WOLF (Wolf River Book 1) Read online

  WOLF

  Best Selling Author

  Alaska Angelini

  WOLF

  Wolf River

  Best Selling Author

  Alaska Angelini

  Copyright © 2015 by Alaska Angelini

  ISBN:

  All Rights Reserved

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The scanning, uploading and disttribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permi.ssion of the publisher is illegal, and is punishable by law. Please purchase only authhorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Prologue

  Wolf

  It was once said that love was the strongest emotion man could feel. The depth at which the sensation coursed through one’s heart and mind could make anything possible. It was what dreams were made of. Of what hope was based on.

  Where it mended the broken souls and brightened the darkest thoughts, it also had the ability to cause death to the purest heart. For no emotion was one-sided.

  I was forced to learn the truth the hard way. Emotions didn’t create miracles, and beliefs could only get you so far.

  When the outcome of what I was became clear, hate took up residence in my mind. Like a disease, it merged with my ailment, worming through the crevices of my brain. It didn’t take long to begin to feel myself alter. The fiery heated rage that seethed within became my motivation—my obsession.

  My humanity was gone. The glimpses of the everyday life I still received were vague. If I wasn’t taken over by my wolf, the fog I drifted in left me stumbling through a routine I was quickly forgetting. I was doomed—infected with the one thing our kind feared the most—bad blood.

  Chapter 1

  Erin

  Most people saw the transitions of life as change—the change in seasons, the change in relationships … in people. Not me. I saw death. Leaves fell, relationships fizzled out … loved ones died. Everything had an ending. Maybe it was a morbid way of viewing the chapters of time, but my thirty-two years on this planet hadn’t been kind. Loss was something I knew all too well and it molded my current path, taking me deeper into the heart of nothingness.

  Green, orange, and yellow festooned the tall trees that lined the road and I couldn’t help but take in the foliage. Fall was in full swing and the colors of the leaves were peaking. Red mixed in with the scenery and I took the curved road, slowing to view the forest and stream as I crossed a bridge. The current rushed through the rocks below, shallow but fierce, and my car switched gears as I headed up a steep hill.

  Wisconsin was beautiful in fall. Although I’d been here before, it had been further north, along the coast of Lake Superior. Then, I had been a tourist—someone’s fiancée—basking in the local festivities with the man I loved. This time I was here for work. And again, this state harbored death. But I wouldn’t focus on that. My priority was a young woman who had lost her life way too early. It didn’t revolve around the memories of Martin, but something more gruesome.

  I pressed the red button on the tape recorder, maneuvering it to hold steady along the steering wheel as I drove. The sun was starting to set and clouds darkened the sky even more. I took a deep breath, remembering the details of the case before my voice filled the interior of the gold sedan I drove.

  “Victim, Kelly Morrison, twenty years of age, five feet, six inches tall, blond hair, brown eyes—found not far from the bank of Wolf River. Deep lacerations along her throat and chest. Her stomach contents, missing, as was her right leg, which was found approximately a mile from the location of her remains. Aside from the spoor of animals, no evidence of a perpetrator was ever recovered. The victim’s cause of death appears to be a mystery, despite that it was ultimately ruled a bear attack.”

  My throat cleared and I tried to focus on the road as the photos I’d seen of her mutilated body flashed before me.

  “A bear attack coincides with the gashes across the victim’s neck and chest. Except for the fact that the markings from the thick claws don’t match up with those of a bear. Where bear claws are usually dull from climbing trees, the incisions in the victim were clean cut. Almost, razor sharp … as if someone took a scalpel … or made the claws out of … something.

  “From the angle of the blows, my expert assures me the bear would have been standing when it attacked. Which baffled him since he placed the bear close to seven feet tall. The average height for a black bear is five feet when standing on its hind legs. A little over six feet would be pushing a world record. Perhaps Kelly Morrison was kneeling or…” My eyes squinted as I tried to decipher the mystery. Nothing would come. Although I had some information on the case, details were missing and the handwriting almost indecipherable. The detective wasn’t of much help, but I had found most weren’t when it came to private investigators being hired by the family. Either the department wasn’t doing its job, or didn’t care to.

  “Regardless, black bears aren’t common for the area. From my research, they mainly reside more in Northern Wisconsin, but have been migrating more toward the central part of the state as their population grows. Perhaps it was a bear,” I mumbled under my breath. “A really, big bear. But if it’s not, the width and precision of the claws raise the biggest question of all. What sort of animal could have created such gruesome wounds on Kelly Morrison, at such a height? And why didn’t it bite her in its attack? Her stomach was gutted from the claws with a single blow. Did it stop when it found its meal? And if so, why tear off her leg? Something did. Something ripped the limb free from her body as if it were nothing. Did the creature carry it almost a mile away, just to discard it? Or did another animal do that?”

  I bit my lip, turning off the recorder as I let my questions consume me. Since I had gotten the call over a week ago, I couldn’t get this case out of my mind. Maybe it was the desperation in Mr. Morrison’s voice. He was panicked and distressed, yet fearful. He swore his daughter hadn’t been killed by a bear. He hunted them up north every season since he was a kid and he was convincing and knowledgeable from what I could tell. So what was it? Or who was it?

