The Wolf Witch

by Kara Jorgensen

  Tenting his fingers, he stared at her over the steeple. “So let’s discuss your choices of guardian. You seem like you need help. That or you’ve narrowed your choices. I really couldn’t tell.”

  Emmeline released a deflating sigh and rose to her feet. Pacing the room, she lingered at the window overlooking the forest. Somewhere beyond the trees was where Mr. Doughty’s body had been. “It isn’t important right now.”

  “Of course it is, this is your future.”

  “Yes, but it isn’t more important than this.” She rubbed the space between her brows where pressure had begun to mount. Energy built over her body, wanting desperately to discharge, but she couldn’t. Not now. “One person has already lost their life. I can’t think about myself when I keep waiting for something else to happen. I know it will, but the question is when.”

  Pacing the length of the shelves, Emmeline shook out her hands. Static clung to her, crackling as she rubbed her fingers together. When she turned to start again, Nadir clasped her arms and held her still until she finally relaxed.

  “I know you’re afraid,” he whispered. “I am too, but there’s nothing we can do at this moment. Mr. Doughty is gone and there’s nothing we could have done to stop it. Right now we need to stay out of the way and wait until your driver comes for you tomorrow or we need to figure out how we can get out of here.”

  “And not die in the process.”

  “You’re very pessimistic, you know,” he replied, his lips curling with a smile. “Even if I did die, at least I could still haunt you. You could hold séances in my honor, and I promise I would do an excess amount of rapping for your audience.”

  The thought must have shown on her face for his brows knit in confusion and his grip shifted to slide around her waist and back.

  “Did I say something wrong? I know you take your work very seriously, but I was only joking.”

  “It isn’t about table rapping. It’s just that,” she paused to banish the image of her mother, “it’s painful. Everyone thinks it’s wonderful that I can speak to people who have passed on, like I have tea with my mother and Queen Elizabeth for fun. Seeing my mother again… At first it’s great because I miss her so much. For a few moments I can hear her voice and feel her touch, and everything feels right in the world.”

  “Then, it ends.”

  She nodded slowly. “And I am left alone again because my mother isn’t here and she never will be. For other people, I give them closure when they can speak to their loved ones one more time. But for me, they’re always there. I could speak to my mother every day and lose touch with the living, or I could force myself to never talk to her again and I can’t do it. I love her so much, and she’s right there. So how can I not reach for her? But every time it’s like putting a knife in my heart, and I start grieving all over again.”

  For a moment, she and Nadir stared stunned at the hot tears leaking from her eyes, but before she could pull away, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Soft cries rocked her form as she wept into his lapel. Strong hands cradled the back of her head and swept up and down the length of her back. She didn’t know how long she stood there with her head buried in his waistcoat and almost two years’ worth of grief staining the silk, but by the time she was done, her head ached and her eyes felt raw. Drawing in a wet sniff, Emmeline sighed and pawed at her cheeks only to have a handkerchief appear from Nadir’s pocket. She murmured a thank you and wiped at her sticky face and blew her nose, all the while his arms still kept her close. Letting her head fall against him, she dabbed at the wet spot on his waistcoat.

  “I’m sorry for… for whatever that was. I hope you know I’m not the type who has dramatic crying fits. Truthfully, I abhor them.”

  “It’s fine. Things have to come out sometimes. Do you feel better?”

  Except for the growing puffiness in her face, she felt lighter than she had in a long time. “Oddly, yes.”

  “Good. Now, I promise that I will never die and leave you alone,” he said into her hair. “I don’t want to add to your grief.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “Then how about this: I promise I will do my best not to die and leave you. If I should die, I will do my best to go out in a blaze of glory or take you with me. Then, we can haunt Elsworth and criticize the living together.”

  Giving him a playful shove, she smiled despite herself.

  “See, you do find me charming.”

  “Unfortunately.” Emmeline handed him back his handkerchief and tried not to meet his gaze. She could only imagine how awful she looked, but more than anything, she didn’t want to see what he thought written in his features. “Now what do we do?”

