He rolled his shoulders. “Relax, men. Don’t fight it.”
“Look up,” someone whispered.
Everyone turned their faces skyward, where, ten feet above their heads, a mass of energy was forming. It swirled, shimmering like glitter on waves of heat. As the mass developed color, four arms stretched downward, one to each candle. When the energy-arms reached the candle flames, the center above them exploded, and that energy snapped into the candles like a tape measure recoiling.
Then, except for the single note Persephone was sustaining, there was silence.
Johnny remembered what Menessos had said during the first spell. He’d whispered, “Rise cone of power. Rise to our call. Deliver lunar energies, to one and all.”
In the sky, the exposed moon flashed, and a focused beam of reflected lunar light fell, encompassing Persephone’s circle. Her voice wavered. Her knees gave.
Johnny felt his skin crawl, felt it scrub against his raw muscles like coarse sandpaper. His beast growled savagely, exultantly, as it burst through his flesh.
His change was fluid and fast, and he stood on all fours in a beam of cold light, while the others’ transformations were more prolonged. He felt electrified and invigorated, yet a hunger gnawed at him, a hunger that had nothing to do with his stomach.
Change back.
He sniffed the air. He could smell well with his human nose, but with his wolf nose—it was like every molecule in the air was amplified, akin to a blast from an aerosol spray. So many compelling scents mingled at once.
Change back.
Nostrils flaring, he stared down his elongated black nose and sorted through the smells.
Human. Wolf. Sweat. Rooftop. Brick. Metal. Cotton. Candle wax. Fire. Car exhaust. Lavender.
Persephone was on her knees directly ahead and leaning to one side, unsteady in the buffeting wind. Her hair flapped about. She pitched forward—caught herself on her hands.
Change back.
He could smell her sex. He recalled their shower, the bubbles cascading over her ass, the water dripping off her tits. He’d made her writhe and scream when he’d been inside her. He’d made her wear his scent. He could smell that too.
Change back now.
The beast whimpered, stationary and ready to withdraw . . . then a new scent filled his nostrils. A scent that seduced him. A scent that seized his ambiguous hunger and made his jaws drip saliva. A scent that stupefied his man-mind, silencing his thoughts and leaving only the beast that quavered with a raging appetite.
He smelled blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The charm Beau had given me made a real difference.
When I’d held the lightning energy, I’d felt ready to explode. The volume of ley energy I’d briefly contained was threefold—ley energy scalds in the first instant and settles into a heady buzz, like an addict’s high. The ley and lunar energies had swirled within me, rather like oil and vinegar refusing to mix. Stormy and volatile. I’d tried coaxing the powers, folding them together like cake batter and foamy egg whites. Still they had resisted. So I’d gone bully. I’d used the Reese’s Cup-size charm like a blender, cramming that energy through the charm, whipping it into a frothy force, and then I freed the energy, refiltering it through myself.
A witch releasing energy was like any human body expending energy. In about twenty seconds, my body was convinced I’d just finished a hundred-kilometer marathon and celebrated by going a couple rounds with Rocky Balboa. Containing the power, filtering it, targeting it, and releasing it used nearly all of my own energy, and after my already stressful midday, I felt woozy and weak.
I collapsed to my knees in exhaustion. The dizziness made me pitch forward. The rough rooftop tore at my palms, ripping runnels that filled with warm blood.
I was so tired I didn’t care. I just wanted to sleep.
The beam dissipated to a chorus of wolf howls.
Beau’s son? I checked where the half-formed wolf had lain. A full-formed wolf lay there now, unconscious. I did it.
A pony-sized black wolf stood stiff-legged at the edge of the pack. Beyond that dark wolf that I knew to be Johnny, I saw wolves begin padding away from the group, spreading out.
I sat back on my heels, fingers curled to favor my wounded palms. Softly, I said, “Keep them together, Johnny. Lead them to the kennels.”
The black wolf’s yellow eyes remained steady, and he persistently sniffed the air.
