by Sam Witt
The witch finder spat, a sticky gobbet of mucus that splattered across Al’s cheek. Al wiped it away with the back of his hand and raised a fist at his blurry assailant. “You’re dead for this. As soon as I'm out of this hole—“
That got a harsh laugh from the witch finder. "You're only getting out of that hole when I'm good and goddamned ready to fish you out of that hole. You and that witch."
Al sat up, trying to hide how badly he was hurt. His head felt like it was split in half, his brains exposed to the cool winter air. He squinted against the light and raised a middle finger in a show of bravado he didn’t feel. He couldn’t help but notice that the finger was pale and scrawny. The Beast was gone. "Come on down, and give it a try."
In truth, Al knew he was fucked. The witch finder was too powerful, too tricky. Every time Al thought he had the upper hand against the old man, he found himself walking into another rope-a-dope sucker punch. He'd done his best, but he felt beaten.
The witch finder’s laughter burned Al’s ears. "Next time, there won't be anything left to chance. You and your little bitch, you'll both have places in the ritual. We’ll see if you’ve got something I can use inside you, too. Before you started fucking with me, I was going to take one midnight bezoar and leave this shithole. Now, I’m thinking I’ll stick around a while, see if there are any other witches to gut.”
Al felt cold fingers entwine with his own. Rae. Despite their dire circumstances, he couldn’t help but feel a little better knowing they were together.
The witch finder paced around the edge of the pit for a few more moments then vanished without another word.
"Is he gone?" Rae asked in a whisper.
Al squeezed her fingers. He whispered back, not wanting to risk the witch finder hearing his words. Truth was, he couldn’t entirely tell if the old man was gone either. His vision was clearing, but it was slow going. "He's out of sight, at least."
Rae pulled herself up to sit next to Al, and he helped her get situated against the wall of their prison. He blinked, and he could see more of his bleak surroundings. They were in a straight-sided pit. Their prison’s lip was at least fifteen feet overhead and ringed by candles that dripped hot wax down its slick walls. Other than a few mounds of crumbling candle wax, there was nothing else in the pit with them.
Al didn't see any way out of the hole. He stared at the walls, watching as they slipped in and out of focus, but he found nothing there. If he were at his best, he could climb out of the hole, he was sure of that. But even the Beast wouldn't be able to climb out and carry Rae. They were stuck.
He lowered his head into his hands and pulled his knees up to his chin. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Rae wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against the side of his head. Her lips were warm and soft where they touched his ear, a comforting presence despite the hopelessness of their situation. “For what? Coming to save me? We’ll get out of this. It’s not over yet.”
Al turned into her embrace and wrapped her in his arms. "I think it is, Rae. We're stuck down here in a pit. He's going to leave us until we’re too starved or dehydrated to put up a fight."
Her laugh was unexpected and shocking. "You think an old man is a match for a witch of the Conclave and the son of the Night Marshal?"
Al shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "He'll probably shoot us from the top of the pit. Maybe use the crossbow he stuck me with before. We can't even reach him to fight back.”
“Don’t give up.” Rae rubbed his shoulders and leaned back.
Al leaned back against the wall. His sight was clearing a bit more, and he could see other details of their prison. The walls weren’t smooth, but pitted and sloped ever so slightly away from perpendicular.
There was a pool of water in the corner, fed by a steady stream of drops from a stalactite high overhead.
Al crouched over it and scooped the water into his hands. He brought it to Rae and tipped his fingers to her lips to ease her thirst. Then Al returned to the pool and sank to all fours to drink deep, letting the cool liquid fill his belly. There was a good chance he was going to die before long, but there didn’t seem much sense in dying thirsty.
He examined his reflection in the pool. His face was pale and thin. His mother’s deep eyes looked back at him over his father’s stark nose and firm mouth. He could feel their strength flowing through his veins and hoped it would see him through this ordeal. He took a deep breath. Death was always coming, but he didn’t see any sense in waiting for it.
