Chapter 69: Beast

When they reached the head of the trail, Clay turned and peered back at the cabin. Following his gaze, the sisters saw a snowmobile parked at the far end of the deck.

"There wasn't a truck," Dawn said.

He glanced at Dawn. "What?"

"I was just thinking," Dawn said. "Dennis must have driven to the snowmobile shed in a truck, but there wasn't one on the road. Whoever killed him must have taken it, presumably so none of his neighbors would notice. Are you thinking we should do the same with the snowmobile? Put it back in the shed?"

"Good idea, but I was just looking for a faster way out of here. I don't want to be caught on a trail if those wolves come back."

"All of us are not going to fit though," Buffy said. "Two of us will have to Change if we take it."

"Dawn and I will," Clay said. "Once we have it started."

A howl reverberated through the night. Another answered. The sisters tracked the sound.

"At least a mile off," Dawn said. "With luck they'll stay there. But if we can take the snowmobile and return it to the shed, we should."

They went back inside to find the keys. They didn't. Either the mutts took them for the truck or they'd buried them in Dennis's pocket.

Clay tried to hot-wire the snowmobile. After about twenty minutes, he settled back on his haunches and growled at the offending vehicle. "I remember how to do it with cars and the basic principles are the same but…" Another growl. "Machines. I'm a lot better at disabling them than starting them."

"Shocking." Dawn said as she and Buffy hopped off the edge of the porch. She grinned at her sister and then looked at the snowmobile. "Discharge and bring life."

The snowmobile suddenly came to life as it started. They took the snowmobile back to the shed. Then they headed for the SUV.

They could still hear the distant song of the wolves, so they relaxed, knowing they were far off. They talked about Logan, Joyce and Anne and the school dilemma—a good distraction.

Clay moved into the lead as the moon slid behind cloud cover. "Kindergarten is a waste of time."

"Says the guy who got kicked out," Dawn said.

"I wasn't kicked out."

"No, they just strongly suggested that Jeremy reconsider your readiness for school … and preferably find you another one to attend," Dawn said.

"Damned private schools. Elitist snobs."

"True. A public school would never get so worked up over a student dissecting the classroom guinea pig," Buffy said.

"It was already—"

"—dead.," Savannah said as Clay looked at her. "Even I heard the story, Uncle Clay."

"Which really wasn't the point," Buffy said.

"The point was that they failed to recognize my academic potential, and Logan is going to run into the same problems."

"You and Dawn will tell his teacher he's allergic to guinea pigs," Buffy jokingly said.

Clay let a branch fling back. Buffy caught it before it hit her face.

"I'd agree," Dawn said. "If Logan wasn't the one wanting to go to—"

"Mom," Savannah said as Buffy looked at her. She saw her daughter was looking out into the forest.

Buffy followed her daughter's gaze. A pair of eyes appeared from the darkness. Then another. And another. "Shit," she said. "But we just heard them miles—That was another pack."

Clay stepped toward the sisters and Savannah, trying to protect his mate, niece and his future Alpha. Savannah, Dawn and Buffy counted eleven pairs of eyes, and a couple darker shapes farther back. A huge pack.

"Hear anything?" Clay asked.

"No," Savannah said.

The wolves were silent, pale statues against the night, eyes glinting where the moonlight pierced the canopy.

"I think they'll leave us alone," Clay said.

"Just curious?" Dawn asked.

He nodded and slipped behind Dawn. "Keep walking. I'll keep a watch on the rear. No sudden moves or loud noises."

For the first ten paces, the wolves stayed where they were. Then their eyes disappeared as they turned and started gliding along, still silent, keeping their distance, flanking us as they walked.

A wolf stopped in one of those moonlight slices. Its head swiveled as it looked the other way, deep into the forest. Another wolf stopped, then another, their gray shapes all turning.

One let out a low whine. Another growled. Clay tugged Savannah, Buffy and Dawn back against him, his chin lifting, eyes searching, but the wolves paid them no attention. Then, on the wind, a scent whipped past, heavy and musky, the stink of it clinging to my throat.

