The Fire Rose em-1

by Mercedes Lackey

  Though still half collapsed on the floor, he reached up and jerked the hood of his cloak away from his head, twisting his head to stare up at her in defiance.

  She leapt back with an involuntary gasp, the knuckles of one hand crammed into her mouth, the other hand at her breast-for what snarled up at her was not the disfigured visage of a man, but the mask of an enraged beast!

  She could not even put a name to what beast it was; she had never seen anything to match it in all her life. The head was covered with coarse, gray fur; the snarling, toothy muzzle was certainly that of an animal's, but horribly, the eyes were all too human. Upstanding, pointed ears crowned the skull. The lips writhed, as if speaking was an incredible effort.

  "Now are you satisfied?" the harsh voice rasped, a note of exhaustion and great pain underlining every word. "Now will you go and leave me to fend for myself in peace?"

  At the very moment when she wanted most to turn and flee, it was the voice that steadied her, even when she saw that the hands were not hands at all, but clawed paws. Whatever else this creature was, there was no denying that it was Jason Cameron, and the man had not changed because she had finally seen his real face.

  I must remember what I know about him; I must be like Tam Lin's lover, Fair Janet, and hold to what I know is within the monster, no matter how fearful it looks.

  "Of course not," she replied, managing to keep her voice from quavering and her hand from shaking. "Your Salamander would not have summoned me if you did not need help. Where the devil is du Mond, anyway?" She couldn't help herself; her voice reflected her outrage that the man wasn't here doing his duty. "Why wasn't he where he belongs, helping you? I thought he was your Apprentice as well as your secretary!" She reached once again for his arm, and this time he suffered her to take it. As she helped him to his feet again, he pulled the hood back over his head, hiding his face from her so that she no longer had to look at it.

  "I sent him away," Cameron replied, slowly, pausing to catch his breath. "He must have guessed I was going to try a Magickal Work, and kept trying to press his services on me. I-fear I no longer trust him. Precisely because he kept trying to persuade me, I was convinced it would be a bad idea to allow him to participate." He grunted with pain and effort as Rose helped him to a kneeling position, and waved at her to stop for a moment as he bent over, panting.

  When he was ready again, she helped him to his feet, and with a vague memory of seeing sketches of firemen doing so, draped his arm over her shoulders so that he could lean on her. He was far heavier than she had thought, and she staggered beneath his weight.

  But the Salamander flitted in front of them, leading the way, and together they managed to stumble into the hallway and on to the next room. This proved to be a bedroom, but Rose could go no farther than the chair nearest the door. Cameron's weight was too much for her, conditioned by long walks though she was. Weaving like a pair of drunks, they stumbled to that chair, a huge, leather covered wingback. He dropped into it heavily, unable even to lower himself down slowly. She collapsed on the footstool, only now aware that she was perspiring with the effort of carrying him, pushing damp strands of hair out of her face. Her hair was coming undone, draggling down in untidy strands, and her suit-jacket had come unbuttoned.

  She had a notion that the Salamander would know what was required now, and she turned to it as she fastened her jacket properly again. "Get him what he needs," she ordered it. It vanished, precisely as she had hoped it would, and after a moment to catch her breath, she rose to her feet again. Although feeling more than a little giddy, she set about lighting candles and arranging a table at Cameron's elbow while she waited for the Salamander to return.

  It floated into the room supervising a levitating tray; somewhat to her surprise, the tray contained a large glass of milk as well as a piece of raw or near-raw meat and a collection of pills. She eyed the latter with misgiving, recalling what Master Pao had told her.

  "Put that tray down on the table, then get me a kettle of hot water, a pair of tea-cups, a strainer, and the brown paper parcel in my valise," she ordered it, and picked up the glass of milk.

  Milk! Well, I suppose it is strengthening. But it is hardly what I would have assumed a monster would drink.

  She took it to Cameron who lay as one dead, oblivious to his surroundings; he sagged back in his chair with his head lolling against the side-wings. His hood had fallen back again, and she was once again favored with a view of his head and face. His eyes were closed, and he panted shallowly, his tongue lolling out a trifle. "Jason," she said, steadily, I have something for you to drink."

  The eye nearest her opened part-way. "Are you still here?" he rasped, rudely, without a word of thanks that she had gotten him this far.

  "I am, and I have no intention of leaving just yet. Can you drink this on your own, or will you need help?" She held out the glass of milk.

  His lips writhed, as if in distaste, but he brought a paw up to take it from her. His style of drinking was not elegant, but he managed without spilling it all over himself; his mouth and lips were more flexible than an animal's, which must have accounted for his relatively clear speech.

  When he handed the empty glass back to her, though, his paw and arm were shaking. She set the glass down and began to cut up the meat for him, without asking if she should. Perhaps his normal mode is to tear it apart, but I don't think I could sit here and watch that.

  He glared at her, but said nothing as she put the plate and fork down on his knees. He picked up the fork, awkwardly, in a paw-hand that shook like a birch-leaf in the wind, and stabbed at a bite. He conveyed it to his mouth without mishap, and swallowed it whole, wolfing it down without chewing.

