The Black Wolves of Boston (eARC)

by Wen Spencer

  Where was his Joshua?

  His talent pointed high on the blank wall before him. He knew, though, that the Green Line crossed overhead, running from the Government Center to Boylston Station. He walked upstairs. The support columns were all clad in gleaming stainless steel that reflected distorted images of everything around but him. It was as if he didn't exist.

  A train sat waiting, doors open, engines humming loudly, its running lights flashing brilliantly.

  He stepped onto the last car. A dozen commuters bolted from it like rats fleeing a sinking ship. The doors accordioned shut. The train pulled out of the station, the electric engine humming loudly.

  There had been few changes to Boylston Station since he had arrived in Boston half a century ago. The misaligned platforms still bookended a dark cave of tracks. The train wheels continued their high-pitched squeal as the subway cars turned the sharp corner.

  The southern tunnel branch toward Pleasant Street, however, had been abandoned. The outer tracks were on the far side of the outbound platform. A work train sat in the shadows beyond the fencing that kept the curious at bay.

  He paused to concentrate on Joshua's location. If Decker had his bearings right, the boy was due north and very close. It would put him close to the Frog Pond, if not directly under it. The question was, how did Decker reach him? What he needed wasn't Joshua, but the door that led to him.

  Decker struggled to shift his focus off the boy. If the prince was correct, then the witches did not mean to kill Joshua but to make him into a tool. He should be safe as long as the Wickers had a use for him. Finding the path to him was key to Decker rescuing Joshua from them.

  His fears abated slightly, his talent picked out something within the dark abandoned southern tunnel.

  He caught hold of the fencing and tore it open wide enough to let himself pass.

  * * *

  The southern tunnel led down a gentle incline, allowing the side tracks to cross under the mainline even as it curved out of sight of the platform. A bare fifty feet there was a door in the tunnel wall. A small sign commanded "No Admittance." Someone had used bright yellow spray paint to fake graffiti to either side of the doorway and then on the wood itself painted a poorly done warding glyph. Just glancing at it filled him with tingling unease. A normal mortal would be compelled to avoid the door out of irrational fear.

  "Protection is not our forte, is it?" Decker whispered. Such a thing could only keep him out as long as it wasn't damaged. The wards on his home were carefully hidden from view and easy access. If someone actually managed to force their way into his house, they wouldn't be able to destroy his protective wards. He glanced about for something to mar the glyph.

  He spotted cans of spray paint further down the tunnels beside the rusted tracks. Sloppy. The witch wouldn't be able to see in the cavelike darkness. She must have assumed no one else would be able to either.

  He fetched the cans. He knew what it was---vandals started to use them to spray graffiti in the poorer sections of the city shortly after he moved to Boston. He and Elise tripped over the young "artists" in some of the most unlikely places. He'd never actually tried to use spray paint. Somehow he missed that obsession during his period of experimentation in the late 1960s.

  The brand name of the spray paint was Monstercolors.

  "Truly? That's what you used?" He turned the can in his hand. He'd noticed that there was an assumption that goods were being sold to people like himself without a clue on how they should be used. It wasn't like the olden days where a gas lamp was the height of technology that a normal person used. Everything came with instructions, or at least, warnings on how not to use them. On the back of the can were directions. Shake. Point. Spray. Simple enough.

  He painted his chest bright yellow on his first attempt. Apparently a common enough mistake, hence the reason for the eye protection warning.

  His second attempt covered the warding. For good measure, he sprayed over the graffiti too, just in case they were some kind of magic that he didn't recognize. The one on the right stated "we aim to misbehave" inside a vaguely horse-shaped outline. The one on the left seemed to be the name Tansy written in leafy stylized letters combined with a stencil of the yellow flowers and green saw tooth leaves. Judging by the fact that the tingling unease disappeared only after he covered all three paintings, he'd missed the fact that the two "graffiti" had hidden some kind of backup wards.

