The Healer by Sharon Sala Page A

killers in close pursuit.
    “Get him!” he heard one of them yell.
    Jonah heard the shout and sidestepped the gate, then vaulted over the four-foot-high wooden fence surrounding their backyard. His long hair flew out behind him like wings, as he increased his speed. At the same time, he saw the wolves coming out of the trees toward him. He didn’t think to wonder how they knew he was in danger. But at the sight, he realized that their arrival might be his only chance to escape.
    As he dashed past his neighbors’ back door, someone came out and shouted at him.
    “Hey, Jonah! What’s wrong?”
    It was Thomas Klingkit, a man Jonah had fished with off and on throughout his youth. The only warning he could give him was “Get down!”
    He couldn’t stop to make sure Thomas had heeded him, but to Jonah’s horror, he heard a shot, then a cry of pain.
    His heart sank. He knew that his friend had been hit, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t help. All he could do was run.
    The wolves were close now. He felt the thunder of their heartbeats in his ears. He knew they would attack his enemies without care for their own safety, but the men were armed, and he didn’t know how to stop this.
    Then another shot was fired and took the decision away from him. The stab of pain in his shoulder was shocking, as was the immediate lack of motor control. He was in the dirt before he knew he was falling.
    Within seconds, the wolves had encircled him. He rolled over on his back, struggling to get to his feet, but they were so close around him that he couldn’t move.
    Moments later the killers caught up, but now that they had their quarry down, they didn’t know what to do with him. Their first instinct was to shoot the wolves, but one of them had already screwed up by shooting at Jonah. If they started shooting wolves, there was every chance that they would kill him, as well, if they hadn’t already. Bringing Jonah Gray Wolf in to their boss was worth big money, but he had to be alive.
    That point was lost on one trigger-happy gunman when a big wolf snarled at him, then leaped toward him. The wolf was in midair when he shot. Jonah felt the wolf’s pain, then the blood spray on his face even before the wolf hit the ground.
    He began screaming at them and waving his hands.
    “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Please, don’t shoot anymore.”
    One of the other men knocked trigger-happy’s gun arm up before he could fire off another round.
    “Damn it, Hicks. You heard Bourdain. Bring him back in pristine condition. What the hell do you think he’s gonna say about that hole you already put in his shoulder?”
    But Hicks was already panicked. His voice rose an octave as he waved the gun at the tangle of wolves.
    “To hell with Bourdain! He’s not the one with a damned wolf in his lap!”
    The dead wolf lay at Jonah’s feet as he struggled to get up. Even as he moved, he could feel the hole in his shoulder closing, the pain ebbing as his body healed itself. Some of the wolves licked at his face and sniffed at his shoulder, while others continued to growl and snarl at the men.
    Hicks pointed at Jonah with his gun.
    “Call ’em off or I’ll start pumping bullets into the whole damn lot of you!”
    Jonah tried to stand, but a big gray male moved in front of him. He had heard the panic in the man’s voice. He already knew what they were capable of doing. He didn’t want more lives on his conscience, but the wolves kept crowding closer until he could feel their breath and the weight of their bodies as they walked on his belly, then on his legs. In the midst of his grief, it was sobering to know they would die to protect him.
    “Don’t shoot,” he begged, as he finally managed to get to his feet. “Please. Just don’t shoot again.”
    Hicks’s hands were shaking. “So call off those damned wolves,” he ordered.
    Jonah’s voice was thick with tears. “You killed my father. Why did you do that?”
    “He didn’t want to cooperate,”