by R. J. Blain
“The ved’ma said he killed his family, and that he attacked other workers at the mill.”
“I’m sure they did say that. What we need to learn is if that’s the truth. Is this wild wolf the actual killer, or is he on the run because the ved’ma tried to kill him and failed? My initial reaction to these brands is they’re all about favoritism. The favored wolves? They seem like fairly average Fenerec. I don’t know what the other type is or their role, but they’re a step below the favored ones. It’s the other group I’m worried about.”
“The sumasshedshiy volk. From what I gather, the ved’ma prevent them from shifting, and then they go mad and rampage. They know they’re going to go mad and snap, but they maintain their traditions anyway. From what I understand, the mayor is the one who determines what category someone is put into. Every full moon, they hunt for people and brand them. They call it the unveiling or something like that.”
“Or they could be hunting people, forcing the ritual on them, and branding them afterwards.”
I shrugged. “That’s a possibility. I make sure I stay far from the city during the full moons, and I lock myself in my cabin. They’ve been watching me, and after the incident at the sawmill, it was either call or swim across the river into China.”
“Next time, swim across the river into China before you call. Or make some distance otherwise first. That makes it easier to do an investigation. That said, this needs to be investigated, so you made the right choice. If the locals do as they promised, we’ll be left alone until tomorrow, after which talks will begin. Once talks begin, we need to make sure we constantly stay together in a group. If they want you to be part of their pack, it’s entirely possible they’ll try to take you by force.”
“Why?”
“Desperate wolves are dangerous wolves. Their reaction to the mention of Moscow makes me believe they’re going to become desperate soon. Honestly, if I were them, I’d be more concerned about the Chinese. They take debts seriously, and they hold Richard in high regard. They’ll use force if needed to repay their debt to Richard. Beijing and Moscow have a tolerable relationship right now, which could complicate matters.”
“Isn’t them having a tolerable relationship a good thing?”
“Yes and no. Because this pack is going against Moscow’s general wishes, Moscow will react harshly to preserve its reputation with Beijing. That could be a bad thing for the people here. And not just those who know about us.”
“Everybody here knows about us,” I reminded him.
“That’s something Moscow will investigate and potentially punish, too. With the population of this city? It really might lead to everybody knowing about us. We’re on thin ice.”
Great. Not only had I landed in hot water, I’d done so in such a way I might end up the reason the world found out about the supernatural. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“I don’t think much will change. The wise will still hide, but it will be easier for the younger wolves to find willing mates. We’ve hid it longer than I thought we could, considering cell phones. Honestly, I believed we’d reached the edge of midnight on remaining hidden years ago, when the internet became the norm. But we somehow stayed secret. I really don’t know how.”
I didn’t, either. “Where do I fit in all of this?”
Desmond made a thoughtful sound, and while he considered my question, I began working with the rabbits, grabbing all of my pots so I could marinade some of them. The others went on cooking sheets, and I resorted to stacking them on each other. After Richard’s bread finished in my fireplace, I’d make use of the spit I’d made for myself and make someone turn them, which would handle three of the rabbits at a time. Some would become stew. If I got creative, I could make a big fire pit out front, grab every piece of metal I had, and improvise grills.
The challenge of feeding everybody kept me busy, and aware Amber would need something else to eat when she got up, I kept the stew Richard had made warm for her. I left the cabin long enough to show Desmond how to keep an eye on the grilling rabbits, and every time I came in and out, I checked on Amber to make sure she was all right.
Or as all right as someone in her position could be.
Richard, in his human form, strode in. “Desmond said I should get in here and help before you have a meltdown, and I’ve been given the green light for the indomitable granny here.”
“You will pay for that, Richard,” Amber promised.
“Oh, it’s not nap time now? You can make me pay for it when you’re back in your prime. It’ll be more satisfying crushing me beneath your heel that way. I’ll wear a suit for Nicolina’s enjoyment while you do it.”
Amber stretched and yawned.
