by Cheree Alsop
“I’m not much of a reader,” I said.
It was an attempt to lighten the conversation that made my chest ache. The realization that Virgo was trying to figuratively throw me out of the house and make me find my purpose struck hard.
“It doesn’t matter,” Virgo replied. “You need to find your Inking Post, Zev. Getting out of the Lair isn’t the end of your life. It’s the beginning. And if it takes a pathetic twenty-year-old warlock bookstore owner to tell you that, then so be it. But you need to make a plan, my friend. You need to figure out where you’re going. Because this isn’t it.”
I made a show of looking toward the forest behind the Willards’ home. “You sure about that?”
He cracked a smile. “Pretty sure.”
I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“I hope so,” he replied. He turned and made his way toward the house.
“Virgo?” My throat was tight enough that his name came out a bit strangled.
He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“Thanks,” I replied.
He smiled fully and opened the door.
Chapter Thirteen
“Where have you been?” Mrs. Stein’s voice rang out the moment the warlock stuck his head through the doorway.
“We were battling—” Virgo began.
“The dead are starting to move and you’re off taking a gander,” his mother replied. “And look at you. You’re filthy! What is that?”
“Guts, some skin, dirt, probably a few brain particles,” Virgo replied.
The silence that followed made me want to laugh, but I knew better than to face the wrath of an enraged witch.
“You found the dead?” his mother finally asked.
“They found us,” Virgo replied.
“You fought them?”
“Well, Zev did,” Virgo said. “I watched.”
I had to give the warlock credit for his honesty.
“Your father’s going to have an army of the risen dead by the time we get there,” Mrs. Stein said.
“That man is not my father,” Virgo replied. “And we have an army who can fight them, along with a general raised in the heat of battle.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Don’t we, Zev?”
I nodded. “I’ll go talk to them.”
The werewolves were already waiting for me when I reached the trees. It was easy to feel the tension in the air. They knew something was coming, and by their expressions, they also guessed it wasn’t going to be easy.
I was surprised to find Mitch with them. Since escaping the Lair before we defeated the Master, there had been an uneasiness between him and the others. They had called him a traitor early on for abandoning the Lair, but when I pointed out that the same applied to me, their arguments had ceased. It seemed some sort of agreement had been reached, because he sat on a log shared by two of the others while the rest of the werewolves had found their own places in the small clearing that had become their makeshift home.
“You smell like death,” Edmund, a young, ferocious werewolf with dark hair stated.
“I fought death,” I replied. At their confused looks, I said, “The dead have risen. The dark coven we went to is attempting to raise more of them for an army. We need to stop them.”
Looks were exchanged.
“You want us to fight the dead?” Striker asked. “How many are there?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Virgo and I met two on the road. We have no way of knowing how many more there are, but they’ll be heading to the dark coven.”
“That sounds risky,” Safira said.
“Yeah,” John, the red-haired werewolf, echoed. “There aren’t many of us left here.”
I threw Mitch a searching look. The werewolf straightened.
“We usually have more to go on,” he said. “Numbers, strategies. The Master never pit us against anything blindly. I’m happy to fight by your side. I know the others are, too. We just need to know what we’re up against.”
Joven shook his head. “It already sounds like a losing battle.”
Anger stirred inside of me. “What is wrong with you?” I barked. “You’ve grown soft sitting here in this sheltered forest eating food that’s cooked and handed to you. You’re not werewolves. You’re pets!”
Expressions darkened and werewolves surged to their feet. I was glad. At least there was some fight left in them.
“You’re looking for a purpose?” I continued, almost shouting. “This is your purpose! Make your amends to humanity by protecting them from this threat! Clay is raising the dead that were buried here in mass graves ages ago. It’s not going to be pretty and it will be dangerous, but if the dead make it to Brickwell and beyond, every single one of those humans will be lost. Stop them. Use your training. You’ve prepared for this your entire life.”
I saw the spark I was familiar with ignite in their eyes. Nods and enthusiastic expressions met my words.
“I could do with a fight,” Striker said.
“It’s about time,” Frost agreed.
“Yeah,” Minxy said with a grin. “We weren’t made to get old and fat.”
“And we’re not afraid to die,” Mitch called out.
That brought an echo of the Lair back to life.
A grin spread across my lips. “Why aren’t you afraid to die?” I shouted in the same words the Master used to use.
Their reply roared like thunder with the chant we had repeated every day of our lives. “I accept death as an inevitable part of life. I may not be able to prevent it or choose the hour of its coming, but I won’t run. I will fight for every breath, but I won’t shirk my duties. I will lay down my life for the humans if necessary, but I won’t give up without a fight. I am strong, I am not afraid, I am the pack.”
Every single one of them had replaced the word Masters with humans. I had never felt so proud in my entire life.
“Then let’s do it!” I said.
A shout of agreement echoed through the trees.
The werewolves followed me back to the house.
“That was well done,” Mitch said quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear him. “I never took you for the speech type.”
