Hair of the Wolf (8 page)

She frowned slightly, feeling the weight of the secrets she kept, looking at each of them. “Our families didn’t just die, they were killed by someone, a very bad person.”

Drew picked at grass blades while he spoke. “Who?”

Tabitha looked at the two younger cubs. “Who is not important yet. She is powerful, and she isn’t finished with us. One of the reasons that I adopted each of you was to protect you, because she will come after each of us as we get older and develop packs. While you’re with me, I can protect you. But your thoughts alone about her, should you know who she is, could be enough to draw her attention, so for now she stays in the shadows.”

“But that is why I push you so hard, Drew. You too, kids. When your training starts, I’ll be pushing you just as hard.”

Amber jumped up, excited. “I’ll start now! I wanna do it!” The little girl, black pigtails hanging down on either side of her head, focused on her hands and started grunting with effort.

Tabitha chuckled. “Dear, you are much too young to control the change. It won’t happen until you are twelve or …” She was interrupted as Amber excitedly held up her hands, claws extended and gleaming.

“Look! Look! I did it guys!” She hopped in place from foot to foot, pleased with herself.

Tabitha’s jaw dropped. She had never heard of a cub mastering shifting, in any form, before hitting puberty. “Very good, Amber. But you can never use that trick at school. Do you understand?”

The little girl nodded.

Tabitha thought for a moment, then made up her mind. There was so much more to tell the three kids, but it wouldn’t help them. Not right now. To protect them from their own bloody legacy, it was best if they didn’t know.

She stood and brushed her hands off. “Okay you three. As of today, all three of you practice together, every day. Okay? Drew, you are in charge of watching them while they, and you, practice. Make sure they don’t over strain themselves.”

“’Kay.” he nodded in reply.

The wolf pack settled down to practice shifting, with Tabitha watching thoughtfully. For once, she felt that they might have a chance once they were older. Perhaps they would someday not have to hide, someday they could fight, and even win. Someday.

***

Robert Crowley

The recently married Robert Crowley walked calmly down the street. He should be home with his wife, but he was living a lie. He was in love with a woman he could never be with. His heart wasn’t in this life, and he embraced the life of the hunter instead. It wasn’t fair to Emelia, his wife, but he didn’t know how to get out without hurting her. So he hunted. And right now, he was being hunted too.

He knew that he was being watched, but hadn’t managed to spot his pursuer. He knew what it was, and who, and had been trying to draw it to him for the better part of two years. But the world was a big place, and it took time to find one person amidst all the mental clutter that came along with a population of five billion humans.

Stopping for a moment, he enjoyed the air. Atmosphere was thinner at this elevation, as should be expected of Denver, the Mile High City. But he found that he enjoyed it. The air seemed almost lighter than it did in the desert.

As he strolled the streets of Capitol Hill, Denver’s residential district just off the Capitol building and downtown, he learned the city, inch by inch. Denver was very different from the adobe and steel feel of Tucson, Arizona. The buildings here were woods and concrete, with architectures spanning decades. The city had a feel about it of having been lived in for a long time, as opposed to much of the southwest, which just felt aged by the merciless sun. How ironic that Denver saw more sunny days than any other city in the country.

Hairs along Robert’s arms, and the back of his neck, stood on end. The presence was getting closer. He twirled the talisman adorning his neck as he walked. The charm had no name in his native Cherokee tongue, handed down as it was by his totem rather than the shamanistic tradition. He had spent eight years forging it, starting the night Clotho had revealed herself. Grandfather Coyote would be pissed if he knew what Robert was using it for. Or what the fabric he had woven it with was actually from. Robert grinned at the thought.

He had seen what this evil would do to his family, had watched it with the visions Fate granted him. Altering Fate was tricky, but tricky was in his blood. He would stop the evil. Had to.

The talisman began to emit a warm vibration. Finally. Two years he had travelled, letting the charm slowly draw the evil toward him just as it drew him toward it. He walked on, watching for good secluded spots to allow himself to be trapped in. The talisman grew warmer. Soon now, not too much further.

