The Wolf Witch

by Kara Jorgensen

  ***

  Emmeline and Nadir followed Wesley down the hall, tracing their way to the battle by hearing and scent. As they grew closer to the melee, a knot formed in Emmeline’s stomach. They had no plan or ideas apart from find Elsworth and stop the remaining weargs. Nadir held her hand in his, and she tightened her grip on it. She wished she could stuff him in the nearest closet for safekeeping until it was all over, but he wasn’t a trinket she could keep safe. Letting her walls down a fraction, Emmeline spoke to the spirits even if she chose not to see them.

  Give Nadir and Wesley your divine protection, Mama, she whispered silently, picturing her mother waiting in her glen in the spirit world.

  When they entered the passage, the first thing Emmeline smelled was blood. The metallic tang mixed with the strum of chaos set every muscle on edge. Blood streaked across the carpet-runner and onto the walls. A ravaged body lay against the molding, its side torn open to reveal the inner workings beneath. Further down, a man worked to tourniquet a woman’s arm with gauze. With only his red hair visible, Emmeline thought for a heart-stopping second that it was Immanuel Winter’s beau, but when he raised his gaze to them, she realized his hair was far too light.

  Averting her attention from the carnage beneath his hands, Emmeline asked, “Have you seen David Elsworth anywhere?”

  “Elsworth? What do you need with the relic room?”

  “No, I need to find him. He is behind all of this.”

  “Relics, you say?” Wesley added, giving Emmeline a pointed look. “We have reason to believe he has a talisman that allows him to create these monsters. Have you seen him?”

  The woman with the injured arm coughed and wiped a trail of blood from her lips. “He was in the store room looking for something before. He was heading back to the great hall.”

  “Which way?”

  “You don’t know?” the redhead snapped.

  The woman closed her eyes and let her head fall back. “Two lefts and up.”

  When Wesley headed for the next turn, Emmeline grabbed his arm. He whipped around, and she could see her own scowl reflected in him. It was the same anger that compelled her to blindly lash out.

  “We need a plan, Wesley.”

  “We don’t even know what we’re up against. One wearg or two, where Elsworth is, and if he has allies. Once we get there, we’ll figure it out.”

  “No, no. The second we get there, you’re going to start fighting. You were barely able to stand when we left. You have to be getting tired again. What will you do when you falter?”

  He glared at her and then at Nadir. For a moment, she thought he might shift and run off, but he leaned back against the wall and scrubbed at his bruised cheeks.

  “I can’t do nothing. Pa is probably in there, fighting for us. He could be hurt or—”

  “He’s not. Look, out of the three of us, I can do the most damage. I need you and Nadir to convince the others that Elsworth is the one they need to stop. I’ll take care of him myself if I can get close enough.”

  “Is that wise, Em?” Nadir asked.

  “We have no choice. Whatever we find up there, it will be my duty to deal with Elsworth. You two just need to help get me there.”

  Wesley looked as if he might protest, but as he ran his fingers across his neck, he winced. His breath hitched as he pushed off the wall and staggered for the stairs. With each step, the sound of battle grew louder. Grunts and bangs trickled through the stairway. The hair on Emmeline’s arms stood on end at the sheer amount of magic pumping through the air. The percussion of fireworks jolted through her bones as they pushed past weary practioners hiding along the steps. Most were bloodied, some were already bandaged. A few stood silently watching the carnage, their eyes wide with terror.

  The watchers parted in time for Emmeline to catch a rush of brown and black fur. Her father’s wolf collided with the wearg followed by a black wolf that could only be Colonel Roulet. They tumbled in a mass of fur and teeth. When Silas sunk his teeth into the beast’s back and held tight as it twisted and tried to throw him off, Wesley released a triumphant whoop. An Interceptor with a sword ran forward and tried to strike at the wearg, nearly slicing Silas Bisclavret on the third swing. Emmeline climbed three steps up the next staircase and tried to peer over the heads of the people clustered nearby. She needed to find Elsworth. The hall was too chaotic to wander into without direction, and if she stepped in front of the wearg, she was likely to get flattened or mauled. Her eyes skimmed over the crowd looking for his mousy brown hair and mustache. Why did he have to look so bland? As she reached the arcade, her eyes caught on a glimmer of light. A figure leaned from between the columns lining the uppermost story, their lips working the words of a spell. Even without seeing their face, Emmeline knew it had to be him.

