The Ice Wolves

by Mark Chadbourn

  As the blizzard dropped, there was a moment of unnatural stillness in which Hellboy saw around him the familiar landmarks of twenty-first-century Beacon Hill. He was back.

  The transition was shocking, and only added to his many questions about the nature of the Kiss of Winter. On one level it felt like there was an intelligence guiding him, but on another it could be that certain points in history carried their own gravity, sucking him in and spitting him back out when the moment had passed.

  Making his way toward the Grant Mansion, he reflected on what he had learned. In the experience of the time slip there were several nuggets of information he was sure he could use to locate the Kiss of Winter; he just had to sift them out.

  “You did me a favor, Sarah, wherever you are,” he said.

  Back on Mount Vernon Street, his attention was caught by a couple of dark forms moving across the Common toward Beacon Hill.

  The wolves, he thought. Looks like they’ve given up lying low.

  There was still time to get back to the house before the wolves reached the south slope. But as he began to move on, he ground to a halt once more. Three wolves loped along the rooftops of Mount Vernon Street, keeping pace with him. Glancing back, he saw four more emerge from a side street.

  “Okay, they’ve definitely given up lying low,” he muttered.

  He broke into a run. But he hadn’t gone far when he caught sight of a pack of ten or more wolves in the distance, sweeping into the Common from the eastern edge.

  More? he thought. The pack’s gathering.

  And then the floodgate opened. The wolves streamed from all the places they had been hiding in the docks and the warehouses, the shut-down factories, the back alleys and the lofts and cellars, a wave of brown and black that was going to crash against Beacon Hill.

  “Holy crap!” From his vantage point, Hellboy peered down toward the Common where the expanse of white was rapidly being consumed. The undulating wave reminded him of rats he had seen pouring from a sewer that was ablaze after a chemical spill; it had been a repulsive sight, a multitude moving with one mind. There had to be hundreds. Hellboy had no idea there were that many werewolves in the entire world.

  He recalled what Kate Corrigan had said about the wolves turning their eyes toward America, making their way from their hidden lives across the globe, with one mind, one purpose: to recover the Kiss of Winter and usher in the Time of the Black Sun, the Rise of the Wolves.

  “One I can beat. A dozen . . . maybe,” he growled. “But an army? They wouldn’t even slow down.”

  The distant rumble of bestial sounds drew closer by the second, until the whole of Boston appeared to be reverberating with the throaty hunting call. Hellboy ran. By the time Louisburg Square came into view, the wolves were flooding onto Mount Vernon Street from all sides; every rooftop seethed with their loping forms. When they saw him, their snarling and snapping became a howl of triumph.

  “The question now is, who’s faster?” Hellboy said as he judged the distance between the army of wolves and the entrance to the square. Vaulting an abandoned car, he propelled himself toward the narrowing gap. Just as it appeared to be in his grasp, he skidded on the thick snow and plowed into a drift.

  By the time he pulled himself out, the wolves had almost surrounded him. Drawing his gun, Hellboy fired at the edge of the snapping, snarling mass as he ran, the shots widening the gap that allowed him access to the square.

  Catching sight of a falling shadow, he brought his stone fist up sharply and deflected a wolf that had thrown itself at him from the roof. More followed the same tactic, until it seemed to be raining werewolves.

  “Get off me!” He sent another two flying, their fangs clashing on thin air.

  The surging mass had almost closed the gap, the entire street alive with lupine bodies. Hellboy continued to fire, but he’d already accepted the futility of his actions.

  Then, as he neared the corner, the thunder of a shotgun blasted a wolf flat on its back. Hellboy dived through the gap, rolled, and came up onto his hooves, still running.

  Brad stood further down the square, hastily reloading a shotgun that looked like it hadn’t been used for decades.

  “Don’t bother with that! Run!” Hellboy bellowed.

  Brad paused with the cartridges almost loaded, then blanched as he saw the howling army of wolves racing toward him. He threw the shotgun to one side, turned, and ran.

