Kelley Armstrong - Frostbitten

"Yes, we are sure. Miles"-he gestured to Eli's father-"was at the cabin after the first man died. He heard them fighting. One had been seen by a human as he Shifted, so he killed him and the leaders were angry with him for not hiding the body before it was found. They sent him away."

That matched Dan's story. But if the Tesler brothers gave their lackey shit for leaving the corpse, and kicked his ass out because of it, why were two more bodies found later?

And here I discovered that the Shifters lacked a certain sophistication when it came to scheming and subterfuge. That's not to say they were stupid. They just weren't accustomed to the kind of political machinations the Pack dealt with every day. When I pointed out the fallacy of the Alpha's logic, he grew agitated.

"They did kill that man. And that is not the worst. They killed girls. Two of them. Maybe more. We found only two. They buried them, but not with respect. They threw them away. Like… " He waved his hand, searching for words. "Like garbage. They are monsters."

Agreed. And at confirmation of the girls' fate, my determination to kill Tesler only grew. But I noticed he'd shifted my attention from the question of the other two "wolf-killed" men. The Tesler gang hadn't killed them and the Alpha knew it. Another, less comfortable explanation slunk into the back of my mind.

"You say these pack leaders were upset with the body being left out and found," I said slowly. "Very upset. Maybe, if it continued, they'd get upset-and nervous-enough to leave."

"Yes, but they did not."

"Because they knew they weren't responsible and, being clueless about normal wolf behavior, they presumed it was wolves and ignored it. So your plan failed."

The Alpha nodded… then stopped, as he realized what he was admitting to. He blustered then, not denying it, but pointing out that the two men they'd killed were poachers and trappers, stealing animals meant for sustenance and taking only the skins.

"And animals aren't the only thing they kill," Eli muttered.

His father tried to shush him, but halfheartedly, his gaze averted, eyes filled with grief.

"Poachers killed one of you," I said. "In Shifted form. They mis took you-"

"They mistook him for nothing," Eli snarled, spittle flying. "He wasn't Shifted. The guy shot him and tried to hide his body, like he'd killed a deer out of season."

"My other son," Miles said. "Eli's litter mate."

Eli's twin brother, accidentally shot in human form. That would explain the animosity toward us-probably toward werewolves, wolves and humans alike, running them off his territory with all the single-minded rage of a grief-stricken teenage boy. Sure, he'd been trying something else in the grove a little while ago, but that was pure instinct. My scent at work on his teen hormones. Even now, when he slid glances my way, checking me out, contempt warred with attraction.

"But what we did, it was not revenge," the Alpha said.

Not consciously, I'm sure. But subconsciously, it would play a role. While Eli acted out his grief by chasing every predator off his turf, his elders found an excuse to do the same with poachers and trappers, men they would now consider a threat. To them, the killing of those two humans, while regrettable, could be justified by their actions and the necessity of stopping the greater threat: Tesler's mutts. And while I could strenuously argue the logic of this, it made perfect sense to them, and that I couldn't dispute.

But all that still didn't answer one question. There was another way to handle their problem. One that was far more reliable-and ethically justifiable-than framing them for murder.

"You want Tesler and his gang dead," I said. "So why not do it yourselves?"

"It is forbidden."

"Maybe, but-"

"No. Killing werewolves is forbidden ."

His tone said this was an unbreakable and unquestionable law. So they could kill humans, but not werewolves? That made no sense.

Or maybe, to them, it did. They'd chastised Eli for disrespecting me. He'd hinted they feared us. Fear and respect. Feelings one might have toward, not a fellow supernatural, but a superior being. Even Eli, while he'd been quick to terrorize us, hadn't done more than smack us around, trying to scare us off without breaking that commandment.

"You will do this for us," the Alpha said. "You will kill them."

Before I could answer, he whistled. Tramping footsteps and muffled oaths sounded at the cave entrance. In walked the missing fourth Shifter, pushing before him a slight figure in an oversized parka, arms bound behind his back. The figure struggled and the hood fell back. It was Noah, gagged with a strip of leather, eyes blazing with fury and humiliation.

"He is yours?" the Alpha said.

"Yes," I said. "He's ours."

"Then do this for us and he is yours again."

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, I was tramping through the snow, ready to sell my soul for a snowmobile. What kind of Alaskan backwoodsmen-even shape-shifting wolf-beasts-didn't have snowmobiles?

I knew I shouldn't complain. At least they hadn't shoved me out right away, cold, exhausted and battered, to find my way back to civilization. They'd insisted I rest and eat, even when I'd argued I was fine. They'd served me a surprisingly good stew of venison and root vegetables, and a thick brick-like bread that hadn't been nearly as tasty, but I'd eaten it anyway.

I drank the tea they brewed, too, some herbal blend to ease my aches and pains. They'd said it was willow bark, but I suspected it contained something a lot stronger. It reminded me of the Tylenol 3 Jeremy made me take after bad fights. I was feeling no pain and a little light-headed.

One thing was for sure-this was a night I wouldn't forget. Life as a werewolf means a lot of fights and chases, and in the last few hours, I'd done more than my share of both, but with new twists. Falling through the ice. Fending off an eight-foot brown bear. Being taken captive by a werewolf precursor race. Someday, I'd be sitting in my rocking chair, telling my grandkids about this night. Right now, I just wanted to get through it.

The Shifters had given me all the clothing I needed, from a parka to boots to doubled-up work socks. But with size nine feet in size gazillion boots, I might as well have been wearing snowshoes. In fact, I'd have been better off wearing snowshoes. Worse, I could have been. They'd offered me a pair, but after a few awkward steps and a face-plant, I'd said boots were fine.

They'd escorted me to a road. At least, they said it was a road. But after twenty minutes hiking through boot-deep snow, seeing only a thin swatch of white ahead, winding through the trees, I was uncomfortably reminded of the last untraveled "road" I'd taken… the one that turned out to be a river.

The Shifters swore the highway was only three miles away. They'd even offered to have Eli escort me, though hadn't seemed surprised when I said no. I'd had enough of teenage lust to last me awhile.

I suppose I should be flattered-all that attention from guys half my age-and I would be… if I didn't know that without my unique scent, I wouldn't get a second glance. And, really, that would make me much happier. I knew now how Clay felt, getting checked out by twenty-year-old girls. Eww.

Even as I bitched about the situation, I knew I should be over joyed just to be warm and rested and free. How many times tonight had I thought I'd never see morning? And there it was-the faintest streaks of red cresting the valley between two mountains behind me. I hadn't been killed, hadn't been raped, hadn't even been seriously injured. I should be dancing down the moonlit road, singing to the stars. But if I was, I'd know whatever was in that tea was more than a painkiller.