A Forest So Deadly (Pioneer Falls Book 2)

  A FOREST SO DEADLY

  Published by Heather Davis

  Copyright 2017 by Heather Davis

  www.heatherdavisbooks.com

  All Rights Reserved

  First Edition 2017

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9993664-1-7

  Edited by: Eilis Flynn

  Cover Design by Asha Hossain

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written notice of the publisher. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sneak Peek of A LIGHT SO CRUEL

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOOKS BY HEATHER DAVIS

  For my four-legged friends.

  Chapter One

  I’d never seen so many ravens perched in one place. Even in Pioneer Falls, a town that lately seemed filled with oddities, a tree full of birds was a strange sight. Like dark sentinels they watched from nearly every branch, their gruff voices echoing through the cemetery above the thud of shovelfuls of dirt hitting the casket.

  My friend Cooper North hadn’t shed a single tear through his father Ivan’s graveside service, but as the last hymn played from a small speaker, his eyes were glassy. He pulled his sunglasses from the pocket of his black suit’s jacket and slid them on. My heart ached for him. I’d nearly lost my dad during an ordeal that tore my life apart a couple weeks before, but Cooper hadn’t been so lucky. What could I even say?

  Not many folks in town had been close to Ivan, the eccentric man many knew as a breeder of wolf-dog hybrids across the river. Of course, our family had had a different relationship with Ivan, one I’d only recently learned about. He’d been my father’s Protector. And when you’re a werewolf in a small town, you need someone like Ivan to have your back.

  Yeah, that’s right. I’m owning it, the whole supernatural thing. I’d only learned about our family’s blood curse a few weeks ago, but it’d quickly become a defining characteristic of my life. But at least I finally knew the truth about my lineage.

  After an irritated glance at the raven-filled tree, the reverend finished his final remarks and then closed his Bible. The few mourners in attendance—a couple of local business owners Ivan dealt with, the postmaster, and a neighbor or two—exited through the maze of headstones and statuary. I hadn’t been to many funerals in my eighteen years, but it struck me that this was a particularly sad and poorly attended one.

  My dad rose from the plastic folding chair next to me, the raincoat over his dark suit rustling. “I’m sorry, Cooper. He was a good and loyal friend.” One of his forearms was still wrapped in a sling, but he extended his good hand. “He would have appreciated the service.”

  “Thanks,” Cooper said, ignoring Dad’s attempted handshake. “But I don’t think he appreciated being torn apart by werewolves.”

  Dad’s expression clouded. “You know that wasn’t our fault.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.” Cooper rose from his chair.

  I stepped between him and my father before things got more heated. “Hey, c’mon. Maybe I could make you some tea back at your place?”

  “Nah, Lily. Don’t feel like tea.” Lifting his head toward the tree of ravens, he clapped his hands. “Go on! Get out of here!”

  The birds rustled and chattered in the branches, but didn’t fly away. I knew the feeling. I wanted to stay with my friend, despite his anger.

  “It’s hard to accept, but Ivan knew the risk he was taking as a Protector,” Dad said. He was doing that thing he always did, trying to diffuse situations with talk. I think it was part of his training for the sheriff’s department, where he worked as a deputy. “You have to understand that, son. It was a sacrifice he chose.”

  A muscle at Cooper’s jaw twitched. I shot my father a look of warning. You didn’t push Cooper. He’d spent two years after high school in the Army and he had been injured during his deployment in Afghanistan. Cooper didn’t back down. And without his help, we’d never have made it home alive from the Devil’s Nook trail where my dad had been injured and weak after a disappearance of nearly two weeks.

  The night of my dad’s rescue had been my first moonlight run in wolf form, and I’d been clueless. Cooper had been there to confront the hunter who had tried to shoot us. The shocking news had come later—that his father Ivan had been the body that local law enforcement had found apparently mauled by animals in the woods. No one had known Ivan was missing until Cooper had discovered his father’s place ransacked. The body from the woods had been too torn up for an easy identification—for a time, the sheriff had even thought it might be my dad—but a DNA match had confirmed it was Ivan. Now wasn’t the time to talk of sacrifices to Cooper. Not to someone who’d already risked his life for his country, then for our family and in doing so had lost his only parent.

  “Come on,” I said, slipping an arm around Cooper’s shoulders. “I’ll walk you home.”

  He shrugged out of my embrace, and then stalked off in the direction of the caretaker’s quarters.

  My heart sank. He wasn’t all right, and I couldn’t let him be alone. Not today. “I’ll see you back at the house in a while. Tell the girls not to hold dinner for me,” I told my father.

  “In my experience,” Dad said, his dark eyebrows drawing together, “sometimes it’s best to leave people alone when they’re hurting. He needs time to process things.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I called over my shoulder as I navigated the plots and markers. Processing alone wasn’t going to be good for Cooper.

