The Wolfborne Saga Box Set

by Cheree Alsop

  To pass the time, I used a stick to draw in the dirt, then erased it with my hand. I sketched the moon above a line of trees, cleared it away, and drew a wolf howling to the empty sky. I was about to brush that into nonexistence as well when a female voice stopped me.

  “I didn’t know you could draw.”

  I looked up to find the werewolf with the mismatched eyes watching me. I gave her a small smile.

  “Or smile,” she said.

  I sighed and brushed the wolf drawing away. “Both were in short supply at the Lair,” I said without looking at her.

  She crouched and traced what remained of the wolf with her finger. I could see the questions in her eyes, but she didn’t dare to voice them. Her reluctance ate at me.

  “I got my name by accident.”

  Her hand paused. She looked up at me with searching eyes. “What?”

  “You asked about how I got my name earlier. It was by accident. A werewolf called me it when he attacked the house. It was supposed to be an insult,” I explained with a touch of embarrassment. I peeled the bark off of the stick.

  “Like the Masters used to do,” she said. She corrected herself, “Or Master. It’s confusing.”

  I nodded. “Very confusing. We’re all going to have a period of adjustment.” I glanced from the stick back at her. “You should choose a name.” A look up showed that several of the other werewolves were listening to us. I raised my voice and said, “You are free of the Lair. Ranks don’t matter out here. It’s time to break away from what we’ve been taught and to live your own lives. That means finding a real name that suits you.”

  The girl stared at me. “How do I know if it suits me?”

  I shrugged. “Have you heard any names that you like?”

  She shook her head, hesitated, then looked at Virgo. “What was the food your mother brought?”

  “Manicotti?” he replied.

  She nodded. “Yes, I like that name.”

  The warlock burst out laughing. “You can’t be named manicotti.”

  A red blush of embarrassment stole across the werewolf’s face and she lowered her gaze. My heart went out to her. “You can choose whatever name you’d like,” I told her. I shot Virgo a glare. “Maybe we can help you find something a little more appropriate?”

  “I-I would like that,” she said quietly without looking up at me.

  I studied her features. She had a plain face, a stern angle to her jaw, and two scars ran through her eyebrow close enough to her eye that the injury had almost stolen her sight. From what I remembered of life at the Lair, she was trustworthy and good to have on one’s side.

  Virgo scooted closer to us. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I wasn’t thinking. Can I help you with a name?”

  She nodded and shot a furtive glance at him. “Yes, please.”

  “How about Willow?” Virgo suggested. “They bend with the wind but don’t break. They know how to fight back, yet they are beautiful and have a very important role to play in the ecosystem.”

  “Willow,” the girl repeated. A smile spread across her face where I had never seen one before. “I like that. Willow.”

  She rose and walked toward the trees. I could hear her repeating her new name over and over again.

  “Can I have a name?”

  Sixteen stood in front of us with his hands clasped behind his back. I wondered what research video he had seen that in. It made him look far less aggressive than he usually was. With his slender build, he had fought for everything in his life, including food and the right to live. The thought reminded me of a book I had read that had been encouraged by the Master as an example of a human’s indomitable spirit.

  “How about Edmund?” I asked. “In ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’, he never knew when to give up and he was a great fighter.”

  “Edmund,” the werewolf repeated. He gave me an embarrassed look. “Do you think I could be an Edmund?”

  I nodded. “You fit the name completely, and vice versa.”

  A light lit his eyes and he walked away with a new bounce in his step.

  As soon as he left, another werewolf took his place. I looked at Virgo and found that the warlock appeared as taken aback as I felt.

  “Would you choose a name for me, Zev?” the werewolf asked.

  “I would be happy to,” I replied.

  I rose to my feet. It didn’t seem right to name werewolves while sitting amid the grass. The entire situation felt surreal, like we were caught in a strange dream where I suddenly became a mentor instead of a hated peer. I couldn’t decide how to feel about it except unworthy.