  “Well, I thought we might work on that list of yours.”

  “Now?”

  “We may as well do something useful while we’re stuck here. I already tried to get into Doughty’s room, but it’s locked.”

  “I was thinking about doing that myself. Do you think they killed him specifically for some reason or because they could?”

  “I don’t know, and I’m not certain I want to find out.” Settling back into his chair, Nadir languidly stretched out with his hands behind his head and his feet crossed. “Well? Names?”

  Emmeline sighed and retrieved the paper from the desk. “I’m warning you that I don’t have many options and some of these are already a no. There’s my grandmother on my mother’s side.”

  “And?”

  “She’s a no. I would like to leave the house at some point and to not be married off to the first half-decent titled man she meets.”

  “She’s that bad?”

  “She forced my mother to marry a baron twice her age. She’s a shrewd social climber, so I doubt she would let me get off scot free.”

  “Understood. Who else?”

  “There’s always my aunts. Aunt Josephine has her own children, but she might be willing to take me in. She’s a maybe. She lives in Bath, I think.”

  “Bath is nice,” he said half-heartedly.

  Emmeline wrinkled her nose and continued, “Then, there’s Aunt Georgiana. She’s a bit of a vagabond. The kind of aunt who comes into town like a storm of sweets and presents.”

  “She sounds promising.”

  “But she is elusive. Last I heard she was living somewhere in America. I doubt she would get back in time to settle the issue or that she would want me weighing her down. My other aunt lives in Yorkshire. Frankly, there’s nothing wrong with her or her family, but I don’t want to live with her either. My life is in London right now. I wish I could take my money and rebuild my mother’s house.”

  “You still have the house?”

  “Technically. We never sold the land in Oxford after the fire, but the house needs to be rebuilt.”

  “Is that what you want to do? Rebuild the house and eventually move back to Oxford?” Nadir asked softly.

  “I—” Emmeline paused. She had never thought about it. Thus far there had been no end goal, only survival. “I don’t know what I want. I love the people in London, but it isn’t my home. I miss the trees and the smell of grass. I miss picking mushrooms and apples. Sometimes London makes me feel like I’m suffocating, yet I worry how I feel about Oxford is nostalgia rather than actual longing.”

  “Are you in such dire straits that you have to sell the property?”

  “No, not yet anyway.”

  “Then, hold on to it. Perhaps you’ll get your house there after all.”

  There was something in his voice that made her pause. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there were moments where the debonair dandy disappeared to reveal the sincere, thoughtful man beneath him. His voice felt like hope and the promise of something more than she ever hoped for.

  Averting her gaze to her paper, she frowned. “That’s it. That’s all I have.”

  “Truly?”

  She gave him a sardonic nod and stared at the paper as if another name might materialize.

  “What ab
out friends?”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to be your ward.”

  He sneered at the thought. “Anyone else?”

  “Not that I can think of. Not anyone I trust anyway. You know most of my friends. They can barely manage their own funds. I don’t need them drinking or wearing mine.”

  “What about the Dorsets? You know them, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. Lady Dorset is Aunt Eliza’s cousin, and I’m renting the house from Lord Dorset. It was his brother’s before they moved to a property closer to Grosvenor’s Square.”

  “That explains the hideous décor. Why don’t you ask them, then?”

  Why didn’t she? It had occurred to her before only to be hastily dismissed. Lord and Lady Dorset weren’t blood relatives, and they were nobility. What she had already managed to get from them was more than she could have hoped for and far more than she deserved. Emmeline knew she could be prickly, even downright horrid at times, but Lady Dorset seemed to like her. Since the first time Emmeline met her at the earl’s Christmas party the year she and Immanuel Winter escaped, Lady Dorset had invited her over for tea at least once a month. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven years Emmeline’s senior, but during their talks of London and life, Emmeline found her casual air refreshing. Lady Dorset would ask her for clarification on society etiquette or opinions on dresses while Emmeline told her of her troubles and travels. At first she feared she might be a spy for her aunt after she left home, but Eliza never brought up the things she and Lady Dorset had spoken of.

