The Clockwork Wolf

by Lynn Viehl

  “Good evening, milord, milady.” He sketched a perfect bow. “I regret to say the family has retired for the evening.”

  Dredmore drew a stone from his pocket, murmured something low and then reached out his other hand. When the butler took it said, “Who is inside the house?”

  The spell he cast caused the butler blinked once before his face cleared and relaxed. “Her ladyship, the household staff, and several men with guns.”

  “Keep your head down,” Dredmore told me before he asked the butler, “You were told by these men to turn away anyone who came to the house?”

  “Yes, sir.” The man beamed. “If I do not, they will shoot her ladyship and the servants.”

  “Guards for the skull,” I murmured. “Where are they?”

  When Dredmore asked him, the butler confirmed that two men were with the servants in the dining hall, and a third was watching Lady Raynard in her bedchamber, where she had retreated in hysterics and bolted herself in. “The rest are in his lordship’s study with the animal bones they brought to the house.”

  Five men were going to be difficult to lure out of the room. “Did you happen to bring an extra rat?”

  “I have better.” He removed his coat and vest, and rolled up his sleeves. He then unwound his neckcloth from his throat and tied it over the lower half of his face. Brandishing a pistol, he took hold of my arm. “A pretty new hostage to deliver.”

  Dredmore told me his plan before having the butler lead us through the house to the mayor’s study.

  At a nod from Dredmore, the butler knocked once, opened the door, and bowed. “Gentleman, another ruffian has arrived. He has a hostage.” He bowed a second time and stepped out of the way.

  By now I was an old hand at playing the abducted wench, and added to my repertoire by wrenching away from Dredmore and running straight at one of the men inside.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” I begged, sagging against him.

  “What’s all this then?” he said over my head.

  Dredmore shot him in the leg. “You’ve been relieved.” He turned and fired four more times, dropping each man before he could react.

  I played helpful hostage by collecting all the weapons they dropped and placing them on the tray brought in by the butler. “Lucien, the others will have heard the gunfire. You might take a strategic position in the hall. Take some of these ruffians with you.” I smiled at the butler. “Could you assist with the wounded, sir? And summon those nice lads guarding your drive.”

  “Right away, milady.”

  Once the butler and Dredmore were out I secured the door and looked over at the War Heart. I knew wolves had heads approximately equal to that of mortals, but this skull had to be twice that size. Otherwise it was simply an ancient, brittle dry thing that made my skin crawl a bit.

  I steadied myself. As soon as I placed my hands on the bones, the spell would be broken. Doyle would be freed of the wolf’s spirit, but he could not survive the stress of the mech inside his body. The strong suit would kill him from the inside out.

  Could I do this? Could I end the life of such a man as Tommy Doyle? My head was sure, but my heart wanted none of it.

  A shadow passed across the window behind the desk, drawing my eye an instant before the glass shattered round a bulging fist. Motors whirred as Doyle smashed his way through and stepped over the windowsill.

  I saw no reason in his eyes, and when I called his name he did not react. I tried to get to the skull, but he blocked me. “Tommy, please. It’s the only way I can help you now. I’m sorry.”

  He looked past me at the door, and then grabbed me and jumped back out through the window.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Doyle ran down the hill in giant, terrifying leaps, holding me against his chest as he descended. Beneath his skin I could feel the mech flexing and stretching with every movement, and it only made him stronger and faster. Soon the world blurred round us as he ran into the streets, jumping over carris and at times to the tops of buildings. I closed my eyes, too frightened to watch any longer.

  We came to a stop, and leaves brushed against my hair. I looked to see the White Lupine beneath us, as well as the thick bough of a tree.

  Doyle set me down and crouched in front of me, his eyes searching my face.

  I turned my back on the club and gripped the branch to keep from tumbling to the ground. “Did he send you to bring me back?”

  His lips peeled away from his teeth as he uttered a low growl, and then reached for my hand, which he jammed against his cheek.