  The heels of my short boots crushed the soggy grass as I hurried along. I knew the layout of Pioneer Falls Cemetery well from my night visits over the last few weeks. It was a hotspot for local wolves, not all of them friendly. I’d found that out the hard way. The fabric of my new black dress swished against my long rain parka, my one concession to the weather. You have to be prepared when you live in the foothills of the North Cascade Mountains. It’s true that Washington state gets a lot of rain, but it’s not constant and the forecast changes a lot. That morning’s rain had tapered off, revealing a white sky, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t start pouring again.

  Ahead, spots of color lit up the stone path, damp red and gold leaves that Cooper hadn’t bothered to sweep away. A broken fountain featuring a cherub with a watering can gurgled near the entrance to the oldest section of graves. Cooper kn
elt near its base, his six-in-one hand tool out. Dirt from the path marred the knees of his black suit.

  “Damn thing doesn’t flow right,” he said, without looking up as I approached.

  I took a seat on a nearby bench. “Cooper.”

  He gave a bolt a couple turns of his wrench and turned the water switch on again. The watering can spouted a steady stream into the basin below. He covered the access hatch, and then brushed at the dirt spots on his suit. I hadn’t noticed he was wearing Vans at the service, but the old-school checkerboard design of the shoes made me smile.

  “You need something?” he asked, closing his hand tool and then stuffing it in his pocket.

  “Just to sit with you awhile.”

  He sank down next to me on the bench. If there was one thing I’d learned about Cooper, it was he loved to talk. One of his more unique qualities in addition to his love for a good cup of tea. As I suspected, it didn’t take long before he filled in the silence between us.

  “I thought more people would have come, maybe…” Cooper removed his sunglasses and stuck them in his pocket. Red rimmed his blue eyes, showing his exhaustion. His messy brown hair, tamed earlier with some kind of product, was wavy from the damp air. “You see that tree of birds? Now that was something.”

  “They don’t usually hang out around here?”

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck, a nervous gesture I’d seen him do before. “You know the thing about ravens and wolves, right?”

  “Symbiotic relationship?”

  He nodded. “Ravens follow wolves and help finish off remains of the kills. Seeing all of them, up in the tree, seemed like a show of respect for my father.” Cooper smiled thinly. “Or maybe it’s a bad omen. Starting to think I should start believing in those.”

  I rubbed my arms, feeling the chill of the afternoon working its way through the fabric of my rain parka. I wished I could do something to comfort Cooper, make him tea, something. He needed it. I settled for changing the subject. “So. What are you going to do next?”

  “I don’t know. Move back into my dad’s house. I’m almost done with the repairs from all the damage. I need to clean up the kennels, corral the hybrids that are still loose. A vet was around a week or so ago, but none of my dad’s dogs would come to him.”

  “I could help,” I offered. “I’m good with animals.”

  “That’d be cool of you, but I got it.” I had the sense that resentment lingered just behind the sorrow and loneliness in Cooper’s gaze. “I need time alone anyway. I need to think about things,” he added, but I suspected it was more about what my dad had said earlier—Cooper was distancing himself from us, from werewolves. I could feel it.

  I lifted my chin, projecting authority, I hoped. “Listen to me, you shouldn’t be alone right now, you need—”

  “Don’t tell me what I need,” he interrupted, between gritted teeth.

  I gripped the edge of the cold bench, trying the best I could to not take his anger personally. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I—I need to process all this. Sort stuff out.”

  “That makes sense,” I said, my voice hitching in my throat. “But I’m your friend. I’m not leaving you, just like you didn’t leave me.”

  “You’ve got other friends,” he said, his gaze traveling over my face. “You have Morgan.”

  I tried to keep my expression neutral. This was a sore spot. Cooper hadn’t been fond of the werewolf I’d met while my father was missing. He’d cautioned me to be on my guard with him, but Morgan McAllister turned out to be more friend than foe. And then more than just a friend to me. “Morgan only played a small part in saving my dad. You were the hero,” I assured Cooper.

  He shrugged. “Seems pretty interested in protecting you.” There was a trace of something in Cooper’s tone. Hurt, worry. “He’s still in town, right?”

  “For now,” I said, getting up from the bench. “You sure there’s nothing I can do? Nothing you need.”

  Cooper followed my lead, standing up. Then he swiped at the dirt on his suit again. “The only thing I need at the moment is a dry cleaner,” he mumbled.

  “Well, my sisters are cooking dinner. I’m sure there’s plenty if you want to join us. Or I can bring you a plate later.” Awkwardly, I wrapped my arms around him, forcing him to hug me.

  He was stiff in my arms. I caught the scent of cedar from a closet on his suit, and behind that a trace of machine oil, salt of sweat on his skin. Hard work, I thought. He smelled like honest hard work, a good smell.