  “I fear I will be infringing upon their kindness if I do,” Emmeline said slowly, her tongue suddenly thick in her mouth.

  “You already live in one of their homes.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I don’t want to push my luck with them.”

  “But think about it like this: Lord and Lady Dorset wouldn’t let you live there by yourself if they didn’t agree with what you were doing.” When Emmeline stared at him unblinking, he continued, “If your aunt and Lady Dorset are cousins, surely they have spoken on the matter of your independence, yet they haven’t evicted you.”

  “It is Lord Dorset’s property.”

  Nadir cocked a brow and gave her a knowing look. “Do you really think he would stop Lady Dorset if she had made up her mind?”

  “No, but I don’t want to pit her against her cousin. Not being able to turn to your family feels awful, and frankly, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  Nadir grabbed a clean piece of paper off the desk and a pen. “You should still write to them. Your aunt and Lady Dorset can make up, but your well-being is at stake. I don’t want to see you crushed again.”

  Slowly taking the stationery from his hands, Emmeline felt a swell of hope rise in her breast. “Would you help me write it? You’re far more persuasive than I am.”

  A warm grin spread across his features as she pulled his chair to her side. “It would be an honor.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A Wolf and a Soldier

  Wesley strolled through the snow, his mood buoyed by the crisp winter air even as his shirt and trousers clung to his wet skin. For the first time since arriving in England, he felt himself. The few times he had been able to shift had been hurried, tense moments that had only been enough to take the edge off the wolf’s need for freedom. Standing in the woods behind the house, far from where Emmeline and Mr. Talbot had found the body, Wesley had called the wolf forth and let himself fall into its joyous romping. It rolled like a pup in the snow and savored the frozen earth beneath the pads of its paws. Even if he could catch whiffs of carrion and not-wolf on the wind, he tried not to think about it. This moment was for himself and his wolf. They needed it if Wesley was going to help Roulet master himself, and more importantly, it was a sign of trust between him and his wolf. Even if the laws of man didn’t believe they could coexist with the rest of the world harmoniously, Wesley trusted it. He and his wolf had walked side-by-side for as long as he could remember, a symbiotic relationship of fur and flesh, and no one was going to make him pretend to be something he wasn’t.

  When he heard Colonel Roulet’s footfalls on the path, Wesley shifted back to his human form and donned his shirt and trousers again. The pain of shifting so close together was muted by the wolf’s prancing excitement. Normally, he would have waited until Colonel Roulet was ready to shift, but Wesley worried that the wolf would bust out with too much exuberance and startle Roulet’s wolf. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight with Roulet. The man felt bad enough about his condition; he didn’t need to have his greatest fears of relinquishing control come true. As he met Roulet on the trail, he felt the man’s eyes slide over his mussed hair and his half-open shirt. Shock broke over his features as he finally came to his bare feet in the lingering snow.

  “Aren’t you cold like that?”

  “No, are you?” Wesley asked, eying Roulet’s coat.

  A normal man would have been buttoned up with a scarf and thick wool coat. The colonel looked at his light jacket as if noticing it for the first time and shrugged before following Wesley deeper into the trees. When they finally reached a small clearing, Colonel Roulet carefully folded his coat and put his gloves and shoes on a rock for safe keeping. Wesley wanted to tell him to take off the rest of his clothes for fear of what might tear in the process of shifting, but he didn’t want to put the other man off. It was difficult enough to shift in front of a stranger. It was another to be naked and try to shift. This was why, in part, it was easier to teach the mastery of the wolf as a teenager when most people were impulsive enough to not care much for modesty or second guessing the results.

  “Colonel, you have willingly shifted in the past, right?” Wesley asked as he stripped down to only his trousers.

  Roulet nodded, tucking his shaking hands around his sides.

