by Jane Godman
The only way Chastel could communicate with Fenrir was telepathically. Chastel might believe he was in control of this partnership, but Sebastian knew better. The bounty hunter was nothing more than Fenrir’s dupe. And if Fenrir had been using mind control on Chastel himself . . .
Chastel wagged a finger in the manner of a teacher correcting a child. “You should know better than to underestimate me.”
“I don’t underestimate you. But I would never minimize what Fenrir can do. Even chained and imprisoned, he is more powerful than any of us can imagine.”
As he spoke, a change came over Chastel’s features. It was subtle at first, increasing in intensity. As though Sebastian was seeing a reflection of Chastel’s face in water. Ripples shuddered across his flesh. His eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible and his lips drew back in a snarl.
“You are right to fear me.”
Sebastian had been face-to-face with Fenrir’s once before. Four and a half years ago, when the werewolf god had spoken, his voice had been disguised. Back then, he had pretended to be Van Marsh. When he spoke, his tones had been cultured and pleasant. This was a different note. Harsh and menacing. But Sebastian knew it. It was the sound they had heard when Fenrir shifted. When he ceased to be Van Marsh and became the legendary Marsh werewolf of Norse legend, this was the growling sound he had made.
Even without that confirmation, Chastel’s brown eyes had changed color. They glowed now with the green and gold of marsh fires. There could be no doubt.
Sebastian was no longer talking to Chastel. This was Fenrir, the god of destruction.
Chapter Twelve
This was the brotherhood’s worst nightmare. Although Fenrir was physically still in chains, he had found a way to put his evil plans into practice by escaping from them telepathically. He was here in New York, using Chastel as a conduit. Possessing Chastel’s body like a demon.
Chastel’s arrogance had been so great, he thought he could control the mightiest werewolf of them all. Instead, he was being used as a puppet by Fenrir as part of his plan to destroy the world.
Four and a half years ago, the brotherhood had defeated Fenrir in this very city, but it had been as part of a carefully planned attack. They had brought with them the magical chain that bound him and the sword that pried open his mighty jaws. Between them, they had subdued the great werewolf and returned him to his prison beneath the palace of Jotunheim in Svalbard. This time? Fenrir had no physical body to restrain and the brotherhood had no plan.
Sebastian pondered the obstacles facing him. If Chastel died, would that bring an end to Fenrir’s power? The problem with that was the prophecy, the one that said Chastel could only be killed by the strongest Arctic werewolf . . .
It seemed Chastel—or Fenrir, or whoever was in charge—was reading Sebastian’s mind. His lips drew back in a sneer. “You should have brought the rest of the team.”
“You’re right. It would be stupid to come here alone. I’m powerless to fight you alone.”
It was a like a bad special effect watching Chastel’s face ripple as Fenrir took over. As if the two different personalities were fighting for control of his body.
“But you are a maverick, aren’t you? You didn’t listen when the others warned you against it.”
Sebastian smiled. This was the part he’d been looking forward to.
“That was what we wanted you to think.”
With perfect timing, the other members of the brotherhood, including Cindy, walked through the door. Valetta was with them.
“You really shouldn’t believe everything you see,” Sebastian said. “Or, in this case, you shouldn’t have believed everything you saw through fake Hendrik’s eyes.”
Chastel’s expression was dumbfounded as he looked at the group of powerful Arctic werewolves. “But I did see it.” He looked from Sebastian to Samson. “You said you were coming here alone to find out what was going on with Chadwick and Fenk. Samson tried to stop you. You were fighting. He hit you and Wilder got between you.”
“We know how much you enjoy a charade, Chastel.” Sebastian moved to stand with his friends. While he had been traveled on his own, they had flown as a group on a different flight a few hours later. They had set off immediately after Hendrik’s press conference. “So we decided to put on a show for you.”
Samson draped an arm around Sebastian’s shoulders. “Guess what? We were screwing with your head. The way you like to do with us.”
Chastel remained still for a moment or two, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Sebastian could see the power struggle going on inside his body once more.
“What the fuck is going on?” Vigo asked. “Chastel looks like he’s trying to shed his own skin.”
“You weren’t here when it first happened. It’s Fenrir,” Sebastian explained. “He is inside Chastel. They are fighting for domination of his body.”
“I never thought I’d say this”—Samson watched Chastel battling to maintain control—“but I really hope Chastel wins.”
“I agree,” Vigo said. “I’ve met Fenrir once. I don’t want to do it again.”
Sebastian took a moment to move closer to Cindy. Even in the midst of this madness, his heart had leaped with joy when he saw her. He reached for her hand now, briefly clasping her fingers and allowing her touch to warm and reassure him. Her eyes softened into a smile. He could tell she was nervous, but her bravery shone through. She had made a commitment to him and to the brotherhood and she was determined to stick with it.
Momentarily, it appeared that Chastel had been successful. There were two evil bastards inside one body and the one that could do the least damage to the world seemed to have won.
“You don’t have seven.” His voice was a triumphant sneer. “My Hendrik substitute told me the good news about the latest addition to the Wilder family. I see Jenny isn’t here.”
