't you? I'll bet you aren't supposed to be alone."

The wolf cocked his head. Abruptly he stood, lifted his muzzle to take in some elusive scent, and flashed a glance at Alex that seemed to hold a wealth of meaning.

"Granddad told me you have good families," she said. "You all stick together. You take care of each other, just the way people do."

She could have sworn the wolf nodded. It was eerie and wonderful, looking into those eyes. Suddenly, and with all her heart, she wanted to know this wolf—every movement, signal, expression. If she could grow fur and become what he was, even for an instant…

A howl, low and quavering and thinned by distance, sliced cleanly through her imaginings. More wolves—at least two of them. Her wolf stood like a creature in a painting, perfectly poised, black silhouetted against rich forest color. And then he pointed his muzzle toward the sky and returned the call.

Sensations she didn't recognize washed through Alex from her toes to the roots of her hair. She'd heard that sound before, but never so close or so real. Never with her heart. She closed her eyes and tilted back her head. Just a little push, a little release, and it would come: a cry as full and rich as the wolves'.

Cool wetness touched her cheek; she jerked back just as the wolf retreated, his gaze locked on her face. With a sad little whimper, he backed away and began to melt into the undergrowth.

"Wait!"

Loss overwhelmed Alex, a sense of panic that sent her scrambling after the wolf. Her foot snagged a fallen branch; her fall was cushioned by the padding of leaves, but she lay where she was and sucked air back into her lungs.

A triangular black shadow filled her vision. Amber eyes regarded her from only inches away. A rough wet tongue slapped across her face, filling Alex with a singing joy. She sat up, reaching for the wolf. It stepped back and then went very still as her fingers found the lush fur and slipped between the thick guard hairs to the silkiness beneath.

The wolf was afraid of her, as afraid as she'd been of him. She stroked the wolf once and let her hand fall.

"We're kind of the same, aren't we?" she asked. "Maybe you knew that all along."

The wolf whined and looked over his shoulder. Alex wrapped her arms around herself to keep from touching him again. He was a wild creature, just as he should be. She forced the lump from her throat.

"Listen, Wolf. I don't know where you live or how long you'll stay here. Granddad said your packs move around a lot. But I'm going to be here all summer."

She knew she was being silly. Wolves didn't understand people. They weren't meant to be pets. But the thought of being separated from the wolf—her wolf—so soon was an unbearable prospect. Not when she had the whole summer ahead of her.

And maybe, just maybe, her wolf was different.

She held out her hand, not quite touching him. "I'm going to come back here tomorrow, wolf. And tomorrow and the next day. Right here to this same place."

She looked around. This was a good place. She'd never run across it before, but it was made to be a hideaway, the kind she'd always wanted to make her own. A fallen pine had formed a framework across a hollow between two jutting rocks; dogwoods and ferns had grown to fill in the open spaces between the dead branches. Two yards away a stream bubbled, nearly hidden by the undergrowth.

Alex looked back at the wolf. "I know you can't tell me your name. But I want to give you one anyway, in case… in case you come back."

It was ridiculous to expect any such thing. She waited for the wolf to vanish like the wraith he was. Slowly he sat down, ears flickering forward and back in clear uncertainty. And then he nodded again; she didn't know what else to call the gesture. He dipped his head and looked up, watching her.

She needed to find a name. A name for such a wonderful creature, one she could hold in her heart forever.

"Shadow," she breathed. "You were my shadow today, weren't you? And you're dark like one."

Her smile widened. "You're like a shadow, Wolf, because you're something people are afraid of until they see it up close."

Shadow opened his mouth in a grin. Alex stepped toward him and held out her hand. With grave deliberation, Shadow lifted his front paw and set it gently on her palm, dwarfing her hand. The leathery pads of his toes were rough and warm.

Tears pricked her eyes. She closed her fingers as far around his paw as she could reach and then let it slip back to the ground.

"I know you have to go now. Shadow. Your family is looking for you. But I'll be here every day, waiting. In case you can come back. You… you won't forget me? My name is Alex. Alexandra."

Shadow whined again, and Alex could see the answer in his face and body. She watched as he turned away and trotted into the tangle of brush beneath a stand of quaking aspens. Once he looked back, a flash of yellow eyes glimpsed and then gone.

Silence settled around her. The squirrel, forgotten, resumed its raucous scolding. Until the howl came again, far away, circling back on the warm wind and bearing a promise in its wake.

The tightness in Alex's throat eased. She lifted her head, drew in a deep breath, and let it out on a soft and hesitant howl.

* * *

Shadow came again the next day.

Alex lay on the bed she'd made for herself, one of Grandmother's old blankets spread over the pine needles in the hollow under the fallen pine. A single shaft of sunlight cut down through the trees overhead, teasing her face and making her sneeze.

She was thinking of the wolf when the sunlight stopped and cool wetness touched her cheek in its place.

"Shadow!" She sat up and flung her arms around the shaggy neck without thinking, forgetting he was a wild creature. When she remembered, she went very still and waited.

Shadow wriggled in her arms and licked her face, his tail waving from side to side.

"I knew you'd come," she said. "I just knew it."

She let him go and sat back on the blanket. "I brought something for you. Leftover fish from last night's supper. I knew Granddad wouldn't mind."

Unwrapping the foil bundle she'd brought, she laid the fish out for Shadow's inspection. He sniffed it and then, with gluttonish enthusiasm, wolfed down the entire portion. Alex struggled to keep the foil from disappearing the same way.

"This won't spoil you, will it. Shadow? I've been reading more about wolves. You're only a pup and still learning to hunt with your family." She grinned conspiratorially. "But if you're like me, you're always hungry!"

Shadow squeaked and plopped down beside her, throwing all four paws up in the air.

