White Fangs

by Christopher Golden

  "So we go and get her," Jack said. "If she's still with them, and still alive, we go and bring her back."

  "And if she's become one of them?" Sabine asked.

  Jack's face fell, and it felt as if his whole body suddenly weight too much for him to hold up. He closed his eyes, and the flesh wound across his chest throbbed with sudden pain. "I can't imagine," he said softly. "I just can't,,,."

  "So we go," Sabine said. "We go and see."

  "Of course. We've come this far." They held each other, and Jack was pleased when Louis announced that they were ready to leave. He'd had more than enough of this dead place.

  They left Lesya's domain and passed through the ravine where her previous victims were entombed. The last time Jack had been here, those poor men were trapped in the living trunks of trees, alive themselves in some terrible, parasitic form. Their blood was sap, or the trees' sap was blood, and they had rolled their eyes at him in mindless agony as he'd rushed by.

  Now Lesya's past conquests were dead as well. Several trees displayed the petrified faces, half-faces, or limbs of men trapped within them, while others seemed little more than deformed trees, shaped by knots and broken branches. Jack looked in silence, as did the others. He was glad that no one asked him who or what these things were. He thought perhaps everyone was starting to understand.

  Ghost was the only one to touch a tree. He ran his fingertips thoughtfully across one grained face, grunted, and then walked on.

  Leaving the shallow ravine hand in hand with Sabine, Jack felt a brief shudder passing through the woman he loved.

  "He begs us," Sabine said. "To bring her back. Jack, Leshii is begging us."

  "He knows we'll do our best," Jack said. He was keeping his own senses reigned in. He had no wish to touch on Leshii's mad mind, and he moved faster toward the edge of Lesya's old domain.

  Louis appeared before them, emerging from a dense wall of trees. "We have their trail," he said simply.

  "Then let's go get 'em," Callie said. "Daylight's wasting."

  The vampire hunters moved out together.

  Chapter Twelve - A Day's Dark Journey

  Jack and the others followed the stream that marked the edge of Lesya's forest northward. Whatever spiritual contact Sabine had made with Leshii seemed to be rejuvenating her, and she displayed a vitality that had not been in evidence since they had first begun their inland trek. Following this running water, meager stream though it was, could only have helped.

  Jack and Sabine walked side by side, a rich intimacy filling the space between them. On any other day they might have held hands, but after the bloodshed and terror of the previous night, they wanted to be prepared for attack. Everyone was tense. The day had begun with hazy clouds obscuring much of the sunlight, but patches of blue sky showed through now, and there was no hint of rain. From her long experience, Callie was certain that the vampires could not come out during daylight hours, but that did not make them feel safe. None of them could exhale today. They were marching into the vampires' den.

  Callie and Ghost led the way. Callie proved herself an adept tracker, finding the tracks of polar bears and humans alike — both left by the undead "leeches" she had come north to hunt — and gleaning much from the broken vegetation along the stream's path. Yet even without her help, they would not have lost their way. It had quickly become clear that Ghost had the scent.

  He frequently ran ahead, outpacing Callie, dropping to his hands and knees now and then to sniff the soil. When they transformed into wolves, there was a savagery to the others that made them beasts, but Jack had never seen Ghost give himself so completely to the animal part of himself. Once, he would have been too proud to root in the dirt for a scent, but now he forged ahead with single-minded determination.

  "He has forgotten himself," Sabine said, as they crossed the stream, following the vampires' trail.

  "Maybe," Jack said. "Or maybe he's finally accepting the animal he really is."

  A splash behind them made Jack turn and he saw that Louis and the Reverend had come up closer than he'd realized. The thoughtful look in Louis's eyes made it clear that he had heard Jack and Sabine's conversation.

  "Louis," Jack began, "just because Ghost is an animal — "

  "Mon ami," Louis said solemnly, "we have no illusions. We are not ordinary men."

  The Reverend walked through the stream with his gaze downcast, tall and grizzled and ominous. When he looked up, Jack saw that his eyes were full of a sad wisdom.

