Otherworld Chills

THE PUPPY PLAN

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it causes serious problems for werewolves, too. Logan had been wandering the forest behind Stonehaven, goofing off, tramping through the newly fallen snow. At nine, he was a little old for playing like that. Or he considered himself too old for it. But his twin sister, Kate, had gone into the city with their parents to buy Christmas gifts, which meant there was no one to see him. And it was new snow. So he wandered about, breaking fresh paths, startling mice, and maybe even scooping up a few, like he and Kate used to do when they were kids. Little kids, that is.

As he neared the edge of the property, he noticed the sun just starting to drop over the open road. Time to head back. He was supposed to be in before dark, and while there was at least an hour left, he hated even skirting the edges of irresponsibility.

It was then, as he turned, that he caught the scent. He stopped in his tracks, lifted his nose, and inhaled.

It smelled like a dog, which was weird. With the Pack roaming these woods, other canines steered clear. Once, he and Kate had spotted a fox ambling across the road, and when it caught their scent, it practically went into spasms before it tore back to its own side.

This definitely smelled like dog, though. That made Logan curious. Okay, most things made Logan curious. He liked learning and discovering. He also liked testing boundaries, though not in the same way his sister did. Kate pushed the ones that would get her into trouble. With Logan, boundaries were about knowledge and exploration. Lately, he’d been testing how close he could get to domestic animals before he startled them.

He walked toward the scent, but it remained faint. Then it was gone. He looked around. He saw the road, and trees and snow. Lots of snow. When he backed up, the smell wafted by on the breeze.

Had a dog passed this way earlier, its tracks now covered in snow?

No. His gut told him that whatever caused this smell was still here, and he paused, analyzing that. Gut feelings were for Kate; Logan preferred fact. He decided that it was the strength of the scent. As faint as it was, it was more than the detritus shed by a passing dog.

That still didn’t answer the question of where the dog could possibly be, when all he saw was snow. The forest started ten feet back from the road, the edge too sparse to hide anything bigger than a rabbit.

Maybe the dog wasn’t bigger than a rabbit. Like the one they saw when Uncle Nick took them to visit Vanessa, and they’d been out walking on a busy street and passed a woman with a tiny dog in her purse. The dog had smelled werewolf, freaked, escaped, and ran into traffic, followed by Kate, who’d nearly gotten hit catching it. Uncle Nick had decided it was a story their parents really didn’t need to hear. Logan agreed. He’d also pointed out to Kate that, while rescuing the dog had been a fine impulse, she’d nearly given the tiny beast a heart attack when she scooped it up, which would have rather undone the point of saving it.

It could be a small dog, then, cowering behind a tree, waiting for Logan to pass. Which meant he should just move along. Except that, well … curiosity. He had to see if his theory was correct.

As he started through the ditch, snow billowed over the top of his boots. He should have worn snow pants, but this winter he’d declared he was too old for them. The price for maturity, apparently, was wet jeans and snow sliding down the insides of his boots.

His foot hit something. A rock or a root. When he went around it, the smell faded. That’s when he decided curiosity wasn’t always such a good thing.

He had a good idea what he’d just kicked in the snow. A dog. Or the body of one that had been struck by a car and made it into the ditch before dying. He scowled at the thought. Sometimes you can’t avoid hitting an animal on the road, and it isn’t safe to try, however much Kate would protest otherwise. But if you did hit a dog, you should at least stop. Help it if you can, and find the owner if it’s too late.

He didn’t need to see a dead dog. But when the snow melted, Kate would see it, and that would upset her. A lot. She’d been trying for the past year to convince their parents to let them get a puppy. Reese had dogs growing up, and he said, if you raised them from pups, they were fine with the werewolf smell. But werewolves and pets were two things that didn’t normally go together, and with Malcolm being back, this was one time when their normally indulgent parents held fast. Maybe in a year or so, they’d said. Not now.

Logan would move the dog deep into the woods on the other side of the road. It wasn’t something he wanted to do—at all—but it was something he should and could do for Kate.

He peered up into the sky. The sun had not miraculously stopped dropping. He still had plenty of time, but he ought to leave this task until morning, when he could bring a bag. First he’d check and see how big a one he needed, and if he should bring the toboggan, too.

He returned to the spot where he’d kicked the poor thing, and he bent to scoop out snow. Soon he saw a bag. A canvas one, like the kind potatoes came in. Which meant this wasn’t a dog hit by a car. As for what it was …

Let me be wrong. Please let me be wrong.

He undid the tie at the top and opened it to see …

Logan’s stomach clenched so hard he doubled over. Tears prickled as he squeezed his eyes shut, but the image stayed emblazoned there. Two puppies, one on top of the other, the top one’s eyes open, pink tongue sticking out between its tiny teeth.

Logan dropped the bag and scrambled to the road and started pacing, heaving deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. Get his temper under control. Everyone said Kate was the one with the temper. Not completely true. His didn’t come out nearly as often as hers, but when it did, it was like a fire in his head and his stomach, burning through everything.

How could people do this? No, really, how? If they couldn’t keep the puppies, they could damned well find someone who could or leave them at the goddamned shelter, because this, this was unforgivable. Someone should put them in a bag. Toss them by the roadside like garbage. That’s what he’d like to do if he found them, and he didn’t care if it was wrong. It was fair.

He paced until he stopped raging. And stopped cursing. Then he rubbed his hands over his face, took a deep breath, and …

Harsh bass boomed from his pocket, making him jump. The opening chords of Bikini Kill’s “Rebel Girl.” Kate’s ring tone. She set up everyone’s ring tones, an idea she got from Savannah, though his sister’s taste in music was somewhat more eclectic.

Logan answered quickly.

“I thought you were staying in the city for dinner,” he blurted.

“Dad and I got tired of being out. Mom did, too. She just wouldn’t admit it.”

He turned his back on the bag.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Sure. Just out walking.”

There was a pause, Kate trying to emotion-read him through the phone. That was not, he was aware, the technical term for what she did. There probably wasn’t a technical term, because her ability to interpret mood and emotion bordered on the preternatural. But after a moment she gave up and said, “I’ll join you.”

“It’s getting dark.”

“Which is fine as long as we are together and have our phones. I know the rules, Lo. I even kinda follow them. Oh, and I’ll bring your hot chocolate. We picked it up in town. The good stuff from the new coffee place. I’ll have to reheat it and put it into a thermos. There was whipped cream, but it melted. I could say I ate it, but that would be gross.”

“Uh-huh …”

“Does it help if I say I used a spoon?”

“Did you?”

“Where are you? I’ll be there in ten.”

Logan started to tell her. Then he spun back toward the bag. “No! I’ll … I’ll come there. I was just heading in.”

“Then you can go out again. With me.”

“My jeans are wet.”

“Because you won’t wear snow pants.” She sighed. “For such a smart kid, you can do some really dumb things, Lo.”

“Because I’m still a kid. It’s allowed. Give me ten and I’ll be there.”

“Fine. But if I drink your hot chocolate, it’s your own fault.”

“How would it be—? Never mind. Ten minutes.”

He set the timer on his phone, knowing if he wasn’t within sight of the house by the time it went off, his sister would come looking for him. Patience was not one of her virtues. He was still fussing with his phone when he bent distractedly over the bag and caught the smell and stopped short at the reminder of exactly what he was doing.

He couldn’t think about it. Just couldn’t. Sometimes doing the right thing meant doing stuff you really didn’t want to. He might have a bad dream or two after this, but finding the dead puppies would give Kate screaming nightmares, wondering if they’d been alive when—

Nope, he wasn’t thinking about that. Wasn’t.

He picked up the bag … and it seemed to move. Which he was clearly imagining, because he’d just been thinking about the puppies being alive.

So he was going to presume they were dead without checking? That would give him nightmares. He steeled himself and peered inside, recoiling as he saw the puppy with its eyes open. There was no doubt it was dead. No doubt at all.

The one underneath it had its eyes shut, but its lip was curled back as if in a final snarl of defiance. He saw that, and he wanted to cry. Not rage and curse, but cry, because, when he looked at that puppy, he felt what it must have.

He’d planned to leave them in the bag, but now that seemed as wrong as if he’d put them there himself. He reached in and took out the body of the first puppy, cold and stiff. Then the other …

The other was not cold and stiff.

Logan nearly dropped the first puppy in his rush to get the second one out. He scooped it up with both hands.

It was warm. Warm and pliant, its head lolling. He put one hand under its muzzle to support it while he pushed his fingers deep into the thick fur around its heart, searching for a beat.

The puppy lay on his hands, a deadweight.

Deadweight.

He blinked back tears. Tears of frustration and disappointment now, and maybe a little of anger, as if he’d been tricked, some cruel joke making him think that the puppy lived.

No, the joke was worse than that. The puppy was still warm, meaning that maybe, if he’d gotten to it faster …

He swallowed and wrapped his hands around the puppy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If I wasn’t fast enough, I’m sorry.”

