Binding: Book Two of the Moon Wolf Saga

by Carol Wolf

  I changed back to human form so I could go on past the lambing pens without rousing all the sheep, which would be bound to wake up the dog, and probably the woman as well. She was a shepherd, after all. I walked slowly toward the rutted lane that led along the fence to the gate into each field. The next pasture was scattered with bales of straw built into square pens where new lambs lay curled up with their mothers. The field beyond stretched all the way across the valley and up the slopes of the hills. Here the rest of the flock, the ewes with older lambs, the yearlings, and a few rams, lay in groups scattered over the field.

  I stopped and leaned on the fence post. My hip was a little less sore for the exercise, but the wounds on my wrist and ankle were bleeding again. The ridges beyond the sheep fields seemed a long, long ways away. I am much faster on four legs than two, but being wounded in two opposite legs was really going to slow me down. Besides, crossing the field in wolf form was going to cause a sheep riot. After all, we’ve been teaching the woollies for thousands of years what it means when a wolf shows up in their midst.

  In front of me, a little lamb, his frame still hollow and curled from his time in the womb, trotted from ewe to ewe, crying for his mother. A nicker, a surge, and mom charged up to him, trailing her other lamb, and nosed him all around while he went straight for her udder and head-butted it hard. He grabbed a teat and started sucking like he was starving. He probably was. I certainly was. He smelled so good I wanted to cry.

  I started down the lane that ran along the fence of the sheep pastures, heading for the hills across the bowl of the valley. I caught the scent of dog, and stopped. On the other side of the barn stood three adjoining chain linked dog kennels. I opened my mouth to catch a whiff to see if they were occupied, but a moment later in the ambient light I could just make out three, no, four border collies. Two lay on top of the old oil drums that served as den and shelter for each of them. Two more lay in the corner of the kennels. All four stared out at the sheep. Not good.

  I was down wind, for the moment. The breeze had changed directions a couple of times since I’d stepped out into the night. They hadn’t seen me, but if I continued along the lane they were going to, and then there would be a whole lot of noise. If the shepherd heard the ruckus, and loosed them, I’d have to be really fast to get up into the hills before they ran me down. And at the moment, I was very decidedly not fast.

  I could probably kill them if they came at me. I would face them in wolf form, after all. But four of them, all at once, meant I would probably get bitten, even if I did kill them all in the end. I was already wounded. They would know that; they would smell the blood, see from the way I stood and moved, and they would attack me where I was weakest. I would end up hurt worse than I was already. You don’t see crippled wolves. Crippled wolves die. It's a mercy that they do. I was not getting out across the sheep fields. Not tonight.

  I retraced my steps to the barn and pulled open the door just enough to slip inside. I felt the presence of power as I entered, as though someone had given the air shape, and organized it. Huh. The energy centered on the workbench against the far wall of the barn. A peg board of neatly organized tools stood above an ancient table. Someone had been raising a fair amount of power here, and for a long time.

  The hair on my neck stood up as the still air stirred. I smelled my scent on that table, and my blood. That was where they had done this to me.

  I had an impulse to leap over there in my wolf form and snuff out every trace of evidence of who was there, and what they were. Being wounded and sore gave me a moment to think about that. I couldn’t feel any wards that would alert the shepherd to my presence if I touched them. It was possible, though, that whoever had bespelled me over there on that table, had the power to make wards sneaky enough that I wouldn’t sense them. I did walk over close enough to try and see if any of my clothes were there, but I didn’t see them.

  To the right, bales of fresh alfalfa were stacked high. Old sacks of feed and dog food stood next to them. The rats and mice had been at them. I grinned to myself. I limped along the wall toward the pair of stalls on the left. One was lit by a dim bulb hanging from a loop of wire above the door post. A tired old horse stood inside with his head lowered, not bothering to mouth his wisps of hay. In the stall beyond, the shepherd had piled broken farm tools, stacks of lumber, tailings of wire fencing, twisted tee posts, and old animal cages of various sizes. The old horse watched me as I poked around, looking for a discarded pair of boots, a rag made from a shirt, paint-splashed overalls. There was nothing.