  Wolfing his food ... of course! If you somehow mixed up a man and a wolf, it might look the way he does! Now she knew-though she had never seen a live wolf, only stuffed specimens in museums and at the University-why those distorted features had seemed familiar to her. They were not wholly lupine, but they were certainly not canine. There was a feral ferocity there that no dog would ever display.

  The Salamander reappeared with her kettle and the package of herbal medicines from Master Pao's shop. She extracted the white-wrapped packet from the rest, measured the proper amount into the cup and poured the hot water over it.

  Cameron eyed her with misgiving. "And just what is that?" he asked sullenly.

  She gave him the cool look of mingled superiority and pity that had quelled impertinent undergraduates many times in the past. "Medicine from Master Pao," she told him crisply. "He wants you to leave off whatever you're dosing yourself with and take this instead. I am inclined to see to it that you do, now that I have taken note of those quack nostrums you think necessary. Half of them are probably poisonous, and the others useless, and I intend to see that you at least try Master Pao's medicine."

  He paused in the very act of conveying another bite to his mouth, and gazed at her with astonishment, his jaws still open. "And just how do you propose to do that? Pour it forcibly down my throat?"

  She sniffed, and regarded the steeping tea with a thoughtful eye. "I dosed a puppy for worms when I was a child," she told him matter-of-factly, feeling rather like a governess with an unruly child to tend. I don't think I would have any particular difficulty with you. You can hardly hold up your fork; the puppy was considerably more active."

  He continued to gape at her, the paw holding the fork slowly dropping. "By George," he managed, finally. "I believe you would!"

  "Whether you believe it or not is immaterial, for the tea is done and ready to drink." She poured it into the strainer held over the second cup, and waited while it dribbled into its new container. "There." She shook the last few drops into the teacup, and picked it up, handing it to him. "Do you take it yourself, or do I tilt your head up, pour it down your throat, and allow you to make the choice of drinking or drowning? I probably wouldn't have to rub your nose to make you swallow", she added thoughtfully, "But I might forget you aren't the puppy an
d do it by reflex."

  "I might as well see what miserable potion that wretch Pao has decided I must have," he replied ungraciously. He looked as if he would have preferred to snatch the cup from her hand for effect, but it was all he could do to stretch out his paw and take it with a face full of distaste, he sniffed it, then gulped it down.

  "Pfaugh!" he choked, tongue lolling out exactly as that long-ago puppy's had. "And this is what I must have instead of my pain-killers?"

  "If there is opium in them, as Master Pao asserted, I would consider it a better choice," she said steadily. "You ought to consider the notion that your so-called pain-killers might have been responsible for the condition you are in at the moment. Remember what all your books have said about working Magick under the influence of strong drink or drugs. However, it is up to you, of course, if you choose to be a fool and disregard all of the instructions to Apprentices that you have had me read so assiduously."

  He gave her a look as sour as a pickled lemon, but said nothing, only went back to stabbing his pieces of meat and gulping them down as viciously as if they were personally responsible for his plight.

  Or as if they were coming out of my flesh. She restrained a shiver, looking at those long, white teeth. How much of him was Jason Cameron, and how much the beast? Would he turn on her if she provoked him too much?

  But if I lather him with pity and sympathy, he will not pull himself together; if I treat him with fear he will disdain me. I must treat him as what he is-an equal who has made a great fool of himself, and deserves some sharp words. He finished his meat, set the fork down wearily, and managed to get plate and fork back up on the tray. His condition improved moment by moment, and she felt cheered by that much at least.

  "Since you already know that I am impertinent, I am going to be unconscionably rude as well," she said at last. "How on earth did you come to this pass? What happened to turn you into-?" She could not find the words to describe him, but he answered her anyway.

  "Hubris," he said bitterly. "I was already sufficient Master of every aspect of Fire Magick that there were no more challenges for me, and I began to experiment with other forms of Magick. One I found in a medieval grimoire, an incantation to enable a man to put on the aspect of a wolf at will and put it off again at will."

  "The loup-garou," she breathed, nodding. "I remember it from the old legends."

  I also recall the ferocity of the werewolf, and his insatiable hatred for humankind while in that form. How could he possibly want to take that aspect upon himself?

  "Not exactly. The werewolf of legend has no control over his shape-change, nor does he retain a human mind in the form of the wolf. This would allow me to make such a shift safely and with my human mind and reasoning intact-or so I thought." He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, bitterness obvious even in so alien a face as his. "Something went wrong. I was frozen in this hybrid form. That is why you are here, to help me find the missing part of the formula-I must find away to reverse this condition." "Well, at least now I know what I am looking for." She clasped her hands together on her knee and pondered, thinking in the back of her mind that this wolf-man hybrid was not so horrible, really. If he had been disfigured, there would have been the ugliness of the wound, and that awful feeling I always get when I look at someone who's been hurt, that feeling that makes my throat tighten and makes me want to run away. This is just different. I expect I could actually get used to it in time. "Forgive me for asking, but-how much of you is wolf?" She blushed as she realized just how that sounded, and amended it. "Has this altered your personality or your emotions, for instance? Are you likely to have to howl at the moon or go run with a pack?"

