Page 3 of Lightning and Claws

“That’s a lot.”

“Not if you’re sleeping. I bet if you close your eyes right now, hug Quackers real tight, and think about chasing fireflies, you’ll fall asleep in no time and stay that way until we’re at Comet Lake.”

“As long as there are no more stupid buttheads on the road,” Wren grumbled.

“Okay, you’ve used up your quota of stupid buttheads for the night,” he warned, “and I better not hear about you calling anyone that at school, either, especially not one of the teachers.”

“But Dad! Mr. Williamson was a stupid butthead and always played favorites.”

Sighing, with a string of vulgar language playing through his mind that he’d love to be able to unleash on the driver of that truck, Logan struggled to work out an explanation that his pup wouldn’t wind up taking as encouragement to engage in behaviors that might get them into trouble.

“You’re not wrong,” Logan said. “But sometimes it’s better to keep your feelings to yourself while you’re at school. Then you can come home and tell me about them at the end of the day. That way, when you tell me something like when Mr. Williamson ignored your questions and wouldn’t listen to your side of the story about the group project, I can be the one to call him a stupid butthead when I take you to school in the morning.

“But won’t you get into trouble?”

“Not in the same way you would,” he explained. “You get in trouble because adults have determined that there are certain words that children shouldn’t use, even though we adults toss them around all the time. They’re on television, in movies, and in video games, so it’s not like you kids don’t hear them. I know I heard them all the time when I was growing up. I used them all the time, too, just never where adults could hear me. Before you ask, no, that is not to be interpreted as permission to say whatever you’d like when I’m not around. I know the way your mind works.”

“Awe, Dad.”

“Don’t awe Dad, me. If you have an issue at school, tell me and I’ll talk to your teacher, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Thank you, now quit sulking and go back to sleep. There’s still a lot of road left. I’d much rather listen to the music than you whine.”

“Humph.”

One day, the grumpy face Wren made when they did that was going to be fierce, but right now, just the thought of it forced Logan to smother his laughter so he didn’t provoke his pup. Wren had been sleeping well too, so their hair was probably sticking up everywhere. Logan turned the radio up when a few snickers slipped out, letting Soundgarden lull his pup to sleep. The station signal was strong, and that last energy drink felt like it was wearing off, so he downed another and adjusted the heat too, as the temperature kept dropping.

At least the encounters with oncoming traffic were few and far between, because those bright-ass halogen lights left spots dancing in front of his eyes for almost a mile before clearing completely. Maybe they didn’t bother humans the same way they did his kind, but wolves had excellent night vision, and those white ass bulbs wrecked the fuck out of it.

What the hell!

Logan turned the music down, certain the sound of metal grinding wasn’t coming from the radio and sure as shit.

Motherfucker.

Something was wrong with the car, and it did not sound pleasant.

He checked the gauges, but everything read within normal levels, so whatever it was, it wasn’t affecting the performance of the car yet, which was a good thing because there was no goddamn shoulder anywhere out here to pull over on.

He’d just have to keep an ear on it, so he turned the radio back up but not as much as before, already running a list of possibilities through his head, all of them expensive, while trying not to freak the fuck out over the very real chance that the car wouldn’t get them to Comet Lake.

And then what?

Risk borrowing a phone to call Brooks or keep the car rolling and hope she held until he crossed onto pack lands? Thank fuck he’d memorized every important number in his contact list.

Pushing on was the safest option, at least until they were out of bear country. Fifty more miles and he’d be in no man’s land, otherwise known as the space that existed between shifter colonies so there could be no disputing when one crossed onto another’s territory. Human roads and rest stops were exceptions. Human towns were too. He followed the rules, even when he was visiting someplace under false pretenses. Those actions had always been greenlit by the high council.

The damage undoubtably happened when they’d bounced off the road and nearly hit the guardrail. He’d felt the car shudder when he wrenched the wheel. At this point, the only thing Logan had going for him was the weather. As long as it stayed clear, the road would be easy to navigate. Getting lost out here with his car on the fritz would leave them sitting ducks.

Now his heart was pounding.

Maybe that last energy drink wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Or maybe he was freaking himself out.

Yeah. That was the most likely of the two.