Moon Dancer

by Aimee Easterling

  I asked her anyway. “Do you think you can find the hellhounds and guide them here?”

  Her bark of affirmation was filled with more joy than I’d ever heard before.

  SO IT TURNED OUT DIFFERENTLY than I’d originally envisioned. Sam waited at the elevator, ready to reel Patricia up after she led the hellhounds into the cavern. Benjie was inside, preparing a ceremony we hoped would be more successful than the one I’d flubbed. Patricia went out in the snow alone to hunt hellhounds.

  And I—ostensibly their leader—perched in a tree, keeping my scent off the ground while I waited to slam shut the back gate.

  For what felt like hours but was likely mere minutes, I blew on my fingers and chaffed against the rough bark that dug into my backside. Without my wolf, I couldn’t smell approaching danger. My human ears failed when I begged them to tell me what was happening beneath the earth and out in the snow.

  But I could see Adena—that raven in the near distance had to be Adena. For a long time, she soared on thermals. Then she swooped, and my stomach dipped along with her. I somehow knew Patricia had found the hellhounds. Knew as Adena reappeared and began flying directly toward me that the chase was on.

  Not long after, I heard them coming. Like hunting wolves, they ran in silence. But their feet hissed upon each contact with the hard-packed snow.

  Twelve strong—where had the other two come from?—they poured out of the trees in pursuit of Patricia. My heart leapt when I saw her. I scanned her head, limbs, tail, searching for signs she’d been changed from werewolf to hellhound.

  The tip of her tail and one leg were singed, but the rest of her fur was still just as gray as when she’d embarked on her mission. Relief held me in place as she sprinted beneath me, dove into the hole in the ground, then yelped as her back scraped against the top.

  Blood dotted the snowy edge of the cave entrance. This time, one of the hellhounds howled although it didn’t break stride.

  My fists clenched around the branch I clung to. Blood was the wolf version of catnip. Would that tiny scratch speed the steps of the hellhounds? Would Patricia be able to make it all the way to Benjie before the hellhounds caught up?

  Then the hellhounds were leaping in behind her. One after another, so close they appeared more like one beast rather than like separate beings. The path they followed was melted and sooty. If they’d run any slower, they would have broken through the snow crust and sunk in up to their backs.

  They hadn’t, though. Each hound gauged its speed correctly. Unlike Patricia, none seemed to lose so much as a single hair to the top of the hole.

  Instead, they burst into flame as they descended into darkness. Ten, eleven, twelve.... I gave the pack one more moment in case there were stragglers. Then I picked my way down out of the tree.

  Closing the gate would be easy—I knew that. The hard part would be waiting rather than following them down into the dark.

  But someone had to lock this gate in case Benjie’s ceremony ended in failure. The hellhounds had increased their numbers dramatically in a few short hours. I couldn’t let them loose to wreak havoc on the unwary denizens of the ordinary world.

  I dropped the last five feet to the ground, snowshoes in one hand...then froze there. There hadn’t been twelve hellhounds; there were thirteen of them. And the last one stood between me and the gate.

  His aroma was singed but familiar. Burnt butterscotch, charred moss, and over-ripe honeysuckle.

  He took a single step forward, the confirmation of his markings unnecessary.

  The thirteenth hellhound was Claw.

  NO, THIS WAS NOT-CLAW. A wily alpha, but a dangerous one. He bared his teeth, his feet dancing on the snow so he wouldn’t melt through the surface and trap himself. The chances of me getting a wary hellhound into the hole and slamming the gate shut behind him were zero.

  Good thing I had one other option left to call upon.

  Dropping the snowshoes, my hand slipped into my pocket. The warm head of Jacob’s effigy nudged into my palm like an adoring pet.

  Benjie had dismissed the statue as insufficient when I’d mentioned it earlier. “One statue, one wolf,” he’d told me, sounding as sure of himself as if he dealt with shifters and hellhounds daily.

  I’d agreed at the time. A single statue probably wouldn’t have made a dent in the pack that had streamed into the hole moments earlier.

  But here before me was one hellhound. The question became—would the stored magic shift not-Claw back, or extinguish what was left of his life?