  “I’m heading for the steps. Wesley keep the wearg away. Nadir, I—”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Emmeline wanted to argue, but the look in his eye told her there would be no fighting him. Grimly, she nodded, and they pushed past the spectators to reach the open air of the hall. Wesley met her gaze one more time before striding into the battle. Throwing his head back, he howled. A chill passed over her at the sound echoing through her bones. It was the battle call of the men and women from the crypt. Wolves and soldiers, human and animal all at once. As much as Wesley and their father were werewolves, she was one, too. Raising his sword, Wesley charged toward the monster. Emmeline released a silent breath. If they could do it, so could she.

  Moving along the edge of the hall, Emmeline and Nadir picked over fallen debris left from the fight. Banisters and tables had been reduced to splinters. Fire scorched the walls and water pooled on the floor from previous attacks, but what turned her stomach was the blood. It spattered over nearly everything, violence in plaster and paint only punctuated by a dent in the shape of a head or back.

  Flattening against the wall, Emmeline held her breath as the wearg roared and reared back. She flinched at a canine yip of pain but refused to look. Hazarding a glance at the upper balcony, Emmeline noticed the figure had moved further down, but he was still there. She didn’t know how much control Elsworth could have over the creatures. Verdun had been able to get away, but that didn’t mean Elsworth didn’t have some sway over them when they were close. Emmeline edged closer to where the two wolves, Wesley, and the Interceptor squared off with the wearg. If Verdun had been scary in his bestial form, this wearg struck primal terror into her heart. It was far bigger and its body bloodied and savage from battle. The volleys of magic and bites barely seemed to faze it. As her father and Roulet panted and tried to recover between attacks, it continued to charge. Darting forward, it caught a man in a police uniform by the arm in its jaws. With a savage crunch, it bit and hurled the man across the room. Nadir pulled her back as the officer’s body collided with the wall not far from their hiding place.

  Emmeline’s eyes widened at an idea. If she could get close enough, she could command the monster to change. It had worked on Verdun, even if it took a bit. As if reading her mind, Nadir’s grip tightened on her arm.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “You cannot get closer to that thing. Verdun nearly ate you, and I don’t think you can tear up the floor here. Don’t do it.”

  He believed in her and her ability, that much she knew, but she couldn’t understand the fear in his eyes. “But if it works, we can end this quickly.”

  “But what if an Interceptor hears you say it? We know you can make those things change back because you’re a witch wolf or whatever you called it, but they don’t. If you declare they change back, they’re going to think you ordered them to change in the first place. You know Elsworth will toss us all to the wolves if he gets the chance.”

  Releasing a deflating sigh, Emmeline slid against the wall before jolting away at the offal splashed across it. He was right. Then, there was also the risk that the real werewolves would change first, leaving them vulnerable to a wearg attack, and that
was a far worse possibility. “Then what do we do?”

  “Find Elsworth and clobber the cologne out of him.”

  Emmeline cast a glance at the arcade above them for any sign of his shadow. “I think he’s using spells to keep the wearg powered.”

  “How does that work?”

  “No clue, but I would assume knocking him out would stop it or at least slow it down. Verdun wasn’t nearly as strong as this one. Do you know a way to get up there where we won’t be completely exposed?”

  Nadir’s eyes danced as he traced the route in his mind. Behind them, the battle grew closer as the wearg paced. The floor shook under Emmeline’s feet at the sound of the beast’s deep roar trumpeting against the marble and stone. She could smell the carrion on its breath and the stink of its wet, matted fur. Suddenly, Nadir’s head snapped up and his eyes became impossibly wide. His hand groped for hers, and she didn’t dare turn to look behind her.