That was the beginning of the magic summer. Magic because of Shadow, because all of nature conspired to make their friendship perfect. When it rained, it rained briefly; the humidity never grew unbearable, and the mosquitoes fled Shadow's vicinity as if he were a spirit creature and not a wolf at all.

Shadow took her to places she never would have found on her own. That first day when he rose, shook himself, and started off into the forest, Alex followed. He led her to dells full of wood sorrel and blue violets and showy orchids, almost too perfect to be real; showed her the half-buried hollow log where the lynx denned her litter and the meadow where the black bear sow foraged with her half-grown cub. She almost expected him to lead her to the place where the Fairy Queen held court. Granddad was Irish, and he'd told her the old tales every summer since she was small. Mother had done the same.

Old tales she was almost too grown up to believe in. Until now. Now anything was possible, and all the world was made of spun dreams.

They ran together through stands of pine and splashed in lakes still cool with the memory of winter. Alex would tumble to the ground, laughing, and Shadow would stand over her, licking her face until she had to get up again.

At the end of each day, when Alex and Shadow were tired, they would return to the secret place and wait until Shadow's pack summoned him home.

Never once did she see another wolf. It came to her in time that that was part of the unspoken bargain she'd struck with Shadow: only here was time suspended, the outside world forgotten. They must return in the end to their own separate worlds. No matter how much she might pretend, the forest could never truly be her home.

Alex often thought of telling her grandparents about Shadow. Granddad would understand; at least he wouldn't laugh. But her friendship with Shadow was a secret; like anything magical, it would surely vanish if she ever revealed it to another living soul.

So she took what she'd been given. On lazy afternoons, she lay beside Shadow and told him about home: how different it was in San Francisco, the big restored mansion on Steiner Street and her room with its antique dolls and beautiful furniture. She told him about the private school she attended and her friends there, going shopping with Mother and the way people said they looked so much alike.

"They say I'm going to be beautiful, like my mother," she said matter-of-factly, running her fingers through the fur of Shadow's chest.

He yawned, patently unimpressed. Rows of white teeth flashed.

Alex laughed. "That doesn't matter to you, does it? What I look like or that my parents have lots of money. You don't even know how beautiful you are." She sighed, stretching her hands high above her head and staring up through the trees to the slivers of blue between branches. "I can have anything I want in the whole world, almost. Except you."

She rolled over to face Shadow. Somehow his eyes seemed sad, as if he knew the summer would only last a few more weeks.

She thought about her friends back home, all girls and boys from families like hers. They had fun, but it was never like this. Never like it was with Shadow. At the end of every summer in Minnesota, she'd been ready to go back. She missed Mother; that was the only thing she didn't like about summer. That had always been enough to call her back to San Francisco.

Now she couldn't imagine what it would be like without Shadow. He was… some wild half of herself.

"Do you think when I'm grown up I'll understand, Shadow?" she asked softly.

He stretched his chin out on his oversized paws. With no effort at all she could imagine him a big black dog, sleeping beside her canopied bed in her room back home.

The image froze in her mind. Shadow, always with her. Not only here, but home as well. No parting when summer ended. No good-byes she could hardly bear to imagine.

Would it be so impossible? He was already tame, with her. She was sure he'd never hurt anyone. And he loved her; she knew it more than anything in the world. He loved her as she loved him. They could go on long walks in Golden Gate Park; she laughed, thinking of Eric Mickleson's face when he saw Shadow next to the Rottweiler he was so proud of.

They could run along the beach, and she could show Shadow his first glimpse of the ocean. And the redwoods.

Alex imagined it all. It wouldn't be so hard. Shadow would follow her back to the cabin if she wanted him to. He'd let her put a collar on him; Mother could arrange a way to get him back to San Francisco. Alex would just have to convince her, and Alex knew she could do it. Anything Alex had ever truly wanted she'd been able to get.

She got to her knees and threw her arms around the wolf, fighting off the strange niggling shame that didn't want to go away. Shadow would be happy with her. She knew it. He wouldn't miss his family; he would rather be with her. And they could come back every year.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Shadow?"

A low growl answered her.

Alex looked up, clutching Shadow's fur. Shadow whined in his throat, straining toward the two great wolves that stood only a few yards away.

One of them was massive and black—pure black, without even the streak of white that marked Shadow's chest. The other was gray, smaller, beautiful and slender. They stared at Alex with ears pricked and tails raised; she stayed absolutely still.

She knew. These were Shadow's parents. As if they sensed her thoughts, they'd come to reclaim him.

For a crazy moment Alex almost defied them, almost rose to her feet to drive them off. Wolves were shy creatures. They would run away, and she'd still have Shadow.

Then Shadow broke free of her arms. He bounded toward the wolves, with the playful, sideways lope that begged for play. He thrust his muzzle against the black male's, squeaking and whining with obvious joy. The gray female licked Shadow's ear with a gesture of unmistakable tenderness.

Alex sank down to the ground. It wasn't wolves she was seeing now, but a boy and his loving parents, glad to be with them again, belonging with them. Just as she belonged with her mother and father and friends back in San Francisco.

Ignoring the tears on her cheeks, Alex hugged herself tightly. "You're right. Shadow. I couldn't take you back with me. I couldn't stay here with you and never see my mother again, either." She looked at the gray female, whose sharp gaze turned suddenly to meet her own. "But the summer's not over yet, Mother Wolf. Won't you let him stay a little longer?"

Three pairs of lupine eyes fixed on her. "I won't take him away from you. I promise." The gray female nuzzled her mate's ear, almost as if she whispered to him. She shoved Shadow's rump with a turn of her shoulder, and Shadow loped back to Alex, grinning from ear to ear.

