Her Werewolf Hero

by Michele Hauf

  Hanging there, the heart a pulsing reminder of all that he desired and cared for, the werewolf pulled himself upward using only his paws. He climbed the thorns, one paw over the other. It took utmost control not to relax his jaws and bite into the heart. When he neared the top, the diminutive sin eater, who had climbed out using the thorns, reached for him with a tiny, pale hand.

  As did Keith’s re-figmented soul.

  The werewolf slashed its healed paw across the soul, reducing it to dust. Then he leaped from the pit and studied the delicate sin eater. He towered over the woman. Opening his maw he let the heart fall into a paw. He turned it over and over.

  “Whose heart is that?” the woman asked. “Is it our passage out of here?”

  In his werewolf form he could not answer, though he knew from her pleading tone what she had asked. Unsure what to do next, the werewolf tossed the sin eater over a shoulder and began to race across the vast desert.

  He howled to a moon that did not exist in this terrible, desolate land. A place in which he did not belong. And when he squeezed the heart so hard it almost burst, suddenly the werewolf was sucked out from Purgatory.

  * * *

  Bron landed on his feet, in werewolf shape, and staggered across the concrete floor.

  Someone yelled and rushed toward him.

  Aware the air was lighter, cleaner, and that he was no longer in that vile place, he dropped to his knees, setting down the human he’d carried over his shoulder. The woman he’d claimed in Purgatory did not stand but instead dropped into a sprawl before him, arms splaying out at her sides, eyes closed. And he felt inclined to do the same. He was weak. His breaths...did not come, and yet he was conscious.

  “Bron?”

  He recognized the female voice as his mate. Or one he would take as his mate forever should she allow it.

  “Nova!” Some other voice, sounded male. The figure leaned over the one Bron had carried up from Purgatory. With a glance to him, the man said, “Don’t tell him he’s dead, unless you want to seal his fate.”

  Bron’s werewolf heard the words, and yet in this animal form he had difficulty understanding them. And he wanted to return to his were form, but he was so exhausted. Even to think about shifting did not bring it on. So he collapsed, his head lolling onto the concrete. The heart pulsed against his chest.

  “Is he really dead?” the female asked, and again, he didn’t understand the words but sensed apprehension.

  “As soon as he realizes he is dead, he will be,” the male voice answered.

  The sudden, immense relief at knowing he was away from that awful place and near others he sensed were friends allowed him to release his werewolf shape and return to were form. Unfortunately, he was naked, so he squatted and bowed his head as Kizzy wrapped her arms about his shoulders and hugged him from the side.

  “Kizzy,” he whispered. The name felt like gold to his soul.

  “You did it! You found her. I knew you would.” Kisses to his face felt like redeeming rain after a forty-day drought. And he had walked through such conditions while in Purgatory. “Oh, Bron, I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Why?” he croaked. “You didn’t think I’d come back to you?”

  Her sigh fell heavily against his cheek. “It’s just...all that matters is you’re here. You’re solid. Real.” She placed a hand over his chest and frowned, then shook her head and hugged him. “Did I tell you I love you?”

  Remembering he still clutched her heart to his chest he carefully pulled it away and held it before him. The handprint was gone. Did that mean it was...deactivated?

  He must hope for that.

  “I dropped it,” he said quietly. “Down a deep pit. But I caught it before it hit the ground. I almost lost you, Kisanthra.”

  “Never.” She hugged him so he almost toppled. “I’m yours. You have my heart, wolf. You really do.”

  “We must put it back. Where’s the soul bringer?”

  “Yes, we should take care of that before...” Tears shimmered in her eyes. He couldn’t read her thoughts, but they seemed deep. “Uh, yes.” She swiped away a teardrop. “Just yes.”

  Whatever it was she wasn’t willing to say to him bothered him. And yet, he was so relieved to be back in her arms, he didn’t linger on what was probably nothing.

