Widdershins, my nano project Chapter 8
Disclaimer, this had not been edited and may well be modified when it is.
The morning shone clear and the roads were relatively clear, having had no snowfall the previous night by the look of things. Still, Rowan engaged the four by four, aware how treacherous the route through the mountains could become with a simple puff of wind, or an animal setting off an avalanche. Even the Icefields Parkway was closed; something he regretted as he would have preferred the route to Vancouver through Jasper rather than Banff. Still, it meant getting to Kelowna quicker, which was a good thing. Walmart would be open by the time they arrived and the staff probably too sleepy to pay much attention to people. He hoped there wasn’t going to be a fuss about Morgan getting new clothes from there because he really didn’t have time to start shopping at the sort of places the surviving remnants of her clothing indicated that she preferred. On top of that he didn’t want people to notice them and she was a pretty girl. Dress her up right and she would be stunning. A glint of sunlight ground into his eyes from the rear-view mirror; he winced, tired eyes watering.
Morgan lightly touched his arm. “Can I drive? I could use a change.”
“Thanks, but no. You are too new to trust behind the wheel. If you saw a prey beast you may well go off road after it with the truck and then we would be stuck in the mountains. It is a very, very long run to a decent town.” That reminded him, he needed to also purchase kiddie back packs so they could take their possessions with them if they needed to shift into fur. He flexed his shoulders, trying to get out the kinks, aware some were caused by tension. Sooner or later he was going to be cornered into an awkward conversation with Morgan on the subject of clothes and shifting. He had to hope she could be sensible over the choices.
“Why is a vampire head of a mob and how does he get away with this? Don’t the rest of them know what he is?”
Dammit, if only the old bat had not found them last night. Now his puppy had a whole host more of questions requiring answers. He really didn’t want her making them stand out by looking up at the sky every five minutes, like she was doing now.
She poked him in the ribs. “Look, you might as well talk to me. It is a good way to stay alert when you are driving tired.”
Rowan now remembered precisely why he preferred his own space, rather than sharing with a female, who chattered. He guessed she wasn’t about to let up, convinced she needed to stop him falling asleep at the wheel. “If you were in a mob and your leader could drain your blood if you didn’t behave, what would you do? Stand up to him?”
Morgan rooted around in the carrier bag of stuff she had taken from the cabin for tissues and a water bottle. A small mirror with suction cups on one side followed. She tried sticking the mirror to the windshied first, but that didn’t work too well because of the slope, so she stuck it to the glass on the passenger window, to begin wiping off the now cracked and messy makeup. “I thought his bite would turn the victim into a creature like himself?”
“Oh, it will if he wishes.” Morgan sighed, accepting that this was going to be a long session. “He would need to give the victim some of his own blood once he had drained all of theirs. That is how a person would get turned. Borinsky is very unlikely to do that as he would end up having to share power. Sharing is not one of his strong points.”
“But how does a vampire get in control in the first place? I mean, it must be difficult when a person can’t go out in daytime. No banks, no formal documents, as those offices will not be open at night.”
Yes, this was going to make for a very long morning. “He is very old and very wealthy. Internet banking is very convenient for all sorts of reasons and as for documentation, why would he want that if he has people fronting for him? If he doesn’t exist, he doesn’t have to pay taxes. He wouldn’t need a driver’s license, either, now would he?”
“But surely he would need one if it was raining?”
Oh boy, she was going to go into every last detail, while all he wanted to do was quietly think through a plan of action. How could he shut her up? “That is what minions are for. But what about you? Exactly what did you see to land you in this mess in the first place?”
And the floodgates opened. She began her story, starting when she got up on that fateful day, the clothes she chose and who she had intended to meet. Rowan smiled and made encouraging noises while he let his mind drift in the direction of their problems right now.
Rowan had decided to buy an eyewash by the time he pulled into the parking lot in front of Walmart. His eyes felt like they had been rubbed in sand, but he was still alert. By his side Morgan had the window wound down a little and was taking in the aromas. He could smell the meat, too. The Macdonald’s burger joint inside the store was firing up. Yes, they had to eat and soon. He wondered how disappointed the girl would be when she dug into her meal, which brought him to another decision.
“Here is the plan. We go into the store for you to pick your clothes and then you meet me at the electronics, where I will be getting a phone. Once we are done we get a take out from McDonald’s. Figure out what you want while you are shopping and remember they will be serving the breakfast menu. You need things high in protein. Is that clear? So milk over a pop to drink. We go eat in the truck and you change there into your new stuff. Everything we need, or discard gets packed into the Walmart bags and comes with us.”
