by J. P. Rice
The leader didn’t stand up or even speak upon seeing me. He simply pointed to the desk with his hairy hoagie-shaped finger.
I sat down as the door slammed shut. My head jerked to the left and Caesar was gone, leaving me alone with the most powerful werewolf in Pittsburgh. I could tell he wouldn’t start the conversation, so I said, “Hello, old friend.”
He grunted and scratched his shoulder. I shifted around in the small desk trying to get a better look at him. Dressed in a tan suit, he appeared confused. Staring off into the abyss as if he was searching for something. Just enough electricity poured down from the chandelier to show that Octavius’ once flowing mane was now balding. He’d tried the comb over technique, but he was losing the battle badly.
I’d bet his rage pills were causing the baldness. And I’d bet he stopped taking them. Being in a constant state of rage had likely aided in the madness everyone had warned me about. When werewolves started to lose their hair, it meant they were losing their powers. The alpha needed to maintain the respect of his pack, his allies and enemies alike. All three would try to exploit any sign of weakness.
His dark eyes opened wide when he noticed me staring, and he smoothed his hand over the top of his scalp, pulling the few remaining wisps of dark brown hair across his head. He’d forgotten to mask his weakness and his face reddened as a look of terror ran through his eyes. Apparently, my unexpected visit had taken him by surprise.
Octavius leaned over and searched frantically for something next to him, his arm diving into the cushions of the couch. The erratic motion nearly causing him to fall to the ground. He braced his other hand on the coffee table and straightened, still searching angrily for something.
The wolf in human form started to shake uncontrollably and let out a few bassy grunts. Just as he seemed about to snap, he produced a black fedora from the cushions. He punched the inside of the flattened hat and it expanded back to its normal shape.
Octavius groaned as he slid the fedora over his balding head. Long brown hair still grew below the bald ring on top of his head and hung to his shoulders. In this poorly lit room, his full beard and the hat covering the top of his head hid his secret well. I felt bad for him because he had to be scared shitless that he could lose his pack. He was in a horrible position, stuck inside a tightening vise grip.
“You say a word about this and I’ll kill you myself,” he threatened predictably.
I held up an open hand. “It goes without saying.”
“What you doing here? The Spear?” he asked curtly, his voice hoarse.
“I came to see you. How are you?” It never hurt to use a little flattery.
Octavius grabbed a gold goblet off the coffee table in front of his couch and gulped it a few times. As he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, he said, “Cut the shit, June. I’ll save you a lot of trouble. I haven’t heard anything about Darabond.”
He leaned forward and set the goblet down. The black fedora began to slide off his head and he scrambled to hold it in place. He spoke over his heavy breathing, “Look, we been friends, if you choose to call it that, for a long time. We don’t call each other on our birthdays. You don’t come to family parties. We’re associates. Nothing more. Nothing less. And that’s a beautiful thing. I help you out if I can and you do the same. So I ask you again. What are you doing here?”
So much for flattery or pretending I had come to check on my husband. “I’m here on behalf of Jonathan.”
Octavius jumped up from the leather couch, and within a heartbeat, he was standing in front of me, hovering over the desk, foamy slobber building up in the corners of his mouth. His chest heaved in and out with his panting. He tilted his head, his voice guttural, and asked, “Should I kill you right now, then?”
His stank, stale onion breath almost knocked me out. I pushed myself back to avoid the smell and the legs of the desk shrieked harshly against the floor. “Relax. Sit down. I’m here as a peacemaker. An honest broker.”
He didn’t sit down. In fact, he started to shift. The magic emanating from him smelled like burnt meat with a hint of gaminess. His body bulged, and the tan jacket’s seams gave way. A silver button from the collar of his shirt broke loose and shot past my head. He continued expanding as his suit frayed and tore, falling from his body in scraps.
