The Wrath of Wolves

by Kelley York

  From here, Philip and I have a clear view across the ground floor to where Louisa is poised at the front door and Hugo is lounging in a chair not far from her, boots kicked up onto a nearby table. Other than this lone girl, we found no other staff on the property, and judging by the single small room off the kitchens, it’s safe to say that anyone else who works here likely doesn’t live here.

  “What’s taking them so damn long?” Philip mumbles, casting a glance towards the stairs.

  A good question. Now and again I pick up the sound of footsteps crossing an upstairs floor, the creak of floorboards. Sometimes muffled voices.

  My heart picks up speed seemingly out of nowhere. A heavy, swift drumming as though I’ve just run a lap around the property. When Philip next exhales one of his restless sighs, the air in front of his face frosts. I puff out a breath. I can see it. It was not this cold when we arrived.

  A heavy thud comes from overhead, something bodily crashing to the floor. From the corners of the room, darkness ripples like curtains in the breeze. Whispers of voices long since dead caress my ears.

  I bolt for the stairs with dread coursing through my veins. The others are at my heels, but I scarcely notice them as I dart down the hall, searching for Benjamin. When we come to an open door, the first thing I see is Crane prone in front of the fireplace with Sid crouched beside him, hand upon his arm. Carlton, white-faced and shaking, is on his knees nearby. I see the figures looming in every shadow imaginable, gaping mouths and dead eyes, teeming like rats.

  Then I see Benjamin, motionless on the floor.

  A strangled sound catches in my throat as I rush to his side and gather him up. His skin is like ice, his lips tinged blue. But his pulse, although thready, is still present. I can see the rise and fall of his chest. Thank God, he’s alive.

  “Christ Almighty,” Louisa says, surveying the scene. “What the hell happened?”

  “H-he tried to kill me,” Carlton stammers as he points at Crane, white-faced and shaking. “He touched me and…”

  Sid cuts him off. “We need to get out of here. We got the box, that’s all we came for. Phil, help me with him. Lou, the box is on the desk there.” She hoists one of Crane’s arms around her shoulders while Philip goes to the other side to do the same. Crane is tall and lean; between the two of them, they manage to get him off the floor with minimal effort. Every shadow shies away from Sid when she passes them by, frightened by the spirit attached to her.

  Carlton looks to me this time, disoriented. “He tried to kill me. Don’t leave me with these things. Please, don’t go.” He crawls to me, grabbing hold of my arm. His skin is just as cold as Benji’s, his grip like cold fire. “They’ll kill you, too, if you go,” he whispers. “The Order destroys everything, one way or another. Solomon’s promises will never be fulfilled. He—”

  Hugo steps around me, gun drawn, and fires a shot against the man’s temple. Carlton’s mouth continues moving for a split second before he crumples sideways to the floor.

  “God fuckin’ damn it, Hugo!” Sid snarls. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

  She sounds far away. My ears are ringing. There is blood on the floor, on the fireplace mantel, on my shirt. I choke back a sound, shaking, fury and fear mixing into one invariable storm inside me.

  “Get up,” Hugo growls. “Before I shoot you, too.”

  I obey out of pure reflex. I gather Benji into my arms and push to my feet. He’s small but he’s still dead weight, and I must steady myself to keep from dropping him. My legs feel like pudding, too weak to hold me, let alone us both. Yet, somehow, I manage to follow them briskly out of the room. The shadows have descended into the rest of the house, as though someone has thrown open a door to some other realm.

  A desperate cry from the kitchen has me halting in my steps. The maid. Hugo slows, gun at the ready, until Louisa slams a hand into his arm and says, “Go.”

  “We can’t just leave her!” I turn to look where she’s still fastened to her chair. Her eyes meet mine, impossibly wide and terrified as the dead shuffle around her, flickering in and out of view. Benjamin would never forgive me if he learned I left this poor girl here, and yet…

  I do not trust them to take Benjamin on ahead. I do not trust the ghosts to lay him down while I untie the maid. Benji’s safety is more important than anything else.