Clay's face lifted, nostrils flaring. "What the hell is that?"

Buffy and Dawn took another sniff, but smelled only clean air now. The wolves hadn't budged. The sisters swore they could feel the wolves anxiety thrumming through the air.

The same wolf growled again. A bigger one twisted and snapped, like a grown-up telling a teenager to shut up. The younger wolf's ears lowered and his grumble vibrated across the air, but didn't rise to a growl again.

And then, as if in reaction to a command, the wolves all turned and started to run, tearing back the way they'd come, paws pounding.

Only one remained—the wolf farthest from them, a dark shape the sisters hadn't noticed hidden behind his lighter brethren. He stood his ground, hackles up, and even from there, they could hear the low warning growl.

The moon slid from behind wispy clouds, beaming light into the dark pockets between the trees, and the sisters got a good look at him—not a black wolf but a dark red one, nearly twice the size of the others. It was the one Dawn had seen at the window. The wolf that she'd been sure, for a moment, wasn't a wolf at all.

A smaller gray wolf ran back, lunging and dancing in front of the dark wolf, then darting behind him and nipping at his heels. He looked out into the forest. The smaller wolf bumped him, whining. He snorted and turned toward Savannah, Clay, Buffy and Dawn, green eyes meeting Buffy's. Then he took off after the others.

"Did you see…?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah," Buffy and Clay said.

"Was that …?" Dawn said.

"Yes," Savannah said. "He's why I got the sensation of not wanting to teleport."

A werewolf with a wolf pack? Dawn took a step off the path, but Clay and Buffy caught her arms.

"I want to check his scent," Dawn said. "See whether he was one of the mutts who killed Dennis.

"We'll come back," Buffy said. "Right now, we need to get to the truck before we find out what scared them off."

"Whatever it was, I think it's gone. I only caught that one whiff," Dawn said.

"I know," Buffy said. "I only caught the one whiff also. But I still don't want to stick around."

Clay kept his fingers on Dawn's arm even though Buffy had released her sister. Clay was guiding Dawn along the path.

"Did it smell like wolf to either you?" Dawn asked.

"Wolf?" He pursed his lips, considering it. "I thought it might, but I was picking up the wolves following us. With that stink, I was going wolverine. If it made the wolves run, though, I'm guessing bear."

"There was no bear," Savannah said. "If it was just one or two, they might have run, but with so many there was no way."

He prodded them forward when they slowed. "Did you see that stuffed one in the hotel lobby? Damn near eight feet tall. I see anything that big, I'm running, too."

As they walked, it seemed to get darker, even the glow of the cloud-covered moon erased from the night sky. Then a scent wafted past them, that awful musky smell coming from downwind meaning it was right beside—

Clay spun, his fist in flight, eyes widening as he realized he'd led with his bad arm. He checked himself, his left punching as Savannah and the sisters wheeled. Something plowed square into Buffy's back, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her feet flew off the ground and she braced herself for a fall. Instead she jerked up short, legs windmilling, suspended in the air, that stench washing over her, held aloft by the back of her coat. As she twisted to see what had her, Savannah, Dawn and Clay pile-drove the beast. It grunted in surprise, and Buffy went flying, her jacket ripping.

Buffy slammed into a tree. Pain exploded. As she tumbled into a heap at the base, she blinked, barely able to see. Dawn and Clay's faces appeared over hers. They gave a whoosh of relief, seeing Buffy's eyes open.

Before Buffy could speak, trees crackled, branches snapping. A snarl. Then a snort. Clay and Dawn spun, fists sailing up. Savannah pulled her mother into her arms, despite protests that she was fine and that her Slayer healing would take care of the damage. The crashing continued, growing distant. Clay and Dawn waited, poised for a fight. When they were sure the beast was gone, Clay and Dawn moved beside Savannah and touched her shoulders and they disappeared in a flash of green.