Hair grew over the top of his balding scalp and his face became elongated and took on the classic wolf look. He grew taller and wider until an eight-foot werewolf with the muscles of a young Arnold Schwarzenegger stood in front of me. I could smell his rotten breath from a few feet away as his chest pumped in and out, pushing the funk toward me in a steady stream.
He lowered his tone, sounding like a man who had smoked fifty cigars a day for a thousand years straight, “June, you are a great many things and I’ve called you most of them. Peacemaker and honest broker are not on that list.”
I got up from the desk and moved to the side to avoid his breath. “I’m changing my ways. Trying to mend fences now. Maybe it will put me in the good graces of the Gods.”
As he walked back to his couch, he said, “You’re still pining away about that? You know the only thing better than being a God?”
I closed one eye, wondering what he was getting at. “What’s that?”
Octavius paused for a moment as he covered himself with a blanket and sat back down. “Killing a God. Maybe you should focus on that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh sure, I’ll just rush Clara Spiritus, magic blazing and lay waste to as many Gods as I can.”
Octavius struggled to keep his expanded werewolf body covered with the blanket. “At least you’ll die with a smile on your face.”
I got back to the point of my visit. “What do you want to end this little spat?”
“Little spat?” He sat up straight and leaned forward, his eyes bugging out. “June, I believe you are mistaken. Those vampires executed three members of my pack. My pack. Every time one of them dies, part of me dies too. I’m supposed to protect them. If I can’t protect them, then I’m not the alpha. I’m nothing. An utter disgrace that deserves to be put to death is all.”
Now I understood completely. It was all a protection issue. His own blood. His family didn’t feel safe with him as the patriarch. The prospect of losing that probably scared him much more than any vampire.
I said, “If you squash this right now, I can make sure nobody else gets hurt. I might need some concessions, though.”
He jumped up again, pointed at my face and exploded, “Concessions from me? Not a chance. He apologizes to me in front of every member of my pack and hands over two more of his men. An eye for an eye. That’s the only offer.”
I explained, “You both are demanding things that are unreasonable.”
Octavius held the blanket firmly over his shoulders. Pacing in front of the coffee table, he shook his head and said, “You haven’t been around here. Ask around. You’ll find out he’s taking you for a ride. You’re going to feel like a real fool.”
I sat back down at the desk. “First of all, I’m not taking any sides. I’m friendly with both of you. I’m trying to keep peace in my city.”
He stopped pacing for a moment and stared down at me. “It’s just...how should I put this? Really fucking suspicious. That’s all. You’re not exactly the superhero type.”
“Right back at you.” I tried to brush off the slight. I loved Iron Man and he wasn’t the superhero type, until he was. In fact, he was a selfish asshole, just like me. Since this was going nowhere, I decided to broach a few other subjects. “So you haven’t heard a single thing about Darabond?”
He groaned and sat back down. “Give up on him and find yourself a new man. Stop torturing yourself over this. It’s not worth it. Look what it’s done to you.”
I responded immediately, “That’s rich coming from you. I never started any senseless wars that would endanger my city.”
He waved his pointer finger in front of his face. “I’m not starting anything either. I’
m finishing a problem that someone else started.”
What could I say that wouldn’t have this surly bastard getting his panties all wadded up? “Look. Forget about that. Have you heard anything about Lugh’s Spear?”
Octavius smirked and titled his head to the side. “I’ve heard that you should stop chasing it. That everyone should stop chasing it for that matter. Give up on the spear and give up on your husband, June. You’ll live a much happier life.”
Now a balding werewolf was throwing me life advice. It took every ounce of strength in my body not to make a Mr. Clean joke. “That doesn’t really answer the question. Have you heard anything?”
He growled, “Same old chatter. Same old people saying the same things they did five years ago. Same things they said ten years ago. Twenty years ago.”
“I get the picture.”
“You’ve held it. Did you feel the power?” he asked, and I could see his eyes light up in the dim room.
