Demon Dogs (Wildcat Wizard Book 3)

by Al K. Line

  It's not like a full immersion for hours where I came out brimming with magical power, but this meditation that I'd perfected over the years had saved me no end of times, and I needed it now if I was to see this through to the end. I let my mind empty and focused on the Quiet Place, let it envelop me and scourge away the aches and tiredness like one of those little metal scourers you worry will ruin your pans.

  I sank as low as I could without losing focus, tempted to remain that way for hours, but I knew I had no such luxury. Feeling at least human again, I emerged from the trance to see George and Sasha sitting opposite, a glorious mug of steaming coffee set before me.

  "Thanks," I said with a weak smile and sipped the scalding liquid.

  "Tell us," said Sasha.

  I told them. All of it, leaving nothing out. They were family, Vicky's friends, and they deserved to know.

  "We have to find her," said Sasha.

  "Poor Vicky," said George.

  "Tell me about it," I said, draining the lukewarm coffee.

  "Can she really be his sister?" asked George, her auburn hair and green eyes looking so bright and shimmering she was almost on a par with Sasha.

  "I don't know. I guess. But she had parents, had a nice home life by all accounts. She either made all that up and something else happened but she managed to stay away from Merrick even though his dad took her when she was a kid, or... Hell, I don't know what the or is. I don't understand any of this. She can't be his sister. He said she could shift when she was a kid. If Vicky is Avisha then I'd know, we'd know." I turned to Sasha. "You'd know, right?"

  "No, not necessarily. If she was a shifter I would know, same as if she changed monthly I would know, would sense the animal within, the magic that surrounded her. But if she never once changed in all the years I have know here, then no, I wouldn't know."

  "But why keep it a secret?" I asked, not expecting an answer.

  "There is only one possible answer to that question," said Sasha, looking serious.

  "And?"

  "She wasn't aware of it."

  "How could she not know? Ivan said she was taken as a kid, that he spoke to her every year until they stopped being allowed to. She'd know what happened, who she was."

  "Obviously not." Sasha seemed sure of it, and when she was sure then you believed.

  "So she's a therianthrope and—"

  "Dad, just say werewolf. Who says therianthrope?"

  "I do. Werewolf sounds so cheesy. Like, oh look, a werewolf, like in a bad movie. Therianthrope sounds more important, special. And she is, special I mean."

  "Still prefer werewolf," mumbled George.

  "Can we please focus here? Okay, so she didn't know what she was, or even that she could change. So all the stuff with the shifter fights, the magic I showed her to boost her energy and help us both see it through, and the magical violence and me almost getting my face ripped off by a bloody hyena, it just what, made her snap?"

  "That would appear to be the case," said Sasha nodding.

  "Damn. Where is she? We have to find her?"

  "We will, don't worry. She will go somewhere familiar. I know about these things, Arthur. She will be confused and out of her mind but will crave the familiar, the scent of what she knows, what she understands."

  A terrible feeling came over me. A mind-numbing abject horror that thwacked on the back of my skull like a claw hammer made of ice.

  "Shit, what if she goes home? What if she goes to see her kids?"

  "Arthur, before you panic, please think about it. Even if rather than come here she tries to go to her children it will take her many hours. It's a long way away and we can get there in less than half an hour. Have another coffee, you'll need it."

  "Ah, yeah, you're right. Sorry, I'm being manic, not thinking straight."

  "I didn't mean you'll need it for that," said Sasha.

  "Yeah, um, Dad, we have something to tell you." George smiled and it was a genuine, happy, almost blissful smile.

  "What? What's so important?"

  "Will you tell him?" George asked Sasha.

  Sasha nodded. "Arthur, your daughter is a faery."

  "Oh, that's just great," I groaned, and put my head in my hands.

  Deal With It

  "Isn't that amazing? Like the best news you've ever heard?" asked George smiling brightly, eyes sparkling, her hair almost spilling faery dust it looked so vibrant.

