Lost Little Wolf

by N. K. Vir

  “Can we not make me deaf?” he snarled. Immediately he cringed at his own insensitivity. The threat of the curse was making him edgy, irritable and he was taking it out on the one person who had the smallest opportunity to save the cure he had found for himself before it was destroyed. “Wills I’m sorry,” he whispered silently cursing his insensitive speech. Together they shared a similar passion; books, he could not imagine how it felt to lose the ability to read in an instant.

  She blew a raspberry at him forcing a smile to overtake his face. “I am positive this is a temporary condition,” she assured him.

  He wished he shared her optimism; but then again that was one of the reasons he was drawn to her. He hadn’t been lying to her last night. In another plane of existence he could have fallen for her. Who knew? If Tanith had never made an appearance in his life…he would have been taken by the curse years ago, he reminded himself. Fate, he had learned, put in front of you what you needed in that moment. He needed Tanith.

  Her next words cut his thoughts off and at the same time soothed the guilt he had been feeling. “Lucas soul mates come in many forms. Most of us are extraordinarily lucky to find one soul mate in a lifetime. To find two…?” she broke off gracing him with a wistful smile. “Well let’s just say neither of us will ever win the lottery. We’re not that lucky.”

  In that moment the world changed. Broken pieces of his fractured past suddenly fit together and the parts of him that felt forever broken began to heal and mend. He was no longer a curse that was whispered about in the dark. He was no longer left alone; he had unknowingly surrounded himself with people who loved him.

  “Where’s your brilliant, yet twisted, mind wandering off to? What do you need me to do?” he asked filled with a real sense of purpose.

  She patted one of his nastier scars and smiled beautifully up at him. “I need Manny Locke’s best scholar in the room with me right now.” She emphasized her point by driving her finger into an ancient looking, singed text. He peered over her shoulder and instantly recognized the characters on the page.

  “Wills you’re studying Ogham?” he asked as he snatched the tattered manuscript from her desk. His eyes quickly scanned the pages as he forced his mind to retrieve the language he had studied years ago.

  “It was one of the few languages I was struggling with but then last night I suddenly remembered that I had a student of one of the foremost scholars on the history of Ogham under my roof.”

  He found himself shaking his head in denial. This text was little more than account of the mythical Ogma mac Elathen and his half-brother Lugh. It told of tales of love, marriage and betrayal in a world that the ancient Celts had once thought existed. The entire work was little more than fiction. Any hope that Wills had kindled fizzled out when he realized she had been wasting her time.

  “Wills,” he began trying to curb his frustration. “This is just a legend, a myth-.”

  “About Ogma and Lugh?”

  He nodded his head and instantly corrected himself. “Yes,” he responded verbally.

  “You can read it though?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he responded again. Dammit he was acting like James.

  “What was Ogma known for? According to legend,” she added quickly.

  His eyes drifted upwards as he forced his brain to recall a long forgotten lecture. “Besides inventing a language the Latin speaking world could not decipher?” he asked himself more than her. He shrugged his shoulders and began spewing every piece of useless trivia that he could recall. “He was half-brother to Lugh, full brother to the Dagda. He was a fantastic warrior that was known to give inspiring speeches…” his voice trailed off.

  “Modern scholars have classified Dagda, Ogma and Lugh as a male trinity something usually reserved only for women,” she pointed out. “The Dagda has often been compared to Odin, another ancient Deity that gave up one of his eyes for?” She let the question hang in the air and waited for him to catch up with her train of thought and answer the question. He knew she didn’t need the answer. She knew the answer. She needed to make sure he knew the answer.

  “Wisdom,” he finished. He heard an audible click and his mind raced with possibilities. “Wills this is thin,” he said trying to reach her nearly impossible conclusion. He gently placed the book in front of her again and watched as a smile stretched her full mouth.