Alex buried her face in Shadow's fur, wiping away the tears. "For a few more weeks, Shadow." She looked up. "Thank you," she said solemnly. "I'll take good care of him until—"

But the wolves were gone. Shadow licked her face, and she sprang to her feet.

"Let's run, Shadow. Run until we can't run any more." And they did, leaving the world behind them,

* * *

Shadow wasn't coming.

One of autumn's first bright leaves spiraled gently down from a maple sapling, coming to rest inches from Alex's scuffed sneaker. She snuggled deeper in the hollow under the fallen tree and stared around the special place.

This day of all days Shadow wasn't coming. The last day she would have with him.

Summer had gone too fast; Mother and Father had come to collect her and take her home to California. They'd arrived early this morning, before she had time to say good-bye to Shadow. So she'd run away. She'd never run away before, and now it was all for nothing.

Granddad had sensed her sadness last night. He'd hugged her and reminded her she'd come back next year. This place would always be here for her. The trees would pass through another cycle of seasons, along with the birds and animals and cold, pure water. They would not change.

But Alex had been desperately afraid he wouldn't be waiting for her when she returned.

Shadow.

Alex hugged her knees and closed her eyes. All day she'd walked and called, desperate to find him, searching out all the places they had explored together. Places that looked strange without him beside her, strange and scary and dark.

Dark. Soon it would be night, and she would have to go back whether she found Shadow or not. But she stayed where she was, where she'd begun, at the secret place.

Hoping. Trying not to be afraid that something was terribly wrong.

Shadow wouldn't be afraid, she thought, picking up the red leaf at her feet. She imagined herself a wolf, as she'd so often done during the summer.

But pretending hadn't made the summer last longer, and it wouldn't bring Shadow to her now. Granddad would be looking for her. Father would be angry, but Mother would be worried. Alex could never tell them the real reason she'd run away.

Alex dropped the leaf, pushed herself to her feet, and brushed off her pants. The thought of Mother's distress made her chest ache. Working her fingers against the late afternoon chill, Alex studied the fading light that filtered down through the canopy of trees above.

She had no choice. She'd have to leave without saying good-bye, though it felt like tearing herself in two.

I'll look for you next year and every year after that, she promised Shadow silently. But the scared feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

"Alexandra."

She jerked her head toward the voice. It came from somewhere hidden, and she didn't recognize it. Not deep enough to be Granddad's or even Father's. She hadn't seen anyone else out in the woods today, not even the Indian children she and Shadow sometimes spotted at a distance.

"Alexandra," the voice repeated. And a boy came out of the woods, a skinny boy in a T-shirt and cutoffs, tall and dark haired and pale eyed. Older than she was by a few years. His feet were bare, and yet he didn't seem to be cold at all. Alex had never seen him before in her life.

"Who are you?" she blurted.

He blinked at her, and she stared at his eyes. Yellow. Like Shadow's. The similarity made her shiver. She thought he wouldn't answer her, and wondered what she should do.

"I… came to find you," he said.

His voice was husky and low and he wouldn't stop staring at her. Alexandra took an involuntary step back and caught herself. This was her place—hers and Shadow's.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.

He smiled. A strange, crooked smile, as if he wasn't quite sure how to do it or hadn't had much practice. "I've seen you many times," he said.

Spying on her. Was that what he meant? Spying on her and Shadow. But he didn't look like he could be from the reservation, and no other kids ever came here.

"I've never seen you," she challenged. "You shouldn't be here. This is my place, and I'm waiting for a friend—"

"I know." The boy crouched down, dropping his hands between his knees. "You're waiting for a black wolf named Shadow."

Alex felt shock and then jealousy, one right after the other. This boy she'd never seen before knew Shadow. How could he? Was Shadow his friend too?

"You know Shadow?"

The boy stared at the ground between his feet, poking at the earth with a twig. "Yes. Very well."

No. No one could know Shadow as well as she did. No one. He was her special friend, just as this was their special place.

"I don't believe you," she said, bailing her fists.

"You'll scare Shadow away if you stay here. I have to see him. I'm leaving—"

"So am I." He met her gaze again and held it, an open challenge. "Today. I came to say good-bye."

To say good-bye. Like her. To Shadow?

"My family was here for the summer," he said. "Just like yours. Only now there's a place we have to go, far from here. I don't know if I'll ever be coming back."

Why should she care? She flung a glance around the glade, hoping against hope that Shadow might appear.

"I left my parents to find you," he said. "I had to talk to you, to tell you…" He gnawed his lower lip and broke off. "My name is Kieran Holt."

The statement was so abrupt and absurd that Alex almost laughed, but somehow this wasn't funny at all. "You came to tell me that, and I don't even know you?"

The boy frowned, and for an instant there was a glimmer of anger in his mild, open face. "You have to listen to me," he said. "There isn't much time. They'll be coming after me."

He had all her attention now. He'd run away, just as she had. To find her, he said. "What do you want?"

A lock of dark, ragged hair fell over his brow. Alex wanted to push it back up. "It isn't easy to say," he muttered. "I've never… had a friend."

Strange. The boy was so strange. He wasn't anything like the older boys back home who acted so stuck-up and rowdy. But there was something about Kieran she almost liked, something she almost understood. As she'd come to understand Shadow. Maybe if she'd met Kieran earlier…

She walked a few steps toward him and stopped. "If you know Shadow, help me find him. We can both say good-bye." She looked into his eyes. "You know where Shadow is, don't you? Please… help me find him."

He let out a ragged sigh and rose to his feet. "You can find him," he said. "He's here. Very close." His smile flashed and faded again. "I—I am—"

From somewhere very close the unmistakable report of a gun snapped off the end of Kieran's words. His head came up. An eerie, familiar wail broke into a long sob of despair.

Shadow. Alex whirled toward the fading cry and began to run, forgetting the boy, hardly watching the uneven ground ahead of her. The howl sounded again, closer still.