  No way to know until I tried it. I pulled out the statue, fingers trembling from more than the cold.

  “Do you remember me at all?” I asked the hellhound. I couldn’t take a step forward in only my hiking boots—the drifts were too deep here. And I couldn’t risk baring my neck by bending to slip on the snowshoes still clutched in one hand.

  Which meant not-Claw would have to come to me if I wanted to use the statue. Unfortunately, he didn’t move a muscle. So I used the one thing I hadn’t in recent weeks—words.

  “Remember how we met in my classroom?”

  He took a single step forward. His head cocked. He was listening.

  “Remember how we kissed last week?”

  Smoke flared out of his nostrils. Not-Claw’s eyes narrowed.

  “My wolf and I both loved you. Pushing you away was a mistake....”

  And it had been a mistake to mention my error. Because the interest not-Claw had shown toward me dissipated. Hot air puffed from his nostrils as he snorted dismissal. Then he raised his head into an ear-splitting howl.

  From deep beneath the earth, a dozen voices answered. They were returning. I could feel them, hear them, smell them. There was no time left to waste.

  I leapt forward with statue extended. Whatever the repercussions, I couldn’t risk derailing our plan due to squeamishness and the fear of losing someone who no longer existed.

  Snow slid beneath my knees as I landed. I was close enough to touch him. I just needed to muster my intention....

  But there was no time left. My brain was scattered. Claw. Not-Claw. Burnt butterscotch surrounded me.

  And instinct pulled the unvarnished truth out of my mouth.

  “Wolf! I need you!”

  The statue shattered. Pain ricocheted through my belly.

  The magic was working...but not on Claw.

  A strangled yelp emerged from the hole, closer than I would have anticipated. That was not-Val; I knew because my wolf stretched between us, watery and transparent.

  It was so good to see her that I couldn’t breathe.

  I could, however, reach forward and grab her paws with human fingers. I yanked, but she was stuck in not-Val’s body. She’d been drawn out by my first breathless yell, but now she was having second thoughts. Was remembering our battles.

  Inch by inch, she started retreating.

  No, I pleaded. Come home! I miss you!

  She assessed, she considered...she agreed.

  I inhaled pain and exhaled joy as my alter-ego slingshotted out of the hellhound and back into my belly.

  No, not into my belly. I was in her belly. My body was fur, fangs, and fearlessness. We leapt over not-Claw, tempting him toward the entrance.

  But the hole in the ground was a sea of exiting hellhounds. We couldn’t lead not-Claw inside when his pack had already come back out.

  Chapter 34

  They surrounded me like sharks who’d scented blood in the water. One nipped my shoulder and I fell backwards, present pain nothing compared to the sight of blackness invading my fur and spreading like a stain.

  Hurry, my wolf murmured. She’d been one of them. She knew how it worked. We had minutes. Possibly only seconds.

  But there was nowhere to hurry to. Hellhounds bit and pushed. Soon we’d go under.

  My wolf whimpered, remembering what it had felt like to drown.

  Her whine was so quiet no one should have heard us. Yet someone did. A bark from the outskirts. Twelve
heads lifted in synchrony.

  Not-Claw’s eyes glowed with suppressed fire. He was a hellhound. He was the enemy...and at the same time he’d bought my wolf a much-needed reprieve.

  We couldn’t waste it. Leaving him, we turned on our heels and dove into the cavern. Nose collided with nose—Patricia was leaving just as we were entering. We tumbled over each other, losing seconds. The first hellhound caught up.

  His teeth on my rump burned like hot pokers. The darkness before me lightened. Was it merely his flames illuminating the tunnel, or had I started glowing?

  Run. My wolf brain was simple, on target. We scrambled to our feet, Patricia before us. She was the one lit with hellhound fire. Her front was still lupine, but her rear danced with ominous flames.

  Beneath the earth, hemmed-in scents grew overwhelming. Fire and flowers, seduction and smoke. Now that I’d been bitten, the awfulness smelled pleasant. Perhaps I should stop running from the hellhounds. Perhaps it was time to rejoin my pack....