She frowned. “But why not just leave the old clothes and stuff in the truck?”
“Because we are going to be getting into a taxi and it has to look like we are regular customers. We have shopping bags, then we blend in and become invisible.” Not to mention leaving a messy truck would draw attention to it far faster, but she didn’t need to know that.
Morgan grabbed a cart and scurried off in the direction of womens clothing without a backward glance, or a complaint at having to wear less than high fashion, which both surprised and relieved him. He just hoped she wouldn’t fill the thing as he guessed he would end up being the one carrying all her excesses. Rowan detoured passed kids apparel to snag a couple of backpacks, one with a monkey face and one resembling a black kitten. Not ideal, but the other choices were a blue hippo or a pink elephant. Somehow the color of the last gave a clue as to why the consignment would end up on sale in this particular store. Had the joker making the statement about alcohol through pink elephants gotten themselves fired, he wondered. Whatever, the two he chose would blend in with their fur the best and he trusted he hadn’t lost his hunting instincts to warn if any humans were near, should they have to shift.
The phone proved easy enough as they stocked an android suitable. While he preferred Iphones, there was no way he wanted to spend so much on what would probably be a throwaway item. The choice narrowed to the cheapest and the smallest they had in stock. Now he had to wait for Morgan, as the man serving would need to walk the product to the checkout. Fortunately, she turned up just as the choice had been made, astonishing him.
“That was quick.”
“It is all nasty, so I just grabbed the best of what would fit.” She looked down with disdain at the modest heap of clothes.
He was relieved at her color choices, which were all subdued. It looked like she had confined herself to jeans and t-shirts for outerwear, although he couldn’t be sure as there was more under the initial heap. “Looks like we are ready then. Did you figure out what you wanted to eat, like I said?”
“I’ll have a sausage egg McMuffin with a box of milk, but I can order for myself.”
“I thought you would like to take your stuff to the truck once I have paid for it and stow it away while I get the food.” He hoped she would pick up on what he was really saying, giving that the man carrying the phone was well into earshot. She could get changed without him there if she caught on to the gist of his words.
Morgan looked entirely different when he got to the truck with their takeaway. She had gone more for a college look with designer threadbare jeans and a blue t-shirt with a dragon motif on the front. She also had a goth look for her makeup, too heavy for his taste and yet wildly different from her granny look. Yes, she would do nicely like this. He thought she must have had a lot of practice with different looks in her time of hiding. Smiling, he handed over her package and drink.
“Hey, I only asked for one. There are three in here.”
“Try it. I think you will find out why when you do.” He casually stripped the bun off his own sausage egger leaving just the protein. He had restricted himself to four, explaining to the girl at the counter that they had kids waiting. Whatever else happened, they couldn’t afford to stand out for any reason.
“What is the matter with this? It tastes like mush.” Morgan said, talking around the food in her mouth before she took a big gulp of milk to wash it down.
“We are carnivores. You will find bread doesn’t agree with your taste anymore, which is why I got several of them. Good enough?”
Glaring at him, she stripped the edible protein away from the useless. Yes, sometime soon she was building up to a huge argument about her changed state. He reckoned he was going to hear all about her fury once they were free and clear. For now, all he had to suffer was multiple instances of the stink eye in his direction.

Widdershins, my nano project Chapter 7
Widdershins, my nano project Chapter 7
This has not been edited. It might change when this happens.
Crimson light glistened off the snow, casting an angry glow on the world. Rowan sat in the truck, his hands clenched around the steering wheel, waiting for retribution. The sounds of Morgan dressing ceased in the back, making for a charged silence. She climbed over the seat, easing down into the passenger side. The stiff anger on her face told him exactly what she thought of him.
“How?” She balled her fists hard, pushing them into her lap and took a deep breath, facing him. “How did you do that to me? There was no bite. Everything I have read about werewolves or seen at the movies says there has to be a bite. You told that creature he would change if he got bitten. I heard you.”
Damn, why did she have to start with that question? He briefly considered running, but she would follow, demanding her answers. He stared straight ahead. “The virus is in the fangs. I don’t have to break skin to inject it. I can let it flood into my mouth.”
“You …” She covered her face with her hands, rocking back and forth for a few moments. She looked away into the darkness of the trees. “You kissed me.”
She might as well have said ‘You pulled my head off’ from her tone. “Yes, it happened then.”
“Does this always happen when you kiss someone, or share a glass, or cough, or sneeze?”
