by J. C. Nelson
While I belted myself in, Mikey tore open his bag. He slipped something out, a grin on his face so wide I could see every tooth in his mouth. Throwing open the driver’s-side door, he slid in and tossed the costume into my lap.
“Hell no. Inferno no. No. I’m not wearing it.” A “Little Red Riding Hood” costume sat in my lap, with crushed velvet hood and gold belt. “I made that mistake once.”
It took Grimm a few dozen pigs and several months to gloss over the fact that I paraded into a wolf town dressed as the queen of the wolf genocide. The real “Red” Riding Hood’s hood was white as snow, when she started her crusade. Every time she killed a wolf, she drenched her cloak in its blood.
Mikey didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Red took Lupa’s Tears from us. Stole the source of our power and reduced us to pathetic animals.”
“Alternate plan,” I said. “You want to be their leader, you take it back.” Mikey originally came to the Agency to kill me and bring back my heart. I hoped the wolves’ most beloved cultural treasure would do the trick as well.
He shook his head. “No. You’re a villain among my pack for daring dress like her on a negotiation run. Bring this back, and you’ll become something else. A legend.”
• • •
I EXPECTED THE guards waiting off the interstate. They let us drive through a cattle gate once Mikey flashed his canines. I got no attention, since I guess we were “Wolf and guest.” Or snack. What I didn’t expect was row after row of RVs, vans, and the occasional tour bus. The fields surrounding the wolf village had become one vast parking lot, like Wolf-stock. Dark clouds hung overhead, spraying the occasional band of wind-whipped rain.
“Where did everyone come from? Are they all—”
“Wolves? Yeah. The family’s been gathering ever since the Black Queen came back. We bring in six tractor trailers full of pigs every day just to keep everyone fed.” Mikey waved to a scraggly wolf with patches of mange. “I went to high school with him. And that one over there, she was my first . . . friend.”
“You’re gathering. To fight her?”
Mikey pulled his lips back into a wide grin. “Come on, Marissa. How long have we known each other? Wolves aren’t exactly hero material.” He clicked a button, and the doors locked. “You’ll want to stay in the car until it’s time.” Hail plinked off the windshield as Mikey pulled to a stop.
The wolf village lay in a wide bowl of fields, a combination of old Amish and trailer park, wooden cabins and cinder-block barns. At least, it did the last time I was there. Now bonfires crackled around the edges, with furry figures gathered under pop-up awnings.
Mikey rolled down the window and stuck his head out, letting out a howl that would have made every vampire in Transylvania shiver. Wolves took up the cry, baying across the fields, howling until the noise split my ears. When the last plaintive cry died out, growling replaced it.
Mikey rolled up the window and looked over at me. “Get dressed. Whatever you do, don’t get out of the car until I give the signal.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out a wooden box. One he’d filched from my office. “Keep this handy.”
I opened it, taking out a silver dagger. The blade twisted from the hilt to the tip like a corkscrew. One of Evangeline’s knives, enchanted to stop wolves from regenerating. When I first joined the Agency, Evangeline showed me the ropes. She’d died fighting with the old Fenris, hell-bent on revenge. I kept her knives to remind me that retreat was always an option. Asking for help was always an option.
The silver blade in my hand reminded me of Evangeline. Foreign, frightening, and yet comforting. I nodded to Mikey, and he rolled the vehicle through the crowd, down toward the bonfire at the center. When we stopped, Mikey got out, changing as he did. From the tips of his toes to the alert ears on top of his head, he looked more like his grandfather than I could stomach.
Just looking at him, I couldn’t stop the memories of Evangeline fighting with Fenris. Her gift, her skill, made her move faster than any human had right to, and it hadn’t been enough. How could I hope to do any better?
A passel of wolves gathered around Mikey, though the tallest still stood a foot smaller than him. Their wagging tails and yipping barks made it clear they followed, and obeyed, his every word. When the same mangy wolf man Mikey waved to earlier pushed his way through, he brought a microphone.