  “I’m going to shift first. Once you’re comfortable with my wolf, I want you to shift, too. You’ll have to convince your wolf to listen to me if you want us to proceed.” When the colonel looked dubious, Wesley added, “I promise my wolf won’t hurt you, either of you. You have to trust me.”

  Shifting, Wesley gritted his teeth to hide the pain as his body caved in on itself again. His wolf kicked off his trousers and shook the moisture from its fur. Roulet’s eyes locked on them with equal parts of awe and fear. The wolf slowly approached Roulet, sniffing the man’s leg and extended hand. When the man reached out to touch him, the wolf inclined its head to let him stroke its fur. It was an oddly intimate thing for him, to let someone touch him in wolf form. For so long being a wolf had been a solitary act. As far as he knew, there were no other werewolf Pinkertons, so when he shifted to sniff out a gang of thieves or took to paws to climb through rough terrain, it was always alone. America wasn’t nearly as strict about supernatural creatures as England, but there were plenty of religious people who would brand him a devil or those ruled by fear who would sooner put a bullet in him than listen to what he had to say.

  Colonel Roulet drew in a long, steadying breath and slowly stepped away from the wolf. The wolf looked away as Colonel Roulet shifted. Wesley cringed at the crunch of stiff bones and the tear of muscle as his body tore apart. The pain had to be excruciating after not shifting for so long. The colonel’s wolf whimpered, and Wesley’s wolf looked up to find a statuesque black wolf staring back at it from the pile of fabric. It’s muzzle was ringed in grey fur and pinpoints of white littered its fur like constellations. Wesley sucked in a breath at the wolf’s long legs and the wide set of his nose. It was the kind of wolf that could blend into the shadows, an omen of ill-fortune for some and a wonder of nature for others.

  Be nice, Wesley ordered his wolf as it approached Colonel Roulet.

  The black wolf growled and bared its teeth at them. It stood on shaking limbs, it’s tail dropping as it backed up. Fear rolled off the darker wolf in thick waves. Wesley’s wolf waited and watched as the other wolf’s eyes flickered over him. Beneath the bluster and fur, Wesl
ey could see the colonel in the wolf’s gaze. For a moment, the creature seemed to war with itself before it lowered its head and licked its lips. Wesley released a relieved sigh. Stepping forward, the wolf rested its head atop the colonel’s.

  For hours after, the wolves had tumbled through the snow. Roulet’s wolf’s nature was fortunately close to the man’s. It appeared to be cautious and conscientious, eager to follow but slow to challenge. If he was part of a pack, he would fit in nicely. A pang of something akin to guilt welled in Wesley’s gut. When he and Colonel Roulet shifted back to their human forms, Wesley thoughtfully ran a hand through his wet hair and gathered his underclothes.

  “Have you ever thought of moving to a country that is more hospitable to our kind, Colonel? I worry about you out here. I know what the authorities are capable of.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m far enough from the outside world that no one bothers with me. I told my neighbors that I have a big black dog in case anyone sees me. Frankly, I don’t want to leave my home. I gave years of my life to this country. The least they can do is let me live in peace. I’m not hurting anyone.”

  In that moment, Wesley nearly told him everything. Colonel Roulet deserved to know there was a murderer, or murderers, in his home, but Wesley wasn’t certain how he would react. They would have to send someone to the village for help, and even then, the local police wouldn’t be equipped for something like this. If the perpetrators were just werewolves, that would be one thing, but they were something Wesley couldn’t put his finger on. He didn’t want to put the colonel or the other guests in danger. While he would happily see Bourgot or Verdun under the Interceptors’ thumbs, he didn’t want Roulet trapped in the gaol, not when he was just becoming comfortable with his dual natures.

  “Maybe when the party is over and everyone leaves, I can ask my father to spend some time with you to teach you more. He’s the Rougarou back home.” When the other man gave him an inquisitive look, he added, “He is one of the most powerful werewolves in America. His job is to protect people.”