  A pair of cats stared down at me from the darkened loft. I didn’t bother looking up. A heavy, crusted blanket hung over the stall door, but that wasn’t going to be any more use than the worn saddle and mended tack.

  To ride out of here on my captor's horse was a pleasing thought, but while there are few down sides to being one of the wolf kind, this was one. We do not ride horses. Bad things happen when we do.

  I went back to the water trough and slipped into it again. I drank and drank, looking up at the few stars that shone through the hazy sky.

  The cage, the manacles, the hooks, the drugged smoke, the spells, were all part of the trap. This valley was another part of it. Just getting out of the cage did not mean I was free.

  If I went into my captor's bedroom and found a way to kill both her and her dog, then I would have time to find clothes, search out car keys, and get out of here. In my present state, attacking both of them was not the best of plans. For all I knew, the woman slept with a gun under her pillow, and would sic Fido on me while she placed her shot. I could kill the dog quickly, but to win, I would have to be lucky. And that was not a good way to plan.

  If I killed her and got away, I would not know who had shot, bespelled and captured me. Whoever it was knew who I was, had known how to find me, divert me, attack and capture me. If I left now, whoever it was still had all that knowledge and power, and I was still their prey.

  I shook myself and went back to the house. In human form, I let myself back in. I found the box of incense, and switched out the drugged blocks for some that were the same size. I rubbed them with the drugged ones, so they would have the right smell, at least to a human nose. Then I distributed the drugged ones in hiding places around the room, deep in the couch cushions that hadn’t been cleaned in years, under the fridge, in the ashes of the stove, behind the pristine set of Reader's Digest condensed books, where some mouse long ago had cached a supply of dog kibble.

  I lit the plain old ordinary incense and set it under the stove. I would not be drugged again.

  I wrapped my wrists again in the gauze and tape. I got back in the cage. The next bit was tricky. I have changed from my wolf form to my human form and back again thousands upon thousands of times, hardly thinking about it. To stick halfway, half human, half wolf, wasn’t something it would ever have occurred to me to do. But I’d been held in that form for several days, so it was possible. I tried changing and changing back at the same time. That didn’t work. I tried changing one part of me at a time, and that didn’t work at all. After what seemed like hours of trying I learned that I could hold part of myself in one form while I took the turn that brought me into my other form… and there it was. One wolf paw, one human hand. One wolf hind foot, one human foot… and then I had to start again because I’d gotten it wrong-way round. I slipped the manacle loosely over my wolf hind foot, and then my human wrist.

  I hadn’t destroyed the silver hooks, or the wire and leather wristbands. I’d hidden them so that even the dog couldn’t suss them out. I needed them. They were evidence.

  I lay back, exhausted, uncomfortable, my wounds aching, and tried to rest. I heal pretty fast. In three days, I should at least be much faster than I was tonight. The cage, the manacles, the drugs and the spells were an illusion now. Sometimes, there is a wolf in a trap. And sometimes, the wolf is the trap. Let them come.

  My next job was to deal with Baz.

  Shepherd woman was called Sarah.
I learned this the following day when a delivery man banged on the door to the back porch and called her name. Baz the dog in human form stood at bay in the kitchen with his mouth slightly open, while the delivery guy called to him over and over to come and sign for the damn thing. Baz bolted for the bedroom and didn’t come back until Sarah mounted the steps, told off the delivery man for not knowing she was out with the sheep, signed, and dragged the box into the house, still complaining. The delivery man tore off up the drive, gravel spraying under his wheels.

  She burned her eggs cooking breakfast while she was trying to get the thing out of the box, and then stood there cursing for a long time. Then she cursed into her phone for awhile, having to do with whoever had delivered the box not being willing to come and get it again. Then she got Baz to pick up the box and carry it outside. She came back and dumped the burned eggs in a bowl, set it out for Baz, and then shoved him back in the house and locked the door after her. The motor of the truck started up, and then receded. This was promising.