I took that as my cue to feed her, dishing out another bowl of stew and bringing it to her. “I’ll make another batch of brownies for you tomorrow, but you’ll have to cope with Richard’s stew until the rabbits are done. It won’t be much longer.”
“Want the food ready for after the ritual?” Amber asked, and she smiled. “I doubt I’ll eat nearly as much as most of the puppies.”
“You’re going to eat more. I hope we have enough,” Richard muttered. “Are there any raw rabbits left?”
“No, but there’s plenty of meat suitable for wolves in the fridge. I can get more for Petra tomorrow, or I can pull some stuff out of the freezer. There’s also your stew. We can just let her eat it all, and then I can use the pot to make rice.”
“Good plan. I’d prefer if I handled the ritual while you watch. That way, your wolf can pitch in if he wants without you worrying about making a mistake. I won’t make any mistakes. Once she’s shifted, I’ll handle the cooking while you keep her company. Desmond can then bring her into his pack. It’s easier to cope with a smaller pack to start with, and your wolf will be more relaxed if she’s in the pack with you.”
“When do you want to do it?”
“Now, before Nicolina clues in what we’re doing. Desmond is going to keep her distracted. There’ll be enough crying no matter what happens, and if the ritual fails…”
“If it fails you can claim I died in my sleep,” Amber stated. “Because chances are, if the ritual fails with me, it’ll fail early, and I won’t even begin shifting. There shouldn’t be any blood. I’ll die from a heart attack before or suffer from a stroke.”
Richard sighed. “Or the cancer will accelerate its growth and fatally damage your brain.”
“It’ll be a lot faster and more merciful way to go compared to what I’d otherwise have to face. I’m ready, Richard, no matter what may come. I’d rather go out like this than the alternative. And life becomes a lot better for me if I do survive.”
For a few moments, Richard stared at Amber, and then he nodded. “All right. Declan, can everything you’re cooking wait for ten minutes unattended?”
“Yes,” I replied. At worst, a few of the rabbits might be a little crispier than I would be happy with, but I wasn’t concerned.
“Then have a seat. Amber, take over his lap, make yourself comfortable, and if you have any desire to scream, bite him rather than scream. I’m hoping Declan’s wolf will help encourage the ritual to go smoothly, Amber. You know how single male wolves get. And as far as single male wolves go, if you nip at Declan, he can fend you off if he really wants to. Declan, if she nips at your throat and you don’t want her to, just cover her mouth with your hand, or clamp her muzzle closed until she calms down. In her state, she’s not going to be able to fight you much. You’ll easily overpower her. Ignore any whining. The new puppies always whine when they don’t get what they want.”
I did one final check of the food before doing as Richard ordered. Amber chuckled, and she waited for me to settle before she sat on my lap, stretched out her legs, and rested her head on my chest. “I’m going to end up biting you if this works,” she warned. “The first shift hurts like fucking hell. And there’s a high chance that the ritual will forcibly eject all the cancerous material. Since the cancer is in my
head, it could get nasty. If it’s not ejected, I’ll end up throwing it up. That won’t be my idea of a good time, but it beats a slow death. Also, ignore Richard’s shit attempt to matchmake. I only wine and dine men upon request. The odds of a ritual taking the turn he wants is slim.”
I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed. “Will you rip my arms out of my sockets if I hold onto you? If there’s a struggle or any biting because of pain, I don’t want to lose my hold on you.”
“Get a good hold on me, and I don’t care where you grab me, just don’t lose your hold. If this works and I shift, I’m going to go a little psycho probably. The wolf tends to take over for a while, and the spirits get excited when they first bond with a human. You might be licked into submission, too. Richard often gets his face washed by the new puppies. It’s usually a day or two before the mating instinct really starts to kick in, and since it’s not winter, that instinct will be lessened.”
I considered Petra, who watched us with interest and showed none of her tension from earlier. “You better let Petra outside for this, especially if this might get bloody. She can play with Nicolina or something. Just tell her to heel, and she should come right to you. That’s what I’ve been teaching her, although I’ve never tested with others before.”
