Wolf's Curse

by Kelley Armstrong

  Tricia has indeed called backup. I’m not sure how she’s done it, but she’s also told them where to find the cabin because they’re on a direct course to it.

  Elijah was just teasing me about my fur color, but he’s right, too. A yellow werewolf looks too much like a friendly dog to be taken seriously. But our fur also makes it difficult for us to sneak around, especially at night. We can use both. We just need to adjust strategy.

  Whatever Tricia told them, they must not foresee trouble because they’re strolling along, not a care in the world. Until . . .

  “Did you see that?” The one holding the light stops short.

  “See what?” the other man answers.

  “Something moving in the forest.”

  The other man snorts. “Lots of things move in the forest.”

  “No, this was big. And pale. It glowed.”

  “Oooh, must be a ghost.” The bigger man makes appropriate ghostly noises. Then he twists. “What the hell?”

  “You saw something, too, did you?”

  “What the hell was that?”

  I slip behind trees, hidden out of sight. Then I growl.

  “Okay, you heard that, right?”

  “Wolves?”

  “Not that color. Isn’t there supposed to be a demon in these woods?”

  “That’s just a story the witch concocted to keep people—”

  I growl louder from the other side of them, having padded silently over there. Then I slip from my cover just enough to let them catch a glimpse of my coat.

  “There is something out there. Something big.”

  “No, shit.”

  “Hey, guys,” a voice calls.

  I give a start. Mason steps into their path, and I snarl for him to get back, leave this to me. The man with the gun fires, and I’m running, but Mason only staggers back, saying, “Shit, that stings.” Then he continues toward the two. The smaller man lifts his gun again, but I’m already in midflight, knocking it from his hand.

  And that’s when someone screams. A woman’s scream . . . coming from the cabin.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kate

  “Still thinking it through?” Tricia says. “You aren’t half as clever as you think you are. It’s a shame, really. You’re smart for a werewolf, and so you were raised to think you were actually intelligent. Your parents did you no favors with that.”

  “Oh, I’ve worked it through,” I say. “I just hate to rob you of your villain moment where you tell me who you really are and how you pulled it off.”

  On the floor, Allan snorts. “Allow me. She’s H.T., the one our resident mummy-man wrote that letter to. The one who came to kill the evil witch for slaying her beloved.”

  “Revenge?” Tricia sneers. “Hell, no. We were supposed to do this together. Share the mission. Share the reward. Paulo screwed me over. I’m the one who found out where Renée Livingston was living. I found the forest, and I mapped out the location after paying a small fortune for the information. He stole it, leaving me to figure out a way to hunt for this cabin without raising her suspicions after he put her on high alert.”

  “Well, if you tried to avoid tipping off the witch, you failed miserably,” I say. “She’s on to you.”

  Her jaw sets. “I know that, which is why I need a change of plans.”

  “I hope you’re not going to hold us hostage to negotiate. She doesn’t give a damn about us.”

  “But you give a damn about Holly. All I want right now is the same thing everyone else seems to want. To get all of you kids out of this forest.”

  “Meddling kids,” Allan murmurs. “You forgot that part.”

  “Except we’re not even the meddling kids,” I say. “That’d be the necromancers, who screwed things for everyone. Including poor fake-Tricia here. Damn necros.”

  “I’m glad you’re taking this so calmly,” Tricia says. “That will make this easier. You say it was all the necromancers’ fault? Excellent. Then the story started and ended with them. You fled the scene, only to return and unmask them. Well done, kids. Gold star. Then you waited for Paige to show up the next morning. By the time she arrives, I’ll have taken care of Renée and be long gone, and you may return to this cabin and collect Holly.”

  “You did hear us say my brother went to call Paige already.”

  “She can’t get here any faster. We’re in West Virginia. No one will arrive before morning, and by then, I’ll be done. That’s not the important part of my conditions for Holly’s release.”

  “Which is that we don’t tell the council who you really are or what you did, etcetera, etcetera. Doesn’t matter. Because Holly’s role in your plan is a lot bigger than holding her hostage.”

