Black Wolf

by Steph Shangraw

  She sighed, and got up. “I’m going to have a bath and go to bed,” she said tiredly. “See you in the morning.”

  Alfari gave her an exasperated look, and rejoined Bryan, curling again into her place at the back of his knees.

  His expression was troubled, but he let her go. “Sleep well.”

  44

  Rebecca shook mud off her paws, stepped up on the front porch, and shifted to human. On still-muddy bare feet, she went inside. It had been a short run; it wasn’t nearly as much fun when the moon was dark.

  From the living room, she heard Moira’s voice, chanting. Rebecca frowned, trying to make out the words. Neither English nor French, she realized in sudden anger.

  She strode into the living room, and jerked the terrified white cat out of Avryl’s hands an instant before Moira’s knife descended—the blade came away with fur on it, but no blood. The cat yowled, scratched her arm, and bolted for the shadows behind the couch.

  Within the pentagram painted on the black silk stood a tall woman whose delicately-scaled skin was covered only by her own golden hair; her expression of anticipation turned utterly neutral, impassive.

  “What are you doing?” Duayne demanded. “We’re right in the middle…”

  “I told you no more! I don’t care what you’re right in the middle of! Is this why you’ve all been so cooperative lately? Because you’ve been doing this behind my back?”

  Moira winced away, but Avryl stood very still, arms crossed, lips pressed tight together.

  “It isn’t at all reasonable for you to be giving commands that don’t relate directly to you,” the witch said. “We aren’t promising the coven to anything, we’ve been taking care of everything ourselves.”

  Rebecca snatched up a glass of what smelled like wine, and flung it at the large mirror on the wall. Both shattered dramatically, spreading bright shards and red liquid all over the floor. “I lead this coven. You do as I say!”

  “We’re going to keep doing it. We just have three options how. You could see the logic in it and agree that it’s our choice, or we can do it behind your back, or you can go find another coven to bully.”

  Rebecca stared at her, shock driving the anger away, turning it into ice. “Excuse me? Find another coven? I formed this coven!”

  Duayne shrugged. “It would amount to the same thing if we all left you. Don’t make us do that, Becky, please.”

  Again. This was all happening again. Rage surged, hot and blinding: she’d kill them all for this insult!

  No. She’d lost her temper completely the first time, in fury at the sudden betrayal. It had gained her absolutely nothing, and in fact she suspected it had been a major factor in Bane’s decision to intervene long-term, costing her Kevin permanently. She’d be stupider than a human to make the same mistake twice.

  Very likely, the consequences of their own actions would turn out be sufficient revenge. Clearly, there was nothing further she could do to influence matters. It seemed they’d chosen their course and very likely would only accelerate along it, passion and zeal overwhelming any caution or reason, until it came back to bite them.

  But she didn’t have to stay here and watch it happen, or be part of it.

  “Fine. I don’t know how long you think you’re going to last with only Karl to protect you, but have a good time with your demons. May they eat the lot of you.” She turned away, and climbed the stairs two at a time to her room. Her large, bright-patterned shoulder bag was in the closet; she stuffed into it such things as she’d need right away, closed the door behind her, and went back downstairs.

  “Please, Rebecca, don’t go,” Moira said entreatingly.

  “Since my authority apparently counts for nothing anymore, I’m hardly going to hang around and be insulted.” She reached behind the couch, caught the cat by the scruff of the neck, and dragged it struggling out. She wasn’t about to leave it here so they could finish their ceremony in peace as soon as she was gone. Without another word, she left the house, grabbing jacket and shoes on the way.

  Outside, it was harder to hold the cat. She finally wrapped it tightly in her jacket.

  Though her reputation was bad in certain circles, she still had a few friends. One was her aunt Sylvia, with whom she’d lived for a time when she’d first come to the college.

  Sylvia opened the door, wrapped in a fuzzy brown robe almost the shade of her hair; she didn’t look like she’d been in bed.

