Wolf’s Bane by Kelley Armstrong (Otherworld: Kate & Logan #1)
English | 2020 | Children/Young Adult | ePUB | 2.9 MB
Summer camp is a traditional teenage rite of passage, but when you add supernatural powers to the typically high dosage of adolescent hormones – you get an even more combustible mix. Sixteen-year-old werewolf twins Kate and Logan Danvers are none too thrilled at being shipped off to a supernatural youth leadership conference in West Virginia.
From the moment they arrive at the camp, the twins sense something is off and they react in their usual manner – Logan reserving judgement and surveying the setup, while Kate charges forward determined to get answers. Kate and Logan quickly ascertain that most of the conference attendees have already formed hostile factions, leaving the twins and a few other misfits to band together.
What seems like teen hormones in overdrive becomes something much more dangerous, even deadly. Add in a strange magic-warded cabin in the woods and a local history rife with curses and macabre legends, and it becomes clear this was a really, really bad place to build a camp for teenage supernaturals.
My skin ripples. Muscles shift, stretching and bunching as my skin prickles, fur sprouting.
I close my eyes, position my hands and feet and lower my head. When the first jolt of agony hits, it’s as if this has never happened before, and I’m caught off guard, stifling a scream.
This too shall pass.
It’s like getting a tooth drilled. Well, I presume it’s like that because when I get a filling or a booster shot and the doctor says, “This is going to hurt,” I almost laugh. A needle piercing my skin? Try having your entire body ripped apart and put back together twice a month.
What I mean is that the pain, however severe, is temporary. You grit your teeth, tell yourself this too shall pass.
It does. Waves of agony nearly knock me out, and then I’m standing on four legs, panting and shaking, my yellow fur gleaming in the moonlight.
Yes, I’m a yellow wolf. A werewolf’s fur is the same color as our hair, which for me means that if I’m seen, I’ll be mistaken for a dog. Don’t ask me how I know that. All-caps rule number one: DO NOT BE SEEN. But, yeah, it happens, for some more than others, and it’s probably a good thing I’m blessed with golden retriever fur.
When a distant owl shrieks, my ears swivel to follow the sound. Most werewolves have excellent hearing in human form, and even better hearing as wolves. Logan and I hear just as well in both forms. We’re . . . a little different.
There are only a few dozen werewolves in North America and almost all inherited the genes from their dads—it passes through the male line. It can also be transmitted through bites, but the survival rate for that is so low that there are only a few bitten werewolves . . . including both our parents.
So what happens when two bitten werewolves have kids? No one knew. When it comes to werewolves, statistics are nearly nonexistent. The human world doesn’t know about supernaturals, so they’re not exactly conducting studies. We could do it ourselves, but for us, survival is a whole lot more important than note-taking.
Growing up, I only wished for one thing, with every birthday candle, every four-leaf clover, every wishing-well coin. Make me a werewolf. I got my wish at the age of nine, a decade earlier than normal hereditary werewolves. As far as anyone knows, I’m one of two female werewolves in the world—mom being the other. I’m the first female hereditary werewolf ever. That’s cool, but really, all I care about is that I got my wish: I am a werewolf.
When I step out of my thicket, Logan greets me with a welcoming snuffle. Seeing him, I don’t know how anyone can mistake us for dogs. We look like wolves. We retain our human mass, which makes him a huge wolf, ghost white in the darkness, sleek furred and muscular.
As he snuffles me, I twist away and then surprise-pounce, which would work much better with any werewolf who wasn’t my twin. Logan anticipates the pounce and feints out of the way, then twists and leaps at me. I duck and race around him so fast I swear I hear his vertebrae crackle as he spins to keep an eye on me.