  "Are you winding me up?" I asked, unsure of everything in my life now.

  "Why would we be?" asked Sasha, putting her arm around George who turned and smiled at her.

  "Because you're my daughter and I know for damn sure I'm not fae. If I was then I'd wear a sparkly dress and get my hair done more often."

  "Arthur, don't be so obtuse," warned Sasha. "This is momentous news and George and I have been hesitant to tell you until it was the right time."

  "What, and now is? Right when Vicky needs me, needs us?"

  "Exactly. You need to know."

  "Look, come on, what is this, Sasha? I don't know what ideas you've been putting in George's head, what this is really about, but she isn't fae. She's human, my daughter."

  "And fae," insisted Sasha.

  "I am, it's true. This is why we've been going to (xxxxxxxx) so much." George put a hand to her mouth and Sasha cast her a warning glance. "Oops."

  "So that's what it's called," I mused, trying to process this latest bombshell. What next, I find out I'm Arthur Big Axe Wielder, King of the Dwarves or something?

  "Sorry, it slipped out with the excitement," George said, looking deflated.

  "You'll learn, but you are never to tell another soul the name of our home world, it's forbidden and you will get into trouble." Sasha looked annoyed, verging on angry. This kind of stuff was top secret, for fae ears only. Now I knew, and I wasn't supposed to. And sorry about the censorship, but fae can be nasty when you tell their secrets.

  "Right, let's take this from the top. And more coffee sounds good." I was so damn tired I couldn't even think about there being a mess in the kitchen—George hadn't put the milk away and there was a spoon on the counter. Everything would get out of control if that was allowed to happen.

  George brought the coffee over and Sasha talked.

  "I saw it the moment I laid eyes on George, but did nothing about it as she was too young and too broken. But as time passed and you helped her heal, Arthur, I knew it was my responsibility to guide her through this most difficult of tasks."

  "Through being a faery?"

  "Exactly. We have been visiting our home in the Nolands and she has done very well. There have been a few incidents, but nothing to worry about unduly."

  "Like what?"

  "I said I was sorry," interjected George.

  "No matter, these things happen. As I was saying, George is doing well with the few visits we have made. She can cope with it, which is rare for anyone even remotely human, and her sanity is intact."

  My anger boiled over and I shoved at the table and got up. "You put her at risk! You weren't sure she could handle it and you took her anyway? You knew how I felt about her going once I found out and you promised me she was fine, that she was safe with you."

  "And she was. If there was even a hint of a problem I would have brought her home. She is fae and she belongs there, here too."

  "I want to live here," said George meekly, looking small and frightened. "With you."

  "Ugh, sorry for shouting, sorry, Sasha, but you guys are killing me here." I thought for a moment, then sat back down. "You mean you want to stay here even though you can live there too."

  "Not live there. Visit for periods of time. Although that doesn't mean the same thing for us," corrected Sasha.

  "Okay, yeah I get that. Right, so George is part faery, like what, a tenth, a twentieth, got a taste of magic in her from somewhere back in the dim and distant past?" It was all making sense a little now I'd calmed down. A relative far along the family tree had an encounter with a faery, got frisk
y and had a child, and so forth. George could visit, interact there, but needed and wanted to live here. With me. That made everything okay.

  George and Sasha exchanged worried glances and Sasha said quietly, "No, not just a little part. George is half faery. Her mother was full fae."

  I think I may have groaned again.

  Confusion

  "What are you talking about? She wasn't a bloody faery."

  "She was," said Sasha. "I checked."

  "What do you mean you checked?"

  "I mean I checked the records and she was listed, not under her human name, of course, but once I knew where to look because of George it was easy enough to piece it all together. She was Fallen, banished, and she couldn't cope." Sasha looked genuinely sad, upset that one of her own had become prey to the many temptations that those from the Nolands often find impossible to resist if they spend too much time in the human realm.

