by Megan Morgan
“The fire is spreading.” Kendrick huffed. “The trees have caught.”
“I have the healing water.” Lorena stood up. “I can complete the cure.”
“They are nearly here.” Kendrick’s chest worked hard, sweat mixed with blood on his skin. “There is no more time.”
Indeed, the howling was nearly on top of them. Another sound stared up then: a distant, muffled beat. Lorena was confused for a moment.
Deacon looked to the sky. “Choppers! The forest service. They’re coming to fight the fire. They must be able to see it from town.”
Lorena’s hopes shot up. “Maybe they’ll scare off the Wolvites. But if they don’t…”
She held her fingers over the bowl and shook them to get the water droplets off. A soft blue light flashed in the bowl and a thick odor filled her nostrils, the scent of living earth. Her hand tingled where it touched the bowl.
“It worked.” She breathed a sigh of relief.
Then, all hell broke loose.
Hunched forms streaked out of the trees. Growls filled the air. Hazel screamed. Lorena stumbled back to the edge of the pool.
Deacon and his cousins opened fire. Shotgun blasts blanked out the sound of snapping jaws. One fell as it attempted to charge her, taken down by Deacon. The boys picked them off as they came out of the trees, but there were more behind them. Kendrick transformed and jumped into the fray.
“It’s too late!” Neala shrieked, her body flung over Dafydd.
Lorena fumbled for the gun in her waistband. A Wolvite came at her, quick and snarling, and she fired. Her ears rang. She covered Hazel, who cowered in the grass with her arms over her head.
She shot two more. One fell right in front of her, splashing blood over her boots.
Deacon was the first to run out of ammo. He lowered his gun to reload and one of them leapt on his back. The two tumbled into the grass. Lorena aimed, but didn’t pull the trigger. She couldn’t risk hitting Deacon.
Time seemed to slow down. Her heart lodged in her throat and her ears buzzed, blocking out all sound. Deacon’s shirt was torn. His rifle fell into the grass. The others were too busy to help him.
She dropped the bowl and ran toward them, trying to get a clear shot, but then Deacon flipped the creature onto its back and grabbed its snout, holding its jaws closed.
She stopped short. She had never seen Deacon like this, bestial as the creatures who attacked him, the vicious sound that came from him not one any human could make. He punched the creature in the face. Then he wrapped both hands around its throat.
Deacon suddenly seemed twice his size, his eyes aglow as he choked the monster to death. He looked feral. The Wolvite gagged and sputtered, tongue lolling from its mouth, thick white spittle oozing out the corner. It slashed at Deacon with its claws but barely touched him.
Then it fell still, and Deacon sat on top of it, chest working, teeth bared, majestic and terrifying.
He rose quickly and looked at her. His eyes gleamed, predatory. He walked a few paces and snatched up his gun.
“I ain’t human either.” His voice was deeper, not entirely the man she knew.
Her heart pounded out of her chest. Her mouth was dry. She burned white hot with arousal.
“Not now,” she gasped. She looked around and aimed her gun.
One sprang on Jack. Before she could shoot, another Wolvite tackled it off him and tore its throat out.
The Wolvite blinked into Kendrick, who stood over his kill, bloody fists curled. Jack stared at him, mouth slack. Kendrick nodded. Jack nodded in return. Kendrick transformed and launched back into the fight.
A voice boomed through the trees. “Stop the carnage. Fall back!”
The Wolvites in the clearing—those who weren’t dead—dashed into the trees. Lorena finally took a breath and tasted the tang of gun smoke.
Abernathy marched forth. They all aimed at him.
“I would not do that if I were you.” He lifted his arms, but not in surrender. “I have more behind me, and if I fall, they will set upon you. Do you have enough bullets left?”
Lorena’s gun trembled in her hand as adrenaline quaked her limbs.
Kendrick blinked back into human form. He strode forward. “Stop this madness,” he snarled at Abernathy. “Too many Wolvites are dying. What does this prove, Abernathy? What are we to gain by this?”
The helicopters were closer now. High in the sky, in the distance, a search light shone. They wouldn’t be alone much longer.