  I swallowed and looked at the werewolf. He watched me with a hint of anxiety in his expression. When he met my eyes, he lowered his gaze and the toes of his bare right foot scuffed across the ground.

  I shook the tension from my hands and allowed the new role I had been given to settle on me. I thought through what I knew of the werewolf. He was strong and steady. He had once sunk a knife to its hilt in my shoulder during a bout, but the next night had saved my life from a golem horde that came on us in the forest during one of our patrols.

  “Striker fits you,” I said.

  His eyes creased slightly at the corners and he accepted the name with a nod, then moved aside for the next werewolf.

  I was so used to seeing the front each werewolf put on at the Lair that to see the almost desperate way they clung to the hope of getting their own name did something to my heart. I thought through every name and didn’t make any decision hastily. While some of the names weren’t normally human, others came from videos I had watched or people I had met.

  “John,” I said to the redhead with the great bow staff skills. I made a mental note to tell him later that I got the name from Robin Hood. At that moment, it was enough to see the happiness on his face at having his own name.

  The last werewolf came up to us with a reluctant expression. She was dark-haired and quiet, but could lash out with a fury that drove any attacker back. I was at a loss for a name until Virgo spoke up. He had sat silently through the entire process, only giving suggestions when I looked to him for help. They had each been taken with genuine gratitude from the werewolves, but this one was different.

  “How about Raven?” he said.

  The werewolf in front of me shook her head. Small gasps sounded from others in the clearing. She was the first one to deny the offer of a name.

  “Why not?” Virgo asked gently.

  The werewolf studied the ground at her feet for a few seconds before she lifted her gaze to his and said, “I’m tired of being treated like an animal.”

  He nodded, fell silent for a moment in thought, then asked, “Can I tell you my favorite name?”

  Her eyebrows drew together, but she nodded.

  “Safira,” he said.

  “Safira?” she repeated.

  He pulled a chain I hadn’t seen before out from beneath his shirt. On it was a small purple ring. “She was a girl I loved very much, but she died in an accident a few years ago.” He unclasped the necklace and gathered it in his palm. “This was hers. I think she would like you to have it.”

  He took her hand and gently set the ring in it.

  “Are you sure?” Tears brushed the werewolf’s lashes. She looked as though she didn’t know whether she should accept the gift.

  Virgo forced a smile to chase away the melancholy that had taken over the mood and nodded. “She would want you to have it, and I want you to have it.”

  “Thank you so much,” the werewolf replied. “I don’t even know how to begin repaying you for this.”

  “Just honor her name,” Virgo said.

  The werewolf put the chain around her neck and promised, “I will.”

  Named, fed, and free of the Master’s wishes, the werewolves talked in groups and wandered singly between the trees. The sun had been gone for long enough that I could barely make out those deeper within even using my werewolf eyesight.

 
“It’s time to begin,” I said loud enough that everyone could hear me. The werewolves furthest away gathered closer to receive my orders. “I need everyone to make sweeps of Brickwell. Felguls are here and they’ve been sent by the vampire we’re waiting for. Find them and track down the vampire. When you’re sure of his location, howl and we will find you.”

  “What do we do with the felguls?” a werewolf newly named Ryger asked.

  “Take them down and try not to get bit. Trust me when I say their claws can really do some damage.” I looked around the group. “Protect the humans and try to do so without being seen. The less fear we cause, the more likely the vampire will be to leave the city and head to the Lair.”

  “But the Master’s dead,” a werewolf named Robin asked. “Why would he go there?”

  “I’m going to make sure that’s the one place he’s drawn to,” I replied. “Trust me.”

  Nods ran through the group and werewolves began to phase.

  “Stay in groups of two or three and watch each other’s backs,” I told them. “There’s safety in numbers and remember, you’ve trained for this your entire life.”

  In wolf form, the werewolves darted beneath the trees with a joy I had never seen from them before. Running without boundaries was wonderful for the soul.