  Baz stood by the door looking out, changing his angle to look out farther up the road. He went over and mouthed up the eggs, and then stood licking the bowl while he stared out the window. Then he harrumphed, and went over to the couch.

  I waited until he had plumped down, scratched at the couch pillows, turned around, curled up and closed his eyes. I waited a little longer until his limbs relaxed. I slipped my manacles, unhooked the cage door, stepped out and into wolf form. I didn’t let him get a whiff of me until I was on top of the couch, looming over him, grown so huge my head was almost as big as he was. As I hit the couch his eyes flew open and I leaned down and snarled into his face.

  So, he could make a sound! It was a delicate little shriek as he spun off the couch onto the floor and tried to run on four legs to the bedroom. I stepped off the couch, avoiding the damp stain he’d left there. He’d been very frightened indeed. I smiled as I thought how much trouble he was going to be in, and stalked down the hall to the bedroom.

  I hauled him out from under the bed by one leg, rolled him over and grabbed his throat in my teeth. I did it carefully. My plan did not include leaving a mark on him, but he didn’t know that. He clutched himself, his eyes rolled back, his tongue came out and he licked his lips again and again.

  I let him go and stepped off, and he ran off again. He’d left a puddle this time, big, stinky, and messy. My plan was working very well indeed.

  I set off after him, hauled him out from under the table, dragged him around a bit until he rolled on his back and his tongue came out again. Little, powerless canine to big, imposing canine: you can kill me if you want, but please don’t. I let him go, let him run, and caught up with him again. Big canine to little canine: I know. The next time, he tried to climb into my cage, and I started laughing, and almost tripped into my human form. When I let him go the next time, he didn’t move, but just lay there staring at me. Lesson learned. For the moment, at least.

  I sniffed around the house for anything that belonged to me. My clothes would have been nice, but there was nothing. I went into the bedroom, rummaged through the drawers until I found some sweats that would fit me. I stashed them in the back of a bottom drawer where I could find them easily in the dark.

  I came out into the living room in human form, but Baz didn’t get up. Good enough. I went to the kitchen and made a search for the car keys, but I didn’t turn up anything. She must have them all on one ring or something. I went through the fridge, helped myself to some leftover rice, some cheese, some overcooked meat. I don’t think I would have noticed what a lousy cook she was, but Richard cooked for me for nearly a month, and he had standards. In his memory, so had I. It didn’t stop me from scarfing up anything I could find. I was starving. It just meant I despised the woman while I did it.

  Baz's head came up before I heard the sound, but I trusted his hearing. I closed the fridge, hopped back into the cage, latched it, and bound myself up again. Baz jumped up and ran for the bedroom. I grinned after him. Then I panicked as I realized that getting into both forms was not quick. It had taken me what seemed like hours the night before. And the truck was coming back, I could hear it now. And I couldn’t remember how I’d done it. And I realized I’d forgotten to look for the woman's gun; she was bound to have a gun, and probably a shotgun as well. Then the truck came to a stop outside, and her footsteps fell heavily on the porch, the back door opened, and I was still in human form.

  Sarah walked into the kitchen, and I was still frantically trying to change into the right two parts. She paused a moment, stepped into the living room, sniffed, found the stain on the couch and began to scream. I got ready to come out and kill her, which would involve getting out of the damn cage and then shifting to wolf form—but then she charged down the hall to the bedroom, shouting at Baz. I relaxed. I would have plenty of time to figure this out. It would be a few minutes before she had a thought for me. Sure enough, there was a renewed scream when she saw the puddle Baz had made in the bedroom.

  I got myself sorted out, listening to the rather disturbing sounds coming from down the hall. Poor guy. Even in human form, it was still a dog's life. When she came back into the room, dragging Baz by the arm, I seemed to be chained up, muzzily awake, staring out at the noise, but she charged right by me and out the door.

  When she came in again after awhile, Sarah was on the phone. “Sick? It could be.” I heard the fridge open. “Well, shit, he got into a bunch of leftovers… I was going to throw that round steak out. Yeah, he might just be sick. When can you come?”

  She’d called the vet on Baz. A vet who made house calls. The fridge door slammed. “Not until tonight? Elaine, what if something's gone wrong?”