  Tricia opens her mouth, but Allan beats her to it. “Holly’s a Kimura witch. You’re going to use her to lure Renée in. Even if Renée doesn’t get suspicious and kill Holly, you won’t let Holly walk away. She protects dark witches. You kill them. That makes you mortal enemies.”

  Tricia rolls her eyes. “You’ve read too many comic books.”

  “Maybe,” I say, “but Allan’s right that Holly is bait. He’s right that you won’t give a damn if she dies in the process. He’s right that you won’t let her walk away. At the very least, she’s a source of information or a valuable long-term hostage.”

  “You are both seriously overthinking—”

  “Then take me hostage, instead.”

  “I don’t want—” Tricia begins.

  “Why not?” Allan says. “If you really do just want a hostage to force us to behave, Kate’s the logical choice. She has a brother, a boyfriend, and a former boyfriend here. Take her, and we’ll all do exactly as you ask.”

  Tricia sighs. “You kids seem to think you’re in a position to negotiate. Do you know who’s in charge here?”

  She gestures to herself, and that’s what I’ve been waiting for. She’s caught up in the conversation and has forgotten she’s supposed to be holding jagged glass to Holly’s throat. I lunge, and Tricia smiles. Her lips curve up, eyes glittering, and I realize my mistake. She gave me the opening.

  Before I can check my charge, she shouts. I’m waiting for a show of power—half-demon or otherwise—but all she does is shout, and I don’t even hear what she says because that sound hits me like a pile drive to the gut. I fly clear off my feet, sailing through the air and smashing into the wall.

  Allan’s knocked back, too, but he doesn’t get the full brunt of it, and he recovers, hands flying out in a spell, only to have a guy appear right at his side, grabbing his wrist and saying, “None of that.”

  I’m staggering to my feet, heaving for breath, as Tricia advances. Behind her, I vaguely see Allan casting spells at his opponent, only to have the guy vanish each time. Teleporting half-demon.

  I open my mouth to tell Allan to change tactics, but Tricia charges, her fist on target with my stomach. I spin out of the way, but she moves so fast that her fist still grazes my ribs.

  Benandanti.

  Sonic shout. That’s one of their powers. The other? They’re natural fighters, moving faster and hitting harder than any other supernatural.

  No, hitting harder than any supernatural except werewolves.

  I’m stronger, and I’m a trained fighter. I just can’t afford to get cocky. She’s going to be a match for me. Remember that.

  I manage to duck her next blow, and I come out of my dodge fast enough to land one on her. Barely land one on her as she evades, and I end up staggering under the force of my own swing.

  Do not get cocky. Did you forget that part already?

  I back off to evaluate and adjust my tactics, but she comes at me hard, and we trade blows, none managing to quite land the way we want.

  I can tell myself that at least she’s not getting in any good hits, but I’m not, either, and it’s mine that count. It’s mine that have the brute force to end this fight.

  My aim is true enough. I just can’t make more than glancing contact, and each time
I back off to think and re-evaluate, she comes at me harder and faster.

  She knows what I’m doing. Knows I’m off balance and trying to slow down to think and find a pattern in her tactics. She’s not giving me that chance.

  Yes, I’m a trained fighter. But so is she. And ninety-five percent of my experience is just that: training. She’s fought for her life. Probably many times . . . and she’s still alive. How many of her opponents are not?

  “What’s the matter, Katie?” Tricia says between strikes. “You suddenly don’t seem your usual confident self. In over your head? You can stop this anytime. Just give me what I want.”

  She pairs a distraction strike with the last sentence, but I dodge and land a half blow to her chin that sends her reeling back. At a sound to my left, my gaze cuts that way to see the teleporting half-demon has Allan on the floor and is binding his hands. My split-second of consternation is enough for Tricia to land a real distraction strike, a power drive to my jaw that sends me flying into the wall.

  I bounce back, blood filling my mouth, head ringing. I strike, but it’s too fast, too wild, and she easily dodges.

  “Surprised that I brought company?” she says. “Weird, isn’t it? How I was able to call in backup when the cell service was blocked? We call that a satellite phone.”

