4.0 - Howl Of The Fettered Wolf

by Krista Walsh

  9

  Sleep finally swept Vera away.

  In the middle of the night, she woke up to Gabe tossing and turning. His soft moans came between quick breaths, and sweat glistened on his skin. She stroked his hair until he quieted, then lapsed back into dreams.

  Too soon she was startled by a ringing noise coming from Gabe’s laptop. The room was still dark, without even a glimpse of the coming dawn.

  Before she had a chance to sit up, Gabe had jumped into his jeans and thrown himself in front of the screen. Vera tried to warn him that he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, but her half-formed protest was too late. She winced, bracing herself.

  “Gabe, seriously? Again?” Percy’s voice came from the speakers. “One of these days you’re going to kill me, and then where will you be? What happened to Vera? God, you didn’t stone her, did you?”

  Vera chuckled as she slid into her slacks and pulled on her socks and shirt, smoothing the creases over her stomach.

  Gabe slid on his sunglasses, but he flashed Vera a wink before hiding his gaze. “No, I didn’t. She’s fine. She’s immune.”

  “Whoa…” Percy’s reaction, his full appreciation for the significance of Gabe’s explanation packed into a single word, told Vera everything she needed to know about their friendship. “Why? What is she? How is it possible you can’t stone her? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

  Gabe pressed his lips together — repressing either a laugh or impatience, Vera couldn’t tell — and held up a hand. “Why are you calling, Percy? Did you find something, or was it just to wake me up?”

  Vera grabbed the poker and stoked the fire, then went to the couch and turned on the table lamp.

  “Hm? Oh, yeah, I had a bit of luck. Not as much as I would have liked, though, I’m afraid.”

  Vera eased onto the cushion beside Gabe, her chest tight with worry. How little was ‘not much’?

  “I’ll start with the info I did manage to get, which is all about your friend Rega — on some guy’s blog, can you believe that? I guess he’s one of Rega’s lackeys. He’s been keeping a semi-anonymous chronicle about what the gang has been up to for the last year. His stupidity would be hilarious if the content wasn’t so horrific. He is not a nice demon, this Rega. A Horrigen demon, known for their strength and enjoyment of torture, particularly flaying their victims alive. They also have a knack for remaining undetected in the shadows, so I guess that’s why he was voted Most Likely to Steal an Ancient Book in his high school yearbook.”

  “Percy,” Gabe interrupted. Vera guessed that he was no stranger to his friend’s digressions.

  “Sorry. Anyway, it looks like he’s had this gang for a while, known for getting into random scrapes and turf wars with other demon gangs, but most of the violence was within their own group. They don’t have much use for the human race, thank goodness. But in the last couple of months, the stories have gotten darker. Apparently, Rega’s jobs have more of a targeted aim now, less random chaos and more working toward a goal. Collecting objects, people, that kind of thing. Although the author isn’t sure exactly what the end game is. He even included a picture. Seriously, I think this guy is suicidal.”

  He brought up the blog page on Gabe’s screen with a photograph of Rega. Vera cringed at the familiar face. Even when he wasn’t standing over her threatening to kill her, he was a terrifying sight. Tall, wide, and dark.

  “But he also mentions there’s a warlock in the gang now. Before it was all different breeds of demon, so Rega bringing in a human was big news, and some of the gang members think their boss has gone soft. I suspect some of those gang members are going to wind up dead. It’s sad, really.”

  “Perce.”

  “Right. The warlock’s name is Humphrey. For the most part, the author describes the guy as harmless and a bit of an idiot, but when he posted about one of their latest excursions, he went into some detail about Humphrey’s power, and he’s a strong one. He’s able to channel the strength of the demons in the clan and use it for himself. Temporarily, and it wears him out, but it’s been enough to rip people apart.”

  Vera shuddered. “I guess I’m lucky he only used his strength to knock me aside.”

  Percy nodded. “Lucky is a good word for it. Although I gather he’s also a bit of a coward. You might look like a beautiful, delicate ginger flower, but if you showed any display of strength when you faced him, I’ll bet he was just in a rush to get away from you.”

  Ginger flower? That was certainly a first. She eyed him, then decided not to comment, though she could almost feel Gabe’s amusement beside her. “That could work in my favor. Does the blog mention anything about Rega’s weaknesses?”

  Percy shook his head. “I don’t think the author would dare. It’s bad enough he’s given away a whole whack of secrets, but he wouldn’t want to say anything that would actively betray his leader. So, unfortunately, we don’t know why Rega’s after the book. I don’t know if it’ll help, but he did give a hint about the place they’re working out of. It sounds like it’s a factory of some kind. Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t add a little map in the corner with a big red arrow pointing right to it.”

  “What about the book itself?” Gabe asked. “Any help there on why they might want it?”

  Again, Percy shook his head, his curls falling over his face. He pushed them back with both hands and grabbed a mug from off screen. Vera marveled at the size of it, wondering how the man managed to stay seated with that much caffeine running through his system.