I told him, “I definitely felt something. When I grabbed it the first time, I felt a jolt. A shot of electricity. And when you look at it, your heart starts to pound and every drop of sweat comes to the surface. It almost has a presence. A gravity to it.”
He mused, “I suppose that’s why many men have died in the quest for the Spear.”
I reminded him, “Women too.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, muddled.
I informed him, “A lot of women have died on the quest too. Men always seem to forget about us.”
A knock on the door startled me. As I turned, the door was opening toward us and the bouncer stuck his head inside. “Sir, your appointment is here.”
“What appointment?” Octavius snapped at him.
“It is an appointment with Mike...” he paused and looked out into the hall.
Someone shoved the bouncer aside and stepped through the jamb with all the confidence in the world. Of course. The tall blond guy. This Mike character was everywhere.
“Hello, sir. I’m here on behalf of Jonathan Rickleshaw,” he announced as he approached Octavius. Mike extended an open hand. Why the hell was Captain Peach Fuzz crashing the party?
Still in wolf form, Octavius jumped up and glared at me. “What’s going on, June?”
I responded, “I haven’t the foggiest.” I turned to Mike, who pulled his hand back from Octavius. This earnest do-gooder was messing up my plan. “Did Jonathan send you to do this?”
He shook his head, tightlipped. “No, ma’am. I’m a man of action. In this case, I guess I’m trying to stop some action. With the backing of the Celtic Gods, I’ve sworn to protect Pittsburgh. A werewolf-vampire war wouldn’t be good for anyone.”
Octavius shook his head nervously and kept rubbing the top of his scalp, making sure it was covered with hair. He was safe in wolf form, although he should have been worried about covering up ‘little Sasquatch’. “I still don’t like you just showing up like this. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Mike said, “I made an appointment and showed up on time.”
“Here’s how this is going down. Let’s end this nonsense right now like men. Why not a duel? If this Jonathan is a proper leader, then he will accept the challenge. We can settle it the old way. The honorable way,” Octavius suggested.
I objected, “But what would that prove? I mean, would it stop all future hostilities? Or would it just be another man dying?”
Octavius fired back, venom dripping from his words, “It would give me the justice I deserve. I can prove in front of my pack that I will stand up for them when they are attacked by cowards.”
The door flew open and Caesar appeared, frantic and disheveled. “Octavius, we’re under attack. Vampires are here.”
Octavius leaned forward with both hands extended, lunging at Mike and me. But then he leaned down further, his hands hitting the hardwood floor. I knew what he was about to do, and I backed up a few steps as the smell of burning meat became overwhelming.
The werewolf began to shift again, swelling in the midsection, his jaw elongating, furry triangular ears developing on top of his head. Within seconds, he was in the form of the biggest damn dire wolf anyone had ever seen. On all fours, he charged for the door and overshot it. He skidded across the floor, his claws screeching against the hardwood.
His big body shaped like a barrel of wine slammed into me, bowling me over before he darted out the door in a flash with Caesar hot on his heels. I jumped up and peeked out the door. I could hear Octavius screaming, “June and that kid sold us out. Send some troops in to take them out.”
Before I had time to set up a proper escape plan, several werewolves made a beeline down the hallway toward Octavius’ room. I pulled my head back inside and locked the door. It wouldn’t stop them, but it would slow them down. Why weren’t they focused on the vampires?
Mike said, “If we work together, we can get out of this.”
“Screw that. It’s everyone for themselves now.” I hated to burst his bubble, but I didn’t work well with others. I thought about conjuring up a weapon, but then another idea came to the fore. I tapped into the skills I’d obtained from a lightning mage. A spark jolted my heart and dispersed through my body.
I looked at the back of my hands and saw the blue pulses of energy, dancing just below the surface. That meant I was ready for action.
The men kept hammering away at the door, and the firm wood bowed in toward us, threatening to break off the hinges. A loud smack rang in my ears as a hairy foot busted through. I smiled and walked casually toward the door.
