Blood for Wolves

by Taft, Nicole

  I remembered at one time I used to like hiking. How long had it been? A week? Two weeks? It felt like a month. Were mom and dad and my stepmother freaking out? Had they called the police? Were my sisters talking to newscasters about the disappearance of their stepbrother and sister in the woods? Had the weather held up long enough for them to find our prints at the pond? Not like it would do any good. They’d never find us. And they’d certainly never believe Alex was no longer human.

  As we traveled, an increasing sense of foreboding gnawed at me. I gazed at the trees around us, looking through the gloom of the day for anything amiss. Nothing. But the feeling continued to grow.

  It peaked when we saw a darker shade of gray ahead of us, overtaking the expanse of trees. A wall. The wall that surrounded a castle.

  “Wait,” I said, putting my hand on Alex’s neck. “Stop.”

  I slipped the key from around my neck and wrapped it around my ankle instead, the same way I’d hidden the winged necklace from Wolf. I slipped my thick hiking sock over it. The key was bulky and awkward, but I’d deal with it.

  “Okay,” I said. Alex snorted, and I put on Wolf’s coat, yanking at the lapels. “Let’s do this.”

  Together we moved forward. The trees ended, leaving an open expanse around the castle. A wall around thirty feet high of gray stone circled it, and I guessed the castle took up the space of an entire city block. It soared into the sky in a startlingly violent way, with pointed spires and numerous towers. I got the impression that on a good day, it would look impressive and even pretty. At the moment though, it gave off a depressing air, as though it were lamenting that it wasn’t being used to its true purpose. A shiver ran through me.

  I shook off the sensation and strode forward, Alex at my side. We stopped at the massive gate of a mahogany colored wood. Metal ran across the boards for reinforcement. I gazed up at it. We were here. We’d found it. This place had to have someone in it that knew magic. Someone that could fix Alex and Marianne. There had to be people here I could trust, despite all my feelings. This whole trip I’d hardly encountered anyone trustworthy. Wolf not counted among them. I ditched the thought. I didn’t need to think of him now.

  What with all the heavy-duty fortifications, I expected for at least someone to be on the wall. Not that I was any expert on castle duties, but there certainly wasn’t anyone looking out for visitors. What happened to the Sentry? Were they all out hunting wolves? I scanned the ground. Fine. If no one was going to welcome us in, I’d just have to make my presence known. I picked up a hand-sized rock, stepped up to the gate, and pounded hard.

  “I demand entrance to this bastion by the name of the House of Red and the House of Hood!”

  For several long minutes, nothing happened. Alex huffed and gave his head a little toss. I didn’t have the same communication skills with him as I did with the alpha wolf, but his statement was clear enough. This was bullshit.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. I banged on the gate again, harder this time, making my hand hurt in the process.

  “I demand an audience with the Steward! Open these doors!”

  Finally the head of a Sentry popped over the top of the wall, a black silhouette against the drab sky.

  “Who calls?” he yelled.

  “My name is Caroline McKenna,” I paused for a brief second. “I am a sorceress that brings important news to the Steward of Hood House. Let me in.”

  “What is that beast with you?”

  Another shadow appeared over the wall beside the first.

  I tentatively reached out with my senses. The palace had magic in it, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. Perhaps it was latent magic? Protecting? Whatever the case, I wasn’t going to trust anyone or anything with my information until I could be sure.

  “He is my beast. Now let us in!” I shouted back.

  The two Sentries spoke to each other, the soft tones of their words floating down to me. What the hell was their problem? Why didn’t they want to let me in? Was it because I was standing next to a huge buck? I growled to myself and fished my matches out of the coat. I dumped three out of the waterproof container, aiming for a bigger flare-up for them to get the idea.

  “If you don’t let us in this instant,” I struck the matches and they blazed to life, “then I will burn down this gate myself!”

  As if to emphasize my point, Alex trumpeted and swung his antlers menacingly.

  “Hold! Hold!” yelled the Sentry.

