Master of Wolves

by Angela Knight

  Faith met Jim’s silver gaze in the darkness in a silent message of determination and mutual support.

  Then they transformed. She felt the power rise even more quickly this time, a tingling flow that brought her transformation in a rush. When the magic drained away, she shook herself, settling her red wolf coat around her, and trotted off after the dark flag of Jim’s tail.

  The wind was blowing, and the air smelled of rain. There’d be a storm soon, she thought. Rotten timing. The rattle of the trees and the whip of the wind would make scenting their foes a tricky proposition.

  Together, she and Jim ghosted silently through the brush, senses alert to the smell of magic. But all Faith’s sensitive nose detected was the musky scent of deer and rabbit. Frogs croaked over the hiss of whipping leaves, while something shrill whined through the darkness. The sound puzzled Faith, until she spotted a black shape swooping past overhead. It was a bat, using its screeches like a sub’s sonar to find prey. Its cries would have been too high-pitched to hear in human form.

  Then the wind carried something else to her ears—a woman’s sob.

  Jim’s eyes flashed silver as he looked back at Faith. He began to run. Faith raced after him, ears pricked, nose in the wind. She found what she was looking for when the breeze shifted, carrying the reek of fear, blood, and woman.

  They found Sheri standing in the middle of the road, trembling and dazed, making no attempt to hide. Her clothes were torn and dirty, revealing bruises mottling her arms and legs. She had a black eye and a swollen lip, and she was crying.

  The bastards had beaten her.

  Faith started forward, only to break step when Jim nipped her gently on one ear. He shook his head at her and Changed. Human again, he crouched down at her side and murmured, “Go to Dire Wolf form. I don’t smell anything, but that doesn’t mean much in this wind.”

  Faith knew why he’d gone human—Sheri was traumatized enough as it was—but she wasn’t sure doing so was particularly smart. Even so, she let the magic spill and suppressed her own whine of pain as her body stretched and grew. It was tougher going from wolf to Dire Wolf—the size difference was so much greater. Difficult or not, though, it was certainly safer than stopping as a human in between and risking too many transformations.

  Jim didn’t wait for her, instead working his way farther up the road at a crouch, probably not wanting to emerge from the woods too close to Faith’s location. Finally he stopped behind some screening bushes. “Sheri?”

  The waitress only stood there with her back to him, shaking. She evidently hadn’t heard him. He rose from the brush. “Sheri?”

  She whipped around with a muffled yelp. He held a finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s Jim. You okay?”

  Instead of throwing herself into his arms, as Faith would have expected, the woman held back. Her eyes were wide and white with fear. Her lips moved soundlessly, as if terror had stolen her voice.

  The wind shifted, bringing the acrid reek of deer urine from off to the left. Faith wrinkled her nose, recognizing the smell from childhood hunting trips when her brothers used it to fool…

  “Jim!” she shouted, springing aside just in time to dodge the TASER leads that shot hissing out of the darkness. “To your left!”

  With a roar, the rogue exploded from the brush. Sheri shrieked as he slammed into Jim, knocking him off his feet and pinning him to the ground. Reynolds lifted a hand, claws glinting, a snarl of triumph on his face.

  Faith leaped from cover and bounded toward them, frantic to get Reynolds off him long enough to give her lover a chance to Change.

  She barreled into Reynolds with the full force of her body. They went flying, tumbling across the roadway in a windmilling knot of fur, fangs, and claws.

  Spotting an opening, Faith sank her jaws into the back of Reynolds’s thick bull neck. Her mouth flooded with the taste of blood, hot copper, and wild magic. The rogue yowled and grabbed the back of her head, heaving her over his shoulder before she could get a good grip. Stars exploded in her head as she slammed into the ground.

  Before the spots even cleared, something hit her hard in the muzzle with stunning force. Shaking off the impact, she lunged upward and bit. Bones crunched. Reynolds howled. She’d nailed his hand.

  Faith bit down harder. He clouted her across the face, claws raking her muzzle. She lost her grip.