Before the wolf could pull his foot back through the splintered mess, I flicked one of his toes. Electricity jumped from my finger to his toe, the blast of energy coursing through the rest of his body. He howled in pain, struggling to get his foot back out.
With the smell of burnt hair hanging heavy in the air, I grabbed his foot again, juicing him with more energy, and yanked the leg in, up to the wolf’s knee. He howled, and the others rapped on the door furiously, yelling at me to stop. This was going to be too easy.
The wolf wedged his leg out before I could grab his foot again. No matter. Someone still had to reach inside and unlock the door. I could do this all day, boys.
Instead of a hand, the barrel of a big gun came through the hole. I heard someone scream, “Open it up now.”
It was a strange barrel and I couldn’t tell what kind of gun it was until I noticed the connected gas tank through the opening in the door.
I turned to Mike, pushed him to the side of the room and dove on top of him. A blast of fire erupted from the wide barrel of the homemade flame thrower. It immediately engulfed two desks and a felt painting of Hernando Cortez on the wall. Well, so much for waiting them out.
Mike said, “Are you ready to work as a team now?”
The barrel turned toward the other side of the room and another burst of flames lit up Octavius couch and coffee table.
My heart skipped a few beats, then stopped as flashbacks from the lava bath crept into my head. The only reason I’d survived the lava was because I had gone straight to my father’s house and received some magical healing. If my body burned again, I wasn’t sure I would survive.
Tossing the panic-stricken fear aside, I jumped up and rushed the door. I leaned forward with my shoulder and rammed into the door. Sparks of electricity jumped from my body and blasted the door right off the hinges. The huge piece of wood slammed into the men outside, knocking them down and discombobulating them while I made my dramatic exit.
If I could just get down this hallway, I could get the hell out of here. I didn’t want to kill any of the wolves even though Octavius had just ordered my death. Using the inclined door as a ramp, I ran up the plank of wood and jumped over a werewolf sprawled out on the ground.
Another wolf grabbed me, but I jolted his hand with my bubbling electricity. As I continued down the narrow hallway, the growls of howling wolves broke out behind me. I rounded on them, and two were lunging at me. Ducking one wolf’s ad
vances, I rose and unleashed an uppercut. I connected right under his ribcage, chasing the wind out of him and zapping him with lightning.
A blurry object raced toward me, and by the time it came into focus, a huge paw smacked me in the cheek, knocking me senseless and ending my electric attack. Shaking the cobwebs loose, I realized they had me surrounded. I tried to bring back the electricity, but it wasn’t working.
I didn’t like being cornered. Like an obsidian cauldron over hot coals, a fiery anger came to a boil inside me, heating my dark blood. My vision swirled like a tornado and then the world went all red. The ginger storm had begun.
I heard feral screaming and loud crashes. My body was in motion, but all I could see was blood. Staining my vision. Clouding my mind. Tainting my soul. I’d gone into these fits before and it had never turned out well for my opponents.
I just had to let it run its course. These fits could last anywhere from thirty seconds to several hours. They always seemed like they only lasted a few seconds to me, but witnesses had informed me about the length of my actions after the fact.
My vision cleared. I was at the end of the hallway. I poked my head out into the foyer and looked left at two vampires I recognized from the Purple House. They were battling three wolves. Fookin’ Jonathan. Why were his vamps here?
As I went to check to the right, I noticed fresh blood all over my hands. I rubbed my fingers together and the slick warm liquid confused me. A loud growl erupted behind me and a firm object clobbered me on the back of the head. The foyer began to spin and then the world went dark.
Chapter 8
My eyelids opened to reveal a small, dank cell with what appeared to be a dead body next to me. It was Mike. He was face down and not moving. I leaned over and put my fingers on the side of his neck. No pulse. Too bad for him.
The dim cell consisted of three concrete walls and a fourth wall of metal bars with a locked door on the right side. The moist dirt ground and a cot against the back wall were the only things inside the cell.