Lorena shoved her gun in her holster, grabbed up the bowl, and walked toward Abernathy.
“I have it, I completed the cure. You said you would stop if I did.”
“Have you now?” His voice was riddled with disdain. “You found a White Witch?”
“I’m a White Witch, insofar as that means anything.” She held the bowl out to him. “Give it to Dafydd and see if it works. If it does, then you must stand down. We’ll negotiate.”
Abernathy peered at the bowl.
“See what an alliance can bring us?” Kendrick said. “See what good it can do?”
“I will not make alliance with Lycans.” Abernathy turned his glare on Kendrick. “What can Lycans give us but blood and destruction?”
“You give us blood and destruction!” Kendrick said. “How many have died tonight?”
Abernathy snarled at him.
“I’m not Lycan!” Lorena interjected. “I’m a witch, and I’m offering you the cure. Make peace with me.”
Abernathy looked to Dafydd. “Give it to him then, witch. Let me see.”
She took a deep breath. Would it work instantly? Would the proof show itself fast enough he might listen to her?
Would it matter at all, or was this just another trick?
She walked over to Dafydd. He was still breathing, though it was ragged and quick. The hair on his snout was gummed with spittle and his yellowed eyes had rolled back in his head.
Wolvites crept from the forest. They prowled near the trees and swished through the grass. They seemed to be watching. The boys aimed their guns, but no one fired.
Lorena knelt next to Dafydd and looked at Neala. “Help me give it to him. I don’t want to be bitten.”
Neala tilted his head back, so his bottom jaw dropped open. His black tongue flopped out, dry and swollen.
Abernathy loomed over them. He planted one bare, filthy, massive foot in the center of Dafydd’s chest. Dafydd let out a wheeze.
“Dump it in his mouth,” Abernathy said. “Now.”
The stuff in the bowl was thick, and Lorena had to use her fingers to loosen it. The slop fell in Dafydd’s mouth and some dripped out the corner. He gagged and heaved out a wet, choked breath as it slipped down his throat.
Lorena dug the rest of the gunk out of the bowl and deposited it all in his mouth. When the bowl was empty, she tossed it aside and wiped her fingers in the grass. Abernathy removed his foot and backed up.
Dafydd was still at first, then he growled weakly and thrashed around a little, his movements sluggish. Neala sat with her hands pressed beneath her chin and gazed at him with hopeful eyes.
“It may take time.” Lorena looked up at Abernathy. “Viruses don’t die instantly. I can make more, you’ll have to keep giving it to—”
Abernathy grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.
“Let go of her!” Deacon pointed his gun at Abernathy’s back.
A symphony of warning growls rose around the clearing.
“You want a negotiation?” Abernathy smirked coldly. “Very well, these are my terms. I have punished those who disobeyed me. I will leave the rest of you to your ashes and take the disobedient witch with me to punish.” He pointed at Neala, who shrunk back. “I will even allow the Lycans safe passage, though I will accept no further help from them. They will leave us alone and we will leave them alone in return.”
Lorena pulled at his grip, but it was like iron.
“And I will keep this witch.” He jerked Lorena toward him
. “She will be useful. She will serve me.”
Lorena stared at him in horror. “No!”
“Hell no,” Deacon said. “I’m about to put a bullet in your head, them’s my terms.”
The Wolvites closed in.
“I won’t go with you!” Lorena fought against his grip again. “I’ll help you, but of my own free will.”
“Those are my terms, I will not budge.” Abernathy drew his lips back, baring his teeth at Deacon. “Otherwise, we will kill you and I will take her anyway.”
Her gun was in her holster. Deacon could take a shot too. But if either of them retaliated, all these Wolvites—there were at least twenty, maybe thirty still—would swarm them. They could probably pick a few off, but they’d never get them all, and Hazel and Neala, defenseless, would be torn to pieces.
Kendrick approached Abernathy. His bloody hands hung at his sides. He puffed his broad, bare chest out. “No.” His voice was commanding. “This is over. I challenge you for your authority.”
Abernathy looked at him, eyes dark and shining. “What?”
