Luck of the Wolf

by Susan Krinard

  Or Cort might kill the human who had betrayed him, just as Yuri had feared.

  “I do not want your money,” she said. “I only want Aria’s happiness. Can you promise me that?”

  He turned to leave. “We will speak no more of this, madame.”

  Babette followed him. “I promise you, if you fail to take proper care of Aria, I will—”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE SOUND OF the door banging against the wall cut off her threat. Yuri staggered into the room, a bottle in his hand and a sneer on his face.

  “You’ll what?” he said, weaving his way toward Babette. “What can you do? You’re nothing but a whore, after all.”

  In an instant Cort was between Yuri and Babette, his clenched fist half-raised. “I told you not to speak to the lady in such a manner,” he said.

  “I’m not calling her anything but what she is,” Yuri said. “He took another swig from the bottle. “She gave herself to every man who wanted her in New Orleans. She ran the biggest brothel in the Vieux Carré.” He giggled. “What d’you think about that? A whore teaching Aria to be just like her.”

  Cort hit him. The bottle flew from Yuri’s hand, and he struck the nearest wall with a grunt of pain and surprise.

  “No doubt you think yourself very clever, Baron Chernikov,” Cort said. He turned back to Babette. “Madame,” he said quietly, “is this true?”

  There was no point in denying it now. “It is.”

  “And did you…teach Aria how to—”

  Babette looked away. “Yes.”

  He didn’t ask her why. He merely stared at her as if she were a cockroach he planned to smash beneath his boot.

  “I congratulate you, madame. You convinced me that you were a true lady.”

  The blood seemed to rush out of her head to pool at her feet. No insult had ever seemed so awful to her, and for a moment she hated him as much as she hated Yuri.

  It was on the tip of Babette’s tongue to tell him then and there what Yuri planned. She was no longer thinking clearly, and Yuri deserved whatever punishment Cort gave him.

  But she said nothing, and after a while Cort turned and left the room. Yuri lay slumped against the wall, his chin on his chest and saliva dribbling down his chin.

  She went to stand over him. “Are you satisfied?” she asked.

  He lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, but she could see no sign that he had been seriously injured. “Why…didn’t you tell him?” he croaked.

  Kneeling was no simple matter in the dress she wore, but Babette had done far more challenging things in a bustled and corseted gown. “Because I didn’t want you to die,” she said.

  He tried to laugh, but the sound was a horrid mix of cough and groan. “I overheard all of it,” he said. “I wasn’t quite as drunk as you thought.”

  “Then you know they are to be married.”

  “I never would have believed it. He must think it will make his revenge all the more satisfying.”

  “There is no certainty that he is still intent on revenge,” Babette said, clinging to her last fragile hope.

  “He’s waited eight years for this.”

  “I refuse to believe he would go to these lengths for such a purpose. Would he be so eager to take Aria to Placerville if he were not sincere?”

  Yuri braced his hands on the wall behind him and pushed himself to his feet. “Hmm. That does present a problem.”

  The bile rose in Babette’s throat. “Di Reinardus’s men?”

  “Da.”

  She remained on her knees. “And you plan to let Aria and Cort go to them like lambs to the slaughter?”

  He gave her a pained look. “Did I not say I would consider the information you had given me?”

  “Do you mean you won’t betray them?”

  “My dear girl.” He took one of Babette’s hands and lifted her to her feet. “Have a little faith. I have thought of a way to misdirect di Reinardus and his men while the four of us to go to Placerville. I will, of course, be placing our lives at risk, but…”

  “Oh, Yuri.” Babette embraced him and kissed him on both cheeks. “I knew you could not go through with it! What will you do?”

  “Leave that to me. If you truly believe Cort will marry the girl, you must spend your time preparing the bride-to-be.” He turned her hand and kissed her palm. “I, too, must prepare. There is one thing you can do for me….”

  “Tell me.”

  “I will be gone the rest of this day and possibly into the night. Give any excuse you can think of, but do not let him look for me.”

