by Megan Morgan
“We’ve learned a lot in the past year,” the doctor said. “But we still have a lot more to discover. The only way that’s going to happen is if we have their cooperation.”
Deacon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t finish telling me why you got into studying Wolvites.”
The doctor sat back and stretched out, splaying his legs under the table. He folded his hands on his stomach. “I was always fascinated by the supernatural, growing up in that cabin in the middle of nowhere. One night, I saw a Wolvite out my bedroom window, at the edge of the trees. It was the first time I’d ever seen one up close. I was intrigued, rather than scared. There were other things in that forest, too, things I couldn’t explain. Ghosts, I suppose.”
“Haints.” Deacon stretched his legs out too. “I’ve seen ‘em walking. My Grammy says you leave the dead be. You don’t want them following you home. Anytime I’ve seen one, I’ve hightailed it the other way.” He scratched his chin. “I heard the Banshee once too, the night my great-uncle Billy, my Grammy’s brother, died.”
“It’s a strange and fascinating world.” The doctor spoke softly, but then louder. “When I was in my twenties, people started studying the supernatural scientifically and the government started trying to control the more dangerous creatures. They opened up a school in Norfolk and my curiosity took me there. I worked for the agency when they first opened. I dabbled in many different subjects over the years, but eventually settled exclusively on Wolvites, because they seemed the most in need of studying. And here I am today.”
Deacon was a bit let down. He expected some dramatic revelation after seeing the Wolvite that night. “Ain’t quite as tragic as what took Lorena there.” He sighed. “But I get why she’s doing this. There ain’t nothing wrong with wanting to stamp out hardship. The less people who get bit like her Mama did, the happier she’ll be.”
“I fear her optimism may be overblown.” The doctor spoke grimly. “I’m not sure how receptive the Wolvites are actually going to be to peace, never mind the agency.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid of that too.”
The doctor pulled his legs out from under the table. “I haven’t told her, but if this one does die, and the Wolvites decide to retaliate, things will explode. We have a contingent in Lexington, prepared to deploy an eradication squad. I only need to make a phone call.”
Deacon frowned. “What? Why ain’t you told her?”
“I am a man of science, and I have a deep fascination for them, but I also know what they’re capable of. I know the danger they present.” He looked over his glasses at Deacon. “And so do you. We must be realistic.”
He spoke the truth, but Deacon could just imagine the hell that would be let loose if Lorena found out, or if the doctor’s card had to be played.
“It’s a last resort, I hope it won’t come to that. I hope what she’s aiming for comes to pass, I really, really do. For many reasons, including the scientific advancement that would come with it.”
“But if it don’t…” Deacon shook his head.
“We must always be prepared for the worst.”
Deacon couldn’t sit still. He was worried about Lorena, out there on her own, but also, out there alone with his Grammy. His Grammy could probably take her apart in ways a Wolvite wouldn’t dream of. He dreaded the earful he’d get about it too, from both of them. He just hoped his Grammy would actually help. He couldn’t imagine her being buttered up by much.
He snuck in the office to sit with Clem and give him some attention. While he was in there, Jack called. He told Deacon he’d managed to convince the others to talk things over and they’d all be meeting at Deacon’s parent’s house that night.
“They wanna hear you explain yourself,” Jack said. “I kept out most the details about what you’ve really got going on. They only know what you’ve told them so far.”
“Thank you, Jack.” Deacon patted Clem. “I sent that she-devil away, back out in the woods. I just got him here still. She was stinking up my house—and my life—a hell of a lot more than he was. I’m sorry you had to have a run-in with her.”
Jack was silent a moment. “You sent her off?”
“Yeah, I did. Hopefully by tomorrow this whole damn thing will be over, then I can start mending fences.”
Jack grunted. He sounded like he might be flat out drunk now. No mean feat, considering they had to drink a hell of a lot to get to it. There was an evolutionary trait for you.
“You better tell Lorena to mend some fences too,” Jack said. “They think she’s gone crazy. I do too.”
“I told you not to talk about her like that.” Deacon raked a hand through his hair. “She’s doing what she thinks is right. She’s trying to get them damn things off our back for good.”
“Tell it to the judge.” Jack belched. “That being Grandpa and your Daddy.”
Deacon shook his head. “How about you cut back on the hooch and get yourself right before we do this. What time we gathering?”
“Seven o’clock. Zeke won’t be off work ‘til six-thirty.”
Deacon looked at his watch. “Go sleep it off. I’ll see you tonight.” At least the booze wore off quick, too.
He hung up and returned to petting Clem. “This is all gaumed up, boy. Wish I could be the one locked up in here instead.”
Clem gazed mournfully at him.
A few minutes later, a shout came from the kitchen. “Deacon!”
Deacon jumped up and Clem barked. What the hell was happening now?
Deacon hurried to the kitchen, where the doctor stood in front of the window. “We have a problem.” He looked over his shoulder at Deacon. “At least, I’m assuming we do.”
Deacon looked out the window. Two Wolvites were on his back lawn, neither in human form. That meant they probably weren’t there to talk.
Deacon grabbed his rifle on the back porch and stared out the screen door. The doctor left the kitchen and returned shortly with his own pistol.
