Grimm Wolf by Julie Steimle (well read books TXT) 📕

pregnant. So she would not be coming either. Eddie was also Stateside and perhaps would take a while to arrive, but Rick figured James would be either with Daniel on that Britain trip or he would be Stateside in his new position as a forest ranger. It was a fifty-fifty chance James would be there if Daniel came. That made a possibility of four or five out of eight—with the addition of Tom. It was extremely hard to get the entire Seven together on such short notice, but four was not bad.

The helicopter noise got louder and louder until it grew deafening. The house staff that was still in the castle converged on the roof, running past the great hall door. Rick could hardly hear their scuffles and shouts over the thunder of aircraft… until it landed, engines shutting off.

“Out of my way, you damn wolves!” Semour shouted, his voice carrying as he rushed down to the lower levels.

Rick had to stifle a laugh. Ok. Semour was here. And that was such good news. He was the perfect warrior against werewolves. Absolutely perfect. The guy had always personally terrified him, as Semour was not only a skilled swordsman, but all his armor and weaponry was silver plated. His sword was called the Wolf-Slayer for pity’s sake. And Semour had such immense battle experience, the likes of this world had never seen. Rick was sorry Daniel and James weren’t there, though. He could not hear them at least, if they were. Daniel and James were a tremendously skilled team, and a lot easier to get along with.   

“Here he is,” Tom said, his voice carrying from the hall were Jordan’s body lay.

“Oh go—” Michael stifled his revulsion.

“Where’s Howie?” Semour asked tersely.

Rick tensed.

“He stopped them,” Tom snapped defensively.

“Obviously,” Semour bit back. “If he hadn’t, this poor fella’s chest would be missing.”

Rick relaxed. He also closed his eyes, as the vision of what those wolves had done to Jordan flashed back to his mind again.

“Let’s get him on the stretcher,” Peter said.

“Got it,” Tom replied.

“We need something to cover him,” Michael put in.

“I’ll get the best sheets in the house,” Tom shot back.

Rick saw something white tear past the door like a ghost. Tom was not a man for subtlety. Not often, anyway.

Their working grunts were scarcely audible. And on occasion, a wolf from the pack would rush at them while they claimed Jordan’s body. A short battle would ensue, ending with a dying yelp of a wolf. The castle got silent again after a time. Rick didn’t hear his friends until several minutes later as they had clearly carried Jordan away to the helicopter. But when he did, they were rushing through the corridors to go outside to Emory and Rhett. Tom busted open the front doors with a loud boom. It sounded like the thick heavy wood itself had been torn from the iron hinges. The castle seemed to ripple with it, almost shaking when it happened—but most of the wolves who had been indoors did not seem to be around anymore. Rick silently wondered if they had been killed or if they had escaped.

“Da bist du!”

Rick’s eyes whipped to the far doorway below. Schwitzer loomed in it, bare chest heaving, his eyes upward on Rick.

“Hol mir eine Waffe! Ich werde ihn niederschießen!”

“Ah crap.” Rick scrambled, searching for where he could climb down… until he spotted the small stained glass window up above which would open out onto the roof possibly. Rolling over and ducking down his head, he ran across the beam then smashed through the glass. Shouts followed him.

Rick fell, dropping down with the stained glass into a huge pile of shrubbery and broken pottery. It wasn’t that far of a fall after all. Ahead, he could see the helicopter. For a brief second, he thought of taking it—but his mind immediately went to the others who had brought it there and needed it. Cursing at himself for being so selfish, Rick ran past it. Besides, he didn’t know how to fly a helicopter. What was he thinking? Rick darted across the roof through the knocked over potted shrubbery to the other side to get to another part of the castle. His job was to lead them away from his friends. He had to do it right or all would be wasted.

“Wo ist er?” Schwitzer shouted, which was easily translatable. They were after him.

Rick busted through another window and tumbled onto a bed. Rolling over and off it, he ran as fast as his human feet could carry him.

“You can’t run forever, kleiner Welpe!” screamed Schwitzer. He was already in the hall, predicting his movements, fast on his trail.

Rick dodged out the room, scrambling along the hallway, darting around furniture on his bare feet, nearly sliding on the carpet which was slick against the stone. Schwitzer made chase on all four paws, charging into the hall after him.

“There you are!” And the wolf pounced, sinking his teeth into the meat of Rick’s back.

Rick whipped around, quickly contorting into wolf shape—fur and claws extending as did his teeth—and he bit back. Rick had only ever used his teeth to fight off demons or to eat his monthly hunt. But to bite another wolf… to have to fight another wolf off… it went against everything in him. He wanted to scream for Schwitzer to see reason, but he knew the werewolf would not. He and his pack were beyond reason. They were mad, rabid beasts. Rick had long been warned about them, but he had never conceived that a wolf would be so far gone as that.

Schwitzer tore into him with his teeth and claws, showing no mercy. Fighting back with all his might for survival, refusing to be beaten down despite having no desire to be a killer, Rick did not give up. This wasn’t a dominance game anymore. Schwitzer was no longer trying to prove he was the Alpha wolf here. He was intent on ending Rick with all that he had in him.