  “It’s late for visits, Becky. Is something wrong?”

  “Can I stay here? I just had a rather major fight with my coven. I’d rather get away from them for a couple of days.” Not even Sylvia would she tell the truth, that if Whitethorn still existed, it was without her. She’d have to think of a way to hide the fact that she wouldn’t be celebrating Beltaine with her coven in a few days.

  “Of course you can.”

  The white cat squirmed madly, and mewed plaintively.

  “Gods,” Sylvia said, startled. “What have you got in there?”

  “Just a cat. I’m going to take it to Samantha tomorrow.” She hadn’t even realized she intended to, but there was a certain sense in it. This cat would never become a sacrifice to a demon once it was safely in Sam’s hands. In that small way, at least, she could triumph.

  The Quicksilver Sphynx

  Miscellanea, May 1995

  Nick ‘Winter

  Wasn’t the weather amazing for the Earth Day celebration Coven Sky-Drum organized? No one could’ve asked for a more beautiful sunset! It was even natural, as far as I could tell, there didn’t seem to be any witchy influence involved.

  Aaron and Josh’s handfasting party was worlds of fun, and I’ve never seen either of them happier. Beautifully done, Dragonfire. As for that improvised elvenmage fireworks display… the party couldn’t have had a better ending.

  The usual witches’ get-together is being planned for the full moon in June this year. The weekend of the 10th and 11th, actually, which is a little before it. As always, call Dion if you want info. As for the healers, I haven’t been told anything and neither has Liam, so if there is one at all, you’ll have to find it alone.

  Coven Amrita is doing another astronomy session. Come out to the pasture beside Coven Blackbird’s house at dusk on the 12th, there’ll be lots of hot water and the bakery is providing some snacks but bring whatever else you want and expect to be sitting on the ground some of the time. Coven Amrita and the college are providing telescopes. I’m told it will be the usual mix of science and mythology.

  July and August are sounding more and more fun all the time.

  One of the events coming up is, gods save us, Werewolf Wargames (I was told I had to capitalize it). It’s being organized the same weekend in all five villages, the evening of Friday July 14th to the evening of Sunday the 16th. Each pack has a territory and a flag, and has to defend them against all opponents while attempting to steal other flags. Or something like that, I got the feeling I was being laughed at while certain wolves attempted to explain this to me.

  The Renaissance Faire is progressing well, but there’s still plenty of opportunity to get involved. Get in touch with Covens Prism or Shadowstar for more info.

  Number three big event: the folks at Pan’s Flute have been helping to organize another inter-village event, this one in August and I’m told new plans are now for it to overlap with the Faire. Haven is playing host to a musical competition that apparently once happened every five years but hasn’t for nearly thirty years now. All traditional Celtic instruments, and the judges and audiences will decide who’s the best with each. I’ve heard speculation about a Native version, a rock version, and gods know what else. Maybe we can have one yearly and just rotate the type?

  Vesta’s Hearth has done so well selling us handmade candles and pottery and such made by that improbably creative Coven Shadowstar that they’re expanding. Well, that’s sort of why. They also found a new coven member, that Renata met while in Ravenrock to check out The Sun Crown (for
you barbarians who haven’t been there, it’s the Ravenrock equivalent). She also happens to be my cousin Chandra. Just wait ‘til you see what new magic she’s going to be bringing to Vesta’s Hearth! She makes candles with the most incredible colours and scents, and no two are ever precisely alike.

  If you aren’t aware of this, you should be. All witches sure are. The lake, and for that matter the water in wells and springs, appears to be rather disturbed about something. No one has managed to track down the source yet, although the most common reply to any search is to the effect of, feelings of great loss and loneliness. We’ll keep trying, especially the water-oriented witches, who don’t even dare try the new techniques in the book Dion found, not under conditions like this. As far as anyone can tell, there’s nothing actually dangerous, at least.