“Should we go out there?” He sidled up next to Deacon. “Whatever they want, we should probably address it.”
“I don’t know. Hasn’t been my experience they enjoy sensible conversation. We start having to pick them off, this is all gonna go south real quick.”
“Maybe this is about you sending the girl away. Maybe they want to negotiate so she can come back in.”
Deacon steadied himself, and opened the door. He couldn’t talk—or shoot—from inside.
He walked out on the patio, gun raised and aimed at the one on the left, with the hope the doctor knew to cover the right. Then, the one he was aiming at suddenly turned into a human.
He had long, curly, scraggly black hair and a bushy beard. The other one prowled behind him, on all fours, still in beast form. Low growls vibrated in Deacon’s ears. Their stink drifted on the breeze.
“What do you want?” Deacon kept his gun on the man-creature. “Ain’t nothing changed. You gave her a day to figure it out, she’s figuring it out.”
The doctor stood at Deacon’s side, his gun raised as well.
“You just letting us know you’re watching us?” Deacon asked. “’Cause I figured that. Or is this about me not letting that damned witch in here? There ain’t nothing she can do. We got him as good as we can get him right now.”
The human one walked toward him. The other stayed back.
“Don’t come no closer,” Deacon warned. “You tell me what the hell you want, or I’m gonna put a bullet in you.”
The man stopped, at the edge of the patio. His eyes burned gold in the sunlight. Deacon wasn’t intimidated, but he was getting worried about where Lorena might be and what might be going on with her.
The creature spoke, in a tone so low and inhuman he sounded like a wolf with a voice. “Abernathy has chosen to reveal our secrets, and we do not respect that.”
Deacon narrowed his gaze on him, gun pointed at the center of his chest. “Ain’t he your leader or something?”
“Abernathy led us
in a foolish attack against you that resulted in many dying and being wounded.” He sneered. He had no fangs, but his teeth were huge and blunt and could probably still do some damage, like a horse’s mouth. “And then he limped off into the forest and left us guideless for many moon cycles.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your poor life choices.” Deacon kept one eye on the other, prowling one. “You sort that out yourself. Get the hell out of here and take it to him. He wants us to cure your friend, and that’s what we’re trying to do.”
The man took a step forward. Deacon took a step back, lifting his gun higher.
“We will not abide by Abernathy any longer,” the man said. “He will only bring more destruction upon us.”
Down at the tree line, a smaller, white figure emerged and walked toward them. Mel.
She walked through the yard and up to the man’s side, her eyes blazing as well, with fury, and focused on Deacon.
“Give us Dafydd,” she said. “Return him to us right now.”
Deacon shrugged one shoulder. “You can have him back if you want, but if you take him right now, he’s gonna die. I don’t much care about that. But I reckon if he dies, you’re gonna blame it on us and use it as some sort of excuse to attack us.”
“I want him back. You have no right to keep me away from him. He’s my mate. This arrangement is over, we no longer require your help.”
“Like I said, you can take him. But if you do, he’s gonna die. And then the rest of you are gonna die, because we’re gonna have no choice but to protect ourselves. That what you want, for everybody to die, Mel?”
She lurched forward. “My name is Neala! Your disrespect is at an end. I will stand for no more of it.”
“Whatever you think your damn name is, your boyfriend is gonna die if he leaves here.” He backed up toward the house. “Go on and take him, if you think that’s the best thing. You wanna defy your leader, be my guest, but it won’t end well for you.”
She tilted her head back and looked at the tall man beside her. He looked down at her in return. His muscles rippled, as though preparing to spring—or transform.
“Make an example of them,” she said. “Abernathy has committed his last crime against us.”
Chapter 15
Lorena sat at Hazel’s kitchen table. The old woman sat across from her, the book open between them. She hadn’t offered Lorena any sort of refreshment, but that was fine. Lorena hesitated to eat or drink anything she prepared at the best of times, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to do it now.
Hazel seemed to go through a range of emotions as she turned the pages. Sometimes her expression was aloof and her eyes stormy, at other times she seemed deeply engrossed in whatever she discovered, sometimes she looked startled and even amazed.
Lorena chewed her thumbnail and watched the clock on the wall. Her head was floating and her vision blurry and tunneled from lack of sleep. The house was so quiet she could hear the clock tick and the birds twittering outside.
“Where’s Clem?” she finally asked, inquiring after Hazel’s husband. “Should any of you be outside your houses right now?”
Hazel looked up over her glasses. “He’s working. We can’t stop our lives because of a threat from those monsters, we never have. He can take care of himself, and I can take care of myself here alone. You aren’t the only woman who knows how to use a gun.”
Lorena sat back and rubbed her hands on her thighs. “You find anything yet?”
“This is older Scots Gaelic, harder to translate. And the ink is faded.” It sounded like excuses.
“The longer you stall, the longer I have to sit here. You want me out of your house, don’t you?”
Hazel didn’t answer. A few minutes later, she got up and walked to the counter. She turned on the coffee pot. “It’s a fascinating tome. Some of the potions in there, I’ve only heard about. I’m appalled a witch would take such knowledge into the woods and give it to those creatures.”