  The tension in his voice gave Babette pause. She almost wondered if he might be lying to her.

  It couldn’t be so. She refused to accept that even her love-blinded eyes could fail to recognize such blatant treachery.

  “I will do all I can,” she said.

  He kissed her hand again. “Spasibo, moia lubov.”

  My love. Babette’s heart fluttered like that of a girl given her first compliment by a young man. Yuri had never once used that word before.

  But the pleasure didn’t last.

  Yuri let go of her hand, glanced around the room and started for the front door. He didn’t even pause to pick up his bottle.

  Babette shook out her skirts and returned to the sofa. For a long while she sat there, thinking, going over every one of Yuri’s expressions, movements, words.

  She could not be mistaken. He had chosen to do the right thing. And yet…

  Babette felt carefully under the cushions for the object she had hidden there when they first arrived. The tiny pistol fit her hand perfectly. It was small, but it would be just as effective as a much larger weapon if the time ever came to use it.

  THE JOURNEY TO Placerville took years.

  That was the way it felt to Aria. She would have been happy to run as a wolf, carrying her clothing and necessities in a pouch around her neck, but Cort had been stubbornly opposed to the idea. Rather than take the wagon, which he rejected as too slow, he and Yuri rode the two horses Yuri had brought from Placerville when he and Babette had first arrived, while Aria and Babette rode the stolid wagon horses.

  Babette had advised Aria to pack her simplest dress for the ceremony, since it was near-white and suitable for a young bride, even if she was no longer a virgin. Aria wore her trousers for the journey, while Babette had produced a riding habit that had obviously been made for a different kind of saddle. She smiled frequently, though sometimes she seemed a little nervous. Aria felt a more than a little nervous herself.

  As for Yuri, he was completely different than he had been for the past weeks. He didn’t bring a bottle with him, and he observed everything with the sharp gaze she had become accustomed to before they’d arrived at the lodge. He didn’t seem happy, either, but Aria hadn’t expected him to be. In a way he was losing Cort to a woman he had never really liked. She could almost feel sorry for him.

  It was Cort’s behavior that puzzled her the most. He spoke to her with affection and smiled often. That was the problem; he smiled too often, and Aria glimpsed strain in his expression on more than one occasion. He rode as if he had lived in the saddle since childhood, but his body never quite lost the hint of stiffness she had seen the night after he’d told Babette of their plans. Of course, he’d never been married, either, and he had lost the only other woman he had ever loved. Aria was determined never to let him regret his proposal, no matter what she had to do to make sure of it.

  The first night was difficult, because she had to be close to Cort without being able to touch him. She knew it wouldn’t be polite to kiss in front of Yuri and Babette, and Babette seemed to think it was important that she be on her best behavior now that she was to be a bride. The older woman sat up with Aria when she couldn’t sleep, and explained the simple ceremony that would bind Aria and Cort together forever. Even that seemed silly to Aria, but it was a small enough price to pay for such a wonderful result.

  On the second day Yuri fell ill. He l
eaned heavily over his horse’s neck, swayed in the saddle and would have fallen off if Cort hadn’t caught him just in time. The Russian collapsed against a tree trunk and clutched his head as if his hands were all that were keeping his skull in one piece. He resisted every effort to move him, and Cort seemed resigned to stopping early to let him recover.

  Strangely enough, it was Babette who made light of Yuri’s condition. “It’s because he has stopped drinking,” she said to Cort. “You mustn’t let him delay you. I’ll remain behind and see that he recovers.”

  Yuri chose that moment to fall unconscious, and all discussion of Cort and Aria riding on came to an abrupt end. Cort threw a blanket over the Russian and asked Aria to gather wood while he made a fire. Aria could hear him talking to Babette, and it almost seemed that they were arguing.

  She wanted to listen, but she had promised Babette she would behave like a lady. When she returned to the clearing where they had made camp, neither Cort nor Babette acted particularly upset. Yuri seemed to recover very slowly, and every time it seemed that they might continue the journey, he got sick again.

