Wolf's Bane

by Kelley Armstrong

  I lean in to look at Mason’s arm. Allan stays off to the side, gaze averted, and I don’t blame him. It’s not a sight for a weak stomach. Even Mason, as cool as he’s acting, doesn’t look down at the mangled mess of flesh.

  It is healing. That’s the only reason I can look at it, witnessing a fascinating phenomenon without feeling like a ghoul. Let my inner geek flag fly at this rare opportunity. I still cannot do it with completely scientific dispassion. I’m horrified by what I see, the flesh ripped, white bone showing, Kate clamping down to keep Mason from bleeding out.

  “How are you doing?” I ask, lowering my voice so the spellcasters can’t hear.

  “Peachy, thanks, pup.”

  “He’s a gem,” Kate says and she clamps harder on Mason’s elbow, making him wince and shoot her a glare, to which she returns a sunshine-bright smile. He snorts, but there’s no anger there. I might even detect a glimmer of amusement, granting her a point.

  “Logan?” Kate says, gaze on her work. “We’re going to be done here in five minutes. If that gives you time to Change . . .”

  I curse under my breath. I should have thought of that. In fact, I should be Changed by now.

  “I’ll—” I begin.

  “Kate!”

  We all jump at the shout, echoing from deep in the forest. I’m confused at first, thinking whatever is out there is calling my sister. But her head jerks up and she says, “Elijah?”

  She looks at me. “Where’s—?”

  A crashing through the forest cuts her off. Elijah shouts, “Kate!” again. Then “Kate! Run!” and Kate grabs my hand, clamping it onto Mason’s arm as she leaps up.

  I see Elijah through the trees. He’s at least a hundred feet away. Then he’s in the air, hoisted by an invisible hand. He dangles there a moment as Kate runs into the forest, shouting, “Elijah!”

  The invisible hand whips him back and then hurls him through the air as Kate screams.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kate

  “You’re a very brave boy,” I say to Mason as I adjust my hold on his arm, using my werewolf-tight grip as a tourniquet. “If you keep this up, I’ll need to find you a lollipop.”

  “Fuck off,” he says, but there’s no rancor in it, and I can tell I’ve guessed right—he appreciates flippancy more than sympathy.

  He’s in agony right now, blue eyes nearly black with pain, teeth gritted, sweat running down his broad face. The fact he’s not rolling on the ground—or sinking into shock—tells me the tough guy act isn’t entirely an act. It’s a wall, too, though, one that keeps everyone else firmly on the other side and lets him hide behind it, while pretending he’s not hiding at all. I know that feeling. I’ve been living with it all my life. In my case, my school-yard defense is a carefree in-your-face brashness that hides the fact I’d really rather run home to my Pack.

  “I’d suggest you don’t look at it,” I say.

  “Fine by me. My insides are not my best angle.”

  I snort at that. Then I glance over to where Logan and Elijah stand guard, watching the hell hound’s retreat. My mind flits in that direction—a hell hound? Why? How?—before I yank it back making sure Mason doesn’t lose his arm.

  The only thing holding the limb is cartilage, and I’m trying not to feel ill at that. As a werewolf who also wants to be a doctor, I’m fine with gore. The nausea comes from knowing that I’d been willing to let Mason get tossed around to distract the hell hound, while not considering that it could have done permanent damage.

  Holly slides over to help, but I ask her to stand guard instead.

  “You hanging in there?” I ask Mason.

  “I dunno. Is my arm still hanging in there?”

  I chuckle. “It is, and it’s healing. I can literally watch it heal. It’s fascinating really.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  It is indeed fascinating. The tissue stitches itself together, blood vessels and muscle finding their torn edges and healing before my eyes. I tuck a few pieces in to aid the process, and I do murmur an apology to Mason for that, but he only shrugs and grunts, “Whatever,” which might sound like he’s rejecting my apology, but really only means I can do what I must. He trusts me, and I’d like to think I’ve earned that, but I suspect I’ve won it simply by being Logan’s sister.