When they appeared at the SUV, Savannah helped Buffy inside. As Savannah stepped back Clay was in there trying to check Buffy's injuries, but Dawn pushed him away.

"Drive," Dawn said. "Even the extra vehicle insurance isn't going to cover a bear attack. I'll take care of Buffy."

Clay swung into the driver's seat, as Savannah and Dawn swung in beside Buffy in the back seat. Clay had the tires spinning before the door slammed shut. He tore to the end of the trail. When they reached the end of the next one, he pulled over.

"The blood is from her nose," Dawn said, holding a handful of tissues to it. "It's not even broken."

He said nothing, he got out and came around beside Dawn to assess the damage to his future Alpha himself. Savannah cleaned Buffy up and when she was done, she checked for other cuts and found two scrapes.

"Jacket off," Dawn ordered.

Buffy didn't argue this time, knowing there was no point as Dawn would have kept right on insisting.

Savannah helped Buffy out of her jacket. As she pulled it away, Dawn saw four long tears in the back, tiny feathers fluttering out like snowflakes.

"Shit," Dawn said as Buffy turned to look.

Buffy wanted to ask what had attacked her—a bear, she presumed—but the set of Savannah, Dawn and Clay's jaws said none of them were ready to talk yet.

Dawn checked her sister's ribs and neck. When she finished, she stood and looked at Clay.

"Mom," Savannah whispered. "I can't hear Aunt Dawn in my head."

Buffy was sure that Dawn had closed off her and Savannah from the telepathy. She was sure her sister and Clay were discussing what happened. Then Clay's nostrils flared, breath puffing, then he wheeled, fist slamming into the nearest tree.

"Fuck!" He hit the tree again, so hard it groaned. "I used the wrong fucking arm. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Buffy slid from the SUV and stepped in front of him, grabbing his fist as it flew again. "That thing could have killed you, Buffy," he said. "All because I led with the wrong fucking arm."

His fist drove toward the tree and with Slayer speed Buffy caught it, held both his hands tightly, and then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "This is one time I'm glad you were watching my back," Buffy said. "If it hadn't been for you, Savannah and Dawn. No amount of Slayer healing would fix me if whatever that was had finished me off. Especially if it had managed to tear my head from my body."

Clay looked at Buffy and then nodded as he helped her into the car.

"So, what was that?" Buffy asked as Clay and Dawn got in. "A bear?"

"All we know for sure it was something big and hairy," Clay added. "We were busy watching you get tossed around by it."

"It was strong, whatever it was," Buffy said, rubbing her sore neck.

"We tried to get a better look as it ran away, but it was too dark," Dawn said.

Buffy nodded. "I think it did that on purpose."

"What?" Clay said.

"It waited until the moon was completely behind the clouds, then stayed downwind so we wouldn't smell anything until it was right beside us. One very smart predator," Buffy said

"A bear's not that smart," Dawn said. "But a yeti might be."

Clay looked over sharply at Dawn. "The yeti is from the Himalayas, darling. That'd be a helluva swim. Around here, it'd have to be a Sasquatch or Bigfoot."

"I stand corrected, professor," Dawn said with a roll of her eyes. "But on that subject, I wonder if that thing has anything to do with Dennis's research. He saw it and was trying to figure out what it was."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Clay said. "We need to go over those notes. First, though, I want to find a grizzly—or at least a stuffed one. Get a good whiff of that."

Buffy nodded. "Cross off the mundane possibilities before we start looking at the supernatural ones. And speaking of supernatural, what was up with that mutt? A werewolf running with a wolf pack?"

"There's stuff like that in the Legacy," Dawn reminded her sister.

They reached the highway. It was so empty that they had to check the clock. Not even ten o'clock? Hard to believe.

As Buffy ratcheted back her seat to rest, Dawn noticed Clay gripping and ungripping the steering wheel with his right hand, flexing it.