  His strong hands were light on my back, as if he thought he might hurt me if he embraced me too tightly. “I don’t need dinner. I’ve got a chores list around here to punch through,” he said, releasing me from the hug after a couple seconds.

  “I’m going to keep checking on you,” I said.

  “Lucky me,” Cooper grunted, but he managed a weak smile.

  After I said good-bye to Cooper, I scurried toward the main gates. A drizzle began a pitter-patter onto the cement path. I pulled my hood up, prepared for a soggy walk home.

  Suddenly, the maple tree near Ivan’s gravesite expelled a noisy flood of ravens. I turned to see the swell of black birds cresting above my head, their cries urgent, haunting. Blinking against the rain droplets, I watched them sail on toward the river. I’d never believed in omens before, but my eyes had been opened to a world of unusual things in recent days. Werewolves were real. Rival packs were vicious. Hunters were bloodthirsty. The full moon was dangerous.

  A shiver rippled across my skin. Maybe there was truth in what Cooper said. That many ravens in one place couldn’t be a good sign.

  ***

  I dashed through the rain to the center of town. And when I say “center,” I mean Main Street and the four blocks adjacent to the town square. Strung between two of the antique lampposts, a huge banner announced the Harvest Festival, which was only a couple weeks away. I wasn’t sure the pioneers that settled our sleepy logging town had ever celebrated Halloween but the chamber of commerce, always on the hunt to drive in new tourists, had come up with the idea to revive the old tradition of Harvest Festival. Centering it around a fall theme seemed to make the more religious folks in town more comfortable with the idea of celebrating with costumes and candy.

  The merchants in town had risen to the occasion. Strings of orange and white lights decked the gazebo in the park. Pumpkins and cornstalks dressed up the store windows. A black cat silhouette decorated the front door of Pioneer Perk, where I work after school most nights and on Saturdays. Maggie Green, the coffee shop’s owner, had designed the feline paper cutout decoration and I’d spent an hour glittering the edges, though I’d felt some hesitation because these days, Halloween seemed more ominous than something to look forward to. I hadn’t planned a costume—the Harvest Festival coincided with the full moon. So what was the use if I’d be transforming into a wolf anyway? Concealing your true nature, being cursed by something you had little control over, that was pretending enough for me.

  Dad had hidden the truth about our family for most of my life. When he’d gone missing just after school began last month, I’d found an old letter he’d written to my mother, trying to convince her to return to us and talking about how he and my sisters and I were werewolves. That seemed pretty far-fetched until I’d discovered that a pendant my dad had given me two years ago on my sixteenth birthday was my only protection. And that the pendants intended for my sisters, who were supposed to receive their pendants at their sweet sixteen party, had been stolen. Cooper had spelled everything out for me, including the parts about the hunters that want us wiped from the face of the earth. And then there was the rival pack that had started all the trouble. Far-fetched had turned into stark reality.

  There had been one bright spot amid the horror of finding out I was cursed. And that was why I now darted out from under the cover of the shops’ awnings and turned the corner toward Third Avenue. Despite the rain pattering down, I had one important
stop to make before heading home. One important someone to see, even on this somber day.

  In the driveway of a blue and white house, Morgan McAllister loaded firewood into an iron carrier. As I approached, his smile made my breath catch in my chest. It was his eyes, how they gleamed like amber, showing shades of gold like a warm sunset. But I also liked his version of handsome, unfussy and natural. His dark brown hair waved to one side and his chin showed the barest suggestion of scruff, as if he’d woken up late and barely tried.

  There had been one change since the day I’d met him a few weeks ago. He’d traded in his signature vintage leather jacket for a black rain jacket that he wore around town. He’d acclimated to the Pacific Northwest. The only clue to his origins was the trace of a Scottish brogue that rattled and undulated through his words. Even the sound of him saying my name was enough to render me weak-kneed.

  “You’re soaked to the bone,” he said, wrapping me in a hug.

  I drank in the smell of him, forest and musk and the faintest hint of a spicy cologne. It gave me the good kind of shivers.

  “We’d better get you out of the rain then, don’t you think? Why on earth are you walking in this?” he said, kissing my forehead.

  “I stayed behind to talk to Cooper. Dad took the truck home, though he probably shouldn’t be driving with only one good arm.” I broke the embrace.

  “Determined like his daughter, I imagine,” Morgan said, settling the wood into the carrier. “How was Cooper? I wasn’t sure he’d want me at the funeral. I hope he understood.”

  I sighed. “He’s terrible. Angry, of course. He has a right to hate Ezra’s pack, even more than I do. If they’re the ones that killed his father.”

  “Desperate wolves do vicious things.” Morgan’s tone was sober, matter-of-fact.

  I knew what he meant. There was a dark side to being a wolf—the hunger, the anger, I’d seen it in action.