  I’ve seen the way Mason looks at my brother when he thinks no one’s watching. He might snark and insult Logan, but I see a guy with a crush he’s desperate to hide from everyone, especially the subject of that infatuation.

  As for whether Logan is interested back, honestly, I’ve never known my brother to be more than mildly intrigued by anyone, and when he is, his target is as likely to be a guy as a girl. That’s just Logan. He’ll find the right person when he’s ready, and if the past is any indication, he’d need to know Mason a lot better before his attention turns in that direction.

  Mason tenses, his entire body going still, and when I glance up, he’s looking at something behind me. Then his gaze drops fast, his features hardening to implacable stone, and I know who’s walking over.

  “Can you make him sit his ass down?” I say to Logan before he even steps into view. “Before I kick it down?”

  “Can you make her let go of my arm?” Mason grumbles. “Before she snaps it off?”

  I snark back at him, and Holly joins us as she and Logan discuss the finer points of vampire healing powers. I stay out of the conversation and keep my attention on clamping off the blood flow and nudging pieces into position.

  When they’re done talking, though, I do bring up an important point—the fact that the hell hound almost certainly didn’t just magically appear here on its own.

  A voice booms, shouting my name.

  I look up sharply. “Elijah? Where’s—?”

  Something crashes through the forest.

  No, not something. Elijah crashes through the forest.

  What the hell is Elijah doing there? He was just with Logan, standing guard.

  “Kate!” Elijah bellows. “Run!”

  I grab Logan’s hand and clamp it onto Mason’s arm. Then I race toward the crashes, squinting to see into the thick forest.

  There!

  I see Elijah, running. But he isn’t running toward us. He’s going in the opposite direction. Leading something away from us.

  I start to run. Then, suddenly, Elijah isn’t running anymore. He’s dangling in the air.

  “Elijah!” I shout.

  His eyes widen his limbs windmill as he flails to get down. Then whatever has him throws him through the trees. I let out a scream of rage as I race toward him.

  “Kate!” Allan shouts behind me. “Don’t—!”

  The rest is cut off by the thunder of running footfalls. I glance back to see Logan coming after me, Holly now clamping down on Mason’s arm as Allan follows Logan.

  I race to where Elijah lies crumpled in a twisted heap, not moving, and my heart slams against my ribs.

  “Elijah!”

  Movement. Excruciatingly slow movement, as he lifts his head, blinking at me. Then, his eyes go wide, head whipping up as his mouth opens.

  Something hits me in the side and knocks me flying into a tree. Logan snarls in rage, and I dimly hear Holly shouting, “Get back here! Do not—”

  “Hey,” Mason yells. “You want a plaything? Come get it.”

  “Demon,” I whisper as I push up. Arms grab me, my brother tugging me to my feet. I whisper “Demon” again, still winded, every breath searing through me.

  “I know,” Logan says grimly.

  He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to. My brother might be the expert when it comes to our supernatural world, but even I know that if there’s a hell hound where a hell hound should not be, that can only mean one thing. It’s been brought here by a demon.

  I push to my feet and look around. The forest has gone quiet. Mason’s striding around the clearing, his face set in grim determination. Holly’s there, and Allan, too, fog wafting fr
om his fingertips, ready to cast it and hide us. But there’s nothing to hide us from. All is quiet.

  “Too quiet,” Logan murmurs, as if reading my thoughts.

  I nod and stagger to Elijah on wobbly legs. He’s doubled over, retching. When I approach, he waves off my concern. I reach out and he stands, putting an arm around my shoulders, letting us prop each other up.

  The others reach us, and we instinctively cluster, spellcasters in the middle. When a growl sounds in front of us, Elijah stiffens, his arm tightening around my shoulders.

  “That you, mutt?” Elijah says. “You really think that’s a good idea? We kicked your ass—”

  Another growl sounds, this one off to our left. I’m turning that way when the hell hound behind us snarls again.

  “Please tell me hell hounds can teleport,” Elijah whispers.

  “Sorry,” I murmur.

  “Don’t move,” Logan says. “Holly?”