  But I didn’t slow, and neither did Patricia. Not when a dark lump on the cave floor before us materialized into Val. Not when we leapt over her supine body without stopping to check whether she was breathing.

  Ours. My wolf’s rebellion was so quiet I could have ignored her. Instead, I stroked her belly from the inside.

  Ours, I agreed. But we have to go forward. The pack is depending on us.

  So we did. We ignored the scent of burning flesh that joined the olfactory cacophony. Was that me? Val? Patricia? All of us?

  Not bothering to decipher the mystery, we let the pain of burning hindquarters speed singed feet.

  Then Patricia’s dim glow was overwhelmed by a spill of light illuminating the corridor. The faintest vibration of drums flowed through me.

  The sacred place was calling. We’d made it. I only hoped Benjie was able to save us.

  Pushing Patricia before me, I leapt into the magical swirl.

  THERE WAS NO TIME TO assess the round cavern this time. Instead, I caught mere flashes of image.

  Benjie, dancing and chanting. The flame on my shoulder snuffing out in a burst of floral/furry smoke.

  Patricia leapt to human feet, unscathed and smiling. Fresh air breezed through our fur, coming from nowhere. My wolf and I reveled in our unity even as we joined Patricia in a two-legger dance.

  It had worked. We’d made it. Benjie knew what he was doing.

  We had one second to bask in our victory before the tide of hellhounds poured into the room behind us.

  For Patricia and me, it had been easy to fight off the floral infection. We’d been harmed but not transformed by it. Not so the wolves who followed us inside.

  Shamanic magic hit them like a swarm of yellow jackets. Frantic wolves bit at the air, twisting and snarling. One fell on his back, four legs pedaling against nothing as he howled out an undulating yelp of found mortality. Another dropped, not breathing, not moving. A third faded to the gray of ash then exploded into dust that choked the air.

  This isn’t working. So far, the wolves affected hadn’t been my pack mates. They appeared to be wild wolves, which made their loss horrible but not horrifying. Still, the hellhounds moved as a unit....

  Jacob was the first werewolf to enter, feet dancing to the tune of silent drumbeats. His white tail tip was distinctive...then absent as his animal spirit was ripped loose to spiral upwards into the air.

  His body collapsed to the ground, naked and human. The gaping wound at his throat had healed into pink scar tissue, but he didn’t rise and join us. He didn’t even breathe.

  No, this isn’t happening! My wolf and I leapt for Jacob’s fleeing spirit as one unit. You’re ours!

  But he was incorporeal. My fingers whooshed through him as easily as that thrown rock had cut through not-Val.

  I swallowed against horror. We’d drawn our pack mates here to save them, not to kill them. There had to be another step that we had missed.

  “You didn’t give the cave any offerings when you tried to change Val,” Benjie had told me on the drive over. This time, he’d lit candles and smudge sticks. Had painted himself with red ochre. Had come in early to dance and sing.

  And...all of that was external trappings only. Suddenly, I understood what the cave wanted. It wanted power, gifts with real meaning.

  My gaze lit on Benjie’s duffel bag, pushed against one wall.

  He’d tossed random objects into it earlier, I remembered. Everything we thought might be useful. Then, when the van left us beside Theta’s locked vehicle, I’d included my wet clothing. And with my clothes....

  I turned away from Jacob’s spirit, dove for the duffel. Chunks of rock nicked my knuckles as I pawed through the contents.

  Socks. Underwear. Then the damp string of my lanyard caught on my hand.

  There. A sacrifice with meaning.

  My profession. My livelihood.

  I made the cave a promise. Closed my eyes and set the picture of my smiling face on the niche emptied out by Justine’s thievery.

  Only then did I turn and fling myself at Jacob’s spirit.

  This time, his lupine body didn’t slide ghost-like through my hands.

  EVEN THOUGH I COULD grab onto Jacob, though, the return of his spirit to his body wasn’t easy. I slapped a transparent wolf against a human torso over and over. No matter how much I swore and begged, the flesh refused to let him in.

  Then my wolf was there behind my eyes, biting, tearing. Human teeth were blunt, but they did the job eventually. Tears dripped into blood as we worked together to force an excised spirit back inside what appeared to be a corpse.