  “Lord, forgive me,” I whisper, hurrying after the others.

  We half-run across the dark property, tall grass whipping at my legs, low branches and brush snagging my clothes. The voices finally begin to fade, the heavy chill steadily lifting the more distance we put between us and that house. I hug Benji to my chest, never permitting my eyes to stray, always remaining locked upon the group ahead of me. The lonely glow of our carriage lanterns guides us through the trees. Hugo and Louisa haul themselves into the driver’s seat while Philip and Sid make careful work of loading Crane into the cab. Philip then leans back out. “Come on!”

  I don’t move. Why should I? They have what they wanted. I could take Benji right now and get the hell out of here, run as far as I possibly could. I do not have our belongings or anything else, but does it matter? I’ll find another way for us to get home. I need to get him safe.

  Hugo starts to climb back down, sneering hideously, gun still in hand. “Get in the damn cab, boy.”

  I meet his eyes. There isn’t a doubt in my mind he would gladly grasp for any excuse to shoot me now.

  So, in I go.

  No one speaks a word the entire drive back. Crane doesn’t stir and Benji only does so towards the end of the trip. He turns, pressing his face into my chest. My legs have long since gone a bit numb from cradling him in my lap, but I refuse to relinquish my hold on him.

  “Benji?”

  “Mm.” His long lashes flutter, revealing dark, tired eyes. “What’s happened…?”

  I could cry out in relief. Instead I hug him to me, squeezing my eyes shut. “I should be asking you that.”

  He appears to be coming to his senses swiftly as he twists in my arms to look across at the others, takes in the sight of Crane, still motionless. He begins to push himself up to sitting, all awkward limbs.

  “Is he—”

  “He’ll be fine,” Sid says in a tone as chilly as her stare. “Dunno what you did when you grabbed him, but clearly it didn’t work out well for anyone.”

  Benji bites his lip. “The ghosts…”

  “They were everywhere,” I murmur, stroking his hair back. “I saw them.”

  “Think we all did.” Philip is staring at Benjamin as though he’s grown a second head. “What did you do back there? What the hell was all that?”

  “I don’t know. I realized he was going to kill Mr. Carlton so I grabbed him to stop him and everything just…” He stills, swallows hard. “I’ve never seen anything like that. I don’t know what we did, but—Good Lord, what about Mr. Carlton? Is he all right?”

  Sid opens her mouth to respond and I cut her off. “He’s fine.” I pin our companions with a stare, daring them to contest me. “Everyone’s fine, Benji.”

  I do not want to lie to him, but I can’t stomach the idea of seeing his face when he hears that someone died because of us. Not to mention if he learned about the girl we left behind to some possibly horrible fate… It would wreck him. He’d never forgive me nor himself.

  I’ll carry that burden for the both of us.

  Sure enough, Benjamin relaxes, going boneless in my arms and dropping his tired head to my shoulder. “Oh. Good,” he says. Within mere moments, he’s asleep.

  Sid holds my gaze when I look at her again, her mouth downturned and displeased. “Smart idea. He’ll find out.”

  “Only if one of you lot opens your mouth. And I’ll caution you not to do that.”

  She purses her lips but doesn’t call me on my obvious threat. “Benji. That’s his name?”

  Damn. I’d forgotten we never had told them our names. “Not really any of your business.”

  “Just curio
us, is all. Don’t see much point in secrecy now.” She shrugs, turning her attention out the window to the darkness rolling by.

  She has a point, to be sure. What would they be able to do with our first names? But I prefer to err on the side of caution where they’re concerned. All I want to do is to get back to San Francisco, open that bloody box, and get the hell out of here.

  It’s nearly three in the morning by the time we roll to a stop outside the old building. Benji rouses reluctantly. I keep an arm round his middle as I help him from the carriage, not bothering to see if the others need assistance with Crane. Not my problem. I get Benji inside, laying him down on our little palette of blankets, removing his shoes, and covering him up. I slide out of my coat to fold it and tuck it under his head.