  The door was locked. He kicked it in. At one time, the space had been a small brick-lined equipment closet. The back wall had been chiseled away, exposing a long, narrow, dimly lit corridor. Had the Wickers created this secret passage? It was difficult to tell. The Monkshoods' gambit had been centuries ago. The Wakefields could have been quietly redirecting construction in Boston for decades without drawing notice of the prince. As long as they didn't spill blood, they were undetectable.

  The light bulbs had been replaced with grow lights. Was this some attempt to thwart him? Yes, the lamps mimicked sunlight for plants but surely Wickers understood that daylight had a magical component beyond just being bright light.

  Something rustled in the distance; the muted stir of leaves.

  Oh! The grow lights were not for him.

  He focused on his power and flicked out his hand, summoning his sword. It pulsed in his grip, blood warm and hungry. It spilled quiet need into him. If he turned around and went back to the crowded platform, he could feed upon the humans waiting there. They would be easy prey.

  He stalked down the dim corridor, fighting the urges that his curse whispered to him.

  The plants in the hall were general guard dogs, obviously meant to stop humans and slow down werewolves. They reached out green tendrils to bind him. They withered to dust when he slashed at them. Their magic flowed up his sword's blade to spill into him. It was warm and heady, like slowly sipping corn whiskey. He could feel his control slipping. With the death and destruction that lay ahead, was that a bad thing? Perhaps it was time to embrace his inner monster and let it wreak havoc.

  If he guessed rightly, he was heading toward the Common's sprawling underground parking garage. Since there was an entrance kiosk with automated payment machines within steps of the Frog Pond, he could emerge directly below it.

  The corridor ended with another locked door.

  "Little pig, little pig, let me in." He kicked it hard. It flew from its hinges to skitter across an expanse of concrete.

  The huge space had all the earmarks of an underground parking garage---poured concrete, thick support columns, exposed electrical conduits, a wide ramp heading up into darkness. The ceiling was much higher than normal. Some of the ones Elise had taken him to, he felt like he needed to duck. There weren't any signs to direct traffic or the lines painted on the floor to indicate legal parking areas. Obviously the Wickers had taken over the lowest level of the parking garage while it was under construction.

  Grow lamps blazed against the cave-dark shallows that pooled in every corner. Plants crowded around the doorway, potted in huge galvanized steel watering troughs. Blood lay in large pools, scenting the air with the heavy coppery perfume. He breathed deep, drawing it in. The euphoria that proceeded complete loss of control flooded through him.

  He stalked deeper into the garage. Elise was unconscious on the floor. The Thane lay bleeding, possibly dead. The young prince was being wrapped in vines. He struggled to free himself while he kept a herd of monstrous boars from feeding on the fallen. The Wickers stood within protective spells, apparently too startled by his entrance to act.

  Decker ignored them all for his real target. Where was Joshua?

  There. Huddled in a cage. Looking miserable. The black wolf got to his feet as Decker strode across the pavement.

  One of the boars rushed into Decker's path. "Little pig, you've been busy."

  He lashed out with his sword. The tip sank deep into the monster's chest. Power roared up the blade in hot wave. Decker drank deep of it. The boar fell, withering away to nothi
ng. He stopped, wavering in place, trying to remember what he was doing as the power eroded away what was man.

  "Oh God, it's Decker!" a man wearing a wolf skin shouted in fear. "Stop him! Do something!"

  "Do something?" Decker laughed. "Oh yes, the Grigori have been around since the dawn of man. You've fought the wolves for thousands of years. But me? You have no idea how to fight me, and that terrifies you."

  The witch open fired on Decker with a rifle.

  The bullets plowed through him, barely registering on his awareness at first.

  Decker laughed at the futility of it all. "No, no, silver bullets are for wolves, not vampires. I am corruption."

  "If you bleed, you can die!" the warlock wearing the wolf skin shouted.

  As Decker burned through the excess magic to heal, he grew aware that he'd taken massive damage. "True, but you've taken the only thing that matters from me. I'm here to take him back or die trying."

  Which would be soon if he didn't replenish his depleted magic base. He slashed at another boar, devouring its power. "Luckily you've provided me a wonderful banquet of choices here."