"It's as good as it's ever going to be," he said when he noticed Dawn watching. "I can do all the physical therapy I want, but it's not getting any better."

"Even at less than perfect, it's a damned sight better than most," Dawn said.

No answer.

Dawn continued, "We've suspected for a while that you've hit the limits of rehabilitation. Now we need to keep working on rerouting those neural pathways, teaching you to favor the left, which in most cases you do."

"Not tonight," Clay said as he looked in the rearview mirror at Buffy.

"Because you were surprised," Buffy said when she noticed Clay looking at her.

"So, we need to work on your reactions when you're caught off guard," Dawn said. "Jeremy can help—no one's better at sneaking up. And if we can't break you of the habit, you might be better to lead with your right and follow up with your left rather than pull back."

"Yeah." His shoulders relaxed. "That's an idea." He glanced at the sisters. "I don't mean to brood."

"You're frustrated," Dawn said. "As the queen of fretting, I'm certainly not going to complain."

Buffy smiled at her sister. Even after two hundred years Dawn still fretted over Buffy every time her sister came home hurt from a patrol. Buffy leaned forward and placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. As she silently thanked her sister for worrying about her.

They went through a burger drive-through. That served appetizers, which were gone before they reached the hotel where they ordered last-minute room service—a couple of decent Alaskan crab sandwiches each and a big bowl of seafood chowder then they separated.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy woke before seven, which seemed plenty early given their long day and late night, but there were already two messages from Jeremy waiting on Dawn's cell phone, which hadn't been returned yet. Buffy tried calling him back before checking the messages—usually one from Jeremy is a simple "call me when you get a chance." But no one answered at the house. She added the four-hour time difference and figured he'd taken the kids for their usual play-at-the-park-then-go-out-for-lunch routine.

Buffy retrieved the first message.

"Buffy, it's Jeremy. No, I don't recall mentioning the Wendigo article to Dennis. More likely, Clay's—"

"Is that Mommy?" Anne's voice piped up in the background.

"Yes, but she's sleeping and I'm leaving a message—"

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

"Would you like to leave her a message for when she wakes up?"

"No. Want her home. Mommy?" Her voice rose, taking on that imperative tone Buffy knew too well. "Come home."

"Anne, she's—"

"Now. Come home now. Tell Sava, Uncle Clay and Aunt Dawn. Come home. Mommy. Come home right now." Buffy laughed as she heard Anne's nickname for Savannah. Ever since Anne was old enough to talk, saying Savannah had been hard for her to get her mouth around so she had shortened it to just Sava.

"I'll call back."

The message ended. Parental guilt for breakfast. Yummy.

Message two.

"It's me again. I apologize for that. I thought she was downstairs. As I was saying, its likely Clay was right—that Dennis was investigating whatever you three saw in the woods. As intriguing as that is, though, I'm more concerned with these apparent new immigrants. I decided to call—"

"Is that Mom?" Logan's voice sounded in the distance, and then stockinged feet padded across the floor.

"No, it's your Aunt Buffy; I'm just leaving her a message. If you can wait a minute, you can say something."

"I want to talk to Mom. Not Aunt Buffy's voice mail."

"You will talk to her," Jeremy said calmly. "Later, after she wakes up. Now can you sit on the bed and wait, please? We'll be leaving soon." He returned to the message. "I decided to call Roman."

Roman Novikov was the Alpha of the Russian Pack. He'd made contact with Jeremy last year, through the interracial council, wanting to ask about a new mutt they presumed was American.

"Roman thought—"

"When is Mom. Dad, Savannah and Aunt Buffy coming home?" Logan asked. His voice was far enough away to tell Buffy he'd obeyed the command to sit on the bed. As for waiting quietly, well, the quiet part had been implied, as Clay would say. Since it hadn't been explicitly stated, it wasn't an actual order.

"In a couple of days."

"You said a couple of days two days ago. A couple is two. So, they should be coming home now. Are they coming home?"

