Blue Curse (Blue Wolf Book 1)

by Brad Magnarella

  Fragments of who I was, the creature I had become, coalesced in my waking mind. Sensations returned to my body. I was in a fetal position on my right side, but not on a rough asphalt street. The ground beneath me was smooth, warm. Pleasant waves rippled through me, making it hard to open my eyes. The once-explosive pain in my left hip barely throbbed now.

  “Are you going to kill him or what?” came a tired woman’s voice.

  “Banish him,” a man’s voice corrected her. “And that’s proving easier said than done,” he muttered above the rapid flipping of pages, as though he were searching for something in a book.

  “Ugh,” the woman said. “It’s making me ill just looking at him.”

  “Then don’t look at him,” the man shot back. “No one’s forcing you.”

  “It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this infernal dungeon,” she muttered.

  “Dungeon? Really? I don’t know too many dungeons that serve braised pork chops with raspberry sauce to their inmates. Especially when said inmates are feline.”

  “I’m only feline because you made me that way.”

  “Yeah, that’s called mercy. Would you rather I’d decapitated you?”

  The woman muttered a few curses before returning to her original point. “I’d rather you decapitated him. He is without a doubt the ugliest thing I have ever seen. And that’s coming from a succubus who’s spent time in Hell.”

  My lashes became unstuck, and I willed my eyelids open.

  The face of a fat orange cat with green eyes stared back at me. “Lovely,” she said. “The mutt’s awake.”

  A cat commenting on my appearance, strange as that was, was the least of my concerns right now. Where in the hell was I?

  I pushed myself up until I was sitting and peered blearily around. A large wall of books rose to my left. To my right, a table cluttered with nonsensical odds and ends ran alongside a railing. When I peered down, I saw I was still in my trench coat and camo pants, sitting on a large, glowing symbol that had been painted onto the concrete floor. A few feet away, the cat’s bored face warped slightly. I reached a hand toward her but was blocked by an invisible field.

  The cat cleared her throat. “Everson, darling?”

  “Huh?” the man answered from behind me.

  “I said he’s awake.”

  I turned to find the sorcerer I’d battled in Chinatown standing with an open book at his chest. He looked to be thirty-something with mussed, dark hair and an intelligent face. He’d shed his coat from earlier, revealing a wrinkled white shirt rolled past his elbows and a thick blue tie that hung loosely from his collar. He stopped reading and blinked down at me from above a pair of reading glasses.

  Everson. Where had I heard that name before?

  And then it clicked with what Mauli had told me.

  “You’re that wizard who works for the mayor,” I said.

  He removed his glasses and gave me a quizzical look before setting them and the book down on the desk behind him. “Guilty, though past tense,” he said. “The working for the mayor part, anyway.”

  When he turned back to face me, he was holding a cane. The bold smells of wood and metal told me it was the same staff he’d used against me earlier, and that the blade was hidden inside. But he didn’t wield either as a weapon now. And with my wolf back under control, I wanted to keep it that way.

  “I’m Jason Wolfe,” I said carefully. “A captain in the U.S. military.”

  Everson’s head tilted back as I rose to my full height. I staggered once, but caught myself against the hardened air. Like so much in the last few days, I didn’t understand the field containing me. It appeared to align with the edge of the circle, rising around me in a solid column. I pressed both arms against the field until my giant muscles trembled, but it wouldn’t yield. I was trapped. The thought sped my breathing, but I willed it back under control.

  If I lost my cool, the cat would get her wish. This guy was powerful.

  “Everson Croft,” he said in introduction, then added in a mutter, “though everyone seems determined to call me ‘Prof Croft.’ I guess it rhymes nicely.” He nodded past me. “The forty pounds of attitude over there is Tabitha.”

  The large cat slitted her eyes at him.

  “I think there’s been a mistake,” I said. “When we were fighting back there, I heard you say something about me being a demon?”