  Jacob’s chest became a mess of meat. His blood in my mouth tasted salty and smoky. My wolf swallowed and I let her. What did it matter if she consumed him? He was already dead.

  Tnh. My wolf snorted at my human squeamishness. Not dead. Watch.

  Blood in our mouth, we stretched human lips wide and sucked in Jacob’s spirit. Human and wolf intermingled like sparkling cider, incandescent on our tongue.

  We spat the amalgam onto Jacob’s wound...and he shuddered in one breath. Another.

  The blood oozing from his throat lessened.

  Fingers drummed against the stones.

  MY WOLF WAS RIGHT—JACOB was living!

  There was no time to hover, however, because Harry had entered the cavern. Harry, then Theta, and Claw.

  Their lupine natures sucked free of their abruptly human bodies with the pop of a suction. One breath they were hellhounds. The next, their animating forces were swimming upwards and away from me.

  I’d figured out the solution, but there were too many werewolves in need of saving. How could I choose who to reunite with their wolves and who to let die?

  I didn’t have to. Patricia and Jacob joined me in wolf form, spreading apart to herd the spirits back toward their bodies. Three of us against three of them.

  Pack, pack, pack, my wolf chanted.

  Ours, ours, ours, I replied.

  Patricia mimicked my earlier leap, her teeth aiming at Harry. They snapped together and went right through him. My stomach lurched.

  Did we need to make additional sacrifices? I had nothing left to give this cavern.

  Harry’s animal spirit fluttered higher. His body grayed on the ground.

  “Harry, you asshole, get down here!” I didn’t realize I was spewing curses until his immaterial wolf turned to peer at me. It drifted closer, curious. I snagged its foreleg and used my downward momentum to fling him back inside his skin.

  Unlike Jacob, Harry slid into his body seamlessly. Less time separated or more time to bond with his human alter-ego? Or maybe the difference was that Harry’s throat hadn’t been ripped out by a hungry hellhound.

  I didn’t bother analyzing the situation. Reasons didn’t matter. Instead, I turned and leapt after the next pack member.

  Unfortunately, Theta was elusive. She and I hadn’t bonded.

  Or I thought we hadn’t until her teeth bit into my ear lobe. She used the co
nnection to pull herself downward. Hurry it up, she muttered. Claw is almost gone.

  She was right. Whatever had sucked Theta out of reach had Claw deep in its clutches. His human body was twisted, bloodless. His wolf was nearly invisible in the ash-filled air.

  Claw’s wolf spirit had hung back from the center of activity, letting the rest of his pack be saved with the selflessness of an alpha. But now that it was his turn, he’d floated too high for me to reach him. His wolf pelt was fading into residual smoke.

  I thrust myself upward so hard my feet slipped on the landing. My fingers hadn’t come close to touching his wolf spirit, but my knee grazed his human thigh as I tripped and fell at the end.

  His body was cold. Lifeless.

  I shook it in a fury. “Claw! You’re my mate! You can’t leave me!”

  His mouth quirked with familiar humor. “About time you admitted it.” A wolf smiled back at me from behind human eyes.

  Chapter 35

  We backtracked to find Val, stumbling but upright. She flinched as Jacob rubbed up against her in fur form. And when Benjie—over-eager, oblivious—asked if she wanted to draw her own wolf spirit into her body, she shook her head furiously.

  “No. Just no.”

  “But the smells!” Patricia rose to two feet, grabbing Val’s hands and trying to spin her into a giddy circle. “A wolf....”

  Val was usually willing to dance at the drop of a hat, but now she planted her feet and shuddered. “I can’t....” Her sentence was swallowed by an endless coughing fit.

  Only when Claw looped one strong arm around his sister’s shoulder did the spasm ease. “Maybe later,” he told the wider audience. Then, whispering in her ear: “Or never. Doesn’t matter. You’re still a member of our pack.”

  Confident that Claw could handle his sister’s distress, I left the two to their huddle. Val was one type of problem...the two newly Changed werewolves were another.

  Raising my eyebrow, I asked Benjie a silent question—could he help excise wolves without creating hellhounds? The shaman pursed his lips then dipped his chin into a nod.