by Mary Hughes
The wolfman sauntered toward her. Her heart jumped to her throat and started hammering. She breathed through it, trying to be ready for fight or flight.
Pain unexpectedly seared her side. Biting back a yelp, she slapped her hand against the pain.
A hard length met her palm—the carbon fiber wand. It had appeared automatically in her blazer pocket, primed with battle magic. Materializing on her need, acting as if it was still hers.
Her past rose up inside her like an avenging angel. She could instantly downgrade this ass with a whip of the wand.
She reached into her blazer…and her brain and body suddenly muddled into an incoherent mash of terror.
Shame, sealing her magic away, dying…
While she reeled, King leaped between her and Killer, barking angrily at the he-wolf.
The wolfman snapped teeth at the dog. “Looks like I’m having me a snack first.”
Fear for King blazed through her muddle. For the little dog’s sake, she grabbed the wand and focused.
A lightning bolt of pain ripped through that hand, up into her skull, and down into her heart before ripping out the other hand.
She shrieked and let go of both the wand and her will. She’d thought maybe…but not just shame kept her from using her magic. Her heart thudded in devastation.
Some seals were not made to be broken.
“That’s the shriek you’ll make when I’m fuckin’ you.” Killer took another threatening step toward her.
King darted in to nip a warning at Killer’s ankles then leaped back as if to protect her.
“Oh noes.” Killer pointed a sarcastically trembling finger. “The nasty doggie’s guarding you. I’m sooo scared.”
King stood quivering at the ready. Poor brave dear. She couldn’t let him get hurt for her. Without her magic, she had to resist the mundane way. Lifting her breastbone, she said in her coldest voice, “Move aside. I’m leaving.”
“Not before you and me have some fun, girlie.” Killer stepped in and grabbed her arm, fingers biting.
King leaped, tearing the string leash from her hand. As Killer grabbed her, the dog ran through wolfman legs, trailing string, slaloming a figure-eight, winding the string around Killer’s ankles.
She yanked out of Killer’s grip. The he-wolf, thrown off-balance, tried to step wider to steady himself.
King leaped back. The line snapped tight.
With a roar of anger, Killer toppled, slowly, like a tree. She could have yelled timber!
She hopped back as he crashed in front of her.
“Hey!” Marlowe grabbed for her.
She automatically hammered an elbow back into him. Luck made the point land right in the bully-boy’s gut.
Shoving past the flailing wolfman, Sophia unhooked King’s bracelet and freed the dog of the string. “Let’s go!” She dumped the bracelet into her blazer pocket as she ran for the door.
Marlowe shouted. Sophia spun to defend herself—as the kid stepped on a pile of frozen dinner cartons, skidded on their coated surfaces, and smashed into a wall.
King nosed her toward the door. Great minds, thinking alike. She ran.
Roars and shouts came from the trailer as she blundered down the gravel drive. She hit asphalt and put on speed. Her lungs sawed and her heart pounded as she pushed her muscles to the limit. King churned his little legs alongside. Civilization and the start of the sidewalk on East Second seemed miles away.
A full-throated howl from the trailer drove needles into her spine. She shot a glance over her shoulder.
A gray wolf leaped from the bramble hedge, landing braced on four paws. Killer. His shaggy head twisted from side to side, searching for her. He’d be after her the moment he caught sight or scent of her.
She tried to run faster, but her legs trembled, her breath rasped painfully, and her heart thudded like it would explode.
A second howl turned her insides liquid and made her stumble. Marlowe. Got to keep going. She pushed on.
Her feet thudded onto gas station pavement. Pain shot through her side as she made the final leap for the station’s door. Salvation.
It was locked.
She grabbed her shooting side and staggered to the neighboring FreshFresh. Also locked, its Closed sign taunting her. King yapped angrily and nudged her ankles to go on.
Whimpering, she started for the next building west, an accountant’s converted brownstone. She stumbled up two steps, swung into the doorway and knocked desperately.
No one answered.
She fought panic’s rising burn. Would she have to run all the way to the bookstore?