  “Well, that’s what my alarm indicated,” Croft replied, peering over at a hologram beside his desk. The pale glowing image represented Chinatown, but when the wizard waved his hand through it, the image zoomed out to show the entire city. “You didn’t respond to the usual banishment spells, though. And despite appearances, you’re not a lycanthrope exactly—even though the damage the silver inflicted on your hip suggested otherwise.”

  I massaged the spot where the round had entered. It was healed now … but silver?

  “I thought the silver’s charge might be interfering with my magic so I removed the bullet,” he said. “Didn’t make any difference, though.”

  “Why are you telling him all of this?” Tabitha asked with a sigh. “Just finish him.”

  “Because I think better out loud,” Croft replied testily. He began pacing his end of what looked like a loft-level space. Fortunately, his bent brow suggested I was a problem he was determined to solve rather than finish, as his cat had put it. At least for now.

  Beyond the railing, I could see a large living space with a flagstone fireplace below. The field was blunting my sense of smell, but these two appeared to be the only ones in the apartment.

  I had to get the hell out of here, had to pick up the White Dragon’s scent again.

  “Look, I don’t know much about magic,” I said, “but the reason you might be having trouble figuring me out is because I was cursed. In Waristan. An old woman carved this into my cheek, and I took on the abilities of an entity called the Blue Wolf. I’d tell you the whole story if there was time, but there isn’t. I’m in pursuit of a being called the White Dragon. He was meeting with Bashi in Chinatown tonight, trying to close a huge opium deal. The consequences of that deal could be catastrophic if I don’t stop him.”

  Plus, I’ll be stuck like this, I thought, the nightmare about Daniela coming back to me.

  “How fanciful,” Tabitha scoffed.

  “I’m not lying,” I growled, rounding on her.

  Safely beyond the field she met my bared canines with a smirk. “Touchy, touchy.”

  I pressed a fist to the glass and closed my eyes. So much at stake, and I was letting a talking cat get under my skin.

  “He might actually be telling the truth,” Croft said.

  I turned to find him halfway up a rolling ladder, his fingers running along a row of bindings on an upper-level bookshelf until he found the volume he was looking for and hauled it down. The pages flew past his face as he flipped through them.

  “Waristan, you said?”

  “Yeah. The Wari Corridor in Wakhjir province.”

  “Aha!” He stopped at a page and pushed his reading glasses back on. “The Wakhi people.”

  I nodded fervently. “That’s right.”

  I watched Croft’s hazel eyes pulse back and forth as they moved down the page, his lips frowning. “What you’re saying is consistent with the creation myth of that region. The Great Maker split into Twelve Guardians, each designated to defend a different aspect of the ‘World,’ as they called it. Of course to them, the World was their corner of present-day Central Asia. But still, those beliefs appear to have held enough power to manifest the twelve Guardians into a planar existence. At some point, the Guardians’ qualities comingled with the physiology of those who worshipped them, producing hybrids and shifters. Fascinating…”

  With that word—“fascinating”—I realized how much this Prof Croft reminded me of Parker. The memory of my friend’s frozen body reinforced my need to get out of here, to find and kill the White Dragon.

  “Which brings us to you
r case.” Croft leaned toward me, his gaze moving between the open book and the scar on my right cheek. “Yeah, that’s the mark of the Great Wolf all right. And that also explains why the alarm went off. The ward picked up the presence of a strong extra-planar energy—which ninety-nine out of a hundred times is going to be a demon. But it would have taken someone super powerful to marry the qualities of the Great Wolf to you.”

  “A two-hundred-year-old sorceress, according to the great-granddaughter.”

  “That would do it.”

  “And here’s the thing,” I said urgently. “If I don’t stop the White Dragon, he’ll wipe the remnants of the Great Wolf from existence, creating some sort of imbalance—one that could undo creation.”

  “In that particular plane, maybe,” Croft said. “Again, we’re talking about a very provincial belief system. I doubt it would have repercussions beyond that part of Central Asia, or even beyond the plane in question. Once created, these entities—the Guardians in this case—will do anything to preserve themselves. And that has apparently meant conscripting you into their war.”

