Shifter Queen: The Legend of the Shadow Wolf

By Dennis Hays

After losing both her job and boyfriend, Rebecca heads west to start a new life. Stopping in Avery, Washington, she meets Rose who introduces her to her grandson, Zachary.

Meanwhile, Menden Gillespie plots to capture the entire wolf-shifter communities to isolate them for the valuable DNA. Shutting off the communities access to the outside world, his thugs threaten the lives of everyone, including Rebecca. Her blossoming love for Zachary puts her in the cross-hairs as Zachary attempts to determine both both a way out and how to release his home from Menden's clutches.

Running from her past and now into a worse situation, she could she lose not only her life, but also her new friends and Zachary. Can she help her new mate to save their lives?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis Hays
• Release date: Oct 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370961429

Dennis Hays

Dennis Hays lives in upstate New York, USA, where he hides himself from his family, two dogs and five cats, and pounds on a keyboard to try and make sense of the words and images in his head. Writing, he says, is an invisible performance art. He considers himself to be a renaissance man, stuck in time, working with various media, including photography, to express himself. While most of his books and short stories are contemporary romance, he is secretly working on other genres in his underground lair.Above this lair, he lives with his wife and various furry friends. As he is a reverse snow bird from Florida, Dennis relishes the four season climate, but hates cleaning the snow off his car in the winter.

Book preview

Shifter Queen

The Legend of The Shadow Wolf

By Dennis Hays

Copyright 2017 Dennis Hays

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Autumn Falls

The Beginning

A House Becomes a Home

Machinations

The Meeting

Menden’s Lair

Innocence Lost

The Journey Home

Artemas

The Abyss

Retrograde

Take Over

Status Quo

Despair

Beginning Again

The New Dawn

Emergence

Legend

Shadow Wolf

Taken

Inside the Edge

White

A New Dawn

Autumn Falls

Rebecca put her purse inside the filing cabinet and looked at her To Do list to determine the priorities of each task. For the past three years, every work day started the same: evaluating the projects her boss assigned to her. She bent over her desk, and while still standing, she wrote a number beside each item. Quickly looking it over again, she pinned the paper to the cork board on the wall next to her slanted, artists desk, and pulled the requisite file from the pile on top of the tan, metal filing cabinet.

Grabbing her mug, she walked to the office kitchen and looked at the variety of teas and coffees the company provides for their employees. She pulled a tea bag from the Earl Grey box and poured hot water from the carafe sitting on a hot plate. Taking it back to her desk, she put the mug on the shelf next to her, sat on her stool, and made sketches for a story-board the agency needed to sell the television advertisement to the client.

She heard the muted beep, letting her know of an incoming email. Lifting her pencil off the paper, she thought whether she should look now, or keep sketching until she got her idea drawn. As Rebecca started drawing again, she knew she needed to look at the email, or she would never get it out of her mind. She twisted around on the padded stool, leaned over and tapped the computer’s keyboard to display the message.

After taking a couple of sips from her tea, she headed over to her bosses office to see what he wanted. Before she sat in one of the chairs in front of Ron, Rebecca carefully set her mug on a coaster to prevent marring the beautiful, glazed-mahogany desk.

You wanted to see me?

Ah, yes. This shouldn’t take long, but I’m afraid it’s not good news. We’re having some financial problems and I need to lay you off. It’s a company-wide reduction in force.

"No pleasantries? You just get right to it, don’t you?

Aww, Rebecca. I don’t like doing this and frankly, I don’t know how. I have an upset stomach ever since my boss told me what to do yesterday. We’ve been friends for a while, and I’ll hate not seeing you every day. I didn’t want to do this. In fact, I asked them not to, but they told me I to do it anyway.

Rebecca nodded her head slowly, letting the news sink in, trying to put it in context with her life. She looked up at Ron’s eyes and asked, When?

Today. Now. Although we’ll pay you for the complete day, you can leave after this meeting. I’ve arranged for you to get full pay and your health insurance for another month, which should allow you to arrange other employment. Any questions?

I guess not. After three years, this comes as a shock. She got to her feet, leaving her untouched tea on the front edge of the desk and walked to the door, her mind going in a million different directions at the same time.

Becca?

She turned slowly to face her boss, but didn’t speak. Will you accept contract work on a project to project basis?