The talisman pulsed again, almost warm enough to burn. Robert grimaced at the unexpected heat. Of course, utilizing a talisman powerful enough to draw one of the great evils of the world towards him was worth a little burn.

Shadows began to swirl as streetlamps dimmed. A fog blew across the streets from nowhere, from everywhere, shrouding the ground.

So very ominous
thought Robert.
I can’t see my ankles or the low lying shrubs.

But he played the part of spooked pedestrian well. Hunching his shoulders, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sped up a little. Judging from the little light left, the next street would be almost complete dark.

If Robert’s mental map was correct, it was either Grant or Sherman Street up ahead, and would be mainly businesses. He quickened his pace yet again and turned to the right, heading down the darkened street. His pulse hammered, trying to erupt through his skin. Sweat was trickling down his temples despite the brisk night air.

The fog thickened and Robert began to have troubles dragging his feet through it. It coalesced around his calves and ankles, like he was trying to walk through peanut butter. Struggling against the viscous condensation, he ground to a halt, stopped in his tracks. “Damn it. What the hell is this?” He knew exactly what it was, had even been warned about it. Heat pulsed through the talisman as it grew even warmer. He could hear the faint tones of a woman humming
Night on Disco Mountain
drifting through the fog
.
He hadn’t heard that song since
Saturday Night Fever
had been popular.

The fog parted, swirling around a dark figure walking towards Robert. Despite the lack of light, the figure was clearly visible, radiating a dull glow. The figure stopped before him, standing about five feet away, watching intently. It was a man, dressed elegantly in clothes a century out of date, wearing a Victorian suit with cravat.

Robert used his thumbs to spin two rings around his fingers. Once the rings were positioned, he licked his forefinger, dipped his hand into his pocket, and then traced an X over his forehead.

A woman walked up, standing next to Victorian man. She, at least, was only wearing an outfit a decade out of date.

Robert flashed a smile at the unlikely duo. “If it isn’t Peter Vincent and Tony Manero, in the flesh.”

Bathory stroked the white lapel of her jacket. She cocked her head to the side. “Vlad, why is the food talking?”

Vlad Tepes stared at Robert. “That is an interesting question. How are you not reduced to speechless fear, food?”

Raising an eyebrow at the two, Robert shrugged. “Maybe if you had chosen better movies for your outfits I would respond better. Looking like cinema rejects isn’t exactly fear inducing.”

Bathory snarled, but Vlad put out a cautioning arm. “Wait, dearest.” He locked gazes with Robert.

The world vanished, replaced by an infinite void. Robert found himself bound on a crucifix. Slowing his breathing, he stared at the image of Vladimyr Tepes standing before him. “Vampire. Lord of the Night. This is foolish. This trap will not catch me.”

The elder vampire strolled around the crucifix, gazing quizzically up to Robert. “Yet you appear bound. How is it that you can talk? What are you?”

Channeling the spirit of Coyote, Robert flexed his muscles, letting chaos run through his veins. The bonds writhed, then dissolved to nothing. Robert fell to the ground, catching his balance before the stunned vampire and grinning wickedly. “I am a Scion, fiend. I carry in me the will of a god.” He locked gazes with the Vampire.

The hypnosis induced dream world fell apart, wisps of nothing fading into the fog. Robert once again stood in the real world, facing the two evils the talisman had drawn to him. Two was problematic. He had only expected one. But, it was nothing he couldn’t deal with.

Vlad Tepes staggered back, reeling from having his hypnotic gaze shattered. Bathory grabbed him, trying to stabilize him, and snarled at Robert. “What trickery is this, food?” She released Vlad and lunged forward.

Robert smiled. Never mess with a trickster who has had time to prepare.

***

Mina and Jonathan

The city was dark, with late night light traffic on the ebb, not that Albuquerque was that large of a town anyway. Every few minutes a solitary car would drive by on the mostly darkened streets. On the edge of the roof of a six-story apartment complex, two figures sat, watching the city.

Mina, back straight and sitting very formally, took a small sip of her tea. “We need a break.”

Jonathan blinked. He straightened his tie. “Excuse me?”