The puppy whimpered.

Logan froze. His heart pounded, and he was sure that the whine was just an echo of his own voice. His fingers dug into that thick fur again, checking in case, just maybe …

There was a heartbeat.

A faint heartbeat.

Logan sat down fast, put the puppy on his lap, and examined it for injuries. No obvious broken bones. No soft spots on its small skull. As he looked down at the puppy, he swore he heard his sister’s voice in his ear.

It’s cold, you dope. It’s been lying in the snow. Stop playing doctor and start playing nurse.

Right. Yes. Of course. Hypothermia. He unzipped his coat fast and put the puppy inside. Before he could zip it back up, he took the puppy out again and put it under his shirt, too, right against him. Then, being careful to leave the zipper undone enough so the dog wouldn’t smother, he wrapped his arms around it and started to run.

Get to the house. Get Jeremy’s help. He was the Pack medic. He’d know what to do. As for what he’d do about Logan bringing a puppy home? They’d deal with that later.

He was under no illusion that his parents would say, “You found a puppy? All right, then, you can keep it.” And when they didn’t say that, when Kate had a puppy in the house only to see it sent to the shelter? When she blamed their parents? Let’s just say it wasn’t going to be a very merry Christmas.

But he couldn’t think about that. The important thing was the puppy. Maybe he could convince Mom and Dad to set a timeline for Kate. To tell her, “Not this puppy, but another. In a year.”

He was halfway to the house when the puppy woke up. Fast. Like he’d dropped it into a frozen pond. All four tiny limbs shot out and sixteen tiny—and remarkably sharp—claws ripped at his chest.

“Whoa!” Logan said as he skidded to a halt, snow flying. “Hold on!” With one hand, he rubbed the puppy, trying to calm it—and keep from being totally shredded—as he got his coat open and pulled it out.

Once free, the puppy froze, motionless, as if trapped in the jaws of some massive predator. Logan tried to pet it, but it started trembling, like a rabbit under a wolf’s paw. Logan’s own heart pounded along with the puppy’s. What if he did exactly what he’d warned Kate about with that purse dog? If he rescued it, only to give it a heart attack from his scent?

“It’s okay,” he said. “Everything’s okay.”

He kept his voice low and soothing, but the puppy whimpered, as if his talking only made things worse. It twisted in his arms, wriggling and struggling. He couldn’t let it go—it wasn’t old enough to survive out here—but if he scared it to death …

He growled with frustration. The puppy stopped wiggling. It went still. Then, slowly, it looked up at him, confused. He growled again, and it tilted its head but stayed motionless, watching him. Its nostrils flared as it sorted out his scents—canine and human—and he wondered if it wasn’t the canine one that had made it freak out.

He growled, keeping the noise low, the kind of reassuring growl a parent might give. The puppy gave a yip of joy and started wriggling madly, in excitement now, small tongue bathing his face.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “We’re good. Now just … Can you—” The tongue slid into his mouth. “Ugh. No, stop—” He held the puppy at arm’s length. When it stopped, he settled it, firmly, in his arms. “You’re obviously fine. Which is great. But …”

But it was also a problem, because as much as he’d tried to remain sensible and mature about the whole thing, a part of him had still been shouting, I found a puppy! The part that hoped maybe, if he brought home an injured and abandoned dog, and it had to stay with them to recover, their parents would see it wasn’t a big deal and let them keep it. Now, though, he had a perfectly healthy abandoned dog, which would be easy to just whisk off to the shelter. That was, he had to admit, not what he wanted. Not at all.

He looked down at the puppy. It was black and white with medium-length fur. Border collie was the breed that sprang to mind. Border collie mingled with something else, because it was already an armful, meaning there was a larger dog mixed in there. German shepherd, maybe?

Kate had researched the various breeds, trying to find the right one. He’d helped, allegedly just because he enjoyed research but admittedly because, well, because he wanted to dream a little, too. Border collies and other shepherds were at the top of their list. Intelligent and loyal working dogs. German shepherds appealed more to Logan, but Kate had her heart set on a border collie or Australian shepherd, like Reese used to have. Something loyal and intelligent but also cuddly.

Logan looked down at the ball of fur in his arms. This was her dog. There was no other answer. He’d found exactly the perfect dog for her, three days before Christmas. That meant something. It had to.

His sister was supposed to have this dog.

His phone jangled, the alarm sounding.

Shit! Er, crap.

He hit speed-dial as fast as he could, juggling the phone with the puppy. It rang. Rang again.

Come on, Mom. You haven’t put your phone in a drawer yet. I’m out in the forest, which means you’ll keep it in your pocket—

“Hey,” came the answer.

He exhaled. “Mom. Good. You’re there.”

“Not sure where else I’d be, but, yep, I’m here. Your sister’s on her way out to find—”

“No!”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what I’m calling about. Can you stop her? Keep her there? Distract her or something?”

The puppy wriggled, and he adjusted his grip on it.

“Is everything okay?” Mom asked. “You sound—”

“I’m feeling a little off. Restless.”

“Is it your Change? It’s only been a week.”

“No, no. Just restless, like Kate gets. Anyway, it’s nice and quiet out here and …”

Mom chuckled. “And your sister will shatter that silence?”

“I just need time by myself to walk it off. I’ll be in before it’s totally dark. I promise.”

“I know you will. And you are, as always, entitled to time on your own. I’ll keep your sister at bay.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

He hung up. That should do the trick. Even for twins, Logan and his sister were close. Best friends who understood each other in a way no human playmate ever could. But Mom worried that they might need time to themselves now and again, especially as they got older. She’d keep Kate away. Now he had to figure out what to do.

Three days until Christmas. Three days to figure out how to tell his parents that he planned to give his sister a puppy.

His stomach twisted at the thought, because it felt disloyal and a little underhanded. No, a lot underhanded. They weren’t saying “No pets” without good reason. If he said he wanted to give this puppy to Kate, it would kill them to refuse.

What he needed was a defense. Not an impassioned plea, but a reasonable argument. Which meant he had three days to come up with a way to convince his parents, while not making them feel they’d been tricked into agreeing … or like they were monsters if they refused.

What to do with the puppy until then …

The playhouse.

He and Kate had a fort in the forest. Uncle Nick, Reese, and Noah had built it for them a couple of years ago. Or they’d tried. When it failed to actually stand upright, they’d recruited Morgan, who had more experience with construction. The result was a perfect shelter from the elements. Also, the perfect place to hide a puppy.

Putting the puppy in the fort was a fine idea … except that it required the cooperation of the other party, and the puppy was having none of it. After trying several times to leave the dog—only to have it start howling—Logan decided the answer was the same one his parents had used when their “puppies” wouldn’t go to sleep.

He brought the dog into the snow and played with it, keeping an eye on the sun as it dropped below the trees, and while he told himself he was just trying to wear the puppy out, he was a little disappointed when it did finally collapse, exhausted. He scooped it up and took it into the fort, where he’d made a nest with his hoodie, and the puppy fell into snoring slumber.

“I’ll bring you food later,” he whispered as he filled an old Frisbee with snow and mashed it for drinking water.

Bringing food would mean sneaking out at night, and he hated that, but if the alternative was letting a puppy starve, it really was no question at all. The rules had to be broken. Just this once.

Next, he had a much less pleasant task: burying the dead puppy. He did that quickly, burying both the bag and the puppy deep in the snow across the road. The sun had almost set. He started jogging back to the house, deep in thought, until the smell of deer made him pause, instinctively lifting his face to inhale the scent.

Scent.

Oh, no.

He stank of dog.

He looked up. Pine needles? Would that smell be strong enough? Maybe if he rubbed them on his clothes and then made a beeline for the shower. But how would he explain to Mom and Dad that he really needed to wash his clothing? By himself?

Well, I have to learn sometime, right?

Dad might let it pass, but Mom had a keenly tuned sense for when something wasn’t quite right with her kids, and she’d sniff out answers like a hound on a trail.

What he needed was a dead animal. Gross, yes, but it would cover up the dog scent. When he sniffed the air, though, he picked up a smell that would do that job even better. Except …

He ran to the source of the scent, looked down, and shuddered.

Kate had really better appreciate this Christmas gift.

“Oh my God,” Kate said as Logan walked in the door. Her hand flew over her nose. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Kate!” Mom called. “Language.”

“You said there’s a time for cursing,” Kate yelled back. “I think this is it. Logan’s covered in deer poop.”

Mom sighed, probably just relieved Kate had said “poop.” Then she rounded the corner and stopped short, her hand flying up to her nose in a matching pose. “Oh my God, Logan.”

“Language, Mom,” Kate said.

Logan lifted his hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Don’t worry,” Kate said. “We’re not. What happened?”

“Ice.”

Kate’s lips twitched. Then she burst out laughing. Mom tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to stifle hers, snorting half-choked laughs.

