by Ben Reeder
“You never stood a chance,” he said, his voice tight. “It’s kind of sad. You’re not going to live to see your first full moon. Truth is, you were dead the moment we met. You just didn’t know it yet. ”
“Neither did you,” I said, my own voice grating in my throat. “And I’ve still got a pulse.”
“Not for long,” he said, his smile too wide.
“Longer than you think,” I heard a familiar voice say. There was an explosion of sound in the confined room, and my vision went white from pain. Gunshots overwhelmed the high pitched scream in my ears, and I heard the cries of wounded wolves. Then the noise stopped, and blessed silence filled the room.
“What in the Nine Hells was that?” I moaned, my sight slowly clearing.
“A little hypersonic deterrent,” Lucas said. Wanda was behind him with a black box in one hand, and a slim semi-auto pistol in the other. Standing in front of both of them, armed to the teeth in full Sentinel gear, was Dr. C. A pair of pistols were holstered on his thighs, and he carried a silver paramiir in its sword form. Brad was nowhere to be seen. “Werewolves may be immune to most kinds of damage, but those enhanced senses were begging to be exploited.”
“My ears say screw you,” I croaked, trying to get to my feet and failing. “What did he hit me with?”
“Corpse powder,” Dr. Corwin said, kneeling beside me, his nose scrunched up a little. “He poisoned you.”
“Is there an antidote?” Wanda crouched on the other side.
“It isn’t fatal,” Dr. C said. He slipped one arm under mine and stood, pulling me to my feet in the same movement. “Not to a Were’, at least. The symptoms seem to weaken, not kill.”
“He needs me weak,” I gasped, struggling for breath. “Needs me...as a wolf.”
“Well, this will pass,” Dr. C said. “Your Were’ physiology should throw it off in a few hours.”
“How-,” I gave a wracking cough. “How did you find me?”
“I grabbed a hair from your shirt before you left,” Wanda said. “And Lucas and Dr. Corwin did a tracking spell. As soon as you turned human again, it zeroed in on you.”
“Details,” I whispered. Wanda smiled at me and nodded. “Call Mom,” I wheezed. “Tell her...Dee was right. She’ll know what to do...where to take me.” The world spun, and I fell into a black hole.
When the world came back, I wasn’t all that happy to be there. I felt queasy, my throat was on fire, and every muscle in my body hurt like hell. But Mom was there, and so was my grandfather. Dee’s face floated into the blurry field that was my vision, looking worried.
“Hey, sis,” I said.
“Don’t die,” she said, her voice suddenly small and plaintive,
“Nah,” I said. “Too mean to die. Old man...grandpa…” He leaned closer, his lined face creased even further now. I reached up and grabbed his shirt with one hand, thought the effort was almost more than I could handle. “Fix me.”
“There is nothing to fix,” he said. “The poison will pass soon.”
“Not the poison. The wolf. Fix it.” I pulled on the last reserves of my strength and drew him closer. “Know you can. Need to be...need to be … who I was...who I was…born to be.” I fell back into the darkness, my thoughts turning to Shade as the world faded.
I stand in the clearing again, the moment I made for us. Without knowing how, I know that Shade is here, too. I wonder why I hadn’t come here before, and then wonder if Shade has.
“A few times,” Shade says. “Mostly in the past few hours.” In the afternoon light, she looks radiant, like a goddess on Earth, too good for mere mortals such as me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“What for?” There is laughter in her voice, and it makes me smile.
“For what I’m trying to do.” I try to look away, but she’s there, her eyes boring into mine, and I can’t hide anything from her. Don’t want to. Her laughter is fleeting, the sadness, chronic.
“It's okay, baby,” she says. “I know what you need to do. I think...I think I knew it before you did. In a way...I always knew.”
“I want us to be together,” I tell her. “Really together.”
“Sweetheart, we always have been, haven’t we?”
“What about your wolf?”
“What about her?”
“Doesn’t she need...no, she doesn’t, does she?” Sudden understanding dawns. “She’s your wolf. That’s between you and her, just like it’s between my wolf and me. No one else gets to be part of that, do they?”
“That is why I love you baby,” she smiles and kisses me. I taste sweat and pollen on her lips. “You...what’s the word Lucas uses…”
“Grok,” I say. “I grok you.”
She leans into my embrace, and we hold each other in silence for a moment.
“I love you, Chance,” she says. “Never forget that, and never let me forget it.”
“I love you, Shade,” I tell her, pouring my soul into those words. “Always will.”
“I don’t have much time. Jacob is coming. I’m okay, baby, but I need you. He’s intent on doing that whole dominant alpha thing.” The worlds strike chords in my head, and a memory surfaces.
“Shade, about the whole alpha thing....” The memories arc between us like electricity, understanding shared bone deep. Awareness of things going on around me begins to intrude, and Shade looks at me, then kisses me again.