  That done, I push up my sleeves and return to the main room. There, Philip, Sid, and Louisa have got Crane on a bedroll in the corner. Funny how small and vulnerable the man looks like this, with his people rallied around him like wolves protecting one of their own. Only Hugo seems on the outskirts, alienated, watching the lot of them as though he has half a mind to take out that revolver and start shooting again.

  The sound of gunfire still echoes in my head. When I close my eyes, I see the side of Carlton’s skull exploding in bits of bone and brain. I shudder, biting back the nausea. Small blessing that Benjamin was out cold for it. He’d have nightmares the rest of his life. I’m not so certain that I won’t.

  From the moment I step into the room, Hugo’s eyes are on me. “What are you doing out here?”

  I’m in no mood for him. “Oh, am I still a prisoner? Make no mistake, the moment my friend wakes, we’ll be leaving. I suggest you do not try to stop us.”

  Hugo straightens up to his full height. “Or what?”

  I shouldn’t be picking fights. I already know I can’t win against Hugo. Certainly, not against all of them. Yet all I can think about is Benji lying on the floor in that house, the panic that had surged through every nerve in my body. I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened—and it’s because of this lot.

  “Or it would do you well to watch your back at all times lest I get a hold of that gun and shove it down your throat,” I snap. “We’ll keep up our end of the bargain. You had better keep yours.”

  I don’t wait for him to respond before whirling on my heel and marching back to the room. I do not fancy us being locked in again tonight, so I take a seat near the door, slouched against the wall, and watch Benji sleeping across the room.

  Lord, what have I got us into? Can we really expect these people to let us go after we’ve given them what they want? Crane might be furious with Benji’s earlier intervention, and Hugo—well, he’s had it out for us since the train station.

  I remain awake, staring across the room, straining to hear any conversation elsewhere in the building. For a while I hear the others murmuring amongst themselves, but it doesn’t last long before they’ve settled and, I suspect, gone to bed. It must be close to five when Benji stirs again, rolling slowly onto his side and opening his eyes, meeting my gaze through the darkness.

  “Preston…?”

  “I’m here,” I call softly, getting to my feet to go to him. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

  He sits up. “Head’s a big foggy. But...all right, I think. Where are the others?”

  I crouch at his side, elbows resting on my knees. He looks all right. Perhaps a little tired, a little disoriented, but well enough. “Asleep. Look, I think we ought to sneak out. We may have some time. We could nick the carriage and horse and get as far out of town as possible. What do you say?”

  A frown tugs at his face as he struggles to mentally catch up. “But we made a deal.”

  “I don’t think they’ll honour that deal, Benji. Do you?”

  A pause. “They… They might.”

  “Is might worth our lives? I say we make a run for it now.”

  “What of the box?”

  Ah, damn it all. The bloody box. “Honest opinion? We ought to leave it. They’ll have what they want, and no reason to come after us, right?”

  He bites at his lower lip, troubled. “But Ellie…”

  I reach out, touching my fingertips beneath his chin. “Wasn’t it you who recently told me that we can’t fix everything? This might be one we have to let alone, sweetheart.”

  Benji’s expression smooths out, mouth drawn taut. “I am not leaving without that skull.”

  I pull back and shove a hand through my hair. “Damn it, Benjamin.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he says tersely. “I’ve asked for nothing this entire trip. I’ve gone along with it, every step of the way, even when I thought it was a bad idea. But this? This is important to me. If you’re afraid, then go on without me, but I am not leaving here without at least trying to help that woman.”

  “Even at the risk of getting caught or killed?”

  “Suffering the same fate as Mr. Carlton, you mean?” he asks.

  I freeze. “What—”

  He scowls. “I saw the way Sid looked at you when you said everyone was fine. I woke to blood on my shirt—and yours. Unless you have another lie squirreled away to explain that?”

  Damn it all. I grit my teeth, guilty but frustrated all in the same breath. “I was only… I didn’t want to upset you.”

  His frown deepens. “Lying to me is never a good alternative. Will you help me or do you want to go home alone?”