  I’ll see what kind of update I can give you for June. Ciao!

  45

  Sleepily, Patrick opened his eyes, and smiled in contentment. Gently, he ran a hand down the curved side of the woman lying next to him. Human, ungifted, much too strong-willed to break easily, she was no use to him as prey, but he’d noticed her anyway, the strong sensuality she broadcast in every gesture, every shift in her expressive features. She carried somewhat too much flesh on her bones to fit society’s current opinion of beauty, but any man who couldn’t see what this woman had to offer a lover deserved to miss out on it. The light of the setting sun washed over her tanned skin, her shoulder-length brown hair, tingeing it all with crimson, picking up highlights not present in artificial lighting.

  He thought she might even have been willing, even for only the few days he’d be here in this city; he might not have needed the mental suggestion that had ensured she couldn’t reject him.

  She stirred, moving towards his hand with a small contented noise, and rolled onto her back to look up at him with a warm smile. Patrick lowered his head to kiss her, hand caressing her ample breasts, the soft roundness of her belly.

  “Mmm… oh, god, I wish I could stay here with you, but I’m supposed to be at work, I’m on the night shift this week. After tonight, I have the weekend off, though…”

  He considered charming her into forgetting about other obligations, but he’d enjoyed the day so much, she didn’t deserve that. He could make sure she kept coming back to him until he moved on, though.

  “Tomorrow?” he murmured. “I’ll take you out to dinner, and afterwards we can pick up where we left off.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She stretched, which did fascinating things to her profile, and after a last kiss, untangled herself. “You can stay here, if you like. It’ll save you looking for a hotel.” She smiled again. “And I’ll know where you are.”

  So generous, so trusting… it took almost no power to nudge her into the offer.

  “Thank you.”

  She vanished into the bathroom; he stayed where he was, uninterested in the details of her personal hygiene, no matter how much he appreciated the results. He watched her dress, noted the flirtatiousness of every move, the sexiness of the black lace underwear that no one else would see but he would know was there. Vivid, fiery red would suit her, too. He made a mental note to see about getting her some, so he could see her in his colours.

  Only after she left did he bother to get up and find his clothes.

  “Master?” Sikial said tentatively, peeking in the door.

  “Yes?”

  “I have a message for you, master, from a greater one than I. It asks that you call it here to speak to you. It has an offer for you, and says it would be best to discuss it with you personally.”

  This was a new development—he couldn’t recall any demon ever initiating an exchange before.

  “I need its name.”

  “I’ve been given that, to give to you, master.”

  More and more interesting. What could a demon want so badly that it would give him its name, and thus a great deal of power over it?

  Normally, he didn’t bother with trivialities like pentagrams, but given the irregularity of this situation…

  He headed for the kitchen, and rummaged around. The first thing that came to hand was a bag of flour; not ideal, but it sufficed to create a thick line on the linoleum; he checked that it wasn’t broken anywhere, before he set the flour aside and positioned himself next to the circle.

  The words of summoning were a formality, a way to focus and make sure he invited the proper demon into this plane.

  In the centre of the circle it took shape, as a classical satyr; it inspected its prison briefly, and a frown flickered across its face, but it turned a smile to Patrick.

  “Thank you for allowing me the chance to speak with you.”

  Patrick nodded. “You have my attention. What is it you want?”

  “A bargain, which will be to the benefit of us both. I know of a way to give you the power to control electricity.”

  Patrick’s eyes widened. “That isn’t an elven ability.”

  “Normally, true,” the satyr conceded. “But there is sufficient similarity to elven power that, I believe, it would be possible to give you a great deal of influence over electricity. Lightning would, I suspect, be too strong to chain, but in smaller amounts…” It trailed off suggestively.

  Patrick licked his lips. All his bargains with Sikial and the others had done is reinforce natural elven abilities and free him from the need for light to draw power from, as long as he had the opportunity to draw it from Sikial instead; nothing he could do was impossible for another elvenmage. To have a power no other elvenmage had, though…

  “There must be a high price.”