Richard opened the door, took a step outside, and ordered Petra to heel. She obeyed, and she held her head up with her ears pricked forward in canine interest. “Desmond, call Petra, would you? Use heel.”
Richard’s father-in-law gave the order, and my wolf ran out of sight. “She is getting extra treats tonight. She’s dealing with everyone better than I thought she would.”
“You’ve done a great job with her.” Richard crouched beside us, and he considered the witch I held. “Okay, Declan. This firecracker is a demoness in disguise, so you’re going to have to hold her like you mean it. Honestly, I’d just tie her up if I thought I could get away with it.”
“No,” Amber said. “Restraints during a shift is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I refuse. It’ll be bad enough being pinned by a lanky Marine.”
“I’m not even a real Marine,” I said, forcing my tone to be amused. “I’ll just use brute strength. I might be lanky, but I’ve been hauling around logs for months.”
Amber stilled on my lap. “Apparently, I find brute strength disconcertingly attractive.”
“It’s his gun handling, Amber. He knows his way around a gun, and you find that to be irresistibly hot,” Richard teased. “The muscles just sweeten the deal, since it means he might be able to put up a fight. Declan, just pretend she’s your favorite pot, and someone just threatened to boil water in it until it is empty.”
I scowled, as I could see myself clinging to a pot to protect it from such a fate. I secured a hold on Amber. “This is my pot. There are many like it, but this one is mine.”
Laughing, Richard shook his head. “That’s not quite how that creed goes, but for our intents and purposes, it’ll do. I’ll do whatever you want for a year, Amber, but get through this alive. At least that way, Nicolina’s crying for a good reason.”
“I always wanted my own slave. You can start with making sure Declan has a room in the fortress to go along with his cabin. And the kitchen needs to be upgraded in his cabin.”
“The kitchen needs to be installed in his cabin, Amber. We only just started building it.”
“The whole cabin needs to be bigger, and there needs to be shooting targets nearby.”
Richard stared at the fire witch with a neutral expression. “Anything else?”
“I’ll think about it.”
After so much talk about the ritual, I’d expected it to be long, drawn out, and complex. Richard stripped, folded his clothes, and transformed into a wolf. It took him about five minutes, and he showed little of the discomfort he’d endured the first time I’d witnessed him shift. Once done, he shook out his coat, came to Amber, and nuzzled her. Amber rested her head against his, and I wondered how Richard shouldered the burden he’d been asked to carry.
Life remained a fragile, uncertain thing.
I didn’t want to think about what would happen if the ritual failed.
Richard pulled away from Amber, nuzzled her throat, and gave a hard nip, which made the woman yelp and growl a few curses at the Alpha. As my job was to maintain a firm grip on her, I kept Amber on my lap and ignored her struggles to get to Richard and smack him for having bitten her.
He’d drawn a drop or two of blood, and I wondered if that was part of the ritual. I could only assume so, as my wolf accepted the bite as necessary.
Richard circled us, his attention focused on Amber. Every pass, he darted to the witch and landed a nip or bite, and something about how the wolf pranced meant something to my wolf, something my wolf found interesting.
A glimmer in the corner of my eye captured my attention, and the ghostly form of a prowling wolf drew close, its ears turned back and its—no, her—head lowered to protect her throat. Her body tensed when she noticed me staring at her.
I remembered her wary wildness; once upon a time, when I’d been young, my wolf had been the same way, as afraid of me as I’d been afraid of him, until my mother had taught us we were one and the same and couldn’t exist without each other. Did the wolf recognize she would become the same way? Did she see my wolf as clearly as I saw her?
I understood, then, why the ritual could fail for reasons no one understood.
The wolf decided, and all Amber, Richard, and I could do was wait for the ghostly animal to choose.
Amber sacrificed her life for the wolf, and if the wolf accepted, she would sacrifice her life for Amber. For a long moment, I held my breath, fighting the urge to beg and plead for the animal to accept Amber so she might live. I held my silence.