  Breathless, Hellboy caught up with him. “You’re crazy coming out here!”

  “Saved your life, didn’t I?”

  “Jury’s still out on that one. On your life as well.”

  “Yeah. No great loss.”

  The deafening roar at their backs sounded like it came from one enormous animal, and they were both convinced they could feel hot breath on their necks. Neither made the error of glancing back. Instead, they concentrated on keeping their feet on the thick snow, but every step threatened to send them plunging into the road, where the wolves would be on them in a second.

  “We’re not going to have time to knock,” Hellboy said.

  “Don’t worry, Lisa’s ready for us.”

  “Now I’m hoping the house’s protection can stand an army of the furry freaks.”

  “You think it can’t?”

  “I’m thinking—” Hellboy felt the motion of talons sweeping a fraction of an inch from his head. “Talk about it later, Brad!”

  Rooted with terror, Lisa stood in the open doorway. Hellboy frantically waved her out of the way. Without breaking a step, he propelled Brad into the entrance ahead of him and leapt. Brad skidded across the hall. In midflight, Hellboy felt jaws clamp on the calf of his left leg. It brought him crashing down, half across the threshold. Though winded, he rolled and fired into the face of the wolf at close range. As it blasted into the approaching throng, Hellboy slithered backward into the hall, and Lisa slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Are you okay?” she said, dropping to her knees to examine his wound.

  “You should see the other guy,” Hellboy said with a wince. “It’s only a little bite. It’ll heal.”

  Hauling himself to his feet with a limp, he pressed himself against the glass beside the door. The wolves swarmed across the entire square, nothing but fangs and talons and rage and blood. The snow was falling again.

  We come with the winter. We come with the snow.

  “Tell me I’m not seeing that,” Brad said.

  “You’re gonna be seeing it behind your eyes for the rest of your life,” Hellboy replied. “Jeez, I thought that little-bitty pack was bad enough.”

  “The National Guard’s got to be here soon,” Lisa said. “The cops, the army, Homeland Security, the FBI . . . ”

  “The city’s shut down,” Hellboy said. “You get emergency calls about generators shutting down, and people freezing, and running out of food, and roads and airports shut, and you get some about a bunch of werewolves. Which ones you gonna go for?”

  Brad sagged.

  “There’s some other supernatural stuff going on here too,” Hellboy said. “The Heart of Winter is screwing with everything. Maybe all the emergency services are locked down too.”

  “So,” Lisa said.

  “Yep. It’s us against an army of werewolves.”

  CHAPTER 13

  —

  As the day drew on, the wolves melted away into the shadows of the houses, the streets, gardens, and alleys, behind the chimney stacks occasionally glimpsed against the skyline. The worst snowstorm yet blew in soon after, the wind lashing against the windows so hard Hellboy thought they might burst in. The temperature plunged once more, and the heavy snow turned every window into a rectangle of frosted white. As night fell, they stoked the fires and lit as many lamps as they could, but though the gloom retreated to the upper floors, they couldn’t dispel the mounting sense of unease.

  Hellboy recounted his experience in old Beacon Hill and they spent more than an hour trying to figure out exactly how the Kiss of Winter wor
ked. The proximity of the Heart was clearly amping up its power, but the connection it made across time wasn’t clear. Lisa was most interested in the ghost of Sarah, and why she had guided Hellboy to find out what he needed to know.

  “Maybe all the things trapped here aren’t bad,” she suggested.

  Brad wondered if Abraham had originally brought the Kiss and all the other artifacts to the house to try to save Sarah’s life, and they all agreed that made a lot of sense.

  “That’s so sad,” Lisa said. “His daughter died before he got the chance to save her.”

  “And then maybe he found out the Kiss was just too powerful, and screwed everything up,” Brad mused. “And by then he couldn’t get rid of it.”

  “I reckon he did the right thing trying to hide it away here forever,” Hellboy said. “Once he’d made the connection with the werewolves using it to take over—the Rise of the Wolves, right?—he couldn’t risk sending it back out into the world.”