"I'm coming, Shadow," she called. "Wait for me!"

She ran blindly, branches of sumac and dogwood slapping her face and catching in her hair. The violent crack of a second rifle shot froze her muscles in midstride.

"No," she cried. "No!"

Alex surged into motion again and broke through the final barrier of brush. On the other side lay a nightmare.

Two wolves sprawled prone on blood-soaked earth, one pelted gray and the other black. The gray wolf was very still, but the black one moved feebly, working its paws fitfully in a search for purchase, for some final hold on the life slipping away.

Beside the wolves stood a man. His back was to Alex, but she saw the rifle in his hand, and the way he stood over the dying animals with his head thrown back in victory. Alex crouched, wrapping her arms around her stomach to keep from crying out.

"Two less," the man murmured. "Two less monsters in the world." He lowered his rifle and poked at the heaving ribs of the black wolf. It jerked, and the great head slowly lifted to regard its tormentor. Alex bit her lip and stared at the animal's pain-filled eyes.

The wolf was Shadow's father.

As she watched, stunned, the spark of life began to fade in the animal's gaze. It lowered its head, and as it did it saw Alex; she felt the weight of its stare as she'd done so many weeks ago.

And then the life of the great wolf shuddered out and was gone. The man prodded the wolf a final time.

"There is one more, isn't there? Your offspring. I can't let him go to become what you are—"

He broke off. Alex forced her gaze up from the dead wolf to the place where the killer stared, just beyond the massed trunks of a basswood.

"Shadow," she choked.

The man swung around. Alex watched him aim the rifle at her and pull it up and away. Only his eyes were visible above the scarf wrapped about his face.

"Tabarnac," the man cursed. "What are you doing here?"

Alex scrambled to her feet. "You killed those wolves," she said, voice shaking. "You killed them."

The poacher's eyes narrowed. In that moment, he looked a thousand times more deadly than any wolf. He could have been about her father's age, perhaps a bit younger; his green eyes were utterly without warmth, the deeply lined skin around them harsh as weathered stone under his fur cap.

"Did you follow me?" he asked. So deceptively soft, his voice—so strangely gentle. But Alex knew it was false.

He had killed Shadow's parents, and now he was after Shadow himself.

Run, she urged her wolf. Run away. I'll give you time—

"I… didn't know you were here," she told the, man, pushing the words past the lump in her throat. "I got lost. My grandparents' cabin isn't far from here, but I took the wrong way."

Shouldering his rifle, the man knelt in front of her and cupped her chin in his hand. She wanted to wrench free, but she held very still.

"Didn't they ever teach you how dangerous these woods are?" he asked.

She met his gaze, shivering. The man shook his head.. "Foolish child." He looked up, cocking his head to listen. "I'd take you home, but I have quarry to pursue—"

"You aren't supposed to hunt the wolves." The words were out of Alex's mouth before she could stop them. Any trace of gentleness in the man's attitude vanished. He dropped his hand and rose, staring down at her.

"Wolves," he repeated. "What do you know about them?" Suddenly he bent toward her and caught her by the shoulder. "Do you know what they are? What they do?" His fingers squeezed, and Alex bit her lip to keep from showing any pain. "Did you see the other—a young black one?"

"No. No wolves." She glared up at him. "Let me go."

He released her with a little push and looked away. "I see the anger in your eyes, child," he said. "As if you knew the pain of the world. But I had to do it. I'm the only one who can. It's the duty given to me. No one else believes. No one else knows—" He broke off. "They must die. There is no other way."

Alex stared at him, sickened and fighting not to show it. Fear choked her as she made herself walk past the man to the dead wolves. She knelt beside them, reaching out but not daring to touch the thick dark fur, so much like Shadow's.

Run, Shadow. Run far away from here.

She waited for the poacher to order her to leave and wondered what she would do. She didn't know how she could delay him, stop him from hunting Shadow. She felt numb—too numb to find her way home, to move, even to speak.

Brush crackled behind her. When she looked around, the man was gone. She thought then that she was alone.

She was wrong. Someone was watching her from behind the basswood tree. Someone she knew in her heart.

"Shadow," she whispered thickly.

Leaves trembled and branches swayed. A figure moved, flowed forward into the interwoven pattern of earth, dying leaves, and fading sunlight.

Not Shadow, but the boy. The boy she'd left behind. He'd followed her and circled around to the other side of the clearing. She stared at him, desperate, praying he was Shadow's friend as he claimed. That he would help her.

But he didn't see her at all. His gaze was locked on the dead wolves, his face white as birch bark.

Alex wet her lips. "Kieran?"

His mouth worked, but only a moan came from deep inside him. All her own sorrow was in that sound, and a thousand times more. He began to shake uncontrollably, fists clenching and unclenching.

Alex threw off her own numbness. "You knew them too," she said.

Kieran seemed not to hear. He walked with short, fitful steps to stand between the wolves and spread his hands to either side, as if he could draw them up from death. And then he fell to his knees. He crawled to the black wolf, stretched his body alongside it, looped his long arms around the maned neck. His black hair mingled with the animal's coarse fur, indistinguishable.

Something was wrong with him, more than just the wolves dying. She edged closer and struggled out of her coat. "You must be cold," she said. "Here, take my coat."

It was many minutes before he responded, raising his head an inch from the wolf's shoulder. With clumsy hands Alex tried to drape her coat over the boy's lower back. He turned just enough for her to see his face.

Never had she seen such a look of open pain. The boy—Kieran—looked at her with his pale yellow eyes and broke her heart cleanly in two.

Unheeded tears tracked through smudges of dirt on Kieran's face, and Alex felt her own sobs break loose. They worked their way up from her chest and spilled free as dry little hiccups.