  The satyr smiled. “Free me for one night, to hunt as I wish. This is a thing which will require the power of death, and I know the right ones to choose, that will allow me to gather that power. A sister and brother, and their other brother and his friend. The lives of these four will be enough.”

  “What do you gain from this?”

  “The deaths of those whose lives will give you this power.”

  Patrick considered asking why, or who the people in question were, but he decided he was probably better off not knowing exactly what they’d done to annoy a demon to that degree. And he really didn’t want to know their names, if they were just going to die anyway.

  “For one night,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care. “For this coming night, I will give you the freedom of this world, to take what prey you choose, anyone except myself. And in return, you will give me the power to manipulate electricity, to the greatest extent you can.”

  “You have my gratitude,” the satyr said, and that grin showed very sharp teeth. “I will come tomorrow night, and fulfil my side of the bargain.”

  “That will do.” Patrick nodded in satisfaction. “Go.”

  The satyr immediately vanished from the pentagram.

  Patrick looked down thoughtfully at the flour all over the floor, then sighed and fetched the broom to clean it up. He had no desire to keep walking through it, from now until Pamela came home, and it was less effort than convincing her to do it without asking questions.

  A shower might be nice, he decided once he’d finished, long and scalding hot, and allowing him a chance to reflect on what he could do with his new ability.

  Somewhat belatedly, he wondered whether he should have declared the Lioren mage, the annoying human, and the black wolf off limits as well. He considered that, while he turned on the water and stripped.

  No, he concluded, as he stepped into the steaming water. What were the odds, realistically, that of the six billion people in the world, any of those three would be among the ones this demon wanted? And if, by some astronomical chance they were, well, it would be disappointing to be denied a satisfactory revenge, but knowing that their deaths had contributed to his power so directly would go a very long way towards making up for it.

  46

  Wearily, the two wolves loped along the deer-trail, each carrying a backpack. They could make much better time furform, and afte
r the alarmingly frequent demon attacks of late, they wanted to keep moving as much as they could.

  Although where it was they were running to, Aindry had no idea.

  She couldn’t recall ever having been so very exhausted, right down to her bones. All too often she was certain Jaisan was going to lie down and not get up, and that only the lingering hope of finding Jess kept him moving.

  The deer-trail came to a lake, a rocky shore that sloped sharply down to the water two feet below. Aindry let go of her pack, and scrambled down to the edge for a welcome drink. Jaisan plunged his muzzle into the water beside hers, lapping fast as a cat with cream. She nipped his ear to remind him to slow down before he made himself sick, and he reluctantly obeyed.

  She caught a glittering out of the corner of her eye, and raised her head again to look. No, nothing that she could see. It was only the glint of starlight and cottage lights and the thin crescent of the very young moon on the ripples farther out on the lake. She lowered her head back to the water.

  Jaisan yelped in pain and shock; she jerked her head up once more, barely in time to see him being dragged into the water by something dark and glistening wrapped around his ribs. She lunged towards him, plunging under the water after him, frantically snapping and clawing at the thing that held her little brother. Jaisan’s thrashing only made it harder.

  Her skin crawled as she felt a cold, questing touch against her side. She twisted away and broke the surface, panting. No time to catch her breath, Jaisan was still under there.

  This time, she went after the thing a few feet past Jaisan, and sank her teeth into something rubbery and acidic. Grimly, she bit down with all the force of a werewolf’s jaws, wishing she had solid ground under her feet to give her leverage.

  A scream made her head ring, and it snaked towards her—releasing Jaisan, blessedly. Both came up for air at the same moment, dog-paddling towards shore with more energy than she’d believed they still had. Jaisan slipped on the slope up, his breath coming in ragged gasps; Aindry dug in all four feet and blocked him from a fall back into the water with her own body, barely.