  “The book was strike one. The only regular mention of ‘fettered wolf’ I could find has to do with some Norse mythology story. Otherwise, there were passing references to a book that’s believed to exist, although no one knows where or if it’s actually real. Before you worry, I held back from messaging those forums and assuring them it is. There was one research paper that suggested The Book of the Fettered Wolf isn’t what most people believe it to be, that its myth was invented long after the book was created to conceal its real purpose. But it was on a sketchy website, so I don’t know how credible the article is.”

  Vera groaned and pulled her hair off her neck. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted to know facts and something that could help her, not conspiracy theories from people who spent too much time at home creating patterns out of nothing.

  “As for that ancient power you mentioned, I haven’t found anything there yet, either. There’s lots of information about beings that climb into your mind while you’re sleeping, but none of them seem to have the strength you described. But I’m still looking. I just figured I’d better check in so you didn’t think I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs, racking up my bill with nothing to show for it.”

  Although he spoke in jest, Vera heard the exhaustion and discouragement in his voice. She appreciated that he was just as disappointed by his lack of results as she was. He was clearly the sort of man who prided himself on his ability to find buried treasure under insignificant landmarks, but these enemies were careful enough to hide from him.

  “Thank you for taking so much time with this,” she said.

  He held up his hands. “It’s no skin off my nose. I don’t mind the work, and hell, I’d rather miss a night’s sleep if it prevents some Horrigen demon from destroying the part of the world I find so interesting. Call it my honor to be a part of your case.”

  Vera forced a smile, hoping he would recognize that any reticence in her expression came out of concern about what she was supposed to do next and not a lack of gratitude for his efforts.

  Gabe opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a low growl. Vera looked to Vidar, who had approached the window next to the front door. The German shepherd’s hackles were raised, his black lips pulled back over sharp teeth. His growls turned into pointed barks, and Baxter soon ran up and joined in, both of them poised in front of the door as though ready to attack.

  Vera padded toward the door to look through the window, and for a moment she could m
ake out nothing but shadows in the night. The trees around the house cast their dark shapes across the front yard, but without any streetlights or moonlight, their figures were indistinguishable.

  Then she heard the rumble of a car engine, and her blood ran cold. She clutched the edge of the window frame, conscious not to squeeze hard enough to snap the wood.

  An indistinct shadow of a vehicle slithered up the driveway and stopped, waiting. A viper ready to spring. Vera held her breath.

  The dome light flashed on, revealing two open doors.

  “Gabe.”

  “I’m here,” he said.

  Vera pushed away from the window as he reached her side, buttoning up his shirt. He peered through the window down the driveway.

  “Shit,” he said, and grabbed Vera’s arm.

  “What’s going on?” Percy asked from the laptop screen as Gabe pulled Vera back toward the living room.

  “There are three men walking up to the house,” Gabe explained. He grabbed the blanket and pillows from the floor and threw them on the couch, then raised his gaze to Vera. “Go upstairs and get the book, then stay up there and wait for me. Keep the light off.”

  He grabbed the collars of both dogs. They strained against him, barking and struggling to get to the front door, but he showed no leniency as he shifted them to the back. Vera wanted to ask what he was planning, but the men were getting closer, so she decided to trust him first and ask questions later.

  She rushed upstairs and went straight to the wardrobe. Heaving the doors open, she fumbled in the dark for the zipper, her hands shaking too much to work with the thin plastic.

  How could anyone know we were here?

  The question repeated itself in her mind as she finally got the dress bag open. She grabbed the book and it nearly slipped out of her grasp. Clutching it to her chest, she leaned against the wardrobe door, closed her eyes, and worked to catch her breath.

  Gabe’s footsteps pounded up the stairs toward the room, and she opened her eyes to see his outline against the light of the fire downstairs. He was cradling his laptop in one arm, his cellphone in the other hand. Hurrying to the window, he snapped a picture of the men below. Vera joined him at the edge of the curtain and peered down to find the strangers had reached the door.

  They appeared tall, pale, and gaunt. Like death warmed over. Dressed all in black, with strange black hats that reminded her of graduation caps, they were creatures out of nightmare.

  They were knocking. Asking to come in.

  Like that’s going to happen.

  “Is one of them Rega?” Gabe asked.

  She shook her head, her throat aching from her ragged breaths. “I don’t recognize any of them.”

  “He might have sent them. We should be prepared for them to break in if we don’t answer.”

  Vera looked to Gabe, her breath too shaky to allow her to speak. He rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned in close. “Your dogs have food and water and a whole field to run around in. The workshop door is open for them to get out of the cold. They’ll be fine.”

  She nodded, knowing he was right. As long as these creatures didn’t go out back and provoke them, Vidar and Baxter would settle down and be happy on their own for a while. That was her family taken care of — but what about her and Gabe?

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  He didn’t give her time to answer. The knocking downstairs repeated, more pronounced, and Vera flinched with every bang. Gabe backed away from the window, then drew his finger through the air, and the golden light of his Fae magic cut through the darkness of the room. Without preparing her, he shoved her through the doorway, and she stumbled across the opening.

  Into an apartment.

  Gabe followed close behind and shut the rift. With a heavy breath, he set his laptop on the coffee table and turned on the lamp sitting between the wall and a drab-looking futon.