  “Fucker,” Jim snarled.

  Suddenly Reynolds’s weight was gone. Faith blinked the blood from her eyes and saw the two weres, both in Dire Wolf form, snarling and slashing at one another like biped tigers.

  Faith wiped her face and rolled to her feet, intent on joining the fray.

  And smelled deer urine.

  Somebody grabbed her from behind and spun her around. “Why, hello, Weston.” A huge Dire Wolf, his fur shot with black and gray, bared his fangs in her face. He had the chief’s eyes. “You smell gooooood.”

  Faith hit him as Jim had taught her, in an open-handed clawed swat. He staggered back a pace, one hand clamped to the wound. “Bitch!”

  “Asshole,” she raged back. “You broke your oath, Ayers. What happened to serve and protect?”

  He curled his lip. “I’m going to enjoy watching you die.”

  “You’re not going to live that long.” Too pissed off to care that he was bigger and stronger, she dove for him.

  Only to go down hard as something slammed into her knees. She saw stars again, tasted blood. Somebody grabbed her mane and jerked her onto her feet. “You’ve needed your ass kicked for a long time, Weston,” the hulking werewolf said. Something in the shape of his eyes told her it was Sergeant Young. “We’re going to give it to you.”

  “Among other things.” Ayers strode over and slapped her across the muzzle.

  The roar of rage startled even Faith. Something plunged out of the sky, knocking the werewolves away from her. She jumped back, startled, as the attacking Dire Wolf tore into the two rogues. He must have leaped right over their heads to come down on top of them. God knew what he’d done to Reynolds. “Go on!” Jim roared over his shoulder at her. “Get the girl to safety!”

  Every instinct rebelled. “I can’t leave you!”

  “Go!”

  Just beyond him, Faith glimpsed Sheri. She was struggling with a uniformed cop, who was bent over her throat. White fangs glinted in his open mouth.

  Shit, Faith thought, Celestine must have gotten hold of that grail! If she didn’t save Sheri, the girl was dead.

  With a growl, Faith raced toward the vampire as he buried his fangs in Sheri’s neck. Without breaking step, she raked her claws down the vampire’s back. He howled and dropped Sheri. Started to turn…

  Claws spread, Faith hit him with all her strength right in the side of the head. Blood splattered. She didn’t stop to see what she’d done to him, just grabbed the blonde, heaved her across her shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and ran. Sheri shrieked in her ear.

  “Shut up!” Faith bellowed. “I’m trying to save you!”

  If she could just move fast enough, she could get the waitress to safety and get back to help Jim.

  “There she goes!”

  Faith looked back and saw two werewolves racing after her. One was a blonde, the other as red-furred as herself. She had no idea who they were. Shit, how many cops had Reynolds bitten, anyway?

  It didn’t matter. She didn’t dare stop until she got the waitress to safety. Otherwise the weres would kill Sheri, and all this would be for nothing.

  Desperately, Faith put her head down and ran for her life, ignoring the waitress’s terrified screams.

  Surrounded by her new troops, Celestine watched from the shelter of the trees as five of her werewolves fought the one Ayers had identified as Jim London. Power poured off them in blazing waves of pain, magic, and rage. As fast as Celestine drank the energy in, it kept coming.

  London was so skilled and strong that even outnumbered, he held his own.

  “Shit,” one of her new vampires breathed. “Man, feel tha
t. All that power.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Another fledgling swallowed hard. “Smell the blood. It’s…God, I want some. Celestine, let us—”

  “Not yet,” she snapped. “I want this to go on a little longer.” Her mind raced.

  A fight like this with all seven werewolves would produce a staggering amount of power, far more than just sacrificing London the way she had Shay. Enough to provide her new fledglings with a significant magical charge.

  Then they could feed on London after they got him down. A creature that size would have a great deal of blood.

  Celestine frowned, watching Ayers stagger back from a particularly vicious claw swipe. The only problem was the risk that some of her own wolves might be killed in the process.

  Then again, so what? It would just be more life force and more blood for the rest. If it came right down to it, she could always have the survivors create new were recruits.