  The former detective in me was dying to get out. If only I could have been there on scene when they found her, it would have made all the difference. Photos, reports … those weren’t enough for me. I used to live for investigations. My work was my life. Well, until it died right along with my partner and fiancé. It was from a robbery in a town we weren’t even from—a bullet right through his head. Life didn’t make sense. How many times had we been in the face of danger and come out unscathed? So many that I couldn’t even come up with a number. Yet, our first weekend away together—the weekend of his proposal—dead.

  Numbly, I reached forward, pushing the button on the radio to drown out the voices in my head. The sun wasn’t even visible anymore and complete darkness was creeping in. I shouldn’t have left so late in the day. How long had it been since I’d gone through a decent town? Rochester? Yes, that had to be it. The drive from Des Moines hadn’t taken too long. Just a day’s trip, but there wasn’t much in the form of scenery beside all the trees.

  I yawned, picking up my coffee from the holder and taking a sip. Although I would be getting in somewhat late, work didn’t technically start until tomorrow. The cabin I rented along the river would put me in the perfect location, not far from the scene. I could pass it on my morning run before I met with Mr. Morrison and Detective Perkins.

  A half hour drifted by while I kept letting everything repeat through my head. Street lights appeared and I slowed as I cruised down the main stretch o
f Wolf River. My eyes darted around, widening as I came upon a single gas station with a built-in diner. Nothing. This place was practically deserted. I glanced down at my gauges. I still had a quarter of a tank, but I liked to be prepared. Plus, my training always told me to make an appearance—to leave a trail to my whereabouts. I didn’t expected anything to happen to me, but I couldn’t erase what was ingrained.

  Lights flickered from the cover above the gas pumps and I looked up as I climbed out and closed the door behind me. The outside was completely silent. No cars drove by. There were no bugs or animals chirping or making sounds in the distance. I held the keys tightly against my wallet as I walked around to the passenger side. A note was posted along the pump—Pay inside. The words were almost illegible and I nearly groaned, remembering the police report.

  The tapping of my heels broke the silence and I couldn’t help but scan my surroundings as I headed for the door. This place was desolate. Still, no cars drove by. I scanned the woods in the distance, narrowing my eyes at the darkness they held. I couldn’t shake that something was there, watching me from where it hid amongst the trees. I doubted something was actually present, but the sensation was real. It drove me forward, almost faster than I liked. I wasn’t afraid of much, but there was already something about this town I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  Dinging met me as I stepped through the threshold of the door. The weight of my gun behind my blazer calmed me a little, but there was a charge in the air I couldn’t explain. An electric feeling combined with a heaviness of dread. Almost as if there was a stain in the atmosphere that tried to warn of something sinister.

  An older man stepped from the back, walking forward as I paused at the register. His hair was balding at the top and the rest was nearly white. He was short and heavy in the middle. The smile he cast was friendly enough. But … not right. His aging features were set tight.

  “Gas stop, I suppose?”

  I smiled back at him, opening my wallet and reaching for my card. “Yeah, but I don’t have much further. Maybe five minutes.”

  His hand paused mid-way to the register and his eyes cut up to mine. He reached for the card quickly after that. I let his unease sink in as I glanced toward the diner. It was just as empty as everything else.

  “You’re staying in Wolf River? You don’t look like the rafting type.”

  I paused, calculating the concern I picked up in his tone. I knew this place brought in the occasional tourist, but I wanted him to continue. “Rafting?”

  A quick nod left him as I piped in for him to run the card for twenty dollars.

  “That’s right. Sometimes people come here to do white water rafting. I take it that’s not why you’re here.”

  “No,” I said, lowly. “Do a lot of people come through? Is the rafting seasonal?”

  The man ran the card, handing it back to me. “We don’t get too many visitors lately. Especially after the snow falls.” He opened his mouth to say more but quickly shut it.

  “I see.” I slipped the card back in my wallet, scanning the store before turning my attention back to him.

  “Where are you staying, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  It was my turn to pause while I battled as to whether I should give out such personal information. “Up by the river. There’s a cabin a few miles out that gives me good access to the trails.”

  His eyebrows drew in. “I don’t see a bike on the back of your car, and there isn’t a rental place around this area. I’m guessing you’re not talking about riding an ATV through there either. Are you saying you’re going to run those trails?”

  “Is there reason I shouldn’t?”

  A nervous expression flashed over his weary features and he glanced out of the large glass window that aligned the store. “They don’t call this Wolf River for nothing. Best be careful up there. People have been known to get attacked by … things. I’d hate to hear something happened to you too.”

  “How many people have been attacked?”

  The man clearly became uncomfortable and turned to mess with something along the counter, giving me a wide span of his back. “Just a few. Not too many, lately. Just be careful if you go venturing out into the woods. Especially around dark. Better to be safe than sorry.”