"Not yet. Now—"

"When are they coming home? Is Dad still with them? Why do they all need to be away?"

Buffy had to smile. Her godson and nephew loved her just as much as he did his own parents and missed her just as much. Of course, she knew that but it still brought a smile to her lips every time.

"I know you miss them, but they're very busy. They want to come home and they will as soon as they can."

"Joyce! Anne!" Logan called.

The distant thump of answering footsteps.

"Uncle Jeremy's on the phone with Aunt Buffy again, Joyce. Anne."

"Aunt Buffy! Aunt Buffy! Aunt Buffy!" came Joyce's voice.

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" came Anne's.

Buffy sighed. Why kick up a fuss and risk getting into trouble when you can get your sister or cousin to do it for you? Sneaky little beggar. She was going to have to make sure Dawn and Clay had a chat with him about that.

Besieged by both Anne and Joyce, Jeremy tried calling Jaime, but she was apparently out of earshot, so he quickly finished leaving his message. With Joyce and Anne screeching in the background all Buffy caught was something about a call, presumably that he'd phone later.

Buffy tried calling him back. Still no answer. Dawn had Jaime's cell phone number, but that wouldn't solve the problem, as the kids were with them. She left a message at home saying she or Dawn would try again later.

"We miss them, too," a voice, which sounded like Dawn's, said coming from the door connecting hers and Savannah's room to Dawn and Clay's. Buffy looked up and saw Clay and Dawn standing in the doorway.

"So, do I," Savannah added.

"But we'll get back as soon as we can," Dawn finished.

Buffy nodded. "I know," she said. "It's just hard, but you all know that."

Savannah, Dawn and Clay nodded. They did indeed know that. They knew that Buffy had regretted giving Savannah up all those years ago. And as a result, had never seen any of her eldest daughter's firsts. So, Buffy always had tried to keep her field assignments short so she could return to Anne and try and catch as many firsts as possible.

They had breakfasted a few blocks down at the Snow City Café. A white chocolate and vanilla latte, pumpkin pancakes and side orders of smoked salmon and farmer's sausage.

At eight-forty they were outside Joey's office waiting for him to arrive. They stood across the road, under the shadow of a crab shack awning. Clay scanned the streets.

"He's coming," Buffy said when as she and Dawn caught a werewolf scent on the breeze.

Clay pivoted, searching. "That's him. With the bald guy and the older lady."

If they hadn't been looking for Joey Stillwell, Buffy and Dawn would have never noticed him. He blended with everyone else on the street, one of those cookie-cutter businessmen who filled every American business core at this hour.

"Go on," Dawn said to Clay.

"Come with me. We should—"

"Go," Buffy said. "This is something he needs to hear from his best friend. Not a Slayer or the next Alpha and her sister. None of whom he's met."

He smiled and loped off. Dawn, Savannah and Buffy had agreed that Clay should approach Joey alone. It seemed right—he came from a part of Clay's life before them. Even if Dennis had told Joey about them, they didn't need to complicate the reunion.

"Joey!" Clay called as he jogged across the road.

Joey should have heard him, but he kept walking as if not recognizing the old diminutive.

"Joseph!"

Now even his companions heard, both turning, the older woman catching Joey's elbow as he kept walking. Her lips moved, telling him he was being hailed.

Joey glanced over his shoulder. He saw Clay. No sign of recognition crossed his face. He kept walking. But Clay only broke into a jog again, not slowing until he was close enough for Joey to smell him. He laid a hand on his shoulder, in a quick squeeze.

"Joey," Clay said. "It's Clay. Clayton Danvers."

Still Joey's expression didn't change. In a voice so soft Savannah, Buffy and Dawn could barely hear it from across the road, he said, "I'm afraid you have the wrong person."

Clay grinned. "Sorry. It's Joseph now, isn't it? A bit old for Joey. You never much liked it as a kid either."

"You've mistaken me for someone else."

Before Clay could respond, Joey gave a curtly polite nod and strode back to his coworkers.