  When he mouthed run, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Salvation

  Wesley charged toward the wearg, every bruise aching. Fear blistered down his back at the sight of the beast he would help to bring down. People liked to joke that the monsters in the South were big, but they were never that big. The wearg made his father look small, and he was one of the larger, more powerful werewolves in all of the packs. Even Gernier’s wearg paled in comparison and it had nearly killed him. As he jogged closer, the Interceptors’ attention snapped toward him. One was a man in an officer’s uniform. His hands were empty and raised toward the beast, but from the set of his gaze and the way the wearg pulled toward him, Wesley knew he had to be using magic. The other man was a whole head taller than Wesley and doubly wide. He looked like a carnival strongman, but where Wesley expected to see a sword, he found a small dagger and a bag of salt. The man stopped his work on what looked like a sigil of salt and chalk mid symbol. Wesley raised his hands in peace.

  “Are you the one Elsworth told us to wait for?” the officer grunted. “I hope to god you are.”

  “No.”

  “You with them?” the strongman asked, nodding toward the two wolves snapping at the wearg’s haunches.

  “Yes. I think I can help you. I’ve killed one of these before.”

  “Well, hurry it up,” the policeman said. “Clark, I can’t hold it much longer. We need to do something.”

  Wesley reached for his wolf to shift and felt it pull away. Pain reverberated between them as he drew in a raw breath. Well, that wouldn’t work.

  “On second thought, do you have a gun with larger ammunition? It’s throat and belly are vulnerable, but I think a good hunting rifle could save us all time. Do you have one?”

  The strongman, Clark, laughed. “This isn’t the Wild West. We don’t have guns like that here.”

  “Why?” Wesley realized the question was stupid the moment it left his lips.

  “Because too much can go wrong with so much magic around. Besides, does this look like a hunting club to you?”

  The wearg strained against its invisible binds and swept out a paw that sent Clark scrambling back and destroyed a quarter of the sigil with a gust of air. “Any other ideas, cowboy?”

  “Well, where is everyone else? It’s a building full of magical people, shouldn’t you—”

  Clark turned toward him, mouth quivering with anger. “There is no one else! Everyone fit enough to help is fighting or tending to the wounded. Everyone else has evacuated. We aren’t warriors. We are bureaucrats, historians, and investigators. We’re not equipped for this.”

  Wesley’s heart sunk. Elsworth didn’t have to kill everyone. He just needed to do enough damage to bring the agency to its knees. To terrorize and demoralize those who remained would be all it took.

  When he circled back around the beast, Silas’s wolf locked eyes with Wesley. He barked at him to run, but Wesley couldn’t obey. He had to fight. Before he could lift his sword, the wearg broke free. A pop broke through the air as the policeman was tossed aside and the wearg charged ahead. Silas dove forward while Roulet circled around the back. The wearg swung its head into his father so hard Wesley heard the crunch of bone.

  “Pa!” he yelled, running toward him without thinking.

  The creature twisted toward Roulet but instead caught the officer in its maw as he tried to rise. Time seemed to stand still as the man hurtled through the air. Wesley dove under the wearg while its mouth was occupied. Blocking out the man’s screams, Wesley used all his strength to wedge his blade up as he slid. The steel caught on the wearg’s underbelly, and before he could pull it back out, it reared up and ran. Clark grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. It was as if Wesley couldn’t fill his lungs. No matter how much he breathed, he didn’t feel any better, and that feeling turned to dread when he realized the wearg was headed straight for Emmeline and Nadir. Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, Wesley pulled out his service revolver. His arm shook under its weight as he held it aloft. Squeezing off five rapid shots into the monster’s hide, Wesley waited. Pricks of blood half-heartedly oozed from the wounds, but it was only when the beast turned toward him with a malice that made his blood run cold, that Wesley could breathe.

  Letting his hand fall, Wesley hung suspended in the remnants of silence. His brain told him to move, but his exhausted body stood frozen. Silas’s wolf barked frantically, but all he heard was the skitter of the beast’s nails on the parquet floor and the huff of its breath as it charged. A massive hand shoved him back and he landed hard enough to rattle his bruised ribs. Black and tan fur flew past him moving as one. The wolf nudged him to get up, so he did, slowly and with enough pain that it smudged his thoughts into an incoherent blur. Wesley wanted to join his father and Roulet. They were his pack, but he couldn’t. And the bone-deep wrongness of it made his soul ache. He was useless.