  He cut through the vines woven into bars. Joshua whined even as Decker freed him. The wolf stood motionless, held by something more than just the cage. To break the magical hold on Joshua, he would need to kill the warlock wearing the skin. The Wickers stood within protective wards against magical beings. He wouldn't be able to harm the man, not even with his sword. He needed something non-magical---like Elise's guns. He turned and stumbled to where she lay.

  "Heath!" the witch cried even as she changed out the magazine in her rifle.

  "I'm working on it," the younger warlock murmured.

  Two massive constructs came spinning out of the darkness. Studded with blades, they careened into him. They sliced open a hundred sharp thin wounds. It took him to his knees.

  Joshua whimpered loudly.

  "Silence! Sit!" Rowan commanded as if the boy was nothing but a dog.

  Decker snarled and lashed out at the nearest construct. The power flooded through him as the top clattered to the ground, its blades shattering under the impact. "Don't treat him like that! He's not a dog. Not a puppy. He's a man! My dear, dear friend, and I will not allow this to continue."

  Good, brave speech but his legs were refusing to obey him.

  56: Joshua

  "Do not lose your temper," the king had said. "You need to be your wolf. Your wolf needs to be you."

  What the hell did that mean?

  Joshua struggled to stay calm. Deep breaths. He closed his eyes to the chaos in front of him. The sounds were too horrible. Cabot gave awful whimpers of distress between snarls of anger. Seth---his little brother---chanted "No, no, no" as the vines trapped him. The boars made terrible noises that sounded too much like them eating Elise. Decker was far too quiet, as if he'd already died.

  Joshua opened up his eyes again.

  Decker stabbed the spinning whirly death thing. It clattered to the ground, blades ringing as they struck the concrete. The vampire poured blood from dozens of wounds. He got to his feet with a shaky laugh. "You can't kill something that's already dead." He stumbled sidewise toward one of the boars. "Especially when you've scattered so many delicious treats about to feed on. Just stand there, trapped in place by your protective spells, while I heal."

  "Stop him!" Rowan pointed at Decker.

  Joshua's body sprang forward without his conscious thought. He slammed into Decker, knocking him from his feet.

  "Kill him!" Rowan shouted.

  Joshua froze, teeth inches from Decker's face. Kill Decker?

  "No biting," Decker murmured.

  Joshua whimpered. He didn't want to kill Decker. His wolf didn't want to either.

  It wasn't until Decker pressed hands to Joshua face that he realized he'd shifted to human.

  "I don't want to hurt you," Joshua whispered.

  "Then don't."

  Decker was bleeding from a dozen places. He needed magic to heal. He needed to feed.

  Think of it as CPR, Joshua told himself. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Decker's.

  No, his wolf stated, it's love. We love him.

  It became a kiss, full of desperate fear and sorrow.

  The Wolf King told him to embrace his wolf. To be one. Fine, it's love. If he had to be bisexual to save the world, so be it.

  The Source blazed through Joshua as the vampire fed. Massive potential pulsed with his racing heart. How could he use it to break free? He could feel Cabot laying on the ground, bleeding, barely conscious. Seth struggled just beyond, cocooned in vines. His brother blazed with his own connection to the Source as he desperately tried to keep their cousin alive. Seth was pushing power into Cabot's healing ability, a fine web of magic woven from his outstretched hand to Cabot's body. Beyond was the Wicker with hold of the leash, its tendrils connected to Joshua.

  Judo was the art of turning an enemy's attack against him.

  The Wicker had a hold on him, but it also meant he had a hold on the Wicker.

  Seth believed Joshua was his only possible heir because he had hundreds of years of breeding that might allow him to control the power of Boston. Joshua was praying that meant the Wicker couldn't withstand the same level of magic.

  How did he channel the power onto the Wicker? He could see the tendrils. Could he grab hold of them?

  The answer was yes. It felt like a garden hose, heated by the sun, with a strong current of water running through it.

  "Are you kissing him?" Rowan cried. "Stop that! Kill him!"

  The demands hit Joshua but the compulsion to obey was instantly washed away by the flood of magic.

  He focused on twisting the flow, turning it back along the channel.