“Your authority.” Kendrick drew himself up further. “I challenge you for it now.”
Lorena wasn’t sure what was happening, but it seemed to unnerve Abernathy. He let go of her and she quickly backpedaled. The air crackled with dangerous energy.
“I invoke the right of challenge,” Kendrick said. “Your authority is at stake, and I will take it if I am victorious. Do you accept?”
Lorena looked at Deacon. He still had his gun aimed at Abernathy, but seemed just as confused as her. Was this some sort of Alpha struggle? Was Kendrick challenging Abernathy to a fight to the death?
“Whelp!” Abernathy barked at him. “You would dare provoke me? Do you understand how much more powerful I am than you? Or how foolish you are to issue such a challenge?”
Kendrick had his head held high. He was smaller than Abernathy, but in Lorena’s estimation that meant he was quicker and more agile—at least, she hoped so.
“I challenge you for your authority,” Kendrick repeated. “Do you accept?”
Lorena glanced at the sky. The helicopters hovered over the orange glow, their spotlights pointed into the trees. They weren’t close enough to notice them.
“I will destroy you.” Abernathy spread his gigantic arms. “Your insolence will find your throat ripped out. Is that what you want?”
“Do you accept?” Kendrick growled. “Or are you a coward?”
Abernathy snapped his teeth. “I accept. Prepare to die!”
Kendrick spread his arms as well. “All those who bear witness, know the challenge has been made and accepted, and you must abide by the outcome. Say it is true!”
Howls erupted, though more tentative than before. Lorena looked around. Abide by the outcome? Did that mean if Kendrick won, they would bow to him?
“I want the Lycans stripped of their weapons.” Abernathy pointed at Deacon. “They are your allies now, it is an unfair advantage.”
Kendrick looked at Deacon. “Put down your weapons. Place them on the ground and back away. Do not interfere.”
Deacon lowered his gun. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“If I win,” Kendrick said, “you will have no use of them. No one here will harm you, I promise this. They will have a new master, and this master will not allow them to attack you.”
“And if you don’t win?” Lorena asked.
“We are all dead anyway.” Kendrick focused on Abernathy. “I am all that can save you now.”
Lorena couldn’t breathe. The repercussions of this moment were massive, no matter which way the scales tilted. Abernathy wouldn’t kill her, he would keep her prisoner at his whim, but he would kill everyone else, and she would wish she were dead.
“Put them down,” Kendrick said to the Lycans. “All of them, even your hidden ones.”
They did.
Chapter 22
The laws of Wolvites were unwritten and ancient, as revered as all sacred things in their culture. Nature ruled all, the moon Nature’s servant, and the Wolvites servants of the moon. Kendrick had learned these things in his youth, ages ago, back in the time before the humans and Lycans invaded the woods. He knew the laws with his whole heart and mind and he respected them.
The challenge of authority was the right of any Wolvite who found their leader lacking and unjust. Leaders ruled until they died, if they were worthy. In the long ago days, before even Kendrick was born, there were many leaders to watch over the thriving population. But the leaders had died, and there were less Wolvites now. That was how Abernathy had come to rule so far and wide.
Kendrick shifted into his true form. Old as he was, he had the ability to think and reason, to tap his knowledge, even when he became the animal. The younger ones did not and acted only with the desire of the beast. A young one could not challenge for power because of this.
Abernathy transformed as well. He was bigger and stronger, and more vicious, Kendrick knew. The fight would not be easy.
But this had to happen. Abernathy took no advice. He would not dispense with the old ways even when some of the concepts became obsolete. He kept them embroiled in ignorance. Even when the Lycans came with guns, he did not entertain the idea they should make alliances and learn to use weapons as well. Abernathy despised the weak and sickly. He killed his own to strengthen his ranks. He punished dissent. He cultivated fear instead of love and respect. He chose tradition over survival.
And they suffered. And they dwindled. And still he would not budge.
Kendrick could bear it no more. He could not let Abernathy lead them another day. He would depose him, or he would die trying, and perhaps, inspire others to depose him.