“I’d say you could keep it, but I highly doubt they’d allow that.” Lorena rubbed her face, then her eyes, and shook her head to clear it. “It’s one of their artifacts, like a treasure.”
Hazel stood with her back to Lorena as the coffee maker hissed and percolated. “You need some coffee. You’ve not been sleeping, have you?”
“Given the knowledge I have, I’m going to pass on taking any drinks from you.”
Hazel turned. Her gaze was sharp, though that knife had dulled somewhat. “You are a foolish child. You don’t understand anything.”
“I understand enough.” Lorena got up. “I’ll have a glass of water, that I pour myself.”
She retrieved a glass from the drain board, rinsed it thoroughly, and got herself water from the tap. Hazel watched with a cold stare. Lorena strolled back to the table, sipping.
“Hurry up.” She sat back down. “Like I said, the longer you stall, the longer you have to put up with me.”
Hazel walked back to the table a few minutes later, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. She set it on the table and plunked down in her chair. “What if what you’re looking for isn’t here?” She jerked her chair up to the table.
“I don’t know. I’m hoping it is.”
Hazel sniffed. “I found some potions to treat sickness.”
Lorena perked.
“But so far, they’re for simple things: congestion, fevers, infection.”
Lorena slumped. “Keep looking. Abernathy said the disease devastated them before, a long time ago. They cured it then, so their witches should have recorded what they used to treat it.”
Hazel’s silver eyebrows shot up. “Who’s Abernathy?”
Apparently, Hazel’s family hadn’t told her everything about the massacre.
“He’s their leader, I guess. He’s the one who led the march on Blue Ditch, the one who almost killed Deacon.”
Hazel pressed a hand over her heart. “Why would you make an agreement with him?”
“It’s not so much an agreement as they’re forcing me to do this under threat of killing your entire family.” Lorena slapped a hand on the table, her grumpiness spilling over. “You know, like I’ve been telling you all along?”
Hazel looked down at the book.
Lorena sighed. “But the silver lining is, maybe if I jump through enough hoops, they’ll leave Blue Ditch, and your family, alone for good.”
“You really believe that?” Hazel turned a page. “You think they’ll give us peace after all these years?”
Lorena massaged her temples. “We have to stop going into their territory and killing them, as well. I think given that, yes, they might.”
Hazel was quiet for a few minutes.
Lorena broke the silence. “You know, Wolvites only menace and attack humans in dire circumstances—if their territory is encroached on, or they’re suffering from starvation or disease, or something like a fire or tornado forces them out in the open. The one that killed my mother—she was camping in an area where their territory had long been compromised. Chances are they were on that desperation spectrum.”
Hazel lifted her head and looked at her.
“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Lorena said. “But I guess it makes it understandable.” She leaned forward. “I don’t want anyone else to have to come to terms with that. If I have a chance to reduce the number of humans who get attacked by them, I will take that shot.”
“I didn’t know your mother was killed by one.” Hazel’s voice was almost gentle. “You’ve never spoken of it.”
“I told Deacon. It’s the reason I’m a scientist now. I want to help. I want to stop what’s happening.” She reached over and patted the book. “This might be able to do that.”
Hazel continued reading.
The clock ticked. Hazel read. Lorena sat in a daze, staring at her glass of water. She didn’t want to interrupt or impede the process, yet, something ate at her mind. Something she couldn’t not ask, now that she had the old woman alone and at her
mercy.
“Why did you do it? Why did you bewitch your husband?”
Hazel looked up. Her eyes glinted behind her glasses. “You don’t understand.” She turned a page swiftly and created a swirl of dust with the fragile parchment. “Don’t you presume to question me, or I’ll give you this book back and you and those damnable creatures can go straight to Hell.”
Lorena wasn’t surprised at her lashing out, but it fueled her outrage. “I saw what it did to Jack, how it affected him. How can you do something like that—and continue doing it—knowing what happened to your grandson?”
Hazel placed both hands on the book, tight-lipped.
Lorena let her anger flow. “And Neala told me it takes effort, you have to give the person the potion almost every single day to keep it up. How can you live with that?”
“You know nothing.” Hazel’s voice rose. “Do you want me to read this book for you? I will not sit and be interrogated in my own kitchen by a useless witch who doesn’t even know the first thing about spells and potions, let alone what a love potion really is or what it does!”
Lorena got up.
“You’re right.” She walked to the sink. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to learn.” She dumped her glass. “It’s in my nature to try to understand things, to try to make sense of them. Your behavior doesn’t make sense to me.”
She turned from the sink. Hazel glared at her, and her hands trembled on the book. Lorena had struck a nerve.
“Just find the potion,” Lorena told her. “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.”
Lorena couldn’t sit back down with her. She didn’t even want to be in the same room, but if she left, Hazel might do something to the book.
She turned back to the sink and gazed out the window above it. Suddenly, her skin prickled, and her mind opened up, like it did when her witchy powers were activated.
She held her breath and stared across the yard toward the trees. Something was out there, close by, watching the house. She looked over her shoulder.
Hazel was staring toward the window as well. She felt it too. “What are they doing here?” she demanded. “They never come this close.”