  The twosome looked aside to where Blackthorn knelt over Nova’s body. For it was a body. The petite figure, dressed in black and with skin as white as cream, did not move. He didn’t see her chest rise and fall with breath. She was dead.

  “Can you bring her back to life?” Kizzy asked the soul bringer.

  He shook his head. “It’s never wise to bring a dead thing back to life. Much as I desire just that, I am no fool. She is gone.” He stroked the hair from her face. “But now she is safe.”

  “But you said that Bron...?”

  The soul bringer nodded. “As I’ve said to you, as soon as he realizes it...”

  “I don’t understand.” Bron looked at her. “Kizzy?”

  “Thank you for your sacrifice, werewolf,” Blackthorn said. “You’ll need clothes.” With a gesture from the soul bringer, Bron was suddenly clothed in the pants, shirt and boots he’d worn into Purgatory. “And thank you, Kisanthra Lewis, for the use of your heart. Now I must bring Nova to Above before it is too late.”

  The soul bringer scooped up his dead lover into his arms.

  “You have to put Kizzy’s heart back first!” Bron insisted. He choked, finding it difficult to breathe. Was he even breathing? “What the hell?”

  He’d endured much in Purgatory, but he was sound and of his body. The weird lack of breath must be some residual effects from his adventure.

  “You can put it back in for her, wolf,” the soul bringer said. “Do it fast. She won’t have much time after I’m gone. Nor do you. The bowie knife is over there.” He nodded behind him and then was gone.

  Bron grabbed Kizzy’s hands. “What does he mean by that? That I don’t have time?”

  “I don’t know. What matters is you are holding my heart, lover, and I want it back. You know, because here is where it belongs.” She pressed a hand over her chest. “But don’t think that doesn’t mean you are the one who has ultimately won my heart.”

  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, stroked his beard and sighed heavily.

  Bron held the heart tenderly. “But to cut into your chest again... To cause you pain. Kizzy, I can’t.”

  “You have to! He said I didn’t have much time. And you...” Her eyes fell over him, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t understand all of this. Maybe the witch can help.” She picked up Bron’s cell phone, which had been abandoned before he’d been sent to Purgatory. “I’m babbling. Don’t listen to that stuff. Just...please?”

  “A witch can help him,” Claire called from across the warehouse. “You know one close?”

  Bron eyed his former wife. He’d not seen her for ages. She looked the same. Beautiful, ethereal even. And she was out of the cage, standing. Relief flooded him.

  “The soul bringer put her heart back in while you were gone,” Kizzy said. She turned and asked Claire. “How do you know a witch can help him?”

  Claire shrugged. “It’s my best guess. Hand me the phone. Do you have a witch listed in your contacts, Bron?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know what you two are talking about.” He wheezed and clasped his chest. “What’s going on?”

  “Hurry, Kizzy.”

  “Yes, do it,” she said, shoving his shoulder. “Please, lover?” She touched his cheek and then kissed him lightly. “I need you, Bron. Do this for us.”

  She dashed for the blade, and Bron stood, ignoring his own weird symptoms. Time was of the essence. Hell, he had not signed on for this when he’d agreed to find and seize a legendary object for
Acquisitions. But he wouldn’t change meeting Kizzy for all the fortunes in the world. Yet what was up with Claire’s insistence they call a witch? She scrolled through his contacts.

  “Bron!”

  Attention averted, his instincts reacted. When Kizzy slapped the knife into his hand he winced and shook his head. Growling, he resisted dropping the foul instrument that could serve as much pain as a slash from one of his claws.

  “You did it before,” Kizzy said. Opening her shirt revealed an angry red line on her skin. “If you love me, you’ll do it...” She gasped and wobbled. “I can’t...”

  “Kizzy?” Claire called. “Wait! Eglantine says not to put the heart in just yet!”

  Kizzy began to fall, and Bron caught her about the waist and lowered her to the floor. Her eyelids fluttered. She gasped for breath. She looked at him with such wonder. And love.