The boy raised himself to his knees, fingers still buried in the black wolfs fur. He made no sound to accompany the torment in his eyes. Alex scrubbed her knuckles across her face, and in that brief moment of blindness she felt cold fingers brush her cheek.

She held very still as Kieran withdrew his hand, one of her tears trembling at the tip of his finger. He closed his eyes and touched the finger to his parted lips. Her tear mingled with his. And then, as if some spell had been broken, his silence ended.

He turned his face away, lilted his head to the sky, and howled.

Alex forgot her own grief. She crawled closer, drawn to him, driven to console the inconsolable. Her hand found his chilled back. His cry wavered for an instant and then continued unbroken, accepting her presence. Kieran's grief wrapped around her, pulled her within the circle of something she couldn't define.

"Alexandra!"

She felt the boy's muscles knot under her hand. His gaze snapped toward the sound of the shout.

"Granddad," Alex said under her breath.

"Alexandra! Where are you?" That was her Mother's voice, laced with anxiety.

Kieran flinched sideways; Alex's coat slid to the ground. He crouched between the wolves, folded in on himself, and looked around with wild desperation. His muscles bunched to carry him away.

"No," she urged. "No, don't go! It's only my family—"

His gazed fixed on her again. For a moment she thought he would listen. He lifted his hand, cupped his fingers in a gesture of entreaty.

"Help me," he croaked.

Tears blinded Alex as she reached for him. Slowly, slowly she brushed his fingertips, slid her palm along his, began to close her smaller hand over his callused one.

"Don't be afraid," she said. "They were my friends, too. I'll help you. I promise, whatever's wrong, I'll help you—"

Branches cracked behind her. The boy was on his feet in a second, leaving Alex grasping air. Like a deer the boy sprang for the nearest cover, vanishing so cleanly that Alex couldn't tell where he had passed. She sat where she was, frozen, as her grandfather walked into the clearing.

"Alexandra! Eve, she's here, she's safe."

"My God!"

Her mother's gasp compelled Alex to turn. She looked past her grandfather to Mother's white face, Father's dosed expression as they saw the wolves. Before Alex could speak Mother gathered her in an urgent hug, scraping Alex's hair back from her face with shaking hands.

"Alexandra! Are you all right, honey? Did they hurt you?"

Alex struggled to find words, her mind still with the boy and his terrible sorrow. She returned her mother's embrace. "I'm okay," she managed. "The wolves—they were already dead. A hunter killed them."

Granddad moved behind her, rising from an examination of the bodies. "Poachers," he said grimly.

"God, Dad," Mother said. "They could have shot Alex—"

"But they didn't." He looked across the forest, the way the boy had run. "Whoever they are, they're gone now."

Mother pulled Alex in for a second hug, and Alex glanced up at Father over her shoulder. His face was set and unreadable, but she knew he was angry.

"I don't have to tell you how much trouble you made for us, Alexandra," he said. "We've been searching all day."

Mother sighed. "William…"

Alex swallowed. "I'm sorry, Father."

Granddad helped his daughter and granddaughter to their feet. He glanced down at the wolves, shaking his head.

"Poor devils. Some of the old wolf haters will never give up until every last wolf is dead."

Alex resisted the urge to bury her face against Granddad's ribs. "That's what the man said."

"You saw him, Alex?"

"He left when I came. But—"

Father took a stiff step toward them. "We don't have time to stand here and chat. The plane is waiting."

"Damn waste," Granddad muttered. He glanced at his ' daughter. "Don't you worry, Evie. I'll let the authorities know about this."

"All right. Dad." Mother knelt and touched Alex's cheek. "I know this has been terrible for you, honey."

"The wolves were my friends," Alex said. "They didn't deserve to die."

"No. Of course they didn't." Mother stroked back Alex's hair over and over again. "Sometimes bad things happen, and we can't understand why. We can only try not to forget the good things."

"Eve!"

Mother stiffened a little at Father's tone. "We'll talk more about this on the plane. If you're okay, honey, we'd better go."

Alex planted her feet. "No. There's something else." She looked at Granddad. "I met a boy, a stranger. After the hunter left, he came to the wolves. Something was wrong with him. He was crying…"

She trailed off, pinned under Father's stare and Granddad's puzzled frown.

"A boy, Alex? You didn't know him?" Granddad glanced at Mother. "Could have been with the poacher—"

"No." Alex tried very hard not to cry. Not yet. "It wasn't like that. He was in some kind of trouble, I know it. He was upset because the wolves had been killed, and he ran away when you came. I promised to help him!"

Father's mouth set in a thin line. "That's enough, Alexandra."

Alex pulled free of her mother's loose hold and faced her father defiantly. "But we have to find him. I promised."

"Honey, it's better if we let Granddad take care of it."

"Your mother's right," Granddad said. "I'll look around for this boy tomorrow. Maybe he came from the reservation. If I find him, I'll make sure he's all right."

They didn't really believe her, Alex knew it, caught the way her mother looked at Granddad. But they had to believe, and she had to keep her promise…

"Come on, honey," Mother said, tugging her away from the scene of death. "You need rest. When we're home, this will all seem like a bad dream."

A bad dream. It was much worse than that, because it was real. The boy needed help, Shadow was being hunted by a terrible man, and the sense of dread that had been hanging over Alex all day had only grown worse.

"I can't go. Mother—"

"This is your doing," Father hissed to Granddad "You put these crazy ideas in her head and let her wander out here alone. Eve went through hell today because of it." He breathed out heavily. "I think Alexandra has gotten toe old to be coming up here every year."

Alex looked up in horror.

"Now, William…" There was real concern in Granddad's voice. Even Mother looked as if she agreed with Father. Father could make sure Alex never came back here again—to her grandparents, to these woods, to Shadow and the boy who needed her help…

"Please," Alex begged. "I won't cause any more trouble." She felt tears slide down her cheeks. "Mother, please let me come back."