I guess so.

I can’t promise how much, but I’ll funnel as much as I can your way. At least it may help financially.

Thank you, she said and walked back to her cubicle.

Other than her purse and jacket, there isn’t anything she wanted—not even the two spider plants next to her desk. She looked around, sat down at her computer and wrote two emails, one to her boss thanking him for her employment and another to her private distribution list, her acquaintances at work and her friends, informing them of her situation and included her private email address.

While on her drive home, she barely noticed the morning traffic, thinking more about the sudden change in her life than she did about driving. She had the entire day in front of her and nothing to do. Usually she meticulously planned her days, knew the priority of tasks she had in front of her, and how much time she allotted for each. Now, she didn’t know what she was going to do; her time now was fluid and unscheduled; she felt out of sorts, unable to focus her thoughts.

As usual, she pulled into the driveway of her rented, two-story condominium, turned off her car and sat with her thoughts, ruminating about the morning. When the car heated up from the loss of air conditioning, she pulled her keys from the ignition, and unlocked the front door. She entered through a short hallway, the kitchen to her right through an archway, and walked into the dining room. Rebecca put her purse on the table, pulled off her jacket, hung it on the back of a chair, and sat down. She didn’t know what to do next, whether to immediately sit at her computer, looking for another job, or read a magazine. Her fingers drummed on the table while she looked around the room. Her attention shifted away from the events of the morning, trying to focus on a nebulous, fleeting thought, but the more she attempted to discern what bothered her, she couldn’t quite grasp it. Her unease could be from her circumstances, or there could be something else; she didn’t know.

Standing up again, she noticed her heart rapidly beating and tasted the thickness in her mouth from her nerves. This was the first time in her short career she was fired or let go from a job. Opening the refrigerator door, she looked for a drink. Her thirstiness and the silence in her condo contributed to her insecurity and emotional imbalance. Inside the refrigerator, she found an unopened carton of orange juice, opened it and poured a glassful. Music would alleviate the discordant silence, so she wandered to her sound system on the shelves around the corner noticing a few weird tracks winding through the carpeting. Without consciously looking, she reached to turn on the receiver, looked up and saw an envelope taped to the edge of the shelf.

Pulling out and unfolding the paper, she saw a short note from Gabe.

"I’ve taken my clothes and toiletries and will come back for the other things later at a convenient time. Becca, it’s better this way. We weren’t going anywhere and it’s been difficult living here with you the past few weeks. We need a break. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I thought it best to make a clean break."

And he signed it with ‘Gabe,’ no ‘with love’ or ‘hugs and kisses,’ no endearments at all. She let the paper fall from her trembling fingers and watched it flutter side-to-side to the carpet. A momentary impulse to pick it back up started her bending, but instead she lay on the couch, still dressed for work, hugging a pillow to her chest and staring at the ceiling.

The two emotional traumas in one morning started to bring forth tears, but she willfully held them back. Now, what?

* * * *

What are you going to do now? Joyce asked.

I don’t know, but I think I’m going to take some time for myself. Money is not a big issue. Besides the severance pay, I have the inheritance which means I have no worries for a few years, if I stay away from shoe stores.

You know, now may be a good time to take that trip you always wanted. Didn’t you say Maine? It would be someplace completely different and you’ll have the time to sketch and paint. Didn’t you tell me you were neglecting your creative side?

Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, but after Gabe gets his stuff, there won’t be much here, so I don’t know. What would you do?

Hell, I’m an old married woman, not the single, twenty-something you are.

I’m thirty-one.

"Same thing, but I think you have an opportunity to do whatever you want. You don’t have to work for a while and you’re unattached. Hell, yeah, if it were me, I’d pack up and go somewhere I’ve never been. Maybe, I should tell my husband I need a break and leave with you."

Aw, Joycie, you can’t do that to Mark, you guys are lovebirds.

We’ll take him with us!

Good try, but I’m not into threesomes.

* * * *

The day after Gabe removed all of his possessions, she got into her car packed with clothing, art supplies, and her burgeoning collection of shoes. She threw a bottle of water onto the passenger seat of her Ford Escort, backed out of the driveway, and stopped to mentally say goodbye.