“Thanks, Mom,” Logan said.

“Sorry, baby. It’s just …” She struggled to swallow more laughter. Dad’s footsteps thudded down the stairs. He poked his head into the mudroom. “What’s …” His nostrils flared, and then he drawled, “Well, that’s unfortunate. Ice?”

Logan nodded. He turned and pulled off his boots.

“On your back, too?” Mom said. “How’d you manage that?”

“Ice. It’s slippery. Very slippery if it’s covered in snow.”

“So you fell on your face in deer poop,” Kate said, “got up, and fell in backward?”

“My face is fine.”

“Uh, no, actually there’s a little … Eww. Sorry, Lo. You really stink. I’ll go watch Jeremy make dinner.”

“You could help Jeremy,” Mom called after her as she left.

Kate laughed and kept going. Dad followed. Mom turned to Logan.

“Okay, baby, strip down and I’ll get your clothes into the laundry.”

“I can handle it. It’s my mess, so it’s my cleanup.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ve got it.” He gave her a wan smile. “It’s not something you want to do before dinner.”

“Just toss your clothes in the washer, and I’ll run it after we eat.” Dad reappeared with a wet washcloth.

“Please tell me Kate was kidding about my face,” Logan said.

Dad shook his head and walked toward him, as if to wipe it off, but Logan took the cloth and backed up. “Got it. I’ve got the laundry, too, Mom. I want to learn. I’ve been thinking I need to take on more responsibilities.”

“All right,” Mom said. “I’ll show you how to run it. I am sorry about laughing.”

“But it was funny,” Dad said. “And it’ll get funnier each time your sister retells it.”

Logan sighed.

Mom gingerly reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You just need to find something to hold over her so she doesn’t tell everyone at Christmas. Not that I’d recommend blackmailing your sister …”

“Yeah, we absolutely recommend it,” Dad said. “It’s the only defense.”

Logan smiled, and they left him to strip down and run upstairs to the shower.

Kate spent the meal regaling Logan and Jeremy with stories of the “strange behavior of humans”—all the weird things she’d witnessed while out Christmas shopping. Mom’s eye rolls said Kate was exaggerating. Dad’s smirks said she wasn’t exaggerating very much.

That was part of growing up in a werewolf Pack. Humans sometimes seemed a foreign species to Logan and Kate, the way they did to Dad, who’d been bitten when he was a kid. Mom had grown up human, so she didn’t pay any attention when humans did things like let their kids wander off in a mall, or yell at them in public, or cuff them upside the head. Logan got the feeling none of that was weird—or foreign—to his mother. He wondered what her childhood had been like, but she never talked about it, and if he or Kate asked, she’d just tell them a funny story from her school days.

With Kate entertaining at dinner, no one noticed he was quiet. Quiet and deep in thought, his brain racing to come up with all the necessary facets of “the puppy plan.”

He had to get his parents onside. Jeremy didn’t count. No, that sounded wrong. Jeremy definitely counted—it was his house, and he was Dad’s foster father and also the former Alpha. He always counted. When it came to raising Logan and Kate, though, Jeremy kept out. He was like …

Logan wasn’t really sure what Jeremy was like, because he had no frame of reference other than what he could glean from other families. Jeremy seemed more involved than a grandparent. He wasn’t like a parent, either, because he left all the decisions to their mom and dad. One of Logan and Kate’s school friends had a stepdad, who did everything a dad did except when it came to discipline and decisions about raising him. That’s what Jeremy was like. As close as you could get to a parent without actually being one.

When it came to having a dog, Jeremy’s position was simply “whatever your parents say,” as it was on everything else. He wouldn’t even be here for Christmas. He was leaving tomorrow to spend a few days with his girlfriend, Jaime, and then they’d both come back for the big Pack holiday Meet on the twenty-sixth.

The two people Logan had to convince, then, were his parents. He’d considered going straight for Dad. His father might be the most feared werewolf in the country, but his kids saw a very different side of him. Last summer was the first time he’d really raised his voice to them—getting into a shouting match with Kate long after their mother had lost all patience with her acting out. But Kate had had a reason for her bad behavior—signaling her first Change—and they’d sorted it out, and Dad went back to being his usual self, which meant if Logan had to pick who he could more easily woo to his side, it was definitely Dad.

That was a problem. The rest of the werewolf world might think Dad was the scary one, but he wasn’t Alpha. Mom was. That meant that Logan shouldn’t go around her to his father to ask for something. Yes, Mom wouldn’t want him saying that. She wanted to be his mom, not his Alpha. But she was his Alpha, and he felt that.

Even if she wasn’t Alpha, he shouldn’t go around her to his dad. He’d never heard his parents disagree on something to do with him and Kate. Either they never disagreed or they just didn’t do it in front of the kids. He shouldn’t pit them against each other. Which meant he had to ask them together. That did not, however, mean he couldn’t work on Dad first.

The next problem was getting Dad away from Mom. Like Kate and Logan, they weren’t always together, but it seemed like it. Luckily, this was Christmas, which meant routines had changed. Last night, they’d all gone out to cut down a tree. Tonight, they’d trim it. After dinner, Dad’s job was getting the decorations out of the attic while Mom and the twins made cookies.

“I don’t think three of us need to do this anymore,” Logan said as Kate stirred chopped chocolate into the dough.

Mom got out the cookie sheets. “Someone needs to make sure all that chocolate goes into the pan.”

“I’m not five, Mom,” Kate said … and tossed a chunk of chocolate his way before eating a piece herself.

“I thought I’d help Dad this year,” Logan said.

“Why?” Kate said. “You liked the smell of deer poop on your clothes so much that you want to see if mouse poop smells just as good?”

He flicked the back of her head and dodged as she kicked backward.

“Go on,” Mom said. “Just ignore the cursing.”

Dad was definitely cursing. He was snarling, too, as he stomped around in the dark attic.

“Where the hell did she move everything?” he was muttering to himself as Logan climbed up. “Goddamn it.”

“Language, Dad.”

His father only looked over and snorted. Logan got the feeling the “no swearing” rule came from Mom. Logan understood it, though—if they were allowed to curse at home, then they’d slip up at school, and Mom didn’t need more calls from the teacher.

“Mom didn’t move the decorations. You just toss them up here after the holidays and then forget where you put them.”

A grunt, but no argument. Logan picked up a flashlight and scanned the boxes, saying as casually as he could, “I meant what I said earlier about wanting to do more chores … taking on more responsibility.”

Another grunt.

“We’re old enough, and I think it’s a good idea.”

Dad walked deeper into the attic. “I asked Jeremy for more responsibility when I was about your age.” He shone the light on a box and heaved it up, placing it by the ladder. “Because I wanted something.”

“What? No, I don’t—”

“I wanted to go camping with the Sorrentinos. Jeremy said no.”

Logan picked up a box marked Xmas and moved it to the ladder. “Why?”

“Something about me being responsible once for us getting asked to leave a campground.”

“You got kicked out?”

“Asked to leave. It’s different.”

“Uh-huh.” Logan plunked down on a box as his dad kept hunting.

“I just wanted to sleep,” Dad said. “That’s the idea of camping, right? You hike and swim and go for a run, and then you sleep at night. Except we couldn’t, because the people next to us sat around the campfire all night talking. Loudly. So I decided, if we were going to have a quiet night, I needed to move their beer.”

“Steal it?”

“Move it.”

“But how would that help? They could still have a fire and talk.”

“Not without the beer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Dad shrugged. “Some people …” His gaze went distant. Then he shook it off. “That’s how it works with some people. The point of the campfire is the beer. Now, do I get to finish the story?”

“About how you stole their beer and got kicked out of the campground?”

“Moved. Asked to leave.”

“Because there’s a difference.”

“There is.” Dad caught Logan’s grin and gave him a mock glare. “I moved the beer to another site, where there happened to be a bunch of teenagers. If those kids chose not to track down the rightful owners, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Did you get to sleep?”

“We did. It was very quiet … until the next day, when the people next door saw the kids with their empties. One of the girls had seen me with the case and ratted me out. Then we were asked to leave. So the moral of the story is …”

“Don’t let anyone catch you when you move the beer?”

“Exactly. But the point is that I decided I’d show Jeremy I could go camping again by proving I was more responsible. I did more chores, and he let me go.”

“It worked, then.”

“Sure. After I broke a bunch of dishes, threw a red shirt in the white laundry, and doubled the salt in the stew, Jeremy was just happy to get rid of me for the weekend.”

“You’re not really making your case here, Dad.”

His father laid down the last of the boxes. “I’m kidding. Well, not entirely. I tried, though, and that was the main thing. The problem here, Logan, is that this isn’t the same. I wasn’t allowed to go camping because I messed up. You not being allowed to get a puppy has nothing to do with you messing up.”