Mother only pulled her close to her side and kept walking. Father and Granddad dropped behind, arguing in harsh whispers.

I have to come back, Alex thought fiercely, scrubbing at her face. She had to find Shadow again, make sure he'd escaped. And now there was another reason as well. Even if Granddad kept his promise and looked for the boy, Alex wouldn't be here to help as she'd promised, or find out who he was, or why he had called to her with the sorrow in his eyes.

Until she saw them both, Shadow and the boy, it wouldn't be right again. That certainty hung in Alex's mind like a terrible prophecy.

She moved a little ahead of her mother, taking the first step away from what she must leave behind. She didn't even look back at the wolves. There was nothing she could do about them now. But as she walked she made a silent prayer.

Be safe, Shadow. Wait for me. And if you meet Kieran Holt, tell him I'll never forget my promise.

Chapter 1

Maheengun County, Minnesota, 1996

Alex unlocked the cabin door with a strange, nearly painful feeling of deja vu.

As she stepped into the living room, the tightness in her throat grew almost unbearable. She stood very still for several moments, eyes closed, remembering, imagining familiar smells perfectly preserved over all these years. The lilac perfume her grandmother had favored; a hint of the tobacco Granddad had used in his pipe. And a thousand scents less easily defined.

Your imagination, Alex, she thought. Granddad had been gone a very long time, Grandmother as well. They'd willed the cabin to her when they passed away thirteen years ago. Caretakers and renters had kept the place running; the last tenant had moved out before winter, but the cabin had yet to be reclaimed by its rightful owner. Her grandparents' things were boxed away just like her memories, waiting to be released again.

She'd wondered how much the memories would hurt. But the ache was already fading, impossible to sustain. The last hurdle had been passed.

Alex let out her breath and watched it plume. The air was cold; she'd need to get the stove going. Late February in Minnesota wasn't like California's mild winters. But she hadn't been back to California in a very long time.

She tossed her bags down on the old plaid sofabed and walked into the smaller bedroom at the rear of the cabin. Her bedroom now, as it had been when she was a child coming for summer visits. And her mother's before that. The white lace coverlet on the bed was the same, and so was the antique furniture, though there were darken squares on the walls where old photos had once hung and been removed.

The bedsprings squeaked as she sat down. She smiled briefly, remembering how she'd loved to jump up and down just to see how much she could make them groan. And then she shrugged out of her backpack and pulled out her personal journal, balancing it on her lap. The pen shook a little in her fingers, just for an instant. Dear Mother, she wrote carefully. I'm home. Home. A real home after so many years of wandering;

The place she'd dreamed of when she was out in the wilds of Alaska and Montana and Idaho, on her belly in the dirt or snow, tracking wolves. The one childhood fantasy she'd allowed herself. The single connection to the past she hadn't severed.

The last haven where she'd ever truly believed in miracles.

Alex set down the journal and went to the tiny closet. Boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling. All the little things that had belonged to her grandparents, packed away by someone she'd never met.

Hers now. She pulled one box from the stack and pried open the dusty cardboard flaps.

There was no rhyme or reason to what lay in the box. Granddad's pipe was wrapped in several layers of yellowing tissue; she put it against her nose. The faded, earthy scent almost brought tears to her eyes. Under the pipe was a floral print box, stacked with Grandmother's pressed flowers. And pushed into the corner…

Alex lifted out the stuffed animal and held it to her chest. The fake fur was matted, though the toy wolf had hardly been played with at all. Granddad had given it to her the summer after the accident, when she came out of the hospital for the first time. The summer she'd wanted so badly to find Shadow again, and the boy.

Of course she never had. She'd been too weak from the operations, too blind with grief, and Granddad had tried to console her with this.

She stared into the closet and stroked the stiff synthetic fur over and over. It wouldn't have made any difference even if Granddad hadn't died. She'd never have found Shadow or the boy again. And yet she could almost feel them here, as if that magical summer were only yesterday.

She didn't believe in magic anymore. And yet… and yet she almost had to struggle against an absurd desire to believe again. It was safe to do that here, enveloped in a cocoon of memories.

She tucked the stuffed animal back in the box, closed the closet doors, and reached for the journal.

You were always an optimist, Mother. You always thought things worked out for the best. You even told me that the day before you died.

Maybe you were right. Things do have a strange sort of pattern. I found my profession after I lost you and Granddad and everyone else. Now I'm in the perfect place to carry out my research, right in the middle of wolf territory. Exactly where I want to be.

She closed the journal and set it on the beside table. She retrieved her suitcases, unfolded her clothing and stacked flannel shirts and wool-lined pants neatly in the chest of drawers. There wasn't much to put away. She'd been traveling light for years. Everything she owned was practical and comfortable. Luxury was hardly essential in her line of work.

Essentials were really all that mattered.

Alex finished in the bedroom and hesitated in the short hallway, looking around the cabin. She had everything she could possibly need here, including privacy. Privacy and quiet and her work with no disruptions. Exactly what she wanted.

Out in the living room her own few boxes waited, the equipment she'd already half unpacked and books to occupy Granddad's empty shelves. Every book on wolves that had ever been published, including those Mother had bought her before the accident.

There were books of fairy tales, too—the ones she'd loved as a child. The ones Mother had passed down to her and Granddad had read to her so many times. All in one box, still sealed with the same tape she'd used to close them up the week after her graduation from college.

She was almost tempted to open the box again. Maybe it would be… okay to do it here. But not now. Now there was a restlessness in her that would not be denied.

She flipped back the handmade muslin curtains from the living room window and stared out at snow that stretched across the clearing in a carpet of white, marred only by the tracks of her truck along the buried gravel driveway. She needed supplies in town, but there was something else she needed more.