“I’m not,” I replied. A glance over my shoulder at the determination I had sparked in their faces said otherwise. I ignored the thought. “I’m just glad they’re fighting at my side.”
“At your back,” Mitch corrected. At my questioning look, he said, “They’re not coming to fight beside you. They are going to fight for you. Without the Masters, they’ve been leaderless and wandering. Like it or not, you’re the leader now.”
The thought sent a surge of uncertainty through me. “What if I’m not a good leader?”
He shrugged. “We both left the Lair, but you went back and got them out, too.”
“You know that wasn’t my intention,” I began.
Mitch nodded. “Understood, but what happened, happened. And now you’ve got yourself an army.” He looked behind us. “I don’t know what fifteen werewolves can do against a coven of witches, but I wouldn’t want to mess with them.”
I had to admit that the werewolves looked pretty hostile. And I had seen what they could do in action. Fifteen werewolves might not have been a lot in number, but each one was worth his or her weight in gold when it came to a battle. There weren’t better soldiers I could ask for at my back.
Virgo met us on the porch. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m just hoping we can get to the dark coven before Clay raises too many of the dead,” I told him.
“We think we have a solution for that,” the warlock said.
He motioned toward the open door.
In the living room, Isley stood between the three witches from the coven house and Mrs. Stein.
“We’ll do everything in our power to protect you,” Madam Anna was saying. “You just need to trust us.”
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” Isley replied.
&nbs
p; Her voice sounded so small from where I stood. I wanted to take her away from it all and protect her the way I had promised. Yet when her eyes lifted and she found me watching her, something changed in her expression before she looked away.
Madam Anna was saying, “That might be, but we won’t know until—”
“I’ll do it,” Isley cut the witch off.
“You will?” Madam Henrietta replied with a gasp. “Oh, thank goodness! We have a chance.”
Madam Anna threw her a silencing look. “It’s a small chance, so we must do everything we can to make the most of it.” She turned to us. “Virgo, take the werewolves to stake out the dark coven. We need to know what we’re getting into. Call your mom’s phone to report. We’ll be along as soon as preparations are done.”
“Yes, Madam Anna,” Virgo replied.
His mother gave him a hug. “You be safe and don’t let him see you,” she told him.
“And don’t get yourself killed,” his sister Jemmy said from the couch. Tear trails marked her cheeks and her curly red hair was mussed from crying. I couldn’t blame her for taking the news about her father hard.
“I’ll be careful,” Virgo promised her.
Mrs. Stein turned to me. “Watch over my son,” she said.
I nodded. “I will.”
“And yourself,” the witch put in. “I expect both of you to take care of each other.”
“We will,” Virgo and I said at the same time.
I glanced over and found Isley watching me. She looked away the moment our eyes met. I stepped off the porch to join the waiting werewolves.
Virgo eyed our group skeptically. “I don’t think we’ll all fit in the truck.”
“We’ll run,” Striker said.
“We’d rather fight in wolf form anyway,” John seconded.
I shook my head. “The sun will drain your strength. You should save it since we don’t know what we’re going up against.” I glanced at the truck. “If we stand, we’ll fit. We’ll just hope a policeman doesn’t spot us on the way.”
“I can cloak the truck,” Jemmy said, joining us with a determined, if watery, expression. “Give me a minute.”
She withdrew a piece of chalk from her pocket and began to draw runes on Virgo’s truck.
“That better not ruin the paint,” her brother warned.
“It’s not a great paint job anyway,” Jemmy shot back.
She finished crafting runes completely around the truck.
“It looks the same,” Virgo said.
“Give it a minute,” his sister replied with exasperation.
She whispered several words I didn’t know and the truck faded before our eyes. Only a vague outline remained, but we could see the trees behind it through the paint as if it wasn’t there.
“Whoa!” one of the werewolves said while others stepped back.
I set a hand on the truck. The moment I touched the light blue metal, my hand faded so that it was vague and barely discernable. I pulled my hand back and I could see it again.
“Neat,” Virgo said.
“Let’s go,” I told the werewolves.
Professor Shipley joined me as I watched the others climb into the back of the truck and mostly disappear from view.
“The witches won’t let me go,” the professor told me. He lowered his gaze. “I can’t blame them. I acted impulsively and put everyone at risk.”
I set a hand on his shoulder. “You were trying to save your wife. I promise to do everything I can to bring her back to you.”
“Thank you,” he said with such sincerity it brought tears to his eyes. “Thank you.”
I climbed into the back of the truck and found that the werewolves had positioned themselves to each side so that I could make my way to the front. Their deference surprised me, but I didn’t let it show.
I hit the roof of the truck. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” Virgo called out the window.
The balance we had spent years perfecting paid off as the warlock drove not so carefully along the highway. Clouds covered the sun, but it was too much to hope that they would also inhibit the power of the moon.
Want surged down my spine at the thought of the blood moon that would rise that night. I needed to phase. The thought set my teeth on edge. My chest ached where the handprint marked it. I felt off, like I was not quite myself. Being a wolf was as much a part of me as being in human form, if not more. I needed it more than I understood. The moon called to me, ready to be full and cloaked somewhere behind the clouds. All werewolves phased to wolf form beneath the full moon. I didn’t know what would happen to me if night came and I couldn’t change.
