Wolf Hunted

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  “Keep an eye out,” Ed said.

  “Of course.”

  A deputy jogged toward the Tesla. Ed shooed me off and went about his work with the car. He’d issue the weather warning and the curfew later. We’d have a town full of angry trick-or-treaters, but better disappointed kids than dead ones.

  As for me, I made my way home hoping I’d figure out a way to help.

  I pulled out my phone as I walked toward Bloodyhood, to see if Bjorn and Lennart might want help with their camera-spying spells.

  And there she was, looking up at me from my phone’s home screen with her arms around my wayward dog. Ellie Jones, the woman I only remembered as the woman I couldn’t remember but had vowed to find.

  I almost threw my phone across the parking lot. I almost smashed it against the asphalt and stomped on it as if it were a bug wearing St. Martin’s carapace of ugly phoned-in magic.

  But I did remember that I should at least check my notes first.

  Associate tangentially, the first note said. Not that it seemed to be helping. I scrolled through the rest about finding my way inside the enchantments, and about Chihiro Hatanaka, Ellie’s friend in Tokyo. And about the bike in my garage.

  There were several more about how she seemed sad when we talked, and how I needed to think through what I was doing with my need to find her.

  And the one that said Ellie knows Benta stayed. I didn’t remember Ellie, not consciously, but deep down some part of me did, and I knew I’d hurt her. Ellie, the beautiful woman who was obviously caring for my dog. And, it seemed, could have been my girlfriend if I hadn’t been an ass.

  My girlfriend.

  And all those little twinges and pokes of attraction—all the magnetic-like pulls and the sensory focus and the energetic need to move—hit me hard. I had no memory of being with her. No memory of kisses or quiet moments or gentle caresses. No memory of acknowledgments of the attraction, much less intimacy. I had no reason at all to think such things were possible, much less shared.

  Yet I did.

  I did, and I’d let the wrong woman stay on a night I needed company.

  I leaned against Bloodyhood’s fender and stared at my notes. What had I done? The past was as big of a menace as the future St. Martin promised.

  I scrolled down to the notes I’d added over the last few days: Ellie Jones was a seer, and I’d given her a phone.

  Did I dare call after what I’d done? I watched the crew chatter happily as they walked out the Admin door and toward their van. Whatever the elves had done had fixed, at least for the moment, one small corner of our St. Martin problem. But he was random. Would he attack the wolves while they ran? Axlam seemed to think so. Were the cameras only for blackmail? Would he come after me while the elves and wolves were out in the blizzard?

  Or would he go after Ed and his family, as Ed feared and Axlam wanted to halt?

  He had said he would kill us all.

  I called the number I had listed as Ellie’s phone. It rang and rang, and went to voicemail. “Um, hi Ellie,” I said. “I need your help.” I inhaled. “My notes say you’re a seer. We have someone in town who’s…”

  I rubbed at my cheek. Talking about magical things on the phone was discouraged, but something told me that I should be as clear as possible, especially since the odds of my remembering the call were thin at best. “His name is Bastien-Laurent St. Martin. He’s the founder and CEO of Mednidyne Pharmaceuticals out of Paris. He’s also the son of the wolf who changed one of our alphas. He’s here to cause harm.”

  The sun spread warmth over my cold skin. “He’s carrying access to a non-present magic. That’s why we can’t find it, and why I can’t see it. Only its shadow is here. We don’t know who is powering him, or what St. Martin will do next, and I was wondering if you could look and maybe give me a call back.”

  I closed my eyes and inhaled again. “I’m…” What should I say? “I found a couple other notes in my phone and I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. If you want me to erase what I have—if you want me to send them to Chihiro or do something else—just let me know. I won’t…”

  Could I let her go?

  “I won’t bother you again. But if you could help this one time, I’d appreciate it. It’s not for me. I’ll survive whatever he does. It’s for Axlam. For all the wolves. For the elves. And he might go after Ed’s family. I don’t know. So if you could call back, or text, it would help. Thanks.”

  I hung up.

  All I could do was try.

