Wolfsheim stood and circled me. The torc grew cold under my shirt collar. I tried to keep my eyes on the vargamore, but as he moved around me, my muscles tightened and grew numb beyond my control. When he stood in front of me again, a spark arced between the two stones.
Dammit, this thing is supposed to help me!
Fog filled my vision, and a roaring in my ears warned me I’d lose all conscious control soon. Wolfsheim swept his arm in a downward gesture, and my knees buckled. The torc’s temperature dropped further, keeping me focused and most of the fog at bay. I tried to move my arms, but they stayed glued to my sides.
Small fingers tangled in my hair, then tightened and yanked my head back, bringing me in eye contact with Jade.
“Can I keep him, Father? He’s pretty and tried to save me from that mean man.” She caressed my cheek, and I tried to pull away, but she and her father’s magic held me fast. The capillaries in my left cheek burst under her thumb in little spurts. She licked her thumb, and my stomach folded at the thought of the power she might now have over me. She released me, and I swayed but didn’t faceplant on the cave floor.
“So what will it be?” Wolfsheim asked. “Your ladylove—although Jade might have something to say about that—saving face with your Council, or finally allowing your father’s soul to have peace?”
One of the shadows at the edge of the cave moved, and I bowed my head as though defeated. I opened my senses as I had in the Council room to determine who was there and what threat they posed to me. My suspicions confirmed, I looked straight at Wolfsheim.
“I choose to challenge you,” I said. “For leadership of the Order of the Silver Arrow.”
“You would challenge me?” Wolfsheim shook his head. “I never took you for suicidal. Very well, then. I admired your strength and cleverness, but now you’re going to make me kill you.”
I couldn’t help a glance over my shoulder at Selene. “Are you okay?”
“Gabriel, be careful!” Selene’s mental voice came to me even though she stood perfectly still and stared straight ahead. Rhys and Curtis stood back against the cave wall and watched the fun. I wondered if they’d made wagers as to how long I’d last against their boss.
Wolfsheim flicked his wrist, and I flew backward and smashed against the cave wall. I wanted to think the crunch I heard hadn’t been my body and the blooms of pain that snapped open along my bones and especially the wounds on my back didn’t belong to me.
Come on, healing. I staggered to my feet in spite of every joint’s protest. I reached inside and found my inner alpha wolf. The Luridatone must have worn off, or maybe they had dosed me wrong.
When I changed, the dead skin and scabs from my exposure to the hellfire grenade sloughed off. I lost my clothing, but the torc remained around my neck and fit better in my wolf form. This transformation was even larger than in the Council fight, and I stretched to give my brain a better idea of my dimensions. Even so, another hit like the one he’d given me, no matter what shape I took, would likely finish me. I had to do something to make him let down his guard. As for Jade, I could only hope the ally I sensed was truly there and would help neutralize her rather than decide this was a good time for payback for the frustration I’d caused him.
“By the ancient laws,” I said and staggered a little to give the impression I was still reeling, “I demand to choose the form I battle with.”
“Oh, this gets better,” he said. “Very well, I will humor you. All my forms will be stronger and more powerful than your little lycanthrope one.”
The repeated warnings not to take him on without help played in my mind, and I remembered the story my father had written to David, the one he had told me as a child. In it, friendship had defeated the villain. “I challenge you as the Boar King.”
“Ah, yes, my favorite. Well, you will be a tasty little wolf. So will your lover.” He stretched out his arms. An invisible wind blew his garments, and he tilted his head back. Now the flames from the torches along the walls elongated and raced to the middle, enveloping him in a dozen fiery ropes.
Thankfully I’d correctly estimated Wolfsheim’s penchant for drama. He reveled in his fiery form. I got the impression of an elongated lower jaw, tusks, and coarse hair. A harsh, snorting laughter filled the cave, and the torches snapped their flames back. I had one shot at this, a fleeting moment of vulnerability or he would eat me alive—literally.
“Now!”
I guessed at when his moment of disorientation would occur, leapt for his throat, and closed my jaws around it. He grabbed for me, but when his hooves met the metal of the torc, a sizzling sound and bacon smell told me it still had some magic and found me a worthy wearer. I held tight in spite of his hooves raking my tender back and used his thrashing motions to sink my teeth deeper into his neck.
“This will not work,” he said and dropped to all fours, pinning me under him. “My neck is too thick.”
“Lies,” I said. I struggled to breathe but held on and used the opportunity to have my back claws go to work on his underbelly while scratching at his face with my front ones. His thick, leathery skin resisted my attempts, but I kept at it in spite of the soreness in my digits. I hoped he had to direct enough of his resources at me that he would release the spell on Selene.
The sensation of bubbles racing along my limbs warned me that someone was using blood magic on me, or trying to.
“Selene, is Jade still in here? She’s magnifying his power with the blood.”
“I’m stuck! I can move, but Rhys is holding me.”
Anger surged through me, and I wanted to go to her aid, but I couldn’t let go of the Boar King, or all would be lost. Then I remembered my ally who had snuck in.
“Garou, help!”