  The two of them disappeared, and within a few minutes the gates slowly ground open. I tossed the matches into the wet leaves and smashed them down with my boot.

  At least six Sentries greeted us, crossbows drawn. Big surprise there.

  “Relinquish your weapons,” one of the Sentries said.

  I again tried to figure out where the magic originated from, but couldn’t. I wished my skills were honed better.

  “No.”

  Now they were surprised. A few of them glanced at one another, not exactly sure what to do in the face of an outright refusal.

  “You cannot enter and see the Steward Dunstan so armed.”

  “Too bad,” I said. “I’m not giving them to you.”

  The tension vibrated between us. Someone cleared his throat.

  “If you are a sorceress, then why do you carry such items?”

  I grinned at the Sentry who’d asked. “Always be prepared.”

  After a few more minutes into our little standoff, one of the Sentries lowered his crossbow and stepped forward.

  “Miss, we’ll let you into the palace with your arms, but I’m sorry, you cannot see the Steward this way.”

  I grumbled to myself. This guy seemed to be the leader. Or at least, more leader-like than the others. I realized I didn’t even know how Sentries functioned. Were they like cops? Soldiers? Was there some kind of chain of command aside from just answering to the Steward?

  I stared around at the men in their black coats and wide-brimmed hats. I needed to talk to the Steward about the werewoman, and at this rate I wouldn’t ever see him. I sighed and shrugged off the crossbow.

  “Fine,” I said, handing the bow, bolts, and then the sword to the Sentry. “But I’m not happy about this.”

  A few of the men around us still hadn’t lowered their own crossbows, and some of them were looking at Alex in a dangerously admiring way. I pointed at them.

  “He stays with me. If any of you so much as think of shooting him, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  I didn’t think they knew what the word “fuck” meant, but I’d put enough emphasis on it that I felt certain they got the point. They put down their bows, shifting uncomfortably.

  The head Sentry handed off my things to one of the other men.

  “Now,” he said, “what is it you have to tell the Steward about?”

  I debated in my brain how much to tell them. “It involves werewolves and a prophecy.”

  That got them going. The Sentries murmured to each other, growing more uneasy by the second. Apparently those were the magic words, because the head Sentry tipped his hat and gestured ahead of him.

  “Follow me.”

  “And my hart?”

  The Sentry looked long and hard at Alex. Alex stared back. Finally the Sentry gave a flick of his wrist. “He can come too if he is yours.”

  We crossed a courtyard of stone paths and flower gardens. I eyed them. For spring to be in full swing, the flowers and plant life drooped, untended and wilting, their colors muted by the cloudy day. Unease wound its way through me. The Sentries followed behind us. I imagined Alex itching to kick one of them. Something was seriously wrong in this place. Was it because Marianne wasn’t here when she needed to be? The key was hard and cold against my ankle. I didn’t intend to tell them about her. Not until absolutely necessary. I wanted to find out what the hell was going on first.

  I followed the lead Sentry through a door to the inside of the castle. Gray stone surrounded us on all sides of the arched hallway. Alex ducked his head to keep
from scraping his antlers on the ceiling. Eventually, after a few twists and turns, we came to an open room with a vaulted ceiling. It made me think of a cathedral, with stained glass windows on the far wall and immaculate stonework. I peeked around the lead Sentry’s shoulder. An elaborate throne sat upon a platform, several steps leading up to it. But it was empty. A man with graying hair sat in a chair that only half-echoed the throne, the seat placed a few steps down from the top of the platform. The Steward Dunstan Hood. The setup threw me off a bit. Pretty elaborate for someone ruling over a chunk of forest with a wolf problem.

  “Sentry Martock with a report, sir,” the lead Sentry said with a short bow.

  Dunstan gestured for Martock to come forward. “Come in, come in. I hear you’ve brought us some visitors.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Martock moved into the room, Alex and I following. Dunstan Hood dressed similarly to his men; all black, but with no hat. He could have been in his late forties, early fifties. His face was etched with a few lines, and he hunched in a way that made him look more tired than he should have been for a guy who sat on a throne and did nothing for his people and their werewolf problem.