"He seemed to know you," the man said as they approached the office doors.

"Does that accent sound like anyone I'd have grown up with?"

The woman laughed. "It's damned sexy, though." She glanced back, admiring Clay's rear view as he walked away. "You couldn't pretend to know him for my sake? Invite him to coffee? Make an old lady's day?"

The other man laughed and they headed inside.

Buffy looked at Dawn. "Memory spell?" Buffy asked.

"Could be," Dawn said. "Tabula rasa would be able to do that. Assuming he wasn't ignoring Clay for some other reason."

Another day, another cappuccino. And another unique and wonderful place to enjoy it. The café doubled as a Russian Orthodox museum and was across the road from the museum where Reese had been attacked. They were the sole patrons that morning, the silence broken only by the occasional murmur of conversation between the clerk and a Russian Orthodox priest.

The sisters had hoped the quiet surroundings and the religious artifacts would draw Clay out. But they were almost done with their coffees and he had yet to say a full sentence.

"Waylaying him like that might not have been wise," Clay said finally. "I wanted to tell him about his father—and warn him about the mutts—as quickly as possible, but we caught him off guard. He's used to hiding that part of his life, so he did it instinctively in front of his coworkers. I should have made contact years ago."

"He could have done the same," Dawn said.

Clay shook his head. "I was pissed off when he left and I didn't make any secret of it. It was up to me to make the first move."

"Which you just did," Buffy said.

"Too little too late." He sipped his coffee, his gaze disappearing into the cup's depths.

"Well," Buffy said, "we still have to talk to him, whether he wants to chat or not. He needs to be warned about the mutts, if he doesn't already know they're here."

"He doesn't. Otherwise, he wouldn't be carrying on, business as usual. We'll talk to Jeremy later. Get his advice."

As they drank, Dawn noticed a community bulletin board beside the counter. Prominently displayed was a mini-poster with pictures of three young women.

The clerk had vanished into the back rooms, so Dawn excused herself and went over. If Clay noticed, he gave no sign. Buffy didn't move to follow for the sheer reason of Clay.

As Dawn suspected, the poster was for the three missing women the reporter had mentioned yesterday. They ranged in age from seventeen to twenty. Two were Native, one Caucasian. All three had gone missing from Anchorage on Saturday nights. The poster listed the streets where they'd last been seen, but not the exact locations.

Dawn looked at the three photos. All the girls were pretty, but in that average way that most young women are. Cute enough to catch a guy's eye. And they had caught someone's eye.

Did they leave the bar with the wrong man? Did someone follow them home? Did their disappearances have anything to do with the mutts? That was the million-dollar question. The dates overlapped with the supposed wolf kills.

"You think there's a connection?" Clay said as he, Savannah and Buffy finally came up beside Dawn.

"I'm not ruling it out." Dawn turned to them. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Got a lot of stops to make today. Better get moving."

"Let's start with an easy one." Buffy leaned over the counter to get the attention of the clerk, who was counting stock in the next room.

Instead, the priest stepped from his office. "May I help you?"

"Sorry. We were just hoping for tourist information," Buffy said.

"Such as…"

"A museum of natural history maybe? Or a children's museum? Someplace we'd find wildlife displays," Buffy said.

"The Federal Building."

"The…" Buffy said.

He laughed. "Yes, not the first place you'd look, is it? As you can see…" He gestured from the café to the museum. "We Alaskans have eclectic tastes in our pairings. The Federal Building has an excellent collection of wildlife displays. It's free to the public and only a few blocks from here."

"Perfect. Thank you," Buffy said.

They found the Federal Building a mere block from their hotel. At the foot of the steps, a young man was setting up a sausage stand, the meat already sizzling on the grill, then they saw the sign.

"Reindeer sausage?" Buffy and Dawn said.

"Works for me." Clay pulled out his wallet. "You two want one?"

"Sure," Dawn said. "We just won't tell the kids we ate Rudolph." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Savannah laughing.