  “Do no harm,” she whispered as she wrapped her hands around his wrists gently locking his hands against the ancient text. “The original Sinclair witch was the first human blessed with the power of magick. He was told by the gods to do no harm.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. Her sightless eyes locked onto his and in that moment he believed in myth and legend as if it were history written in stone.

  Chapter Seven

  The Dawn of a New Day

  “How did she know?!” he roared pushing the contents of Adam’s meticulously neat desk onto the floor. Adam’s magick denied him of the satisfying sound of every object shattering as it crashed onto the floor.

  Adam, ignoring his outburst, simply waved his hand and replaced the slowly falling objects back onto his desk one by one. As each object was replaced Kane felt the heat of his anger rise one more degree. He had known that using the rogue vamp to attack Tanith did not come without risk; but he had thought he had balanced that risk carefully. If she had succeeded in killing the Historian he would have won the big prize. If he failed the consolation prize was almost as desirable. When Tanith had appeared within the close inner circle of the Historian he could not believe his luck. He’d been searching for her for a very long time; but had no idea that she had always been so close. With one well-placed strike he had the opportunity to wipe out the last two pieces of the old world power structure that had kept him beaten down into place, as well as deeply wound a very old enemy. He may have momentarily lost his ability to destroy the Sinclair Witch and Historian; but it was still within his power to have his long awaited revenge. What he had not counted on was the Historian finding such a well-hidden escape clause.

  When the last object, a glass sculpture representing fire, was back in place Adam finally acknowledged him. His arm, which had been frozen, held hostage by Adam’s rapidly cast spell, remained parallel to the floor. The rest of him was unaffected but Adam’s cast had been just wide enough to ensnare him and restrain him. In that moment he hated and admired him. Adam was always perfectly composed, his magick always surgical. Currently there was not an inch of his skin, muscle, bone or nerve outside of his control that had not been intended. Adam controlled just enough of him to drive home his point, that no matter what Kane did he would never be faster or stronger than his ageless father.

  He watched Adam obsessively fiddle with the glass sculpture until it was in the exact position it had occupied before Kane had flown into his tirade. There were times, long buried in centuries past, when Adam had delighted in using his magick against him, to punish him or to merely gloat that no matter how many years had passed he would always be more powerful. He had matured since then, adapting to the ever changing world. He surrounded himself with the culture and grace that many centuries of living had afforded him; he thought of himself as a benevolent demigod. In the past he had been cold, calculating in his outlook, especially when it concerned Lily and him. Lately he had begun to foster sincere feeling for the human ants that surrounded them, especially his new daughter. Kane had no doubt that Adam and left her a trail of breadcrumbs in order to save her friends.

  “Our little Historian is very clever Kane,” Adam’s words were softly spoken but there was a slight edge hiding in the eloquent accent he had adopted in the last century.

  “You told her,” Kane hissed out his accusation.

  There it was, the rush that thrummed through his system whenever the anger was about to take over. He loved and hated the feeling. The sudden increase in adrenaline and endorphins would be flooding his bloodstream and become visible only because of the tiny blood vessels that supplied oxygen
to his eyes. He had learned the science behind the change when the field of science finally caught up with magick’s tail. By now his hazel eyes would be glowing and amber in color. The thick muscles that surrounded his nearly rock hard bone structure would be expanding, nearly doubling not only his size, but his strength. In this state there was only two people capable of taking him down; unfortunately one of them was standing calmly in front of him now, circling him like a predator stalking his prey.

  “Our current Historian is unique,” Adam whispered into his ear reminding him that she was the catalyst, the spark, behind his current fit of rage.

  She was indeed unique. Adam had spent the better part of a century making sure she was created. He hadn’t seen it until it was almost too late. Kane had been playing a long game, Adam; however, was a better player.

  He ground his teeth together as his muscles tensed and spasmed as he fought the magickal shackles Adam had imposed upon him. The pain was nearly too much. Tiny droplets of sweat broke out on his forehead as he consciously had to fight the will of his body. Adam was keeping him suspended in the painful place between being in human form and morphing into his massive wolf form. He felt his head snap back as a strong hand yanked hard on his hair. He laughed in response. He could take the abusive father; it was the well-controlled demigod that he hated.