Damn, she hadn’t been listening properly with her rage upon her. “I can kiss without infecting. Letting down the virus from my fangs is a choice. I chose to alter you.” Rowan braced for the screeching to start. He glanced at her when silence continued. She trembled, making him wish she had screeched. He could live with noise, but not this guilt trip.
“Why.” She still didn’t look at him.
“Because I knew who was behind the killings as soon as the henchmen on the skidoos arrived. His scent was all over them. I knew the old bat would find you eventually. He has all the time in the world to look.”
Morgan examined her hands in the light, especially the palms. Did people really believe the nonsense about hairy palms? “Vampires don’t exist. They are a myth. Werewolves aren’t real. I had an accident, and now I am in hospital in a coma and I’m dreaming this. I’ll wake and find the witness protection program has more men guarding me. I haven’t turned into a werewolf. This is part of my nightmare. It is an hallucination caused by a brain injury.”
“You’re not dreaming.” He tried to take her hands in his, but she slapped him away. “Vampires, us, and other creatures have always existed. We benefit from disbelief. All the movies about us have led to a peaceful life.”
The shaking increased.“That vampire is real … he is going to find me, isn’t he?”
Rowan sighed. “He is going to be busy back-trailing me for where he thinks I might have stashed you. He knows me. We are old enemies, and he knows I don’t increase my kind by choice, so he won’t imagine you, a werewolf with me, ad his target, not yet.”
“What happens when he does?”
“I would imagine he will have a serious problem. His instinct is to bite, and he can’t without getting infected. He’d go for a bloodless kill, but he needs to fight me to get to you.” Rowan basked in the first rays of the rising sun with spiteful relish. “Stanislav was responsible for almost outing me not so long ago. I would welcome a final reckoning.”
She wasn’t listening to him. Now she was out of fur, the shock consumed her. He revised his plans, for going to Siberia wasn’t going to prevent the old bat coming after them. Once Stanislav found the trail cold, he would have people looking out for a couple buying a ship passage. No, he’d take her to Vancouver Island for the winter. The climate was temperate, and he could teach her how to adjust in the untamed forests of the north of the island where they would blend in with other packs. Let the old bat chew down his talons down to the flesh in frustration.
Rowan started the truck. He had daylight hours to drive through the interior, get the ferry at Vancouver to Nanaimo, head north from there until he could hook up with the Pacific Rim highway to Sprout Lake and then they could take a back road to Strathcona Provincial Park.
Heavily forested in a wild way, the park was not vehicle friendly, and definitely not friendly to large aerial objects. Rowan couldn’t remember there being any motel near the place, which meant a long flying distance. The vampire was going to have to send his henchmen unless he chose to fly his wings down to stumps and walk his feet off.
If he were Borinsky, he would be phoning the moment he had put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on his motel room door and secured the drapes over the window. Given the truck hadn’t been reported as stolen by the absent owners; it would take the old bat a goodly while to convince someone to run the plates. That someone wouldn’t act without contacting the owners.
Morgan fixed her wig in place with an expression of distaste. She clicked on the overhead light to touch up her old lady makeup in the rear view mirror. “How are we going to get a boat if that monster has the harbor watched? He will, won’t he?”
“Change of plans. We stay in Canada, but move across to Vancouver Island.” He readjusted the mirror.
“How? On the ferry, in this truck with the description circulated? I saw the monster write down the plate number while he waited for you to stir. Have you forgotten I am wanted for murder?”
Damn. He must be getting old to not wake sooner in the presence of danger. He should have stirred before the vampire had found a perch. Maybe they wouldn’t be getting the ferry to the island with the truck. Perhaps it was time to call in a few favors. Terminals would be watched but they couldn’t station people at every single jetty pocking out into the ocean. No, he needed a smallish fishing boat with an outboard motor and new exactly where he could hire one.
“First, lose the old lady makeup. It is possible someone saw us together with this truck and may remember when Borinsky wakes up from his nap and starts reporting in. Then we get you some new clothes and a smart phone for me. I need to access some funds for a car hire since the truck is of no use, not if he took the plates.”
“What about the money you took off those men?” Her face radiated disapproval.
“Morgan, if you were a car hire company, how would you feel about hiring to someone who couldn’t produce a credit card, proof of identity and was a tad shy on luggage to boot? I can book it remotely through one of my companies. They won’t ask questions if it is a corporate hire.”
“Oh, I see. The ferry will be good, then.”