  “Regardless,” I interrupted, “you know I’m not a werewolf or a demon. I’m a danger to no one besides the White Dragon—a mass murderer—and anyone who protects him.” I’d managed to control my wolf nature thus far, but now my words emerged in menacing growls. “You’re holding a U.S. soldier in wartime, something the military frowns on. You need to release me.”

  “I’ve put in a call to my Order,” Croft said, “a wise and powerful group of magic-users. I’m just waiting to hear back.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your Order.” I could feel my eyes blazing as my breaths hissed through my bared teeth. Every minute I stayed here was another minute the White Dragon had to finalize the opium sale and purchase his army. Regardless of the implications to creation, the entire valley, including my men, were in peril. “Release me. Now.”

  Croft cocked an eyebrow. “Even if the Order can dispel the curse?”

  24

  “Dispel the curse?” I echoed.

  “You know, make it go away,” Croft said.

  My clawed hand fell from the field. “The Order can do that?”

  “Magic bound the qualities of the Great Wolf to you, which means magic can also unbind it. It would have to be powerful, though.” The rims of Croft’s irises seemed to glow as he looked me over. “You see, the binding force is like thousands of threads stitching you to the entity in question.”

  I nodded, remembering the threads of light the Kabadi sorceresses could manifest.

  “But the threads are stubborn, not to mention regenerative,” he said. “When I still thought I was dealing with demonic possession, I could only break through a few at a time, and when I did, more sprouted in their place while the rest bound you more tightly. I didn’t want to push it.”

  I considered what the wizard was saying. If this Order of his could dispel the curse, then I would be restored to my old self. I wouldn’t have to worry about the old woman’s health anymore, or whether I could control my wolf nature. No more violent rampages. I would be Jason Wolfe again, not a bloodthirsty animal. But would I be able to defeat the White Dragon as a human?

  “How long are we talking for the Order to get back to you?” I asked.

  “There’s honestly no telling.”

  “Then, no, I can’t wait. I have people depending on me.”

  “Well … we still have to wait for the Order. You’re probably everything you say you are”—Tabitha, who I thought had fallen asleep, made a scoffing sound—“but you’re also walking around with an extra-planar entity. One that seems to have anger-management issues.”

  “When he’s attacked,” I said through gritted teeth. “Can you at least let me out of this thing while we wait?”

  Croft showed his hands. “With all due respect, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” I growled.

  “You couldn’t see yourself a couple of hours ago, but I could. Believe me, it wasn’t pretty.”

  “So you’re, what? Quarantining me?”

  “Listen, it’s for your safety as much as mine. If that silver bullet hadn’t been in your hip, I’m not sure I could have gotten you here. I might have had to, you know…” He drew his cane across his neck.

  “The bullet was what was making me crazy,” I said, remembering the mind-warping pain I’d been in. “I’m under control now.” But even as I said that, my nostrils flared. My breathing was speeding up again, dammit. My heart pounding like a jackhammer. I couldn’t stay in here, couldn’t…

  I pursed my lips to slow my breaths. I had to keep the wolf down. Had to keep him from coming out.

  “What’s he doing?” Tabitha asked Croft. “Lamaze?”

  I ignored her and focused, but it was like trying to dam a raging river. I began hitting the field with the sides of my fist. Moderately at first—to give my body something to do, I told myself. But before long, the blows were landing like sledgehammers, making the entire office shudder. Books rattled on shelves and slid from the table. A clay pestle broke against the floor.

  “Good God.” Tabitha said as she stood and backed away.

  But no one was more horrified than me.

  My jaws began snapping at the field, trying to find something I could latch onto and tear open. My claws followed suit, slashing the energetic barrier in a wilder and wilder frenzy. Beastly barks and snarls exploded from my muzzle, along with copious amounts of slobber. An image of tearing the wizard and his cat to shreds gashed through my mind. I tried to banish the thought, but instead I began throwing myself against the field, determined to get to them.

  Croft had seized something from a storage container under the table—a glass tube of liquid. He threw it at my feet. As the glass shattered, he bellowed, “Inspirare!”