  She’s already casting her spell to materialize the hounds. Allan joins in. Two forms begin to appear. Two massive hell hounds.

  “Ideas?” Elijah murmurs.

  “Run like hell?” I say.

  He gives a strained chuckle. “Yeah, I’m thinking that’s all we’ve got.”

  I glance at Logan. He nods. When I look toward Holly, she points in the direction of the cabin, our initial destination.

  “Okay,” I murmur. “On the count of three. Logan, Elijah and I will move toward Holly and Allan. Mason?” I look at him, the farthest from the group as always.

  “I’ll distract them,” he says. “Give you guys a head start.”

  “Let them each grab an arm and rip you in two?” I say. “I don’t think you can recover from that.”

  “I’ll be—”

  “Go on, Kate,” Logan says to me. “I’ll stay with Mason.”

  Mason scowls his way. “I don’t need a guard dog, pup.”

  “Too bad. You stay, I—”

  “For fuck’s sake, are we running?” Mason says. “Get on with it.”

  I reach and squeeze Logan’s hand. Then we run.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Logan

  Two hell hounds. As Kate would say, of course there had to be two. One just wasn’t challenging enough.

  We run in a group, with the werewolves on the outside. Mason tries to lag behind, but he doesn’t try very hard, and I only need to look over my shoulder for him to glower and grumble and catch up. Even he isn’t keen to put himself in the path of two hell hounds.

  As the hounds pursue, the spellcasters hide us with fog and blur spells. They don’t bother forcing the beasts to materialize. We can hear them crashing through the forest. That’s all they do, though, and I feel like a rabbit being run to ground. They could catch up. I’m sure of that. But they don’t.

  I catch glimpses of Kate’s sweat-streaked face, and I know she’s in pain. Elijah is, too, when I bother to look his way. Whatever his initial game plan with Kate, I grudgingly admit he’s carried his weight in battle. The rest can be tackled later.

  So the hounds could catch up. They’re toying with us, and one of the first things we learned from our parents was not to toy with prey. Yes, the chase and the hunt are fun. Exhilarating, adrenaline pumping fun. But you must enjoy that part while your prey still has an actual chance of escape. Once they’re cornered, it doesn’t matter if it’s a mouse or a rabbit or a coyote—you do not prolong the torment.

  “I see the cabin!” Kate calls. “Logan? Elijah? Grab sticks if you see them. Allan and Holly, we’ll need your casting.”

  The cabin appears, rising from the forest. We all bear down, finding that last bit of energy as we barrel toward it.

  We clamor onto the porch, and Kate starts hammering on the door, trying to smash it down. We form a knot around her, with me and Elijah in front, both brandishing sticks. Mason has one, too, and he’s backed against the spellcasters, letting them work their magic. Fog spells, cover spells, knockbacks and fireballs—they unleash their entire arsenal as the hell hounds snap and lunge at us.

  “We’re going to run out of juice soon,” Allan warns.

  “I know,” Kate says. “This damned door isn’t budging. Logan?”

  I flip around and dodge between the two spellcasters.

  “Count of three,” I say, and we ram our shoulders against the door simultaneously. Pain shoots through me . . . and the door doesn’t budge.

  “Son of a bitch,” Kate snarls.

  “Window,” I say, and I shove past Mason to get to the nearest front window. It’s boarded from the inside with simple plywood. I slam my fist into it, pain arcs through my hand while the wood only cracks down the middle.

  Okay, not simple plywood. It’s reinforced with two-by-fours. I lift my hand again.

  “Stand back,” Kate says, lifting a branch.

  She smashes the stick into the wood. It cracks more . . . and the branch snaps in half. She starts battering with the broken branch.

  A hiss of pain behind us. Allan staggers, blood dripping from his arm. I grab him as Kate yanks on the broken boards, clearing enough for Allan to scramble through. He falls inside, cursing, but I’m already hefting Holly.

  “Mason!” I shout.

  “I got this.”