Later, with about a hundred miles behind her, she stopped for a bathroom break and looked through the convenience items in the store. Feeling carefree, she picked up three candy bars and turned to the cashier. On the counter next to her, a rack with postcards captured her attention. She gave it a good push, letting the cylindrical rack revolve. Her eyes watched the splashes of color while the rack turned. When it stopped, her eyes scanned the postcards, but stopped on one showing a fog enshrouded Mt. Rainier. Interrupted by the cashier, she finished paying for her items and left the store, anxious to get back on the road.

Before starting the car, she pulled her atlas from between the seats and glanced at the route she highlighted last night. Interstate ninety-four connected another Interstate highway going east, toward Maine.

Driving south-east, the postcard of Mt. Rainier appeared in her mind. Where is Mt. Rainier? Isn’t it in the state of Washington?

Suddenly, she pulled over to the side of the road and shifted her car into Park. As she flicked through the pages of her road atlas, a Minnesota State Patrol car stopped next to hers. He rolled down his window, motioning for her to do the same. She leaned across the passenger seat and cranked the handle.

Anything wrong? I saw you move quickly off the road, he said.

I think I’m going in the wrong direction.

Where do you want to go?

Washington. The State of Washington.

Well, yeah, you are headed the wrong way. Go down to the next exit, turn underneath and go back to Minneapolis. Once there, get on I-94 and follow it west. He picked up his smart phone. A few seconds later he said, "According to my map program, ninety-four eventually merges with ninety in western Montana. Take ninety all the way to Seattle, if you want.

Rebecca followed the directions to I-94.

The Beginning

For as long as she remembered, since she started puberty, her period aligned with the full moon and today was no different. She was in a typical roadside motel, old and quaint, brocade covers on the furniture, wood paneling everywhere with a wood-beam ceiling. Rebecca lay in bed, sweating through her cramps.

Someone knocked on her door. Ms. Rebecca, are you all right? They knocked again.

She got out of bed and put on her robe to answer the door. With the chain still attached, she opened the door enough to peek around the edge and saw an elderly woman. I’m Rose, the owner. I haven’t seen you come out today. Is there anything wrong? Can I help?

Rebecca pushed it close, slid the chain loose and reopened the door, allowing Rose to enter. Oh, dear, you look awfully pale. What’s wrong?

Rebecca lay back on the bed, holding her arms around her stomach. Cramps.

That time of the month, is it? Uh, huh. I got just the thing. I’ll be right back. She left, locking up on her way out. Ten minutes later, Rose used her master key to let herself in. Here, drink this and I’ll draw a warm bath for you.

What is it?

It’s a tea I made with valerian, wild yam, yarrow, and chamomile. It reduce the discomfort from your cramps and help to relax you. Sip it, dear, and I’ll be right back.

Rebecca heard the the splashing water of the tub filling while she slowly sipped the hot, motherwort tea. She walked into the bathroom, passing Rose, who was on her way out. She put the mug down on the edge of the tub, slipped off her robe and pajamas and stepped in. With both feet in the hot water, she waited to acclimate herself to the heat, and then slowly lowered herself, stretching out, leaning her head against the top edge of the old, winged-foot bathtub.

She took a few more sips of the tea, feeling her muscles relax and the cramps lessening. The hot water and tea lulled her into a soporific state, so much so, she barely heard Rose let herself back into the room.

Do you mind if I come in? Rose asked, knocking on the door.

Rebecca thought for a second and, not feeling uncomfortable, told her it was okay.

I brought you one of the big bath towels and a terry cloth robe. I don’t usually have these in the rooms, but I thought you would like them. Are you feeling any better? Rose sat on the edge of the bathtub.

Much better. Thank you. Thank you so much.

Oh, you’re welcome. When you finish soaking and get dressed, come down to the office and I’ll have a little something for you to eat…a small dinner.

You don’t have—

Stop right there. I won’t take no for an answer and will expect you in thirty minutes. Rebecca heard Rose leaving the room and the click of the lock as she closed the motel room door. She smiled at the thought of Rose taking charge.

* * * *

Rebecca pulled on an old pair of sweatpants and a football jersey, something she got from her first boyfriend in high school, the red coloring now faded to a pale orange, the sleeves unraveling, but the loose, comfortable shirt brought with