More of the 200 word challenge

The story I chose to continue above, and below the stars, my 200 words. I wonder what the originator will think?

http://auguris.dreamwidth.org/959684.html

To Auguris: my contribution to the story you started. Your words first; mine after the lines of stars.

 

I’m in the middle of my Witchcraft and Feminism in the 18th Century essay when Ree texts me. The preview says THEY SHOT M and I can feel heat and power rising to my face involuntarily. It takes three tries to put in my password correctly and I have a curse on my tongue by the time I get to the actual message: THEY SHOT MY BROTHER.

Mild relief.

Before I can ask how long it will take to heal, SILVER BULLET pops up.

Relief gone.

Hunters in Boston? This isn’t some ladydamned podunk white trash middle-of-nowhere town. I flip open my trunk and grab a salt solution and my favorite amplifier, an obsidian wolf carving. Nana passed it to me when I hit sixteen. Did she know, somehow?

I send, Where are you?, before throwing on clothes. I don’t bother with a bra; the wolves walk around half naked most of the time, they won’t care.

RILEYS PLS HRY HES DYING

I mutter to the building to bring the elevator. Owen catches my eye as I pass his room.

“Shouldn’t do that, Sanders.”

“Hunters shot Ree’s brother.” I turn before reaching the elevator. “I could use your help.”

**** *****

. “Shit.” Owen and Henry had been close: not as much since Ayla had chosen Henry as mate over Owen, but still…. “This is more than you and me. It’s Pack now.”   He slipped in beside me.

It took forever to reach the third floor. We both were growling deep in our chests as the stupid box crawled up floor by floor. Two of our kind antsy, in an enclosed space, would normally equal blood. Lots of it. But not when Pack had a single focus.

The doors finally opened. Owen was sprouting fur and canines already. Unable to wait, his hands slammed the door apart.

Owen’s shouts rang down the halls. People yelled and screamed. Several howls bounced from rooms.  I slipped by him and ran into my room. Peeking out the window, it was near nightfall. The moon was not yet full, but close enough the Eldest could morph. I had Nana’s gift.

I ripped open my dresser and threw the false bottom against the wall. I really didn’t hear it shatter. I grabbed the Glock nine mill, checked the chamber, and slapped a clip in. I was joined in the entryway by the whole pack. Owen, as acting Alpha, waved us forward.

Only humans and wolves can move so quietly, yet with such fury. I cradled the gun with one half-hand half-paw. One claw scraped the handle as I flipped off the safety. Amplifier or not, I was going to be ready for those treacherous bastards.

If blood-lust didn’t burn so hot, someone would have noticed how empty the streets were. 

 

 

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About jdfitch2013

Author of Yong Adult, High and Urban Fantasy, and Science Fiction. Many of my works, though not all, feature LGBT protagonists. Why? Because LGBT people, especially the young, need heroes as well and not just as side-kicks or tertiary characters.
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