  Stop it, I reprimanded myself. He might not know. Though I still considered that to be odd. Wasn’t it his job to know?

  “This is Caroline McKenna,” Martock introduced me. He glanced at Alex and then decided not to try introducing a fully grown buck to his lord. “She claims to have important information about werewolves in the land and a prophecy that concerns them.”

  I gave him a sharp look for a split second. That was not what I had said.

  “Ah,” Dunstan said, sounding as if this were old news. His gaze focused on me, sharp and strong like a hawk’s. Impressive.

  “Werewolves are exiled young lady.”

  I bristled at being looked at as though I were nothing but an ignorant five-year old. “I beg your pardon, sir, but they are not.”

  An amused smile played over his face. “Is that so?”

  “They are back, and they intend to overrun this kingdom.”

  Behind me, the Sentries shifted restlessly. Dunstan still didn’t look impressed.

  “And how do you know this?”

  “Because I’ve seen them,” I exploded. Werewolves were running amok and killing cattle and people and this guy just looked at me like I was the newest entertainment. “I’ve fought with them. There’s a powerful sorceress controlling them. She tried to put me into a holding spell and succeeded with my brother here.”

  I’d slipped, but decided to use it to my advantage. They had to see how dangerous the woman was.

  “You mean,” Martock said, pointing at Alex, “that is a person?”

  “Yes,” I snapped. “And I can’t change him back, so I would appreciate it if you brought out some of your magicians to help me.”

  “We can’t do that,” Dunstan interrupted.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we have no magicians here.”

  Alex huffed and I went silent. Was that normal? Why would a king—or Steward—not keep any magic users around? I cursed to myself, wishing I knew. Then I realized there weren’t any servants nearby either. We were the only people in the throne room. For a big castle, it certainly was empty. Scary empty. Not normal empty.

  “Why don’t you tell us about this prophecy?” Dunstan said, standing. He clasped his hands behind his back.

  “It concerns a young girl. She is to be the one that breaks the curse on all wolves.”

  He said nothing.

  “You were waiting for her, weren’t you?” I pressed. “Marianne. She was coming to this place, wasn’t she?”

  A look of recognition flashed across his face. “You know where she is?”

  Oh ho, there we are. “Of course I do.” I decided to give them a bit more to chew on. “I’m her Guardian.”

  That elicited a few whispers from the Sentries. I glanced at Martock, but his face remained impassive. The Steward, however, stepped forward more eagerly.

  “Where is she?”

  “Safe.”

  “Where?”

  “Safe.”

  As if I would tell them. He and the entire castle gave me the creeps. Just like the red in Wolf’s eyes, something in this place was wrong. Dunstan was way too interested in knowing where Marianne was, and not in a good way. He looked…greedy.

  “You have to do something about the werewolves,” I said, trying to shift the conversation back to action.

  “Yes, yes, of course. But for now, you look as though you could use a nice room and a bath.”

  I blinked. Not what I expected. Wasn’t this guy even concerned? Was he senile? “But the werewolves—”

  “Yes, my dear, I know. We’ll talk about this more later. I’ll have a full dinner prepared. We can discuss it then. For now, allow Martock to show you to a room where you can clean up and pick out something more suitable to wear.”

  With that, he turned and went back to his chair. I stared after him, dumbstruck.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Miss,” he said, his voice loud and stern. I jumped in surprise. “This matter is well under my scrutiny. We will discuss it further in the future.”

  Whether by order of the Steward or to keep me from saying anything else, Martock took hold of my arm and half-dragged me off toward another hallway. Alex grunted and nipped at his hand. Martock swore and released me, but made sure I followed after him.

  “This whole place is screwed up,” I muttered, keeping pace with Martock. I glanced at him. “Is he always like that?”

  “The Steward is a very decisive man,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, there is something serious going on in your lands, and he wants to wait for dinner to assess it?”