Wolves loped around me, circling. There were so many of them. . . .
“Johnny.”
The black wolf lowered its muzzle. It shook itself.
“Johnny?”
He stepped in my direction.
I swallowed. Hard.
Slowly, I put my knuckles down and very, very cautiously pushed to get my feet under me. Very, very cautiously I stood. The black wolf kept easing forward. I stood my ground for a heartbeat or two, then I couldn’t suppress the need to retreat.
The black wolf paused, sniffing where I’d fallen. Its pink tongue licked where my skin had torn. Where I’d bled.
Oh shit.
Behind me, a wolf growled.
Before me, the black wolf continued licking the roof. I trusted the Domn Lup to rule his pack and protect me, but the growl to my rear came again, nearer. Still the black wolf did not react.
I dared a quick scan behind me. The other wolf was gathering itself, preparing to leap.
“Johnny!”
The black wolf’s nose came up, but his head stayed low, nostrils quivering and yellow gaze locked on me. Its posture was entirely animal-on-the-hunt. “What’s wrong with you?” I whispered.
He eased forward with deliberate, stalking steps.
Heart pounding, it took everything I had to not run for the door. “Domn Lup! Herd your pack down the stairwell. Do it now!”
Behind me the other wolf snarled. The black wolf viciously snapped its jaws at the other wolf, which then whimpered and retreated from me.
Thinking—hoping—that he was sending me down the stairs first, I shifted my retreat toward the door he’d propped open.
The black wolf made the same jaw-snapping growl at me, lunging and forcing me away from the safety of the room beyond that door.
As I quickly backpedaled, I tripped over the duffel with my spell supplies. As I fell, even as I thought to brace against the fall, I saw the black wolf leap.
Time slowed down. Instead of throwing my arms back to catch myself, I reached forward and buried my fingers in the fur on the sides of its head. With a feral snarl, the wolf’s hot breath blew over my cheeks. Those long fangs were just inches from me, and we hadn’t hit the roof yet.
I had only one choice: I called on the ley.
Stinging energy answered. It ripped into me as my back hit the rooftop, and I rammed it down my arms, ejecting it right into the black wolf. Unfocused and unpurposed, the energy was raw and shocking.
The wolf yelped in pain, jerked and leapt away from me; tufts of black hair stuck to my bloody palms. My head bounced on the rooftop, hair catching in the rough texture and yanking out.
The wolf landed a few yards away and twisted back, a wicked rumble rising from deep in its chest. My hands went to the rooftop, ready to launch me up again, but I felt the smooth broom handle. Gripping it, I rolled, straddling it as I said, “Awaken ye to life.” It boosted me into the air and shot forward as the black wolf closed in again.
Johnny.
What have you done?
The wind over the city tore the tears from my eyes before they could spill to my cheeks.
Johnny had attacked me. Attacked me.
What’s wrong with him?
But in my heart I knew. I’d ignored that nagging little fear, and it had been right.
His beast is loose.
If I hadn’t burned up the in signum amoris, I would have known that something was wrong before Johnny’s man-mind had been highjacked by the beast, caught in the throes of bloodlust.
He’d broken my trust in his be
ast, and I wasn’t sure this could ever mend. My tears flowed faster.
Miles away, something else hit me: His best and bravest were with him, and for now, they were all feral and would follow the dominant male among them, even if that wolf was leading them to trash their own den in order to get out and find meat.
No one was supposed to return to the den for roughly another half hour. What if they weren’t in their kennels when the other wæres showed up? The others would know something wasn’t right with their Domn Lup.
Worse, what if the pack was able to break the barricades? If the three dozen fully formed wæres escaped the building and were loose in a city completely unprepared for them—right before the Domn Lup was supposed to have his prestigious press conference—it would mean disaster for Johnny.
His disaster would mean the ruination of our trio and the failure of me and my destiny.
I couldn’t allow that to happen. No matter what.