  On the other hand, the conditions could be controlled a little better. As it was now, London might decide to run for it.

  “TASER him,” she ordered. “I want to take him back to the house so we can do this properly.”

  They nodded eagerly and started forward, drawing their freshly charged weapons.

  Once it was over, Celestine would have the power for another crucial spell, one that would draw the entire adult population of Clarkston to her. Since there were five thousand people in the town, she’d have the makings of a decent army.

  The vampires closed in on the battling werewolves, TASERs in hand. The first set of probes flew, biting into London’s shoulder just as he ripped out one of the weres’ throats. He fell, convulsing. More probes flew.

  Celestine smiled in satisfaction as the enemy were went down at last.

  Rain pelted Faith in hard needles she felt even through her thick fur. She ignored the sting, concentrating on keeping a grip on Sheri’s wet body as she bounded through the woods at full speed.

  She could no longer hear the sounds of the rogues’ pursuit, but she wasn’t sure if she’d lost them or if the wind and rain simply drowned it out.

  Breaking out of the trees, Faith spotted the dark silhouette of a house and darted for it. Taking refuge in a thick patch of shadow, she crouched to wait.

  “What—?” Sheri began.

  “Shh!” she snapped, peering back the way they’d come. For the past twenty endless minutes, she’d backtracked and dodged, her gut knotting tighter with each second. Too often, the scent and sound of her werewolf pursuers had driven her onward.

  Now she listened hard, rain dripping from her muzzle and running down her back. Faith ignored it, staring intently into the trees.

  Nothing. Not a shout, not a movement. Faith let herself sag in relief. She’d lost them.

  Straightening, she turned to Sheri. “Do you still have that cell you used to call us?”

  The blonde, soaked and shivering, stared up at her. “Us?”

  “I’m that girlfriend Jim mentioned. Have you got the cell or not?”

  She sniffed. “In my pocket. They gave it to me in case he called back.”

  “Good. Is there somebody you can call—not 911, obviously.” Faith grimaced. “Last thing we need is another cop.”

  “My brother lives right outside Clarkston.”

  “Good. Call him.” She rose and started toward the woods.

  “Wait! You’re just going to leave me?” Sheri called.

  “If I don’t get back to Jim, he’s dead,” Faith told her, and began to run.

  Guinevere saw the vampire’s hands glow as he gathered his magic for a blast. She threw up her shield just as he launched it. The energy splashed off her magical barrier in a shower of electric blue sparks, pulsing with death energy. She reinforced the shield until the sparks faded.

  Knowing it would take her foe a couple of seconds to recharge, Gwen dropped it and blasted him with all her strength. But the vamp ducked. The spell shot harmlessly past his head as he charged, sword lifted, apparently meaning to kill her with pure muscle.

  But before he could bring his weapon down, Arthur’s familiar battle cry rang over the field. Excalibur’s blazing magic lit up the vampire’s face as he whirled to block the stroke. Arthur only hacked harder, trying for a head shot that would end the battle.

  Magic flashed off to the right, and Gwen threw up a shield barely in time to deflect it from her husband. Even so, the blast almost punched through.

  Merlin’s beard, she thought in despair, the bastards are getting more powerful!

  That was the problem with warring against an enemy that used death magic. Every fighter who went down—even their own—provided the Geirolfians with more and more death and pain to power their spells. That left the Majae at a disadvantage, since their magic came from the Mageverse itself. It didn’t decrease, but it didn’t increase either.

  Gwen threw a desperate glance around Avalon’s central square as magical blasts lit up the castles, mansions, and villas. Everywhere she looked, Magekind and Sidhe alike were locked in brutal combat with the Geirolfians. Technically, they had the enemy outnumbered, but with the bastards getting stronger with every death, that was fast becoming a moot point.

  She turned toward her husband again just in time to witness the distinctive blaze of Excalibur’s magic, followed by a spinning dark shape. Arthur had just sent the Geirolfian’s head flying.