Mikey tapped it, and the speakers amplified it like thunder. He growled, and the gathering fell silent, except for the patter of rain and distant thunder. “My family, I have returned. The Black Queen has come, calling us together.”
A chorus of howls answered, yipping that echoed across the hillside.
“But,” said Mikey, “we will not answer her call.” The yipping and howling died out, replaced with the odd growl.
“Last time, we wolves answered her call. We acted as her army. And when the blood was spilled, who died? Wolves. When she was gone, who was left to be hunted like stray cats? The wolves. This time, we will remember what she did.” Mikey’s fur stood up, spiky from the rain, and water dripped from his tail.
Through the crowds, another wolf came. He didn’t push so much as the wolves stampeded to get out of his way. Flashes of white fur among the bonfires were all I saw, until the crowd parted. He walked on four feet toward Mikey, then changed, shifting into a wolf man almost as large and wide. “I say we go to her now and take our rightful place.”
Mikey shook his head, flinging water everywhere. “She already has an army, one she created. One of abominations, spells stitched into bodies. She has no need of wolves. And wolves have no need of her.”
The white wolf drew himself up to full height, looking more like a polar bear than a wolf. “My great-great-great-grandfather was her commander in chief.”
“And following him led us to where we are today, Snowball. We’re weak. Mangy. Reduced to eating the young and helpless. Our greatest treasures were stolen while we warred on her behalf.” Mikey flexed one claw, showing off the green tint at the ends, an infectious disease that only the most powerful wolves carried. “But they are lost no longer.”
He flexed one tinged claw at me, and I scrambled to put on my hood. Part of me wanted to start the ignition and drive away, running over as many wolves as I could in the process. Mikey could easily be setting me up to die for the crimes of a woman long dead.
But I ran my fingers on the hilt of Evangeline’s knife. Would she still be alive, if she’d let me help, trusted me? I tied the hood beneath my chin, wrapped the cloak over Lupa’s Tears, and stepped out into the rainstorm.
Little Red Riding Hood, for the record, was an awful bitch, even by my standards. Killing people, sometimes that was necessary. I’d signed on Grimm’s behalf for government assassination contracts, and killed Rip Van Winkle myself. Those were cases where murderers made a mockery of the law and left a pile of bodies in their wake. I agonized over every one, even if it wasn’t my hand on the trigger. Red, on the other hand, took joy in the process. For her it went far beyond protection, beyond retribution, clear into genocide.
All eyes remained on me as I walked through the crowd. Whispers turned to growls, but the red hood all by itself repelled the wolves. And enraged them. The wind whipped my cape and drove rain into my eyes, leaving me almost blind as I struggled toward Mikey. The angry growls rose louder than the wind.
When I reached Mikey, he put one claw on my shoulder. “Four hundred years ago, Little Red Riding Hood stole our power and scattered our people. Four years ago, Marissa Locks killed my grandfather, the Fenris.”
My blood ran cold as the falling rain as I waited for his next sentence.
“My orders were to bring back her heart. And so I have.” He drew back my hood, revealing my face. “But I decide who I kill. I give the orders. I am the Fenris.”
Snowball raised a claw toward me, but Mikey stepped between us.
“Why woul
d anyone follow you?” The white wolf’s ears flattened back on his head, and he bared his teeth. “You’ve grown softer than a vegetarian sausage.”
Mikey looked over his shoulder at me. It was time. I pulled back my cape, revealing the cheese. Though I’d watched Mikey slice a wedge from it earlier, the cheese had regenerated, becoming whole.
“You’ll follow me because I’ve made a deal with Red Riding Hood herself. The return of Lupa’s Tears, in return for our help.” Mikey took the platter from my hand, and held it high so that everyone could see. “I’ve already tasted of it. Follow me, and you can too.”
A mountain of white fur leaped upon him.
The cheese went flying back, striking me in the chest. I caught it at the last moment, cradling it from the ground. Before me, Mikey and Snowball rolled, savaging each other, tearing flesh and bone, spraying blood.
And by all bets, Mikey was losing. Though his wounds healed within moments, Snowball tore new ones, blind to his own injuries. It wasn’t that Mikey didn’t tear into him. It was just that he seemed about as well matched as me versus Shigeru in a sword fight.