My speed slowed. My phone was in my purse, locked in the car. My keys were in the duffel on the rooftop. There was no one I could call and no time to wait for someone else to go and make sure this didn’t escalate into a multilevel tragedy.
I circled around and headed back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I circled the Cleveland Cold Storage building and saw only one wærewolf on the rooftop. By the placement of this wolf, I knew it was Beau’s son. Still unconscious, he hadn’t moved so much as an inch. It was cold, so, despite his being covered with fur, I collected the other men’s piled clothing and covered him up with several T-shirts, topping that with layers of jeans.
I spiraled down the building and flew into the parking area. The guys in the Audi were still asleep.
At the stairwell, I could hear grunts and snarls of wolves, far, far up. The sound wasn’t getting closer or louder. Only two questions remained: Would the gates continue to detain the thirty-some wæres tearing at it, and could I coerce them to their kennels? If the others figured out Johnny’s man-mind wasn’t dominant, they’d suspect this whole thing was my wrongdoing.
Hovering away from the stairwell, I noticed the elevator wasn’t here. I opened the bug-eaten gates and peered up. The carrier was dark up in the shaft, but it was nowhere near here. The last wæres out must’ve left via the stairs as Johnny escorted me up in the elevator.
I intentioned the broom into the metal and cement tube and slowly rose to the fourth floor. Forcing the doors open a crack, I listened. From the sound, the wæres were blocked just around the corner. They were none too quiet, so I forced the doors wide enough to let me dismount the broom.
I’d been here before, when the Omori had first arrived. The dirija’s office was on this floor, as was the big gymnasium-sized meeting hall.
Cautiously, I skimmed along the wall between the elevator and the stairwell. When I was able to see the gate, my stomach almost dropped out of me. Wæres were crammed against the iron bars and shuffling around each other and upon each other, more irritated by the lack of room than organized about destroying the gate.
With man-minds, they’d be out by now.
But with man-minds, they’d be immune to bloodlust. That wouldn’t take effect until the next transformation under the full moon.
I backed slowly away, leaned on the elevator door, and ran fingers through my hair.
My head was bleeding. Or it had been. When I’d fallen backward on the rooftop, I must have split my scalp. Flying just afterward, the cold November temperature and the rushing wind probably helped me not notice, cooling the blood on my skin and crusting it before it had a chance to run down my neck.
I brushed the flecks of dried blood from my fingers.
When the first wære snorted, I understood how thoughtless that action had been. The dozens of wærewolves around the corner intensely sniffed the air. And the iron bars creaked like they were bending.
I had to do something.
Straddling the broom and ready to hover into the elevator shaft, I firmed my resolve and intentioned the broom to hover, then slowly descend. How was I supposed to get them to their kennels? All they want is meat.
Or blood.
By the time I got to the bottom, I had an idea. Then I shot it down.
They’ll smell me. Those noses will detect me and they’ll be after me and there’s no way out except the stairwells and elevator.
I flew up to the roof and landed to assess what magical items I had with me. The stones were hematite, green aventurine, bloodstone, and coral. Coral, if worn where all can see, is broadly protective. It can guard against simple things like accidents or violence, or it can ward away demons. Hematite was great for healing purposes, but it was also grounding, as in attuned to the physical plane. The aventurine was a lucky stone. I could use luck, but it was also noted for increasing perception, and I didn’t want to bring it near the wolves and chance that they’d be more inclined to see me. Bloodstone lends courage and . . . when smeared with heliotrope, affords the wearer invisibility!
But where can I get heliotrope in the next minute?
My breath caught. My gaze slid to the duffel.
Caramel-sweet and vanilla.
I pounced on the duffel bag and clawed through it. Pushing aside the flask of crystal water I’d used when calling the element of water, I found it: the little bottle of essential oil that Zhan had been so keen on.
Beau had dropped it into the bag with the rest of the items. I’d blessed it with everything else, distracted by my visit from Creepy. I twisted the small bottle to read the label and about choked.