  On the third day Cort lost his patience. “I begin to think you are right, madame,” he said to Babette. “We must tie Yuri to his horse. We will run out of provisions if we don’t move on.”

  We could hunt, Aria thought. After all, Cort had promised to try to accept the wolf side of himself.

  But he wasn’t ready. She needed time to teach him. And she didn’t want to stay here one moment longer, anyway.

  “I can ride behind him and hold him up,” she offered.

  Babette and Cort turned to stare at her as if they had forgotten she was there. Babette frowned.

  “No,” she said. “It will not do. I will remain behind with Yuri.”

  “I wouldn’t leave you alone here,” Cort said. “It is not safe.”

  “What possible harm could come to us?” Babette gave a little laugh. “Surely you do not suggest that these woods are inhabited by man-eating wolves.”

  “There are bears, madame. And men worse than any beast.”

  “I can handle that kind of beast,” Babette said. “I also know how to shoot, if you’ll leave me a gun.”

  “Cort is right,” Aria said. “We can’t leave you alone.”

  “I assure you that I can—”

  “Out of the question,” Cort said. “If Yuri can’t travel, we’ll wait another day.”

  Babette glanced at Yuri, who lay wrapped in his bedroll under a tree, and for a moment she looked as if she had been caught in a mountain blizzard wearing nothing but a thin gown, with no provisions and no hope of rescue.

  “Aria,” she said, “if you don’t mind, I would like to speak to Cort alone.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Cort said. He knelt beside the fire and pretended to tend it, though all he did was poke at the ashes with a stick. Babette stood over him, her fists clenched in her skirts.

  “I would prefer to be discreet,” she said, “but I will do whatever is necessary to make you see reason.”

  Cort threw the stick in the fire and looked up at her. Aria could feel his anger, the dangerous kind of anger she’d seen in him when he had fought Brecht’s men in the alley. After a long silence Cort turned to Aria. His eyes were as bleak as Babette’s.

  “Aria, please watch Yuri while we’re gone,” he said.

  “Whatever you have to say,” Aria said, “I think I should hear it.”

  “Forgive me,” Babette said, “but it is a private matter between us.”

  There was nothing Aria could do but stamp her feet and behave like a child, and she had no intention of sinking so far.

  “Very well,” she said, with as much dignity as she could muster. “But please don’t make me worry by being gone too long.”

  Neither Cort nor Babette smiled at her attempt at a joke. Cort got up, came over to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.

  “This won’t take long,” he said, and kissed her forehead.

  Aria grabbed his hand and tried to hold him, struck by a sense of something terribly wrong. But Cort pulled away, nodded to Babette and escorted her into the trees.

  Aria crouched, picked up the end of the charred stick Cort had tossed into the fire and drew a word in the dirt at her feet.

  L-o-v-e. Love. Cort still hadn’t told her that he loved her. She knew that would come in time, but it was difficult to be patient. Why couldn’t he talk about what he felt?

  Because he was a man.

  That was what Babette had said. Aria cradled her chin in her hands and stared into the flames. Her eyelids grew heavy. She didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to be awake when Babette and Cort returned. She knew very well that they were talking about her. This time she would make them…

  An unfamiliar scent brought her out of her doze. It didn’t belong to Cort or Babette or Yuri, who was snoring in his bedroll, but it definitely belonged to a man.

  Before she could wake up enough to wonder who else could be in this part of the mountains, the first scent was joined by another, and another, still at a distance but approaching in a circle around the clearing. The horses tossed their heads and snorted. The sharp stink of sweat and fear seeped into Aria’s skin.

  She sprang to her feet. Her body quivered with the need to Change, but she couldn’t afford to be without her voice. She spun and raced in the direction Cort and Babette had gone.

  She found Cort running back toward camp, looking like a shepherd whose entire flock had been killed by bears or mountain cats and left to rot on the hillside. He came to a stop when he saw her, and his skin seemed to lose all its color.