“Whoa. What? Puppy? No, I didn’t say anything about—”

“You don’t need to. It’s the only thing you and your sister really want that we aren’t giving you. Therefore, it’s the only reason you’d suddenly decide you needed to show more responsibility. In this case, though, lack of responsibility has nothing to do with why we’re saying no. I’m sure if you get a puppy, you’ll look after it. Even Kate will. She may have laughed when her mom asked her to help Jeremy with dinner, but you know what? She went in and helped him. Irresponsibility with her is all about image.”

Logan would have smiled at that, but his heart was pounding too hard, seeing his puppy plan dissolve.

“It’s not about responsibility, Logan. It’s about timing.”

“I know.” His voice was so soft even he barely heard it, because he did know that, and yet he’d told himself otherwise. Responsibility was something he could fix. Timing was not.

Dad sighed and lowered himself onto a crate opposite Logan. “Sometimes, when your mom says we’ll talk about something later, what she really means …”

“Is that she doesn’t want to talk about it, and she’s hoping we’ll forget.”

“But that’s not what she means this time. It isn’t no. It’s not now.”

Logan nodded.

“What if we laid out a timetable?” Dad said. “Figured out when we might be able to make this happen?”

That was exactly what Logan had been hoping for. Before the puppy.

“Maybe the end of the school year,” Dad said. “We’d need to discuss it with your mom, but she was already talking about that. Spring’s a good time for puppies. She says we can put in our name with a breeder and then pick out the puppy as soon as it’s born.” Dad smiled. “Apparently, she’s done her research.”

Logan forced a return smile.

“And that’s not what you wanted,” Dad said slowly.

“It’s just …” Logan squirmed.

“Did you see puppies for sale? Is that where this is coming from?”

No, Logan wanted to say. I already have one. It’s out back, and if you come and see it, you’ll know it’s perfect for Kate, and it would be the best Christmas present, and it would make her so happy, and I really want to give it to her.

That’s why he couldn’t say it. Because there was no way his parents would want to say no once they saw the puppy, and then he’d feel as if he’d forced their hand.

Instead, he nodded and said, “I saw a sign. For puppies.”

Silence. It was so long he thought Dad wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “I wish I could say yes, Logan.”

And that hurt, really hurt, because he didn’t want to make Dad feel bad. His parents did have lots going on, and Logan saying, “But I want a puppy!” was selfish and spoiled. He wanted to be mature and understanding and acknowledge that, compared with most kids, he was pampered and spoiled. A kid couldn’t ask for a better life. Or better parents. He always wanted to remember that, especially when things didn’t go his way.

“Dad!” Kate shouted from the bottom of the ladder. “Logan!”

“We’ll be down in a few—” Dad started to call back, but Logan rose and yelled, “Coming!” Then he said to his dad, as maturely and sincerely as he could, “I understand,” picked up a box, and headed down.

After everyone went to bed, Logan snuck out with leftover roast beef and a hoodie from Kate’s hamper. He’d give the puppy her sweater to sleep on, along with the one of his own he’d left earlier. That would get the dog accustomed to both their scents. Not that the puppy would be staying, but just … Well, he wasn’t sure why. He told himself he was taking Kate’s hoodie so, if she did see the puppy, it wouldn’t be afraid of her.

He also brought a backpack with a separate set of clothing, which he’d change into and store near the fort.

He tried not to feel guilty about sneaking out. He still did. That was his wolf brain. It wasn’t just breaking the rules that made him feel sick. He’d made a mistake. A big one. He should have taken the puppy to the house right away. Told his parents what happened and let them deal with it.

He’d gone behind their backs, hiding it in the fort, and now he was digging himself deeper into a hole. There was no way he could go through with his plan now. He shouldn’t even try. Which was a good and mature realization. Except … well, that still left the puppy.

As soon as he drew near the fort, the puppy started whimpering. He trudged those final steps, because he didn’t want to see it. He wanted to shove the meat through a hole in the wooden walls and run back to the house. That wasn’t fair, though. This wasn’t the puppy’s fault any more than it was his parents’. He’d started it; he had to follow through.

He opened the door and the puppy launched itself at him. He fell back on the snow as it jumped on his lap and wriggled, whimpering and whining in excitement. It licked away the tears on his cheeks, because, yes, there were tears, as much as he’d tried to hold them back. After a moment, when he didn’t respond, the puppy’s wiggling and whimpering became more frantic, a little panicked.

He wiped away the tears, gave it a fierce hug, and took out the meat. The puppy licked a piece, gulped it, and started to choke, which meant a major freak-out, until he managed to pull the strip out of its throat. That’s when the tears threatened again, when he looked at the puppy on his lap, coughing and shaking its head, and all he could think was, I can’t do anything right.

“Feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help, is it?” he said, his voice echoing in the night.

The puppy whined and licked his face, its whole body shaking with fresh excitement.

“You’re not old enough for meat. I should have thought of that.”

The puppy kept dancing in place, tiny claws scrabbling against him, just happy to hear his voice, to have his attention.

“We don’t have any baby bottles. I don’t know what else to use.”

How did wolves feed their young once they were ready to start meat? Regurgitation. He made a face. “I can’t do that. But I guess …”

He took a piece of meat from the bag, chewed it, and spit it into his hand. The puppy gobbled it up almost before it hit his palm.

“Well, that works,” he said. “Still gross.”

He repeated the process, and the puppy ate all the meat in the bag, slowing only as it neared the end.

“Tomorrow I’ll grind it up in the house,” he said. “I’ll research it and …”

And how long was he going to keep the puppy in the fort?

“It’s just until I have a plan. I’ll—I’ll figure out what to do. How to get you a real home and …”

His voice broke and the tears prickled again, but he blinked them back and cleared his throat.

“You don’t need that. You need exercise.” He put the puppy down, got to his feet, and started to run, the puppy tumbling along at his heels.

After breakfast, Kate practiced her music. Normally, he’d have stretched out on the floor nearby and read or studied. But while that was perfectly fine for piano and guitar—and even, if he wasn’t studying too hard, for drums—Kate had recently decided she needed to add a wind instrument to her repertoire, and of course she hadn’t chosen the flute.

Maybe it would be better once she had more practice at the trumpet, but at this point, well, no one expected him to hang around. The trumpet noise also meant he could slip into the kitchen and prepare the meat without anyone knowing. Then he zipped out the back door with a quick, “Going for a walk!” to Mom, who hesitated, as if thinking she’d like to escape with him, but he was gone before she could.

He fed the puppy until its tiny belly bulged, and then they played until the puppy collapsed. He wouldn’t be able to return until dinnertime. It was his day for Christmas shopping. Jeremy was taking him later this morning. Mom might pretend she was perfectly fine with crowded malls, but she didn’t volunteer to go twice in as many days.

While they shopped, Logan tried not to fret about the puppy problem. Of course, he did. At lunch, Jeremy said, “You’re quiet today.”

Logan found a smile. “I’m always quiet. You’re just used to having Kate around, too.”

“True, but there’s the kind of quiet that says you just don’t have anything to say and the kind that says you have too much to say and don’t know how to start.” Jeremy cut into his steak. “Your dad used to have that same look, when there was something he needed to say.”

“Like: ‘I didn’t do it’?”

Jeremy returned Logan’s smile. “Actually, no. At your age, your dad never had any problem telling me when he’d done something wrong. It weighed too heavily on him. He’d blurt it out like a confession.” Another bite of his steak. “You have that look, too, though.”

Jeremy kept his gaze on his food, but Logan still felt it and tried not to squirm.

Jeremy continued. “Whatever you’ve done, I suspect you feel worse about it than you need to. There’s something you’d like to talk about, but you want to work it out for yourself.” He lifted his gaze. “Am I close?”

Dead-on, as usual. Logan could feel the words churning inside him, desperate to escape. I rescued a puppy, and I wanted to give it to Kate, but I know I can’t, and now I have this puppy in the fort, and I should have said something, and the longer I wait …

“Logan?”

He should speak up. Jeremy was the person Mom went to for advice—the person everyone went to for advice. He would keep Logan’s secret and help him solve this.

Except Jeremy was right. Logan wanted to figure it out for himself.

“I understand you don’t like to ask for help,” Jeremy said, as if reading his mind. “That you get from your mom. It’s not that she doesn’t value anyone else’s opinion. Or that she thinks she can do everything herself. It’s that she wants to be able to do it herself. She expects more of herself. Asking for help is weakness.” He looked at Logan. “Does that sound familiar?”

Logan said nothing.

Jeremy took another bite of his lunch before saying, “Your mom has learned to ask for help, but it’s still difficult. Do you know what she often does instead? She tells me or your dad her ideas and then waits to see what we say. That way, she’s not really asking, but we’ll still offer advice.”

Jeremy waited again, and Logan knew he was hinting for Logan to do the same. Which would be great … if he had ideas to share. Instead, he just sat there, fingering his sandwich. Then he said, “Can you tell me a story about my dad?”

