Howl for It

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And I think he was undressing you with his big, dumb dog eyes. He’s not to be trusted. Plus I heard the Van Holtzes have a real problem with mange.”

  “First off, Egbert Ray Smith, Mr. Van Holtz has a mate he’s devoted to. And secondly, the Van Holtzes haven’t had a breakout of mange for at least a decade.”

  “That makes me feel better. I also heard they spread distemper. They’re dirty, nasty distemper dogs, runnin’ around, spreading disease to unsuspecting pretty She-wolves like yourself.”

  “Eggie Ray!”

  “It’s true. The males of that Pack are known for having Canine Transmitted Diseases. CTD.”

  “I’ll only say this once to you: The Van Holtzes do not—” Darla stopped talking abruptly and leaned back a bit, eyes narrowing on Eggie’s face. “Egbert Ray Smith . . . are you jealous?”

  Eggie snorted. “A Smith jealous of a Van Holtz? Why do you ask? Did hell freeze over?”

  “So you’re not jealous?”

  “No. I’m not jealous. That’s what the Smiths would call crazy talk.”

  “Huh. I see.”

  “I have no reason to be jealous of a goddamn—”

  “Blaspheme!”

  “—Van Holtz, and I’m not about to start now. For anybody. I was just giving you a friendly word of warning.”

  “About the Van Holtzes and their CDT?”

  “Exactly.”

  Darla turned in his arms and sat down on his lap. “Unlike your brothers . . . you’re kind of quietly stupid.”

  “Sometimes.” Eggie scratched his head. “It’s not my fault, though. It’s your fault!”

  “My fault?”

  “You’re confusing me and making me do stupid and ridiculous things. Things I would never do!”

  “Such as?”

  “Instead of doing what I do well, which is hunt down these murdering friends of yours—”

  “They’re not my friends!”

  “—and killing them so you can’t be hurt or at risk ever again, I’m not doing that because I know you wouldn’t want me to. So, instead I’m sitting here, about to go have dinner with my family. Which is also your fault, ’cause they wouldn’t have invited me if it weren’t for you.”

  “Of course they would have.”

  “Darla, no one likes having me around.”

  “I do.”

  Eggie studied her. “You do?”

  “I’m here, arguing about dog mange and other ridiculousness, Eggie Ray. And the only reason for that must be because I like being around you. You’re so cute and charming. . . in your own terrifying, predatory way, which works fine for me because, you know . . . She-wolf.”

  His arms still around Darla, Eggie hugged her tight, burying his face against the side of her neck. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Darla Mae.”

  “I know, darlin’, but with some effort, I’m sure we can make that better for you.”

  Eggie chuckled and gripped Darla’s waist, lifting her up. She squealed a little and laughed and he loved the sound of it. Turning her around, he brought her down on his lap facing him, her legs straddling his waist.

  Once settled, Darla pushed Eggie’s hair off his face and, without fear, looked into his eyes. “Your beard’s growing back.”

  “Yep.”

  “Will you have to shave it when you go back on duty? And cut your hair?”

  “Depends on what they have me doing. I’m not like other Marines, Darla. My training was different, where I’m stationed is different, I rarely wear my uniform, even the job I do is different.”

  “Were you drafted?”

  He snorted, smiled a little. “Smiths don’t get drafted.”

  “No, I mean when there was a draft.”

  “Smiths don’t get drafted,” he repeated. “Not after what happened with us during World War I.”

  “What happened during World War I?”

  Eggie stared at her and finally answered, “Nothing.” When her eyes narrowed, he decided to keep talking. “Anyway, we were told we were no longer allowed in the military except on a case-by-case basis. I actually had six weeks of evaluation before I ever went into Basic Training.”

  “Because of the nothing that happened during World War I?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You are the worst liar.”

  Eggie sighed and admitted, “It ain’t my strong suit.”

  Darla started to say something but his momma yelling from the backyard beat her to it. “Eggie! Darla Mae! Come on, you two. We’re about to eat.”

  “Be right there,” Darla called back.

  “You hungry?” he asked her.

  “Starving.” She pressed her hands to his shoulders. “Can I ask you something first, though?”

  “Sure.”

  “Something you said earlier . . . about not going after Mr. Kozlow’s sons . . .” Eggie nodded. “You said you didn’t because you knew I wouldn’t want you to.”

  “Yeah. I knew huntin’ somebody down and getting them before they can get you wouldn’t sit right with you.”

  “It wouldn’t. I mean, I know my sisters won’t ever agree with my philosophy on this sort of thing, and I can’t say I’d feel the same way if it was one of my nieces or nephews, but for me . . . personally . . . it would just bother me.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m sitting here with you on my lap and my momma screaming for us to come get something to eat and not in San Francisco doing what I do best.”

  “Well, it means a lot to me that you take what I say seriously. That you respect me enough.”

  “Darla, if they’re standing right in front of us, trying to hurt you, I’ll do whatever I have to. But I know that what Smiths normally do is not what you’d do. I understand that.” He gave a small shrug. “My daddy doesn’t, though.”