  Chapter 19

  Ellie did not call back.

  When the clouds rolled in, I figured I’d better go home and regroup with the elves. It sounded as if Ed and the city police had issued the weather warning asking that parents keep their kids in rather than trick-or-treating, so at least the blizzard had one beneficial effect. But there would be diehards, so Ed and the entire force would be in town tonight.

  The sky had turned a steel gray by the time I pulled into my driveway, and the first snowflakes had started to slowly drift down. The air was deceptively still, as if the storm’s icy humidity forced the winds to blow over our heads and not through the town proper.

  The storm tugged at my bones and made my entire body ache, and I knew we were in for another Storm of the Century.

  I set Sal against the wall just inside the door as I came in. The house was as quiet as the air outside, surprising since a second school bag also leaned against the wall. This one wasn’t Jax’s navy blue backpack, but a bright green with several charms hanging from the zippers.

  Sophia must be here. Akeyla must have decided that she was going to be her friend’s elf-guard for the night.

  “Maura?” I called as I picked Sal up again. “Girls?”

  “In the kitchen,” Dagrun called back. She was leaning over a map on the table when I came in. “Maura went up to the Geroux place to augment the protection spells.”

  I looked out over the gray sky reflected in the lake. “Where are the girls?” I asked. They weren’t in the kitchen. “Ed allowed Sophia out of his sight?”

  “Isabella okayed her staying with Akeyla as long as they are supervised at all times.” Dag nodded toward the deck. “Akeyla wished to stay here long enough to set a simple spell for your dog. She wants to keep your hound’s food and water fresh during the storm. She’s practicing with undergrowth off to the side of the deck.” She waved at the door. “They’re under a protection spell. I felt it best for them to learn and to feel confident rather than cower under a threat.”

  Dag didn’t look up from the map.

  “That’s kind of her,” I said. The girls weren’t going to find my dog, but it was nice they were trying. I tilted my head and listened. Sure enough, faint kid chatter filtered in from outside.

  “We are waiting for Axlam.”

  “Axlam’s driving around?”

  Dag looked up. “I warded her car, Frank.” She looked as if she was about to roll her eyes at me. “Gerard and Remy are busy preparing the pack.”

  I’d obviously missed most of the logistics of the day.

  Dag returned to looking at the map. “Akeyla refuses to go to The Great Hall. She says that as an elf who isn’t running with the pack, it’s her duty to protect the other kids tonight.”

  “That’s…” Admirable? Problematic? I didn’t know.

  Dag stared at the lake. “We cannot argue with her magic.” Then she shook her head and returned to looking at the map.

  Sometimes the elves could be fatalistic. And right now, Akeyla’s newfound need to exercise her elf-ness was more of a distraction than anything else.

  Dagrun leaned against the table. “Akeyla will help augment the alarm spells. She is showing signs of her power. It’s good for the children to hear from another child about the extra wards and the magicks involved.” She flicked her hand at me. “Plus you will be there, as will Sal.”

  She said it as if we’d long ago set my agenda for the run—which we hadn’t—and that my presence mad
e all of Akeyla’s proclamations just fine.

  What if Ed needed help? Or what if … someone … called. I looked over my shoulder at the front of the house, as if I’d missed something when I was parking—just as someone else pulled into my driveway.

  I rubbed at my forehead. All this with St. Martin, and the storm, and Akeyla—the whole thing was as confusing and frustrating as my time in Las Vegas trying to find Portia Elizabeth. Too many individuals asking for too much too fast.

  For a second, I wondered if this was the new normal. How had my life gotten so complicated so quickly? But I knew the answer. When Brother cracked the wall between the Lands of the Living and the Dead, fissures spread from his points of impact in a fine, weakening web.

  And webs draw flies.

  It was a weak explanation and basically amounted to yelling at the universe for being mean.

  “This pathetic little mundane will not hurt the pack.” Dag ran her finger across the map. “He will not harm Axlam.” She looked up. “I will deal with him personally tomorrow, after we finish the run. No one vandalizes my town and threatens my citizens.”