Jeremy’s lips quirked. “One that illustrates the principles I’m trying to communicate? Or one to distract me from pestering you?”

“I just … I need to think some more. A story would help.”

“Distract you, then. All right. Let’s see if I can find one you haven’t heard …”

When they got home, Kate zoomed into the hall and launched herself at him. Not unlike the puppy, he reflected. Just with less slobber.

“What’d you get me?” she said as she bounced.

“Was I supposed to get you something?” he teased.

“Um, yeah. Only the best Christmas present ever.”

He faltered at that.

I did. I tried.

“Oh, I’m kidding. Geez, Lo, you take everything so seriously. Of course, may I point out that your amazing sister did get you the best gift evah.”

“Ignore her,” Mom said, walking into the front hall. “We went to town to grab a few groceries, and she talked us into another hot chocolate. Then we made the mistake of letting her run in to buy it herself. She got an extra-large. She’s been bouncing off the walls ever since. Too much sugar.”

“Sugar doesn’t trigger hyperactivity, Mom,” Logan said. “Smarty-pants. Caffeine, then.”

“There isn’t enough caffeine in hot chocolate—”

“Yes, yes. I’m wrong. Very, very wrong. You do know we’re supposed to get a few more years of you thinking your parents know everything, right?”

He smiled. “I never thought that. Sorry.”

She smacked his shoulder and waved him into the study. “Your dad needs to talk to you about something. Jer, can I speak to you? And no, you aren’t going to just stay quiet and hope to escape Kate’s bouncing. If it doesn’t work for Logan, it won’t work for you. Kate? Go … run around the house ten times or something.” She steered Logan toward the study and motioned for Jeremy to follow her.

“What’s up?” Logan said as he walked into the study. He said it as casually as he could, considering his palms were sweating so hard he had to shove his hands in his pockets.

He’s found the puppy. He went for a walk and found it, and now I’m in trouble. He doesn’t want to bother Mom about it, not when tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.

Christmas was important to Mom. Logan and Kate had always known that. Dad went out of his way to make it perfect, and he was a little more inclined to discipline them himself at this time of year, to keep everything running smoothly. Logan and Kate never asked why it was important. It just was, which meant they had a magical Christmas themselves every year, because that’s what Mom wanted for them.

Dad was busy cleaning out the fireplace—his head stuck in it—and he didn’t seem to hear Logan’s question. Logan had to smile at that and said, “You, uh, don’t need to do that this year, Dad. We know. Remember?”

“What?” Dad backed up. “Oh. Right.” He rubbed his chin, leaving a smudge of soot, and he looked … disappointed. As if he’d forgotten this year would be different, part of the magic left behind in the world of childhood that the twins were quickly leaving.

“You probably should, though,” Logan said. “Kate may have been the one to insist on an honest answer, but …” He lowered his voice. “I think she still believes.”

Dad smiled at him and shook his head. He’d know Logan was humoring him, but he’d do it anyway. It was tradition, and they still believed in that.

As Dad backed out, Logan said, “Should I, uh, shut the door?”

“What?” Dad’s face screwed up. “No, no. You aren’t in trouble, Logan. I just need to talk to you about something. Before we went to town, your mom, Kate, and I took a walk out back, and we smelled something.”

Logan clenched his fists, breath jammed in his throat. I’m sorry. That’s what he’d lead with. I’m so, so sorry.

“A mutt,” Dad said.

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. There hasn’t been a mutt near Stonehaven in years.”

“R-right. They know better.” At first, when Dad said “mutt,” all Logan could think of was the puppy. It was a mutt: a crossbreed. But that was also their word for non-Pack werewolves, and it showed how distracted Logan was that it had taken him a moment to remember that.

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure we’re wrong,” Dad said. “It was just a whiff, and it passed so fast that all I can say for sure is that we smelled canine and human, and hell, it might have just been some guy walking a dog along the road.”

Or a puppy, covered in human scent.

“Your mom is sure it’s nothing, but”—Dad shrugged—“I’m not taking any chances. We don’t need to go for a run until the Pack Meet, so there’s no reason to head out back. We’ll be on alert, but Jeremy’s still leaving later, and no one’s changing any plans. The only thing is that I need to ask you and Kate to stay out of the woods.”

Logan went still.

Dad peered at him. “Is that a problem? I know your mom said you’ve been restless. We can go for a drive later, the two of us. Walk someplace else.”

“No, I’m fine.”

More peering. Then Dad nodded, not seeming entirely convinced, but only saying, “If you change your mind, day or night, and you need to go out, you just tell me, okay?”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Now, if you’re still feeling like being extra responsible, you can help me with this fireplace.”

The puppy needed to eat. It needed food and fresh water, and Logan couldn’t let it go without either until morning. He had to tell his parents.

He should have talked to Jeremy. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Logan might come by his independent streak honestly, but that was no excuse. Now Jeremy had left, and he’d told Logan to call if he wanted to talk, but then Logan hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to do it.

His parents kept going in and out, scouting the perimeter, and Logan couldn’t stop thinking about the puppy getting lonely and scared. Would it start howling? Would his parents find it?

After dinner, it was time to bake gingerbread cookies, one of their favorite Christmas traditions. Logan couldn’t ruin that by bringing up the puppy.

He had to slip out again after dark. There was no mutt. There hadn’t been one on the property in years—it certainly wouldn’t happen now. Mom and Dad had smelled the puppy, that’s all. Logan was safe. He just couldn’t get caught, because that would be a serious infraction, worse than anything he’d ever done. Worse than anything Kate had ever done. For this, he’d be punished—not as a boy disobeying his parents, but as a Pack wolf disobeying the Alpha.

He couldn’t get caught. It was that simple.

Logan watched the clock tick toward midnight. He had his own bedroom now. He and Kate had shared up until two years ago, when Mom declared they were too old. He stayed in the room that used to be Malcolm’s. Kate moved to Mom’s old room, from before she and Dad got together. Or before they got together for good.

Logan was a little confused on the exact timeline. His parents had been together and then broken up, but because Mom was Pack, she’d stayed at Stonehaven some of the time, and … It was confusing. All he knew for sure was that Mom had kept her old bedroom, though she hadn’t used it for years.

Deciding to move Kate in there had been something of a family joke. The room was super girly. Mom said that when she joined the Pack as its only female werewolf, that was the kind of room Jeremy figured she needed. Kate was about as girly as Mom was—which was to say, not at all—and now Kate had the room, and, like Mom, she couldn’t complain too much for fear of hurting Jeremy’s feelings. Logan figured by now Jeremy knew that it wasn’t really their style, but it was like he was in on the joke, and everyone played along. Still, Kate was slowly but surely redecorating, piece by piece, poster by poster.

Logan’s room was at the back, across the hall from Jeremy’s. Kate’s was on the other side of Jeremy’s, across from Mom and Dad’s. This meant that, if Logan snuck out, he’d have to pass everyone on his way to the stairs. This was a problem. His parents slept soundly, but Kate was overly attuned to his sleeping patterns. He’d need to jump out the window instead.

Being a werewolf meant window-jumping wasn’t nearly as dangerous as it might be. Or it wasn’t these days, that is. The first time they’d tried it, they’d been three. Logan twisted his ankle, and Kate sprained her wrist, and Mom totally freaked out. They hadn’t hopped out any windows for years after that. But now, at their age, it was as simple—and safe—as jumping out a main-floor one.

Logan opened his window, took out the screen, and set it inside. Then he poked his head through to check below. He spotted a figure in the yard and jerked back fast. When he peered out, he saw …

Kate.

His sister was making her way across the backyard.

What the hell? He almost said that. Almost shouted it out the window. He started to jump out after her. Then he realized he was wearing his jacket and boots, which would take some explaining. He stashed them under his bed, pulled on a hoodie and slippers, and jumped out the window.

He hit the ground and tore off after Kate. The fresh-falling snow was too powdery to squeak under his slippers, and she had her hoodie pulled tight, so she didn’t hear a thing until she was flat on her face in the snow. She twisted, fists clenching. Then she stopped.

“Logan?”

“What the hell are you doing?” he snarled, and she didn’t tell him to watch his language. She heard that tone and her gaze dropped, and she pushed up from the snow carefully, her posture submissive, which meant she knew what she’d done was wrong, because there was no submissive or dominant wolf in their relationship. They were twins. Equals in everything.

Normally, he’d have let it go at that. The wolf in him said that if she submitted—acknowledging her error—he should take the high road. She might deserve a cuff on the ears and another snarl, but that was it. Tonight, though, with everything going on, he didn’t feel like dropping it quite so fast.

“No, really,” he said. “What the hell were you doing, Kate?”

“I … I was restless?” Her voice rose in a question, as if looking for the answer that might appease him.

“So, you took off in the night again? After what happened this summer?”