  "Neither are we ordinary beasts," the Reverend said. "We are both. Perhaps you think us knowing this means you failed, but that's not it. You helped us see that we can choose how to live, and choice is everything."

  The four of them were walking together, now, and Jack looked ahead again, watching Ghost's hulking form move along the river. Even standing, he seemed now to lumber more than he had before.

  "Ghost made his choice long ago," Louis said.

  Sabine shook her head. "I disagree. For most of his life, he believed the choice was between monster and man. He believed that 'beast' was the same thing as 'monster.' Now he is acknowledging a third choice — one that is perhaps more pure."

  Silence followed her words as Jack, Louis, and the Reverend let that observation simmer in their thoughts. Jack wasn't sure what to make of Ghost, now. During the night, he had seemed to embrace his monstrous side, to relish the killing and bloodshed and the heat of battle. But this morning Ghost had seemed distracted, and the longing glances he had directed toward Sabine ever since they had reconnected with him in Portland had ceased completely. It was as if he had forgotten that she was his sole reason for being here.

  Jack could only wonder why.

  As they walked, a strange sensation shivered down the back of Jack's neck. It took him a moment to realize that the feeling was fear . . . but not his own. Curious, he glanced over his shoulder and saw his wolf skirting the shadows of low brush at the river's edge. As their eyes met, Jack felt a wave of grim trepidation roll over him. He faltered, stumbled, and for an instant that fear was his own.

  "Jack?" Sabine asked, searching his face for some hint of his trouble.

  "I'm all right," he said. "I'll trip over my own feet if I'm not careful."

  She smiled, unconvinced, but didn't push him for a more honest answer. Jack was glad. He would not have known how to properly express the fear that clenched at his heart — was it the wolf's, or his own? If the wolf was so afraid of what lay ahead that it followed on behind, unwilling to join them but unable to leave Jack entirely to his fate, wasn't that reason enough to feel terrified?

  Throughout Jack's life he had encountered moments when he was able to lift the veil of normality and witness the secrets of the world; the sometimes frightening, sometimes inspiring spiritual and supernatural truths that other people either could not or would not see. He knew that ghosts, magic, and witchery existed. There truly were such things as curses, and there existed beings possessed of ancient power who had survived into modern times on the periphery of human society. He had embraced those truths and relished the journeys that led to such discoveries. But though some of the things he had encountered were full of menace, they had never seemed truly evil to him. Even the accursed Wendigo had been more a beast than a monster. Jack had explored the shadows of the world and been excited by what he'd found, but now he had discovered that there were things darker than shadows, and deeper than night.

  The wolf felt it, too. They would both rather have been anywhere else.

  Jack would have turned back and thought himself smarter for it, if not for Sabine. So they went on. He understood his reasons and Sabine's, and even Callie King's, for she was driven by vengeance and hatred of the vampires. But Ghost, Louis and the Reverend were another story. He had led Louis and the Reverend on a quest that had already cost two of their former crewmates their lives, so why should they continue? Just to prove themselves men?

  Jack knew it was much more than that. They continued on this q
uest not because they'd given their word or because they wanted to aid Sabine. The werewolves marched deeper into vampire territory because they relished the chance to fight real evil. Real monsters. For so long they had thought of themselves in those terms that killing vampires made them feel, for a while, at least, more like ordinary men. Full of fear, and hope, and fragile ambitions for the future.

  They trudged up a ridge that ran northwest away from the stream. Ghost had paused at the top of the ridge, but Callie had continued onward. Louis, the Reverend, and Sabine followed Callie, but Jack frowned and hesitated beside Ghost. The former captain inhaled deeply before scanning the stream off to the right and then the higher ridges ahead.

  "Something troubling you?" Jack asked, wondering if Ghost had sensed some unexpected menace.

  "Why did she want you, Jack?" Ghost asked.

  "Wouldn't you be more interested in why she didn't want you?"

  Ghost glanced at him, real confusion in his eyes, as if he truly hadn't understood the reply. Then a gentle smile crawled across his features. Jack thought it might have been the most unguarded emotion he'd ever seen on the wolf's face, a kind of amused calm that held no deeper significance.