  “Your father?”

  “Yeah, I went and talked to him before I had to break you and your wild-ass sisters out of prison.”

  “We were not in prison. And what did he say?”

  “He doesn’t agree, but I should have known he wouldn’t. He thinks we’re making a big mistake, but I told him to back off. That we’d be handling this our way. He didn’t like that, but I think he listened. For once. Maybe.” Studying her face, Eggie frowned and asked, “Darla . . . are you crying?”

  She sniffed, wiped the corners of her eyes with her knuckles. “It just means a lot to me that you listen to me. That you hear me.”

  “How can I not? You’re the only one who talks to me.”

  “Oh, Eggie!” Darla exclaimed as she suddenly burst into tears and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Eggie stroked her back and tried to reassure her. “It’s all right. I don’t really like talking to anyone but you. I don’t find your voice irritating. I find most people’s voices irritating. Now that I think about it . . . I find most people irritating. Whether they’re talking to me or not.”

  She pulled back and he realized that now she was laughing. “Well, I’m glad you cleared that up for me.”

  “Good.” He framed her face with his hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Now let’s go get you something to eat before everyone assumes we’re doing something that we’re tragically not.”

  They stood together and Eggie waited until Darla finished wiping nonexistent dirt off her perfect ass before he took her hand and they headed back to dinner.

  “Eggie?”

  “Huh?”

  “Can I tell everyone that you were jealous of a Van Holtz?”

  “Not if you want to be able to sit for the next week.”

  “Egbert Ray!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dinner went well, with everyone relaxed and enjoying themselves and the food really delicious, especially Miss Pauline’s fried chicken.

  But the hit of the evening was definitely the pies Darla and her sisters had made.

  She knew they’d done a good jo
b with their pies, they usually did, but she was really surprised by the enthusiasm with which everyone downed their pie and then the requests for recipes. Recipes that none of the Lewis sisters would ever give out. In fact, the more requests Darla got for her recipes or to just make a pie for someone, the more she started to get an idea that she—to her surprise—really liked.

  Still, it was too soon to think about it now. Instead, she helped Miss Pauline clean up.

  “So, Darla,” Miss Pauline began, “how are you doing?”

  Darla nodded. “Fine, Miss Pauline.”

  “You sure?” She leaned in a bit, a trash bag filled with paper plates and plastic cups in her hand. “Earlier it looked like you’d been crying.”

  “Oh, that was nothing. Just me being an emotional mess.”

  “Darla Mae . . . is it true you’re one of those polygamists?”

  Darla froze but before she panicked, she asked, “Polygamists?”

  “Yeah. You know, you don’t fight or whatever? Like that Indian fella from a million years ago.”

  Darla let out a relieved breath. “Gandhi,” she clarified, although she didn’t bother with explaining timelines. “And yes, I consider myself a pacifist.”

  “So you don’t fight?”

  “Well—” she began but she heard her sisters laugh and glared at them. They quickly pretended to find something else interesting and Darla refocused on Miss Pauline. “I prefer not to fight. I prefer to discuss things in a reasonable and objective manner.”

  “You been in any of those sit-downs?”

  “Sit-ins and yes. I’ve been to a few. Also done some marches.”

  “What for?”

  Darla shrugged, thinking back. “Uh . . . for women’s rights, for racial equality, to end the war.”

  Miss Pauline folded massive arms under her massive breasts and studied Darla. “What the hell for?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What does any of that have to do with you?”

  Darla glanced at her sisters, but they appeared as confused as she; Janie Mae gave her a huge “got me” shrug. “Uh, I guess I don’t really—”

  “What I mean is you’re a She-wolf. You get out of life whatever the hell you put in. You’d never let some male hold you back. And who cares about race? Species are the real problem. Like idiot cats and hyenas. Don’t much like bears either, but I couldn’t care less what color they are or what god they pray to as long as they stop talking about that damn honey. And war’s just a chance for our males to hone their hunting skills. So why should you go around marching for what sound like full-human problems?”

  This was one of those arguments that Darla had heard before from her own kin and it had annoyed her then, too. “Because everything affects everyone, Miss Pauline. We can’t just sit back and let full-humans do this to each other and think we won’t be affected. That we can pretend none of their problems matter. And I, personally, think we have a moral obligation as shifters and more powerful beings to help protect the weaker full-humans who are being mistreated or abused simply because of their gender or race or religion.”

  Miss Pauline stared at Darla, wearing a frown that looked exactly like Eggie’s when he was annoyed. Only Darla found Miss Pauline’s frown a little more terrifying.

  Darla cleared her throat. “Not that you, personally, are obligated to do anything, of course. I just meant . . . me. My personal belief system.”

  Miss Pauline grunted and walked around Darla, heading back into her house.

  What was that? she mouthed to her sisters.

  I don’t know! they all mouthed back.

  Someone touched Darla’s shoulder and she jumped, spinning around to find Eggie standing behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Darla didn’t even let him finish, just threw herself into his arms. “Thank God you’re here!”