  Huh. My eyes opened wide for a second. I’d heard her talking to Elaine before, about me.

  Sarah wandered into the living room, but didn’t spare me a glance. My eyes narrowed. Good thing she didn’t see the look, or she would have known I was about as drugged up as she was. But that she could have me—me—caged up on her floor, and not think about it, well. Somebody needed a lesson. And I was looking right at her.

  Sarah went out again, still talking on the phone. I took a nap. I didn’t open my eyes when Sarah, talking sweet and syrupy, tried to get Baz to come in the house. She probably wanted him to clean up his mess. It was getting pretty ripe in the living room. I grinned and went back to sleep.

  Later on there was the sound of scrubbing. Sarah stood over Baz, on his hands and knees with a bucket and scrub brush. His little blue and white bandana was on his head, but perched askew. He was watching me as he worked. Sarah was not. I opened my eyes, let them go gold with my fury and power, and closed them again as Baz yipped and knocked over the bucket.

  Okay, I probably shouldn’t have done that, because the next thing I knew Sarah was standing over my cage, with the phone in her ear again. “I’m not sure,” she said. “The smoke is all right, I checked. She's in the same position. But I swear, Baz saw her move or something. He's freaked out, Elaine. He's under my bed and I can’t get him to come out.”

  I did not betray myself by smiling. But it was close.

  “I don’t care what you do to her. I want her out of here. Tonight.”

  What? What had I missed?

  “Because she's bothering Baz! That's how I know! He's never done anything like this, not since he was a puppy. Well, yeah, he was sick that time—. Okay, he did throw up in your car.”

  Sarah covered her mouth with her hand. I almost did the same.

  “All right,” she snapped. “You take a look at Baz, and then we’ll see.” She bent over the cage as she closed the phone. I tried some heavy breathing, as though I were so deeply asleep the sound didn’t even disturb me.

  “Baz? Baz, sweetie…”

  She turned on the television and listened to the evening news as she banged around the kitchen making dinner. Then she stood at the counter, eating a tuna fish sandwich and yelling back at the announcer. Baz was back in the barn. She calle
d up Elaine again when she made up a bowl for Baz, to ask her what she should feed him, and why wasn’t she here yet, and when was she coming. She put it on speaker phone, so I heard both sides of the argument. Elaine told Sarah not to give Baz anything, if he was sick, and Sarah talked her around to some kibble with tuna oil, a bowl of milk, and the cheese stick he got as a treat. Good thing he was a dog, or he really was going to be sick.

  Elaine sounded stressed. She was late because she had to make another house call. She would come soon. She would bring with her everything she needed, to take care of Baz, and me.

  My eyes opened. She would be here soon.

  I wasn’t going to stay for this. That was not a good plan. Sarah was a magic user. This Elaine vet woman might have even more power, more than I could take on. I lay there and thought for awhile. It was getting dark when the heavy truck came down the drive and pulled up with a tinking engine next to the house. I heard Sarah call a greeting and then their voices dropped as they talked outside. If they came in here and Elaine planned to “take care of me” first, I was going to kill them both. If I could. Because I didn’t think I could get out of any deeper a trap than I was in already. I barely had a hold on this one yet. So it was a good thing that I heard their voices recede, as they headed out to the barn.

  I made myself small in my human form, slipped out of the cuffs, unlatched the door, left the manacles closed tight, latched the door after me—if magic was nine tenths distraction, I could use every bit that came to me tonight.

  I let myself out of the front door, which put the house between me and the barn. It was dark outside, but the light on the back porch was so bright the reflection lit the front of the house as well. When I reached the corner of the house I paused and looked across at the barn. Sarah had shoved open the door, talking to a tall, spindly woman in a bulky jacket, open at the front, her hair in a heavy braid down her back. Elaine wore round glasses and carried a black box by its handle, leaning a little to counter its weight. Sarah went into the barn, calling Baz's name in her sugary voice, and the vet followed. I thought I recognized her form, though she wasn’t close enough for me to catch her scent.