  “I will give you a boon Kane,” Adam whispered into his ear. “You can have your lost little wolf.” Kane gasped, astonished. “I will do nothing to impede the proceedings against her. After all,” he smiled up at him spreading his arms wide. “She did try to kill my daughter.” Pictures and pieces of century’s worth of memories flooded his mind’s eyes. “But you will leave the rest of them alone. They fall under my protection Kane.”

  Kane somehow found the strength to laugh at his father. Something he had only done once, and then the consequences had been severe. “From what I’ve seen two of them don’t belong to you either. Lucas is mine; that is if the madness doesn’t eat away at him,” he said managing a wider smile. “I wonder what Lily would say?”

  Pain exploded in his skull as Adam introduced his head to the stone cobbled walls of his office. The iron, salty tang of blood flooded his taste buds as a laugh forged out of a strange combination of fear and hate forced its way out of him. This he understood. Violence and blood had been the magick that had helped form the beast he had become. Adam’s physical assault had also done him the favor of releasing his body from the magickal limbo Adam had imposed upon him. He sat on the floor and allowed the silence to fill the cavernous room as his body slowly shrunk back into his human form. He waited until the burning pain in his muscles subsided and his chest stop swallowing heavy gulps of air before he slowly rose to his feet. He wiped the blood off of his already healing forehead with the back of his hand before turning his eyes towards Adam.

  “You’re bringing us to an end,” he accused as he spat out the blood that had pooled in his mouth.

  “No,” Adam replied. “I’m taking us to the beginning.”

  The night had dragged on after his nightmare by Wills’ bedside. He had retreated to the porch to torture himself with the havoc he had left in the driveway. It was not the first scar he had left in the front yard. The dead, nearly perfect circle he had created when he had shoved too much power into the ground beneath him still marred the nearly perfect green lawn. That spot had special meaning to him though; it had been where he had told Wills that he loved her and where she returned the words to him. He could not see the large crater in the driveway ever holding the same significance. He had lifted his eyes to the heavens, concentrating on the dark sky above as he tried to wish away the bad; but no matter how hard he tried Wills’ sightless eyes glared back at him accusingly.

  He’d watched the stars slowly change their positions in the night sky. He listened to the call of the owl change into the twitter of the robin and at some point between the sinking of the moon and the rising of the sun he came to terms with what he’d done. He made himself a very dangerous promise…he would never use his magick again.

  Throughout the night and into the break of dawn Adam’s last words echoed in his ears. “You’ve regressed baby witch.”

  He had been right. As much as he hated Adam he had no problem admitting that he was right. He had regressed. When his magick had first expanded he had done only good with it, he had harmed none. Now with the latest manifestation of his power he had harmed the one person he had sworn not to.

  The sky was beginning to lighten and he decided it was time to find a new place to hide. The house would soon be awake. His parents were early risers and would soon be very active in the kitchen preparing breakfast in an attempt to apologize for drugging them all the night before. He could already hear them stirring in the room that sat above the porch. He had no wish to see anyone this morning and so he once again retreated, this time into the small guest room that lay in the back of the house, far away from the many bodies that were still currently sleeping inside.

  A few weeks ago he had convinced himself to believe in a lie; he thought the worst was over. The memories of what they had been through came floating back to him as he closed the front door behind him and willingly walked into his new jail cell.

  Wills was safe, they all lived after battling a member of the Trinity, Tanith had survived and the girl he’d been in love with since the age of five loved him back. In the space of a few minutes all of that security had been ripped out from underneath them all. At first he had felt only the self-pity that comes when one realizes there are no happy endings in life. Self-pity was quickly followed by near crippling guilt. Guilt lead to self-loathing and the three emotions brewed a dangerous cocktail deep within him that he would never be able to free himself of.