Killer’s howl changed. Sophia spun. He’d caught her trail and ran toward her with a wolf’s ground-eating stride. Advanced Creatures 401 taught her they could go almost forty miles an hour.
Killer leaves the trailer two blocks away going forty miles an hour. Sophia starts at the same time and must cover a block limping and huffing badly, going three mph if she’s fricking lucky.
She’d never make it to safety in time.
King growled, low in his throat. Coldly angry, the growl was almost scarier than Killer’s howl.
But a growl wouldn’t defend them. Fumbling for her pepper spray, she edged out of the doorway and trembled her way down the steps. Groping for the spray the whole time.
Instead of the pepper spray, her stupid hand kept landing on the stupid wand. Pain jolted her each time. Her eyes blurred with tears of frustration.
The wolf was almost on top of them. King, on the sidewalk, wasn’t doing anything but growling. They were out of options. Using magic would hurt her or worse, but she had no choice.
She whipped out the wand.
Her head exploded in pain. Her hands ached like they were cramped around live wires. Her heart froze in her chest. She gasped for breath.
The wolf leaped for her.
Chapter Seven
The wolf arced toward Sophia. Her bowels froze. A slavering mouth filled her view, inches from her nose, a mouth full of sharp teeth—and the mouth suddenly emitted a piccolo howl of pain.
Sophia’s eyes dropped to Killer’s body, where King, who’d launched himself into the air at exactly the right time, had latched on to soft wolf belly with tiny jaws of steel.
The wolf curled and fell back to the sidewalk, King still attached. Killer, dropping onto his side, bicycled his legs to push the small dog off.
King hung on despite the scrabbling horny untrimmed wolf toenails. But his dear little nose scrunched, his eyes clenched tight, and spatters of fresh blood marred his fluffy fur.
Sophia’s fingers finally unclenched around the wand, and as her pain ebbed and she started breathing again, she thrust the stick into her pocket—where her hand finally landed on her pepper spray. Heart beating hard, she yanked the can out, flipped back the hinged cover, thumbed the button, and leaned in close to the wolf.
She released the stream directly into his face.
Killer yowled, pure pain. He started morphing from wolf to human, several bone-cracking moments.
Marlowe’s wolf bounded into sight. He saw Killer and screeched to a halt, eyes wide. With a howl, he came running.
Sophia snatched King and tried to flee. The dog was still attached to Killer and she had to tug.
King’s teeth tore off a few layers of Killer-hide.
The instant King came free, she ran. The dog was a furious fuzzy tornado yapping his displeasure. Blood decorated his muzzle, not all of it his.
Her protector. She hugged his sweet sturdy little body to her. His head ended up pressed between her breasts. His yipping stopped abruptly, along with any movement. And then his tail began wagging and he wiggled happily in her arms.
Her last sight of Killer was as a man kneeling on the sidewalk, clawing at his streaming eyes, Marlowe trying to help and getting swatted.
She ran all the way to Aunt Linda’s, clutching King to her chest. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the bookstore door. She darted in and nearly slammed
the door behind her. She was out of breath—not just panting, but the kind of wheezing rasp from scoured-off layers of lung.
King, despite bleeding from numerous scratches and abrasions, licked her face like he was trying to reassure her. The sweetie. The imbecile. Why had he attacked Killer like that? Man-Killer was gross, but wolf-Killer was big, fast, and deadly.
When she could breathe without danger of puking, she set King down and locked the door. Although, even gross, human-Killer would have hands. The lock wouldn’t keep him out.
Her palms broke out in a cold sweat. Sticking them under her arms, she peeped through the window. Without magic, she was a sitting duck.
A profound longing surged through her—she wished Noah were here. With his strong presence, she wouldn’t worry about Killer as a wolf or a man.
King gave a pained yip.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She immediately dropped her own worries to kneel beside the dog. “Are you hurt?” She parted his blood-smeared fur, looking for wounds. The fur was too thick for her to see anything.
She had to get him to a professional. But the only vet was miles away, and she wasn’t sure her car would make it.