She glanced up at him over her tea cup, repeating herself. “We need a break.”

Jonathan kicked his heels against the wall below him, eyes scanning the city. “I know we’ve been training for ten years, but I tell you, we are not there yet. No breaks. Besides, we lost the wolf. We still have to find her again.” He leaned forward a bit, watching a pedestrian enter the building below.

She sighed. “That is not what I mean. I mean that you and I need a break. We have been together for a hundred years. I just need to wake up … well, not to the same old—” She stopped herself on the verge of saying something hurtful.

He eyed her. “Thanks. That makes me feel great. So a hundred year romance has to go away because you are sick of seeing my face?”

“Don’t act like that,” she snapped at him. “I’m sick of the way you twist what I say to what you want hear. I didn’t say I am sick of your face, you dick.”

He hopped up and started pacing along the cornice, his feet just a few inches from the dizzying drop to the street. “You said you need to wake up and not see the same old
me.
How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?”

“Like you aren’t sick of me? A wife can tell. I see you watching other women walk by, the way you …”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He didn’t yell, but the anger still managed to come through in cold tones. “I am not a philanderer, nor have I any thoughts of being so.”

Mina’s jaw tightened. “Do not interrupt me. As I was saying, I can tell by the way you look at other people, the way you talk to me, just the way you are. I fell in love with a man who reminded me of nothing so much as a tiger pacing in a cage the world had trapped him in. Now you act like a viper. You twist everything. You aren’t here anymore, and we need time apart to sort through these things. To find ourselves again.”

He spun around, pacing faster. “Are you done now? Do I have your permission to talk?”

She motioned for him to continue, ignoring the passive aggressive attack.

“Maybe, just maybe, had you sometime in the last fifty years, not assumed I was always wrong, I wouldn’t have to act like a viper. You treat me like you have to tolerate me, not like I am your husband and welcome in your life.”

Rolling her eyes, she looked over at him, “And now the truth comes out, I see. You are as sick of me as I am of you.”

“Like hell I am! I am your husband. Don’t you understand what that means?”

She sighed. “What do you think that means, Jonathan?”

“Partnership.” He stopped for a moment, accentuating his point. “We are supposed to be partners. That doesn’t mean that I am me and you are you. We have an obligation above that, to be us. We didn’t get married to be apart, we got married to be together.”

“Damn it anyway, you are so thick headed. I didn’t marry a couple, I married a man. You act like you have long ago lost that person, and I don’t want you unless I can find that man again.” Mina’s voice was starting to crack a bit as tears forced a solitary march down her cheek.

He crossed his arms, staring at her. “I am me. If you saw someone else before our marriage, it was because you were only looking at what you wanted to see. And in a hundred years, you are finally starting to realize who I actually am?” Jonathan rarely fought, but the ease with which she had approached the topic pissed him off.

“I’ve always known who you are,” she practically spat the words. “The problem is that you don’t know who you are. You keep changing how you interact with the world based on who is around you. If you weren’t such a damned chameleon, I wouldn’t have to constantly check to see who you were. I want passion, not careful calculation.”

“Great. Good to hear. Is there anything right with me? Or does everything about me piss you off??”

“Jonathan.” Mina wiped a tear away. “I’m not saying that. This isn’t easy on me, and I’m not trying to bring you down or make you less. I just don’t … I don’t feel. This is the most emotion I’ve felt with you in almost two decades.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? We are married, that is a choice we already made. We work together to make things better. That’s how relationships work.” He threw his hands up in frustration. “I feel like you are throwing away a hundred years of our vows!”

She eyed him askance. “Our vows were ‘till death do us part.’ Technically, we’ve fulfilled that condition, Jonathan. We’ve been living with ‘already dead but still trying’ for years now. Do not try to guilt me with vows.”

He stared at her silently for a moment, watching her cry. Her back remained rigid though, and the look of determination never left her face. Finally realizing how serious she was, how determined, he gave in. “I’m not going to win this am I?”

“No.”

“You’re leaving me then?” He sat back down, all the wind knocked out of his sails, keeping his distance from her.