  “So he ended up sacrificing himself,” Brad said. “Getting trapped in this place forever.”

  They considered this in silence for a moment. Hellboy took the opportunity to study Brad and Lisa sitting close together; the change in Brad’s body language suggested a definite thawing in his emotions. Hellboy was pleased—they deserved each other.

  Hugging herself for comfort, Lisa said, “I don’t think I can stand another night in this place.” Though clearly scared, she drew strength from Brad, and he from her, Hellboy noted.

  “Not like we’ve got a choice,” he replied.

  “Sooner or later we’re going to run out of food,” Brad noted. “I guess we could sit it out until help comes.”

  “That’s not an option.” Hellboy carefully counted the rounds for his gun; he was already running low. “All those wolves out there want one thing, and they want it bad. Do you think they’re gonna sit and wait forever?”

  “But the house is protected,” Lisa stressed.

  “Right now they’re going to be investigating ways to get past that. And sooner or later they’re going to find one. These kinds of defenses never hold up forever. All it takes is some kinda counterspell . . . a charm . . . whatever.” He shrugged.

  “Then why are we sitting round here?” Brad said. “We should be . . . ” He flailed around. “What should we be doing?”

  “Finding the Kiss of Winter.” William stood in the doorway with an armful of logs. “The last of the fuel,” he added. “If it stays this cold, we’re going to have to start burning the furniture.”

  “How’s the Kiss of Winter going to help us get out of here?” Hellboy asked.

  “When the Heart is nearby, it can open doorways. To different times, different places. That’s why you’ve been experiencing the time shifts round here. It warps the nature of time and space.” William dumped the logs next to the stove.

  Hellboy scrutinized William, wondering how much he really knew about the Kiss—and what other secrets he was keeping.

  “Oh, now you want to help.” Brad shook his head sarcastically. There was a weight of emotion in his face whenever he looked at his father, and it troubled Hellboy; something had happened between them, and the last thing they all needed in their predicament was infighting.

  “Let’s keep cool heads,” he cautioned.

  William ignored his son and addressed Hellboy. “On its own, though, the Kiss keeps spirits trapped here. That’s what it deals with—life after death. The Kiss and the Heart are supposed to be the two keys to the mysteries of existence.”

  “Life after death,” Lisa said thoughtfully. “So maybe it was useful to old Abraham even after Sarah died. Maybe . . . maybe he wanted to use the Kiss to get back in touch with her?” She looked around the room. “I can’t decide if that’s creepy or sad.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” The chambers now full, Hellboy holstered his gun. “Up till now, we’ve gotten more info out of the dead people around here.”

  “I didn’t want you here. But now you are, I’m not going to stand by—”

  “Let’s face it, Dad, you know you’re going to be just as dead as us when those wolves find a way inside. You’re just looking for a way to save your own skin.”

  “Think that if you want, Brad.”

  “Can we just try to get on,” Lisa said, her voice breaking with the strain. “I’m sick of all this bickering.”

  “Sorry.” Brad grabbed one of the remaining logs and thrust it into the stove. A shower of sparks flashed out.

  Hellboy eyed William. “You bought this house just to get hold of the Kiss, right?”

  William’s silence was an admission.

  “So why do you want it?” Hellboy continued.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Something that could put the werewolves on top? Yeah, I think that’s my business.”

  William turned away from him.

  “We’re gonna need some answers sooner or later, William,” Hellboy pressed.

  “Yeah, Dad, are you going to give us any practical help?” Brad said. “You told us you couldn’t find the Kiss of Winter. How the hell are we supposed to?”

  “I’ve searched all the house aboveground, and every level below. Abraham Grant hid the Kiss well, but it’s here somewhere. Working together we can cut down the time searching. I can tell you where not to go—”

  “And you let us walk off with it?” Hellboy said.

  “Of course. You have the greater need.”

  Hellboy could see the lie in William’s face. He couldn’t read his true motivations, but at least he knew he couldn’t trust him. They could work together until the Kiss was found, and then Hellboy knew he would have to watch William very carefully.