  I ease off, as if to take advantage of her chatter to get some distance, but when she comes at me, I’m already charging. I hit her full-on, and she slams backward. My kick sends her down, and I drop onto her.

  She doesn’t just lie there and take it. She writhes and fights, one fist setting fresh blood streaming hot from my cut lip. We grapple, but here I have the advantage. This is apparently the right tactic for dealing with a benandanti. Get her off her feet. Her speed and skill don’t help much when she’s flat on her back. They help even less when I finally get her flipped over, her arm pinned—

  Something whacks into the side of my head, and light explodes behind my eyes. I manage to twist in time to see the half-demon swinging a board. I duck and try to grab it without releasing Tricia, but he disappears at the last second, and the diversion is enough to let Tricia buck up beneath me. Another blow as the half-demon reappears and hits me again only to vanish a blink later.

  I need to do something else, or I’m going to keep getting hit. But I still have Tricia partly pinned, and if I roll aside to deal with the half-demon, I’ll have both of them to fight.

  I glance at the spellcasters. They’re both struggling against their bonds, but at this moment, they can’t help.

  My brain fires in all directions, shouting conflicting orders.

  Duck the half-demon, and concentrate on Tricia.

  Get off Tricia, and disable the half-demon.

  I land a blow to Tricia’s skull that has her thudding to the floor. Then I’m on my feet, facing off with the half-demon. I charge, and he pops out of the way at the last second, leaving me skidding across the floor. I spin and glower at him.

  “Come on, girly,” he says. “I’m just a half-demon. A scrawny one at that. You can take me.”

  I don’t move. The moment I charge, he’s going to vanish. Mom’s dealt with teleporters. Dad, too, probably. But they haven’t gotten around to imparting those lessons as they focus on teaching us to fight other werewolves.

  I could have asked for more techniques. Now I’m stuck like a bull uselessly pawing the ground and snorting.

  In wolf form, I could fight both of them. It’s easier to do damage with teeth and claws than fists and feet. I’d just need one good bite.

  Can I flee and Change? I glance at the hatch. Leap down and make a run for it. Find a quiet hiding spot and Change into a wolf . . . and pray they don’t find me midshift, when I’m completely vulnerable.

  No, I need a better strategy.

  My brain scrambles for an answer. Then I see Holly, her eyes wide as she tries to communicate.

  That’s it. Don’t focus on fighting. Focus on getting help fighting. Her binding spell can hold a teleporting half-demon. I just need to get her gag off—

  A blur to my side. I spin as Tricia charges.

  Tricia. I forgot about Tricia. Goddamn it, how—?

  She hits me before I can get out of the way. We go down, grappling again, but now I’m the one on my back and—

  A clatter sounds from deeper in the attic. I look over, but Tricia senses a trick and doesn’t glance away. She has one hand on my shoulder, forcing me down, her fingers biting in. She knows what she’s doing, and the way she has me half-pinned, I can’t get the leverage to throw her off. When I strain to see what made the noise, she only gets into my face.

  “I don’t need to look,” she says. “Your friend Holly knocked over her chair to startle me.”

  “Uh, Heloise?” the half-demon says. “That wasn’t the little witch’s chair. It’s . . .”

  He trails off, and a sound comes, a swishing, scratching, thumping from the shadows. Holly stares to the side, her eyes round. Another sound then. A hollow, muffled gurgling.

  “The mummy,” I whisper.

  Tricia—Heloise—hits me so fast I don’t see it coming. Not a punch, but a hard slap across the face. Then she turns to Holly.

  “Stop that,” she hisses. “Whatever you are doing, stop it right now.”

  More thumping. Fresh sounds, like muffled shrieking. The mummy appears, skittering across the floor. As we stare, it rocks and jerks, as if the person in it has woken.

  Woken to find himself immobilized, struggling to move as his shrieks turn to panicked screams.

  “Out!” he screams. “Out! Out! Out!”

  “Paulo?” Heloise says.

  The mummy goes still. “—oise?” It says, voice garbled, the sound as dry as crumpled paper.