Her eye landed on a flyer, tacked to Auntie’s “Local Businesses” bulletin board. Matinsfield Happy Tails Pet Store blazed across the top, and just below New Grooming Salon NOW OPEN!
She nodded. Maybe not a full-fledged omen but surely a good sign, literally. “King, I’m taking you to the doggie salon.”
“Yip, yip.” King barked rapidly, as if he was trying to talk her out of it.
She silenced him by scooping him up and hugging him to her bosom. He again stilled, then wiggled happily.
Too spooked to stop and hunt up more leash string, she hugged the dog firmly in one arm as she let herself out and locked up. Hurrying across Main, her eyes were open for pissed-off wolves.
Her cell phone rang, startling her so badly she nearly threw up her heart.
The ringtone was her cousin Daniel’s. Should’ve calmed her, but instead her dread increased, the same as getting a call at three a.m. Lungs pumping, she pulled out the phone.
It pulsed red.
Magic-enhanced to signal a 911 emergency. She nearly cracked her cheekbone answering. “Daniel? What’s wrong?”
“The first knell has struck.” He intoned the words, the solemn wizard prince. Since Daniel was a playboy, this strange, serious tone rattled her even more. Then he said, “You have been chosen to carry the burden.”
“Me?” The words hit her with an almost physical blow. “What burden? Wait. Are you talking about that crazy poem?”
Last October Daniel had discovered the Avignon Quatrain, fabled lost prophecy of the great wizard Jean-Dion d’Avignon. Supposedly a sort of treasure map, they hadn’t been able to decipher it.
“HEART beats for a wolf and a Blue.” He recited it like a chant..
“But it’s been nearly a year,” Sophia sputtered. “We decided the prophecy is a fake.”
“You decided it’s a fake,” Daniel said in his normal baritone. “Mostly because it named you first.”
“It doesn’t name me.” Why did everyone insist Blue meant her? She was hyperventilating. King yipped and licked her chin. “Total coincidence my last name is a color. And anyway, prophecies are all image and metaphor. Clear only in retrospect.”
“It’s a little more specific than you make out.” He recited the full Quatrain.
HEART beats for a wolf and a Blue
MIND is focused by Light
SOUL belongs to those who are True
The KEY unlocks the Night.
“So there’s a wolf too.” Noah was a wolf. Her body shimmered. She ignored it. “Big whoop.”
King gave a short yowl. She was squeezing him so tightly she was in danger of cracking his ribs. She let up immediately.
“Cousin Arianna had a vision. She says Heart, Mind, and Soul are pieces of the Key. She’s adamant that you’re the Blue to find the heart piece, and she is the seer in the family. So I have to ask you…fall in love with any wolves lately?”
“That’s taboo.” Even and especially wolves with silver eyes and clever hands attached to all that was tall, dark, and umm-hmm. “Maybe Aunt Linda met someone. She’s a Blue. Or Arianna. Can’t be me. I just got my life on track. I’m not messing it up with love.”
“I see.” His dry tone said he did see, too much. “Well, that’s a problem. Because if it’s not you, who is the Blue I need to warn?”
“Warn?” She screeched to a halt so fast she almost smoked her heels. “Warn about what?”
“Red script appeared beside the first line of the Quatrain. A warning.”
“Daniel,” she growled. “Stop teasing me.”
“If you’re not the Blue in the prophecy,” he countered, “why should you care?”
Sophia wished for a smite button of her own. “Because it’s a warning. Everyone needs to heed a warning.” She waited.
His silence was a pregnant reply.
“Arg. All right, because it might—might, mind you—be about me.”
“Good enough.” His tone was smug, the bastard. “It says, ‘Beware the Hungry Ghost.’”
“Hungry Ghost? I don’t like the sound of that.” Shivers started coursing down her body. She catapulted into a walk, fast, trying to shake them off. “What does it mean?”
“Not sure. In Buddhism the Hungry Ghost has the appetite of a mountain but the throat of a needle’s eye. A person who tries to fill emotional needs with physical possessions.”
“Why don’t you just say greedy?”