Heliotrope.
Thank you, Hecate!
Another thought popped into my head: They may not see me, but they’ll still smell me.
Even if I had enough of this oil to bathe in, I’d not change my scent, I’d just temporarily mask it with something else they’d detect and know was unusual. I scanned around. And again.
I didn’t have anything that wouldn’t alert the wærewolves to something “other” being close by.
My gaze caught on William.
Smell like one of them.
Scurrying over to him, I stole about ten hairs from his furry head and scrambled back to the duffel bag, where I opened the Baggie of salt I’d used when calling earth. I threw a sprinkling of it around me in a circle. After speaking the swiftest of invocations, I chanted. I opened the essential oil bottle, smeared the bloodstone with dabs of oil and envisioned it cloaking me in invisibility.
I wasn’t literally capable of pulling an Invisible Man act, but this was just enough that the wolves would fail to notice me should I be still and far away.
Invoking Beau’s charm, I made doubly sure of that.
Then I wrapped William’s fur strands around the stone. They stuck readily with the oil coating. And I envisioned the wolfish scent of William surrounding me. Using magic directly on a wærewolf in wolf-form was as dangerous as using it on one in human-form . . . but I wasn’t using it on him. I was actually drawing a tad off him and wrapping myself in it.
I put the stone in my front jeans pocket.
I was about to end my quickie ritual, but when I spied the water flask I had another idea. I unscrewed the cap, then dug my fingernails into my hair, dragging my nails over the clots of dried blood in my hair, being careful not to reopen the wound. Then I scrubbed the globs from my fingertips on the edge of the flask so it all fell into the water.
I replaced the lid and gave it a good shake.
Saying a brief but heartfelt thanks to the deities and elements I’d invoked with the first spell, I jogged a widdershins path and released the original circle and the smaller one I’d just employed. Truly, the first ritual was ended and this was mostly irrelevant, but it was the right thing to do. Farsighted Hecate had influenced Zhan this morning. All the more reason for me to spend a few seconds honoring the blessings I had before leaping into the wærewolves’ den.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I walked into the little building atop the Cleveland d
en. My ears rang, now out of the open wind of the roof, and my stomach gave a flip as I peered down the stairs. My feet would be seen by any wærewolves down there before I’d see them.
Waiting, I listened. Being bound to Menessos had given me better-than-average hearing, but still I worried. At a measured pace I descended. Once in the room, I made my way out into the hall. There were two other half-formed wæres in cages up here, but they were behind barred doors and didn’t show themselves.
I sat on the broom again and glided to the stairwell, where I descended half a level, rounded the landing, and eased down the other half. Here, the room beyond was empty.
This reminded me of when I’d climbed through these levels after escaping the Rege. I’d taken a baseball bat to the head and, disoriented, had been thinking “up” meant “out.” I’d never been to these parts of the den before, so I’d been utterly lost.
Now, however, I knew where I was and what was waiting for me.
There were more wærewolves in the Greater Cleveland area than they could kennel on one floor. Since this group had been blocked at the fifth floor, I knew there were kennels on five. And on six. There had been no kennels on eight, where the confirmation meeting had taken place, but I was hoping they had built them on seven as well. I wasn’t sure I could sneak past the wæres crammed into the stairwell if I had to go to six.
On seven I found kennels and was so happy the broom intentioned in a spin that was rather like a happy dance.
There were probably eighty kennels here . . . I only needed them to use half that. I flew to the kennels farthest back.
Another fragment of recollection crossed my thoughts.
The memory that Johnny had given me was one that had happened here. His first change after learning he was a wære. He’d kenneled with the rest of the pack . . . Beau had locked all the doors with a key. . . .
They don’t self-lock?
This plan can’t be ruined by this flaw after all the effort!
I tried to swing shut one of the doors. It was heavier than expected, and I had to throw my weight onto it. It clanged quietly as metal hit metal.
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