  George nodded, saying it was true, and although I found it hard to accept there was no way they would make this stuff up.

  "Shit, so she was fae, banished, and couldn't handle it? You do know how much she suffered here, right? I figured she was just bad news, sorry to say that, George, but this changes everything." And it did. She wasn't just a woman hell-bent on personal destruction, she was a creature who should never have been in our world, wasn't born to live here, didn't belong, and spiraled out of control as she finally accepted there was no way back to her true homeland.

  "Dad, she wasn't who we thought she was, and I had no idea about this until I met Sasha, but she still treated me badly, wasn't a good mother. I've tried to make excuses for her since I found out, but whoever she was, whatever she was, she didn't look after me properly and I was just a little girl."

  "Ugh, I can't think about all this now. Main thing is you're okay?" George nodded, and I saw the relief that I was taking the news so well. I think it was because of Vicky, that jumping from one mess into another made me put it into perspective better than I otherwise would have. George was alive and well, and although things would undoubtedly change she was safe here with me, for now. Vicky wasn't.

  "Let's go and find Vicky," said Sasha, all business. "Sorry to tell you this now, but it's best you know."

  "And when better to tell me than when I'm preoccupied with something else, right?"

  The two women exchanged a glance and then nodded. Yeah, they knew me only too well.

  After some rushed stuffing my face and a quick wash and change of clothes, and with George promising to stay close to her phone, I left the farm with Sasha in tow, her moaning as we crossed the courtyard and tried to avoid the mud. She hated the dirt, guess it messed with all the sparkles.

  A big part of my life was nothing but a lie. The mother of my child wasn't who I thought she was, neither was my daughter. Neither was Vicky. Hell, they were enough of a handful when just regular women, the future did not bode well at all. Now the three most important people in my life were either faeries or werewolves. At least I was normal. I smiled despite the seriousness of the circumstances. Like anyone was normal, especially me.

  Here I was, wand in pocket, magic hat on head, off to hunt a werewolf and probably go see a vampire. Apparently this kind of stuff doesn't happen to some folks, although I can't imagine how they manage to avoid it.

  There's Somebody at the Door

  I dared not call the Slug and ask if he'd seen his wife and if she'd avoided peeing on the carpet or chewing his face off—he'd only panic and ask silly questions—but after what Sasha had said it made total sense that Vicky would head in that direction.

  Where else would she go apart from to my house or her own? Would her motherly instincts make her run for her kids and the familiarity of her own home or would she right now be lying in a ditch somewhere bleeding out? No, I knew the wound was bad but not fatal, not yet anyway, and George was at ours if Vicky showed up there. So we drove in silence to the barn, went through the portal, and emerged in the city.

  "Very nice," said Sasha as she wandered into the living room.

  "Better than the last place, right? Thanks for your help setting it all up."

  "My pleasure." Sasha stood in the center of the room, looking as divine as always, and I knew she was waiting for me to bombard her with questions.

  I didn't know where to start. I didn't know where to start with anything. My plan the last few days was move the Gate and go kill Nathan to get him off my back as his meddling had gone too far. Instead I'd been thrust into the hellish world of cage fighting, killed more men and creatures than I'd bargained for, watched Vicky turn rogue, and discovered my daughter was from a magical realm, so I asked the only question of any real importance.

  "Will she be okay?"

  Sasha sighed and faery dust christened the new carpet, then said, "I honestly don't know. I'm helping her, but her life will change. I know you think I've done the wrong thing, but I haven't. She would have found out eventually. George was already becoming suspicious about certain things, abilities, and now she has guidance."

  "Guess it explains the fixation with Tinkerbell and wanting to be a faery since she was a little kid."

  "Yes. Arthur, I owe you my freedom, you served me well when you saved me, and I gave what I could in return, your extra lives, but know this. She will grow into a strong woman, and powerful. It will be many, many years from now, time means little to her, but she will never be an ordinary witch, she will be something different. Special."