No, it wouldn’t but he was too tired to explain right now. The old bat would have the port watched by now and he was smart enough to figure out the truck would be history. The watchers would be for people. He would have made those arraignments the moment he settled into his room for the day. Rowan didn’t intend to leave a trail when he went to ground this time.
And now for some cat spam because I love my fluffies.

^Darkspire Reaches #Sale^
Read a snippet of this dark, romantic fantasy.
The late afternoon sun gave a red tinge to the sky as Raven emerged from the rank tunnels onto the lake shore. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the smell coming from her wet clothing. Foul water found and polluted every dry shred of fabric on her body.
The hunters used vargel hounds to track, and they would come to this place, so she would spread her scent to confuse them. Raven waded out into the lake, keeping within her depth, then, using the sun as her guide, she headed northwest. They would figure a direct north line of escape to the settlements of the tribes. Raven didn’t doubt Margie would help foster that notion to save her own skin. Again, a bitter smile curled her lips upward. As long as she remained in the water, she left no trail. Almost as an afterthought, she dipped her torch into dull, gray waters and let it fall.
Cold seeped into her bones while she waded on the fringe of the lake. It made a harsh contrast to the foul, but warmer, temperature of sewer filth. Hunger clawed at her insides, bringing another form of cold, one that started from within. The baying of hounds startled Raven into a misstep and she fell; her feet rose to the surface, turning her on her back, the motion warring with the wet clothes pulling her down. If she shed them, she would give the hunters another clue to her passage, and how would she get new ones? The fabric belled out to catch a current and draw her to the center of the lake.
She drifted north to the sounds of the horn call of hunters and the baying of their hounds. Maybe they would burst from the thick line of trees almost reaching the edge of the lake. No pyre could send her spirit on its journey now.
She didn’t know the size of the lake. She hadn’t seen the other side across a vast expanse of water, sunlight sparkling off the waves and ripples. No doubt it drained in the direction of her passage for the current to pull her, but that soon ceased to concern her as the icy waters leeched at her, sucking out her life. A small bird fluttered down to settle on her chest and under his bright gaze, she let herself become enveloped by death’s cold arms.
Waves of sleep lapped around her, washing away hurt. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind on her face, on her body, as she hurtled through the air. For a moment, she imagined herself back at the citadel, throwing herself off a turret to ride the wind. One last image of Margie, a smile lighting her face after a good scrying session, and then flashes of gold lanced through the picture in her mind’s eye until only gold remained. Gold upon gold, fading down into nothing—nothing but a pair of shining, golden eyes.
And here is a trailer for the sequel.
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An Interview with Author Jan Petkin
An Interview with Author Jan Petken

Tell us about your past careers.
I joined the (British) Royal Navy at the age of seventeen. I was a leading Naval Policewoman, equivalent to a sergeant in the Military Police. After the Navy, I went to work for a travel company as an overseas representative. During the first Gulf War I was a security guard at the BBC World Service radio station. After I left the BBC, I spent twelve years as a bodyguard for a Saudi Princess.
My final career outside the house was with British Airways. I was a cabin crew member on the worldwide fleet, which allowed me to travel extensively to every corner of the world, at least two or three times. Unfortunately, I had an accident on board a flight. The aircraft, a Boeing 747, was flying at 39,000 feet above Africa when it was caught in clear-air turbulence. As the plane dropped my body flew upward causing my head to hit the cabin’s ceiling. As a result of this accident, I have had three major operations on my spinal cord and am now retired. I missed the busy and interesting experiences that my job had brought me, thus turning my attention to writing.
I’ve lived in so many countries, I’m dizzy. I’m a jack of all trades but master of none. I’ve made so many mistakes in life that I often wonder how I managed to survive all these years – But, I feel blessed to be able to call writing, my last stand. Long may it last x
Why historical fiction?
I can still picture the day my passion for history was ignited. I was a little girl, sitting with my mum in a cinema watching a re-run of, Gone With the Wind. Whether it was the costumes, dialogue, accents, or horses that caught my attention, I don’t know, but that was the moment my love affair with the past began.
Do you stick to the same historical period, and do you have a formula?
No. I don’t really have a favourite historical period, or event. I’m a Gemini, and as changeable as the weather. It will be impossible for me to cover all the historical periods that I would like to write about, in my lifetime, but I’ll get through as many as possible, because I want to share as many historical stories as I can. There’s an old saying: We are only passing through. That’s so true when you think about thousands of years, full of historical events that we can only read about.
