White Fangs Read Free Page A

land, and she wouldn't have been able to sense him there.
    This was no dream.
    Ghost had found them.

 
Chapter Two - Unwelcome
     
    "No," Jack said.
    "Impossible," Louis breathed. Somehow his speaking broke the other wolves' paralysis. Vukovich and Maurilio each took a step back, and the Reverend's grip on the railing tightened, fingers turning white.
    "Impossible, yes," Jack agreed, oddly pleased that he was not the only one seeing this. "And yet there he is." A part of him noted that he was accepting this much easier than he should. Perhaps seeing Ghost was chasing away his dreams, and rooting him back in reality at last.
    "What do we do?" Vukovich asked.
    "We wait," Jack said. Because Ghost was already moving, walking steadily up the boarding plank, even as crewmen carried crates down the parallel ramp and the last of the departing passengers filed off of the ship. The sailors and remaining passengers on board barely took any notice of him, but Jack and his companions could see nothing else, as if their world had shrunk to this one inexplicable moment. Their former captain's massive, muscular form was clad in trousers, a faded shirt and a light jacket, and he wore a thick growth of beard. He carried no baggage, only strolled up the plank as if he were merely a visitor, his gaze never leaving Jack's face.
    No , Jack realized with a chill. Not my face .
    Ghost was staring at Sabine.
     
     
    It was as Ghost crossed the deck toward them that Jack realized what he, Sabine, and the wolves had become — they were a team. A crew. A pack . None of them turned and ran, though he was sure each among them would have valid reason to do so. Sabine shivered slightly where Jack rested one comforting hand on her shoulder. The Reverend had let go of the railing at last, and stood beside men who until recently had been his enemies. Though fear hung heavy in the cool morning air and the day's new sun, they faced the beast together. Nearby, two men laughed heartily over some shared joke, one of them puffing a noxious cigar, an arm around a young woman who might have been his wife or daughter. Jack wanted to scream at them to run, to cry out that the devil had come aboard, and didn't they know him when they laid eyes upon him?
    "Good morning," Ghost said, his gaze flitting briefly from man to man. It rested slightly longer on Jack, the corner of Ghost's lip rising in the semblance of a smile. Then he settled on Sabine again. His eyes were cool and fluid, giving nothing away.
    The sound of metal on leather made Jack glance left, where he saw that Louis had drawn his knife, and now held it down beside his leg, at the ready. He was a small man, but stocky and strong, and deadly in a fight.
    Ghost stiffened slightly, his expression almost pained. He glanced around at the crewmen busy with their unloading and the handful of passengers still on deck. "Really?" he asked softly. "Among all these people? Would you have me change, and expose us all?"
    "Louis," Jack said warily. "I don't think you need the blade."
    "If not now, then later," Louis replied, his voice a low growled promise.
    "Maybe not," Ghost said, as if he — this brutal survivor — had somehow become the voice of reason. "Perhaps tooth and blade can remain sheathed."
    "No," Vukovich said, baring teeth that were growing sharper. "Now." He stepped forward, and Jack caught a whiff of the beast within.
    Ghost smiled. That was what made Jack act. Not fear of being caught, or the chaos and horror that might ensue for all of them should a fight erupt here and now. It was Ghost's outright confidence that he would win that made Jack kick out his foot and trip Vukovich.
    The Russian werewolf went down, snarling in fury, but as he tried to rise Maurilio knelt quickly beside him, muttering a plea for caution. A sailor at the top of the gangplank looked their way. Jack smiled and raised his hand, and the man looked away.
    Could Ghost have killed them all? Jack did not think so. As ferocious a