“I—”

“No, this is worse than last summer, because this time you were expressly told not to come out here at any time. To sneak off in the night—”

“I’m sorry.” She stepped toward him, her gaze down. “You’re totally right.”

He eased back then, grumbling, his temper fading.

She looked up at him. “Are you okay, Lo?”

“No, I’m not. My sister tried to sneak into the forest when there’s a mutt—”

“There isn’t a—” She swallowed the rest and dropped her gaze again. “Whether there is or isn’t, the point is that I disobeyed a direct order.”

“From your Alpha.”

She shifted. They both understood the difference, even if Mom might not. If she told them to brush after meals, that was their mom. If she told them to stay away from a potential mutt, that was their Alpha.

“Are you okay, Lo?” Kate asked again. Then she shook her head.

“No, stupid question. I know something’s bugging you. It’s what happened at school, isn’t it?”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. More than a minute, because he’d honestly forgotten about it. His sister had problems at school with the other girls. Kate was smart and talented and—according to the other boys—pretty. But she hung around with Logan and a few of the other kids who didn’t quite fit in, and that drove the popular girls nuts, like she was thumbing her nose at them. They could be mean. The last day of school before the holidays, one of them had tripped Kate, and his sister had hauled off, whacked her, and sent her flying. The girl had been too scared to tattle, but Logan had had a talk with Kate after that.

“I know I need to rise above it,” she said. “Ignore them. Never hit them, because I can really hurt them. And because Mom will get a call, and she doesn’t need that.”

“Right.”

“It won’t happen again. But you’re still mad, aren’t you? I disappointed you.”

“What? No.” He gave her a rare hug. “I actually forgot all about it, Kate. If I’m a little off, it’s just that: I feel a little off. Like you did this summer. I’m running behind. Boys do mature slower than girls.”

She laughed at that and hugged him back. “I don’t think anyone would accuse you of maturing slowly. All right, then, as long as you aren’t mad at me.”

“About the school thing? No. About sneaking out tonight? Yes.”

“I know. It was dumb. I’m a kid. I’m allowed to do dumb things. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get inside before Mom or Dad catches us, or we’ll both learn exactly how dumb it was.”

An hour after giving his sister proper hell for disobeying an order, Logan was doing exactly the same thing and painfully aware of the hypocrisy. But the puppy had to be fed.

He gave Kate time to fall asleep. Then he put on his coat and boots and climbed out the window. Snow was still falling, already obscuring their tracks from earlier. He had a way to go, and he really wanted to get this done quickly, so he circled out to the road, which was easier walking. Any other time he’d have enjoyed the crisp, clear night with lightly falling snow. The nip of the cold didn’t bother him at all, and he walked with his hood down, moving between a fast walk and a jog, depending on the depth of the snow.

He’d hit a good run at a plowed section, and he was ripping along, hearing nothing but the wind whistling past his ears. The snow started driving his way, and he narrowed his eyes against it. The cold wind numbed his ears and nose, and he was truly running “blind,” all senses deadened. Just keep moving. A little farther, and then he’d veer into the woods and—

There was a figure on the road.

It seemed to appear from nowhere, but the truth was, he just hadn’t been watching where he was going. Not watching. Not listening. Not smelling. He’d had his eyes on the road, and then he glanced up and there was a man standing ten feet away.

Logan stopped fast. Then he caught the man’s scent. His stomach did a double flip.

No, that wasn’t possible. It had been a misunderstanding. His parents had caught a whiff of the puppy and mistaken it for …

Logan inhaled deeper and swallowed.

And mistaken it for nothing. There was a mutt, standing on the edge of their property.

A mutt, staring right at him.

Logan knew he should run. That’s what they’d been taught. But he couldn’t, and it wasn’t fear—it was something deep in his gut that saw a rogue werewolf on their territory and refused to flee. He planted his feet, lifted his chin, and squared his shoulders. And he waited.

The mutt took three steps toward him. Slow and careful steps. As the mutt drew near, Logan realized he was young. Maybe twenty. Still, twice Logan’s size. Both twins were small for their age, one of the more unfortunate traits they’d inherited from their father, who’d been the smallest in his class until he hit his growth spurt in high school.

The mutt stared at him and then inhaled deeply, his eyes widening.

“You smell like a werewolf,” the young man said.

“Uh, yeah …”

“No, I mean, you’re a kid. You shouldn’t already smell like a werewolf.”

“I’m special. Now, since you obviously know who I am—”

“You’re the boy,” the mutt said.

“Pretty sure I don’t look like a girl.”

“No, the boy. Their boy.”

“Three for three. Not exactly genius, considering where you are. You do know where you are, right? Trespassing? On the Alpha’s territory?”

“Your dad, you mean.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “There’s your first strike. My mother is the Alpha, moron.”

The mutt’s lips twitched. “Sorry, kid, no one buys that story. The Pack would never make a woman Alpha. It’s really your dad—they just don’t want to scare people by saying that.”

“Fine. You’re about to meet both of them. You can pick your challenge. Either way, you’ll get your ass kicked. That’s why you’re here, right? To challenge the Alpha.”

“No, I’m not stupid.”

“Um, yeah. The fact you’re here says you are. Now, should I call them over? Or do you want to rethink this particular course of action?”

The mutt’s gaze darted to the forest. “They’re out here?”

“You think they’d let their nine-year-old wander around at two in the morning? Now, I’m giving you a chance to leave. It’s Christmastime. Don’t you have someplace to be?”

“Um …”

“Never mind. Just go. Head off that way.” He pointed. “Don’t step on the property or my parents will track you down and make an example of you. If you leave now, I won’t tell them you were here. They thought they smelled a mutt earlier, but they weren’t sure. Don’t make them sure.”

The mutt peered at him. “How old are you again?”

“Nine.”

“You don’t talk like it.”

“I take after my parents—both of them. They can think as well as they can fight. It’s a lethal combination, and I wouldn’t suggest you stick around long enough to find out for yourself.”

“Is it true what they say? About your dad? What he did to the last wolf who trespassed here?”

“Whatever they say, it’s true. Now just—”

“Do you know what they say? What he did? You must not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be nearly so proud of him. He’s a psycho. You know that, right?”

“He is whatever he needs to be to keep us safe. Now get—”

“No, really. He’s crazy. You obviously don’t know what he did. Him and his buddy, Nick, they found two wolves here, come to issue a challenge. Your daddy was younger than me, and he took those wolves—”

A crash sounded in the undergrowth, and a figure barreled out so fast both Logan and the mutt fell back. Before the mutt could recover, Dad had him by the shirtfront. He threw him onto the road and planted a foot on his stomach.

“Logan?” he said. “Get back to the house.”

“I—”

Dad’s look stopped the words in his throat. It was the look mutts must get when they crossed him. A look his son never expected to see, and Logan took a slow step back.

“To. The. House.” Dad caught Logan’s gaze. “Now.”

Logan tried. He really tried. This was an order from his father and the beta, but it wasn’t the same as an order from the Alpha, and all Logan could think was that there might be other mutts, and he really should stay by his father. Watch out for him.

“Logan …”

The mutt slammed his fist into the back of Dad’s knee, and it caught his father off guard. Dad’s leg buckled. Logan shot forward, ready to throw himself at the mutt if his dad went down. He didn’t. He just stumbled, and swung around and grabbed for the mutt, but Logan was already diving at him, and when Dad swung around, his fist caught Logan in the shoulder and sent him crashing into the snowbank.

That distracted Dad for real, and he twisted toward Logan as the mutt leapt up. Logan opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Dad backhanded the mutt down again, and Logan scrambled up as fast as he could, saying, “I’m okay. I’m okay,” even as pain stabbed through his shoulder. Dad spun back on the mutt, who was staying on the ground now, his hands raised.

“I’m sorry,” the mutt said. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“Not yet you aren’t,” Dad said, taking a step toward him, his fists clenched.

The mutt stayed down. Stayed submissive. His gaze was fixed on Dad’s chest, not rising even to his face.

“It was stupid, really stupid,” the kid said. “They dared me—my cousins—and I don’t have a rep, because I lost my first two challenges, and I thought this would help. All I had to do was get a photo of the house to prove I was here. I wasn’t even going to go on the property. Well, not far, because you can’t see the house from the road. I tried. But I was going to walk as far on this road as I could, and only go—”

“How old are you?”

“N-nineteen.”

“Fuck. Name?”

“Davis. I mean, Cain. Davis Cain.”

“Of course. A Cain. Do you guys share a single brain among you?” Dad lifted his hands. “Don’t even answer that. Did you set foot on the property?”

“N-no. No, sir, I mean.”

Dad winced a little at that, as if the “sir” took it too far, was too submissive, didn’t portend well for the kid’s future as a werewolf.

