It was sweet the way Rock looked out for her. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to Parker. “I will.”
She stepped outside and scented the morning air. Crisp and clean and full of green, growing things, the fragrance usually left her feeling invigorated. Today she had to wonder what rot lurked under the clean odor. She left for the woods before the first students arrived, determined to stay away from the residents of Maggie’s Grove for however long it took to find Terri and snap her like a twig.
A few hours later the late-spring heat was beginning to wear on her. She’d found no sign of the witch, but plenty of signs of the local werewolf pack. They often ran together on the nights of the full moon, dancing under Her light and reveling together in ways a nonwere would never understand. But last night hadn’t been a full moon, so why were they out running as a pack? Did they have a new member?
A low growl sounded behind her. Amara froze, knowing what that sound meant. That wasn’t the sexy Parker growl, or even the one where his beast had come forth, determined to protect her.
This growl was the one of a wolf on the hunt.
The pack was after her. It didn’t take more than a second for her to realize it was fight or die. The next second was spent dropping her backpack and racing through the trees as fast as her limbs would carry her.
The pack had forgotten something. They thought the forest belonged to them.
They were wrong.
Amara’s thoughts whispered through the trees, danced across the grass, lifting roots to trip paws and branches to whip into snouts. The forest rose in defense of one of their own, and the weres yelped in pain and surprise as it turned against them.
Amara’s feet flew across the ground, fast on her home turf. The pack had been foolish to confront her here, where she was strongest. She felt the energy flowing through her, the forest gifting her with its strength. Her skin tingled. Her bark covered her, protecting her from claws and teeth. The red leaves of her maple swirled around her as she grew. Soon she’d be ready to face them.
They were gaining on her, would be on her soon. She’d need to face them, teach them not to chase a dryad in the woods. Let them learn the true power of the forest they played in, hunted in. This might be the wolves’ playground, but it was Amara’s spiritual home, and she knew every square inch of it.
Ah. There. The perfect spot to confront the pack. Amara turned and let loose her own howl, grinding the sound out until the trees swayed before her, bowing to her will.
Silence fell as her challenge ended. Amara waited, patient as the forest itself. The foolish pups would be unable to stop themselves from answering her challenge.
One by one they stepped out from between the trees, from underneath bushes, their hackles raised, their teeth bared. They would attack her, destroy her if they could, to protect the town from the menace they thought she was.
And for that alone Amara would let them live. They were protecting their own. She could understand that. But she refused to lie down and bare her neck to the pack alpha for something she hadn’t done.
They stared at one another, the dryad and the wolves. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The forest waited for the first move in a battle that could change Maggie’s Grove forever.
It was a wolf who moved first, leaping through the air, snarling, enraged. A branch whipped out, knocking the wolf to the forest floor. And it was on.
Amara’s consciousness sank into the trees and plants surrounding her. They became extensions of her limbs; their thoughts became hers. She knew without turning that a young wolf was sneaking up on her. A sturdy birch entangled him in its branches before he could lay one paw on her.
Before her, the alpha snapped and snarled, held back by the thorns of a bush that had moved in front of him. Another tree bound a wolf in its roots, holding the wriggling form until the wolf gave up, panting under the weight of dirt and wood. Amara shifted forms, allowed her inner self out in defense not only of herself, but the wolves as well. She twisted and turned, careful not to do lasting damage to the creatures in front of her. A body fell under one of her blows, unmoving but alive. She swung at another and heard the snap of bone, knew she’d broken one of the wolf’s legs. The wolf whimpered and maneuvered out of the fight.
They weren’t the ones who needed killing. Maybe someday they’d understand that neither was she.
Soon only the alpha and beta of the pack remained. Both were tired, but so was Amara. It had taken a great deal of her energy to fight off the entire pack, and she’d need to commune with her tree to recoup a lot of it.
The alpha, sensing the weakness in her defenses, leaped. Amara had no time to react.
A root wrapped around the alpha’s throat, effectively collaring him, chaining him to the forest floor. Amara reeled back, stunned.
How? She hadn’t done that.
The beta, sensing his pack was defeated, howled in rage but bared his throat, submissive before the victor. But a swaying tree picked the beta up and curled its branches around him, dangling him above Amara’s head.
The pack was beaten. She’d won.
Sort of.
“Sister.”
Amara slowly turned, stunned to see the true dryads of Maggie’s Grove fanned out behind her. The rulers of the forest had finally come forth from the Throne to pass judgment on her.
Amara bowed and hoped Parker would understand. She had the feeling she was going to be late for dinner.
Chapter Seven
Parker paced the length of the town hall’s meeting room. His shoes squeaked on the shiny hardwood floor with every turn. His position on the raised platform where the mayor and town council sat ensured he’d see every single person who filed through those doors.
Something was wrong. Amara hadn’t come home from work, and she wasn’t answering her cell phone. Parker clenched his fists. If anyone had harmed a single hair on his sotiei’s head, theirs would roll.
A low voice softly chanted the casuta, and he realized he’d gone damn near feral. He took a deep breath and allowed the chant to soothe the beast within him.
“Parker, it’s time.”
Without opening his eyes, he asked Dragos the most important question of the night. “Is she here?”
“No.”
The low growl he emitted would have warned away a lesser being than Dragomir Ibanescu. Parker opened his eyes to find the audience staring at him, some hostile, some fearful, some merely curious as to who or what he might be.
Well. They were about to find out.
Parker took his seat next to Dragos and watched the silence that descended on the people of Maggie’s Grove. He hoped they were worried. He prayed they were scared. It might be the only way to save their lives.
A woman sitting on Dragos’s left rose on pointy stilettos. Parker wrinkled his nose. The woman smelled subtly wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He was willing to bet this was Kate, the witch Selena disliked so much.
“This emergency meeting is hereby called to order. Mayor Dragomir Ibanescu presiding.” Something about the way the woman spoke Dragos’s name confirmed this was, indeed, the mysterious Kate. “We have a few corrections to last month’s minutes. Do we agree to waive those until the standard meeting? All in favor say aye.”
The rafters shook at the unanimous sound. The man seated on Parker’s left made a note on his netbook. He had to be the town secretary, because he grinned, winked and showed Parker what he was working on.
Parker damn near swallowed his tongue trying not to laugh. Bitch called meeting to order. Bitch called for vote, i.e., corrections. Town voted aye. Bitch sat down. Thank God and amen.