Al stared at the water and willed his soft, weak flesh to go away. He felt claws slide through the meat of his fingertips. A grin split his face, revealing rows of gleaming fangs that shot forward into a vulpine muzzle. The Beast was back. It would find a way.
He threw himself at the wall, and his claws found purchase. The Beast pulled himself up, digging into the stone with his clawed hands and feet. He could do this. He just had a few more feet to go, and he’d be free.
Al swung his arm up, ready to grip the rim of the pit and haul himself to freedom.
But as his hand arced up toward the edge of the pit, it slammed into a wall of pain. There was a flash of crimson light, and the world shifted around Al. Another fucking trap, he thought, and then he was falling.
13
Warm hands that crackled with healing power dragged Al back from the darkness. An itching, shocking sensation crawled along his nerves and filled him with supernatural vigor.
Al's eyes snapped open. He tried to bolt upright, but the same hands that had awakened him held him firmly in place. The power that ran through his body pinned him to the pit’s floor.
Rae's voice was calming. "It's okay," she said. "You took a fall, but I don't think you broke anything important. Must’ve landed on that hard head of yours”
Al felt the power, Rae’s power he realized, recede from his body. He remembered climbing to the top of the pit and a jolt of blinding pain, but mercifully, he didn't remember the fall itself. Or the landing. "Guess I’m not climbing out of here."
Rae chuckled, the soft sound filled with surprising strength. "A Conclave witch and a shapeshifter are going to stay stuck at the bottom of some measly pit?"
Al got back to his feet and paced the narrow width of his prison. Starting at one side he could only take three steps before bumping into the far wall. He reached out to test the wall itself and realized he was no longer the Beast.
He closed his eyes and willed the change to come. He’d never be able to escape this without the Beast's strength. His stomach grumbled as he tried to draw on strength he no longer possessed. Despite his urging, Al’s flesh remained pale and weak. He’d need food before he could change again.
A pebble bounced off Al's chest and clattered to the stone floor. He opened his eyes to see Rae grinning at him from her seat against the pit's far wall. “Trying to hulk out?” she asked.
As impressed as Al was by Rae’s show of blind accuracy, he was more annoyed by her flippant attitude. Her power never left her, she couldn’t understand what it was like to be weak at the very moment you needed to be at your strongest. “It's the only way I'm going to get us out of here.”
Rae shrugged. She flicked another pebble at him. Al shifted his head to the side to avoid the missile. “I’m not so sure that's the way out. All my magic didn't do shit against that guy.”
Al rubbed his chin and looked up at the top of the pit. There was no barrier that he could see, but his experience told him there was definitely something up there keeping him trapped in the pit. Whatever it was packed enough of a punch to knock the Beast on his ass. Al didn't want to think about what might happen to him if he tried to pass it all naked and scrawny. “Well, I'm certainly not going to get past whatever he's got waiting for me up there like this.”
Rae pointed up at the top of the pit. She opened her hand, and another pebble flew straight up into the air. Al watched the pebble sail past the pit's rim before it lost momentum and fell back into Rae's open palm.
“Maybe that's exactly how you're going to get past it.”
Al looked the wall up and down. There was a slight incline, and the wall was rough. There might be enough hand- and footholds, but he wasn't sure. "Even if there wasn't some sort of supernatural bug zapper keeping us trapped down here," he said, "I'm not sure I can climb that."
Rae sighed and stood up. She brushed her palms on the thighs of her jeans and cracked her knuckles. She turned to the wall and felt its face with her fingertips.
"What are you doing?" Al asked.
"If you're not going to climb it," Rae said, "then I guess I need to try."
Al frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. You're a witch. You are magic. The barrier will fry you for sure."
Rae turned away from the wall and toward Al, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then you better get to climbing.”
The walls loomed over Al's head. As the Beast, he’d thought nothing of climbing up the sheer surface. But knowing that he couldn't call upon the Beast's strength made him uncertain. He stared up at the rim of the pit then looked back at Rae and shook his head. "There's no way I can climb that. There aren't enough handholds."