  A familiar howl of pain snapped him back to reality. Wesley turned in time to see blood bloom across his father’s side as he staggered to his feet. No, no, no. He had one shot left. Clark stood before his father, slicing his dagger through the air to keep the creature back, but it continued to push them into the corner undeterred. They didn’t have much time. Cocking the hammer, Wesley slowed his steps and schooled his breathing. The moment his finger grazed the trigger, all hell broke loose.

  A great rip followed by the smell of offal tore through the silence only to be drowned beneath the bellow of the beast as it reared and snapped. Before its jaws could reach Clark and his father, Wesley sent a bullet through its skull. The wearg staggered, hanging still in momentary shock, before falling forward. In an instant, it was over.

  Wesley jolted as the wearg’s body roiled away to reveal the body beneath and Lady Bourgot’s ravaged corpse hit the ground. The side of her face had been blown off and her torso remained flayed open. Instinctually, Wesley made the sign of the cross and turned away to holster his gun. Beside him, Roulet’s black wolf cantered in circles with Wesley’s sword lolling from its jaws, looking far too pleased with itself. A hesitant smile creeped across Wesley’s lips as he took the sword from the wolf. When he raised it to clean it with his already bloodied rag, his eyes fell upon his father’s wolf. The sword fell to the ground with an echoing clank as he sprinted for him. Dark red blood dripped from its nose and mouth where one of his eyeteeth had broken. Claw marks raked across its left side, leaving behind the outline of ribs and battered flesh.

  Dropping before him, Wesley kept his eyes and head low as he scooted closer. He winced as the wolf sneezed out a nose full of blood and coughed. Wesley wiped the spatter from his face and reached to do the same to his father only to have his wolf pull its ears back and bare its teeth at him. Roulet trotted over only to have Silas snap at him. The other wolf tucked in its tail and scooted away, watching Wesley from a safe distance.

  “Damn it, Pa. We have more to worry about than your pride. Let me clean you up and check your ribs.” When he reached out once more, the wolf snapped at hi
m, but Wesley grabbed his father’s wolf by the snout and pressed the rag to his bloodied nose despite his growling. “Go ahead and bite me. I really don’t care. Do you think your ribs are broken?”

  The wolf shook its head and wiggled out of Wesley’s grip. He didn’t whimper, but from the tightness of his gait and the wariness in his eye, Wesley knew he was in pain. He hoped the crunch he had heard earlier had been a rib instead of something more.

  “If you’re all right, we need to keep moving. We should go find Emmeline and Talbot before they get too far.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Wesley stiffened at the poke of metal pressed against his back. Slowly turning, he found Clark’s knife level with his throat. The two wolves growled behind him, and the wolf within him stirred in warning.

  “I wouldn’t try it if I were you. The dagger’s enchanted. One touch and the wound will never heal.”

  “Help was never coming, was it?”

  His voice shook as the knife danced close enough that Wesley could sense the tip even if he couldn’t see it. “I have my orders: keep the wolves out of the way. Unfortunately, you killed the wearg quicker than we expected.”

  “Why not just kill us?” Wesley asked, shifting his weight to his other foot.

  “Elsworth wants you alive, if possible.”

  “That was foolish of him.”

  The moment Clark took a step closer, Wesley whipped his leg out and swept the other man off his feet. Wesley stumbled upright, his legs groaning with protest at the exertion. Before he could make for his weapon, the wolves attacked. Roulet clamped onto Clark’s wrist, the knife falling from his grip as he screamed. The breath caught in Wesley’s throat at the sight of his father shifting back to human mid leap. Silas landed hard on Clark, his fists colliding with his face until he stilled. Spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor, Silas wiped his lips and stood. Beside him, Roulet let out a whine as he transformed into a man. Wesley threw his arms around both of them and sagged with relief knowing that while they were bloody and bruised, they were whole. His father chuckled and patted his head before peeling away. Roulet’s face turned a brilliant scarlet as he stepped back and covered himself as best he could. Faces peered out from the stairwell, eyes wide as they looked from the bodies strewn about the room to the three men at the center of the chaos. The stir of fear set Wesley’s wolf on edge, but he soothed over its mind hoping it would be enough. No need to scare the Interceptors into acting against them.