  While he set up his laptop and called Percy back, realizations tumbled over Vera like a waterfall, and she leaned her shoulder against the wall.

  She had imagined her time away would mean she’d be the one taking the enemy by surprise, not the other way around. The fact that they’d found her in the middle of nowhere, coming in like shadows smothering the house, turned her blood to ice. How could she get ahead if they were constantly behind her? She kicked herself for wasting time, entertaining romantic diversions when there was so much on the line. It was definitely past time to get to work.

  Vera stared around the room, trying to reorient herself. It was a bachelor apartment — nothing more than a stubby ‘L’ shape — and it was a disaster. Empty pizza boxes rested on the round Formica table and overflowed from the recycling bin crammed between the table and the other end of the futon. Empty whiskey and beer bottles were sandwiched in between. Clothes were scattered over the bare floor, and she swore the dull brown futon cover showed dried blood stains in the cloth.

  Her fingers itched to clean it as a way to keep busy. She wanted to get down on her hands and knees and scrub the kitchen floor, scour the dishes in the rack and dust every available surface. Then she would tell Gabe he should throw out his futon and replace it with something simple and elegant, to really give the place a comfortable feel.

  She caught herself sinking deeper into her domestic fantasy and jerked back. The revelation of how hard she was falling for Gabe came as a shock, even more than the fact that they’d been discovered. She could feel herself — the organized, rigid self she knew — slipping away, and she had to cling to what remained. Now more than ever she needed to stay disciplined and focus on what was coming after her.

  She forced out a breath and tuned in to the conversation Gabe was having with Percy.

  “It’s not a great photo,” Percy was saying. “Looks like I’m going to have to send you an upgraded phone, man. One that can take good night shots for things like this.”

  “Consider it a new project to keep you out of trouble,” Gabe said. “Can you use it at all?”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to? Of course I can use it.”

  A shiver tightened the skin between Vera’s shoulder blades, running down to the heels of her feet. She hugged the book tighter against her chest and shifted closer to the radiator beneath the window. The wind danced with the branches of the oak tree outside, and she wondered if Ara was all right. Was that how those creatures — were they even people? — found out where the book was?

  She told herself they couldn’t have gotten the information out of Ara. The dryad had known the general destination of where Vera and Gabe were going, but not even Vera could have given directions to the place. They must have found another way to track her.

  Who are they?

  The streetlights blinked out as the branches passed in front of the lampposts. A few people walked down the sidewalk, stopping in shadowed corners of apartment buildings or in the alleys between them. A quick glance at the clock on the stereo showed that it was a little after midnight.

  Fatigue was weighing down her eyelids, but she blinked it away, focusing instead on the harsh white lights of the hospital down the street. On the car driving slowly toward Gabe’s building. Pulling over under the streetlight.

  Vera’s mouth went dry as the dome light turned on, and three people got out of the car.

  Oh no.

  She stared at their strange hats, bands of green ribbon crossing the top of them. The square brims served to block their faces from where she stood two floors above them, but she could still spot their gaunt cheeks and pale skin.

  “They’re here,” she said, and whipped toward Gabe, squeezing the book to make sure she still held it in her numbed fingers.

  “What?” Gabe bounded over to the window and cursed again. “How is that possible? We were hours away.”

  “Maybe there are more than three?” Her tongue felt thick, stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “Then we can’t stay here.” He returned to his laptop. “Anything yet, Perce?”

  V
era peeked around the laptop in time to see Percy shake his head. “Not yet. I see no mention of them on the Rega-tracker blog. If they’re a particular type of demon, it’s not one that pops up often enough for people in my circles to grab snapshots.”

  Vera swallowed the ball in her throat. “Then they can’t be in Rega’s gang, can they? The blogger talked about who was involved. If his gang is as notorious as the writer suggests, someone would have spotted these guys. And if it’s not Rega…”

  She thought again of the old power tugging on her mind, piercing her thoughts as it fought to gain access to the book’s location. Her gut screamed with certainty that somehow these skeletal figures were connected.

  “It’s coming for me,” she said, the truth even more definite when she spoke it aloud.

  “Not yet.”

  Gabe grabbed her hand, cut open a rift, and pulled her through.

  Vera stumbled onto the uneven ground and became aware that in her haste she’d forgotten to put on her boots when she’d left the farmhouse. Gravel and garbage crunched beneath her socked feet, and she thanked her genes for the thick skin that would protect her from any glass lying about.

  As she looked around, she recognized the unmistakable signs of an alleyway. The large green dumpster next to her was a good clue, and the odor of old pizza clinched it for her.

  Why did he bring us here?

  Gabe crept to the corner and peered up and down the street, then returned to her. As he approached, she considered herself lucky that she’d at least thought to pull on socks when Percy called. Gabe was barefoot.

  “It’s the voice in my head,” she said, and clamped her teeth down to stop them from chattering. She wasn’t cold — in fact, the flush of her panic had warmed her blood and made her sweater too thick and heavy to be comfortable — but she was afraid. Twice they had found her. How did they know?

  “Not everyone can say they know their voices are real,” Gabe said, offering her a tight smile. “That’s got to be a small relief.”