  Panting, she met her husband’s weary gaze through the slits in his helm. His armor was splashed with blood, some of which was his. Through their Truebond, she could feel the leaden weight of his exhaustion. She felt no better herself. “We can’t keep this up,” he told her. “We’ve got to get that grail!”

  He was right. If they could just find and destroy the cultists’ Black Grail, the resulting magical blast would wipe out most of the enemy. Whoever remained would be easy prey.

  Gwen gathered herself and reached out her magical senses, struggling to concentrate despite the screams and clash of battle. Straining, she could just feel the grail’s distant malevolence. “It’s still out there.”

  “Can you do that location spell you mentioned before?”

  “Yes, if I can get five minutes of quiet. We don’t want any of these bastards following us to it.”

  He nodded. “I’ll call some of my knights. We’re going to need help.”

  A magical blast lit up the city, so bright they were forced to shield their eyes. “We’d better make it fast,” Gwen told her husband. “Or there won’t be an Avalon to come back to.”

  “You want us to do what?” George Ayers stared at Celestine in disbelief. He’d taken some nasty injuries at the hands of Weston and London. They’d healed as soon as he’d transformed, but they’d hurt like a son of a bitch. And now she wanted him and the other weres to fight the bastard again for no good reason?

  “What’s the matter, George?” Celestine asked in a contemptuous feline purr. “Afraid you can’t take him?”

  “Of course we can take him.” Reynolds curled his lip. “There are six of us. We’ll rip the pussy apart.”

  George eyed him. “That ‘pussy’ killed Dave Green.”

  He shrugged. “And I’m looking forward to giving him a little payback. Unless you’re scared…”

  He stiffened angrily. One thing no cop could tolerate was an accusation of cowardice. “I just don’t see any reason to fight in some kind of pit with that bastard like something out of Fight Club.”

  Celestine’s eyes narrowed. “I told you, I need the power for my spell.”

  “So rip out his heart. God knows you’ve done it before.”

  “Yes,” she said on a note of silky threat. “I have, now that you mention it.”

  George flinched.

  Then he remembered the damage he’d done with his claws. The bitch could hurt him, but he could hurt her, too. He lifted his chin. “So take care of him.”

  “My men are hungry,” she said through gritted teeth. “They need to feed on a strong power source. One way or another,
you’re going to provide us with what we need.”

  George opened his mouth, ready to tell her exactly what to do with her power source.

  Then he became conscious of the eyes on him, eyes hot with bloodlust and growing anger. The eyes of men who had once obeyed his orders without question.

  But they weren’t really men anymore, and the orders they obeyed were no longer his.

  Celestine was right, George realized with a chill. They were her men. And if she gave them the order, they’d tear him apart just as surely as they would London.

  He swallowed. “Fine. We’ll take him out.”

  A slow cat smile spread across Celestine’s face, feral and terrifying. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Jim pressed his muzzle against the airholes on one side of the metal crate. When he’d been in human form, he’d had to curl in a ball to fit between the box’s narrow walls. He’d Changed to wolf the moment his powers returned. Becoming a Dire Wolf was out of the question. There was simply no room.

  He’d still been stunned from the TASERing when the witch had conjured the box and ordered him stuffed inside before magically sealing it shut. Jim figured it wouldn’t be long before they’d drag him out, TASER him again, and cut his heart from his chest. Sick fear gnawed at him, mixed with building claustrophobia from being in a box with no door.

  But what really terrified him was the thought of Faith at the mercy of these lunatics. He knew good and damned well she was charging to the rescue even as he sat here. She was psychologically incapable of leaving him at the mercy of Celestine and her band of psychopaths.

  The problem was there were just too fucking many of them, and they were too powerful. There was no way Faith could fight them all. And since they’d taken both his cell phone and that useless key chain, she couldn’t even call Charlie or Diana for reinforcements.

  So like the suicidally heroic twit she was, she’d come alone. In the middle of her Burning Moon. To run right smack into a pack of werewolves and bloodthirsty vampires who’d delight in raping her and cutting out her heart.