Sebastian didn’t enlighten him about Cindy’s conversion. Although they had briefly told the other members of the brotherhood when they came up with the plan to dupe Chastel, there had been no time for details.
If he told Chastel now, he knew what would happen . . . Cindy would become the target.
As Chastel continued to fight Fenrir, the inevitable happened. It was an uneven battle and there was only ever going to be one winner.
With a mighty roar, Fenrir took over Chastel’s body, facing the brotherhood with a snarl.
“He can’t shift, right?” Cindy’s voice quavered on a note of fear.
“He is the son of Loki, the trickster god who could use mind control and shift into any form he chose. Fenrir’s mortal body is still chained in his prison cave below Jotunheim, but his spirit is here inside Chastel’s body. This isn’t about Fenrir’s werewolf DNA, it’s about whether his sorcery is powerful enough to allow him to change form while he is inhabiting another body.” As Fenrir launched himself across the space between them, Sebastian moved to stand protectively in front of Cindy. He knew there would come a time when she would have to fight as a werewolf, but against Fenrir? He wanted to spare her that if he could. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
The Marsh werewolves of Norse legend were said to be enormous feral beasts, with sandy fur, claws like razor-sharp scimitars, and the jaws of a lion. As Fenrir shifted in midleap, it was evident that Loki’s genetic code had been handed down to his son. Fenrir had learned how to use his father’s sorcery. It was also clear legend had had not exaggerated. This werewolf was as large as a bull and twice as angry. Dropping to all fours, Fenrir let loose a bloodcurdling howl before he ripped the door from its hinges and tore down the corridor.
* * *
“Welcome to the brotherhood.” Sebastian draped an arm around Cindy’s shoulders.
She leaned her head against his shoulder gratefully. “What happens now?”
“We go after him, of course.” He led her toward the space where there had once been a door. The others followed as they stepped through it. “For the second
time in four and a half years, there is a giant feral werewolf on the loose in New York City, and we are the only ones who can stop it. Are you glad you signed up?”
She tried out a smile. All things considered, it worked pretty well. Sebastian’s nearness had a lot to do with that. When she was with him, she felt like she could do anything. Although the werewolf that had just bounded out of here looked like quite a challenge for a rookie.
“I’m not backing out. Not now. Not ever.”
“Good. Because we are going to need the power of seven more than ever.”
When they reached the lobby, it was quiet. There was no sign that Fenrir had left a trail of death and destruction in his wake.
“This doesn’t mean anything. It’s night. The doors will already have been locked . . .” Sebastian paused as a faint moan drew his attention toward the concierge’s desk.
Cindy accompanied him as he walked to the desk and peered over its edge. The concierge was cowering underneath the wooden structure with his hands clasped over his head.
“You can come out now.” Sebastian’s voice was calm. Cindy decided he’d done this before. Reassuring the witnesses must be part of the job. She made a mental note. There was so much to learn before she even got started on the werewolf side of things.
The man seemed reluctant to believe him, but, after a few seconds, he lowered his arms and cast a cautious glance around. “What the hell was that thing? Some kind of giant saber-toothed cat?”
“Which way did it go?”
The concierge sat up, hugging his arms around his knees. “I didn’t see. As soon as it came toward me, I dived behind the desk.”
“I think this may be a clue.”
Vigo pointed to the glass doors of the building. A giant hole had been smashed clean through them. Beyond that, they could see a trail of overturned cars.
Samson held up his cell phone. “Social media is already going crazy. Latest reports are of a giant beast headed toward Central Park.”
“That’s where we captured him last time.” Sebastian’s expression was grim. “He’s challenging us to do it again.”
Cindy kept fit by jogging and going to the gym, but she knew she was no match for the brotherhood as they dashed through the streets. I’ll slow them down. She desperately didn’t want to be the weakest link. As she worried about that, the strangest thing happened. Her limbs became supercharged. A burst of energy, the like of which she had never known before, powered through her and she was able to run alongside the others. Keeping pace with them wasn’t easy—they were male werewolves and she was female—the thought reminded her where this new power had come from, but she could do it.
“You get used to it,” Valetta panted. “When it’s urgent, like this, they go all out. But sometimes they’ll remember females don’t have the same strength and stamina.”
Cindy didn’t reply, preferring to save her energy for the run. She had no idea what the people on the sidewalk made of the situation as the brotherhood pounded along.
Six huge, muscular men were running all out through the streets. They all had the same unusual coloring. By the light of the streetlamps, they appeared striking. Their white-blond hair took on a silvery glow and their skin appeared paler than ever. Their features were stunningly handsome. To a casual observer, it must look like a platoon of Norse gods had arrived and formed a running club.
These Nordic giants were followed closely by two women, who were also running at full speed. Valetta was eye-catching in her own right with her stunning figure and her waist length silver hair streaming out behind her. Then there’s me. The newbie. The one who might just collapse before we reach the park.
Luckily, Cindy managed to keep going, her new inner strength powering her onward. And the people on the sidewalk appeared to have other things on their minds. The brotherhood didn’t pass many people going toward Central Park. Most of them were going in the opposite direction. That wasn’t quite true. They were hurrying in the opposite direction.