“Chance, I-”
Pain flared, exploded through me, and I was pulled from oblivion and catapulted into agony. Screams ripped from my throat, and I thrashed, my hands clenching, legs cramping, all my muscles convulsing at once. I rolled to my side and emptied my stomach, retching so hard I wondered if I was about to taste my own feet. I heard my name, and stared wild-eyed up at Mom and Dee. My focus anchored on them, and the pain became separate from me. I was burning from the inside out, my heart was pounding like it was trying to beat its way out from behind my ribs, my lungs heaving like a bellows.
“You’re killing him!”
“Hang on, son!”
“Be strong.”
“It’s not working!”
“Hold his arms!”
Chance.
My name hit me like a wall of sound, like the chord played at the birth of the world. She was there, and everything stopped.
My breath was a hiss, my heartbeat an unending beat of a drum. Then...silence, and all the world froze in place. My head turned to one side, and I saw HER walking toward me. Thin tendrils of living Night reached out from her, flowed toward me.
Chance.
“Who are you?” I asked. The words came from somewhere else, unspoken but clearly heard. I knew I couldn’t talk because my body wasn’t moving. I wasn’t breathing, my heart wasn’t beating. I was okay with that. It meant I could finally stop carrying around all the weight of surviving, of what I’d done. I could finally just suffer in Hell, and not have to try to fix shit. I could finally give up, and no one would know how weak I’d been.
Even as I thought it, I fought it. I knew it wasn’t weakness. It was fatigue. I wasn’t even eighteen yet, and I was tired of living, tired of fighting a hopeless paradox. If I tried to redeem myself, I was still doing it for personal gain, because I knew what was waiting for me. If I didn’t, I was still damned. Every minute of every day, I questioned my own motives. My own fucking worth. Some part of me was still convinced I didn’t deserve to even be walking around and breathing. That Desiree and Tyler had more right to be alive than I did. That Mr. Chomsky should have lived, and I should have died that night in his classroom. That I should have died fighting Dominic King, and let Shade find someone better to be with.
The Night Woman slapped me. The impact sent me flying back, and showed me that I was floating above my own body. And that everything was still.
You made a promise. And then I was back in Mom’s old van.
I lean my head against the cool glass and look up at the overcast October sky.
“Give me a ch
ance to make this right somehow,” I whisper to the night. “I'll do whatever it takes. I swear I will.”
I remembered that sensation, the moment when I felt something hear my vow, the certainty that I had just made a bargain with something...some one. The same someone who was standing in front of me.
“Who are you?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why, but that seemed important.
“You know me, Chance,” she said, her voice warm and comforting. “You move through me every minute of every day. You miss me when you are gone from me, and you protect me time and again. You are one of mine, my native son. I’m home, Chance. I am Night City. I am New Essex.” She came out of the shadows, and I saw her face. From one moment to the next, her features changed. First an Asian woman, then Hispanic, now Anglo, then African American, then Native American, an endless loop of faces and bloodlines. She was everyone in New Essex at the same time. Then the veil of Night fell across her face again, and she was dark and mysterious...just like New Essex.
“You’re the city?” My eyebrows came together, trying to connect like the dots in my head.
“I am the spirit of New Essex,” she said, her voice suddenly a million people talking at once. “I am the soul of Night City. I am what makes…”
“...the city what it is,” I finished for her, speaking as part of that collective. “And the city is what makes you.”
“You promised you’d make things right, and you said you’d do whatever it took. Your city needs a mage.”
“What about Dr. Corwin? He’s-”
“Not a part of New Essex. Not the one we want. You are. Time grows short. Make your peace with the wolf.” She turned away, and I felt like I’d just been turned down by every woman on the planet at once.
Then the wolf walked up. Massive, gray and white, with beautiful gold eyes and the bearing of a lupine monarch, he didn’t so much walk as he trotted in slow motion. When he came to a stop in front of me, he put one massive paw on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.
Friend. The impression came in a rush, from a thousand things. Scent, posture, facial expression, tail movement and positioning, the way his ears perked forward and his head dipped a little bit.
“Hey, big guy,” I said, putting my left hand on his right shoulder. He leaned his head into my hand, and I rubbed at the base of his ear, the place that felt best. “I’m sorry. I can't be a Were’ and be a mage at the same time.”
notwolf Again, a series of impressions, feelings and just plain gut instinct told me he was saying more than the one word could convey, and saying it better than that one word.
“I guess I’m not much of a wolf, am I?”
twoleg. thunder. fire. I got the impression of the power of a thunderstorm, the ever present fear of fire. And that those were the things I was about. Not the forest, the trees, blood and the hunt. Our eyes met, and in a heartbeat, I was even deeper. It wasn’t just a wolf or even my wolf. I was speaking to Wolf, THE Wolf.
Wolf not for you, Wolf said. You are Mage. In your heart, always Mage.
“But, I want to be a Were’,” I said. “So Shade and I can be together for real.”
You love Shade. Want to be wolf for Shade. You are Mage. Be Mage. Love Shade.
“And you’re okay with this?” I asked. As much as I knew he was right, losing the Wolf still hurt.
Better. Wolf is for Shade. City is for you. Mage is you.
“I’ll miss you being part of me,” I said. He lowered his head and slowly bumped it against my chest.
