Feral Northern Shifters 2

mislaid clothing, as well as a coin machine—which now stood broken and empty, its contents having been transferred to his new and overlarge jacket.
    He would pay the company back, somehow. It might take some time, admittedly. He’d never liked to steal, even though he could quite easily. He was fast, he was observant, and he could disappear in a way others couldn’t. But he’d always maintained principles to keep him steady and on track.
    Don’t use your gift for the wrong reason . Something his mother had drilled into him by the time he was nine. Good thing she’d succeeded by then, because she’d died shortly afterwards, and Ethan had been left to raise himself, with some help from Lila.
    Ethan sighed, too tired to push memories of his mother away, although it had been so long ago and he could no longer remember her face clearly. That hurt almost more than her death now.
He picked up a handful of quarters and fed them into the pay phone’s slot one at a time, his fingers slowly going numb with cold. It was early morning, still before sunrise, and he hadn’t eaten enough given his activity over the past two and a half days. His human body didn’t stay warm in winter when he wasn’t properly fed.
Hopefully he’d have leftover money to buy some breakfast and something hot to drink.
He counted ten quarters and kept going. It had been difficult to find a working pay phone. They were few and far between compared to eight years ago. The one in the laundromat was gone for some reason.
Forty quarters in, he decided to stop feeding the machine. His grasp of today’s currency and costs was nonexistent, but ten dollars should connect him to someone. If there was someone to connect to.
Slowly and carefully he punched in the numbers, worried he’d get it wrong, though God knows ten numbers wouldn’t be a challenge to anyone else. The receiver beeped through the number and the phone rang. Ethan expected an automated voice to cut in and tell him the number was out of service, or to get a wrong number.
Instead, the phone kept ringing. Five times, and Ethan began to lose hope as he slumped against the phone box. No one was home and he’d have to stay in the city and try again, though they might not ever be home. He might not ever reach this mysterious Trey.
The seventh ring cut off and a voice—male—said, “Hello. Trey Walters speaking.”
Ethan swallowed. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone on the phone and never had it been as important as now. He could barely get the first word out. “Hi.”
“Who is this?”
Ethan hesitated, but he’d already decided telling Trey his name wouldn’t do him harm. Trey couldn’t reach through the phone wires and grab hold of him. Even if he had super-duper tracking devices, the likelihood that Trey stood right around the corner waiting to catch Ethan was remote. And giving over his name might help Bram’s cause. Maybe. “I’m Ethan Marcelle.”
He heard a slight intake of breath as Trey paused. “Hello, Ethan.” He sounded surprised. “You’ve been gone for a very long time.”
He gripped the phone more tightly. “Do you know me?”
“You’re Lila’s friend. She mentioned you to me.” The voice went lower and sadder. “Years ago obviously.”
Ethan’s sluggish heart picked up speed. He had never spoken of Lila to anyone since her death. It was hard to talk of her. He’d had no practice.
“Yes, I was her friend.” The words came out hoarse.
“I was sorry to hear of her passing.”
“ Passing? ” Ethan echoed. Trey made it sound like Lila had succumbed to some unfortunate disease.
“After she got hit by a car, or so I was told.” There was a flat wariness in Trey’s voice that invited Ethan to dispute this account.
Ethan leaned his forehead against the cold window of the phone booth. “Whoever told you that lied. She was killed. They killed her. Her own pack. I was there.” He had no idea whether Trey, a wolf who was acquainted with the Winter pack, would believe a cat.
“Is that so?”
Ethan’s heart sank. This wolf was not different from the others. He might not belong to the Winter pack, but he’d buy into any of their false histories.
“She was supposed to call me if she felt threatened.” Trey was speaking carefully. “You must know that packs don’t like to kill their females. They’re considered precious and rare.”
“Not if they consort with cougars.” Ethan didn’t hide his bitterness. They’d accused Lila, his