  “All right.” I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but I’d take that as a gesture of friendship. Then I saw some of the wildness leave his gaze and realized why he wanted the contact. “You can’t feel the wolf spirit when I touch you.”

  What started as a growl became a word. “Y-yes.” He pulled me closer. “Kit.”

  “You’re all right.” I wrapped my arms round him. “Oh, Tommy.”

  He shook his head as he drew back. “Too. Hard. Master.” He stared at the club. “Calls. Me.”

  “You don’t have to obey. You can resist him. You did before, remember?” I brought his hand to my cheek. “You got out of there.”

  His features grew tormented. “Kit. Don’t run.” He gathered me up and dropped down to the ground, rolling with me into the bushes.

  Branches snapped and scratched me, and a shower of leaves pelted me as Doyle pressed me against the hard, cold ground. The sound of quick, heavy footfalls and a faint grind of gears turning made me squint through the patches of shrubbery until I could see the walkway, and the two beasts trotting toward us. As Doyle covered me with his heavy body, I held my breath and prayed they wouldn’t discover us.

  I went as still as Tommy when they drew near, holding my breath as I stared at their monstrous faces. Both were panting, sending great clouds of breath through their snouts out to whiten the cold air, and the spell that had transformed them had been completed, arming them with nightmarish brass teeth and long, gleaming scythe-like claws.

  One paused and sniffed the air, causing the other to growl and snap at him. They collided in a brief, vicious tussle before their bodies began to shake and they tottered apart again.

  Lykaon had done something to prevent them from fighting each other—improved on the mechanism inside them, perhaps. That did not enhance our chances of escape.

  After another minute of lingering and sniffing, the Wolfmen headed in the direction of the Hill. I almost groaned with relief; they’d picked up the scent Tommy had left carrying me off but were following it backward.

  Once the beasts had disappeared from sight, Doyle rolled onto his back, bringing me to rest atop him. “He hunts me. You.”

  I cradled his face between my hands. “I won’t let him have you. I’m going to fix this, do you understand?”

  He used a clumsy caress to brush the hair out of my face, and said in an almost normal voice, “You can’t fix me.”

  I didn’t want to hear any more of that, so I kissed him. His mouth hadn’t changed; it still tasted as hot and darkly delicious as the first time. He was still Tom Doyle, my childhood friend, my reluctant ally . . . but that wasn’t enough for me now.

  I wanted to bring him back to the man he had been. The man he still was. The strong suit had not been changed by Lykaon’s magic, or programmed by that horrid man Desney, but the Aramanthan’s blood and spell had taken away Tom’s humanity. I needed to disenchant him, inside and out.

  He brought his arms up round me, gripping handfuls of the back of my borrowed gown, and I lifted my head when I heard it tear.

  “No.” He brought one hand round to rest it over my breast. “I am not. A beast.”

  So he wanted me, too. The more he touched me, the more human he became. If I pushed him away now, he would fall once more under Lykaon’s spell. I had to bind him to me in ways that the immortal never could, with chains of love and delight—that much magic Dredmore had taught me.

  I knew what I
was about to do was a betrayal of my feelings for Lucien. But I loved Tommy as well, and I was responsible for what had happened to him. I had to make this right. I knew the risk I was taking; it could very well end in disaster for me. But losing Tom to madness, to Lykaon, would be far worse than anything that could happen to me.

  “You are a man,” I told him, putting my hand over his. “My man. And tonight I am your woman.”

  He pulled my head down to his, and I gave in to my own desire. His mouth ravished mine so sweetly I had to feel more where I ached most, and pulled down my bodice to bare my breasts for him.

  He nuzzled me, soothing his hot face against my cooler skin, latching on to suck gently. I reached down to pull my skirts up so I could straddle him, and he helped by tearing open the front of his trousers.

  “Oh, yes.” My eyes fluttered at the press of his body between my thighs. My drawers parted as he stroked against me, and he went still as he felt the slickness of me touching his shaft.