  “You’re not going to join them?” Virgo asked.

  “I want to,” I admitted as I watched the last of them depart from sight. “But I need to be here if the vampire is spotted. I’ll lure him to the Lair.”

  Virgo followed me as I made my way over the fence and toward the back door. “Do I want to ask how?”

  “I wouldn’t,” I replied. I shot him a glance as I reached for the doorknob, “You’re going to be there with me.”

  “Great,” the warlock muttered.

  I hesitated to share my plan with him. It was foolhardy and put more than a few lives at risk, but so many were already on the line that I had to try.

  “Virgo, have you ever conjured up a wraith?” I asked as casually as I could.

  Virgo stormed through the door behind me and shut it loud enough to rattle the glass in the small panes.

  “Are you kidding me?” he demanded.

  “What’s going on?” Ian asked from where he scrubbed one of the pans in a sink filled with soapy water.

  James wiped another pan with a clean rag and set it on a stack near the refrigerator.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he asked.

  Virgo slumped into a chair at the table where his mother and Mrs. Willard sipped lemon and herb scented tea. A small cup of sugar cubes and a container of clover honey sat on the table between them.

  “Zev just told me his plan,” Virgo said grumpily.

  Mrs. Stein patted her son’s back. “It can’t be that bad.”

  He gave his mom a straight look and said, “He wants us to summon a wraith.”

  Mrs. Stein’s hand froze above her son’s shoulder. She turned her head to face me and said in a level voice, “Is that true, Zev?”

  I knew by her tone that I was on thin ice. There was something about the way she looked at me that made me feel like a six-year-old child in trouble for stealing food from the cafeteria again. I fought back the urge to scuff my shoe on the ground.

  “It’s true,” I replied.

  “Zev,” she began.

  I held up a hand. “Hear me out. Brickwell’s in trouble. The vampire will be here soon if the felguls are any sign, and this town reeks of fear.”

  It was an admission I had been hoping to avoid.

  “What are you talking about?” Mrs. Willard asked. “Why would Brickwell reek of fear?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I’ve been to plenty of cities and this is the first that smells the way it does. I wonder if that’s why our vampire Master chose Brickwell to be where he set up the Lair?”

  Mrs. Stein shook her head. “It’s the other way around, sadly.” She took a minute to scoop a small helping of honey from the container and stir it around in her tea. The golden swirl left sweet notes in the air as it vanished into the tan liquid. Mrs. Stein looked from her son to me. “Take a seat, Zev.”

  I did as she directed and had just settled in with my back to the wall when Alia and Mitch came in holding hands. Alia immediately dropped Mitch’s hand when she spotted me. I turned my attention to a spaghetti sauce stain on the tablecloth and pretended not to notice.

  “What’s going on?” Alia asked.

  “You should sit down, too,” Mrs. Stein said. “Both of you. If Zev’s right, this is going to be a long night.”

  They sat across the table from me.

  Mitch threw me a smile. “How’d it go out there?”

  “Fine,” I replied. “They’re on patrol and they’ll let me know if they find the felguls or the vampire.” As a side note, I added, “They all have names now.”

  I felt his stare when I turned my attention back to Mrs. Stein. “What did you need to tell us?”

  I felt a little rude, but told myself it was justified. I was doing the hard work while Mitch stayed inside visiting with Alia. When had the tables turned?

  Mrs. Stein looked between us and smartly chose to stay out of it. She set her teacup on the table and linked her fingers around it, whether for warmth or to steel herself against what she needed to tell us, I could only guess.

  She gave Mrs. Willard a sad smile before she said, “Brickwell was built on a mass grave site for the paranormal that were slain centuries ago.”

  “A mass grave site?” Virgo repeated with horror.

  She nodded. “It’s long been wiped from the usual history books, but the witches’ history includes the time when paranormal creatures lived as one with the humans.”