  “I would never abandon you when you needed me,” I reply softly, feeling well and thoroughly chastised. Especially since Carlton’s death is hardly the only thing that I’m keeping from him. If I told him about the girl we’d left behind, he’d no doubt beg for us to return to the house. Maybe we should. Yet what good would we be able to accomplish if we tried? We have no experience in banishing ghosts, let alone hundreds of them and restraining whatever it was Crane and Benjamin accidentally unleashed. Perhaps after we left, the issue cleared up on its own. If so, us returning there while the maid is no doubt summoning the police to investigate Carlton’s murder would not be wise.

  Lord, my head is hurting from trying to think this through. What is the right answer? What would James say? Aunt Eleanor?

  They’d never have left the damned house to begin with, something tells me. I grit my teeth, staving off the overwhelming guilt.

  One thing at a time, I decide. “Let’s open the chest. Take the skull, leave the rest, and then get out of here. We’ll have kept our end of the deal and won’t give them cause to follow—aside from stealing their horse, I guess.”

  Benjamin’s features begin to relax into an easy smile. “Thank you.”

  I pat his leg and rise to my feet, offering a hand to help him up. “Best not to thank me ‘til we’re out of here alive.”

  We make quick work of gathering our things, ensuring all travel documents and our money is where it ought to be. Easing into the hall, I stop to listen for sounds from the main room. If any of them are awake and keeping watch, this entire plan will have been for nothing.

  Silence. The lamps have been put out. Good.

  At the entrance to the main room, I stop to count out the various lumps asleep in their respective bedrolls. Crane still lies unmoving in the corner, with Sid a foot or so away. That must be Louisa against the far wall, hidden almost entirely under a blanket, and Philip beside her.

  Hugo, however, is slouched against the wall to my left. He does not turn or lift his head, so he must be asleep. I allow a few seconds to pass by before I dare to step out into the room. Benjamin is at my back, a hand fisted in my shirt sleeve.

  In the centre of the room, we come to a halt, surveying the area. Benjamin releases me and begins to pick his way toward Nathaniel Crane and Sid. I grimace, but admittedly, he’s smaller and much better at moving quietly than I am.

  The box is tucked up against some of their other belongings, right between where Sid and Crane’s heads are resting. Beneath his feet, the floor gives an ominous creak.

 
Benji stills. I hold my breath.

  Sid sighs, shifting in her sleep, but does not wake. Crane is as still as the dead.

  Benji steals a relieved look over his shoulder at me before bending to retrieve the box. As soon as he’s returned to my side, I begin to usher him for the door. I don’t feel I can truly breathe again until we’re outside in the early morning chill. I feel bad for their poor horse; being hitched to a cart all night could not have been comfortable, but I suppose there wasn’t a place open in the dead of night to house her when we got back from Carlton’s.

  We move around the edge of the building so we’re out of sight of the front door. I take the box, holding it while Benji spins the dials and presses them in. I wait for the click of it unlocking…but nothing happens.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I ask.

  Benji’s brows furrow. He adjusts the dials and tries again. Still nothing. “I… I don’t know. The combination we used last time isn’t working now. Perhaps it’s been changed?”

  “They didn’t know how to open the damned thing; how could it have changed?”

  “Maybe it’s random.” He lifts his gaze to me. “What do we do?”

  We ought to leave the box and get the hell out of here, is what we ought to do. And yet we’ve been over that; Benji wouldn’t be satisfied with that answer.

  Not that we’re given much choice. From around the corner of the building, the front door groans open. I hear a snuffle and a grunt. Philip steps into view, his back to us as he approaches the horse and gives her a pat on the neck. I shrink against the wall, nudging Benjamin back behind me. The other entrance to the alleyway is blocked; if we’re spotted, we’ll have to make a run for it.

  But Philip mumbles absently to the horse—“There’s a good girl, Rogue.”—takes a look around, and finally retreats back inside, never once looking our way. The door clicks shut and I let out a rush of breath.