  She scrambles off me.

  “Paulo,” she says, dropping beside him.

  “Out,” he says. “—elp! Out!”

  Heloise starts clawing at the wrappings. Whatever she said earlier about her lover betraying her, it’d been a half truth, born of grief and outrage, and now hearing him, she forgets all about me. She’s fighting to free him as everyone stares, transfixed.

  Everyone stares . . .

  Use that.

  I ease to my feet, staying out of the half-demon’s line of sight. I creep over to where he left his board. Then I swing it, hard as I can, at the back of his head. It hits, board shattering, splinters flying. Heloise doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s still ripping at Paulo’s wrappings.

  The half-demon staggers, but he doesn’t go down. As I lunge, he blinks, and I realize that’s his tell. All half-demons do something before they activate their powers. Yet he blinks hard and only fades for a split second before coming back. He’s dazed, and his powers misfire.

  I grab a piece of cord from a work bench and bind his hands tight enough that he yowls in pain. Then I kick him aside and advance on Heloise.

  I make it two steps and then stop. She’s sitting there with a length of wrapping in her hands. She’s staring at Paulo. Just staring. Then she lets out a shriek and falls back, and I see what she does.

  She’s pulled away a strip from his lower face to let him breathe. Except he doesn’t need to breathe. Under his bandaged upper face, I see a desiccated lower jaw, shrunken lips and blackened skin. His consciousness has been shoved back into his corpse. He’s a zombie.

  “Heloise?” he rasps. “Heloise?”

  He pitches toward her, fixed arms outstretched, and she falls back, screaming and kicking. Then she wheels on me.

  “You! What have you—?”

  She freezes. Caught in a binding spell, and I see Holly, the gag worked down enough for her to cast.

  I charge and knock Heloise to the floor. Behind me, Paulo says her name one more time. Then he thuds to the floor, exhaling a long hissing breath as his soul leaves his body.

  “Chloe?” I call. “I’m guessing that was your work. Can I get a little help here?”

  Chloe’s head pops through the hatch. “Looks li
ke you have things under control. You just needed a little help.”

  She climbs up, boosted the last bit by Derek, who hoists himself through, strides over to see me on Heloise. Then he glances at the half-demon, bound and cursing, and he grunts.

  “He’s saying you did well,” Chloe says as Derek takes Heloise from me. “He was watching in case you needed help. He said you’re a really good fighter in case he fails to mention it.”

  “I might be good,” I say, “but I wasn’t prepared for that. If you hadn’t raised the zombie—and Holly didn’t get her gag off—I’d have lost.”

  “Which you recognize,” Derek says. “That’s the first step. You did well, which I would have told you.” A mock glare at Chloe before he turns to me. “Not sure I’d have known what to do with the teleporting guy, either. I can give you some tips for benandanti, though. First, let’s make sure these two are—”

  “Kate!” a voice shouts from below as footsteps thump through the cabin.

  Chloe smiles. “I think step one is making sure your brother knows you’re okay.”

  I hurry to the ladder and reach the bottom just as Logan bursts through the workshop doorway.

  “So our conference was infiltrated by evil necromancers, and our head counselor is actually a mercenary assassin,” I say. “I thought this camp was going to suck, but I gotta admit, these were the best team-building exercises ever.”

  He strides across the floor and catches me up in a hug, and I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze as tight as I can.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Logan

  Ten minutes later, we’re in the spot where Nick dropped us off less than forty-eight hours ago. We’ve hauled Heloise and her three accomplices from Renée’s house, and we’re sitting under Holly’s spell light, waiting, when Paige and Savannah come roaring down the dirt road in the rental car.

  We explain that Tricia is actually an assassin come to kill a witch in the forest. Do we give the witch’s name? Do we point out her cabin less than a hundred feet away, hidden in trees and night darkness? No. While all this will come out eventually, there’s no need to get into it now. I notice Savannah’s gaze shunting in the direction of the cabin, as if she senses the magic there, but she doesn’t say. There’s no need to expose Renée right now when she clearly didn’t want to meet Paige.