Something that was waiting for her. Out there.

She shivered. Crazy, Alex. Nothing will be the same. Still, there was no good reason she couldn't begin exploring the area this afternoon—and start her search for wolf sign. It was the middle of wolf mating season in Minnesota, and there'd be a few weeks at least before she'd meet the other members of the wolf research team; time enough to get familiar with the area again.

A flash of dark motion caught her gaze, vivid against the snow. She rubbed away the condensation of her breath on the glass. There it was again—a black blur too large to be a raven.

She'd seen that shape too many times to doubt it now. It was a wolf—a lone wolf, there one instant and gone the next. Right on her own front lawn.

She opened the door and stared out toward the edge of the woods. A bold animal, to be sure, coming so close to human habitation. Even Shadow had never been anywhere near the cabin. But it meant the wolves were very near, and she'd be able to track them, study them intimately as she longed to do again. Here, in her own place, where it had all started.

Mother would have said it was proof that things were going to work out. A burst of simple happiness caught Alex unawares. Maybe it wasn't asking too much, to let herself feel it here. Maybe…

"Hello!"

Alex started. It was no wolf this time but a person, crossing the clearing on snowshoes. North, from the direction of the reservation.

The woman was Ojibwe. Alex had seen Indians before as a child; Granddad had pointed out the rough boundary where his land butted up against the reservation's border. Mother had played with children from the rez when she was young. But Alex had never really talked to any of them during her summers here, not even in town.

"You're the wolf lady, aren't you?"

The voice was husky, pleasant, and devoid of mockery. Its owner was several inches shorter than Alex's modest height, stocky under a heavy coat, with straight dark hair cropped at chin level. Black eyes in a web of sun wrinkles fixed on Alex.

Run. That was always her first instinct, the one Alex hated and had fought the past seventeen years of her life. It could still catch her like a kick to the stomach when she wasn't prepared: run and hide away from strangers who would look at her face and judge, or ridicule, or pity.

That was the first instinct, but the second had been stronger since the day Father sent her to boarding school with only half her reconstructive surgery complete.

Stand your ground. Fight. Don't let them win.

Like a wolf defending its territory. She imagined herself a wolf as she'd done so many times: strong and beautiful and certain of her place in the scheme of things. She straightened and waited on the porch as the woman thrust out a mittened hand.

"Hi. Hope I didn't startle you. My name's Julie… Julie Wakanabo. Heard you were our new neighbor, so I came to introduce myself."

Julie wasn't conventionally pretty, but her smile was open and warm, as if she had never seen the ugliness in the world. Alex took her hand and squeezed it firmly, holding Julie's frank gaze.

"Alexandra Warrington," she said. The fragile image of herself as a wolf shattered; she was only Alex again, her terrible flaws reflected in the eyes of a stranger.

Look your fill. I know what you see.

Clouds of beautiful red hair—her mother's hair—framed a face that should have been equally beautiful. It still resembled Eve's enough that her father hadn't been able to bear looking at his daughter after the accident.

But her skin wasn't her mother's smooth, porcelain complexion. It was still a patchwork, puckered with striations from the original stitches, discolored where her fair skin had formed rough, leatherlike patches. The worst swath of scar tissue extended from her left temple to her jawbone.

She hadn't looked in a mirror for over a decade, but she knew what she looked like. She'd heard voices aplenty describing her. Children's, at the boarding schools. Look at her! Gross. Some soft, some in taunts and shouts. Later the voices of peers—those always in whispers. And the looks, full of pity and curiosity.

Over the years her face had improved, with surgery and time. But it had never been enough.

"I can't stand the sight of you." Father's last words to her, the day of her graduation from college. And Peter's:

"Do you think you're going to find anyone else when I'm gone?" Voices that never quite went away. She'd stopped looking in mirrors long ago, but the voices told her what she was.

The bride of Frankenstein. Only she'd never be anyone's bride.

"… just dropped by to welcome you, and ask you if…"

Alex snapped out of the past. This voice was in the here and now, and she was still clutching Julie's hand in a death grip. She let go quickly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."

Julie didn't react to her brusqueness. Her smile remained uncomfortably warm. "I'm sure you've got a lot to do, moving in and all. I didn't want to bother you. But I wanted to make sure it's okay if the kids wander onto your land sometimes." She made a wry face. "Sorry. I mean my nieces and nephews and brothers and sisters and their friends. You know the south border of the rez is only a couple miles from here, as the crow flies, and the kids—well, it's sort of their backyard, if you know what I mean. Didn't want you thinking we were trespassing or anything."

Alex quelled her instant reaction and wrapped her arms around her ribs. She'd already begun to think of this as her sanctuary, where she could be left alone to do her work. Already that modest hope was being taken away from her. Kids roaming all over her woods, scaring away the wildlife…

"They won't be any trouble," Julie said. Her expression was suddenly grave, and the serious look seemed somehow foreign to her round, pleasant face. "They won't interfere with your work, I'll make sure of that."

Alex forced herself to relax. Julie wasn't staring at all, wasn't challenging her. There was no threat here. It didn't make any sense to antagonize her neighbors.

"Do you… want to come in for coffee?" she asked awkwardly.

Julie shook her head. "I'm willing to bet you don't even have your coffee maker unpacked yet. Anyways, I'll want to bring the kids over so you can see they're not so bad." She grinned. "Pretty good kids, actually. And since your mom and mine used to play together—"

"Your mother knew mine?"

"Yeah. A long time ago. Knew your grandparents, too." Quick as summer lightning her expression sobered again. "We heard about your mom. I'm sorry."

Sorry. Sorry about something that had happened seventeen years ago. But Julie still wasn't staring at her face, and there was no pity in her eyes.