  “Uh . . . okay.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  Eggie’s mother turned away from the sink full of dirty pots and pans and faced her son. “Just chattin’.”

  “Momma—”

  “I didn’t know I couldn’t talk to her.”

  “Not if you’re going to interrogate her.”

  “Is that what I was doing?”

  “I’m guessing it was.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “She didn’t have to. I know the signs.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you accusing your momma of something, boy?”

  “I’m just asking you not to be hard on her.”

  “I haven’t been. In fact, I’ve been extremely nice.”

  Eggie didn’t like the sound of that either. “Why?”

  “What do you mean why?”

  Taking his mother’s hand, Eggie pulled her out of the busy kitchen, down the hall, and into the living room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked her plain.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Momma. ”

  “Look, you don’t think I see? That I don’t know my own son?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I see how you look at her, Eggie. You love her.”

  “What if I do?”

  “Then I had to check her out.”

  “Why? Darla is—”

  “Very pretty and very smart and very well bred. So’s a purebred German Shepherd.”

  “Momma. ”

  “But is she also strong enough to be the mate of my boy?”

  “She’s not my mate.”

  “Not yet.”

  “But she’s not now, so don’t do what you always feel you need to do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Put her through the gauntlet.”

  “Now, darlin’ boy—”

  “No, Momma. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’ve got planned . . . you leave Darla Mae out of it.” He headed back to the hallway.

  “But we both know,” his mother said behind him, “that if she’s going to stay here, be with you, she needs to be more than just a smooth-talking polygamist.”

  Eggie stopped, sighed. “It’s pacifist, Momma.” He looked back at her. “And who says she’s staying here?”

  “You’ll let her go?”

  “Who says I have to stay either?” He shrugged when he saw his mother frown. “A wolf needs his mate, Momma.”

  “There’s not even a slice left,” Roberta whispered to Darla. “All those pies we brought and not even one slice left.”

  “There were some leftovers,” Darla whispered back. “But they’re like coyotes. They scavenged everything! Took a bunch of stuff home.”

  “I got ten bucks from Frankie’s Aunt Jen.”

  “For what?”

  “She wants me to make her some pies.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Pecan and apple.”

  Darla reached into the back pocket of her cutoffs and handed her sister a twenty dollar bill. “From Eggie’s Aunt Beulah for the blueberry, cream cheese, and lemon meringue.”

  “Shee-et. Thirty bucks just for some pies?”

  “Thirty bucks for our pies, darlin’. You need to keep that in mind.”

  “You want to meet tomorrow and make them together?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She saw Eggie come down the back porch stairs. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting the lights put up around the yard, and jerked his head toward his truck.

  “I gotta go. Tomorrow at noon?”

  “Okay. I’ll see if the others are up for it.”

  “See if the others got money, too, but don’t let Janie try and hold out any money on us. You know how she is.”

  Darla quickly walked through the backyard and around the house. As she stepped into the front yard, she met up with Eggie’s father. He stood by a tree, smoking a cigarette and drinking from a Mason jar she assumed was filled with ’shine.

  She waved and he asked, “You have a good time tonight, darlin’?”


  “I did. Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

  “Thank you for coming. I know you’re the only reason my boy came here tonight.”

  “Oh, no. I’m sure—”

  He waved that jar around, dismissing what she was about to say. “Let’s not play with each other, pretty girl. You’re here, so my boy’s here. And that’s all right. It’s good to see him happy.”

  Feeling uncomfortable, but not knowing why, Darla nodded. “Well, thank you so much, Mr. Smith. Have a good night.”

  “You, too. And take care of yourself tomorrow.”

  Darla glanced back at the wolf. He watched her from under the branches of the trees and she had no idea what to make of the look he was giving her—and not sure if she wanted to make anything of it.

  Eggie stood with his butt resting against the passenger door of his car. He smiled when he saw her and that made Darla smile back.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes.” She walked to him and went up on her toes, kissing him lightly on the mouth. “Let’s go home.”

  And as Darla turned from him and reached for her door handle, she quickly edited her statement to, “I mean, let’s go to your house.” She opened the door. “I mean, let’s go to your home.” She cleared her throat, knew her face was red from blushing.

  So awkward. Poor guy probably thought she’d bought that furniture just for herself. Horrified, Darla sat in the passenger side and closed the door. Eggie got in the driver’s side a few seconds later. He closed the door and looked at her.

  “You done babblin’?” he asked.

  Darla nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Good.” He kissed her. “Now let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “The problem is,” Eggie explained as he closed the front door of his house, “that you have two Alpha Females in the same town. Momma ain’t ready to give up her position yet.”

  Darla stopped in the middle of the living room and faced him. “Will Janie have to fight to the death against your mother?” Because she really didn’t know who would win that one.

  “An Alpha fight to the death hasn’t happened in about half a century. Doubt my momma plans to start all that up again.” When Darla only stared at him, he asked, “Does Janie Mae plan to start all that up again?”

  Darla forced a laugh and headed into the kitchen.