  "I didn't mean Sabine," Ghost said. "I'm talking about Lesya. She used her enchantments to control the Wendigo, to drive men into her forest and her arms. I saw all of those men trapped dead inside trees. I gather Lesya thought you might be different. What was she looking for? Why did she want you?"

  "I think she wanted someone who could live with her in the wild and be happy," Jack said. "Someone who could know and love her for what she was. Those who failed in that, she chose to punish."

  He expected Ghost to mock him for his sentimentality, but instead the monster nodded sagely, a strange light in his eyes.

  "This modern world doesn't have a lot of room left for unique creatures," Ghost said. "We're all meant to be the same. But we're not, are we, Jack? We're not like everyone else."

  The others were moving ahead, working their way back toward the stream and the limestone cliffs that rose in the distance.

  "No," Jack said. "We're not."

  Ghost nodded. He understood that it had cost Jack something to admit that they shared a connection, even if that connection was that neither of them could truly fit in with the rest of the world.

  "It doesn't make us brothers," Jack went on. "It doesn't make us friends."

  Ghost turned somber. "Agreed. But it doesn't make us monsters, either." He turned and started down the ridge, following the route the others had taken. "It sounds to me like someone needs to tell your Lesya that."

  "She's not 'my' Lesya," Jack said, setting out after him.

  "Well, then," Ghost said, without glancing back, "isn't that the definition of 'wild?' A creature which belongs to no other?"

  The vampires' trail did not lead back to the stream after all. Callie led them along a natural path, perhaps carved by shifting ice in an age when the land had been covered, toward an imposing cliff that rose beside the stream. The path was concealed, a slash in the face of the cliff between a lower ridge and the crest far above. Ascending along that broad ledge, Jack watched Callie closely, noticing that her attention seemed split equally between Ghost and the trail ahead. He wondered if she had exhausted her tracking skills and was now relying on Ghost's sense of smell.

  Soon, Jack knew, they would come to the caves mentioned by the vampire they'd killed in Dawson's jail. Only a fool would go in, knowing what waited inside, the vampire had said. Maybe it was right, but if Lesya was still alive and prisoner of the vampires, none of them would turn back.

  Dust rose from the path as they trudged upward. Jack could see the stream far below, diminishing to a thin silvery line as they climbed higher, at least five hundred feet above the surrounding landscape now. Louis and the Reverend had begun to sniff the air just like Ghost, and tension rippled through them.

  "We're getting close," Jack said quietly. "Do you need to rest?"

  "No," Sabine said, glancing at the sky. "I feel better than I have in a long while. Besides, there's only hours of daylight left, and if there's killing to do, it's best done before nightfall."

  Jack checked the position of the sun and was surprised to see that Sabine wasn't far off in her estimation. Though the summer days in the Yukon sometimes seemed to last forever, they had managed to use most of the sunlit hours in their travels, stopping several times for a brief respite and a bite of jerky or a tin of cold beans. Jack thought they had perhaps four hours until sunset.

  "We know they don't like the daylight," Jack said, "but that doesn't necessarily mean they'll be sleeping. The caves will be dark."

  "Yes," Sabine agreed, without breaking her stride. "But considering the other option is going in there after sunset . . ."

  She arched an eyebrow and glanced at him, and Jack couldn't help laughing. It might have been something akin to gallows humor, but it felt good.

  When Callie shushed them, any trace of amusement fled. Jack and Sabine looked ahead to see that they had reached a place where the trail narrowed. It was really more a ledge than any kind of path, and now it canted to the left, following a jag in the stream far below. They had all paused, regarding Jack expectantly. He touched Sabine's arm once for luck and comfort and hurried past the Reverend and Louis, and then past Ghost and Callie, to peer around the sharp edge of the cliff wall.

  The cave mouth was high and narrow, like a knife-wound in the limestone cliff. Nothing indicated that it was occupied, no ward had been posted to hold off potential intruders, but Jack shuddered at the sight of the shadows within and a ripple of nausea went through his gut. The chill came from within. This close to the vampires, there was no need for him to reach out his spirit to feel the dark void of their presence.