When choosing my books’ themes, I think about where I’d like to be and what I’d like to be involved in. When I write, I see, feel, and go with gut feelings. I enjoy the journey, and rarely plan ahead. There are no outlines, notes, or list of characters. My preparation is negligible, and I rarely follow rules. Right or wrong, this is my method, and I guess I’ll continue adhere to the proverbial saying, ‘going with my flow.’

Reviews
The Guardian of Secrets
“An epic in every sense, The Guardian of Secrets is War and Peace for a new generation. Jana Petken is a natural storyteller and in The Guardian of Secrets she weaves an engrossing, passionate tale of family life, of love, of betrayal, of war and redemption. These are classic themes and they are combined here to produce a classic tale in the finest traditions of historical fiction.”
Dark Shadows: Mercy Carver Series
“Dark Shadows, is the first five-star book in Jana Petken’s exciting Mercy Carver series. This meticulously crafted and riveting tale had me captivated from the very first page.”
Blood Moon: Mercy Carver, Book Two
“The author did a fantastic job weaving this story. I admit I was surprised at some twist and turns. Many times, I found myself holding my breath!”
The Errant Flock
“A glorious read, I was totally captivated by this story. Her descriptions of the people, the country and the history put me right in the picture and I couldn’t put it down. She is a great storyteller with lots of depth to her writing.”
Links
Amazon page
http://www.amazon.com/…/B00I2W…/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1…
Twitter @AuthoJana
FB https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJanaPetken/
Website
http://janapetkenauthor.com/
Widdershins my nano project chapter 6
Widdershins my nano project chapter 6
This has not been edited and may well end up being tweaked.
Rowan reached sight of the Rockies just as the sun was setting. The low light on his face seared his tired eyes after thirty-six hours driving but the satellite navigator on the truck had helped, particularly at crossing frozen farm fields to avoid a border stop. Neither of them had papers and he wasn’t up to giving explanations. He could just imagine the reaction to his statement, ‘Well, I am a five-hundred year old werewolf and this is a young wolf in the making. No, we don’t have passports because we aren’t really human anymore.’ He’d deal with getting new identity documents once he had Morgan safe.
Luckily, the truck was a four-by-four or he would have been in trouble with the snow. Morgan hadn’t stirred, despite the two stops for gas and one to change to Canadian currency at a bank just as they opened in the morning. He hadn’t thought she would waken after the strength of stuff he had given her. Five more hours to drive through Calgary and Banff and then he was into the interior of British Columbia. Any side road would do after that point. A whine from the rear of the truck raised the hair on the back of his neck. His time was running out. He pulled over on the hard shoulder to check on Morgan. She twitched and moaned. The change was coming sooner than he wanted. Not good. He might not have time to strip her before he released her if he didn’t do so now, a necessity, if not his preferred choice. He tried to be gentle to keep her hibernating. Stars, she had a great body now she had put on a bit of weight and wasn’t such a skeleton. Down boy, he couldn’t think about that. He wrapped her in purloined duvets to cover everything except her head.
The world spun when he tried to climb into the cab again. He took a moment to clear his head. Five hundred years of endurance kicked in. He could do this and he could do it safely for both of them. He rolled down the window, sucking in a blast of arctic air to keep him awake for the next stretch. Calgary flashed by in a glare of garish Christmas lights, followed by Banff with more subdued decorations. The noises from Morgan became louder but this didn’t disturb him as much as an overriding sense of dread. Something stalked them, and yet he couldn’t see any vehicle behind him, not on a consistent basis. The sense of oppression continued until three hours before dawn. Now he knew who hunted him. A vampire and a long distance one at that. Someone needed to check into a motel with vacancies, which wasn’t easy, given the ski season in full operation. Someone needed to make quite sure he had a nice dark room before daybreak. Good, it gave him time to set Morgan free. He turned off on the first side road, driving until he found a cut out. The growls from the back of the truck were getting serious. He pulled over, opening the rear door. One yank got the covers off her. He retreated to the other side of the truck to let nature run its course. The cold would make her change to get her fur, but he had to stay out of her scent pattern or she would attack him. A vibrant howl reverberated. It had begun. He climbed up to the cab roof, out of the way. A slim and beautiful wolf erupted from the rear of the cab. She sprinted into the trees in easy bounds. Rowan slid off the roof to get inside, shutting all the doors. Now, at last, he could sleep. The vampire was going to have to check every vehicle on this route to find the right one and at Christmas time, with people traveling, it was going to take time. Morgan would run and she would hunt until her human memories kicked in, and then she would return to deal with him for what he had done to her. He didn’t imagine she’d be thrilled. Rowan clicked the door locks shut before he surrendered to exhaustion.