He had to be victorious. For his people, and for his new friends.
The Lycans had relinquished all their weapons and backed away. The witch Lorena—smart, cunning, powerful—clung to the arm of her Lycan mate. She reminded him of Bethany, how strong and noble she had been. He had watched Bethany bleed and die, unable to help her. His heart still ached. His heart ached more when he looked at Lorena, so much like her, even in appearance, with her raven locks and wide eyes, her white skin and supple form.
He would save her, for Bethany’s sake. Abernathy would torture and defile Lorena and he could not allow that.
Kendrick carried his courage with him as he charged at the gray bestial form of the one who called himself “leader.” He kept Bethany’s face in his mind as he leapt.
They clashed with howls to rip apart the Earth. Claws slashed, fangs sunk into flesh. They rolled in the summer grass, locked in a deadly embrace. Blood surged past Kendrick’s jaws and coated his tongue. It flew through the air.
Pain gripped him as teeth tore away his flesh and fur, as claws tore through muscle and met bone. He tried to use the pain to make himself stronger. The venom in Abernathy’s bite burned inside him and made his flesh boil. Abernathy fought hard, but erratically. Kendrick tried to use strategy instead.
He lunged for Abernathy’s throat, but the bigger Wolvite saw it coming and jerked to the side. Kendrick found Abernathy’s broad muscled shoulder instead and drove his teeth in, with a snap so hard his jaws ached. He pushed his own venom beneath Abernathy’s skin.
Abernathy flung him onto his back and Kendrick’s bones rattled in his burning flesh. The smoky sky spun above him, the stars peeking through the haze. Howls rose, excited and eager. So many of them were young and full of rage. Would they follow him? They were easy to mold to Abernathy’s desires. Would they bend under Kendrick’s hands as well, or would he have to drive them off or kill them?
Abernathy landed on top of him. Drool ran from the corners of his great, bloody maw. Kendrick slashed his chest and Abernathy howled.
They struggled again. Weakness threatened to creep in but Kendrick battled it back.
Lorena’s face swam before him, blanched and horrified. Lorena. Bethany? Her muffled shouts filled his ears.
He slashed hard across Abernathy
’s face and caught his eye. Abernathy recoiled, yelping.
Kendrick scrambled away and struggled to catch his breath. Abernathy writhed, paws closed over his face. Then he sprung at Kendrick with renewed ire.
The battle would not last much longer. Abernathy’s fury might soon win out, or Kendrick’s pain would.
Kendrick tried to tap his own bloodlust. The howls around them grew ever more furious. The shouts from the humans and Lycans rang through the clearing.
Abernathy gripped Kendrick’s throat so tight his air was cut off. He hovered over him, blood pouring from his face, one eye gone. Kendrick’s heart pounded against his aching ribs. Abernathy raised his other giant claw to deal the death blow.
In an act of desperation, Kendrick tapped all his energy, all his desperation, and reached up. He gripped Abernathy’s throat as well, in both hands, and squeezed.
Now they were choking each other. Kendrick’s vision faded and grayed. He let terror drive him, making him squeeze harder. Abernathy gagged, his tongue hanging from his mouth, his one eye sparkling gold.
Then the grip on Kendrick’s throat began to loosen. He drew a breath.
With that breath came a surge of energy. He released Abernathy’s throat as well and slashed it.
Blood spurted. Abernathy fell to the side. Kendrick crawled away, pulling in deep, heaving breaths.
The other Wolvites watched avidly, silent now with questioning eyes. Were they about to lose their leader and stand beneath a new one? Were they willing? Were they ready?
Was Kendrick ready?
Abernathy thrashed on the grass, his paw clamped to the side of his neck. He was bleeding out. The grass turned black with his blood.
Kendrick prepared himself to move in for the kill. He could do this.
Abernathy scrambled away and shifted into his human form. He lurched to his feet and stumbled, his hand still to his bleeding throat. His muscles rippled. Blood oozed from his empty eye socket.
Why had he transformed? Was he trying to run away?
He stumbled toward the pool. The Lycans backed away, but Abernathy lunged and swiped at them.