  Our Queen's matter-of-fact proclamation did not leave a lot of room for disagreement.

  “Ed is right to be worried, Dag,” I said.

  She tapped her finger along one of the roads on the map. “Perhaps.” Then she looked toward the front door. “Axlam’s here,” Dag said. She lifted her phone off the corner of the map roll and dialed. “Hey, honey, Uncle Frank is home and the snow’s starting.”

  “Okay, Grandma,” I heard. “Time to go in!” she yelled, loudly enough that I heard her through the glass door. I leaned into the table and looked out the side of the doors, and sure enough, two pink jackets moved toward the deck.

  Dagrun pulled the phone away from her ear. “Time to go to the Geroux’s,” she said. Akeyla acknowledged, and Dag hung up. “I’ll be setting up extra protection spells around their house, and I’ll need to wait until their guard arrives, but we should check another farm after—”

  My phone rang.

  Ellie, it said.

  “I need to take this,” I said, but I couldn’t answer. My finger wouldn’t move.

  It rang again. What was wrong with me? I was frozen.

  Dag stepped around the table and toward the door…

  And I could think. Damned concealment enchantments.

  I jogged toward the front of the house in hopes I could catch Ellie’s call before it went to voicemail.

  Chapter 20

  “Hello?” Nothing. I’d missed her call.

  Damned enchantments. I smacked the front door, then swung it open and jogged toward the driveway. Maybe I’d catch her if I called back right away.

  Axlam’s headlights burned two bright white beams through the gloom and the gray. Huge snowflakes danced in the light as the increasingly-cold wind tossed them sideways.

  The snowflakes would shrink in size but grow in volume as the storm rolled in. The wind, too, would go from its current brisk to a raging death wall of white.

  The wolves would be out in this. Hopefully Ellie wouldn’t.

  Axlam cut the lights and stepped through the bright, swirling sigils surrounding her car.

  Sif stepped out of the passenger side. “Hi, Frank!” She waved.

  She must still be on guard duty. “The wards match the paint,” I called.

  Axlam stepped out and tossed me a you’re a smartass look, then opened the rear door of her car. She leaned in, then stood up once again.

  The saddest little wolf on Earth slowly exited from the backseat.

  “He’s here to apologize. We can’t be worrying about the kids before the run.” She looked around as if doing an Ed-like security check. “Not with what’s happening.”

  “Mr. Frank,” Jax said. “Will you come up to the house tonight?” He didn’t add so you can watch over Akeyla while I run but the thought was as clear in his magic as one of Sal’s head-pushed understandings.

  Axlam’s exasperation moved as a wave through her magic. She knelt next to her son. “What did I tell you at home? Akeyla is an elf. Frank is coming up to the house with us. He’s going to be there with several other adult elves. Right, Frank?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Sal will be there, too.”

  Jax nodded. “Okay.”

  Axlam brushed a big snowflake off his shoulder. “Now you apologize to Akeyla. We’ll be leaving as soon as Mayor Tyrsdottir is ready.”

  He twisted his head as if listening. “Akeyla and Sophia are on the deck. Akeyla is setting a spell to keep Marcus Aurelius’s water from freezing in case he comes home.”

  Axlam looked as surprised as I had been when I’d come home.

  “They’re right next to the door, where Dag can see them,” I said.

  Sif sniffed at the air as if she smelled Dag’s magic. “Our Queen has put in place a layered alarm, guard, and protection spell, but it’s safe for wolves.” She leaned forward so she was eye-to-eye with Jax. “I’ll walk you through it.”

  He looked up at Axlam.

  Some of Axlam’s surprise subsided. She patted Jax’s shoulder. “Go on, then.” She watched Sif walk with Jax as he ran through the gate and rounded the corner of the house. “Let’s hope this goes well and they don’t go full pon farr.”

  I didn’t catch the reference.

  She grinned. “Never mind.” Axlam turned back toward me, but stopped facing Bloodyhood.

  I’d parked in front of the garage, angled so that from where I was standing in front of the house, I couldn’t see the driver’s side of the plow.