  Rowan screamed. He dropped to all fours and transformed into a small yellow mutt-looking wolf. Rowan charged toward his sister. He hit the edge of her protective spell and rebounded, snarling with anger.

  Belladonna tossed away her empty assault rifle with a curse. "Well, this is a wipe." She pulled small-caliber pistol out of an ankle holster. She shot her brother twice in the head. Rowan collapsed into a bleeding heap beyond her protection circle.

  "What the hell?" Heath cried.

  "The leash disappeared when he transformed," Belladonna said. "It's in some other dimension or something. We can't control the lost heir. Everything is pointless now. We need to kill them all."

  The female pointed her pistol at Seth.

  "No!" Joshua leapt in front of Seth, transforming into a massive wolf to better shield his little brother.

  Belladonna emptied the pistol into Joshua. The silver bullets struck white hot and continued to burn. He stumbled and fell. He couldn't get up.

  Belladonna ejected the empty magazine and reloaded. "Where's your gun?"

  "We never need them," Heath said.

  "We never face off with Grigori and werewolves at the same time." Belladonna pointed the freshly loaded pistol at Joshua.

  "Fight me, bitch!" Elise rose from the ground, gun in hand.

  Belladonna swore, turning to face the Grigori. "For God's sake..."

  Elise shot Belladonna in the forehead. "Yes, for God's sake."

  "Mother!" Heath cried as the witch fell to the ground.

  Elise turned and shot him twice in the chest. She shot the two remaining boars. She walked unsteadily across the concrete to shoot Heath in the head to be sure he was dead.

  It was over. Joshua closed his eyes. Everyone was safe.

  Distantly he felt Decker lift him from the ground, but that didn't matter. Everyone was safe.

  "We need to get him to Doctor Huff's," Decker said from far, far away.

  57: Seth

  Seth was going to lose one of his family members, if not both. Jack was only alive because the power that Seth focused on him held the silver poisoning at bay. He could hear Joshua fighting for breath in the back seat, but Seth couldn't sense how badly his brother was hurt.

  For some odd reason
, Decker sang just above a whisper. "You've got to stay, just a little bit longer. Please, please..."

  The words tore at Seth. They reminded him that he barely knew his brother and could lose him forever any second. "Oh, shut up!"

  The silence was even worse.

  * * *

  Dr. Huff jerked open her door, already in full roar. "What part of 'closed' do you not understand? This better be an emergen..."

  She trailed off as she took in who was on her doorstep. Her long black hair fell loose over her shoulders instead of braided into her normal pigtails. That and the lack of black lipstick and dark eye shadow, Seth barely recognized her. "Oh no! Oh God, what happened to them?"

  "They've been shot multiple times with silver bullets." Seth carried his cousin into the house. Behind him, Decker proved that the vampire was inhumanely strong as he carried Joshua as if he wasn't the size of a pony. "Jack's wounds seemed to be all through and through. Nine entrances and nine exits. All of the bullets stayed in Joshua."

  "Jack to the bathroom." Dr. Huff pointed down the hall. "There's bottles of Earthblood in the hall closet. I don't know if I have enough for both of them. Use it sparingly." She pointed toward the door to her clinic. "Joshua needs to be to be taken to the surgery. I need to get the bullets out of him before we can flush his wounds."

  Dr. Huff's bathroom was filled with sorts of girly shampoos and soaps and candles. It was clearly a private sanctuary for her. Blood smeared the sides of her massive tub as Seth lowered Jack's body into it.

  "Here." The Grigori carried in a five-gallon glass bottle filled with Earthblood. "The seal is broken on the other bottle. This is the only one that's viable."

  "That's not enough!" Seth cried in panic. "We'll need at least twice that!"

  "My family has some Earthblood stored in Watertown. I can get there and back in ten minutes."

  "Go."

  Earthblood needed to be stored in glass to keep its potency. Seth undid the stopper and wrestled the big jug into place so he could carefully pour the shimmering liquid out over Jack's wounds. All the while, his awareness was on the operating room on the other side of the building. Joshua lay unmoving on the steel table as Dr. Huff gathered her surgical instruments.