father.
The old bard smiled a little.
"Fine," said Charles in English. "Fine."
She raised her chin. "I'll try not to slow you down."
And he felt as if she'd hit him in the stomach; he'd managed to make her feel unwanted, which hadn't been his intent at all. He had no gift for words, but he tried to mend things anyway.
"I am not worried that you'll slow me down," he told her. "Da's right. With this leg, I'm not going to be breaking any speed records. This isn't going to be fun, not in those mountains in winter."
He didn't want her to see him kill again. Sometimes it was all right, and they fought him, like Leo had fought. But sometimes they cried and begged. And he still had to kill them.
"All right," Anna said. The tightness in her voice told him that he hadn't undone the damage-but he couldn't lie and tell her that he wanted her with him. He didn't. And though he knew her ability to detect a lie was still pretty hit-and-miss, he wouldn't lie to his mate.
"I understand." Anna continued looking at the floor. "It won't be fun."
"I'll call and have them open the general store," said Bran. Impossible to see what he was thinking-except that he'd chosen not to help Charles. "Get her equipped however you think best."
Charles gave up and turned his attention to something he knew how to do.
"Tell them we'll be there in an hour," he said. "I'll need to talk to Heather and Tag first. We'll head out in the morning."
"Take my Humvee," Bran said, taking a key off his key ring. "It'll get you farther in than your truck."
Aren't you just being so helpful, now? thought Charles with frustrated bitterness. Bran couldn't read minds, but the small smile told Charles that he read his son's expressions just fine.
* * * *
Charles wasn't surprised to see Heather waiting for them. She stood just outside the guest-room doorway, leaning against the wall with her gaze on her feet. She didn't look up as they approached, but said, "I killed him by bringing him here, didn't I?"
"Did Tag go home?" asked Charles.
Heather looked up at him, examining his face. "He said he'd had all the blood he could deal with for a while and went downstairs to watch a movie."
"Your Jack will be fine," Anna said, apparently impatient with Charles's neutrality. "Charles and I are going to take care of the werewolf who attacked him-and hopefully that will be good enough that your friend won't freak out to the press."
Heather stared at his Anna for a moment. "Thank goodness for someone around here who doesn't act as if information were more precious than gold. You must be Charles's Chicago Omega."
Anna smiled, but he could tell that she had to work at it. "Wolves do tend to be secretive, don't they? If it helps, I think your bringing the other wolf-Tag, was it?-was the thing that tipped the balance."
Heather glanced at Charles out of the corner of her eye, and he knew she'd hoped for that when she called her uncle for help. Still, he read the truth in her voice when she said, "He was the only one it occurred to me to call. I knew he'd come just because I asked him."
Tag was like that.
"Is it possible that we could wake your Jack up?" asked Charles.
"He's been in and out," she told him. "He's just sleeping, not unconscious now."
The human was a little older than Heather. His face was drawn and pale. As soon as Heather woke him up, the scent of his pain filled the room.
Interesting, thought Brother Wolf, seeing wounded prey. An easy meal.
Charles had never figured out if Brother Wolf was serious or being funny, since they both knew he'd never allow them to feed upon a human. He suspected, uncomfortably, it was somewhere in between. He pushed Brother Wolf back and waited until the human focused on him over Heather's shoulder.
"I am Charles," he said. "A werewolf. Heather, I'm not going to eat him."
Heather backed out from between them though he could tell she wanted to stay there and protect her friend from him.
"Why did you attack us?" Jack whispered, working to get the words out.
"Not me," Charles said. "Ask Heather. She'll tell you. We just heard about the rogue a few days ago. I was wounded, and my father wanted to wait until I was healed before sending me after him. We thought that with the hunting season almost