  His laughter was very like a bark. "Hardly! And I pledge you, I am sufficiently housebroken!" But there was an uneasiness behind his words, as if he, too, was wondering how much he was subject to lupine instinct rather than human reason.

  The unease hung between them, killing any conversation, and she decided to change the subject. "I can certainly understand now why you have been so reclusive, but surely we need not go on as we have," she told him, surprising herself a little as she spoke things she had only just thought of. "Now that I have seen you, there can be no reason why you must send books up to me and have me shout them at you through the speaking-tube. I believe it would be the most logical for me to come up here to read what you want-that way, if something in another volume occurred to you, we could pursue it immediately, rather than waiting until the next day for you to find it and send it down to me."

  He licked his lips, thoughtfully, his red tongue passing across the sharp, white teeth. "You are not completely revolted by-this-?" he gestured at his face, with his hand that was half paw.

  She managed to look him in the eyes, steadily. "It is not pleasant, but neither is it unpleasant. Your appearance is rather startling, and I could imagine that to some of your former acquaintances, particularly those unaware of your work in the arcane, it would come as a shock. But I cannot say that I am revolted by it." And she discovered, even as she spoke the words, that they were true. "It has a certain striking quality, actually. Certainly ordinary people are most pleased when their beloved dogs look near to human-there is some of that in this hybrid form you wear."

  He made a noise very like a snort. "You are a strange female, Rose Hawkins," Cameron said, rather rudely. "A most unwomanly woman by polite standards."

  But she had been called that before, and the words had ceased to hurt. "Then polite standards are too narrow," she replied briskly. "Although I do not call myself a suffragette, I am completely in sympathy with most of their complaints. I cannot speak for the lower classes, but in our class of society, Jason Cameron, young ladies are forced to live atop pedestals, and let me tell you, they are hideously restrictive places to reside! I choose to live down upon the ground where I can actually accomplish something, and if that makes me an 'unwomanly woman,' well, so be it." She crossed her arms over her chest and gazed at him with challenge in her eyes. "Certainly my 'unwomanly' nature has stood you in good stead! A fainting, missish, hysterical lady would hardly have done you any good in your current predicament!"

  He only waved a weary paw at her and settled back into his chair, half-closing his eyes. "Enough. I am not about to debate the cause of women's rights with you. But to take the subject of our reading, are you so certain you want to pursue our researches here, in my suite? I can make you forget that all this happened, if you choose to permit me to do so, and we can return to our former arrangement."

  And have him messing about, planting whatever ideas he thinks fit in my mind? No thank you!

  "I would not have made the offer if I did not intend for you to accept it," she replied. "What is more-is there any reason why I cannot take du Mond's place and perform the functions of your Apprentice? It does seem to me that you require some kind of help when you attempt Magickal Working."

  "You?" he replied, turning at last to face her, with his eyes wide, aghast. "Help as an Apprentice? Have you any idea how dangerous that might be? Are you out of your mind?"

  "I don't believe so," she said, with a little, forced laugh. "But if you won't have me, perhaps you ought to ask for someone else to help you? Some great Magician, for instance. Like-" she searched her mind for a name, hoping to think of someone who had appeared in the newspapers as an expert in the occult, and offered it up to him. "-like Aleister Crowley, perhaps?" This time his bark of laughter was contemptuous. "Crowley? As soon trust myself to a circus clown! The self-named 'Wickedest Man in the world' offer help to anyone? I would extract blood from a stone before I got help from Aleister Crowley, my dear Rose, and any aid he gave would be so encumbered that my condition would be worsened rather than bettered by putting myself in his hands." He laughed again. "There are only two kinds of men who follow him; those who use others, and those doomed to lose everything including self-respect. He caters to the rapacious and the pathetic-and he uses both to his own ends, bringing satisfaction to none but h
imself." With great effort, he shook his head. "No, there is no one we can call upon for help at this juncture. Even my old Master would only say that since my own pride got me into this predicament, I must find my own way out of it."

  Perhaps that is true, but- She grimaced. "That sounds rather harsh-"

  "That is the way of Magick; only the skilled and fit survive, or deserve to." He managed a one-shouldered shrug. "You have read that for yourself, in more than one of the works I have sent to you."

  She sighed, and repeated her offer. "Very well, then. You no longer trust du Mond and you cannot turn to any other of your own level of ability. I tell you again, truly; I will help you to the best of my own abilities as your assistant if you will have me."

  He turned a blankly astonished gaze upon her. "You see this, you know that Magick brought this upon me, and still you persist?"

  "I would make the same effort for anyone else I admired," she replied, with complete truth. "And although I do not care for some of your morals or your behavior, you have a first-class mind, and that I admire. I think it a shame that you have paid so dearly for so minor a sin as pride."