***
Morgan came awake suddenly with an overpowering urge to run. She leapt out of a smelly area into clean forest. With the stars above her head and the sounds of nature all around, her world had no end. Crisp snow bore her weight for the fleeting seconds her feet made contact, leaving only a slight indent. Other fresh tracks snagged her senses with the aroma of prey. Mm, bunny, yum. She found it scrabbling in the snow to get at withered grass under the mantel of white. Carefully she edged around the clearing until she was downwind, her tail now wagging in anticipation. One step at a time, she crept closer, belly low. One mad dash, with the white hare squealing, bounding off at jagged angles and she had it. A bite to snap the neck brought the taste of fresh warm blood to her mouth. She started with the entrails, working her way to the muscles and then crunching the marrow out of the big bones, licking out the goodness. A full belly came with disturbing thoughts. This was not right. Memories of her other life bubbled to the surface in that lonely glade. He had done this to her, the man who was wolf. Yes, she wanted freedom, but not in this form. Her damaged leg began to ache in the cold. She must find him; make him answer for his sins. Her own scent gave a trail back to his truck and an impossible sight.
***
Rowan’s wolf sense roused him from slumber. A predator stalked and he thought he knew who it was. Being inside a locked truck was no security if he guessed right. More pressing, Morgan might walk into a trap if he didn’t spring it first. This showdown was long overdue. He stepped out into the frigid night, snow crunching underfoot, every sense keyed to the slightest movement or sound. Darkness ruled in the time before dawn.
A rustle in a nearby tree spun him around. Stanislav Borinsky, now called Jack Stevens, crouched on a limb, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. The vampire watched, waiting, intent on the cabin of the truck.
“Where is she, old wolf? What have you done with her? You know you will tell me when I’ve finished with you. Why not spare us both the inconvenience?”
Rowan assessed the killing field with a swift glance. Every boulder, depression, fallen branch mapped in his head, every slight depression or hummock in the snow; he smiled at the old bat. “Borinsky, you missed the boat by so much the ticket office closed down hours since. She will never be your prey.”
The vampire leaped off his perch to float gracefully to the ground. “I will have her. I won’t have my operations disrupted by a human. You must see this from my point of view. I need Mullen to front my North American operation and she has fingered him. What is a puny human to us? Come, give me the girl and I will forgive what your pack did to my men. ”
“The girl is mine. Shall we fight?” Bring it on. It was past time they stopped dancing around each other and settled this for good. This wasn’t about Morgan any longer. It was about who was going to survive.
Borinsky hesitated, looking into the shadows of the forest. “How careless you have become in your dotage. Your pack appears conspicuous by their absence. One last chance. Where did you leave her and where is she going?”
A whiff of frigid air brought the scent of wolf. Rowan did have a pack mate, but was she on his side? The old bat missed the spore of a werewolf. Too bad for him. “How about you consider giving up flying? Sink your fangs into me and that is what will happen.”
Borinsky snapped his cloak back from his shoulders. “What makes you think I would want to ruin my dental hygiene on your sorry carcass? We both know I am stronger than you in your current form. I’ll settle for snapping your back to let you freeze to death.” He rose from the ground, floating into battle position.
A sleek gray wolf sprang out of the bush, bounded to the truck bed, and then onto the roof of the cab. She crouched, ready to spring, her glowing eyes intent on the vampire’s throat. The vampire sailed up onto his former perch, shaking out his cloak like ruffled feathers. “That is not a wolf.”
Rowan smiled again. “Not all of my pack are lupine. Shall we discover what happens when a vampire gets bitten by one of my kind? Normally, I am kind to new pups, but in your case I could make an exception. Oh, and by the way, if you want a fight, you had better get on with it. I spy a silver streak in the sky. Still, this shouldn’t be a problem for you in your new life.”
Borinsky made the mistake of looking east. Morgan leapt at him, missing by a spider’s leg, when the vampire flew up in panic. His hiss of outrage made the night colder. “I’ll not forget, or forgive. I’ll find the girl without you.”
Rowan moved close to the wolf, reaching down with one hand to stroke her luxuriant fur. “Oh look, is that some red I see in the sky?”
The vampire took flight in a blur.
Morgan bit his hand, just a little. Reckoning time. “How about if I go get your clothes and turn my back while you change? We can argue all you like after that.”