Rae shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. She twisted the scuffed toe of her boot against the stone and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Gee, Al. You're not scared, are ya?"
Red heat crawled into his cheeks. He was so flustered he couldn't tell if he was mad or embarrassed. Did Rae think this was some kind of game? Did she think he wanted to stay down in the pit? "I'm not some stupid little kid that trick'll work on. It's not like I don't want to climb out of here."
Rae shuffled along the edge of the pit, moving one foot after the other in slow, careful slides. It didn't take her long to circle around the pit until she was in range to elbow Al in the ribs. "I know you can do it."
There were some handholds. They were dark against the stone, shadowed by the flickering candle flame above. It wouldn't be an easy climb, but all he had to risk was another fall. "Be ready to catch me."
Al crossed the pit and jumped as high as he could reach. His eyes were locked on what looked like a narrow ledge of stone nine feet up. His jump felt like it took forever, like he was in the air for minutes, watching as his fingertips closed in on their target.
It wasn't much to hang onto. His fingertips hooked over the stone, and Al longed for the Beast's razor-sharp talons. They would've stuck into the stone like an ice pick into the face of a glacier.
The skin of his fingertips caught on the stone. For one moment, Al thought he'd made it. Then the ledge crumbled, and he was falling. His heels smacked into the uneven stone of the pit's floor, and the last of his balance deserted him. He landed hard on his back, and the air shot out of his lungs along with a sharp bark.
Stars shot across his vision, and his teeth clicked together. Al tasted blood and realized he'd bitten through the edge of his tongue. He struggled back to his feet and swallowed hard, trying to clear the taste from his mouth. "Well," Al panted, "I tried."
Rae chuckled and shot Al a thumbs-up. "I guess that's it then," she said. "I'll just sit down in the corner over here and wait to die."
Al's jaw fell open. He couldn't believe what she was saying. He’d damn near broken his neck trying to climb out of this hole, because she’d goaded him into it. Now she was going to mock him for taking his best shot. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“We don't have any other choice.” She shrugged. “I can't see to climb, and even if I could the trap at the top would fry me. The Beast can't get past it, either, so that leaves you.”
Without a word, Al turned back to the wall. He studied it and tried to remember how it felt to climb as the Beast. Instead of jumping, he raised one hand and sought out a firm hold. There were holes in the wall where the Beast had punctured it with his razor-sharp talons. Al's fingers were smaller than the Beast’s claws, and he could get his first knuckle into the holes it had left behind.
With one hand secure, he found a spot to anchor his big toe. He pushed up with his leg and pulled with his hand until the fingertips of his right hand could reach the next set of holes.
Who does she think she is, he thought. She had no idea what it was like to be trapped between two worlds. How could she goad him into trying to do something so dangerous, something that only the Beast could accomplish?
Al found another handhold and another spot to anchor his toes. He crawled up the wall, too agitated for his conscious mind to think about what he was doing. He was running on autopilot, letting his body find its own way.
Higher up the pit’s walls the stone was rougher, and there were larger ledges to cling to. Al was still fuming at Rae's mockery, paying more attention to his rage than his climbing. He raised his hand up to search for more handholds and realized that what he felt under his fingertips was no longer stone, but melted wax. He'd reached the top.
Al's breath caught in his throat. If the witch finder was waiting for them, this was the perfect time for an ambush. With one hand, Al pushed aside a half-dozen candles, clearing the wax away so he could grasp the firm stone beneath. When the witch finder didn't appear to knock him down, Al took his chance. He pushed up with his toes and pulled with his hands. His arms shook with the effort, and he could feel his muscles burning up the last of their reserves of energy. His left hand was slipping. His arms were shaking so badly he knew he was about to fall back into the pit. Al cursed himself for his stupidity, for thinking he could this without the Beast. He wriggled against the lip of the pit, toes scrabbling against the wall below. He was going to fall.