A crack like that of stone on bone reverberated through the cave, and the internal fizzing stopped. Wolfsheim wheezed, and the iron taste of blood seeped into my mouth. A lethargy seeped into my bones, then, and the thought occurred to me that his blood was poison, and it was killing me, and I should let—
The two stones in the torc shocked me before I followed the compulsion to release him.
“Nice try, Wolfsheim,” I said.
He roared and tried to slam me against the floor, but he didn’t have the momentum. I rolled and gave a vicious shake with the last of my strength. His throat tore open. I leapt away and lay on the floor, panting.
He flopped to his back and shrank to his human form, but instead of the vibrant older man he’d been, he looked like the creature that represented the wizard race among the gargoyles on the Council School: emaciated, bald, and with bulging eyes and fangs. He clawed at the air, and his thoughts floated through my mind—destructive ones—and then the resignation that this was how it would end after seven hundred years. Finally, even those faded, and the ugly, broken body on the stone floor lay still, its limbs up like a dead roach’s. His blood flowed light pink down his gray skin, the faded colors a measure of how his blood magic had drained his own life force.
Mindful of my father’s warning, I spat his blood from my mouth, at least as much as I could. A shout brought my attention to the side of the cave, where Curtis, now released from his compulsion, struggled with Rhys. Selene slumped against the wall, dazed. I ran to her and lunged at Rhys, knocking him away from Curtis. I growled at him.
“You picked the wrong guy to mess with.”
“Gabriel, stop!”
Reine’s words halted my lunge for Rhys’s throat. He glared at me, but the stain of a vindictive smile spread across his face. “The slavery Wolfsheim offered you would have been nothing compared to what you will experience with my sister.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He was too smart to give me unlimited power.” Reine looked around with a shudder. “Ugh, it smells like dead wizard in here. I only wanted to make sure he wouldn’t hurt you, dear brother.”
“You’re his sister?” I asked.
“Why were you helping me?”
She gestured to Selene. “The girl can tell you. Sometimes you have to rescue your younger siblings when they take up with the wrong crowd. He wouldn’t listen to reason, and I am limited as to how much I can interfere in the affairs of other races, so I had to act indirectly. Plus I like you, Wolf-man.”
Selene scooted closer to me and put a hand on my head. “I do too,” she said.
“Likewise.”
Jade lay on the floor behind the vials of blood, and I couldn’t tell if she was dead or merely unconscious. I trotted over to her and was relieved to see a slight fluttering of her chest.
“That one will have to be locked up.”
I looked up to see Garou standing there. He had blood on his temple but otherwise seemed to be fine.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“You had better be. Someone had to neutralize the guards outside the chamber and this one. Otherwise, you would have been in trouble.”
“I was wondering. And thank you.”
Morena wouldn’t meet my eyes at David Lachlan’s funeral. She slipped out before the bagpiper played the final strains of “Amazing Grace.” I wasn’t up for a confrontation, anyway. My handkerchief had gotten soaked with my quiet weeping, which I tried not to let Selene see. Of course she noticed and didn’t seem to mind, only offered me one of her paper tissues, and her gesture reminded me that these modern women had more tolerance for their men showing emotion. Or at least the ones in psychology did.
I didn’t see any spirits, and Alexander, who accompanied me, said he didn’t either, only the normal ones that hung about Lycan Village’s big stone church. He told me it was a good thing—that it meant they were at rest. “If you don’t finish something a ghost wants you to start, they’ll let you know,” he said.
I nodded and touched the torc around my neck. Since Morena had avoided me, I hadn’t had the chance to return it to her, and it felt like a link to the important past we didn’t know enough about. Who had been the chieftain to wear it? How had he defeated the Boar King, and more importantly, why did the creature come back? I only had his name—Connell. If his spirit visited, I didn’t know, but I told Alexander to look for him and ask him if he got a chance. I suspect the torc, like many magical objects, endured because evil spirits were never truly destroyed—they just were vanquished and then gathered their power to return.
As for the Order of the Silver Arrow, I technically won leadership of it, but the only member who stuck around was Curtis Rial. The rest had scattered, and the leaders of the Young Bloods went into hiding to avoid being arrested on kidnapping charges. I trusted Garou would find them—he was a good detective, after all.
Curtis found me at the pub after the funeral reception. Troy gave me a whiskey before I ordered anything.
“For the old man,” he said, his eyes red-rimmed. “It was his favorite post-funeral dram.”
“Slàinte,” I said and raised the glass before knocking it back. It burned all the way down, but this time in a good way. It also gave me an excuse for the tears in my eyes, and I had to take a moment to compose myself.
“Mister McCord?” The young man’s voice beside me brought me back to the present and out of my spiral of “what if?”
“Yes, Curtis?” I didn’t mind the kid, but I’d sent Selene home and wanted to be alone, or as alone as one can be in a pub. I sought the anonymous alone with the occasional understanding nod from the barkeep.
“I just wanted to say thanks for saving my sister. I was stupid, and I didn’t mean to put her in harm’s way. He promised he wouldn’t hurt her.”
I thought about scolding him, but he looked like he was doing a just fine job of beating himself up. I knew the feeling. My mind wouldn’t let go of the sense I should’ve done something to save David. Instead I asked, “What did Wolfsheim promise you in exchange for allowing him to get to her?”