  A loud click made him spin in alarm, reaching for the knife at his hip.

  Callie had cracked open one of her pistols, checking to ensure it was fully loaded and in good working order. She had a dozen silver bullets left, six for each gun, and Jack had two shells filled with silver pellets in the shotgun slung across his back, ammunition Callie had found while digging through her pack. They could kill a fair few vampires between them, and the werewolves could handle a few more . . . which might have been a comfort to Jack if they'd had any idea how many of the damned things were inside the caves.

  Or maybe not, he thought. Knowing the number might not be a comfort at all.

  "Jack," the Reverend said. Jack turned, and the wolves were all looking at Sabine. She had a hand to her forehead and had lowered her gaze, her eyes roving as if searching for something lost.

  "What is it?" Jack whispered.

  Sabine looked at him with those searching eyes, and he saw the tiniest bit of hope there. "She's alive. I can sense her in there. Like something . . . warm."

  Jack took a deep breath, nodded grimly, and turned to Callie and Ghost. "That's it, then. We go in as swift as we can without being stupid — "

  "You mean just being here isn't stupid?" the Reverend asked. But he was only making noise out of fear, like whistling in the dark. His expression was determined.

  "Reverend, you and Louis stay out here and set the dynamite," Jack went on. "Do it right. If we don't blow the cave mouth so the collapse blocks them in, we might as well just turn our guns on ourselves."

  He turned to Sabine, and she must have seen his intention in his gaze.

  "Not a chance, Jack," she said. "I'm coming with you. She's in there. I can feel her, and that means she can feel me. We'll give each other strength. I've come too far to sit out here and wait."

  Jack felt as if a fist were clutching his heart. "It just doesn't sit right with me."

  "I love you," she said softly, the moment intimate despite their audience, "but I don't need it to sit right with you. It's what's going to happen."

  Jack uttered a sound that was half laugh and half sigh, then turned to Ghost and Callie. "Are you ready?"

  Ghost was breathing deeply, sniffi
ng the air, and Jack wondered for the first time whether it had been the vampires' scent he had been tracking or Lesya's.

  A low growl escaped Ghost's lips. Jack didn't think he was even aware of it. When he spoke, he revealed the sharpness of his teeth. "Let's go."

  Jack had been wearing the shotgun strapped across his back. Now he slid it off and cradled it in his hands. Sabine had no weapons, but the air around her seemed to crackle with electricity. Whatever strength remained in her, she would use it. She drew a long knife that Callie had given her, but Jack wished that he still had the silver blade from his time on the Larsen. He would rather she carried that. If she hadn't demurred, he would have given her the shotgun, but she'd insisted that he could do more damage with it than she could.

  The Reverend unpacked the lamp, tipped oil from a small bottle, and lit it. He turned the knob, dimming the light to a soft glow. They needed to be able to see in the cave, but didn't want to announce themselves any more brightly than necessary. When the Reverend was done, he stood and handed the lamp to Callie, even as Louis got to work unpacking the dynamite from his leather pack.

  "Boys," Callie said, glancing at Louis and the Reverend, "ain't no way for us to know how ugly it's gonna get in there. If we come runnin', you'd best be ready to light the fuse and blow the hell outta that cave."

  "We'll go as fast as we can," Louis promised.

  "See you do," Ghost growled.

  Jack took a long breath, and then led the way around the corner and across the open ground toward the cave. He didn't exhale till he reached the entrance.

  He slipped quietly into the dark, where evil waited in breathless silence.

  The stench of rotting meat wafted from the depths of the cave, growing stronger as they moved deeper. Jack had led the way at first, but as the darkness encroached he let Callie slip in front of him, the lamp held high in her left hand to light the way. In her right she held a gun, but Jack figured if they had to fight their way out of the limestone cave, they were as good as dead. He peered into the shadows, dismayed that the light didn't reach further. The lamp shone brightly enough, reflecting off of the sheer walls of the cave, but somehow its illumination never touched the blackest corners or stretched very far ahead.