  He had taken himself away from the angry glares that had surrounded him last night only daring to come out when he heard his parents creep silently up the stairs to settle in for the night. As soon as he had realized what his magick had done to Wills he had phoned them, hoping that there extensive knowledge in healing would be enough to fix the damage he had caused. Unfortunately even their combined power had not been enough to undo what he had done. There quick cure had been to make sure everyone got a good night’s sleep after the emotionally trying day and hope for the best in the morning.

  He had not allowed himself the same easy escape.

  A knock sounded on the door a few moments after the sun rose above the tree line illuminating the room in the full light of day. He silently wished clarity was that easy to come by. He recognized the rhythmic rap and knew she wouldn’t wait for him to allow her entry.

  “You didn’t drink the tea either did you?” Daisy asked as she entered the room without invitation.

  His eyes flicked over to the cold mug balanced next to him on the window sill. He had known the contents, hell he’d suggested them when his parents showed up. He should have known Daisy would be too smart to consume the delicately laced brew. The girl could smell crystal water like it was a fine wine. Maybe that was why he’d stayed instead of running for the solitude and safety of his own apartment. He had two weeks left on his lease. The renewal papers where still scattered across the bed in the room. Last night he had half scrawled his signature on the line that said renter.

  “I didn’t think you were going to renew your lease,” Daisy asked confused as she cleared up the papers so she could sit down on the bed.

  He exhaled slowly. The lease was just a piece of paper, a safety net his parents had created when he turned eighteen and no longer wanted to answer for late nights out. It was a formality that had continued for years. This year something had given him the hope that he wouldn’t need to continue the agreement with his parents.

  Yesterday had changed that.

  Last night had changed that.

  Daisy had been hoping to take his place. Apparently sharing a two bedroom apartment with four people was overwhelming her chakras. The small studio apartment above the store his parents owned would hav
e been a perfect fit for her. She could roll out of bed and still arrive five minutes late for her shift in the shop.

  “How about downsizing from four roommates to one?” He halfheartedly joked unable to look at her.

  She slapped him upside the back of his head. “You sleep on a Murphy bed and don’t even own a couch.”

  He smiled; amazed that his face was able to not only find amusement but to show it. “I’ll buy a couch. You can sleep in the wall. You’re small,” he retorted.

  He felt her fingers wrap around the rounded point of his chin and pull his face in her direction. He allowed her the pull but refused to meet her stare. “I thought you were going to talk to her,” she said sinking down in front of him. His eyes finally met hers and any amusement he had been feeling a moment before had evaporated. She could see him. She could see him and Wills still together, even after…

  “When was I supposed to talk to her? Huh?” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a quick shake his fingers biting into the soft skin of her upper arms like his words bit into her optimism. “While I was setting her priceless books on fire?” he asked shoving her away. “When I was making her blind?” his voice cracked with the raw emotion coursing through him.

  He didn’t see the slap coming but he felt the sting of it on his cheek. The sudden assault took him off his guard. He closed his eyes forcing the image of what he’d done to play out on the dark side of his eyelids. He tried to open them; tried to eradicate the image from playing out but was caught, hopelessly in the loop his mind had been replaying over and over all night.

  He had broken through the screen door freeing the last screw from the long years it had spent burrowed into the wooden frame. His eyes instinctively flinched protecting themselves from the nearly microscopic bits of debris that had been instantly injected into the air when the door finally ripped free of its casing. When his eyes opened; when they focused, the world had been painted in hazy shades of red. Instinct, that self-preserving feeling that acted independently of rational thought over took him. He was created to be a defensive weapon and that which he had been sworn to protect was in danger from a very old adversary. Kane had lunged at the Historian. A thousand of his other kills flashed rapidly before his eyes spanning back to the first. Kane’s fist kill, born out of rage and jealousy because he was denied something he craved. That was all the Sinclair Witch had seen, that was all he needed to see. That red tainted raged invaded the space around him and for on brief moment invaded his soul.