  There was nothing so human as lovemaking, I thought, and smiled at him. “I want to feel you inside me.” When his features took on a desperate tightness, I shifted forward, catching the distended bulb where it needed to go. “Come into me, Tommy. I need you.”

  He pushed, pausing to close his eyes and savor it before he pressed in. The lovely satisfaction of being filled made my fears dwindle to nothing, and I kissed his mouth as I sank down to his root.

  Sweat trickled from his brow as he eased back and forth within me, the gentle friction causing me to shudder and grip his shoulders. He was watching me, his eyes once more that clear, heavenly blue, and as my excitement built I felt completely naked to his gaze, bared in every sense and feeling.

  His hands gripped my bottom as he began to work me over him, going harder and deeper into me, and I writhed like a mad thing, clamping down on him as the pleasure rushed over me. He drove into the center of it, bringing me a release so bright and strong I thought I would shatter like a glass dropped on stone.

  He went rigid, pressing his face against my breasts as his seed pulsed into me, and then cradled me, his breath rasping in and out as I let myself go limp. I’d brought him back to me, I knew it instinctively, and that made the slow waves of satisfaction spread through my heart as well as my limbs.

  Once I could find the strength to lift my head, I rested my chin on his chest and watched his face. He wore an expression of utter contentment, his eyes drowsy, his mouth curved slightly.

  “I was right about you,” I whispered, and brushed a kiss across his throat. “You are quite the man.”

  “You are shivering.” He sat up slowly, holding me as he pulled my bodice up over my breasts. He then rubbed a hand over his face in such a human gesture that I grinned, and he smiled back. His expression turned dark as he saw the bandages protruding from my cuff, and he pulled back the sleeve before giving me a direct look.

  I wanted to tell him it was nothing, but that would be like saying we hadn’t a care in the world. “I had a spirit stone cut out of my arm. Another gift from Lykaon.”

  His eyes took on a different light now. “It will be the last.”

  “Not just yet, Tommy,” I said. “I have one left to give him.”

  • • •

  Doyle took me back to the Hill at the same reckless, effortless pace, demonstrating that the strong suit was still working perfectly, but when we reached Raynard Manor he refused to come inside.

  “I must stop the Wolfmen.” He glanced down at the city. “They have caused enough suffering.”

  “Wait.” I tugged some hairs from my head and tucked them into his shirt pocket. “For luck.”

  He brought my hand to his lips. “Thank you, love.”

  As I watched him speed down toward the city I heard the door open behind me. “I found Doyle,” I said, “and broke the spell binding him to Lykaon. He’s going after the Wolfmen.” I didn’t know how to say we’d become lovers behind a bush in the park. “Lucien—”

  “I beg your pardon,” an indignant voice said. “What are you doing here?”

  I turned to face Lady Raynard, who was dressed in a green gown with so many flounces she resembled a walking cabbage. “I’m sorry, milady, I thought you were . . . never mind.” I glanced past her. “Is Lord Dredmore still here?”

  “No, he is in jail. You will kindly leave the premises at once, or I will have you join him there.” She marched back into the house.

  The butler caught the door and looked out at me. “I’m sorry, milady, but her ladyship summoned the authorities. Your companion was taken along with the ruffians. I will be happy to attest to his innocence as soon as the house is restored to order.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, clenching my teeth to keep from relating my real opinion. “What happened to the skull?”

  “Her ladyship had one of the stable hands remove it from the house.” The butler glanced over his shoulder before he added, “Unfortunately the man was also arrested when the police saw him leaving. I believe they are detaining all the natives in the city.”

  Dredmore would have to be bailed out later. “Does the stable hand’s name happen to be Night Snow?”

  The butler looked uneasy. “Her ladyship does not approve of non-Christian names and insists we call the natives by their position.”

  Of course she did. “Was he called Trainer?”

  He smiled. “Yes, that’s it.”

  I walked down the drive and greeted the nobbers, all of whom looked as if they’d gotten an earful from her ladyship. “Lads, do any of you know where they’re detaining the natives?”

  “I’m not sure, miss.” He nodded past me. “Maybe you should ask that one.”

