Chapter 7: Angels and Wolves

Summary: Read and find out...

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The sound of wolves howling resonated through the woods, and Julia shivered. No clouds hindered the pale moon's rays from reaching the earth, and the tiny white lights interrupted the endless, dark pool.


"Don't worry Jules," Dakota reassured her. "You know as well as I do that we're close to my house, and my dad has a rifle. We'll be fine."


The couple trotted down the embankment and their feet sunk in the snow. "I'm not scared, just cold."


"Jules, you're always cold." Dakota laughed. "I can't believe you were born in Anchorage. Here." He draped his bulky ski jacket over her thin shoulders.


"Thank you 'dahling'," Jules smiled up into his lavender eyes.


"Well, my love, I can't allow you to catch a cold, now can I?" He wrapped his arm around her. The snow squeaked beneath their feet.


"You sound like Thurston Howell the Third," Jules laughed, imitating the English accent. She brushed the snow flakes out of her eyes. The trees passed by like giant shadows looming at every side.


"Yeah, too bad I don't have his bank account."


The shivering howls, now closer, cut their laughter short.

Dakota looked out into the dark of the woods. His eyes dashed back and forth searching for any movement. The wind forced the heavy arms of the pine trees closer to the earth. The snow glittered.


"Babe...babe." Jules's small voice turned his head. Her green eyes widened as she listened to the howls grow louder. She took his arm, "Let's get back inside, even your powers may not help us here."


"Yeah, that might not be such a bad idea," he turned in the direction of his house, but didn't get any further. A heavy object with claws hammered him face first into the ground. Teeth sunk into his shoulder.

Julia's scream pierced the air.

Dakota threw the thing off with his mind. It slammed against a tree. A wolf, like none he'd ever seen before, stood growling at him. It howled. Thousands of other voices answered the cry.


Dakota pushed her forward, "Let's go, Jules," he yelled. But instantaneously something ripped her from his hand. He spun around ready to throw another wolf into a tree, but frigid hands gripped his neck. All power, supernatural and otherwise, left his body.

He watched Julia whip around and kicked the wolf off. She grabbed a large stick from the ground and tried to beat it away. Wolves poured from the trees. Her cries echoed in Dakota's mind, and for a moment, he could not tell the difference between his screams and hers.

But a new sound came.

Gun shots.

A large wolf fell.

The hands that held his neck dragged him behind a tree, and Dakota watched as half the pack left their prey and ran towards the shot. He looked further on and saw his parents run from the house, down the porch and to the woods; his father waved the shot gun, and his mother held the phone in one hand and in the other a pistol. Hopefully she had gotten through to the police.


"No," Dakota whispered hoarsely. "Go back, there're too many." But his warning was in vain, they could not hear him.


His mother stopped at the mouth of the forest and his father ran at the pack. One by one the wolves leapt at him and one by one they fell. The pack's numbers slowly diminished and for a moment, Dakota's fears ebbed away. Angry howls quieted and blood stained the ground. Dakota's father glanced around the woods for more wolves. The hands around Dakota's throat squeezed harder and pulled him further back into the trees.


"Where's Dakota?" His mother called, still close to the house.


"I don't know," his father replied. "Stay there." He walked through the snow to Julia.

She lay on her back in the snow; a mutilated angel. Her long, brown hair fell across the white powder and her green eyes stared unseeing at the sky.

Mr. Stevens knelt down beside her. His head dropped for a moment. Then his big chest heaved and he slipped his fingers over her eyes. But an explosion and high pitched screams interrupted the moment. Mr. Stevens reeled around. More wolves had come from the woods. Mrs. Stevens already lay dead on the ground. Mr. Stevens ran towards them raising his gun to shoot again, but he was hit from behind.


Dead? Dakota thought. They're all dead. He felt something inside him crumble and die along with them.


"You should have left her alone Stevens."


Dakota knew that voice. One so cold and cruel could only belong to one person. Xander Collins.


Dakota struggled, but Xander had taken all his strength from him. He shut his eyes blocking out the site, but the screams remained in his ears. It's over, Dakota thought. Just let me die here. All I have left is...


Then, something strange happened. He felt his strength return, and anger with it.

Dakota shoved up from the ground and backed hard into a tree.

Xander yelled and let go.

Dakota turned around and slugged him in the stomach.

Xander sunk to his knees grasping his stomach and glared up at Dakota through slit eyes.

But another force at work dragged Dakota away. Soon, he found himself running toward the house. The thump of footsteps following Dakota forced him to run faster. Sirens and lights came over the hills near his house.

His mother had gotten through!


"I'll get you sooner or later Stevens, you just wait." Xander yelled. He ducked into the trees.


Well, I won't be around to give you the pleasure; I'm outta here, Dakota thought.