  She pointed. “I think that notebook of yours left you another gift.”

  I walked around the front of my truck and there, balanced on the corner of the plow, were two photographic plates.

  Ellie had been here. She’d stopped by, called, then left the plates when I didn’t answer.

  I snatched the photos off the plow and ducked around the garage. No Ellie. I jogged toward the path into the woods. No Ellie there, and no footprints.

  I swore.

  Axlam extended her hand. I handed over the plates.

  “Ed gave Arne and Dag plates just like these after you vanished into Vampland. He said they’d fallen out of the notebook.” She tucked one plate into her pocket and pulled the other out of its sleeve. “I was pretty sure at the time we were dealing with some sort of concealment enchantment. I forgot about the whole thing until now.” She flipped the plate over. “They didn’t come from Rose’s notebook, did they?”

  “No.” Since she was in her less-magical human form, I could tell her the truth. “You never remember. It’s part of the concealments.”

  She stared at the plate. “Samhain,” she muttered. “Veils thin.” Then she held it out. “What am I looking at?”

  I took the photo. Bjorn’s old church was on the left side, hidden in the trees, and Raven’s Gaze on the right, with the big oak out front. In the lower left corner of the image, the top of Bloodyhood’s plow blade was just visible.

  “The woman who takes these photos, her name is Ellie Jones,” I said. “She’s been in Alfheim for a while. I’m not sure how long because I forget every evening. She must have taken the image two days ago, when I delivered the memory card to Lennart.”

  Bright points shimmered in the oak tree as if two stars had decided to perch in the branches, and had to be the two ravens. Elven magic hung like aurora fingers around the pub and the church. But what caught my attention was the layers Ellie had mentioned.

  “She’s a seer,” I said. “Her stone takes photos of magic.”

  “A witch? The elves won’t be happy about that, Frank.” Axlam pointed over my arm. “These two points are Lennart’s ravens?”

  “Yes,” I said. “This is elf magic.”

  I traced my finger over the most obvious, and prominent, layer—the greens, blues, yellows, and purples of the stormy magic I associated with Bjorn and Lennart. The area’s natural magic mixed with the elf energy, and wove
itself in and around all the trees and plants.

  Nothing new or unusual. I was looking at the same magical world I saw daily, if brighter and more obvious.

  This time, though, with the bright sun hitting the buildings and the magical build up to Samhain, other layers came into focus. Layers which, when I tipped the plate, were on different holographic planes than Alfheim’s elf magic.

  At the top, a soft shimmering of white sparks that looked almost like a veil. Under that, a second veil, this one colder, more wintry, and also just barely discernable. And sandwiched between the robust elf magic and the veils, one small, intruding pimple of carapace blackness contained to the walk in front of the church. Except in the photo, the carapace didn’t look like a shell. It looked like an open muzzle of a dark, toothsome wolf.

  “That’s St. Martin,” Axlam said.

  I nodded. “It confirms that St. Martin’s benefactor is dark wolf magic.” But who? Or what?

  Axlam pulled the other photo out of her pocket.

  In the image, I stood on the path to the church in my re-wedding attire. Wisps of elven magic clung to me as they always did, but I wasn’t the focus. St. Martin stood next to me like the little arrogant poseur he was, complete with his shadow shell. This close, it lost its wolf maw form and returned to the carapace I was used to seeing.

  I tilted the plate. The carapace was contained to one thin slice in the photo’s holographic layers.

  “I wonder what that means,” Axlam said.

  “Dag might know.” I re-sleeved the photo and put them both into my pocket.

  “Come,” Axlam motioned toward the house. “I don’t hear yelling, but we still need to make sure the kids aren’t fighting.”

  I patted the plates in my pocket. “We can figure this out when we get up to your place.”

  “I was hoping you’d come up tonight.” Axlam squeezed my forearm. “Especially since Sophia is a sensitive.”

  A sensitive? “Is that why the elves won’t allow Ed or his family into The Great Hall?” I’d think a sensitive would be better protected behind the strongest of the elven magic.