  “Oh!” Lisa jumped in shock. “That wasn’t there a second ago.” She indicated a small china pig sitting on the side next to her.

  “The ghosts like to leave little surprises sometimes,” William said. “You get used to it. Eventually.” He paused and then added, “Not all of them are nice.”

  Lisa examined the pig, which was pink and comical, but when she turned it in the lamplight she saw both its eyes had been broken in. “I don’t think I like this,” she decided. She thrust it to the back of the shelf and covered it with a cloth.

  As Hellboy followed Brad into the drawing room they saw all the glass cases of stuffed animals that Lisa had smashed were now whole. The stuffed monkey sat inside his case in one piece.

  “Hey, look at this,” Brad said. “I thought I heard something.”

  “It’s not just that. The wallpaper, the paint . . . it all looks new. The house is slipping in time,” William noted.

  “Looks like the Kiss and the Heart really are getting more potent now that they’re close by each other,” Hellboy said. “I wonder what other effects we’re going to see.”

  At the window, William scraped off some of the frost and peered through a gap in the snow plastering the panes. The rear was no longer overgrown and had the well-tended order of an antebellum kitchen garden. Beyond, the surrounding houses all echoed that earlier time, in the missing details of TV aerials and satellite dishes, and in the glimpses of sedate furnishings he could just make out through the windows that were lit. “The past never leaves us,” he muttered to himself in awe.

  “Why do we have to explore this place at night?” Lisa asked with irritation. “We could do this at sunup.”

  “You could stay here,” Hellboy said. “Seriously. It might be safer.”

  “Yeah, right,” Lisa said sullenly.

  “I think the Kiss is likely to be hidden in the lower levels.” William returned to the group, strangely motivated by his vision of the forgotten past. “That’s where the most dangerous artifacts are stored. But the ghosts don’t like anyone venturing down there at the best of times. Or the other things in here. I think they’re a little protective of what’s there.”

  “Like Abraham Grant’s guard dogs,” Hellboy said.

  “We do need to stick closely
together. Some of them are very bad indeed,” William stressed.

  “I think we got that,” Lisa said.

  “Two things. When I met old Abraham, he let slip the key to finding out where he hid the Kiss would be knowing his mind,

  whatever that means,” Hellboy mused. “And the upside-down house—that’s gotta be a part of the puzzle, otherwise there’s no point to it. We tie those two together, we’re on our way.”

  They returned to the kitchen and hesitated before the cellar door. For a second or two, they thought they could hear heavy breathing just on the other side. Stepping forward, Hellboy tore the door open, but the stairs were deserted.

  “You need to know, Dad, that I’m going to be watching you. I don’t trust you,” Brad said.

  “Yes, you’ve made that patently clear, Brad.”

  Cautiously, they descended, the heavy shadows flying back with each swing of the lamp. In the cluttered cellar, Hellboy led the way through the detritus of centuries.

  “Gonna have quite a yard sale when this is all over,” he said.

  With the hair on the back of their necks prickling, they all succumbed to the unmistakable sensation of eyes upon them as they edged among the discarded furniture, chests, and cracked and fading paintings. Glancing round repeatedly, they thought they snatched glimpses of faces peering at them through the stacks, but it usually turned out to be a trick of the light or a half-revealed portrait. On one occasion, though, Hellboy saw a pair of eyes peering through a gap in a pile of old dining-room chairs. He was about to dismiss them like all the rest when they blinked once before slipping back into the dark. He didn’t tell the others.

  Descending the stairs into the underground kitchen, they found it was even more reminiscent of a time past. The stove was gleaming as if recently polished, and there was a smell of cooking still hanging in the air. Jars of dried food and spices filled the shelves and a cured ham hung from one of the beams.

  On the counter, Lisa spotted the small china pig she had hidden in the kitchen upstairs, but here its eyes were still intact. Once again she hid it, but as they left the room, she glanced back and saw it was out on the counter again.