“Look.”
I glanced up at Mitch’s warning. We were close to the dark coven’s house. The only cars we had passed were miles back and no other houses occupied this part of the countryside, yet people walked down the road.
“They’re not walking right,” Striker said from behind me.
The sight of the lurching, ambling gaits of the forms before us made my muscles tense. Virgo began to slow down.
I pushed the back window open. “Keep going. Don’t slow down.”
“Is that a good idea?” Virgo asked over his shoulder. “What if I hit someone?”
“They’re already dead.”
The warlock’s hands tightened on the steering wheel so that his knuckles turned white. “Are you sure?”
Any need to answer vanished when the first man turned. Half of his face was gone and the bones of his jaw were visible when he moaned.
Virgo pressed the accelerator and we sped up.
“Hold on,” I called over my shoulder.
The warlock dodged between groups of the risen dead. Those we passed barely acknowledged our presence. I could picture hordes of the risen dead swarming the truck without Jemmy’s wards. Witches were handy people to know in times of a corpse uprising.
The voice in the back of my mind pointed out that if it wasn’t for witches, the dead wouldn’t be rising.
“There it is,” I said when I spotted the house. A strange mist floated through the forest, enshrouding the house and trees in a gray, dreary cloak. “Pull off into the trees just past it,” I told Virgo. “The dead look like they’re heading toward the forest where the summoning was. We can sweep around.”
I stood and faced the werewolves. “The corpses of the dead are ravenous. Try to keep them from biting you. Kill them by severing their spine at the base of the skull. Our goal is to figure out what the coven is up to, report to Mrs. Stein and the other witches, keep the risen dead from leaving this place, and protect Professor Shipley’s wife.” I gave them a small smile. “And try to survive.”
Several chuckles sounded as Virgo steered the truck into the trees and turned it off. Anticipation showed on the faces of the werewolves around me. By the feeling of the moon I was so tuned to, I could tell it was merely afternoon.
“We have a while before the witches arrive,” I told the werewolves quietly as Virgo climbed out of the truck and shut the door gently behind him. “Use the skills you learned at the Lair to stay out of sight, keep an eye on the risen dead, and ensure that none of them head toward Brickwell or Township. Don’t attack outright until you hear my signal.”
The werewolves climbed out of the truck and disappeared into the mist-shrouded trees with the stealth of a trained militia.
“What about us?” Virgo whispered.
“Call your mom. Your coven needs to know how many dead are out here.” I couldn’t help the worry in my tone when I said, “I’m not sure we have enough werewolves to handle them.”
Virgo climbed back into his truck to help keep the call quiet. I could hear his voice punctuated on several occasions. When he climbed back out, his demeanor was grim.
“They’re on their way. Mom says we don’t have a choice. If we can’t stop him now, all is lost.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” I promised him.
Virgo nodded. He glanced towa
rd the dark coven’s house, then at me. He rubbed the back of his neck, then said, “I can’t believe it’s him, but I have to, don’t I? I mean, that was my dad doing the summoning surrounded by all those chanters. He’s the one who took the professor’s wife. He’s raising an army of the dead.” Virgo closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
Part of being a werewolf at the Lair meant I had no idea who my parents were and no reason to ever wonder. We were raised in age groups, taught to fight by those older and stronger than us, and survived out of sheer stubbornness sometimes. I had never experienced learning how to ride a bicycle with a loving father or mother at my side, being taught how to tie my shoes, take my first step, or break someone’s arm for the first time. I was pretty sure the last one didn’t apply to humans, but I wasn’t sure. What it left me with was no idea how to answer Virgo.
I went with the only truth I had. “I never knew my parents,” I said. “So I’m really not sure how it feels to have one betray you like that.” Virgo looked away, but I continued, “But you aren’t your father or your mother. You’re Virgo Stein, the best warlock I know.”
He gave a reluctant smile and said, “I’m the only warlock you know.”
“I’d like to keep it that way,” I replied. I cleared my throat and said seriously, “Virgo, I was born in a cave and taught to fight the moment I was old enough to hold a knife. There was no parent to kiss my hurts or tell me I was going to be fine. I had to figure that out for myself.” I gestured toward the house. “This is your chance to figure out who you are. And you’re stronger than him. You’re stronger than all of this.” I pointed to his chest. “But you have to know that in here where it counts. You aren’t a reflection of your parents. They brought you into this world and gave you the knowledge you need to survive it. Now it’s up to you to live the life you choose apart from any of their decisions. You have to be strong enough to accept that you are an individual who can make a difference, and it’s up to you to decide what kind of a difference that will be.”
Virgo was quiet for several minutes. I listened for any of the werewolves, but it was silent besides a few moans from the dead who continued to flock toward the house and into the forest beyond. The number was overwhelming. We needed to find an advantage somehow or it was going to be a bloodbath.
