Master of Wolves by Angela Knight Page A

handles off the rear doors. The only way out was the front, which meant he had to get through the metal gate between the seats.
    Cursing his partner and the vampire equally, Jim dragged the gate open and started trying to worm his way between the car’s front seats. To his horror, he realized his shoulders wouldn’t fit through the gate’s narrow opening, no matter how he twisted.
    Hell.
    He glanced through the window. Faith had already vanished into the woods.
    He had to get to her. Fast.
    Jim seriously considered Turning into the Dire Wolf and ripping a car door off, but he wasn’t sure the back compartment was big enough. He didn’t know what would happen if he tried to Change in a space that was too small for his seven-foot-six-inch Dire Wolf body, and he didn’t want to find out.
    Growling, he transformed back into shepherd form and began trying to work his way through the gate. It was a painfully tight fit. Hooking his forepaws over the seat, he dug his rear toes into the carpet and pushed with all his strength. As he struggled, Jim glared at the car’s digital clock.
    Another minute ticked by.
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    Cursing under her breath, Faith skirted a briar bush her flashlight picked out. It was pitch black under the trees, and she couldn’t see a damn thing. She wished the light was better, because it sounded as if people were trying to kill each other out here.
    It was painfully clear from the sound effects that this was not just a couple of kids tossing fireworks in the dark. Voices chanted, grunted, and swore, and heavy bodies crashed around in the brush just ahead. Colored flashes lit up the trees, punctuated by rolling booms.
    All of which sounded like Faith’s cue to call for backup. She lifted the shoulder mike of her belt radio. “Tayanita, Clarkston 2-4 requesting assistance at 299 Andrews Lane. Sounds like several males and at least one female in an altercation in the woods. Weapons unknown.” She paused, debating whether to wait for her backup to arrive or go on in and try to mediate.
    A man screamed.
    Hell with it. “Sounds like somebody’s hurt. I’m going to proceed.”
    Without waiting to hear the reply, she clipped the mike back on her shoulder and pushed through the brush, ignoring the unseen branches that slapped her in the face. As she moved, she drew her weapon.
    The crawling sensation on the back of her neck told her she was going to need it.
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    The bars dug savagely into Jim’s ribs, but he kept struggling with every ounce of his considerable strength. He had to get to Faith. Luckily, magical creature that he was, he was stronger than a normal dog. The bars began to bend, and he popped through at last, tumbling into the passenger seat.
    Still no opposable thumbs. He had to transform again.
    This time the magic burned when it came, an acid reminder of the risk he was running. If a werewolf tried to change form too many times in too short a period, he ran the risk of the magic escaping his control. He’d burn like Steve had, consumed by his own power.
    Human again, Jim jerked the door open and threw himself from the car. He almost fell on his face as his depleted body protested the changes he’d forced on it.
    Jim caught himself, realizing with a stab of fear he was pushing far too close to the edge. He couldn’t fight the vampire and her pet werewolf as a human, but if he tried to transform again, the magic might turn on him.
    Then he remembered the shimmer of sunlight on Faith’s skin, the flash of her smile. If the rogue got to Faith, he’d rip her apart.
    Teeth gritted, Jim called the power for the fourth time—and screamed as pain seared his cells. For a terrifying instant, he thought his magic had gone bad.
    But at last his body began to grow again as energy from the Mageverse flooded into it, stretching upward and outward as fur rolled across his skin in an itching wave.
    When the transformation ended, his knees