  “We’ve been aware of the werewolves’ reemergence for some time.” He kept his voice low. Why?

  “And you’ve done nothing?”

  Martock said nothing, but his face was hard, as though he were thinking of something he’d rather not have on his mind.

  “What about Marianne?” I prodded.

  He glanced at me. “Do you really know where she is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why won’t you tell us?”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “And trust any of you? Look, ever since I stepped foot in these lands, I’ve almost been stabbed, roasted by giants, killed by slave traders, eaten by harpies, burned at the stake, attacked by werewolves, and locked away in some soul trapping spell,” and died from a broken heart, I added silently, “and you expect me to trust him or you when you take away my weapons and he wants to chat about a threat to his kingdom over pot roast? I don’t think so.”

  He narrowed his eyes, trying to assess me. “And where are you from?”

  “Not from here,” I said, and then clamped my mouth shut.

  We were silent the rest of the way, our footsteps faintly echoing in the stone halls, Alex’s hooves clacking much louder. Martock opened a door and gestured I should go inside.

  A lavish bedroom awaited me, the four-poster bed draped in sheets that looked like a mix of satin and silk with plump pillows at the head. A table and a clothes chest glossed to a fine sheen were tucked into corners, sundry items sitting atop them awaiting use. A large three-pane mirror sat beside the clothes chest. I feared what I might see when I looked in it. The room was nice and warm thanks to the fire. It crackled away in its hearth, a bit of merriment amidst this gloomy palace as the light caused the metallic accents on the furniture to gleam. A glass window was set in the opposite wall, etched with intricate designs as though Jack Frost had made a specific stop to decorate it. Another doorway was open at the far wall, but it was too dark for me to see where it led.

  “I’ll send some men up with warm water for you,” Martock said. He lingered at the door. “Is she really safe?”

  I took a second to mull over my response before saying, “She is. I’ve killed to keep her that way.”

  Not exac
tly true, but not entirely false either. I figured I might as well go all the way and at least look badass to these guys.

  Martock nodded, satisfied, and closed the door behind him. I waited a few minutes before heaving a sigh and leaning against Alex’s side. He touched his nose to my temple, leaving a small damp spot. I patted his face before shuffling over to the dresser and plucking a hairbrush from its surface. Then I began the long, arduous task of brushing the tangles out of my hair.

  Chapter 21

  I kept a wary eye on the men when they brought up the buckets of hot water. The bathtub sat in the room I hadn’t been able to see before. I found it interesting that bathrooms were their own separate spots in this castle considering what little I knew of medieval-style fortresses. By the time they showed up, I’d managed to get my hair straight again, though not without several painful yanks and a lot of patience. Alex was a gentleman while I undressed, looking out the window the entire time. I pondered what to do about Marianne at my ankle. I held a towel to my front.

  “Hey, come here.”

  Alex glanced back. I beckoned to him.

  “Keep an eye on this while I wash.” I took the key from my ankle and secured it around Alex’s neck. On my way to the bath, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Grungy, scarred by harpies and wolves and the glass from the cottage window. I ducked away from the image.

  I soaked for a long time, formulating ideas, throwing others out, making plans and revising them. How to attack. Where to find weaponry if I needed it. How to escape. Where the hell the magic I felt was coming from. It seemed to be everywhere. Pervading the stones somehow. It felt…protective. But not in a good way. I tried to figure out how to get the Steward to take the Mistress’s threat seriously. Wondered what Martock’s deal was.

  The warm water soothed my aching muscles, thawed my chilled skin, seemed to ooze into my very bones and melt the marrow in them. Finally I grabbed some soap off an ornately fashioned metal side table and scrubbed furiously at my hair and skin, sloughing off the sweat, blood, and dirt I’d accumulated since my dip in the lake. I almost laughed when the thought popped into my head; how long would it be before I was covered in blood and grime again? At length the tub became a pool of dirty water and I stood, rinsed myself with one last bucket of steamy water, and stepped out.