  The detective in me wanted to push for more questions on the attacks, but instead I nodded and stepped toward the door. I could always come back if the need arose. Besides, I was getting tired. For as simple as the thought of sleep was, it was almost an impossible task.

  “Thank you, I’ll be safe.” I mumbled the words, pushing through the door and heading back to the tanks. As I began to pump the gas, my attention returned to the forest not far away. This whole time I had been so focused on bears that I never gave wolves thought. Wolf River. A shiver raced down my spine.

  The pump slowed, coming to a stop. It didn’t take me long to get back in the car. The temperature may have been in the low forties, but I had never felt colder. Stories and a conversation from my grandfather came barreling through. Even as his voice flooded in from the past, I pulled onto the road.

  “Can’t I go hunting with you, grandpa, please? I’m eight, now. I can do it.”

  His laugh was followed by a groan as he pulled me into his lap. “The woods aren’t safe, Erin, or else I would take you. Just last week I lost Ranger. You know how much I loved that hound.”

  “But you said wolves got him. I won’t be running off by myself. I’ll be with you.”

  “It sounds simple and safe enough, but it’s not. There’s complications that come with hunting. I have to always be ready. When the dogs get on the trail of a wolf, you have to break them as fast you can. It’s a split-second decision. One you have to make in the moment. If I can’t break them, I’ll have to chase them down. I can’t do that, watching over you. Wolves are tricky. The smartest predator you can come against, in my opinion. And they’re vicious. I don’t want you out there with them.”

  My confusion built as I tried to find an excuse good enough to get him to take me.

  “What do wolves do that are so bad? How are they the smartest?”

  The chair began to rock and he sighed. “You can’t see the significance unless you’ve been there. Unless you’ve seen how they can manipulate.” He paused, dragging out the seconds and making me even more afraid with the fear I knew he wasn’t meaning to display. There was concern on his face. Worry I’d never seen before.

  “They know when a dog is on their trail. The wolf will start off by running in big circles, staying well ahead of the hound as it rushes through the trees at lightning speed. Wolves are very fast, Erin, and they love to play games. But this isn’t a fun game. There’s only one thing they want—food. They’ll play with anything they can get in their trap, but it goes beyond just one wolf. They work in packs. Waiting. Watching every move of their prey. Just as their meal begins to tire, they’ll all move in…and they’ll attack.”

  He had looked down and even now I could see him and the forest-lined road in front of me. I swallowed hard.

  “It’s something you never want to see or have to go through, sweetie. Best stay here until you’re older.”

  Older. No, I never went. Never even asked again after that night. I didn’t scare easily as a child, but what I saw in my grandpa’s eyes brought out a fear I had hardly experienced at that age. And it was still there within me. I could stare down the coldest killer, but an old story that had given me nightmares for months had the ability to crumble my defensive walls. So easily, I could see those wolves pouncing and shredding into one my grandpa’s dogs. In my childhood imagination, it had been all too vivid. As if I had been there. The phantom cries of the hounds I’d been raised with were still there, still sounding in my head.

  “Come on, Erin,” I said, “Don’t think about it. They’re just wolves. If you should fear anything, fear the damn bears. Those are what is apparently killing people here. Not the wolves. Wolves are like … dogs, but meaner. You can deal wit
h dogs with attitude. You have a gun for crying out loud. One warning shot would definitely having them running away.”

  Right. One gun versus a pack of wolves. Something told me they might jump at the sound, but their bravery increased with larger numbers. Just like anyone’s. How big were the packs here?

  Music drifted through the car, quietly, and I leaned forward, turning it up as I fought not to think about the memory anymore. Darkness blurred in my peripheral vision and before I could turn to see what it was, I felt my head jerk to the right. Heat flamed in my neck from the force of the collision and my car slid through the oncoming lane as I tried to gain control. Time slowed and even as I tried to see what had hit me, I couldn’t. Whatever it was, it had been big.

  The car smashed into trees and the impact had my whole body jolting in the opposite direction. The side of my head hit the window and warmth gushed down the side of my face. The seatbelt locked against my weight and pain flared over chest and waist as I was wrenched yet another way. My car was sliding down some sort of hill or embankment. Somehow through the blur of motion I knew that. I was falling.

  The sound of more glass shattering registered, as did the popping of metal. I’d heard this before. This wasn’t my first wreck. Even as I knew what was happening, I was aware that my body wasn’t reacting as it should. My mind told me that wasn’t a good sign. I blinked heavily, seeing the glow in front of my car waver as I lurched to a stop.

  Just as fast, a figure that appeared to be inhumanly tall and wide blurred in front of the lights. I jerked in reaction. My breath shuddered and my eyes rolled back as I fought not to pass out. Pain was increasing in my head. My fingers twitched and I tried raising my hand to feel for my purse. I needed to call for help. I needed my gun.

  Air was all my hand came into contact with as pitch black began taking me over. Somewhere in the distance more metal creaked. It didn’t sound natural to my dazed self. Had the engine made that groaning sound? My imagination could almost believe that sharp nails were raking along the exterior of the car, just like the sounds they’d make on a chalk board. They were getting closer. Louder.