Deacon

Chapter OneDEACON DREW BACK the string of his bow, one eye closed as he stared down the shaft, his arm muscles barely feeling the pull of the bow as he calmed his breathing. The small gray rabbit had no idea it was about to be tonight’s dinner. Holding his breath, Deacon released the arrow, the shaft whistling through the air as it split the quietness of the forest on Dark Moon Mountain, silently entering the rabbit and bringing the trip to a satisfying conclusion. Deacon held the pose until the arrow found its target and only then did he release the breath he held and lowered his arms. With a smirk, he glanced over at Morgan and Logan who stood behind him, Logan chuckling as he shook his head. Morgan just stood there with his mouth open. Logan laughed harder as he pointed to the dead rabbit. “I think you have a kill to retrieve,” he said, his thick shoulders bouncing slightly with his laughter. Morgan closed his mouth, hands on his hips, and shook his head. “I am not shifting and fetching his kill like some damn hunting dog,” he spat. “Nope. I don’t care what we bet. I’m not doing it. It’s damn humiliating.” “Which part?” Logan asked, still laughing. “That he killed four rabbits to your two, or that you lost the bet and now have to be his hunting dog?” Morgan ran a hand through his dark hair as he blew out a breath. “Both.” Deacon stood, grinning from ear-to-ear, his bow down at his side. “If you can’t afford to pay your debts, you shouldn’t bet in the first place,” he said, a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. “Now, fetch.” “Fucker,” Morgan snarled as he moved toward the latest kill, his body shifting into his ash-gray wolf, bones popping as legs and arms, feet and hands, stretched and bent, fur sliding out replacing his clothes that magically vanished and would reappear when he shifted back. Within seconds, Morgan Holstead’s wolf sprinted across the leaf-strewn forest floor to fetch the other man’s kill. Deacon shook his head as he chuckled. “This never gets old,” he said to Logan as they both watched the wolf make short work of the distance between them and the rabbit. Logan nodded, chuckling as well. “No, it doesn’t, especially when it’s Morgan doing the fetching.” I can hear you both, you know, Morgan sent through the mindspeech of the wolf. “Oh, we know,” Deacon shouted after the wolf. “And don’t get your teeth marks all over my rabbit, or you’ll be skinning it, too.” He shook his head. “God, I’ve missed this while I was away.” Logan glanced over at him. “Sticking around for a while?” he asked, and Deacon couldn’t tell if the man was hopeful or troubled. He couldn’t really blame Logan for being hesitant about Deacon putting down roots in Dark Moon Falls again, returning home so to speak. He hadn’t necessarily left in the best frame of mind. Deacon ran his hand through his short dark hair, his lips pressed into a thin line. The question Logan asked was the same one Elias asked when Deacon presented himself to him, letting the alpha of the Dark Moon Falls Pack know he was back in town. Deacon told Logan the same thing he told Elias. “To be honest, I have no immediate plans. I’m out of the Army after ten years.” He glanced over at Logan, smiling. “I’m kind of looking forward to doing things on my own terms for a while, you know?” He shrugged. “I’m taking it one day at a time.” Morgan’s wolf trotted back to where the other two men stood, dropping the dead rabbit at Deacon’s feet. Your prize, O Mighty Hunter, he sent to the others as his wolf bowed down on his front paws. He then hopped up on his hind legs as he shifted back to his normal, muscular size, shaking his head. “Remind me never to make that bet again.” Logan slapped the other man on the back. “And yet, you look so adorable, prancing around the woods, fetching dead rabbits for our friend here.” Deacon shrugged. “You’ve been falling for that bet since we were in fourth grade. Why would you want to break a tradition now?” He chuckled softly under his breath. He missed this as well, the three of them in the woods, hunting, letting their wolves run as the sun climbed higher in the sky. He had been gone too long, away from his friends, away from his family. “Some traditions need to be broken,” Morgan mumbled with a sigh as he slid his hands into his front pockets. “Now that we have enough rabbits to feed us for a few days, what are the plans for tonight?” Deacon shrugged. “We could head to Summermire. On my way into town, I noticed a club that wasn’t there before I left, a place called Cheaters. Looked like my kind of dive.” Logan shook his head. “Not this boy. I step into a bar like that, Madison will have my nuts hanging from the front porch or stuffed in a canvas bag as a chew toy for Dax. You two have fun and try not to get into too much trouble.” Deacon laughed. “That’s why I’m taking Morgan with me,” he said. “To keep me in line. Or from crossing a line. Either way, he’s the designated driver.” “What’s the fun of going if I can’t drink?” Morgan asked as he started gathering their kills into a heavy canvas bag after pulling the arrows out. Deacon just rolled his eyes, ignoring his friend. Wolves could out-drink any human around and still not catch a buzz. Morgan would drink, Deacon had no worry there, and they would both drink a lot. Deacon needed to unwind now that he was out of the Army, now that he had his own life back. Out of the corner of his eye, Deacon noticed Logan staring at him, and by the look on his face, Deacon knew what was on his friend’s mind, and Deacon didn’t want to hear it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said, hoping to head off the conversation marinating in Logan’s mind for a while. “You know, when Dusker was killed by that rogue idiot.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I should have been here to help you through that.” Logan gave a weak shrug, and Deacon knew the man tried to put up a brave front. “Morgan was here, as well as the rest of the town, Levi, Elias.” He shook his head. “No one could help me through it. I never let anyone even get close.” He shrugged again. “Doyle got what he had coming to him in the end.” Morgan laughed. “And now our boy’s a whipped puppy. I swear, I think he might have been better off living like a hermit in the woods. Madison even has frilly curtains on the windows.” Deacon watched as Logan stared off into the distance. He knew he shouldn’t have brought up the painful past just to divert his friend’s attention from what was on his mind, but Deacon wasn’t ready to deal with the heavy issues he knew he needed to face. Not yet. Maybe not ever. However, he should have known his friend wouldn’t be distracted for long. “Where are you staying?” Logan asked, his hands in his back pockets as he stared off into the treetops, doing his best not to look at Deacon, treating it as another casual conversation among friends. It wasn’t casual. “I’m staying out at the motor lodge,” Deacon replied as if it wasn’t odd for him to be staying there. He took a deep breath. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t spoken to my father.” He sighed as he slung his bow over his shoulder. “To be honest, I’m not sure I will. The last time didn’t exactly go as planned.” “Elias was all right with that?” Logan asked as the trio began to walk back to their car. “Not really,” Deacon admitted. “But, he’s giving me time to screw up the courage to talk to him.” “And what better place to screw up courage than a strip club called Cheaters?” Morgan said, grinning. Logan laughed as he shook his head. “I’m sure courage isn’t the only thing that gets screwed there.” “We can only hope,” Deacon said as they reached the car. “It is hump day after all.” He opened the trunk, placing his bow and quiver inside as Morgan added the bag of rabbits. The truth was, he wasn’t really going to the club to get laid or even drunk. He was going to avoid dealing with what he needed to deal with now that he was in town, to forget what he could never forget, to hide from the pain of mistakes that drove him into the arms of the Army, instead of the arms of his family or friends. There was no way he could face his father after failing his sister so badly. Deacon closed the trunk, both palms pressing down on the top. Yeah, I can only hope. He took a deep breath. At least a few minutes of escape will break the monotony of the pain, something ten years in the Army failed to do.