“I’m going to check that,” Dad said. “In the meantime, you will get into your car, wherever it is, and you will start heading home. You will not stop, even to take a piss, until you are past the state border.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you will tell your cousins that you got as far as Bear Valley and turned around, because you realized just how stupid an idea this was, that you weren’t just risking your own life but, because you’re a kid, I’d hold your family responsible for not teaching you better.”

“R-right.”

“You decided to go home and start training instead of taking on challenges already. Train until you’re ready to beat someone. And maybe, if you can manage it, hit the books and get a little smarter, too, because that will help you fight. And help you not make fucking stupid choices.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, start heading to your car. I’m going to retrace your steps, and if I find you even set foot on our property, I’m coming after you.”

“I-I didn’t. Honest.”

“Good, then you won’t be in a rush to get to your car. Walk.”

The kid did, heading in the direction he’d come from, which meant Dad followed at a short distance, checking his trail. Dad got about twenty feet before he turned and saw Logan still standing there. He barely had time to open his mouth before Logan broke into a run to catch up, his teeth gritted as the fast movement jostled his shoulder.

They kept going until the mutt turned down another road, and they saw his car. Dad walked a little farther, still sniffing. Once he was satisfied the kid had walked straight down the road—no side trips into their forest—he stopped and watched as the car’s taillights disappeared from sight.

Then, still silent, Dad walked over and motioned for Logan to take off his jacket. He prodded Logan’s shoulder as Logan squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry out.

“Can you lift your arm?” he asked.

Logan did.

Dad stepped back. “Do you know how lucky you are that I didn’t dislocate it? Or break it?”

“It would have served me right if you did.”

Dad gave a disgusted grunt. “Sure, that’s what counts: that you deserved it. It wouldn’t have bothered me at all. Break my son’s shoulder. No big deal.”

Logan dropped his gaze. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten in the way.”

“That was just the last in a very long string of mistakes you made tonight.”

Logan could hear the anger in his father’s voice. Icy anger, pushed down deep, turning his voice bitter cold. Logan wished he would yell—lose his temper and snarl and shout. He did with others. Even with Mom. Especially with Mom, though they tried to hide it from the kids. But that was just anger. Two volatile tempers clashing, until one of them would stalk off into the woods and the other would follow, and when they came back, everything would be fine.

That’s what Logan wanted right now. For his dad to shout and snarl and get it out of his system. To be furious with Logan for doing something stupid, because it had scared him. That’s not what he saw, though. This was worse. It was disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to cry. “I’m really sorry, and I know everything I did tonight was stupid and—”

“We told you not to come into the woods. We told you why.”

“I-I thought … I didn’t think it was true. About the mutt.”

Dad pulled back, his blue eyes icing over even more. “You thought we lied to you?”

“N-no, I thought there was another explanation. I was absolutely sure there wasn’t a mutt out here.”

“You are nine, Logan. I don’t care how smart you are—you are not in a position to make that determination. If I’m not sure whether there’s a mutt, and your mother isn’t sure, then you aren’t, either.”

“I know. I’m—”

“Furthermore, I don’t care what you thought. It was an order. You do not disobey an order.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“No, Logan, I mean you don’t. Not that you shouldn’t. You don’t. You never do. So if you did tonight, then something is wrong, and you are going to tell me what it is, or we are going to spend a very long and cold night on this road.”

Logan swallowed. He closed his eyes, and steeled himself, and said, “I’ll show you.”

“No, you’ll tell me.”

“I-I …” He lifted his gaze. “Please. I have to show you.”

Dad gave a wave, looking tired and frustrated, and let Logan lead the way.

Dad followed behind Logan. Maybe watching for trouble. Maybe just not really in the mood to walk with him. When they were halfway to the fort, Dad’s hand fell on his good shoulder.

“It’s late,” he said. “Just tell me what—”

“I have to show you.”

“No, Logan.” He stepped in front of him, his face drawn in the moonlight, lines deepening around his mouth. “Tell me, because I need to get inside and talk to your mother.”

“It’s a puppy,” Logan blurted.

Dad went still. “What?”

“A puppy. In the fort.”

“You found a puppy in the fort?” Dad said slowly.

“No, in the ditch. There were two. In a bag. I thought they were dead, so I was going to move the bag before Kate found them, and I was carrying it across the road when I realized one puppy was still alive.”

“One was …?”

Logan nodded, and the look that passed over his father’s face … It was many expressions, all flickering fast, shock and surprise and anger and outrage, and then something like sorrow and regret as he said, “You were moving dead puppies for your sister.”

“I didn’t want her to see that.”

Dad’s expression said he’d rather Logan hadn’t seen that, either, but Logan started walking again, still talking. “At first, when I thought the puppy was hurt, I was going to take it to Jeremy. But then it was fine, and I … I put it in the fort.”

“The fort?”

“I wanted to give it to Kate for Christmas.” Again, he blurted the words before he could stop himself. Then he hurried on. “I mean, that was my first thought. I know I can’t now. It’s a bad time. But I didn’t know what to do with the puppy, and I was trying to figure it out while I was looking after it, which is why I went out tonight. I thought you didn’t smell a mutt this afternoon—just the puppy. I was sure that’s what it was. So I was going to feed it.” He took the bag of meat from his inside pocket. “Otherwise, I’d never have gone out.”

” Dad gave a slow nod. They were within sight of the fort when he finally said, “You wanted to give it to Kate. For Christmas.”

“I know I can’t, so I’m not asking. That isn’t fair.” “Isn’t fair?”

“To make you and Mom say no. Especially Mom. She wants a perfect Christmas, and a puppy would be, well, perfect. For Kate. So Mom would either have to say no and feel awful or say yes when she really doesn’t want to. That’s not fair.”

Dad’s hand fell on his good shoulder again, and before Logan knew it, Dad had pulled him into an embrace. Tight and brief and fierce.

“All right, then,” Dad said. “Show me your puppy. Before it breaks down that door.”

The puppy was indeed trying to break down the door, throwing itself at it as it yipped and howled. Logan opened it, and the puppy flew out. So did the stink of puppy poop, and Logan’s hand flew to his nose. The puppy jumped and leapt against his legs, yelping to be picked up.

“I’ll clean that up,” he said quickly.

“You look after your puppy,” Dad said. “I’ll handle the rest. I’ve changed plenty of diapers.”

Dad cleaned out the fort while Logan fed the puppy. He came out again as Logan was trying to get the puppy to eat more.

“Food first, then play,” he said to the puppy, dancing around his feet. He looked up at his dad. “It likes to play.”

“It?” Dad’s brows shot up. “You can’t tell if it’s male or female?”

“I haven’t looked. I don’t want …” Logan busied himself shoving the meat back into the bag. “It’s not important.”

Not important if they couldn’t keep it.

Dad scooped up the puppy in one hand. He flipped it onto its back. “Female.”

Logan nodded. Dad tried to put the puppy down, but it—she—climbed onto him, licking his face.

“Okay, okay,” he said, handing her back to Logan. “You haven’t named her, I’m guessing.”

“I didn’t want to form an attachment.”

Dad snorted, as if to say it was already too late. “Play with your puppy for a while. Tire her out.”

Logan wished he wouldn’t say your puppy. It meant nothing, but it felt like something. He pushed that aside, and he played with the puppy, and Dad did a little, too, feinting and chasing, the way he used to when Logan and Kate were little, wearing them out for their nap.

When the puppy collapsed, too exhausted even to move, it was Dad who scooped her up and took her back to her bed. Then, as they headed for the house, he called Mom.

“We have a situation,” he said.

A pause, as Logan heard Mom’s muffled voice. “Yeah, actually there was a mutt, but that’s taken care of. The problem is our son.”

Logan tensed. He tried to fall back, to not listen, but Dad caught him and kept him there, walking beside him.

“He found a puppy by the road a couple of days ago. Abandoned in a bag.” Dad went on and explained as they walked.

Mom met them out back. She said nothing as they approached. She didn’t stand with her arms crossed. She didn’t look disappointed. Not angry, either. Just thoughtful. She looked maybe a little sad, and when Logan saw that sadness, he faltered and felt like he was going to be sick.

“I’m sor—” he began, but she was already there, in front of him, arms going around him in a hug just as tight as his father’s—longer, though. Holding him against her, she bent to whisper, “I’m sorry you had to see that,” and he knew she meant the dead puppy, and he nodded, and then she backed up, her hands still on his shoulders.

“Uh …” Dad said, and motioned for her to take her hand off his left shoulder. “The mutt. He—”

“I got in the way,” Logan said. Mom winced, but Logan said, “I’m fine. Just going to have a bruise. Lesson learned, right?” He tried for a smile, but she didn’t return it.

“We’ll discuss that tomorrow,” she said. “For now, the puppy. It’s late, and we’re not going to talk about it tonight. I’m just going to say that you don’t need to handle things alone, Logan. No one expects you to. No one but you.”

She looked down at his expression and sighed. “But that’s what counts, isn’t it? What you expect from yourself.” Another hug, lighter and quicker. “We’ll work on that. Go on inside. Your dad and I need to talk.”