The choice wasn’t mine to make.
The ghostly wolf drew closer, and she breathed in deeply, one ear relaxing before pricking forward. Her attention shifted from Amber to me, her curiosity strengthening with each passing breath.
As though unaware of the ghostly visitor, Richard continued to circle, passing through the apparition several times without showing any sign he noticed her presence.
The wolf sniffed at Amber again, relaxing and growing more confident, and she stretched her head out to touch Amber with her nose. After another deep breath, the wolf took another step forward, her inhales and sniffs becoming more purposeful, concentrating on Amber’s head and snuffling at her hair.
I wondered, then, if cancer had as clear of a scent as encroaching death did. The underlying notes of old age polluted the witch’s scent, but I’d never thought to try smelling out something like cancer before.
In any case, something about Amber no longer smelled right, but I’d been blind to it before the ghostly wolf had made her appearance.
How much else had I been blind to?
The wolf investigated the bleeding nip on Amber’s throat, tilted her head to the side, and gave a light nip, as though afraid she might hurt the witch.
Amber squirmed in my arms, and I tightened my grip on her, aware of the warnings of how painful the first shift could be. Then, my worries for Amber and what she faced surged—and why she might throw everything away to escape the cancer’s final, gruesome days.
Amber had been right: either way, she won. She either continued life bonded with the wolf, or she died and avoided a fate nobody deserved.
Letting go hurt as much as holding on, and I’d have to thank Richard for understanding what he saved his friend from, even if it meant losing her in the process. If the ritual failed, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault.
The wolf decided, and the wolf had as much to lose as Amber.
The wolf’s attention turned to me, and she sniffed with the same curiosity, her ears pricked forward. Could she smell my wolf the same way I could smell other wolves? Once through the ritual, for better or worse, I would ask Richard or Desmond my questions.
Like she had with Amber, the wolf nosed at
my neck and gave a light nip, hard enough I recognized she’d touched me with her teeth and could do damage if she wanted.
Some might view her behavior as a warning, but I got the feeling it was more of a greeting than anything else.
Then the wolf invaded Amber’s lap, her weight startling a grunt out of me. The animal draped her paws over Amber’s shoulders in a hug, she gave a final nuzzle, and then bit the woman hard enough to draw blood.
A few moments later, rather than scream, Amber turned her head, sank her teeth into me, and held on tight.
From start to finish, the ritual had taken seven minutes, concluding with Amber’s transformation into a pocket-sized wolf, a gagging one who hacked up blackened blood and other bits all over her clothes and the floor. I eased her out of the clothes and held her while she coughed. Richard wasted no time shifting back to human. “I’d really hoped it would have expelled during the transformation,” he growled, his voice hoarse from pain. “Which rabbit is closest to done? She’ll need to eat, even if it’s not fully cooked. Don’t worry about her clothes. I’ll clean out her pockets, burn it, and get out a change of clothes from our bags.”
I pointed at my fridge. “The entire bottom is dedicated to Petra, and it’s raw. Any one of the rabbits will suffice. They’re all close to done or done now.”
Richard jerked on his pants, tossed his shirt to me, and headed for the refrigerator. “Use the shirt to clean up that mess. We’ll burn the clothes once the first wave is over. She’s going to have pretty horrible ritual sickness, so we’ll have to feed her as often as we can, expecting her to throw it all up. Once she’s over the ritual sickness, she’ll be a handful. She will eat enough for five or more of us, and she’ll probably try to take your pants off. She’s going to have a lot of new instincts to learn. In good news, no smoke. That tells me she was so far gone her witchcraft failed when the ritual started in earnest. It can go either way. We probably should have done that outside.”
Amber panted to catch her breath and resumed hacking out the foul, blackened substance. Wrinkling my nose at the acrid stench, I used Richard’s shirt to mop up the worse of it, gave up, and directed her muzzle so she got it on the fabric rather than the floor. “Did you see the wolf? During the ritual?”