With a heave of his feet, Mikey threw Snowball back and leaped to his feet, then pounced.
Snowball sidestepped his pounce and kicked Mikey right into the bonfire. Mikey’s fur caught fire and his skin crackled, but as he tried to leave, Snowball blocked him, knocking him back into the embers. Silver, like Evangeline’s daggers, was a great way to kill wolves. Fire was a close second.
Each time, Mikey took longer to rise, and less force to drive back. The stench of burning wolf meat filled the air. He looked through the fire to me, his eyes pleading for help against a monster I didn’t stand a chance against.
One last time, Mikey rose and crawled, unable to stand, trying to leave the flames. And Snowball waited, his lips bared. As Mikey reached the edge of the fire, Snowball drew back his foot, to kick him in the head.
Snowball never saw me coming. Never saw the silver dagger I drove through his spine and held there, one arm locked under his chin, the other gripping the dagger handle as I used my weight to work it back and forth.
Snowball spun, and stumbled back and forth, swiping at his own head with claws that could carve me like ham. Then one claw caught my fluttering cape, and he pulled on it, yanking me forward.
With my legs wrapped around him, I held on. Even as I choked and the world turned gray at the edges, I twisted the blade, driving it forward.
When he fell backwards, I didn’t have time, or the presence of mind, to let go. Beneath four hundred pounds of animal I lay pinned, until at last darkness took the pain from my lungs.
Twenty-Six
I WOKE TO rain on my face, puddling in my eyes. A monster huddled over me. My monster. I opened bloody lips, and croaked when I spoke. “Mikey?”
Patches of charred flesh covered him, mixed with new fur. He shifted enough to speak, his voice coming out a half growl. “You have no idea how much this hurts.”
“Thought you liked barbecue.”
“Eating it. Not being it.” He wiped at his chin, brushing away streaks of blood.
Snowball’s corpse lay a few feet away, his chest torn open. I didn’t want or need confirmation on what had happened while I took a lack-of-oxygen nap. A few yards farther away, wolves lined up to take wafer-thin slices of Lupa’s Tears, howling and gurgling as the cheese struck back at them.
I sat up and untied the hood that nearly got me killed, rubbing the tender patch under my neck where Snowball almost pulled my head off. “Any more challengers?”
“Nah.” Mikey grinned, and while his mouth was open, a fresh tooth burst from the gums. “I gave my best friend a slice of the cheese and no one else wants to risk the both of us. They’ll follow me anywhere now, which means they’ll follow you anywhere. We’re your army now and forever.”
“No.” Now it was time to reveal the other part of my plan. “Killing Kyra’s army won’t be enough. I can’t leave the Black Queen with anything. You follow me until her army is dead. The moment it’s over, I want your word you won’t accept an order from me. Just disappear.”
Mikey looked up to an old wolf, one whose fur had turned silver, where it hadn’t fallen out. The elder wolf barked, short and choppy, and Mikey nodded. “You have yourself a deal.”
“Get everyone into Middle Kingdom. Meet me at the west edge of the Plain of Agony.” I stood up, brushing mud from my rear.
“Where are you going?”
I walked over to Snowball’s corpse and wrestled out Evangeline’s dagger. “I once watched a friend of mine die because she wouldn’t ask for help. I’m not making that mistake. I’ll call in every favor I can get my hands on.”
Mikey whistled, and in response, a black wolf the size of a moving van lumbered over. “Kent, you’re looking better after the cheese.” The pattern of his fur reminded me of the mangy wolf from earlier. “Round up the packs. We’re taking a road trip into Middle Kingdom, to the Plain of Agony. We’ll meet you there.”
We left the Pack of Packs behind, heading back into the city.
From the wolf village, we drove straight to my apartment, where my neighbors went out of their way to avoid eye contact with Mikey, even in his human form. My apartment door lay on its side, where I left it, and in the meantime my neighbors had helped themselves to my TV.