Consulting their cell phones. Making calls. Looking up at the helicopters. Listening to the wail of sirens.
Traffic was chaotic as, up ahead, the police had started to divert vehicles.
Cindy caught snippets of conversation as she ran.
“ . . . wild animal . . .”
“ . . . escaped from the zoo . . .”
“ . . . experiment gone wrong . . .”
“ . . . mutant lion . . .”
Even if the brotherhood didn’t have the helicopters and sirens to guide them, Fenrir had left a trail of destruction for them to follow. It looked like he had trampled cars in his path as though they were toys. All along Fifth Avenue, trees had been uprooted like flowers and street lights were bent out of shape where a giant body had bumped against them.
Sebastian hurtled into the park slightly ahead of the others. “He’s headed for the Wollman Rink. There will be crowds of people there.”
“That’s the attraction for Fenrir,” Vigo said. “He wants to cause as much damage as he can.”
When they reached the ice rink, it became obvious that it was worse than anything they could have anticipated. The whole area was filled with high school students. They were either zipping confidently across the ice, shuffling cautiously around the edge, or watching off the ice while dancing to the music. Mingling with the crowds, a group of stewards in wacky costumes passed out hot chocolate, hot dogs, and candy. Double-decker buses were arriving and more young people poured off them and into the area.
The noise, lights and atmosphere disguised the sirens and searchlights. They also allowed the huge werewolf crouching beneath the shelter of a large willow tree to hide in plain sight. Although the police helicopters were searching the park, it seemed clear that they hadn’t spotted Fenrir.
“We have to shift and take him out before he gets among those kids,” Sebastian said.
“There’s one problem with that plan.” Wilder glanced around the rink cautiously. “Once the police arrive, they won’t know we’re the good guys. We risk getting shot.”
Sebastian gave him a direct stare. “Would you rather we ignored this? Let him do his thing out on the ice?”
In response, Wilder started to shrug out of his clothes. Everyone else did the same, including Valetta. If the ancient prophecy was to come true, she had to be at Samson’s side. She wasn’t a member of the brotherhood, but she was needed in the fight against Chastel. If the prophecy was correct and Samson was the only werewolf who could kill Chastel, he must be protected by the Shadow Wolf. And Cindy knew from conversations she had heard over the years that Valetta was a brave fighter in her own right. She wasn’t an Arctic werewolf, but the brotherhood wasn’t going to turn down some extra power. Not when they considered the opposition.
When they were all naked, Cindy took a brief inappropriate moment to glance around her. She had seen the members of the brotherhood naked before. They thought nothing of shedding their clothes in front of her when they shifted. At first, she had been deeply embarrassed and hadn’t known where to look. No, let’s be honest. You knew exactly where to look. That was the problem. With so much blatant masculinity on display—often in Hendrik’s kitchen—it had been very difficult to concentrate on anything else. She couldn’t exactly say she had gotten used to it, but she was less inclined to feel as though she was about to spontaneously burst into flames of discomfort.
Taking her own clothes off in front of all these people felt strange, but she figured they were more focused on the evil werewolf god they had to defeat than on her body.
Sebastian took a moment to glance in Cindy’s direction. “Ready?”
Am I? She was as ready as she would ever be to shift and face the scariest werewolf of them all. She had known what she was getting into when she offered herself to Sebastian. For the last four years, she had been as close to the brotherhood as anyone could be without actually being a part of it. These people had rescued her from hell. Now she was ready to give something back.
“I’m ready.”
“Then let’s do this.”
* * *
They shifted into wolf form in one fluid movement of fur, bared teeth, and lethal claws. Sebastian took the lead as seven white wolves and one brown one moved in unison toward the willow tree.
Fenrir saw them approach and rose on his hind legs giving a roar that shook the ground around him.
“Holy fuck.” Sebastian heard the comment from one of the students as he ran. A teacher turned to the girl with a shocked expression, clearly unsure whether to deal with the cursing or get the students away from the unfolding drama.
As they approached Fenrir, it became clear that he had not been able to shift fully. Chastel must be putting up a hell of a fight to retain control of his body. Remaining on his hind legs, Fenrir used his front paws like fists beating his chest as he paced back and forth. Spittle sprayed from his mighty jaws and he bayed curses at the moon.
With a cunning look in the direction of the brotherhood, he crouched low before launching himself onto the ice.
Oh, you big, bad bastard.
Sebastian used his telepathic powers to communicate with the other members of the brotherhood.
Make sure no innocent victims get hurt.
It wasn’t going to be easy to follow that instruction. With a monstrous werewolf in their midst, the high school kids and their teachers began to scatter in all directions. Terrified screams and cries filled the air as Fenrir began to slash left and right with fangs like daggers and claws like razors.
“This is a remake of that film.” Sebastian heard the excited voice of one of the kids. “I read about it. You know the one where a werewolf runs wild in London?”
“I think Miss Weston would’ve told us if we were going to be in a movie.” A second kid grabbed the first and hauled him over the barrier just before Fenrir’s jaws snapped closed on his head.