  "She's already special. We'll talk more later, there's a lot to discuss, but I know you'll look after my little girl."

  "I shall do my best to protect her."

  What more could I ask for? I wasn't exactly winning prizes for keeping George away from danger so I could hardly blame Sasha for what she'd discovered. Although, a heads-up when she found out, and before she told George, would have been nice. But there were no recriminations, it was done and Sasha was a smart, immortal being. I was just The Hat, a wizard trying to make it through life without losing the plot entirely.

  Knowing I couldn't wait a moment longer, I grabbed the car keys and we drove through early morning traffic, joining the sleepy and the depressed as they weaved their way to their places of work. It didn't take long to reach Vicky's and once there I parked up a safe distance from her house so we could watch and wait.

  Half an hour later the Slug emerged looking harried. After a lot of messing about, he managed to get the girls loaded up and their bags stowed. They kept asking him questions and there was a lot of shaking of the head and him bending his large frame to talk to the girls and explain things. I guess he was trying to keep them calm and explain why Vicky wasn't there to make their breakfast, pack their lunches and take them to school. I knew this wasn't something he ever did himself and wondered what madness would greet the poor things when they opened their lunch boxes.

  Finally they left. We waited, unsure whether to go inside or sit tight and see if Vicky showed up. After ten minutes I could stand it no longer and knew sitting wasn't an option. Would Vicky just show up at the front door? Surely not? But if she was in wolf mode she wouldn't be in her right mind and if she had changed back then would she have found some clothes and headed here?

  We got out and moved quickly but casually to the front door. With a touch of the handle from Sasha, and faery dust leading the way, the door opened. We moved inside and closed up.

  "Dear God, how can the man live like this?" We stood in the kitchen staring in horror at the chaos caused by one man and two young girls in a single day without supervision.

  "I am assuming he doesn't often use the kitchen?" Sasha picked up a limp slice of pizza and stared at it suspiciously.

  I joined her and peered at the half-chewed piece. It was worse than I'd thought; he'd broken the cardinal rule of pizza. "Pineapple," I said, shaking my head. "All hope is lost, he's not fit to be a father."

  "It is a rather strange thing to put on a pizza," agreed Sasha, flinging the insult to all things Italian back int
o the box.

  We spent some time cleaning up—I couldn't leave it like that, no way—bagging the takeaway remains, putting ham, cheese, mayo, and butter back in the fridge, and sweeping up the messy floor. I wiped the counters three times as he'd somehow smeared more peanut butter over the work surfaces than he could have possibly spread on the bread, and then we moved into the living room.

  "What is wrong with this man?" Granted he may have been worried, although Vicky had called to say she wouldn't be home until late, but when she hadn't arrived at all he would have probably thought she was still looking at divorce. But he hadn't called me, and if he'd called Vicky then I had no way of knowing as her phone had been smashed. More than likely he'd just sat up drinking judging by the number of beer cans. Looked like he'd slept on the couch too, dirty clothes and blankets left where he'd thrown them.

  "If their marriage is in trouble wouldn't he make the house nice for when Vicky returned?" Sasha frowned at the mess and then began to pick things up with a single finger, holding his clothes at arm's length.

  "Yeah, you'd think. Damn, you should have seen them yesterday, her crying and then him coming back and them making up and all kinds of drama. I don't know what's wrong with either of them."

  "That's life, Arthur, it's messier than this living room."

  "I guess. You know her, know how she is, do you think she'll come here?"

  "She'll come. Where else would she go?"

  "So we just wait?"

  "We wait."

  We returned to the kitchen and I made coffee. While we sipped the strong drink there was a scratch at the back door.

  "Does she have a pet?" asked Sasha.

  The scratching grew more insistent, almost frantic.

  "No, she doesn't."

  I put my mug down and walked cautiously to the door, but before I made it the sound stopped. Then the door burst inward, breaking the frame and the lock clean off.