  The fluttery blouse she wore spilled up to reveal the bottom of the scar from the open-heart surgery. He pressed the knife blade to the red line. When the soul bringer had done this he had been able to staunch the pain. Bron had no such powers.

  “Wait,” Kizzy gasped. “The witch says to...wait...”

  Bron studied the heart in his other hand, which still pulsed, but it seemed to be beating slower. It was dying. He had to do this. Now. “The soul bringer said we had to hurry. Kizzy, I can’t lose you.”

  “No!” Claire shoved his hand away from Kizzy’s chest. “The witch is on her way here. She said whatever you do, do not put the heart back in her chest if you...” Claire bent and whispered something into Kizzy’s ear that Bron, despite his excellent hearing, could not make out.

  “She’s right,” Kizzy whispered. “Not yet, Bron. We need to...” She sat up, helped by Claire. “I feel like I’m getting a second wind. I’m good. Thanks, Claire. We just need to chat a bit. Fill the time until Eglantine gets here.”

  The two women held such a stare between them, Bron could not understand what was up.

  “Why must we wait for the witch?” he insisted. “You could die, Kizzy. The soul bringer said time was of the essence. I won’t lose you. I cannot.” He bowed his forehead to hers. If she died he wasn’t sure how to continue.

  She clasped his hand as Claire stood and wandered over to pick up the black box in which her heart had been contained. Giving them some privacy, as best she could.

  “Trust me?” Kizzy asked him. “And hold me?”

  He cradled her in his arms, her back against his chest. He bowed his chin to the top of her head and while he gripped her heart against her chest, he got lost in the slow, yet promisingly steady, beat of it. She smelled like summer and wild fields with a hint of orange. He closed his eyes and drew in that scent, thinking if he could drown in it, he wouldn’t struggle for air, only happily die in her arms.

  “I’m glad that tracker led you to me,” she said.

  “So am I. You’ve changed me. I never thought I could love like this.” He eyed the knife he’d laid on the floor. “Why are we waiting? Kizzy, don’t you love me enough to explain?”

  “I... Sing to me,” she said softly.

  “Kizzy, this is no time—”

  “That’s what I love most about you. You’re not afraid to show me the silly side of you. You must know more songs?”

  He knew them all because he liked to sit in a dark theater and lose himself to the innocent laughter and adventure of a good faery tale. He didn’t want to sing right now, because most of the songs he knew were happy. And life was not a faery tale, it was pain and anger and blood and betrayal.

  He was not happy; he was enraged the soul bringer had reneged on their bargain. And now Kizzy insisted he wait to put back in her heart? What the hell was going on? He would not lose her. He must not.

  But as he closed his eyes and concentrated on Kizzy’s firm grasp, she whispered, “Please.”

  And a verse did come to him, so he sang it for her. “Oo da lolly, oo da lolly, golly, what a day.”

  Kizzy laughed softly. “Oh, my lover. Robin Hood and Little John sang that together. I love that movie. And it has been such a day. Is it wrong to love a man because he’s a Disney fan?”

  “About as wrong as loving a woman because she looks cute wearing a shirt with Sam and Dean on it.”

  She traced a finger over the heart, and it pulsed as if shivering at the realization of its owner’s touch. “Not long,” she whispered in a voice that was desperately weak. “So brave, my lovely wolf.”

  And her head dropped heavily against his arm.

  Chapter 25

  Panic traced Bron’s spine. “I don’t think she’s breathing!”

  “She is. She’s just resting,” Claire reassured from across the warehouse. She clutched the box as if it were a lost toy. “I know. I was in her position and felt the same.”

  “Why do we have to wait for the witch? What are you not telling me? What went on here while I was away in Purgatory? Claire, please!”

  Dressed in a dirty white sundress, she dropped the box and strolled over to him.

  With Kizzy’s warmth in his arms, he could only hug her tighter. But in that moment he was able to see his former wife clearly. And to acknowledge that she had suffered because of him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as she stopped before him and Kizzy and knelt to stroke Kizzy’s arm. “I am so sorry.”