  “Forget him,” Elijah calls. “Get yourselves inside. That fog is about to disperse and when it does—”

  Elijah flies back into the wall with a thud and an oomph, and Kate dives to his rescue. Inside, Holly and Allan must be casting, because I catch a glimpse of black fur, a flash of monstrous fangs. My sister is makes contact with the latter. Elijah and I grab Kate at the same time, and we heave her, still fighting, through the window.

  As Kate tumbles into the house, Elijah turns to me with a wide smile and a hand lifted for a high five. I shove him toward the window. He shakes his head and scrambles through. Then I turn to Mason.

  “Go on, pup,” he says, not looking my way. “I’ve got this.”

  I hoist him by the back of his shirt, ignoring his “Hey!” and his struggles, and I shove him through the window. Inside, Kate hauls him through.

  “Let go—” Mason begins, and she does, tossing him unceremoniously aside. Then she reaches through the window, wraps her hands in my shirt front and heaves. As I fly up, the four-inch fangs of a hell hound clamp down on my foot. Pain sears up my calf as I tumble through the window.

  “Shit!” Kate drags me away from the window and drops over my leg as red rivulets run down it.

  I grit my teeth and pull my leg in, waving off her concern as I push to my feet. We all turn toward the window. Outside, the hounds snarl, and when I ease closer, I see them, half materialized, pacing.

  “You know why I wasn’t in a hurry to get inside?” Mason calls from across the small room.

  “Because you love us and want to keep us safe?” Kate says.

  He snorts. “Because I’m not stupid enough to trap myself in an old wooden house, especially after the big, bad wolves busted open a window big enough for those things to squeeze through. But thanks, pup, for trapping me in here to die with you. I appreciate that.”

  Kate pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You won’t die, big guy. You get to come back as a giant mosquito.”

  He lifts his middle finger in front of her face.

  “Truth,” she says. “However, as you may have noticed, the hounds are not at our door. Or our window. Remember that night you died?”

  “You mean last night?”

  “Time flies, huh? Well, after you slunk off on Logan—”

  “I didn’t slink—”

  “After you slunk off, the rest of our Scooby gang went exploring. We found this place, which is warded. Now we know what it’s warded against.” She waves outside. “Voila. Thou shalt not cross, hell hounds.”

  “Yeah? Well, you know what? We can’t cross either, not with a couple of hell hounds out there. You think demonic beasts get tired? Take naps?”

  “You are such a ray of sunshine. You’re lucky my
brother feels responsible for you or I’d toss you out for the hounds to chew on.”

  “Feels responsible for me?” Mason sputters.

  “You didn’t think he was letting you hang around for your charming personality, did you?”

  She grins at Mason, who scowls back, and I feel like I’ve missed a joke. Clearly Kate is teasing Mason, and I’m not sure why.

  She walks over and grabs his good arm, and I tense, ready to intercede if he gets pissy. He can mistreat me all he wants, but he’d better not try that with Kate. Especially not when she’s been much more considerate than he deserves.

  When she grabs his arm, though, he only shoots me a glare, like this is all my fault. She hauls him to the window and waves out at the prowling hounds.

  “You really think you’d be better off out there?” she says. “If you do, be my guest. I’ll keep Logan from stopping you.”

  He grumbles, nothing intelligible.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “You’re just being a pain in the ass for the sake of being a pain in the ass.”

  “No, I’m pointing out the flaws in your plan, Goldilocks. Those wolves are at the door, and they’re not going away.”

  “Goldilocks is bears. The three bears.”

  “Either way, you’re gonna get eaten. We all are. So is anyone who comes to rescue us.”

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing no one will come to rescue us. Did I mention we found our cell phones? They took out the SIM cards. We’re stuck here until we come up with a plan. So how about you brood on that for a while, big guy. Find yourself a corner, and we’ll all stay out of your way while you pretend to be thinking up a plan.”

  He glances at the window. “You’re sure it’s safe in here?”

  “No, we are not,” I say. “We presume that’s what the warding is for, given that it seems to be working. Time to catch our breath and, as Kate said, come up with a plan.”

  “Uh, guys?” Allan says. “I hate to interrupt but . . . I think I know why Kate couldn’t break down the front door.”