“That he would show me how to manage my CLS so I wouldn’t have to go through the reversal process.” He looked at me with an expression of hope. “There are some things I like about it, but I don’t have the knowledge or control you do. What you did in the cave, how you kept things from happening too early or late, how easily you changed, how you manage among all this stimulation—that’s what I want to learn.”
Anger flared at Dimitri for allowing his great nephew to struggle for so long, particularly as it had put him and Selene in danger. Just as David had taken me under his wing, I could do so for Curtis, and I nodded.
“So you don’t want to be a reversal candidate anymore.”
“Not if I can learn how to deal with this.”
“Fine, I’ll teach you.” I gestured to my glass. “We’ll start with the important things tonight. The first step to becoming a Scottish werewolf—how to use that enhanced sense of smell to choose your favorite whiskey.”
He grinned. “I think I’m going to like this training program.”
Finally, when I got home, I opened the manila envelope Wolfsheim had taunted me with. I had to bury one father figure at a time, and even though the ghost had bothered me leading up to the confrontation, it was hard to say goodbye.
I slit the edge, and several letters and telegrams spilled out. Words floated up to me from the letters as I skimmed through them. Hot on the trail of the torc… Getting close… Tip he’s in Belgium… Double crossing, betrayal, and lies.
And then there was the picture of my father’s body on the battlefield with wounds I had assumed were shrapnel, but now I saw for what they were—blood magic eruptions. This time I could look at it without shuddering. As horrific as it was, knowing exactly how he’d died and at whose hands gave me some peace. Knowing I had the information in my possession and intended to complete David’s collection of letters and other information about the Order seemed to have allowed his soul to rest as well.
I put it all away.
Chapter Thirty-One
Six Months Later
I sheltered Selene from the cold wind as much as I could, but it blew with bitter persistence and nipped at our noses and any other exposed parts.
“Why do you live in this part of the world, again?” she asked once we reached my office suite, which had moved to the ground floor at Lycan Castle after Morena resigned her position as Council Leader and the others had voted me into the position. We unwound our scarves and shed our coats in front of the roaring fire.
“Because the women are so gorgeous,” I told her with a kiss.
“I’m not Scottish, you ass,” she said and smiled up at me.
“I’d rather attend to your ass.” I pinched her adorable behind. “And you’ve got Scottish blood in you.”
“It’s a good thing I’m giddy about the news I have for the Council. Otherwise you’d be in big trouble.”
We tried to sober our expressions before entering the Council Chamber, but I had to avoid eye contact with her so I wouldn’t break out in a grin. Finally, after our call to order and approval of minutes, we moved into business.
I looked around the table at a different set of faces than I’d faced when getting approval for the Institute. Of course Cora Campbell had abdicated her position, and she’d moved with Bartholomew to Oban. They were trying to keep a low profile since Garou and I unearthed evidence that Bartholomew had inappropriately used his influence to seduce female cult members who worked at his company, which allowed us to employ sexual harassment charges. There was also questionable use of charitable funds, and I suspected they’d both be in jail before the end of the following year.
Of course Morena had left. She said she wanted to take time to work on her relationship with and care for her daughter, whom Wolfsheim had brainwashed. Dimitri had “retired” after I assumed leadership of the Council, no doubt in protest and to hide from the charges of conspiracy to murder Otis LeConte. Replacing his bloodline had been an easy task.
> Also present were former members of the Young Bloods and Purists, both young relatives of the previous Council members, and I hoped they would represent the interests of modern werewolves. Finally, Selene attended occasionally as the Institute liaison. She was so excited I allowed her to speak first.
“I am happy to report that our first experimental reversal appears to have been a success,” she said. “Genetic tests are showing no evidence of CLS in that participant’s cells, and all symptoms have been remitted for weeks.”
Everyone burst into applause with cries of, “Bravo!” Once the room settled down, one of the new members, a young woman named Lacey, asked, “What’s next, then?”
“We have to see how the other four subjects fare, although their cases are looking hopeful as well, both with regard to physical reversal and psychological adjustment.”
“But will it be available to genetic lycanthropes?” Lacey persisted. “Will you include some of them in your next phase?”
“We are currently working on a protocol, which will have to be voted on by the Council, of course. We anticipate the psychological burden on those participants to be higher, as it has been part of your identity since adolescence. Plus, we need to develop an assessment tool to determine what reasons are strong enough for someone to make this major life change.”
Lacey nodded. “I’m just glad this discussion is still open.”
While I admittedly had mixed feelings about it, I trusted Selene and her colleagues. The rest of Council business moved quickly, as we all had Winter Solstice celebrations to get to. But, as always, we read the Lycanthrope Creed:
Our lives are long and full.
We watch the cycle of life and death, death and rebirth, the wheel of the seasons.
Taking responsibility for our bloodlines and vowing to teach our pups.
We act in accordance with honor no matter the adversity.
Standing guard over those whose lives are shorter than ours, saving them from themselves and dangers they can’t even imagine.
Blood's Shadow: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 3 Page 26