  “I forgave you when you were in Purgatory,” she said. “Can you imagine? I’ve held such hatred for you in my heart for so long. I’d thought I’d put it all behind me. Until I saw your face again. You haven’t changed much. Maybe a few new lines beside your eyes. A little longer hair. But still the same.”

  “I’ve changed,” he managed. “Inside.”

  “Yes, I can see that through her eyes. She adores you. You have become a man worthy of admiration. Don’t hurt her.”

  “More than I have already?”

  “You’ve done what was necessary to save her life. And mine.”

  “But I still hold her heart,” he insisted, feeling the pulse beats against his palm. “Tell me what you are not saying. Why are we waiting for the witch?”

  Claire shrugged and looked aside. She couldn’t face him? Was she going to lie to him?

  With a sigh, she regarded him. “Magic is required to make the heart stick. Or that’s what I understand from what Eglantine said to me on the phone. She’s using a transport spell. Should be here sooner rather than later.” She clasped his hand at Kizzy’s shoulder. “How do you feel?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t worry about that.”

  “You should not,” she said quickly. “Think only of her. I—” she stood and smoothed her palms down her skirt “—really want to go home. But I’m not sure how I got here in the first place. One moment I was walking down a country path in Lake Como to my cottage. The next? I was sitting in a cage watching that bastard soul bringer command a demon to rip my heart from my chest. Feels good to have it back, though.”

  A brilliant flash of blue electrified the warehouse.

  “Ah,” Claire said. “The witch.”

  Eglantine landed on both feet, a slender white gown gliding to the floor and pooling in a silken train about her. A tilt of her elegantly coifed head took in the warehouse. With a nod to both of them, she bent and began to draw a design on the floor with nothing more than the blue electrical pulse emitted from her hands.

  Bron carefully set Kizzy’s head down so he could stand. He didn’t want to drop her heart, but when Claire suddenly gestured he hand it to her, he only clutched it tighter.

  “You should go talk to the witch,” Claire insisted. “Let me hold the heart while you do.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “Oh, Bron, Kizzy told me about Isabelle’s death. I am so sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.
”

  “It was.” She closed her eyes and sniffed back a tear. “Forgive me?”

  He nodded. “We’re good.” But he still wasn’t willing to hand over Kizzy’s heart to the woman.

  “Bron!” Eglantine called.

  As for his heart...well, just when he’d thought it should be either racing or dropping in his chest, it did neither. In fact, he couldn’t feel it. He pressed his free hand to his chest to feel for his heart beat.

  In that moment Kizzy sat up, and their eyes met. She shook her head, asking him to ignore...something. What was going on? Why were they being so secretive?

  Eglantine stepped out of the circle she had created. It glowed blue. She indicated he step closer, which he did, reluctantly, his head twisting to eye Kizzy and then back to the circle until he stood right at the edge. The circle, and the ruins drawn about the circumference, looked familiar. In fact, he’d seen this once before when on a mission to Zanibia to obtain a zombie antidote.

  “This is a death hexing circle,” he said.

  And in that moment he knew why he couldn’t feel his heartbeats. Why Kizzy had been acting so strangely. She knew. They all knew. Bron slapped a hand over his chest.

  Claire grabbed Kizzy’s heart from him.

  “I’m—” he started to say what he knew was truth. Dead?

  The witch shoved him hard, and he stumbled into the center of the circle.

  “Just in time,” Eglantine said to Claire. “Poor guy just realized he was dead.”

  “Now what?” Claire asked, bobbling the heart back and forth in her hands.

  “Yes, now what?” Kizzy asked as she pushed up to stand.

  “Now, you’re on, darling,” Eglantine said.

  * * *

  Bron’s body hovered in the middle of the circle amidst a foggy dazzle of blue light. Arms flung outward and head tilted back, his eyes were closed. It looked as if an alien ship were about to suck him upward as he hung suspended a foot above the floor.