  As though a vacuum had been turned on, the pink vapor rising from the smashed tube was suddenly sucked inside the field, filling my space with the cloying smell of flowers. I jammed my claws against the bottom of the field, searching for the opening, but I couldn’t find one. I resumed my attack on the field, but the vapor was filling my head, fogging my thoughts.

  “If you can hear me, Jason, that’s a sleeping potion,” Croft said. “Probably not strong enough to knock you out, but it should act as a depressant, calm you down. Just let it work on you.”

  My blows weakened as I sagged to my haunches. Before long, my claws were merely grazing the field in lazy strokes. I watched it all through drooping lids as if from a foggy distance.

  “In any case, I hope you see my point now,” Croft said.

  I nodded in drunken concession. If there hadn’t been a barrier between us, I would have tried to kill him. And if I couldn’t control myself, how in the hell was I going to hunt down the White Dragon in a city of several million?

  As Croft studied me, he managed to look both thoughtful and sympathetic. God, he really was like a white Parker. I drew my lethal hands from the field and examined them a moment before clasping them in my lap.

  This was bad. This was really bad.

  The brassy ring of a telephone sounded from downstairs. Croft excused himself and climbed down a ladder. Tabitha remained behind, arranging her bulk on the table again. She licked a paw and combed it over an ear.

  “Everson means well, but he has a habit of bringing home lost causes. I was once a femme fatale, a real man killer. In the very literal sense. A soldier like you would have been meat in my hands.” She fluttered her lashes. “Now look at me, bathing in my own saliva.” She made a face but resumed grooming herself. “Best case, you’ll end up a poor prisoner like me.”

  I could hear Croft’s voice downstairs, but with the distortions caused by the field, I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  He returned upstairs several minutes later. “That was the Order.”

  I staggered to my feet. “And?”

  “And,” he said, walking over to the metal table, “they advised me to giv
e you a concoction with wolfsbane. Supposed to dampen the mood swings. Then I can let you out.”

  I nodded in relief. “Make it fast, please.”

  He pulled some items from beneath the table, including a portable range and cast-iron pot, and set them on the tabletop. As the pink vapor dissipated from my confinement, I wiped my muzzle with my coat sleeve and tried to shake the fog from my head. On the other side of Croft’s body, I could hear liquid gurgling into the pot. He threw, pinched, and tipped in other ingredients and began stirring with a wooden spoon while chanting a series of foreign-sounding words.

  A couple of minutes later, steam began rising past his body. He stopped chanting and snapped off the range. When he turned toward me, he was holding the small pot with an oven mitt.

  “How are you going to get it in here?” I asked.

  “It’s a one-way barrier,” he explained. “Just drink half.”

  He extended his arm, careful, I noticed, to keep his mitted hand away from the field. Sure enough, the pot passed right through. I took the pot in my hands and held it to my muzzle.

  “Smells terrible,” I said.

  Croft gave an apologetic shrug. I looked at him another moment. Maybe it was his similarity to Parker, but I decided I could trust him. Not like I had much choice. I tilted the pot back and drank down half of the hot, sludgy mixture. It tasted like clay. But as the concoction settled in my stomach, I felt the animal part of my mind unclenching. Croft could apparently see something happening because he nodded.

  “It’s working.” He stepped back and whispered, “Disfare.”

  The field dispersed with a sudden outrush of air that fluttered the pages of the open books lying around and made my ears pop. Tabitha watched warily as I stepped from the circle.

  “In most cases that’s good for about forty-eight hours,” Croft said, taking the pot back and funneling the rest of the brown concoction into a plastic water bottle.

  “That should be all the time I need. I made a deal with the Great Wolf. Destroy the White Dragon and I go back to the way I was.”

  “Good, because that was something else I discussed with the Order. The only one who can restore you is the sorceress who originally bound you—in accord with the entity to whom you’re bound, of course. The senior magic-users of my Order could restore you, but it would have to be an incremental process so as not to harm your psyche. We’d be talking ten years.”