He sighed. “Being a banker has really dulled your sense of the poetic. Can’t you just picture it, a huge growling empty stomach trying to suck empires through a drinking straw of a throat?”
“You’re a playboy, Daniel. You see nothing wrong with a big appetite.”
“I was a playboy.” He paused. “Look, just do me a favor, okay? Keep your eyes open for the Heart.”
“Whatever it looks like.”
“Sophia…” His tone was a warning.
“Yes, all right.”
“It’s important. I think you’re right on top of it. If the wrong person gets their hands on that Key, the world as we know it will end.”
“Thank you, Mr. Apocalypse.”
“No joke, Sophia. The red script has ramped up the danger. Your competition is devouringly evil.”
“All right.” She hung up, shuddering.
King wiggled in her arms. The poor, brave dear. Hungry Ghosts and prophecies would have to wait until she knew how badly he was injured.
Chapter Eight
The sign on the pet store door was turned to Closed. Sophia’s chest shot with disappointment.
A plastic clock hung below the sign, red hour hand distinctly pointing at nine. She took a quick peek at her phone for the time. Seven.
She rolled her eyes at herself. Right. What was the world coming to when stores weren’t open at dawn?
Okay, if not here, the vet. Still hugging the dog to her breast, she thumbed up a search on her phone in case Matinsfield had gotten a new emergency clinic for animals since she was here last. But no, the closest vet was ten miles out of town, and the closest animal emergency clinic at least twelve. Could her car limp ten miles?
King yipped. He was shivering. Could he last ten miles?
A light snapped on inside the pet store. Hope surging in her breast, she peered in. Movement inside set her heart pumping. She tried the door.
It was open. She eased inside and set King on the floor. “Hello?”
Light spilled from a small glassed-in area to her left, about the size of a vet’s examination room.
“Yip!” King barked the same sharp warning he’d used for Killer.
She stepped back just as a man glided from the darkness.
He was all sculpted cheekbones, brilliant black eyes, black hair, and sexy mouth begging for a nibble… Her breath caught. If she hadn’t met Noah, sh
e’d have been drooling. As it was she felt uncomfortably hot.
King’s yip turned distinctly cross.
“One moment.” The gorgeous man tossed a shopkeeper’s logoed apron over his head.
Instantly the tug of attraction was gone. As if, by donning the apron, he’d put on an asexual envelope. He became, not a man, but a dog groomer in ordinary jeans and open-collared Oxford shirt, a means to taking care of King.
Almost magically.
Sophia frowned at the man. Still the same chiseled face, twinkling eyes, and thick lustrous hair. He didn’t appear magical, but the only way she could be sure was to look at him with her third eye. The witch’s eye wasn’t magic, so she could still do it, but it was uncomfortable. She’d only used it a couple times in the four years she’d been mundane.
“Welcome to Do Doggie ’Do.” The man’s voice was deep and sure. “How can I help you?”
She decided the eye wasn’t worth the bother. “I thought this was the Matinsfield Happy Tails pet store.”
“It is. Currently merging with the Do Doggie ’Do chain of in-store pet grooming boutiques. I’m here to get the franchise off the ground.” He pointed at King. “Cute little puppy. Serious aw factor.”
King growled.
She said, “King isn’t a puppy. He’s a brave warrior. In fact, he injured himself defending me from a much bigger, um, dog. But his fur is matted and I can’t tell how badly he’s hurt. I was hoping you could see if he needs medical care.”
The groomer’s lips curved in an almost-smile. “Normally we tell owners to take injured pets directly to a veterinarian. But I’ll wash him down, and we’ll see what we shall see. Feel free to browse while you’re waiting.” He reached for King.
The dog’s growl turned distinctly chilling. Braced on four paws, his fur rose, and his lips pulled back to expose his fangs.
Tiny cute fangs, but trickling through Sophia’s aw was a sense of apprehension. Did King sense bad things about the man? She cleared her throat. “I’d better come with him.”
“Certainly.” The groomer’s smile changed, as if secretly pleased. “This way, then.”
