Finn has ripped down his pants only to reveal the loudest pair of board shorts ever created.
‘KISS ME, I’M IRISH!’ they scream in shamrock green on black.
“Finn,” Susan huffs, shaking her head at him and letting Maggie loose.
“Come on,” I tell her, and I send a look at Finn. A grateful one.
He winks at me—because although I wouldn’t strip naked with humans present, I too am wearing board shorts that I can easily kick free of after I’ve Changed. And I’m not shy.
But neither of us is going to tell Susan that.
CHAPTER 36
SUSAN
There are twenty-eight acres of cornfield. Ten miles of maze trail winds through it, but that’s the fun part for the humans. The shifters have their noses to rely on, an excellent sense of direction, and they’re poised and focused to reach their target: the barn. They aren’t about to bother with the maze. Every entrant is lined up, facing the long bare rows of dirt that run between the towering corn stalks. All challengers get busy turning into an array of colorful, mostly lupine shifters.
I’ve never seen Finn Change before. And after seeing every geographical morph of werewolf, including a red Ethiopian wolf (who, it turned out, is mated to an African Wild Dog shifter—just gorgeous!)—I’ve got a distracted sort of curiosity to see what color Finn’s inner animal is.
He’s positioned himself in the third row from the end. The end spot is Deek’s, nearest to the tree line at the edge of the field. Ginny is crouched, her muzzle aimed down the row between them.
Deek turns into his sleek chocolate lycanthrope self, and Maggie and I strip his furry body of his pants, shorts, and socks. His shoes, as always, simply fall off his feet when he steps out of them.
Charlotte is helping Ginny. At Charlotte’s gasp, I glance up, in the middle of folding Deek’s pants, and follow Charlotte’s shocked gaze.
She’s looking at the spot where Finn was standing a moment ago.
The spot where an animal is kicking off a garish pair of KISS ME, I’M IRISH! shorts.
It’s Finn. It has to be Finn. But he’s not a wolf.
“Is he… an Irish wolfhound?” Charlotte whispers, awed.
“He’s HUGE!” Maggie cries, thrilled. And she’s right—he dwarfs the werewolves around him. And werewolves aren’t small.
“Uhhh,” Charlotte protests in confusion. “Didn’t wolfhounds help exterminate wolves?”
The wolfhound in question turns his giant head, his jaws part, revealing a gleaming row of massive teeth—somehow, he’s flashing a perfectly recognizable Finn-grin on us. He wags a wiry-haired whip of a tail.
“I’m starting to think the Pack has a twisted sense of humor,” I say faintly.
Marú mac tíre, werewolves call him in secret. Wolf Killer.
Finn makes a coughing bark and launches into the field.
None of the other wolves follow him, although they tense, ready to spring.
“Why is Finn going first?” Maggie asks.
Deek sways his tail and taps her cheek with his nose reassuringly.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, but I think I have an idea as we watch Finn whip around shockingly fast, eyeing the row of werewolves along the edge of the field. I’ve only ever seen video clips of Irish wolfhounds when they’re relaxed, I guess, and it gave me the mistaken impression that they are a lumbering breed.
There is nothing slow or lumbering about Finn. His frame is all strong muscle and bone and surprising speed. Under bushy, wiry fur that curls off of his stop—that indentation where his muzzle is supposed to meet his forehead—his eyes are sharp, and for just the briefest moment, they’re different when he watches the werewolves on his periphery. His eyes have gone predatory.
But then Deek wurfs at him and Finn literally shakes himself. He turns, lowering his nose to the ground. His paws hit the dirt in an easy lope—and then his speed is blinding, he’s flying down his row of corn.
“It’s like watching a bullet train fly down its track,” Charlotte muses. “No wonder all the wolves in Ireland went extinct.”
“I don’t think the other wolves can safely run with Finn, honey,” I whisper back.
I no more than say this when Finn flies back, looking just huge, and every werewolf in his vicinity freezes.
Like prey.
Deek, who's on the far side of his friend, drops to his belly and lowers his ears submissively. Finn barks—a deep, deafening sound that makes all our eyes widen—and with blinding speed, he lunges at Deek. Towering over him, he snaps his teeth playfully above his shoulders before he snatches his bucket’s