Alex looked away. "Thanks. About the kids…" She flexed her fingers on her arm. "No snowmobiles. No guns. It's important that the animals, the wolves, feel safe here."

"I understand. I'll keep them in line, and they won't come too far in. Thanks."

As simple as that. Alex ventured a smile and tested the unfamiliar feeling of satisfaction. Someone—another human being—had needed something from her and she'd given it. Such a small thing, really. It hadn't hurt at all.

"You sure you… won't come in?" she ventured.

"Can't. Got to get back to the rez. But listen—" Julie pushed her hand into the front pocket of her coat and searched it thoroughly before switching to the other. "Damn, I know it's here somewhere. Ah!" She grinned and pulled out a smudged, wrinkled card and held it out. "I'm Merritt's resident mechanic, by the by. You got a pretty nice truck there, but you never know. You bring her in if you need anything and the repairs will be on me."

Alex took the card. "That's very nice of you."

"It's nothing." Julie lifted one show shoe-clad foot and knocked caked snow from the bottom. "I'm sure we'll see each other in town. I'm there most days. You drop by my shop on Pine Street and we'll chat some more. I'd like to know about this work you're doing with the wolves." She met Alex's eyes. "We're Wolf Clan, you know."

Alex watched Julie make her way across the clearing and vanish among the trees. Wolf Clan. She went back inside and into her bedroom, hardly feeling the warmth of the fire she'd started in the stove. She opened her journal to the page she'd left.

Julie Wakanabo. I like her. But I'm afraid, Mother.

She paused, reminding herself that no one would ever see the words she wrote here. No one else would know how afraid she was.

I know what you'd say. Maybe I will talk to her again. But once I'm working, I won't have much time to socialize.

Socialize. The word sounded false and forced and alien. She hadn't had any friends in school. And long months in the field alone, tracking and studying wolves, hadn't added anything to her minimal expertise with people. Her work had given her every excuse to avoid them.

I know wolves better than I'll ever know people. And the wolves need me—here as much as in Montana and Idaho. No matter what else happens, I'll still have that.

She hesitated a very long time before she wrote the next line. I was happy here once. Maybe I can be again.

Happy, yes. Happy if she could just stay out here, alone with her wolves.

She ended the entry as she always did.

I'm sorry, Mother.

She closed the journal and put it back on the bed table. She couldn't put off going into town much longer. And she couldn't expect anyone else in Merritt to be like Julie Wakanabo.

She wondered if anyone would remember her at all, that beautiful and naive little girl who'd suddenly stopped coming so many years ago.

Alex shrugged into her coat and headed for the door, gathering her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, pulling it smooth until her entire face was exposed.

"They'll have to get used to me sooner or later."

But she still felt the same way she had that first day at boarding school. Exactly the same.

Alex flexed her fingers into fists and strode out the door.

* * *

She was the one.

He knew her scent as he knew his own. She was the lost one, the companion, whose words still lived within his mind.

He followed her as she scouted the woods each day, tracking the other wolves whose territory this was; watched from cover when she found his prints in the snow. She had seen him once or twice, when he'd been less than cautious, but there was no fear in her. That was as it should be. She had never been afraid in that time Before.

Before. The memories returned in images brief and blinding as sunlight striking snow crystals. Feelings he was only beginning to comprehend. Needs that were part of the other self he had almost forgotten.

He had heard her voice, and it was the same and different. "I'll help you," she had said, Before. "Don't go, don't be afraid, I'll help you…"

His other self remembered pain and loss. Time had no meaning to the wolf he was, but to the other it was terribly real. Time passing, and mysterious purposes left unfulfilled. He wanted to run from the new thoughts, but she held him here.

And there was something else that spoke to him, something that had emerged out of nowhere to speak inside his head. Go back, it said. Remember what you are.

The scents of mating came to him on the late-winter winds; he heard the nearest pack squabbling as they prepared for the season of new life. Only he ran alone. But there was a great urgency inside him, and it would not be laid to rest until he went to her as he had done in the time Before.

You must go back.

He flung new-fallen snow from his coat as she returned to her den, and thought of his empty belly. A hunt—long and arduous, because he always hunted alone—and then rest. His other self knew there was more, much more. Soon there would be an end to hiding. Soon he would go back. Soon they would be together again.

Soon.

He turned on his paws and melted into the shadows of the forest.

* * *

" 'Those God-cursed wolves."

"A guy could die of old age before those government people get out here to do what they were hired to do."

"You got that right. Damned if I'll sit around and watch those wolves tear up another of my cows."

Alex paused behind the shelf of canned vegetables, her hand tightening around a jar of pickles. The small general store in Merritt was a favorite gathering place for the local farmers and anyone else in the mood for chewing the fat. It was also the place to hear the latest town gossip, and during the two weeks since her arrival Alex had taken advantage of that fact as often as the natives.

She made it a point to learn who her enemies were.

"What d'ya think, Sigurd? What do you say we take care of this ourselves?"

Silence followed, as if the other farmers were acknowledging the seriousness of the question. Alex set down the jar and moved along the aisle, crouching to keep the top of her head from rising above the boxes on the highest shelf.

"I don't know, Howie. I've seen that black wolf. He's big. If he's anything like the one a few years back—"

"The one old man Arnoux was after," Howie said, his voice heavy with significance. "Five years ago. The same time that girl was found torn apart near the reservation."

Alex waited tensely. There was a silence full of unspoken meaning. Boots shuffled on the wet floor.

Dutch, an older man Alex had always known to be reasonable and levelheaded, gave an inelegant snort. "Hey, now. The police said that was a man's work. No wolf—"

Howie rounded on the older man. "I saw the body. I don't give a damn what the cops say. I know what Arnoux belie

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 665