  I turned to see Night Snow driving Dredmore’s carri, and grinned as I hurried over to him. “You got away from the police.”

  “He had some assistance, my dear.” The door opened, and Lykaon stepped out and leveled a pistol at me. “If you run or call for help or do anything besides getting in the vehicle, I will shoot you.”

  A blanket-wrapped bundle the size of the War Heart sat on the bench next to Night Snow. “He’s been using you all along, hasn’t he?”

  The native didn’t speak or look at me, but once I got into the carri Lykaon was happy to gloat.

  “You shouldn’t feel any bitterness toward the heathen,” he said. “It took only a flick of my power to have him steal the War Heart and the wolf spirit spell along with it. He doesn’t remember anything I’ve made him do.”

  I kept my tone pleasant. “You had him bring the skull to Raynard Manor for safekeeping.”

  “That did not require a spell,” Lykaon admitted. “I had only to tell him what he’d already done, and promise to tell his tribe if he did not obey me.”

  I regarded him. “I wonder, what will you do when the other Aramanthan are reborn? I daresay you won’t be able to bespell or blackmail any of them.”

  He smirked. “I will have restored them to the world. For that they will worship me.”

  “I should think they’ll all want to be in charge,” I said. “None of your lot are especially subservient. It is why your race was destroyed, isn’t it? Too many chiefs, not enough stable hands?”

  Instead of hitting me, Lykaon chuckled. “Merlin would have told you such tales of us. It is not entirely unexpected. He has ever been a hypocrite, and now he is quite powerless.”

  “Yet he escaped you,” I pointed out, “and he did that in the body of a helpless child. Kings are not usually so easily defeated. If fact I can’t think of a single one who has been outwitted by a small boy.”

  The Aramanthan’s mouth distorted into a sneer. “You will not provoke me into anger, hell child. I know the shaman adopted you as his daughter, and told you how to bring the wolf spirit under my control. The young heathen confessed it all.”

  “Now you need me to secure your kingdom. I see.” I closed my eyes. “You really should rethink these plans.”

  I needed to conserve what was left of my strength, s
o I allowed the sway of the carri to lull me into a doze. I’d never been one to wallow in regrets, and while I’d acted on impulse with Tommy in the park, I was not sorry for it. Nor for my time with Dredmore before I’d destroyed that. Both men had their place in my heart, and I’d cherish each memory for as long as I could.

  My nap ended with the abrupt braking of the carri, and I looked out to see the road leading into the city filled with natives dressed for battle, each carrying a flaming torch. On the opposite side of the road, a man in a tweed suit stood by a carri and seemed to be watching the advance of the natives through a short telescope.

  Lykaon climbed down and offered me a hand. “It is time for you to do your work, Miss Kittredge.”

  I ignored his hand and got out. From here I could see the Wolfmen pouring out of the city a mile beyond, their jaws snapping and their claws slashing. Night Snow came down from his bench carrying the bundle, which Lykaon took from him.

  The native warriors closed ranks and gave a terrifying shout as they raised their spears and bows. The approaching Wolfmen answered them with savage howls.

  “My soldiers will fight until the death,” Lykaon said, “but without the proper spell they stand no chance against the heathens. Once they have been defeated, the tribes will attack the city.”

  “We have a militia,” I told him, measuring the shrinking gap between the two armies as intently as the man in the tweed suit was. “They will defend the citizens.”

  “My Wolfmen have been hunting your soldiers all night,” Lykaon said. “Their bodies already litter the streets. You cannot save Rumsen unless you have my Wolfmen to protect it—and that I will not do until you give me the spell.”

  Blue Fox and the tribal chiefs were riding at the front of the attacking warriors, I saw, and closed my eyes. “I gave my word to the old shaman. I can’t betray him like this.”

  “Do you think that heathen cares anything for you, Miss Kittredge?” Lykaon leaned close. “He gave you to me to get the skull. He knew I’d kill you before you could work the spell. He wanted you dead.”