Wolf still here. You Know.
“I know what?” I asked.
No Alpha. No Beta. Just...Pack. Always Pack. Hunt together. Live together. Care together. Always Pack.
Things I had read in Sinbad’s journal were one thing, but the certainty of what he gave me then… A Pack wasn’t about position, it wasn’t about hierarchy or status. Those were human things. Pack was primal, it was family. Brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers, wolves looking out for each other. It was a love that had teeth and claws, love that kept you and your packmates alive. The bond soldiers and police officers shared, the willingness to fight for your squadmate as fiercely as you would for your country. The same bond that made firefighters run into burning buildings to save one of their own, the same thing that made Lucas and Wanda as high on my list as Mom or Dee or Shade when it came to putting my life on the line for them. It was the same kind of thing that had led Sydney Chomsky to put his own life on the line to take me as his apprentice, and Dr. Corwin to take the same risk. The kind of fierce devotion you never felt worthy of, always returned in kind, but never asked if they deserved it. That was Pack.
My chest hurt, and I felt hollow inside, that place Wolf had occupied now empty and raw. My whole body quivered with the emotions I was feeling, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. My attention turned back to the spirit of the city.
And you wonder why I want you to be my Mage. Her smile was hard to read, but it warmed some of the dark places Wolf had left behind.
“More than a little.”
You are a New Essex boy through and through. Now, get back in your body. You have work to do. Just remember. Darkness is your ally. I am Night City. And you’re my Mage, damn it.
The scene behind me had changed, people had moved some. Dr. C was pushing down on my chest, and my grandfather had a syringe in his hand. Kim was on the other side of me, her right hand glowing over my head. Mom and Dee were the only two who looked calm. They were also the only two who were looking right at me. Not at the me on the table, but at me where I stood. I wanted to go to them, tell them I was okay, but I moved past them with a sensation like being caught in a strong current. Sounds started registering, and things began to speed up, then I was falling toward myself, except it seemed like I was moving up.
I broke the surface of consciousness, my back arching while I gasped the first gulp of fresh air. My chest and ribs hurt, a white light filled my vision, and the rush of sound slammed into my ears. There was a metallic taste in my mouth, and every muscle hurt.
“Welcome back, son,” Mom said, her voice shaky.
“Ow,” I managed.
“I won’t ask you how you feel,” my grandfather said. I had to roll my head to one side to see him. His cheeks were wet with fresh tears, and his face was drawn in a tight expression.
“Thanks,” I said. “What did I miss?” I tried to sit up, but my body was suddenly heavy, and I slumped back down.
“Quite a bit, son,” Mom said. She put one hand behind my shoulders and lifted me into a sitting position. “Your body healed from the corpse powder, but you didn’t wake up. So, we finally decided to give you the Silverblood Elixir.”
“That explains the taste in my mouth,” I said. “How long was I out?”
“Several hours,” Dr. C said.
“You should rest for a few days, Chance,” grandfather said. “Your body has to readjust and get back to normal. Very few survive purging the wolf from their souls.”
“I can’t. There’s a Were’ that needs his ass kicked, and another one who needs killing.”
“You can take a few hours to rest, son.” Mom’s tone left no room for argument, but that wasn’t about to stop me.
“I gotta help…”I slumped forward, eyes heavy, brain mushy. “Shade. Gotta…” Darkness was supposed to be my ally, but just then, it felt like it was kicking me in the head.
Chapter 13
~ Strange stuff, magick. Strange, and wondrous. ~
Lazarus Moon, Master and member of the Council
Sunlight on my face brought me out of darkness, and I awoke to my room at Dr. Corwin’s place. Junkyard was curled up beside me, and I felt something on my shoulder. Blinking, I moved my hand to touch whatever it was on my shoulder and felt fingers. I turned my head and saw Mom looking down at me over the edge of the bed I slept next to, her eyes puffy and bleary.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
I did a quick mental check. My muscles still hurt, but that wasn’
t new. I couldn’t hear or smell everything, and I didn’t feel like I could bench press a house. I reached for the sense of magick that I hadn’t felt these past few days, and I came away with nothing.
“Empty,” I said.
“He said that might not come back,” Dee said. She was sitting with her back against the wall, where she could see me and Mom, her black curls caught up in a ponytail, and still looking messy.
“Who did?” I asked. Behind me, the bed creaked, and I caught a glance of Mom trying to shush Dee.
“Dr. Corwin,” she said, either ignoring Mom or oblivious. “It made him sad.”
“Deirdre!” Mom hissed.
“No, it’s better that I know from the start,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’m not sure if I smell bacon or not. Guess my sense of smell is back to normal.” Dee was on her feet and out the door before I could finish standing straight. Dr. C was in the kitchen, cooking his usual breakfast. Bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast were waiting in large bowls and on a broad white plate. I grabbed a plate and started to pile food on it. Amanda sat at the table with a plate of her own, but she wasn’t eating the same breakfast I was. Fruit cut into precise squares decorated her plate, and a small bowl of yogurt.