And Schwitzer fought dirty. Of course humans did. Wolves were not like this. Rick knew enough full blood wolves to know that much. Snapping jaws. Clawing and scraping at Rick’s chest, face and neck, the German wolf would not be stopped. He could not be appealed to either. So Rick could not let up.

Making another bite into Rick’s shoulder, just missing his jugular, Schwitzer let go to get a better mouthful. In that snap second, Rick went human in his lower half and kicked the wolf off with the full force of his human feet and legs. He then ran for another window, breaking through. As glass fell around him with brittle cuts while he dropped, he quickly rolled over the rooftop, sliding down the tile among vines and plants meant to hide the castle.

“Always cheating kleiner Welpe! Always running, feigling!” Schwitzer’s shouts after him were soon joined by the howls of other wolves from the forest.

Rick’s eyes darted across the castle yard. It was too dark to see much, except that there was a light in the distance among the trees. It had to be where Emory and Rhett were. But as his eyes searched for a path away from them, to lead the wolves far away, he caught a glint off Semour’s armor and then the faint shadow of the rest of them. He squinted to make them out just to make sure.

They had Rhett in a stretcher, and Emory was walking with them.

Rhett… Rick groaned inside. Did Rhett get killed also?

Schwitzer burst out the window, teeth bared as he dropped to the roof right behind Rick. Fleshing out as a wolf again, Rick tore through the rooftop plants to lead Schwitzer away. He could not allow that monster see his friends escaping.

Rick slid down to the far edge of the roof and sprang off to the ground. It was a bit of a fall, but Rick knew he could make it.

Schwitzer let out a wolf call.

Landing on the pungent earth and rolling to keep bones from breaking, Rick hastily got to his feet then darted into the woods. Lead them away. Lead them away. Lead them away. It had become his mantra.

Schwitzer chased after.

Damn. That wolf was faster. He was stronger. He was blasted in stupid good shape for this. He was going to catch up. And Rick was sure he was going to die. It really wasn’t fair. An entire pack against a city wolf. Honestly. How could they even fool themselves into thinking he had created a just match between wolves? And even if Rick had not been outnumbered and tired, Rick admitted that Schwitzer himself was already too much for him. He was the bigger wolf. He was more muscular. Rick knew this stupid hunt in the first place was fueled by ego, peculiar wolf pride which real wolves didn’t quite have. The damn German wanted to prove he was the better specimen. Rick just wished he could simply forfeit and say, “Yes. You are stronger than me. Can we go now?”

But it was too late for that. Of course, it had always been too late for that. They were insane. Schwitzer wanted to beat Rick down, brag over him, and tear apart those he loved in front of his eyes. All of it. He didn’t just want to dominate Rick to prove he was the better wolf. He wanted to destroy the Deacon legacy. Then he would destroy Rick himself.

Three wolves out of the forest dark came at him. Ripping off his bloody stolen shirt with a human hand, Rick snapped it at one, blinding the beast for a moment, while he leapt over another, somersaulting to the ground behind the animal and continuing on. The wolves made chase, cursing at him in German, calling him names like Dämon. Schwitzer was soon right behind.

Panting, breathless, on four aching paws, Rick scrambled around the castle grounds, seeking ways to lose them. But then he saw two more wolves coming out of the dark and trees. They went straight for him.

“Crap!” Rick swore more. He scrambled back toward the stone structure, looking for a way in. “I was safer in the castle.”

Six wolves on his tail, Rick could feel the heat off them as they got closer.

“Feigling!” Schwitzer shouted while in pursuit.

The whir of helicopter rotors started up again.

Looking up, Rick laughed, darting under a fallen tree and skidding on all paws over rocks before leaping up some branches and then down again to dodge a wolf nipping at his tail. His pursuant collided with the log, too intent on biting Rick. His yelp was wonderful.

Another wolf bit into his side.

Rick lurched away, kicking and biting to get him off. The wolf mostly got skin and fur.  

Schwitzer pounced.

The helicopter lifted off.

Schwitzer looked up, his wolf eyes widening. Everything seemed to pause then. Rick inched away, trying not to startle him or the wolves back into reality just yet.

Tom’s voice distantly called for him. “Wolf boy! Where are you?”

“It’s just me now.” Rick laughed, his heart leaping in celebration. He kicked Schwitzer off and scrambled away as fast as he could under the brief distraction.

But the wolves with Schwitzer sprang after him, catching up. They pounced on him digging into Rick’s back with their teeth. Rick snapped and clawed in an attempt to get them off. They were pushing in, biting to destroy him.

One of them suddenly lost a head.

Stumbling on all paws, Rick staggered as another yelped, a blazing white sword stabbed through with blood gushing. Rick-the-wolf, looked up.

Standing over him, bloodied and angry, was Daniel, sword flaming in the dark.

Rick pulled back into human shape, lying on his back, hands up. “Please don’t kill me.”

With a dry look, reaching down with his non-fiery left hand, Daniel grabbed Rick’s wrist, heaving him onto his human feet. Daniel’s face was flecked in blood, his eyes gravely resting on Rick. “Of course not, stupid. We’re rescuing you.”

Utterly overwhelmed with relief, Rick flopped