In fact, Grimm’s spellbooks were the only things they hadn’t touched. I kicked open the door to the guest room, where Svetlana basked under grow lights; her skin held a light green hue under the shell of her coffinatorium.
From my purse, I took out the debt coin, and tapped on the crystal.
Her eyes flew open, locking on the coin, then her gaze darted to me. “Go away. I am not yet ready.”
I flipped the clasps on the coffinatorium, opening it to let the steamy atmosphere out. She didn’t bother trying to cover her once again perky breasts, even under Mikey’s hungry gaze.
“I’m here to make you an offer. You owe Liam everything, but you help me out, and you are free and clear. I hold the debt now.” I clenched the coin in both hands, knowing this wasn’t exactly true.
“Pomegranates. I crave pomegranates.” She shimmied from her coffin and opened a crate of fruit. “What is it you want?”
“I need fighters. Warriors. Ugly sons of bitches to help me kill something that’s already dead twice over. Abominations made of magic and flesh.” I handed her the coin, more than a little creeped out at how her nipples grew hard as she gazed at it.
“You have them. I will bring ten of our finest warriors.”
“Plain of Agony, west side. Don’t kill the wolves. And what happens to your liege?” She’d always called Liam that.
“He is nothing to me now. We will be ready.” She walked off to get dressed, her every step turning Mikey into a puddle of goo as disgusting as the ooze draining from the coffinatorium.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him out behind me.
In the hallway, he stopped, and honestly, I figured he was going to head back for another peek. Then he shook his head. “I was thinking—”
“Really? Tell me, what color are her eyes?”
Mikey blushed. “I mean, before we got here, I was thinking. We could use all the help we can get, right?”
He’d certainly been paying attention before our encounter with Svetlana. “Go on.”
“I think we should make another stop.” Mikey waved to me, and I followed him.
• • •
WHEN HE PULLED into the storm drain entrance, I started to wonder if Mikey hadn’t had quite enough time to recover from his charcoal makeover. Mikey trekked to the trunk and came back with a pair of muck boots, which he handed to me.
“You don’t need a pair?” I slipped mine on and stepped out into six inches of sewage.
“I’m good.” He trotted off
barefoot into the sewers, and I did my best to keep up.
After several turns and twists, Mikey stopped and sniffed the air at each corner, then headed onward at a trot. If you’ve ever imagined sewers as wide-open spaces, with room to stand and nice wide sidewalks, you would be unpleasantly surprised by parts of the normal sewer system. Unlike Kingdom, where you could drive a boat through the tunnels, at each turn, the ceiling dipped lower. If Mikey couldn’t have walked on four legs, his head would have bent backwards. We reached one junction, where feeder pipes dripped slime, and Mikey stopped. He stood, changing back, and whistled. The tunnels echoed the whistle, farther and farther away in the darkness.
“We don’t need an alligator. Unless you have an army of them.” Come to think of it, we hadn’t had giant alligator problems for at least a couple of years. I stepped up to give Mikey a pat on the back, and froze. From one pipe, a pair of glowing red eyes stared back at me. And another pair, and another. I held still, very still, as all around me, glowing eyes gleamed back at me.
“All the alligators got eaten a few years back.” A low hum shook the surface of the sewage stream. Mikey looked down at me and nodded. “She’s here.”
Splashing footsteps echoed from the tunnel ahead, and the humming became louder. Recognizable. The words of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” erupted from my lips, as from the sewer ahead, a woman emerged.
Six feet tall, white complexion, and more hooks on her body piercings than a tacklebox, she wore her black hair in a bouffant cut. Around her feet a flock of deadly poodles danced, yipping and licking her feet. Their razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the light of Mikey’s flashlight.
He ignored the poodles and picked up Beth, giving her a hug that seemed more than a little personal. “Hey, sweet thing.”
“Down, boy.” Beth hummed on her kazoo, and he almost dropped her. “Marissa.”
“Beth.” Last time I’d seen her, she was supposed to run a few thousand poodles off into the bay. Instead, she disappeared, taking all the poodles with her. I never doubted she’d show up again, but I didn’t exactly expect these circumstances.