  “What happened to change that?” Alia asked.

  Mrs. Stein shrugged her shoulders. “Betrayal. Greed. The kind of jealousy that comes from those who are weaker and afraid for their future. It’s the story of the ages.”

  “They were all killed off?” Ian asked. He dried his hands with the towel James held out.

  “Most of them,” Mrs. Stein said. She motioned toward me. “A few survived, including the vampires who were too powerful and protected by their armies of slaves to be touched. Those who escaped were smart enough to hide away; others were entombed in the caves where they cowered.”

  Her eyes flickered to mine. I thought of the castle that surrounded the Lair. It had indeed been a tomb. I wondered how many years my vampire Master had fought to get free. The thought of his body cold and with my blood still on his lips sent a chill down my spine.

  “So the fear and despair of the fallen still taints the land,” Mrs. Stein said. “That’s why there are witches here in Brickwell. There are others stationed in various cities around the country, cities where other horrible things happened. We remain to ensure that the souls beneath the soil sleep in peace.” She looked at me. “Which is why I don’t think summoning a wraith is a good idea.”

  It was completely understandable. I should have been surprised by what she told me, but the smell had said as much. My vampire Master had remained at Brickwell because his weakening soul fed on the emotions that wafted from the city. He knew witches remained, which is why he didn’t venture from the protection of the Lair. It was also why the vampire who came to Brickwell would want to remain, and that was something I couldn’t allow.

  “The vampire needs a trail of fresh fear to feed on,” I said. “It’s the only way I can think of to lead it away from Brickwell and ensure the safety of the town.”

  “And after you lead it away, what then?” Mrs. Willard asked.

  I glanced at Alia and James who now stood behind his sister’s chair. “I don’t want to say,” I told her. “But trust me when I tell you that if we get him to the Lair, he’s done for.”

  Mrs. Stein and Mrs. Willard exchanged a glance. Mrs. Willard gave a small nod.

  Mrs. Stein rose from the table. “If it’s a wraith we’re summoning, we’d better get our supplies. C
ome on Virgo.”

  “We’re doing this?” Virgo asked, rising to follow her.

  “Zev’s right,” I heard her say as she made her way through the living room. “A wraith will cause enough fresh fear to distract the vampire. The hard part will be controlling it.”

  The sound of the front door opening was followed by Virgo asking, “Have you ever controlled a wraith before?”

  “Not in this lifetime,” Mrs. Stein replied.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Waiting for the werewolves to report set me on edge. I paced from one window to the next, and that was after James asked me to go inside for fear that I would wear a path in the lawn. Moonlight streamed through the glass and the wolf itched beneath my skin to run free. The early dew scent wafting beneath the door promised joy in the run. It was all I could do to keep from answering the call.

  A small sound sent me wandering down the hallway. I paused in the doorway to the room where Isley had slept through most of the day. At the sight of her sitting up in the bed, I nearly ducked away to get Mrs. Willard, but her voice stopped me.

  “Wait Zev, please?”

  I hesitated at the edge of the door.

  “I keep having nightmares,” Isley said. “Will you sit with me?”

  I felt the need to walk around the house again, but knew it wasn’t doing anyone any good and was putting James and Virgo on edge with me. For lack of a better option, I entered the room. The scent of Mrs. Stein’s healing paste and lemon herbal tea coated the space in a calming aroma.

  I took a seat on the chair Mrs. Willard had sat in to keep an eye on her. The woman’s personal fragrance of tomato-based home cooking, pencil lead, and daisies wafted from the chair when I sat down.

  “Can you move closer?” Isley asked. “You’re so far away.”

  I picked up the chair and carried it closer. She looked so small in the center of the bed. Her mussed hair fell around her shoulders in a golden wave. The nightshirt someone had lent her made her look younger than she was.

  “Sorry,” she said. She lowered her gaze and ran a finger along one of the quilt’s multi-colored seams. “I’m just tired of being alone.”