Dark Light of Mine by John Corwin

wooden beam.
    Ryland knelt and examined a shoe print.  "I'll survey the perimeter."
    "Thanks."  After he left, I stared at the rubble and took deep breaths.  I hadn't known Stacey long, but I considered her a friend, even if we had met because she was trying to feed off me.  Worry settled a hard knot into my stomach and I couldn't just sit around and do nothing.  So I grabbed a large chunk of mortar and tossed it onto a patch of bare ground twenty feet away.  I grabbed more bricks and tossed them in the same spot.  Soon I'd cleared a little of the area where one of the warehouses had stood, but it'd take a while before I put much of a dent in it.
    On the other side of me lay the bodies of several cats I'd pulled from the wreckage, all of them crushed when they'd been caught in the avalanche of bricks, wood, and metal.  Some of their remains consisted of little more than bloody, furry goo, but I knew Stacey would mourn them all and want bodies to bury.  Ryland rejoined me a moment later.
    "Hellhounds," he said grimly.  "At least three of them."
    "Those sons of bitches," I said crushing a brick in my hand to dust.
    "These things ain't got mothers," Ryland replied with a tight grin.
    "They were chasing us earlier today.  My dad's family, the Slades, wanted us."
    "Were they trying to kill you?  Or retrieve you?"
    "I have no idea."  The thought of one of those monsters retrieving me like a stick was unsettling.  I pulled a huge wooden beam from the mess and threw it angrily at the stack of debris.  "Why would they come here?  How could they possibly know about Stacey?"
    "Have you been here recently?"
    My knees went weak once I realized the meaning behind his question.  I'd been here only a day or two ago, asking Stacey to help me rescue my father.  "They followed my scent from my house to here."
    Ryland nodded.  "I thought I smelled you by that building over there," he said, pointing to what remained of the building where I'd last met Stacey.
    I raced to the rubble heap where it had stood and searched frantically for a flash of blonde hair or the hint of fair skin among the debris.  My stomach clenched as visions of Stacey's broken bloody body flashed into my head.  But I found nothing.
    "How can I help?" Ryland asked as he looked into my worried eyes.
    "I need to find Stacey.  Cute blonde with fair skin."  I stared at the mountain of rubble.  "She might be somewhere in there."
    "I'll need to change," Ryland said, removing his clothes.  "So don't be alarmed."
    "Thanks," I said, my mind too worried to even think of feeling awkward as he removed the last article of clothing from his body.  Thick black hair covered his chest and legs, though he didn't have a field of monkey hair on his back.  His body was well-muscled but lean and lithe.  A long scar ran from one shoulder to the opposite side of his abdomen.  A puckered scar covered the joint of his right shoulder.  I wondered how a creature with supernatural healing could have scars.  Then again, lycans might heal differently for all I knew.
    Ryland took a deep breath and stretched his arms wide, then toppled toward the ground.  Before he hit, his body seemed to melt.  Thick black fur erupted from his skin.  His arms and legs folded smoothly, paws forming from feet and hands, joints twisting forward, while his face shifted into a long lean muzzle.  Within seconds, a massive black wolf, his shoulders higher than my waist, regarded me with huge silver eyes and a big wolf grin.  Ever since my growth spurt, I'd crossed the six-foot line, meaning this wolf was the biggest one I'd ever seen.  A horse could ride him.
    "Wow," I said, staring at the magnificent beast.  I'd been expecting a lot of the nauseating bone-popping and crunching, not to mention yowling that accompanied one of Stacey's transformations.  Ryland made it look effortless.
    The wolf lowered his muzzle to the ground and sniffed.  Ears perked, he stared at some point in the darkness