Logan was almost asleep when his door creaked open. Footsteps crossed the room and even before he caught the scent, those footsteps said it was Dad. He kept his eyes shut until he felt him standing there, beside his bed, looking down at him. Not checking whether he was awake. Just watching him.

When Logan opened his eyes, Dad sat on the edge of the bed. There was a long minute of silence. Then Dad said, “That kid. The mutt. What he said … I caught a little of it. I heard you two talking, and I just caught the tail end.”

“He was just talking. He didn’t threaten me or anything.”

“I know. I heard enough to tell …” Dad eased back. “I’m not sure if I should say you handled yourself well, because that might encourage you to do it again.”

“I got lucky. He was just a kid. A scared kid trying to prove he was brave.”

Dad nodded. “But the rest. I caught enough to hear what he said about me.”

“I’ve heard it before. Variations on it.”

Dad went still. “What have you heard?”

“That you’re crazy. The psycho-werewolf thing. That’s how you keep them away. By making them think you’re the big bad wolf.” A small smile. “Which doesn’t mean you aren’t, just that we don’t see it.”

Dad shifted on the bed. “He said I’d done something. At Stonehaven. To keep mutts off the property.”

“You got there before he told me the details.”

Silence. At least two minutes of it. “Do you want to know the details?”

“Not really.”

There was a soft exhale of relief. “Okay. Someday, yes, you’re going to need to hear them, and I’d rather you did from me, but …”

“Whatever you did, it was to keep them away. To keep us safe—Jeremy and then Mom and then us.” He lifted his gaze to his father’s. “I get that, Dad. You did something—something bad—because it meant you didn’t have to keep doing smaller things until they got the message. One big message that lasted a long time. It makes sense.”

Dad watched him for a moment, and there was this look in his eyes, like maybe he’d rather Logan didn’t understand, like he’d rather his kids lived in a world where that wouldn’t make sense, because they’d never need to consider it.

Logan sat up and put his arms around his dad’s neck and squeezed and said, “Everything’s good.”

Dad gave him a quick hug back and tucked him in, kissed his forehead like he used to when they were little, and then padded from the room.

There was no resolution to the puppy problem the next day. It was Christmas Eve, and it seemed Mom and Dad didn’t want to think about that. Mom said she and Dad would look after the puppy—they needed him and Kate to stay out of the woods, in case the mutt came back.

Logan was fine with that. As much as he told himself she was just postponing disappointing him, he couldn’t help but think that, if she really didn’t want to disappoint him, she’d get it over with before he got his hopes up. So yes, he did get his hopes up. Way up, if he was being honest.

Then, lying in bed that night, stuffed with hot chocolate and Christmas cookies, he began to feel, well, a little sick, and it wasn’t from overeating. He kept thinking about the tree, with Kate’s gift under it, and how much he wished he could have given her the puppy, how happy that would have made her. He decided he needed an answer. Just an answer, so he could stop hoping if there wasn’t any point in it.

When he snuck downstairs, he heard his parents in the study.

“—don’t know how to tell him,” Mom was saying, and he stopped short.

“I know.”

“I keep going over it and over it,” she said.

She’s decided against the puppy.

Logan took a deep breath. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could still talk—

“There isn’t a solution,” she said.

“I know,” Dad replied.

“And you’re really not helping.”

“I know.”

A whack, as if she’d smacked him, and Dad let out a soft laugh, and then there was another sound, another smack—a kiss—and Dad said, “You don’t need to figure it out right now, darling.”

“I do.” A sharp intake of breath. “Distracting me isn’t going to help.”

“Mmm, yes, I think it will. I’ll distract you, and you’ll stop fretting, and then we can both come up with a solution later.”

“It has to be tonight.”

“Which has only begun. Now, come back here and …”

A laugh, cut short by a kiss. Logan’s shoulders slumped, and he trudged back to bed.

Logan tossed and turned all night. He drifted through nightmares of the puppy in another bag, a new owner tiring of it. Then dreams of him handing the puppy to Kate, which were almost as bad, because he’d wake up and remember that wasn’t happening. Couldn’t happen.

When he first woke, thinking he heard the puppy, it was obviously more self-torture. He snarled and pulled the covers up over his head. But as soon as he started falling asleep, the puppy returned, howling, the sound muffled, as if she were calling to him from the fort, begging him to come out and play, not to send her away to strangers who might do the same as—

He bolted up with a growl, shaking his head sharply. His room was silent, the puppy only in his head. He looked at the window. It was still dark out.

He reached for the books on his nightstand. There was always a stack. He hunted through the titles for the one least likely to contain canines of any kind. Müller’s A First German Reader. That would do. He opened the book at random, and his gaze traveled down the page.

Leine: line, rope, or leash.

He slapped the book shut, and he was reaching for another when he heard a yip and the scrabbling of nails. He lifted his head and blinked hard. Then he heard another yip.

No, that wasn’t possible.

More blinking. More yipping and scrabbling, like tiny nails against a door. Had the puppy escaped the fort? Maybe Mom had been distracted and didn’t quite shut it up right, and the puppy had escaped and followed her trail to the house.

He had to get down there before Kate heard. That would be the worst Christmas morning ever: his sister waking to a puppy she couldn’t have.

He raced into the hall, slowing only to tiptoe past Kate’s room, and then trying his best not to thump down the stairs. He could clearly hear the puppy now. It seemed to come from the study.

The study?

How did she—?

No time to consider how. She was very clearly in the study.

Logan hurried to the door and pushed it open, and there was the puppy, attacking Jeremy’s chair. She’d ripped a hole in it and was tearing out stuffing, the pieces flying everywhere.

“No!” he whispered, and ran into the study. The puppy hurled herself at him, yipping and yelping.

“Shhh!” he said as he scooped her up. “Shhh! Please. We need to get you—”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Only one person in the house made that much noise.

“Kate,” he whispered. “Oh, no.”

He looked both ways, as if he could find someplace to stash the puppy where his sister wouldn’t smell it. He went to call a warning, to tell her to keep out, make up some story about wrapping one final present or—

The door flew open. Kate stood there, grinning.

“I see you found your gift,” she said. “Or did she find you?”

He froze.

Kate thought their parents had given them the puppy.

This was worse, so much worse.

His mouth opened and closed, and the puppy leapt out of his arms and scrambled over to Kate, who lifted her in a hug, laughing exactly like he’d imagined, her expression even happier than he’d imagined.

“It’s not …” he began. “She isn’t from Mom and Dad.”

“Of course not, silly,” she said, making a face as the puppy licked her lips. “She’s from me. I found her in the fort.”

“Wh-what?”

Kate handed him the puppy, who seemed fine with the transfer, wriggling and whining and licking.

“She got inside the fort and couldn’t get out, poor thing. Luckily, we’d both left sweaters in there, so that kept her warm, and there was snow to drink. I was out walking with Mom and Dad while you and Jeremy went shopping, and they thought they smelled a mutt, so they were getting me back to the house when we smelled the puppy in the fort. I thought that’s what the mutt scent had been. I guess not, but, well, that’s why I was going into the woods the other night—I thought it was safe, and I had another one of your sweaters, because I wanted to make sure she got your scent most of all.” She motioned at the puppy. “Merry Christmas, Lo.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and looked to see their parents in the doorway. Mom was in front, watching him, surprise and dismay on her face.

“Hey, Mom, Dad,” Kate said, without glancing their way. “Looks like she escaped from the basement. Logan found his gift early.”

“I … see …” Mom said, that look still on her face, as if frantically trying to figure out what to do, and Logan realized that’s what she’d been talking about last night. Not how to tell Logan he couldn’t keep the puppy—how to tell them they’d gotten each other the same gift. The same puppy.

“Kate,” Mom said. “Can I speak to you a moment?”

Kate looked over, and worry crept into her eyes, picking up on Mom’s. It was like dousing a fire. She’d been happy giving him this gift. Even happier than he’d imagined she’d be getting it. Now they had to tell her it was a mistake—that he’d rescued the puppy for her. As her gift.

“It’s okay, Mom.” Logan looked at Kate. “So, you got me a puppy, huh?”

“Found you one. Exactly the kind you wanted, too.” Her face lit up again. “When I saw her, I couldn’t believe it. It was like … well, like it was meant to be.”

“She’s the kind you wanted, too. Maybe, since you found her …”

That light dimmed, just a little, as she nibbled her lip. This was what she wanted: the puppy for him.

“Maybe, since you found her, we could share her,” he said. “I think Mom and Dad will agree one puppy in this house is quite enough. One more pup, that is.”

The light returned as Kate laughed. “Also, giving me half the puppy means giving me half the responsibilities, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

She laughed again and threw her arms around his neck, and the puppy wriggled between them, and Logan decided that half a puppy was, indeed, the best Christmas gift ever.