And then he was out of the pit, lying flat against the cold limestone floor.
Al rolled away from the edge and crouched on his haunches. He’d done it. He wasn't dead. He hadn’t needed the Beast this time. He’d done it on his own. Well, almost on his own. All he’d needed was for Rae to drive him crazy enough to make the climb.
“Hey,” Rae called from the bottom of the pit, “I didn’t hear the bug zapper go off. Not too shabby for a skinny guy.”
Al crawled back to the edge of the pit and stared over its edge. From this height, Rae seemed impossibly small. She looked so fragile at the bottom of the pit, trapped and awaiting her fate.
Despite her helplessness, Rae's smile was genuine. Al felt a surge of pride that swelled his heart until it felt as if it would burst.
Rae shooed him away with both hands. "Go on, get out of here. You need to find that guy and kick his ass."
"Sure thing, ma'am." Al cracked his knuckles. "Let me get right on that."
"You can do this. You climbed out of that pit. You don't need the Beast to finish the fight.”
"We'll see," Al said.
But as he walked away from the edge of the pit, Al was already trying to figure out a way to get the Beast to come out and play.
14
Al knew the witch finder couldn't have gone far. He doubted the old man would risk running into the teeth of another blizzard. It was even more unlikely that the witch finder would abandon the site where he’d planned to perform his dark ritual. Even if the bastard wasn't right at hand, he hadn't gone far.
He also knew that the witch finder had been living in this cavern, even if only for a little while. And while the witch finder was strong, and clever, he wasn't inhuman. He had to eat. And that meant there was food somewhere close by.
Al needed that food, and not just to fill his belly. The transformation into the Beast would require more energy than he had. His injuries from the fall, and the number of transformations he'd been forced through in the past day, had drained Al’s reserves. Until he could refill his tank, he couldn't become the Beast.
He had to find food.
The pit was in the center of a small domed cavern. There was only one exit from the limestone chamber, a narrow crack in the wall. Al picked up a candle from the edge of the pit and carried it over to the jagged-edged tunnel.
The candle drove the darkness back a few feet, b
ut a sharp bend in the tunnel prevented Al from seeing any farther. The tunnel wasn't quite as narrow as it had first appeared, but it wasn't exactly a clear hallway either. Al eased into the crack and wormed away from the pit.
Without the Beast's ability to see in near-total darkness, Al was dependent on the candle clenched in his fist. He shielded it with his body as best he could, using his free hand to protect the flame from the gusts of wind that blew through the tunnel. Hot wax dripped across the backs of his knuckles, and Al gritted his teeth against the pain. "Once I get back to the Beast," he swore, "I’m never changing back."
The tunnel ended in a sharp turn that dumped Al out into another small, circular chamber. He froze, realizing he had stumbled into what looked like the witch finder's living quarters.
A makeshift bed of heaped-up dirty pelts with a sleeping bag thrown on top hugged the far wall. A low fire took up the center of the floor, its smoke pulled up into the cracks in the limestone ceiling that formed natural chimneys. A worn backpack rested on the floor at the foot of the bed, its flap lolling open like a sleeping man's jaw.
Al let his breath ease out of his lungs; the witch finder wasn’t in his room. Al tiptoed around the fire and crouched down next to the backpack. He peered inside, wary of any traps. Knowing the cunning bastard, he had a hibernating rattlesnake stuffed in the bag.
The bag didn't hold a snake, but it did have what Al was seeking: food. The savory scent of jerky triggered a flood of slobber into Al’s mouth. He shook the bag onto its side to let the contents spill out. He hadn't seen a booby trap, but that didn't mean there wasn't one waiting for anyone stupid enough to shove his hand into the pack.
Several pairs of filthy socks rolled out of the bag, along with a bundle of stinking clothes and a handful of waxed paper packets. The grease stains on the outside of the little packages told Al he’d hit pay dirt. He grabbed the nearest one and tore the paper open with his teeth.
