White Fangs Read Online Free PDF Page B

pirate captain — a man in charge, and yet somehow out of place here, cast adrift.
    Ghost met Jack's gaze. The animosity between them lived and breathed as if it were its own creature, but it had streaks of respect and even fondness that could not be denied. Ghost had kept Jack alive on a vessel full of monsters because he had liked the philosophical, moral, and intellectual challenge that their conversations presented. Though Jack had caged the savage nature within himself, that wildness remained, restrained but never fully tamed. Ghost had seen it from the beginning. He had used Jack as a kind of mirror, a yardstick by which to measure himself, to be sure he had scoured the last sentiment from his own heart. In the end he had failed at that, but no matter what Ghost believed, Jack knew they were still opposites. The former captain could never be trusted.
    Once they had made port in Skagway, Ghost had dogged their steps. They had made it clear they did not welcome his company, so he kept a certain distance without ever letting them get too far ahead of him. Determined to join them on this expedition despite their protestations, he had somehow acquired a train ticket. They had all watched in troubled silence as he had boarded the car immediately behind their own. Vukovich had suggested dragging him off the train and killing him there and then, but the same argument that had prevented them from attempting such violence on board the Kraken stopped them once more. Jack was trying to make men out of these monsters again, and such a display of violence would not only give them away, but would negate all the progress they had achieved.
    As Jack glared at Ghost, willing the beast to leave them be and return to his own carriage, the strangest thing happened. Ghost smiled — a sort of chagrined, sheepish expression that was entirely unlike him — and seemed almost to laugh. He gave a cheerful sort of wave, turned on his heel, and exited. As the door swung shut behind him, Jack could see him make a small leap, crossing the gap between train cars.
    Even after Ghost had gone, it was several moments before Jack realized he was hanging halfway into the aisle, twisted round in his seat and still staring. He righted himself, only to find Louis and the Reverend watching him curiously. Across the aisle, Vukovich and Maurilio were still facing forward; they'd not even noticed that Ghost had entered the car.
    "What do you suppose he's up to?" the Reverend asked, pulling up his coat's dark collar.
    "Nothing good," Louis replied. "Eh, Jack?"
    Jack didn't answer. Ghost's behavior had stumped him at first. Cunning as he was, the captain had never been one for games. ''Only when Jack had allowed himself to imagine for a moment that the monster might be telling them the truth, that he might be seeking his own answers, did Ghost's actions begin to make any sense. Jack found that far more unsettling than the belief that Ghost wanted them all dead.
    "What if it's all true?" Jack said at last.
    The Reverend scoffed. "If he's anything like his brother — "
    "But he's not," Jack said thoughtfully, glancing at Sabine's slumbering form beside him before looking back at the two werewolves. "He spent years trying to be more of a bastard, more of an animal, than Death, but he never quite succeeded. Now . . . well, you saw him. He doesn't know how to act. He's adrift. It's like he's tasting life for the first time, and trying to decide if he likes the flavor."
    Louis and the Reverend were both staring at him.
    "Can you really believe that?" Louis asked. "The man I met in New Orleans — the pirate who bit me, blooded me, turned me into a monster to serve him — you're saying you believe that man is having . . . what, a change of heart?"
    Jack glanced out the window at the rugged terrain, certain they must long since have passed from the Alaskan territory and into Canada. Such boundaries meant very little here in the north. Despite the relative comfort of the