  Aria didn’t have time to wonder why. “Someone has come,” she said. “Several men. They’re all around us.”

  Cort lifted his head to sniff the air. His face went from pale to dark in an instant, and his pupils dilated until the yellow was nearly swallowed up by black.

  “Where is Yuri?” he asked.

  “Still in camp. Who are they? Could they be—”

  Babette ran up behind Cort, panting heavily. “Aria? What has happened?”

  “Keep her here, Babette,” Cort snapped, and broke back into a run.

  Aria turned to follow, but Babette stopped her. “We must stay here,” she said urgently. “Cort will return with the horses.”

  “So that we can run away?” Aria said. “Cort knows who these men are, doesn’t he? Are they the same ones who followed you and Yuri?” She shook her head. “If you couldn’t fool them before, nothing will stop them. We have to fight!”

  “Cort won’t let you,” Babette said. “He cares only about getting you to safety.”

  “But there are so many of them, and he’s alone!” Aria jerked free of Babette’s hold. “I’m going!”

  “Then I am coming with you.”

  Aria didn’t wait. She stripped out of her clothes, ripping her shirt and trousers, and Changed. Sound and smell sharpened, and she could count exactly how many of the enemy had found them. Eight men, ready to attack. How could Yuri and Babette have been so wrong?

  The report of a gun burst in Aria’s ears, and she flung herself through the trees like a mad dog. One of their horses galloped past her as she reached the clearing, and she quickly saw that only two of the animals remained where Cort had secured them to a sapling. They were snorting and rolling their eyes in panic, straining to get away.

  Cort and Yuri were facing each other over the fire, Yuri with a gun in his hand. Cort’s lips were peeled back in a snarl.

  “Batard,” he said. “When I kill you, it will not be because you have betrayed our friendship, but because you meant to hurt Aria.”

  “I mean no harm to her,” Yuri said, his voice shaking. “No more than you. She will have everything her heart desires.”

  “Because di Reinardus will treat her well in order to gain what he wants?” Cort shook his head. “Yes, I know his plans. Babette told me. He’ll keep her in a gilded cage for the rest of her life—if he doesn’t ge
t her killed first.”

  Aria stopped, fur bristling. The scene made no sense to her. Why was Yuri aiming a gun at Cort? Who was di Reinardus? Babette had mentioned the name once, when Aria had told her that she couldn’t possibly be Lucienne.

  “Do you think you can provide for her?” Yuri asked. “You, with your miserable origins, and a woman of her blood?”

  “I can make her happy.”

  “You will never get the chance. They will be here any moment.”

  “At least I’ll take you down first. Your gun won’t stop me.”

  “It will if I shoot you through the heart,” Yuri said.

  Whatever they were talking about, Aria knew there wasn’t a minute to lose. She flung herself into the clearing and charged straight at Yuri.

  The Russian was taken off guard just long enough. As he shot wildly in Aria’s direction, Cort leaped over the fire and barreled into him, smashing the gun out of his hand. Aria jumped at Yuri’s chest, forelegs stiff, and knocked him to the ground.

  “Aria,” Cort said, breathing heavily, “take the horses and go back to Babette. I’ll keep the others occupied while you escape.”

  He was already beginning to remove his clothing. He clearly realized he would have to fight as a wolf to have any chance at all. But Aria knew there were too many for one man to defeat, and that she and Babette had no chance of escaping if Cort lost, even if she were willing to leave him.

  Aria Changed into human form again, knowing she had only seconds to pose the questions she needed to ask.

  “Why was Yuri pointing a gun at you?” she demanded. “Who is di Reinardus?”

  Cort flung his coat into the shrubbery. “There is no time for this now. Take the horses and go.”

  “No. You have no chance if you fight them alone.”

  He bared his teeth at her. “One of the men about to attack us is Brecht. He’ll do everything possible to take you without injuring you. I can’t protect you while I fight them.”